Interstellar Spark

Twelve figures sat around the conference table, waiting patiently for her. Be they her admirers or her foes, none dared disturb her silence or the drift of her thoughts.

These twelve embodied the Federation's highest echelon: Minister of Outer Space Candace, Fleet Admiral Olga, Institute Dean Fu Xiuqing, Energy Secretary Liqi, Transport Chief Delini, Interior Secretary Bu Ruanling, Education Minister Sha Yunxian, Health Director Franzhi, Propaganda Minister Jennifer, Chief Justice Aiwada, Intelligence Director Citlali, and General Affairs Officer Gulufu.

Seven were women—each a paragon of distinct feminine beauty, a gallery of grace in varied hues. Aglaia drew her gaze back from the lunar vista, sweeping it over the assembly with a faint smile. "Very well! The meeting may begin."

Candace, her demeanor icy yet laced with a sultry edge buried deep, cut in coolly. "I'd remind the President that three vital figures await your word outside, eager to know if they might join us."

Aglaia's bright eyes flickered, meeting this rival—who coveted her seat—with calm. "No trouble there. I've sent word they'll be seen after the meeting. I'm curious myself how they timed their arrival so perfectly."

Candace offered a poised smile, saying no more, her air inscrutable and deep.

All eyes fixed on their radiant leader. Save for the refined, almost ethereal Fu Xiuqing—whose noble beauty seemed untouched by mortal cares—even Admiral Olga, the dashing, chestnut-haired superior to Predator's Major Edward, knew little of the true purpose behind the Inferno system venture, let alone the others.

Aglaia, three centuries at the helm, had mastered the art of command. She didn't dive straight to the heart of matters, instead turning to Citlali. "Yili, please share the latest intelligence."

Citlali, serene and golden-haired, bore a grave look. "The outlook's grim. Of the twenty-eight spy probes sent to scout the Viper Legion, all vanished beyond declination seventy-eight—no trace, no word. We're blind to what's unfolding in that vast stellar reach."

Silence fell, heavy and somber. Thus far, they'd lost but one colonial system. Yet if the stars beyond seventy degrees lay in Viper hands, two-thirds of the galaxy's hundred billion suns—over sixty billion—might already bow to their sway.

Citlali pressed on. "We've fortified the frontier with a hundred thirty-eight armed stations to track their moves, but the Vipers leave no shadow. We can't guess their next strike. It's a gnawing dread—sleep and peace slip away."

Admiral Olga interjected, voice firm. "I still say we retake Agate. Last time, ignorance undid us, but seven years of strategy have honed our edge against them."

Dean Fu Xiuqing's soft lips parted. "The Admiral clings to disbelief. The Vipers bested us not with superior tech, but with nerves and spirit sharper than ours. They triumphed outnumbered. Face them again, with their ground secured, and we'll just relive the ruin—no miracles to save us."

Olga's eyes flashed, ready to spar, but Aglaia's cool tone sliced through. "The Institute is our scientific bedrock. Their verdict stands final. I'll brook no time wasted on doubts."

Olga fell mute, though his smoldering discontent was plain.

Candace spoke up. "Yet I must caution the President: striking Agate again offers gains—seizing the initiative, testing their strength. Offense trumps defense, pooling our might for a breakthrough rather than scattering it, trembling each day for the next colony they'll loom over."

Transport Chief O'Neil added, "Seven years without a Viper advance might mean they've not tamed Agate—or they're faltering within. Delay our counter, and we risk losing the moment."