“Unacceptable,” Sorith-Ven snapped. “We will not allow you to gamble with our wealth!”
The chamber erupted with shouts, the crowd fracturing along financial lines. Those without direct investments in the moon called for a retreat, while stakeholders argued for continued operations.
Aegirarch let them rage, watching without expression. The cacophony served a purpose exposing who held what interests, who acted out of fear, and who could still be reasoned with. He observed for several minutes, then calmly activated the mute function. The chamber fell silent instantly.
“I shall let Science Division Head Kraklak explain our current situation.”
All eyes turned to Kraklak. His voice was measured, and precise. “The conflict remains at a stalemate. However, given the anomaly's accelerated adaptation, projections indicate we will lose total control of the moon within months possibly sooner. Its evolution is unpredictable, but the trend is clear: delay only strengthens it.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, then a sharp objection.
“And your solution is to crack the moon?” One of the shareholders scoffed. “The financial losses would be catastrophic!”
Similar voices rose in agreement. The mining consortium, military wing, and ship captains each calculated potential ruin in their ledgers.
Kraklak remained unmoved. “A controlled, precision strike may expose the core for further extraction. However, this is no guarantee of eliminating the anomaly. Its observed adaptability suggests it may endure even that, potentially emerging more resilient than before.”
The chamber broke into a further outcry. The possibility of failure was unacceptable to those demanding a definitive solution. Some called for new leadership. One voice, louder than the others, declared openly:
“Aegirarch is unfit to lead!”
More voices joined the cry.
Aegirarch muted them again. His expression did not change. “Kraklak, continue.”
Kraklak remained composed. “The anomaly’s technological advancements are beyond initial expectations. Its biological constructs have expanded in scale and complexity. More concerningly, it has begun creating void-capable vessels.”
A silence settled over the chamber. The weight of the words was clear. Until now, they had assumed the anomaly was contained to the moon. If it could escape…
“This is conjecture,” a voice interjected. “Interstellar travel requires knowledge across multiple disciplines. A creature evolving under battlefield conditions is unlikely to develop such expertise.”
Aegirarch recognized the voice—Sorith-Ven.
Sorith-Ven turned to the crowd. “What we are witnessing is a string of failed military strategies by a leader now resorting to extreme measures.
The true failure is not the anomaly, but the command overseeing this campaign.”
The chamber stirred, sensing the challenge. Aegirarch studied Sorith-Ven without reaction. He had already anticipated this moment.
“You suggest my leadership is the cause of this?” His voice was controlled, deliberate. “Are you implying that the anomaly is not a threat, or that a change in leadership would alter its nature?”
Sorith-Ven did not answer immediately. He had overplayed his hand. Aegirarch continued, addressing the room.
“No one could have predicted what we found here. Yet, despite that, the wealth extracted has already exceeded initial projections threefold.”
“And yet, it is never enough!” A mining representative shouted.
Aegirarch turned his gaze toward them. “Losses have escalated, yes. And as costs rise, so does the question of sustainability.”
Another voice, sharper, “We demand change. We demand a transfer of power to someone capable of winning this conflict.”
The chamber roared with calls for reformation. Aegirarch did not react. His face remained impassive, but elsewhere, his attendants were already receiving silent orders.
Contingency plans were in motion. The rest of the fleet could be discarded. The operation could be given to another party. There were always alternatives.
By the time they realized their mistake, he would be too far beyond their reach.
The discussion stretched into cycles of calculated argument. Aegirarch countered, adjusted, but he sensed the shift in the chamber long before it was spoken aloud.
A new figure entered the meeting.
He recognized his incoming replacement immediately.
Varos-Thek. A younger, more aggressive strategist with a single, bold claim, of total victory.
“We will deliberate no longer as I will give us a swift victory” Varos-Thek announced. “Aegirarch, your oversight has been valuable, but your results… lacking. I will be assuming direct command of the conflict.”
The chamber was silent.
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Aegirarch merely inclined his head.
He had seen this coming. He had prepared for it.
Varos-Thek thought this war could be won with brute force. He was mistaken.
Aegirarch remained composed. “If you believe overwhelming force will solve this, you are underestimating the nature of the enemy.”
Varos-Thek smirked. “And you overcomplicate a simple problem. Destroy the infestation. Extract the Nullite. End of story.”
Aegirarch said nothing. He simply watched.
This was not a defeat.
It was an opportunity.
If Varos-Thek failed, and he would fail, then the Expedition would beg for Aegirarch’s return. And next time, he would not be so merciful.
After all, his time came with costs.
———
As the last figures vanished from the virtual meeting space, only Aegirarch and Kraklak remained. The artificial glow of the simulated environment cast sharp reflections across their avatars, but neither paid it any mind. Their conversation now held far greater importance than the fleeting illusions around them.
Kraklak tilted his head slightly, his voice carrying its usual undercurrent of amusement. “It seems they have chosen a desperate course of action.”
Aegirarch barely moved, his expression cold and analytical. “Greed and desperation have dictated their choice. The numbers are simple, ninety per cent of those who joined this expedition sought escape, whether from debt, failure, or the looming threat of indentured servitude. They saw this venture as their only way to claim a future beyond servitude to the Triumvirate.”
Kraklak nodded. “And now, with the Arc Ship en route, they scramble to salvage what they can before it arrives.”
Aegirarch’s eyes remained fixed on the data streams running through his interface. “This next phase will define the coming months. Their decisions will shape the power structure moving forward. Those who hesitate or fail to consolidate resources will be left behind.”
Kraklak leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. “What of the survivors captured by the anomaly? Are they still transmitting?”
Aegirarch barely glanced at the report before responding. “They are still sending signals, but their integrity is… questionable. The probability of contamination is high. Whatever has happened to them is no longer my concern.”
Kraklak let out a dry chuckle. “Cold as ever. Still, even compromised, they could hold valuable data.”
Aegirarch finally turned his gaze toward him. “Compromised data is more dangerous than no data at all. The anomaly operates beyond known parameters. Any information we retrieve would have to be filtered through multiple layers of analysis before it could be considered reliable. The risk outweighs the potential gain.”
Kraklak exhaled slowly. “So we abandon them.”
“There was never an alternative.” Aegirarch’s voice was firm. “They are a liability.”
Kraklak didn’t argue the point further. He knew Aegirarch well enough to understand that emotions played no role in his calculations.
Instead, he shifted the discussion. “We need to finalize our selections for departure. The Arc Ship will not accommodate all of us. Who do we take?”
Aegirarch brought up a detailed personnel list, sorting through names and classifications with machine-like efficiency. “Members of our military wing will be essential. Defensive strength must be maintained if the anomaly pursues us beyond this system. However, their presence alone is insufficient. We must balance our forces.”
Kraklak nodded. “The mining consortium?”
Aegirarch considered. “Their expertise is valuable, but they are expendable. Mining automation can compensate for their absence. If necessary, additional labour can be acquired elsewhere.”
“Science teams?”
“They hold merit, but only select specialists should be prioritized. Researchers with direct BCU experience and etheric anomaly analysts, anyone else is dead weight.”
Kraklak smirked. “And the etheric users?”
Aegirarch’s expression remained unchanged. “A last resort. Their abilities are unpredictable. Their connection to the anomaly makes them potential liabilities.”
“Yet their insights could prove invaluable,” Kraklak countered.
“Possibly,” Aegirarch admitted. “But their presence could also introduce an uncontrolled variable into an already volatile situation. We will only take them if necessary.”
Kraklak leaned back, satisfied for now. “Then we move forward with the military first, select scientists, and only the most essential consortium personnel. Etheric users remain an option, but not a priority.”
Aegirarch nodded. “We prepare for immediate departure the moment the Arc Ship arrives. No delays. No second chances.”
Kraklak’s amusement flickered again. “And if the others hesitate?”
Aegirarch’s response was immediate. “Then they remain behind.”