Keira was shoving her fourth suit into the opening when she turned back to Tashi and Asha, requesting the other suits because the compartment was out of air. They passed them through as quickly as possible before Keira picked up the plasma torch again, working to enlarge the opening.

  The process felt like it took forever, though only fifteen minutes had passed before the survivors slipped through the bigger hole, embracing his crew members as they emerged.

  The last man out came with the sixth suit in hand rather than a fellow crew member. He shook his head sadly.

  Soren’s jaw clenched. Damn it. They had lost one because they were too slow.

  “Captain,” Keira announced. “We’re bringing the survivors aboard now!"

  “Sang, as soon as our airlock is closed, disengage the clamps and get us to Vaunted.”

  “Aye, Captain,” she replied.

  “Captain,” Bastian said. “I’ve searched the first Valkyrie. No survivors.”

  “Carry on, Bastian.”

  “We’re all aboard,” Keira announced a minute later. “Airlock is closed.”

  “Disengaging clamps,” Sang said. The ship shuddered again as Wraith released Pinto from its grip. Sang fired vectoring thrusters, moving the ship away before adding the lightest touch to the main engines. They burned and drifted, vectored and burned again before resuming the drift, crossing the gap between the two ships in ten minutes.

  “Captain, all of the rescued Naval personnel from Pinto are in sickbay,” Asha reported. “I’m checking them now.”

  “Thank you, Asha,” Soren replied.

  “Captain, none of the airlocks appear to be usable,” Sang said as they neared Vaunted. Soren could see it for himself. The ship was too damaged, the airlocks bent and twisted with the rest of the hull or shorn entirely away.

  “Mark, Bobby,” Soren said, contacting them over the comms. “You’ll need to cross open space to get into Vaunted.”

  “Copy that, Captain,” Mark replied.

  “Sang, can you maneuver us into a position closer to Spacer Otano’s location?”

  “I’ll do my best,” she replied.

  The Wraith approached the broken flagship at a crawl, short bursts of vectoring thrust pushing different sections of the craft so that it angled, turned, and rolled around the stricken vessel. It took longer to maneuver this way, but they would make the time back with a faster retrieval.

  “We’re in position, Captain,” Sang finally announced.

  “Mark, Bobby, go!” Soren barked.

  He put the camera feed near the airlock on the tertiary viewscreen and watched as the two men pushed out from the airlock, firing maneuvering jets to guide themselves across the black and into a gaping wound in the Vaunted. Drone Two joined them inside, Bastian leading them from their entry place to the sealed compartment.

  Mark and Bobby set to work with a plasma torch, cutting through the hatch the same way Keira had on Pinto. It took nearly three minutes before they passed the suit through.

  “Captain…” Mark said as they did. “There’s no air flow from the compartment.”

  Soren’s gut clenched. “There might be too little to detect, enough to breathe.”

  Mark ducked low to peer into the opening they had made. He sighed ruefully into the comms. “I’m sorry, Captain. He’s already dead. We were too slow to reach him.”

  Soren stared at the viewscreens, but he didn’t really see them. Otano’s loss was on his head. He should have dropped Mark and Bobby off at Vaunted, moved to Pinto, and returned to pick them up.

  “Acknowledged,” he replied at last. “Standby.”

  “Soren,” Jack said. “I can guess what you’re thinking. It’s not your fault.”

  “Like hell, it isn’t. As soon as I spoke to him, he was my responsibility. He was counting on me, and I let him down.”

  “We don’t know how much oxygen he had left. He might have died before we reached him, even if we had tried to rescue him first. You just don’t know.”

  Soren sighed heavily. “Right. Mark, Bobby—redirect to Vaunted’s ammunition storage area. Bastion, guide Drone Two to the hangar bay. Let’s see if any of the shuttles survived.”

  The others acknowledged the request. Soren rose to his feet.

  “Captain, the second enemy Valkyrie is searched,” Bastian said. “No survivors.”

  “Did we breach their core, also?” Jack asked.

  “Negative, Admiral. It appears they opened the blast doors to allow the atmosphere to vent.”

  A chill shot down Soren’s spine. “They killed themselves?”

  “It appears that way, Captain.”

  “They really didn’t want to be taken prisoner,” Jack said.

  Soren nodded. “But why?” Did they want to remain anonymous that badly? Other than that, it was a question none of them could answer. Maybe the data recorder could offer them a clue. If they could find it. “I’ll be in sickbay. Jack, you have the conn. I’m giving us four hours to load as much ordnance and supplies from the derelict ships as we can, and that includes the enemy Valkyries. I also want Vaunted’s data recorder, and the recorders from their ships. There may be intel on them that we can use.”

  “I’ll make it so, Captain,” Jack said.

  Soren hurried off the bridge to check on his new crew members. He hadn’t saved Spaceman Otano or the sixth spacer on the Pinto, but he had saved five others.

  That was something, at least.

  CHAPTER 33

  Soren stepped into sickbay, still upset with himself for the loss of Spacer Otano. The bright lights and sterile white walls felt at odds with the somber mood that clung to him like a dark shroud. But as his gaze fell on the survivors from the Pinto, huddled together on examination tables, a flicker of relief pierced through the gloom.

  Asha looked up from where she was tending to one of the injured crew members. Beside her, Wilf hovered anxiously, ready to assist in any way he could.

  "Captain," Asha greeted him, straightening. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I came to see how our rescuees are doing, and personally welcome them aboard,” he replied. “So, how are they doing?”

  "Stable, for now," Asha replied. "But some of their injuries..." She shook her head, her expression grim. “They’re more challenging than anything I worked on at the clinic in the Dregs. I’m not sure I’m up to the task.”

  Soren put a hand on her shoulder, meeting her gaze. “I have complete faith that you’ll do everything you can. That’s all any of us can do.”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you, Captain.”

  Soren's gaze swept over the survivors, taking in their battered uniforms and haunted eyes. He picked out Yeoman First Class Noguchi by the insignia and name on his uniform. The man looked to be in the best shape of anyone in the group.

  “Yeoman Noguchi,” Soren said, walking towards him.

  Hiraku stood as Soren approached, his posture stiff with pain but his voice strong. "Captain Strickland," he said, coming to attention. "I can't begin to thank you for what you've done. For saving us."

  A lump formed in Soren’s throat. “At ease, please. I only wish we could have done more," he said softly. "I'm so sorry for those you've lost."

  A shadow passed over Hiraku's face, grief etched into every line. "They were good people," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "The best. They didn't deserve this."

  "No, they didn’t. No one does," Soren agreed, placing a hand on the Yeoman's shoulder. "But we'll make sure their sacrifice wasn't in vain. We'll find out who did this, and we'll make them pay."

  Hiraku met his gaze, a fire kindling in his eyes. "Captain, what you did out there...taking on those enemy ships, all by yourself...it was incredible. I've never seen anything like it."

  Soren shook his head. "It wasn't just me. It was my crew, this ship. We all did it together."

  "Still," Hiraku insisted. "Your arrival, it was like a miracle. Like a ghost rising from the depths to avenge the fallen."

  Soren thought of the moniker he had earned so long ago, now also the name of his ship. Maybe there was something to it after all. "We'll do our best to continue avenging the fallen,” he promised. “Can you introduce me to the others in your crew?”

  “Of course, Captain,” Hiraku replied. He pointed first to a dark-haired woman, lean and rough-looking, her expression tired and nervous. “Petty Officer Third Class Sophie Dubois,” he said. “She’s a maintenance tech. Sophie, this is Captain Soren Strickland.”

  “Captain,” she replied. “It’s an honor to meet you. Thank you for coming to our aid.”

  “I’m glad we made it in time. Welcome aboard.”

  “And this is Gunner’s Mate First Class Mei Ling.”

  Soren turned to a nearly shaven bald woman, thin as a rail, all muscle. She had a bandage on her forehead. The blood still seeping through it suggested a nasty gash. “Welcome aboard, Petty Officer Ling.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” she replied simply.

  “The two in their own rooms are Chief Petty Officer Raj Patel, our lead maintenance tech, and Petty Officer Third Class Aiko Tanaka, an electrical tech.”

  He turned to Asha, his expression serious. "How bad are their injuries?" he asked, already dreading the answer.

  Asha bit her lip, glancing at the patients. "Aiko has internal bleeding, and Raj...his leg is badly mangled. I think enough time in the healing pod can restore it, but..." She trailed off, the unspoken hanging heavy in the air.

  "Do what you can," he said, meeting Asha's gaze. "If there's anything else you need, anything at all, just ask."

  Asha managed a small smile, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thank you, Captain. Wilf and I will do our best."

  Soren turned back to the survivors, his voice ringing with quiet authority. "You're safe on the Wraith," he told them. "You're among friends. We'll get you patched up and back on your feet. In the meantime, let me show you to your quarters.”

  The three survivors fell into step beside him as he led them out of sickbay and down the Wraith's austere corridors. Sophie’s broken arm had been set and cast, a form-fitting sling holding it securely to her chest. Mei leaned heavily on Hiraku, her exhaustion clear in every line of her body.

  As they walked, Hiraku glanced around, taking in the stripped-down, unfinished state of the ship. "The Wraith," he said, wonder in his voice. "I've never heard of or seen a ship like this before. Where did it come from? Is it experimental?”

  Soren nodded. "Something like that," he said. "She's a work in progress, but she's got teeth. As you saw out there."

  Hiraku shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "You can say that again. The way you tore through those enemy ships...I've never seen anything like it.”

  "Neither have they, I'd wager," Soren replied. "It's our ace in the hole. But I'm afraid the accommodations aren't quite up to par with the armaments, but at least it's a place to rest your heads"

  They reached the crew quarters, a series of small, sparse rooms with little more than bare bulkheads and exposed wiring. Soren winced, suddenly self-conscious of the berthing's unfinished state.

  "I apologize for the lack of amenities," he said. "We had to leave in a bit of a hurry, and we didn't have time to stock up on creature comforts."

  Sophie managed a tired smile. "Captain, after what we've been through, a bare floor would feel like a feather bed. We're just grateful to be alive."

  Soren felt a swell of admiration for these people, for their resilience in the face of such horror. "In that case, make yourselves at home, as much as you can. The head is down the hall, left at the junction. Chow is up one deck.”

  Hiraku and Mei vanished into two of the rooms. Sophie paused in the doorway of her quarters, turning back to Soren.

  "Captain," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I just wanted to say...thank you again. For everything. I know it couldn't have been an easy decision, throwing yourself into a fight like that for a bunch of strangers."

  Soren shook his head. "You're not strangers," he said firmly. "You're Navy. That makes you family. And we take care of our own."

  Sophie ducked her head, blinking back tears. "Still," she whispered. "Thank you."

  Soren nodded and watched her disappear into her room, his heart heavy with the weight of responsibility for the lives now in his hands. He activated his comms patch with a sigh. "Harry, we're going to need some supplies sent to the crew quarters. Mattresses, blankets, anything you can scrounge up.”

  "On it, Captain," the quartermaster replied. "I'll grab Tashi and we'll get it sorted."

  “Thank you,” Soren said. He cut the connection and returned to the bridge, the familiar hum of the consoles and the low murmur of voices washing over him.

  Jack looked up from where he'd been conferring with Lina, a question in his eyes. "The survivors?" he asked.

  "Alive," Soren replied. "Which is more than I can say for most of Recon Three. Asha's working on the worst of the injured now."

  Jack nodded, his expression grim. "It's a damn mess out there," he said. "But we're not coming away empty handed."

  Soren raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

  A grin tugged at Jack's weathered face. "Sang took a couple of the crew over to the Vaunted, to see what they could salvage. Looks like Karlov had a pair of shuttles tucked away in the hangar bay, and they’re both operational. It’s making transferring supplies a hell of a lot easier. And faster.”

  "That's the first good news I've heard all day," Soren said, sinking into the command chair. "What about the data recorders?"

  “Mark is retrieving Vaunted’s as we speak,” Jack replied. “Keira’s leading a team to retrieve them from the enemy wrecks. With any luck, they'll hold some answers for us."

  Soren nodded, his gaze drawn to the viewscreen where the shattered remains of the battle still drifted. The sleek forms of the Wraith's drones flitted among the debris, their cameras feeding back images of the ongoing salvage operation.

  He watched as the teams moved through the ravaged ship, magnetic boots keeping them anchored in the zero-G. They worked quickly and efficiently, loading supplies and equipment onto the waiting shuttle. Food, medical supplies, personal hygiene items, spare parts, ammunition—anything and everything they could get their hands on, including some pieces of intact furniture.

  It was dark, depressing work, picking through the bones of the dead. But it was necessary. The Wraith was badly under-equipped, and they needed every scrap of resources they could muster if they would have a chance to survive out here long enough to find Dana and rescue Alex.

  The hours ticked by, the bridge crew monitoring the operation, relaying orders and updates. Soren felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly as the shuttle made run after run, the Wraith’s hangar bay filling with precious cargo.

  At last, Asha's voice came over the comms, weary but triumphant. "Captain, I have excellent news. Both Aiko and Raj are stable, and I expect them to make a full recovery."

  "That's fantastic news, Asha. Well done. And Wilf, thank you for your assistance."

  "I didn't do much," Wilf replied, but his voice held a note of pride.

  He cut the connection, turning to Jack with a nod. "Have Tashi and Ethan start on those vortex cannon modifications. I want that system up and running as soon as possible."

  “They’re already on it," Jack confirmed. “They expect to have it operational within the next six hours.”

  Soren was about to reply when Keira's voice came over the comms. "Captain, we've got the data recorders from the enemy Valkyries, and some other goodies, too.”

  "Good work, Keira," Soren said.

  The bridge descended into silence as they waited for the teams to complete their missions. Soren watched the drone feeds intently, keeping a vigilant eye on the suited figures moving through the gutted ships.

  The shuttles launched from Vaunted and one of the enemy Valkyries, the drones trailing along with them. Soren watched them both vanish into Wraith’s hangar bay.

  A few minutes later, Keira stepped onto the bridge, clutching the trio of data recorders—fist-sized black boxes in hardened shells, stuffed with petabytes of data.

  “Captain,” she said, holding the trio up by their connectors. “Your prizes.”

  Soren couldn’t help smiling in response to the fishing reference. “Thank you, Keira. Jack, I want you and Lina to work on accessing the data on those devices.”

  “Of course,” Jack replied. He took the recorders from Keira and brought them with him to Lina’s station so they could work on the access.

  Harry's voice came over the comms, a note of satisfaction in his tone. "Captain, I'm happy to report we've got quite the haul here. Enough ammunition to load all our railgun mounts and then some, and missiles to fill our launch tubes twice over."

  Soren felt a grin tug at his lips. "That's what I like to hear. Any other goodies?”

  "Well, they brought over a proper bed for your quarters. Should be a sight more comfortable than sleeping on the floor. We’ve got a few desk chairs, some tables and chairs, some pots, pans and dishes for the main chow hall, and we managed to scrounge up a few things for the recreation room, too. A dartboard, two couches, a couple decks of cards, a few entertainment tablets, even a chess set and some real books. Now, all we need to do is find somebody on board who can cook something besides stew.”

  Soren chuckled. "The crew will appreciate that, that's for sure." And he was sure he would appreciate the books, probably part of Karlov’s collection.

  “Soren,” Jack said. “We have access to Vaunted’s recorder.”

  “That quickly?” Soren replied, standing and joining him and Lina at her console.

  “My keys still work on this one,” Jack replied.

  “I’m interested in communication logs,” Soren said. “If there’s anything we don’t already know.”

  “Let’s see what we can find,” Lina said. They sifted through the communications logs, quickly locating Karlov's initial assessment of the situation as he reported to Admiral Montoya…