"And that's not all, sir," the officer continued, eyes scanning rapidly over data feeds. "Our long-range detection systems are picking up more than eight ships scattered across this system. They appear to be pirate vessels—at least, that's what their energy signatures suggest…"
He paused. His concern deepened into something closer to confusion.
"But… when did pirates start using tech like this? A gravity well projector? That's military-grade—top-tier stuff."
He didn't finish the thought, but I already knew where it was going.
"That kind of tech," I said quietly, "isn't something pirates should have."
Admiral Ranger turned sharply, his jaw clenched.
"Pirates? With this kind of capability?" he said aloud, almost to himself. Then his gaze locked with mine—steady, serious.
And in that moment, I saw it. He wasn't speaking to me as a respected Archduke of the Empire anymore—not even as a peer. He was looking at me as his superior. In essence, he was relinquishing command, having assessed the situation and made the decision on his own. The command was mine now, whether it had been officially passed or not.
I nodded at him in understanding of his intent and said, my voice lowered slightly:
"This isn't a coincidence, Admiral. A gravity well strong enough to bypass our countermeasures and rip us from hyperspace? And now 'pirates' just happen to be here, in a dead system no one cares about?"
If you're wondering what gravity wells are and how they work—though most of you have probably guessed from the name—let me explain. A gravity well creates an artificial gravitational field in a region of space to forcibly pull ships out of FTL (faster-than-light) travel, essentially yanking them out of hyperspace. Once active, it also prevents ships from re-entering FTL until the well is either destroyed or deactivated.
This kind of tech is fairly common, and there are countermeasures—if you've got a powerful FTL drive and proper defensive systems, you can usually evade it. And we did have those systems. Yet we were still being pulled out of FTL.
That could only mean one thing: they were using a superior gravity well module—something typically restricted to military use. And not just any military. Only a Tier-1 state, like our own Terra Empire, has access to tech like that.
And a ship caught in a gravity well would be all but at the mercy of its attackers.
I then, then added:
"It's a trap. Plain and simple Admiral."
Ranger nodded once, his expression darkening as he contemplated the complexity of our situation. He listened to my claims in silence, but I could tell he accepted them.
The realization struck him hard—someone from within the Empire itself was behind this. According to his knowledge, this mission was known only to a select few: the Emperor, the Crown Prince, and the First Princess.
He knew the mission was far too important—perhaps critical to the Empire's very existence. If the intel about the weapon was true, the stakes were beyond imagination. But Ranger chose to set those thoughts aside and focus on the present.
He turned to me, his expression grim. "What are your orders, sir?" he asked in a serious tone.
For now, survival was the priority. And with me being the highest-ranking officer present, the responsibility was mine. The choice was mine. What would we do next? Could I get us out of this situation alive?
Alive—just like I had managed in countless situations before. Though I'll admit, this one was by far the hardest I'd ever faced. But hey, I'm a warrior. And a proud one at that. I won't accept defeat without a fight. That's my price—either I survive trying, or I die doing it.
"And this is what I'll do," I said under my breath.
I glanced at Admiral Ranger but didn't answer him directly. Instead, I turned sharply to the special operations officer stationed near the aft console—he was in charge of one of the most critical systems aboard our ship.
A system built precisely for situations like this.
But before giving him the go-ahead, I issued one more command.
"Initiate evasive maneuvers—now. While we're still inside hyperspace. Do everything possible to keep us in the corridor just a little longer."
The navigation team moved instantly, scrambling to reorient the ship's path. I knew it wouldn't hold us for long—we were already being dragged out—but even seconds could make a difference.
Then I turned back to the special officer.
"Status of the Phantom Leap Drives?"
He didn't answer immediately—just checked a nearby panel, then nodded.
"Charged at 27 percent, sir."
Exactly what I'd hoped.
Protocol required a minimum 20% charge at all times. We were lucky.
The Phantom Leap Drive—our emergency short-range teleportation system—was designed to extract a vessel from precisely this kind of trap: blocked trajectories, spatial ambushes, and gravity well snares. Each ship in the fleet had one, though capabilities varied by class.
At 20–30% charge, we could leap anywhere from 5,000 to 20,000 kilometers—not enough to escape the system entirely, but maybe enough to get us out of direct fire or break a lock.
Our destroyer was equipped with a Class-2 Phantom Drive—heavier, more powerful. Frigates in the fleet had Class-1 systems, still capable of short leaps—likely around 10,000 meters at this charge level.
It wasn't perfect.
But it was something.
And right now, in a system crawling with hidden enemies and hostile tech, something was better than nothing.
"Good," William muttered—more to himself than anyone else. Not out of pride. Out of relief.
He'd quietly feared sabotage. Trust ran deep in his fleet, but betrayal had already brought them this far. Someone had sold them out. And if he made it through this, he'd find out who—and deal with them personally.
At least the Phantom Drive was operational. That meant the trap wasn't airtight. And he wouldn't need to keep one eye on his own crew.
He turned to the comms officer.
"Relay to the entire fleet: Prepare Phantom Drives for immediate activation. Once we're forced out of hyperspace, I want each ship to leap in a different direction. Repeat—different directions. Immediately."