His flagship, the OSS Invictus , was a leviathan of steel and silicon, humming with the power of a captured star. But today, the hum was a frantic vibration.
"No," Elias chuckled, adjusting his cap. "It's because I'm the only one crazy enough to treat a starship like a sailboat. We aren't diving. We’re going to catch the solar tide." "Sir, the heat shields—"
As the Invictus drifted toward the searing corona of the nearby star, the crew held their breath. The ship groaned, metal expanding in the intense heat. On the scanners, the Kaelian fleet moved to intercept their projected dive path, leaving their rear exposed. admiral
Elias didn't look at the holographic displays. He looked out the reinforced viewport at the swirling nebula, a graveyard of ships that had followed "standard procedure."
The sea didn't care for titles, but Elias Thorne cared for the sea. At sixty-four, with a face like a topographic map of the Atlantic, he was the youngest man ever to be named , and the oldest to still insist on taking the helm during a gale. His flagship, the OSS Invictus , was a
"Will hold just long enough to slingshot us behind their line," he finished. "Kill the engines. We’re going silent. Let the sun do the work."
"Admiral," Vane said, looking at the sensor readouts in disbelief. "We’re through. How did you know the tide would hold?" "It's because I'm the only one crazy enough
"Vane, do you know why they call me Admiral?" he asked, his voice a low gravel. "Your record, sir. Forty years of service."
