A Commander's Vindication
That morning, ten years ago, the base alarms pierced the silence of the Mars Colony like a dull blade.
The newly developed Aurora Vessel had vanished; it was the pivotal weapon capable of breaching interstellar barriers, embodying five years of the entire team's dedication.
I frantically scoured the surveillance footage, but the screens showed only emptiness—someone had erased all traces beforehand.
My subordinates' faces were ashen, and the air was thick with panic.
I forced myself to remain calm and immediately activated the highest-level search protocol, yet after half a month, the Aurora Vessel remained missing without a trace.
Three months later, disaster struck as foretold.
The Shadow Clan's warship suddenly appeared in Mars' orbit, its firestorm pelting the colony like relentless rain.
I led my team in a desperate stand, laser cannon beams streaking fiercely through the dark void of space.
But the enemy's firepower was overwhelming, as if they anticipated every flaw in our defenses.
The battle endured for three days and nights. When the smoke cleared, the base lay in ruins, and thousands of team members were lost forever on the battlefield.
I knelt amidst the ruins, my hands stained with the blood of my comrades-in-arms, my heart as if being torn apart alive.
While I was consumed by grief, Willa Sharpe approached.
She was my deputy, and also the unattainable lover in the heart of my husband, Benjamin Jackson—I had known this for a long time but refused to confront it.
A strange calmness rested on Willa Sharpe's face.
She handed me an encrypted communiqué, saying she had detected traces of the Aurora Vessel near the asteroid belt by Pluto.
Without hesitation, I immediately gathered the remaining team members and piloted the Meteor Craft to set off.
I thought this was an opportunity to correct my mistake, unaware that I was walking straight into a deadly trap.
As the Meteor Craft entered the asteroid belt, dozens of Shadow Clan warships suddenly appeared surrounding us.
The laser cannon's lock-on alarm blared sharply; I instantly realized we had fallen into an ambush.
Willa Sharpe suddenly drew her laser gun, aiming it at my chest.
"Melissa Lawrence, don't blame me; blame yourself for standing between the chief and me." Her voice was icy cold, devoid of any warmth.
I could hardly believe my own eyes; the girl who always wore a gentle smile now seemed utterly transformed.
The Chief of the Shadow Clan, the infamous cold and ruthless Simon, appeared on the enemy warship's display.
He slung his arm over Willa Sharpe's shoulder, smiling triumphantly: "Melissa Lawrence, thank you for delivering the Meteor Craft as well. Now our fleet has gained another prized asset."
At last, I understood—the theft of the Aurora Vessel and the Shadow Clan's assault were conspiracies masterminded by Willa Sharpe and Simon.
I struggled to activate the counterattack system, only to be kicked to the ground by Willa Sharpe.
She snatched the control wristband from my hand and then shouted into the communicator:
"Melissa Lawrence has betrayed the organization, colluded with the Shadow Clan, stolen the Aurora Vessel, and intends to defect to the enemy with the Meteor Craft!"
Rage swept through me, my entire body trembling as I tried to refute her accusations, but a stun grenade from the enemy detonated nearby, plunging me into darkness and knocking me unconscious.
When I awoke again, I found myself drifting in space, surrounded by the wreckage of the Meteor Craft.
My oxygen mask has less than ten minutes of power remaining, and across the distant interstellar network, I am wanted everywhere.
On the holographic screen, my photo has been distorted into all manner of grotesque images; some call me a traitor, others say I deserve to be torn limb from limb.
I stared at those vicious comments, unable to hold back my tears.
I gave everything for Starshield, only to end up like this.
What pains me even more is that Benjamin Jackson did not stand up to say a word in my defense.
He is my husband, the person I once trusted most, yet when I was framed, he chose silence.
Oxygen steadily diminishes, and my awareness begins to fade.
I am unwilling; I cannot simply die like this.
Summoning my last ounce of strength, I activated the emergency escape pod's autopilot, launching into the uncharted depths of space.
I do not know where I am headed, nor what awaits me.
But I know I must survive. One day, I will return to Starshield, expose Willa Sharpe's true face, and avenge my fallen comrades.
Ten years have passed like a long river, eroding the traces of the past.
I have become but a wisp of a soul, drifting through the cosmos, unable to leave the Star Domain where I once fought.
I watch the Starshield Base being rebuilt, see new team members join, and witness Willa Sharpe gradually rise to a high position.
Yet my name has become a forbidden word, never to be spoken again.
Benjamin Jackson still serves at Starshield; he has grown increasingly taciturn, occasionally standing on the base's observation deck, gazing toward the direction where I disappeared, his eyes heavy with complexity.
I know he harbors guilt—but what does that matter?
His silence was no different from betrayal.
Until one day, a piece of news shattered the calm.
In an underwater star domain a thousand kilometers from Mars, where the Shadow Clan had retreated, leaving behind the remnants of a battlefield, a group of interstellar explorers discovered the remains of a spacecraft.
I immediately drifted over, and when I saw that familiar wreckage, my soul trembled uncontrollably.
It was the Meteor Craft, the warship I once commanded.
Within the wreckage, the explorers found a set of remains; on the fingers was a Starshield badge—one I had never taken off.
They immediately reported this news to the "Starshield."
The moment the message was received, William Sinclair departed almost instantly.
William was one of the founders of the "Starshield" and the person I respected most.
When I was framed, William tried to defend me but was overruled by the high command, who cited "conclusive evidence."
Over the years, William never gave up searching for my whereabouts; he always insisted that I could not be a traitor.
Benjamin Jackson accompanied him; his face betrayed no expression, yet I could sense the turmoil within.
The salvage operation lasted three days.
When the wreckage of the Meteor Craft was slowly hauled up, everyone was stunned.
The warship's hull was riddled with bullet holes, and the equipment inside the cockpit was shattered, clearly having endured a brutal battle.
William donned protective gloves and carefully examined the remains.
When William saw the familiar scar on the remains' wrist, tears instantly welled in their eyes.
"It is Melissa Lawrence. It really is her..." William's voice choked with emotion, their body trembling uncontrollably.
Benjamin Jackson stood aside, his face pale, hands clenched tightly into fists, knuckles white.
The inspection that followed caused everyone to gasp sharply.
Technicians discovered that the Meteor Craft's Self-Destruct System had been activated before, but it failed because its core components had been destroyed.
"This indicates that Melissa Lawrence intended to destroy the warship at that time, preventing it from falling into enemy hands." The technician's voice was filled with shock.
William suddenly lifted his head, his eyes brimming with anger and regret:
"I always knew Melissa Lawrence could never betray us! We wronged her, wronged a hero!"
Benjamin Jackson staggered back a step and leaned against the wall, pain etched across his face.
I drifted beside them, watching the scene unfold, my heart a tumult of conflicting emotions.
Ten years have passed, and finally, someone begins to question the truth of that day.
But can this long-overdue truth bring back the comrades lost? Can it undo the injustices I have borne?
I gazed upon the wreckage of the Meteor Craft, as if transported back to that brutal afternoon a decade ago.
Willa Sharpe's cold sneer, Simon's smug triumph, and the fallen figures of my comrades-in-arms—each scene flashing vividly before my eyes.
I know this is only the beginning; I will ensure Willa Sharpe and Simon pay dearly, for my own sake and for those brave spirits who have fallen.
Willa Sharpe now serves as the Chief Flight Drill Commander of the Starshield, holding great authority and enjoying boundless prestige.
She often stands at the command console, clad in a pristine uniform, guiding new team members through flight training exercises.
Her face is always adorned with a confident smile, yet I glimpse the deep unease shadowing her eyes.
Benjamin Jackson and Willa Sharpe's relationship grew increasingly intimate; they were often seen together in every corner of the Base, like a devoted couple.
Every time I saw them together, my heart felt as if pierced by needles.
I once believed that Benjamin Jackson truly loved me, but now it seems that was only my wishful thinking.
I followed closely behind them, determined to uncover more evidence of Willa Sharpe's betrayal.
One night, I saw Willa Sharpe sneak into the Base's communications room.
She closed the door behind her and activated encrypted communications.
I drifted into the room and overheard her conversation with Simon.
"Chief, the remains of the Meteor Craft have been discovered. Could they uncover something?" Willa Sharpe's voice carried a trace of panic.
"Rest assured, we cleaned up thoroughly back then. They won't find any evidence." Simon's voice remained cold and detached.
"You just need to focus on being a chief commander. When we launch the next assault, coordinate both inside and outside to capture the Starshield."
"But... Melissa Lawrence's remains have also been found. William Sinclair seems to have started doubting."
"So what if they suspect? Without evidence, they cannot do anything to you." Simon paused, then spoke again.
"Don't forget, Benjamin Jackson is still on your side. As long as he stays silent, no one dares to harm you."
Hearing this, I trembled with rage.
It turned out Benjamin Jackson had known the truth all along, and for Willa Sharpe's sake, he had concealed it for all these years!
Willa Sharpe ended the transmission, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.
She adjusted her clothes, opened the door, and found Benjamin Jackson standing in the doorway.
"Why have you come?" Willa Sharpe's voice carried a hint of nervousness.
Benjamin Jackson said nothing; he only gazed at her deeply, then turned and walked away.
I followed Benjamin Jackson and saw him enter his room.
He sat at his desk and took out a photo of the two of us.
In the photo, we were smiling happily; it had been taken shortly after our wedding.
Benjamin Jackson gently stroked my face in the photo with his finger, tears dropping onto it.
"Melissa Lawrence, I'm sorry..." His voice choked with emotion. "I never meant to deceive you, but... I cannot lose Willa."
I looked at him, my heart heavy with disappointment.
He clearly knew the truth, yet betrayed me, betrayed the Starshield, and betrayed those fallen comrades, all because of personal feelings.
A few days later, Starshield held a memorial ceremony to honor the team members who had perished in battle ten years prior.
Willa Sharpe, as commander-in-chief, stood on the stage and delivered a speech.
Her expression was solemn, her voice laden with sorrow, as if she truly mourned the lost comrades.
But when she mentioned the discovery of the Meteor Craft's remains and my own bones, her eyes flickered noticeably, and she unconsciously gripped the microphone tighter.
I know she is anxious; she fears the truth will come to light.
William stood beneath the stage, his gaze fixed intently on Willa Sharpe, his eyes brimming with suspicion.
After the ceremony ended, William grasped Benjamin Jackson firmly and asked solemnly:
"Benjamin Jackson, be honest with me—did you know anything when Melissa Lawrence was framed back then?"
Benjamin Jackson avoided William's gaze and whispered, "William, that matter is behind us. It is best not to speak of it again."
"Behind us?" William shouted furiously, "Melissa Lawrence was wrongfully accused! Those comrades-in-arms who died were also wrongfully accused! How can you say it's all behind us!"
Benjamin Jackson remained silent, his head bowed, shoulders trembling faintly.
I drifted beside them, silently vowing within that I would make Willa Sharpe and Benjamin Jackson pay dearly, and ensure the truth was revealed to all.
As I looked upon Benjamin Jackson and Willa Sharpe in their present state, my mind involuntarily drifted back to the past.
Benjamin and I first met at the Starshield training Base.
At that time, he was radiant and spirited, remarkably skilled—the star cadet of the training Base.
The moment I first laid eyes on him, I was captivated.
We trained together and undertook missions side by side; through countless life-and-death trials, our bond grew ever stronger.
Later, we married. Everyone envied us, calling us the perfect couple of Starshield.
I believed we would remain happy like this forever—until Willa Sharpe appeared.
Willa Sharpe joined Starshield later. She was beautiful and gentle by nature, quickly winning everyone's affection.
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