x
Step by step, the warriors moved through the familiar corridors of the Exodus, passing by fellow crew members who babbled excitedly about the upcoming convocation. Some were already clad in their formal warrior attire—crisp and proud, the mark of those who would soon take up arms in defense of the ship.
Jaspar cast a nostalgic glance at the uniforms. They reminded him of his own induction ceremony, though his had been under very different circumstances. Beside him, Saphira carried a pleased expression, though her usual warmth had dimmed slightly.
They entered the Bridge, where Commander Gampu stood before the central space monitor, flanked by his stoic deputy, Oberon, and a younger warrior named Gina. The room, usually filled with a steady hum of controlled chaos, had fallen into a tense, uneasy silence. The crew at their stations seemed frozen in place, waiting. Listening.
Something was wrong.
Jaspar came to a stop across from Oberon, who barely acknowledged him, his gaze locked on the monitor.
"Commander?" Jaspar asked, his tone cool yet edged with concern. "What's the situation?"
Gampu’s voice turned somber and measured. "He’s found us."
Jaspar stiffened, his reply clipped, "Who?"
"Magnus Voss," Deputy Oberon stated, his jaw set in determined resolve. "And his entire fleet is barreling right toward us."
Jaspar scoffed, folding his arms with a wry, relaxed confidence. “Why get down about it? We’ve clashed with his raiders before—and we always come out on top.”
Gampu shook his head slowly, his gaze heavy with resolve. “This isn’t the old hit-and-run, nor is it a scattering of skirmishers. He’s launching an all-out assault on the Exodus—just as Oberon rightly warned. We’re staring down a storm that could tear us apart.”
A chill ran through Jaspar. He stepped forward as Oberon gestured to the space monitor. Saphira, who had been standing just behind him, sucked in a sharp breath.
The screen showed a vast swarm of enemy vessels—more than a hundred, moving in tight formation. The ETA counter ticked down: one hour and thirty-three minutes.
The attack would begin at the exact moment the convocation was set to start. Four thousand passengers gathered in one place. Two thousand warriors taking their oath.
Oberon glanced up at Gampu, searching his face for any trace of reassurance. There was none.
"We’ve missed our final transmission window to the Remnant Council," Gampu said quietly, his voice resonating with the weight of lost eras. "Now, we are adrift—on our own in the vast, cold void."
"This is a full-blown emergency," Oberon said, his tone edged with tension. "We need to kick in the 'Abandon Ship' sequence—engage Egress Protocol Delta now!"
“We don’t do that here,” Gampu replied, his arms crossing with deliberate resolve. “Here, we stand our ground and fight for the Exodus.”
“The manual calls for a retreat when the odds are overwhelming,” Oberon stated in a clipped tone, his words laced with precision.
Gampu’s gaze hardened as he interjected, “That rulebook belongs to a dead era—the Old Empire’s been gone for a thousand years, and there aren’t any battle cruisers lying in wait to assist us. Risk is our business, and it will stay that way until this is over.”
“And if we fail?” Saphira asked, her voice resonant with a quiet, formidable strength.
“The Professor will take command,” Gampu declared, his tone deep and unwavering, echoing the weight of commanding a giant starship. His gaze shifted to Gina, who had maintained her silence until now. "And why are you here, exactly?" he asked, his tone a blend of practical inquiry and gentle concern.
“I was the one who spotted them first,” Gina said. “I was running a patrol with R7-D3 finishing up my pilot training. We caught them moving in from the shadow of a dead star.” She rubbed her shoulder uneasily. “It seems today is the day Voss finally avenges his last defeat.”
Gampu gave a firm shake of his head. “Perish the thought! Such an outcome is simply not in the cards.” He then turned to Oberon, his expression resolute. “We require every pilot at our disposal—every last one.”
“No rookies,” Oberon said firmly, his tone leaving no room for debate. “This isn’t a drill, and it sure as hell isn’t a training exercise. Only the best—only those who’ve been through the fire—are coming on this run.”
Saphira arched a brow, her voice sharp yet composed. “You’re telling me it’s just the four of us?”
“Three,” Gampu interjected smoothly, his tone both commanding and reassuring. “The professor will remain aboard—to safeguard the ship and ensure our warriors have a home to return to.”
A junior flight officer at the bridge console cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Commander,” he said hesitantly. “According to the Ops Matrix, Professor Fenn is currently logged in under auxiliary tasks… specifically, programming the graduation holograms.”
Gampu ignored the remark and turned to Gina. “Go to the professor’s lab. Inform him that he’s in command. Then go to the convocation ceremony.”
“And pretend we don’t all know that we might die today?” Gina asked, looking between them. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“Every day we survive out here is a gamble,” Gampu said. “You can tell your family—after we win.”
Gina hesitated, then nodded and left the bridge.
Jaspar exhaled slowly. “I have an idea how we can take them down.”
Oberon gave him a sharp look. “Ideas are all we have right now, Ronan.”
Ronan smirked grimly. “Good. Because this one’s never been tried against an entire fleet before.”
“Debrief us,” Gampu said. “On the way to the docking bay.”
And with that, they moved.
