Chapter 380: Emergency Evacuation

Unbeknownst to Jason and his surface team, a critical strategy meeting was taking place in the command center of the Deep Space at that exact moment...

"You’re saying that if we don’t evacuate immediately... we are all going to die?"

Austin stared at Calvin, his eyes wide. His voice had unconsciously risen to a panicked shout.

Calvin was trembling violently, his palms and the back of his neck slick with cold sweat.

This overwhelming sensation of doom... it was identical to the feeling he had experienced during their near-death encounter exploring the ancient ship on Mars. It was the physical manifestation of imminent death!

Sweating profusely, Calvin pleaded with the Head of Security. "Do you not feel it? We lost the gamble! The enemy fleet is going to be here soon very soon!"

"We have to evacuate now!"

"We have to jump! Run!" Calvin stammered, desperately trying to convince Austin, even though he had no concrete sensor data to back it up.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push his precognitive abilities to their limit to foresee a clear path, but a sudden gush of blood poured from his nose. It was a lingering symptom of pushing his psychic sensitivity too far. As he grew older, the physical toll of his abilities was becoming increasingly severe...

Austin frowned deeply and remained silent. From a tactical standpoint... every single day they remained in this system was extremely dangerous. However, Commander Jason had explicitly ordered them to hold the line for thirty days... and they were only on day twenty.

Twenty days was too close; they were deep inside the critical danger window! If the enemy fleet had already dropped out of warp at the edge of the system, the laws of physics dictated that the Federation would be completely blind to them due to the light-speed delay. The enemy, however, would be able to clearly observe the Federation’s nuclear bombardment of the facility and pinpoint their presence!

Of course, they still had absolutely no idea at what distance the enemy fleet would drop out of warp.

"If they drop out of warp at the extreme edge of the System, the danger is minimal... Even if they observe our nuclear strikes months from now, we will already be long gone."

The transmission of information across the universe is chaotic and complex. Nothing observed through telescopes happens in real-time. Starlight captured by sensors might have been emitted millions of years ago... these massive delays make real-time tactical analysis a nightmare.

Due to the extreme latency, accurately targeting an enemy fleet from across a star system is incredibly difficult. It requires either blanketing a massive area of space with a grid of relativistic munitions or precisely calculating the enemy’s approach vector...

And right now, the Federation possessed the required data for the latter, because they had just extracted the enemy’s homeworld coordinates!

"Did Astrometrics finish the calculations? Do we have the enemy’s projected flight path?" Austin asked a nearby military expert, ignoring Calvin for the moment.

"Yes, sir! According to our models, to reach Planet Dige in the shortest possible timeframe, their warp trajectory must be a direct linear vector. And that specific vector happens to be completely clear of any major planetary bodies or asteroid belts..."

"Furthermore, adjusting course while inside a warp bubble is incredibly difficult; the probability that they are maintaining a strict, linear approach is extremely high. Based on our Gravitational Wave Arrays’ predictive models..."

"Alright, alright... skip the technical breakdown!" Austin interrupted anxiously. "Just give me the bottom line... can our weapons hit them? We haven’t even observed the enemy yet—should we launch a blind, preemptive strike?"

"If the enemy has already detected us but we haven’t seen them, we are at a massive informational disadvantage... We have to counterattack now! We can use the coordinates to fire down their throat!"

"From a ballistic perspective, missing them is highly improbable!"

The military expert looked conflicted. He replied with difficulty, "Sir, a flight vector is a straight line spanning trillions of kilometers. It contains near-infinite plot points. We have absolutely no idea where along that line they currently are. We don’t have enough munitions to blanket an entire star system! Space is just too vast!"

"Besides, if we launch a massive barrage, our thermal dampeners drop immediately! It will completely ruin the Deep Space’s cloaking protocol! You’re asking us to execute two mutually exclusive strategies..."

"No, no, no, that’s entirely viable! If we are prioritizing a full evacuation, then the cloaking protocol is irrelevant!" Another tactical expert stood up, cutting into the debate. "Hitting them is just a matter of geometry... If we position a warship directly in the center of their flight path and fire straight down the vector, they’ll fly right into the barrage!"

"We just need to maneuver the Deep Space directly into their path... or even one of the Titans!"

"Yes! We use the Titans!"

Austin massaged his temples, feeling an intense, crushing pressure. He didn’t have the ultimate authority to authorize a blind preemptive strike or a system-wide evacuation... He desperately wondered if Commander Jason had regained consciousness down on the surface.

He had never felt such overwhelming tactical anxiety.

Just then, his console pinged with a priority-one transmission bearing Jason’s encrypted biometric signature!

Austin frantically opened the message. His heart skipped a beat as he read the stark, capitalized text:

"TERMINATE THE GAIA EDUCATION PROGRAM IMMEDIATELY!"

"ALL SURFACE PERSONNEL WILL EVACUATE TO ORBIT AT MAXIMUM SPEED! ABORT ALL CLOAKING PROTOCOLS! THE DEEP SPACE WILL BREAK LUNAR ORBIT IMMEDIATELY AND MANEUVER FOR EXTRACTION!"

This was highly unusual for Jason. Issuing such a drastic, unilateral command without consulting the civilian parliament or the strategic council caught Austin completely off guard. However, glancing around the command center, he realized he wasn’t the only one receiving rapid-fire directives...

"Cloaking protocol aborted! Main thrusters online! The Deep Space is breaking orbit ahead of schedule! Helm, set an intercept course for the surface extraction point!"

"Arm the Titans! Are the Titans fueled and primed? Maneuver them directly into the enemy’s approach vector and prepare to fire! Move, move, move!"

That afternoon, Jason stood atop the central command bunker of the primary surface base, surrounded by several scientists rapidly firing telemetry reports at him. Planet Dige had a relatively slow rotation, with a single day lasting approximately forty Earth hours.

Ten hours ago, the Deep Space had powered up its main drives and burned out of lunar orbit, maneuvering toward Planet Dige to extract the surface teams.

The stealth operation had been entirely scrapped.

The enemy was arriving far faster than any of their models predicted. The absolute worst-case scenario was unfolding—the Federation was currently trapped in a fatal informational disadvantage!

If the Federation didn’t detect the incoming enemy fleet for another few days, or even weeks, they would be slaughtered in their sleep.

Therefore... an immediate, emergency evacuation was their only viable option.

Down in the surf, a small green sphere bobbed rhythmically on the surface, silently watching the chaotic flurry of human activity on the beach. Who knew what it was processing... Perhaps it was still as innocent and carefree as ever.

"The Deep Space is approaching low orbit! The mothership is utilizing Planet Dige’s mass as a physical shield... From the enemy’s approach vector, we are currently hidden on the dark side of the planet."

"Thank God we recovered those coordinates," one of the tactical officers muttered, his hands shaking slightly.

"Initiating atmospheric drone self-destruct sequence."

Jason gave a sharp nod, authorizing the command.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

He watched as the massive broadcasting drones detonated one after another high in the sky, their burning debris raining down into the ocean. Because the drone databanks contained massive amounts of human cultural and physiological data, the Federation couldn’t risk leaving a single piece of hardware intact for the enemy to recover.

From all across the surface, small and medium transport shuttles converged on the primary staging base.

With a deafening roar of thrusters, the final heavy dropship touched down on the reinforced landing pad. Every Federation operative on the planet was now gathered at the extraction zone.

Jason’s core temperature was still running hot from the infection. He focused deeply on the crushing sense of doom radiating in his chest; the danger was closing in rapidly. He turned to his lead logistics officer and shouted, "Are we missing anyone? If we have a full headcount, we launch immediately!"

"Reporting, Commander! All 3,665 surface personnel are accounted for and secured aboard the transports!"

Hearing the confirmation, Jason nodded tightly. He turned to the lead biologists standing nearby. "What’s the status? Have you tried communicating with her one last time...? Does she still refuse to leave the water?"

The biologists exchanged heavy looks before the lead researcher stepped forward. "Commander, you see that massive reinforced glass containment tank we deployed in the shallows to house her core?"

"We’ve spent the entire time you were unconscious pleading with her to enter it. Unfortunately... she refuses. Her instinctual bond to her native ocean is too strong!"

"She’s still refusing?" Jason frowned, a flash of bitter disappointment crossing his face. But he quickly suppressed it, his voice softening with resignation. "Fine. We cannot force what isn’t ours to take..."

"We can’t win every battle, and we cannot afford to delay another second."

"Initiate launch sequence!"

Jason gritted his teeth and gave the final order. The Gaia entity was an unimaginable prize, and over the past month, they had genuinely forged a unique, empathetic bond with the nascent intelligence. But he could not risk the lives of his crew—the survival of his species—any longer.

His hammering heart was screaming that the tactical situation was spiraling wildly out of control. They had to evacuate now! He absolutely refused to let the horrific visions of his nightmare become reality!

"Commander’s orders: All units, return to the Deep Space!"

"Dropship One, cleared for launch!"

"Shuttle D-37, cleared for launch!"

Watching the heavily armored transports lift off in a rapid, disciplined sequence gave Jason a small measure of relief.

He stood by his promise. He and his tactical squad would be the absolute last boots on the ground.

"Commander, the pad is clear! It’s time to go!" Marcus suddenly shouted over the roar of the engines, throwing a sharp salute.

As the transports burned into the atmosphere, the massive staging base was completely hollowed out. The once-bustling hub of human activity was now a silent, echoing ghost town. Jason turned toward the ocean, looking down at the small green sphere bouncing in the shallows. He waved his armored arm vigorously. "We’re gone! We have to leave!"

"I pray you survive what’s coming..."

"Sir, should we detonate the glass containment tank we left in the water?" an operator asked over the comms.

"Leave it. It doesn’t matter now... Let her use it as a toy," Jason replied, shaking his head.

He took one final, lingering look at the glowing green sphere in the surf. Then, flanked by his Special Forces detail, he marched up the ramp of the final heavy dropship. The cargo bay was already packed to the ceiling with salvaged scientific equipment and heavy industrial machinery.

As the massive ion thrusters spooled up, brilliant columns of pale blue plasma erupted from the transport’s exhaust ports.

Unlike vacuum-rated engines, the atmospheric ion thrusters were uniquely engineered to intake ambient air, superheat the atmospheric molecules into highly charged plasma, and accelerate them through a magnetic field to generate massive lift.

Within minutes, the final transport broke the ten-thousand-meter altitude mark, punching through the clouds.

Down below, Elara was left completely alone in the vast, irradiated ocean.

The massive algae swarm watched the fiery trail of the spaceship disappear into the upper atmosphere. The little green sphere bounced and bounced on the waves, until suddenly... it stopped.

Where did everyone go?

She couldn’t process why her strange, metallic friends had all suddenly vanished. For the first time in her existence, a profound, crushing sense of loneliness bloomed within her consciousness... There was no one left to play with her.