Angels of Erebos

Every muscle in Tab’s body screamed as she careened around a wall, barely seeing the next hurdle in time to leap. She stumbled, recovering with a clumsy roll, but before she could regain her balance the floor rose up beneath her. Her feet slipped, drenched in sweat like the rest of her body, and she tumbled to the gym floor.

“Get up,” Blane ordered.

She tried to push herself to her feet and blacked out, collapsing on herself.

He rolled his eyes and walked over. “Get up.” He kicked her in the ribs.

Tab groaned and crawled forward, unable to get her feet under her.

“Come on.”  His voice was cold and threatening. “Not going to kill any ice rats laying there, are we?”

She slowly brought herself to her knees and looked up at him through hazy eyes. “What do you want from me?”

“Just trying to burn it into your body that what you said won’t be tolerated on my ship. Or, for that matter, in my range of hearing.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, her breathing ragged.

“Kalric are just like you and me, and those two are nothing more than a man and his kid making a life for themselves. The person you called an ice rat was the peace officer in that town,” Blane said as he reset the room to a blank state. “You need to get that ASAF brainwashing out of your head and realize this war is full of assholes on both sides. There isn’t a single thing they haven’t done that I couldn’t point out us being worse. Hell, we even started the hyperspace wars.”

She wiped the sweat out of her eyes. “What?” Those wars were the first lesson given to every new recruit in Basic, and were used as a constant reminder of what was at stake if they lost too much ground.

“Again,” he continued, “don’t believe everything you hear. I’m sure Lander will do a better job of explaining it than me. I enlisted to protect those who needed it, not just the central planets and the people who throw away Kai Yang’s life because he isn’t useful anymore.”

She flinched, still half-waiting for him to shoot her. “Yes, Sir. It won’t happen again.”

“You just keep in mind that the ASA isn’t some shining beacon of hope: it’s a good idea covered in layers of bullshit and greed. We’re just fighting in hopes that some of those good ideas come to the surface.” Blane offered Tab his hand and she pulled herself to her feet, her legs unsteady beneath her. “Shake it off, I don’t want you trembling in my cockpit later.”

She straightened her back. “It’s never happened before, Sir.”

The refugees formed a slow, sad procession down the hall of the Revenant. By the carts that Pyr was guiding behind them, most hadn’t been able to bring much more than was in their pockets. Tab looked at Dusty when they reached them, not sure what she was supposed to do.

“Just get them settled down and help figure out what all they need, and will need once we drop them.”

“Which is more work than it sounds like when you’re used to a full crew.” A soldier in white and blue armor walked up and nodded to Tab. “Master Sergeant Nima Attar, callsign Cliffhanger, crew calls  me Cliff. I’m the Angels’ medic.” He turned to Dusty. “I didn’t think Blane would let her out.”

“Yeah, well, she ran her mouth and Blane is in a foul mood now.”

Cliff smiled. “I guess it’s two extra pairs of hands for me. The most important thing right now is that they feel safe. They just lost a lot and aren’t sure what comes next. A place to sleep, food, maybe something warm to drink. Let me know if you see anything that could require medical attention. We can work on details when Blane finishes with their leaders.”

They came to one of the ship’s unused bunkrooms. Pyr started helping the refugees organize, spreading the two dozen or so people throughout the large room so that they would each have some space. “Tab,” he said, “you’re on blankets.”He nodded to the supply cabinet by the door.

They were the same thin blankets that every military carrier had, though these had seen significantly less wear than most. She grabbed as many as she could hold with one arm and started at the front of the room. Most of the refugees didn’t talk to her much, looking scared or lost, and she didn’t press any of them. She reached the very last row, where a young Human man lay on the bottom bunk, his eyes closed.

“Excuse me,” she said, “would you like a blanket?”

“Sure.” He sat up and knocked on the bunk above him. “Shiro?”

A small, tapered muzzle peeked over the edge of the bed.

“Nope,” it chirped. “Not cold.”

It took Tab a moment to realize she was looking at a Kalric child.

The young man smiled apologetically. “Just leave another, she’ll want it later. If her father lets her, she’ll take half a dozen and make a nest.”

Her father? The Kalric from the bridge, probably. Tab’s pulse began to quicken again; what would he say about her being this close to his child? What would Blane say? She doubted she would get a chance to explain.

The red-blond furball launched down from the top bunk. “Can I?” she asked, crouching with one hand on the floor and looking up at Tab. She would have come up to Tab’s chest standing upright, however old that made her.

“I, uh, I don’t see why not,” Tab said. “We have plenty to spare. If that’s alright,” she asked the man.

“Go ahead,” he said. “I’m just keeping an eye on her until Chel gets back, and he won’t mind.”

“Here you go, then.” She forced a smile and placed the rest of the blankets she was holding on the bunk before walking to the front of the room. She stopped next to Dusty and Pyr. “Will I be in more trouble if I stay or if I leave?”

Tab walked with her eyes ahead of her and her shoulders rigid. It was the kind of thing jackass infantrymen used to brag about their kill counts, not something you said to a person’s face. But she had never been face-to-face with a Kalric before. And for a moment, she had been genuinely scared, and her current edginess wasn’t entirely from having a gun to her head.

“Blane must really like you, or else you’d be dead,” Dusty said, glancing over his shoulder as if Blane might hear him. “If I were you I’d make sure to never say anything like that again.”

“I won’t.” Her voice was hollow.

“Good.”

She glanced at him. “What do you do around here?”

“Other than charm all the women on board with my devilishly good looks? I am the demo man. Don’t listen to the others, though. I am not as big a pyromaniac as they make me out to be.”

She nodded. “Stuff like this happen often?” she said, glancing back towards the bridge.

“The Kalrick, or taking people on board?”

She shrugged.

“There was a pretty bad conflict on Thenzon,” he said. “We were supposed to clean it up and leave no evidence, but there a small town caught in the middle and we couldn’t just leave them to die or kill them ourselves.”

“Thenzon?” She asked. “You were at 446?” He nodded. “I was told we were pulling out of this part of the galaxy.”

Astral’s voice came over the speakers again. “We’re home safe, just waiting for the hangar to pressurize. Get us out of here, Spec.”

A few minutes later, she walked onto the bridge. She was small, with bronze skin and pale green armor, and she bumped Blane’s arm with her elbow when she passed him. A man wearing rust-red armor entered behind her, followed by a few Humans and Brall in civilian clothes.

“Astral and Dusty, meet the new Tab,” Blane said, nodding to her.

“Well, Phoenix never said we’d have such a good looking new pilot.” Dusty said with a boyish grin as he leaned against the wall near Tab. “Name’s Dustin Quinn, but everyone calls me Dusty anyways.”

She was about to reply when the last person came through the door. They stood a foot taller than any of the humans, towering over the Brall, covered in speckled ruddy fur with a predatory muzzle and dark eyes.

“Fuckin’ ice rat,” Tab hissed, stepping back against the wall.

In an instant Blane pulled his sidearm and had it Tab’s temple.

“You ever say that on my ship again and your IQ drops through the floor.”

“Yessir,” she stammered, lowering her eyes.

“What is your name, Kalric?”

“Chelatar vak’Alralith.” His voice was a cautious growl that sent chills through Tab’s spine.

“Apologize at once to Chelatar for your lack of a fucking brain and then go assist Cliffhanger.  Take Dusty so he can keep an eye on you.” 

Tab looked up at the Kalric and straightened her back. “I’m sorry,” she said, her heart still pounding in her ears. “That was... completely wrong of me.”

Chelatar gave her a steady look but didn’t respond. Tab glanced at Dusty, who nodded and led the way. Tab followed, tensing as she passed through the door.

“Sorry about that,” Blane said as he holstered his pistol. “I promise the rest of my crew is far more welcoming and I’ll keep the girl away from you for the rest of your stay.”

“Thank you,” Chelatar said gruffly.

“No need, officer. She just hasn’t had much if any interaction with Kalric outside the battlefield.” 

The prefix to a Kalric’s surname was an indication of his profession. He inclined his head in appreciation at the title. “Perhaps we should move on to more pressing business.”

“Agreed. There are three planets we could drop you and your people off at.” The holoscreen brought them up. “And it would be best you find some story as to how you got there that doesn’t involve the truth or you’ll be in a worse situation than we found you in.”

Tab woke slowly, the drug-induced sleep easing off so she wouldn’t panic when she found herself submerged. Her vision was distorted by the full-face mask, but the figure standing beside the tank wore Lander’s dark green. She moved her fingers first, working the sluggishness out of them. The harness kept her from moving much else. Her leg was still sore, but it was the dull pain of a healing injury.

“I’m pulling you out now,” Lander’s voice crackled in her ear.

She relaxed into the harness and the fluid began to drain from the tank. Once it was empty, the bindings released. Tab sat up, removing the mask and IV as the clear walls lowered into the base.

“We are about to pick up the team and there have been some complications.”

She slid to the side of the tub, tested her weight on her bad leg,  and grabbed a towel off the shelf. “What kind of complications?”

“They are bringing company. Get suited up and meet us on the bridge.”

She finished drying off her shoulder-length hair. “I’ll be quick.”

When she was mostly dry, Tab pulled on her newly-cleaned flex suit and started attaching her armor. The mods that had been damaged were repaired and her helmet had a new visor, but everything else felt the same. Once the last piece was in place, she clipped her helmet to her belt and jogged to the bridge.

Blane glanced over at Tab when she entered.

“You’re slow.”

“I wasn’t sure how much stress I could put on my leg immediately, Sir,” she said.

Spec, piloting without her helmet for the first time since Tab had joined them, smirked.

“Don’t really care if it broke again,” Blane said. “When I send for you, I want you here before the words leave my mouth.”

Tab moved to the edge of the room. “Yes, Sir.”

“Ninety seconds out,” a female voice said over the intercom. An ID number flashed on the navigation panel.

“Alright, Astral,” Spec said. The ship started to decelerate. “You hot?”

“Negative. Didn’t leave anyone to follow us.” She spoke with the soft, open accent of a Brall or one who had been raised around them.

“Good. Come in nice and easy.”

“Don’t tell me how to fly, Spec.”

Tab watched the screen. The smaller ship was approaching fast, faster than any transport she had been on would have authorized, but this sounded more like banter than any real concern on Spec’s part.

“She just knows you too well,” Blane said. “Now, please don’t have a cat fight over my airwaves.”

There was a pause.

“Roger that, Phoenix,” Astral said. “All business from here on out.”

Blane rolled his eyes. “Bring the ones you messaged about up to the bridge when you dock.” 

“Should I leave the rest in the hangar or show them in?”

“Cliff will take them to their quarters.”

“Alright,” Astral said. “Spec, are you going to let me in or do I have to knock on the door?”

“We’re wide open. Try not to break anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Spec glanced back at Blane and switched off her mic. “If she messes this up, I warned you.”

“Noted.”

Spec adjusted their course slightly, staying even with the smaller craft.

Pyr stepped forward. “Would you like me here or should I help Cliff with our guests?”

“Go help with Cliff,” Blane said, “and make sure Astral gets up here in a timely fashion.”

Blane was curious to see how this would play out. Spec had thought it would be an interesting test, but he honestly couldn’t tell if that was her motive or if she wanted to see Tab hurt. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said. He wasn’t sure how skilled she was, but he knew it was going to be bad. This was to see exactly what he had to work with.

She shifted her weight and lunged towards him, the strength of her armor propelling her forward and closing the gap. Blane dodged her blow by a deliberately narrow margin and countered with a haymaker that took her in the helmet’s jaw. In an instant his hand was on the back of her head and brought her down onto his knee.

Her visor cracked from the blow. She managed to stumble to her feet and try counter with a roundhouse kick but Blane was already in the middle of a low kick.

Tab rolled to her feet, keeping her shoulders compact, her next jabs aimed at his abdomen. Blane dodged her first strike, but the second took him off guard and there was no time to block but he allowed his body to fall backward, lessening the impact. His armor’s balance systems kicked in and he recovered, delivering a strong kick to her mid-section.

Tab’s armor locked up, distributing the force through the rest of her torso. Blane moved forward, bringing his foot down on her shin as she fell back. She gasped in pain, the dull ache in her head and chest overpowered by the screaming pain coming from her leg. Once her armor released, she pushed herself up and ripped the cracked mod off of, the rest of her armor snapping into alignment and locking from the hip down.

“That was about as bad as I expected,” Blane said. Spec walked up beside him.

Tab looked up at them through her cracked visor. Lander had said this was a test of her character as much as her skill, and she couldn’t just sit there, defeated. “At least it wasn’t worse than you expected, Sir.” Her voice shook on the last few words.

Spec shifted her weight, her visor locked on Tab.

“Suppose so,” Blane said. That was a better response then he had been expecting. “Go get yourself cleaned up and in the med tank.”

“Yes, Sir.” She brought up her good leg, pivoting as she stood up. The locked armor would keep the break stable and support her weight, but it didn’t make walking easy or comfortable. As she moved she felt that her knee had been damaged as well. She removed her helmet and clipped it to her belt, shuffle-limping out of the room. The door swung closed behind her.

“What did you think?” Blane asked Spec.

“She might not be completely worthless,” Spec said, taking off her helmet. “If we can work with the fight in her.”

That was something at least. Spec wasn’t easily impressed. “What do you suggest we do about that?”

She shrugged. “You’re the one who has been working with her.”

“And you are supposed to me help me.”

“Then tell me what we’re working with,” she said. “Screech wouldn’t have gone for someone without any life in them, but until just now I haven’t seen any in her.”

“She is a good little soldier girl who just started to question the world around her. Not really sure what Screech saw in her, to tell you the truth, but I am starting to think there is something.”

Spec walked over to the wall and opened one of the supply cabinets.“How long are you leaving her in the tank?”

It was going to take a while for that leg to heal, even with the biogen fluid. “'Till we hit atmo to pick up the others. I’d better send Lander to make sure she gets in the tank in the first place.”

When Tab returned to the gym, Spec was standing beside Blane with her arms crossed, face hidden behind her black visor. Tab’s old armor was in pieces on one of the tables.

“We are going to move on today, and see where we stand with you as a whole,” Blane said, gesturing to the armor. She walked over to the table and pulled on her flex suit. It felt a bit tighter than it had been, but still had plenty of give. She snapped the armor mods into place and tested the joints before turning towards Blane and Spec.

“Do you know what pilots are weakest at?” he asked, flexing the joints of his  black and gold armor. 

 “Hand-to-hand.”

“Right,” he said. “That is an issue with me. Do you know what I did before joining this program?”

“Not specifically, Sir, no.” She had followed the press on the Battle for Kaith closely, but the details had been fuzzy.

“Kaith was no heroic decision among the units dropped into its battlefields in the last hours,” Blane said. “That was our job. We were dropped in pods onto battlefields that were losing and overrun in order to get a foothold back, or to buy time for figureheads and ASA leaders to get to safety. Screech was one of the pilots, and I was one of the troops.” 

Tab nodded slowly; units like that were no secret, but they had been officially disbanded decades before, when it was decided they looked a little too much like kamikazes.

“What I learned there is you don’t always have a gun, or enough ammo to last. When that happens you better make sure you can fight better than the army thought you.” Blane moved to the center of the room and waited for her to square off. “So, lets go.”

Tab trudged into the mess hall and nodded to Lander, who was sitting alone as usual. The last few days were a blur of pain and exhaustion, and she understood what Lander had said the first day about tearing her down to her core. She wasn’t just getting stronger, how she moved was changing.

She grabbed one of the boxed meals off their rack, taking a drink as it heated. Once it was done she sat down across from Lander. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said as he darted  through information on his ICC. “You look less sore than usual.”

She nodded as she started to eat. “I’m starting to get used to it.”

“I wouldn’t let him in on that fact or it’ll get worse.”

“I know,” Tab said. Lander was the only one on board who she was comfortable around. Pyr was polite but distant, and she hadn’t spoken to Blane outside of training or Spec at all.

“He’ll let up sooner or later, when you do whatever it is that makes him realize you are in for the long haul. Blane really isn’t the monstrous asshole he is coming off as.”

“Thanks,” she said. She wanted to ask if the rest of the crew would ease up as well, but she was too new for those kinds of questions. “I haven’t been able to figure it all out, though. It’s not just training, but it feels like there’s something more going on than him testing me.”

Lander eyed her for a moment, for the first time really looking at her rather than his ICC. “You could say that.”

She rested her arms on the table. “That’s cryptic.”

“I like being cryptic; it’s sort of a hobby.”

“Seems like it’s hard to get anything straight out of anyone here.”

“That is an understatement.”

“Is that just the way it is or is it because I’m the rookie?”

“Rookie?” he asked. “You’re not even a team member yet, you’re just a Tab. We burn through those so fast we barely count you as here.”

“Right,” she said, looking down at what was left of her meal. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Don’t worry, if you weren’t on your way Blane would have shot you by now.”

“He keeps threatening.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Last Tab nearly got some of the crew killed because of his cockiness and ego,” Lander said. “Spec, Dusty and myself nearly didn’t make it and Blane had to pull us out. When it was pretty clear Tab hadn’t learned his lesson, Blane put a bullet in his head. Might have been the easy way out, really, given he likely would have ended up in prison for life anyways.”

“Noted,” she said. It seemed harsh, but not unfair, and not surprising given what little she had learned about the program in the last few days.

“Blane is very protective of the team. He’d take a bullet for any one of us. No one, not even the team itself,  puts us in unnecessary danger.”

Tab straightened. “So can you tell me what’s up with it?” she asked. “If it’s not just conditioning, and it’s not just a test?”

Lander sighed and thought a while before answering. “The most basic instincts of a living being. Fight or Flight. Humans tend to put too much thought and logic in their actions, and the military trains us to stay calm when other people would panic and run off instinct, but if you get anyone to their breaking point they have to make a decision. He wants to see who you really are, and is waiting for the answer.”

“Why in the world did you want to join up here anyways?”

“You didn’t give me a real choice, did you?” she said, gasping for air between words.

“Bullshit reasoning.” The gravity raised again. “There is always a choice, you could have said no. That simple: No. See?”

“No,” she grunted. “You drew me... into a corner. Only thing that might have kept me was Kai. Which is the same reason I felt like I had to go.”

Blane took off his helmet and gave her a flat, hard look. “Don’t give me that crap excuse. I didn’t draw you into anything, and Kai didn’t jump into your head and make you speak. Grew up and take responsibility for your actions. Either you wanted to go, or somehow were bullied into it by a man who didn’t give a rat’s ass if you came or not.”

She vaulted over a hurdle, stumbling but keeping her feet. This wasn’t about why she was here. It was about her thinking under pressure, and so far she had failed.

“I was sick of being bottom-rung, only given real responsibility when they didn’t have anyone else to push it off to. Sick of feeling helpless. I told you, I joined the military to be part of helping people, and I didn’t feel like I was. And for any doubts, if Darian stood by something, I trust his judgement. Never led me wrong before. Just had to believe you were telling the truth about him.”

“You didn’t know the man then, he was full of bad judgement. That idiot nearly got us killed more often than not, he just had a certain flare for last-minute saves.”

The obstacles were rising faster and closer together, which didn’t give her much time to plan a path. Her feet slipped as she dodged around a wall only to slam into a hurdle, sprawling across the ground. She pressed her hand to her thigh as she scrambled back to her feet, her gait uneven.

“You are going to have to get a lot better than this if you plan on helping people. We’ll whip you into shape or kill you trying.”

A slicing pain shot through her leg as she swerved around a wall, and her weight came down hard on her knees. She tried to push herself to her feet again and crumbled forward.

“While you’re down there give me me fifty.”

 She groaned as she straightened out and pushed herself up, her arms already quivering from her weight. She lowered herself down and pushed up again, counting aloud.

“Well you are either resilient or stupid, and I’m fine with either. That is enough, go get something to eat and meet me back here in two hours.”

Tab stepped into the training room, already on her guard. It was an open gym, a pattern of lines on the floor where structures could be raised for simulations and training, a climbing wall, gear racks. A soldier she didn’t recognize stood in the room’s center, wearing black assault armor and a full-face gold visor.

“We’re going to see how good you are,” Blane’s voice came through the speakers of the armor. “First, I want to test your physical fitness. Don’t care how good a pilot you are if you aren’t any other use to me.”

She nodded and walked towards him. “What am I doing, Sir?”

“Strip and run laps ‘til you can’t anymore.”

She started removing armor mods as she walked over to a table, laying each of them down before peeling off her flex suit. she wore gray shorts and an undershirt, her feet bare. She exercised out of armor regularly, but that was mostly for maintenance. Her strength wasn’t physical, not compared to someone like him.

She started running around the perimeter of the room without waiting for another order, trying to make a good pace without exhausting herself too quickly.

“See, the issue with you pilots is that you can’t hold your own in a real fight,” Blane said. “Screech was the same way, but at least I knew I could trust him when push came to shove.”

Tab felt herself getting heavier and glanced over at him. He had a tablet in hand, manipulating the room’s isolated gravity field. She grunted and started running harder, pumping her legs to counter the increase in weight.

She hadn’t done any serious endurance training in a while, and it didn’t take long for her to slow. The floor began whirring, and a waist-high hurdle rose up ahead of her. She accelerated, more appeared ahead as she leapt over the first. Her bare foot caught on one of them and she rolled to her feet.

“Useless,” Blane said. “If I had known you were this bad I wouldn’t have even asked. Screech must have been out of his mind.”

Blane walked into Spec’s room without knocking. She was taking notes off a map, her helmet on the desk beside her.

“Alright,” he said. “Get it off your chest already. What is your issue with her?”

Spec turned off the map projection and set down her tablet. “I don’t have one.”

Blane rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. “Bullshit. I know you better than anyone.”

She turned her chair towards him and crossed her arms, her hazel eyes lidded. “I’m starting to get sick of new pilots. Nothing personal.”

He shrugged and moved to a chair, sitting down. He couldn’t blame her about this one, but there was always more to it with Spec. “So am I, that’s why we got this one. What’s your take on her?”

She leaned back in her chair. “She’s not too cocky, which I like. On the other hand, she struck me as skittish.”

He could deal with apprehension, or even a lack of skill. Those were things he could beat out of her if he needed to.  “Hers  was the only name Screech ever brought up, so I will take it on faith that there is something there.”

“Yeah.” Spec ran her hands through her ash-blond hair. “It figures he’d find a way to haunt us from the damn grave.”

Blane nodded; Screech would always find a way to be a pain in his ass. “Guess I had better go get started.” There was no point in dragging this out if she was useless.

Spec stood up and grabbed her helmet. “I’ll be running if you need me.”

“The day I need you to break a Tab is the day I give you command of his ship.” Which would be never. The idea of Spec with that kind of power scared him.

Iria stared at the board. Every division of the military had something it rated  soldiers by, but this was different. The others responded to it as if it was something they knew intimately and lived by. It wasn’t just a ranking, it was a scoreboard. This was a game. and she was on the best team.

Caleb Darian’s team.

She had faith in her abilities, but she was realistic; she had never been on his level. But she had been personally recruited as his replacement. “Why did you choose me?”

Blane shrugged. “I am sick of pilots dying on me before their training is even done. Screech—Caleb—spoke of you, so I figured you were my best bet at this point.”

Iria looked out into the familiar void of space. She was glad she had left that strong an impression on her mentor, but it felt like she may not be here on her own merits. “I don’t have any more questions, Sir.” There were other things she wanted to know, but there would be a time and place.

Blane nodded and sat down. “Lander, show Tab here to the mess hall. I sort of interrupted her lunch, if you could call that flavorless crap a meal.”

Iria stood and followed Lander off the bridge. “Tab?” she asked as they walked down the hall.

“Your callsign for the time being. It’s a stupid little system Blane and Screech came up with. It stands for Tabula Rasa: a clean slate. The idea is that we’ll take your fundamentally-sound skills and gut everything else to build you into something useful.” 

“I guess it’s about time I explained what it is we do here,” Blane said, gesturing to a chair. “I’m sure you have questions, so why don’t you ask them and I’ll fill in.”

Iria sat down, her back and shoulders stiff. “What are you?”

“We are Erebos,” he said. “A sort of Spec Ops unit. We take high-level missions, the sort of stuff that actually makes a difference. Now, we actually have some say in what missions we take and pass on, and how we get them done. Within limits, but we do.” 

She nodded. “How many units are there?”

Before Blane could respond, Lander chimed in. “Currently there are fifteen active Erebos squads, though due to high fatality rates the size and number of groups are always in flux.” The bridge’s holoscreen brought up information on the various groups.

“The ASA ranks the groups based on a bunch of parameters that don’t really matter," Blane added. "The better you are, the more fun toys you get, and the more slack you are given on passing up missions.”

A viewing window domed the Lost Revenant’s bridge, holographic markers orienting them in space while the main navigation panel displayed stats and diagnostics. The ship’s current pilot was half-turned towards her but facing the panel, goggle-shaped visor blocking their eyes. One man, wearing an orange suit that mirrored his reddish hair, leaned on the console, while a  darker-skinned man in black-green armor stood against the wall. There were subtle variations in their armor mods, more sculpted and aggressively graceful than the straightforward suit Iria wore. She hadn’t noticed it when she met Blane, but these were custom work.

He was seated beside the pilot, but stood as Iria approached. “I hope you found everything alright.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said sharply.

He nodded and looked back to the crew. “This is Major Amber Cochran, AKA Spec.” He tilted his head to the green and tan–armored soldier in the pilot’s seat. “She is my second in command, and anything she says, I say. The one leaning against the wall over there is Captain Daniel Valentine, callsign Lander; all you need to know about him is there is nothing he doesn’t know. And the one with hair so bright its hard to look at is Gunnery Sergeant Slade Bridger, Pyr.” He gestured to the pale man leaning against the console. “The paper-pusher and red-tape-cutter of the team.”

Iria kept her hands pinned to her sides as they boarded. Ships like this were one of the reasons she had started flying, even before she joined the military, and the utter perfection of the craft made her chest tight. Blane was droning about the ship’s technological features and pointing out rooms they passed. She nodded and responded at the appropriate intervals, until they stopped in front of a nondescript door.

“This is going to be your bunk. I want you on the bridge in twenty to meet the part of the crew is currently on board.”

“Yes, Sir,” Iria said. “Thank you.”

The ship stood at the center of the empty auxiliary hangar. It had the sleek lines of the elite fighter jets, and the stance of one of the transport concepts from a few years ago, but she had never seen anything like it. Graceful, aggressive and jet black.

“She’s beautiful,” Iria whispered.

“The ASA Lost Revenant,” Blane said as he walked up to her. “This is the most advanced human-made ship ever made. There are technologies in her that you’d shit yourself to hear about, but we’ll get to that later.” 

She glanced at him before turning her eyes back to the ship.

“What kind of crew do you have, Sir?”

“Small but effective. There are eight of us; nine, counting you. Every one of them hand-picked and a master of their trade, though any one of them could fill a needed role.”

“Before it’s official,” he said, “I have to give you the cliche warning that once you join there isn’t really a way to go back. I’m sure you’ve tried to look me up by now and seen my file. You will simply exist, still in the system but no longer really a part of it.  We are part of the military but working on completely different terms, and the only way out is either death or full retirement. Still game?”

Did she have a choice? She had talked herself into it already.

“Yeah.”

He held out his hand.

“My name is Andrew Blane, your new CO.”

She barely hesitated before shaking his hand. Major Darian had spoken highly of him, and his role at the Battle for Kaith was why the ASA still had a foothold in one of their home galaxies. Another soldier who had disappeared without many people noticing. Even heroes could be forgotten.

“Meet me in hangar forty-seven, and don’t worry about your mission; its been cancelled.”

The notice appeared in the corner of her ICC a moment after he said it.

“Yes, Sir.”

Iria jogged back to the bunk rooms and unfolded the duffle that was shoved to the back of her locker. She didn’t own much; a few sets of civilian clothes, her fatigues and dress uniform, workout gear. A small, polished stone from her homeworld and her personal tablet. Everything else in her locker would go on to someone else aboard the carrier.

She passed the med bay on her way back. When Kai woke up, she would be gone, her personnel file a clean slate, and no one would be able to tell him why. A sacrifice, but one she had already decided to make.