"Good," William muttered—more to himself than anyone else. Not out of pride. Out of relief.
He'd quietly feared sabotage. Trust ran deep in his fleet, but betrayal had already brought them this far. Someone had sold them out. And if he made it through this, he'd find out who—and deal with them personally.
At least the Phantom Drive was operational. That meant the trap wasn't airtight. And he wouldn't need to keep one eye on his own crew.
He turned to the comms officer.
"Relay to the entire fleet: Prepare Phantom Drives for immediate activation. Once we're forced out of hyperspace, I want each ship to leap in a different direction. Repeat—different directions. Immediately."
He let the words hang for a moment.
"Expect heavy fire the second we drop. Raise shields as soon as the jump completes. No formation, no regrouping—this is survival protocol. Scatter, evade, and escape."
The command deck went silent. No questions. No hesitation.
"Good," William said. "Whether we survive this ambush depends on timing—and luck. Don't assume for a second that getting out of the gravity well means we're safe."
He paused briefly, then continued, his voice steady.
"This trap wasn't set yesterday. It was built for us. Our enemy's had time to prepare for every textbook move. But even the perfect plan has cracks. Find one—and stay alive."
He scanned the bridge. Steady hands. Focused eyes.
"May the stars protect us. Over and out."
Then William turned to the navigation officer.
"Stop resisting the gravity well. Let it pull us out of hyperspace."
The officer nodded tightly and disengaged the counter-thrust systems. A subtle tremor passed through the ship. The same ripple hit the rest of the fleet's vessels.
Four ships in total. Five with his.
Next, he faced the special systems officer.
"Activate the Phantom Drive the second we exit hyperspace. No delay. Repeat—no delay."
The officer nodded firmly, already at work. "Coordinates are locked, Commander. Randomized offset protocols confirmed and active."
Good. At least someone was taking this as seriously as he was.
William moved to the shield station.
"Raise all shields to full power. We're going to be fired on the moment we drop, and it won't be gentle. Brace for impact."
Admiral Ranger stepped up beside him, grim as ever.
"They know this system better than we do," the admiral said. "They'll hit us fast and hard—try to destroy us before we can jump."
William nodded, the temperature in the command room seeming to drop under the weight of what they were about to face.
One mistake, and the entire fleet—all of them—would be vapor.
He confirmed with the weapons officer that all systems were online and armed. If they made it out, they'd likely land right into another setup.
He inhaled slowly and braced.
Everyone did.
The pull intensified. The starry corridor of hyperspace began to ripple, distort… and then—darkness.
The pull intensified. The starry corridor of hyperspace began to ripple and distort… then—darkness. Before him stretched a vast emptiness, but slowly, a star-filled expanse emerged into view.
They were out.
Just as William had predicted, a hail of fire greeted them the moment they emerged into real space. Blaster lances. Torpedoes. Beam weapons. They came at them like a wave.
Each ship in the fleet flared instantly to life—shields surging as they braced for the impact of the enemy battle cruisers' unleashed fury.
Explosions bloomed all around them. The space outside lit up crimson with energy bursts and streaking plasma. A battlefield had opened around them the instant they dropped out of hyperspace.
Our shields were being hammered relentlessly.Five enemy destroyers and four battlecruisers unleashed hell on us.
The ship's shielding shimmered and fluctuated under the stress.And let me make this clear—not even a full second had passed yet.
We were running Tier-1 shields—top-tier defensive tech, capable of withstanding direct hits from battleships—for a while.
But this wasn't just a "while." And it wasn't a single battleship. It was multiple battlecruisers and frigates, all firing their main weapons at us with ruthless precision. This wasn't a skirmish—it was an ambush, designed to crush us on contact.
Our ship—Phantom, a destroyer-class vessel—was holding up, but the lighter frigates in our fleet were already on the verge of collapse. The only reason they hadn't gone down yet was because Phantom, William's ship, had taken the brunt of the assault. The enemy focused their heaviest bombardment on us, not our sister ships.
If we took one more volley, their shields would fail—then the hulls would follow.
Admiral Ranger's voice cut through the chaos outside."These aren't just pirates—not that we ever really believed that. But this formation, this intensity, this precision… this is military precision."
Before William could answer him, the special systems officer called out.
"Sir! The Phantom Drives are charged and locked. All fleet ships report ready."
he turned toward him, eyes sharp."Then do it. What are you waiting for? Activate!"
The comms link opened, and the other ships heard the order.
Just before the second wave of enemy bombardment hit us...
A burst of translucent energy surged around each of our ships—And woosh—we vanished.
The space we had just occupied was consumed in a storm of crimson energy, detonations shaking the void. Missiles and laser fire slammed into empty space.
If we'd stayed a few milliseconds longer... we'd have been turned to ash.
Elsewhere, 2,000 kilometers away, Phantom reappeared in the far reaches of the same star system. The jump had saved us—but only barely.
Our sister ships had scattered in different directions, jumping as instructed. Most were already charging their warp drives to escape the system entirely. Their Phantom Drives needed time to reset and reboot, and their main FTL drives were still cycling. Knowing they wouldn't get another chance to use the Phantom Drive—it was on cooldown—they were making the best of what they had: the warp drive.
Even though they were only running on Warp Factor-1, it would be enough to put some distance between them and this kill zone. With luck, they might just escape the star system. The crews onboard knew one thing for sure—they weren't the target.
Back aboard the Phantom, Admiral Ranger and I weren't relaxing. If anything, we were more tense than before.
Our ship, being a destroyer-class, was equipped with a dual FTL system. The primary was a Class-2 Hyperdrive—slower than top-tier models, but reliable. The auxiliary was a Warp Drive, rated at Factor-3—slightly faster than the ones installed on our sister ships, thanks to Phantom's enhanced power core.
It wasn't cutting-edge, but it was something. And right now, "something" was better than nothing.
"Engage the FTL," I ordered. "Plot a course out of this system—anywhere away from here."
And in a single moment—thanks to our advanced navigational systems and calibrated equipment—Phantom jumped into hyperspace.
Just as the phantom slipped into hyperspace, narrowly escaping the ambush, another ship—massive and unmistakable—dropped out right where Phantom had been moments before.
If William and his crew had seen it, they would've recognized it instantly. It was one of the battlecruisers that had been hammering them in that kill zone.
Inside that enemy vessel, a man stood at the command deck, dressed head-to-toe in a sleek black uniform.
"Status?" he asked, his voice calm—almost laid-back.
An officer turned to him."Sir, based on our sensors, they should have still been here—but it looks like they jumped using their auxiliary drives. We've managed to lock onto their exit vector."
"Then set a course for their exit point," the captain said coldly. "We'll arrive before they do—and wait for them."
He turned to his comm officer."Inform the others—we have the target's coordinates. Have all units converge there immediately. Let's finish this."
"Yes, Captain!" the officer saluted, already relaying the commands.
Back on the Phantom, some of the crew finally allowed themselves a sigh of relief.
But not me. And not Ranger.
We both felt it—this wasn't over.
An hour passed.Phantom was preparing to exit hyperspace.
"Commander," said the nav officer. "We're approaching re-entry into realspace."
I nodded, silent.
But the feeling in my chest—the pressure, the weight—only grew worse. A formless, choking instinct screamed at me.
We dropped out of hyperspace into what should've been a remote, empty sector of open space.
But it was too quiet.
Too still.
I frowned.
"Why do I still feel like we're in danger?"
I didn't have time to think further. The navigation officer's voice suddenly cut through the bridge.
"Sir, detecting vast spatial fluctuations— and same signature as the ships that hit us earlier!"
His face paled.
He slammed the alert button.
Alarms blared.
Admiral Ranger gritted his teeth."Proximity alert. They followed us."
William clenched his fists as the horrible truth sank in.
"They tracked our jump." I said grimly.
The nav officer shouted from below the command platform."Sir! They're exiting FTL—right on top of us!"
And then—one after another—massive ships began punching into real space.
Dozens of them.
Nearly a hundred.
Battlecruisers, destroyers—all exiting like a blade drawn across the void.
The officer choked on his words, but I finished them for him—voice cold, grim, final:
"They've brought numbers."