"..." Harren didn't respond, but the silence said it all. Tharen's words had hit a nerve. That old wound, still raw after thirty years, only made Harren more determined to wipe away the shame of that defeat—once and for all.
Howard, still watching the bleak expanse of Necroterra, raised his communicator. "Instructor Garrick, you're clear to move out."
"Copy that," came the firm reply on the other end.
Above the Dreadnought-class Starcruiser, a mid-sized Command Frigate roared to life, flanked by dozens of sleek aircraft. They streaked across the sky like a meteor shower, heading straight for Necroterra.
Garrick led the vanguard, the first wave into Southvale.
His Command Frigate was massive—capable of carrying thousands of elite soldiers, handpicked for this mission. The escort fleet around him cut through the air like a blade, their engines screaming, forming a thunderous procession.
