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?” 

Andar looked at Vae with deep contemplation. “You know, that may be the one part of this mission that I did not set aside time to consider.”

Vae’s attention went back to the window as if drawn there magnetically. “If Liber really is where they put those with PDR sympathies, then we’re looking at the one place on this side of the galaxy where we might be welcomed.”

Blinking out of a mixture of confusion and amazement, Andar said, “Vae, your thought processes remain thoroughly unpredictable.”

Vae didn’t know if she should take that as a compliment or not, although she was certain it was intended to be. 

Her gaze remained fixed on the planet, its hellish ambiance a bleak divergence from the serene lavender skies of Vinsk. 

Daddy, I wish you could see this…

If there ever was a way to persuade him that her decision to join the war was the right thing to do, a first-hand account of the horrors of the Federation’s worst penal colony would certainly not fail. How many had to endure that insane hellscape of a planet, toiling endlessly for the rest of their miserable days, all because they believed what they did – what he did?

But he would never see Liber. All he’d seen was his only child leaving Vinsk, returning to her war.

Vae hoped against all hope that if her own father did not understand what she was doing, maybe someone down there could.  

As silly as it made her sometimes feel, Vae forced herself to believe she was fighting for something positive, giving little credence to intrusive cynicism. She had to believe she was at Liber for a purpose, one that stretched far past their short-term mission objective – beyond destruction and into the renewal it promised. 

There had to be goodness in war. Somewhere, there had to be. The CMC – and even the admiralty – thought in terms of destruction, not emancipation. They were losing sight of the human element, the very reason for fighting a revolutionary war in the first place. If Andar Vokler, who considered every minute detail of their mission, left out the laborers slaving away in the refineries they were about to demolish...what hope was there for a peaceful future after the war? How could anyone in the Fed feel thankful for being disregarded in the annihilation wrought upon them?

She tried not to think of that distant possible future, landing on a liberated Usona, the Federation defeated, and being turned away by the former Fed capital’s ungrateful inhabitants. If she couldn't convince her father (an ally), how could she possibly convince the enemy that she was on the side of what is good and just?

The thought was a fragile thing, shattered a moment later by Kennon’s voice cutting across the bridge: “Wraith Reiters on scope.” The whole atmosphere of the room instantly heightened. “Two of them, neither moving.”

Andar strode up to the astrogator’s holograms with determination, studying them with a narrow brow. “I suspected they would not leave the planet unguarded. But this is good.”

Vae joined him in scrutinizing the scope – the Chrysalis was still too far to be detected by Fed scanners. “Hold us here, Dex. Announce general quarters.”

“Holding.” Into the shipwide comms, Dex made the announcement to prepare all battlestations.

Andar turned his determined look to Vae. “We can handle two Wraith Reiters if we take one unawares.”

Vae’s heart tightened in her chest. “Two on one?” The question quivered through her lips. She’d never been so badly outnumbered, and certainly not with the Chrysalis standing completely alone. 

Andar continued with unshakable confidence. “If we speed up on the closer ship and give it a heavy bombardment before they can get in range or launch their Archons, it would be a non-factor. Then the odds are even.” 

Vae turned away, hand on her chin. Wheels in her head were spinning, but nowhere near as fast as her heart was racing. She’d love to avoid the enemy defense entirely if possible, circle the planet and conclude the mission clandestinely, but immutable logic canceled her idealism – they’d be sitting ducks trying to open a trans-core subspace channel under fire from two Wraith Reiters. 

They had to be dealt with.

“Captain.” The voice came from Dex. “You’ll want to see this.”

Vae hurried to his side. He pointed to a hologram readout at the central command console, saying, “Our Liber data is incomplete.”

Andar was marching toward them in quick strides. “Our information came from the most trusted spies.” He sounded sure that no mistakes had been made.

“Nevertheless, it is incomplete,” Dex said without removing his eyes from the data. “The upper atmosphere contains far more hydrogen sulfide and sulfur dioxide than we’d anticipated.”

Ksenija stormed to the observation window. “Fuck.”

“The Strix can’t fly on Liber,” Dex said to Vae plainly. “The maneuverability thrusters could trigger an atmospheric explosion. A chain-reaction would mean the entire squadron lost in the firestorm. They’d never even glimpse the surface.” 

Vae lifted a silent, troubled expression to Andar, who continued staring at the data, wordlessly wrestling with disbelief. She spun back to Kennon – no movement on scope.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Vae didn’t move as a deafening silence fell over the bridge. The mission was over before it ever had the chance to begin.

“Do we abort?” Dex was looking at Vae, waiting for orders.

Andar straightened, his head shaking resolutely. “Absolutely not.”

Dex motioned to the evidence of the data again. “There’s no way to get weapons through. Any bombardment will burn up in the atmosphere.”

“Yes, there is a way,” Andar insisted. "We just have to figure out what it is."

Vae spun to the scope again, expecting to have been spotted by now, but peeled away at Andar’s statement. “How?”

“I…” Andar hesitated too long for Vae’s liking. The conviction left his voice. “I do not know yet.”

Dex glanced back to Vae, still looking for an answer to his question.

Vae turned from Dex’s patience to Andar lost in silent contemplation, to Ksenija’s brooding form before the observation window, to Kennon keenly watching the scope for any enemy movement. 

“Kennon, prepare the sequence for trans-core travel,” she said.

Andar turned directly to Vae, snapped out of his thoughts by the command. “Vae, I must insist–”

“We have to be prepared to leave at once if those Wraith Reiters spot us,” Vae said firmly. “My duty is to the safety of the crew above all else. If the mission doesn’t get done, then it doesn’t get done. But if there is a different plan that could work, we have to figure it out quickly. If we don’t have that plan…we have to leave.”

Andar’s shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths. “Give me a moment,” he urged. “We have come this far. If we turn back now, we will not get another chance. We will never be this close again, Vae. Just another moment.”

With a steadying sigh, Vae nodded. 

She retreated to the captain’s chair and slumped down, head nestled in trembling hands. Her thoughts about the mission spun out of control, only coming to rest on the bitter image of the CMC glowering upon her return to PDR space as the failure they expected her to be. A mission so destined for defeat could only have been entrusted to an Admiral fighting a terminal fate, to a ship as old and expendable as the Chrysalis, to a captain from Vinsk who had no place in the war. She would go home, back to the precious safety where Vinskians belonged, look her father in the eyes, and tell him he was right all along.

Vae struggled to draw thick air into her lungs, forcing exhales with the tempo of computers and consoles at work, breathing in rhythm with the ship. 

If anyone could figure out a new strategy, it was the man who devised the first, critical of every detail – almost every detail. 

“Vae, movement!”

She shot to her feet at Kennon’s announcement, a cold sweat dotting her forehead as she sprinted to his side. 

Both Wraith Reiters now closing on their position.

Oh no…

Andar stared at her, wide eyes pleading for more time, just a little more time. Ksenija marched past him to Vae’s side. Kennon searched Vae’s tormented expression for how to proceed. 

“Can we open the channel before they are in firing range?” she asked.

It looked as if Kennon was shaking his head and nodding at the same time. “I think so…we’ve only done it once before.”

“Wraith Reiters are approaching our firing range,” Dex called.

With Andar desperately searching for a way to salvage the mission, it fell on Vae to make the decision – flee, or fight.

She rubbed her damp hands against her uniform pants, and with a huge inhale, turned to Ksenija and said, “Launch the Strix.”

The XO immediately grabbed her comms and relayed the order down to Flight Command in the primary hangar bay.

“Weapons ready,” Vae said to Dex. “Kennon, abort sequence and restart for standard channel.”

“Affirmative,” Kennon said. “Resequencing for prior position.”

“All weapons ready,” Dex said. 

Andar was mumbling something…Vae couldn’t hear clearly over the crosstalk, but it sounded like “The Strix can’t fly in the atmosphere…”.

Vae returned to the captain’s chair, lowering herself carefully with eyes locked on the observation window, the green shadows of the Wraith Reiters silhouetted against Liber’s burning rage and growing. 

“Give them our broadside until they’re in firing range,” Vae said with as much conviction as she could muster. “Fire all starboard pulsar torpedoes at will the moment they enter our range. Target the Archon bays of the nearest ship.” She shouted over her shoulder, “Ksenija, all Strix stay out of the further ship’s range, draw them away from their carrier.”

“Copy.”

“Once torpedoes are launched, Dex, start circling us around toward Liber. Keep us out of their range for as long as possible.”

Andar clapped his hands once in a private victory. “Yes! That is it – get us as close to Liber as possible.”

Vae twisted around in her seat to face the Rear Admiral, wanting to hear his plan every bit as much as she feared discovering its insanity. 

“Wraith Reiters nearly in range,” Dex said. 

Andar eagerly stepped close to Vae. “Put us up against the planet’s atmosphere.”

Vae’s mouth fell open in disbelief, her fear validated. “We could explode…”

“Strix deployed,” Ksenija said, cutting through the debate.

“They would not risk it.” Andar continued unperturbed. “The fallout could damage their production facilities below. We just need to get close enough to launch the shuttle.”

“The shuttle?” Vae could not see Andar’s intention through the blindfold of anxiety wrapping tighter around her.

“The shuttle I came in on,” he said. “The Strix are not made for extreme atmospheric entry, but the shuttle’s armored hull was designed for it! We put together a strike team, equip them with as much demolition equipment as the shuttle will carry, as we blow up the refineries from the surface.”

Entirely out of reflex, Vae’s head began shaking before any words came forth. 

“Vae, we can use the Chrysalis as a shield to protect the shuttle, launch it in the chaos of battle when the Strix are swarming and no one is watching the planet.” His eyes betrayed no hint of uncertainty.

But Vae shook her head still. 

“Enemy ships in firing range,” Dex reported. “Pulsar torpedoes launched.”

Brilliant blue orbs filled the observation window, racing toward the Wraith Reiters, which split into a wider formation to avoid the onslaught of oncoming fire. Cosmic flashes burned bright where each torpedo struck at light-speed. 

“If we approach Liber, they’ll know something is up,” Vae said between staccato breaths. “They’ll be watching for a shuttle, or something to deploy a landing party.”

“If we take out the first Wraith Reiter, the second is going to try to pin us back against the planet to prevent our escape while they call for reinforcements,” Andar said as a second wave of pulsar torpedoes cast an azure hue across the bridge. “At that point, it will look like they are in control.”

Vae looked back to the window as the second volley of ordinance struck their nearest target in beautiful succession, one white burning blossom after another in the warmth of Liber’s glow. The planet shifted subtly in the observation window, the Chrysalis beginning a gliding arc toward the enemy world.

“Wraith Reiters closing on firing range,” Dex said. “Drift engaged at max speed.”

In the last moments before the Federation would launch their retaliatory attack, Vae nodded to Andar, and put her trust in him. 

“Strix nearly within strike range,” Ksenija reported. “All fighters to engage nearest vessel, target enemy weapons systems and Archon bays.”

The Strix came down on the nearest Wraith Reiter in waves of a dozen at a time, raining endless volleys of red energy beams at the primary target. Archon bays exploded in silent puffs of fire and steel, extinguished by the vacuum of uncaring space. Pulsar torpedoes had depleted the ship’s shields enough for the Strix to land crippling blows to the vanguard of the defensive dyad.  

“All Strix, withdraw from primary target.” Vae was back at her chair but standing. “Drag any deploying Archons with you away from secondary target.”

As if on cue, the further Wraith Reiter launched all 100 of its own fighters; the Chrysalis had only 72 by comparison – but Vae had a strategy: blow up the disabled ship when the Archons flew by to maximize weapon efficiency so they could afford more power diverted to their shields.

“Draw the fighters toward the closer ship. Keep targeting weapons systems!”

A searing bolt of pure yellow energy lanced through the black of space with no warning, coming from the nearer ship’s primary weapons. 

“Hang on!” Vae shouted, and fell back into her chair as Dex pitched the Chrysalis upward, the beam-cannon’s bolt grazing the Chrysalis’s shield in a sizzling shower of 12-foot sparks blooming over the bridge.

Andar, thrown to the floor, scrambled to his feet as the ship settled beneath them.

Hands gripping the arms of the captain’s chair, Vae called to Dex, “All forward beam cannons, target the nearest ship at will.”

Dex did not have to say a word, his reply taking the form of eight blazing red bolts of pure energy pouring from the Starlancer’s bow. 

“Vae, they’re making a run for it!” 

Kennon’s panicked shout brought Vae to her feet. Three of the beam cannon bolts drove deep into the compromised Wraith Reiter, expelling out the opposite side in a fury of soundless red fire; the five others raced into darkness behind the ship’s rear thrusters, far behind their target.

“Don’t let it go!” Vae yelled. “Recharge beam cannons! Don’t wait for the Archons!” 

Twelve golden lances struck all around her just as the Chrysalis launched its next attack, sending eight rays of crimson death scattering from the impact.

“Shields?” Vae cried in desperation, doubled over the armrest of her captain’s chair where she landed after the impact.

“81%,” Dex said dryly. “Target still moving. No confirmed hits from last volley. Archons closing.”

Vae rushed to the central command console, held on tight as Dex pitched the ship at a cruel angle to evade more enemy fire. Three of twelve bolts still struck.

“77%.” 

Vae held her breath. She didn’t know what to do.

Her frightened gaze, desperately searching for help, fell on Andar.

“Let it go,” he said.

Vae’s eyes went even wider. 

“They already know we are here,” he said in a calming voice. “The compromised Wraith Reiter has minimal functioning weapons. Concentrate our attack on the fresh ship as we retreat to Liber. The atmosphere will give us some reprieve from the intensity of the enemy’s attack.”

He took Vae by the shoulders, and she felt lifted up straighter than before. He held her reassuringly. 

“We can do this, Vae.”

She nodded, more out of sheer reflex and pure hope than any sincere belief. His confidence was a lifeline, and Vae clung to it as she turned herself to Dex at central command.

“New orders,” she said, drawing the desperate dregs of confidence from a reservoir so deep she didn’t even know it was there. “All Strix, disengage and return to hangar for recharge and rearm. Dex, full retreat toward Liber. Maximum defensive fire from rear pulsar torpedoes until we’re out of range.”

“Course set,” Dex said, and the starfield outside the observation window spun as the Chrysalis executed a sharp turn, the hellish orange sphere of Liber swelling to fill the view.

The Strix all flew at top speed but could never catch up to a Starlancer; they would have to rendezvous at Liber. Ksenija watched the central command’s scope as one, two, then three blips vanished, each loss tightening her expression of barely-contained volcanic rage. 

As the Wraith Reiter’s golden bolts faded out of range, the Chrysalis deployed Pulsar torpedoes unceasingly, enveloping the enemy ship in a lengthy barrage that illuminated even the atmospheric clouds of Liber. 

The light faded as the Chrysalis fell out of attack range and nestled closer to the enemy world – one Wraith Reiter gone, the second lying in wait.

“Approaching the exospheric edge.” Kennon’s report was followed by the subtle diminishing hum of the thrusters slowing down.

Andar, not interested in either, focused on the remaining Wraith Reiter. “They’re holding position just outside our firing range.” He spoke as if he had clairvoyantly known the Federation would not risk igniting Liber’s atmosphere. 

But Vae did not see a victory – she saw a blockade.

Immediately, she said, “Dex, shields at full recharge power. Hold our position.”

“Full power to shield recharge – 78% and rising. Orbital stabilization engaged.”

She estimated about two hours until full shields. The clock in her head was now ticking with slow, agonizing dread. 

“Kennon, restart the trans-core subspace sequence.” She turned to Banks. “I want a bridge-wide alert the very second that Wraith Reiter drifts more than a foot toward us, or if any more show up.”

Banks nodded, one hand pressed to the top of her head, blonde hair stained the color of her uniform. 

“Are you alright?” Vae quickly approached the comms station, uncertainly written on her desperate face. 

Banks lifted a red palm away from her head, wincing through a friendly grin. “I’ll be alright.”

“Banks, go get checked out, please,” Vae said with almost motherly concern. “We won’t have much downtime, and I’ll need you here for the shuttle run.” Before Banks could think of anything to say in protest, Vae added, “And get a report from Razan on shipwide injuries.”

“Will do.” Banks left Vae with a cheerful yet subdued smile.

Vae allowed herself one good, strong breath to iron out her nerves, and then faced Andar. “How much time will the shuttle run take?”

“I would not give it more time than we have,” he said with straightforward, clinical logic. “The sooner we get a team ready, the better. The Fed will have reinforcements already on the way.”

Ksenija approached. “Four casualties,” she reported in a smoldering tone. “Return to hangar confirmed for all surviving Strix.”

A crushing weight pressed down on Vae – four pilots gone, the first sacrifices offered up to the promise of turning the tide of war. As badly as she wanted to be out of the debacle she’d found herself and the crew in, the prospect of retreat without completing at least some small fragment of their mission objective left an ashen taste in her mouth.

“Get their names from Davor.” After a moment of somber reflection, Vae cleared her throat. “And put together a landing party, proficiency in demolitions and CQB. How many do you think?” She concluded looking at Andar.

“I will need at least a dozen others,” he said. “The shuttle can hold thirty comfortably, but with the demol–”

“W–Wait,” Vae cut in. “What do you mean, you’ll need?”

 

“A dozen plus myself.” His delivery was calm and unwavering. “I will lead the landing party personally.”

Vae retreated back a step, both hands spread before her in knee-jerk protest. It felt as if the bridge had been struck by a Wraith Reiter’s bolt, all air sucked into the vacuum of space. “I – Andar – I can’t…This is–”

“It is highly irregular, I know. But I feel it is my responsibility, as the architect of this operation to–”

“I need you here,” Vae said in a tone more pleading than persuasive. “I need you on the bridge.”

“Vae, this is your ship. No one knows it better than you. No one can command it better than you.”

“This is the entire fleet, and you are the only admiral.” Her words spilled forth with an uncontrolled desperation, a stark contrast to Andar’s collectedness. She was running out of breath, out of arguments. “You need to be here. I need you here.” 

“I can lead the landing party.” Ksenija's voice cut through the tension.

“No – shit!” Vae balled both hands into tight fists, her composure slipping. Too much was happening at once. She closed her eyes to a welcomed stillness. “Ksenija, I need you to coordinate the Strix. Andar, I need you to coordinate our movement and retaliation against the Wraith Reiter.”

With the debate paused, Vae found herself holding her breath, and forced herself to breathe. She opened her eyes to Andar’s doubtless expression, hued by the orange light of Liber.  

“Vae, everything that has happened today and everything that is going to happen is strictly because I brought an idea to Central Military Command, because I did not relent until they gave me approval, and because I had conviction that we would succeed. I was wrong.”

He looked away briefly, a somber silence, then turned back to Vae.

“I thought I had accounted for every potentiality, but there were variables left out, unknowable, and if this revised strategy is not successful, that burden should fall on my shoulders and mine alone. I must do this, Vae. In good conscience, I cannot permit anyone to go down to Liber if I am not standing there beside them.”

Vae must have been wearing an expression of the fear she felt inside, because Andar closed the distance between them to place his perfectly gentle-yet-firm hands on her shoulders once again.

At first, he merely stared deep into her eyes, a soundless communication that made time slow down, her breathing soften, her heartbeat return to its natural rhythm. 

“Vae, I know you can do this.” Andar’s soothing tone was the only sound on the bridge, the war a distant, forgotten memory.  

Through a distortion of welling tears, Vae swore she saw her father reflected in the eyes of the Rear Admiral. 

“I saw your command when the Wraith Reiters approached,” Andar’s voice echoed in her head. “I would not leave this ship if I knew you would be unsafe, if the crew was not in the best possible hands.”

Vae lowered her head, and the hands on her shoulders tightened in turn. 

She looked up when Andar said, “Vae, we do not have much time. Federation reinforcements are mobilizing. We have to move.”

Sniffing back tears, Vae found herself nodding. She replied with a timid, “Okay. Let’s do this.”

With a quick and affirming pat on Vae’s shoulder, Andar hurried off the bridge, the subtle clink of the broken door shutting behind him resounding in Vae’s head like a thermonuclear blast.

Weak legs took her to the captain’s chair where she folded down into the seat, eyes staring ahead at the silence tightening around her. Her throat was dry. Her stomach craved nourishment. The bridge felt over-pressurized.

To take her mind off Andar’s impending departure, Vae turned to the one thing that always settled her thoughts – Ksenija’s taciturn presence; Dex’s stoic aptitude; Banks’s sunny disposition; Kennon’s anxious personality.

If there was a way out of the madness of the mission, away from the inferno world that blazed beside her in silent conflagration, it wasn’t the ship that would deliver them to salvation, but the people who made the ship run. 

Vae pressed a button on the captain’s control panel to call maintenance. “How’s it going down there, Nvona?”

Nvona’s voice crackled over the comm, breezy and unconcerned. “She’s got some bumps and bruises, Vae, but nothing some tender loving couldn’t fix. I honestly wasn’t sure how this old broad would handle such deep core penetration, but the old gal still has some new tricks in her.”

The innuendo was so absurd that it sliced through Vae’s spiraling anxiety. Vae fought off a tight little smile, her head shaking as it often did at Nvona’s humor. For a single, precious second, the pressure eased.

Vae’s reply was soft, almost to herself. "Let's hope she has one more left."

“In that case, I’ll make sure she’s well-greased!” 

The comms feed cut Nvona’s uncontainable laughter short, but that shameless howl that Vae had heard so often echoed in her thoughts before fading away, and the grim reality of the mission returned in full.

An unsettling feeling, cold and heavy, coiled in her gut.

Vae tried to psyche herself up to watch the shuttle’s descent toward the surface, but fear of a Federation surprise attack overwhelmed her capacity to focus on anything else, Andar’s confidence unable to rally her own. 

The worst part wasn’t knowing the person she wanted to remain close was venturing off into certain danger, but the terrible inability to do anything to help. 

It was a sickening feeling, one that made her feel like a child – small and powerless against a universe too vast and cruel to comprehend. 

Every time the urge to watch the shuttle approach Liber crept up, it was instantly pushed back down by the inevitability of Federation reinforcements arriving. They were coming. Vae knew it, everyone knew it. It was only a matter of time. An hour, possibly less, before the call came over the bridge – Wraith Reiters on scope. Maybe they’d even send Praetorians, if the fate of the Federation’s primary source of quantum fusion cores was in jeopardy. 

What deep-rooted desire could possess a man to see the outrageous mission through no matter the setback, and do so with such unflappable dedication, without fear, remained mysterious to Vae – and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Ksenija’s retort resurfaced in Vae memory – So, this is a suicide mission. 

Vae squirmed in her seat, tormented by the thought of more Fed ships appearing while the ground crew was still on the surface. The agreement was never spoken, but understood by both parties…

If necessary, the Chrysalis would have to leave without them.

_________________________

“Entering thermosphere. Reducing thrusters.”

The shuttle pilot’s voice came through Andar’s helmet comms system like a voice inside his own mind. 

Through the visor’s digital heads-up display, the beam rifle in Andar’s hands appeared far away. His habit of spending little time at the practice range, as it was not mandatory for the admiralty, had him feeling like a junior recruit all over again – sensations from memory paradoxically unfamiliar.   

The weapon felt heavier than he recalled from his younger days. He performed a safety check for a second time to ensure he did not miss any steps. If he landed on Liber and his beam rifle malfunctioned due to user error…

No, he couldn’t entertain such thoughts. The mission had to succeed.  

He fought the urge to swear, to punch his fist into the palm of his other hand. Missing such a critical detail as the planet’s atmospheric makeup nearly derailed the entire mission. Four Strix pilots might still be alive if not for that grave mistake.

We need better data…better spies…

Voit would have waited for more conclusive information, more recent readings – that’s what made him the best strategist the PDR had ever seen.

Thalassar was the wrench that made the gears seize up, Andar knew that now. The only reason CMC gave the mission the green light had to be their desperation for a counter-strike, regardless of its radicality.

He’d been too impulsive, letting outside factors pressure him into moving forward prematurely. This was not the way to carry on Voit’s legacy now that he was confined to a Kerakla bed, imprisoned by the very machinery keeping him alive – a prisoner of war in his own territory.  

I’ll do better, my love. I promise.

That was what Andar vowed to write in his next letter, alongside an apology. Incompetence could only be an insult, not an honor.  

The pilot’s voice invaded Andar’s head again. “Approaching stratosphere. All thrusters disengaged. Brace for turbulence.”

A violent jolt shook the small transport shuttle the instant the pilot’s voice broke off. Andar felt a hand pressing the shoulder of his armored envirosuit – a comrade needing support. 

Another tremor jostled them all, and Andar reached to his nearest neighbor to stay seated upright. 

One breath later and another quake struck, this one not dissipating. The shuttle bounded through the volatile atmosphere as a land vehicle tumbling down a mountainside with no brakes. 

In a fog of uncertainty, Andar questioned if their meager little transport had enough thrust to get them up to speed and shoot out of the stratosphere, at least far enough to reengage and escape the planet’s gravitational pull– 

No. 

The mission had to succeed. 

The Fed could get craft on and off the surface for prisoner transport, equipment resupply, guard rotations – it was possible. One way or another, it was possible. If they had to steal an enemy transport ship, then that's what they would do. 

The mission had to succeed. 

A terrifying shudder tumbled all passengers to the floor in a tangle of bodies and limbs, the stress on the hull audible even through Andar’s helmet. Everyone picked themselves and others up, pressing back into their seats with a desperate grip on whatever or whomever they could to survive the shuddering agitation.

“Exiting stratosphere on approach to troposphere. Prepare to engage landing thrusters.”

As the turbulence lessened, Andar could see breathing through envirosuits slowing, gloved grips loosening, postures relaxing from high stress into mission readiness. He found his weapon on the floor grate between his boots and checked it for a third time.

The landing thrusters kicking on gave the crew a brief jolt before the ship settled into a more welcomed and typical approach. 

The pilot’s voice returned. “Setting down in a rocky outcropping a quarter-mile from a mine. Six refineries on scope. Defenses unknown.”

Andar switched on his team-wide comms on his envirosuit’s wrist controls and lifted himself to standing, beam rifle in one hand, the other gripping an overhead support. “Comrades, time is our most crucial factor. As much as I would love to get this over and done with in the most efficient and direct manner possible, stealth must be our shield. We do not know what we are up against, so extreme caution must be enforced at all times. Vanguard team will proceed to the nearest refinery and clear any defenses. Demolitions team will follow once clear. Once the charges are planted, vanguard will move to the second refinery, and the demolitions team will help clear the prisoners from the first facility.”

Uncertainty stirred among the landing party.

Andar continued, “We have strict orders to minimize prisoner casualties as often as possible. Once the second refinery is cleared of hostiles, demolitions will proceed, and so on. Do not assume you will face the same defenses at each refinery.”

“What do we do with the prisoners once they’re free?” a voice from the crew asked. 

“Make sure they are away from the facility,” Andar said. “Our job is to ensure they do not get caught in the blast. Beyond that is not up to us. We will continue from refinery to refinery until we get the word from the Chrysalis to abort. At that time, we will stop what we are doing immediately and return to the shuttle without delay. Any further questions?”

A voice from the demolition’s group spoke. “I recommend a simultaneous detonation. The blast from the first explosion will alert the guards at the second refinery.”

“Affirmative,” Andar said. “Simultaneous, single-trigger detonation is the optimal strategy, given our time constraints.”

The howl of scorching winds against the shuttle punctuated the silence that followed Andar’s reply.

“Comrades,” Andar said in conclusion, “Let us all make it back.”

The floor beneath them shook as the shuttle completed its landing. Then stillness. 

The cargo door opened to the roaring fury of searing gusts assailing the jagged, burning cauldron of a world that awaited them, unfit for human survival. 

One by one, each of the dozen in their company – six vanguard, six demolitions – all wearing identical black and red envirosuit armor, walked past Andar, each tapping their hand on the red star insignia on his shoulder, and stepped into hell. 

The last one to leave the ship, Andar set foot onto the soil of an enemy world for the first time. But the significance of the achievement was lost in the horrifying certainty that destroying the environmentally protected refineries might condemn the freed prisoners to a different fate – one of agonizing torment in the unprotected climate of Liber, a prison all its own, where every sentence meant death.

Andar shook the thought aside. They were there, and the mission was on. The time for deliberation had passed. 

He switched his comms to the shuttle feed. “Comms check. Transport shuttle PV-031 Solace, confirm received.”

“Transport shuttle Solace, confirmed, comms received.”

The pilot remaining on the shuttle gave Andar some solace of his own. His trip embarking aboard the Chrysalis had been conducted via autopilot, but for a mission with such a thin margin of error, having a human touch to double up with the technological side promised the greatest chance of success for their tight timeframe.

“Perfect,” Andar said to the pilot. “Establish comms with Chrysalis ship, confirm when connection is made.”

“Affirmative, comrade. Best of luck out there.”

With that, Andar approached the vanguard. “Proceed to first refinery. Weapons hot.”

“Copy. Let’s move!”

As the vanguard stormed into the inferno winds whipping through the craggy valley, Andar switched back to the landing party feed on the comms, confirmed transmission sent and received, and checked the vitals on his visor’s HUD. All normal inside, but outside the temperature was reading 157°F with 124mph winds. 

The last of the demolitions equipment was unloaded and the second wave of the ground operation ready to go.

“I will coordinate the transition from the first wave to the second,” Andar said to the leader of the demolitions unit. “Move on my mark, not a moment before.”

They shared a nod of acknowledgement, and Andar hurried after the vanguard, beam rifle in hand, safety off. 

Serrated black cliffs towered skyward like sawtooth barbs reaching for some respite from the torrid currents jetting through the bluffs. Through Andar’s visor, the air itself looked as though it glowed orange, the clouds overhead looming in wicked scarlet, and even the shadows he marched through were bloodshot. 

Emerging into a wide gulch flanked by steep walls of obsidian, Andar paused at the sight of the Federation refineries – six of them planted in a grid, each one belching black smoke skyward, playing a cacophony of industry and fire clearly audible despite his envirosuit.

The vanguard was approaching silently, little maroon shadows in what passed on Liber for night. To his right, the demolitions unit. 

The six structures before him represented a key component of the Federation’s machine of war. He knew this wasn’t the whole device, but taking out one cog meant the whole machine would slow down, and with it, the Fed’s supply of the quantum fusion cores that powered their ships. 

Andar breathed quicker. The path to victory stood directly in front of him.

“Wait for my mark,” he said to the demolitions crew with his eyes locked on the nearest refinery.

A could never hear the beam rifles firing, but the subtle red glow from inside the structure told him all he needed to know. What felt like a thousand moments later, he received the report he’d been waiting for:

“First target, clear!”

Andar waved to the second team to start hauling the demolitions equipment toward the refinery. 

As he ran past them to meet up with the vanguard inside, he raised a hand to signal them to wait before proceeding as he stepped through a side entrance. He was about to tell them to cover the other crew when the sight of the refinery’s interior made his breath seize in his lungs. 

He’d been expecting to find prisoners working the machines, maintaining the conveyors, keeping the incinerators running to burn away the excess material from the precious blue element buried deep within the planet’s core. 

What he did not expect were artificial limbs frozen in place. 

The left arm and left leg of each prisoner, removed for a robotic replacement. Each robotic arm and leg, unmoving, locked down at the press of a security guard’s button once the siege began. 

Andar’s own face, frozen at the horror of cruel efficiency, just stared. 

The prisoners, garbed in tattered grey clothes, collectively unable to move, to let go of the controls of their station, the railing they grasped, effectively enslaved.

“Help us!” one of them cried from where he tried to push himself forward on the floor, his human arm straining on the hot, grimy floor against the dead weight of robotic limbs.

Andar’s gaze flashed from one enslaved prisoner to the next. Conveyors behind them still ran, spilling their unprocessed cores to the floor. Furnaces still spat fire. Every guard lay dead, some prisoners with them, torn from their stations as human shields for the Federation guards.

“Where are the controls?” Andar asked over the clattering of machinery.

The prisoner screamed, “I don’t know!”

Andar crouched for the comms of the nearest fallen guard, but nothing worked to bring life back into the robotic limbs. 

With a quick shake of his head to clear his thoughts, Andar rose to his feet and said, “Demolitions, continue. Vanguard, help me find the controls. We need to get these people free.”

_________________________

If only the Federation knew…

One old PDR Starlancer with no admiral on board, no reinforcements on the way, only half of its remaining pulsar torpedoes, beam cannons still recharging, a high shield percentage necessary to get back through the core, Strix outnumbered by Archons, and a captain left to command alone.

Vae watched the scope in front of her captain’s seat, unable to take her eyes away. It felt certain that every moment she was not looking, more Wraith Reiters would appear, catch her off-guard, and then it would all be over. 

She knew taking the Fed by complete surprise was the only reason she was still alive, and what kept them hesitant to approach. She could imagine the captain of the remaining Wraith Reiter pacing across the bridge, plagued by the sudden appearance of a PDR ship inside one of the most impossible areas of Federation territory to reach, wondering who else was on the way, and how. 

Had they known it was only her…

As Vae sat staring at her scope, she envisioned the enemy doing the same, watching and waiting for movement while searching for answers to the inconceivable. What were they thinking – fear, shock, astonishment, anger? Some combination of all those and more, most likely. 

“Still no word from the ground, Vae.” Banks was back at her console, hair stained maroon surrounding an application of wound glue. “I think the planet’s magnetic field is messing with our signals.”

Vae cursed to herself. The enemy Wraith Reiter was perfectly positioned; if the Chrysalis moved, the enemy would take that as an act of aggression by moving into firing range, and the Fed would press hard to get themselves in range for a counter-attack. The last thing Vae wanted was another firefight.

She just wanted to go home. 

“Banks, think of a workaround,” she said to the communications officer. “They need a lifeline down there. We have to give them one.”

Ksenija brought Vae a tablet just then. “Comrades Zucor, Lenkin, Larkell, and Kritikov.”

Vae took the tablet in her hands and studied the names of the fallen Strix pilots. Ramil Larkell, a jovial young man from Tveren, had only been 16 years old. 

Returning the tablet to Ksenija, Vae slumped back in her seat, biting her bottom lip as she tried to keep herself together – if not for herself then for the crew that was counting on her, the more than 500 souls depending on her to deliver them back to PDR space and not end up on a list of casualties. 

She had thought she knew what she was doing. At the start of the battle, she’d thought she had figured out how to beat both Wraith Reiters. But her whole strategy fell apart when one of them fled the conflict, leaving her lost. 

She was no Andar Vokler, able to freelance on the fly without dropping composure, even when the most carefully laid plans got torn to shreds the moment they attempted to put them into action. How did he know what to do? How did he keep his cool? How did he figure things out so quickly?

Vae knew she could never do what he did.

Ramil Larkell was dead because she hesitated, along with Kerensa Zucor, Gavram Lenkin, and…she couldn’t remember Kritikov’s first name. She killed a man she didn’t even know.

Vae drew a shuddering inhale and wiped the tears from her cheeks. 

“Movement on scope!” The call was shot from the astrogator’s console.

Vae bolted upright at Kennon’s shout. Ksenija was already beside him studying the readout. She looked up to Vae, and spat the word, “Archons.”

A blink of Vae’s eyes sent another wet streak down her face. She locked eyes with the XO. “Send the Strix back out.”

Ksenija did not need to be told twice.

Vae rushed to the communications console, all business save for the tearstreaks still on her cheeks. “Banks, we need a workaround. We can’t wait.”

Banks didn’t look up from where she speed-typed calculations at her station. “I have an idea. I just need to finish the final simulation…there!”

Vae stepped around to get a better view of Banks’s hologram display.

With a proud smile, Banks leaned back and said, “All we have to do is sing to the planet!”

The statement even made Dex turn his head.

“Magnetospheric resonance coupling,” Banks continued. “If we can’t bypass the interference, we use it to broadcast our signal. Once we scan the planet’s voiceprint and choose a phase with strong natural oscillation, we can give the plasma a, um…slight little nudge, and it will carry our message for us.”

“Slight little nudge?” Vae asked.

“We can’t fight the conditions, so we have to ride along with them,” Banks said. “Nudge them just enough to get our signal to pass along the flux lines.”

“Anyone on the surface will be able to pick it up,” Dex said, still turned around in his seat with curiosity. 

“I mean…” Banks shifted her look between Dex and Vae. “It’ll get through, though.”

“That’s all we need. They already know we’re here,” Vae said. “What happens if we nudge a little too hard?”

“Um…” Banks brought both of her hands together and expanded them outward to simulate an explosion. “Ka-boom,” she said quietly, as if the planet might hear. “But – if we use low-amplitude bursts, then we–”

“Vae, oh fuck – Vae!” Kennon’s shout came through in a tone of sheer desperation.

Vae sprinted around the comms station to where Kennon sat gaping in dismay at the primary nav scope. Gripping the back of his chair, she almost collapsed to her knees when she saw the six blips converging on their position.

In a breathless and defeated gasp, Kennon whispered, “Wraith Reiters.” 

_________________________

A hopeful call filtered into Andar’s helmet: “I think we’ve found it!”

He’d been frantically searching the ground floor for anything resembling a control station or console while the vanguard kept an eye on the immobilized prisoners writhing on the hot metal refinery floor. 

He stopped instantly at the voice of the demolition’s crew member announcing the successful finding of the limb control station – seven stories above the ground floor. 

“Just give me a second to figure out these controls…”

“Hurry,” Andar said in a voice as controlled as he could manage. “We have very little time.”

What worried him even more than the miniscule timetable was that communication lines with the Chrysalis had not yet been established. He went to the nearest window and craned his neck to gaze up at the fiery skies. If comms couldn’t get through, then their mission would end up being a one-way trip.

He tossed the fear aside. If the Fed can communicate with the planet, so can we.

A clattering of metal limbs striking the floor jerked him out of his thoughts. All prisoners collapsed to the floor the moment their limbs were freed. 

Andar scrambled to the center of the refinery floor, helping up as many prisoners as he could. “Get out of here,” he urged them. “You all have to leave.”

One of the prisoners pushed away from his grip with stunning force from her robotic arm. “We can’t, you idiot! We’ll die out there!”

The remark seized Andar in his tracks, as though he himself was now locked down. He had not seen any transport trucks parked in his inspection of the ground floor, nor any rail lines snaking out of the complex. This wasn’t just their prison – it was their home.

“Where do you sleep?” he asked. “You have to go there – right away. This whole facility is going to blow.”

Agitation stirred among the freed prisoners at Andar’s remark, each one of them dirty and haggard, each one dismembered by the Federation and made part of the war machine in the most literal sense. 

“Underground,” one of them called from the back.

Andar turned to the nearest prisoner. “How deep? Is there shelter? Food?”

The prisoners nodded. 

Andar motioned vaguely with tremendous urgency. “Go there – now! You will be safe down there.”

“You’re not going to take us with you?” someone cried in betrayal.

Andar shook his head inside his envirosuit. “No, we cannot,” he said with regret. “Not at this time.”

Understandable frustration swelled in the crowd of liberated workers – freed from Federation control but still held in the same prison, only now by the PDR. 

“Guards will be down there,” another one shouted. 

Someone else joined the chorus: “Give us some weapons, at least!”

Facing down a problem he was unprepared to solve, Andar simply said, “No. I am deeply sorry, but–”

“They’ll kill us! They’ll kill us all!”

Andar exhaled sharply. He couldn’t just leave them there. Sure, their artificial limbs could be weapons in and of themselves, but how many would be cut down by Federation beam rifles before they ever got within striking distance?

“Take what you will from the guards we have killed,” he told them. “Just move underground as fast as you can.”

Andar then spoke into his comms, telling the vanguard to move on to the next building when he saw the demolitions crew return to the ground floor and confirm charges have been set.

As the prisoners scrambled to loot the fallen prison guards, Andar followed the demolitions crew and slipped out the side exit. He shut the large metal door with a heavy CLANK, and could see nothing in his mind’s eye other than the door of a mausoleum sealing the dead for eternity.

He leaned his hands against the door, head down at the black Liber soil, wondering if what his boots trampled was soil or ash. 

The next thing he knew, he was on his knees, doubled over, beam rifle clattering to the ground as both hands gripped for the white-hot spike of agony in his stomach. His HUD vital readings spiked. The pain was so intense, it felt as though he had fallen from the sky and landed impaled on the sharp mountain of black and broken knives that stabbed upward all around the gulch. 

“Comrade…”

The voice of the demolitions team leader sounded distant. Andar barely felt the hand on his armored shoulder. 

“Give me a moment,” Andar panted. 

It felt like an eternity passed before the pain subsided enough to where he could open his eyes and check the mission clock on his HUD – nearly 40 minutes since disembarking from the Chrysalis. That was twice as much time as he had expected it would take.

Andar struggled to stand, his body heavy and uncoordinated, helped up by two comrades from demolitions. He glanced between them. “We must be quicker.”

The vanguard reported they were breaching the second refinery.

To the demolitions crew, Andar said, “Three of you, find the prisoner controls ASAP. The other three, begin planting the charges once hostiles are clear.” He paused to catch his breath, and increase the coolant on his envirosuit to max as sweat dripped into his eyes. “Do not expect everything to be the same. Adapt.”

“Copy that, comrade,” the team leader said. “Are you sure you’re okay? You weren’t shot?”

“No,” Andar said, straightening his back with an immense effort of will. “I am fine.” 

He had not been shot. What he was dealing with was much worse – and would only continue to get worse if he did not get his daily injection soon.

_________________________

A madness of Archons and Strix swarmed outside the Chrysalis, red and blue beams striking targets. Several Archons attempted to make a run on the Chrysalis but the automatic defense turrets turned the gold Federation fighters into scraps of cosmic debris.

“Shields holding.” Dex’s eyes were trained on his hologram display. 

Vae didn’t know how he could be so calm with half a dozen Wraith Reiters not even ten minutes outside firing range. 

The Chrysalis would have already been torn to twisted metal ribbons had they not been orbiting so close to Liber. Reinforcements had to exit subspace a safe distance from the planet to not risk colliding with it, or being unable to slow their trajectory due to the gravitational pull – which would also crater the Wraith Reiters into the planet’s surface. Any miscalculations would have done Vae’s job for her in a most spectacular and catastrophic manner.

She couldn’t leave without Andar, and she couldn’t stand and fight against what were clearly impossible odds. Staring out at the chaos of fighter combat – tiny silhouettes darting against an inferno backdrop – Vae felt smaller than the Strix measured against Liber. 

The only thing worse than making a bad decision was having no decisions left to make. 

As the idea tumbled through her head, Banks made the announcement Vae had been dying to hear: “Confirmed, message received!”

Vae almost fell over in relief as she spun to Banks. “They got it? It got through?”

“The shuttle just confirmed.” Banks could not wipe away her smile even if she tried.

Vae clenched her fists in a moment of private celebration, but allowed herself only that brief moment, and instantly snapped back into command. “Banks, tell them immediate mission abort. Evac ASAP!”

Within seconds, Banks relayed, “Message sent!”

Vae turned to Ksenija, who had planted herself in front of the observation window and had not moved since the Strix were relaunched. 

“Ksenija, recall all fighters.”

The XO did not respond as she stared at the battle with an expression torn somewhere between pleasure and hatred, watching Federation Archons get shot down one by one. 

“Ksenija–”

She looked just then to Vae, and spoke into her flight comms, “All Strix, return to hangar ASAP.”

When Ksenija turned back to see PDR fighters disengage from combat and let the Archons live for another day, Vae saw her shoulders rise and fall with a dissatisfaction that could not be hidden.

If this was to be their last moment, the one thing Ksenija Levik wanted more than anything was to go down fighting, not attempting to run. She craved her hands back on the flight controls in the Strix cockpit, her fingers depressing the firing mechanisms, her eyes witnessing the last living moments of Federation pilots up close. Vae knew it without having to ask.  

Ksenija approached Vae with purpose. “If we launch pulsar torpedoes before their grouping disperses, we can take out at least half their fighters.”

“We’re down below 50%–”

“What are you saving them for?” Ksenija cut Vae off with a question the captain could not readily answer. “Those Wraith Reiters get within range, we’re done, Vae.”

Vae had only the feeling that the Archons no longer posed a threat to the ship. She saw them beginning their retreat with her own eyes.

“We’re getting out of here.” She set her jaw and met Ksenija’s vengeful glare. 

She prepared to say they were going to live to fight another day, and expending their primary weapons on fighters was a waste of resources that were needed for Wraith Reiters in the future, but the comment remained unspoken.

Ksenija wouldn’t hear it. Not any more than Vae could hear the reasons why every single individual in the Federation had to be killed. 

Their silent stalemate took the form of tacit agreement – for now, the Archons would survive.

Whether or not they themselves would, Vae was less certain.

_________________________

Even knowing what awaited them at the second refinery, it still took too long to free the enslaved prisoner’s limbs and plant the charges.

For the third refinery, Andar adjusted their strategy – once the guards were taken care of, the vanguard would seek out the prisoner controls while the demolitions unit set the charges simultaneously. 

Watching the plan in action, a little smile of satisfaction came over him. They were saving precious minutes. With that time, they could move on to the fourth and perhaps even fifth refinery before–

“Comrade Vokler, this is Shuttle Solace. Mission abort. Repeat: mission abort. Immediate return to shuttle for evacuation.”

Andar watched the last guard in the third refinery fall with a charred hole in his chest smoking, shot down by a comrade’s beam rifle. “Shuttle Solace, message received. Returning to shuttle.”

He gazed up to the vanguard unit marching up the stairs, then lowered his eyes to the limb-locked prisoners squirming on the filthy factory floor, reaching out with their one remaining human arm, crying to be set free. 

“Mission abort.” Andar’s comms were set for both teams. “Vanguard, get back down here. Demolitions, do not plant charges. We are leaving now.”

The PDR landing team flooded out of the third refinery, leaving the prisoners still locked down amid their desperate pleas for release. 

“Return to shuttle, do not stop.” The last one out, Andar spared one final glance at the dozens of enslaved prison laborers he was not able to save. He wanted to say something to them, but what kind of apology would suffice?

He left the refinery without a word.

“Comrade…”

Andar hurried up to the demolitions leader who lingered behind the pack. “Keep moving! Return to the shuttle – do not wait for me.”

Andar ran as fast as he could manage, the pain in his gut like hot coals smoldering under an extinguished fire. 

The demolitions leader easily kept pace. “It’s not that, it’s…we’ve already planted charges.”

Andar stopped dead in his tracks, locked eyes with his comrade.

“The whole exterior,” the man continued. “While the vanguard was inside. We didn’t get inside, but when we hit the detonator, the third refinery is going to blow.”

Every pain, every sensation, all left Andar at once. He felt nothing but a cold dread crawling up his spine.

He tore a glance back to the refinery – half-wired for implosion with prisoners still trapped inside.

What have I done…

The demolitions leader snatched him by the arm and pulled him along, away from the refinery and toward the shuttle. “Come on, we can’t do anything about it.”

Andar couldn’t take his gaze away from the victims he condemned to certain death, his mind imprinted with their helpless, despairing faces. But nor could he make it to this shuttle in time half-way turned around.

Prying himself away from the war crime he was about to commit, Andar ran as fast as he could for the shuttle, as desperate to be as far away from Liber as those whose lives he would have to sacrifice. 

Single trigger. Simultaneous detonation. 

His own command haunted his every thought. 

He was at the shuttle before he knew it, sitting down in the hold and staring at the demolitions leader holding the detonator as the pilot readied for takeoff. 

Andar held out his hand. “It has to be me.”

Without protest, the demolitions leader handed the detonator to Andar. “Lift this, then switch off the safety. When you’re ready, press these two buttons together…”

The shuttle jerked as it began its ascent. “Hold on,” the pilot shouted into the comms.

Gripping the detonator as the takeoff shook him and everyone else on board, Andar lifted the cover over the safety. He switched the safety off.

“Approaching max speed for atmospheric exit,” the pilot’s voice echoed in Andar’s helmet.

With a small shake of his head and his heart blackening, Andar pressed both detonator buttons. 

He did not hear the explosions. He could not see the refineries blasted apart. Only a little green light illuminating on the detonator signaled a successful trigger. 

A distant, inhuman confirmation.

As if it was any consolation, every member of their landing party made it back alive.

_________________________

“Three minutes.”

Vae’s stomach lurched at Dex reporting how long until the Wraith Reiters were in firing range.

It wasn’t often people knew exactly how long they had to live. Three minutes to replay her entire life in her head, the precious memory of every opportunity taken, washed away by the agony of every opportunity missed. 

Only in that moment did Andar’s “nothing left unsaid” approach fully make sense to Vae. The idea of never having the chance to reconcile with her father was making her physically ill. She needed to vomit.

“Trans-core sequence ready,” Kennon said in a quivering voice. 

Vae swallowed hard to force the bile back down her throat. “Wait for the shuttle to dock before initiating. Banks, where are they? How far out?”

Banks was standing, too nervous to sit. “Last transmission confirmed cutting their thrusters when exiting the troposphere,” Banks said. “No reply since.”

“When?” Vae’s word, a dire plea.

“80 seconds ago,” Banks said through a mask of worry.

“Two minutes,” Dex reported. 

Two minutes left to live. Vae tugged at her uniform collar. Too tight. Too hot.

Ksenija was staring a burning hole through the command console’s scope. Six blips encroaching. The shuttle, not reading on the scope. 

All Strix were back. Only 14 comrades were missing.

Vae’s hands were covering her mouth. Her eyes did not blink as she watched the scope over Kennon’s shoulder. 

Still no shuttle.

“90 seconds,” Dex said. “Should we prepare weapons?”

Vae did not answer. She did not move. She barely breathed.

“Negative,” Ksenija said from the command console when no word came from the captain. “Run shields at full power. Initialize trans-core subspace channel one minute from range.”

“Copy,” Dex said. “Shields at full power, 87% strength. 80 seconds until we’re in Wraith Reiters’ range.”

14 lives, one a Rear Admiral. Vae never knew the true magnitude of sacrifices the war demanded. The alternative was a 500-strong Starlancer meeting its fate along with those 14. 

“70 seconds.”

There was no decision to make – they had to leave. 

“Prepare to open trans-core channel.” Vae managed to drag the words from the back of her dry throat. 

“65 seconds.”

I’m sorry, Andar…

“One minute.” 

Dex’s report sent all stations into action to open the trans-core subspace channel. 

Vae turned away from the scope, face buried in her hands. 

“Shuttle on scope!”

Vae threw herself back at the scope, damn near tossing Kennon from his seat. “How far out?” she asked, helping Kennon sit upright again.

“30 seconds!” Banks cried out over the din of activity consuming the bridge. 

“Continue opening the channel,” Vae said with a newfound strength. “We go once they are docked.”

“45 seconds,” Dex said. 

From the central command console, Ksenija raised her voice to be heard. “Vae, we have a problem.”

Vae got to Ksenija’s side as fast as she could. She saw the XO pointing to the lifeform data on the ship. 

15 lifeforms on board. 

Vae, puzzled, searched Ksenija’s eyes for an answer. “That can’t be right…”

Dex’s countdown continued. “30 seconds. Shuttle approaching Docking Bay 12.”

Ksenija gave a brief squeeze on Vae’s shoulder. “Then we’ll make it right.” She went for the bridge’s exit, speaking into her comms, “Full security detail to Docking Bay 12 ASAP.”

“20 seconds.”

“Channel open!”

Vae jerked to the observation window where the trans-core channel blazed with demonic anger. She had not noticed it open against Liber’s own fury. The command console hummed under her grip.

“10 seconds, Vae.”

Banks leaped in the air.  “Shuttle docked!”

“5 seconds…”

Vae squeezed the central command console, heart thundering in her chest. “Kennon, go! NOW!”

“3…2…1…”

Incoming weapons indicators flashed on the command hologram. 

A violent shudder rocked the Chrysalis, half the bridge crew heaved to the floor. Vae was screaming, her eyes slammed shut in her final moments. 

I’m sorry, daddy.

Then, silence.

Her eyes opened to the netherworld.

Vae found herself on the bridge floor, sweaty hands staining the panel she had scrubbed clean herself. The vibration ran up her arms and struck her shoulders with a shiver. 

The observation window burned in astral torment, hot tongues of fire licking at the Chrysalis.

Vae glanced back and forth, saw Dex sitting at his station, Kennon squeezing his hair in tight fists, Banks frozen still.

The shields sizzled. The hull groaned. 

“D–Did we make it…?” Kennon asked. 

On legs of rubber, Vae pushed herself upright, a steadying hand on the command console. “I think so.” A huge smile spread itself across her expression of disbelief. “We made it.”

The decompression of the bridge came swift – Kennon, slumped over his console both mentally and physically exhausted; Banks, still on her feet nearly squealing in delight of their escape; Dex, calmly giving the shipwide order to stand down from general quarters. 

Vae sank to the floor, fell onto her back, and gazed up at the ceiling of the bridge as a feeling of profound gratitude washed over her.

_________________________

Andar was helped from the shuttle by members of the landing party, one arm pressed firm against his stomach. He could not stand upright, so he did not notice right away that Ksenija was training her sidearm on him.

“Step away,” she commanded. 

A haze of bewilderment clouded Andar’s thoughts. He needed his injection before he could start thinking clearly again. “Ksenija…”

The security detail, armed and armored, physically moved the landing crew away from the shuttle’s doorway, all weapons trained inside. 

“What…what is going on?” Andar asked in a pained gasp, only realizing after the words came out that the XO had her sidearm aimed past him, into the shuttle for some reason.

Ksenija did not avert her gaze. “14 of you went down, correct?”

“Yeah,” the pilot confirmed. “Myself, the Rear Admiral, and a dozen others. Why?”

“Scope shows 15.” Ksenija quickly waved her free hand for security to sweep the inside. 

The shuttle was not large, but had plenty of hiding spots in the ducts and undercarriage paneling that separated the vital components of the craft from the hull. 

Andar, Ksenija, the whole landing party listened as Chrysalis security upturned floor panels, shoved crates and gear aside. 

From inside Shuttle Solace, “There! Hold it right there! Don’t move!”

Ksenija rushed inside, beam pistol aimed ahead of her. 

With a grunt, Andar shrugged out of the steadying grasp of his comrades, and followed after the XO. 

Within, gathered around an opening in the floor directly under where he was sitting, Ksenija and the security detail converged their attention on something – or someone – down below. 

Andar pressed through, and dropped to his knees to peer inside. 

Light from the grating overhead illuminated the haggard form, clad in filthy grey, with sweaty blonde hair plastered to her face. 

A girl, no more than twenty, scampered backward as far as she could, into a shaft of light that illuminated a robotic arm.