Rebels 3D Render, Digital Artwork by emarukk

! REPORT

Rebels

3D Render by emarukk

The corridors and halls of Kharak-7 were bathed in an eerie, cold glow as warning lights flashed urgently, casting long, flickering shadows against the metallic walls. The shrill wails of alarms echoed through the station, creating a symphony of chaos and urgency. Radar stations thrummed with activity, their screens pulsing with ominous alerts as energy signatures, likely those of approaching Confederation warships, flickered into detection range. The once comforting silence of space now felt thick with tension, a silent harbinger of impending conflict. Throughout the station, crews bustled with frantic energy, preparing fighters and manning gun stations, their faces set with determination and a hint of dread.

Doucette Ahstad stood rigid and alert inside the command deck, her eyes glued to the glowing holo displays that filled the room with an eerie blue light. The atmosphere was thick with tension as if the very air held its breath. Suddenly, the confirmation she had been dreading arrived, delivered in the cold, mechanical tones of the station's isolated computer: "The enemy fleet inbound. Proximity Alarm. 45 minutes to contact." The words echoed ominously, slicing through the silence like a blade. The war she had been holding together by sheer force of will was teetering on the edge of chaos, about to reach its breaking point. Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest, matching the rhythm of the flashing red alerts that now dominated the displays.

"We fight." Her voice cut through the air like a blade, her emerald eyes blazing with an unyielding fire. "We hold the line."

Across the room, Tarja Rantala's expression hardened, tension etched into every feature. "Doucette, we don't have the numbers," she warned, her voice cracking with urgency. "If we commit everything, we'll be obliterated."

"The people need to see we won't run," Doucette declared, her voice sharp and resolute. Her words shot out like arrows, each syllable carrying the weight of her determination.

Commodore Davit Paladin exhaled slowly, his breath steadying as he surveyed the room. His gaze first settled on Doucette, a young leader with explosive potential, before shifting to Tarja, whose calm demeanor belied a sharp intellect. Davit was a seasoned veteran, a man who had weathered the storms of too many battles to indulge in the fantasies of heroics. He carried the weight of experience, having been entrenched in this war long before Doucette had taken his first breath. The scenario unfolding before him was all too familiar: the intricate pattern, the inevitable trap. Like wily predators, Confederation fighters revealed themselves strategically to cloak the presence of weaker energy sources, a deceptive tactic Davit had encountered many times before.

"This isn't just a siege—it's a full-blown purge," he declared, his voice heavy with the gravity of countless battles. "The Void Divers are on their way, and they're bringing annihilation with them."

The words crashed over the command deck like a thunderclap, sending a tidal wave of dread through the crew. Everyone knew the legends. Confederation Void Divers weren't summoned for mere skirmishes; they descended like harbingers of doom, bringing utter annihilation in their wake.

Paladin spun to face Doucette, urgency blazing in his eyes. "If they break through the station's defenses, Kharak-7 will be doomed to crash into the planet. We must evacuate immediately and sacrifice the station by sending it into the star. The losses would be catastrophic otherwise."

"It won't happen," Doucette retorted sharply, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Because we refuse to retreat."