Just then, a shrill alarm tore through Hannibal's contemplation.
On the Holographic Image, a silver-gray point of light was steadily approaching a critical shield-generation node.
The image zoomed in. It was one of those horrific constructs known as the Excindio.
It advanced with precise, merciless strides, resistance along its path melting like snow beneath the sun.
Dozens of Rangdan Elites poured out from both sides of the passage, weaving energy beams and psychic energy blasts into a net.
The iron-gray killing machine did not even stop.
Its left arm rose slightly, and space abruptly collapsed in a fan-shaped area ahead.
The elite warriors and the deck beneath their feet were squeezed and crumpled like paper in an invisible giant's fist. Amid the teeth-grating crunch of metal and carapace, they became a twisted mass of fluorescent bodily fluids and fragments, barely the height of a person.
Then the gravity field dissipated, and the remains fell to the floor with a thud, never to make another sound.
It reached the Shield Generator's immense array of energy conduits.
The multiple launcher on its right arm rose, spewing a strange, incandescent white mist that silently engulfed the generator core and the last few guards around it who tried to block its advance with their bodies.
The tough, energy-infused xenos material and the Rangdan Warriors' bodies evaporated in the white light like dew beneath a blazing sun, vanishing and leaving behind only a molten crater with glassy edges and a few wisps of acrid smoke.
Less than fifteen seconds passed between its entry into the area and the complete disappearance of the Shield Generator's signal.
The Rangdan Overlords wielding melee weapons tried to fight back.
They had once been the sharpest blades under Hannibal's command. Each possessed the potential to command a Fleet independently, an