The holographic display filled the command bridge of the *Resolute* with a constellation of death.

Rylee Voss stood at the tactical table, palms flat against the cold metal, watching the data streams update in real time. Three hundred and forty-seven ships in formation around Earth's outer defense perimeter. Humanity's entire remaining fleet, gathered in one place for the first time since the war began. Impressive, if you squinted. Terrifying, if you didn't.

"Final count is in, Admiral." Commander Torres approached from the communications hub, datapad clutched against his chest. "All vessels accounted for. The *Defiant* arrived fifteen minutes ago with the Mars contingent."

Rylee nodded without looking up. The numbers told the story. Against them, the Dominion fielded a force estimated at twelve hundred vessels, not counting the smaller interceptors and drone swarms that accompanied every major engagement. The math had been run weeks ago. It wasn't favorable.

But math had never accounted for Kate Morrison.

"Where is she?"

Torres gestured toward the display, highlighting a small shuttle near the center of the formation. "The *Whisper* is holding at coordinates delta-seven. Escort wing is in position."

The shuttle looked impossibly small against the capital ships surrounding it. Twelve years old. They were sending a twelve-year-old to do what three hundred warships could not. Rylee had burned through shame on that point months ago. What remained was colder, cleaner. Necessity, stripped of its upholstery.

"Signal from fleet command," Torres reported. "Admiral Chen is requesting final confirmation of the operational parameters."

"Tell her the parameters haven't changed." Rylee straightened, spine protesting after hours hunched over tactical projections. "We hold the line. We give Kate a path to the nexus. Everything else is secondary."

Torres hesitated. She could see the question he wanted to ask—the same question she'd seen on a hundred faces this past week. *What happens when Kate reaches the nexus? What happens when she confronts the Hollowing directly?*

No one had an answer. Not even Nigel, with all his theories and calculations. Not Kate.

"Relay the confirmation," Rylee said. "And Torres? Make sure every ship commander understands what we're protecting. Not Earth. Not the colonies. One shuttle. The girl inside it. Everything else can burn if it means she gets through."

Torres retreated to his station. Rylee returned to the display, watching fleet icons pulse with idle readiness. In six hours they'd engage the largest Dominion force ever assembled. In six hours, many of those icons would go dark.

She thought of Marcus. Eighteen months gone. Marcus Reeves, the documentation specialist who'd been there from the beginning—the quiet, steady presence who'd helped Kate make sense of her transformation when everyone else treated her like a specimen. Hours spent teaching her to control her abilities. Listening without judgment when the whispers got too loud. The Hollowing had taken him slowly. The corruption from his exposure had eaten through him cell by cell until what remained was pain and memory. Rylee had held his hand at the end. Watched him slip away. He'd smiled, even at the end. Told her to keep fighting.

She intended to honor that request.

A priority alert pulsed across the tactical display. Rylee tapped the acknowledgment. Admiral Mei Chen's face materialized in holographic projection above the table, her features drawn, the weight of command decisions etched into the lines around her eyes.

"Admiral Voss." Her voice carried the formal cadence of official communication, but something softer moved beneath it. "The Council has authorized final implementation of Operation Lighthouse. All assets are at your disposal."

"Understood, Admiral. We'll proceed on schedule."

Chen paused, her image flickering as interference from the outer system disrupted the signal. "Rylee." The formality dropped. "The survival odds for the primary fleet are—"

"I know what the odds are."

"And you're still confident?"

Rylee considered the word. *Confident* wasn't it. *Certain* was closer—the certainty that came from having no alternatives. They'd tried diplomacy. The Dominion didn't negotiate with prey. They'd tried conventional warfare. No weapon humanity possessed could touch the Hollowing itself. They'd tried running. The warp routes the Dominion controlled let them pursue any target anywhere.