The Imperators made their way back to their vessel, the ground beneath them still littered with the aftermath of battle. As they boarded, the ramp lifted behind them with a soft hiss, sealing the exit to the planet below. The familiar hum of the ship's engines resonated through the hull as they prepared for departure. The crew had long since departed, and now it was just them—warriors bound by duty and purpose.
Sahaad took a seat at the command console, his fingers brushing over the controls as he initiated the ship's launch sequence. The engines roared to life, and with a single powerful thrust, the ship shot into the sky, leaving behind the ashes of Rhys and the wreckage of a war-torn battlefield.
As they ascended through the atmosphere, the vastness of space came into view—a sea of endless stars, cold and unyielding. The vessel's navigation systems blinked with familiar coordinates, and soon they were on course for their return to the Federation's base. The silent void was a stark contrast to the chaos they had just left behind, but the Imperators remained silent in their seats, each of them reflecting on the mission's grim success.
After several hours of quiet travel, a soft chime echoed through the ship's intercom. The High Council had requested a report. Sahaad's fingers danced across the console once more, opening the communication channel. A holographic display flickered into life before him, revealing the faceless figures of the High Council. Their demeanor was solemn, and their voices held the gravity of centuries of experience.
"Imperators," the lead figure began, his voice low and resonant, "we have received your report on the successful destruction of the tendrils. Rhys has been freed from the Brood's corruption. However, we are not yet finished. The Hive ship remains a threat. We will attempt to interfere with its operations and destroy it from within, but this will require time and the utmost caution."
Sahaad nodded solemnly. "Understood. We have neutralized the tendrils, but the threat of the Hive ship still looms over Rhys and the Federation."
The council's figure paused, its expression unreadable. "For now, we advise you to return to base. Rest, recover, and prepare for your next orders. The Federation nowadays is surrounded by enemies on all fronts. It is our duty to be as prepared as possible."
The holographic figures flickered for a moment before the transmission cut off. Sahaad took a breath and leaned back in his chair, his gaze lingering on the empty space ahead of him. The mission was a success, but the fight was far from over.
He turned to his team, each of them still in their seats, processing the weight of the High Council's words.
"We return to base," Sahaad said, his voice steady but resolute. "We've done what we were tasked with, but the true battle is far from over. Let's prepare for what's next."
The journey back to base was relatively uneventful, the tension of battle and the weight of their victory hanging heavy on the minds of the Imperators. They'd already received the details for the next mission—this time it was to attack supply ships heading towards the Entil homeworld—but for now, they were allowed a brief respite.
As the ship touched down on the Federation's massive citadel, a sprawling fortress-like structure at the heart of their operations, the Imperators filed off, their boots making the familiar echo on the metallic floors. They were silent as they walked, each of them carrying their weapons and armor, a reminder of the brutal mission they'd just completed.
The citadel was always a stark contrast to the warzones they'd left behind—clean, efficient, and brimming with the quiet hum of constant activity. Soldiers moved in disciplined formations, technicians worked on various pieces of technology, and the air was filled with the subtle scent of oil and metal. It was a place where things were repaired, rearmed, and made ready for the next engagement.
They made their way toward the equipment maintenance wing, where the citadel's specialized team of engineers and technicians were stationed. The hallways buzzed with the clatter of tools and the hum of machines working tirelessly to maintain the Federation's formidable arsenal. In the heart of this section stood rows of large platforms, each dedicated to maintaining the Imperators' advanced armor and weapons systems.
As the team approached, a technician, a middle-aged man with glasses and a well-worn jumpsuit, looked up from a console. He greeted them with a nod.
"Imperators," he said, his voice calm but respectful. "We've been expecting you. You've got a lot of wear and tear on those suits. I'll get started right away."
The Imperators placed their weapons down on a nearby table. Each piece of their gear was a work of art—sophisticated, deadly, and expertly engineered. Sahaad removed his helmet and set it aside, revealing his sharp, calculating features. He watched quietly as his team removed their armor, their expressions weary but proud. The clinking of plates being set down echoed in the room, and soon the technicians were busy, assessing, calibrating, and fixing the gear.
The high-tech suits they wore were more than just protection—they were extensions of their bodies, capable of enhancing their strength, agility, and response time. Each had custom modifications and personal adjustments made to suit their combat style. These suits weren't just for defense; they were a part of who they were.
Ralo's plasma-heater rifle, Nate's wrist-mounted rocket launcher, and Kato's various gadgets—all of them were carefully tended to, repaired, and recharged. For the Imperators, there was a certain comfort in knowing that their gear would be restored to peak efficiency.
Once their armor and weapons were in the hands of the technicians, the team moved toward the mess hall for their short respite.
They ate in silence, exchanging occasional words about the mission and their readiness for the next one. The food was tasteless, as always, but it was enough to replenish their bodies after the rigors of combat.
After the meal, they retreated to their quarters—small, personal spaces with little more than a bed, a chair, and a desk. It was here they had the rare moments of solitude to recharge, both physically and mentally.
Sahaad sat on the edge of his bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of his data tablet. The data tablet hummed quietly as he scrolled through the records he had painstakingly compiled over the years.
Most of the information was standard—intel on enemies, mission reports, and tactical data—but there was one entry that always stood out. This body's younger sister had been a shadow in his life for as long as he could remember.
Even in his previous life, Sahaad was someone who always repaid his debts. The real Sahaad had passed away granting him a new life. The least he could was set the boy's soul to rest by finding his sister and ensuring she was safe.
The sightings of her began shortly after his departure from his homeworld. Reports from various pleasure worlds indicated a young woman matching her description, but the circumstances were unsettling. She had been working as a prostitute on multiple worlds, her identity verified through facial recognition scans in several high-risk establishments. Each record was marked with disturbing notations: "unwilling participant," "possible manipulation," and, in some cases, "disappearance under suspicious circumstances."
Sahaad's jaw tightened as he read through the notes. While slavery was prevalent in the old Empire, it was now banned by the new Federation, but there were many still held in slavery through illegal and black market operations.
His fingers flicked across the tablet screen, and he paused on an entry that had been marked as a breakthrough—a breakout 75 years ago, recorded on a station in the Outer Rim. The file was sparse, almost as if someone had deliberately scrubbed it clean. What Sahaad could decipher from the fragmented data told him little, but it was enough to trigger a cold flash of dread.
The breakout was large, involving dozens of people, some of whom were never heard from again. A handful of survivors, including the girl, were reported to have escaped the station, but after that, all records of her were lost. No sightings, no traces, nothing. It was as if she had vanished from the face of the galaxy, as if the universe itself had decided to erase her.
Sahaad rubbed his temples, the weight of the uncertainty pressing heavily on him. He had been so focused on his duties as a leader, a soldier, that he had put her out of his mind. Now, after all this time, he felt a surge of guilt and responsibility. What if she was still out there? What if she needed him?
The sound of his door chimed softly, a gentle reminder that the outside world still existed, but Sahaad didn't move. His mind was consumed by thoughts of the girl, by the unanswered questions. He hoped she had simply decided to live a quiet life on a distant planet, but he needed to be sure.
He scrolled through the records again, his fingers brushing the screen with a new sense of determination. There was still a chance. He would find her. He had to. It didn't matter how long it took, or what the cost was. Then he would find the way back to his time and return to his original life.
A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.
"Sahaad?" It was Kato, his voice unusually tentative. "You're needed in the briefing room. There's word from the high council."
Sahaad took a deep breath, setting the tablet down. The girl's fate would have to wait, for now. Duty called, as it always did. He gave one last glance at the screen, knowing that the search would continue, just as his mission would. The galaxy was large, but it wasn't big enough to hide his sister forever.
He rose, adjusted his uniform, and made his way to the briefing room.
Sahaad entered the briefing room to find his team already assembled, each of them quietly focused, waiting for the mission debrief.
The room's holo-table flickered to life as Sahaad took his place at the head, and a projection of their target area appeared, showing several merchant vessels highlighted in red, each one part of a crucial supply chain leading to the Entil's homeworld.
The Entil were an alien race whose technology had developed at a similar rate to humanity. They were opposed to humanity, believing that humans had committed the ultimate blasphemy against the gods by fighting them during the War in Heaven.
Now it was their sacred duty to wipe out the Federation.
The voice of their mission director, a commanding presence even through the intercom, filled the room. "Imperators, you are assigned to disrupt Entil supply lines by targeting these merchant ships. Intelligence confirms that they carry essential provisions and weapons meant to bolster the Entil defense grid. They are heavily guarded and travel in convoy, with each ship deploying a defensive perimeter as they move."
Sahaad studied the projection, noting the route of the merchant convoy and the planetary coordinates of the Entil homeworld. This wasn't the first time they'd been ordered to target supply lines, but the Entil were a different level of challenge entirely. Known for their advanced tech and resilient tactics, the Entil had been giving the Federation a hard fight, one that wouldn't be easily won.
Their homeworld was one of the most heavily defended sectors in the entire universe, surpassed only by a few other sectors, including the Sol System that made up the homeworld of humanity.
The director continued, "Your primary objective is to intercept and destroy as many of these vessels as possible before they reach Entil-controlled space. Be aware: reports indicate that the Entil have outfitted some of these ships with cloaking devices, which means they'll be challenging to detect. You'll need to rely on precision scanning and time your approach carefully."
Sahaad nodded. "Understood. Any intel on the ship classes or likely fleet formations?"
A series of ships appeared on the holo-table, rotating slowly as details about each vessel scrolled alongside. "The convoy primarily consists of transport frigates, with two heavy cruisers as escorts. They're equipped with pulse cannons and a defensive shield array that regenerates rapidly. However, our intel suggests weak points in the rear thruster sections. A coordinated strike could cripple them before they have a chance to deploy reinforcements."
Kato grunted, glancing at Sahaad. "So, it's a hit-and-run? Take out the supply ships fast, avoid a drawn-out firefight with the escorts?"
"Exactly," Sahaad confirmed. "We won't be staying long enough for them to react. In and out, like a shadow strike. Focused and fast."
The director added, "Your deployment will be within two hours of your equipment maintenance completion. There's no room for error. The Entil are known to adapt quickly. If they suspect an attack, they'll recalibrate their convoy routes and increase defenses."
Zara clenched her fist, a glint of excitement in her eyes. "And if they do, that'll be more challenging for us, but not impossible. Let's see how resilient they really are."
Sahaad smirked, noting her enthusiasm. "Save some of that energy for the mission, Zara."
She grinned. "Just making sure I'm warmed up, sir."
Sahaad turned back to the holo-table, running through the plan again. It was a simple enough mission on paper, but he knew better than to underestimate the Entil's resourcefulness. With every skirmish, they learned and adapted. The next time they faced them, the Entil would be prepared in ways the Federation might not anticipate.
"Any questions?" Sahaad asked, casting a quick look around the room.
When no one spoke up, he nodded. "All right. Prep your gear as soon as it's cleared. We'll rendezvous at the hangar in two hours."