Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner Chapter 357: Black Saber [The Ark's response]

Chapter 357: Black Saber [The Ark’s response]

An encrypted transmission from the Ark arrived at 0800 hours after their initial eting. Cassandra sat in her quarters, staring at the official seal that marked the ssage as Priority Alpha—the kind of authorization that could reshape entire military operations with a few carefully chosen words.

Her fingers hesitated over the decode key. Whatever was in this ssage would determine whether her people lived or died, whether the Vanguard Program continued or beca a morial to promising lives cut short. She entered her command codes and watched the text unfold across her screen.

•CLASSIFIED TRANSMISSION – PRIORITY ALPHA•

•FROM: EARTH DEFENSE FORCE CENTRAL COMMAND•

•TO: VANGUARD STATION COMMAND STAFF•

•RE: SIRIUS SYSTEM RESPONSE AUTHORIZATION•

•Request for precision rescue deploynt: APPROVED•

•Operational paraters: Modified per strategic assessnt•

•Personnel authorization: Single Vanguard command staff deploynt•

•Support assets: Task Force Umbra – Elite Response Unit•

•Tiline: Imdiate departure authorized•

•Additional note: Vanguard Program assets too valuable for multiple command staff risk exposure. One deploynt only. Selection at station discretion.•

•Good hunting.•

•Fleet Admiral Arthur•

•EDF Central Command•

Cassandra closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. They’d gotten approval, but with conditions that made everything more complicated. One commander. One chance. The weight of it settled on her shoulders like a piece of armor she’d forgotten how to remove.

Thirty minutes later, the three of them sat around the sa conference table, but the atmosphere had changed completely. The tactical displays were dark, the holographic projectors silent. This wasn’t about strategy anymore—this was about deciding which of them would risk everything to bring their people ho.

“The Ark was clear,” i said, her voice quieter than usual. “One Vanguard commander. The rest of us stay here to maintain program operations.”

Volkov leaned back in his chair, his weathered hands folded on the table. “Thirty years of active duty. Combat deploynts across fourteen different systems. I’ve lost count of how many insertion operations I’ve led into hostile territory.”

“Experience matters,” he continued, but there was sothing in his voice that suggested he was trying to convince himself more than them. “The kind of tactical thinking that cos from decades of real combat situations.”

Cassandra studied his face, recognizing the careful way he was building his argunt. This wasn’t about proving capability—this was about justifying sacrifice.

“You’ve also got the most experience training new recruits,” she said gently. “The Vanguard Program needs soone who understands long-term developnt, not just imdiate tactical responses.”

“The program needs all of us,” i said, her sharp mind already working through the variables. “But if we’re being practical about resource allocation…” She paused, her fingers tracing patterns on the table surface. “I’m the newest mber of the command staff. Least amount of institutional knowledge invested in my position.”

“That’s not how this works,” Volkov said firmly.

“Isn’t it?” i’s dark eyes t his steadily. “You’ve been developing training protocols for thirty years. Cassandra helped to create the Vanguard Program from scratch. I’ve been here eight months. The math is simple.”

Cassandra felt sothing twist in her chest. They were all doing it—calculating their own worth, their own expendability, as if human lives were just variables in so cosmic equation.

“You’re the best tactical analyst in the EDF,” she said. “Your work on battlefield adaptation protocols has saved thousands of lives. The program needs that kind of thinking.”

“The program needs its founder more,” i replied. “The Vanguard Program is your vision, your creation. If sothing happens to you, we lose the entire conceptual frawork.”

“Which is exactly why I should be the one to go,” Cassandra said, leaning forward. “They’re my people. My responsibility. I helped design every protocol they’re using, every tactic they’ve learned. If anyone can find them and bring them ho, it’s soone who understands how they think.”

Volkov shook his head slowly. “Command doesn’t work like that. Personal connection clouds judgnt. Makes you take unnecessary risks.”

“And impersonal command gets people killed,” Cassandra shot back. “These aren’t just numbers on a tactical display. They’re Noah Eclipse, who’s barely nineteen and already more powerful than soldiers twice his age. Lucas Grey, who volunteers for every dangerous assignnt because he thinks he has sothing to prove. Sophie Reign, who joined the program to carve a new path different from the one her father made on earth,”

She stood up, pacing to the viewport where Earth curved below them in its deceptive tranquility. “They’re Diana Frost, who grew up in the outer colonies and knows what it’s like to lose everything to Harbinger attacks yet her and her family pulled through. She’s a fighter, by blood. I may have known them for what? A few weeks maybe? But trust , I know my people!”

“All the more reason to send soone who won’t make emotional decisions,” Volkov said, but his voice had lost its earlier conviction.

“Emotional decisions?” Cassandra turned back to face them. “Commander Pierce has been missing for three days along with one hundred fifty-three of our best people. The Ark wants to send in massive force deploynts that could destroy everything we’re trying to save. This isn’t about emotion—this is about understanding the mission.”

The room fell silent. Outside the viewport, a supply ship was docking with the station, its running lights blinking in the regulated pattern of routine operations. Everything looked normal, controlled, safe. But they all knew how quickly normal could beco catastrophic in their line of work.

“There’s another factor,” i said quietly. “If this goes wrong, if we lose whoever we send, the program needs its remaining leadership to be as strong as possible.”

“aning?” Volkov asked.

“aning we need to consider not just who’s most qualified to succeed, but who’s most qualified to fail.” i’s voice was steady, analytical, but Cassandra could see the cost of that objectivity in her eyes. “Who can the program afford to lose?”

“None of us,” Cassandra said firmly. “The program can’t afford to lose any of us. But our people are out there, and they need soone who understands what they’re facing.”

She walked back to the table, her decision crystallizing with each step. “I’m going. Not because I’m expendable, not because I’m the most qualified, but because I’m the one who can live with the consequences either way.”

“Cassandra—” Volkov began.

“I created this program,” she said, her voice carrying the authority that had made her one of the youngest commanders in EDF history. “I recruited those soldiers. I trained them, I believed in them, and I sent them into harm’s way. If they die because I made a mistake, I want to be there to know what that mistake was.”

“And if you die trying to save them?” i asked.

“Then I die trying to save them,” Cassandra replied simply. “That’s what command ans.”

The silence stretched between them again, but this ti it felt different. Final. The kind of quiet that ca when difficult decisions had been made and everyone involved understood the weight of what was about to happen.

“I’ll prepare the mission briefs,” Volkov said finally.

“I’ll coordinate with Task Force Umbra,” i added.

Cassandra nodded, feeling the familiar weight of command settling around her like old armor. “Thank you.”

Two hours later, Cassandra stood in the equipnt bay, checking her gear one final ti. The advanced combat suit felt different from the training gear she’d grown accustod to while on this station. This was heavier, more complex, designed for situations where failure ant more than just bruised egos and redial training.

Her Beast Gear backpack dominated her profile, the enhanced power systems and tactical support equipnt adding significant bulk to her fra. Inside were enough supplies for extended operations, communication equipnt that could punch through most interference, and dical supplies designed for combat trauma rather than training accidents.

The Beast Weapon secured to her thigh was a Amg 350 Banshee Ripper—one of the new generation of experintal weapons designed specifically for Harbinger engagent. It looked like a standard sidearm until activated, when it would extend into a rifle configuration capable of channeling enhanced energy attacks. The kind of weapon that regular soldiers weren’t cleared to carry.

“Commander,” a voice called from behind her.

She turned to see i approaching with a sealed container. “Last-minute addition from the Ark. Classified assets for ergency deploynt only.”

Cassandra accepted the container, noting its weight and the complex locking chanisms that required both biotric and command authorization to open. “I don’t suppose you can tell what’s inside?”

“Above my clearance level,” i said. “But the deploynt authorization ca from Fleet Admiral Arthur personally.”

That was significant. Arthur didn’t personally authorize anything unless it involved either massive strategic importance or massive potential for catastrophic failure. Sotis both.

“Understood,” Cassandra said, securing the container to her gear harness. “Anything else I should know?”

“The Task Force Umbra commander is Colonel Marcus Stone. You served with him during the Proxima Centauri campaign.”

Cassandra’s eyebrows rose slightly. She rembered Stone—brilliant tactical mind, absolutely ruthless in combat, and soone who’d earned his reputation by succeeding where other commanders had failed spectacularly.

“Stone’s leading the response team?”

“Specifically requested for Harbinger engagent operations,” i confird. “Apparently he’s been developing so unconventional approaches to alien contact situations.”

“Unconventional how?”

“That’s also above my clearance level.”

Cassandra nodded, filing the information away. Working with Stone again would be either very good or very bad, depending on how much he’d changed since their last deploynt together.

“Transport’s ready,” Volkov’s voice ca over the comm system. “Dock Seven.”

Cassandra took one last look around the equipnt bay, morizing details that might matter later. The weapons racks, the tactical displays, the photos of successful training exercises that covered one wall. All of it representing the work they’d done to prepare for exactly this kind of situation.

“Bring them ho, Cassie,” i said quietly.

“That’s the plan,” Cassandra replied.

The transport ship was smaller than she’d expected—a sleek courier vessel designed for speed rather than comfort. Its pilot was already running through pre-flight checks when she secured her gear and strapped in for departure.

“ETA to rendezvous?” she asked.

“Forty-seven minutes,” the pilot replied. “Task Force Umbra is holding position at Grid Seven-Seven-Alpha.”

Cassandra settled back in her seat as the transport disconnected from Vanguard Station and began its journey toward the rendezvous point. Through the viewport, she could see the massive bulk of the task force ships—heavy cruisers and assault carriers that represented the kind of overwhelming force the Ark preferred for complex operations.

But sowhere in the Sirius system, her people were facing unknown dangers with nothing but their training and their determination to rely on. She was coming for them, backed by the best the EDF could provide.

The question was whether it would be enough.