1.09

“Signal jamming engaged,” Banks called from the comms station.

Andar turned to her and said, “Connect to fleetwide comms.”

Within moments, the Chrysalis was linked to every other Starlancer in the 17th fleet, on a comms line the Federation couldn’t access.

From the Captain’s seat, Vae hoped there were no codebreakers on board in the Federation fleet before her.

1.08

With comms shut down by the Fed, there was no way of knowing if the city garrison had received the signal that the Congressional Building’s power had been cut. 

“Devana, we need you back up in the communications center,” Sorenna said. “Find out if the garrison has been deployed.” 

Standard emergency protocol dictated that they should have been, but nothing was certain under enemy occupation.

1.07

The climate of the small, parched world of Ombra Prime, nestled on the edge of The Verge deep within the Austral Corridor, ranged between inhospitable desert and semi-arid steppe.

Long thought by many to be scarcely worth the effort of settling, it had been one of the last planets in the galaxy to take on a permanent population. This barren territory, largely devoid of mineral and energy resources, was further cursed by a meager allowance of drinkable water, thus rendering it incapable of supporting a populace beyond the most meagre and scattered of habitations. 

But the air was breathable, there was potable water, and – most importantly – no good reason for the Federation to claim it as their own. After the revolution on Kaal and the rise of the PDR, they, too, saw more value in strengthening their own positions rather than expanding their slight resources to swipe up a mostly-barren, far-flung rock. 

Contradictorily, what kept most away from Ombra Prime in the first place had become the reason for its influx of immigration.

1.06

“Hell of a day to miss work!”

Hollace hurried back to the corner of the library where she’d been sitting for uncounted hours, lifted the empty coffee cup one more time only to find it still empty. It probably wasn’t a great idea to be slamming caffeine so late in the day, she admitted, and the most monumental political earthquake of her entire life had her buzzing with a shock of adrenaline regardless.

1.05

Hollace awoke hours before dawn.

She had spent the previous two days researching Maren Whitlock, a Progress Party challenger to the incumbent Halden Thorpe, reading as many articles as she could find, digging into as much of Whitlock’s political history as time allowed. And since Hollace wasn’t working until Monday, she had all the time in the world. She’d immersed herself so deeply into the life and work of Whitlock that she forgot to eat the previous day. She even dreamed of Whitlock. 

After a traditionally quick shower, Hollace sat on the cool countertop beside the sink and dove back into her project, not even stopping to put on clothes. Across the room situated on her bedside counter, Martin’s TV played the news. It provided a bigger picture than her old model. She kept the volume just loud enough to be heard over the industrial trucks loading and unloading cargo twenty stories below. 

“Alright, Maren…Let’s get to know each other even better.” 

1.04

Vae Rova could not take her eyes off the little orange ball that hung in the desolate void of the Federation’s interior space.

“Do you think anyone down there will be happy to see us?” she asked Andar, who stood beside her likewise gazing out the main observation window of the Chrysalis.

“Hardly,” he said with a chuckle.

Vae turned to face him. “No, I mean it. What do you think would be going through the minds of the prisoners when they see PDR Strix in the sky?” 

1.03

Burning orange flashes of astral firelight saturated the bridge of the Chrysalis between stygian blinks.

Vae gripped the central command console with fingers that now ached. Vibration shot through her arms and down her spine. The whole ship jostled on its unsteady trajectory straight through the galactic core.

If this was to be her last moment, Vae swallowed hard and accepted her fate.