The Trappist Council war room wasn't a place you entered lightly. It was designed to intimidate. But Alita couldn't decide if the battle strategy projected across the room or the unyielding chest of admiral Stratton was more menacing. His cold blue eyes were fixed on the hologram before him as if he could defeat the enemy by simply staring down their whereabouts.

 

She and her co-pilot Deandra were the only pilots at the meeting. They must not want to terrorize the rest of the fleet. They had both been summoned; but neither had even seen this room before. When the message came through her feed, she had immediately searched her mind for some accidental offense. When she couldn’t think of any, visions of grandiosity flashed across her mind, but they quickly vanished like particles scattered by solar winds. Whatever the reason was for them being here, it didn’t feel good.

 

Her legs trembled. Still yourself, girl. Don't speak first, even if it takes an hour. They will tell us when they're ready.

 

"Do you see it?" Admiral Stratton thundered.

 

She glanced at the projection. "Skaarlag fleets arriving in seven-point-two cycles."

 

"And?" he asked.

 

She studied the holo display.

 

"What do you see?" he pressed further.

 

She squinted at the converging lines overhead. "Oh, my god. They are going to… link?"

 

The admiral pivoted his shoulders toward the commander standing to his left. The commander nodded and darted out of the room. The admiral stepped closer to Alita. She wanted to look at Deandra but she dared not turn away from him. Stare through his forehead. Don’t look him in the eyes. Remember your training.

 

"That is why you are here," he said. His voice shook her. “All the tests indicate you are the most observant.”

 

He clicked his boot on the floor and spun around, keeping his hands clasped behind his back. “We’ve observed them do it to other systems, but we’ve never faced linked fleets before.” Alita blinked, and the admiral was already two strides away. “Are you familiar with second millennium Terran history?” he asked.

 

Her mind flashed. She’d of course studied Terran history in flight school. Terrans were the first in the galactic sector to set foot on a planet outside of their own. They’d had a long history of attempting flight, but it wasn’t until the second millennium that they’d made it out of their own atmosphere.

 

Deandra cleared her throat. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir,” Alita said, taking her friend’s cue. She stood at attention.

 

“And the eighth war before their third millennium?”

 

Alita’s mind blanked. She queried her memory banks.

 

“No need to search,” Admiral Stratton said. He swiped a hand in the air and the holo display showed a white flag with a large red sun, beaming from the left.

 

The Rising Sun flag. “Kamikazes?” Alita whispered. The admiral nodded.

 

“But why? Just to eradicate us?” Alita looked back at the display. “The Skaarlag fleets are innumerable. Why would they waste resources? They reuse everything they have.”

 

The admiral’s eyes narrowed and his mouth turned downward. Disappointment emanated from his broad stature. “Not them.”

 

Alita’s face was a puzzle. She glanced at Deandra.

 

“There’s only one vulnerability we can exploit against so many,” the admiral said. With a flick of his wrist he zoomed in on the holo display to show the Skaarlag’s home—the Mainstar. “Your starfreighter will carry the haematite and magnetite. Hers will carry the necessary catalyst for the chemical reaction.” The admiral studied them for a moment. “Your mission’s codename: Setting Sun.”

 

Suddenly, the connection dawned on Alita. “You want us to fly into the Mainstar? Destroy it?” Her mind raced. “What about our system? It would put an end to everything in Trappist.”

 

“Including the Skaarlags,” the Admiral said. “It’s our one chance to rid the galaxy of them forever. We’ve already evacuated the colonists, along with most of the fleet.”

 

So that’s why it has been so quiet. Her thoughts fizzled.

 

“Do you know what Kamikaze means?” the Admiral asked.

 

Alita was about to query, but refrained. “No.”

 

“It means Divine wind.”

 

Alita stood speechless. She did not believe in the divine. That was for those who were too weak to achieve what they wanted most. Their belief in the divine was what had held the Terrans back for so many millennia.

 

Admiral Stratton stepped closer, his chiseled chin nearly at her nose. Then, he breathed on her. As the warmth of his breath slid down her cheeks, Alita inhaled. A burning filled her chest. At that moment a new reality came over her. A divine wind birthed sacrifice in her soul and her criticism of Terran beliefs faded.

 

Alita somehow knew: Sacrifice and survival were eternally wed. They always would be. She pulled her helmet tight and saluted the Admiral. She bowed towards Deandra, stepped into her starfighter, and embraced the folly of the long line of Terrans before her.