Ezra turned slowly to face the Imperial Commander, his eyes quietly searching Kallus's face—uncertain whether to speak or remain silent.
Among the admirals of the Void Fleet, Ezra stood closest to Kallus. Since the beginning—nearly four months ago—it had been Ezra who led the formation and coordination of the naval division.
He'd worked alongside Kallus day and night, unlike the other six fleet admirals who had only been appointed a month or two earlier to lead the six battle groups. Because of that deep familiarity, Ezra could sense sothing was weighing on Kallus's mind.
Those words—"We'll need those scraps"—still echoed in Ezra's thoughts. Kallus wasn't speaking without reason. Sothing was coming. Ezra felt it in his bones, and he was sure Kallus already knew what it was, even if he hadn't said it aloud.
He hesitated, then softly muttered the customary address, "Imperial Commander…" but before he could say more, Kallus raised his hand in a silent gesture for him to stop.
Despite the weight of his authority, the aura Kallus exuded wasn't overbearing—it was calm, resolute.
Turning his gaze to the vast darkness of space beyond the reinforced glass of the Eclipse's Wrath, Kallus spoke without looking back.
"There's no need to ask anything, Admiral Ezra. You'll know soon enough—just like the others. But now is not the ti for questions. We can catch up later... if there's a later to catch up to."
He paused, his voice heavy with unspoken weight.
"Sothing's coming, Ezra. And we may not be ready for it. We don't have ti—so I need you to make sure everything here is handled. No delays. No mistakes."
The mont he finished, Kallus's figure flickered—and vanished, just as suddenly as he'd arrived.
Ezra stood in silence, his thoughts racing. Kallus hadn't just given a command. He'd given a warning... and a glimpse of sothing ominous that lay just ahead.
But Ezra knew this wasn't the ti for him to dwell on things beyond his reach. Whatever lay ahead—whatever Kallus foresaw—it wasn't sothing for him to worry about now. That much, he understood.
He had a duty, a task that required his focus. And that, above all, was what he would commit to—ensuring the current operation was executed flawlessly, without distraction or delay.
As for the unknown future… he trusted Kallus. The Imperial Commander wouldn't keep them in the dark for long. Once this situation was resolved, Kallus would share what needed to be known. Of that, Ezra was certain.
With that thought anchoring his resolve, Ezra turned around sharply and teleported from the eting hall to the command room. There was no ti to waste. Outside, operations were still in motion, and it was his job to oversee them—efficiently and without a single misstep.
anwhile, back on Kallus's flagship—the Obliterator—he reappeared in the command room monts after vanishing from the Eclipse Warth. There, the Red Empress was already waiting, overseeing the ongoing cleanup operation. She was also coordinating the deploynt of specialized vessels used for transporting salvaged materials, which were being extracted by the Obliterator's advanced mining droids.
These utility ships were actively cutting apart the massive chunks of space debris—remnants of what was once the Minotaur 7th Fleet. Now, those once-proud warships were nothing more than twisted wreckage scattered across the void, destroyed during the Void Fleet's assault.
The salvaged debris was being transported in segnts to the Obliterator's refinery hangars, where automated bots sorted, processed, and refined the raw materials. Every bit of usable alloy and component was being collected, stored, and preserved for future use—a move that had begun to confuse and puzzle many within the fleet.
As for the Minotaur ships that remained relatively intact, they were undergoing internal cleanup operations. So still housed remnants of the enemy—trapped or deceased Minotaur crew—so the Void Marines were systematically clearing them out, leaving no threat behind. Once the interiors were secure, a new piece of arcane-tech was deployed: the Miniaturized Spatial Orbs—advanced devices capable of compressing and storing massive physical structures within a pocket dinsion.
These intact enemy vessels were being sealed and stored inside these orbs. Once the cleanup operation was completed, the spatial storage devices would be handed over to the Fleet Admirals, who would then pass them to Chief Imperial Engineer Tyler. His team would determine whether these captured ships would be dismantled, refitted, or reverse-engineered, depending on the Imperial Commander's final decision.
The operation was expected to last another 12 to 16 hours, with the fleet working at full capacity to finish swiftly and without error.
Back aboard the Obliterator, Kallus silently nodded at the Red Empress, acknowledging her presence. She approached, but neither spoke—they didn't need to. She already understood what had transpired and was deeply focused on orchestrating the ongoing salvage operations. Seeing her fully imrsed, Kallus chose not to disturb her.
Instead, he turned his attention to another matter and issued an imdiate summons for Minister Evans, the head of Developnt and Industry.
Fortunately, Minister Evans was already aboard the Obliterator, closely supervising the refinery's handling of the wreckage. He had been directing his staff, ensuring every recovered material was processed properly, when he was notified of the Imperial Commander's request.
Without hesitation, Evans delegated responsibilities to his aides and stepped aside, allowing the teleportation system to transport him straight to Kallus's location.
Within seconds, Minister Evans found himself standing in the center of the Obliterator's command room—a space he was all too familiar with. He had been summoned here countless tis before under the direct orders of the Imperial Commander, and once again, he stood where duty had called him.
But sothing felt different this ti.
Before him, seated upon the central command throne, was Kallus. Yet unlike his usual deanor—a calm and composed presence that often carried a quiet warmth—today, the air around him was different. The approachable expression, the subtle familiarity that made him feel like a comrade despite his supre authority… was gone.
What remained was a mask of focus and intensity, his expression cold and unreadable. It was not the face of a friend or leader—it was the face of a man burdened by gravity, of a commander preparing for what others could not yet see.
Evans understood imdiately.
This wasn't the ti for questions or pleasantries.
Straightening his back, he offered a crisp military salute and spoke without hesitation.
"You summoned , Imperial Commander."
His tone was formal, respectful, and direct—precisely what Kallus needed. There were no unnecessary words, no probing questions. Just obedience and readiness.
And sothing in Kallus's eyes flickered—not warmth, but perhaps a flicker of approval. Or maybe, relief.
There was no ti to waste.
Keeping that in mind, Kallus didn't waste a second.
Without looking up from the holographic display in front of him, he spoke in a tone that was low, focused, and absolute.
"As the Minister of Resources and Industrial Developnt for the Void Fleet, I want you to begin an imdiate assessnt."
Evans straightened, already preparing his ntal notes.
"While the cleanup operation is underway, I need you to run a full analysis on the current human resource deficiencies across our fleet. Specifically—how many personnel we're lacking right now, and how much of that shortfall is currently being supplented by bio-AI units."
Kallus's gaze shifted, locking with Evans.
"Then, I want projections. If we were to expand the fleet—say, twelvefold—I want detailed calculations. Everything: manpower, training ti, living quarters, logistics, support systems. How many real personnel would we need to sustain such an increase without relying further on artificial support?"
He paused for only a second.
"And not just people. I want numbers on material requirents as well. If we had to recreate our current fleet twelve tis over—what raw materials would be needed? What processing capacity would we require? How long would it take to achieve?"
Evans's eyes widened slightly at the scope of the request, but he didn't flinch.
Kallus's voice hardened, final.
"I want everything calculated. ticulously. Efficiently. And I want it on my desk by the ti this cleanup operation is complete."
Even though countless questions ran through Minister Evans's mind—about the urgency, the scale of the task, and the reasoning behind it—he remained silent. The Imperial Commander's directness wasn't unusual, but this task felt different. It carried weight... purpose. And yet, Evans asked nothing. Like Admiral Ezra, he understood sothing unspoken: when the ti ca, Kallus would tell them what they needed to know. Until then, it wasn't their place to question.
Orders from Kallus weren't rely commands—they were mission statents. And their duty was not to debate them, but to execute them with utmost precision.
With that clarity of purpose, Evans straightened his posture and t Kallus's intense gaze. "You won't be disappointed," he said with calm conviction, his voice unwavering. "As you command, Imperial Commander."
Kallus gave a small nod, a flicker of satisfaction breaking through his otherwise serious expression. A rare, fleeting smile touched his lips.
"Good. Now go," he said firmly.
Evans bowed his head respectfully. "Yes, Commander."
And just as swiftly as he had arrived, he vanished—teleporting to his quarters to begin the monuntal task at hand.
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