Two days later, the morning sun rose behind the black silhouette of the celestial reticle.
With only nine real days remaining until the Star-Array fired, the sky buzzed with static electricity that made the copper lanterns hum. A faint crimson haze lingered over the water, casting an ominous copper tint across the sails of the alliance fleet.
Inside the subterranean pavilion of Crater Island, Kaelen Vance sat on the edge of his low bed with a porcelain teacup in his hand.
He looked unusually focused.
He was not meditating or pondering the celestial heavens. He was reviewing what he called the fundamental law of long-term survival: the Pre-Paid Shield doctrine.
Most commanders believed wars were won through fiery speeches, heroic charges, and desperate last-minute sacrifices. To Kaelen, that was just poor financial planning and terrible time management. Desperate heroics meant someone had made a mistake three weeks earlier.
If someone was under-equipped in battle, they inevitably suffered injuries. When allies were injured, they screamed, they bled, and they came knocking on the door begging for medical treatment.
Even worse, if a frontline commander fell, the chain of command shattered. That would require senior leaders to attend emergency tactical councils.
