We were isolated from the other academy graduates: we had separate rooms, separate training schedules—as if we had never been together.
The week passed quickly, but it was the most grueling in terms of preparation. They gave us numerous briefings, made us memorize the station's blueprints and the biographies of the close subjects of Emperor Galts. We were exhausted, but our dedication to the cause was unwavering.
In the last two days before departure, we were all gathered together again. An agent approached each of us, asked us to fill out a non-disclosure form, and led us to the conference room.
It was cold and gloomy that day on the corvette. Something had clearly happened. Many people were bustling about and running past us as the agents and we walked through the black corridors. Outside the windows, a concentration of our fleet was visible. The Thunderer and the Maskido were there—those great cruisers had fought on the borders of our Empire, defending the planet Eidush. The great admirals of these deadly ships had swiftly sent their vessels to help when they received the distress signal from the Eidush space defense forces. They single-handedly confronted an armada of enemy ships. Two ships against dozens. They won and protected the planet, destroying almost all enemy ships, but sustaining heavy damage, due to which they had been under repair for a couple of years.
We walked further down the corridors past the medical bay. I saw medics inside running around and shouting—something was clearly wrong with them.
"What's going on?" I asked one of the agents.
He didn't answer. None of them answered.
Soon we reached the conference room, where there were many representatives of the Legion's intelligence. Too many. They were arguing about something and conferring loudly until they saw us. They fell silent and began to stare intently at us.
"You've arrived just in time. The meeting is starting," said an old, gray-haired officer in a black uniform with a gold-white triangle on his chest.
He stood by a table that displayed a projection of our system and some red dots along with blue ones. The blue ones were our fleet. Who were the red ones then? The enemy?
"So, if everyone is here, we can begin."
The light in the room gradually went out, and it dimmed, only the table in the center illuminating everything around. The commander straightened up and continued his speech.
"We have received data that the enemy fleet is approaching our system and will attack in a couple of days. Estimated time is less than three days," he said in a loud voice, so that everyone sitting around could surely hear him.
My heart sank, but before I could say anything, it plunged even deeper into darkness.
"That is why we selected our best academy students. We need to execute a maneuver to deliver them to the enemy fleet," he explained. "After which we must leave the system under the guise of our defeat."
His words shattered the silence in the room, after which heated arguments and discussions about the plan began.
"We have to surrender the system just to send agents? This is absurd!" someone shouted from the back rows.
"You are acting against the will of the Imperial Palace! Does the Emperor know about this mission?" asked another commander, younger than the others surrounding him.
Tension grew in the conference room, and more and more glances and speeches fell upon our shoulders.
"Look at them! They are our stake on victory?" shouted one of the officers sitting next to me, not bothered by my presence just a couple of meters away.
The commander who had presented the plan slammed his fist on the table. The sound that erupted from the force of his blow silenced all conversations and arguments; silence fell. All attention was fixed on him.
"The Empire is nearly fallen! The Emperor does not have a proper understanding of what is happening on the battlefield, so a proposal was made to conduct this operation without the Emperor's knowledge," he shouted in a grim voice, as if addressing each person individually, including us.
"This is unbearable! You are violating the regulations! You should be court-martialed, Verus!" shouted some officer located far enough away to make such a claim.
"Senior Commander Rimon, observe subordination, unless you want to lose your rank. Do I need to remind you that I command all Intelligence Legions?"
The image of a certain Commander Rimon wilted in fear before the one who outranked him.
"The entire Legion fleet is transferred to my personal command, including the Thunderer and the Maskido. Minister of Military Development, report on the repair status of these vessels," he said, looking at someone in the room.
"Repairs are not yet complete, but the ships are fit for battle," reported an elderly, dark-haired man with a long beard. His uniform differed from ours with its blue color and white edging on the sides of his sleeves.
I looked at the others who, like me, had also managed to pass the final test. Dursal and Renod. Fear was visible in their eyes. The responsibility placed upon us was comparable to the responsibility of the Emperor himself. An Emperor who had ceased to be an authority for the army's most important department. Could a civil war start if we failed our mission?
I plunged into thought, but another question from someone in the hall snapped me out of it.
"How do you plan to deliver them aboard the enemy?" The question was reasonable in this situation.
"We will use the Thunderer as a battlefield, so our agents can blend in among the attackers and infiltrate their shuttles. After that, we will blow up the Thunderer along with all the filthy Galts who will be there!" he said loudly, and finally the projector turned off.
"Blow up the Thunderer? He is an idol of our army. If everyone finds out about its destruction, especially the Emperor, there will be a riot!"
The explosion of a huge cruiser could not go unnoticed; it was almost impossible to hide, especially from the Emperor.
"Then we will suppress the riot and execute anyone involved in it! We have power over the main army generals," stated Grand Admiral Verus in a cold, almost bestial voice.
As I had learned earlier, he commanded all Intelligence Legions subordinate to the Emperor. His persona was so secretive that not even all agents knew what he looked like or his name.
A deadly silence once again reigned in the hall, in which, it seemed, you could hear the heartbeat of everyone sitting there.
Verus spoke again:
"Eastern and Southern formations, you will redeploy to defend the approaches near the planet Praod. Northern formation, you will be with me commanding the operation aboard the Thunderer. Western formation, your task is to take the Maskido for a counterattack and send a distress signal. Is everything clear to everyone, gentlemen commanders and admirals?"
"Yes, sir!" nearly shouted the majority of those who stood up to salute and confirm their readiness for the task. The rest who remained sitting were soon removed from their command positions and taken into custody.
"Then may God help us!" he concluded in a quiet, barely audible voice.
Many began to leave the meeting, but we were asked to stay for additional information.
Grand Admiral Verus himself conducted the briefing for us and explained his plan once more.
"You guys are our last hope for victory in this bloody war. You will be split into three sections of the Apollo station. Since it is so huge, you will operate in different departments," he told us calmly. "Kyle, you will be in the port department. Renod in the communications and station control department. And Dursal draws the state department, where the Emperor will be located."
Renod and I got the quietest and most inconspicuous spots, unlike Dursal, who would have to be alone with all the enemy nobility and commanders. One on one. He probably showed the best results of all of us.
We all exchanged glances as the admiral turned his back to us to set something up on the table screen.
An image appeared showing a photo of two men and one woman. Their names and ages were hidden. There were only photographs and an audio track below containing fragments of their voices.
"These are our remaining agents, unknown even to our commanders. Each one is responsible for the department you will be placed in. They will brief you on site and will be watching over you."
So we weren't the Empire's last hope after all. There were others.
My department was run by a brown-haired, middle-aged man of muscular build. Renod was also fortunate to be under the wing of a man much like mine, but there was something different about him. His eyes. They were different colors, which was forbidden for service in intelligence, as certain features could get you discovered.
Dursal was under the care of a slender and graceful woman, relatively young, a little older than us. Who she was among the enemy Emperor's circle and what she did was hidden from me until we got to Apollo. Same as with those men.
"During the ground operation on the Thunderer, you will not participate. You will have to sneak through alternate routes on the ship and get to the enemy shuttles that will dock with the ship."
I immediately realized what he was talking about. Stealing the shuttles.
"We're going to steal them?" I asked in an irritated and uncertain voice.
"Exactly."
"But when docking with the enemy ship, they'll know where we came from," Dursal interjected sharply. Strength and confidence were felt in his voice.
"During your docking, our agents will carry out a cyberattack on the ships' port control points, so your docking goes unnoticed. After that, the shuttles will detach and fly into open space," he explained judiciously.
The plan was excellent, but there was one problem.
"What about you? Part of our army will be fighting on the Thunderer, and then you'll blow it up, according to your words. Will you have time to evacuate? When an explosion is imminent, the ship becomes paralyzed," I noted.
"We'll find a way out. Our main task is to ensure your transport to the enemy ship, and from there to Apollo," he concluded.
Soon, after a couple of minor explanations regarding the form and importance of our mission, we were allowed to leave.
We all went out together, managing to exchange a few words before agents caught up with us and escorted us to our rooms.
The day, it seemed, passed quickly, but it was only the beginning.
A couple of hours later in our rooms, we were summoned to the training hall, where a final briefing on shooting and combat training was conducted. We were ordered to pack our things and relocate to the Thunderer, where preparations for defense were already in full swing.
They gave us a couple of hours to pack and led us to the docks. An endless number of ships and equipment were there. Hissing and sparks from welding were everywhere; it seemed the ship we were on was being built from scratch.
The docks were a huge space containing ships behind a gravitational grid, which prevented vacuum from getting inside and crushing everything within. As we walked towards the shuttles, agents and small groups of defense troops marched between us.
Everyone was busy with work. A common cause.
We finally reached the shuttles, stepping over wires and cables lying on the floor. We were all put into one shuttle; with us was one agent who was to accompany us.
Silence.
The hum of engines. I heard a command over the radio.
Countdown… One, two, three. Launch.
We rose and passed through the gravitational grid. Space swallowed us. Everything went dark.
I looked out the window; in it, the corvette was receding from us. It was disappearing into the darkness. It lived in it.
Sometimes you realize that we all work in the dark corners of space, this pitch-black darkness, so that light remains in the galaxy.
Our light.