PITFALL

CONSULATE: BOOK 2

DREW AVERA

CHAPTER ONE

It was a warm and sunny spring day on Valara. The first without rain in over a week. But no one in the crowd was contemplating the weather. There was only the joy of celebration.

Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd, both civilian and faculty, as newly minted Ensign Auden Hoyt stepped off the coronation stage to meet her family. Tears streaked down Auden’s face as a wave of emotion swept over her while she made her way through the bustling crowd. They were far from tears of sadness, but instead were for pride in her accomplishments. After four years in the Consulate Academy’s Pilot Program, she was finally commissioned and ready to follow in her father's footsteps, though not as a scout ship pilot. As a fighter pilot.

Getting to this point hadn't come without hardship and sacrifice. Auden’s life as a Consulate Academy cadet was far different than when she lived at home. But she had known that life as a cadet would be met with more restrictions than she had experienced as a child. Her father had warned her countless times throughout her life, not to ward her off from her dream, but to set expectations based on his own experiences. There was no way that her experience would mirror his exactly, but his words had not fallen on deaf ears. Auden had listened. She had resolved to follow the rules, to do her best, and today was the day all her hard work and dedication finally paid off. She shed the skin of a lowly cadet and fully embraced her future as a commissioned officer in the Consulate Navy.

She had done it!

She came to a stop at the designated location where she was to meet her family and looked around, searching for them through the crowd. Then a voice drew her attention. "Ensign Hoyt, it’s a pleasure to be the first to salute you," retired Commander Kevin Hoyt said brightly. He beamed as he beheld his oldest daughter, newly commissioned and ready to fly. Not so much as a smudge on her rank insignia.

Auden popped to attention and promptly saluted her father. He had pulled out his old dress blue uniform for the occasion, and for the first time in years, she had the feeling she did as a young girl seeing him dressed up with his ribbons and medals. She always wanted to be just like him, and her path had led her straight toward that goal, though she still had a long way to go before she was as decorated as he was.

"The pleasure’s all mine," she replied, barely able to contain the smile itching at her lips. They stood stock still for several moments, neither relenting as the crowd dispersed around them, drawing stares from other families as they shuffled past. The salute remained until the higher-ranked officer relented, as was the naval custom beaten into the cadets' heads as they went through the Consulate Academy, and the former commander was intent on testing her sense of military bearing.

So far, so good, he thought. She had learned well.

Kevin ultimately gave in, allowing his chuckle to break the ice as his wife, Sarah, stepped out from behind him.

“Was that exchange as joyous as you were expecting, dear?" Sarah asked mockingly. There was a playfulness to her tone, but also an air of “I asked you not to make a scene.”

"Course it was," Kevin replied. "My daughter gets my sense of humor."

"I suppose that's because she is your daughter despite my best parenting efforts," Sarah joked as she embraced Auden.

"You did fine, Mom. Sometimes an odd sense of humor is hereditary," Auden said with a smile. "So glad that you guys could make it."

"What about me?" A voice said from behind her.

Auden turned to see her sister, Tara, in her cadet dress uniform. Her younger sister stood a couple of inches taller, and she had a confidence that she had lacked before entering the Consulate Academy. Although Tara was technically a first-year plebe, her aptitude tests and family history of service had placed her in a fortunate situation. She had been selected for the accelerated engineering program and was scheduled to be commissioned two years early. This time next year, and if the needs of the Consulate Navy allowed, Auden would be the one attending graduation from the audience. They had expected to see more of one another, but due to conflicting schedules, it had been months since the sisters had been able to visit.

"Thank you for coming, Tara," Auden said gleefully. She moved in to hug her sister, but with both being in uniform and her sister still in student status, it was awkward. Despite no longer being a student, the rules about public displays of affection in uniform made Auden self-conscious. She was certain that it went double for Tara, who was under major scrutiny for being accepted early into an advanced program. Not wanting to draw undue attention, they settled on a simple handshake.

"I wouldn't've missed it," Tara replied. "Besides, this is a big deal for you, and I didn’t want to not be here."

Tara's words reminded Auden of something, so she turned to see her father. "Speaking of which, I’m sorry I couldn't make it to your retirement ceremony," Auden said.

Kevin shook his head. "Don’t apologize, Auden. I went to the Consulate Academy just like you. I understand. Besides, my retirement was more about me being available for yours and Tara's big life moments, not for you to be available for mine," he replied, putting her mind at ease.

"That's what I like to see, a nice big family reunion. How is the fleet’s finest Ensign Hoyt?" Rear Admiral William Dixon asked as he stepped through the crowd.

Auden and Tara both popped to attention and saluted him. Kevin followed a bit more casually in execution. "Doing well, sir, thank you," Auden answered.

"That's good to hear. Kevin, Sarah, it’s good to see you two again," Dixon said as he extended his hand to each of them. "I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I do have a set of orders for the newest Hoyt to don the uniform."

"I expected my orders to come through message traffic, sir. I didn't know you were delivering orders to everyone today," Auden said.

He scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous, I don’t have the patience for that. I just wanted to deliver yours because of our history. Plus, it gave me a good excuse to come to your commissioning." He handed her an envelope with a stamp from the Consulate Headquarters in the upper left-hand corner.

Auden accepted the envelope, opened it, and pulled out the cover letter. She skimmed it to find the pertinent information. Most of it was jibber-jabber unless you knew what you were looking at, a series of letters and numbers that were meaningless to anyone unfamiliar with naval correspondence. When her eyes fell on the line noting her new permanent activity, she couldn't hold back her grin.

"So, where are you going?" Kevin asked, the curiosity in his voice matching the way Auden felt that very moment. She glanced up at her father. "I’m going to the CSS Pitfall," she answered before turning to the admiral. "Thank you so much, sir," she said.

Dixon smiled and replied, "You're welcome, so much. Make us proud, kid, and congratulations on your commissioning.”

“Will, how’s the situation in the other sectors brewing?” Kevin asked softly.

Auden looked up, noting the tone of her father’s voice had shifted ever so slightly from jubilant to concerned.

Dixon clasped his hands behind his back and leaned in. “The Heshian Uprising is a growing concern. We've had ninety percent of our fleet stationed in Heshian space, most notably around Braka and Dursh.”

“Are we thinking things might pop off over there?” Kevin asked.

Dixon shrugged. “Always a threat when dealing with Heshians. I'll keep an ear out in case I hear anything. I can’t imagine you would want to be in the dark, considering...” he motioned at Auden with a nod.

“Exactly,” Kevin said. “Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you, sir,” Auden said.

Dixon nodded politely and turned to Tara, his smile returning. “Tara, I look forward to seeing you in uniform with your gold bar this time next year," he said.

Tara, still standing at attention, replied, "Thank you, sir. I look forward to it as well."

The admiral turned to leave, but Kevin took him by the arm. When Dixon turned, he was met with a salute from each member of the Hoyt family wearing a uniform. The admiral returned it gracefully and departed.

“So,” Kevin said as he turned back to his daughters, “what shall we do before curfew calls this cadet back to her dorm?”

Auden looked at Tara questioningly.

“It’s your graduation, Auden. I just wanted to be here for your big day,” Tara said.

Auden smiled. “I know what it’s like to be where you are. A day of liberty is a hot commodity, and the food served in the ward gets repetitive. How about you pick where we eat?”

Tara paused, looking like she wanted to protest, but softened before saying, “I haven’t had a good burger in months.”

“That’s such a primitive entrée,” Sarah said. “Are you sure you don’t want something that doesn’t harken back hundreds of years?”

Tara shrugged. “I don’t like the meat substitutes used in traditional Valaran cuisines. They taste like burnt plastic with a meaty flavor.”

“She has a point, Mom,” Auden said. “Besides, you used to let us eat fatty, earth-based foods all the time growing up.”

“That was before your father had his little episode,” she reminded them.

“That wasn't a little episode, Mom. That was a cardiovascular emergency,” Tara shot back. “Still, if you’re going to fall over dead, it may as well be due to a life filled with delicious food. Let your tastebuds die satisfied.”

Auden snorted; a sound followed by laughter from their parents. “That’s so dramatic and weird,” she said after a moment. “But I do agree with Tara. If I'm going to be eating ship food this time tomorrow, then I may as well enjoy my last meal on Valara.”

Sarah shot a glance at Kevin, then relented. “Alright, but don’t overdo it, dear,” she said, eyeing him warily.

He smirked. “Good job, kids. I knew you would have my back.”

They left together, making their way through the crowd until they came to a stop where a car awaited them, its driver standing outside.

“Mr. Hoyt,” he greeted.

“Jamar,” Kevin greeted. “I would like you to meet my oldest, Auden, and my youngest, Tara. Girls, this is Jamar Weddle. He's been working for us since I retired. He came on full-time last Summer after I had surgery. He graduates next year and plans to attend the Consulate Academy, though his interests are in biology. I think he’ll make an exceptional science officer.”

“Thank you, sir.” After exchanging pleasantries with Auden and Tara, Jamar asked, “Where shall I take you?”

Tara piped up with her suggestion, “Bubba’s Patty Shack.”

He smiled, then shot a glance at Sarah knowingly.

“It’s just for today. The girls strong-armed me,” she joked.

“Well, alright then,” Jamar said as he opened the rear door for the family to climb into the car. “To Bubba’s, we go.”

CHAPTER TWO

Lieutenant Commander Jake “Bone” Boone scratched his beard as he took another hit off his cigarette. He forced the smoke down onto his lungs, lingering on the burning sensation as he fought the need to cough as the high potency of the Valaran tobacco tickled the back of his throat. He hated the new and disgusting habit he had formed out of the grief he felt. It had been six months since his wing commander and mentor, Lieutenant Commander Marcus Williams, had been lost. The word was merely a nice way of saying that Marcus had died, and his remains weren’t found. Jake saw no reason in sugarcoating the truth. Perhaps it was the lack of sugarcoating anything that grated on him to the point that he had sought distractions from his feelings.

Smoking had started as that kind of distraction; something to focus on other than the mounting pressure to take the place of a man whose boots Jake couldn’t fill. Being wing commander had once been a dream, but under the circumstances, it had become a nightmare. Stress had a way of weighing him down, and it didn't take long for his new habit to become a craving companion to the dark, invasive thoughts that often came to his mind.

Marcus had been a good man and one who saw through Jake's scruffy exterior and recognized all the good that Jake wanted to do in service to the Consulate Navy. Marcus was determined to ensure Jake accomplished all of it despite his flaws. For once, Jake had a mentor who cared enough about him to put the work in and see it through. Even Jake saw the improvement that positive mentorship had brought to his life.

But all of that was gone now.

What would Marcus say to me now that I’m trying to be who he used to be, Jake wondered. Probably something like, “You gotta do better than me, boy-oh.” Jake smiled as he thought back on his mentor and his thick, Louisiana accent. As quirky as Marcus was, he was the best wing commander Jake had ever known.

It seemed to Jake that everyone grieved differently. Morale on the CSS Pitfall was at an all-time low. Back-to-back deployments and very near misses during the Heshian Uprising had pushed their operating tempo to the point that they could no longer sustain. Even their in-port period was riddled with hardship. Overburdened and underpaid, somehow, the crew of the Pitfall had become the red-headed stepchild of the fleet. They were already barely getting by on the bare minimum that the Consulate had to offer after the Heshians broke from the Consulate. Tensions with their onetime allies created a culture that bordered on insanity. Never mind the rumors of secret, new weapons systems coming from the Heshian warships. These new threats crippled the Consulate’s ability to properly prepare for encounters with the enemy. Everyone knew the risks, but no one truly understood the stakes.

Not until they realized just how wholly unprepared the Consulate Navy was to face a threat like the Heshians.

Marcus's death was the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak. It was the catalyst that brought the Pitfall hobbling back to Valara to undergo a lapsed maintenance schedule that the ship desperately needed, as well as a reprieve for the exhausted crew.

But no amount of downtime was enough after what they had experienced. After an ambush by a Heshian vessel that nearly destroyed them, the Consulate Navy was silent. There was next to nothing in terms of message traffic to announce any plans to quell the Heshians. Sure, the bulk of the fleet was sent to stand watch within the bounds of Heshian space, observing a culture that had been bred on warfare and did not blink twice at the Consulate’s show of force. Instead, those forces were sent on prolonged deployments away from the heart of the Consulate while ships like the Pitfall were expected to patrol the dark reaches of space without escorts and hope for the best.

Worse yet, they were about to go back out there and face it all over again. This time with a few dozen new crew members who lacked experience.

That was just what they needed. More cannon fodder.

"There she is," he muttered under his breath as smoke vented through his nostrils. "Fresh meat for the grinder."

The docking umbilical that held the Pitfall to the maintenance station orbiting Valara went into self-test as the exterior airlock pressurized. He could hardly see the new officer through the narrow window slits that served as windows on the incoming craft. Not that it mattered, though. He would be the first to meet her. As acting wing commander, he wanted the honor of welcoming any pilots checking aboard. That was another thing he learned from Lieutenant Commander Williams: “Be the first to greet them and the last to say goodbye, and they’ll remember you forever.”

Jake and the other pilots aboard the Pitfall speculated what kind of pilot they were getting once her orders appeared on message traffic the day prior. The billet was a high priority, yet the Consulate Navy took its time filling it. The bureaucracy of the Consulate insinuated that the Pitfall would have to gap the billet left by Williams’s passing. Doing so would have meant one member of their three-man team had to pull double duty to maintain protocol. He was the ranking member, and that responsibility fell on him, whether he wanted it or not. It was bad enough that a ship the size of the Pitfall only carried four fighter spacecraft and half the maintenance crew to maintain them, but they were still expected to perform as if they were fully manned for operations. It would be funny if it weren't true.

According to the message he received from the Consulate Fleet, the new ensign was top of her class and wouldn’t require too much supervision. Jake doubted the accuracy of the latter, but having someone bright enough to excel at the Consulate Academy brought a bit of hope to their situation. Maybe having someone with their head on straight would be a positive change. The crew was seasoned, and that made them cynical. A fresh mind with fresh ideas could, if nothing else, bring some entertainment to the situation. At the end of the day, even if this new pilot was wet behind the ears and needed constant supervision, it would at least allow him to catch a small break now and then.

Maybe... maybe not.

Flashing red lights mounted inside the airlock containment bay flickered as the small craft drew closer to the docking station of the mighty warship. Thrusters pitched the nose of the craft upward, exposing the hatch where it would mate with the Pitfall. Once it was fully seated, the outer airlock cranked open hydraulically. Jake pressed his face against the window and watched as the new check-in stepped into the lock, her dress uniform freshly pressed and her hair in a tight, intense-looking bun. He scoffed at the look of her. He could tell in the first few seconds of laying eyes on her that she was wet behind the ears. Straight from the Consulate Academy, all right, he thought, wait until she sees what the fleet’s really like. I bet her standard for dress will drop just like it did with the rest of us.

The outer airlock hatch closed behind her, and the cycle began again. This time, green lights flashed as the Pitfall accepted the newest addition to their team.

"Welcome aboard, Ensign," he said after taking another drag. Cigarette smoke escaped his mouth as he spoke to her with his hand extended out to her. "I'm Lieutenant Commander Boone, call sign ‘Bone.’ I’m the acting wing commander." He flicked the cigarette butt out into the airlock before it cycled shut. If she noticed, then she didn’t seem bothered by it. He took that as a good sign.

"It's an honor to be here. My name is Ensign Auden Hoyt," she said as she took his hand in a firm shake. “My callsign is to be determined, I suppose.”

He was impressed. He hated it when the female officers didn't have a firm handshake. In the Consulate Navy, that was one of the main ways to let the other person know you were confident and had a backbone. It wasn’t always accurate, but it was hard to convey strength with a weak grip.

"TBD, huh? Works for me. You have a bit of an accent. Did you grow up on Valara?" He saw her wince as his comment seemed to catch her off guard, but he wasn't going to apologize for the assumption if he was wrong.

"I've never been told that I have an accent before," she said with a smile. "But to answer the question, yes, I did grow up on Valara. Where are you from?"

Jake shrugged, satisfied with his assumption. "Where all the best humans are from," he said. "Texas. It’s a place on Earth in case you’ve never heard of it.”

“Sounds nice,” the ensign replied politely.

Jake chuckled. “You got that right. Follow me," Jake led the new ensign into the ship. “My first duty station was the CSS Bettinger. I spent two years attached to it before old age and poor finances led to its decommissioning. It wasn’t an easy transition going from the Betty to the Pity, but it has been interesting.”

Auden snickered at his pet names for the ships he’d been on, and he couldn’t fight back a smile. Jake reflected on the last ten years of his career in the Consulate Navy. In truth, he hadn’t seen very many easy days, least of all the last few years. He wondered if Ensign Hoyt had any idea what she was getting into.

"How long have you been stationed on the Pitfall?" she asked as they turned the corner.

"Just over seven years," he answered. "I was supposed to transfer to a faculty job at the Consulate Academy, but the Heshian Uprising started, and they put a pause on transfers. After that, the death of our wing commander followed, and the need for a suitable replacement forced me into an early promotion and an extension. I should pop for orders in a few months if the Navy doesn’t decide to kick the can down the road on me again."

"Sorry to hear that," she replied sympathetically.

Pleasantries, while nice, didn't quite sit well with Jake. He didn't want pity; he just wanted off the ship and felt he needed to put his experiences on the Pitfall behind him. "Thanks," he said flatly as he rounded the next corner. "This is the ready room. We muster here every morning to go over the day’s flight plan. You’ll have your first shift with me, and the other two fighter pilots will work the second shift. While deployed, we operate on a twenty-hour day to maximize crew rest and lessen fatigue. We're one of the few ships that operate that way, so hopefully, the adjustment from Valaran time doesn't affect you too much."

The ensign had a puzzled expression on her face, and her brow furrowed a split-second before her smile returned. "Does the ship operate on that time while in port or just underway?" she asked.

Jake smirked. "That's a good question. Currently, we’re on Valaran time due to the extended time we've been in port. But we are slated to depart in the morning. Once we detach from the station, our clocks will transition."

Jake opened the door to the ready room and held it open for Auden. "As you can see, it's a tight little room, but we don't need much. Besides, after you've spent ten hours in a fighter cockpit with no one to talk to, this room will feel like a luxury."

"I do not doubt that," Ensign Hoyt interjected. "Part of the reason I wanted to become a pilot was because of my father. I thought I would be selected as a scout pilot, but the Consulate Academy decided I would better serve the fleet as a fighter. I remember that his scout craft was a reconfigured cruiser. It had an updated cockpit with repeater control stations in the living space and cargo hold. It was big enough that you could cram eight people into it and not feel too stuffy."

Jake lifted his eyebrows. "How would you know that?" He asked skeptically.

She shrugged her shoulders and smirked. "He took my family up a couple of times, but that was a long time ago," she replied.

Jake suddenly recognized her last name and connected the dots. Her father must have been the one framed as a traitor before everything disintegrated with the Heshians, he thought. As bad as that situation had to be, imagine where we would be if it had been anyone else. We would be subjugated to the Heshians. At least any of us who survived. Jake shuddered at the thought. "He broke a few rules, huh?" he said, not intending it to be a snide comment. "I didn't mean to be too forward, but with a name like Hoyt, people are probably going to figure it out at some point."

"It's fine, really," she replied. "I experienced enough weird looks and whispers at the Consulate Academy not to be affected by it. When it comes to my dad, I imagine he got away with a lot more than he would ever let on. He always seemed like a stickler for rules while I was growing up, but after what happened, I saw a different version of my dad. It was like peeking behind the curtain.” She stopped talking for a moment, but before the silence could become too awkward, she asked, “Do you mind showing me to my quarters?"

Jake let the door to the ready room shut and nodded. "Certainly, follow me. You're lucky because our quarters are very close to where we were. In fact, I don't know if you noticed, but there's a hatch leading straight down from the ready room to the hangar where our fighters are. We can go from our racks to our fighters in less than ten minutes in an emergency situation."

"Have you ever had to do that?" Auden asked as she followed him down the passageway.

Jake ran his fingers along the bulkhead as he answered her question. "We've done drills where we've had to perform in such a way, but never in a real-life crisis." He stopped and turned to face her, staring into her dark brown eyes. "Thankfully, when the ambush happened several months ago, we were already patrolling. We run drills to stay ready, but let's hope it never becomes necessary for us to man the fighters in a real emergency. The tension is bad enough out there with the pockets of Heshian forces converging toward open revolt against Consulate forces. The last thing we need is for something to happen to put us in an all-out war."

"I heard about what happened to the Pitfall, but most of the official reports I saw were redacted. My understanding was that it was an isolated incident. I’m sorry if I’m not clear on all the details, but do you think a revolt is imminent?" she asked.

Jake turned back around and continued walking before stopping in front of her quarters. "You didn't hear this from me, but I wouldn't doubt if we were a few months away from waging war against the uprising. We can't play police indefinitely, and if the Heshians don't outright attack, there’s bound to be someone who slips up. We can fill you in on the details of what we experienced six months ago, but that's a conversation for another time.” He opened the door and helped set her bags inside. “I imagine you want to unpack and dress in something less official. I’ll have someone come and get you for dinner in an hour. That should be enough time for you to unpack, right?"

Auden nodded as she bit her lower lip. He felt bad for scaring her, but he didn't see any reason to sugarcoat it. She was in the fleet now. He and the other pilots would have to rely on her to cover their six at some point. If she was nervous about the future and couldn't handle that, then how would she be able to handle an incoming enemy attack should that time ever come?

"All right," she said thoughtfully. “I’ll see you at chow?”

Jake nodded and began to walk away, but paused and placed a hand on her shoulder, meeting her gaze. "Welcome to the Pitfall, Ensign Hoyt. We’re happy to have you."

CHAPTER THREE

Though it wasn't her first time on a naval vessel, Auden struggled to come to terms with her new reality. The stateroom was not large, but it was sufficient. A bed large enough for one person to lay down comfortably was accented with a nightstand and a lockable wardrobe with drawers inside of it. On the opposite bulkhead sat a small desk with built-in chair. She imagined her mother would say that it was quaint, but the thought of using that word for describing her berth inside of a starship made her shudder.

This was a war machine, and she doubted its builders were going for quaint.

A knock at the door distracted Auden from unpacking her bags. She stepped over, careful not to trip over the loose items she had dumped out onto the deck and peeked out of the door to see a cheerful expression greeting her. "Hello, are you Ensign Hoyt?" the female lieutenant asked. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a bun with loose strands falling just in front of her ears. Her flight suit was wrinkled, and she wore only one patch, her name tag denoting her call sign, Spunky.

"Yes, I'm Ensign Hoyt," Auden replied as she fully opened the door. She watched as Spunky glanced past her at the mess strung along the deck.

"Are you having a hard time unpacking your things?" she asked.

Auden scoffed and looked back at the mess. "Here I was worried that I brought too little, but now I can't seem to find a place for everything that I packed," she replied.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

Feeling as if she were absentmindedly being rude, Auden stepped back and let the woman inside. "Sorry, but I didn't get your name," Auden said as the lieutenant practically bounced into her stateroom. There was an energy about the blond-headed woman’s presence that contradicted the personality she saw in the wing commander, Lieutenant Boone. Though if Spunky was her call sign, it seemed to fit her well.

"Oh, sorry, my name is Tina, Tina Bounds," the lieutenant responded as she extended her hand to Auden.

Auden took it and noticed the firm handshake, assuming that Tina was raised the same way she had been. Auden’s father often said that first impressions were lasting impressions and that it was important to show confidence up front rather than try and gain it later. The easiest way to present such confidence was in a handshake.

"My name is Auden," Auden replied. “Forgive the mess."

“Don’t worry about that, you should see my stateroom. The trick is only unpacking the things you know that you need and leaving the rest in your pack. Just tuck them into a corner. Before long, it will blend in with the furniture," Tina joked.

"That's not a bad idea," Auden said with a grin. “So, why did you stop by?" she asked, hoping that the question didn’t come across as rude.

Based on the smile emanating from the lieutenant, Auden knew she was safe. “Jake sent me to get you for chow," she answered. "He likes it when all the pilots have dinner together. Says it builds camaraderie. I guess he likes having people to sit around and talk to."

Doesn’t seem like much of a talker to me, Auden thought to herself. "Is there any particular uniform I should wear to the chow hall?" Auden asked as she glanced down at her dress uniform jacket laid across the back of a chair while the rest of her uniforms were haphazardly folded and piled on the bed.

"Definitely not the chokers," Tina said as she pointed to the dress uniform. "The chow hall is the farthest away from having a formal dining experience you can imagine. There's no need to dress up for that level of disappointment."

Auden laughed. She thought about the times her father mentioned food on the bigger ships. He had spent most of his career as a scout pilot, but it wasn't until the last half of his career that he was able to avoid the larger vessels altogether. Those days seemed like so long ago when Auden would miss her father while he was deployed. Now, she missed him for other reasons. And with his health concerns over the past year, she had reservations about being too far away from him.

"All right, I’ll get changed into something more comfortable.”

Tina shifted towards the door, "I’ll step outside while you get changed. Don't worry about trying to find your way around; I'll lead you there. We don’t want our new guy lost on her first day," Tina said with a wink.

Auden smiled, “No, we don't want that at all," she said, smirking at the idea she could lose herself on the massive war vessel and how embarrassing that would be. Especially if people knew she grew up a Navy brat, not that her dad being in the military necessarily meant she would be born with the innate ability to traverse a naval vessel. Still, why give people reason to talk?

“I’ll be out in just a moment,” Auden said, thankful to have something else to focus on rather than where to put all her stuff.

Maybe Tina is right, just leave the nonessentials in my bags and store the important items in my wardrobe? She looked at the pile and shrugged. “I’ll take care of that later.”

In the meantime, she riffled through her uniforms until she found a flight suit. “May as well get comfy now,” she said with a smile, proud of the fact that she was finally a pilot serving on her first ship. She hoped it was a joy that lasted.

Tina led Auden to the wardroom, practically prancing her way there. Auden couldn't hold back a smile for the obvious reason why the lieutenant had the call sign that she did. Spunky fit her like a glove.

"Have you been on the Pitfall long?" Auden asked.

Tina looked back at the newcomer, walking the short distance backward as he replied, "A little over a year. This is my second ship." The lieutenant spun around and continued her trek towards the wardroom.

"Active duty on a ship's challenging. Did you choose a back-to-back rotation?" Auden asked, her curiosity piqued.

Tina reached out and ran her fingers along the bulkhead as they rounded the next corner and down another passageway. "I didn't choose the boat life, the boat life chose me," she replied sarcastically. "It was a timing thing. My old boat was getting decommissioned, and I had less than two years on board, so the Navy wanted to send me to finish my time. But to answer your question, it would be majorly challenging if I've been doing this for as long as it sounds like I have been. I’m technically just finishing out my time before I rotate to Terran duty."

"You're technically still in your first tour? That must mean you advanced to lieutenant recently," Auden said.

Tina stopped outside the door leading into the wardroom. She looked back at Auden with a wide smile. "Absolutely. You do as much time in a fighter as we do, and then you’ll be pinning on these bars, too. I got pinned a little over a month ago."

"Congratulations," Auden said.

Tina winked, and Auden was beginning to think that it was Tina’s trademark expression based on the twenty minutes she’d known her.

"Here we are. Welcome to the wardroom, Ensign Hoyt. This is your first time entering so you'll see a bell to your left. It’s our tradition that the new person rings it one time when they enter the first time."

"Really?"

Tina eyed her for a second. "You don’t want to be the one who bucks tradition, do you?"

"One ring? I guess I can do that," Auden replied sheepishly.

Tina opened the door and presented the open pathway as if revealing a prize. "Newbies first," she said with a toothy grin.

Auden paused and sucked in a deep breath as she stepped into the wardroom. It seemed that chow hours had just started, and the room was filled almost at capacity. She was surprised that so many officers were attached to the ship. Then again, the Pitfall was one of the largest vessels in the Consulate Navy in terms of size. It was the ship’s age and the change in the way the fleet utilized its older ships that would have warranted a downsizing in manning, but from what she could tell, there were still plenty of people aboard.

Auden stopped on the other side of the doorway, looking down to her left at the brass bell mounted on the deck. She gripped the braided rope and struck it with an eager blow.

As the ring reverberated around the room, more than two dozen men and women quickly rose from their seats and stood at attention. Auden suddenly felt out of place, drawing attention to herself. Her eyes were wide, and she glanced from side to side, wondering why everyone had done that.

Laughter erupted from the passageway behind her, and Auden turned to see Tina, Jake, and another pilot laughing hysterically at her.

"I don’t understand," Auden said as Jake entered the wardroom.

"Carry on, everyone. It's just the latest addition to the air wing. Please welcome Ensign Hoyt to the wardroom," he said loudly, projecting his voice.

The mass of people applauded and dropped back into their seats. Auden still was not sure what had happened, but she couldn’t hold back a grin.

"Why did everyone do that?" she asked.

"Did you read the bell before ringing it?" Jake asked as he stepped into the wardroom.

"No," Auden said as she looked down at the bell. She had to lean in to read the inscription etched into the shiny brass. It read, "Commanding Officer".

She glanced up at the other pilots, whose faces were red from laughing at her expense, only for them to burst out once more with laughter.

"Seriously?” she asked. “Can’t I get in trouble for that?”

"Don't be upset about it," Jake replied. "It's just a little light hazing on your first day. It’s part of the tradition," he said with a laugh. “And no, you wouldn’t get in trouble for that. If anything, the captain’s wrath would fall on me, but he’s a good sport, all things considered.”

Auden smiled as she replayed the situation in her mind. She should have seen the signs, but she hadn’t expected to be hazed the first day she arrived. She had to admit that it was funny. "So, how many people fall for that?" She asked as she wound her way through the line for food.

Tina patted Auden on her shoulder and answered, "Everybody."

"That’s right,” Jake chimed. “You're in good company. Now, let’s get some chow and hit our racks. We have a big day tomorrow."

Auden sat with her new crew in the wardroom, laughing hysterically at the banter between Jake and Tina. She recognized something between them, perhaps not romantic, but close to it.

A distraction drew her eyes to Lieutenant Robert Hinton. He had tears in his eyes from laughing, and with each new outburst, he patted his feet on the deck. In many ways, his reactions were just as funny as the jokes between Tina and Jake.

Okay, that's enough of that," Jake said, struggling to wipe the smirk off his face. "Hoyt is going to think we’re nothing more than a bunch of jackals. Let’s steer the conversation back to getting to know her. Tell us, what was it like growing up on Valara? We’ve only visited during port calls. Most of this crew either grew up on Earth or colony worlds."

Auden shrugged. She hadn't considered her life on Valara until after the conspiracy that sent her family on the run from the Consulate Navy five years prior. It wasn't until she recognized what she had to lose that she became truly grateful for all that she had. The experience drew her family closer, especially between her and Tara. Still, it was hard to put into words how her experiences might have been different from those who grew up on colonies. Besides Carnac, Valara was the only world she’d been on.

"I wish I could say what makes it different than other worlds, but I’ve only traveled outside of the system once," she replied, not wanting to get into the fact that her one time exiting the Valara System was as a fugitive.

Tina drew closer, leaning her arms on the table as she asked, “Can you tell us what you like about Valara?" She asked. “We’ve only traveled down from the Valaran station once since we docked. We spent a few days shacked up in a hotel and enjoyed some hot showers and the local food. We didn’t get much of a chance to see what Valara had to offer outside of that." She stole a glance at Jake, and Auden read something between them, she still wasn’t sure exactly what it was.

"The southern hemisphere has a lot of volcanoes, so travel during eruptions can be difficult. I grew up in the northern hemisphere and during the winter my family traveled to Ivory Island. It’s the largest island on Valara, and the scenery was beautiful. The sand was pure white, and the mountain range was a very pale granite color. It’s probably my favorite place to visit," Auden answered.

Jake leaned in, elbows on the table, and asked, "Have you ever seen a live eruption?"

“No, all of the volcanoes are active, and they do put out gas, but the last major eruption was more than a century ago."

“Sounds like Valara might be due for another eruption if you ask me," Jake said as he leaned back in his seat, crossing his hands behind his head nonchalantly. "Can you imagine watching a major eruption taking place from orbit?"

"That sounds both awesome and terrifying," Tina answered.

“Are there no volcanoes where you're from?" Auden asked skeptically. She had seen footage of the last eruption and the devastation it left behind, but it wasn't on her bucket list of things to witness in her life. If not for the evacuation orders, many people would have perished.

"We have volcanoes on Earth," he replied, "but the last eruption we have records of wasn't that impressive. The ones that happened thousands of years ago were reportedly much more devastating. I believe the last one of note happened about fifty years ago outside of a major city in the northwestern portion of North America. That’s the continent I grew up on."

"Was it deadly?" Auden asked curiously.

"There were a few hundred people who didn’t evacuate, but that’s their problem, right? They had advanced notice. They should have listened to good sense. I guess that’s one way the gene pool can self-correct itself?"

Auden’s jaw hit the floor. Those were people’s lives that were lost. She couldn’t believe someone could be that insensitive. “Maybe it wasn’t their fault?” she said flatly.

“I’m just messing with you,” Jake said, chuckling at his joke. “There were no casualties reported for that one.” Tina and Robert joined in, pointing at Auden.

“You should have seen your face. You looked like you wanted to slap the ugly off him,” Robert said, his feet patting the floor as he laughed.

Auden scoffed. “You got me. That’s twice,” she noted, trying to keep herself from sounding resentful. Auden sucked in a breath as she rose from her seat to put her tray away. She considered a comeback. Before stepping away, she leaned in and said, “Just remember, it’s all fun and games until the prankster becomes the prey.”

“Oh wow!” Robert barked and fell into another laughing fit, his feet running beneath his seat. It was then that Auden noticed the name tag on his uniform. His callsign was under his last name, Tap Dancer. Fitting, she thought with a smirk.

Jake and Tina smiled toothy grins and reclined back, their eyes beaming.

“Bring it, Grasshopper,” Jake said. “Bring it.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Davanis had always been a soldier.

He never tried to hide the fact that he was born into money, never mind the fact it was dirty, political money, but money, nonetheless. Despite his good fortune, however, he had little to show for it as an adult. Perhaps that was why he was willing to throw it all away and pledge to take part in the uprising. With nothing to lose, and everything to gain, it seemed like the only reasonable option for someone in his situation.

As he walked the dark, narrow passageways of his ship, he contemplated the twists and turns that his life had taken to get him to this point. A few short years ago, he was ready to put his life on the line for the values that had been instilled in him as he took his oath to preserve the integrity and supremacy of the Heshian race.

Now, he wondered if the pontifications of now-dead men were nothing more than words intended to spark an emotional response and toy with irrational fears.

Either way, there was no going back to normalcy for him.

He had made his bed, and now it was time to lie in it.

But unlike his peers, he would do so by taking every advantage set before him and honoring his ancestors through military dominance. Whether he would survive was not the question. It was how he would live until his inevitable death that was of more importance.

On the outskirts of the Solar System, his ship prowled. He had less than three dozen men on a vessel that could support nearly a hundred. These men from his crew were the holdouts. The ones who would not cower before the Consulate’s lies. Those unwilling to lay down arms for the fabricated false peace brokered by the Consulate, who sought to enslave his people and declare themselves merciful.

Defiance was the only way to stop what was coming. To put an end to the charade and expose the Consulate for who they really are. Revolution was the game he had his eyes set on. Perhaps exposure would bring the Consulate’s little castle of sand crashing to the ground without the need to fire a single shot. If not, then the thought of all-out war gave these men purpose. In fact, they welcomed it.

For some aboard the Tryngas, that was all that he had left. A fight that had been festering for years.

"Good evening, sir," Brako, the Tryngas’s Tactical Officer, as well as Davanis’s First Officer, said as Davanis stepped onto the bridge. "There's been no messages dispatched today."

Davanis huffed, the sound of a guttural growl emanating from his lips as he took a seat on the bridge. "Why am I not surprised?” He said, more out of irritation than rhetorically. His fingers scrolled across the small pad mounted next to his chair as he scanned the last message sent from the upper echelon of what was known about the Heshian uprising. He hated the way they made the word uprising sound as if it was automatically a bad thing to want something else out of life. It was insanity to believe the lies coming from the Consulate. Their propaganda made it sound as if the Heshians were fighting one another.

That was the furthest thing from the truth. If anything, what they were doing should've been labeled emancipation as those primed for a restructure of the Consulate form of government fought to remove and future Heshian involvement within their hallowed chambers. Those who would allow such action were traitors to their own people. It didn't take much effort to realize that to exclude the Heshians from the Consulate was to force them into bondage. The Consulate’s occupation of Heshian space was merely the start of their tyranny. It wouldn’t stop there, Davanis knew that for a fact, no matter what some in the Heshian government said to appease the enemy.

There was no virtue in forcing slavery onto other people. But the Consulate claimed the title, nonetheless.

Davanis and his men had been dispatched to Earth as a warning. The humans knew they were there. They even hailed Davanis's ship when they first entered the sector, but no response was necessary. Instead, their quiet, stoic presence said all that they needed to.

Heshian revolutionaries at the back door of humanity's birthplace had to draw attention from those in power within the Consulate. To ignore the threat to the pathetic humans on Earth would be an insult. They were a coddled race of entitled children unwilling to rise beyond their station without stepping on the necks of those they considered less than themselves. They would pay. Davanis would see to that.

"Have any ships exited the system?" Davanis asked as he flipped off the screen and gave his attention back to Brako.

"Only a supply ship, sir," Brako replied. “I was unable to view their travel log or the manifest for what goods were being shipped. Do you believe that should be cause for concern?"

Davanis’s lips curled into a toothy snarl. He contemplated what that information could be. Sure, there could be food and other goods dispatched from Earth to any of the other human colonies. But it could also be the deployment of troops that the cowardly humans wanted to keep hidden using shipping vessels. They couldn’t be trusted. They were as conniving as they were cunning.

"How long ago did they depart?"

"Two hours ago," Brako replied.

“I tire of waiting for an opportunity to act. We’ve waited long enough. Do we have time to catch up to them?" Davanis asked. His confidence in the maneuverability of his ship led him to want to pursue the freighter, regardless of the lack of orders.

"If we burn hard enough, we should catch up to them," Brako said after a few seconds of calculations on the console. "Though, we should maintain stealth to ensure they won’t discover us following them," he warned.

"Agreed. Do it. I'm tired of waiting for action in this system. If our leaders cannot find a strategic use for our position, we will find it for ourselves."

A smirk spread across Brako’s face as he took his seat. His fingers danced along the console, plotting a trajectory to put them on the heels of the human scum. "Yes, sir," he said enthusiastically. "I was hoping that you would say that."

Davanis leaned back in his seat. He knew he would get an earful for leaving their post, but the crew was getting stir-crazy and needed to blow off steam if for no other reason than to ease the tension. The Tryngas was equipped with a weapon that needed to be tested. In fact, it had two technological advances that the Consulate did not know of.

Each could impact the way the Heshians fought in combat. First was the neural destabilizer, a weapon intended to cast a frequency across space that disrupted the brainwaves of its target. The second was a prototype for transporter technology. Initially intended to transport equipment from one ship to another, a different use had recently presented itself. It was discovered that when in close enough range, the transporter could work on biological agents. This discovery came as a shock to Davanis and his crew, but it had worked. So well that the human prisoner was still aboard the Tryngas at this very moment.

This situation could offer his crew the opportunity to test the weapon again. If all else failed, then at least their raid would be a useful way to resupply the Tryngas’s diminished stores, even though what the humans constituted as food was often disgusting to the Heshian palates.

"Keep me abreast of the situation and let me know when we’re close," Davanis said as he rose from his seat. "I want to discuss our plan with Mantius to ensure the boarding party will be ready."

"Yes, sir," Brako replied as his eyes focused on the console before him.

Davanis walked off the bridge and made his way to the cargo hold where his crew spent their time. Despite the size of the ship, the open cargo hold was often the central area for the crew to spend their time. It was outfitted to serve as a gym for the crew to stay in shape. Aft of the cargo hold was the armory. It only made sense for the crew to stay close to the weapons if something went down.

Something like taking a human shipping vessel hostage to force the Consulate to bow to the Heshians’ demands.

Davanis heard voices as he descended the ladder well leading into the cargo hold. He resisted the urge to slide down the rails on his hands as many of the younger crewmembers did. He hated to admit that he was getting old. Somewhere in his life, the risk of injury weighed more heavily on his mind than the necessity of efficiency. Saving a second or two descending the ladder wasn't worth a broken bone.

Instead, he took the steps one at a time, exercising patience that was only formed with old age.

"Attention on deck!" One of his men shouted as the captain entered the cargo hold.

"Carry on," Davanis said as he marched forward. His eyes scanned the crowd in search of their team leader. "Where's Mantius?"

"I'm here, sir," Mantius said as he rose from a weight bench. The Heshian dusted off his hands as he lumbered towards the commanding officer. Corded muscle rippled beneath crimson, scaly skin as he approached.

Davanis smirked as he thought about how the humans would view Mantius as a monster once he boarded the ship. It was no secret that humans thought that way of Heshian's regardless of size and power. It was ironic that those who accused others of monstrosities were often guilty of the same.

The humans will learn what a monster truly is before this is done, he thought as Mantius stood before him.

"Yes, sir?"

Davanis glanced around the room and noticed all eyes were on him. It was a captive audience, and he was pleased. "Brako saw a human shipping vessel pass this part of the sector a couple of hours ago. We are going to seize the ship and take hostages. If our leaders don’t want to force the Consulate to act, then we will do it. I don't desire to kill everyone on board, as it’s more difficult to negotiate without hostages. But if your people are fired upon, then I expect them to take appropriate action. Do you understand?"

“I do understand, sir.” Mantius smiled with anticipation, and Davanis saw elation in the younger man's yellow eyes. "Is this the beginning, sir?"

"If all goes according to plan," Davanis said, "This will be the beginning of the end. Have your people prepared. I’ll update you when it’s time."

Davanis turned to leave as the gathered mass of his crew shouted jubilantly. This was what they had been waiting for.

And Davanis was the one providing it to them. A fact he doubted any of them would fail to recognize when they ultimately returned home as heroes.

CHAPTER FIVE

Commander Silas Monroe held his head in his hands.

It was just past midnight on the morning of the Pitfall’s next deployment when he received the message from her lawyers. Fifteen years of marriage were down the drain, citing irreconcilable differences, and just like that he was alone. “Irreconcilable differences,” he seethed through his teeth. “You never gave me a chance to reconcile.”

He supposed that he shouldn't be surprised. Within weeks of returning from the last deployment, his wife had filed for separation. She told him that she simply needed to figure things out and that there was no way to do that without having some personal space. Silas had scoffed at the idea initially, noting that the deployment had given them plenty of separation. Still, somewhere in the back of his mind, he held onto the hope that reconciliation was imminent.

I read over the message again, noting that the next step in their separation agreement would be to negotiate alimony and a steep cut to his retirement pension. "If I live that long," he muttered under his breath as he swiped at the screen, so he no longer had to look at the message from her team of lawyers.

Whatever she thought he had done that required dissolving their marriage into dust was beyond him, and he didn't have a leg to stand on to keep her lawyers from dismantling everything he had ever worked towards. Had she ever loved him, or had he been blind to the truth for so long that he took comfort in the lie?

A part of him didn’t want to know the answer to that question.

Silas rose from his seat and paced on the bridge. There were four empty seats, each one a station for an important role. The inhabitants of those seats knew their place within the command structure. They were the pillars that allowed for a successful mission. None of them acted selfishly because they all realized that working together ensured greater success. It didn't take long to build cohesion within that team, and each one of them would sacrifice everything to ensure the others survived. How do you put that sort of dedication into words? Once upon a time, he would have said marriage, but that didn't work the way he thought it would.

The crazy thing was that Silas understood more about leading a ship and what was necessary to be successful in that aspect of his life than he did about what he needed to know to keep and maintain a healthy marriage.

I should have listened to my mother, he mused. Either way, it was too late now. He wasn’t going to be able to fix this while deployed, yet again, for an indeterminable amount of time. To make things worse, all correspondence between him and his wife was to be vetted through her legal representation. It was ridiculous. Merely checking to see if everything was all right with the home that they shared had to be mulled over by a mob chomping at the bit to take him to the bank. It was a sad day for matrimony, that was sure.

Silas glanced at the time, noting that in less than eight hours, the Pitfall was scheduled to dispatch from Valara Station and begin its deployment. With his life in shambles, there was nothing Silas could do to stop the inevitable.

Exhausted from a day’s work, he needed sleep, but there was no way he could sleep after receiving such dreadful news. Instead, he collapsed onto his seat and contemplated his life decisions. Each one leading to that moment in his life where he had met his wife immediately came to mind. She was the one who encouraged him to continue with the Consulate Navy for a career. She was the one who insisted that he go for the promotion, which ultimately resulted in him taking command of the Pitfall. And it was she who decided that his decision to follow her direction was too much of a strain between them.

And, yet again, it was her decision to throw away years of marriage when it resulted in hardship for her.

Regretfully, he just now noticed the trend.

“I was blinded by my own desires,” he said, his words an admission of the guilt he’d carried for so long. They did nothing to ease his pain. They merely kept the embers burning as what was once love in his heart decayed into something he was not yet ready to admit.

That day would come. As would a reckoning. But not yet. Perhaps not even in this life, he thought begrudgingly as he rose from his seat and headed toward his quarters.

Silas switched off the lights on the bridge, casting it in the dull glow of the console monitors. He glanced out of the small porthole at Valara Station and contemplated how much different his life would have been had he stayed home. At this point, it seemed that his entire life was a waste.

He shoved open the hatch leading out to the passageway and made his way to his in-port cabin. The guard outside the bridge popped tall and shouted, "Attention on deck!" There was no one else to come to attention within the confines of the passageway.

Silas looked the man over, taking note of his wrinkled uniform and unshaven face. "Let me ask you something, young man. Do you think that it is acceptable for you to not make yourself presentable just because you're standing the late watch?"

The sailor stood tall, and Silas noted his name by glancing at the name tag sewn above his right breast pocket. It read Miller. "No, sir," the sailor answered after a pause. "I just didn't have an opportunity to shave after my shift, sir."

Silas glowered down his nose at Miller and gritted his teeth. The stench of a pitiful excuse grated on his nerves. Silas knew that the kind of hostility he felt coursing through his veins would only make the situation worse if he allowed himself to unleash on Miller. He already struggled with keeping the reins on his command and the Pitfall’s ever-worsening morale. He bit his tongue and refrained from saying something that he might regret. "Next time, take the time."

"Yes, sir," Miller replied, his eyes wide with fear and his face two shades paler than it had been moments before.

"Carry on," Silas said as he stomped away and headed for his cabin.

Every minute issue on his ship mirrored his fractured life. If he couldn't command the rank and file of personnel to maintain a proper uniform, then how did he expect himself to have some semblance of normalcy in his personal life? Ever since taking command of the Pitfall, he had spent less than two months in his own bed. Of course, that would've been different had his wife not filed for separation upon his return from the previous deployment, but having command of this ship was a significant source of his woes. I thought I was a good leader, but maybe not, he thought. Maybe I just romanticize what I think life on this ship is truly like and let it sway my opinion on the job I’m doing.

Silas continued his route to his in-port cabin, noting the discrepancies that had gone uncorrected during their time ported at Valara Station. Even a fresh coat of paint along the bulkhead appeared to be too high an expectation for six months of downtime. “Maybe I would have taken note sooner if I weren't so distracted by my life falling apart around me,” he grumbled under his breath. Who do I have to thank, my wife, or my life decisions, for imprisoning me in this nightmare?

He shoved open the door to his cabin and stepped into the darkness. It was a full ten degrees cooler than it had been on the bridge and would be perfect for sleeping under any other circumstance. But he knew sleep might be a struggle as he waged war with himself, beating himself up over things that he couldn’t change because he knew of no other way to deal with the pain he was going through.

It was more than losing his wife. There was crippling guilt over the choices he had made when the Pitfall fell under attack and Lieutenant Commander Williams was lost. Right after that, he began to distance himself from Nathalia. Was that the reason she wanted the divorce? It could be anything for all I know. She won't say. Maybe it’s better if I don't know.

Silas looked at the clock and at how long he would have to suffer in silence before returning to work. "Sometimes, I just wish this would all be over," he said as he removed his jacket and dropped it onto the deck before collapsing, half-dressed, onto his bed. He kicked off his boots and let them drop haphazardly onto the deck, the metallic portion of the magnetic clamps clattering against the steel. "Maybe the universe will show me favor, and let me die in my sleep," he whispered like a prayer of desperation as he reclined onto his pillow and stared at the overhead.

He lay there for what seemed like hours, thinking about everything troubling him and forming patterns out of the dim details on the ceiling until he finally drifted into slumber. It was a welcome relief, but not the reprieve that he desired.

That was just his luck.

CHAPTER SIX

Auden woke up to the sound of reveille being played over the ship’s communication system. She frantically jumped out of her rack and grabbed her flight suit from the back of a chair where she had laid it out the night before. She had every intention of waking early to be prepared for her first full day, and not to sleep through the alarm she had set.

Or had she set the alarm?

She hopped over to the nightstand while she tried to pull the flight suit up over her legs, imagining that she looked like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time. Auden tripped and caught herself against the bulkhead. Glancing at the alarm switch, she realized that it was turned off.

"You set yourself up for failure on your first day at work," Auden chided herself. She blew a tuft of dark hair off her face, pulled her uniform over her shoulders, and zipped it up. Then, she walked the three steps to her boots and slipped them on, thankful that her underway boots clipped into place instead of having to be laced.

This wasn't her first time in space, but it was her first time on a Navy ship wearing the proper attire. The magnets were designed to keep her feet planted on the deck, just in case the vessel had to perform evasive maneuvers or rotate for deceleration in what many referred to as a flip and burn. In the best of circumstances, she would be seated for such an event. If not, then she would have to rely on her boots and something to hold onto to keep her from busting her head open if she was tossed about.

Auden pulled her hair back into a messy bun as someone knocked on her stateroom door.

Auden opened it to a greeting she wasn't expecting. "Rise and shine, Boot," Lieutenant Tina Bounds said with a large, toothy smile. Her eyes sparkled with elation. This woman has way too much energy for this early in the morning, Auden thought.

“Hi, I’m sorry I'm late," Auden said sheepishly as she stepped out the door and into the passageway.

"Don't worry about it, it's your first day," Tina said as she brushed her elbow against Auden's. "Besides, Jake figured you would forget about the time change not happening until we were underway. Sometimes it can be confusing. This ship’s time takes some getting used to, that's for sure."

"I didn't forget about the time change," Auden replied. "But I did forget to set my alarm. I woke to the sound of reveille being played a bit overzealously." She chuckled and brushed another loose tuft of hair out of her face.

“Some of these guys standing the Petty Officer of the Watch like to challenge each other on how loud and obnoxious they can be over the ship’s intercom system. Admittedly, the one playing reveille this morning was among the most obnoxious,” Tina explained. She looked over at Auden, "You didn't hear me say that."

Auden glanced over at Tina as a grin spread across her lips. "Hear you say what?"

"That’s what I’m talking about." Tina regained her usual confident swagger as she led Auden to the ready room. "Speaking of overzealous. We’re waiting to hear the captain make his announcement of the day. Usually, there’s not much to report, but his daily announcements tend to grow more dramatic as the days pass. They might not be enlightening, but they can be somewhat fun to listen to. That is, if cringy is fun for you. If I didn't know any better, I would've sworn that he gave up a life of acting to pursue a career with the Consulate,” she paused for a moment before continuing. “And then decided that he regretted the decision," Tina said sardonically.

"It's that bad?"

"You have no idea," Tina said. “It’s only gotten worse over time, like he’s missing a part of his life he will never get back. I mean, there was the loss of Lieutenant Commander Williams, but some of the changes in the captain’s behavior were happening before then.” Tina looked around to see if anyone was listening in before continuing, “The good news is that I'll probably be scheduled to scout the area during those times."

"And the bad news?" Auden asked with skepticism in her voice.

Tina turned to the young ensign and couldn’t fight back a smile. "The bad news is you’re scheduled for day flights as the rookie, and you’ll have the opportunity to hear the captain talk every morning for his daily announcement and every night before you go to sleep. It’ll be a double dose of awesome for you!"

"Great, I can't wait," Auden replied, pitching her voice up, trying to match the enthusiasm that the Petty Officer of the Watch used when announcing reveille.

"Give it time," Tina said. "You'll see what I’m talking about."

As the two of them stepped inside, the ready room was like a tomb. The lights were dimmed, while Jake Boone and Robert Hinton reclined back in their seats. At first, it looked like they were sleeping, then Auden realized they were simply staring vacantly at the overhead.

Jake held a lit cigarette in his hand as he motioned to the empty seat next to him, and Auden moved closer. “How was your first night?”

“I slept well considering how nervous I was,” she admitted as she occupied the seat next to him.

Jake pulled a drag from the cigarette and blew it out slowly. “It’ll be a different experience once we’re underway. The ship has a hum to it when the drives are fully online. It’s distracting at first, but then it almost becomes a bit of a lullaby.” Jake sat up and craned his neck, popping a few vertebrae. He rubbed at the side of his neck and continued. “Of course, eventually, you’ll discover that you can fall asleep anywhere, regardless of how uncomfortable it is.”

“Like in the cockpit of a fighter?” Auden asked.

Jake nodded. “Not often, but sometimes you fade without realizing it. When you’re tired, I suggest programming your radio to key every five or ten minutes. The sound will stir you enough to keep you from falling into too deep a sleep. But you didn’t hear that from me.” He winked as he took a final pull from his smoke and put it out in the ashtray attached to his seat.

Auden smiled. “Of course, not. What’s on the schedule for today?”

“You’re up, kid,” Tina said from across the room. She lifted the flight schedule up and displayed it like she was a game show host. “You’re going out with Jake before the ship departs to patrol the area. It’s just a precautionary measure.”

Auden couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Really? I get to fly on my first day of duty?” She had expected to undergo some fleet training before being let loose in a fighter on day one.

Jake shrugged. “Sure, why not? I figured you would like to see Valara one last time from the cockpit of a fighter rather than watch it on a monitor feed from the bridge.”

Auden nearly leaped over her seat to hug him, but resisted carrying through with the potentially awkward situation. “Thank you! That’s amazing.” Auden couldn’t fight back the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Of course, you know what that means, don’t you?” Tina asked as she filled a water bottle from a fountain mounted on the bulkhead.

Unsure of what Tina meant, Auden looked at her with confusion. “No. What?”

“It means you’ll miss the captain’s pre-deployment announcement. He always has the best speeches before leaving homeport... You poor girl.” Tina flashed a wink in Auden’s direction.

That comment roused laughter from everyone in the room. Lieutenant Robert Hinton’s feet were already tapping rapidly against the deck as he giggled maniacally.

Auden wiped a small tear from her eye from laughing so hard and said, “I’m sure I’ll survive. Besides, I haven’t even met him yet.”

Her words caused Jake to lunge forward in his seat. “Oh no, I forgot to introduce you to him yesterday.”

Auden’s eyes widened as she looked at her wing commander. “Is that bad?” She asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Hinton scoffed. “Not for you, but your boy Jake is going to hear about it.”

Jake scowled. “Last time I spoke to him, he seemed pretty distracted. I wanted to give him some space, but with the news of your arrival on short notice, I guess I failed to schedule a meeting for you two.”

“Should we try to meet with him now before we head out?” Auden asked.

Jake shrugged. “It wouldn't hurt to try. Worst case scenario, he tells us to come back later. Or he’ll chew me out on the spot.”

That comment elicited a chortle from Hinton.

Auden rose and tried adjusting her uniform. “I’m ready when you are.”

Jake smiled. “Aren’t you easily enthused?”

“Jake, give her a break. You know everyone is like that on their first tour in the fleet,” Tina scolded. “I bet even Jake ‘Bone’ Boone was excited on his first day.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I hear you. I’m just messing around.” He rose and pulled the zipper of his flight suit up from where it had ridden down while he slouched in his seat. “Let’s go, kid. Better beat him to the bridge and hope he doesn’t realize I screwed up yesterday.”

Robert and Tina laughed, but Auden wasn’t sure if Jake had been kidding or not.

She followed him out of the ready room, and together, they headed for the bridge.

It wasn’t a far walk, but it was a windy one. The ready room was situated on the main deck with immediate access to the hangar bay where the fighters were clamped into place. The bridge was three levels above that and a few hundred meters forward.

The Pitfall was designed so that each level could be individually cut off from one another in case of a breach, so that the rest of the ship didn’t lose atmosphere. Because of that, no ladder wells went up or down multiple levels in succession. Each passage to the next level went through what Jake had told her was called the ‘cheese grater.’

“If there’s a breach in one of the levels, each access point will close immediately. It doesn’t matter what is between the levels when the alarm blasts. The mechanical hatches will slam shut and cut through anything in their way.”

“That sounds more like a cigar cutter than a cheese grater,” Auden said.

Jake laughed. “Not everything gets its nickname based on logic. Most of the time, you can find a hundred reasons not to call something by what the fleet calls it, but the old nickname is what sticks.”

Auden nodded her understanding. She had heard similar stories from her father, and when asked, he always alluded to the fact that that was just the way it is. Those little tidbits and stories always excited her as a kid. It seemed that she was going to have her own stories where she would likely give the same answers when pressed.

That was something that she could live with.

Jake stopped in front of the hatch leading into the bridge and pulled it open for her. The inside was well-lit and bustling with activity. There were a few officers and a couple of enlisted crewmen manning the four stations. All eyes looked in her direction, anticipating the skipper’s arrival.

“Should I say anything?” Auden asked as Jake stepped past her.

“No. Just ring the bell and avoid eye contact at all costs.”

She canted her head toward him to see a mischievous smile spreading across his face. “Seriously, again?”

Jake accompanied his smile with a shrug. “I gotta get all the jokes out now, or I’ll be tempted to play tricks on you while we’re out there.” He motioned to the monitor feed displaying the dark expanse of space beyond Valara.

The hatch opened again, and someone on the bridge shouted, “Attention on deck!”

Everyone snapped to attention.

“Carry on,” Commander Monroe said as he stepped past the two pilots. He gave a weary nod to Jake before turning his attention to Auden. “We have a new ensign, I see.”

“Ensign Hoyt,” Auden said, extending her hand to him.

He took it and smiled. “Welcome aboard. I anticipated meeting you yesterday, but I’m assuming your wing commander was busy preparing for the deployment?”

“Uh, yes, sir,” Jake said. “She was a late arrival, and I didn't want to interrupt any of your pre-deployment planning so late in the day.”

“Sure. Sure. Very considerate.” Monroe cut his eyes back to Auden. “He’s as full of crap as he is excuses, but he gets the job done when it counts.” He motioned for her to follow him. “I can give you the tour once we’re departed and on course. In the meantime, tell me a bit about yourself.”

Auden didn't know where to begin. So, she started by mentioning her father.

“Yeah, I heard about him. I never met Commander Hoyt in person, but I have it on good authority that he was one of the best single scout pilots in the fleet,” Monroe said. “I take it you were with him during his... let’s just call it an ordeal?”

“Yes, sir,” she answered, afraid that the drama surrounding her father during that time might bleed over into how her new captain would view her.

He shook his head. “That must have been terrifying. The Heshians were strong allies, but I always felt reservations around their kind. They always made me wonder if they were plotting to do something. Turns out, one of them was. I'm glad your family survived the ordeal.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Monroe smiled and turned to Jake, “Tell me, is she the one who rang the bell in the wardroom?”

Auden's face flushed as Jake winked at her.

“Yes, sir. This is the culprit.”

Monroe laughed. “That gag never gets old.” The ship’s bells chimed, denoting the top of the hour. Monroe turned to look at the activity taking place around him. “Excuse me, but I need to prepare for departure. The ship doesn't run itself.”

“Yes, sir,” Jake and Auden said.

“It was nice meeting you, sir.”

“You as well.” He went about checking on the stations while Jake led Auden out of the bridge.

“That wasn't so bad, was it?” Jake said, teasing.

“He seems nice,” she admitted.

“He is, but like most of us, he’s battling some demons.”

“I didn't notice anything. How can you tell?” Auden asked.

Jake looked at her and pointed at his eyes. “It’s all in the eyes, kid. It’s all in the eyes.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Davanis paced the bridge as the Tryngas drew closer to the human freighter. He wasn't nervous, but anticipation made him restless. He had a job to do, and he aimed to do it. Technically, he had a standing order to test the weapon, the neural destabilizer, but waiting for word from his superiors on when to test it was becoming a waste of time. The human ship was within his grasp. He needed only to seize the opportunity and report back the good news. Better to ask for forgiveness than seek permission, he thought as he reflected on the old idiom from his former captain... a human who had an answer for anything but, like most of his kind, was as spineless and slimy as they came.

“How much longer before we’re in range?”

“Half an hour, sir,” Brako answered from across the bridge.

Davanis withheld a groan, not wanting to show his frustration in front of his crew. This mission deep into enemy territory was, after all, an honor. After what Davanis and his men had accomplished months prior, his leaders trusted them to succeed. The first test of the neural destabilizer successfully manipulated the brain function of a human pilot. The weapon had its limitations, mostly when it came to its effective range needing to be close to their target, but once the pilot was in their snare, they were able to coerce him into doing their bidding. The result was that the pilot had strayed from his squadron and surrendered to the Heshians. It was a sweet victory and one they needed to achieve on a much larger scale if they were to get revenge on the Consulate.

To do that meant they would need a fleet of humans under Heshian control.

That need led him to this moment.

He would not fail and dishonor his men.

I need to ensure this weapon will control the crew of an entire ship before we try again with a military vessel. The risk is too great to allow blind ambition to lead us to destruction.

“Sir, the human ship has detected our presence,” said Brako from his console. “Do you wish to change your plans?”

“Absolutely not,” Davanis said, his voice a guttural growl. “Maintain course.” He turned to Gareg, his weapons officer, and said, “Prepare the neural destabilizer. I want it at full power before we’re in range.”

“Aye, sir,” Gareg said, his fingers dancing across the console. There was a change in the frequency of the hum of the ship as power was diverted to the neural destabilizer mounted atop the Tryngas. “The neural destabilizer is coming online now, sir.”

“Good. Let me know when we’re in range.”

“Yes, sir.”

Davanis moved to the screen and eyed the human freighter. It appeared as little more than a speck before them, but in truth, it was a much larger vessel than the Tryngas. The freighter was nearly two kilometers in length and half that in width. A large portion of the aft section was dedicated to the ship’s powerful fusion drive, but sixty percent of what remained of the freighter was designed to carry cargo. The other forty percent was divided by the ship’s systems and crew quarters. Her crew was estimated to number between one and two hundred.

A true test of the weapon, indeed.

“Sir, they’re attempting to ping our transponder,” Brako said.

“Can they determine who we are?”

“Not yet, but if we neglect to respond, they will likely send out an emergency beacon. We have a spoofed transponder belonging to a human vessel, though the Tryngas is twice the size of the vessel we would be impersonating.”

Davanis frowned. He should have seen this coming. The humans were a paranoid race and often overzealous in their pursuit of complaining. If they sent a distress beacon, then the Consulate fleet would respond, and that could prove problematic. He hadn’t time for dealing with a military presence. At least not until he proved the neural destabilizer was effective against a broader target.

“Respond with the spoofed transponder code and keep me informed.”

“Aye, sir.”

Davanis waited. Despite the distance between the two ships, communications traveled at near light speed. It wasn’t long before the human’s ship responded.

“Decoys launched, sir. I believe the ship is preparing to jump into hyperdrive to evade us.”

Davanis’s jaw clenched. He took his seat and strapped in. “Increase thrust and get us in range, now.”

“Yes, sir.”

A moment later, the order was carried out. The weight on Davanis’s chest increased as his seat automatically reclined to distribute the pressure evenly across his body. Davanis was glad that he had already ordered his crew to general quarters. Otherwise, some of his men might have sustained injuries while the ship accelerated and maneuvered into an offensive posture. He lacked the number of men necessary to do this kind of operation if he was reckless with their safety. If anyone was taken out of commission, it would have a grave impact on his effectiveness.

“We’re in range, sir.” Gareg brought up the targeting reticle onto the monitor next to Davanis. “For maximum effect, I suggest we get closer, but I’m ready to fire on your order.”

Davanis smiled. His crew was reliable and devoted. “Let me know when you believe we are in range for maximum effect. I don’t want to waste this opportunity with inefficient eagerness.”

“Aye, sir.”

Davanis kept his eye on the prize. The freighter grew larger on the screen. It would soon be his, along with everyone on board.

They’ll do my bidding, or they’ll die. The success of the neural destabilizer will determine the outcome in more ways than one.

He thought back to the operation several months prior. Word had gotten out about what had happened. The Consulate declared the Heshians were monsters for attacking unprovoked. They were blind fools. The human response to the Heshians nearly five years ago had been to use an axe to remove a growth when a scalpel would have been sufficient. The burden on his people had been too much. His people were dying without the support of the Consulate. Their blood was on the Consulate’s hands.

And they would pay for turning against their former ally.

Davanis knew the admiral who had conspired against the Consulate. Davanis understood the man’s motives. He saw how the Consulate viewed the Heshians. The word monster was used long before Davanis attacked that military ship. It was used long before Admiral Hardak’s actions had his people removed from Consulate protection. The truth was that the Consulate did not favor the Heshians. They favored humanity. Their pitiful darlings. They had spent decades using the Heshians to build the Consulate’s military strength. The Consulate had grown by stepping on the necks of his people, but the uprising had come at an opportune time. Technological advances would allow the Heshians to finally prevail.

Now was the time to regain what his people had lost.

Respect.

“We’re in maximum effective range, sir!”

“Fire the weapon!”

The lights dimmed at the release of energy. Davanis could feel the effects of high-voltage chargers coming online to refill the capacitor to power the weapon. His eyes were glued to the monitor.

“The weapon didn’t penetrate the shield, sir. Something went wrong.”

Davanis swore under his breath. “Launch the fighters. We can't let the ship escape.” He only had a few fighters at his disposal, but they had to work. There was no other choice. Everything hinged on the Tryngas taking the freighter.

Brako made the announcement to launch the fighters as Davanis rose from his seat and approached the Weapon’s Officer. “What do you need to get a second shot at firing the weapon?”

Gareg looked up, his eyes wide and his scaly, crimson face a shade paler than it had been before. “That shot required much energy from the drive, sir. If we try to recharge it, then some of our other systems might be compromised.”

“Which ones?” Davanis demanded.

“Anything requiring heavy loads. Navigation. Life support. Gravity generation.” He paused and looked at his console before continuing. “Sir, we could melt the drive if discharging the weapon caused any damage at all.”

Davanis gritted his teeth. This was supposed to be easier. “Failure isn't an option. Recharge the weapon. We’re trying again.”

Gareg looked at Davanis, his yellow eyes wide with fear. “Aye, sir,” he said softly.

Davanis spun on his heels and glared at Brako. “What is the status of our fighters?”

“Deployed and on fast approach, sir.”

Davanis reclaimed his seat but didn't strap in. “I want that ship. Even if it’s in pieces.”

“Aye, sir,” came the response from the Tactical Officer. “Shall I have them fire across the bow as a warning first?”

Davanis considered it for a moment before agreeing. “We’re only giving one warning. Anything beyond that will be an order to completely and utterly destroy that ship. I don’t want to give the Consulate fleet time to respond to a distress beacon. Do you understand?”

“I do, sir.”

Davanis watched the monitor as Brako gave the order. All four fighters launched lasers across the bow of the freighter. The assault was followed by an order.

“Slow your vessel to match speed with us, or we will launch an attack to destroy your ship. I repeat. Slow your vessel to match speed with us, or we will launch an attack to destroy your ship.”

On the monitor, the freighter banked to the port side and increased thrust. Doing so gave the Tryngas a broadside view of the craft.

Gareg shouted, “The weapon is primed for another launch, sir!”

“Fire at will,” Davanis barked.

Once again, energy shot forth from the Tryngas. A ring of static enveloped the ship, and Davanis could feel the crackling of static electricity off his scaly flesh. This time, the broadside shot was successful.

“We’ve disrupted their shield, and we have control of the frequency wave of their ship,” Brako said.

“Send the command for them to come around, Brako.” Davanis rose to stand next to his First Officer.

“Human freighter, designated as ESS Bridgefield, come around and match speed with us. Allow us to dock with your ship.”

“Affirmative,” came a human voice. “We are coming around now. Estimated time to approach is twenty-nine minutes.”

There was a swell of energy in the bridge as each man looked at the other, their expressions surreal. “We did it,” Brako said.

“And with no damage to our drive,” Gareg added.

Davanis wanted to relish the moment and bask in the satisfaction that they had successfully used the neural destabilizer to seize control of an entire ship, but he knew better than to celebrate prematurely. “We’ve only done so much. I’ll call it a success when we have every crewman aboard that ship under our control.”

“Yes, sir,” Brako said, his voice meeker than it had been before.

“All scans show that the frequency generated has encompassed the entirety of the ship,” Gareg said.

“You men have done well,” Davanis said, looking each man in the eye. Pride reflected in their gazes. He continued, “This could be the decisive first step towards total victory. And if it is, you will be greatly rewarded.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Auden manipulated the controls of her fighter. The MX-8 was a tiny and fast craft designed to pull double duty as both an escort vessel and a fighter for larger ships. The stub-tailed design and x-wing formation allowed for tighter pivoting at higher speeds thanks to variable thrusters mounted on each wing and the forward fuselage. Known as the Manx, the compact fighter was the sports car of modern, single-seat spacecraft, and commanding it was a thrill.

This wasn't the first time she had flown in Valara’s orbit, but it was the first time she’d done so as a commissioned officer in the Consulate Navy. She felt powerful and free, a sensation that she would be hard-pressed to put into words.

I was born for this, she thought, seeing her reflection in the windscreen of her craft as she looked out at the planet below. Her family was down there in the capital city, enjoying the day while she was preparing for her first deployment. She would miss them greatly, but she needed to do this, not simply because she was a part of the Navy now, but because she needed to do what she had felt called to do for most of her life.

To serve the Consulate and protect her people.

“It’s surreal, isn't it?” Jake said via coms. “I remember my first time. We were running scout missions in the Bulna System. There's nothing there except iron-rich asteroids, but they do have problems with piracy. It was twelve-hour runs of seeing and doing nothing with the backdrop of bitter darkness in every direction. Even the primary star looks darker than the other stars from other systems, if you can believe that.”

“Is it a dead star?” Auden asked.

“No, but it isn't very large when you’re out on the outskirts of the system where the asteroid belt is. Bulna was barely noticeable with the naked eye from that distance. In fact, I had to rely on the ship’s computer to tell me what it was that I was looking at.”

“Really?”

“No,” Jake chuckled, “but it wasn't very impressive of a star either way.”

Auden laughed at the joke. “Do you think we’ll see anything on this mission?”

“You’re seeing all there is to see here. No one would be stupid enough to approach Valara with ill intent. All the action is either in the Heshian systems or in the backwoods systems... just not as backwoods as Bulna.”

She could hear him smile as he said the last comment. “Where do you think we will go with this deployment?” She couldn't hide her curiosity any longer. She wanted desperately to know what to expect.

There was a moment of silence before Jake cut in. “Honestly, the last reports I read showed strange activity in Sol.”

“That’s Earth’s System. The resources there are scarce. That’s why humanity branched out into other systems. Why would there be an increase in activity there?”

“It’s not about resources but about what Earth represents. That’s the birthplace of humanity. It might be just another rock in a star system, but it means something to our people. Therefore, it’s important to protect it.”

“Protect it from what?”

“It’s more who, than what,” Jake answered. “You cadets really are out of the loop, aren't you?”

“I guess so,” Auden admitted.

“About a month ago, there was a report of a Heshian vessel located near the Ort Cloud in the Sol System. It’s far enough away from Earth not to be considered an immediate threat, but it also has no reason to be there. With all of our other ships policing the Heshian systems, the Consulate needs a presence in Sol. So, they picked us for that honor.”

A chill ran down Auden’s spine. She had grown up seeing and interacting with Heshians on Valara. Most of the ones she met were military and served with her father. Others were affiliated with the military, sending their children to the same schools as other species within the Consulate.

That ended five years ago when Admiral Hardack, a Heshian, framed her father and charged him with treason. What the Consulate Navy discovered was a coup to overthrow the Consulate’s control by Admiral Hardack and others of his kind. The result was expulsion from the Consulate and the death of the real traitors. She had thought it was over and that the recent uprising was mostly in the form of political protests against the Consulate. None of it had resulted in anything militarily aside from the excursion the Pitfall experienced less than a year ago.

Was this Heshian sighting in Sol part of a deeper conspiracy than they knew?

“What do they think the Heshian ship is doing there?” Auden asked. Her voice had a quiver to it.

“We don't know for sure, but we have had some dustups over the years with rogue Heshain ships. Most people don’t know about those. Of course, you heard about us being ambushed by a smaller Heshian vessel several months ago. That was the fight where we lost our Wing Commander.”

Auden swallowed a lump forming in her throat. So few of the current events were known by cadets in the Consulate Academy. They were insulated from the outside world so that they could keep their minds focused on the mastery of their studies. It had been effective, but Auden wondered if it was truly practical. She felt as if she were stepping into a war that she knew too little about. She felt ill-prepared for what was coming.

“How did he die?” Auden asked, not meaning to, but unable to keep her words to herself.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the radio, and she was afraid she had hurt Jake by bringing up the past. When he finally spoke, his tone had shifted. “I don't know the how, I just know he’s dead. He was with us one minute, and he was gone the next. It was like he had vanished off our radar, and there was nothing I could do to help him. We tried to search the area, but there was no evidence. It's a mystery, and I’m afraid we might never solve it.”

“I’m sorry.” The words sounded weak as they escaped her lips.

Jake’s tone shifted, and he immediately and abruptly changed the subject. “Take your craft to the end of the port’s superstructure and wait for the Pitfall to go by. I’ll relay any orders I receive from Commander Monroe.”

“Roger that,” Auden said. The radio went silent, and she felt the heaviness of reality begin to descend on her.

There was a silent war she knew nothing about, and people were dying. No one mentioned any of this. Did that mean her family didn't know, or did that mean they were doing like her leadership in the Consulate Academy and kept her and the other cadets out of the loop? Some of those attacks would have occurred before Tara entered the Consulate Academy. Would she stay silent?

Tara isn’t that kind of person, Auden thought. She would say something if she knew anything. But she’s also in the Consulate Academy now. Maybe the attack that killed the former wing commander was near the beginning of her entry, and the Consulate didn't have enough information to issue a report.

That would make sense on some level.

Auden looked down at Valara. It would be easy to change the frequency on her radio and call out to her father. He was retired, but he wasn’t completely removed from the Consulate Navy. He knew people still serving. Admiral Dickson was his best friend. Surely, Admiral Dickson knew what was happening and would tell her father... wouldn’t he?

Her hand moved to the knob on the radio, temptation leading her to switch over to another channel, but she held short.

“I’m on a mission. Stay on target. Don't get distracted.” Her hand fell back to the controls, and she continued the course as directed.

Auden looked away from the planet below, her home, and darted off the several hundred kilometers of space to the end of the massive superstructure of the port. The Manx hummed as she advanced the throttles, the increased g-forces pushing her back in the seat. The sensation of feeling multiple Gs pressing down on her wasn’t foreign to her. Auden had trained under these conditions many times, some in atmosphere, and other times in open space. She was comfortable in the seat of a fighter. It was under her control, unlike the world surrounding her. There was nothing she could do about not knowing what was coming or what to expect. She could only control how she responded to it.

Auden let her fears fall away, and she focused on her job.

This was her first deployment.

Her people needed her.

She would not let fear interfere with her ability to serve the Consulate.

Silas lacked focus. It wasn't just the lack of sleep, the looming divorce, or the stress of the imminent deployment he was setting off on. It was a mix of all three, and he was barely holding onto his composure.

He came up through the ranks learning how to fake most of the emotions that inspired his people to follow him. He didn't always rely on that skill, but it came in handy when his mind was split between his fears and the need to maintain control of the situation.

His people deserved the best of him, and all he could muster was a shell of his former self.

But who could blame him?

The Pitfall was scheduled to depart, and months would pass before he would be able to try and pick up the remains of his life. Silas looked over the message from his lawyer for the dozenth time. His wife wanted everything they had built together, but his lawyer had done the best he could to appease her lawyers, plural, and allow him to retain some of their assets. Taking him to the cleaners was a sure message that he needn’t hold out for a reconciliation. That wasn't on the table at all.

Silas would return, and the divorce would be finalized. Anything he owned would be placed in storage, and his wife would have what she wanted: a life without him in it.

Good for her, he thought, closing the message. She could start over, and so could he, whatever that meant. He supposed that could be something to look forward to, but just because everything would be different didn’t necessarily mean it would be better.

It was a thought that brought more pain than satisfaction. He didn't want to start over. At least not with someone else. He had loved the life he had with Nathalia, and he thought she did too.

Until she didn’t.

Was it really all my fault, he wondered?

Blame was easy to cast, and he was certainly the most obvious target, but it couldn’t have all been bad...

“I don't have time for this,” he whispered to himself, out of earshot of anyone on the bridge. He forced the self-pitying thoughts from his mind as his fingers danced across the monitor before him. He checked the menus for the ship’s various systems, ensuring the Pitfall was ready to be released from the stanchions supporting her to Port Valara.

Silas checked off each menu, knowing his bridge officers were doing the same. Redundancy kept sailors alive, and it didn't matter if you did it ten times or ten thousand times; you didn't neglect the preflight checks.

“Fusion reactor is online and fully operational,” The ship’s engineer said over the com. His was one of two stations not on the bridge.

“Copy,” Silas said. “Navigation?”

“Navigation computer is operational, and course is set for departure. All lanes open.”

“Copy.” He turned to the coms officer. “Coms?”

“Operational, sir. I have coms with our fighters. Everything is secure in our area of departure. I have confirmation that Port Valara is aware of our departure window and is keeping the lanes open for us.”

“Copy. Life support?”

“Fully operational, sir. I have confirmation from engineering that the drive is online and supporting primary systems.”

“Copy.” He took one more look at the menus on his monitor, checking for red indicators next to any system that might be compromised. They were green across the board. “Prepare for departure.”

The Pitfall fell away from its perch. The viewport looking across the bow showed the slow lilt of the craft as it withdrew from the stanchions. The tubes leading to the airlocks collapsed and were reeled in by mechanical arms. For the first time in months, the ship was free and under her own power.

“Status report,” Silas said.

“All systems go,” Ensign Gordon Bray said from the console across from him.

Silas eyed his monitor and checked the display to confirm. “Copy. Helmsman, lay in a course and lead us out.”

“Aye, sir,” came the response from the helm.

An enlisted crewman stepped onto the bridge and assumed a position next to the helmsman. The crewman then pulled a ship’s navigation log from under his arm and set it between him and the helmsman. Silas realized that the quartermaster was the same sailor standing the midwatch whom he had chewed out for not shaving the evening prior. The sailor had corrected his previous deficiency. Despite that, he looked tired, his eyes dark with bags under them.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who missed out on sleep, Silas thought. Once we’re on our way and in hyperspace, I’ll give him a break. He looks like he needs it.

The Pitfall drifted slowly toward the end of the superstructure, the helmsman doing a good job of keeping the massive ship between the docks on all sides. The ship wasn't the largest in the fleet. The carriers were. But the Pitfall was a precursor model to the carriers the Consulate Navy used today. It was nearly eighty percent the size of a carrier, nearly four kilometers long and half a kilometer wide.

Originally intended to support a large airwing, the Pitfall lacked sufficient power to carry the larger fighters of the modern fleet. It was now mostly used for humanitarian missions and dignitary visits to smaller colony worlds. Far from being an exciting duty, it did have its moments.

Moments that Silas would like to forget.

The Pitfall passed the superstructure and was now in open space outside of Valara’s orbit.

“How are we doing, gentlemen?” Silas asked.

“Still in the green, sir,” Ensign Bray answered. “We’re ready to increase speed on your command.”

“Accelerate to one g,” Silas ordered.

“Accelerating to one g,” came the confirmation.

The helmsman increased the throttles and maintained a steady course as the ship accelerated.

Silas kept his eyes on his monitor as they drew further from Port Valara. When they reached the first satellite beyond the port’s area of responsibility, he gave the next order. “Turn thirty degrees starboard and accelerate to two g’s.”

“Thirty degrees starboard and accelerate to two g’s.”

Silas felt the force on his chest increase with the thrust. “Contact the fighters and have them match speed and heading.”

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Commander Myatt replied from the operations station before conveying the message.

Silas focused on his breathing. He assumed it would take hours under two g’s to get far enough away from Valara to safely jump into hyperspace. They could get there faster, but that would place more strain on his ship and his people. It wasn't worth the risk.

“Navigation, how long before we’re ready to jump?”

“Approximately four hours and thirteen minutes, sir.”

Silas checked his own calculations and nodded in affirmation. He jotted down a logbook entry and turned to the crewman next to the helm. “Quartermaster, what time will your relief come in?”

The sailor looked at the time and replied, “My relief will show up in half an hour, sir.”

“Are you due back on the bridge before we jump?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That should give you a couple of hours or so off duty. I suggest you get some sleep.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Actual sleep. No laying in your rack playing VR games until your next shift.”

The crewman smiled. “No, sir. I was up most of the night. I’ll go right to sleep.”

Silas did not doubt how long the young man had been up. Most of the watches stood by the enlisted crew were six to eight hours in duration. The midwatch was one of the most strenuous. Only a fool would turn down a nap after being up all night and being expected to work during the day.

Silas smiled back and gave the sailor a knowing nod. He knew more than a few of his crew spent most of their off-duty time gaming. Many sacrificed sleep to chase a dopamine hit. He couldn't blame them, but there was a risk to doing this job if not properly rested. The helmsman could get along just fine without the enlisted crewman’s assistance. In the meantime, Silas trusted that the crewman would obey his order and not risk putting the ship in a dangerous position by operating his station sleep-deprived.

Silas sat back in his seat and watched the monitor. Everything was going as it should. Strange, he thought, how sometimes life on a naval vessel is simpler than life on the home front. He hoped, for the benefit of his people, that it would stay that way.

CHAPTER NINE

Davanis boarded the Bridgefield with his boarding team. The chase had ended, and he was about to claim what was rightfully his. The human ship was a trophy regardless of its contents. Davanis’s peers within the crippled, defiant Heshian fleet would soon recognize that Davanis was superior. Perhaps the leaders would recognize it as well, but he doubted they would ever admit so openly. The cowards lacked sufficient spine to do what needed to be done. The same could not be said for Davanis and the crew of the Tryngas.

All glory of victory was Davanis’s for the taking. He looked at Mantius and said, “Bring me the captain of this vessel,” he ordered.

“Aye, sir,” said Mantius as he led his men deeper into the freighter’s corridors. The lights shone brightly, casting a glare where it struck the glossy white bulkheads. The Bridgefield was among the cleanest freighters Davanis had seen, and he imagined whoever owned the vessel would mourn its loss.

At the beginning of the Heshian uprising, Davanis had wanted to be a ground soldier. He wanted to look his enemies in the eyes before ripping their heads from their shoulders. As time went on, it became clear that a ground war was not a viable option. The Consulate maintained control over their habitable worlds, even offering their protection to those of weaker species like the Grota.

Had Admiral Hardak succeeded in his mission, then most of the colonies would be under Heshian dominion and those resources used to cripple the Consulate strongholds. With that kind of power, the Heshians would be indomitable. Sadly, the coup had been uncovered prematurely, and all the ground the Heshians had gained was lost overnight. Short of a miracle, they would never have the strength to wage a ground war without sustaining disastrous losses.

It was that realization that led to Davanis taking command of the Tryngas. Despite not having experience as a ship commander, he had proven himself a brilliant tactician when it came to surprise attacks on human ships. That was before the neural destabilizer was invented. With that weapon in his possession, he was poised to become the leader his people deserved.

One who would lead them to victory.

Davanis waited near the airlock, a blaster in his large, scaly hand. His eyes darted from side to side, studying his surroundings. The freighter was filled to the brim with cargo stacked deck to ceiling in giant steel containers. Some were refrigerated while others were merely airtight, bolted to the deck with large chains. Once the ship was properly secured by his men, he would order an inventory, but most of what he saw was not of interest to him.

“I expected weapons, not their disgusting excuse for food,” he said derisively. It didn't matter. Obtaining the ship and having a positive test of the weapon was worth more than the contents of the freight. Still, he had hoped for something to keep for himself and his men. At least the human food would be useful for feeding the prisoners if it came to that.

A commotion sounded down the long passageway, drawing the Heshian captain’s attention. Blaster fire sounded at the far end, followed by the clap of a body striking the deck.

A part of Davanis felt uneasy about the need for death. Not that he valued human lives, but losing control of any of the humans onboard meant the neural destabilizer wasn’t working as it should. It was imperative that he maintain control over the humans for a prolonged period. He swore through his teeth as he patted his blaster against his thigh.

Movement at the far end of the passageway stirred him. Two files of human prisoners marched toward him, led by Mantius and two of his men. The vacant stares of those overwhelmed by the neural destabilizer’s control stared back at him, and he smiled a wicked grin.

Mantius stepped forward and spoke. “These are all the men we’ve found, sir. There was a bit of a dust-up, and we took down three humans who resisted. The others appear to be under full control of the neural destabilizer.”

Davanis smiled knowingly. “There’s only one way to be sure,” he whispered to Mantius. He took a step forward and gazed upon his prisoners. “Which one of you is the captain of this ship?” Davanis asked, his deep, baritone voice boomed threateningly.

“I am,” an older human said, his hair was stark white, and his patchy beard was a faded red. The badges on his uniform revealed his employer’s name and his rank, but there were no other markings to announce who the man was.

“What is your name, human?” Davanis demanded.

“Captain Grant Norris of the ESS Bridgfield.”

“Captain Grant Norris, step forward,” Davanis ordered. The man complied. “Will you do what I demand of you?”

“Yes, sir,” the human replied.

Davanis smirked. “I’ll give you an opportunity to prove it. Which of these individuals is your first officer?”

Grant turned and pointed to a man several rows behind him.

“Order him to kneel before me,” Davanis commanded.

Without hesitation, Grant said, “Scott, kneel here.” A pale, shaky finger pointed at the deck where Davanis stood. The man called Scott stepped forward and marched toward Davanis. When he stood less than a meter away, the man knelt.

Davanis handed his blaster to Grant and ordered, “Shoot him.”

All eyes were on the human captain as he placed the barrel onto the back of his first officer’s head and squeezed the trigger. Brain matter and skull fragments were sprayed across the deck. Davanis held out his hand to retrieve the blaster. The Bridgefield’s captain handed it to him as if nothing at all had happened.

“Mantius, I believe this mission is a success. What do you think?”

“I agree, sir. The glory is yours.”

Davanis smiled. “Indeed, it is.”

“There is one problem, though, sir.”

Davanis's smile faded. “What is it?”

“A distress beacon was sounded prior to our boarding. I switched it off as soon as I discovered it, but I’m unsure how long it was transmitting.”

Davanis sighed. “What is the nearest system with Consulate ships?”

Mantius thought for a moment. “According to our latest intelligence, the nearest Consulate ship is in Valara. Most of them are patrolling near Cornica and Dursh as the bulk of our fleet is in those systems.”

“How far is Valara through hyperspace?” Davanis asked.

“A day, give or take.”

Davanis moved to the human captain and looked down at him. “How long ago did you activate the beacon?”

“I waited until your men breached our ship. At first, I thought you were the Consulate. Once I realized who you were, it was too late.”

Davanis wanted to crush the man’s skull, but he resisted. Instead, he would use these men to test the neural destabilizer’s prolonged use. Then, once the Consulate arrived, he would use them as bait. “Mantius, I want this ship rigged to explode. Once the Consulate ship is in the system, we will use this ship as a shield and use any weapons aboard it to launch an offensive attack. If the Consulate gets too close, we’ll evade and blow the freighter. I suspect doing such would at least damage a Consulate ship, if not destroy it completely.”

“Understood. Excellent plan, sir.”

“Secure the prisoners first, then see that my orders are carried out. I don't want to waste any time preparing for the enemy to arrive.”

“Yes, sir,” Mantius said, and quickly relayed the order to his men, leaving Davanis once again alone.

He stared out at the dark expanse, beyond the Tryngas’s bulk, somewhere out among the stars, a Consulate ship was heading his way. He would lead it to its ultimate destruction, and when word got out that a Heshain warship delivered violence upon the Consulate, the war would finally begin.

CHAPTER TEN

Jake was impressed with Auden’s skill. From his vantage, he could tell she was a natural behind the controls of a Manx. Still, there was a lot she would need to learn when it came to operating as part of a team. Maneuvering in a tactical configuration was one area where he could see her needing such improvement. The Consulate Academy taught her how to be a pilot; the fleet would need to teach her how to be a fighter pilot.

He looked at his notes, fishing for the right words to critique his new pilot.

“How’s it going out there, Bone?” Tina’s voice sounded in his earpiece, startling him for a moment.

“All clear for the path out of here, Spunky,” Jake said into the com.

“Not that,” Tina replied. “The newbie.”

Jake didn't want to broadcast any of his thoughts on an open channel. He checked the radio and made sure he was switched up before responding. “Ah, TBD. Gotcha. Good maneuvering skills at low speed despite so little time controlling a Manx. I’m guessing they have simulators for this model at the Consulate Academy. She’s a little touchy on the throttles, though. More than once, she overshot the boundary and had to return using maneuvering thrusters to maintain nominal spacing. I think we can teach her how to control that. She’ll need that if we’re ever in a tight fighting configuration. All in all, I think most of her small mistakes might have been nerves more than anything else.”

“That’s good. I’m glad they’re finally putting cadets in modern ships, even if they are simulations. We don't need her burning straight into the broadside of the Pitfall at full speed.”

Jake laughed, though he had heard of new pilots doing just that when behind the controls of an unfamiliar craft. “We’ll keep her busy in the simulator while in hyperspace. Maybe you and Tap Dancer can take turns training her?” He imagined Tina and Robert would be good trainers for an already decent pilot. With a little refining, Auden would be a solid member of the team.

“What about you? You’re the wing commander?” Tina asked, her tone playful.

“That’s exactly why I’m having you two do the training. I'm going to be busy doing wing commander stuff.”

Tina giggled over the radio. “I see how it is. You get promoted and think you're better than us. Is that it?”

Jake grinned. She gave him an excellent opening to retort. “I didn't need the promotion to know that, but I do like the extra pay.”

Tina busted out, cackling. “OK, if you say so. Just a heads up, the skipper told me we’re less than thirty minutes from jumping. The Ops Officer will probably have you do one more patrol before bringing the craft into the hangar.”

“I figured it’d been about that time. How was his morning pep talk?”

“There wasn't one,” Tina said. “Kind of odd, isn't it?”

It was, Jake thought, but it was still the first day of deployment. The skipper had plenty of time to address the crew once they jumped. “Yeah, I think he’s just having an off day. It happens. I wouldn’t be too worried about it. Maybe you won't have to hear any cheesy platitudes about duty and honor?”

Tina laughed again. “But those are my favorite!”

Jake grinned. “I’ll tell you a few of my own, later.”

“Ewww, kissy, kissy,” came a male voice, followed by laughter. Jake recognized the voice immediately.

“Tap Dancer?”

“Sorry, Bone. I snuck in without Spunky hearing me. She thought she had you all to herself.”

Jake could hear Tina giving Hinton a ration of grief for his uninvited eavesdropping, but she was a good sport about it. Besides, they weren't trying to hide their feelings from the others. If anything, it was a good thing they were open about it. It certainly wasn’t how they thought it would be if anyone knew they were seeing each other, but any flak for it was purely good-humored ribbing and not resentful. He was thankful for that, at least.

“Tap Dancer, I’m going to need a handwritten copy of the ship’s mission statement on my desk by the time I pull in,” Jake said, fighting a smile from forming on his lips.

“Handwritten? Come on, sir. You know I have delicate hands.” Hinton gave his best whining impression, but it lacked conviction.

“Maybe if you worked out your hands as much as you work out your smart mouth, then you’d be able to write the Consulate Navy’s Standard Operating Procedures for Nonjudicial Punishment in a single sitting. Complete with appendices,” he added.

Laughter filled his headset from Tina and Robert. “Do you really want that on your desk, or were you kidding?” Hinton asked.

Jake’s radio illuminated with an incoming transmission. He assumed it was either the Ops Officer with the order Tina had mentioned or that Auden was reaching out. Neither of which he could ignore. “Ask Spunky if I was serious. I have a transmission coming in. Bone out.” Jake switched back to the primary channel. “This is Scout One.”

“Sir, it’s Au... TBD... uh Scout Two. It’s been a while since I heard anything, and I wanted to check in with you. I moved ahead of the Pitfall by a hundred kilometers and scanned the area. All clear.”

Her radio transmissions were another area of improvement, Jake noted, but he could tell she was self-correcting, which was good on her part. “Good. I was on a transmission with the ready room. I’m awaiting word from Ops to do another patrol before we’re recalled to the ship. Are you still a hundred kilometers ahead?”

“Affirm. Though I slowed down considerably. I’m closer to eighty kilometers out now.”

“Maintain that distance until I give the word for the final patrol. I’ll have you enter the hangar first, and I’ll come in behind you. Good?”

“Yes, sir,” Auden said.

Jake let out a sigh of relief. Not only was Auden a good pilot, but she was also better on coms than he had expected. So many newbies butchered the etiquette required in communicating back and forth with their commanders. He had a feeling that Auden practiced a lot to make it second nature. Her only real hangup was in identifying herself. He imagined she had grown used to generic callsigns, or they simply used first names during training.

She would get the hang of it... eventually.

The radio came to life once more, this time on a different frequency. It was from the Pitfall. “Commander, this is Ops. Are you up?”

“Yes, sir,” Jake said as he keyed the mic.

“We’re getting close to the jump point. We would like you and your other pilot to do a once-over of the area of responsibility and return to the hangar in approximately twenty minutes.”

“Roger that, Pitfall. Relaying the order now.” Jake switched back to his frequency with Auden. “I just got the word. One more patrol and report back in twenty. You can go ahead about forty kilometers, run a scan, and head back.”

“Roger that, sir. I’ll inform you if I pick up anything.”

The radios remained quiet for the duration of the patrol. Jake hadn't expected otherwise, but he was relieved when he saw Auden’s Manx move past him on its way into the Pitfall’s hangar.

Jake positioned his craft behind hers and followed her in through the yawning entry. The hangar was massive, and with so few fighters at their disposal, there was less need to be careful while maneuvering. Still, Auden seemed to handle the Manx well as she set the craft gently down on the deck.

Jake did likewise, quickly going over his postflight procedures and powering down the engine. The canopy rose, and cooler air rushed into the cockpit. He pulled off his helmet and wiped away the sweat on his forehead.

He climbed out of the Manx and waited for Auden to complete her shutdown procedure. A few minutes later, she joined him on the hangar deck.

“How was it?” Jake asked.

“I loved it!” Auden was grinning ear to ear.

“That’s good because you’ll be doing that a lot while we’re deployed,” he said playfully, though he wasn’t lying. Patrols were critical each time a Consulate ship jumped in and out of a system. No ship wanted to jump into a situation where they could be ambushed by an enemy, regardless of how significant the threat might be.

They headed toward the hatch leading into the main corridor of the ship. Jake considered whether he should begin with his critique now or later, but the decision would have to wait.

The klaxon sounded for general quarters.

“Let’s go!” Jake barked the order and led Auden to the hatch so they could get to the ready room before the passages filled with crewmen going to their battle stations.

“What’s going on?” Auden called from behind him.

He looked back. She was hot on his heels. “I don't know. We haven’t left the system yet. Everything was clear during the patrol. Unless this is a drill, it can't be good.”

He hoped it was a drill because if it wasn’t, then their deployment was about to get interesting for all the wrong reasons.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Silas swore through his teeth. “Check again,” he ordered. The mayday message from an Earth-based freighter had popped up on the central display moments earlier, but it was now deathly silent. Consulate protocol was to verify the alert regardless of whether it was an accidental transmission or otherwise. But the distress call ended before any of the fleet’s systems was able to autogenerate a geo-tag it and deploy the closest craft to render assistance.

“I have a match for the beacon, sir,” Lieutenant Commander Myatt said from his console.

“What is it?”

The operations officer looked up from his console and said, “The ESS Bridgefield. It's an Earth-based freighter belonging to the North American Union Shipping Company.”

“Any idea why the distress beacon may have gone off?” Silas asked.

“It could potentially have been a computer error?” Myatt replied, though he didn’t sound convinced of his own explanation.

“For a distress beacon to go off, it requires command-level authorization. I feel as though a computer error is a bit of a stretch,” Silas said as he rose from his seat and moved to the monitor. “Bring up any tactical data you have on the Bridgefield. I want to know where it is and what’s around it. Maybe they encountered an asteroid field and sustained damage? That might explain why the beacon was silenced.”

“Aye, sir,” Myatt replied. A moment later, the screen was filled with several lines of data.

Silas eyed it warily. They were on the outskirts of the Solar System. That was a full day’s travel for the Pitfall in hyperspace. “Are there any Consulate ships nearby?”

Myatt tapped his fingers on the console as he scrolled through mounds of data. He looked up at the skipper and shook his head. “Negative, sir. We’re the closest asset.”

That was the last thing Silas wanted to hear. This deployment was already starting off on the wrong foot. Still, they had a responsibility that he couldn't ignore. “Set a course for their location and sound the klaxon for general quarters.”

“General quarters?”

Silas turned to the junior officer. “Preemptive. We'll secure as soon as we have a full muster and allow the crew to rest, but I want to ensure every station is ready in case we jump into a bad situation.”

“Will do, sir.” Myatt got to work.

The klaxon blared, and Silas resisted the urge to wince. It wasn't just the harshness of the alarm but the memories it dredged up from the last time the Pitfall was under duress. He had sustained casualties that day. The loss of one pilot, the wing commander, and the mental health of dozens of others as they realized they were at a disadvantage. It could have been much worse, but the realization that they were ill-prepared for such an attack had a negative impact on his crew, nonetheless. Could he lead these men and women back into a similar situation in good faith?

He desperately hoped so.

Because he wasn't going to have a choice.

The Pitfall was in hyperspace when Commander Monroe stood before his officers, pacing back and forth as the Tactical Officer, Lieutenant Commander Vincent Carrico, relayed a string of possibilities for the distress beacon. Far from being an apologist for the Heshians, Silas was surprised by how far Carrico was willing to go to not indict their enemy as bearing responsibility. According to Carrico, the Bridgefield was likely not in danger despite its failure to respond to any transmissions from the Consulate Fleet.

“Tell me something,” Silas began, careful not to show his frustration. “What would be a smoking gun for Heshian involvement, in your opinion?”

“A hostile takeover of the ship,” Carrico answered. “Per rules of engagement, an enemy vessel is to be given full quarter unless an act of aggression is committed. Until such time, we are to assume they are peaceful.”

Silas’s stomach turned at Carrico’s by-the-book response. Carrico was new to the Pitfall and wasn’t there when they were attacked. Perhaps if he had been, he would be less willing to turn a blind eye to the obvious. “Rules of engagement aside, let’s assume the Heshian vessel we know was seen in the Solar System is responsible. We’re nineteen hours away. What tactics do we have at our disposal to deal with this threat without risking human lives on the Bridgefield?”

Lieutenant Commander Carrico’s face contorted with outrage. “Sir, with all due respect, if we take an offensive action without determining the threat, and we’re wrong, the implications could be disastrous.”

Silas let out a breath. The man wasn’t wrong, but he was shortsighted. The disastrous implications had already occurred months ago. This would simply be a continuation of a prior battle. One that the Consulate Fleet had insisted Silas steer clear of. Perhaps their decision came from a place where they were reluctant to start an all-out war, but the passiveness of the fleet commanders was going to cost them if someone didn’t do something to quell the Heshian’s rebellion. “Tell me, Lieutenant Commander, if someone were to break into your home and put a gun to your wife’s head, would you wait for him to squeeze the trigger before acting?”

Carrico, puzzled, stared daggers at Silas. A moment later, he shook his head. “I suppose I would not,” he finally admitted.

“Our home has been breached, and the weapon is shoved in the face of our loved one. Now is the time to act. We can seek forgiveness later. If I’m wrong, the fleet can take my rank and my ship away from me. But if I’m right, we’ll have saved human lives and removed a threat to our peace and security.”

“Aye, sir,” Carrico said softly.

Silas turned to his Operations Officer, Lieutenant Commander Mitch Myatt. “I need a battle plan on my desk and ready to go in six hours. We don't have enough data to draw from, so this will mostly be comprised of guesswork. Have your best people on it.”

“Any particular scenario we should focus on, sir?” Myatt asked.

Silas considered the question for a moment and said, “Assume the freighter is fully operational, but overtaken by the Heshians. Assume the Heshian ship is within a hundred kilometers of the freighter and that the Heshians are using it as bait. Assume the Heshians will destroy the freighter if we fail to engage quickly enough. Is that enough for you to go on?”

“Yes, sir,” Ops said.

Silas liked the man’s confidence. He just hoped it survived contact with the enemy.

“What about us, sir?”

Silas turned to the wing commander, Lieutenant Commander Jake Boone. “You’re short-staffed, are you not?”

Boone nodded. “We are, but between the four of us, we could divert firing power away from the Pitfall and perhaps buy some time for the crew of the freighter.

The three other pilots looked at Boone, their jaws slack. It was clear to Silas that the idea had just popped into the young wing commander’s head. His pilots would do as they were ordered, but Silas doubted any of them would be excited about the prospect Boone had mounted. Silas looked to Ops, “Coordinate with the airwing and utilize them to their potential. I don't want any of my people used as cannon fodder. Make smart decisions for strategic strikes.”

“Aye, sir,” said Ops. The man looked at Boone and motioned that they would speak later.

“Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen. We are not the best-equipped ship for this mission or this threat, but we’re all they have. If we reach the Solar System and there’s nothing there, then that’s the best we can hope for. Between the distress beacon and the reports of a Heshian ship in the area indicate a much worse possibility. I hope it’s wrong, but I can hope in one hand and catch rainwater in the other...”

His thoughts drifted to the encounter months prior. He had been confident then. He wished he were that man again.

“Sir?” Boone said, pulling Silas out of his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“We know what we’re dealing with this time, and we have time to prepare. We'll have the victory.”

Silas smiled. “Hold onto that hope with everything you’ve got. You have six hours to get a plan of attack on my desk. Don't waste any time. You’re dismissed.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“What’s our play?” Tina asked. Her usually bubbly personality was subdued and somber. Auden recognized the other woman’s fear. She felt it too.

“We have four Manx craft that can carry two missiles on each X-wing. We will divide into two sections, one ship ahead of another, making ourselves harder to target. The Pitfall will provide backup support while we take out any fighters the Heshians send our way. It’s as easy as that.”

Auden looked around. The faces of the other pilots didn't reflect confidence in the plan.

“They didn't have fighters last time,” Hinton said. “They had big guns taking out huge chunks of the Pitfall. We were lucky they didn't target us directly. There wouldn't be any pieces left to recover.”

“We can’t assume this will be like last time,” Jake said. “There’s too many variables and we can’t account for everything the Heshians have at their disposal. What if we don't calculate for enemy fighters and we deploy too late?”

“We lose our window of opportunity to deploy,” said Tina meekly.

“Exactly. We need to get our fighters on the board as quickly as possible and inflict as much damage as possible before they can react. After going over this dozens of times with Ops, I have to agree, this is our best play.”

Auden’s eyes followed Jake’s as he looked at each of his pilots. His face was tight, and his brow was furrowed. He was stressed. His words betrayed the gaze in his eyes that screamed that he could only be so confident in the plan. Maybe it’s not stress, but fear, Auden thought. “How can we prepare?” she asked, pulling everyone’s attention to herself.

“The only option we have is to work the scenario out in the simulators,” Jake said. He pulled a cigarette from the pack sitting on the table before him and lit it. “We can’t train with our fighters during transit. The Pitfall would leave us behind, and we’d never catch up.

Auden considered that for a moment. “Is there a way we can program what we might expect into the simulation?”

“Of course,” Tina answered. “But we lack any parameters to model new Heshian technology that might be employed against us. The best we can do is model the technology we know they have and assume it’ll be more advanced than what we train against.”

Auden thought back on something that tickled the back of her mind. She reflected on something her father had said years ago about how he trained for solo missions. “We can manually alter the models to increase every parameter, speed, stealth, shields, and tactics. If we increase those and pit ourselves against a larger-than-usual force, we can prepare for the worst-case scenario.”

Jake sat before her, exhaustion noticeably visible. “I understand where you’re coming from, but it’s still a long shot.”

“So, we’re just going to be cannon fodder?” She knew she was speaking out of turn, especially for being the new guy, but she couldn't mince words. Not now.

His jaw tensed. “That’s not the plan, Auden. The skipper ordered us to devise a plan to prevent casualties.”

Her heart fluttered. She didn’t mean to be disrespectful, but it seemed evident to her that fear was piloting the mission planning and not seeing clearly how bad this was going to go if they strictly adhered to the plan. “I’m sorry, sir. I just believe we can do better than what’s offered.”

Silence screamed between them as Jake’s face flushed. His eyes narrowed, and a vein began throbbing on his forehead. Auden expected to be rebuffed. Instead, Jake shot up from the chair and stormed out.

A moment later, “That went well.” The voice was Hinton’s, but no one was laughing.

The simulators were confined to a space designed with its own air recycler. Four seats were arranged in two rows, one after the other. The monitors for each seat functioned as touchscreens, and the controls were mounted on the left and right consoles. The simulators were not unlike the real craft but were lacking in quality.

Banks of computers in two-meter-tall racks lined the room, fans whirling out warm air as they fought to keep the machines cool. The equipment was working overtime, and it was starting to take its toll.

Regardless, they had a purpose to serve, and Auden was focused on putting them to good use.

Auden sat at the console, poring over the Heshian modeled ships in the simulator. Half of her instruction in the Consulate Academy was focused on the capabilities of various ships, including the Heshians. But what was available to her now was a far cry from the latest and greatest. Jake had said the models were five years out of date, but she had it on good authority that it was at least twice that.

“What’s wrong?” Tina asked as she pulled a seat up next to Auden.

“I’m trying to build something to help us prepare, but what we need is beyond what I’m able to get out of these modelers. When was the last time this ship was modified and the simulators updated?”

Tina shrugged. “The Pitfall is a good ship, but it’s low on priority from Fleet. I think it was supposed to be decommissioned years ago, but the Heshian rebellion has forced the Consulate Navy to keep it around. We’re more a deterrent than a final solution.”

Those words sent a chill down Auden’s spine. “That’s beyond reckless.”

Tina scoffed. “That’s the way it is if you’re not a flagship. We make do.”

Auden resisted a snide remark. She was beginning to realize the impact the Heshian rebellion was having on the Consulate Navy. Their removal had created a void that no one in positions of leadership was relaying to those serving. Part of her wondered if Admiral Dickson even knew, or if the truth was simply buried in bureaucracy. “We can’t let this set us up for failure,” Auden said flatly. “We have an opportunity. We shouldn't waste it.”

“What do you suggest?” Tina asked. “We have limitations. We can’t pretend they don't exist.”

“True, but we can’t let those limitations defeat us.” Her fingers danced across the keypad as she loaded more enemy crafts into the scenario. She selected each grouping and elevated each parameter to the maximum effect.

“That’s not realistic,” Tina said. “Jake’s not going to like this. We have standards that we train to.”

“Maybe the standards are part of the problem,” Auden suggested. “Does the Pitfall have drones or tracking probes?”

Tina looked at her questioningly. “I don't know. I’m sure we have something buried in mothballs. Why?”

Without taking her eyes off the monitor, Auden asked, “What do you do when you have too many enemies coming at you?”

“Focus on the nearest forces until you can afford to expand your reach. Why?”

Auden placed a series of drones next to the simulated Manx fighters and ran the simulation. Each drone was programmed to lase incoming fighters. As the scenario played out, only the drones were destroyed until the Manx were within effective weapons range.

“What the?” Tina swore under her breath and glared at Auden. “How did you know to do that?”

Auden shrugged. “We played wargames in the Consulate Academy. Most of my peers ignored the usefulness of drones in an offensive situation. They preferred larger craft with higher capacity. I took on my whole class in a solo craft and fifty drones. They thought it would be nine against one. It was over in four and a half minutes.”

Tina chuckled. “Jake needs to see this. He won't believe it.”

“Do you think he’ll be upset?”

Tina shook her head. “Not when he sees what we’d be capable of. This is next level. The Fleet is so focused on newer technology that it largely ignores old assets. Maybe the Heshians will be the same and not expect it?”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Auden admitted. If nothing else, the addition of drones into the equation could at least draw some fire away from them. It was worth a shot.

Tina smiled at her. “I’ll be back with the boys soon. Keep working on your plan. I think you’re on to something.”

Auden watched Tina run out of the room. She felt a swell of pride as she replayed the scenario. She was surprised it worked in the simulator with all parameters maxed out. The computer would think much faster than a biological being, regardless of species. The Heshians were capable fighters, but even they often succumbed to a maxed-out computer algorithm. Perhaps that would be their advantage? Not relying on who had the highest technology, but who could use what they had available to them the best.

She reclined back in her seat and smiled.

“If only Dad could see me now.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Jake removed his headset and dropped it to the deck. “There’s no way we can get to the Heshian ship with only thirty-three drones and probes at our disposal. The idea was good in theory, but we need triple the amount of assets to put any chinks in their armor.”

He wasn't wrong. Auden knew this as much as anyone, but she still had faith in the plan. They just hadn't discovered how best to utilize their assets to keep their fighters from being obliterated by the Heshians. “I can try and make some changes to the program,” she offered.

The expression on Jake’s face shut her up.

“Maybe there’s something else we can do to overwhelm their sensor arrays,” Tina offered. “Something that we’re missing. I don't think Auden was wrong about what we needed to win, but we can't make it happen with the assets we have in this scenario.”

Jake climbed out of the simulator like a child getting out of a bathtub. He was drenched in sweat, as they all were. “I’m not saying what she did here is wrong. I'm merely stating the obvious: it’s ineffective.” He pulled his water bottle from the console and squeezed some into his mouth.

Auden joined him, climbing out of her seat lined up behind his. She used her flight manual to fan herself, wondering if they were risking a fire by keeping the simulators running nonstop for so long.

“What if we launch an EMP ahead of the drones?” Hinton asked.

“It would take out our drones and possibly our fighters as well,” Tina said.

“What about deflector shields?” Hinton leaned against his simulator, dabbing away sweat as it dripped down his dark cheeks. “With enough distance, we might be able to deflect the EMP and get closer to the enemy ship.”

Jake dragged the sleeve of his flight suit across his face. “And what about the freighter? There are humans onboard. The EMP could knock out their life support systems before we can secure the enemy forces.”

“That’s if the Heshians don't destroy them as soon as we arrive,” Tina added.

“There is that possibility,” Jake conceded. He lit a fresh cigarette and took a drag. “We need something significant to make a difference here. I don't like the idea of flying in and getting turned into a miniature nova. Any other ideas to augment what Auden’s given us so far?”

Everyone looked at each other; their questioning stares were a silent confirmation that none of them had anything else to offer.

“Sorry, Bone. I’m coming up with nothing,” Hinton said. “We’re going to need four miracles and a partridge in a pear tree to survive this mission.”

That statement gave Auden an idea. “Did you know that partridges are often found in groups of six to fifteen?”

Hinton scoffed. “That’s some trivial information to have stored in your brain. What’s your point?”

Auden turned to the monitor and dropped in six more Manx fighters for each pilot.

“What are you doing?” Jake asked. “We don't have that many Manx onboard.”

Without taking her eyes off the monitor, she said, “But we should have that many decoys, right?”

“Yeah, why?” Jake asked, leaning over her shoulder.

“We can’t increase the number of drones we don't have, but we can artificially make it appear like we have more fighters on the enemy’s radar. We power up the decoys, and then we deploy behind the drones.”

Tina chuckled. “Are you serious? That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard?”

Jake stood back up and looked at the time. “We’re eight hours from entering the Solar System. If this test works, I need to get on the horn with the skipper and make things happen. Good idea, Auden. Guys, hop in, we’re running this scenario.”

“Yes!” Hinton shouted, tossing off his headset and tapping his feet on the deck of his simulator as if he were a drummer. “That’s what I’m talking about, Auden. The new guy had a great idea.”

“New gal,” Tina corrected with a friendly smirk.

Jake sighed. “It was close. I’m not convinced of the viability of the decoys,” he admitted, shedding a bit of rain on everyone else’s parade. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I had trouble lining up some of my shots given how tightly the decoys were wound around my craft.”

“I did too,” Auden said. “But I also evaded three blasts that would have destroyed my ship if the decoys weren’t in place. My starboard side was openly exposed near the end, and I had to be careful not to provide a broadside target for the enemy ship. Perhaps we can program them to maintain a specific orbit around us when one is lost?”

Jake agreed. “Program those parameters and let’s try again. I don’t want to take this to the skipper without having an answer for any holes in our logic.”

Auden climbed out of her simulator and reclaimed her seat at the console while the others sat watching her work. Despite the stress and dread of what they were about to face, she was enjoying working with her new teammates. As much as they seemed to joke around while masking some secret pain, they were an effective unit. She was glad Admiral Dickson assigned her to them.

“I have the decoys programmed to maintain equal distance surrounding the ships. I also took the liberty of having them two meters behind where they were orbiting us before. I’m hoping that will open up our line of fire while still giving us the protection we’re looking for,” Auden said as her fingers danced along the console. She punched in the final commands and looked at Jake. “Ready for round two?”

“Absolutely.” Jake nodded for the others to get in their seats while Auden brought the scenario to life.

Auden quickly placed the scenario into run, hopped in her simulator, donned her headset, and awaited orders.

“Alright, guys. Activating the scenario on my mark.” There was a pause, and then Jake said, “Active scenario. Fight’s on.”

All four simulated Manx spacecraft darted from the hangar. Auden was directly behind the lead, Jake. She kept a sufficient distance from his ship while following his moves as closely as possible. For this to work, they wanted to appear as a much larger force digitally while creating a small targeting footprint for the enemy. A large rectangle representing the Heshian warship appeared on her screen. An even larger ship was near it, which simulated the freighter believed to have been taken hostage by the Heshians. In this scenario, the enemy was using the freighter as a shield. Visually, the effect was poorly rendered, but thankfully, their weapons didn’t rely solely on a visual field for targeting.

“Spunky, take the right path. I’m going left,” Jake said.

“Roger that, Bone.”

On her display, Auden watched as the small rectangles representing their squadron began to drift apart. The team on the right had the luxury of distance from the primary weapons on the Heshian ship, though they were more out in the open than Jake and Auden would be as they utilized the freighter ship as cover for themselves to get closer.

Auden didn’t know how she felt about using the freighter as a shield, but they needed to get close enough to mount an attack. While powerful, the missiles on the Manx had a shorter effective range than the lasers used by the mighty warships. If they were in range of enemy fire, they could very well be picked apart before they could launch their first missiles.

Of course, that was part of the Pitfall’s job. Once their squadron deployed, the Pitfall was backup support, using every weapon at its disposal to lob toward the Heshian warship.

There was no way to use targeting in the simulation for the Pitfall’s role in the scenario, but considering they had just succeeded in the first run without outside support, Auden was confident that in a pinch, the Pitfall wouldn’t have to fire for her squadron to succeed. Of course, there was something to be said for reliable backup support. You would have to be a fool to run this operation without it.

“I have a visual of incoming fighters,” Tina said. “Bearing zero niner three.”

“I see them on my display. I’m counting seven enemy ships. Three are moving towards Bone and TBD. Four are heading straight for us. Weapons armed,” Hinton replied.

“Hold fire until we’re well within range,” Tina reminded him.

“I have targets on my display,” Auden added. “I can confirm what Tap Dancer saw on his display.”

“Affirmative,” said Jake as he maneuvered his craft. “I’ll take the lead fighter, and TBD will focus on his closest wingman.”

“Affirm,” Auden said, positioning her targeting reticle onto the appropriate ship. “I have a lock.”

“Fire,” Jake ordered, releasing his first missile before banking left.

Auden followed suit but banked right. The plan was to make a tight turn and fall back into position to resume another run toward the enemy.

“Tap Dancer and I have confirmed hits on our side,” Tina announced. “Reengaging now.”

“TBD, repeat the same tactic, but don’t break off. I want to get closer to the mothership and see if we can take out the lasers,” Jake said.

The order would deviate from the former scenario, but she understood that removing those lasers could preserve the decoys, thus prolonging their lives. It was worth the effort to see if it was a viable tactic. “Affirmative.” Auden selected her next target and locked on. “Firing.”

Her second missile burst forth from her higher port wing and screamed toward the target. Her display lit up with a simulated explosion as she maintained course. “Hit,” she announced.

“Good shot,” Jake acknowledged. “Fall in behind me and let’s knock out those lasers.”

“Roger that.” Auden maneuvered behind Jake and reduced her throttles to maintain optimal distance. Together, they advanced toward the enemy ship.

The warship loomed on her display, partially obscured by the freighter. They knew from past experience that the Heshian’s lasers relied heavily on line-of-sight targeting. The goal to defeat them was to remain out of sight for as long as possible to reduce casualties. It was a simple plan, but one that might prove difficult in execution.

Flashes of laser beams flared on Auden’s display as she maneuvered out from under the freighter. She stayed on Jake’s tail, hoping that his decoys would protect him, thereby protecting her as well. She watched as he accelerated, his Manx fighter darting forward to engage the enemy head-on. Within moments, he opened fire. The symbology on her display showed the missile’s trajectory. She drew her reticle over the next target and fired her own.

“I scored a hit,” Jake said.

Unfortunately, the blast from his missile detonated hers prematurely. “Trashed,” Auden said flatly, retargeting for a second volley before she needed to bank and recommit.

Tina and Hinton cheered from their side of the room as Auden presumed their attack was successful. Jake had given them the easier run, but unless she and Jake could take out the lasers first, Tina and Hinton would be at risk of being targeted themselves.

“TBD, you got a confirmed hit on the last forward laser. I’m swinging around and targeting the far-right laser near the stern,” Jake said through the com. “Swing around and strafe along the port side.”

“Roger that.” Auden executed a quick bank and turned to reorient her ship toward the bow of the warship. With the forward lasers out of commission, she was in the best position to damage the ship while providing backup support for Jake. The warship loomed on her display. She lined up to strafe the port side along a section of fuselage that contained several antennae and radar dishes. When in range, Auden fired, ripping through the simulated warship as she relentlessly drained her rounds into it.

Simulated sparks and chunks of burning steel exploded from the side of the warship, and the display showed damage. How realistic was anyone’s guess, but if it was that effective in real life, at least that deck would be exposed to vacuum.

“The last laser is destroyed. Spunky and Tap Dancer, it’s on you to destroy the drive.”

“On it,” Tina said enthusiastically.

Within moments, she and Hinton fired a series of devastating shots into the tail cone of the Heshian warship. With that, the scenario was over. They won.

Cheers filled the room as the four of them celebrated a second win.

Jake climbed out of his simulator and clapped Auden on the shoulder. “Excellent execution. I’m taking this to the skipper right now.”

Auden smiled. “Thankfully, we have time to prepare for the real thing.”

He nodded. “We need crew rest before we do this for real, but I’m confident. We beat the ship twice with the decoys. We can do it again.” Jake turned and ran from the room to meet with the captain while Tina and Hinton hung behind.

“That was a good call on the decoys,” Hinton said. “I don't think anyone else would have thought of using them that way.”

Tina agreed as she leaned against her simulator. “You’ve got that right.”

“What do we do now?” Auden asked. She was happy the scenario worked in their favor, but were they really going to try and rest with a looming operation just a few hours away?

“Wait for Jake to confirm everything is a go with the captain, then ride it out in our quarters until we need to man our ships. The maintenance crew will load and configure everything. All we need to do is put our butts in the seats,” Hinton said, smiling as if the battle was already won.

Auden climbed out of her simulator and wiped the sweat from her face with her sleeve. During the fight, she hadn't realized how much hotter the room had gotten, but it was noticeable now. “I’m burning up,” she said as she pulled her water bottle to her lips and took a drink. “Maybe we should switch these off and let the room cool down?”

“We’ll wait for Jake, just in case,” Tina said. “But we don't need to wait in here. I bet the passageway is ten or more degrees cooler.”

“Let’s go,” Hinton said, leading the way toward the door.

Auden followed, hoping the confidence they all felt would last once they engaged the enemy.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Tryngas was loaded with multiple crates in its hold that Davanis’s men had taken from the Bridgefield. Most of the supplies were food inedible to Heshians, but some of the other supplies could prove useful, especially those of a technological nature.

The irony of taking the plunder from the humans was that Davanis’s men were able to use their human prisoners to do the heavy lifting. Albeit machines were used for the bulk of the work, meanwhile Davanis’s men stood guard to ensure everything was transported back and forth between the ships without incident.

So far, so good, he thought, surveying the cargo hold.

Davanis ran his fingers along the crates, reading the labels and estimating that the value of the stolen goods was in the millions of credits. It was a good haul, but not great. Not worth what his men deserved for their efforts.

But it was a start, nonetheless. A start that only his ship and his crew could take credit for. Where was the Heshian leadership in all of this? Nowhere near the enemy lines like Davanis was. They were holed up and in hiding in their home system, waiting out the Consulate Fleet, hoping for the ceasefire agreement from years before to slowly lead to an end to the conflict. But Davanis knew better. There would be no end without bloodshed.

The only question was whose blood would be shed.

If it were up to Davanis, it would be the humans who brought this war to his people in the first place. Humans had used the Heshians as a military force to glorify themselves, which ultimately led to mutual resentment. Fairness had been disabused to facilitate the advancement of the human race within the Consulate. The higher they were, the more they looked down on the Heshians. They mistook strength for weakness simply because the Heshian leadership sought to maintain relations with the other species within the Consulate. But it had been a fool’s errand. The conspiracy was much deeper than any superficial explanation might suggest. Only those who witnessed the evil could testify to it. Still, not everyone saw the truth the way Davanis did, but one day they would. Davanis would make sure of it.

“When this is done, I’m going to carve out a place in this universe for my people to start over. I’ll build an empire upon the bodies of our enemies, and I will destroy the Consulate once and for all.”

“Captain?” Brako interrupted Davanis’s thoughts. “Sir, the last shipment is coming in from the Bridgefield. Once it’s unloaded, we can return and rig the freighter with explosives as you ordered. Do you want us to leave the human prisoners aboard the Bridgefield, or shall we take them with us?”

Davanis hated the idea of taking any human filth with them, but his plan would require at least a small force if it was to be successful. “Though I don’t want the responsibility of more mouths to feed, Commander. I feel it’s in our best interest to place a minimal crew to man the weapons stations and launch our assault on the Consulate by way of our human slaves. I will enjoy watching them bring about their own destruction. And if it is necessary for us to pivot, then we will transport them aboard our ship and jump out of this system, detonating the Bridgefield on our way out.”

“Understood, sir. Should we forge any outgoing messages to throw off the scent for the Consulate?”

“To what end, Commander?” Davanis asked. “The Consulate Navy will report our presence before the first shot is fired. No, I don’t believe trying to throw them off is necessary. We’ll simply allow them to approach the freighter and order the humans aboard it to attack. The Consulate will either destroy the captives or go up in flames with them. I’m eager to see which.”

“Understood, sir. I’ll alert you once we’re ready to go.”

Davanis nodded. “Thank you. How much longer until we can expect the Consulate to arrive?”

Brako looked at his wrist and answered, “Approximately four hours, sir. I suggest we be prepared in three, just in case.”

“As do I. Ensure our crew is notified of our condensed timeline. Have them work quickly, but I don’t want any mistakes handling the explosives. Do you understand?”

“Aye, sir.” Brako departed, and Davanis sneered. He hated waiting. He was ready for the fight now.

He abruptly turned toward the bridge and walked away in search of a better place to wait for the Consulate Navy’s arrival. Soon, he thought, I’ll get what I’ve been waiting for.

Davanis watched through the viewport as the Bridgefield drifted near the Tryngas in the Ort Cloud of the Solar System. Time was moving forward on the clock, from which Mantius estimated the arrival of the Consulate Navy. The neural destabilizer aboard the Tryngas was still operational, though the power drain was significant. He hoped the power would not deplete before he was able to secure his victory.

Footsteps approached, pulling Davanis’s attention away.

“Sir, we are having some issues with the prisoners,” Mantius said as he entered the Tryngas’s bridge.

“What kind of trouble?”

“My men are reporting that some are no longer responding to their orders. They are beginning to show signs of active defiance.”

Davanis turned to Mantius and saw panic in the man’s yellow eyes. “Defiance?”

“Yes, sir. It appears the neural destabilizer is no longer as effective as it was due to the prolonged duration. Perhaps the humans have become immune to its effects?”

“Perhaps,” Davanis said, his voice guttural. He turned back to the viewport, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. “Amplify the signal.”

“But, sir, even if we maintained sufficient power, by increasing the frequency we could lose some of the prisoners if the intensity is too high,” Mantius said, his voice near pleading with his master, his commander.

Davanis spun around on his heels and approached his subordinate. His eyes were afire. “I don't care if we lose them, whether by losing control of them or by their death. They mean nothing to me. Amplify the signal as I have ordered. Those who do not comply with my orders will be jettisoned from an airlock. And I'm not simply referring to the humans. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Mantius said. “As you wish.”

Davanis watched the man leave before looking back at the viewport. So much promise for success felt as if it was sifting through his fingers like sand. In truth, he did care about whether the humans aboard the Bridgefield lived or died. He needed them to act as a decoy in case the Consulate’s attack was effective. He needed them to man his ghost fleet in the Kresida System so that he could use them to take on the Consulate. But losing them had always been a possibility. It was better that they lived, if for no other reason than it meant he would succeed.

The timer above the viewport clicked over to the final hour before the Consulate was estimated to arrive. “We must hold on to what we have and hope for the best. The humans will pay with their lives, but my men must not succumb to hopelessness. We are warriors. We must prevail.”

Davanis moved away from the viewport and made his way out of the bridge and toward the aft section of the ship, where a transport awaited with enough explosives to destroy a ship four times the size of the freighter. He had expected the Bridgefield to be rigged to explode by now. Of course, if their slave workforce was no longer cooperative, they would justify the delay. “How much longer until this transport departs, and the freighter is ready?” Davanis asked.

Brako stood by with his tablet in hand. “We should be good for departure now, Captain. I’m waiting for a few men to return from the airlock. Some of the humans revolted, even after increasing the frequency of the weapon. We spaced them.”

Davanis thought he had noticed a change, a dull hum in the back of his head. “How many?”

“Three, sir, including the former captain of the vessel.”

Davanis let out a breath. He hadn’t expected that man to break. He had acted on Davanis’s orders without hesitation. “Have you noticed any improvement in the prisoners’ behavior?”

“Yes, sir. Most of the quarreling has died down, and all but the three were pliable to our orders.” Brako’s attention turned to his men as they returned to the hangar bay. “Excuse me, sir. Gareg, time is of the essence. Transport this ship back to the Bridgefield and rig it with a detonator that I can control from here. Rig it with a dead man’s switch so that in the event our signal is lost, the freighter will be destroyed. And make sure that none of the humans tamper with it.”

“Yes, sir,” said Gareg as he took the helm of the transport ship, which belonged to the freighter, while another of the men took the Heshian transport to return the prisoners.

Davanis and Brako watched the transports leave before Davanis gave his next order. “I want you on the bridge with me when the Consulate arrives. You’ll focus on commanding the Bridgefield remotely while I focus on our crew of the Tryngas. On my command, you will detonate the Bridgefield.”

“Of course, sir. Do you wish for me to wait until our crew returns, or report to the bridge now?”

“I believe the sooner the better, Commander.” Davanis turned his gaze to Brako. “I have a feeling that we’re about to have company.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“We ran the scenario twice, sir. I’m confident in this new plan,” Jake said; his excitement was both a comfort and a thorn. “All we need is six decoys mounted on each craft. They will make our forces appear larger on the enemy’s radar while adding a level of protection to our ships. Trust me, this is the only way to confront the Heshian warship and survive.”

Silas considered the wing commander’s words. His reasoning was sound, and Silas had a difficult time dismissing it, but the mounting pressure of what was at stake made him wary of changing a plan that would affect multiple departments of his ship. “You say in each scenario the survivability was one hundred percent? Absolutely zero casualties on our side?”

“Yes, sir,” Jake said flatly, clearly having had enough of the debate and now expecting to be permitted to deviate from the previous orders. If not for the fact that previous estimates for casualties were at sixty percent, Silas would have told the indignant wing commander to come back after checking his attitude at the door. But there was no time for ego to shroud sound judgment.

Silas turned to the console. They were less than two hours from entering the Solar System. It was a hell of a time to change plans, but he wasn’t about to gamble with the lives of his crew to preserve his pride. He snatched the com from the console and keyed the channel to make an announcement to all hands. “On board the CSS Pitfall. This is the captain speaking. I want all department heads to report to the bridge in the next five minutes. Captain out.” He replaced the com and looked at Jake. “Alright, Commander, you convinced me that this plan is worth pursuing. You have my support; anything you need, let me know. But we’re less than two hours from entering battle, and I have responsibilities on the bridge. I’m going to trust you to go over the plan with the other department heads. I’ll keep an ear out in case you need me, but otherwise, this is your plan. Execute it.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Silas saw the beginning of a prideful smirk tug at the edges of the wing commander’s mouth. He was young and willing to wage war for his people, a noble trait. But Silas hoped that the simulated scenario was as the young man described.

If not, they wouldn’t have a second chance.

“Carry on,” Silas said, giving the wing commander permission to walk away and leaving Silas to carry out his other duties. “Godspeed,” Silas whispered once Jake was out of earshot. “We’re going to need it.”

Silas monitored the department heads as they convened on the bridge to discuss the change of plan. To Jake’s credit, the wing commander explained everything flawlessly, carefully going over what was needed and how the other departments could support the mission. In Silas’s opinion, the only shortfall to the plan was the restrictive timeline they had to prepare. But the prospect of saving the lives of nearly half of his crew would make up for their troubles.

“We’re on the cusp of entering Sol, and you want to reconfigure the loadouts on our fighters to include half a dozen decoys each?” The tactical officer, Lieutenant Commander Vincent Carrico asked, exasperated by the audacious request. “We barely loaded all the missiles and prepared the torpedoes. And now it’s back to the drawing board?”

“Not exactly,” Jake said. “We’re adding to the configuration. Not changing it.”

“Jake, it’s not a simple addition. The decoys still require programming, and not everyone in the maintenance department is trained to do it. Programming takes half an hour, and we have upwards of twenty-four decoys to program. It doesn’t work mathematically.”

“Can we take people from other departments and get it done?” The operations officer, Lieutenant Commander Mitch Myatt suggested. He leaned forward, placing himself between the standoff between Boone and Carrico. “With enough people, we can get it done before we enter the fight.”

“I doubt it.” Said Carrico. “The timeframe is too short. This genius plan should’ve been hatched sooner. We risk more by forcing the change. I can’t support this on merit alone.”

“So,” Jake spat. “You’re willing to let people die for merit?”

Carrico sighed. “That’s not what I meant. My argument is based on our capabilities. We don't have the time or people to support it, regardless of merit.”

“That’s bull, and you know it,” Jake accused. His finger was pointed at Carrico’s chest, eliciting a scowl from the seasoned tactical officer.

“Gentlemen, instead of arguing about our capabilities, let’s focus on what we can do,” Silas interjected. He rose from his seat and crossed the bridge to face the department heads. Looking at the Carrico, he said, “Tactical, get the decoys loaded and expedite programming.” He turned his attention to Myatt, “Ops, I want everyone with the proper clearances in the hangar and assisting. Commander Boone brought us a plan that will work. I don’t suggest we waste time poking holes in the plan when that time could be better spent making it happen. Understood?”

“Yes, Captain,” came the response from the assembled officers on the bridge.

“Good. Make it happen.”

The department heads disbanded to make the necessary arrangements while Silas remained on the bridge. The tension in the room had been palpable, and for good reason. Boone had advanced quickly when the former wing commander had been killed. The other department heads had more time and experience. He was hotheaded and crass. But Silas knew that Boone was right. The plan was solid. More so than some of those leading their own departments wanted to acknowledge.

Silas’s stomach churned, a mix of hunger and anxiety. He knew better than to feed it. Going into the heat of battle on a full stomach was a mistake he would not make again, but he was beginning to feel like he had started his fast too soon.

“Stay focused,” he told himself softly. “You drive the hunger; don’t let it drive you.”

He fell into his seat and began distracting himself by swiping through the menus on his monitor. Everything was ready, or at least close to ready. Once the fighters were outfitted for the mission, everything would be in order.

Not like last time.

Silas cringed, thinking about the last time. It had been an ambush. The Heshians had waited for them and were relentless. No sooner than the Pitfall had arrived in that system, the first volley of torpedoes and laser fire cut into the Pitfall’s hull. It could have been so much worse, and in many ways, the damage was a slow burn, etching away at the minds of his crew and sapping their confidence. Many nights, he lay awake wondering if there was something about the attack he was missing. Why hadn't the Heshians destroyed them when they had the chance?

It was a question he may never have the answer to. He would have to live with that.

“It doesn't matter why,” he said to himself. “We’re ready. This time, we know what we’re going into.”

“Sir,” Silas, pulled from his thoughts, looked up at the helmsman, Ensign Gordon Bray. “We’re one hour from entering the solar system. Do you want me to make the announcement?”

“No, Ensign. I’ll do it,” Silas said, taking the com. “On board the CSS Pitfall. This is the captain speaking. We are one hour from entering the solar system. In approximately thirty minutes, we will go to battle stations. Ensure that you’re prepared. Captain out.”

Silas cut the com and looked at the helmsman. “If you need to do anything before we go to battle stations, then you should do it now. We’re going in swinging, but it could be a long fight. I need you at your best.”

“Aye, sir.” Ensign Bray rose from his seat. His fingers tapped at the console before he looked back at Silas. “Sir, I put the ship on autopilot. I’m going to hit the head and grab a quick snack. Do you need anything while I’m gone?”

Silas considered it for a moment. His hunger gnawed at him, but now wasn't the time. He didn't want to get nauseous with a full stomach in the middle of a firefight. Still, he needed something to satiate him, if only a little bit. “Please bring me a coffee, but make it decaf. I don’t want the jitters in the middle of battle.”

“Will do, sir.” Ensign Bray departed the bridge, and Silas once again scrolled mindlessly through the menus in an attempt to lose himself before thoughts of his failed marriage and ultimate ruin shrouded his thoughts.

It was futile.

His sense of betrayal and failure followed him every turn.

Silas switched off the monitor and sat back, closing his eyes. He was never a religious man, but after what he’d lost the last time, he was willing to do anything to never go through that experience again. So, he did what he had never done before. He gave in and uttered a silent prayer for protection. As he opened his eyes, searching for a different sensation as the battle approached, he began to cry. Silas rose and moved to the corner, wiping at his eyes with his uniform sleeves.

It was unlike him, but for some reason, he welcomed it.

At least until he realized he was not alone with his emotions.

“Is something wrong, sir?” The question came from a junior officer on the bridge. He couldn’t remember her name, but she had been with the crew since they arrived at Port Valara. I should have done more to get to know the new members of the crew, he thought shamefully.

“Everything is fine, Lieutenant. Thank you,” he said.

“Aye, sir. I’ll be at the coms console if you need me.”

Silas nodded, not looking in her direction as she stepped away. Once more, he dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve and tried to regain his composure. “Thank you.”

Those were the only words he could get past his lips.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The ready room was alive and full of nervous energy while the pilots waited for their wing commander to return. Auden watched in amusement as Tina and Hinton argued back and forth about everything from who was the best pilot to who had the best hero arc in their graduating class. In both instances, Auden believed Hinton was exaggerating a bit too much.

Then, the discussion moved to something that was on all of their minds.

The plan.

“The skipper would be crazy not to try this plan. I mean, the survivability statistics alone are unmatched by anything else anyone has come up with,” Tina said for the third time in ten minutes. It was nice to have her support, but Auden was nervous that Commander Monroe might not have to be crazy to reject the plan. Militarily speaking, the best plans were made and executed without unnecessary changes regarding the prospect of success. Everyone wanted their ideas and battle plans used, but as she learned in military history while a cadet in the Consulate Academy, not every plan survives contact with the enemy.

“Trust me, I believe in the plan as much as you do, but the skipper is in charge.” Auden looked at her friend and smiled. “I mean, couldn’t someone also say he’d be crazy to authorize a new plan two hours before battle? You have to admit, that’s a bit absurd if you think about it.”

Tina’s jaw visibly dropped. “Are you being serious? Are you listening to yourself because it sounds to me like you’re sabotaging yourself!”

“No, I…” Auden actually didn’t know what to say. In an attempt to be pragmatic, had she resolved to self-sabotage? “I don’t think that I am.”

Hinton chuckled. “Maybe you’re not, but you are arguing against yourself while Jake is on the bridge trying to sell your idea to the captain.”

“Technically, I think Jake’s selling it to the other department heads. Commander Monroe called all of them to the bridge half an hour ago, remember?” Tina wore a “gotcha” smirk as she winked at Hinton.

“Fine, but regardless of how democratic Commander Monroe tries to be, he ultimately has the final say. If Jake doesn’t sell him on the idea, it definitely isn't going to be authorized.” He made a know-it-all face back at Tina before blurting out in laughter.

Auden scoffed. They were doing what they could to be encouraging, but it was so ridiculous that it almost didn’t matter. “Are you guys always like this?”

Tina said, “Yes!”

Hinton shook his head accusingly. “Don’t believe everything she says. Tina’s a trickster.”

Tina’s jaw dropped, and she tossed a preflight checklist in his direction. “Don’t call me that. It's not my fault you’re so gullible.”

Both of them laughed hysterically.

That was when the ready room door opened.

Jake stepped in with a weary expression.

“How did it go?” Tina asked, all her previous humor deflated.

The wing commander fell into a seat next to her and rubbed at his eyes. “It could’ve gone better.” He pulled out. A cigarette and lit it. His words had a physical effect on the others in the room. Each of them let out disappointed sighs.

“Sorry,” said Tina.

“Don’t be,” Jake replied. “Monroe saved the plan after Carrico tried shooting it down. I don’t think his argument was wrong, but thankfully the skipper was willing to take a risk to employ Auden’s plan, whereas Carrico wanted to stick with the old one.”

“So, it’s happening?” Auden asked eagerly.

Jake nodded. “Maintenance crews are configuring the ships with the extra decoys and programming them. It’s going to be tight, but they should be done by the time we’re in system.”

Elation filled the room.

“You had me worried,” Tina said, slapping Jake on the shoulder teasingly.

“Sorry,” he said. “Dealing with the other department heads is a lot of unnecessary stress. Carrico, in particular, worked me into a headache.”

Hinton took a sip of water from his bottle and chimed in, “I guess if this is a bad idea, we’ll find out in short order, huh?”

“It’s not a bad idea. It’s a genius idea.” Tina said, winking at Auden.

Jake smirked. “It might be the closest thing to a genius idea any of us has ever had, but that doesn't mean it will go as planned. Don't get me wrong, I’m confident, but there’s always the possibility that the Heshians will react in a way we could never anticipate. Fate will decide just how great a plan it is. Until then, I will say that it’s our best hope.”

“That’ll have to be enough,” said Hinton with a grin. “I’m just glad the skipper agreed to it. No lie, I was wondering if I was going to be the unlucky one in the forty percent mortality rate.”

The comments drew the air out of the room, and all eyes locked onto Hinton, half-expecting a punchline.

There was none.

“Don't think like that,” Tina warned. “You know that’s dangerous, right?”

Hinton scoffed. “Being on this ship is dangerous, Spunky. But sometimes you have to look danger in the face and recognize that it might be your time to go.” His words did nothing to settle the room.

Jake leaned forward. “For a funny guy, you have a real dark side. Did you know that?”

Hinton shrugged. “Don't we all?”

Jake took a deep drag of his cigarette, nodded at Hinton, and left it at that.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Davanis willed the Consulate to come. Everything was in order. The Bridgefield was rigged with explosives, her crew manning the half dozen weapons stations to mount an offensive attack as soon as the Consulate ship arrived.

A dead man’s switch linked the Bridgefield to the Tryngas, a last resort of sorts. Davanis anticipated the possibility of being overwhelmed by the enemy, so where Plan A might fail, Plan B would not. If unable to detonate the Bridgefield due to their proximity, he and his crew would jump, an act that would trigger the dead man’s switch to activate and destroy the Bridgefield.

Either way, the situation would end with a worthy death toll for the humans.

Even if the neural destabilizer failed, and he was unable to gain control of the humans aboard the Consulate ship, he had already provided proof of concept. The neural destabilizer was more effective than it had been before. With the right frequency and intensity, he could manipulate the enemy into doing his bidding.

And Davanis knew exactly how he wanted to use the weapon on his next target.

“Captain, all of our personnel are on board and at their battle stations,” Brako said from his console across the bridge. “Now we wait.”

Davanis’s fingers gripped the armrest of his chair, and a snarl edged his face. The minimum window for the Consulate’s arrival had ended. It was time.

“Run a full scan of our perimeter. I don’t want them sneaking up on us,” Davanis ordered.

Brako focused his attention on his console for several moments before facing the captain. “All clear. I have the computer set to continuously monitor the sector within twenty thousand kilometers. We’ll have plenty of notice if they appear.”

“Unless they jump in right behind us. Maintain a constant distance between us and the Bridgefield. I don’t want to be far enough away from them that the Consulate is confident in their attack. We shall see how they value human life by their actions.”

“Aye, sir,” Brako replied, his fingers moving furiously on the console. “We’re locked with the Bridgefield.”

“Rerun the test on the detonator. Be sure no one has tampered with it.”

“If it was tampered with…”

Davanis cut him off. “I know how it should work, but if I’ve learned anything about the humans, it is that they are fiendishly clever. I will not be made a fool of by their craftiness.”

“Apologies, sir. Running the diagnostic now.” Davanis waited, tapping his taloned fingers impatiently. “The detonator is fully operational, sir.”

Davanis’s eyes narrowed into slits as he stared at the open space beyond the Tryngas. Somewhere out there, a Consulate ship was on its way. He was ready, but the waiting was a torture he didn’t want to endure. “Any moment, now.” He leaned forward, willing for something, anything, to appear.

A flash of light shone just beyond the Bridgefield.

The Tryngas’s sensors detected a new presence nearby. He didn't need to look at the console to confirm who it was. The Consulate Navy had arrived.

Davanis sneered. “It’s about time.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Auden strapped into her Manx fighter and ran through the preflight procedure. Her heart was pounding in her chest as a wave of anxiety washed over her, making her hands clammy. Perspiration beaded on her forehead. Her helmet absorbed some of her sweat, but she feared it getting in her eyes and stinging them. There was only one solution to her problem: she needed to cool off.

She pulled off her gloves and adjusted the cabin temperature while continuing the preflight check. All systems were online and functioning. She navigated through the menus and set everything up the way she liked: weapons stores on the left, radar on the right, and targeting reticle front and center. The drones were yellow triangles, while the decoys attached to her Manx appeared as small blue circles on her radar, distinguishing them against the green squares of the other fighters in her squadron. The Pitfall was a large green entity consuming most of the lower portion of her radar. Seeing everything laid out like this sent a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the cool air now blowing through the vents.

Sweat and chills, she thought. I’m really in it now.

A countdown timer on her primary display showed that they were minutes from entering the Solar System. This was it. The main event... the final event, she worried.

“Take it easy and breathe. It'll be alright,” she whispered to herself. “This is just like the simulation. Just follow Jake and do what he says.”

“Com check from alpha lead,” Jake said, unsettling her as his voice caught her off guard.

“Com check good, Alpha Lead.” Auden adjusted the volume and waited for the others to chime in. She didn’t have to wait long.

“Com check from Bravo Lead.” Tina’s voice was cool and collected. Auden was surprised by how dramatically different Tina was from her personality outside of the cockpit.

“Com checks good, Bravo Lead.” Even Hinton had a cool demeanor.

Auden wondered if it was professionalism or fear that dictated the change. Time will tell, she thought, trying to get her head in the game.

“Attention fighters,” the operations officer said through the com. “We are five minutes from entering the solar system. We’ve run diagnostics on every system twice. All decoys are pinging a different frequency, and all weapons are online. Stand by. We’ll alert you at the one-minute mark.”

“Roger that. Standing by,” Jake said flatly. On another frequency, he hailed Auden. “How are you doing, TBD?”

“Nervous,” she admitted, seeing no reason to lie.

“Me too, but nerves won’t dictate our success. Push back and rely on your training. You know how to pilot. You know how to assess threats and prioritize targets. If you get in trouble, let me know. We’re in this together. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“What’s that?”

Auden swallowed hard and repeated herself. “Yes, sir.” She spoke the words more deliberately that time.

“Good. Watch my six and everything will work as planned.”

There was silence, and then Auden asked, “Bone?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For believing in my plan and convincing the skipper,” she said.

“Oh,” Jake answered. “No offense, but I told him it was my idea.”

“Really?” She heard laughter on the other end of the com.

“No,” he said. “I told him it was your plan, but that I was backing it. He knows where to place the credit.”

Or the blame, she thought. But she shook the invasive, negative thought away before it could take root.

“One minute warning,” said the operations officer from Pitfall’s bridge.

Here we go. Auden donned her gloves and readjusted her restraints. One more diagnostic test showed that her Manx was fully operational.

A wave of momentary pressure rushed over her body as the Pitfall left hyperspace and was deposited in the Solar System. A lapse in orientation quickly settled as another announcement from the bridge called her into action.

“We have contact with two vessels. One is the human vessel, Bridgefield. The other is a Heshian warship. Both are oriented at bearing zero nine seven. Launch fighters. Repeat. Launch fighters.”

“Alpha leader to squadron. Depart the hangar and assume strike formation.” Auden watched as Jake’s fighter lifted from the magnetic restraints of the hangar deck and drifted toward the opening at the outer edge of the hangar.

“Alpha leader clear,” Jake said as his craft slipped through the artificial atmosphere barrier.

It was Auden’s turn, and she followed suit, careful not to put too much thrust behind her craft and fly it into the bulkhead.

On her radar screen, Auden could see Tina and Hinton doing likewise. Within moments, her craft was in open space outside of Pitfall’s hangar.

“Alpha two clear.”

It was Auden’s first time in the Solar System. The primary star, Sol, was a small but not insignificant light from her vantage point in the Ort Cloud. This is amazing, it’s so beautiful, she thought as a voice cut through the coms.

“Bravo lead clear.”

“Bravo two clear,” Hinton announced a few beats later.

Jake’s voice came through as he gave the order to break off and form up as they had rehearsed in the simulator. “Keep the formation in line with the Heshian ship. Just like we practiced. Alpha team will go left. Bravo team, cut right.”

All three pilots gave the affirmative as they maneuvered into position.

The freighter loomed ahead, a monolithic craft much larger than the vessel behind it. Sadly, the Heshian warship was using it as a shield, presumably to test the Consulate’s resolve to prevent collateral damage.

“That freighter has weapons online,” Jake said on the squadron’s channel.

“Good thing they’re on our side,” Auden said under her breath.

That was when the situation took a sudden turn.

The Bridgefield immediately opened fire on the Pitfall. Flashes of momentary brilliance spurted forth as launchers fired a barrage of missiles. Auden checked her radar but found nothing approaching. “Alpha two to lead, those missiles aren’t showing up on my radar screen.”

“Stand by,” Jake said. A moment later, he returned. “Those aren’t missiles. Ops said they appear to be dumb torpedoes.”

“What?” Tina’s voice was pitched higher.

“Apparently, civilian craft aren’t allowed to carry smart weapons in this system.”

“Then how do we evade something we can’t see?” Hinton asked. “We were expecting weapons with trackers on them.”

“I know, give me a second to think,” Jake replied.

Auden had an idea but didn't know if she should say it. That changed when Tina keyed up again.

“I just lost one of my decoys. A dummy torpedo slammed into it. It didn’t detonate right away, but the force of the explosion was enough to shift me out of position. I’m running a diagnostic now.”

Jake swore under his breath, and Auden realized he probably didn’t realize he was keyed up.

“Alpha two to lead. I think I know what to do,” Auden said, trying to stay calm as more flashes emanated from the Bridgefield.

“What is it, TBD?”

“We need to keep a tight formation as planned, but untether the decoys. They're battery-powered, not powered by our electrical systems. Even if we untether them and they drift away from us, we can make our forces appear larger than we are without presenting such a large cluster that those torpedoes can strike.”

Without hesitation, Jake gave the order. “Do it.”

All of them complied. On her radar screen, the small, blue circles spread out from the pack.

“We need to buy back some lost time,” Jake announced. “Alpha and Bravo teams, start your runs on my order.” A few seconds passed before he chimed in once more. “Go.”

Auden increased thrust and followed Jake on their left side run, trying to get around the human ship. Another barrage of blasts flared out from the Bridgefield. She knew they weren't targeting her per se; the Pitfall was a large target and was taking most of the heat. So long as they continued shooting at the larger target, she should be alright. At least for now.

The Bridgefield loomed larger as Auden watched it from her windscreen. What would provoke them to fire on us, she wondered? Whatever the reason, they just dropped into a much worse scenario than they had expected... except, she realized suddenly, no enemy fighters were coming toward them.

Auden keyed up a private channel with Jake. “Bone, I was expecting enemy fighters to confront us. So far, the only one firing is the Bridgefield.”

“Count our blessings, kid,” Jake said.

“Maybe. Or maybe we’re flying toward something worse?”

“What could be worse than a giant ship throwing massive, explosive stones at us? We can’t see them after they’re fired. We stand as much of a chance of flying into one as they do of hitting us.”

She considered that for a moment. “Yet the Heshian vessel hasn't fired a single shot. Does that seem strange to you?”

“Yes,” he admitted after a moment’s hesitation. “Thoughts on that?”

She shook her head, not wanting to say what was on her mind, but she had to. “They have something worse, and we’re flying right toward it.”

“Like what?” Jake asked.

“I don't know.”

A long moment of silence passed. Two torpedoes whizzed past Auden’s fighter. Her heart was racing. She felt like she was fighting blind.

The main channel lit up, and Jake's voice filled her ears. “I spoke to Ops. Maintain the plan. It's our only chance. He said to avoid firing on the Bridgefield and to focus all of our attention on the Heshian warship.

“And if they hit us?” Hinton asked.

There was no answer to that.

“Follow the plan.” Jake’s voice lingered like a stern warning.

It was clear to anyone paying attention that the plan was all anyone had to offer at the moment. The situation had taken all expectations and tossed them out the window. The plan, Auden’s plan, might not be perfect for the current situation, but it was all they had left.

She hoped they weren't putting all of their eggs in one basket.

With no other options, Auden tightened her grip on her controls, gritted her teeth, and stayed the course.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Silas watched as the Bridgefield opened fire on his ship. “What are they doing? Hail them!”

“Aye, sir,” the Coms Officer, Lieutenant Brandy Smith, said.

Silas watched out of the viewport as the freighter continued to fire, but his eyes were fixed on the Heshian vessel partially obscured behind it.

“Sir, the Bridgefield isn't answering our hails,” Smith said.

Ops chimed in. “Those are interesting.”

“How so?” Silas asked.

“No signs of them on radar.”

“What are they firing, a railgun? That doesn't seem likely.” Silas squinted as he searched for signs of the weapon on board the Bridgefield.

“I don't believe so. They’re detonating on impact with our shields. I think they’re torpedoes,” Myatt replied.

Silas looked at the man. “Torpedoes?”

Lieutenant Commander Myatt took a moment to bring up data on his console. “It appears that, according to Consulate law, civilian ships traversing through the Solar System are not permitted to carry smart weapons.”

“Well, that’s surprising,” Silas said. “How are our shields holding?”

“Ninety percent, sir,” Helmsman Ensign Gordon Bray answered. “Orders?”

“Hold fire and let our fighters engage the Heshian ship. I don't want to risk friendly fire if those weapons being fired at us aren't likely to cause too much damage. But keep hailing the Bridgefield. If we can get a human on the com, then maybe we can determine why they’re firing at us.”

“Aye, sir,” said Lieutenant Smith.

The Pitfall shook under the pressure of a torpedo blast. Everyone on the bridge braced against their consoles, trying to maintain their balance. “That seemed significant,” Silas said indignantly. “Damage report?”

“No damage to the ship,” said Ops. “The shields are holding, but we’re down to eighty- two percent. Lucky hit, if you ask me.”

“Lucky for whom?” Silas questioned. “Perhaps we need to elevate our posture? Fire across their bow.”

“What about the fighters?” Myatt asked.

Silas hissed. On the display, one team was positioned in the way of the Pitfall’s firing lane. He did not doubt that they could compensate, but with the incoming assault, he didn't want to risk either hitting his own people or inadvertently sending them into a volley from the Bridgefield. “Hold your fire. This is like Davanis fighting Goliath, except we’re both on the same side. Maneuver us, so we’re no longer broadside to the Bridgefield. Don’t give them a wide-bodied target. If we can’t fire on them, then we can at least make it more difficult for them to fire on us.”

“Aye, sir,” the helmsman replied.

As the Pitfall began to shift in position, Lieutenant Commander Myatt held up a finger and spoke into his com. “They aren’t missiles. I assume they’re dumb torpedoes. Consulate law forbids civilian craft from carrying smart weapons in this system.” He looked up at the captain and said, “Alpha lead was wondering what the weapons were.”

“I imagine I would want to know if I were in his position.” Silas moved to the console, careful to keep at least one hand on a surface for support in case they took another massive hit. “What is their situation?”

“They were just getting organized when the Bridgefield opened fire, sir.” Myatt held fast a moment as he listened in on another message. He turned to Silas and relayed the message. “Bravo lead lost a decoy. There's no damage to her fighter, but our pilots are getting nervous. They're sitting out in the open between us. What do you want them to do?”

Silas didn't have a clue. He could recall them, but they would lose the mobile assets of fighters in the area. He could send them to carry out their mission into a situation none of them had anticipated, but it felt too much like sending lambs to slaughter.

“What are our options?” Silas asked, hoping there was an idea worthy of pursuit that didn't cost him any of his people.

Myatt shrugged. “I’m afraid we’re out of options that don't risk losing our people, or that freighter. None of us expected to encounter this. I still don't understand why the freighter is firing at us and not at the Heshian ship.”

“That’s a question we might not have an answer to anytime soon,” Silas said. He turned to Coms. “Any chance you succeeded in connecting with that freighter?”

Smith looked back at him with a worried expression. “Negative, sir. Either they aren't listening, or their coms are offline.”

“I don’t like either of those possibilities. Let's assume that the ship is compromised by the enemy. Our only chance at potentially saving them is to take out the Heshian warship and then board the Bridgefield. Would you agree?”

Myatt nodded. “That sounds reasonable to me.”

“Then we should carry out our original plan and do what we can to avoid damaging the freighter unless we’re forced to,” Silas said.

“Agreed.” Myatt returned to the com with the fighters. “Alpha lead is suggesting they untether the decoys first. Let the decoys give the illusion of a larger force while sending in the fighters to attack the Heshian warship. I didn't want to authorize that without your permission.”

Silas considered it for a moment, then agreed. “Do it. We need them on the attack sooner rather than later.”

“Roger that,” Myatt confirmed the order to the fighters and let out a sigh. “Time to see if this works.”

“Godspeed,” Silas said under his breath. “Helm, prepare to fire across the Bridgefield’s bow once our fighters are out of the way. I don't want them turning their attention away from us and on our fighters.”

Bray nodded, “On it, sir.” He maneuvered the forward weapon to target the freighter’s bow, then shifted five degrees. It would be close, but far enough away not to cause damage. “Target locked, sir. Ready when you are.”

“Acknowledged. Keep a lock on them but hold your fire.”

“Aye, sir.”

Silas watched intently, willing his fighters to break through the onslaught and engage the Heshian warship. But the more he tried to set his focus on winning the battle, the more invasive thoughts fought to rule his mind, reminding him of his failures.

Images of Lieutenant Commander Marcus Williams, who died in the last battle with the Heshians. That of his wife, Nathalia, who, after nearly two decades, rejected him, left him, and sought to take everything from him that he had ever worked for.

Those were the thoughts that gave him pause and made him question himself and his abilities.

Silas clenched his teeth and forced himself to focus. I'm the captain of this ship, these are my people, I can't fail them.

But you will, just like the others. The voice in his head didn't sound like him, but he couldn't shake it.

“Please stop,” Silas whispered under his breath. “I can't take this anymore.”

“Sir?” Lieutenant Smith asked, her eyes wide with concern.

But Silas wasn't listening to anyone on the bridge of the Pitfall. His attention was elsewhere.

End this. Destroy them, the voice said. That's your only option. Give up. Give in. Obey.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Perfect,” Davanis said through his teeth. The situation couldn't have been any better. The Consulate ship had jumped into the sector on the other side of the Bridgefield, right in position for the freighter’s archaic weapons to begin their assault.

“Sir, I recognize the drive signature of that ship. It’s the CSS Pitfall. We engaged with them several months ago.”

“I wonder if they recognize us?” Davanis replied. “Have they attempted to communicate with the human freighter?”

“No clue, sir, but I do have targeting data from the Bridgefield’s weapons system. It appears that their weapons are ready to engage,” Brako said.

“Good. Order them to fire all weapons continuously.” I don't want them to stop until they’ve run out of munitions, or they’re dead.”

“Aye, sir,” Brako announced the firing command to the crew of the Bridgefield, depending on the neural destabilizer and his words to persuade them to engage with the Consulate ship. The response to his order was met with an immediate barrage of torpedoes fired from the Bridgefield’s port side weapons. “It’s working, sir.”

“I can see that,” Davanis said smugly as a satisfactory grin spread across his crimson face. His deep-set yellow eyes narrowed as he viewed the visible portion of the Consulate ship on the other side of the freighter, willing it to be blown to pieces. “Keep up with the assault. Don’t let them hesitate.”

“Yes, sir,” Brako replied, focusing the rest of his attention on ordering the human crew of the Bridgefield to maintain their firing posture.

Davanis paced the bridge, keeping his eyes on the various monitors to determine the best course of action. On the screen, he watched as more than two dozen fighters emerged from the Consulate ship. “There’s more than last time,” he muttered. “Perhaps they realized their folly and corrected their deficiencies? We'll see how that works out for them.” He turned to Brako and said, “Once the neural destabilizer is ready to receive another targeting command, I want you to target the Consulate ship.”

“Do you want me to target the fighters or target the Pitfall?”

Davanis sneered. “Attack the Pitfall. If we can create chaos between their command center and their fighters, then we can render both ineffective.”

“Roger that, sir.” Brako shifted to the other side of his console and manipulated the neural destabilizer’s controls. “The neural destabilizer will be primed and ready in four minutes.”

Davanis hated waiting, but he was eager to see how the Bridgefield would disrupt the Consulate’s ability to engage. Would they retaliate against the freighter, assuming the ship was compromised, or would they take the assault in stride and refrain from returning fire? He was hinging his bets on the latter. “You want to preserve human lives even when the most logical course of action is to let them die. Your ideology is a weakness, and that’s why you’ll lose,” he muttered as he watched the assault through the viewport.

More torpedoes belched from the Bridgefield and slammed into the Pitfall’s shields. Davanis grinned satisfactorily as the Pitfall lurched under another barrage, torpedoes detonated near the aft section of the warship. Still, the Pitfall refused to return fire.

“Multiple detonations have been reported, but no damage to the Consulate ship,” Brako said. “Their shields are holding against these inferior weapons.”

“We’ll see how well they hold up once we have control of their ship. Until then, continue with the torpedoes.”

Brako didn't respond. Instead, he focused his attention on following the order. The monitor ahead of Davanis zoomed in on the Pitfall. The swarm of fighters was out of view from the external feed, but the radar showed one of them was out of the fight. “They have suffered a casualty,” Davanis said. “One of their fighters is gone.”

“There’s still a significant force at their disposal. Quantity has a quality all its own, as one of my human shipmates told me many years ago,” Brako replied. “But perhaps we’ll get lucky and take out a few more in the process?”

“Perhaps, but I’m unwilling to wait longer than necessary. I want control of the Consulate ship. We know from experience that their fighters are nothing more than angry gnats getting in the way but doing little else. Not against a real threat.”

“Understood. Two minutes until the neural destabilizer is ready.”

Davanis returned to his seat. So far, everything was working in his favor. The Consulate was under attack and didn't appear to have a clue what to do about the freighter firing upon them. Chaos was a tool often employed by the Heshians, but this was at another level even by their standards. It was best to allow them to waste their own resources before turning their attention to his ship. He and his crew would play the long game. When the time came, the humans would get what was coming to them.

“One minute,” Brako said over his shoulder as he continued to manipulate his controls. Davanis appreciated the way his first officer conducted himself. He was professional and often multitasked with ease. Even under fire, Brako was calm and collected, not given to sensationalism.

He would make a fine captain, Davanis thought as he considered what the future would have in store once he seized control of the heart of the Consulate Fleet.

The monitor above showed the Consulate fighters spreading out. Davanis couldn't get a visual on them, but the digital representations of the fighters on the radar made it appear that they were splitting off into four groups. “Their attack appears to be imminent,” he said.

“We’re ready for them, sir. By the time they come around the Bridgefield, the neural destabilizer will be ready.”

Davanis smiled, leaning forward in his seat and waiting like a predator.

“The neural destabilizer is primed and ready to fire,” Brako said.

“Fire at maximum effectivity,” Davanis ordered.

Brako complied. The hum snap of energy displacement sounded throughout the Tryngas. Davanis felt a tingle of the energy whiz past him, or through him, he could not be sure. But he knew, based on the readout, that the frequency was as high as it could get. That meant it was likely to have the biggest effect on the crew of the Consulate ship.

“The neural destabilizer seems to be having an effect, sir,” Brako announced, taking readings from his console.

“Confuse them. Order them to fire on their own fighters.”

Davanis watched Brako get to work, communicating the plan and having it delivered through the frequency generated by the neural destabilizer.

Moments later, the Pitfall’s weapons came online. Their targeting locked onto the fighters closest to the Tryngas’s bow.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Open fire,” Silas ordered.

Lieutenant Commander Myatt looked at him, confusion strewn across his face. “But, sir, our fighters are still in the way.”

“I don’t care. I said to open fire. Destroy them.” Spittle ran down Silas’s chin, and his voice was strained.

“I...” Myatt stammered, eyes wide, looking to the other bridge officers for someone to make sense of the drastic change in the captain. “I won’t follow that order, sir.”

Silas moved quickly across the bridge, snatched the operations officer from his seat, and threw Myatt to the deck. He claimed the console, cycled through the menus, and began selecting entities on the radar screen, targeting both Alpha lead and Alpha two.

Myatt stood by mouth gaping as he watched the captain select friendlies on screen. The selected targets, yellow triangles and blue circles, each representing the Consulate squadron’s drones and decoys, were highlighted. The target lock tone sounded, and Silas grinned maniacally as he moved to launch the missiles.

Myatt leaped from the deck and punched in his override code right as Silas triggered the firing mechanism. He attempted to fire twice more, but nothing happened. Silas looked at Myatt, his eyes wild with rage, his countenance a sinister sneer. “What did you do? Why won’t it fire?”

The operations officer couldn’t find his voice to answer. Instead, he slowly backed away, looking for a means to defend himself from the monster staring back at him.

Understanding spread across the captain’s face, and Silas bolted up from the seat, seizing Myatt by the throat. “You locked me out! This is my ship. Who do you think you are?”

“Sir, I… I can't let you destroy our own assets.” Myatt could hardly get the words out.

Enraged, Silas tightened his grip. Manic eyes darted across the bridge and locked onto Lieutenant Smith. “You! Punch in your code and fire this weapon.”

Smith stood there, a statue of fear. “No,” she said softly. “I’m with Lieutenant Commander Myatt. I won’t fire on our own people.”

Myatt continued to struggle as he wrestled against Silas’s iron grip. “Sir, what’s gotten into you?” He choked. “This isn’t like you.”

Silas shook his head. A mix of rage and confusion shone on his face. “I have to destroy them. I must obey.”

“What? Obey who?” The words came more easily as the captain’s grip loosened ever so slightly from Myatt’s neck.

Silas froze. His stare was vacant. It was as if all the fight had left him broken and empty.

Myatt seized the opportunity. “Get him!” He ordered.

The other bridge officers swarmed the captain, pulling him off the operations officer.

Silas spoke incoherently as they lowered him to his knees. The helmsman looked at Myatt and asked, “What’s going on? I’ve never seen him lash out at someone like that.”

“I don't know, but now is a bad time to try to figure it out. Smith, deselect those targets. Bray, keep the captain restrained.” Myatt grabbed the com and called for security. “We have a situation on the bridge. Report immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” came the response.

Myatt looked to the others. “Until we get this sorted and figure out what’s wrong with him, I’m assuming command.” The Pitfall rocked under another bombardment. “Status report?” Myatt barked.

The helmsman looked over his shoulder at the console. “Shields are at seventy percent and dropping. We need to do something before we sustain any significant damage.”

“What do you suggest?” Myatt asked. “Aside from returning fire?”

Bray looked down for a moment, thinking. “We could back away. The distance would make us a smaller target and harder to hit.”

“It would also separate us from our fighters,” Myatt reminded him.

“Sir, if we’re unable to defend ourselves, then there won't be a ship for our fighters to return to,” Lieutenant Smith said, backing up the helmsman.

Myatt swore under his teeth. His throat ached. He eyed the captain warily. Silas was out of it, as if his brain was fried and all that was left was a shell of a man muttering nonsensical blather to himself. “Fine,” Myatt said. “Put some distance between us and the freighter, but don’t go outside of visual range.”

“Aye, sir,” the helmsman said, leaving the blubbering captain on his knees as Bray quickly returned to his console.

The Pitfall began its retreat as the reverse thrusters fired. Myatt watched the monitor as the dark mass of the Bridgefield drew smaller.

Four security personnel bolted onto the bridge. “What’s going on, sir?” Asked the Chief of Security, Lieutenant Julius Palmer.

Myatt let out a sigh. Still holding onto his throat, he said, “The captain had an episode. He attacked me. I’m assuming command of the ship. Please, escort him to medical and guard the door. Have the medical staff take a look. He's not well.”

“Roger that,” Palmer answered.

Two members of the security detail took Commander Silas Monroe by the arms and helped him up. They led him off the bridge as he continued speaking incoherently about obeying orders. All the while, his eyes appeared dead, and drool dripped from his chin.

As security departed, Lieutenant Smith gasped. “Sir, I’m picking up a strange frequency.”

“What is it?” Myatt asked.

“I can't tell exactly, but it’s emanating from the Heshian ship. It’s faint, hardly detectable without proper instrumentation, but it appears to be a constant frequency generated at 440 hertz, but there’s a dissonant ultrasonic overlay.” She routed the frequency through the com, and it released a high-pitched shriek. Smith quickly shut it off and shook her head. “I don't understand, why would they emit that?”

Myatt pondered it a moment and remembered something Lieutenant Commander Marcus Williams had said before he was killed. Something about a high-pitched sound and a need to obey an order no one on the Pitfall had given. “Lieutenant, block that frequency on all coms. I think our people are in serious trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” she asked.

Myatt stared at the monitor as the freighter and the Heshian ship continued to get smaller. “I think they’re attempting to attack our crew with mind control. Recall our fighters, now!”

Smith grabbed the com. “Pitfall to fighters. All fighters withdraw immediately. I say again, all fighters withdraw immediately.” Static belched from the com in response. Frustrated, she turned to Myatt. “There’s interference with our line-of-sight communication system.”

“Can you get around it?” Myatt asked.

Smith shook her head. “I’m trying, but nothing I’m doing is working. I think whatever frequency the Heshian ship is broadcasting is inhibiting our coms.”

Myatt swore under his breath. “This was a trap. I should have seen this coming. We ran into a similar situation during our previous encounter. Only this time it’s clear that the Heshians are deliberately doing something to disrupt us. Helm, can you target the visible portion of that warship?”

Bray’s fingers moved across his console as he adjusted the targeting reticle. “I have only a sliver of the ship visible. There’s no clear shot without the risk of hitting the freighter. I need a better vantage point.”

“Moving would open up a window for the Heshian ship to fire directly at us as well,” Myatt said. “They essentially have us pinned down and daring us to make a move.”

The situation was dire, and their options were less than ideal. It had become overwhelmingly clear that the Heshians were as smart as they were sadistic.

“Smith, keep trying to contact our fighters. I don't want them caught in the crossfire. Bray, keep your reticle on the Heshian warship. Engage the port thrusters. We’ll use them to slowly drift into a better firing position. Once you have an open shot, take it.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Smith, if you get through to the fighters, inform them of our plan.”

“Yes, sir.”

Myatt stood, staring at the feed. He couldn't shake the sensation that no matter what move he made, it would be the wrong one. But inaction wasn't an option. With the captain out of commission, and with Myatt in charge, whatever happened would be on him. He would have to live with the consequences... if he survived at all. “May God have mercy on us all.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The bridge of the Tryngas roared with anticipation. Davanis had expected the Pitfall to strike a deadly blow to the Consulate fighters clustered between them and the freighter. It should have happened already, but for some reason, there was a hesitation. There was a break between the order Brako had issued and any semblance of obedience on the part of the Consulate crew.

“Why aren’t they firing?” Davanis grumbled. His voice was low, guttural, desperate.

Brako kept pressing the order, speaking it into the com while adjusting the frequency of the neural destabilizer, hoping that he could break through whatever barrier inhibited their success. “I’m unsure, sir. The neural stabilizer’s frequencies should have penetrated their shield and manipulated the minds of the crew onboard. But I’m not seeing any indication that I have control over them. At least not in any significant way. Perhaps their hull is thicker than we anticipated?”

“Blasted human scum,” Davanis seethed. “We know the details of the Consulate ship’s construction. It can't be that, but could the freighter be in the way, blocking our signal?”

Brako nodded. “It’s possible, but I don’t know for sure. I thought I had an open targeting path before I fired the neural destabilizer.”

Davanis stepped toward the console and looked down at Brako. His eyes burned with barely contained rage. “Then I suggest you check again and find out.”

Brako looked up at the captain, fear consuming him. “Aye, sir,” he said resolutely.

Davanis stalked away, waiting for results while his patience was wearing thin. He took his place near the viewport and watched for a sign. It came in the form of the Consulate ship, breaking away and drifting further from the fight, while its fighters drew closer to the Tryngas. “That isn’t the result I had in mind.”

“I know, sir. I… I lost connection with them somehow.”

Davanis turned and sneered as a blast erupted at their bow; a flash of piercing light ignited in front of the external feed as a missile struck the naked hull of the Tryngas.

“The fighters have engaged,” Brako announced too late.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Davanis bellowed. “Why aren’t the PDCs firing?”

Brako frantically tried to multitask while seated at the console. “Power was diverted from the countermeasures to feed the neural destabilizer. That includes our shields. I have to reroute the power.”

“Wait, won’t we lose control over the humans if you do that?” Davanis asked.

“We don't have any other choice,” Brako said, to the point of pleading. “We’ll die if we take too many hits like that. Our shield is down, and we can't hold up against a full-scale attack without sufficient power.”

Davanis swore through his teeth and slammed his fist against the bulkhead. “This is ridiculous. This was supposed to be a successful test, not a categorical failure!” Gone was his confidence, his voice carried a twinge of regret. “We should have launched the offensive instead of letting ourselves be distracted by what we could accomplish with the humans. Transport the human crew onto our ship, blow the Bridgefield, and get us out of here.”

“I can’t do that right now. We’re too close to the ship. If it blows, we blow with it. We need sufficient power to transport the humans and to power the jump drive. There’s no way that we can leave the system now.”

Davanis's demeanor grew darker. “How long until we have jump capability?”

“Ten minutes, sir.”

That news sent Davanis over the edge. He swore as he ripped a seat off the bulkhead, slamming it against the deck. His tirade cast a dark cloud over the bridge and drove a wedge between him and Brako as he said, “I expected more from you.”

Brako eyed his captain warily. “I’m doing the best I can with what the ship can handle. The neural destabilizer is too much of a drain on our drive. The transporter equally so.”

“Stop with the excuses and produce some results. I will not return to our people a failure,” Davanis snapped.

Another blast struck the aft section of the Tryngas. Alarms blared. Emergency lights flashed. The deck under their feet shuddered under the strain of multiple impacts.

Brako looked at his captain, his eyes wide, expecting that the news would be met with more violent outrage, but there was no choice but to speak the truth. “We’re venting atmosphere. I’m cutting off that section of the ship.”

“Where?”

“The cargo hold,” Brako answered.

“Is anyone there?”

“Negative.”

Davanis turned back to the monitor, watching as the fighters converged on his ship while his own weapons capabilities were lowered. “I will not fail this mission,” he said, his voice low.

“I do not desire to fail either, sir,” Brako said. “But our situation is dire. We underestimated our enemy, and our options are limited.”

Davanis turned. “Expand the transport field to its widest berth. But limit the capability to transport whatever we lock onto within five seconds, then jump.”

Brako nodded, understanding the order and the implications. Some of the crew would be left behind to die when the Bridgefield blew. But it had to be done. “Aye, sir.” His hands moved across the console as he commanded the Tryngas’s transporter to reach out and scan for any detectable biological forms within the transporter’s widest parameter. To Brako’s surprise, the transponder lock succeeded. “I have more than sixty biologicals on the scan, sir.”

“Do we have jump capability, yet?”

Brako looked to the other screen and confirmed it. “On your order, sir.”

Davanis sneered as he looked at the monitor, watching with disgust as the Consulate ship drifted further away. Vivid thoughts of what he wanted to do, versus what he was capable of doing, whirled in his mind. He hated accepting defeat. He hated running away from a fight. But he had no other choice. He had put all his energy into testing the neural destabilizer, and it almost cost him his ship and crew.

Still, there would be another time to engage the Consulate. To destroy them. So long as he drew breath, he would seek that opportunity, but this was not it... not yet.

He looked at Brako and gave the order. “Jump.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Jake commanded his Manx fighter around the bow of the Bridgefield and set his target reticle on the Heshian warship. His jaw tightened as he recognized what he was facing. He had suspected that the ship they had encountered months ago would return like a haunting recurring nightmare, but seeing it again did more than sap his confidence and invoke fear. It threatened his sanity.

He swallowed the lump forming in the back of his throat and sucked in a fragile breath.

Jake keyed the com with forced resolve and spoke, “Alpha lead to all fighters, show no quarter to this enemy. If we don’t destroy it now, we may never get the opportunity again.”

Confirmations came through his headset, but his focus was elsewhere. The fighters were too far away for effective weapons range, and they were exposed. The Heshians had set a trap, and they had fallen for it, putting themselves in a position to receive the full weight of the Heshian warship’s wrath. Yet the ship still hadn’t fired upon them. As much as Jake wanted to know why they had yet to attack, he was unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth. Best to count my blessings, he thought.

Out of his peripheral vision, the blinding brilliance of weapons fire from the Bridgefield flashed and flared to the right of his fighter. The momentary splashes of light caught his gaze, urging him to respond, to fire on the freighter in an attempt to try and stop the madness.

There was no logical reason for the Bridgefield to launch an offensive against the Consulate, but it seemed safe to assume that where logic failed, the illogical would pick up and carry the flag. Regardless of who was at the helm, Jake knew the Heshians were behind the assault. But how was the real question?

“Bravo lead, I’m in range. Firing Hawk Two.”

Jake turned his head, trying to watch Tina’s missiles launch through the space between them. It was too far to see the missiles themselves, but the strike of the weapons against the hull of the warship shone in a brilliant flash.

The audible tone of his own fighter entering weapons range chimed in his headset. Jake answered decisively. “Alpha lead, firing Hawk Two.”

Auden’s voice followed. “Alpha two, firing Hawk Two.”

“Bravo two, firing Hawk Two,” said Hinton a few seconds later.

Each missile soared through the dark vacuum toward the Heshian warship and detonated against its dull, gray hull. Four volleys at the enemy and zero response gnawed at Jake’s guts. Why weren’t they firing?

He looked at his radar, searching for a sign of what was happening. There was nothing he could see on the part of the enemy, but the Pitfall, on the other hand, was on the move.

Away from the fight.

“What in the stars?” Jake tried hailing the Pitfall, but there was no response. He opened a private channel to Tina and keyed the com, “Alpha lead to Bravo lead, do you read?”

“Lima Charlie,” Tina answered.

“I can’t contact the Pitfall. Can you try asking them where in the stars they think they’re going?” He could hear her keying her own coms, the slight click followed by silence, over and over again until she finally returned.

“Nothing,” she said. “Could the Heshians be blocking our signal?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s because of the freighter. I don’t know.”

“I don't like being out of coms range,” she said. “I like it even less when they’re moving away from us. The Heshains haven't fired anything that I can see. Do you think one of the Bridgefield’s torpedoes hit them?”

“Could be,” Jake replied. “I don't care to speculate. Either way, their actions are going to negatively impact our mission if either of those ships begins targeting us.”

“Orders?” Tina asked, her voice was tight, determined... and perhaps a bit more than slightly concerned.

They didn't have much choice. Chasing down the Pitfall would be a dereliction of duty, never mind that it would show cowardice. “Carry on with the mission,” Jake said. “Get close and unleash the fury.”

“Roger that, Spunky out.”

Auden beheld the Heshian warship in dismay. Hundreds of hours in simulated battle had done little to prepare her for facing a living, breathing enemy. Her tactical readout showed damage to the ship from the volley of missiles that she and the other fighters had lobbed at it. There was satisfaction in hurting the enemy, but also anticipation of retaliation.

She wiped the sweat from her face and focused on recovering her Manx from the steep bank and turn she utilized to reposition herself for the next strike. Jake’s fighter was already on the move, his experience an asset just beyond her own grasp. Still, she lined up in formation behind him and awaited the next firing command.

The Manx’s radar page reoriented based on her relative position, and at first, it appeared to be incorrect. Auden depressed a series of push buttons to change the scaling, but in each instance, the display showed the same thing. The Pitfall appeared to be retreating.

Auden moved to open a channel to Jake but saw that his private channel was already active. “Maybe he’s coordinating with the Pitfall,” she muttered to herself, trying to shake the uneasy, questioning possibilities already forming in the back of her mind. Combat was never a set standard. She learned that at the Consulate Academy. Any time someone used a previous experience to justify a new experience, it was always a guessing game. You had to be open to the possibility of a new, unfamiliar tactic. Those who didn’t learn and adapt didn’t survive.

That said, none of the lessons that she had learned informed her of the possibility of withdrawing from a strike position for any other reason than to retreat.

Auden hoped that she was wrong.

Especially considering that she and the other fighters were stuck out here with the enemy and a wayward ship bent toward destroying them.

“Alpha lead to all fighters,” Jake’s voice cut through the silence. “I imagine you’ve already seen that the Pitfall is withdrawing. I don’t know why. I can’t reach them via coms. What I do know is that we have a mission to destroy that Heshian ship, and it doesn’t involve chasing the Pitfall down for any explanations. We’re going to carry out that mission to the best of our ability. We’ll address anything outside of that objective afterwards. Got it?”

Everyone acknowledged.

“Good. It’s time to give them more pain and punishment. Alpha lead firing Hawk Three.”

A burst of superheated gas spewed from Jake’s fighter and hurdled toward the Heshian warship. Auden followed suit, her hope for a quick end to this battle rising in her chest. “Alpha two firing Hawk Three.” She squeezed the trigger, but nothing happened. She tried once more... nothing. “Misfire. Repeat. Misfire.”

It was all she could do to keep her voice calm despite the rising stress. A misfired weapon posed two problems. First, it meant she wasn’t doing her part in the assault and potentially placing herself and her wingman’s life in greater peril. Second, a misfired weapon could pose a greater hazard to her own fighter if stray voltage were to set the weapon off without ejecting it first.

“TBD, do you have any cautions or advisories on your display?” Jake asked.

Auden scrolled through the menus, paying particular attention to those focused on her Manx’s weapon system. “Negative,” she said.

“Cycle your weapons override switch and see if anything changes,” he replied.

She did as she was ordered and waited for the weapons system’s built-in test to run. It finished, and her weapons page showed that all her weapons on the port side of her fighter were gone. Auden leaned forward and gazed at the outer wing stations. “I have a problem. I still have missiles on my port wings, but the loadout isn’t recognized by the armament computer.”

“Fall back and reset your primary generator. If everything comes back normal, then you can try again.”

“Roger that.” Auden banked hard to the right, assumed a bearing away from the warship, and switched off her primary generator.” Everything went silent. She was alone.

Auden looked at the freighter as it continued its assault. She couldn’t see behind her, but she was certain her squadron was setting up for a third run at the Heshian vessel.

A part of her felt ashamed to not be in the thick of it with them, but she recognized that her fighter in its current condition was more of a liability than an asset.

“Maybe not anymore,” she said, flipping the generator on and waiting for the onboard computers to boot. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Nearly a full minute passed before she had access to her fighter’s diagnostics. To her delight, everything was back to normal.

“Alpha two…” Her com was cut by a high-pitched squelch. She winced at the piercing noise, cutting the controls of her fighter to turn back and regroup with Jake.

“Fall back!” The shout was Jake’s voice, but she didn’t understand what was happening.

“Go. Get aw…”

The coms cut out once again, but this time it was accentuated by a flash of brilliance so bright it was like staring into a primary star.

The Bridgefield erupted behind her, the blast encompassing everything within a dozen kilometers and spreading out like a mass of fiery gas.

Auden closed her eyes and braced for impact.

It came as a sudden rush. A tsunami of fierce turbulence that bowled her over and sent her fighter out into the dark expanse.

For the first time since joining the Consulate Navy, Ensign Auden Hoyt truly felt vulnerable. Her status. Her training. Her abilities were meaningless. Nothing that she thought she could depend on could save her. Courage and heroism were failed dreams. Hope itself was a hopeless endeavor.

There was only her, and the whim of the almighty universe bent against her and her fighter.

And under the strain of terrifying brutality, both were shaken with severe violence and tossed as if they were nothing of worth.

And suddenly, in Auden’s ever-shrinking world, there was darkness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Lieutenant Commander Myatt stared blankly at the monitor. The Bridgefield was a dark mass with flickering specks in the distance. So far that distance was serving them well, but there was a side effect he hadn’t expected. “Where are the fighters?”

Lieutenant Smith pulled the com from her lips and said, “I can’t reach them, sir. I believe the freighter is blocking our line-of-sight communications.”

Myatt nodded. “I can understand a loss of coms, Lieutenant, but look at our radar.” He pointed to the screen, showing only a handful of friendly entities. None of them were the fighters. “Did the Heshians destroy them?”

Ensign Bray manipulated the controls on his console. “Sir, I’m picking up entities on the monitor, but they don’t have identifiable information associated with them.”

“Any idea whether they are our fighters?”

Bray shrugged. “I can’t say for sure, but there are four of them, sir. I suspect that they very well could be our fighters.”

Myatt chewed on that for a moment. He didn’t like the situation he found himself in, and he liked the situation his fighters were in even less. A quick calculation led him to ask, “If all of our fighters’ missiles are expended, will it be enough to get through the Heshian’s shields and destroy that ship?”

“I don’t see any reason why not,” Bray answered. “But I didn’t see a friendly freighter taking part in ambushing us, either. It’s possible that they could move that ship into an intercept path and protect the Heshian vessel.”

“Noted.” Myatt sighed, racking his brain for an option that didn’t include continuing to play hard to hit by simply staying back. They needed to launch an assault, but that meant putting other human lives in danger. There was an uneasiness to the situation that haunted Myatt’s thoughts. A part of him wondered what Commander Monroe would do. The other part of him couldn't find a reason to care, not after what the captain of the Pitfall had tried to do.

Flashes of light just beyond the Bridgefield haloed the spacecraft.

“Sir, it looks as though the fighters are beginning their assault on the Heshian ship, now,” Smith said, pulling his attention to her monitor.

“I concur,” said Bray. “I’m detecting high-energy readings that can only be attributed to ignited warheads. The increased heat in that region suggests that those explosions are not being deflected by an energy shield.” He looked up at Myatt and continued. “I think the fighters are striking the ship’s hull directly.”

Myatt couldn't believe what he was hearing. “That doesn't make sense unless they were hiding behind the freighter because their shields were down.”

Bray shook his head as he continued to scroll over the controls on his console. “I can't think of any other reason why we would be getting these kinds of readings, sir. Perhaps the Heshian ship was damaged in a conflict with the Birdgefield, but I didn't detect anything in my cursory scans of the area.”

“I’m seeing the same energy readings,” Smith said. “And I don't detect any issues with our sensor arrays. The data is uncorrupted.”

“Thank the stars for small miracles,” Myatt said. “Maybe the fighters will do the hard part for us?”

Just as those words left his lips, the unimaginable happened.

The Bridgefield erupted like a small pulsar. The brilliance of the flash whited out the monitors and triggered the Pitfall’s proximity alarms. High-pitched wailing sounded throughout the ship.

“We’ve sustained multiple impacts,” Bray shouted over the blaring alarm. “Shields are at forty-eight percent and dropping.”

“Did the Bridgefield breach their core?” Myatt asked, shock spreading across his face.

“The radiation levels are inconclusive for a core breach. It would appear that the destructive forces on the freighter were caused by a detonation near the center of the ship,” Smith said. “I wouldn't rule anything out, but rewinding the feed to the point of the initial explosion shows the ruptures to the hull coming from a position that does not reflect where the core is located.”

Myatt sucked in a breath and looked to the lieutenant. “That sounds to me like someone rigged it to explode.”

“I would agree with that assessment.”

Bray looked up from his console. “Shields are steady at forty-two percent. It seems the worst of it is over.”

Looking out the monitor as the piercing white slowly faded and the external feed returned, Myatt mused, “Perhaps the worst of it for us, but what about the fighters?”

Ensign Bray returned his focus to the console. “Our sensor array isn't picking up anything on radar. I’m going to magnify the visuals and see if we can detect anything that way.”

The monitor switched to a different feed as magnified, high-definition images came into view. All around the area where the Bridgefield previously inhabited space was a cloud of debris and rapidly cooling heat.

“I’m no longer seeing the Heshian ship,” Smith said, speaking what Myatt was thinking.

“Was it part of the blast?” he asked.

Bray shook his head. “I don’t think so. There’s not enough matter in the area to justify two ships being destroyed. It’s possible that the explosion was larger than we observed, but I doubt it. My thoughts are that they jumped, triggering the blast.”

Reasonable, Myatt thought. “What about our fighters?”

“I’m not picking up any distress calls,” said Smith as she scanned through various frequencies. “Without the Bridgefield in the way to block our signal, we should at least have line-of-sight communications restored.”

“Unless the blast destroyed their coms antennae,” Bray said.

“Unless that,” Smith concurred.

“Wait, I’m picking something up,” Bray said. “It’s an acoustic beacon from one of the fighters.”

“That would mean the fighter lost all power for the acoustic beacon to activate. If there’s a survivor out there, then they won't last long without life support. Get us over there, now,” Myatt ordered.

“Aye, sir, but we’ll need to take it slow due to the debris,” Bray said, commanding the Pitfall into motion.

“Understood,” said Myatt. The Pitfall moved slowly forward, scanning for signs of life using questionable sensors. The closer they drew to the debris field, the better the signals they received, but none were distress calls.

“I’m counting three beacons, now, Commander,” Lieutenant Smith announced from her station. “Still no coms.”

Myatt nodded. “Ensign Bray, please continue forward. Maintain speed.” He reached for the ship’s com and announced, “Pitfall, this is Lieutenant Commander Myatt speaking. Now muster the emergency recovery team to the hangar bay. We have three beacons, and I expect to recover three fighters. ERT lead, establish coms with the bridge as soon as possible. Myatt out.”

“I have visuals on Bravo Two,” Bray announced.

Myatt looked at the monitor. A fully intact Manx fighter drifted in the darkness. There were no signs of discernible activity on the craft, but the beacon continued to beckon for rescue. “Get our team as close as possible.”

“Aye, sir.”

Over the next ten minutes, the bridge crew watched as the Emergency Rescue Team attached retrieval harnesses to Bravo Two and began hauling the craft back into the hangar. It wasn’t until the Manx was fully inside that they were alerted to the pilot’s condition.

“Lieutenant Robert Hinton is unconscious, but he’s alive, sir.” The announcement came from the ERT lead. “We have medical personnel on scene, and they’re about to transfer him to sickbay.”

“Thank the stars,” Myatt whispered. “Let’s hope the others are alive as well. Ensign, take us out to the next fighter.”

“Aye, sir,” Bray replied, a hopeful smile on his face as he piloted the Pitfall deeper into the debris field.

Deeper into the unknown.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Davanis was furious. After giving the order to use the newly devised transporter system to pull the human prisoners back aboard the Tryngas, he realized too late that he was missing an opportunity.

That opportunity? Turning the fighters into martyrs after commanding them to return to the Consulate ship to attack it.

“There will be other opportunities, sir,” Brako said from his console. “In all honesty, given the circumstances with our limited power, I’m surprised that the transporter worked at all.”

“How many made it aboard?”

Brako cycled through the screens, counting as he scrolled. “We have twenty-six humans aboard. Less than half of the ones we locked onto were successfully transported aboard our ship.”

“Less than half,” Davanis said flatly. “That is far from what I would call a success?”

Brako looked at his captain questioningly. “It’s more than we’ve ever dared to move at one time. While not perfect, I would say that the proof of concept was successful. Just like what you’ve accomplished with the neural destabilizer.”

Davanis considered it for a moment. He wanted perfection. But Brako did have a point. No one in the Heshian fleet was doing what he was doing. Davanis conducted experiments using new technology at every opportunity. He and his crew had made great strides. It was something to be proud of.

But he struggled to feel deserving of pride. Not while his home system was being occupied by the Consulate fleet.

Occupation gave him an idea.

“Brako, how long before we can get to Kresida?”

Brako made some calculations and answered, “Around nineteen hours, sir.”

Davanis grinned. “Set a course and prepare the crew.”

“Is it finally time to carry out your plan, sir?”

“Yes. We have enough fighters stowed away in that system, and humans to man them, where we will be able to send their own machines of war raining down on their heads. It will take time to escort them to Valara, but by the time the Consulate fleet learns that their friendly ships are compromised, there will be nothing left of Valara.”

Brako smiled wickedly. “Vengeance will be ours.”

“Indeed.”

Brako laid in a course for Kresida and reclined back in his seat. “We’re on our way. We can arrive sooner if you wish to engage the jump drive.”

“No. The Consulate has no idea where we are. We have time. I would prefer to conserve that energy to control the other warships out of Kresida and to Valara.”

“Aye, sir.”

Davanis smiled. Though he would have preferred to have destroyed the Consulate ship instead of evading it, he realized there was no impact on the outcome of his plan. He would, in fact, send an overwhelming human force to attack the center of the Consulate’s strength. He would rip out the Consulate’s heart and watch it die. “Have Mantius meet me in the brig,” Davanis said.

“Aye, sir.” Brako grabbed the com while Davanis exited the bridge.

“It’s time to see what I have to work with,” Davanis muttered under his breath, knowing full well that it didn’t matter. The neural destabilizer would control the minds of the humans. All he had to do was point them in the right direction.

But there was nothing wrong with evoking a little terror on the enemy until such a time that they would become useful to his plan.

Besides, he had plenty more of them to focus his attention on now. It was time to give the old man already in his custody a slight reprieve.

How was that for mercy?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Jake was aware that something was terribly wrong. He felt it moments before realizing it, noting a hum that almost sang to him. A part of him wanted to give into it, to fall into the empty space that existed between him and the contentment that was promised by the otherworldly sound.

And then it shifted, morphing into something no longer soothing, no longer beautiful and inviting.

But by then it was too late. His realization wasn't fast enough to pull him out and away from what was coming.

He had been speechless.

Useless.

A flash of light, as quickly dispersed as it was bright, stunned his vision. He had thought his eyes were closed, but the equivalent of sunspots shone before him, partially obstructing his view of his surroundings.

Jake was no longer in the cockpit of his fighter. He shivered at the thought of where he was. But worse for him was not knowing whether he was the only one.

Finding himself prone on his back, he rolled over, careful not to bang himself against anything in the relative darkness. He slowly rose to his knees; his hands planted against the bulkhead of what he could only assume was a prison. He felt along the bulkhead, searching for a seam or a door, but found nothing.

“There’s no way out of here,” came a voice. A distinctly human voice.

Jake turned to look in the direction from which it came, but the room was too dark. “Where are we?”

The man at the other end of the room scoffed. “Where else? We’re in Hell.”

Jake didn’t want to believe that. There had to be an explanation. The fact that he could feel the cold steel of the bulkhead was proof that the man couldn’t be serious. “I would assume we’re on some kind of ship,” Jake said. “I can feel the faint vibrations of the drive.”

“Yeah? That’s nice. Whether we’re on a ship and not dead is irrelevant. It’s who owns the ship that makes this Hell.”

“Heshians?”

“Bingo, boy-oh.”

Jake froze at those haunting words. He knew someone who used that expression. But it couldn’t be. Could it?

“Lieutenant Commander Marcus Williams?”

Another scoff. “Once upon a time, I went by that name.”

“This can't be. I thought you were dead,” Jake said, barely able to get the words out of his mouth before a knot formed in the back of his throat.

“If only I were,” Williams sighed. “If only...” Those words trailed off.

“I don’t understand. You’re alive. There’s hope that we can get out of here.”

Williams coughed, a hacking, wet sound. “Hope? Hope is for fools. You might as well get used to it, boy-oh… Because, based on my experience, you’re going to be here for a long time.”

Auden woke to the sound of machines beeping all around her. Her eyes were heavy, and she couldn’t stop shivering. “Wha…” her voice was weak, her throat dry and hoarse.

“Easy now. It’ll be alright,” said a feminine voice nearby.

Auden strained to see but could only make out the edges of a medical officer’s uniform. “Your fighter went into life recovery mode and filled you with enough tranquilizers to keep you out for a few days. We’re pumping that out of you, but it’s a process. Please be patient.”

“Others?” Auden forced the word out painfully. Her heart felt as if it were racing, while also feeling bogged down. She tried to lift her hands, but she couldn't move. Her body wasn't responding. Fear seemed like a reasonable response to her situation, but even it was distant, intangible.

“Yeah, we got the others,” the woman said, pulling Auden’s attention away from herself and back into the situation. “Just take it easy. We’re taking care of you. You don't appear to have sustained any significant injuries, but the tranquilizers are going to affect you for several more hours yet. It’s alright if you want to go to sleep.” The voice was soothing like a lullaby.

Auden smiled, content that she didn’t need to fight to keep her head up any longer. Content that the others were alright.

Content to fall back into the darkness of unconsciousness.

The brig was an icebox. Silas Monroe was a broken man who wished he would just die and get it over with. The cold was willing, but it didn’t quite have what it took to ease his heart to rest. It simply made surviving akin to suffering.

Perhaps it’s a fate more deserving than death, he thought. Shame was what his life had become.

Silas considered his actions. He sought to destroy his own fighters, but why? It didn’t make any sense, not then, and certainly not now. But he remembered throwing Lieutenant Commander Myatt from his station and trying to fire on those fighters like a maniac. It was worse than unbecoming of an officer. It was unbecoming of his humanity.

“You have a visitor,” Lieutenant Palmer said.

Silas looked up, his eyes trying to adjust to the dim light. “Lieutenant Commander Myatt. To what do I owe the pleasure?” The question was icy cordiality.

Myatt stiffened. “I have some questions.”

Silas scoffed. “I don’t know if I have sufficient answers for you.”

“Perhaps not, but I want you to try anyway.”

Silas’s dim smile faded into a frown. “If I can’t answer my own questions, how do you expect me to answer yours?”

Myatt leaned closer, his face mere inches from the bars of Silas’s cell. “We have reports of multiple personnel losing control of themselves during our confrontation with the Heshian vessel. There was nothing done that endangered our personnel, but each of them admitted to feeling as though they wanted to do something to sabotage our ship. Eventually, the feeling went away, as it appears to have done with you. But they also admit to experiencing something before the feeling overwhelmed them.”

“And that is?” Silas asked.

“A kind of sound that penetrated their minds. They say it wasn't audible, but they heard it nonetheless, “Myatt told him. He leaned closer. “Did you hear anything before you ordered the attack on our fighters?”

The expression on Silas’s face contorted. A mask of burdensome guilt clouded over him as his face reddened. “I didn’t hear anyone order me to launch the attack, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No. That’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking if you heard any sound at all that you noticed.”

Silas rose and approached Myatt. “There are lots of sounds on a ship. Can you be more specific?” He asked, his words were more of a plea than merely a simple question.

Myatt sucked in a breath as his jaw tightened. “A high-pitched sound, like something ringing, or a long tone.”

Silas thought for a moment. Dwelling on those last few moments before something clicked in his brain and sent him over the edge. “There was something,” he said softly. “It was faint, like static gnawing at the back of my mind.”

“Do you remember anything else about it?”

Silas took hold of the bars separating him from Myatt. “It had an emotional attachment to it. Anger. Rage. A need to inflict pain on the people in those fighters. To destroy them.”

“Did you understand that they were your fighters?”

Silas hesitated, then answered, “A part of me did. Another part of me felt like I was someone else. Someone not even human. Why?”

Myatt was conflicted. He didn’t know if he should say, but he doubted it would make much difference. “Lieutenant Smith discovered a frequency coming from the Heshian warship.”

“And?”

“And we believe they were using a mind control weapon.”

Silas looked the man in the eye, studying him, seeking a sign that he had lost his mind. But there was nothing behind Myatt’s gaze that revealed anything but a worrisome truth. “And I was the target?”

Myatt nodded. “Yes, among others on our ship. We believe the shields deflected some of the frequency’s strength and scattered it so that only a portion of the crew was affected. But we believe that this unknown weapon’s capability might be why the freighter fired upon us. If they had control over that crew, then they could use them as human shields and as a deterrent. That’s our theory, at least.”

“Then what is the plan to combat this new capability, Commander?” Silas asked, his tone one of desperate anxiousness.

Myatt shook his head. “I don’t know, but we’re working on it.”

“Working on it?” Silas scoffed. “First off, I suggest you destroy the Heshian ship immediately.”

“We can’t,” Myatt said flatly. “They’re gone, and they destroyed the freighter in the process. We recovered three of our fighters. Boone is presumed deceased. And we have no idea where the Heshian ship is going.”

“That’s a hell of a summary,” Silas replied.

“I thought you should know.”

Silas nodded. “And what about me? Are you going to keep me caged like an animal?”

“I haven’t decided on an appropriate course of action. Despite knowing that others in the crew experienced an attack on their minds, none of them acted in the manner that you did.”

“And you believe inaction is appropriate?” Silas asked resentfully.

Myatt stared his former captain in the eye and said, “I don’t believe it’s appropriate for me to decide on an action alone. Because of that, I’ve forwarded a full report to Consulate Headquarters. The admiralty will decide.”

Silas slunk back, pained by the realization that his actions were now under the scrutiny of his superiors. “I understand,” he said softly. “You did what needed to be done.”

“I’ll keep you informed of any responses, but I thought you should know what was happening.”

“Thank you,” Silas said, shrinking back to his seat on the far side of the cell.

Myatt nodded and left the disgraced captain alone in his cell.

Alone in his hell.

EPILOGUE

Cadet Tara Hoyt adjusted the frequency of her ship’s sensor array, pinpointing the sector from which the emergency beacon originated. “I have it,” she said proudly.

Her instructor, Lieutenant Gary Mantius approached, eyeing her readings skeptically. “Impressive, Cadet Hoyt. This is a highly unusual way of using the equipment. What prompted you to take this action?”

Tara smiled. “It just came to me, sir. I knew what we were looking for, but the wide sweep of the sensor array kept overpowering and drowning out the signal. I surmised that a smaller wave relative to the direction we expected to receive the signal might produce a higher likelihood of picking it up.”

Lieutenant Mantius nodded. “Well done. Of course, we won’t always know which direction an incoming signal could originate. What if you were required to sweep a larger section of open space?”

Tara pondered the question for a moment. “I could program the sensor array to alternate between different bands and search for weak signals, then route them through a series of amplifiers to boost them into something the computer would recognize. I would likely find a bit of distortion in the original signal, but if I pinpointed it with the sensor array, then cleanup of the signal would be a simple fix.”

“Assuming you have enough resources?”

Tara conceded. “Assuming that, yes.”

Lieutenant Mantius smiled. “You show a lot of promise, Cadet. I believe engineering is an excellent match for your aptitude. I’m intrigued to see where your career will take you.”

“Thank you, sir.” Tara watched as the lieutenant stepped away to grade another cadet’s work. It took her a moment to realize she was still smiling, and the gesture was making her cheeks ache just a bit. It had been a long time since she enjoyed her studies as much as this. Most of the curriculum was general studies with a heavy focus on math and science. While the course she was in now was heavy on both, it also allowed for experimentation, which was the closest thing to art she was going to get at the Consulate Academy.

She turned back to her project and contemplated other ways she could use what she had learned about maintaining and utilizing sensor arrays once she was in the fleet. Science was her career path, but she had discovered there were many trails leading off the main path. She hoped hers led to her serving alongside her sister Auden. They would work in different capacities, of course, but being close would be nice.

The end-of-class bell sounded overhead, and Tara shut down her program. It was already the end of the day, and while normally she would spend her evening in her dorm room, tonight was different.

A classmate, Cadet Miranda Dawes, had invited Tara over for a game night. While not much of a socialite, Tara saw the benefit of socializing in small crowds and coming out of her shell. Miranda, among others, was among her closest friends since coming to the Consulate Academy.

Tara made her way to her dorm, crossing the expansive courtyard via the central mobile walkway. She let the walkway take her the kilometer distance from the primary schoolhouse to her dorm while she cast her gaze skyward, anticipating her life among the stars the following year.

She couldn’t deny her excitement, but neither could she deny her nervousness. Life in the fleet seemed like limitless possibilities, and nearly insurmountable hardships. She hoped for less of the latter and more of the former.

Just as Tara took her first step off the mobile walkway, an alarm sounded. She knew instantly that it was not a weather event. Realization overwhelmed her, and Tara’s heart sank. Something terrible had happened. The alarm was an order for all available personnel to return to their stations. That order included cadets.

Without hesitation, Tara moved hastily to return to the schoolhouse. She stepped back onto the opposing mobile walkway and wondered what the emergency was.

She knew she was soon to find out, but the anticipation gnawed at her.

“Auden is out there,” she said softly. “I don't know what’s going on, but above all else, I hope she’s alright.”

To Be Continued in Raiders!

THANK YOU

Thank you for reading this book. I hope you enjoyed it. If so, let me know by leaving a review and telling me you want more from this series.

Drew

www.drewavera.com

Drew Avera is a Navy veteran turned science fiction author who brings thrilling space adventures to life with heart, grit, and a touch of redemption. A lifelong fan of Star Trek, Star Wars, and anything Marvel, Drew blends cinematic storytelling with emotionally driven characters who fight for hope against impossible odds.

He is the author of multiple series, including Absolution, a tale of betrayal, loss, and redemption set against the backdrop of interstellar conspiracy, and Consulate, a high-stakes military sci-fi adventure that explores loyalty, duty, and survival.

When he's not writing explosive space battles or crafting layered, character-driven narratives, Drew enjoys instrumental music, classic sci-fi, and dreaming about what’s waiting beyond the stars. He currently lives with his family in Virginia and continues to dream big dreams.

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https://www.drewavera.com