Agent047
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727- Cold and Calculative
🕑 Added 2024-09-14 09:33:56 +0000 UTCXalthar sat in silence while waiting for the AI to receive and filter the requests to ensure they met his criteria. During this time, he was informed that the insulation had effectively halted the enemy forces on the outside. This was confirmed by the surveillance system, which displayed the enemy forces as a blob on the other side of the insulation, visible through the spectrum.
Anyone in their situation would have likely tried to find alternative means to bypass the insulation. However, upon arrival and after one of them placed a hand on it, they quickly realized that breaching it within a short time frame was nearly impossible. This realization led them to cease their efforts, or at least that was Xalthar's impression from his point of view.
Quorani, watching the feed near a screen that displayed all the areas under their control, felt a chill run down his spine. Even though the enemy forces were stalled and unable to advance, they were equally trapped in this confined space, unable to escape or retreat.
Despite the success of his efforts to halt the enemy, Quorani felt no satisfaction. He understood that his actions had only bought them a month at most before the enemy would find a way through. This looming deadline meant that he, too, would soon face the consequences of Xalthar's actions. He raised his head to the observation room, hoping to see any sign of Xalthar making his move. As anticipated, Xalthar was already in motion, slowly lowering himself, a clear indication that he was preparing to act on his plans.
Quorani and everyone in the control room, who had resigned themselves to their impending doom and hoped for a swift end, were taken aback by the sight of Xalthar's smile. It wasn't just a fleeting expression; his circuit-like mana veins confirmed that he was genuinely pleased. This unexpected display of happiness puzzled them greatly. Despite their curiosity, no one dared to question the source of his joy, fearing the repercussions of drawing attention to themselves in such a dire situation.
Seeing the stunned expressions on their faces, Xalthar simply smiled and said, “Don’t worry, I’ve already called for help, and they should be here within at least two weeks.”He then directed the ship's AI to update them on the current situation, while carefully omitting details about the ongoing negotiations. The AI only communicated that assistance was on the way because Xalthar had made the call. It kept the specifics of the negotiations, including the various organizations and nations negotiating for extended terms, eased restrictions, or exclusive access to the coordinates, confidential as they weren’t worthy to know about it.
The fact that Xalthar was even providing them with such words was unusual and indicated just how content he was with the current situation.
Everyone in the control room and the protected sections of the ship wore expressions of disbelief and doubt. They were acutely aware that for help to arrive within two weeks, the other side would need to use a wormhole—a feat requiring an enormous amount of mana canisters. Even the most advanced civilizations within the Conclave reserved such an expenditure for only the direst of circumstances, as the cost of using wormholes multiple times could severely destabilize their economies.
The technology to create wormholes was also one of the most closely guarded secrets, known for its capacity to alter the course of wars by enabling devastatingly swift and decisive strikes. The thought of such a significant resource being committed to their rescue seemed improbable, making Xalthar’s words seem both improbable and surreal to those who understood the stakes involved.
Xalthar watched the disbelief on the faces of the control room personnel, fully aware of the grim reality that awaited them. He made no effort to explain the intricacies of his actions or the contract. While the agreement included protections for himself, his organization, and the ship, it notably excluded the crew and inhabitants of the ship—many of whom were slaves. Though technically under his protection due to his ownership, Xalthar viewed them as expendable, especially in a situation as volatile as this.
He understood that the anger of those deceived by the false information—the promised mana-rich star system—needed a target. The slaves and those aboard the ship, being of little value to him, would serve that purpose. Their pain and suffering would vent some of the frustrations of the incoming forces.
It was a cold, calculated decision, one that left no room for sentimentality–something he didn’t have from the start. His focus was solely on survival and the strategic gain for his organization, and if that meant allowing the useless to be sacrificed, he would do so without blinking.
Amidst his reflections, Xalthar came to a halt just a few centimeters off the ground and began to hover towards Quorani. A few meters away, he extended his hand which sent a pulling force that pulled Quorani into it, gripping Quorani's neck with an effortless motion. Xalthar tightened his hold, causing Quorani's eyes to bulge alarmingly from the pressure. The force on his neck was intense, making it seem as if his eyes might pop from their sockets.
“I would have killed you on the spot,” Xalthar said, his voice calm but filled with a menacing edge, “but since you’ve managed to buy us some time, I’ll extend your stay of execution. I’m even willing to offer you a chance at redemption, provided you ensure that nothing goes wrong and the other side doesn’t breach our defenses. Understand?”
As Xalthar's body remained suspended in the same spot, Quorani flailed desperately like a fish out of water. Despite the intense pressure on his neck, he managed to hear Xalthar’s words. Struggling to respond, he forced his head to nod slightly, even though it was nearly impossible due to Xalthar’s unyielding grip.
Xalthar watched impassively as Quorani hit the ground, wracked with violent coughing. The man struggled to get on his knees and bow, attempting to express his gratitude, but his voice was barely more than a whisper due to his damaged vocal cords. The effort was audible enough for Xalthar to hear, though, and he simply nodded in acknowledgment.
Without another word, Xalthar began to hover away from the control room. The stress of the past hour had been immense, and he was eager to unwind. He intended to indulge in some personal pleasures before resting, fully confident that he would not meet his end here.
But all of that was abruptly halted when the ship’s remaining functional antenna– the one made to contact the people of this star system– detected an attempt to initiate contact, something the attacking ships had deliberately avoided.
Upon noticing the incoming call, Xalthar swiftly accelerated his hover and made a direct path back to his chair. He composed himself, maintaining an outward calm that belied the urgency of the situation, before accepting the communication request.
“Greetings, Xalthar Zynara, Sage of the Astral Conclave. I am contacting you to offer you the chance to surrender,” the voice on the other side cut straight to the point, skipping formalities entirely.
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EternalCosmos
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