Vell blinked. “Sir? We won.”
Thorne didn’t flinch. He had memorized the brief: Three billion human lives lost in the first hour. Another two billion displaced. Ninety-seven percent of military assets vaporized. The numbers had lost their meaning somewhere between the fall of the Atlantic Wall and the surrender of the Pacific Fleet. Conquest Earth
The silence after the bombardment was worse than the noise. Admiral Thorne stood on the bridge of the Odyssey , watching the blue-green marble below swirl with new, ugly bruises of grey and orange. The planetary defense grids were down. The最后一波 resistance had been extinguished twelve minutes ago. Vell blinked
“All sectors report compliance, sir,” said Ensign Vell, though her voice trembled. “Ground forces are securing the capital. Casualties… are catastrophic.” He had memorized the brief: Three billion human
“Conquest,” he whispered to himself, tasting the word like ash. “We wanted to conquer Earth.”