The Imperial Dreadnought pushed forward through the empty void of space. Well, almost empty. Thousands, perhaps more, of the machines simply called the Swarm were forced out of the way by the massive battleship’s forceshields. The metallic beasts fired small pulse lasers, slowly draining the shields of their strength. Yet the Dreadnought kept its insane pace, forcing its six engines to critical levels. From tens of kilometers away, an encrypted message was sent.

“Accept hologram,” said Admiral Chester Nimitz, his gravely voice filling the command center. An ensign touched his computer screen twice, and a large holographic image of a very angry woman appeared in the midst of them.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Renaissance? Your orders are the same as mine: retreat. The Commonwealth is lost; we’re not getting the planet back. This war has enough dead heroes,” High Admiral Samantha Nimitz’s angry voice seemed to crack slightly over the com. Her brown eyes searched the command center, until they found the Admiral. His back was to her hologram, which was against all military protocol. His gaze remained fixed on three large screens which conveyed the situation around his ship.

“There isn’t enough time, Ma’am. Even if every ship were to make an emergency high-energy jump, the Swarm would follow your energy signatures. My crew and I are putting our line in the sand; we’re not running anymore. We’ll hold the Swarm off long enough to give the rest of the fleet time to jump safely,” The Admiral said with conviction. He was resolute; the Renaissance would put its best foot forward, so to speak. Finally, he turned to the High Admiral’s holographic form.

“Chester,” the High Admiral said, dropping all the military bullshit, “what will I say to Tom?” Tears seemed to swell up in her eyes, something unseen in public since the war began. Her upright posture lost most of her composure, and it appeared as though she might slump to the floor. Her military upbringing held firm however, and she wiped away her tears.

“He’s a big boy. We all have to grow up sometime,” the Admiral almost reached out to try to wipe away the tears on her cheeks, but squelched the reaction. “Promise me this, Sam. Take care of our boy. Spoil him more than any prince; we may not have long before even Old Earth is besieged. May the Emperor protect us,” he said as a way of goodbye. This was too hard, he couldn’t say goodbye in any other way. Not to her, nor the memory of their child.