"Drone platforms are all neutralized," Nyx confirmed. "I have twelve under control. The remaining four are too damaged."

Captain Crai pulled up the view of space before them, all three ships, showed in reds and oranges. The Pogue, Iron Covenant, and Silent Thunder. She couldn't just stop here though, and she knew they knew it too. "Captain Keating, Commander Havlock, what's your status for travel?"

"Iron Covenant can maintain formation," Keating replied, exhaustion evident in her voice. "But we're not combat-effective. Hull integrity is holding at forty-seven percent, and our engines are functional but strained."

Strained, she felt that. "Silent Thunder is also not combat effective," Havlock added. "We could follow, but any additional combat encounters would be extremely problematic for us. We have no shields and our Hull stability is less than twenty percent."

Doctor Kosta's face appeared on screen; her face flushed. "Captain, we need to discuss patient distribution."

"How many critical?"

"Eighty-seven extraction victims both ships, sixteen in critical condition. Dr. Martinez is working with their medical staff, but they don't have the facilities or supplies for long-term consciousness recovery treatment."

"Would it make a difference if we transfer them to the Pogue?"

"We'd have to convert cargo spaces into emergency medical wards." Sorrel was shaking her head. "It's doable, but it'll take time we might not have."

"How many survivors in the pods?"

"At least thirty pods have been detected. Life signs are positive. They've been drifting for hours, but they're alive."

"How long till they're all aboard?

"Two hours at the least."

"Then let's do everything we can to get these ships and their people ready to move in three."

Sorrel dipped her head and before Crai saw her sign off, she was already giving orders to everyone else around her. That made her smile, though the next two hours became a constant barrage of demands, reports, and loss.

When Sorrel returned to the she was beyond exhausted. Crai met her at the air lock.

Her bright-eyed new friend just looked at her, and burst into tears.

"I can't do this anymore," she crumpled, and Crai caught her.

"Hey, hey," she soothed. "You can and you will."

"How do you do this?" she sobbed, wiping at her eyes.

"Because if I don't stand up there and lead, this fleet, this mission would fall apart. I wouldn't get to see my brother again, nor you Lev."

Crai felt her sharp intake of breath at the mention of Lev. She eased the Doctor back and wiped the tears from her eyes, noting her marine escort looked away. "That's right, "Lev and Derek are out there. I—we won't stop till we're reunited. Right?"

"Right," Sorrel replied.

"Captain," Nyx's voice came over the ship's comms. "I have the Faulkner on long range comms."

Sorrel's eyes lit up. "Send it," Crai said.

The voice she knew of Captain Tachim's AI came through then. "Captain Crai, this is Lia. Captain Tachim's assistant."

She was so formal, but on open comms she had to be. "What's your status, Lia?"

"Our engines are gone, we're just floating, holding out here waiting for you. Your status?"

"We're also holding out," Crai replied. "We have picked up the Silent Thunder and Iron Covenant, and rescue pods from Ghost."

"Oh, thank god," came Lia's reply.

"We'll make our way to you as soon as possible."

"Captain, Tim's fleet are on the outskirts, they're trying to get around to us."

"Don't worry," Crai tucked Sorrel's arm in hers and made a move back towards the CIC. "We will not let him win this. We've several drone platforms and their drones under our control."

"Then hurry, Lia out."

Crai walked with Sorrel as far as she could before they split, Sorrel heading to their medical units. She returned to CIC and sat beside Markov. "Are all critical patients aboard?" he asked.

Sorrel reported direct from medical. "Dr. Martinez and her team are monitoring them. The nanite production has resumed—we're manufacturing hybrid variants specifically designed for consciousness recovery now."

"Production rate?"

"Slow. We're getting maybe twenty doses an hour. Not enough for everyone who needs them, but better than nothing."

"Do the best you can to speed that up," Crai said. "Captain Keating, Havlock, are we ready to move."

Both their faces appeared. Weary but with fire still in their eyes. "Yes, Captain, let's get this fleet back together."

Crai looked to Nyx. "Keep our engines nice and steady, hold formation."

It was a few hours later, but finally they had the Faulkner, and Manta-S on their viewers.

"They don't look so good," Sorrel said as she entered the CIC moving straight to Nyx. "They are alive, right?"

"Detecting multiple life signs aboard both vessels. I cannot determine individual status from this range, but they are alive."

"Their ships are completely unpowered." Markov added. "Emergency broadcasts are active but very weak, they're running on backup batteries."

"Bearing two-eight-seven mark twelve. They're drifting like they said on ballistic trajectory with no active propulsion."

Crai's heart clenched. They truly were helpless.

"ETA?"

"Forty-two minutes."

Sorrel sagged against the tactical console with visible relief. "Forty-two minutes. After everything, just forty-two more minutes."

But Crai noticed Markov was studying the tactical display his forhead furrowing. "The Faulkner and Manta-S aren't alone."

"Can we avoid them?"

"Analyzing..." Nyx said. "They're holding station approximately eight thousand kilometers from the Faulkner. They're not attacking, just... watching."

"Watching," Crai repeated. "They're just waiting for them to what, die?"

"Unknown. But the formation suggests they're happy to sit there."

"They're waiting for us," Sorrel said.

"There are only two entry/exit points. They've moved into block both."

"Get him on comms." Crai spat.

"Comms?" Nyx almost stuttered. "You want to speak to him?"

"Whatever it takes," she said.

"I'll try," Nyx said.

"Don't try," Crai said. "Do."

Crai stood and paced the CIC, while listening to Nyx trying his best to hail the enemy ships.

Nothing.

Ranger's forces had disabled Peyton's convoy, then positioned themselves to intercept any rescue attempt. The damaged ships weren't just disabled—they were bait.

Crai stopped pacing. "Fleet wide," she said.

Nyx nodded to her. "You're on Captain."

"Captain Keating, Commander Havlock," Crai called through the fleet channel. "We've located the Faulkner, but there's a problem."

"Indeed, we see them. Now there are eight?"

"Eight ships confirmed." Nyx replied.

"We're going in anyway. But… you may stand down. This is going to be a combat rescue."

"We've restored some weapons capability during our repairs." Keating said. "Iron Covenant is ready."

"Understood, Captain," Havlock replied "We don't have weapons, but we have gall. We'll make a good blocker. Shields are back to eighty percent. We're not running away from a fight."

Crai turned to Markov. "Your fight," she said.

"All ships," Markov ordered. "General Quarters. We approach at maximum velocity, weapons free. If those vessels engage, we return fire with everything we have. Nyx, keep those drone platforms close, and target everything you can. Our priority is getting close enough to transfer nanites and with some luck restore the Faulkner's engines."

Crai moved to sit, Sorrel next to her. The doctor struggled with her straps, but she helped her. "I'll need to transfer to the Faulkner as soon as we're in range. If their crew has been exposed to additional consciousness extraction attempts..."

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"We'll get you there," Crai promised and took her hand in hers gently squeezing it. "I promise you we will."

Peyton

I rubbed my eyes, the whole of the CIC crew were exhausted. We'd been drifting for nearly hours, watching the pursuit ships maintain their patient vigil, waiting for rescue. Lev and Chief Lars had pulled everything they could down to the barest of essentials, most of our decks were without gravity and life support was nil in places. We'd confined everyone to their stations. Moving around the ship, put them at risk. We didn't need any more of that.

Finally, the comms beeped.

"Captain, multiple quantum signatures inbound." Lia reported.

"It's Captain Crai's convoy." Mac said and let out a breath.

"Thank fuck." I ran my hands down my trousers. This had been close, too close, but it wasn't over by any means, not yet. "How long until they're in range?"

"Twenty-three minutes. But Ranger's ships are moving to intercept."

"Of course they are," I pulled up the screen, watching the converging formations.

Crai's convoy was charging in at maximum velocity while Ranger adjusted position to block their approach. "Lev, can we do anything?"

He looked up from his station with red-rimmed eyes that hadn't closed in hours.

"They'll reach us, but they're going to take damage doing it. The odds aren't good."

"We're helpless," Lia confirmed.

"Fleet-wide," I said. "Rescue convoy inbound ETA twenty minutes. They'll be engaging hostile forces to reach us. Prepare for—I have no idea. Prepare for anything."

"Captain," Mac said, "Sorrel's going to want to know what happened. All of it."

"I know." I looked at Lev, who was staring at his tactical displays with the fixed concentration of someone using work to avoid feeling anything. "I know," I said. "I know."

"Emergency batteries at eight percent and declining," Lia almost whispered.

"How long?"

"Approximately thirty minutes."

Thirty minutes. My hands fisted, my nails digging into my skin.

If Crai didn't reach us fast, we'd suffocate in the dark.

"My sister won't let us down," Derek said.

I cast my screen a glance, seeing his face from his CIC. "You doing okay?" I asked.

"We've four minutes less than you, trying not to panic, to breath."

"Then don't talk," I said. "Eyes closed, sit back."

He followed my instructions. "That's it," I said. "Breathe with me. Slow, steady. In. Out."

When the distant flashes of weapons fire grew brighter as the engagement began. I watched with the helplessness of someone whose survival depended entirely on someone else's skill and courage. All we could do was wait, conserve power, and pray.

<<They won't let us down,>> Sorrel echoed Derek. <<I know they won't.>>

My nails still bit deep into my soul.

Captain Crai

Crai tapped the comms control at the station next to her. "You will answer me you fucking piece of shit."

Sorrel put a hand on her shoulder, trying her best to keep her grounded. But nothing would. The fury in her veins, by the gods she would destroy him once and for all. Even if it killed her. She would.

"Feath," Sorrel said. "Listen to me."

She slammed her hand down on the console, its slap echoing around the CIC. Markov turned to her. "Doctor?"

"I've got this," Sorrel said.

Captain Crai reigned herself back. "I'm sorry."

"He needs to concentrate," Sorrel said.

"I know," Crai sighed deeply, and sank back into it, her whole-body deflating.

"Send him one last message," Sorrel encouraged. "Just one."

"I have one," Crai said. When she tapped the comms this time, her finger was gentle. She opened a private line. "Timothy," she said, her voice softer than she thought possible. "You won't win. Do you know why?" Crai paused. "Because you are no longer the man I fell in love with. You stand for everything I despise. You are nothing to me. If I can be the one to put that bullet in your head. You'd better believe I will. I want you dead. Do you hear that. Dead."

Crai cut the comms. "Don't hold back at all, Nyx."

"I won't," he replied. "I also will attempt to hack his network."

"You can do that?"

"They're breaker ships," he smiled. "Of course I can."

"We're going straight through them. Keating, Havlock—your ships take flanking positions. Concentrate fire on the heavy cruisers. If we can break their command coordination, the frigates will be easier to handle. Nyx position those platforms and show them what they left behind swapped sides."

"On all fronts," Nyx grinned even more.

"Understood Captain," Keating replied. "Moving to port flank."

"Silent Thunder taking starboard position," Havlock confirmed.

Crai gripped the edge of her station as the Pogue's hull vibrated under them.

"Captain, how long until we can transfer to the Faulkner?" Sorrel asked.

"Assuming we survive the next ten minutes, I would think maybe five minutes after that."

"That's not reassuring."

"It wasn't meant to be." Markov replied.

"Enemy ships are opening fire," Nyx reported.

Their energy beams carved through space, lancing both flanks. "Hold formation," Markov barked.

Then the Pogue's batteries opened up alongside fire from Iron Covenant and Silent Thunder. The three damaged ships poured everything they had into a single target. Everyone in the CIC held their breath.

The lead cruiser's shields flared under the intensity of the barrage, holding only for precious seconds before it failed, and several missiles hit home. It's hull splintering with the impacts.

"Their shields are adapting," Nyx warned. "Redistributing power to compensate."

"All ships, randomize firing patterns. Don't let that super fucking computer predict anything."

"They're too big to follow Peyton," Markov said, "but we're not."

"Direct hit on the lead cruiser," the tactical officer reported. "Their shields are failing for good this time."

The Pogue rocked as the enemy fire damaged its shields, one of the missiles slipping through and impacting, hard.

"Hull breach on deck five," damage control called out. "Emergency bulkheads are holding."

The Pogue shuddered again as another missile found its mark. Through the viewer, and her console Crai watched the lead cruiser finally split in half in a massive explosion that would scatter debris for miles.

"One down, five to go," she muttered.

But the remaining enemy vessels adapted again, and repositioned to provide overlapping fields of fire while the second heavy cruiser took up the command position.

"They're fast," Nyx observed. "Tactical responses are improving by eight percent each engagement."

"Are you in?" Crai asked.

"Not yet, Ranger has quite the firewall," the AI's face flickered, clearly concentrating on a million things at once. "I will prevail."

"We don't need to destroy them," Crai reminded him. "We just need to break through to the Faulkner."

"Then I suggest an alternative approach." Markov said. "Concentrate all fire on the vessels directly blocking our path while accepting hits from flanking ships…"

"Creating a corridor," Nyx was nodding.

"At what cost?" Crai asked.

"Significant hull damage, possible casualties, and shield depletion to critical levels. But we'd reach the Faulkner."

Crai looked at Sorrel, who met her eyes with determined understanding. "I'll head to—"

Crai stopped her for but a second. "Soon as we're through, we'll get you to Lev."

They'd come too far to turn back now. Kestat had died to get them here. She wouldn't let his sacrifice be for nothing.

"All ships, attack pattern omega." Nyx announced. "We're punching through. Accept flanking fire only if necessary. Save the resources."

The convoy shifted angles, ignoring any defensive maneuvers and focusing everything on just forward momentum.

"Hull breaches on multiple decks," damage control reported. "Casualties in engineering section."

"Keep going," Crai ordered.

Through the viewer, the Faulkner grew larger—a dark silhouette against the stars, running lights dim, engines cold, looking more like a derelict than a functional vessel.

That's when Ranger's voice filled the CIC. "You can't escape me!" it ecohed on a loop. Till Nyx cut it off. "Don't you worry," Crai replied holding Markov's eyes with hers. "We already have."

They broke through the enemy defense at full pelt, the drone platforms and their flanking ships in a bad way, but that didn't matter. "We're through," Nyx announced. "Braker vessels are repositioning but they can't follow."

"Match the Faulkner's drift," Crai ordered. "Prepare for emergency docking. Dr. Kosta, get your team ready."

"Ready and waiting," Sorrel replied, already at the airlock with her team and the precious nanite doses they all knew the Faulkner's engines needed.

The Pogue gently positioned herself alongside the Faulkner and Crai dipped her head to the young pilot, Kestat would be proud of them all, she knew it. The docking clamps engaged with a satisfying thunk, and Crai watched as Sorrel disappeared through the airlock.

"All ships, maintain defensive formation. We're not out of this yet." Crai looked at Markov whose face pained, yet he remained steadfast in his seat. Crai moved to stand before him. "Go," she added. "Your wife and family are onboard. You deserve to see them too."

Markov's eyes shone. "Thank you," he didn't hesitate, and left at a run.

Crai took the command chair, reaching to contact her brother. "Derek?" she asked cautiously.

"Still here," he replied. "Am glad you could join us."

"Me too," Crai replied, her voice breaking. "Me too."

Peyton

The moment we saw the Pogue blasting through the gap into our airspace I felt the Faulkner come alive again. Not literally—we were still running on emergency power—but the presence of this rescue, of hope, of Sorrel's medical team flooding through our corridors brought energy we hadn't had in hours.

I met them at the airlock. Sorrel looked exhausted, but her eyes were sharp and focused.

"Captain Tachim," she said, professional despite everything. "Where do you need me first?"

"Don't you dare Captain Tachim me," I pulled her into me for a much needed hug. "Thank you,"

"Where am I needed?" She asked again, but this time softer.

I eased back from her. "Lev's in the CIC," I replied. "He needs to see you before you do anything else."

"He's hurt?" Her face changed in an instant.

"No, but he needs you."

Understanding flickered across her face, followed by more concern. "What happened?"

"He should tell you…"

Her face though, she knew as much as I did and he likely wouldn't share it, not yet.

We made our way through corridors lit only by emergency lighting and I filled her in as best I could. "We'll take this to engineering," one of the medical team said, and only on her nod did they then split off.

The CIC was cold when we entered, and not just from lack of life support measures. Crew members working at stations with nothing but exhaustion on their faces.

There, at the security station, was Lev, still trying to look like he was okay.

He looked up when Sorrel entered, and for a moment neither of them moved. I saw recognition, relief, and something else—grief so profound it nearly brought him to his knees.

Then Sorrel was across the CIC, pulling him into an embrace that felt like they'd been apart for years not months.

I looked away, giving them a little privacy, pretending to study tactical displays while they held each other. Mac did the same, suddenly very interested in his navigation console.

"I'm here," Sorrel whispered, loud enough for the room to hear still. "I'm here."

Lev's arms came around her with desperate strength. He was physically shaking, the controlled man he was gone,

<<I knew they were meant to be together,>> Lia said. <<I had no idea it meant that much to them.>>

<<It will never be the same, but that… that is true love.>>

<<You miss her?>>

I had to choke back a sob, <<Every minute.>>

"Sorrel," Lev managed, his voice raw. "Torres—"

"I know. Peyton told me. We'll deal with it together." She pulled back enough to look at his face. "But first, tell me you're okay."

"I'm functional."

"That's not what I asked."

I glanced over despite myself. Lev met Sorrel's eyes, and even from across the CIC I could see the devastation there.

"They were targeting me," he said quietly. "Torres stepped between us. Thompson and Stevens too. They gave us their nanite doses, stood in front of me and Mac and Piotr." He'd let my real name slip, but no one batted an eye. "Torres… she died making sure I kept my promise to you, she made our survival a tactical priority."

I watched Sorrel's face turn deathly pale. "Lev, I—I'm sorry—"

"She knew what she was doing. She made that choice." His hands tightened on her arms. "But gods l, I—I watched them pull her consciousness away and there was nothing I could do except stand there like a fucking idiot."

"You're not an idiot and she knew that." Sorrel pulled him close again, and I finally looked away for real. This was their moment, and I had no business witnessing it beyond making sure they both had the support they needed.

"Captain," Mac said. "The Pogue is requesting status update for engine repairs."

"Tell them we need everything we can get in engineering as soon as possible. But give them a few more minutes first."

Mac nodded, he understood that. We all did.

Behind me, I heard Lev's voice, barely above a whisper. "Her last words. Make all of this mean something, Chief. But it doesn't mean anything, it doesn't make sense."

"It will," She soothed.

I gave them as much time as I could, not hearing the rest of their exchange. Then I gave them just one more minute. I cleared my throat. "I hate to interrupt, but we're on the clock. Captain Crai bought us time, but those pursuit ships are regrouping."

Sorrel pulled back from Lev, wiping her eyes and straightening her shoulders. Both shook off their emotions and looked my way, even if the grief was still raw underneath.

"Right. Engineering," she said. "Show me what we're working with."

"Lev, you have the CIC," I said. "Mac, you're with us."

He was about to protest, clearly wanting to follow Sorrel, but he nodded instead. "Understood, Captain."

Sorrel walked beside me in silence as we headed down. Finally, she spoke. "How bad is he really?"

"Bad," I admitted. "He watched three people die protecting us. He thought he'd just lost all his friends when the others in the fleet were split off from us. But we all watched their consciousnesses get ripped away while their bodies kept breathing.

She put a hand on my arm. "And you and Mac?"

I stopped, I had too, my legs wobbled. "We need to get away, we need—" I couldn't finish my words.

"We will," she said. "But then all three of you will talk, if not to me, I'll have someone assigned to each of you."

"We're holding on by a thread." I admitted. "But we are holding on."

"Good," she said. "And I'll hold on with you."

When she hugged me this time, it was family. Love. Everything I needed right now. "Engineering," I said and pushed back.

"Yes, Engineering."

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