Everyone stared at Rockwell, at this Fleet Commander who was issuing the order for total mobilization.
The staff officer took a soft breath.
It was very soft, but in the deathly silent Bridge, everyone heard it.
He lowered his head and said nothing.
The Adjutant stood there, his expression extremely complex.
There was reluctance, there was sorrow.
Civilian starships.
Ordinary civilians.
Temporary refits.
Supervisory Combat Units.
What did these words combined mean?
It meant that those who should have been in factories, on cargo ships, waiting at home for the war to end, would soon be pushed onto the battlefield.
For many of them, their first time firing would also be their last.
In that soon-to-be-burning starry sky, there would be the blood of countless ordinary people.
But facing the Federation's 80,000 warships, facing those three covetously watching Sequence Fleets...
This move might be the only thing possible right now.
A young communications officer lowered his head, fingers tightly clutching the hem of his uniform.
He didn't know if his father would also be conscripted.
Would those uncles who watched him grow up also be crammed into those temporarily refitted civilian ships, charging into that deadly airspace?
He knew nothing.
He only knew that the order had been given.
It could not be changed.
Rockwell stood there, looking at the tactical screen.
His face showed no expression.
But something flickered in those eyes.
It was helplessness.
It was unwillingness.
It was also the desperate resolve of burning one's boats.
With the order issued, the Savannah Star System was instantly thrown into chaos.
Savannah Star System, Emets Star Port.
Evan Brooks stood on the observation corridor of the port, completely stunned.
He had originally just wanted to get some fresh air and see if he could find a decent restaurant to solve dinner.
But the scene before him made him completely forget about eating.
On the main road of the port, a team of armed star police were questioning passersby one by one.
"You, stop."
A middle-aged man had just reached the intersection when two star police stopped him.
"Documents."
The man was stunned for a moment, instinctively reaching to retrieve them.
But before his hand was halfway there, another star police officer had already circled behind him, grabbed his arm, and twisted it behind his back.
"Ah!"
The man screamed in pain, his body forced to bend over.
"What are you doing?
What are you doing?"
His shouts echoed on the street.
No one answered him.
A star police officer searched his chest, pulled out his documents, glanced at them, then nodded to his companion beside him.
"Take him away."
The man was escorted onto a transport vehicle parked by the roadside.
Inside the vehicle, over a dozen people were already crammed, each with a face full of terror, not knowing what was happening.
Brooks watched the vehicle drive away, his Adam's apple bobbing.
In his forty-three years of life, he had never seen such a scene.
Not that he had never seen arrests.
He had never seen arrests this "without explanation."
That man just now, it seemed he had done nothing, yet he was taken away just like that.
His gaze swept over the street.
Further away, several more people were struggling constantly.
Someone was shouting.
"I didn't do anything!
Why are you arresting me!"
The response was a rifle butt smashed into his face.
Brooks took a step back.
His heart began to race.
He had a beautiful wife waiting for him at home, and he didn't want any trouble.
Brooks just wanted to get out of this damned place as quickly as possible.
He lowered his head and hurried toward the berth where his mining ship was docked.
As he walked, he tapped the bracelet-type star communicator on his right hand.
A pale blue screen unfolded before him.
"Call Arnold."
Arnold was his first mate, who had been with him for seventeen years—the person he trusted most.
The screen flickered a few times.
Then, a man's face appeared on the screen.
It was Arnold.
But his expression seemed a bit strange.
Brooks didn't have time to dwell on it. Lowering his voice, he spoke quickly.
"Arnold, get the crew back here right away!"
As he spoke, he glanced back toward the street.
Another transport vehicle was passing by, and he could vaguely make out figures crammed together inside.
"This place isn't safe. We need to leave as soon as possible!"
He turned back to the screen and continued.
"I don't know if the star police on Emetz Star have lost their minds…"
He paused, his tone tinged with lingering fear.
"They're arresting people everywhere!"
Arnold on the screen didn't respond immediately.
He just stared at Brooks, motionless.
As if frozen.
Brooks was taken aback.
"Arnold?"
Arnold's eyes shifted slightly.
His gaze moved away from Brooks' face, glancing briefly toward another direction on the screen.
Just for a moment.
Then he looked back, forcing a faint smile.
The smile was stiff and strained, as if he were being held at knifepoint.
"Understood, captain."
His voice was steady, but Brooks couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
"I'll have them return right away."
He paused, then added.
"You should hurry back too, captain."
Hearing this, Brooks felt an inexplicable sense of unease.
Urging him to return?
Arnold had been with him for seven years, and every time they were about to depart, the guy would drag his feet, reluctant to leave, always trying to linger in the port for a few more days.
Why was he so eager today?
"Captain?"
Arnold's voice snapped him back to reality.
Brooks shook his head, pushing the doubt aside.
Maybe it was just his imagination.
"Mm."
He gave a simple acknowledgment and ended the call.
Then he quickened his pace, heading toward the berth.
Behind him, the commotion on the street continued.
What he didn't know was this:
The moment he ended the call, two armed star police officers were standing behind Arnold.
The crew lounge was already empty.
Only Arnold remained, facing the two dark muzzles of the guns.
The lead star police officer patted Arnold on the shoulder, a satisfied smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
"You're clever."
Arnold's body trembled slightly. He looked up at the face looming over him.
The lead star police officer continued.
"From now on, you'll be the captain of this starship."
Arnold froze.
In that instant, countless thoughts flashed through his mind.
Fear, tension, and a hint of something he was unwilling to admit—anticipation.
Seven years as a deputy.
Seven years.
Watching Brooks, that bumpkin who only knew how to run mining operations, sit in the captain's chair, giving orders.
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, the fear was gone, replaced by an indescribable glint in his eyes.
"Yes, sir!"
His voice was loud, brimming with an excitement he could barely contain.
"Thank you for your great kindness, sir!"
He nodded vigorously, his smile so sincere it seemed as if he were thanking a lifesaver.
"I, Arnold, will certainly live up to your expectations, sir!"
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