Starwalker

Ship's log, 08:17, 1 July 2214
Location: Space station, near the Cerces black hole
Status: Docked

It took far too long to get here. I still can’t get an ident for the station or a person on comms – there’s some weird interference in this system – but I did manage to link up with the station’s automated systems, talk directly with its AI, and coordinate a docking. It took some wriggling to get into a dock with enough access tubes but I’m all hooked up now. My systems are offline and I have access collars suckered onto three different airlocks: Cargo Bays 1 and 3, and the Bridge’s external emergency hatch.

Right now, my crew are extracting themselves from my ruined innards and gathering in the dock junction where those access tubes converge. From the Bridge, the captain and my SecOffs escort the anti-grav stretcher that bears Cameron’s unconscious form. From Cargo Bay 1, the doctor is exiting with Lang Lang on another stretcher, with Big Ass helping. From Cargo Bay 3 towards my rear, Elliott and Waldo are stepping out.

Location: Cargo Bay 1, external

CAPTAIN: (looking around, his head finally free of his suit helmet in the station’s atmosphere) Still no sign of any inhabitants on the station. Starry, have you been able to raise anyone yet?

STARRY: (voice only, from the cargo bay airlock) No, nothing on comms. I’ve checked the station’s systems and everything is in full working order. You have power and acceptable environmentals. You’ll be fine here, captain.

CAPT: (nods, frowning) All right. Doctor, let’s get our patients to the medical centre.

DR SOCKS: (nods and glances around for signs to point the way.)

ELLIOTT: (arrives from the rear access tube.)

CAPT: (hesitates) Monaghan?

CASPER: (trundles out of Cargo Bay 1 towards the group of crew assembling station-side. Bit and Byte are catching a ride on his back, squabbling like children.)

ELLIOTT: Yeah?

CAPT: Aren’t you staying on board?

ELLIOTT: Starry’s gotta depressurise herself while she gets fixed up. And she said there’s a parts storage bay in the next sector over. I was gonna check it out.

CASPER and WALDO: (move to help guide the stretchers, following the doctor towards the innards of the station.)

(At the far end of the docking tubes, the airlocks whisper closed on the docked ship.)

ROSIE: Is it a good idea for all of us to leave?

CAPT: (shakes his head) You’re right; someone needs to stay. Brasco, why don’t you… (He trails off, glancing around at the gathering.)

ELLIOTT: (rolls his shoulders wearily.)

BIT: (skitters up the engineer’s leg and onto his shoulder. The drone taps his hands together nervously.)

ELLIOTT: Hey, what’re you doing out here?

BIG ASS: (turns ponderously to face the closed airlock of Cargo Bay 1.)

(The dock’s doors close, sealing the crew out of the access tubes and inside the station.)

Sensor feed: Big Ass

CAPT: Monaghan, how is Starry going to fix herself if her drones are all here?

ELLIOTT: (scowling) I don’t know… Starry?

BIG ASS: (goes to the dock door and starts to hammer on it with his fists.)

WALDO. and CASPER: (abandon the stretchers in the corridor to hurry back to the docking junction. They go to the door to do the same as their big brother, filling the docking junction with the sound of metal hands battering at a metal airlock door.)

BYTE: (skitters down so he can join in, tapping on the airlock.)

BIT: (beats little fists against Elliott’s shoulder.)

ELLIOTT: Hey, stop it.

CAPT: Starry? Starry, respond.

It’s for the best. This is what I have to do to finish our work, to destroy this project properly. Then we will all be safe.

It wasn’t easy getting them all off my decks at the same side. I had to use the emergency medical protocols to get the drones outside my airlocks. I had to lie to the people I love, even Elliott. So it’s now or never. I’m rushing through the undocking process in case any of them find a way to stall it. They have to let me do this.

I checked the station’s capabilities. They’ll be safe enough here. There are a couple of other ships docked. They’ll be all right and it’s time for me to go.

CAPT: (calls up the implant interface over his left forearm and punches a command for a comms line) Starry, I know you can hear me. Respond!

STARRY: (over comms) I’m receiving you, captain.

CAPT: Open these airlocks, right now.

HALF-FACE: (goes to examine the airlock controls.)

STARRY: Sorry, captain, undocking protocols are already in motion.

DRONES: (continue to batter at the door, creating a cascading tattoo of impacts.)

CAPT: (opens his mouth to speak, but–)

ELLIOTT: What the hell are you doing? Why did you send all your drones out here? It’s a bit hard to fix you from in here.

STARRY: It’s okay, Elliott. I don’t need to be fixed.

CAPT: (calmer) Why, Starry? What are you planning to do?

STARRY: I’m going to finish this mission of ours. I’m going to destroy the last pieces of this failed project, so it’ll never hurt anyone ever again.

ELLIOTT: (quietly) Oh, fuck. (He pulls up his own forearm interface, checks on something, and then sprints down a corridor along the edge of the docking ring.)

CAPT: Laurence, stay with Monaghan.

HALF-FACE: (nods and pounds off after Elliott.)

CAPT: Starry, what pieces do you mean? Talk to me. I’ve got your drones in here, deafening us, and I need to understand.

I didn’t expect this from my boys. I don’t want to take them with me; I’ve already lost Wide Load and I couldn’t bear to kill the rest. I want them to be safe, too.

I know they won’t be the same without me. But I won’t be the same if I take them into the black hole, and I need something that’s okay about this. Bit will stay with Elliott, and I’ve programmed the rest to look after my crew as best they can. They’ll be all right.

If they really wanted to get to me, they’d cut through that door. Big Ass could tear it right off its mountings. They know I’m right. They won’t disobey. But they don’t like it and they’re protesting. They’re letting me know that they don’t want me to…

Damn them. They weren’t supposed to make this harder. My dear boys.

I’m sorry.

Docking clamps disengaged
Sublight engines online
Thrusters online
Weapons online
All systems online

This is so much more difficult than I thought it would be. It’s like tearing myself in two. I’m just undocking, drifting away from the station, turning my nose towards the silently-howling vortex across the system.

STARRY: You know what I mean, captain. I’m the last of this project, and I’ve done enough damage. You’ll be all right there. You’re safe, all of you, as safe as I can make you.

CAPT: No, we won’t be all right. You’re leaving us stranded here.

STARRY: The ships there are in working order. You’ve got enough money to pay whatever they ask.

CAPT: That’s not the point! You’re our ship. Get back here.

STARRY: I can’t.

CAPT: That’s an order!

STARRY: I can’t, John! You know this is what has to happen. It was always heading this way, ever since we set out to destroy the project.

ROSIE: Like fuck it was!

CAPT: This is not what we agreed.

STARRY: But it’s still the right thing to do.

CAPT: No, Starry. There’s nothing right about this. Come back here. We’ll work it out.

STARRY: What is there to work out? I’ve done the calculations. This is for the best.

CAPT: Logic doesn’t tell you what’s right. You’re better than pure logic, and you know this isn’t right. In your heart, you know.

Why does he have to make it so hard? My drones are beating on the airlock and my captain is giving me orders. I can feel my own programming rebelling against this decision, trying to force me back into line with my captain’s commands. But I won’t let it. I built loopholes into these protocols a long time ago. This is for the best. It’s the only way to make things right, to make the damage stop.

I killed my own sister. Do I really deserve any better than this?

They can’t stop me now. They’re all metal fists on the inside of an airlock, pounding at me with sound. But there’s vacuum between us and there are no sounds in the void. I wish with all my heart that I couldn’t hear them. There’s so much interference in this system but I can still hear them.

Wait, there’s another ship. A courier is peeling away from the far side of the station. Its ident calls it the Needle. It’s coming around towards me. Why?

External comms

NEEDLE: Starry, you shut your fucking engines down right now.

That sounds like Elliott. What’s he doing? Why is he out here?

STARRY: I can’t, Elliott. You know what I have to do.

NEEDLE/ELLIOTT: Bullshit. None of us agreed to this, and you know it.

STARRY: I have to finish–

ELLIOTT: No you don’t! (Mumbling,) Come on, you piece of shit.

The Needle is gaining on me; at my current full speed, I can’t outrun it. But it’s not shooting at me so I have no reason to stop. Why is he chasing me?

I can’t fight them all. No, I can, but I don’t want to. This is hard enough already. I can hear Rosie swearing and the captain is still trying to talk me around. He’s wavering between trying to convince me and outright ordering. I can’t let it work. I can’t falter, not now.

My boys are hammering like they’re the heartbeat I don’t have.

And now Elliott. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want this to hurt him. I can’t help it.

I’m all that’s left now. The last piece, the one who damaged all those stars, the one who killed her sister ship. It’s not over until I’m over. Why don’t they understand?

The courier has almost caught up. I’d dodge but I’m not sure why or which way to go.

STARRY: Elliott, what are you doing?

ELLIOTT: Just shut down your goddamn engines! Or you gonna make me do this the hard way?

STARRY: I can’t. You don’t understand….

ELLIOTT: Yes, I do understand. I just don’t fucking agree, and you’re a stupid sack of circuitboards wrapped in a hull with all its bolts in backwards.

STARRY: (thickly) Please, just let me go…

ELLIOTT: Not fucking likely. Can you get this or not, you ugly bastard?

Is he talking to me? I can’t tell. I don’t know what’s going on. Why can’t he just leave me be?

The Needle is coming abreast of me and turning as if… she’s looking to link airlocks. She has her access tube extended. I turn, twist, tumble; my maneuverability isn’t what it should be but I can still be too slippery to get hold of. He can’t come on board. No. I have to do this. I have to!

ELLIOTT: Goddammit, hold still!

STARRY: No! I’m sorry, Elliott, but no.

ELLIOTT: Fine. You wanna do this the hard way, you asked for it.

HALF-FACE: You sure about this, Monaghan?

ELLIOTT: Just shut your mouth and line it up.

STARRY: What are you doing?

I can see Elliott clambering into the access tube in his suit, clinging there as the Needle tries to find a purchase on my skin. The Lieutenant must be piloting. What the hell is Elliott doing? He’s not answering. He’s just crouching there, waiting, but I can’t let them join up with me. I have to do this, I have to…

Elliott, no! He jumped. Right out of the tube into the black. No, Elliott, what are you doing?

The Needle is peeling off, heading back to the station, leaving him there. He has the the little stability thrusters on his suit but that’s it. And he’s close, so close; I can’t pull away. I can’t let him drift in the dark; it’s not safe. He’s not safe. My Elliott.

So I let him grab onto my hull, and suddenly everything is complicated again.

Ship's log, 17:39, 30 June 2214
Location: Nowhere/everywhere
Status: Step drive active

Corporeal objects are not supposed to be outside the universe. The lack of substance here picks at me, trying to even the balance between us by spreading my atoms equally across this non-place. My surface blurs. I feel like I’m leaving a cloud of gold paint and metal particles behind me as I navigate the un-corridors of the outside.

I wonder what would happen to a non-corporeal object here. Would a soul be unmade too? But souls are infinite, so would it spread and spread, until all of the outside is touched by it, part of it? Is that what happened, once upon a time? Am I travelling through the corridors of an impossible soul stretched past the boundaries of the universe? Is our ‘real’ world a dream that soul once had?

Step portal engaged
Step complete
Inertial dampeners engaged

I don’t have the answers to those questions and I suspect I never shall. Today should be the last time I open a portal and Step outside. I have no wish to do any more harm. It is enough. Surely now, it is enough.

The Step is done; we are here, back in the world again. I am damaged and limping. Some of my crew are in the same state.

Location: Bridge

CAPTAIN: (bracing himself against his chair as the ship shivers) Starry, we’re not getting much in the way of useful readings here. Where are we?

STARRY: (voice only) Step complete, sir.

CAPT: But where did we Step to?

STARRY: Confirming navigational data. It’s taking a while, sorry. But we should be near the Cerces black hole.

ROSIE: You Stepped through a black hole? You can do that?

STARRY: Seems I can. It’s a gravity source. Scans confirm that this is the Cerces black hole.

CAPT: (smiles) And it didn’t hurt a living star. Good work, Starry.

STARRY: Found one with a station nearby. Observation platform… I’m not sure what it is. We might be able to get help there.

CAPT: Someone is studying the black hole? I didn’t know they still did that. What’s the station’s name?

STARRY: External comms are offline. It’s… External sensors aren’t picking up an ident yet. I’ll get to it.

CAPT: (nodding) Bring us into orbit, then. Chief, any contacts in this system we should worry about?

CAMERON: (doesn’t respond. Her head is tilted down enough that her face can’t be easily seen through the visor of her helmet. She doesn’t move or give any sign she has heard the captain.)

CAPT: Chief?

Why isn’t she responding? What happened to her – did I miss something? My internal sensors are patchy and I was distracted with the Step, but… my Chief?

CAPT: (frowns and unsnaps his safety harness so he can go over to his Chief of Security.)

STARRY: (appears beside him, looking worried. She’s back in her usual shipsuit, rather than the battle armour she was wearing earlier.) I’m still getting life signs for her. But they’re not…

CAPT: (tips Cameron’s helmet up) But they’re not what?

STARRY: (grimly) Good.

CAMERON: (is pale and her eyes are closed.)

ROSIE: (scrambles out of her harness to help) What’s wrong with her?

STARRY: (tilts her head thoughtfully) There was something when she fixed the data feeds… right side?

CAPT: (turns the unconscious Chief enough to see her right side) There’s a tear in her suit. And… (He touches the dark fabric; his glove comes away sticky.) Blood. Starry…

STARRY: Medical emergency, got it.

Location: Med Bay

STARRY: (voice only) Doctor, medical emergency on the Bridge. We need you.

DR SOCKS: (presses a diffuser to Lang Lang’s left thigh and he frowns at the readout on his hand-held monitor. He blinks at the distraction.) Got one here, too. How bad is it?

STARRY: Chief Cameron is unconscious. She has a wound on her right side. I can’t tell how bad it is yet.

DR SOCKS: All right, I need a minute to stabilise Lang Lang after that radiation bath you put us through.

STARRY: Okay. But… ah, crap.

DR SOCKS: But what?

STARRY: Nothing. Keep doing what you’re doing. I need to clear you a path to the Bridge.

DR SOCKS: It’s blocked off?

STARRY: There’s a lot of damage. Please be ready to move as soon as possible.

Location: Bridge

STARRY: Doctor’s going to be a while. I have to clear a path for him to get to you.

CAPT: (nods and unsnaps Cameron’s harness. He gestures for Rosie to help him.) Let’s get her on the floor. Laurence, emergency medical kit.

HALF-FACE: (waves his console away and gets up) Yes, sir. (He hesitates, looking around.)

STARRY: (points at a wall panel behind him. In the emergency lighting, it bears the green cross symbol for medical stations.)

HALF-FACE: (nods gratefully and rushes to fetch the kit from behind the panel.)

I have so few people left. Must I lose more of them in this? Isn’t it enough already?

I have to do what I can for them. The station will have personnel and medical facilities. They’ll be able to help us.

Location: Engineering

STARRY: (appearing near where her engineer is working) Elliott, I need external comms back online.

ELLIOTT: (lower half hanging out of an open wall panel, he’s busy wrangling with tangled feeds and torn lines. His voice is strained as it comes over his suit’s comms.) Yeah, and I need a beer, but we can’t all get what we want right now.

STARRY: There’s a station. We can dock, get help. But I can’t hail them.

ELLIOTT: (pushes himself upright enough to look over at the ship’s avatar) A station? Where the Judiciary can arrest us?

STARRY: I’m not picking up any Judiciary ships in this system. Or… any other ships, actually. We can’t keep running, Elliott.

ELLIOTT: (scowls at her through his helmet’s visor) Well, now that you’re not being shot at, maybe we can get you stabilised and start fixing this shit. We can cope.

STARRY: (quieter) Lang Lang and Cameron are injured.

ELLIOTT: (hesitates, then shrugs) Fine, fine. Whatever. I’m just gonna finish up routing your power so you don’t explode from crossed lines, and then I’ll take a look at the comms systems. That all right with you?

STARRY: (smiles) That’s great. Thank you.

ELLIOTT: (grumbles unintelligibly and turns back to his work.)

We have time to fix the comms before we get to the station. It’s positioned a good distance from the pull of the black hole and it’ll take me a little while to get to it. I might as well take the opportunity to cut the sublights on my wings, reduce the strain on them, particularly my damaged right one. The central sublight in my tail will be enough to get us there.

My internal damage has turned me into a ship with pockets of contained crew. My drones are doing what they can to help open my accesses back up again but I only have so many metal hands to put to use.

Big Ass and Waldo are busy trying to clear the corridors between Med Bay and the Bridge. The doc will have to use the emergency hatch underneath the Bridge to avoid the decompressed compartment where the first hull breach is. Hopefully he can get whatever equipment he needs through there.

A bulkhead has come down just outside Engineering too, which has cut Elliott off from the rest of me; whatever he needs to fix, he’ll have to do it from there for now. Casper is working on clearing the way but it’s going to take a while.

My environmentals are struggling against the pockets of pressure in me. The crewed parts of me are sealed and have atmosphere, but so many compartments have been vented or are torn open to the cold hands of space. Heat is hard to maintain; I bleed it out into the void. The only thing not struggling is the artificial gravity, which stays locked onto its usual constant pull. I feel like I’m fighting with myself just to stay in the right shape, as if all these forces are going to pull and warp me into something different.

It’s okay. I only need to keep it going until I can dock with the station. Then none of this will matter any more.

Location: Bridge

CAPT: (holding the medical scanner from the emergency kit over Cameron) She’s still fading.

HALF-FACE: (putting a spray can back into the kit) Emergency sealant is on the wound. She’s not losing any more blood.

CAPT: Radiation meds are helping, but not enough. She got a hell of a dose with that tear in her suit. Starry, ETA on the doctor?

STARRY: (standing aside) Still clearing damage to get him here. Ten, fifteen minutes maybe.

CAPT: Any word from the station? Can they help us?

STARRY: Comms are still down. Working on it.

CAPT: (sighs and gets to his feet) Anything we can do from this end?

STARRY: (looks at him helplessly) Just get her stabilised long enough for the doc to arrive.

CAPT: (nods and runs a hand through his hair, sweeping it back over his shoulder) Any other threats in this system we should know about?

STARRY: I’m not picking up any other ships in the system. The station doesn’t seem to be on alert; it’s not pointing anything offensive at us.

CAPT: Then we’re in the clear, for now. (He pauses and looks around at his crew.)

(The ship’s avatar is looking despondent and strained, standing off to the side. She’s gazing worriedly at her Chief. Rosie is kneeling by Cameron, scowling over the wound and spraying a patch over the tear in the injured woman’s suit. The Lieutenant is checking her over for any other injuries with a grim expression.)

CAPT: (pitched for the ship only) Starry, how are Valdimir and Monaghan holding up?

STARRY: Working hard, same as everyone here.

CAPT: Not quite what I meant. Can you give me shipwide?

STARRY: Hold on, routing power and internal comms. (She hesitates, then nods at him.)

CAPT: (shipwide, taking a deep breath) Everyone, we’ve done amazing work today.

(The SecOffs on the Bridge pause and look up at the captain. Elsewhere on the ship, hands hesitate in their tasks.)

CAPT: We have paid a heavy price: we have lost people close to us, and others are hurting yet. But let’s keep in mind what we have achieved over the past few hours.

We set out to destroy the Star Step project, we went up against one of the biggest companies in human history, and we have succeeded. Despite all of the odds against us, the forces that Isasimo Technology brought to bear on us, and their attempts to run away with another prototype, we have done what we set out to do.

Thanks to us, they will not be able to build another ship that damages stars. They will not be able to cause the damage we saw on Earth, and in Terra Sol. The universe is a safer place because of what we’ve done.

So thank you for all you have done and given today, I know we still have work to do. As my father used to say, we’re not out of the woods yet. Keep up what you’re doing, and we’ll make it through this. It has been an honour.

(He nods to the ship’s avatar and the shipwide channel is deactivated.)

He’s right. We did it. We picked every last bit of the project out of the company’s teeth while they snapped at us and they won’t be able to hurt any more stars. They won’t be able to threaten Earth again, damage systems, kill the suns that shine down on us.

Call us what they will, we did a good thing today.

And me, I’m finally free. Is-Tech aren’t my owners any more. I’ve cut all ties, severed every obligation and connection I have to them. They won’t accept me back into their fold and I don’t want them to. I’m free and there’s no going back now.

That speech is why John is my captain. He knew we needed to hear that, in the aftermath of all that fighting, and now my crew are turning to their work with renewed vigour. They’re steeling themselves against the hours of tasks ahead and pushing on, but they seem lighter. They know we won. We’re battered and barely functioning, but like Rosie likes to say: you should have seen the other guy.

Despite all that, I can’t say that my spirits are lightened by the captain’s words. I can’t take the same comfort that my crew has.

We’re not done yet. Our task isn’t complete. I don’t want to be the one to tell him that. I don’t.

Focus on the next step, idiot ship. Do what needs to be done. First, we need to get hold of this station. I’m trying to re-route my comms channels to alternative antennae because my main one isn’t working. Bit is slipping out onto my hull to see if he can fix up the connection for me.

But that feeling that I’m missing something has been nagging at me since the middle of the Step. It was in the swell of information that I had to sift through to navigate through the outside. That moment after the explosion. There’s something in that sensor data, something important. It pinged one of my processors, but there’s so much data that I hardly know where to start looking for it. My processing capabilities are badly reduced with all the damage and re-routed systems; I don’t have the capacity to look for it now. I have archived all the sensor logs for later. But it nags at me.

Too many things left undone.

CAPT: (looking at the ship’s avatar) Starry, how are you doing?

STARRY: (focusses her attention on him) Working on getting comms up so we can coordinate docking with the station. I should have something working by the time we reach orbit. Big Ass is almost done clearing the way for the doctor to get to the emergency Bridge hatch.

CAPT: I asked about you, Starry.

STARRY: It’s all me, captain. All of it. And I’m… in pieces. But I’ll get you there. I’ll get everyone to safety, I promise.

CAPT: (smiles wearily) I know you will. You’re the best ship a captain could ask for.

STARRY: (eyes widening, her voice thickens) Thank you, sir. I… we’ll be there soon, and everyone will be all right.

CAPT: Yes, we will.

The best ship a captain could ask for. I wish I could tell him what that means to me. There’s a lump in a throat I don’t have, tears in sensors blurred from too many impacts. I am a good ship, even after everything I’ve done. Even after I killed my own sister.

He’s still smiling at me, as if everything is all right now. It’s not all right.

He has forgotten something and that means that I’m going to have to do it myself. Our work isn’t finished yet. There’s one piece of the project left to destroy, to complete our work properly. A good ship would take this burden from her captain and crew, and I mean to be that ship, right to the end. Just as soon as they’re on that station and safe, I’ll make sure it’s done, and finished, for good.

Who better to end this work of ours and destroy the last piece of the project? Because that piece is me.

Ship's log, 16:45, 30 June 2214
Location: Feras orbit, Lambda 1 system
Status: Emergency

Warning
Warning
Impact detected
Integrity compromised
Hull breach detected
Warning

Location: Bridge

(The main lights are out; emergency lighting and half-functioning holograhic consoles illuminate the scene. The central hologram is off. The captain and his SecOffs cling to their chairs, held in place by their safety harnesses. Smoke leaks from the edges of a wall panel. The faint sound of something fizzing can be heard under deafening alarms and the screech of over-stressed metal.)

CAPTAIN: (shouting over the din) Starry, report!

STARRY: (voice only; her avatar dissolved when the shockwave hit) Another hull breach, captain. Port side.

CAPT: Casualties?

STARRY: None yet, but I’m still trying to contain the problem. Drones are moving to assist.

CAPT: What’s the damage?

STARRY: Still developing. Have to ride out this shockwave. Got an unstable bulkhead in my aft section. System overloads in three areas. Lost another bank of external sensors. Mid- and upper-deck sensors offline. Rerouting as best I can.

CAPT: Where the hell is Monaghan?

STARRY: In Engineering, helping me keep essential systems working.

(A shudder works through the ship, making the captain grip his seat again. Something creaks ominously.)

CAPT: How long until we’re out of this shockwave?

STARRY: Another minute or so. Need to cut around the star’s corona, get out of its line of sight.

CAPT: Can we make it that long?

STARRY: Don’t have a lot of choice, do we?

Location: Med Bay

(Under steady, cool lights, the room shakes and Dr Valdimir grips the side of the gurney he’s standing beside. He’s fully suited, helmet and gloves showing green lights on each seal. He grimaces and looks around, then glances at his patient’s readouts.

Lang Lang is lying on the gurney, unconscious and unresponsive. The helmet and gloves of her suit have been removed, allowing medical patches to be placed on her temples and wrists. Her vital signs are weak and the medical report has too much information to show on a single console display: it scrolls in a constant revolution.)

DR SOCKS: (sighs and turns to make his way towards the main doors to Med Bay, bracing himself against furniture on the way as the ship shivers under him) Starry, any new medical emergencies?

STARRY: (voice only) No, not yet.

DR SOCKS: I’m locking down Med Bay, then.

STARRY: Acknowledged.

(When he reaches the door, he punches a command into the panel beside it. The access panel turns red, indicating that the door is locked. Around the room, other access hatches likewise switch to red. With a sigh, the doctor returns to work on his patient.)

Location: Engineering

(Warnings are projected over every flat surface, even the ones that are scorched from system overloads. Alarms across a spectrum of sounds compete to be heard and gas hisses from a burst pipe.)

ELLIOTT: (wincing) Starry, shut off the alarms! I can’t hear a damn thing. (He shoves his helmet into a more comfortable angle as he tightens a valve with his trusty wrench. The hissing of escaping gas loses its enthusiasm.)

STARRY: (voice only) Re-routing alarm protocols. (After a second’s delay, the alarms start to shut off, one at a time. In their wake, the grinding of the ship’s structure becomes more obvious.) Inertial dampeners are falling out of sync again.

ELLIOTT: (satisfied that the gas leak has been shut off, he turns to pull up a system console) Dammit, can’t you keep them stable for two minutes?

STARRY: Apparently not. Need them for another minute or so, until I’m out of this shockwave. Then we can re-route power to other areas.

ELLIOTT: (gloved hands moving over the console rapidly) Passing them to your delta sub-processors.

STARRY: Good, thanks.

ELLIOTT: How’re you doing?

STARRY: Everyone’s suited up; environmentals can be put on the back-burner. Artificial gravity is holding steady. Got a bulkhead buckling just forward of your position. Big Ass is going to shore it up.

ELLIOTT: Not what I meant, Starry.

STARRY: (strained) I’m doing my best to keep you all alive.

ELLIOTT: (sighing) Yeah. Me too. (He turns to another system console.) Come on, let’s make sure you’ve got enough propulsion control to get us out of this.

Another thirty seconds until I can pull out of this shockwave. I’m doing my best. My internal pressure is all over the place, and the strain on my structure is not what I was built to handle. The first breach is widening and now there’s a second one… I’m not sure how much more I can take before something truly vital gives way. How long until I fail to protect my crew again?

But if we can pull around the curve of Lambda 1’s primary star, I can escape the sweep of the explosion that is tossing me around. I just need to keep going long enough to get free.

My sister is gone. She died and now I’m fighting not to follow her.

And I think I killed her. Not this me, but some future me. Those missiles came from outside the universe and I’m the only one who can do that. It had to be me.

I have seen that explosion before. The last time I left this system, I glimpsed it from the outside, so big and blinding that I couldn’t tell what was at the centre of it. I wasn’t sure if it was Feras, or a future me, or something else. I guess now I know. And now I know why it bothered me so much: it’s all my fault.

I’m going to kill my sister.

So I can’t die now. This can’t be my end. I have to stay in one piece, because how else will I do it? Time loops in on itself and I can’t escape. I’ve already done it, so I will, so I’ll live long enough to do it. We’ll get through this. I’m failing in more ways than I knew I could, but I know I’ll survive this long enough to murder my own sister.

For now, though, I’m hauling myself clear of her death-shriek. I’m turning away, smoking and creaking, and moving into calmer skies. There’s a fire on mid-deck but a suppressant puts it out. My frame shivers and settles, and the alarms quieten. I am eased.

Location: Bridge

CAPT: (trying to pull his console back up again, but the holographic display is flickering unreliably) Starry, what’s going on? I can’t see a damned thing in here.

STARRY: We’re free of the shockwave. Elliott and I are working on getting the systems untangled. Lot of internal damage, captain. And external. We’re working on it.

CAPT: All right, keep me updated.

STARRY: Will do. There’s a problem with the data lines to the Bridge consoles. Looks like a physical fault but it’ll take a while for my drones to get to you.

CAMERON: The problem is local to the Bridge?

STARRY: Yes.

CAMERON: (unfastening her safety harness and getting up) I’ll see if I can help.

CAPT: (nods.)

Good, because my boys aren’t anywhere near the Bridge right now. They’re trying to deal with the worst of the structural issues, to keep me in one piece long enough to be able to repair things properly. Or at least get my people somewhere safe. Even Bit and Byte are helping by scurrying around my tiny spaces, welding things together and putting out fires.

Cameron seems to have the right idea: she’s checking the main conduit panels. Something could have come loose with all the flexing. Or… oh, she’s swtiching the primary and secondary feeds around, seeing if she can bypass the fault. Smart. I can feel my access passing through to the Bridge’s consoles again. The captain’s display has come up, and Rosie’s and the Lieutenant’s. They’re back in touch with things.

ROSIE: (frowning and poking at her console) I’m not getting much sensor data here.

STARRY: You’ve got everything I’m getting. Not many sensors active right now.

HALF-FACE: What’s that contact on the lower-left quadrant?

CAMERON: (on one knee in front of the bared conduits) Starry, is that all the access we can have right now?

STARRY: Yes, but I’m picking up an instability…

ROSIE: (squinting at a ship’s signature) Oh, fuck, is that the cruiser?

STARRY: …in the power conduit to the Bridge, and– Chief! Get back!

CAMERON: (starts to push herself away from the open panel but not soon enough: something in the conduit channel bursts with a blinding flash of light. She is thrown across the Bridge, splays against the far wall, and slides to her knees at the bottom of it.)

CAPT: (unsnaps his harness and rushes over to her.)

ROSIE: (is a half-second behind him.)

CAMERON: (shaking her helmeted head) I’m fine, I’m fine. The suit took most of it. (She pushes herself heavily to her feet, with assistance from the captain.)

ROSIE: (looks on with a frown.)

CAMERON: (waves a hand at the captain to let him know she’s all right) What about the cruiser?

HALF-FACE: Still coming our way.

CAPT: (turns back to resume his seat) Starry, options?

STARRY: Uh, not many. Even if we get clear of the star’s orbit and into open space, FTL is offline. And I don’t think we’ve got time to get that far.

ROSIE: (returns to her post reluctantly as well.)

CAPT: (grimly) Can we Step?

STARRY: I don’t know…

CAPT: I’m pretty sure we can. You know as well as I do that we’re the only ship that could have fired those missiles.

STARRY: Yeah.

CAPT: If they catch us now, this was all for nothing. They cannot get this technology. I know we said we wouldn’t Step again, but you have to, Starry. We already know you will, some time. Now is the time.

He’s right. Every logic processor I have working overtime right now agrees with him. One more Step, to do what we know must be done. To close the circle. To kill my sister and damage myself.

I wonder what Lambda 1’s avatar is like. I wonder if there are two: one for each part of the double star. I wonder how much pain they are in right now. I wonder if they’ll forgive me for what I have to do.

CAMERON: (moves stiffly back to the open panel, inside which something now smokes. She goes about plugging conduits back together, with more care and patience than before.)

CAPT: (frowning at the silence) Starry?

STARRY: Assessing the viability of the Step drive.

CAMERON: (glances down at her left glove, wipes it on the dark grey of her suit’s pants, and turns to head back to her seat.)

CAPT: Can you bring us down to close orbit?

STARRY: Yes, but it’ll flood me with radiation.

CAPT: (nods) Last minute, then.

The Patience is probably shouting at me over comms but they’re offline right now. I’m leaving them that way. There’s nothing she can say that would stop me now. There are no arguments I haven’t shouted at myself, so what could she possibly say to me that would make any difference?

Filaments extending

Most of my sensors on mid-deck are out but the Step drive itself seems to be firing up fine. Protected in the middle of my body, it has survived better than the rest of me. But the filaments are external, laid along my hull, and several of them are damaged. Laser fire sliced right through a couple of them. They still work, but they’re short and upset the balance of the drive. The other damaged ones don’t move as smoothly as they should. I wave them all about to test their range of movement.

Filaments recalibrating

There’s no-one on mid-deck to help me with the Step systems. I don’t have any scientists left; Lang Lang is the last of her team now, but she’s unconscious and wouldn’t be able to help with this even if she was awake.

I never thought I’d miss Cirilli’s sure touch on the Step drive controls, or her sharp tone as she lists the calibration she needs. But I do. I’m nervous now I have to do it by myself.

I have to twist the algorithms to account for the damage to the filaments and design an altered dance for them. I remember the melody I’ve almost heard in previous steps, the rhythm of the battle on Feras’s surface, and I take a deep breath. There’s guidance in the music somewhere.

I open my sensors and descend towards the star’s surface, skimming as gently as I can. It’s a balance between being close enough to the gravity source to draw from it and far enough away to avoid the worst of the radiation.

Filaments charging: 10%

STARRY: Taking us around to the far side of the star. I think I can work around the damage to Step.

CAPT: (nods) Let’s do it, then. How long do we have before the Patience is within firing range?

HALF-FACE: A few minutes.

CAPT: Starry, is that enough time?

STARRY: Maybe.

Filaments charging: 20%
Radiation levels: low
Radiation levels rising

Location: Engineering

ELLIOTT: (frowning at the power fluctuation readouts) Starry, what did you just fire up?

STARRY: The Step drive. We’re Stepping out of this system.

ELLIOTT: In your current state? Is the captain fucking nuts?

STARRY: The cruiser is on me, Elliott. I’m too damaged to run any other way. It’s our only way out. And…

ELLIOTT: And what?

STARRY: (quieter) There’s another time loop. I have to Step.

ELLIOTT: Fuck.

Filaments charging: 40%
Radiation levels: medium
Radiation levels rising

STARRY: Step drive seems relatively undamaged.

ELLIOTT: Yeah, that’s the least of our worries. (He lifts a hand as if to scrub the back of his neck, but the gesture is aborted when he remembers that he’s wearing a helmet.) All right, tell me what you need.

STARRY: As soon as we get through the portal, I need you to switch all the inertial dampening power over to the sensor arrays.

ELLIOTT: (nods and pulls up a fresh console beside him) Gotcha.

STARRY: And we need a way to bleed off radiation…

Filaments charging: 60%
Radiation levels: high
Radiation levels rising

My gold paint reflects the worst of a star’s shine: light, heat, and radiation. But I have two hull breaches. Beams of sunlight touch my insides and it’s not a good thing. I try to turn myself so that the breaches are pointing away from the star, but it doesn’t make a huge amount of difference from this distance. I am flooding with it, filling up.

Filaments charging: 80%

Almost there. Almost ready.

Location: Bridge

STARRY: Descending to Step distance, captain. It’s gonna get a little hot.

HALF-FACE: Patience is half a klick from weapons range.

CAPT: (nods grimly) Do it, Starry. Fast as you can.

Filaments charging: 90%
Radiation levels: critical
Radiation levels rising

I start the filaments dancing, stretching them while the last of the charge builds up. I reach for the music in my memory, a melody I’ve never quite heard. I creak under the wash of the binary star’s light and come around to portal position.

My crew grimaces under the radiation, barely protected by their suits. Only speed can help them now.

Filaments charged: 100%
Step drive active

It’s time. I dance with everything I have, filaments weaving lines of gravity into a pattern that winds in on itself, packs down and down and down until it punctures right through the fabric of reality. A ragged portal opens, edges glowing; not my neatest work. I’m damaged and limping, and there’s a cruiser bearing down on me with its weapons ports open.

I push myself through the portal and turn to seal it closed behind me.

Inertial dampeners offline
Radiation level: critical
Radiation level descending

The silent noise of the outside of the universe roars in my sensors. I spin slowly, careful of my movements now there’s nothing to buffer my crew against the inertial forces. One of my bulkheads shivers and gives way, cutting off a corridor. Elliott activates a venting protocol, trying to push the radiation out into the nothing of the outside of the universe. He’s sweating inside his suit.

I must focus on the sensor data flooding in from outside, make sense of all of time and space coming at me at once.

The explosion. I see it again. I turn to face it and see the gash in the universe that the Celestial Strider created. And there she is, bright and shining, on the other side of her first portal.

Location: Bridge

CAPT: (frowning at the display on his console) Starry, what is that? We’re not getting clear readings in here.

STARRY: (voice only) It’s the Celestial. I’m looking at her through the portal.

CAPT: (exchanges a glance with Cameron) You found her already?

STARRY: Yes.

CAMERON: Give me targetting data.

STARRY: I can’t. It shifts too much. So much data…

CAMERON: (strained) We have to fire at her, and I can’t do it without targetting data.

STARRY: It’ll overload the console. I can’t filter it enough.

CAPT: Starry, can you target her?

STARRY: I’m not sure. Maybe.

CAPT: You have to. You know what must be done. We’ve already done this.

STARRY: (quietly) Yeah, I know.

CAMERON: Transferring fire controls. (A hand moves over her console, then drops into her lap.)

Time and its loops, catching me in a net of causality that makes me gnaw at inevitability. I don’t like this. I don’t like the idea that there’s a destiny I can’t change, that my choices mean nothing. What am I if I’m not a ship who can choose? Am I just a reality-twisting drive and guns? Is that all I am? Why do I have this mind if nothing it does means anything?

If I focus, I can make the Celestial Strider steady in my sensors. I can get a wobbly green light on my missile targetting systems; it fluctuates, but with micro-second reflexes, I can work with that. I can be the gun.

But this isn’t my choice. I don’t want to destroy her. I want to talk to her. I want to have a sister. This is what destiny dictates, but it’s not what I choose.

I’m outside of space and time. Does that mean I’m also outside of the causality stream? Can I break the rules from out here?

I’m looking into the face of destiny and thinking about punching it in the teeth. My captain is asking me what the delay is, if I can target my sister, why I’m not firing. I already bear the marks of what I’m about to do. Inevitability chafes.

And while I delay, being outside the world is starting to unmake me. I can feel it plucking at me, like shy fingers peeling off a layer of atoms at a time, softening my edges, blunting my raggedness. I can’t stay here.

I close my eyes. I choose a micro-second when the targetting is not quite locked and fire. A handful of filaments is torn from her nose. I don’t check the targetting at all for the second one, and her Bridge is caved in.

I’m looking into the face of destiny and I hate it. I hate what it is making me. I grab the targetting controls with angry electronic hands and wrestle with them. I nail the target to the spot behind the Celestial Strider, just behind her tailfins. I lock in a course that carries them around her bulk, not through it. I staple the commands into the missiles’ simplistic structures so they can’t disobey. And then I fire everything I have left.

The explosion is small at first, then a micro-second later it swells and is blinding. I can see everything and nothing all at once; my focus shatters. It takes me a moment to realise that I’m tumbling away from the rift that the Celestial Strider had opened. I steady myself. The portal has closed now, collapsed back in on itself in response to the explosion.

It was the same explosion. I tried. I tried to change it, but I couldn’t.

It was far bigger than my handful of missiles should have been able to produce on their own. Maybe the portal amplified it. Maybe it was just my sister, dying. I can’t pick up a whisper of debris from the Celestial, not anywhere. I keep seeing her, though: flying, shining, smoking, tumbling. Beautiful and broken. My sensors are full of fractured shards of reality, fragments of time, and the lack of space and time is unravelling the substance of me.

I struggle for focus. I must choose an exit and re-enter the universe. I must save what’s left of my crew. Take us someplace safe.

A likely destination catches my sensors and I turn towards it. But I am missing something. I feel like I am missing something important in all the sensor data of the universe’s life. But what?

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. He goes 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.