The Unyielding Truth, Bridge.
Bad news came one report after another, each like an icy chain winding around the Command Throne.
"My lord, all encrypted channels, psychic links, and conventional communications with the Word Bearers have gone down. The last valid signal received was a standard identification code, followed by a flood of high-intensity psychic noise. We cannot establish contact."
"My lord, our attempt at targeted Astropathic Communication has failed. The faster-than-light communications channel to Terra is suffering severe interference. The return signal consists of gibberish and unknown psychic echoes. We... have lost contact with Terra."
"My lord, sections of the Fleet's secondary internal communications network have gone down. We suspect traitor units have deliberately sabotaged the internal data links or introduced a virus. Repairs will take time."
The voices of communications officers and Tech-Priests sounded between shrill tactical alarms and the dull thunder of damage to the warship. They struggled to remain calm, but could not conceal the tension.
Every report meant another cord connecting them to the outside world had been severed, dragging them deeper into a darkness where no help could reach them.
Lion El'Jonson stood before the vast, curved observation window, seemingly deaf to the reports behind him.
His gaze pierced the thick crystal glass, fixed on the chaotic expanse of space beyond the ship.
There, the dark green points of light marking the Rangdan Fleet kept emerging from every shadowed corner of the system, like sharks drawn by blood, joining an already impenetrable encirclement.
Their formations shifted, their firepower intensified, and eerie light across the surface of that terrifying, planet-sized superstructure began pulsing rhythmically once more, gathering power for its next devastating salvo.
More enemies.
A tighter encirclement.
Severed communications.
Every clue, every anomaly, every fragment of betrayal raced through his mind like data through