UGT (Unified Galactic Time): 19th Revol (July) 280 a.G.A. (after Galactic Armistace) / 5:18 p.m.

  Location: FSF Battleship Resolute, Nyxia system (yellow dwarf), Republic of Nox, Second Human Federation, Milky Way

  Admiral Arnass had held a deep-seated personal hate for statistics. No tool in the history of humanity was better at stripping events out of context. They reduced fear, improvisation, bad luck, and human error into neat columns and loss ratios, making disasters look manageable and victories clean. And above all, they made it far too easy for politicians to forget that every number had once been a ship, and every ship a crew.

  He stared at the tactical screen in front of him on the Bridge of the FSF Battleship Resolute, arms folded behind his back and features grim, as they had been for weeks. On the screen the Nyxia System of the Republic of Nox glowed, filled with layered fleet markers, civilian traffic, orbital ships any many others.

  By now it had been nearly two months since he had been forced to retreat from the Clinton's Beak system both in shame and defeat, abandoning many of his ground troops and fleet elements to make it out in time. He still remembered both the shock and the dread he had felt back then, as more than 4.000 drones had swarmed over the 7th Warfleet, destroying his ships like it was nothing. A Battleship, three Battlecruisers, eleven Cruisers, 33 Destroyers, 49 Frigates and 13 Corvettes were gone now, filled with many people he at the very least knew by face. People who had deserved far better than that.

  Admiral Arnass steeled himself. This was war. It was natural that he would take losses. Over the past 16 years he had lost many comrades, and the number would certainly continue to grow. But for now, it was more important to focus on his very much living enemy instead of the dead. And that was Commander Selian Tharos ad Astra de Virelion-Kaelis. The self-proclaimed Aetherian Commander of the forces of the Au'Shalis ringworld.

  Admiral Arnass exhaled slowly through his nose. “No,” he muttered to himself. “Not Aetherian. It cannot be.”

  He had reviewed every scrap of intelligence since his shameful retreat. Sensor logs, drone footage, communications intercepts. There was not a single sign of an actual Aetherian having anything to do with all this, only the Commander's claim. A claim that was impossible to be true.

  What did exist, however, was Aetherian technology. Aetherian technology that the Commander, or maybe even an entire group working with him, had found. And not only that, but they had also managed to make it work in their name, fulfilling their orders. And while that made them dangerous, potentially catastrophic, it was far better than a return of the Aetherians would be. God bless whatever had wiped their ultranationalist empire from the face of the universe. This situation could be contained and suppressed at least.

  Three days ago, the 10th Warfleet had arrived in the system, followed 36 hours later by the 4th Rapid Response Fleet. Their Admirals had reported in with the clipped professionalism of officers who already knew the situation was bad and did not want to be the ones to say it aloud. Still, they had instantly started planning on how to best retake the Clinton's Beak system, for that was the order they had been given.

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  Together, their combined force was formidable by any reasonable standard. Between each other they held five Battleships, 18 Battlecruisers, 49 Cruisers, 151 Destroyers, 175 Frigates and 52 Corvettes under their command. A force like that would be more than capable of pacifying every rebellious system the Second Human Federation ever came across. Pirate enclaves, separatist coalitions, rogue governors, the Federation held many such uprisings in its history. All of them fell to fleets roughly the size of theirs. Admiral Arnass was sure it would be enough for a few Aetherian drones as well.

  No, he was not worried about destroying the uprising in Clinton's Beak. What worried him were the immense losses they would suffer while doing so. The Second War of Independence had already bled the Federation dry. Out of 15 of their Warfleets only 12 remained. Out of 20 Rapid Response Fleets only 13. When the war began, the Federation fleet had counted over 5.000 warships. But even with the massive investments into the military the government had taken, the number had since then dropped by nearly a third.

  Their enemies had suffered worse losses, that much was true. But they also massively outnumbered the Federation in military and economic power. Even the Galactic War Convention and the support of the AMU barely evened out the scales. He was sure that once they took care of the uprising in Clinton's Beak, the two Warfleets and the Rapid Response Fleet could at best form up into a single still operatable Warfleet, if even that.

  Admiral Arnass turned as the hatch slid open, admitting Admiral Kessler of the 10th Warfleet. The man’s uniform was immaculate, his posture rigid, but the lines around his eyes told the real story. He quickly moved towards Admiral Arnass, ignoring the looks the officers on the Bridge shot him. “You wanted to see me,” he said quietly the moment he stood next to Admiral Arnass.

  “I want your opinion on our situation,” Admiral Arnass replied. “The unfiltered one. The navy has become too willing to please its Admirals that I trust anyone else telling me your true words. And the Admiral of 4th Rapid Response Fleet was nothing but a political appointment, he's worthless for this."

  Admiral Kessler hesitated only a moment before nodding, not even trying to hide his grimace. “If Commander Selian controls the ringworld defenses, which we must suspect, then breaching Clinton’s Beak will be expensive. More expensive than Command is admitting. Maybe it's even impossible, depending on the combat strength of these drones. Enough ships need to break through that we can still break the orbital defenses of the ringworld fragments.”

  “Do you believe he’s Aetherian?” Admiral Arnass asked.

  Admiral Kessler snorted quietly. “No, absolutely not. We would be overrun already otherwise. Commander Selian is nothing but another human fool, playing with powers he cannot comprehend.”

  Admiral Arnass nodded once. That aligned with his own assessment. "We'll have to draw up the best possible plans and risk it. We cannot go against such direct orders, and I agree with the admiralty that letting Clinton's Beak become more and more fortified would be a massive mistake."

  "What about Admiral Thorrison?" Admiral Kessler asked. "Still no word?"

  Admiral Arnass’ expression hardened. "Of course not. I'm certain he tried to contact us, but every messenger he sends would have to traverse the Clinton's Beak system which is a death trap. No, I'm certain his messengers either got destroyed or are trapped on the other side. We'll need to free them if we want new information to send back to the admiralty."

  Admiral Kessler studied him for a moment, then nodded and turned around. "If that's everything, I'll need to prepare the 10th Warfleet. We'll speak again soon."

  As the doors slid shut, Admiral Arnass allowed himself another look at the screen in front of him. If he had any say in it, Commander Selian would be taken out, together with his entire uprising. They would still have to complete a few drills, make a few plans and prepare their next offensive, but he was sure that in less than a week, the Clinton's Beak would once again be in Federation hands.