BATTLE FOR STARS

If the surrender was genuine, the reply would come quickly.

And it did.

Less than three seconds later, a response arrived.

"We accept your terms. Please cease fire."

"Cease fire!"

Pierre immediately issued the new order.

In an instant, the detonation systems of all incoming Missiles were deactivated and their targeting data changed. The swarm skimmed past the Minelayer's hull instead of striking it.

Even so, two Missiles still impacted the Starship's surface.

No violent explosions followed.

The Minelayer's captain should have considered himself fortunate.

Had the battle truly begun, those Missiles would have been nearly impossible to recall.

Once combat started, space would have been saturated with electromagnetic interference and EMP weapons. At that point, the Missiles would rely entirely on their onboard AI.

From another perspective, however, this also proved the surrender was genuine.

Otherwise, the Minelayer would have launched at least some antimissile interceptors.

The two Missiles that struck the hull were penetrating EMP Missiles.

They were designed specifically to disrupt a Starship's internal systems.

Their operating principle was simple.

First, they breached the outer armor.

Then they detonated EMP charges inside the vessel.

The warhead itself wasn't a single device.

It was a type of cluster munition.

Inside were numerous robots no larger than quail eggs.

After the missile pierced the hull, the tiny machines dispersed throughout different sections of the Starship and detonated their EMP charges individually.

Modern Starships divided their interiors into numerous shielded compartments protected by anti-EMP armor.

A surface detonation alone would accomplish very little.

EMP—Electromagnetic Pulse—was a physical phenomenon involving an intense burst of broadband electromagnetic radiation. It was primarily used to disable electronic systems, and the pulse itself generally lasted no more than a second.

The reason Pierre had fired those Missiles was straightforward.

He needed to ensure the Minelayer's surrender.

Words alone weren't enough.

He needed the ship disarmed.

In space warfare, physically surrendering weapons was not something that could happen instantly.

An EMP strike was the simplest solution.

Once the Starship's essential systems were disabled, it would no longer be capable of retaliation.

Even if gravity generators or life-support systems temporarily shut down, the crew wouldn't face immediate danger.

This was standard military practice when dealing with surrendered vessels.

It minimized the risk of traps and deception.

And it was efficient.

With the Minelayer secured, the rest became easy.

Pierre quickly obtained the mine deployment charts for the surrounding star region.

Although the ship lacked authority to remotely deactivate the Warp Mines already in operation, simply knowing their locations made eliminating them vastly easier.

Most nations' space mines were designed as independent passive systems.

Whenever they detected abnormal spatial fluctuations, they activated automatically.

They made no distinction between friendly and hostile transit events.

The reason was simple.

If someone gained control of the mine network, it would effectively open a gateway into the entire star region.

Without mine interference, the scale and duration of forced transit operations could increase exponentially.

Under normal circumstances, locating those mines across millions of kilometers of space would have been extremely difficult.

They were small.

They had minimal mass.

Even the strength of their interference emissions varied.

Detecting an approximate direction was one thing.

Pinpointing their exact coordinates was another.

But now everything was different.

What had been expected to take anywhere from half a day to two full days would likely be completed within two hours.

Pierre left one Fighter behind to help monitor the surrendered Minelayer.

The remaining two Fighters were dispatched to destroy the mines.

The operation proceeded even more smoothly than expected.

One hour later, the next wave of the First Army Group arrived through forced transit.

Without Warp Mine interference, several Starships successfully crossed this time.

Before long, the entire mixed task force had assembled.

The Fleet's transport ships immediately began constructing a temporary Stargate.

After all, there was no practical way to move tens of thousands of Starships through forced transit alone.

At the same time, the First Army Group waiting at the interstellar port rapidly redeployed toward the Stargate and prepared to pass through the newly completed gateway.

The Eighth Fleet had successfully established its bridgehead ahead of schedule.

That automatically meant the Third Fleet had lost the competition.

Commander Clay was thoroughly dissatisfied.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it.

The Eighth Fleet had simply been faster.

The Third Fleet's progress hadn't actually been slower.

Their rivals had just enjoyed extraordinary luck.

Their opponent had surrendered.

With lingering frustration, Clay entered the conference room.

Today would be the First Army Group's final prewar briefing before the formal assault on the Epsom Star Region.

"Clay, over here. We've been waiting for you."

The moment he stepped through the door, General Augustin greeted him warmly.

Clay was four hundred and twenty-five years old.

Of average height, he had enlisted while still young and had participated in nearly every major conflict fought by the Hill Empire throughout his career.

By military standards, he was a veteran of veterans.

Yet his stubborn expression and sharp, energetic eyes revealed a man whose fighting spirit remained undiminished.

The Third Fleet reflected its commander's personality.

It feared no challenge and charged straight into adversity.

Augustin was different.

Though physically imposing, he was not yet three hundred years old.

His fair, authoritative face was adorned with a pair of spectacles—an accessory that had become almost extinct.

According to legend, glasses had once been associated with scholarship and knowledge.

Augustin regarded them as a symbol of wisdom.

His command style was also very different from Clay's.

He preferred tactics over courage.

Though in recent years, most of those tactics had actually been designed by Landon.

Clay glanced around the conference room.

Despite its size, only a handful of people were present.

Besides First Army Group Commander Augustin and Chief of Staff Landon, the most important attendee was One-Lion Major General Sevitz from the First Bureau of the General Staff Department.

The General Staff Department was one of the most influential organizations within the Supreme Command.

In many cases, its directives carried nearly the same authority as orders issued directly from Supreme Command Central.

The General Staff Department consisted of four bureaus.

The First Bureau handled external military operations.

The Second Bureau was responsible for internal defense.

The Third Bureau oversaw military training.

The Fourth Bureau specialized in gathering foreign military intelligence.

Judging by the Hill Empire's activities over recent years, the First Bureau was clearly the most important division.

It was responsible for planning the war against the Confederation.

Now, the director of the First Bureau, Major General Sevitz, had personally arrived.

He was accompanied by a female major whom nobody present seemed to recognize.

That alone suggested the matter was extremely important.

Sevitz himself was an unusual figure within the military.

Calm.

Studious.

Reserved.

Thoughtful.

Almost the opposite of most senior officers.

As Starships grew larger and their firepower more devastating, the military had gradually become obsessed with raw firepower.

Few people still cared about tactics.

Even fewer paid attention to strategic concepts from ancient history.

For most generals, computer analysis had become the ultimate authority.

"If the probability of victory exceeds fifty percent, we fight."

"We have a sixty percent chance of winning. Why hesitate?"

"A seventy percent probability? That's practically a victory delivered to our doorstep."