Terra goes to war

The chamber of the Terran Military High Command was a vast, dimly lit war room deep within the capital station, orbiting Earth. A circular holotable projected shifting displays of battle reports, fleet compositions, and encrypted transmissions intercepted from the outer colonies. The air was thick with tension, the weight of the moment pressing down on every officer present.

Admiral Marcus Dorne, a hardened veteran of countless campaigns, stood at the head of the table. His cybernetic eye flickered as it processed incoming data streams. Beside him, Generals Alexis Roarke and Damon Vass, leaders of the ground forces, observed the information in silence.

"The encrypted data was received from the Interstellar Communication Division just three hours ago," Intelligence Director Sloan began, his voice low but steady. "It's a direct signal from Zeta-9. The Xel'Thir are advancing. Their Hive Carrier has entered orbit. The fleet protecting the colony is heavily outnumbered. Our defenses won't hold without reinforcements."

A murmur rippled through the room. Zeta-9 was a key Terran outpost, a gateway to the deeper sectors of human space. If it fell, the path to the core systems would be open.

Dorne leaned forward. "How many ships? What's their composition?"

Sloan tapped a command into his pad, and a new projection appeared. "Three Scythe-class Warships, two Elite Dreadnoughts, and the Hive Carrier itself. Our forces in the sector consist of one battleship, two destroyers, and a handful of frigates. Outnumbered and outgunned."

General Roarke exhaled sharply. "We're sending reinforcements. Now. We can't afford to let Zeta-9 fall."

"Even with reinforcements, we face a bigger issue," Vass interjected. "The factions on Terra are divided. Some refuse to mobilize unless their territories are directly threatened. If we commit too many forces and lose, the political fallout could shatter what unity we have left."

Dorne clenched his fists. "Damn the politics. If we don't hold Zeta-9, there won't be a Terra left to argue over. We mobilize."

Sloan nodded. "Then I suggest we assign a commander to lead the expeditionary fleet. We need someone with experience fighting the Xel'Thir."

All eyes turned to Dorne.

He straightened, his voice firm. "I'll lead them myself. My flagship, The Resolute, will spearhead the assault. We'll take the following fleet composition:

Terran Fleet Composition:

1 Super Dreadnought: The Resolute (Flagship) 2 Battlecruisers: Tyrant, Eclipse 4 Destroyers: Hammerfall, Vanguard, Tempest, Onyx Spear 6 Frigates: Falchion, Aegis, Redoubt, Sovereign, Peregrine, Drake 3 Carrier Groups: Celestial Wrath, Iron Talon, Pax Imperialis (Each carrying two squadrons of multi-role interceptors and bombers) Additional Support Ships: Refueling tankers, medical frigates, and logistics vessels

Ground Forces Assigned:

Shock Troopers: Front-line elite assault teams with heavy armor and adaptive shielding Siege Breakers: Mobile artillery and bunker-busting specialists Ghost Division: Advanced recon and sabotage units using cloaking technology Titan-Class Mechs: Heavy combat mechs for urban and planetary siege warfare Orbital Drop Pods: Rapid deployment infantry units for high-intensity ground insertions

"We leave within twenty-four hours."

A silence fell over the room before Roarke finally nodded. "Then we move. I'll see to the ground forces."

Departure from Terra

In the vastness of space, the Terran fleet assembled. The Resolute, an imposing warship bristling with railguns and plasma batteries, took point. Behind it, the fleet formed up: battlecruisers, destroyers, frigates, and carriers flanking them in escort formation. Hundreds of fighters rested within their hangars, waiting for the inevitable combat ahead.

The fleet was outfitted with the latest EMP-Kinetic Rail Guns, Neural Disruptors, and Nyx-1 prototype torpedoes, designed specifically to counter the regenerative capabilities of the Xel'Thir Hive. AI-assisted targeting ensured that every shot would land where it mattered most—severing their hive-mind connection.

Dorne stood on the bridge, staring at the holo-display as final pre-launch checks were conducted.

"Admiral," his XO, Commander Helen Grant, reported, "All ships report ready. Quantum Slipstream Drive (QSD) coordinates are locked. Orders?"

Dorne took one last glance at the image of Earth in the distance. Then, with a voice that carried the weight of history, he spoke:

"We jump to Zeta-9. Engage Quantum Slipstream."

The fleet vanished into the void, heading toward the battle that would decide the fate of humanity's frontier.