Wild Space: The Final Form
In the pitch-black expanse of space floated a colossal white sphere all alone. Like a white flower blooming in the void, it exuded an eerie sense of overwhelming pressure.
"Executive officer."
Admiral Barcas growled at the main screen on the bridge, his eyes locked on it.
"Yes, Admiral."
"Status report."
"Reconnaissance teams and ship scanners confirm... aside from traces of the Night Raven heading toward this planet, there's no sign of it moving elsewhere or warping away."
Confusion laced the executive officer's voice. The prey they'd hunted relentlessly for three days and nights had vanished right before this massive wall.
"What about scanning the interior?"
"Yes, we tried... but..."
The executive officer swallowed hard.
"The scanner waves can't penetrate the planet's crust at all. No detailed composition data, and the gravity readings are abnormal relative to its mass. It's likely... composed of some unknown special mineral with powerful radio jamming or self-shielding properties."
"No traces of it going elsewhere means the Night Raven went inside that planet? Without a single sign?"
"Admiral, that's the most logical conclusion right now."
"Hoo..."
Barcas furrowed his brow. He'd chased his quarry right to the goal, only for it to disappear.
"So. Have you tried physical penetration into the planet?"
"Well..."
The executive officer trailed off.
"Don't beat around the bush. Spit it out."
"The mercenaries tried drilling into the surface with their mining lasers and drills... but it's impossibly hard. They couldn't make a dent. The lasers reflected off, and the mining rigs snapped. We halted further attempts due to equipment shortages."
BAM!
Barcas slammed the armrest.
Can't scan it, can't breach it. That white lump huddled like a giant egg grated on his nerves in a bizarre way.
"Halt all further insertions and order the teams back to their ships."
"Pardon? You're giving up?"
"No."
Barcas's eyes gleamed.
"If the door won't open, smash it down and go in. Report when all personnel are back aboard."
"Yes, sir!"
As the executive officer withdrew, Barcas glared at the white planet and muttered.
'What the hell are you...'
It was too ominous for a mere rock, too perfect for a natural formation. But he suppressed the unease. Nothing could stand against this fleet's firepower.
Moments later.
"Admiral, all personnel, including mercenaries, have returned."
"Good."
Barcas rose and bellowed for the entire bridge to hear.
"All ships, surround that unidentified planet!"
"All ships, form encirclement! Delta formation, deploy!"
As orders cascaded down, space put on a spectacular show.
Massive engine roars seemed to echo through the vacuum. Centered on three enormous cruisers, sleek destroyers, hulking bombers, and hundreds of variously modified mercenary vessels moved in unison.
Like a steel band embracing the planet, 800 ships formed a perfect spherical net around the white orb.
Thruster flames from countless vessels dotted the void like stars. The sheer overwhelming numbers and disciplined precision demonstrated why the Deucis Federation dominated the galaxy's vastest territory—a glimpse of their military might.
Barcas shivered at the sight. This was power. The system's might that crushed individual prowess.
"Open all fleet comms channels."
"Yes, sir. All-ship channel open."
"All ships, prepare missile launch."
Barcas's orders were concise and brutal.
"Target: the planet ahead."
'If they're hiding inside, I'll blast the whole thing to rubble and drag them out.'
"And... load the 'gift' from headquarters."
"Here? It's a strategic weapon..."
The executive officer asked in shock.
"Yes. My instincts are screaming. Hit it with full force from the start. If the shell's tough, smash it with the heaviest hammer."
"Understood. Loading 'Anti-Fortress Phase Disruption Warhead'!"
"Transmit all-ship launch-ready signals!"
The bridge crew echoed in mechanical unison, their voices harmonizing like a war prelude.
"All ships, launch ready! Target locked!"
Thousands, tens of thousands of targeting lines stabbed into the white planet's surface.
"Signal when the gift is ready."
"Loading complete! Launch codes approved."
A green light flashed on the red launch button on Barcas's console.
"Silo hatches open."
Ship hulls parted, revealing black maws toward the cold void, packed with steel spears of death.
Barcas raised his hand, then brought it down decisively.
"All ships, unload everything on the target planet!"
"All ships, fire!!!"
At Barcas's command, space ignited. Every missile silo on 800 ships—from destroyers to cruisers—spewed propellant.
Tens of thousands of missiles surged forth. A steel downpour, no—a meteor shower crossing the cosmos.
Thruster glows pushed back the darkness, whitening the view. Barcas watched his fleet dance to his orders, deep satisfaction swelling. It felt like commanding a galactic war as division commander of the space army.
The destructive light from 800 ships fed his conquest lust; the impending explosions would be its climax.
And amid the missile swarm, a massive missile launched from the Cerberus cruiser.
Apex Industries' top-secret new warhead developed for this op.
A devilish weapon that doesn't explode conventionally but warps space itself, collapsing molecular bonds.
Its blue trail cut a singular path through the missile flood toward the planet.
Countless white orbs bloomed on the planet's surface—massive explosion flowers from missile impacts.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP! SCREEECH!
Instruments screamed wildly on the bridge. An enormous energy wave crashed like a tsunami.
"Brace for impact! Shields up!"
"Windows! Polarizing filters down! We'll go blind!"
Ships maxed shield output against the aftermath and opacified bridge glass to block the flash.
Vibrations transmitted through hull frames across the vacuum.
The waves were so intense they jammed all fleet comms temporarily. Only static hissed through the bridge.
Barcas gripped the handhold, enduring. He regretted not seeing the full spectacle, but he was certain: this firepower would've pulverized the planet's crust.
He smirked, imagining the Night Raven inside.
The shaking subsided.
"Filters off! Clear the view!"
At Barcas's order, the crew hurriedly restored transparency.
Smoke, debris, and energy remnants still clouded space. Barcas anticipated them clearing to reveal shattered planetary rubble.
Slowly, the haze parted.
And.
"......Huh?"
Someone uttered a dumb sound. Barcas's eyes widened. An unbelievable sight unfolded.
The planet's crust remained pristine, unchanged from before the salvo.
The heat and shock from tens of thousands of missiles had scattered like water on rock—no scratches, not even scorch marks.
The only blemish: a tiny scar where the Cerberus's Phase Disruption Warhead hit.
A faint crevasse. Pathetic compared to the astronomical firepower unleashed.
"Impossible... that shouldn't exist..."
The executive officer staggered back. Dread crept in. Solidity defying physics.
And before Barcas could say "unbelievable," something truly impossible happened.
The planet moved. Centered on that tiny wound from the Cerberus missile, the surface slowly split open.
Thousands of kilometers of crust parted, revealing an unimaginable crimson vastness. It took time to register due to its scale beyond perception...
An eye. A massive red eye covering the entire white planetary surface.
That eye stared straight at the 800-ship fleet—and at Barcas.
All were transfixed by the horror of its unimaginable scale, beyond human cognition. Even terror was numbed.
And.
A voice hammered directly into brains—not sound, but a wave of will.
The red eye flashed, unleashing an invisible massive pulse.
"Ngh...! W-what...!"
Barcas staggered, barely grabbing the console. Ears rang, nose bled. He looked around the bridge. And saw hell.
"H-hee... eyes... eyes watching..."
"Save me! I was wrong! Mommy!"
"Get out! Get out of my head!!"
Crew babbling insanely, drooling. Operators foaming and collapsed. Helmsmen smashing heads against walls to end the pain.
One crewman lurched toward the shield lever.
"No... must open... He's coming..."
"You mad bastard!" Barcas instinctively drew his sidearm and blew the man's head off.
The body fell, but nothing changed. The bridge—no, the entire fleet—descended into madness.
"Damn it! That eye did this?!"
Barcas screamed in terror. But the nightmare was just beginning.
The massive eyelid seemed to close over the surface—then the entire planet bubbled.
Smooth white skin boiled like liquid, birthing tens of thousands of enormous tentacles into space.
Each thicker than a typical ship. They surged toward vessels with shields down or frozen in chaos.
A lead destroyer wrapped by a tentacle. Alloy hull crumpled instantly. Engines exploded in flames, but the tentacle crushed it mercilessly.
"3rd Fleet annihilated! No response from 5th Fleet!"
"Tentacles! Tentacles incoming!"
The Cerberus cruiser was no exception.
A colossal shadow engulfed the bridge.
"Evasive! Evade! Full retreat!!"
Barcas screamed madly, leaping to the controls himself.
"Ship AI! Emergency retreat protocol! Engines max!"
⟦Warning. Risk of hull damage from abrupt maneuvers.⟧
"Shut up and move!!"
The ship banked sharply. Shields held just long enough to graze past the tentacle. But escort ships didn't fare as well.
CRUNCH! KABOOM!
Barcas watched through the viewport.
His proud 800-ship armada smashed like flies under a swatter.
White tentacles snatching, squeezing, devouring ships.
Despairing screams and death rattles flooded the comms.
The cosmos's most horrific symphony. Barcas clenched his trembling fists, eyes shut.
But that crimson eye filled his mind, etched indelibly.