It was less than a day after the Dawnseeker hijacking fiasco when the ISS?Cataclysm broke away from Daniel''s vessel. The super-dreadnought''s mission orders left no time to linger. Aboard Dawnseeker, Daniel—battered but healing—exchanged brief farewells with the Cataclysm''s crew. He would remain behind to help repair his own ship, while the Cataclysm raced onward to its next task: melting part of a glacial cap on Rhea-9 for a classified terraforming test. For Daniel, the departure felt bittersweet. He had witnessed the Cataclysm''s raw might firsthand, recognizing how it rescued him from pirates; yet now, he could only watch from the wrecked Dawnseeker bridge as the colossal warship vanished into quantum space with a silent flash.


    In orbit above Rhea-9, the Cataclysm assumed its imposing silhouette— kilometers of advanced alloys, magnetically reinforced to shrug off heavy fire. Few aboard realized how close they were to unleashing power that approached, in broad strokes, the same scale as the ancient asteroid collision believed to have caused Earth''s dinosaur extinction. Down below stretched a vast polar region: a pristine, thousand-kilometer-wide glacier Federation scientists had deemed ripe for a controlled charge. Publicly, it was hailed as a planetary climate experiment. Ten antimatter reactor cores deep within the hull prepared to channel an energy output around 10^22 joules—enough, if misdirected, to devastate a planet''s surface.


    In the brig, pirates captured from the Dawnseeker hijacking bristled under the watchful gaze of Federation marines. Their cells hummed in the dim light, flickering as the Cataclysm rerouted power for final cannon calibration. One of the outlaws, a scrawny man named Roth, edged toward the bars, pressing his face against cold metal. An overhead projector outside their cells lit up a scrolling billboard of technical readouts that shifted from lines of reactor data to a single chilling figure: ENERGY OUTPUT EST, level alpha: 10^22J. Roth frowned, reading it in a whisper.


    "What... are they doing?" Roth''s voice quavered, a mix of fascination and fear trembling in his throat as he pressed his gaunt face closer to the brig''s cold bars. "That number... I remember from supernova corridor logs it''s near the realm of a mass-extinction event. That''s dinosaur-killer scale on ancient Earth."


    Karis, the scarred woman who''d led the hijacking, shot him a derisive glare from her bunk, though unease flickered in her narrowed eyes. Her right arm hung stiffly at her side, a crude bruise blooming purple across her wrist where a marine''s bullet had grazed her flesh, the skin raw and glistening with dried blood.


    A jagged burn mark seared her sleeve where a plasma bolt had clipped her during the *Dawnseeker*''s chaos, the fabric charred and clinging to the blistered skin beneath


    She shifted, wincing as the movement tugged at her injuries, her left hand instinctively cradling the grazed wrist, fingers smeared with grime and faint streaks of red. "We used to hear that asteroid talk—ten to the what, twenty-two joules?" she snapped, her voice rough with pain and scorn. "But is it really the same? I mean, that''s still catastrophic, but a direct dinosaur killer?"


    Roth shrugged, swallowing hard, his Adam''s apple bobbing nervously in his scrawny neck. "Not exactly the same orbital impact—much lower. Still, it''s on that order of magnitude. Even half that''s enough to flatten a continent."


    A short distance away, the heavyset pirate Trask snorted, shifting on his bunk with a creak of metal. His bulk strained the frame, sweat beading on his broad forehead as he eyed the overhead screen.


    "I heard supernova corridor rumors, but never believed the Federation had the guts to wield a beam that could flatten half a continent. They spend half their time scolding us for salvage. Now they''re about to fire something this huge?"


    Karis''s gaze drifted to the screen, her scarred cheek twitching as she squinted against the dim light, the bruise on her wrist pulsing with a dull ache. The display now showed a rotating image of Rhea-9''s polar cap, its icy expanse glinting under a sterile glow. Beside it, bold text flared in stark white: *Operation: Full Discharge Imminent. Projected Impact Data*.


    A hush fell over the brig, thick and suffocating, as the corridor lights dimmed further, casting her battered features in flickering shadows. A distant shudder rippled through the *Cataclysm*''s deck plating, vibrating up through her boots and jarring her tender arm, drawing a sharp hiss from her clenched teeth.


    Roth''s voice tightened, his bony fingers gripping the bars until his knuckles whitened. "They''re charging up. Whatever the exact dinosaur comparisons, that''s tens of quintillions of joules. Enough to cause a new supernova corridor if they aim it wrong."


    Trask slammed a meaty fist against the cell''s metal wall, the clang echoing in the cramped space, his face flushing red with frustration. "We''re stuck in here, and the entire ship''s shutting down non-essentials to juice up that shot. If they misfire..." His voice trailed off, eyes darting to Karis as if seeking reassurance from their wounded leader.


    She let out a measured breath, trying to mask the tremor in her exhale, though her right arm hung limp, the graze throbbing with each pulse of her heart. Dried blood flaked from her wrist onto the bunk, a faint smear staining the gray mattress as she shifted again, her burned sleeve crackling faintly against her skin.


    "We survived that supernova corridor fiasco," she said, her tone forced into a semblance of calm, "and yet here we sit, about to see them unleash a beam—maybe not quite the dinosaur killer, but still monstrous." Her voice shook faintly, betraying the pain lancing up her arm, her left hand tightening around her wrist as if to stifle the ache.


    "The Federation might not wipe out an entire species—" Karis broke off, her voice catching as a fresh wave of pain flared from the burn on her arm. She grimaced, teeth clenching, the blistered skin beneath her charred sleeve throbbing with a raw, stinging heat that pulsed in time with her racing heart. "—but they''re damn well not shy about blasting enough energy to wreck half a world. I never thought they''d dare pull something this insane."


    Outside, the corridor lights dimmed further, casting the brig into a tense, murky gloom where shadows clung to the bars like specters. Deep within the Cataclysm''s command deck, the prow aperture yawned open with a slow, deliberate groan, its massive jaws parting over hundreds of meters.


    Inside, near-light-speed particles surged through an internal accelerator ring, their power coiling tighter with a rising whine that seeped through the hull. A final pulse of antimatter-driven energy erupted, a visceral shockwave rippling from bow to stern, shaking the super-dreadnought like a quake splitting the earth.


    In the brig, the flickering lights sputtered, a low, thrumming vibration rattling the bunks and cell bars until they sang a metallic dirge. The pirates lurched, some gasping as they gripped the bars or braced against the walls, their knuckles whitening as they clung to anything solid, eyes darting in the half-dark, bracing for an unknown calamity.


    "What the hell?" Karis rasped, her voice sharp with tension, her bruised wrist trembling as she pressed it against her chest, the graze''s dull ache flaring with every shudder of the deck. Her scarred cheek twitched, sweat beading on her brow as she fought to mask the fear gnawing at her gut. "Are they about to flatten the whole damn planet?"


    The overhead display projector flickered. Harsh white light cut the brig''s dimness. Text flared across the projected surface: MAX YIELD: 10^22J. Roth stood frozen near the cell bars, face pressed against cold metal. His breath hitched, a small, sharp sound. His fingers tightened white on the bars. "Now," he breathed, the word lost against the rising hum from deep within the ship''s structure.


    In that instant, the world outside the small brig viewport erupted. Searing violet-white light stabbed downward from the Cataclysm''s unseen prow, striking Rhea-9''s northern ice shelf. The light held, intense, unwavering, for a count of one... two... three seconds. It cast stark, momentary shadows inside the brig, bleaching color from the walls, Karis''s scarred cheek, Trask''s wide eyes. The light vanished as abruptly as it appeared, leaving phantom after-images burned onto Roth''s retinas.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Simultaneously, the deck plates beneath their boots vibrated. Not a shudder, but a deep, resonant hum that climbed in intensity, buzzing up through legs, chest cavities, rattling teeth fillings. Brig lights flickered violent – off, on, off, flashing red, then settling back to dim emergency amber. A low groan resonated through the metal bars Karis gripped, the sound originating deep within the ship''s frame. Space outside the viewport shimmered faint – starlight bending subtly near the Cataclysm''s hull.


    The overhead display shifted. Showed the target zone on Rhea-9 flaring into an incandescent white bloom. Steam exploded upward – a colossal plume mushrooming fast, edges crackling with electric blue arcs against the planet''s thinner upper atmosphere.


    Within heartbeats, the display zoomed, switched to thermal imaging. The impact crater expanded outward. Kilometers wide in seconds. Molten, bright orange slurry churned where ice had been. Ice fragments–dark shapes against the heat bloom–arced high into the upper atmosphere, tumbling end-over-end. Fissures raced across the shelf surrounding the crater, glowing orange lines snaking outward like veins across the ice. Rivers of superheated slush – bright white on the thermal feed – poured away from the crater rim. Above the site, the expanding steam cloud pulsed with internal flashes – shifting greens, violets – atmospheric ionization?


    A secondary vibration shuddered through the deck plates – fainter than the first deep hum, more like a distant impact tremor traveling through the ship''s structure. A sonic boom reaching orbit? Air pressure inside the brig remained steady. The main generator hum grew louder again, stabilizing.


    Karis wrapped her uninjured arm tight around herself, pressing against the cell bars. Her knuckles showed white. Her scarred cheek twitched. "That... power," she rasped, voice low, tight.


    Trask exhaled slow, the sound loud in the sudden diminishment of the ship''s vibration. He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of a thick hand. His gaze flicked towards the viewport, towards the faint shimmer of distorted starlight. "Three seconds," he muttered, rubbing his chest where the vibration had resonated deepest. "Felt like an eternity." He looked at Karis. "And we poked a scout ship belonging to that?"


    Roth murmured, voice raw, still staring at the display where the thermal image showed the crater widening, the heat bloom slowly cooling at the extreme edges. "Heard stories... corridor myths... warships that crack planets." His fingers loosened slight on the bars. "Not myths."


    Karis sank onto the edge of her bunk. Metal creaked loud. She stared at the screen. The massive steam cloud continued boiling upward, now forming a vast, swirling storm system over the planet''s pole, edges catching planetary sunlight in rainbow hues. Lightning – natural, atmospheric? – flashed deep within the churning vapor. Jagged ice chunks, the size of habitat modules, fell back from high arcs, impacting the churning water below – tiny, silent splashes on the display feed. Avalanches of snow and ice cascaded down the fractured crater walls.


    "Done," Trask said, eyeing the deck plates beneath his boots, now still. "Firing sequence complete." He rubbed his hands together, the sound rough. "Guess... next stop, penal colony."


    Roth nodded slow, forehead still pressed against the cool metal bars. His eyes remained fixed on the Rhea-9 display. "Alive," he whispered. "Better this cell..."


    Karis gave a short, harsh laugh. Hollow sound. She looked down at her battered hands resting in her lap. "Thought the nebula was cover," she muttered, voice flat. "Thought the Federation was slow, predictable." Glared up at the display feed again. "Underestimated."


    Trask glared at the display, too. Final discharge readings flickered brief – numbers followed by IONOSPHERIC DISRUPTION WARNING. "Next time some backwater pirate brags about dodging Federation patrols," Trask growled low, "I tell ''em about this."


    Silence fell again in the brig. Only the low hum of the Cataclysm''s systems. The faint hiss of ventilation. Outside the viewport, distorted starlight returned to normal. On the display, Rhea-9''s polar region showed transformed – a vast, steaming sea replacing the glacier, surrounded by shattered ice cliffs, under a sky filled with a turbulent, unnatural storm cloud. The three pirates watched, motionless, processing the scale of power witnessed.


    Ice crunched under Dalia''s boots. Wind pushed hard against her back, a constant pressure vibrating through the thick thermal layers of her suit. It howled low across the ice shelf, a sound like stretched metal groaning. Slate-gray light filtered weak through thick clouds overhead. Her breath plumed white, thick in the frigid air. Three dome tents stood nearby, fabric straining against carbon-fiber struts, flapping loud against flapping sounds. Thermal tarp canopy lashed above them snapped sharp, rhythmic cracks against the wind''s howl.


    Dalia hunched over the seismic station – alloy slab, tripod legs sunk inches into ice. Gloved fingers traced lines on the data slate display. Jagged red lines spiked erratic against a green baseline graph. Tremors. Constant. Low amplitude. She tapped the screen; numbers scrolled. Her brow tightened beneath her insulated hood.


    Beside her, Riston scrubbed frost from his goggles with a gloved thumb. Back-and-forth scrape. His head turned, scanning the horizon – flat white ice meeting leaden gray sky. Powdery snow lifted in small, swirling eddies near his boots, glinting faint, pale like dust motes. He stomped booted feet hard against the ice. Thump. Thump.


    "Pack up?" Riston''s voice sounded, tight, carried away quick by the wind.


    Dalia''s lips pressed thin. She looked from the spiking red lines on the slate back towards Riston''s face, half-obscured by the frosted goggle rims. "Said clear zone," she said, voice clipped. Wind snatched the words. "Yield... high though." She looked back at the slate. Red lines jumped again.


    Behind her, Calen and Mori wrestled with a supply crate. Metal latches creaked loud. They pulled equipment out – handheld scanners, probes with coiled wires. Gloved hands fumbled slightly with buckles, straps. The air crackled faint around metal equipment surfaces. Static discharge hummed low, felt through boot soles on the ice.


    A gust hit the camp. Sudden. Different. Warmth touched Dalia''s exposed cheek brief. Damp taste in the air. Sharp metallic scent beneath the cold. Gear lying loose on the ice skittered sideways, scraping faint. Calen braced a hand against a swaying tent pole. "Wrong," he muttered, the word lost almost instantly.


    The ice shelf groaned beneath their feet. A deep sound rising from below. Vibration started low, intensified fast. Became a violent shudder. The seismic station tripod legs rattled hard against the ice. The data slate display blurred, jagged red lines filling the screen. Cracks split the ice shelf far out towards the horizon – sharp sounds like distant rifle fire echoing flat across the ice. SNAP-CRACK. Ice slabs near the ridge line sheared loose, dark shapes tilting slow, then plunging downward. Grinding sounds followed, low, reverberating. Avalanches kicked up plumes of white powder snow.


    Mori pointed, arm outstretched, glove stark against gray sky. A sharp sound ripped from her throat. "Look!" Against the horizon clouds, a bloom of light erupted. Fierce orange-pink core. Tendrils reached upward, clawing through cloud layers. Stained clouds pulsed molten colors. Steam billowed outward, upward, fast, thick, white against darker gray. Seconds later, a soundwave hit. ROAR. Guttural. Deep. It crashed over the camp. Snow vibrated off the thermal tarp overhead. Deck plates inside the nearest tent rattled loud. The ice shelf shuddered again beneath their boots. Bones resonated with the impact.


    Riston choked, stumbled back a step, hands flying up to cover ears too late. Dalia gripped the seismic station edge, knuckles white inside gloves. The slate display showed only solid red bars – off scale. "Beam hit," she whispered, the sound a rough scrape in her throat. Pulse hammered against her eardrums, loud in the sudden ringing silence after the roar passed.


    The Cataclysm vanished – no flash, just gone from orbital sensors Dalia monitored briefly before the beam hit. Rhea-9''s polar shelf steamed. Where flat ice stretched unbroken hours ago, a vast, circular sea now churned. Black water, laced with white froth near the edges where it met shattered ice cliffs. Fissures radiated outward from the new sea''s perimeter, steaming faint, bubbling near the surface. The water itself hissed, releasing plumes of gray vapor into the air. Jagged spires of ice, remnant peaks, jutted from the black water, surfaces melting fast, water streaming down into the churning basin below. The ice shelf surrounding the new sea trembled with aftershocks. Loose snow slid down slopes in continuous small slides.


    Dalia and her crew moved fast across the campsite. Boots crunched loud on ice fragments scattered across the ground. Tent fabrics flapped violent in winds swirling back towards the impact zone. Seismic sensors buzzed erratic, screens flashing spiking red lines, ground wave alerts, atmospheric pressure warnings. Wind tore at hoods, thick now with a sharp, acrid smell – sulfur? Vaporized rock? It stung eyes, rasped throats. They grabbed equipment – scanners, sample bags, emergency beacons – shoving items into packs with numb, fumbling fingers. Tent poles groaned, metal bending under stress. "Move!" Dalia yelled, voice raw against the gale. "Back towards the ridge line! Higher ground!" They scrambled away from the tents, away from the new, boiling sea, boots slipping on shattered ice, towards the relative safety of the intact shelf further inland.