Another fleet gets crossed off the map making a full dozen now that Greta has marked off in the last week. She’s losing the North. She’s been losing a lot lately. She stopped feeling the cold long ago. Leading an empire has made her not try to feel anything, especially in recent days.
Greta notices her mind wandering to what’s been lost and quickly recomposes herself as she turns to face her intelligence officers. “If you don’t have any useful information to give me, then you’re not just failing me, you’re failing your empire. I need answers. I need solutions, and I need it before we lose anything else.”
The group of three intelligence officers keep their heads down, afraid to make eye contact with their leader. One officer braves the consequences by speaking up, still afraid to lock gaze with her, “I…I have a theory, Ma’am.”
Greta looks at the bravest of the cowardly men, as if she were shattering Zynthium armor with her stare. “A theory?” She walks towards him slowly, each step echoing through the war room. “A theory is better than the absolute nothing you’ve brought me so far.” She stops in front of the officer, who now regrets opening his mouth. “Let’s hear it then?”
He clears his throat before speaking up, “Well…Ahh…We’ve tried searching for energy signatures and analyzing tactics, but…uhm…well nothing seems to come back with anything. What if it’s something…biological? Something hunting the fleets.” Having finished, he winces as if waiting to be struck down.
“You think something is hunting them? Is it a whale? Have the dolphin alliance come to take what’s theirs? Perhaps it’s a singing crab mutated by uranium weaponry?” Greta says belittling the officer.
The middle officer feels the need to defend his colleague and interjects. “There’s no wreckage, as if the hulls are carried away, like a predator takes its food to a cave or a nest.”
The third officer adds, “We know it doesn’t make sense, but…well, it’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Greta steps back looking over her officers wondering if they’re crazy or if its crazy not to think there’s something in their ramblings. She heads over to a blueprint on the wall of a large hull. “Where are we at on the design of this?”
The first officer, finally getting himself together now that Greta’s gaze is no longer holding him down, says, “With our recent losses, we don’t have anywhere near the resources we need to finish a prototype. The legion took much of what we had, so…It’s impossible to do it with what we have.”
“How long do we have before we’ve lost the North entirely?” she asks, fearing the answer.
“At this rate…I’m afraid we may have already lost it unless we get major reinforcements.”
She looks at the blueprint again. The flexibility in the design, the raw strength, and the defenses alone could be what’s needed to turn the tide. If they lose the North, it’s only a matter of time before the other factions are hit. If they haven’t been getting hit already. This isn’t just about the Draconians anymore. A familiar but long lost sensation rises. Greta is feeling again, but this time it’s not the cold. Something fiery burns within her. Rage. Nobody takes from her.
“Prepare the Great Hall. I’ll be calling a summit.”