Wanderer Ch 18: A Choice Given, A Choice Denied!

(Thalassa)

I stared at the fleet ahead, the cold silence of space amplifying the weight of my gaze. These tiny ships—no bigger than grains of sand—dared to form a defensive line, as if they could stop me. Their energy signatures flickered like fragile lights in the vast emptiness. They looked so insignificant, so utterly beneath me. My jaw clenched, my patience wearing thin.

"See, don't you think these little things might be a bit... entertaining?" Eclipsa's voice floated beside me, her laughter tinged with amusement. Her red eyes gleamed as she watched the fleet, the way a cat watches a mouse before the pounce.

I growled low, frustration rising like bile in my throat. "We have no time for this," I snapped, unable to hide the irritation from creeping into my voice.

And yet, before I could brush them aside with a single breath, a strange sound buzzed in my ear, like static. My brow furrowed. What in the stars...?

"Huh?" The sound of surprise escaped me before I could stop it. I lowered my eyes, scanning the space in front of me. The static sharpened, became a voice.

I noticed one of the tiny ships—the closest one—edging nearer to me, no bigger than a speck against my skin. I leaned forward, my face drawing closer to the pathetic thing, and for the first time, I realized where the voice was coming from. It was coming from the ship. Tiny as it is... they dare to speak?

"...This is Commander Eron Varak of the Krugar Royal Fleet," the voice crackled. His tone was steady, though the underlying tension was clear. "I speak on behalf of my people. Titans, we ask you to leave our planet in peace."

I stared down at the ship, blinking in disbelief. They ask? My lips twitched, barely able to contain the amusement. Eclipsa, on the other hand, broke into a full, throaty laugh.

"Oh, how brave these little things are," she said, her voice laced with condescension. Her laughter echoed through the vacuum of space, though the ship couldn't possibly hear it.

My gaze stayed fixed on the speck, my anger slowly giving way to a grudging respect. I mean, it took guts to approach us. Still, we both knew how this would end.

I leaned in closer, enough to see the little ship almost tremble before me. I could picture the tiny beings inside, watching my face loom like a horizon, filling their entire field of vision. My golden eyes glinted as I smirked, barely keeping my frustration in check.

"We will leave in peace," I said slowly, letting my voice carry the weight of my power, watching the flicker of hope that might have sparked in their minds. I held it just long enough before adding, "But only if you hand over the spacecraft and its pilot."

Behind me, I heard Eclipsa let out a sigh, disappointed. "Oh, really?" she muttered, clearly hoping I'd give in to my urge to crush them right there.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring her. My eyes stayed locked on the tiny fleet in front of me. They knew what I meant. They had to know. There was no need for clarification. The spacecraft. Its pilot. That's all we wanted. They could have their crumbling planet, their doomed people. I just needed what was rightfully mine.

The silence dragged out, the commander's ship hanging in the air before me, so small, so fragile. The static returned briefly, though I could hear no words. I could only imagine the chaos happening on the other side of that transmission—decisions being made in haste, lives being weighed against impossible odds.

But they didn't have a choice. They never did.

I felt the corner of my mouth lift, the power swelling inside me as I waited for their inevitable surrender.

The silence from the tiny ship stretched on, and I could feel my patience unraveling, thread by thread. I leaned in even closer, practically breathing down on the little thing, waiting for the inevitable surrender. Surely, they weren't that foolish.

But then the voice returned, sharp and defiant, "We cannot comply with your demand, Titan. Leave our world in peace, or we will respond with force."

I blinked. Force? My breath hitched for a moment, the audacity of his words sinking in. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The sheer gall of it.

Eron Varak repeated himself, as if the first time wasn't enough of an insult. "We will not hand over the spacecraft or its pilot. Leave now, or face the consequences."

That was it. That was the breaking point.

"That's it," I hissed, the heat of my anger flaring in my chest. My eyes burned with a cold fury as I straightened, rising to my full height, the pathetic little ships scrambling backward in fear. I could see them dart away as my breasts lifted and swayed in front of them, the sheer size of me enough to send them scattering like frightened insects.

My hands clenched into fists, the power surging through me like a wildfire. I had given them a chance. I had been reasonable. And now, they had sealed their fate.

"Have it your way," I growled through gritted teeth, extending my hand toward the fleet. My fingers stretched out, each one capable of snuffing out hundreds of their lives with just a flick. The tiny ships, no bigger than dust to me, drifted just outside my grasp, but I could feel their panic, their desperation.

They had chosen this. I would crush them out of existence, wipe their fragile little lives from the stars. The fire of my wrath blazed as I drew my hand closer, ready to erase their pitiful resistance.

The static from their comms crackled again, but this time, I didn't care to listen. They were beneath me now, nothing but mites waiting to be crushed underfoot. They will learn, I thought, my chest heaving with each angry breath.

I locked eyes on the closest ship, imagining the faces of those inside—their terror, their hopelessness. My fingers twitched. It would be so easy. And the thrill of destruction, of putting them in their place, surged through me like a drug.

No more warnings.