Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner - Chapter 461

Chapter 461: Living tribunal

Across the Milky Way, a massive vessel hung in Earth’s orbit like a city carved from metal and purpose. The Ark was humanity’s answer to extinction, a mobile command fortress that served as the beating heart of the Earth Defense Force’s war against the Harbinger threat.

Its hull stretched for kilometers in every direction, studded with defensive batteries, hangar bays, and the administrative complexes that coordinated humanity’s survival across dozens of star systems.

Deep within the Ark’s command sector, beyond the military operations centers and strategic planning rooms, lay the halls where careers ended and legacies were destroyed. The tribunal chamber.

The tribunal chamber occupied a space designed specifically to remind everyone who entered that they stood before the weight of military law and human civilization’s collective judgment.

The room was austere by design. Polished metal floors reflected overhead lighting that left no shadows for uncertainty to hide in. Three elevated seats dominated the far end of the chamber, positioned to place the tribunal members above those who stood before them.

Behind those seats, covering the entire wall, hung the Earth Defense Force crest—a shield overlaid with symbols of soil and a single drop of blood, representing humanity’s willingness to defend their birthworld and all the worlds they’d claimed among the stars.

Smaller versions of the crest adorned the breast pockets of every uniform in the room, a reminder that they all served the same cause, even when that cause turned its teeth inward to devour its own.

Three figures occupied the elevated seats, each wearing the kind of expression that came from years of making decisions that affected thousands of lives. Their uniforms bore rank insignia that placed them among the EDF’s senior leadership, answerable only to the Supreme General himself.

Admiral Helena Kross sat in the center position, her silver hair pulled back in a style that had probably been regulation since before most of the Vanguard recruits were born. Her service record included combat deployments during the early Harbinger incursions, and the scars visible on her hands spoke of someone who’d earned her authority through blood rather than politics.

To her left sat General Roman Thorne, a man whose dark skin showed the kind of weathering that came from years spent on frontier worlds where the Harbinger threat was measured in daily body counts rather than strategic projections. His eyes carried the weariness of someone who’d sent too many young soldiers to their deaths and knew he’d send more before the war ended.

Colonel Elizabeth Ashford occupied the right seat, younger than her colleagues but carrying herself with the rigid discipline of someone who’d climbed through the ranks by following every regulation to the letter. Her specialty was military law, and she’d prosecuted enough cases to know where every procedural trap was hidden.

Admiral Kross activated the chamber’s recording systems with a gesture, her voice carrying easily through the acoustically designed space. “This tribunal is convened under Article 12, Section 4 of the Earth Defense Force Military Code to address allegations of gross negligence and mismanagement of military assets. Let the record show the date as October 17th, 2076, Standard Earth Calendar.”

She glanced at the tribunal entrance. “Bring in the accused.”

The doors opened with the kind of finality that made stomachs drop. Commander Mei Lein entered first, her small frame seeming even more diminished by the weight of what she was facing. Behind her came Commander Cassandra Beaumont, maintaining her composure despite the exhaustion evident in her features. Commander Viktor Volkov brought up the rear, his weathered face showing none of the fear he must have been feeling.

They stood at attention before the tribunal, three commanders who’d dedicated their careers to training humanity’s next generation of defenders, now facing the possibility that their service would end in disgrace.

Admiral Kross studied them for a long moment before speaking. “Commanders, you stand accused of criminal negligence in the management of military personnel assigned to the Vanguard Initiative. Specifically, the disappearance of Pathfinder Team 7 for a period exceeding five weeks without proper notification to command authority. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty, Admiral,” Mei said quietly, her voice steady despite the circumstances.

“Not guilty,” Cassandra added.

“Not guilty,” Volkov finished.

General Thorne leaned forward, his expression grave. “Then perhaps you can explain how five military assets, including one SSS-ranked and one S-ranked soldier, simply vanished from your station for over a month without triggering any emergency protocols?”

Cassandra stepped forward slightly. “Admiral, if I may address the sequence of events as they occurred?”

“Proceed.”

“On August 29th, Recruit Lucas Grey received communication from his family requesting his immediate return to Raiju Prime for matters of family significance. Given that Grey family sovereignty supersedes EDF jurisdiction over family members, we authorized his departure.”

Colonel Ashford made a notation on her tablet. “And the other five members of his team?”

“Followed him without authorization,” Mei admitted. “We discovered their absence approximately four hours after Grey’s departure.”

“Four hours.” Admiral Kross’s tone could have frozen atmosphere. “And in those four hours, five additional recruits managed to requisition transportation, leave the station, and disappear into Grey territory without anyone noticing?”

Volkov spoke up, his military bearing perfect despite the hostile questioning. “The Vanguard Initiative operates with more flexibility than standard military units, Admiral. These recruits are being trained for independent operations against Harbinger threats. A certain degree of autonomy is built into the program’s structure.”

“Autonomy is not the same as abandonment of duty,” General Thorne replied. “Five weeks, Commanders. Five weeks without contact, without status reports, without any confirmation that these assets were even alive. What were you doing during that time?”

The three commanders exchanged glances, and Cassandra took the lead again. “We were attempting to locate them through diplomatic channels. Communications were sent to Raiju Prime requesting information about their whereabouts and status.”

“Fourteen communications, according to our records,” Colonel Ashford said, consulting her files. “All unanswered. Yet you never escalated to emergency protocols or informed Central Command of the situation. Why?”

The trap was obvious, and all three commanders knew it. They’d avoided escalation specifically to keep this situation from reaching the Ark, and now they were being questioned about why they’d done exactly that.

Mei chose her words carefully. “We believed we could resolve the situation through appropriate channels without creating unnecessary diplomatic complications with the Grey family.”

“Diplomatic complications.” Admiral Kross’s voice carried skepticism. “Commander Lein, your personnel files indicate you’re responsible for coordinating relations with original family territories. Surely you understood that unauthorized EDF presence in Grey space could create exactly those complications?”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“And yet you delayed reporting to Central Command for over a month while attempting to handle this internally?”

Mei met the Admiral’s gaze directly. “We made a judgment call based on the specific circumstances and the personnel involved.”

General Thorne’s expression darkened. “Let’s discuss those specific circumstances and personnel. Pathfinder Team 7 consists of some of the most valuable military assets currently under EDF control. Noah Eclipse, classified as humanity’s second most valuable combat resource after—” he paused, glancing at a restricted notation, “—after certain classified personnel. Lucas Grey, S-ranked lightning specialist from one of the original families. Webb Pithon’s son, Kelvin, a technical specialist with abilities that make him irreplaceable for certain operations.”

He leaned forward, his voice taking on an edge. “These are not ordinary recruits, Commanders. These are investments representing millions in training costs, genetic analysis, ability development, and strategic value. And you simply… lost track of them?”

Volkov’s jaw tightened. “We didn’t lose track of anything, General. We made tactical decisions about how to handle a complicated situation involving personnel who operate at the intersection of EDF authority and original family politics.”

“Tactical decisions that resulted in those same personnel conducting unauthorized military operations on Earth itself,” Colonel Ashford interjected. “EDF response teams found evidence of a major combat incident in Eastern Cardinal, Sector 4, Zone 8. Thermal signatures consistent with Ares family fire abilities, electrical discharge patterns matching Grey family capabilities, and void energy residue that our analysts confirm came from Eclipse’s weapon.”

She activated a holographic display showing damage assessments and combat analysis. “Whatever happened in that sector, it involved forces capable of destroying military-grade structures and engaging hostile targets of significant power. And according to your own reports, you had no knowledge this operation was taking place.”

Cassandra’s composure cracked slightly. “Admiral, with respect, we couldn’t have predicted—”

“That’s precisely the point, Commander Beaumont.” Admiral Kross’s voice cut through the excuse. “Your job is to predict. Your job is to maintain operational awareness of the assets under your command. Your job is to ensure that humanity’s most valuable soldiers aren’t conducting unsanctioned operations that could create diplomatic incidents or waste resources we can’t afford to lose.”

She gestured to another display showing mission records. “Let’s examine your management of Team 7 from the beginning. Their first deployment, designated Code Yellow for reconnaissance, resulted in contact with one-horned Harbingers. The mission escalated to Code Red, yet somehow they survived and secured valuable intelligence.”

General Thorne picked up the thread. “Their second deployment sent them to Planet Nebular on what should have been a diplomatic protection assignment. They were tasked with determining why an initial diplomatic team had gone silent. Instead, they walked into a full Harbinger assault.”

“A two-horned Harbinger,” Colonel Ashford added, consulting her files. “Which Team 7 neutralized in conjunction with EDF soldiers they encountered on-site. They also managed to safeguard members of the Coalition of Planetary Defense Forces, protecting not just human personnel but representatives from multiple species involved in the Harbinger war.”

She looked up at the commanders. “Impressive work for recruits on their second mission. Which brings us to their third deployment.”

Admiral Kross’s expression grew more severe. “Sirius Prime. What should have been routine investigation turned into contact with not one but two high-threat Harbinger targets. A three-horned female—the first of its kind humanity had encountered—and the four-horned nightmare designated Kruel.”

The name hung in the air like a curse. Everyone in the chamber knew about Kruel, the Harbinger that had torn through three hundred EDF soldiers including a team that Commander Beaumont herself had been part of. The fact that two recruits had survived an encounter with that monster was either a miracle or evidence of abilities far beyond normal human capabilities.

Admiral Kross studied the commanders with the kind of attention that missed nothing. “Some of the other Vanguard teams have filed complaints suggesting that Team 7 received preferential treatment. That they were deliberately given high-value target assignments to accelerate their training while other teams conducted routine operations.”

Volkov’s hands clenched behind his back. “Admiral, those complaints come from recruits who don’t understand the full operational picture.”

“Then help us understand, Commander.”

Volkov took a breath, choosing his words with the care of someone walking through a minefield. “Team 7 wasn’t given preferential treatment. They were given assignments appropriate to their capability levels. Eclipse is SSS-ranked. Grey is S-ranked. Pithon has technical abilities that make him invaluable for certain mission parameters. Sophie Reign, Diana Frost, Lyra Davids—these aren’t ordinary soldiers. They’re the best we have.”

“So you acknowledge deliberately assigning them to high-risk situations?” Colonel Ashford asked.

“We assigned them to situations where they had the highest probability of survival and mission success,” Cassandra interjected. “Would the tribunal prefer we sent less capable teams into those situations? Teams that would have died the moment they encountered Harbinger forces?”

General Thorne’s expression remained neutral. “The tribunal prefers that all personnel receive equal training opportunities and mission assignments regardless of their ranking classifications.”

“With respect, General, that’s not how war works.” Volkov’s voice carried an edge. “We’re fighting an enemy that’s been exterminating human colonies for near a century. Every mission we send people on could be their last. Yes, we sent our best team to handle the situations most likely to turn deadly. Because our job isn’t just to train soldiers—it’s to keep them alive long enough to become the defenders humanity needs.”

“And look how well that worked,” Admiral Kross said quietly. “Your best team is now scattered across human space, conducting unauthorized operations, creating diplomatic incidents, and wasting resources that could be better spent on personnel who actually follow orders.”

The words landed like physical blows, and Mei flinched despite her attempt to maintain composure.

“The mission to Sirius Prime was designated Code Yellow,” Colonel Ashford continued, consulting her files. “Reconnaissance and patrol. How did a Code Yellow mission result in combat with two high-threat Harbinger targets?”

Cassandra’s expression shifted slightly, and Volkov recognized the opening she’d spotted. “With respect, Colonel, the Sirius Prime deployment wasn’t our initiative. That mission came directly from the Ark.”

A brief silence followed. General Thorne’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

“Central Command deployed two reconnaissance teams to Sirius Prime before contacting Vanguard Station,” Cassandra continued, her voice steady. “Both teams went dark. Rather than commit additional high-level assets, the Ark specifically requested Vanguard recruits for the operation.”

Volkov added weight to the argument. “The intelligence we provided to Team 7 was the same intelligence provided to us by Ark command. If that intelligence was flawed, it originated from sources beyond our operational control.”

Admiral Kross’s expression remained neutral, but something flickered in her eyes—recognition that the commanders had just shifted part of the responsibility back toward the very authority questioning them.

“The intelligence was the best available at the time of deployment,” Cassandra finished carefully, leaving the implication hanging: best available from the Ark itself.

“And yet it proved catastrophically wrong. Three hundred soldiers died on Sirius Prime before Eclipse and Grey managed to neutralize Kruel. Three hundred trained personnel who represented years of investment and combat experience.” His voice grew harder. “Tell me, Commander Beaumont, you were part of the force that initially engaged Kruel, weren’t you?”

Cassandra’s face went pale. “Yes, General.”

“And you survived because Eclipse and Grey intervened when your unit was being slaughtered?”

“That’s correct.”

“So you owe your life to two recruits who, according to your own testimony, hadn’t even completed their basic Vanguard training at that point?”

The implications hung heavy in the chamber. Cassandra had survived because of Noah and Lucas, which created a debt that colored every decision she’d made regarding Team 7 since then.

Admiral Kross leaned back in her seat, studying the three commanders with an expression that revealed nothing. “Let’s return to the central issue. Five weeks without proper oversight. Five weeks where you had no idea if your most valuable assets were alive, dead, or compromised. Five weeks where you deliberately withheld information from Central Command about missing personnel.”

“We were handling it through appropriate channels,” Mei said quietly.

“Appropriate channels that resulted in no useful information and forced us to deploy a retrieval team to Grey territory?” Colonel Ashford’s tone was sharp. “Commanders, your actions or lack thereof have created a diplomatic situation with one of the original families, wasted resources on retrieval operations, and demonstrated a fundamental failure to maintain control over the assets under your command.”

Volkov stepped forward. “Admiral, with respect, we made decisions based on the information available and the unique circumstances surrounding Team 7’s departure. We believed we could resolve the situation without escalating to Central Command, and we stand by that assessment even knowing the outcome.”

“Standing by poor decisions doesn’t make them correct, Commander Volkov.”

General Thorne consulted his own files, his expression thoughtful. “The tribunal notes that Team 7’s record, despite the complications discussed here, remains exceptional. Their survival rate against Harbinger forces is unprecedented. Their intelligence gathering has proven valuable. And their ability to operate independently in hostile territory exceeds expectations for recruits at their training level.”

He looked up at the three commanders. “Which makes your failure to maintain proper oversight all the more troubling. If these recruits are as valuable as their records suggest, then losing track of them for five weeks represents a failure of responsibility that can’t be overlooked.”

Admiral Kross nodded slowly. “The tribunal will take these matters under advisement. Commanders, you are dismissed while we deliberate on appropriate consequences for your actions.”

The three commanders saluted in unison, their movements crisp despite the exhaustion and stress of the proceedings. As they turned to leave, Admiral Kross’s voice stopped them at the door.

“One more thing, Commanders. When your retrieval team brings Team 7 back to the station, we will be conducting our own assessment of these recruits and their activities during their absence. I suggest you prepare them for questions that will be considerably less friendly than what you’ve faced here today.”

The doors closed behind them with the finality of a cell door locking. The tribunal chamber fell silent except for the soft hum of recording systems capturing every word for posterity and judgment.

Outside in the corridor, the three commanders stood together in the kind of silence that spoke of shared understanding and mutual fear. They’d survived the first round of questioning, but the real consequences were still coming. And when Team 7 arrived back at the station, everything would get worse before it got better.

If it got better at all.