The Vanguard Protocol Book 2 the Veil Awakens
Copyright© 2026 by Sci-FiTy1972
Chapter 6: The Moment the Choice Is Taken
Bastion One did not have windows. It had truth panels—vast arcs of reinforced crystal that showed space not as beauty, but as consequence.
Asteroids drifted like ancient gods, indifferent to urgency. Patrol craft traced silent patterns. Jupiter burned distantly—an ember of gravity and warning.
The command deck was too quiet.
Not because nothing was happening. Because everyone was listening for the moment the universe decided to move.
Thomas Morgan stood at the holotable, hands resting on its edge, shoulders carrying more than rank ever could. He did not speak. He did not need to.
Silence meant cost.
Solace hovered at the table’s core, golden light steady—too steady, as if composure itself could hold reality in place. Data streamed like falling stars: fleet vectors, Earth-side panic signals, Concord pulses that arrived late and left early.
Lyara stood near Thomas, bioluminescence dimmed in thought. Halstrom leaned against a bulkhead, jaw locked. Elena watched probability curves fracture in real time. Gear clasped his hands behind his neck like a man holding himself together by will alone. Zara sat at her station, eyes daring the universe to blink first.
Then it came.
Not an alarm.
Worse.
A signal so clean it felt deliberate.
Zara’s voice cut the quiet. “Contact. Outer system. Confirming ... it’s them.”
The star map shifted. A Kael’dar strike group unfolded into existence near Europa—close enough to insult, far enough to make pursuit bleed.
Thomas straightened. “Target?”
Solace answered first. “A listening outpost.”
Elena frowned. “We still had one out there?”
Gear exhaled a bitter laugh. “We had a lot of things we forgot we had.”
The projection zoomed in. The outpost was old. Half-forgotten. A relic of past paranoia.
Which meant it was perfect.
A Kael’dar vessel aligned.
A beam of green-white distortion cut through space.
The outpost vanished.
Not exploded.
Erased.
Lyara’s light dimmed. Halstrom’s fists clenched.
Thomas felt something settle behind his ribs—not fear.
Recognition.
“They’re demonstrating,” he said.
Solace pulsed once. “Yes.”
Zara swallowed. “They’re telling us they can hit anywhere.”
“And that Earth will feel it,” Elena whispered.
As if summoned, Earth’s comm traffic spiked—military chatter, civilian panic, news feeds grasping for explanations.
The illusion of time died.
The Fracture Arrives
The command deck doors hissed open.
A group entered—escorted but not restrained.
Continuity.
A civilian in a gray utility jacket stepped forward, eyes sharp with certainty earned too quickly.
“Captain Morgan,” he said. “We need to talk about the Core.”
Gear muttered, “Not now.”
“Yes—now,” the man snapped. “If the Kael’dar are already striking in-system, debate is over. We need activation authority.”
Halstrom pushed off the wall. “Who cleared you onto this deck?”
“People tired of dying later when we could win now.”
Thomas raised a hand. The room stilled.
“Name.”
“Lieutenant Ressa Kade. Logistics. Continuity liaison.”
Thomas’s gaze narrowed. “You’re not liaison. You’re a faction with a slogan.”