The Chronos Garrison hung in the void, a fortress of sharp angles and unyielding logic. Within its command center, the air was as sterile and cold as the equations that governed it. Ereun Solas watched the tactical displays, his gloved hands resting on the console. His focus was absolute, his entire being dedicated to the perfect, recursive algorithms of his defense grid. He had calculated every variable, from the recharge rates of his plasma lances to the psychological breaking point of a potential boarding party. The Garrison was a masterpiece of predictable order.
Which was why the arrival of the Fractured Crown’s armada was so deeply… illogical.
There was no declaration of war. No hailing frequency. One moment, there was empty space. The next, the fleet was simply there. The bio-augm
