Soren laughed as he watched her gather her breakfast. His favorite thing about Jane was her sense of humor. Sometimes sarcastic and deprecating, other times playful and clever, their easy banter almost always left a smile on his face.

  Still grinning, he dug into his breakfast with gusto, savoring the perfect blend of flavors. As they ate, their conversation turned to current events, from the prior night’s sports scores to the upcoming FUP elections and the status of the polls.

  “Do you think Senator O’Hara has a shot at the presidency?" Jane asked, sipping her coffee. "The polls seem to favor him, but his stance on trade with the outer colonies is a bit controversial."

  Soren shrugged, spearing a sausage with his fork. “O’Hara’s a good man, but he's always been a bit of a hardliner. Personally, I think we need to focus on maintaining trust with the outer colonies, not strong-arming them. But what do I know? I'm just an old warhorse put out to pasture."

  Jane reached across the table, squeezing his hand. “You're not that old, Soren. Fifty-six is the new thirty, haven't you heard?"

  He snorted. "Tell that to my knees."

  A comfortable silence settled over them as they finished their meal, the easy intimacy of a couple who already knew the meaning of each other's every expression, gesture, and sigh. Finally, Jane spoke again, her voice softening. "Have you heard from the kids lately? I know Alex is probably off on some secret mission or other. I thought Dana had some shore leave coming up, but I haven’t heard from her.”

  Soren shook his head. "Not for a few weeks. But I'm sure they're fine, off defending the galaxy, just like their old man did."

  "Defending it from what?" Jane asked with a raised eyebrow. Somehow, the Federation of United Planets had managed to hold together for almost thirty years, leading to one of the longest peacetimes in human history. Soren knew she had never trusted that the peace would hold for long.

  "Nothing, if we're lucky,” he answered, knowing that a peace like that, or any peace for that matter, would never last forever. “And let's hope it stays that way." He pushed back his chair, carrying his empty plate to the sink. “Thanks so much for the chow, darling. Amazing as always. Need help cleaning up?” he asked.

  “No, I’ve got it. I know you’re eager to hook up with the fishes.” She raised an eyebrow, and he laughed despite himself.

  “Hook? That was bad,” he said, leaning down and tasting the sweetness of syrup on her lips as he kissed her goodbye. “If I’m not back by lunchtime, send divers.”

  “Have a good time,” she replied with a chuckle. "Catch us something good for dinner?"

  "No promises," Soren said, heading for the garage, where he gathered his fishing gear and a cooler before setting off on the two-mile trek to the nearby lake. The morning air was crisp and cool, the scent of pine and wildflowers filling his lungs. This was his favorite time of day, when the world was still quiet and the only sounds were the chirping of birds and the crunch of his boots on the dirt path.

  When he reached the lakeshore, Soren settled on an old log he'd claimed as his own when they’d first moved to the house nearly twenty-five years ago. The wood should have rotted in that much time, but Janie had surprised him on his thirty-fifth birthday by having it treated so it would probably last until the end of time. Even so, his rear had worn a smooth spot into the wood where he always sat, a testament to the countless hours he'd spent here, seeking relaxation and contemplation. When he was still with the Navy, he’d never missed a chance to come here when he was home.

  He absently ran a hand down the side of the log where Dana and Alex had once carved their names into the wood. A smile spread across his face, thinking about them. He could still hear Dana and Alex complaining that fishing was boring.

  He baited his hook and cast out the line, then wedged the pole between his knees as he reached for a beer from the cooler. Cracking it open, he took a long swig, savoring the cold bite. His eyes shifted skyward, tracking the lazy drift of clouds across the endless blue expanse.

  Somewhere up there, his children were making their own way in the universe. Pride swelled in his chest at the thought of Dana and Alexander following in his footsteps. Like him, they’d graduated from the FUP Naval Academy on the island of Pletcher Landing on Kepler-22b. His training and service had shaped him into the man he was today. Likewise, theirs would shape them. They were good kids, already strong and brave, equipped to face whatever challenges the stars threw their way.

  Lost in thought, Soren almost missed the tug on his line. He jerked to attention, hands flying to the pole as a familiar shape passed into his peripheral vision overhead. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing as a sleek shuttle painted in FUPN charcoal slowed overhead before descending toward the dirt road leading to his fishing spot.

  Soren Strickland, Captain, FUPN Retired, kept his attention on the fish, reeling it in with practiced ease as footsteps crunched through the undergrowth behind him. He didn't need to turn to know who it was; he'd recognize that stride anywhere.

  "Hold on," Soren called over his shoulder, the fish fighting against the line. Big-mouth bass, most likely. "I've almost got this one."

  "Soren." The voice was grave, heavy with unspoken meaning. "I'm here about Dana."

  Soren kept his focus on the fish. He had no reason to worry about his daughter. If anything was cooking between the FUP and the outer planets, he’d have heard about it on the news or through retired officer scuttlebutt. "What about her?" he asked, his tone light. “Are you worried she’s coming for your job, Admiral?”

  Admiral Montoya stepped into view, his dark eyes somber beneath the brim of his cap. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a neatly trimmed beard. His uniform was crisp and pressed, the medals on his chest glinting in the sunlight. Soren had known him for years. He had even been his commanding officer once, during Montoya’s first deployment.

  "Soren," Montoya said again. This time, there was no mistaking the sorrow in his voice. “I’m sorry to have to be here to deliver the news no parent wants to hear, but I respect you too damn much to send anyone else. There’s been an incident. Dana is…she’s gone."

  The fishing pole slipped from Soren's suddenly numb fingers, clattering to the ground. Sensing its chance, the fish gave a mighty tug, pulling the rod into the lake with a splash.

  CHAPTER 3

  Soren barely noticed the loss of the pole. He jackknifed to his feet, his blank stare on Montoya, his mind refusing to process the words. Gone. What did that mean? Dana couldn't be gone. She was young, brilliant, and a rising star in the FUP Navy. She had her whole life ahead of her, a future as bright as the stars she sailed between.

  "What do you mean, gone?" Soren asked, his voice rough with emotion. "What happened?"

  Montoya sighed, suddenly looking far older than his years. "We lost contact with her ship three days ago. They were investigating a distress beacon in the Wolf system when they just...vanished. No warning, no explanation, no traces. Just…gone."

  Soren shook his head, denial warring with the icy certainty settling in his gut. "That's not possible. Starships don't just vanish."

  "I know," Montoya said, his voice heavy with regret. “And the search is ongoing, but you know space is a big place. There's no sign of them anywhere near their last transponder coordinates. Not even debris."

  A wave of dizziness washed over Soren, and he sat back down hard on the log, his legs no longer able to support him. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the impossible. Dana, his little girl, the one who'd looked up to him with such adoration in her eyes, who—along with Alex—had begged him for stories of his adventures among the stars was...gone.

  "What about the beacon?" he asked, grasping at straws. "Did you find the ship that sent it?"

  Montoya hesitated, and Soren's heart sank. He knew that look, had seen it too many times on the faces of his superiors when they had bad news to deliver.

  "We found a ship," Montoya said, carefully choosing his words. "But Soren...it was a Valkyrie-class corvette."

  Soren's blood ran cold. "That's impossible," he whispered. "The Valkyries were decommissioned after the war. There shouldn't be any left."

  "I know," Montoya said grimly. "But there it was, shot to hell and drifting. No survivors."

  “Did you recover the data recorder?”

  “That’s where the plot thickens. The recorder was gone, too.”

  A terrible suspicion began forming in Soren's mind, a suspicion he hardly dared give voice to. But he had to know. "Who did it? Who attacked them?"

  Montoya met his gaze, and the answer was written in the depths of his eyes even before he spoke. "We don't know for sure. But Soren...the damage to the Valkyrie was consistent with Komodo-class weapons. And the residual particle displacement signatures..."

  He raised his arms, palms up to state his confusion wordlessly, and his voice trailed off without finishing the thought. Soren finished it for him, his voice barely above a whisper. “A Federation ship.”

  Montoya nodded, his face etched with pain. "I'm sorry, Soren. I know this is a lot to take in. And I hate to deliver such bad news and run, but this is a tense situation, and I need to get back to the Pentagon ASAP. I imagine you want to update Janie on the situation. Can I give you a ride back home?”

  Soren stared at the Admiral without speaking, his mind in chaos. He couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t see straight. Dana…He couldn’t bring himself to believe it. And Janie…she would fall apart.

  When he was growing up, joining the FUP guaranteed being put in harm’s way. The skirmishes between them and the Coalition of Independent Planets were nearly constant, with tensions as high as possible. When the war started, any parent with a child in the military had to resolve themselves to the idea that their baby might not ever come home. As second generation Navy, he’d lived with that in reverse, always wondering if his mother would return at the end of her rotation.

  But the war had ended a long time ago. The CIP no longer existed. They were one big, happy family spread across the stars, or so he had thought. He never expected to have to deal with this. Never thought Janie would need to either once he’d retired. Otherwise, he would have done his best to prepare her for the possibility, as his father had done for him. Not that anything could soften the blow to a mother losing a child.

  “Soren?” Montoya probed, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Do you need a ride?”

  “N…no,” Soren pushed out. “Have you told Alex?”

  “I will as soon as he’s available. There may not be any extra-terrestrial fighting going on, but you know Hornets never stop training.”

  Soren nodded slowly, mind still churning. Montoya squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll do everything we can to figure this out,” he said. “I’ll keep you updated.”

  “Thank you, Adrian,” Soren replied.

  Montoya nodded, turning and vanishing back through the brush. Soren remained seated on the log, watching as the shuttle lifted skyward on its counter-gravity nacelles and shot away. He still didn’t move for a few minutes afterward. His mother had taught him to manage his emotions from a young age. Remaining in control was a valuable skill for a naval officer, especially when situations became tense. But right now, he was alone. And overwhelmed with grief.

  Dropping his head into his hands, he let out silent, chest-heaving sobs, releasing the pain, fear and worry in one cleansing expulsion of tears. Ever a military man, he allowed himself five minutes. Reaching his time, he re-established control, straightened up, wiped his eyes, gathered his gear, minus the fishing pole—which the fish had managed to unhook itself from and now floated in the middle of the lake—and started walking.

  The trek back home normally reinvigorated him, allowing him to prepare his mind for the rest of the day. Not this time. Janie would know something was up the moment she spotted him retuning well before noon. She would immediately worry. About him at first. And when he told her about Dana…

  He spent the walk steeling himself for her reaction. He needed to be strong and comforting, a steady hand ready to help her deal with her grief above his own.

  The trees around him gave way to the open field ahead of his small house, the dirt road winding toward the back. He hoped Jane was still home. She had planned to go grocery shopping, but he didn’t want to wait until she returned, dragging things out any longer than necessary, for both their sakes.

  As Soren approached the house, he saw Jane through the kitchen window, busily washing dishes. Even from a distance, he could see the contentment on her face, the easy smile that always seemed to grace her features when she was lost in thought. His heart clenched at the realization that he was about to shatter that peace, to bring a storm of grief and uncertainty into her life. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and headed for the back door.

  Jane turned at the sound of the door opening, her smile widening when she saw him, but then her eyes took in his expression, the redness rimming his eyes, and her smile faltered. "Soren?" she asked, concern lacing her voice. "What's wrong, darling? Why are you back so early?"

  Soren swallowed hard, trying to find the words. How did you tell a mother that her child was lost, possibly gone forever? He crossed the room to her, taking her hands in his. He raised one and kissed her palm, feeling the warmth and strength of her fingers as he placed her palms flat against his chest.

  "Jane,” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “Admiral Montoya came to see me at the lake. He had news about Dana."

  Jane's face paled, her fingers tightening around his. "What kind of news?" she whispered, though the dread in her eyes said she already knew the answer.

  Soren took a shuddering breath. "Her ship, the Galileo...they lost contact with it three days ago. It was investigating a distress beacon in the Wolf system when it just...vanished. No warning, no explanation. They’re looking for her, but…” He trailed off. There wasn’t anything else to say.

  For a moment, Jane remained silent, her face a mask of shock and disbelief. Then, slowly, she shook her head. "No," she said, her voice barely audible. "No, that can't be. Not Dana. Not our little girl."

  Soren pulled her into his arms, holding her tight as the first wailing sobs began to shake her frame. He stroked her hair, murmuring words of comfort that felt hollow even to his own ears. What comfort could there be in the face of this?

  They stood like that for a long time, Jane's tears soaking into Soren's shirt, his eyes burning with unshed grief. Finally, Jane pulled back, her face streaked with tears, her eyes red and swollen.

  "What are we supposed to do now?" she asked, her voice small and lost.

  Soren cupped her face in his hands, brushing away the tears with his thumbs. "We don't give up," he said firmly. “We don't accept that she's gone. Not until we know for sure."

  Jane searched his face, a flicker of hope kindling in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

  Soren took a deep breath, the plan forming in the back of his mind while she cried solidifying into resolve. "I'm going to find her, Janie. I'm going to do everything in my power to bring our daughter home."

  Jane's eyes widened. "But how? You're retired, Soren. You don't have a ship, a crew..."

  "I'll find a way," Soren said, determination hardening his voice. "I still have contacts in the Navy, people who owe me favors. I'll call them in if I have to. But I won't rest until I know what happened.”

  Jane was silent for a long moment, searching his face. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Okay," she said softly. "If anyone can find her, it's you. But Soren...promise me you'll be careful. I can't lose you, too."

  Soren pulled her close again, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I promise, Janie. I'll come back to you. And I'll bring our daughter with me."

  They held each other for a long time, drawing strength from the bond that had sustained them through so many trials. Finally, Soren pulled back, his jaw set with determination.

  "I need to make some calls," he said. "See what strings I can pull. The sooner I get started, the better."

  Jane nodded, wiping away the last of her tears as the instincts of a military spouse took over, a spark of hope reignited. "I'll start packing a bag for you. Does Alex know?”

  “Not yet. He’s on a training mission. Montoya promised to fill him in as soon as he’s back on base.”

  With a final squeeze of her hand, Soren turned and headed for his study, his mind already racing with plans and possibilities. He didn't know what he would find out there, what dangers he might face. But he knew one thing with absolute certainty.

  He would find his daughter. He would bring her home. And if he couldn’t, if she wasn’t just missing, but dead, stars help whoever was responsible.

  Because nothing else would.

  CHAPTER 4

  Soren sat at his desk, staring at the comm unit in front of him. The study was quiet. The only sound was the soft ticking of an antique cuckoo clock passed down through his father’s family for generations. He'd always found comfort in this room, surrounded by books and mementos, the reminders of a life well-lived. But now, the silence felt oppressive, the weight of his task bearing down on him like a physical force.

  He closed his eyes briefly and then took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He'd made countless calls like this over the years, reaching out to old friends and colleagues, pulling in favors and leveraging connections. But never had the stakes been so high, the situation so personal, the outcome so significant.