"War is coming."
The thought, never far from the young Admiral's mind, came to the forefront every time he looked out over the gathering fleet. The very thought made his blood run cold, giving rise to a sickening feeling deep in his gut.
No matter what his decisions or actions over the next few weeks, thousands, if not millions, of human beings would die following his orders, on whose outcome the fate of untold billions more could depend. His only hope was that the losses would serve to keep those billions safe, and that the greater loss would fall to the Others.
Still, he stopped at the viewport outside the bridge of his flagship as he always did, to consider the forces at his disposal. In light of their capabilities, he would have to deploy them carefully. After all, Humanity had spread throughout the stars without opposition, it's vessels designed more for transport, commerce and research than for battle.
Nonetheless, he himself had been trained against just this eventuality, humanity's hopes against a hypothetical foe vested in him and his class-mates. These preparations had been going on for generations, each generation passing the lessons onto its successors, all the while wondering whether those skills would prove sufficient when put to the test. He would soon find out.
He was the natural choice for Fleet Admiral, turning out to be that rarest of talents, both a brilliant tactician (in simulations), and a master strategist (in theory)... But this was different, the stakes ridiculously higher than any he, or anyone, had faced before. This wasn't a battle of ideologies - this was extinction.
So, it was down to him - responsibilities beyond those borne by anyone in recorded history. He contemplated the Fleet spread out in space before him, and thought: "War is coming."
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