Sand tittering away upon the massive metal hull.

"Doubtful, reengage."

Pressurized methane spilling into the engines, igniting, burning bright across the sky.

"Up ! "

130 mm rounds discharged from its D-80 Molot gun batteries, striking its target in a display of shredded steel, fire, and a kaboom.

"Identified."

Smoke, gas, blood, dust, rust, and shrapnel.

"Brace, brace, brace."

An unarmored, fast picket corvette screening the main fleet.

"On the way!"

The humble guardian of the High Fleet.

"Target! Ceasefire, ceasefire."

The Commoner.