Inside an acceleration pod deep within the Fleet ship Vulcan, Commander Atsuya stirs. They’ve been under three gravities of burn for nearly eleven hours—far longer than anyone aboard the cruiser has ever endured, or ever hopes to again. Even his eyelids feel heavy as he opens them to the orange glow of the acceleration gel. The discomfort is almost enough to drown out the fear of what awaits them off Terra. 

Almost.

That’s odd. It’s still more than an hour before he’s scheduled to be woken. He feels the tug of the ship’s AI, impatiently waiting for his mind to rouse. 

If this was a true emergency he would have been woken via different protocols, or already been dead, so he defers an extra moment, stretching out his long arms in the warmth of the acceleration gel. What I wouldn’t do for a coffee. Instead he has to settle for the nutrient-rich paste that drips through a PEG tube into his stomach.

Status? He asks wearily, fully opening his mind to the Vulcan’s AI. It manifests as an older man when it bothers to do so, apparently having taken its cue from the Roman god that the ship is named for, but it doesn’t bother with that now. Instead it simply floods Atsuya with data, telling him everything there is to know.

They’ve been sparring with the corrupted remnants of Terra Fleet for the past six hours, point defenses and skip-drones engaging with the first missiles that have been sent against them. It’s been a baffling ordeal.

At first, they assumed the enemy’s weapon patterns were a ploy—no Fleet captain would launch weapons in such obvious patterns and predictable vectors. But after the fifth engagement, they reached the same grim conclusion as Fleet’s last panicked defenders before the comm blackout: Terra Fleet’s AIs are dead. Those who command the remaining ships are mad, incompetent, or both.

It’s as if Terra Fleet is a boxer, throwing out the most casual of jabs. It doesn’t land. Surprised, they throw out another, in nearly the same way, and once again turn away, smug in the knowledge that news of Mars Fleet’s demise will soon reach them. 

Well, they haven’t died yet. 

As for Mars Fleet, they bide their time, waiting for the most opportune moment to land their counterpunch. Given that they're two light cruisers and four frigates against the battleship Agni and two heavy cruisers, there’s no other option. Even piloted by an imbecile, the automatic point-defense systems on those ships will obliterate them in a stand-off engagement. 

But, something has now changed.

Behavior of corrupted Fleet elements has shifted, booms the voice of the Vulcan as Atsuya absorbs the data. Apparently over the past twenty-odd minutes the enemy ships have simply been… drifting? It's odd enough that the Vulcan’s first lieutenant, on the Vulcan’s advice, activated the last of the scout drones that they managed to sneak into Terra’s orbit. Most of those drones were destroyed, but the fact that any remain is another testament to their opponent’s strange ineptitude. 

The scout drones’ data is stranger still. It’s as if Terra’s Fleet has simply gone dead.

A ruse? Atsuya thinks, pondering the development. 

The Vulcan is silent, parsing more data to its human commander. Not only are the Terra ships’ engine signatures dead, but the bombardment of hails and comms that they’ve directed toward Mars Fleet had died along with them. Only the Fleet comms from Terra itself remain in place, pinging away insistently, but Atsuya is now far too cautious to receive them after their first panicked hour. He’s seen what happened to Terra Fleet. The chance of some sort of virus burrowing into them, one which they still don’t fully understand, is far too high to receive Terra-side Fleet comms. 

Does this alter our plan of attack? Atsuya wonders, observing as the Vulcan runs its strategic analysis, and then bounces it off their sister ship Artemis and its AI.

No, the Vulcan finally answers. Hesitant, it adds, Though if the ships are somehow no longer corrupted, it would be a sad waste to Fleet if they were destroyed. 

Well, that’s a thought. Atsuya hasn’t allowed himself to ponder beyond the coming engagement, hasn't allowed himself to consider how a disaster of this magnitude will affect humanity’s tenuous hold among the stars. There’s no pyrrhic victory to be had here. Yet, to be able to salvage two heavy cruisers and a battleship among the ruins of Terra Fleet’s disaster would be something. 

Alas.

Even in the difficulty of three-G acceleration, Atsuya gives a sad shake of his head. 

Tight beam broadcast to the rest of Mars Fleet. Stay on course. Continues to refuse all comms. The plan doesn’t change. 

They may still be flying into a trap, but it will not be one spun out of misplaced hope. 

Terra Fleet will burn.