I’m a Conqueror

The rebellion needed a warship. It accidentally got a conqueror.

A few months ago, I woke up buried inside a mountain with no memory, a terrifying reputation, and the inconvenient discovery that five hundred years earlier I’d murdered my own crew.

Since then, things have escalated.

I’ve destroyed Dominion warships, stolen others, helped ignite a rebellion, and somehow acquired a small fleet of my own. Naturally, I’ve decided the next sensible step is to attack Vespera—a sector capital of two billion people defended by eighteen warships, millions of soldiers, and a four-kilometer orbital fortress.

I have seven ships.

The math is discouraging.

Unfortunately for the Dominion, I’ve never considered overwhelming odds a particularly compelling argument.

Five centuries ago, history called me the Butcher of Meridian.

This time, I intend to be remembered for something else.

Assuming, of course, I survive conquering a planet first.