Starwalker

Ship's log, 15:21, 30 June 2214
Location: Feras orbit, Lambda 1 system
Status: Stationary

Location: Bridge

(Warnings flash on each console around the room.)

CAPTAIN: (gripping the arms of his chair as the ship’s frame shudders) Starry, report! Starry!

STARRY: (standing to the captain’s right, she stares forward unflinchingly) Hull breached. Wide Load is gone.

CAPT: Casualties?

STARRY: Wide Load is gone.

CAPT: (exchanges a frown with Chief Cameron) Is the problem contained?

STARRY: No, he’s… he was outside.

They sounds like they’re so far away, speaking to me from the other end of a long tunnel. I am drifting. I am coming apart at the seams, spreading on the arms of an explosion. I am sealed closed, like a dented nut. I don’t make sense and it hurts.

Location: Mid-deck

ELLIOTT: (bracing himself in a doorframe with one hand, he manipulates the holographic interface above his forearm with the other) Starry, how’s your pressure holding?

STARRY: (voice only, distantly) I have a hull breach.

ELLIOTT: Yes, but what about the rest of you? Seals are holding around the breached sector?

STARRY: Yes, seals are holding.

ELLIOTT: (scowling) Why do you sound weird? Starry?

Location: Cargo Bay 4

(Dr Valdimir is crouching beside the prone, suited form of Lang Lang. He holds a scanner over her for a moment, frowning at its readouts from inside his own suit helmet.)

DR SOCKS: Lang Lang? Can you hear me?

LANG LANG: (does not move or respond. Her suit is scuffed and scorched, and torn on one leg.)

DR SOCKS: (sighs and looks around. The cargo bay has a few crates in the corner but there’s no sign of movement.) I don’t suppose there’s a chance of getting a hand with this?

(Silence is his answer.)

DR SOCKS: (shakes his head, then flicks out the anti-grav stretcher from his emergency kit. It unrolls and lies on the deck beside the patient. Tgoes about easing the unconscious navigator onto the stretcher, one careful movement at a time.)

Wide Load. My boy. His pieces are too small to pick out of the cloud of fighter debris, even if I wanted to go back and scoop him up. Most of him was incinerated when the fighter’s power cell ruptured.

Not even a whisper in the radiation signature. He’s gone, just gone, like a hole in my world.

My boy.

Location: Mid-deck

STARRY: (appearing beside Elliott, her expression empty. She blinks, then looks at him more closely.) Why aren’t you wearing your suit?

ELLIOTT: Little busy trying to staple your ass together so you don’t come apart.

STARRY: You should have your suit on. Where is it? You need to go get it now.

ELLIOTT: It’s on another deck. I’m fine, Star–

STARRY: (pointing off down the corridor) Go get your suit on!

ELLIOTT: (frowning at her) Hey, I’ve got more important things to do than–

STARRY: No you don’t! Go get it right now! I’m not losing you today.

ELLIOTT: I don’t plan on–

STARRY: (blinks out.)

ELLIOTT: (stares at the spot she was just standing in) …what the fuck? (He scrubs his hair and stomps off to the nearest emergency equipment hatch to grab a temporary helmet.)

I can’t lose anyone else today. I won’t.

My hull is torn open. The captain’s cabin is bleeding furniture into the void. I am compromised. I am breached, no longer stable as a ship.

Need to balance the shift in my pressure. I have to nurse my bulkheads, make sure I don’t put too much strain on my internal structure. Must stay in one piece. Must protect what I have left.

I have a gaping hole in me. My sensors are screaming at me and my drones and the spot in my awareness where Wide Load used to sit. The holes are real and metaphorical; they overlap and ache.

I’m pretty sure that the captain’s underwear is floating away.

Location: Bridge

CAPT: (standing in front of the ship’s avatar) STARRY!

STARRY: (blinks and takes a step back in surprise. Her eyes focus on his face, bewildered.) What? I… why are you out of your chair? You should be strapped in.

CAPT: We need you here, right now.

ROSIE: (looks on with concern. The other SecOffs have eyes only for their consoles.)

STARRY: (in a small voice) I’m here.

CAPT: No you’re not. Whatever is going on in those processors of yours, file it away.

How can he say that to me? Doesn’t he understand? I’ve lost integrity and a part of myself, and I can’t get them back. I can’t–

He got up to talk to me. I wasn’t listening. I wasn’t paying attention and I should always be paying attention. I should be able to process all of this at once. I’m failing them, all of them.

I still have people left. I have five drones and seven people to protect. So many souls still in my care.

I have to be a good ship. I have to be what my captain needs. I will be.

STARRY: (drawing her shoulders straighter, she lifts her chin. Her eyes might shine brightly with emotion but her voice is clearer.) I’m here, captain.

CAPT: Good. Now, the hull breach…

STARRY: Seals are holding.

CAPT: So why aren’t we underway?

STARRY: (blinks, looks down at her armoured hands, then up at the hologram in the centre of the room again. Around the curve of the planet, the blinking representation of the Celestial Strider is moving rapidly towards the binary stars of Lambda 1.) I– Bringing us around now. We’re still going after the ship?

CAPT: (relieved) Yes, we are. (Half-turning away from the ship’s avatar,) Chief, how are we doing for firepower?

CAMERON: Forward and aft lasers are fine but that’s all we have left, and we’re down to only a few missiles. We also have a few shots left for the nano-gun.

CAPT: All right, let’s see what the Celestial does when we get there. Starry, can we catch up?

That’s not an easy question. The Celestial Strider is making all speed for the twin star, but her engines are brand new; they haven’t been run in yet. Mine hum confidently in their casings, well tuned and configured for maximum efficiency. In an even race, I’d win, hands down.

But this isn’t an even race. My right wing is damaged and the sublight strip along its rear edge isn’t working at maximum capacity. I am lopsided, uneven. I tilt my left wing to compensate as I curve over Feras’s north pole, coming around to a pursuit vector. I push my engines until I start to creak.

STARRY: I’ll try, captain. Trying to work around the damage to get enough thrust. We won’t reach her before she gets to the traffic, though.

There are the other ships in the system. They have scattered from my bombs, imitating debris in the hopes that they wouldn’t actually explode into it. Now, some of those ships hover between me, the Celestial, and the binary star of Lambda 1. They must have been watching what has been going on. They must be drawing their own conclusions.

Will they try to interfere? Will they avenge the fallen fighters? Will they think I’m a threat to them and shoot at me before I can shoot at them? Am I heading into defensive teeth?

CAPT: (turns to look at the hologram in the centre of the room, which zooms in to show the spray of ships across the star’s orbit) They’ll be on high alert after our stunts. Suggestions?

ROSIE: What, they can’t tell that we’re defending ourselves here?

CAMERON: Not after the bombs we planted. They’d be fools to take the chance.

ROSIE: Can’t we just tell them?

CAMERON: (exchanges a look with the captain.)

CAPT: (folds his arms over his chest and frowns at the hologram) What could we tell them that wouldn’t raise questions about the project?

STARRY: That we’re defending Earth.

CREW: (turn and look at the ship’s avatar with surprise.)

STARRY: Well, we are.

CAPT: (looks pensive for a moment, then nods) All right. Broadcast this message, Starry:

All ships, this is the Starwalker. You may hear many things about today’s events, but know this: we do this for Earth’s sake. For all those left behind on our home world, for all those who walk with the spirits, for all those displaced by the disaster, we do this for you. What we do today means that what happened on Earth will not happen again. We are searing the wound so that it might heal.

We have no wish to harm anyone. We have only returned fire on those who have fired upon us. We have no intention of attacking any ship in this system, but we will defend ourselves. We do this for Earth, for our lost home.

STARRY: (nods when he’s finished) Translating and transmitting. Now, will you sit down and strap in, please?

No immediate responses to the message. I don’t know if they’ll believe us.

It’s not entirely true. We fired upon one ship that didn’t shoot at us first: the tug that held the company’s data. It didn’t get a chance to defend itself. I suppose we fired on the cruiser first, too. But to disable, not to kill. That makes a difference, doesn’t it? Can it?

I look over the feeds from my rear sensors and it’s hard to say that we’re doing a good thing here. Fires and gas spurts puncture the surface of the planet, tracing my path with gouts of destruction. Debris drifts in clouds. Half-built wrecks dangle from half-severed tethers. Gaping holes reveal breached compartments. Scorch-marks and laser scars tell the tale of my battle.

It’s hard not to ask myself if the company deserved it. Feras is Is-Tech’s colony, and Is-Tech made me what I am and then abandoned me. Should I feel bad about the damage?

I don’t feel anything right now. I am numb, aware only off the burn of my engines and the strain on my bulkheads as I try to catch up to my fleeing sister. I am the ship who is what she must be.

I am a good ship. I will do what my captain asks of me. I am armed and armoured, and we’ll finish this. I am strong enough.

Warning
Sublight engines at 110%
Sublight engines exceeding capacity
Warning

Shut up, autolog. I know. My engines can take it and I have to catch up. We can’t let my little sister get away.

Sister. Family. They love her more than me. Will they do to her what they did to me? Will they abandon her, too? Throw her to the wolves, close her out in the cold?

She has a crew like I do. She has a pilot about to join with her control systems through a pilot’s couch, like Danika did two years ago. She’s running straight for the star, for the escape route that only she and I can use.

So much like me. She might understand us.

I send a burst at her, asking her to stop. She isn’t answering. I’m gaining on her – even she must see that – but she doesn’t acknowledge me. What have they told her about me? About her big sister?

The ships who fled the parking zone are peeling away from her path, as if they want nothing to do with any of this. I don’t blame them. They think she’s as much of a threat to them as I am, and she hasn’t fired a single shot. The two of us look alike; perhaps they think we’re working together.

From the look on the captain’s face, he’s thinking the same thing. Cameron is probably trying to figure out how to use it to our advantage.

Meanwhile, my drones, Elliott, and I are doing our best to patch my most damaged parts. I have re-routed my fire controls three times and still they’re overloading some of my circuits. It’s taking a lot of my attention just to keep the essential systems running smoothly.

Location: Engineering

ELLIOTT: (from inside his helmet, tugging at the collar with a grimace) Starry, you need to back off the sublights.

STARRY: (voice only) They’re fine. I’m only a little over.

ELLIOTT: (going to the engine bay at the rear of Engineering, he pulls up the holographic displays of its readouts) Yeah, and if you keep them over capacity, you’re gonna burn ‘em out.

STARRY: But I’m barely going to catch up as it is! You need to find me a way to get more speed.

ELLIOTT: Sure, just shut the engines down for a couple of days so I can fix ‘em.

STARRY: Elliott!

ELLIOTT: I’ll see what I can do, but you gotta back ‘em off, Starry. Now.

STARRY: (mumbling) Fine.

Location: Bridge

CAPT: (watching his console’s calculations) Starry, what’s going on with your velocity?

STARRY: Engines are running as hot as I can, captain. We’ll catch up when she reaches the star. Elliott’s on it.

CAPT: We’re running out of margin.

STARRY: I know.

She’s pulling further ahead of me. She’ll have to stop at the star to charge her filaments; I’ll have time to catch up then. I’ll be able to blast her out of the sky before she abuses that double star and tears a hole in reality.

In the meantime, I’m her lumbering, smoking big sister, wheezing along in her wake. And I don’t like it, not one bit. With one eye on my target and the rest on all the other ships in the system, my hull is prickling with tension. If I’m not careful, the pressure of possibilities will give me another breach to deal with.

CAMERON: Captain, Patience is moving to pursue us.

CAPT: (fingers moving over his console to manipulate the Bridge’s central hologram, which pans around to show the cruiser turning towards the binary star of Lambda 1) They managed to repair the damage already?

CAMERON: Probably re-routed essential battle systems around the affected areas. They might have failsafes to compensate for that kind of attack. We should have let the nanobots run all the way through it, take out all of the systems.

CAPT: Not when they had hit the colony. Can they catch up to us?

CAMERON: It’s likely. They’re not at full power yet from these readings, but if they continue to fix their systems…

CAPT: Starry?

STARRY: I’m going as fast as I can! You try flying with a bloody great hole in your back, a chunk of blind sensors, damaged thrusters, and an engineer who won’t let you overcharge the sublights.

CAPT: (frowning) Monaghan is stopping you?

STARRY: (mumbling) He says we might explode.

CAPT: (expression clearing) Oh. Carry on, then.

There is only one thing I can do to help me move faster: jettison my cargo and reduce my overall mass to increase the impact of my sublights’ burn. I clear it with Elliott and the captain, and send Big Ass to do the heavy lifting.

I don’t have much to spare. The belongings of my dead. Spare parts I’ll probably need before this is over. Food stores. Emergency equipment – no, I’d better keep that. Elliott even sacrifices some of his heavier equipment, down in Cargo Bay 1. I think he has noticed the cruiser on our tail, too.

It makes only a tiny bit of difference. I inch closer to the Celestial‘s tail. I’m losing ground to the cruiser. I claw each klick as ferociously as I dare, but my sister reaches the star well before me. She’s still out of reach.

I can see her filaments unfurling. Is that what it looks like from this distance? She shines, golden and perfect in the twin stars’ light, and the tips of her filaments glow as they charge. They wave like hair in an invisible tide.

STARRY: (blinks) Captain, you all need to get your suits on. Now.

CAPT: Another breach?

STARRY: No. My radiation shielding is already punctured and I’m heading into close orbit around those stars.

CAPT: (frowns and punches in the command for the emergency protocols on his console) All hands suit up.

(Hatches open around the Bridge, revealing suit helmets and gloves. The captain tugs his collar closed and activates his shipsuit’s seals, and the SecOffs are quick to follow his lead.)

My protections are failing. I am already detecting a rise in my ambient radiation levels. I adjust my environmentals to filter it out, buffer my internal spaces, push it out. But the closer we get to that star, the worse it’ll be, and if anyone fires at us… the fallout from a hot missile could flood right through me.

Stupid hull breach.

I pass the command along to the doctor, who puts his helmet on with a sigh and goes back to scanning Lang Lang. I don’t have time to look at the readings, but they’re not good. I’m not the only damaged one here. She’s still in her suit and wrapped in the cocoon of Med Bay’s protections. The doctor will keep her safe. And I’ll do my best to keep everyone safe.

HALF-FACE: Is that the Celestial is opening a portal?

ROSIE: Fuck!

CAPT: That’s fast.

STARRY: She’s cheating. That’s… that’s a brute force attack.

My filaments never charged that fast. What improvements did they make? How can she have done it so fast? From here, it looks like she took a sledgehammer to the fabric of the universe. I can see the ripples across the face of both stars of Lambda 1. The Celestial Strider is hovering between them, drawing on the gravity of both bodies, tearing open the space in the middle as if unpicking a seam.

I’m too far away: I can’t catch her. I’m still out of effective missile range. Even lasers won’t do enough from this distance. I push my engines hard and make Elliott swear but it’s still not enough. My sister is slipping towards the portal, nosing at the outside of the universe.

And maybe I’m not entirely sorry. Something in me lifts at the idea of her getting away. Maybe I don’t hate the idea of having a sister. Maybe we can reason with her, make her understand our side, and maybe she’ll join us in our quest against the company that built us. I have to believe that’s possible.

ROSIE: What the hell is that?

CAMERON: Missile signatures.

ROSIE: They’re coming out of the portal…

CAPT: Aimed at us?

CAMERON: No firing solution on us.

STARRY: (quietly) They’re for her.

I’m too far away: I can’t save her. She has no defenses, too busy with the Step. My forward sensors are working perfectly and pick up every detail of the impacts. The first missile rips off a chunk of her filaments, like a handful of hair. The second drives right into where her Bridge is. Then there is an explosion so bright it almost sears my eyes, engulfing her as something deep inside her detonates.

It must be the Step drive, active and wide open. She is bursting with all the gathered power of two stars and it’s tearing her apart, so bright, so loud, even in the void. My sensors are blurred but I know the force of it is racing outwards. Racing towards me.

For a moment, I think I can hear her screaming.

STARRY: (shipwide) BRACE FOR IMPACT!

I cut my engines and turn my undamaged side to the shockwave. Flutter my thrust to try to reduce the impact. I have nothing to brace myself against. But my people, oh, my people.

It’s about to hit and suddenly I realise that I’ve seen that explosion before.

As most of you know, we’re rapidly approaching the end of Starwalker Book 3. Just a few posts to go!

Books 1 to 3 represent the original storyline that I planned out in the depths of 2009. The names of the books are general descriptions of the phases of the story and the evolution of our beloved ship and her crew. This is where I knew I wanted the tale to go.

Now comes the question: what next? Do we have to say goodbye to Starry, Elliott, and all the others?

No. There is more to come, beyond the initial trilogy. Starwalker will not end with the third book!

I have a couple of storylines in mind, questions that have yet to be answered and new ideas to slide into the mix. I have new places to take these characters as they fly about this world. I also have a whole list of shorts to complete.

I am planning to take a hiatus once Book 3 is complete, but don’t fear. Starwalker will be back, with brand new adventures for you all. I hope you stay with us for the ride!

Ship's log, 16:43, 30 June 2214
Location: Feras orbit, Lambda 1 system
Status: Stationary

Cruiser to the front of me, fighter to the rear, and here I am, stuck in the middle with my crew.

I’m dented and scraped. Elliott and my boys are working to shore up the worst of the damage, and that’s only from four small fighters. Now I’m faced with a Judiciary cruiser, and I’m not finished.

External comms

PATIENCE: Starwalker, stand down immediately, by order of the Judiciary. You are charged with terrorism, destruction of property…

I don’t answer. I don’t interrupt the cruiser as it lists my crimes.

Because to my left, around the curve of the metal planet below me, Wide Load is blasting away from an airlock with his little drone thrusters. He’s carrying a suited-up Lang Lang in his arms and taking her out to where I’ll be able to pick them up.

But to my right, arrowing away from enclosed dock, is another ship that looks a lot like me. Newer, fresher, less scarred. A copy and replacement. My little sister, the Celestial Strider.

PATIENCE: …conspiracy, reckless endangerment…

She could undo everything. She has filaments in her hull, which means another Step drive. She holds the last pieces of the project that made me, because we’ve destroyed the rest. They must be sending her off in an attempt to preserve what little remains of it. To finish our mission here, we have to destroy her.

I didn’t even know I had a sister. Here I am, severing all the ties to the people who made me, the closest thing I have to parents, makers, family, and now there is a sister ship. She could be just like me. She could like me.

And we have to destroy her.

PATIENCE: …assault, and murder.

But first, there is that cruiser to deal with. It is shouting at me over comms and not living up to its name. It has a lot more guns than I do, firing heavier ordinance than I can carry, and it’s not damaged like I am. I can’t fight it head-on; I have to run. But which way? To my people or my sister? To save or attack?

It’s not my choice; it’s my captain’s. He’s staring at the hologram of our position among all these pieces, weighing the options, and they seem to press heavily on him.

I’m not honestly sure which way I’m hoping for him to go. For once, I’m glad it’s not my decision.

PATIENCE: Further charges pending. We advise you not to add resisting arrest to the list.

Yeah, yeah, like that’s the biggest worry we have right now. Shut up, Patience.

Location: Bridge

CAMERON: Captain, if we’re going to move, we need to do it now.

CAPTAIN: (scowling at the hologram) Is there a third option?

(Silence falls on the Bridge. The two SecOffs finger their holographic consoles, holding as still as they can while eyeing the enemy.)

CAPT: As soon as we move, that cruiser is going to be on us. Starry, I want you to hit the deck and use the planet’s surface for cover. Make it as hard as possible for them to target us.

STARRY: (nodding) No problem, I can do that. Scrape my belly on the deck if I have to.

CAPT: Try not to damage yourself. Chief, what’s the best way to buy ourselves some time and space? Missile volley?

CAMERON: Firing at them might work, but we’re unlikely to get through their defenses. And we don’t have enough ordinance left to waste any on shots that won’t hit.

CAPT: Lasers?

CAMERON: Power reserves are good. There’s also the nano-gun.

The ship-killer. It could disable the cruiser entirely, let us get away. Let us finish this the way it needs to be finished.

CAPT: (uncomfortably quiet for a moment as he absorbs that) It could slow them down long enough for us to get away.

CAMERON: It should. Starry?

STARRY: All good here. Just tell me which way we’re going. (She looks to the captain.)

External comms

PATIENCE: Starwalker, please respond.

Location: Bridge

CAPT: (not looking at her or anyone else, his attention is fixed firmly on the holographic representation of the world outside the hull and his tone is grim) Get into position. Tell the drone to find somewhere to wait. We’re going east to take out that ship. We’ll come back for them.

STARRY: (nods, looking pale in her armour.)

CAMERON: Activating the nano-gun.

Get into position, he says. But the cruiser will have nervous fingers on its triggers, ready to fire if I twitch the wrong way. So I’ll need to do this subtly; I need to show them my belly as if I’m giving up, not getting ready to fire the weapon mounted there.

Weapons offline
Engines offline

CAMERON: Starry, what are you–

STARRY: Getting into position. The nano-gun isn’t hooked up to my weapons grid.

CAMERON: (nods.)

Laser and missile turrets have withdrawn under my hull again and my plating is smooth again, except where damage dents it. I have put my teeth away behind smiling lips and I am holding up my hands. My sublights are shut off and a quirk of timing sets me into a gentle drift, turning so casually, pale belly rolling into view. As if by accident, or injury.

Thirty seconds until the Patience is in my sights.

External comms

STARWALKER: Patience, this is the Starwalker. We apologise for any loss of life today. We were fired upon first and defended ourselves.

PATIENCE: Stay where you are, Starwalker. You will have the chance to tell your story at your trial.

STARWALKER: We only did what was right, to save lives. To save everyone.

PATIENCE: Maintain position and don’t make any sudden moves, and you’ll have the chance to explain.

I send a quick burst to Wide Load. I want to say I’m sorry. I don’t want to say goodbye. I tell him to find somewhere safe to take Lang Lang, where he can attach himself to the exterior of the planet and wait for me. I tell him that I’ll be back for them soon.

I lie.

Twenty seconds.

I quietly enable the repulsors. But Wide Load is sending me a message that threatens to upset everything.

Location: Bridge

STARRY: Captain! A fighter is on approach to Wide Load and Lang Lang’s position. It’s the damaged one that was chasing us.

CAPT: (frowning) To pick them up?

STARRY: A Raptor-Hawk 760 doesn’t have capacity to pick up one of them, let alone both. I’m not picking up any transmissions from it.

CAPT: (glares pensively at the central hologram and the pieces moving into their places.)

He knows as well as I do that you don’t send a fighter on a recovery mission. They’re built for only one thing, and I damaged that ship just a few minutes ago. It’s probably still pissed at me and getting ever closer to my people.

How many will we lose today?

CAPT: (rakes a hand over his hair, grimacing. He huffs out a breath, gripping the arms of his chair.) Change of plan. We’re going to get our people first.

CAMERON: Captain, the other ship…

CAPT: We’re not losing any more today. Starry, I want you to scoop them up and bring us around the north pole onto a pursuit vector for the Celestial. Can you do it?

STARRY: In-transit scoop? Barnswallow, like I did with Kess?

CAPT: Exactly.

STARRY: I can do it. Plotting course. Five seconds.

CAMERON: Captain, we’ll never catch up to the Celestial Strider if we don’t go after her now.

STARRY: Three.

CAPT: We’ll do it. She hasn’t had Elliott tuning her engines.

STARRY: Two.

CAMERON: (presses her lips together and turns her attention to her console where the nano-gun controls blink.)

STARRY: One.

The cruiser Patience is moving smoothly towards me, weapons hot but confident of my submission. That’s a real battleship. I’m just a scrapper with knuckles wrapped in metal. David against Goliath. A tiny pellet fires from my belly and a nanosecond later, I punch with the rear the repulsor on my underside. It spins me away from the cruiser and the planet, flipping end over end.

My lost drone just shot down a missile with one of his tiny lasers. I am done playing possum.

Engines online
Weapons online

My SecOffs are quick to get back on their controls, slicing at the fighter behind me as I pass close to it. I struggle to pull out of the spin, sublights fluttering. My damaged right wing isn’t holding up to the pressure very well, but I can do this. I will do what must be done.

The cruiser fires at the pellet and explodes it into a cloud of tiny, weaponised debris. Inertia drives most of it towards the Judiciary ship but the blast spreads the nanobots wider than that.

No, oh no. That’s the worst thing the cruiser could have done. Those nanobots will hit the planet, and they’ll multiply and eat every data-line in the colony. They could kill millions.

Could any of them have sprayed as far as me? No, I was already heading away from Patience; they couldn’t have reached me. Could they?

Meanwhile, weapons are turning towards me. I haul myself around and plummet towards the planet’s rough surface, angling to the west and my exposed crewmembers. The fighter dives into pursuit. I burn my sublights so hot that I melt an antennae as I pass by, buckling the metal. I creak from the strain.

STARRY: Captain, the nanobots…

CAPT: I see it. Chief, you have the kill command?

CAMERON: Yes.

CAPT: Let’s give it a minute or two. Just long enough to cripple them.

STARRY: We might be out of range by then.

CAPT: We won’t be. Chief?

CAMERON: (glances at him and nods.)

She’s watching our range. Good, because I’m a little busy flying here. While we wait for the nanobots to cripple the cruiser, it is shooting at me, blasting holes in the surface of the colony. My SecOffs are busy picking the missiles out of the black. I spray my last packet of countermeasures behind me and dodge and weave.

A concussion rolls me over and shrapnel peppers my side and top, where the missile hit me earlier. It feels like the next hit is going to tear something open in me.

Eat fast, little nanobots. Please.

Structural integrity compromised
Hull breach imminent

Location: Upper level, central corridor

(Ceiling panels all along the corridors have come down, some of them spilling wiring with them. Elliott is standing on top of a fallen panel, welding an extra support into place to shore up a damaged strut overhead. The lights flicker.)

STARRY: Elliott, structural integrity isn’t going to hold in this area. You need to get out of here.

ELLIOTT: Just need a few seconds to get this patch on. Would help if you’d stop flexing.

(A shudder in the ship’s structure makes him grab at the wall for support.)

ELLIOTT: What the fuck!

STARRY: (materialising beside him) Elliott, look at the readings. You need to move, now.

ELLIOTT: No, I–

(Another tremble knocks him off his perch. Metal screeches and grinds.)

STARRY: Elliott, please!

ELLIOTT: (scrambling to his feet) I’m going, I’m going! (He grabs his tools and runs for the nearest hatch.)

Location: Bridge

CAPT: (scowling at the warnings on his console) Starry, damage report!

STARRY: Integrity is damaged. Not ruptured yet. I’m locking down the Bridge and sealing off the upper level.

CAPT: Crew?

STARRY: Getting out of the way.

CAPT: Can you still make it?

STARRY: (armoured fists tightening by her sides and setting her jaw determinedly) They sent a fighter after Lang Lang. I’ll make it.

Location: Mid-deck access

ELLIOTT: (tumbles through the hatch, misses the step, and winds up sprawled on the floor. Above him, the hatch snaps closed and its control panel turns red as it seals.)

STARRY: (appears beside him) Are you all right? Are you hurt?

ELLIOTT: (looks down at himself; he’s ruffled and grubby but not obviously hurt) Yeah, yeah. You need to vent that sector.

STARRY: Okay. Venting now.

ELLIOTT: (stares up at her from the floor) When the hell did you get armour?

Structural integrity compromised
Hull breach imminent
Atmosphere in Sector B venting
Repulsors offline

Can’t afford to use the repulsors again; the pressure will tear me into pieces. Though that might happen anyway.

The seals between the upper level and the rest of me are holding. Venting the atmosphere in there should lessen the damage if I rupture. And I will, soon. Bulkheads flex in ways they’re not supposed to. I’m half-blind with blown sensors. If I think about it too much, it hurts.

But I’m a ship. I don’t feel pain. I shut off damaged sensors and re-route the systems that pass through that area. Deactivate the weapons on that side of me so their recoil doesn’t add to the problem.

I dodge around a protrusion on the planet’s surface and duck underneath the half-completed bulk of a freight carrier. The cruiser takes out the carrier’s supports behind me and the blast lifts the rear away from the surface. The front of the carrier pivots down before me, squeezing my exit route into a tiny sliver. The Lieutenant fires a missile at the gap and the explosion widens it enough for me to slip through.

I expect another shot as I emerge from under the freight carrier, but the cruiser is falling back. The nanobots are starting to take effect, eating into its systems. It’s losing weapons and power, drifting. Lasers fire fitfully. The Chief will deactivate the nanobots in a moment, once she’s sure it can’t pursue us. Her eyes are narrow as she watches the readouts, a finger hovering over the deactivation command.

I can see Wide Load! Just a few klicks between us now.

Location: Med Bay

(Dr Valdimir is watching the reports from the Bridge with interest and a pensive expression.)

STARRY: (voice only) Gear up, doctor. We need you at Cargo Bay 4.

DR SOCKS: (getting to his feet and reaching for the medical kit waiting next to his desk) Expecting a rough pick-up?

STARRY: Yes. Better get your suit on.

DR SOCKS: (nods and turns to pick up the helmet on the shelf above him.)

Oh god, there’s the fighter homing in on Wide Load. Wait, the drone’s arms are empty – where is Lang Lang? And what the hell is he doing?

He has launched himself towards the fighter, as fast as his thrusters can take him. The fighter seems to be trying to get around him to… there, that’s Lang Lang! She’s drifting on her own, dangling helplessly in the dark. Wide Load left her to try to deal with the threat, my big bruiser boy jumping onto the back of the tiger. The fighter is too damaged to evade him. Luckily he has mag-clamps in his tracks, so he can hang on while the fighter twists and dips, trying to shake him loose. But my boy is cutting his way through the Raptor-Hawk’s canopy. What is he trying to do?

The other fighter is still on my tail, forcing me to weave madly on my way to my stranded crewmember. My SecOffs fire at it, but this is a slippery one. We clip its wing with a laser. Shave the muzzle off a missile battery. It’s not enough.

I’m only going to get one pass at this. I gather my sublight power and break away from the cover of the planet’s surface. Thrusters flutter and turn me just so. Cargo Bay 4′s airlock peels open. Without Wide Load’s help, I have no way to buffer the impact for Lang Lang. I have no power to spare to try to create an inertial dampener net. Instead, I’m forced to do the worst thing I can in a battle situation: I slam the brakes on, back-thrusting as I scoop her out of the air, slowing so much I’m almost stationary when I reach her. Lang Lang still hits the cargo bay wall harder than I’d like.

The fighter chasing me pops out of the planet’s cover. A missile detonates far too close. Something in me tears.

On the other Raptor-Hawk, Wide Load tosses aside the patch of canopy he has cut away and reaches inside the cockpit.

Oh no. I know what he’s going to do.

Warning
Warning
Structural integrity compromised

Location: Bridge

CAPT: Is Lang Lang secure?

STARRY: (blinking) Yes. Airlock closed, repressurising the cargo bay now. The doctor is standing by.

CAPT: The drone?

STARRY: He’s… he’s…

I blast myself into motion again, passing close enough to my boy that I wish I had a hand to reach out to him, to scoop him off there. But Wide Load tells me no. He tells me it will be all right.

He lies.

He knows how to protect us. He knows what that fighter can’t do as he grabs its controls, because he read it from me. His sensors search for the other fighter, which is too busy following me to notice him. I do the calculations for him, unable to stop myself. I can’t take the data back.

Wide Load pulls that flawed knife of a ship up and around, twisting it impossibly towards its little friend. It gives under the strain, just like we knew it would, just like the other one did, and explodes– no, my boy–

Warning
Warning
Structural integrity compromised
Hull breached
Warning
Drone 6 offline

STARRY: (screams.)

I was so thrilled to get the last post up, but since then, life has interfered. My readers, I am so sorry for the delay. If it’s not my health, it’s stuff at home getting in the way (and this week, it’s both).

I hate doing this, but I’m going to have to delay the next post for another week. I shall do my damnedest to get it all polished and ready for you guys then.

Thank you for your patience. Just as soon as I’m able, I’m going to do something extra for you all.

Be well, my friends. I’ll try to do the same!

Ship's log, 15:12, 30 June 2214
Location: Feras orbit, Lambda 1 system
Status: Evasive manoeuvres, sublight transit

I’m surrounded by a mess of ships. They’re all fleeing from the area where we set off bombs, spraying away like debris. They rub and jostle at each other, as if the expanse of the solar system is suddenly too crammed to hold them all. Sparks spit and metal flakes off; thrusters cough as they try to haul themselves away from each other. The vacuum of space keeps their collisions silent, but the transmissions bouncing between ships more than makes up for the lack of sound. They rake at each other with language as colourful as Elliott’s and throw blame around with liberal mouths.

I feel bad for them. It wasn’t our intention to damage their ships. On the other hand, it’s not really my fault if they can’t fly without hitting something.

I can’t worry about that now. I have to trust them to look after themselves. My focus is on the Narwhal: a scarred old tug is chugging towards the artificial planet below us. We believe it holds the backups of the company’s data, including the data from the project that built me. To eradicate all traces of the project, we have to destroy that ship.

Between it and me, five little fighter-class ships complicate things, so small they’re like something that broke off one of the freighters surrounding me. They’re knives, sharp and glistening, and they’re trying to throw a net around me. Their weapon ports are open; they bristle with ordinance. But we’re surrounded by civilians. Surely they wouldn’t risk it…

I can’t think that way. Of course they would. They think I’m responsible for the explosions deep within Feras and the ones out here that caused all these ships to flee. And they’re right. But they can’t know that I’d never fire on the ships around me right now.

I am armed. I am the best pilot they’ve ever seen. And I’m going to get to that tug without letting these civilians pay with their lives.

I weave through the tailfins of the ships, up and over and back down again, twisting between a chunk of someone’s hull plating and the burn of a shuttle’s sublights. Dodge left and angle towards the colony below us. The fighters move to intercept again.

Location: Bridge

CAPTAIN: (eyeing the ship’s avatar) Starry, can you get us past them?

STARRY: (armoured up, she watches the hologram that tracks the fighters’ movements in the centre of the room) Trying. Making a break from cover in five seconds.

ROSIE: Can’t we just shoot them?

CAPT: Not in this traffic; when we’re clear.

HALF-FACE: They’re opening fire! Missile incoming.

ROSIE: Fuckers!

CAMERON: Countermeasures away.

CAPT: Evasive manoeuvres!

STARRY: What the hell do you think I’m doing?

I’m passing between a freighter and a scout, both of them refugee ships, and one of the fighters is shooting at me. There are civilians here! Helpless refugees! I was hoping to use the ships’ panic for my own purposes, but they weren’t supposed to be shot down. They weren’t supposed to be casualties in this.

I spray bleating countermeasures behind me and dive around the belly of the freighter. The missile confuses my signal with the ‘measures and detonates, and the concussion knocks the freighter off-course. It’s all I can do to prevent losing a wingtip – a wobble and I yank myself out of danger.

Another missile, snaking around the ship towards me. I spin and pull my nose down, curving back to where I started. The cloud of countermeasures is only too eager to jump into the line of fire for me.

I jerk left and duck behind another ship, knowing it’ll break the fighter’s target lock. A laser swipes through the dark behind me, cutting off a chunk of the civilian ship’s wing and the tip of my tailfin. I have to get out of here. I think the other ships are yelling at me but I don’t have time to listen.

The open space left behind by evacuating ships yawns, wide and dangerous. Exposing. I can’t afford to stay out there for long; they’ll cut me to pieces. I have to get to cover. I have to get to somewhere where I can even the odds.

Feras. The planet. Its surface isn’t smooth: covered with docking apparatus, cranes, half-built ships, access hatches, launching tubes, temporary construction shelters, cargo pod access, antennae, and robotic arms used to build the ships too large to be assembled inside the factories. I can use that, and I don’t care much if the fighters shoot at the scenery. Also, that’s where my target is.

I find an opening between the fleeing ships, turn myself around to face it, and punch all of my sublights at once. I shoot out like a fat bullet, but I only have a few seconds’ surprise on my side. I roll abruptly to the side and a laser cuts through where I just was. Behind me, fighters emerge from the morass like needles from a tapestry. Three of them launch missiles. The other two run high.

My hull shifts and I bare my teeth. Plates slide aside, laser muzzles prickle outwards, and missile launchers rise into place. My smooth shape is studded dangerously, like a puffer fish.

My SecOffs are quick on the weapons: laser bursts take out the missiles. I’m not too worried about them, but the fighters’ lasers are a problem: they can cut me up before I see them coming. My only defense is not to be there when they reach me. It’s all about the flying. I lost a thruster with the tip of my tailfin, but I can compensate.

I jink and twist, bouncing about the open void like a pinball in an invisible game. No more than two seconds on a single trajectory. Cannot be predictable. Keep moving, keep changing direction, flip, spin, burst sideways, spray countermeasures, cut down the ordinance chasing me. The forces involved make my inertial dampeners run hot but I’m not creaking yet.

I try not to think about the last time I stepped through the star here. I caught a glimpse of an explosion in this system; a very large explosion. I wonder if it was me, or one of these fighters, or something else. But I can’t think of it right now. Focus on what’s happening right now, Starry.

What I wouldn’t do for an industrial goddamn mirror to reflect these lasers right back.

The fighters are herding me, trying to push me away from the planet. Or at least away from that tug; they’re definitely defending it. Well, that’s not going to work. I cut back towards them, shortening our range. My SecOffs are on my weapons, trying to cut them up in turn. Lasers light up the dark; the fighters dodge around. Missiles punch out of ports along my sides; the fighters slash them down. I aim myself directly for one of the little bastards, knowing that the smaller ship can’t risk a collision. It panics and ducks aside, but its laser scores down my side. One of its friends slices through my right wing. I bleed into the void.

STARRY: (tensely) Chief, I’m taking over the repulsors.

CAMERON: We can handle the weapons…

STARRY: Not going to use them only for that.

CAMERON: (nods.)

Gonna have to time this carefully. I bring myself around so that I have my back to the planet, and line up the repulsor on my nose with a fighter. It’s too far away for me to damage, but that doesn’t mean I can’t punt the sucker across the system. Wait until that perfect split-second when the fighter is in my sights, and then kick.

The little fella is thrown across the void like a fastball special. I’m spun in the opposite direction and sent hurtling towards the planet. I let my tumble look uncontrolled, cutting engines as I ‘fall’. The remaining four fighters take the bait and use the opportunity to reposition themselves.

I have time to catch my breath.

ROSIE: (swallows as she tries to keep track of the targets on her console. The display lurches and spins.) Starry, you keep this up, I’m going to hurl.

CAPT: (watching the avatar closely) You can get us out of this?

STARRY: (grinning) You bet.

As I tumble, my SecOffs manage to get a couple of missiles away. One of them detonates close to a fighter, knocking it away. It’s not long until he’s back in formation, though. They’re trying to surround me, so they can cut me up with lasers.

Two can play at that game. The Lieutenant is scowling intently at his console, at the fighters lining themselves up around me. His lips move as if he’s counting. Abruptly, he activates all of my forward lasers, just as I spin and spray them across two of the little ships. One of them turns aside just in time; the other is sliced clean through, going from purposed ship to three drifting pieces of debris between heartbeats. First blood is ours!

ROSIE: WHOO-HOOO SUCKER.

HALF-FACE: (grins abruptly, plastiskin pulling over the metal side of his jaw.)

CAMERON: (smiles to herself without taking her eyes off her display.)

The pilot falls clear of the ruined fighter, missing a leg. If he isn’t dead now, he will be soon. I try not to look for his other leg in the wreckage.

Can’t afford to; his friends are pissed off and coming at me again. But I’m reaching the outskirts of Feras’s surface at the southern pole. I swoop out of my fall and down into the forest of antennae; suddenly, the stakes are a little more even. This is scenery I can use against them. Better yet, there’s a trench that runs up towards the northern pole: a valley of metal full of protrusions, robotic arms, and partially-built ships. A chaotic mess to fly through, which is exactly what I need.

Two-thirds of the way up that channel, a small tug is coming in to dock.

A missile explodes beside me, knocking me sideways. My hull creaks. I lose a missile battery on that side; it’s not responding. Rosie swipes a laser angrily through the tree-sized antennae; she misses the fighters but she does slice through the metal. I lift my tail and fire the rear repulsor, sending the severed spikes out in all directions and flipping myself over and over. My inertial dampeners groan as I pull myself away from a collision and into a dive towards the channel.

CAPT: Starry, are you planning to…

STARRY: Yup.

CAPT: Chief, are you seeing what I’m seeing?

CAMERON: Yes. Brasco, let’s see if we can’t cut up some more of their equipment. Laurence, I want you on concussive duty.

Suddenly, I think of Swann and how he helped us get out of a jam with well-timed missile detonations. He would know exactly what my Chief of Security meant. What a time to miss him. The Lieutenant looks confused, so I put the missile controls on his console for him. Now he seems to understand. Rosie is having fun, slicing up the struts and pipes and metal claws as I dip down into the trench. The fighters are following me, which is exactly what we want. They must think we’re panicking, shooting at anything in the hopes that we’ll get them.

Their lasers cut far too close to me. Not much room to evade in here. I squeeze through a gap between a bridge across the trench and an empty dock. Sparks spit from severed power lines. The fighters chase me down, trying to get a clean shot so they can send a laser right up my ass. The Lieutenant fires a missile and buries it into the western wall. Waits a second. Detonates it the moment the first fighter comes abreast of it.

Debris sprays everywhere. I punch my sublights to avoid the wayward bounce of a shard. A fighter explodes, adding its pieces to the mix, and Rosie cheers noisily. One of its friends wobbles as a chunk of hull bounces off his side.

Two left chasing my tail. There’s another one somewhere, sprinting back to the fight after being punted across the void. The channel is a mess of obstacles as I push to keep moving, but that’s okay. That’s what I wanted. Time to see how well they can fly.

I remember testing this fighter model. I remember how its frame sheared under a certain pressure at a certain angle. It’s time to see whether or not they ever fixed it. It’s time to let them chase me.

STARRY: Chief, I need them to stay in the trench with us.

CAMERON: (frowning) You want us to stop firing?

STARRY: Just don’t make them hop out of here.

CAPT: What do you have in mind, Starry?

STARRY: Gonna lead them up the garden path.

CAMERON: (glances at the captain, who nods at her) All right. Brasco, Laurence, let’s not repeat that last trick just yet. They’ll be expecting it.

ROSIE and HALF-FACE: Aye aye, ma’am.

Good. My people know what they’re doing. So now I pile on the speed and see if these pilots can keep up. I twist to get my wings through a tiny gap, dodge around a strut, duck into the mess of supports under a docking tunnel and back out again. I spiral through a shipyard and the ships docked for repairs.

Behind me, two knives follow, still trying to get an angle on me so they can shoot me down. One of them is moving to follow me, trying to emulate my manoeuvres. The other takes another route to try to catch me out, but there are only so may ways to go and I have a head start. Missiles try to close the gap but another spray of countermeasures deals with them.

Come on, keep up, little fighters. Surely one tubby scout can’t fox you? You can fit through smaller holes; you should be using that to your advantage. Come on. Fly.

I can feel it. The music in the chaos, just like the melody that I can’t quite hear when I open a portal. We’re weaving a dance here with quick feet and out-flung arms. With lasers strewn like ribbons and debris rising to swirl in our wake like skirts. Explosions like fireworks on a night sky. There’s a pattern here, carried in the code of my sensor data like a melody on a breeze. It tells me to move right and a laser punches through where I just was.

I feel the rightness of the pattern, like a beam of sunlight just out of reach. I strive for it and let my avatar blink out on the Bridge. Give myself over completely to the flying, to the dance. I run, headlong, and swirl, and dance.

This is no tango; there will be no sexy surrender at the end. This is a war-dance, with a stirring beat and the rattling of weapons. This is the chant of a thousand throats, rising in unison to the detriment of their enemies. This is rock music and the pounding of hearts and booted feet. It promises battle and a hard end.

Abruptly, there is a wall. We’re almost at full sublight speed. I spin and punch my engines to turn sharper than ninety degrees. My frame creaks and I hurtle away from a collision.

The fighters behind me are not so lucky. The one closest to me tries to make the turn, but that’s the angle that doesn’t work, not at that speed, not with their inertial dampeners. I can’t hear the metal screaming but I can see the needle-like body of the ship warping under the strain. The pilot ejects a split-second before the ship tears itself in two.

So they didn’t spend the money to fix the problem, after all.

The second fighter is smarter: it bounces its belly off the wall, using the scenery to make the turn he couldn’t do otherwise. He’s damaged but still coming. I duck over the top of the wall and drop into the trench on the other side.

The fifth fighter! Waiting for me on the other side of the wall where my sensors couldn’t find him. A missile strikes the top curve of my hull. Three weapon batteries are down. Hull integrity is struggling. I weave and head for the trench’s depths again. SecOffs fire blindly. Two of my boys head into my upper corridors to deal with the damage. Sensor feeds re-routing.

CAPT: (gripping the arms of his chair) Starry, damage report?

STARRY: (voice only) Lost a couple of missile tubes and lasers. Hull’s not breached yet.

CAPT: Can we make it?

STARRY: We damned well will.

The tug is just a short way ahead. It’s at the mouth of a docking tunnel, about to head inside the planet itself. I have less than a minute before the tunnel closes behind it and our chance is gone. Less than a minute and two fighters still trying to pick me apart at the seams. It’s starting to work.

CAMERON: Brasco, Laurence, let’s cut and punch again.

ROSIE: (more grimly now, her eyes locked brightly on her display) You got it, ma’am.

HALF-FACE: (nods.)

The fighters are coming at me with everything, trying to turn our own tactics against me: if their missiles can’t find me, they’ll blow up the scenery near me to try to hit me with the debris. I grit my teeth and surge forwards, skating past the severed ends of struts and spears of metal intended for my ribs. Something scrapes down my side but I ignore it.

The Lieutenant is using the missiles to clear the debris coming towards me and send it back towards those damned fighters. At this rate, I’m going to run out of things to fire. I send Casper to get the ordinance out of the damaged missile arrays and transfer them over to the working launchers.

The fighter that bounced off the wall is showing its damage; it’s dropping back. I hear it bleat a distress signal. I don’t answer.

One left, and thirty seconds until the tug moves out of reach.

CAMERON: Captain, that ship is very close to the colony. Do you still want to use the nano-gun?

CAPT: (frowns) That was the plan, but… no. We can’t risk taking out the colony’s systems as well.

CAMERON: Are you sure? Using conventional weapons is not a guarantee.

STARRY: (reforming her avatar) We’re not here to kill the entire colony. (She glances at the captain for support.) Are we?

CAPT: No. Obliterate the ship, Chief, but not with the nano-gun.

They were going to use the nano-bots to eat the backup ship’s systems; it would definitely destroy any data the ship had. I dread to think what that would do to the colony, which is entirely dependent on its systems to keep its people alive. Nano-bots are indiscriminate. No. We’re not here to take all these lives. We’re not.

I still wish I knew what that explosion I saw was, or will be.

Ten seconds. The one remaining fighter is frantically trying to cut me off, slicing up the trench around me, ahead of me, everywhere. I push forward, refusing to be put off. A chunk of metal bounces off my left wing, sending me spinning, and I nearly hit the wall.

No, I’m done being pushed around by these people. I had started to wonder if the Narwhal really was the ship we’re looking for, if it was just heading into the colony to tow something out, but the closer we get, the more the fighter seems determined to stop me. He’s defending it. The tug is definitely the right ship.

It’s at the mouth of the docking tunnel. I can’t get a clean shot from the low angle I’m coming in at. I have an idea, though, and head for the struts around the tunnel.

STARRY: Rosie, we need to take out these supports.

ROSIE: With pleasure!

She slices them to pieces gleefully as I pass through. Behind me, the fighter helps. It has no idea, too busy trying to get to me. I swerve around to the top of the tunnel and punch a repulsor to collapse the supports on that side. With nothing to hold it back any more, the tunnel mouth is yanked abruptly upwards while I am propelled away. The tug collides with the metal tube surrounding it and is pulled off-course. My SecOffs see their opening and fire everything at the little ship.

Missiles whistle into the open tube, everything explodes, and it’s hard to know exactly what was hit. Debris sprays and chokes up the trench, pinging and bouncing off the sides as I tumble towards open space. So much dust, lit by flares of light that die quickly. A laser rakes my hull. I weave and duck around a chunk of sharp plastic.

CAPT: Starry, report.

STARRY: Waiting for clear sensor data, captain. Also busy dodging this goddamn fighter. (The avatar frowns, concentrating.) Okay, got a look at the site…

(An image comes up before the central hologram, showing the burst end of the docking tunnel. It is covered in fresh scorch-marks and its edges are ragged. A jet of flame from further down in the tube shows where a conduit has ruptured. There’s no sign of the tug; just debris rapidly bouncing around the area from the force of the blasts.)

CAMERON: I’m picking up pieces of the Narwhal‘s hull among the debris. Nothing big enough to be useful. It’s gone, sir.

CAPT: Good. Starry, get us out of here.

STARRY: (smiling) Aye aye, captain.

That one fighter is still harrying me; I’m dodging around to avoid being hit. I flip over to aim my nose at the north pole, and punch away from the Narwhal‘s last position. I curve up and out of the trench, back towards open space. Oddly, the fighter doesn’t seem to be chasing me quite so enthusiastically.

I’m receiving a transmission. Oh god, it’s…

STARRY: (beaming) Captain, I have Wide Load!

CAPT: (sits up straighter) What?

STARRY: He’s with Lang Lang. They’re leaving an airlock west of here, right now.

CAPT: In a ship?

STARRY: No, she’s suited up. They need a pick-up.

CAPT: (finding a smile) Let’s go get them.

STARRY: (expression faltering) Wait… oh no.

CAPT: What? Are they in trouble?

STARRY: No, but we are. (She points at the central hologram.)

(From the northern pole, a cruiser-class ship is coming around the curve of the planet towards the Starwalker‘s position. The one remaining fighter rises out of the trench behind her, effectively putting the scout between two armed ships.)

CAMERON: (grimly) The Judiciary were bound to notice at some point.

STARRY: And there’s another ship leaving the colony. It’s… I… they didn’t….

(To the east of the Starwalker, a blip rises away from the planet’s surface. The display zooms in on the little ship. It’s a scout-class ship with a configuration that is more than familiar, from the placement of the stubby wings to the filament lines that streak from nose to tail over its hull.)

They built another one. I’m the prototype and they built another one. They gave up on me. They didn’t think I could do what they wanted me to do.

They replaced me.

External comms

CRUISER: Starwalker, this is Patience. By the authority of the Judiciary, you must cease fire. Stand down and heave to immediately, or you will be destroyed.

Its name is Celestial Strider. They even gave it my name, just with bigger words.

Location: Bridge

CAMERON: Captain, if we don’t take out that other prototype, this was all for nothing.

CAPT: I know.

CAMERON: Dr Cirilli’s sacrifice…

CAPT: I know!

ROSIE: (glancing uncertainly between the captain and the chief) But Lang Lang…

CAPT: (staring furiously at the hologram in the centre of the room) I know.

We can’t fight a cruiser. I’m cut and creaking. We have to surrender or run. We have to pick a direction.

We can’t do both. My captain has to choose: east or west. Our people or our mission.

And he has to do it now.

Hi everyone.

Sorry to have to do this, but it looks like this week’s post isn’t going to be ready on time. I’m pretty sick at the moment (writing this while home, off work) and there’s still a lot of writing to be done. It’s best for everyone’s sake if it is delayed until next week.

Thanks for checking in, and the story will be back in its usual slot next week. I’m grateful for your patience. I’ll try to make the next post extra-kickass, just for you guys!

Ship's log, 14:52, 30 June 2214
Location: Feras orbit, Lambda 1 system
Status: Sublight transit

The pieces are set. I have almost reached one edge of the parking zone, high above Feras’s metal surface, while a squad of five fighters weave their way through the traffic towards me. There are charges hovering between us, sprinkled among the sleeping ships. They’ll be woken up soon.

The location buoys along the edge of the zone bleat at me, telling me my place. I ignore them; I’ve got far bigger things to worry about.

Location: Bridge

(The captain and SecOffs are at their posts on the Bridge, each with a holographic display wrapped around the front of their chair, teeming with information. In the centre of the room, the main hologram shows the curve of Feras, the layout of the parking zone in orbit above it, the locations of the charges, and the incoming fighter squad.)

CAMERON: Brasco, line up a firing order on the charges. Closest to the fighters first, and then random.

ROSIE: (frowning at her console) Random? Oh, so the trail doesn’t lead directly to us?

CAMERON: Exactly.

CAPT: Chief, I’m not getting any useful readings on these fighters. What are we up against?

CAMERON: Latest generation fighters, Raptor-Hawk line from the look of them. Model’s not coming up on the system. Laurence?

HALF-FACE: (shakes his head) I don’t recognise that configuration.

ROSIE: Me neither. Is that a third set of wings?

HALF-FACE: Must have added more for manoeuvrability.

CAMERON: And for weapons. It’ll be a military-only spec.

STARRY: (tilts her head and narrows her eyes at the hologram) They’re familiar…

CAMERON: I checked your databases, Starry.

STARRY: No, they’re not in there, but I know that config. That’s the Raptor-Hawk 760.

CAPT: If it’s not in your databases, how can you identify it?

STARRY: (looks as puzzled as he does for a moment, then she blinks and her expression clears) Because I’ve flown it. Well, Danika did. She tested them.

CAMERON: You know what they can do?

STARRY: (grinning) Yup. And I know what they can’t do. Danika broke four of them before they asked her to stop trying.

CAPT: Good; we’ll need that.

HALF-FACE: Fighters are a couple of minutes out from the first charge.

ROSIE: Got some weird activity from the planet here.

STARRY: (smile fading) Yes, I’m picking up alerts. They’re signalling a… (She trails off, staring at the portion of the hologram showing the curve of the planet’s metal surface.)

CAPT: Starry, what? What are they signalling?

Oh no. It’s happened. It’s started, truly started. And we are one less. At least one.

My captain. John. I don’t know how to tell him.

CAPT: Starry!

STARRY: (gaze snapping to his face, she looks at him helplessly.)

CAPT: (expression clamping down grimly) Evacuation. There’s an internal emergency. (His tone is flat; he doesn’t have any doubts about what has just happened.)

STARRY: (quietly) Yes. I’m getting reports of explosions from inside the planet, near the core.

ROSIE: Is that where the labs… (She looks around at the solemn expressions on the Bridge and doesn’t need to complete her question. She shuts up and turns back to her console.)

STARRY: They’re scrambling emergency personnel and evacuating a sector of the colony.

HALF-FACE: Fighters are a minute and closing.

Cirilli is dead. I know she was in there, grimly locking the doors and making sure that she could finish what she set out to do there. Destroying the lab she worked in for forty years, everything she put together with her own hands and energy. Her project, her life. Perhaps it’s fitting that she went down with it.

Then why does it ache? Why do I feel sick to a stomach I don’t have?

I can’t tell if Wide Load and Lang Lang were with her. I don’t know if she prayed before she pressed the button. I don’t know if it hurt.

She was the closest thing to a mother I had. I’ll never see her again.

There are spurts from vents on Feras: releases of smoke and pressure. They’ll be trying to suck the air out of the affected area to put out the fires.

Three ships that were manoeuvring in to dock are turning around; they’ve been waived off. No room for refugees when there’s an internal emergency; no-one to deal with more people added to the mix. Those already docked are powering up for a rapid departure, abandoning the surface of the fake planet.

Already, I can hear the comms channels lighting up with chatter as ships demand to know what’s going on. Some of them are running low on supplies for the people they have on board.

We’re making a bad situation worse. All those people, crammed into ships and fleeing from their broken home, only to come here to find us destroying bits of their refuge…

I can’t think about that now. Focus, Starry.

CAPT: (rubs a hand over his face, then sweeps his hair back over his shoulders and frowns at the hologram) Chief?

CAMERON: (watching the captain warily, she nods and moves her hands over the console projected before her) Charges are primed and ready. Brasco?

ROSIE: Ready on your word.

Focus. We are one less, but we are still alive, and we have work to do. Cirilli gave her life to make this work and we’d better make it worth it.

CAPT: (nods.)

CAMERON: Brasco, now!

ROSIE: (grins and activates the pattern setup on her console) Aye aye, ma’am.

Internal Comms

STARRY: Everyone lash in; it’s going to get a little rough.

My crew are tense but they’re ready for this, too. Elliott is watching my readouts down in Engineering, waiting for the first emergency to need his attention. Likewise, Dr Socks is watching the health monitors of the crew. Safety harnesses secure my people to their stations, while my boys spread out across my decks in case they’re needed.

The first charge detonates, and all hell breaks loose in the parking zone.

Location: Bridge

(The central hologram shows the shockwave from the first explosion and the uneven responses of the ships closest to it. They all immediately power away from the source, at varying speeds and angles, partly to ride the wave and partly to avoid any debris that might be coming towards them.

A freighter comes close to wiping out a courier. Two tankers scrape perilously close to each other. The neat arrow-shaped formation of fighters shatters as they break off, scattering around the chaos. Reactions ripple visibly through the parked ships as engines come online and vessels seek to make room for those who are fleeing.

A second charge explodes a third of the way along the parking zone, creating a new nugget of movement that flows out in all directions. It’s obvious that the two patterns will collide in a few seconds.)

Ships everywhere, and I’m forced to dodge around a scout trying to squeeze out of the side of the parking zone. I kick my engines into action, zipping and weaving across the halo of movement. Maybe the fighters will lose me in the confusion. Maybe they won’t.

The system is bursting with comms traffic: ships demanding an explanation; the Port Authority trying to regain control over the flight paths. The Port Authority is trying to get the ships to stay where they are and the ships are all telling them to fuck off. No-one wants to explode.

External Comms

FERAS PORT AUTHORITY: All ships, all ships, please maintain assigned positions. Do not break formation.

SHIP 1: Are you kidding me? Something just blew up over there!

SHIP 2: Does anyone know what that was? Report!

SHIP 3: It was a ship.

SHIP 1: No, it was a location buoy.

SHIP 4: We’re under attack!

SHIP 2: Panicking isn’t helping!

SHIP 5: HEY, WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING.

F.P.A.: All ships, all ships, please hold positions. We will evacuate the area, but we need you all to remain calm.

SHIP 1: Calm? What the f–

SHIP 6: Get out of the way!

SHIP 3: Don’t crawl up my ass!

F.P.A.: Please hold your positions. We’re evacuating the area and will get to you.

SHIP 7: What the hell is going on?

SHIP 4: It’s a terrorist attack.

SHIP 8: It was an accident.

SHIP 4: We’re under attack, I’m telling you!

SHIP 9: Stop panicking!

SHIP 4: Don’t panic?! Are you kidding?

SHIP 8: Keep calm and fly straight, you stupid f–

On the outside of the parking zones, ships are peeling away, making for more distant orbits in an orderly fashion. They’re overtaken by their brethren fleeing the site of the explosions. They haven’t noticed that there’s no real damage yet, not from the charges themselves. Two ships bumps wings and shed debris into the void, spinning and pinging off hulls. Sparks spit and gases vent. More shouting, more confusion.

Terrorists. I guess that’s what we are today. Explosions inside and out. Fear and panic, and the threat of death. We’re using their fear as a tool, but fear is not the end we’re looking for. We’re doing so much more than that.

We didn’t come here to kill. We came here to save lives. We came here to save everyone, but I’m not sure they’ll ever believe us. It doesn’t matter; we’ll know. And maybe one day we’ll tell them the truth and they’ll listen.

In the meantime, I’m dodging between the cargo pods of a freighter and trying not to get squished in the hurry to get out. Four explosions gone now and even the ships at the far end of the parking zone have broken position. Vessels scatter in every direction. Rosie hurries the last few charges along, so they detonate while there are still ships close enough to be freaked out.

There are six ships who aren’t following the pattern and are cutting through the traffic rather than being caught up in it: five fighters and me.

Location: Bridge

HALF-FACE: I’ve got suspicious movement in quadrant three.

CAPT: What sort of suspicious movement?

HALF-FACE: (frowning at his console display) A ship heading to dock. Starry, can you clean up the data?

STARRY: Coming around, but the fighters are in that direction. I’ll do what I can.

It’s hard to get clear readings when the system is so full of transmissions, emissions, movement, and ships bleating their idents at the top of their antennae. It’s no accident that three of the fighters are moving across between me and that wayward ship, though. It can’t be.

The Lieutenant is right: the movement is suspicious. Six of us are fighting to stay within the bounds of the parking zone while all the ships flee outwards, and those ships attached to the planet are detaching and heading out as well. But this one is heading inwards, to the colony, to those rapidly-emptying docks.

Feras closed all docks when the bombs went off in the lab, and natural instinct and logic says that open space is safer than the colony right now. To go against all of that… they have another motive. Another directive.

It’s the back-up ship. It has to be. It’s a scarred old tug, all engines and grapples, except I’ll bet that most of its engine space is taken up by datastores. What else would make it head into the mouth of trouble? Could there be a ship stuck in the dock that needs to be hauled out? I’m not picking up any cries for help, and surely they wouldn’t bother moving something so damaged when the explosions weren’t anywhere near the surface?

My SecOffs seem to think it’s the ship we were hoping to flush out and I’m inclined to agree. Especially with those fighters coming around in front of it. I bet on the inside of that dull, dented hull, it’s shiny and full of the most advanced technology. Is-Tech’s secret, brimming with backed-up data for all its most precious projects. I squint and scrape a name out of the morass: Narwhal.

CAPT: That has to be the one we’re looking for. Chief?

CAMERON: (nodding) Looks like it. I’m not seeing any other candidates.

CAPT: Starry, get us over to that ship.

HALF-FACE: Fighters are converging towards us, captain. Weapons ports open.

Ships fleeing all around me. Quarry flashing its white tail in front. Fear has done its job: we know what we needed to know.

But now there are fighters in the way and they’re ready to start shooting. There are still civilian ships around us and they’re baring their teeth, ready to take a swipe anyway. Willing to do what it takes to stop us, collateral damage be damned. I’m just one little ship.

But they have no idea who they’re up against.

I’m a tubby scout and they’re built like sharp needles, but out here in the void, that doesn’t mean much. I’ll lay odds that I’m a better pilot than anyone they’ve got in those cockpits. I’ve got the brain of their loony test-pilot, after all; the one they called in to do the unexpected to their ships.

I remember how much fun Danika had when she was running that fighter model up to its limits. She pulled every manoeuvre she knew and a few she made up. It had an inertial dampening issue that kept cropping up under certain conditions. I wonder if they ever fixed it….

They don’t know what we know. They think Danika is dead and gone. They think I’m just some fat little scout-class with a troublesome crew.

They’ve got no idea what we can do.

CAPT: (watching the ship’s avatar) Starry?

I’ve already lost one of my people. I have another unaccounted-for. A part of me is missing. I won’t lose any more today.

I’ll keep my crew safe. It’s time to fight and make Is-Tech sorry for lying to us. For burying the consequences of what they asked us to do. For turning me away when I asked for help. For disowning me. For sending weapons at us.

STARRY: (steps forward, her hologram shimmering around the edges. The avatar’s pilot-shipsuit changes, morphing from casual and comfortable to form-fitting and functional. It extends up to her jawline and down over her hands, encasing her completely from chin to toes. A ripple works its way down the projection and the avatar’s outfit solidifies into the hard lines of a SecOff’s battle armour, the dark blue of the fabric becoming metallic and the gold seams melding into outlines of the armour’s plating. Her head remains bare, haloed by short, choppy hair, and she lifts her chin.)

It’s finally time. Today, I’m a battleship.

STARRY: (eyes narrowing at the orange arrows moving through the central hologram, marking the fighters’ progress) Let’s do this.

Ship's log, 13:14, 30 June 2214
Location: Feras orbit, Lambda 1 system
Status: Sublight transit

I can’t believe we left them behind. Lang Lang and Cirilli, and my Wide Load. Members of my crew. The drone who is piece of me. They’re missing and I feel it, but I power on through the orbital lanes anyway. Because I’m a good ship and I have to do what’s best for all of us.

It’s almost like when Bit was blown up; one of my parts is missing. But every now and then I get an electronic bleat as if Wide Load is reaching out to me. Since I transmitted the updated orders, I’ve been too far away to pick him up properly. I can only hope that he’s able to carry out the new orders, even though I’m not there to guide him.

It’s hard not to strain my comms antennae to listen for him. It’s harder not to send a transmission burst back, just in case.

I’d swoop closer to the metal planet if I could, but we’re trying not to attract any attention right now. The captain has me weaving lazily through the orbital parking, quarter speed. Take my time, he says.

Don’t run from the wolf. It has teeth and eyes that home in on movement.

Cameron disappeared off the Bridge just after we broke away from the docking clamps. She dragged Elliott into Cargo Bay 4 with a couple of my drones, and they’ve been fiddling with my spare ordinance. She’s having Elliott adapt some of the missiles; from what I can tell, he’s recalibrating the targetting mechanisms.

I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing, whistling in the dark.

But I don’t think it’s working any more.

Location: Bridge

(It’s quiet; everyone present is intently watching the read-outs on their respective consoles. Three of the crew are at stations: Rosie, the ex-pirate Laurence, and the captain.)

STARRY: (appears by the captain’s right hand, facing him and looking tense) We’re being hailed by Feras Port Authority.

CAPTAIN: (looks up at her) What do they want?

STARRY: They’re saying we forgot something. We have a delivery waiting at our dock.

CAPT: (frowns) Don’t change course.

STARRY: Not a chance in hell.

ROSIE: I thought they couldn’t want to get rid of us.

HALF-FACE: It’s our chance to come quietly.

STARRY: (stares at the captain.)

CAPT: (gazes at her grimly) Tell them no. Be evasive if you can. And let the Chief know what’s going on.

STARRY: (nods.)

The game is on. The players are all on the board and the moves have begun. We’re shuffling, angling ourselves, and so is Is-Tech. Testing each other. Probing defenses. Testing resolve.

It’s time to put our readiness to use.

Location: Cargo Bay 4

(Big Ass and his two mid-sized brothers are moving missiles around with patient whirring. Elliott is leaning over an open crate and sliding open the casing on a missile, while Cameron looks on.)

STARRY: (voice only) Chief, Feras are asking us to go back.

CAMERON: They made up some red tape to tangle us up?

STARRY: Yup.

CAMERON: They’re onto us. (She looks to Elliott.) You can handle this?

ELLIOTT: (without looking up) Yeah, because you were being so much help anyway. Go on, I’ll finish this up.

CAMERON: (nods and heads out of the cargo bay.)

External Comms

STARRY: Port Authority, your message was scrambled. Please repeat.

FERAS PORT AUTHORITY: Please return to your assigned dock, Starwalker. You have an urgent delivery waiting.

STARRY: Urgent delivery? We received all our orders before we left.

F.P.A.: You must have missed one.

STARRY: There must be some mistake. Please return the package to sender.

F.P.A.: We didn’t say it was a package…

STARRY: What else are you delivering? A baby? We’re definitely not expecting one of those.

F.P.A.: No, it’s not a baby.

STARRY: Oh, good. That would be a horrible mix-up. Babies really don’t belong in docking ports.

F.P.A.: Yes, but that’s not the point…

STARRY: Very true! You should be calling medical personnel for a delivery like that, not a starship. I don’t have facilities for child birth on board. Or children. I’m not child-proofed.

F.P.A.: There’s no child, Starwalker.

STARRY: Oh. So why are we talking about babies?

F.P.A.: We have a delivery waiting.

STARRY: Oh, a package?

F.P.A.: Yes. A package.

STARRY: We’re not expecting any packages. Sorry, Port Authority. This isn’t the ship you’re looking for.

F.P.A.: You must return to the dock immediately to sort out…

STARRY: We’re on a tight schedule here. Sorry, we simply don’t have the fuel to double-back and fix your clerical errors. Please return to sender and ask them to message us with the full details.

F.P.A.: That is not good enough. You must…

STARRY: What was that? Sorry, Port Auth–. Too mu– –terference, yo– should g– –cked, bec– we don- –ive a –it.

F.P.A.: Starwalker, what’s going on? Your message is breaking up. Starwalker? Please respond.

Let’s see how long the ‘lalala, we can’t hear you’ defense lasts.

Meanwhile, Cameron is heading back to the Bridge and Elliott is continuing his work in the cargo bay. Big Ass, Waldo and Casper are lining up the recalibrated missiles inside the airlock. I’m not sure I like where this is going.

Location: Bridge

CAMERON: (strides in, her bootheels clipping sharply against the decking) Captain, we have a new tactic to try.

CAPT: What is it?

CAMERON: We didn’t count on there being so much traffic in the system, but we can use it to our advantage.

CAPT: (frowns tensely, not liking the sound of that, but he nods at her to continue.)

CAMERON: I’ve got Monaghan recalibrating some of our spare ordinance. We can lay them in the parking zones and set them off to cover our movements. No-one will be able to follow us through that kind of chaos.

STARRY: (stares at the Chief of Security) Those are civilian vessels! Full of refugees!

CAPT: (holds a hand up to silence the ship’s avatar) Chief, she’s right.

CAMERON: (shakes her head and settles into her security station’s chair, one hand automatically gesturing to pull up the security reports) No, not targetting the vessels. Monaghan is setting the missiles to avoid any targets; they will only detonate with enough space around them to explode safely. It’s the chaos of the ships we want; not actual destruction.

CAPT: (relaxes slightly) That could work; they’ll react to the explosions even if there’s no immediate damage. Starry, what’s the status of Feras? Are they still talking to us?

STARRY: Yes, though they think we can’t hear them. I think they’re getting the idea that we don’t want to talk to them.

CAMERON: (paying more attention to her console’s readouts now) Where’s the Judiciary ship?

STARRY: No sign of it since we undocked. Its semi-regular pattern should have it on the other side of the planet right now.

CAMERON: We’re not going to have a lot of time before it comes back around. If we’re going to do this, captain, we’ll need to do it now.

HALF-FACE: (frowning at his console and tapping to focus his scan) I’ve got some ships coming this way from the planet’s polar docking ring. Starry, can you identify them?

STARRY: Adjusting sensors. They’re small, fighter-class. Too far to tell more yet.

CAPT: Coming this way?

STARRY: (frowning) Yes.

CAPT: (exchanges a look with Cameron) Then we’d better lay these charges before they get here.

Fighters. They’re tiny machines, all engines and explosives, with a pilot wedged in the middle. They’re the most manoeuvrable kind of ship there is. I count five: an entire squad, just for me.

I haven’t had to go up against one of those yet, let alone five. This should be interesting. Time to extend my wings to their fullest span.

Location: Cargo Bay 4

STARRY: (appearing beside Elliott) Captain wants to know how much longer you need.

ELLIOTT: (jumps, glancing up at her) Fuck, Starry. (He scrubs at his hair.) Uh. Couple of minutes on this one. Six ready to go. How many more d’you need?

STARRY: (pauses, looking off into space) Chief says that that should be enough. No time for more.

ELLIOTT: (blinks) Things about to get interesting?

STARRY: We’ve got fighters incoming.

ELLIOTT: (turns back to his work) Lucky we’ve got a crazy ship, then.

STARRY: (grins) Oh, they have no idea. (She disappears.)

ELLIOTT: Just try not to break yourse– (He glances up, realises that she’s not there, and shakes his head. With a sigh, he turns back to his work.)

Location: Bridge

STARRY: Chief, what kind of pattern do you want for these charges?

CAMERON: Random. As spread out as you can make them.

HALF-FACE: We don’t have a lot of time before those fighters are on us. They’re entering the far side of the parking zone.

STARRY: They’re slowing for the traffic. Not on combat approach. But he’s right.

CAPT: Then we should step it up and make the most of the time we have. Starry?

STARRY: (saluting) Laying eggs at top speed, aye aye sir.

Enough of playing nice. Enough of pretending like nothing is wrong. My boys have seven adapted missiles in the airlock on Cargo Bay 4 and the inner doors have sealed Elliott safely inside. I open the outer airlock doors and nudge myself sideways. Big Ass places a bomb in the void and it hovers in place as I move away from it. I flip over and around a freighter, dive for the lower portion of the parking zone. Another bomb tumbles out into weightlessness. Tiny spurts of its thrusters place it squarely between the closest ships. I swoop around and start working away from the fighters.

They’re still taking their time. With so many civilian vessels around, they won’t risk anything in this area. If they fire at me, they’re likely to hit someone else. They’ll try to angle me out into the open or pressure me with threats. Right now, they’re pretending to be a standard patrol squad.

They look new, like their paint is still wet, and I’m not picking up any particular markings. Not Judiciary, then; possibly fresh off the assembly line and being run in before delivery. Can’t quite tell what model they are from here; too much interference on sensors.

Cameron is looking antsy about this. We knew it might be a possibility.

Four bombs laid in place. No-one seems to care about the things I’m leaving behind; they probably think I’m just littering. It’s not like other ships don’t eject waste, even though there are edicts against it because it’s a hazard. There’ll be a cleanup drone through here soon.

But not soon enough.

CAPT: (tensely watching the hologram in the centre of the Bridge, which shows a portion of Feras’s curving side and the layout of the parking area.)

(The bulk of the projection shows regimented layers of ships, stacked neatly atop each other. Orange arrows trace the weave of the incoming fighters and little red dots pulse where the adapted missiles have been placed. The Starwalker is a bobbing green light, like a playful fairy dancing through trees.)

CAPT: Chief, has there been any sign of that backup ship yet?

CAMERON: No obvious candidates yet, sir. In this traffic, it’s going to be hard to spot. However, we might be able to identify it once we set off the charges.

CAPT: You think they’ll move to protect it?

CAMERON: (tilts her head to the side in a moderating gesture) Perhaps. If they don’t, it’ll move to protect itself. My guess is that it’ll stand out from the crowd.

CAPT: (nods) Makes sense. Starry?

STARRY: I’ll be tracking the movement on all sensors, but I’m gonna be a little busy flying once the proverbial hits the fan. Unless you can give me some parameters other than ‘weird’, I’ll need help.

CAMERON: Brasco, Laurence.

HALF-FACE: Keeping an eye out for weirdness, yes ma’am.

ROSIE: (nods.)

The captain is already thinking about the next step in our plan: locate and destroy the ship that houses Is-Tech’s off-planet backups. It must be in this system, because it docks every day or so to take the latest uploads. But its identity is a closely-guarded secret. It could be any ship from the Judiciary cruiser we’re hoping will stay out of the fight as long as possible to the old junker dragging space debris out of the parking area. If it was up to me, I’d pick the junker; being part of the scenery would be an advantage for a ship housing a secret.

If it was up to me. I’m already moving on in our plans, right along with my captain and the SecOffs who have their eyes on the next threats, as if we haven’t left people behind on the artificial planet. We have crew lost somewhere in its corridors, in its layers upon onion layers of labs, offices, workshops, storerooms, accommodations, shops, factories, testing yards, construction sites, cranes, and docks….

I’m a ship. I can’t forget; I keep them in my calculations, just in case. I might have to come back for them. I might have someone to come back for. I’m too far away to hear Wide Load but I know he’s in there somewhere, trying to carry out my orders. I’d feel if he had been deactivated. Wouldn’t I?

In the meantime, we do what we must.

STARRY: That’s the last of the charges laid, captain.

CAPT: All right, bring us around to the far side of the zone.

STARRY: Gotcha.

Off I go, as fast as I dare without alarming the ships parked around me. Putting space between me and the fighter squad. Leaving a line of red globs between us, like a trail of poisoned breadcrumbs. Follow me, I dare you. Gobble up my leavings.

They’re sliding through the traffic like tiny, toothy sharks. But it’s okay.

I’m ready for them.

Captain's log, 11:21, 30 June 2214
Location: Dock Alpha 62, Feras, Lambda 1 system
Status: Docked and powered down
Log location: Captain's cabin

Every time I open this log these days, I wonder if it’s for the last time. Things will start to happen soon and then there won’t be any time for logging, no time for reflection or consideration; just reflex and adrenaline.

I suppose it’s good to take this time while we have it. So here I am, recording yet another log, without truly knowing whether or not posterity wants it. But that is not the only reason we do it. This is our story, I suppose. The journey of our spirits through this tale, the perspective of the hearts and minds who made this path possible. As we inch towards the precipice, I hope that this log offers some indication of our true intentions, in case they lead us to hell.

We are waiting here at Feras’s dock, patiently trying not to count the time that has passed since Dr Lorena Cirilli and Lang Lang Cartier left for the project lab, deep within the metal planet. One of the ship’s drones went with them, to help hide the explosives they take with them and maybe offer some protection. So far from Starry’s influence, he might not be able to do much on his own cognizance. At the very least, the regular update bursts we get from him have helped us to track their position and progress.

It has been painfully slow. We had hoped that they would be back by now, but they’ve been gone more than a day.

It’s hard not to remember Lang Lang’s face before she left and the fear she was trying not to show. This mission isn’t at all the kind of project she signed up for and it isn’t well suited to her spirit. But she is trying anyway, because she believes in what we’re trying to achieve.

Sometimes, I think the same about Starry. She wasn’t built for battle and the things we ask of her are changing her. At the same time, I don’t think she’d have it any other way, knowing what she knows. She has evolved, and I don’t believe we’ve seen the end of her transformations. This week, she sounds different to the last, and I suspect that, given another few days, she’ll be altered again.

We are all changing now. Hardening in preparation for battle. I can only hope that our preparations have been enough.

It has been a long time since I have won a battle as a captain. Since I lost my family, I have run and I have failed in battle. Have I learned enough to bring us through this? Will I get it right this time? These are the things I ask myself when there’s no-one else to hear me. This is what I demand of myself when I look in the mirror, before I pull on the captain’s mask for the day.

Is it ever enough? We have planned and planned, run through so many scenarios, but even as unused to campaigns as I am, I know that plans evaporate as soon as the fight engages.

A part of me wishes that it would happen already, that this endless waiting would end. The rest of me knows that I’ll hate it when it arrives.

We are on track. For now, that is what matters. It took longer than anticipated for Lorena and Lang Lang to get to the lab, but they went inside the shielding of the R&D levels earlier this morning. Communications have been difficult – the R&D levels are locked down for the security of the projects they hold – but they should be at work now, placing devices and uploading the doctor’s virus into the data systems. Their last transmission was promising. We should hear from them again at any time now.

In the meantime, Feras’s Port Authority has been chewing at us to undock and clear the way for another ship. We can’t risk being delayed by docking queues when our crew need to be picked up, though, so we’ve been dancing around, making excuses for not leaving. To account for the time we need to stay here, we’ve rush-ordered some parts; Monaghan was only too happy to provide me with a list of requests. Starry was reluctant to open her cargo bays to Is-Tech’s staff, even to accept deliveries, but she obeyed when I asked her to.

As her captain, I have to wonder if–

Location: Captain's cabin

STARRY: (appears abruptly in front of the captain’s desk.)

CAPTAIN: (starts and stares at her, sitting back in his chair with surprise) Starry? How did you…

STARRY: Sorry! Wide Load just piped me an update. There’s a problem.

CAPT: (surges to his feet) What happened?

STARRY: Not sure; he didn’t have time to send many details. But I think that Cirilli and Lang Lang have been made.

CAPT: (swears softly and jogs for the door) Get them out of there.

STARRY: (drily, turning to follow him) Sure, I’ll just beam them up, shall I?

CAPT: (sends her a flat glance) What did the drone send, exactly?

STARRY: A message from Cirilli. She said that we shouldn’t wait; we should head on with our task and come back later.

CAPT: (scowls, rounding the corner and arrowing for the Bridge) That lab won’t be there later.

STARRY: Yeah, I know.

Location: Bridge

CAPT: (entering) Can you raise them on comms?

STARRY: They’re still in R&D; it’s too protected. Security filters are killing my ability to get them. I’m working to see if I can get Wide Load again, but every time we open a channel, we only have a few seconds before the watchdogs close it down.

CAPT: (swinging into his seat) How long between channel openings?

STARRY: Minutes, potentially. Elliott’s bringing up a shifting algorithm, see if we can slip away from their grip, but I can’t guarantee we’ll have more than twenty seconds once I get a connection.

(Cameron and Rosie jog in from either door at the rear of the Bridge, making for their usual stations. SecOff Laurence is only a few steps behind them, his metal legs hissing as he hurries to a console.)

CAPT: And it’s the same as all of our comms so far? Assume someone’s listening?

STARRY: (shrugs, taking up her usual position near the captain’s right side) I think we have to.

CAPT: Delivery status?

STARRY: Latest batch completed delivery in Cargo Bay 3 a few minutes ago. Big Ass is stacking it away.

CAPT: Close up the–

STARRY: –airlocks? Yes, already on it. Closed up, ready to seal when we’ve got clearance.

CAPT: Good work.

STARRY: (smiles abruptly at the praise. Then she blinks and gestures to the hologram forming in the centre of the room.) Comms coming up. I have Cirilli. Twenty seconds only, captain.

CAPT: (nods as Dr Cirilli’s heads and shoulders resolves before him) Doctor?

CIRILLI: (over comms) I won’t make it back like we had planned, John. I have to stay to make sure the project comes to its rightful end.

CAPT: (sitting up straight) Lorena, you can’t–

CIRILLI: There’s no choice. If I don’t stay, we can’t be sure it’ll go the way we need it to.

CAPT: You’ve been compromised?

CIRILLI: Yes, and–

CAPT: So get out of there.

CIRILLI: I can’t, John, you know that. We have to make sure this ends. I can finish what we set out to do here, but I have to seal the lab.

CAPT: Lorena, don’t do this.

CIRILLI: I have to. And you have to go. You have to disengage before they put a lock on the ship. They haven’t made a move yet, you still have time.

CAPT: Leaving people behind was not the plan. I’m ordering you to get back here.

CIRILLI: (looks at him sadly) I was always the head of this project before I was a part of your crew. I’m sorry, John, but no. There’s no other way. They’ve done more work here than we knew. It’s the only way to be su–

(The hologram flickers and disappears.)

CAPT: (shooting to his feet) Get her back!

STARRY: Searching for a channel. They’re going to trace us if I keep doing this.

CAPT: How the hell did this happened? Chief?

CAMERON: (looks up at him and shakes her head) They could have figured it out a number of ways, captain. We knew this was a risk.

CAPT: (scowls at his Chief of Security, though he doesn’t seem to be blaming her) Starry, get them back on comms. I don’t care what you have to do. (He hesitates, then sinks into his seat grimly.) At the same time, request clearance to undock.

STARRY: (eyes widening) But how are they going to get back to us?

CAPT: (darkly) We have to assume they can’t, whether we’re here or not.

STARRY: (nods numbly) Requesting clearance.

CAPT: Cancel the comms line. Connect only with the drone.

STARRY: Data only? Okay, adjusting the channel search.

CAPT: Then adjust the parameters of his mission. Tell him to get Lang Lang out of there and back to us.

STARRY: But Cirilli…

CAPT: (looks at the ship’s avatar and her voice trails off, as if the answer to her question is right there between them) Just do it, Starry.

STARRY: (nods) Yes, sir. We’re cleared for undocking; they’re quite happy to rush us out of here. Do you still want us to disconnect?

CAPT: Yes. Get us out of here.

STARRY: Going through exit protocols now. I’ll take us back to standard orbit.

CAPT: Chief, get the next part of the plan lined up.

CAMERON: On it, sir.

CAPT: And someone figure out what she meant by them having done more work here. If there are more parts to this project than we’ve accounted for, we’d better find them, and fast.

CAMERON: Brasco, Laurence, get on the data feeds. I want to know everything about the comms traffic on the colony since our crewmembers went into R&D.

ROSIE: (punches at her console controls tensely) Yes, ma’am.

HALF-FACE: (nods.)

STARRY: We’re clear, sir. Coming around to standard exit vectors.

CAPT: Any problems yet?

STARRY: Nothing from Feras. They’re busy aligning the next ship for our docking space. If Cirilli really was compromised, they haven’t been able to track her back to us.

CAPT: (muttering) Too busy with the refugees.

CAMERON: (without looking up from her console) Red tape has its uses. It could buy our people enough time to get out.

CAPT: One of our people, yes.

CAMERON: (glances up at the captain, but opts to say nothing.)

CAPT: Starry, did you contact the drone yet?

STARRY: Still searching for an unblocked channel. I’m slowing to half-speed; if we get much further away, I won’t be able to reach him.

CAPT: Get it done.

STARRY: As fast as I can, sir.

CAPT: (scowls at the floor for a moment, then pushes himself out of the captain’s chair) Good. Send the doctor the log of the conversation with Lorena and tell him I’m on my way.

STARRY: Done.

CAPT: (turns on his heel and stalks off the Bridge. Long strides carry him down the starboard access corridor, and he drops down to where Med Bay nestles in the centre of the ship.)

Location: Med Bay

DR SOCKS: (looks up from his desk, where a small version of the comms discussion is playing. At the sight of the oncoming captain, he waves the recording into a pause, leaving Dr Cirilli’s calm, determined face hovering in the air.)

CAPT: (stops in front of the desk and leans over it towards the smaller man, bracing his hands on the surface. Cirilli’s face almost bumps his chest.) Tell me you didn’t know she was going to do this.

DR SOCKS: (meets the captain’s angry gaze levelly) Do you want the truth, or should I lie?

CAPT: I’m not kidding around here, doctor. Did you know?

DR SOCKS: The truth, then. I think we all knew. (He raises an eyebrow.) Didn’t we?

CAPT: (glares at the young doctor, then lets his head drop. His long hair sifts forward over his shoulders, creating a curtain around the little projection.)

DR SOCKS: (opens his mouth to say something, but the image of Cirilli’s face catches his eye and he closes his lips again.)

CAPT: (lifts his head enough to see the doctor’s face) You’re supposed to inform me of anything like this.

DR SOCKS: I’m supposed to inform you of anything I notice that might impede our mission or the future well-being of the ship.

CAPT: (stares at him, briefly stunned into speechlessness.)

DR SOCKS: (meets that stare without flinching, showing neither guilt nor remorse.)

CAPT: (pushes himself up off the doctor’s desk, ice sliding into his voice) Don’t ever withhold something like this from me again.

DR SOCKS: (inclines his head in acknowledgement. His gaze flickers to the captain’s hands and back up again.)

CAPT: (turns his back on the doctor and strides out of Med Bay. He pauses at the corner of the corridor and pinches the bridge of his nose, struggling to control his breathing. His chest rises and falls carefully, then he shakes his hair back and straightens his shoulders. He glances at his hands, as if wondering what the doctor had noticed, and frowns at the little green light pulsing above his left wrist. Turning for the Bridge again, he flicks a finger over it.)

End log.

Ship's log, 20:16, 28 June 2214
Location: Feras orbit, Lambda 1 system
Status: Docking approach

On the outside, I move serenely, sweeping around to docking bay Alpha 62. They’re squeezing me in between a freighter and another scout-class, the clamps extending at an awkward angle to account for the bigger ship’s bulk.

I should be enjoying this. Manoeuvering myself around to slip into the scout-sized gap, lining myself up to the open mouths with just a little flare, and sliding in for the softest kiss because I’m just that good at what I do.

Today, there’s no flare. There’s no jaunty little wiggle of my tail-fins. There’s no last-minute decelleration to taunt those who are monitoring me and fearing that I’ll miss the mark. Today’s not a day for games or fun. I’m behaving. I’m running the numbers and landing with AI precision.

Not only because I have to: I’m just not in the mood to take this lightly. In this position, Danika might have grinned hard and played her games anyway, too proud to compromise who she was for the circumstances, but I’m not her. I’m responsible for my crew and my mission, and I’m too proud to let myself compromise that. I report my progress to the Port Authority with rote precision. I mix in with the morass of landing ships. I lift my chin but I don’t stand out from the crowd.

Inside, I am not so calm. My scenario predictors are scrambling over the numbers as fast as I can stuff them in. Calculations and re-calculations. Checks and double-checks. If I had a need to breathe, I’d be breathless right now, pulse hammering at me like my power couplings were threatening to overload.

Smile. Calm. Try not to be infected by the tension skittering deep in my ducts on dustbunny claws, or hurrying around on my decks on heavy boots, metal tracks, and light ship-shoes. I track them all without effort – I’m built to track multiple targets both inside and outside my hull – but it’s still hard to keep up. Focus, Starry. Fold wings in tight and come around 180 degrees to present the correct side to the docking bay. Cut engines, thrusters only. Five minutes.

Location: Docking bay 3

(Three crewmembers are gathered near the inner airlock doors. Wide Load squats before them, holding a large briefcase on two of his hands. Dr Cirilli is looking over the contents while Lang Lang stands by, looking worried. The navigator is generally trying to avoid looking into the briefcase at the neat rows of explosives. She swallows and smoothes her already-neat hair back into her ponytail.

Cameron is speaking to Cirilli, gesturing to the devices in the briefcase.)

CAMERON: …and then you’ll have time to get back to the docking bay to meet us. Just stay in contact so we can coordinate.

CIRILLI: (touches a device thoughtfully and looks over the row as if she’s counting them, possibly calculating where they’ll go. Ten in total.) I understand. It may take some time to get to where we need to be.

CAMERON: (nods her understanding) We don’t know what red tape you’ll need to get through first.

CIRILLI: Exactly. They’ll have questions.

CAMERON: You know what you’ll tell them? (She looks meaningfully at Lang Lang.)

LANG LANG: (feels the Chief’s gaze on her and glances up) Yes, ma’am. We know the line to take.

CIRILLI: (confidently) They’ll want to see the data. They’ll let us in to where we tell them.

CAMERON: Good. And their own security protocols will stop them from peeking inside that case until you’re where you need to be.

CAPTAIN: (striding into the cargo bay) Chief, everything in order here?

CAMERON: (turning to face him) Yes, captain.

CAPT: Are you both ready to go?

CIRILLI: (nods crisply and closes the case with calm, deliberate motions. The fastenings engage with a snick.)

LANG LANG: (doesn’t look anywhere near as cool and collected as Cirilli when she nods.)

CAPT: (to the navigator) It’s not too late to back out, if you don’t feel you can do this.

LANG LANG: (looks up at him with wide eyes) I know, but I am going. You and Chief Cameron are right: there will be less suspicion if there is two of us from the project in attendance. I am… not well practised at this sort of work. (She swallows, then makes a visible effort to pull her shoulders straight.) I’ll do my best. For the stars.

CAPT: (squeezes her shoulder) Thank you, Lang Lang. (He looks to Cirilli.) Lorena, a moment, if you please?

CIRILLI: (hesitates, then nods and steps aside with the captain.)

CAMERON: (to Lang Lang) You’ll do just fine. Remember that the precision we require is for their good, not ours. If you can get to the labs, there will be minimal casualties.

LANG LANG: I know. I was raised not to lie, Chief Cameron. My family believes in honour.

CAMERON: Right now, honour dictates a higher calling than any contracts we signed.

LANG LANG: (glancing at the case and murmuring) For the stars. I believe in that, too.

CAMERON: (nods.)

Sometimes, I think that Lang Lang is the most moral of all of us. She struggles with this more deeply than the rest. But she still didn’t hesitate to volunteer to go along with Cirilli to the central labs. She knows that it will be more legitimate if there’s two of them, less suspicious, and they are the only two left of the original science team.

I worry about her, but strangely, not about her strength. She’s showing her nerves but her biometrics don’t suggest that she’s panicking inside. She’s not walking a knife edge; she just doesn’t like this and she’s not confident of being able to pull it off. She’s like a new recruit before her first battle, except… I get the feeling that she’s had a battle like this before. On the inside, in a different realm, but a battle just the same. That mantra of hers – ‘for the stars’ – is not new to her tongue; I just hadn’t heard it before this endeavour of ours began.

It’s too late to ask. It’s too late for life stories. But it’s not too late to wonder about the people I have under my charge and be grateful for them.

And then there’s Cirilli. I wonder about her, too. The quiet, calm determination of hers looks like the professional demeanour she had when she was conducting the experiments with me. But now there’s a sheen of ice underneath it: there’s no glimmer of excitement within, no spark of hope. It’s just cold inevitability holding her up and I can’t tell what’s beyond that.

The captain senses it, too. He’s having a quiet word with her, trying to reach her. She looks at him but she doesn’t let him see her. Even his warmth doesn’t thaw her, though they matter to each other. He’s trying to ground her, to let out the thread of his affection in the hope that it gives her something to hold onto.

She’s kissing him on the cheek. For a moment, it seems that he has managed to touch her. There’s a glimmer of orange in her icy blue. That slender, glimmering thread between them shimmers on the air.

Then she steps back and lets him go. Suddenly, it feels like goodbye.

It shouldn’t be. That’s not the plan. They’re supposed to go in there, do what they need to do to destroy the project, and get out. There’s a plan to get them out again. No-one should even suspect them until they’re back and we’re gone.

I can’t tell if she’s protecting herself or my captain. But I guess… I guess there’s a chance that this really is goodbye. I just don’t want to admit it.

CIRILLI: (moving back to where Wide Load still holds the case.)

STARRY: (materialising beside the captain, quietly) Two minutes until we’re docked, captain.

CAPT: (lifts his head and takes a breath, gathering himself. He nods.) Thank you, Starry.

For a moment there, he was a man. Now he’s my captain again. He’s what we all need him to be. I wish I could touch his hand and let him know that it’s okay for him to be a man, too.

CIRILLI: (frowning at the heavy drone) I said, let it go.

WIDE LOAD: (hands clamped around the briefcase, he is unmoved by the scientist tugging on the handle. His head tilts and he rises on his leg-struts until he’s towering over the woman before him. His free arms reach out and around the case, hands spinning to reveal the new tasers built into them. Panels flick open on his neck and the muzzles of laser emitters snick out. His hands spark warningly.)

CIRILLI: (lets go of the case and takes a hurried step back) John!

CAPT: (striding over) Starry! What–

WIDE LOAD: (retracts his weapons and lowers his bulk down, looking like a regular maintenance drone again. He locks the briefcase’s lid, then holds it against his chest.)

CAPT: –the hell is he doing?

STARRY: (half a pace behind the captain, she’s gazing curious at her drone) I… I think he…

WIDE LOAD: (turns his head to look at the ship’s avatar. A panel in his lower storage section opens and he puts the case inside, locking it within his own body. He folds a pair of arms over the panel, adding another layer of protection.)

CIRILLI: We need that case.

WIDE LOAD: (nods at the scientist. He moves forward and his free hands reach out, one to Lang Lang’s shoulder and one to Cirilli’s. Both women stare at him, nonplussed, as he clamps metal fingers lightly onto them. Then he lets them go, turns his bulk around, and trundles to the airlock. He stops a centimetre away from the doors and settles there, staring at the panel.)

CAPT: Starry?

STARRY: (with a faint smile) He’s going with you.

CIRILLI: What?

CAPT: (to the avatar) That’s not the plan.

STARRY: (shrugging, still staring at the drone) He wants to help. He wants to protect you.

CIRILLI: He just threatened me!

STARRY: It was a demonstration, not a threat. He would never hurt you. He’s armed now; he was showing you that he can protect you and the package.

CAMERON: (calmly) Can he even do that, without his connection to you?

STARRY: (moving over to the drone’s side) I can lock in the protocols. And I can communicate with him over a limited distance; he’s built to be my hands on the ground, for loading and external repairs. He could be useful to stay in touch, in case local comms are compromised.

WIDE LOAD: (turns his head to look at the avatar and nods solemnly. He nudges a centimetre forward and his front tracks touch the airlock doors.)

STARRY: (glancing towards her crew) He really wants to do this.

CAPT: (frowns in thought.)

CIRILLI: But how would I explain him?

CAMERON: Security measure. For the project data.

LANG LANG: (walks up to the drone’s side, next to the ship’s avatar) And for us. With all the refugees around.

WIDE LOAD: (puts a hand on her shoulder again.)

CIRILLI: (looks unhappy) You couldn’t have mentioned this earlier? (It’s not clear who she’s addressing.)

STARRY: My drones aren’t supposed to leave me for extended periods of time. Or… as security measures.

CAMERON: We armed them for a reason.

(A tense silence falls.)

STARRY: Captain, we’re docking. Clamps are engaging. Thirty seconds until the seal is locked.

CAPT: You’re sure this will work?

STARRY: (nods.)

No, I’m not sure. And I don’t want to let one of my boys off my decks. But I don’t want to let Cirilli and Lang Lang go, either. I wish I could go with them. I want to keep them safe.

I can’t tell if Wide Load is doing this on his own or for me. He’s my hands, my strongest arms. He’s my solid reliability. This is one way I can go with them. He doesn’t ask for much, but he’s asking for this. His calculations show that he can be an asset here and I can’t fault his maths.

My boy. My people.

Docking clamps engaged
Sublight engines offline
FTL drive offline
Thrusters offline
Weapons offline

I can’t protect them now. It’s up to them.

CAPT: All right, he goes. Starry, keep an eye on them.

STARRY: Yes, sir.

CIRILLI: (steps up on the other side of the drone, nodding coolly.)

WIDE LOAD: (releases Lang Lang again and faces the airlock doors.)

Docking seal engaged
Artificial gravity equalising
Pressure equalising
Atmosphere balancing
Docking seal locked

STARRY: (looking at all of them) Come back to us. (The avatar dissolves, light motes shattering in the air.)

(Both sets of airlock doors swish open.)

CIRILLI: (gives the captain one last look, then forges forward through the airlock and into the docking tube.)

LANG LANG: (follows hurriedly.)

WIDE LOAD: (brings up the rear with metal patience and a reliable trundling.)

Come back to me.