The commanding officer stepped forward, concern evident in his expression despite years of military discipline. The emergency lights painted the control room in shades of crimson, while warning sirens continued to echo throughout the vessel.
"Your Highness, this ship is under attack," he said firmly. "Protocol dictates that you be evacuated immediately. We can redirect an escape pod toward the nearest military installation."
Ahcehera remained standing before the tactical display, her gaze fixed on the holographic projection of the enemy vessel.
The unidentified warship glided through space like a predator stalking wounded prey. Its dark hull reflected almost no light, making it appear like a moving shadow against the stars. It was clearly designed for combat. Their transport vessel was not.
Another explosion rattled the starship. The deck trembled beneath their feet. Several crew members nearly lost their balance.
Ahcehera barely reacted. "That won't be necessary."
The commanding officer blinked. "Your Highness?"
"I asked for a situation report." The firmness in her voice silenced the room.
For a brief moment, everyone seemed to forget that she was a princess. Instead, they saw a military officer. Someone accustomed to command. Someone accustomed to crisis.
The commanding officer straightened instinctively. "The enemy warship appeared shortly after we exited hyperspace. Their first strike targeted our engines and communication arrays."
A tactical screen materialized before her.
"Our shields remain operational, but they are being steadily depleted. Based on current projections, we cannot withstand sustained bombardment for much longer."
"Identification?"
"Unknown."
Ahcehera frowned.
That was unusual.
Every military vessel operating within Sirius-controlled territory carried identifiable signatures. Even pirates attempted to disguise themselves rather than broadcast complete anonymity. The fact that this warship lacked identification suggested something troubling.
Whoever they were, they had no intention of leaving witnesses.
A chill settled in her chest. This wasn't random. The attack occurred near Agartha. One of the most secure military regions in the kingdom. That alone was suspicious.
Someone had either become incredibly desperate or incredibly confident. Neither possibility was reassuring.
Another barrage struck the ship. The tactical display flickered. Several warning notifications appeared.
[Hull integrity: 91%.]
[Shield capacity: 73%.]
Multiple compartments were damaged. The situation was deteriorating fast.
Ahcehera folded her arms and studied the battlefield.
The enemy maintained distance. They weren't attempting to board. They weren't demanding surrender.
They were simply trying to destroy the transport. Which meant their objective wasn't theft. It was elimination.
A realization suddenly surfaced.
This attack had never happened in the novel.
She couldn't remember a single mention of a military transport being ambushed before the entrance examination. That meant one of two things.
Either the original Ahcehera had never boarded this ship. Or her actions had already altered the future. Neither answer made her comfortable. The butterfly effect was becoming increasingly apparent. The story was changing.
"Prepare evacuation procedures," Ahcehera ordered.
The commanding officer nodded immediately. "Understood."
"Only for civilians and non-essential personnel."
The room froze.
Several officers stared at her.
The commanding officer hesitated. "And you, Your Highness?"
"I'm staying." The words landed like a bomb.
Several crew members visibly paled.
"Absolutely not!" The commanding officer's composure finally cracked. "Your Highness, if anything happens to you--"
"If anything happens to everyone else, it won't matter."
Her voice remained calm, measured, and oddly cold. The tone of someone accustomed to making difficult decisions.
"The civilians leave first. Medical staff accompany them. Essential crew remains at their stations."
The officer opened his mouth. Then closed it again. Something in her expression convinced him that further argument would be pointless.
Reluctantly, he saluted. "Understood."
Around the room, the crew exchanged uncertain looks. Yet the atmosphere slowly changed.
Panic began giving way to focus, confidence, and purpose. A leader's composure was contagious. And Ahcehera remained remarkably calm.
Truthfully, she wasn't calm at all. Her heart was pounding. Her palms felt slightly sweaty. She was terrified. The difference was that she had spent years fighting something far scarier than enemy warships.
Cancer had taught her an important lesson. Panic never solved anything. So she focused on the problem instead.
"Princess..." One of the tactical officers approached nervously. "What is your military specialization?"
The question caught her attention. Ahcehera suddenly remembered something. The original princess possessed a military career. One she barely understood.
Without hesitation, she removed her official military identification card. The device was connected to the command system. Several holographic displays were immediately updated.
The room fell silent.
Then someone gasped.
Another officer nearly dropped his data tablet.
The commanding officer stared.
Then stared harder.
His face turned pale.
Ahcehera glanced at the information herself.
[Senior Military Strategist.]
[Agartha Central Military Base.]
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Finally, one officer found his voice.
"Senior... Military Strategist?"
Another officer looked ready to faint.
"At her age?"
"That's impossible."
"No wonder she wasn't evacuated."
"The Princess outranks almost everyone on this ship."
The whispers spread rapidly.
Ahcehera quietly absorbed the information. Apparently, the original princess had been even more accomplished than she realized. The rank wasn't merely prestigious. It was extraordinary.
Most military officers spent decades pursuing such a position. Yet Ahcehera Bloodstone had achieved it before reaching adulthood.
No wonder the royal family kept her military career relatively private. A strategist of this level was a valuable asset. And potentially a target.
Her thoughts drifted briefly toward a familiar name.
Major General Richmond Mors.
The hero. The celebrated military prodigy.
According to the military hierarchy, he technically served beneath her authority.
The realization felt absurd. Even stranger was the fact that the original Ahcehera had supposedly fallen in love with him.
Why?
The question resurfaced.
Nothing about the relationship made sense, not politically, socially, or professionally.
There had to be more to the story.
Unfortunately, she had bigger problems.
Like surviving the next ten minutes.
The innermost section of the control room immediately opened for her. Every officer inside stood and saluted. The atmosphere had changed entirely.
Moments ago, they saw a princess. Now they saw a strategist. Someone capable of taking command. Ahcehera stepped toward the central command station.
"Report." The tactical officer immediately complied. "The enemy vessel specializes in long-range combat. Their weapons possess superior range compared to our defensive systems."
A holographic model appeared. The enemy ship was sleek and narrow. Built for speed, precision, and ambush.
Their transport vessel, meanwhile, resembled a flying fortress. Durable, slow, poorly armed, and not ideal for confrontations.
The enemy had chosen their target carefully. Unfortunately for them, they probably hadn't expected a Senior Military Strategist aboard.
Ahcehera studied the battlefield, every movement, weapon signature, and firing pattern. Then she noticed something. The enemy wasn't attempting to destroy the vessel immediately. They were herding it, as if forcing specific movements.
Her eyes narrowed. "Status of the wormhole."
The navigation officer answered immediately. "Seven minutes until entry."
There it was, the missing piece. The enemy wasn't attacking the ship. They were controlling its trajectory.
A dangerous suspicion formed.
What if the wormhole itself was the trap?
If so, blindly proceeding would be suicide.
A direct confrontation would also end badly.
Which left only one option.
Deception.
A smile slowly appeared on Ahcehera's face.
The officers nearby suddenly felt nervous.
That smile looked remarkably similar to the expression worn by people moments before making dangerous decisions.
"Prepare decoy drones."
The room paused.
"Princess?"
"Launch every available drone."
Several officers immediately understood. Their eyes widened.
The tactical officer nodded enthusiastically. "You're planning to confuse their targeting systems."
"Exactly."
If the enemy wanted a specific ship entering the wormhole, then she'd give them multiple targets instead. The navigation systems quickly came alive. Dozens of drones were prepared.
Each carried signal amplifiers capable of imitating the transport vessel. To enemy sensors, every drone would appear identical to the starship, a swarm of ghosts or a battlefield filled with false targets.
"Ready fighter escorts."
"Understood."
"Maintain current trajectory."
The crew moved rapidly.
For the first time since the attack began, confidence returned.
The Princess wasn't merely issuing orders. She understood warfare. That realization alone improved morale dramatically.
Meanwhile, Ahcehera continued studying the enemy vessel. Something still bothered her.
The timing.
The location.
The target.
Too deliberate.
This attack wasn't random.
Someone had planned it. The same person knew this ship would pass through this sector and prepared for an ambush.
The question was why.
And more importantly, for whom?
A transport vessel carried hundreds of passengers. Military personnel, government officials, specialists, and students. Any one of them could be the intended target.
Or perhaps...
Her gaze darkened.
Perhaps the target was already standing inside this room. The possibility sent a chill down her spine.
The final preparations were completed. The decoy drones waited inside launch bays. The fighter escorts stood ready. The wormhole shimmered ahead like a glowing tear in reality.
Seven minutes.
Then six.
Then five.
The countdown had begun.
Ahcehera stood at the center of the command room. Her expression remained calm. Her posture remained confident. Yet internally, she prepared for every possible outcome.
The enemy commander had made a mistake. He assumed he was hunting prey. Soon, he would discover that his target had teeth.
"Launch the drones." The order echoed through the room.
Moments later, dozens of signals exploded outward into the darkness.
And somewhere aboard the enemy warship, an unknown commander suddenly found his sensors filled with targets.
Exactly as Ahcehera intended.