Star Runners: Galactic War: Star Runners Universe, #6

1

Capitol Observatory

Beran - Dark World

Galactic Legion of Planets, Quadrant 7

L ooks like a meteor shower, Father. 

Doctor Stevens Graham turned from his report. His son, Tregory, peered through the primary lens in the Capitol Observatory. Although only in his second decade, Tregory had excelled in his knowledge of the cosmos by compiling new theories and expanding upon the old ways. 

Until now.

Graham frowned. You know there's not a shower expected for a fortnight. We have our system mapped to the—

I know what I see, Father. Tregory moved from the lens. I'm well aware of the Lantern Shower expected. This is different.

Saving his report on the computer, Graham stood and stretched. He suppressed a yawn, pressing his fist over his bearded face. Rogue asteroids then. It's possible our scans may have missed a couple. It's happened before when—

No, he said, his forehead wrinkling. This is different.

Such a serious tone, Graham thought as he shuffled across the observatory. In the three years Tregory had worked as the observatory's primary graduate assistant, he had never conversed in such a way with his father.

For three decades, Graham had been the faction's resident astronomer, serving at this particular installation for four. It had been a time of unprecedented growth in the scientific community. The budget swelled as politicians saw the benefit of mapping the stars. They created a planetary defense web for Beran, following the devastating asteroid impact along the Veatan Archipelago when Graham was just a boy. Thousands died in the incident. Countless more perished in the following ashy skies and frigid winters. The resulting focus on science and astronomy had expanded the world's understanding of their system and increased the mapping of the five other planets or their star, Hexla.

But fear had passed, replaced by the cold reality of a planet with limited resources. With current budget cuts in the narrow-minded administration, hiring Graham's son for a lower salary had definite benefits, both budgetary and personal. 

I should placate his curiosity, Graham thought as he smiled and strolled to the lens.

Let's see what you have, Tregory, he said, slipping on his spectacles. Not every day we have an unexpected sight.

Don't talk to me like a child. Tregory gestured to the lens. Take a look.

The observatory had the most magnificent view of the stars in the world. It was remotely possible Tregory had caught a glimpse of an uncharted comet or perhaps even an asteroid that had been knocked off course. When Graham gazed into the heavens, he had learned the galaxy could be a violent place of collisions and exploding stars.

Tregory folded his arms over his chest as Graham settled on the stool, exhaling as he waited.

Patience, son. 

I know, but—

It's a virtue. 

Yes, but—

I'm looking. 

And that ended the discussion. 

Since he was a boy, Tregory had learned when his father needed a moment before starting a hypothesis. It had been something Graham tried to instill after his mother had died from the plague. Taking a moment of silence to reflect before speaking was quite the skill in a world that couldn't stop talking. Consider your words, look at the evidence.

Graham squinted through the lens, his eyes not as sharp as they once were. Still, he relished viewing with the eyes granted by the Creator rather than relying on expensive instruments designed by companies falling over themselves to earn government contracts. Counting purely on technology robbed the thrill of seeing the wonders of the universe with his naked eye. If Tregory's discovery warranted the use of the entire observatory, he would, of course—

Ah, he said, adjusting the lens, I see it. 

One pinpoint of light drifted across the blackness, followed by two more, dimmer, and less vibrant. In a moment, the objects would dissipate upon striking Beran's atmosphere. 

Could it be a satellite of some kind? Tregory asked, moving closer. Perhaps something one of the other nations launched without us knowing?

Illegal since the limitation talks.

Never stopped them before.

Hmm.

Corporate then? Private entities?

Possible.

Graham thought of the race to the stars engulfing thousands of private investors joining starfaring clubs to be the first Berans in space. Regardless of the implications of groups competing to conquer the stars like the age of sea exploration in Beran's past, he was quietly excited about the prospects of vessels navigating the immense void of space. Of course, he might not live to see it.

His heart froze, his back growing rigid. 

What was that?

Four more lights burst into view, making seven objects around Beran, moving from left to right across his view. He zoomed out, realizing he wasn't viewing asteroids or meteors. These were much farther away.

Treg, he whispered, pressing closer to the lens, are you recording?

Never stopped. 

Very well. He bit his bottom lip, never pulling away. I want this sent to Greshan immediately.

Are you sure?

Absolutely. He thought a second. Have them start a track.

Yes, sir. 

Tregory sent the instructions and video to their sister station in the Falster Isles. Set on the planet's far side, the faraway station would ensure they wouldn't miss viewing the objects because of Beran's rotation. Graham continued watching for fear the phenomenon would suddenly disappear. 

The seven objects flashed. Graham frowned. A storm in space? He positively was not viewing a meteor shower. When the flash faded, the number of objects multiplied to at least two dozen, requiring him to further pull back his view. The grouping slowed, no longer moving across the horizon. Increasing magnification, Graham could see the objects were curved and flowing, like a shell on a beach. They held in place for a heartbeat before growing in size ever so slightly. Were the objects flying toward Beran now?

A tingling flickered across the back of his neck. The thrill of discovery pulsing through him soon transitioned to something different, something he'd never felt in the observatory.

The chill of fear.

Falster's online and ready to track once we're out of range, Tregory announced, his voice rising and echoing across the laboratory. What's happening now?

Graham swallowed, watching as another lightning bolt shot through the swarm of objects, increasing the number once again. Get on the secondary viewer.

Tregory halted. Are you all right, Father?

No.

He sighed. You lost them?

Quite the contrary.

Hurrying to the far side of the primary telescope, Tregory rubbed his hands together and looked through the lens.

What? he gasped. There are so many.

Yes. 

What are they? 

Graham swallowed. I don't know, son. 

Are they heading for Beran?

I believe so. 

What does that mean?

Graham hesitated, watching the growing number of lights bearing on the planet. I think we need to notify the—

Alarm bells wailed. Tregory jumped from the secondary viewer and rushed to the lab's far side. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. Graham knew the warnings came from the proximity detection systems. His pulse quickened, a cold layer of sweat sliding down his back. 

More objects just appeared in orbit, Father! 

Graham nodded, his mouth dry. He watched the collection of objects approach.

Father, they're not natural, Tregory whispered. "They're forming up in orbit and flying toward the meteor shower."

Those aren't meteors, Graham said, zeroing in on the objects that first appeared. The second group gathered in a formation. Nothing he had ever seen in space changed course like that. Nothing natural.

Tregory stomped behind him. Not meteors? What do you mean? 

Graham studied the objects closest to Beran, angular and rigid with burning lights in the tails. He sucked in a cold breath of metallic air.

Engines.

All the scientific knowledge and experience gained over his entire life dissolved, fading as he considered his next words.

Wetting his lips, he looked into his son's wide, blue eyes. I believe they're vessels.

All Tridents through the curve and accounted for, Lancer Leader.

As space normalized behind them, the Tridents of the 17th Tizona Squadron formed in an attack formation in high orbit over the dark world of Beran. Captain Alec Maddox acknowledged, verifying his people had made the curve from Tarton’s Junction. Cracking his knuckles, he checked the long-range sensors and took a quick glance at the dark world.

Fourteen capital ships of unknown origin massed near one of Beran’s moons, driving hard for the planet itself. A blanket order to stay on high alert was issued across Quadrant Seven with no further details, followed by Maddox’s prompt transfer out of training and active duty once again. When the vessels were detected in proximity to Beran, Maddox and his Tizona Squadron were sent to investigate. 

The Star Runners under his command for the past week had performed patrols in exemplary fashion, a testament to their professionalism, given the circumstances. Most members of the 17th had been on leave or assembled from different squadrons as part of the new situation. The order to remain on high alert throughout Quadrants Seven and Eight had been met with concern by all, with rumors of a Zahlian plot to attack the backwater worlds being the most outlandish of the tales heard in recent days. The lack of specificity had even a seasoned veteran like him pondering the future. 

Two-thousand MUs to incoming bogeys, Lieutenant Shelbi Weaver announced in his speaker. Should we hail them?

Go ahead, he said, bringing his Trident to the front of the formation. All standard greetings via translator.

Copy that.

Maddox smiled. He had trained Weaver as a pup when she'd first arrived at Tarton's Junction a couple years before. She held promise and was becoming a solid Star Runner in a talented class, so he requested her transfer at the first possible opportunity.

Minutes passed before Weaver announced, No response, Lancer Leader.

Keep trying, he said. Lancers, be ready for anything.

The Star Runners acknowledged. He studied his sensors. When they had first launched from Tarton's Junction, seven vessels had appeared in the Beran System. Now, it seemed to be three times that number. Magnifying the view, he studied the craft. Immense and three times the size of a Parazonium-class carrier, the ships had a smooth and solid back, like a cockroach with an underside of tentacles. Almost organic in appearance.

What could be arriving in a system like Beran? For all he knew, Beran was an anchored planet, just beginning the signs of a space program, sprinkling satellites and telescopes around the world. A vast wilderness was all that surrounded the system for light years until reaching the mysteries of Dark Space.

It could be pirates.

Dax Rodon had tried and failed to take the dark world called Earth. Would Maddox's 17th be up to the task today if another pirate had a dark world in his or her crosshairs? He tightened his grip on the stick and verified his laser banks were full. With each passing moment of silence, the tightness in his chest increased.

Lancer Leader! Weaver snapped. More bogeys appearing on my scope! Are you seeing this?

He checked, clenching his jaw muscles. I see it.

Squadrons swarmed from the roach-like capital ships, gathering in close formations. Scans relayed information. The craft bristled with weaponry and powered forward with curved engines at the back of their shell-like hulls. Dozens more appeared, outnumbering the Tridents ten to one. Other midsized craft barreled toward Beran at incredible speed behind the smaller ships.

Maddox swallowed as the range to the unknown craft dropped below one hundred MUs. His orders had been to investigate the incoming ships. If he opened fire against an innocent faction, he could spark a galactic incident.

Clearing his throat, he transmitted, Continue the greetings and—

An emerald flash struck his starboard wing, the shields dropping rapidly to fifty-eight percent. He banked and accelerated to attack speed.

All Tridents, engage! he shouted, banking away from the incoming craft. Bogeys are hostile. I repeat—they are hostile!

As he rolled away from the incoming fighters, the Tridents engaged with a flurry of missile and laser fire. His shields continued dropping as he evaded more green fire. His mind raced as he transferred laser power to the shields, but nothing worked.

And then the shields vanished.

He looked at the wing. The green slime ate through it like acid, burning through the hull.

Lasers don't work on the bogeys! Weaver shouted. Switching to missiles!

The Legion forces clashed with the unknown attackers, red and green fire crisscrossing the space between the two forces. The bogeys spun away from direct laser hits and kept flying, responding with ferocity as if they hadn't been hit. The Tridents fell one by one, vanishing from his sensors as they tried to battle against impossible odds. Six Tridents exploded, filling the space around Beran with debris.

PowPow, he said, hoping Weaver could hear him. Get our people out of here!

What about you, sir? she asked, her voice straining. We won't leave you here to—

My Trident's compromised, he said, veering toward Beran. Trust me. Get outta here. Withdraw. I'll meet you there.

But—

That's an order, PowPow.

She hesitated. Yes, sir.

As Weaver took command of the engaged 17th, Maddox brought his Trident closer to Beran. If whatever had attached like a parasite to his wing could survive the heat in the atmosphere, well, he was about to be incinerated without operating shields.

But if he could skim across the atmosphere, it might work.

His sensors and communications scrambled as he neared the planet. Banking his starboard wing toward Beran, the hull glowed orange as he streaked across the atmosphere like a missile. Sweat poured in his eyes as he glanced to the wing, watching as the ooze burned away.

There!

He pulled up as the final remnants of the peculiar slime vaporized. Regaining his orientation, he checked the surrounding space.

One Trident fled with four snail-shaped craft pummeling it with the green fire. But the rest of the 17th was gone. Shaking his head, he hoped they had escaped.

Beran space filled with hundreds of craft—all unfriendly. Midsized craft barreled toward the planet, flashing braking thrusters at the atmosphere's edge. Dozens parked at a deliberate spacing in orbit. From the underside of each ship, egg-shaped pods fired at regular intervals, burning through the atmosphere.

This couldn't be the work of pirates. The mass of ships could only be an invasion fleet. Was it the Zahl Empire flying new technology? How had they created a fleet with such force?

Lightning flashed in space, closer to Beran this time, and more ships emerged from the bursts. They appeared as though they passed through instant curves. A horde of intense activity, all centered on Beran.

Punching up the curvature drive for Tarton's Junction, Maddox left Beran to its fate, praying most of his people escaped the invasion force’s wrath.

2

Asteroid Belt

Interplanetary Space

System Zine

Galactic Legion of Planets, Quadrant 7

"A fter I drop you off, though, you'll never see me again."

Douglas Foster's final statement on the Formidable boomed with clarity in his mind. The mysterious man's sleek black yacht sailed beyond the energy field. Foster had been true to his word; he transported Josh Morris and the surviving Barracudas to their destination, even allowing for a stopover at Earth to pick up Kadyn. The rest of the group had offered their thanks, but Foster appeared to want them off his ship quickly. The others went about settling in at home while Josh couldn't stop watching Foster's vessel depart. The weirdest part was he couldn't really say why.

Foster had been arrogant, heartless, challenging, and invaluable in the trek to Dark Space. There were times on the journey when Josh would have liked to flush him out an airlock, and many more instances Foster would have returned the favor. But Josh found himself daring to consider Foster a friend—if the man even knew the definition. And yet, he knew nothing about him. Where did he come from? The seemingly endless knowledge Foster held about the universe would undoubtedly be valuable in the days to come as Josh fully entered the life of a smuggler with the Barracudas. 

But Foster's last words indicated the man had no interest in pursuing any further acquaintance. The impressive yacht shimmered when it reached a safe distance from the asteroid base. The black hull absorbed light from the system's star, and the shroud activated, covering all trace Foster had ever been here.

You okay?

Josh draped his arm around Kadyn's shoulder. Going to miss that guy.

He seemed grumpy.

He's an acquired taste. How you holding up?

Kadyn took a deep breath and nuzzled into Josh's chest. I'm holding up fine as long as I'm with you.

I'm not going anywhere. He kissed her head, her hair still smelling salty from the sea off the coast. Ever.

Promise?

Of course. Why?

I dunno. Austin seemed like a Legion-lifer. Figured you might be the same.

I'm not him. He pulled her closer. "This is exactly where I want to be." 

The system's sunlight rippled across an asteroid as one of the nearby barren worlds came into view far in the distance. They lingered in the central bay before joining the Waylon in his efforts at becoming reacquainted with the rock. All evidence of the battle with the pirates had been erased since Josh had last been in this place. Laser burns had been cleaned, and debris removed. With the deck full of various crates and loading equipment, it became apparent Waylon had once created a flourishing business.

That was before the recapture by the crazed Dax Rodon.

Waylon hadn't said much about his captivity in Dark Space. The once muscular and imposing figure had diminished as a result of Rodon's hospitality. He appeared weak and frail on the journey to Earth and the Zine System. The persistent scowl vanished when his family had rushed into the hangar. Waylon held his boy high and embraced his wife, Tyra, for a long moment.

Matta skipped down a winding corridor, disappearing until dinner. She had said she was excited to be home again and planned to seclude herself in her quarters until chow. 

Josh introduced Kadyn to the Barracudas, much smaller in number than the first time he’d met them on Sanctum. A lot of the muscle wasn't here—especially Tocol, who had been one of the first Barracudas to directly address Josh.

And now he was gone like most men in the group. Lost in the struggles with Rodon.

Josh remembered they’d welcomed him for the most part, even when he suggested they strike back at the Tyral Pirates. There was a genuine trust the Barracudas showed him. They extended Kadyn the same welcome, as they gathered around a long table made of polished rock. An oversized pot of stew emerged in Pa's hands, filling the room with the tasty aroma of cooked vegetables and slow-roasted meat. Pa smacked a rusted bell on his way out of the kitchen.

Food! he barked as he set the pot down on the table.

’Bout time, boss! Matta shouted, bursting into the room with her constant energy. No offense, Joshy boy, but being in your company didn't lead to good eatin' often enough.

Josh scoffed. Like we had time for food. 

There's always time for food, Waylon said in a deep, reverent tone as he leaned over the steaming pot. Delicious, Pa. Where'd ya get the meat?

We didn't sit back and do nothing when you were gone, boy.

Iris and Betha strolled out of the kitchen after Pa. Iris, wearing a bandanna around her forehead with arms thin as twigs, grumbled as she sat. She could have been in her eighties. She had mumbled two words to Josh when they’d arrived, remaining silent since. Betha was a spring chicken by comparison, with silver hair braided down her back that she twirled out of the way.

Was this all that was left?

Josh thought of the first dinner with the group. Waylon's group had lost so much in the final confrontation with Dax Rodon. 

Waylon laughed, grabbed a ladle, slapped hearty portions into scratched bowls, and passed them around. The Barracudas now included eight adults with three old enough to be considering retirement. Throw Waylon's son, Cornic, into the mix, and that meant the Barracudas had nine members. 

The universe had been cruel.

After an hour of small talk, while engulfing stew and hard bread smeared with what Josh hoped was butter, Waylon leaned back with a ceramic goblet and took a long drink. He surveyed the room as if deep in thought, his eyes unfocused.

As if prompted by Waylon’s dour expression, Pa asked, So you want to tell us what happened out there?

Waylon stared at the table. We have one less enemy and lost some good friends.

Matta grabbed Waylon's hand. That is true, boss.

And what of this I've seen on the news feeds, of some fleet of aliens or something coming from the Dark and taking worlds?

Waylon exhaled. It's true the galaxy's got some troubles. Some of us at this table seen it up close. But we've got our own worries right now. 

But is it true? Pa pressed. 

We've work to do, everyone, Waylon grumbled as if Pa hadn't spoken, taking another sip as he winced. "And I mean all of us. We have some supplies to get us through this tough spot. But we gotta get business moving, or we're dead in the water. Gonna to miss the Sparkling Light. He grimaced as if recalling a departed friend before shaking his head and continuing, We have the contacts. We have some merchandise out in the hangar. But we lack experienced personnel and a solid ship."

"Frozen Tundra's not going anywhere, son, Pa said, covering his mouth to suppress a belch. At least not with a full overhaul."

What's that? Josh asked.

Waylon raised his eyebrows. Our only other cargo ship. Tramp freighter. Kincaid Class. She's old, too. Been flying since I was a boy and needs some lovin'. Other than her, all we've got is another one of Matta's little toys.

Hey! Matta said, particles of food flying from her mouth. They're not toys! You won't be complaining when they save you one of these days! 

Waylon held his hands up in mock surrender. Fine, but they aren't for shipping. He looked around at the group. "Let's rest today, get things situated. Tomorrow, we start working on the Tundra and getting her spaceworthy."

Sounds good, Pa said, wiping at his mouth. And what about personnel?

In a grand gesture, Waylon swept his hand over the table. You're looking at it.

3

Tarton’s Junction

Galactic Legion of Planets, Quadrant 8

I t wasn't a mission.

Major Jonathan Nubern's words sent a ripple through the hairs on Lieutenant Austin Stone's arms. 

What wasn't a mission? Austin asked, blinking as he sat on the cot’s edge.

The past weeks had been full of revelations. Josh Morris was leaving the ranks of the Star Runners, embarking on a journey into the unknown with his new friends. The Legion was on the brink of war with the Zahl Empire and the mysterious creatures from Dark Space. And a strange race of people on the planet Ashia might have the power to help Ryker. 

But all these realizations vanished in the tone of Nubern's voice. A weight pressed on his shoulders as Austin's mentor slumped.

I wasn't demoted because of a mission failure, Nubern breathed, almost to himself. I haven't told you everything.

You said the Legion punished you for failing to defend the convoy of mind-altering devices, Austin recited as if he read it from a script. Major Wilkos said you took the fall for failing to prevent the attack, and the technology from a Dark World was stolen.

A tightness formed in Austin's chest as his eyes slowly fell upon Nubern's crumpled face.

Sir? he prompted.

Half-truths. Nubern shook his head. Nothing but half-truths. 

Taking a deep breath, Nubern continued, I was once the best of a new generation of Star Runners, full of hope and promise. Everyone expected such great things from me, from family to colleagues. I went to reunions, and all eyes fell to me, expectant and reverent as if I would bring glory and pride to my family. He looked at Austin with bloodshot eyes. I only did what I thought was best, what I thought would help the Legion gain the upper hand in this cold war.

Austin swallowed as a chill slithered down his neck. What did you do?

Nubern looked at his hands. "We were told to investigate the loss of a scout ship on a miserable planet in the Ashia system. It was inhabited by people we thought might have gone down in an ancient generational ship. But we didn't care—we only wanted to save our crew. I was chosen because I was the best Star Runner available to fly a crew of Serpents to the Dark World in hopes of rescuing our people." 

As we observed from a distance, Nubern continued in a wavering voice, we saw our crew had been captured by the local population, a brutal warlord enslaving and warping an entire army. 

Austin swallowed. Warping?

Nubern closed his eyes before turning to Austin. "I had never seen control like that, transforming humans into raging beasts. I wasn't sure even the Serpents could rescue our people against such power. These natives appeared to control their minds, their actions. And I believed an aggressive rescue mission would fail against such strength. I decided to make contact to see if I could barter with them." 

Austin shook his head, knowing Nubern violated the core Legion law of not interfering with Dark Worlds—certainly enough to warrant a reprimand from his superiors.

But there was something more in Nubern's confession …

I don't know exactly how—it's hard to remember—but I thought such a technology would give the Legion the advantage, Nubern continued. "For years, we all had feared the Zahl to be better, more powerful. I thought this would be my chance to do something great, something memorable. I approached and met with the leader of these people. I didn't just ask for our downed crew, I demanded the control technology they had."

What? Austin turned away. Why?

I thought we could use it in the cold war, turn the Zahl against themselves, somehow maybe tear the Empire down from within. The leader countered by requesting I repair the engines to their ship. Apparently, they had been stranded on that planet for generations. He sighed. "I struck a deal: our pilots and their technology for the parts to restore their engines. It would take years for them to be ready to fly, and I thought it was a good agreement. As we completed the deal, I discovered the leader of these natives to have incredible psychic powers over his people. It was only later I realized the technology and this psychic worked together. The implants would be worthless without the psychic.

So the deal was completed, and I alone approved the plan. Wilkos and I escorted the mind implants away from Ashia when we were ambushed by marauders flying unmarked Zahlian Interceptors. We were outmatched and surprised. Somehow, they knew. Sharkey was with me that day, lost his leg after being forced to eject during the battle. He never questioned me, never waned on his loyalty. After the ambush, I knew the Zahl had the mind control technology but realized they would never be able to take advantage of it without a psychic, so I tried to forget about my failure's repercussions. Command demoted me to recruitment. That’s how I met you.

Nubern glanced at Austin before staring at the wall. I recently read a report about long-range scans showing the generational ship had finally launched, sailing toward Ashia and invading. The Creator knows how many died because of my decision. It was then I realized the past is never dead, even when we want to bury it. After all these years, I thought the Zahl had given up on the technology. And then Ryker was brought back, her mind tortured and body broken …

Nubern blinked, a single tear sliding down his cheek. It's all my fault, son. All of it.

Austin leaned back, his jaw agape as Ryker's shaved head flashed in his mind. The Zahl had captured Star Runners to serve as guinea pigs for their operation to control their minds. They cut and slashed their brains without finding the perfect solution for complete control. All they had needed was a Seer Witch from Ashia. The Zahlian scientists did not know, so they kept experimenting.

And Ryker had paid the price for it.

The months of rehabilitation as the Legion doctors attempted to discover how the alien technology worked, how they could save her. Ryker tried so hard, hours of rehab mixed with the surgeries and tests—all meeting little to no result. But she never wavered, always remaining positive through the pain, the disappointment. Josh, his best friend, left Earth, traversing to the farthest reaches of space to find the cure that could save Ryker from her wounds. All the while, the answer had been on Ashia. Nubern knew the entire time.

Austin stood and faced the wall. How could you not tell me?

I— Nubern's voice cracked. I thought for so long that there couldn't be a connection to my decisions—even when Ryker came back so hurt. I thought there had to be another answer. And then your friend said what he said about Ashia. I'm so—

"You lied." 

Nubern took a step back, his hands falling to his sides. Yes.

Austin’s hands trembled. "And you broke the law. You gave a Dark World population engines—our engines—to repair their ship, and an entire world was invaded. I just can't believe you would do something like that."

I was young, he whispered. "I seem to remember another young Star Runner defying orders to take the Wraith on a strafing run on some Zahlian Marines."

This is different.

Nubern sighed. Perhaps it is.

Austin thought of Ryker as he took a step closer to Nubern, his heart racing. And she suffered because you let that technology out. The Zahl got it because of you.

Nubern lowered his head. Believe me when I say I'd trade places with her if I could. But you don't understand what it’s like to grow up hating the Zahl Empire. It's the way I was raised, always being told about the enemy lurking beyond our borders. I saw this as an opportunity to take the fight to them. It wouldn't be the first time the Legion took action to prepare for a war we all know is coming. We do it all the time. 

But we don't go into Dark Worlds giving away engines.

Nubern's eyes grew cold. We’ve done even worse than that in the name of security. He sighed. But perhaps you're right.

Austin looked at the deck. We could have bartered with the Ashians, begged, and traded for a Seer to help save Ryker and the other Star Runners.

Nubern shook his head. "Don't you see that's how I made a mistake the first time? Our worlds are not meant to trade and barter. It destroys the natural order. I should have stayed out, completed the rescue mission with the Serpents and withdrawn. But I didn't. I tried to make a deal the Legion could profit from. I failed."

But, we could have tried to help her. Austin shook his head. Why didn't you tell me?

I couldn't believe it, son. I was hoping the tech implanted her brain wasn't the same from my mission years ago. A false hope, it turns out. I was wrong. I made a terrible choice, son.

Don't call me that.

Nubern's lips parted. What?

Austin shook his head, his chin quivering. You're not my father.

I know you're—

The interior lights in his quarters burned red as Tarton’s Junction’s alarms sounded.

Action stations, the intercom blasted in a static-filled message. All crew to action stations. Star Runners report to the briefing room immediately.

Nubern and Austin looked at each other in the blood-red light. The elder studied his protege, his lips parted as if to say something more when the intercom voice blared again.

Quadrant Seven is under attack. Repeat: Quadrant Seven is being invaded.

STELLARCOMM Q7 BUREAU UPDATE

ALIEN FORCE INVADING QUADRANT SEVEN

Three star systems under heavy assault

StellarComm - Quadrant Seven Bureau Staff

Mysterious task forces comprised of numerous carriers, support craft, and troop ships have overwhelmed the Galactic Legion of Planets’ defenses charged with protecting three dark worlds in Quadrant Seven, causing heavy casualties.

All accounts show the attackers have proceeded with planetary invasions on Beran, Alypso, and Obrion. Limited transmissions coming from the occupied planets have been censored by the Legion military. However, one Legion official speaking on condition of anonymity states the attackers have crossed over from unknown space and are currently battling the indigenous populations on each world.

The Legion official says liberation efforts are already underway...

4

Calpria

Legion Capital

Galactic Legion of Planets, Quadrant 1

The cold marble table slid under Sonia Codwell's fingertips, the surrounding admiralty watching in stunned silence. The Prime Minister of the Galactic Legion of Planets moved her hand back and forth as Admiral Tolan Gist of Quadrant Eight finished his report on the readiness of his fleet massing at the remote outpost Tarton's Junction.

Sonia had never been to the remote station so many light years from the Legion's capital worlds, but the installation had been a regular part of her reports in the past five standard years. First, it was the threat of the pirate Dax Rodon, attacking Legion shipping and eventually attempting an ill-fated invasion of the Dark World known as Earth. A recent report revealed that the former Tyral Pirate had been killed during an assassin's operation, but such information was unconfirmed. 

Now, the tired old Tarton's Junction was the most significant space station in the path of the Piscean Dynasty currently attacking three systems in Quadrant Seven. All available capital ships and support craft massed to prepare to counter the surprise assault by the creatures from Dark Space. 

Creatures from Dark Space.

Never had she anticipated such a development. In her five years as the head of the Galactic Legion, she had dealt with a growing number of flash-points and been privy to gory and unthinkable details from many clandestine operations. But a new species attacking from beyond the infinite depths of deep space had never even crossed her sleepless nights. Wasn't that always the case, fretting about possibilities when the actual problem was something your concerned mind never considered?

Your thoughts, Prime Minister? 

Sonia looked up from the cold marble. Admiral Gist, how long until your fleet is fully assembled at Tarton's Junction?

Gist glanced at his tablet, his forehead furrowing. Morning rays from Calpria's sun blazed through the floor-to-ceiling windows circling the council chamber on the eightieth floor of the planet's capitol. The immense sword-shaped Tarnex Home Vessel appeared as if suspended in a blue crystal, just visible in the morning light near Reginald Orbital Station. Calpria would serve as the Legion Capital world for two more years until another of the four founding planets of the Legion had their opportunity. Would she be re-elected for a second term and move with the government to the next world? Or would her final days as Prime Minister be spent dealing with the most significant crisis in recent memory?

She swallowed. Or was she witnessing the end of the Legion itself?

Stop it, she told herself.

Two standard days, Gist said with a nod. We should be ready to counter the Pisceans at that time, which should provide more time to obtain better intelligence of what's happening at the edge of Quadrant Seven.

Sonia took a deep breath, held it, and exhaled, her shoulders in the royal blue ceremonial uniform falling. When initial reports announced the invasion of Quadrant Seven, there was little concrete information. Vague intelligence revealed Pisceans had appeared from Dark Space and attacked all along the border. No exact numbers of how many Piscean capital ships or how successful the initial Legion attempts to counterattack had been. As with most events in life, not knowing was the worst part. 

And what of the Zahlian threat along the Fringe? Admiral Deek Stapeck asked, leaning over the table as