Admiral

"Admiral, the Kaelian blockade is tightening," Commander Vane reported, her voice tight. "They’re expecting us to dive. Standard tactical procedure for a ship this size."

By the time the heat alarms stopped blaring, they were in the clear, the vast expanse of open space ahead of them. Elias finally sat back in his command chair, his hands—for the first time in hours—slightly shaking. admiral

"Vane, do you know why they call me Admiral?" he asked, his voice a low gravel. "Your record, sir. Forty years of service." Elias finally sat back in his command chair,

Elias looked out at the stars, a faint smirk on his lips. "I didn't. But a good Admiral knows that sometimes, you have to let the universe take the wheel." Forty years of service

The Invictus didn't just move; it screamed across the vacuum, a streak of white fire. They tore through the Kaelian line before the enemy could even rotate their turrets.

The sea didn't care for titles, but Elias Thorne cared for the sea. At sixty-four, with a face like a topographic map of the Atlantic, he was the youngest man ever to be named , and the oldest to still insist on taking the helm during a gale.

"Will hold just long enough to slingshot us behind their line," he finished. "Kill the engines. We’re going silent. Let the sun do the work."