The Wraith jinked and wove, Sang's expert touch keeping them from taking the full brunt of the enemy fire. But Soren knew they couldn't keep this up forever. They needed to end this. And fast.

  “Keira, target the lead Valkyrie with railguns,” he snapped.

  “We’re almost dry on the port side,” Keira said.

  “Sang, roll us over,” Soren ordered.

  The ship pitched quickly, spinning over like a breaching whale so that the starboard guns came to bear on the target.

  “Fire!” Soren cried.

  Once again, the Wraith's guns roared to life, hurling death and destruction at the enemy ship. The Valkyrie's shields flared, straining to repel the onslaught...and then collapsed, the railgun rounds punching through to ravage its hull. The enemy ship staggered, flames gouting from rents in its armor. It tried to return fire, but its aim was wild, its weapons no longer tracking true. A final salvo from the Wraith's guns finished it off, leaving the Valkyrie disintegrating.

  "Two left," Jack said, his voice grim.

  “The cannon is ready to fire,” Keira announced.

  Soren nodded, a cold smile touching his lips as he eyed the sensor grid. The enemy apparently hadn’t learned anything from their first volley. He could see the battle in his mind as though it were a game of chess, estimating his opponent’s maneuvers before he made his own. "Sang, bring us forty degrees to port, cut mains to fifteen percent. Fire starboard vectoring thrusters at fifty percent. Pitch up thirty degrees and yaw right fifteen."

  "Aye, Captain," Sang replied, making the adjustments.

  “Keira, get ready,” Soren said. “We’ll only have a few seconds.”

  “Ready, Captain.”

  The Wraith shifted in space in a sudden dizzying, dazzling maneuver. The two remaining Valkyries loomed, making their own vector changes to keep the Wraith in their sights.

  "Steady," Soren murmured, eyeballing the attack angle. There. “Keira," he said, his voice deadly calm. "Fire."

  Once again, the vortex cannon unleashed its fury, the lance of pure destructive energy spearing out to engulf the enemy ships. It caught them both in its terrible embrace, shields shattering, hulls rupturing, the very fabric of space-time twisting and warping through them.

  For a single, frozen moment, the Valkyries hung suspended in the maelstrom, as if they could overcome the impossible forces tearing at them. Then, with what he imagined as a sudden scream of tortured metal, they came apart, disintegrating into clouds of shattered debris.

  There was no cheering this time. Silence fell over the bridge, the crew staring in shock at the scene of utter devastation. Where once a proud flotilla had stood against the enemy, now there was only drifting wreckage and way too many dead. Soren sagged back in his chair, a wave of exhaustion and grief washing over him. Recon Three, wiped out to the last ship. All those lives snuffed out in a matter of minutes.

  “Excellent work, all of you,” Soren said, somber but sincere.

  While they had won, he could barely call it a victory.

  CHAPTER 31

  Soren turned to Samira, his voice quiet and calm, reflecting the mournful attitude of everyone on the bridge.

  "Samira, send out hails across all military channels. Bastian, send out our drones. Priority on our ships first, but I want eyes on the enemy wrecks too. If there are any survivors on either side, I want to be sure they stay that way.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Samira replied.

  “Captain,” Bastian said. “Only two of the drones are suited for reconnaissance. The others are designed for interdiction and combat support.”

  “Will they fit inside the corridors of the ships?” Soren asked.

  “Aye, Captain. But their sensor arrays aren’t designed for subtle patterns that might clue us in to survivors.”

  “Can they retransmit short range comm signals?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  Soren exhaled sharply, dismayed by their lack of resources for a rescue operation. Of course, the Wraith was a warship, not intended to hunt for the living this way.

  “Soren, I don’t want to sound callous,” Jack said. “And I’m not that comfortable with it either, but playing devil’s advocate…sticking around uncloaked is risky as hell.”

  “We can’t let them die out there,” Soren replied. “Besides, Dana would hate me if I chose finding her over saving our people.”

  “And you would hate yourself, I know. But it needed to be said.”

  “I appreciate that, Jack. Bastian, send out the two drones we have. We’ll have to do this slowly.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Bastian replied.

  “Captain,” Keira said. “Most of our railguns are dry. Battery P-3 has five hundred rounds remaining. P-6 has three hundred. That’s it.”

  “Harry,” Soren said, contacting his logistics officer. “Do we have any ordnance that wasn’t loaded into the racks?”

  “Negative, Captain. We fed in every box we brought with us.”

  “Understood.” He disconnected his comm patch. “Not ideal, but we put those rounds to good use.”

  Soren watched the viewscreen as the two drones darted out from the Wraith, a pair of small, nimble shapes against the backdrop of drifting debris. They wove through the wreckage, cameras and sensors probing, searching for any sign of life.

  “Send Drone One to the Vaunted,” Soren said. “And Two to the closest, most intact Hermes. Put the feeds up on primary and secondary, respectively.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Bastian replied.

  A lump formed in Soren’s throat. Karlov had been a good man, a skilled commander. To think of him out there, lost among the ruins of his ship...

  The drone slipped through a gaping wound in the Vaunted's hull, vanishing into darkness. Bastian brought its feed up on the main viewscreen—a grainy, shadowed image that sent chills down Soren's spine.

  The ship's interior was a nightmare, a twisted labyrinth of broken bulkheads and floating wreckage. The drone navigated carefully, occasionally needing to nudge debris and bodies out of its way to proceed. Soren tried not to look too closely at the corpses drifting past the camera, their faces frozen in eternal surprise.

  "Take us to the bridge," he ordered quietly. If anyone had survived, the hardened interior shell of the command center was the most likely place for them.

  Bastian complied, guiding the drone through the ravaged ship with deft precision. When the drone arrived, Soren was surprised to see the blast doors fully open. He didn’t need to see what came next to know what he would find. The doors would open automatically if the bridge lost its atmosphere rather than trap the crew inside as though it were a sarcophagus.

  The drone continued into the compartment, the damage immediately visible—a fist-sized hole through the overhead. Most likely, a railgun round had followed behind a missile strike and snuck through the already compromised armor. The crew stations were abandoned, most of the crew having attempted evacuation to another area of the ship before their time was up.

  Most, but not all. Still strapped to his command seat, Commander Karlov had gone down with his ship, facing the enemy until the very end. Like any good captain would.

  Soren bowed his head for a moment, silently honoring the fallen commander. Then, with an effort, he straightened. "Keep searching," he said.

  Bastian guided the drone off the bridge, continuing his sweep of the ship. On the secondary viewscreen, the other drone passed through the smaller Hermes, the search for life coming back empty. Like on the Vaunted, the bridge had been pierced. In this case, they had all remained to fight. Or maybe never had time to escape.

  “It’s almost as though the enemy was trying to reach the core,” Jack noted beside him. “They made a real effort to take out the bridge.”

  The thought worried Soren, though the strategy made sense. Ship commanders weren’t a dime a dozen, and it took years for them to rise through the ranks and train up to the position. Ships could be replaced. Experienced captains couldn’t.

  "Captain, I'm picking up something on the Vaunted,” Bastian announced, his voice tight with excitement. "Vibrations, coming from one of the compartments.”

  Soren leaned forward, hope kindling in his chest. "Could it be a survivor? Someone signaling?"

  "It's possible," Bastian replied. "Permission to investigate?"

  "Granted. And try to establish short-range comms through the drone if you can."

  The drone moved off, following the faint vibrations to their source. It stopped outside a badly damaged bulkhead, though the hatch remained intact.

  Bastian worked his console, and a crackling, static-filled voice suddenly emanated from the bridge speakers. "...hello? Is anyone out there? Please, I need help!"

  Soren's heart leaped. "This is Captain Soren Strickland of the starship Wraith," he said. "We hear you. Can you identify yourself?"

  “Captain..Strickland?” the voice replied. “Am I dreaming this?” There was a pause, then the voice returned, clearer this time. "Spacer Nadi Otano, sir. I'm injured and running low on air. Please, you have to get me out of here!"

  Soren exchanged a glance with Jack, seeing his determination mirrored in his old friend's eyes.

  “Just sit tight, Otano," Soren said. "We're coming for you. Do your best to conserve your air."

  “Aye, Captain,” Nadi replied.

  “Captain,” Bastian said. “Drone Two has just entered the second intact Hermes. I think I've located more survivors.”

  “Excellent. Put me in contact?”

  “Standby.”

  A new voice filled the bridge, strained and desperate. “Hello? Can you hear me? This is Yeoman Hiraku Noguchi, of the light cruiser Pinto. I’m here with five others. Two with minor injuries. Our air supply is dwindling. Please, we need immediate evac.”

  “Yeoman Noguchi, this is Captain Strickland of the warship Wraith. We hear you. Do what you can to conserve oxygen. We’ll be there to get you as soon as possible.”

  “Captain Strickland?” The yeoman answered, as confused as Nadi. “We will do our best. Please, come as soon as you can.”

  Soren disconnected from the survivors and opened a new connection. “Harry, please tell me we have spacesuits on board.”

  “Captain, you’re in luck this time. We have suits, plus vectoring packs.”

  “Good news. Head to the airlock. I want you to help our people suit up.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Soren closed that connection and opened another across the shipwide comms. “Attention all hands, this is the captain speaking. We have located survivors on Vaunted and Pinto. Wilf, Tashi, Asha, if you have any EVA experience, report to the starboard airlock immediately. Harry will meet you there to suit you up.” He closed the comms, addressing the bridge. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Sang, set a course for Pinto. Nice and easy. We don’t want to burn out our shields deflecting debris. Keira, I want you to lead our contingent to recover the Pinto survivors. Get the door open and the survivors suited up fast. The moment they’re on board, escort them directly to sickbay. I want every one of them thoroughly checked out. Sang, once they’re on board we’ll reposition at Vaunted. Mark, Bobby, you’ll cross to rescue Spacer Otano. With any luck, we’ll get to them all before they asphyxiate. Once they’re all onboard, remain in your EVA suits. We have another external mission to accomplish. Understood?”

  “Aye, Captain,” they replied.

  “Alright, let’s get to work.”

  CHAPTER 32

  As the Wraith closed the distance to the stricken ships, Mark and Bobby ran from the bridge headed for the airlock, focus in their expressions, urgency in their bearing and one thing on their minds. To save the lives of their fellow spacers.

  Soren kept one eye on the viewscreen and the other on the sensor grid projection. The last thing they needed was for the enemy to return and catch them unaware while in the middle of a rescue operation, but as the minutes ticked by and no new contacts appeared, he allowed himself a small measure of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could pull this off.

  The Pinto loomed ahead, a shattered husk of a ship, its hull pockmarked with scars and gaping wounds. Sang guided the Wraith ever closer, her deft touch bringing the ship’s starboard airlock up close and matching the rotation of the stricken vessel.

  “Line us up with the airlock closest to the survivors,” Soren said.

  “I’ve marked the location for you,” Bastian added. Soren checked the output on his command console. Thankfully, the compartment wasn’t too far from one of the airlocks. “The drone is at the airlock. I can guide the rescue team to the survivors.”

  “Copy that,” Sang replied.

  “Harry, what’s the status of our EVA teams?” Soren asked over his comms.

  “Dressed to the nines,” Harry replied. “We have just enough EVA suits to pass extras to the survivors.”

  “Good fortune for a change,” Soren said.

  "Beginning docking procedures," Sang reported, her voice tight with concentration.

  Soren watched as the two ships slowly closed the remaining distance. There was so little margin for error. So many things could go wrong. But Sang had always been a fantastic pilot, her skills honed by years of experience. And the fighting had shaken off five years of retirement rust in a hurry.

  With a gentle shudder, the Wraith came to rest against the Pinto, the docking clamps engaging to create an airtight seal.

  "Docking successful," Sang said, letting out a breath. "Airlock pressurizing now."

  But as the indicators flashed from red to green, signaling a successful connection, there was a loud bang and a hiss of escaping air.

  "Captain, the airlock door seems to be malfunctioning," Harry growled over the comm. "We can't get it open from this side."

  "Ethan, Lina—get down there on the double," he ordered. "We need that door open yesterday."

  "Aye, Captain," Ethan replied, he and Lina running off the bridge.

  Soren cursed under his breath. Nothing was ever easy, was it? It was a race now. A race against time, against the ticking clock of dwindling air supplies and the looming threat of the enemy's return. Every second counted, every moment the loss of a precious commodity could mean the difference between life and death.

  Soren didn’t allow himself to panic. He had faith in his crew, in their skills and determination. They wouldn’t let him down.

  “Captain, we’ve reached the airlock,” Ethan announced less than a minute later. “We’re looking at it now.”

  “Keep me updated,” Soren replied.

  “Captain,” Bastian said. “I’ve searched another Hermes with Drone One. No survivors.”

  “And the same damage to the core,” Jack added.

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean they targeted the bridge,” Soren replied. “With that many enemy ships firing on them, especially a Rhino, the breaches could be purely circumstantial.”

  “Oh, I agree. But it does make you wonder.”

  “Captain, shall I send Drone One to the enemy ships?” Bastian asked.

  “We’ve completed the sweep of the Naval vessels?”

  “The ones that are still intact enough to possibly have survivors.”

  Soren winced at the statement. Of course, a few of the Hermes had broken apart completely, as had the enemy Rhino. “Go ahead, Bastian.”

  He rested back in his seat while he waited for Lina and Ethan to repair the airlock. His thoughts stayed with the drones searching the enemy wrecks. A part of him hoped they would find only corpses. The idea of enemy combatants on his ship, even as prisoners, left him uneasy.

  But another part, the part that had devoted his life to the Navy and its ideals, knew that they had to look. Even the enemy deserved a chance, the mercy and compassion that separated them from the foes they fought. And what they might be able to learn from an enemy survivor or two could prove invaluable. At the least, they could learn exactly who they were and what they wanted.

  So he waited, his eyes flicking between the viewscreens and the sensor display, his mind racing with a thousand possibilities and contingencies.

  At last, after an eternity that could only have been minutes, Lina's triumphant shout rang out over the comm. "Captain, the airlock is open! Keira and her team are crossing to help the survivors now.”

  “Bastian, swap the feeds from the drones so Drone Two is on the primary,” Soren said.

  “Aye, Captain,” he replied. The camera feeds from the two drones switched places, enlarging Soren’s view of Keira and the civilians moving quickly through the airlock in full EVA suits, magnetic boots keeping them anchored to a rippled deck. Between them, they held down a hovercart loaded with additional suits.

  They followed the drone, hurrying relatively quickly down the passageway and turning right at an intersection to make their way toward the ship’s midsection. They reached the sealed compartment in less than two minutes. Immediately, Keira produced a plasma torch and began cutting through the door.

  “We’ll thin the metal around a small section first,” she instructed Wilf, Tashi, and Asha as she burned the hatch. “When we’re ready, we’ll use a magnet to pull the piece of metal out and hold it. Slip in a suit, cover the hole, and prevent as much air as possible from escaping. Repeat until everyone is suited up or we’re out of air. Got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tashi said.

  “Wilf, you’re in charge of the cutout. Grab the magnet and get ready when I give the go ahead.”

  “I’m ready,” Wilf said, retrieving it from the cart.

  “Tashi, Asha, you’ll pass me the suits to feed through.”

  “You’ve got it, Lieutenant,” Tashi said.

  Keira needed nearly eight minutes to burn through the door. She lowered the cutter and moved back a step. “Wilf, do it. Tashi, suit.”

  Wilf took her place, attaching the magnet to the cut section of the hatch and pulling. It resisted initially, but the metal was still hot and weakened, finally pulling away. Asha handed Keira a space suit, and she shoved it through the hole, careful not to tear it. She motioned to Wilf, and he shoved the cut plate back in place, waiting a minute before repeating the process.