Page 62 of Ravaged By the Reaper

We’re winning battles.

But we’re losing the war.

And Panaka knows it.

I see it in the way Widowmaker’s path shifts—subtle at first. Then bold. Then suicidal.

“What’s he doing?” I mutter. “That’s Alliance territory.”

The holomap redraws. Widowmaker streaks across the designated no-fly buffer like a knife slicing treaties in half. The Reaper ships follow, bait trailing behind them—a clump of Coalition scouts, hungry and dumb.

Alarms chirp. A red barrier flashes on the map—Alliance jurisdiction.

“Panaka’s breached diplomatic boundaries,” the nav officer says, voice shaking.

“On purpose,” I growl.

Yentil spins to me. “Tell me he’s not about to light up an Alliance ship.”

“He won’t have to.”

I watch, riveted, as Widowmaker dips low into the patrol grid, passingjustclose enough to trip a full-spectrum sensor relay. Three Alliance vessels uncloak instantly, weapons powered, tracking. Their communications array explodes with chatter. Even without hearing the words, I can feel the ‘what the hell’vibrating through the holonet.

Panaka doesn’t fire.

He just runs.

Straight back toward the fight.

And the Alliance follows.

“Oh you clever, insane bastard…” I whisper.

They chase him to the edge of the grid—where the Coalition ships wait. Alliance sensors, now lit, pick up the rest. The blockade. The prisoner exchange demand. The open threats.

The neutrality curtain is ripped wide open.

And with it, the third force enters the fray—confused, pissed, and fully armed.

Yentil turns, stunned. “He dragged the Alliance in without a shot.”

“Yep.”

“On purpose?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Holy hell.”

“Right?”

The deck trembles again. I grip the rail. Outside, a Coalition frigate hesitates.

And in war,hesitation kills.

Widowmaker swings back around. And this time, she’s not alone.

The hangar bay is chaos—metal screeches, warning klaxons scream, and engineering teams scramble like ants on a kicked hive.