The battleship Nova flew in close to the mountains and, just beyond, the Zoran capital, Truce. Ironic that the Zoran’s would name their capital Truce thought Captain Culls as his crew guided the Nova into striking position. Collin’s plan had been perfect. As a disaster alarm was sounding in Truce, all the Cetra would escape, and the city’s communications would be cut. It had worked perfectly in every other Zoran city, and Culls didn’t doubt it now.

Almost on cue, the Cetra began to flow out of Truce, running from every door to the rendezvous point where the cruisers would pick them up. Truce was huge, bigger than any other city, and shaped like a large bulb. It had six large columns jutting out of its parameter, where weapons and defense ships were held. It sparkled and looked so marvelous that Culls was sorry it had to be destroyed. Huge retractable Cryse walls, rounded to fit perfectly onto the city without resulting damage, surrounded it. Until the last fifty years, those walls had stayed up for defense against the Cetra. But now the Zorans were confident and retracted the walls. It was exactly why the Cetra had waited one hundred and fifty years to strike. That and the fact that weapons and ships took a long time to build. It had all worked perfectly.

As the last of the Cetra fled Truce, the Nova sprung to action. Immediately its bay doors opened, and the big ship seemed to give birth to hundreds of smaller ships, which rocketed toward the Zoran’s now doomed city. The fighter ships went straight at first, all toward Truce, but then broke away as they followed the attack pattern. They split into three groups. The first two groups each attacked a column. The third group waited behind and provided cover.

As the Spectrals destroyed the first column, the Zorans seemed to come alive and try to defend themselves. Ships flew out of the remaining columns straight into the Nova’s trap. The huge ship fired a huge energy beam, a long endless laser that cut down the enemy ships as they flew out of the city. The third group, the Rogues, attacked the incoming ships with the savage, built-up anger that came from being slaves just two weeks before the strike. The second column fell, then the third and fourth. The Spectrals and the second group, the Flames, broke away from their strategic attack to take out the enemies. Culls, a bearded Cetra man of about two hundred, marveled at the perfect execution of the rebels’ plan. The enemies were falling all around the ship. And soon they would seal the operation.

Culls was right. The Zorans within truce realized what was happening and began the slow raising of the Cryse defense walls. Culls sat at the controls for the Nova’s weapons. He wanted to be the one to push the button. He tensed as the walls neared the sealing point. Wait…Now! Culls crushed the button, sending a huge burst of Solar Plasma into the city just as the Cryse walls sealed. Perfect! The shot had been perfect! The huge resulting explosion would now only hit the walls and blast them outward instead of creating a deadly shock wave capable of destroying all the Cetra outside the city, as well as if they’d been in it. Culls sat back in his chair.

“Pull us back to the safety zone.” The Captain commanded. The helmsman manipulated the controls, and the Nova veered away to the designated safe zone. Behind, Truce seemed to glow in iridescent solar energy. The waves of sun heat ripped through the beautiful city, melting Zorans and Cryse buildings and anything else in its wake. It was more beautiful than anything, a miniature star contained within a glass dome. Then, suddenly, it all came apart. The waves of solar energy burst out of their prison, the giant Cryse walls meant to defend, which had instead destroyed, shattered and exploded outward. Shards of Cryse crashed through the Borr atmosphere, and the Cetra on the ground ducked in cover. Pieces of buildings and walls and the huge power plant contained within the bulb scattered across the ground. And it was done; the dust settling and the suns that worked their way through odd orbits reflected light off the city that had been crushed from the inside out. And they cheered.

“Yes! Direct hit, Sir!” Dustin, the tactical officer aboard the Nova, told Captain Culls. He hit the panel in happiness, as the crew replayed the recording of the scene in slow motion for the crew’s morbid enjoyment.

“It’s not over. Helm, take us into orbit. We need to provide cover for the cruisers while they pick up our people. Good work, everyone!” Culls beamed. He’d always had been so proud of his crew, his ship. He had earned so much respect and honor that it was a huge privilege to serve with him. He had a significant difference with the Zorans. He and his family had been there to greet them when they landed. Culls was the only one to return home.

The Nova moved to a higher position as the first two cruisers, the Plasma (Collin’s ship), and the Sol, dropped slowly through the atmosphere to receive the grounded passengers. Culls looked at the readouts beside his chair. They needed to hurry. No doubt Admiral Carnage, as he called himself, would be there soon. The Cetra fighter ships dropped back into the Nova’s docking bay and Culls himself hailed the cruisers, letting them know that the deed was done.

Go to Chapter II

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