Everything was in disarray.

The deafening sound of ongoing explosions, mixing with the comparatively faint howl of sirens, drowned out the screams of the wounded and the orders shouted by those still on their feet.

Arcs of electricity, catching on through dense black smoke, severely limited everyone’s the field of view, making coordinated action next to impossible.

From one instance to the next, the WAYFARER’s bridge had become hell. In fact, the whole ship had turned into a blazing torch. It was a matter of minutes, no, probably seconds, before it would fully succumb to the heavy fire it was receiving for about ten seconds now, and it would take all living things aboard down with it, down into the abyss of eternal night.

But even if, by some improbable miracle, it didn’t, countless lives had been lost among the crew already.

Reentering the world of conscious thought, Admiral Hayne began to curse, as she tried to struggle free from parts of the bridge’s consoles, littered all over her.

When the first impact had connected, it did so with such overwhelming might, it pierced right through the plasma-shielding, the hull, and most of the ship’s internal structure.

The forces at play were so great, most of the crew got knocked out of their chairs, or, like in her case, the seat got ripped right out of the floor in sync with its occupant.

When she had hit the wall at almost the speed of sound, it was only thanks to the acceleration-emulator built into every soldier’s suit, that the attack claimed her consciousness, not her life.

Others were not so lucky.

Swearing/Wishing for a better future, let alone a better present, or even a future at all, she glanced through holes in the plastic rubble that had been the .. hm.. intercom? sensor-controls? .. seconds ago. No matter, she thought, every part of the unimaginably expensive equipment was shredded to shit anyway.

The little she could see was not good. Not good at all.

Vice Commander Bull stuck to the wall in a pose of obvious fatality, like a giant humanoid fly, swatted by a metal pan the size of what used to be the lee-board encasement of the bridge.

By now, the smoke had made its way into her eyes and lungs, forcing out tears, making her vomit almost, stealing away her life by the second.

Her damn helmet was broken.

In a fit of coughing, something in her mind shifted.

The unlucky mixture of panic and confusion and anger threatening to reign her mind faded, leaving behind the bare mental wireframe that basic instincts are made of.

The yearning for survival kicked in, the stubbornness innate in every sentient thing, to never lay down one’s own life without great struggle, without a desperate fight.

Together with that unbendable will to pull through, no matter how, a few odd scenes flashed across her inner eye.

Memories that had gotten dusty, were almost forgotten even, resurfaced out of seemingly nowhere.

While finally getting free of the prison made from plastic leftovers of equipment, it occurred to her, as the scales of ignorance fell from her eyes.

She knew that an incident like this, like the destruction of the WAYFARER, would happen to her someday. She had always known.

Well, not this exact happenstance. Nor the date and time. Nor the name of the ship. Nor that it would be on a spaceship, at all. Nor had she literally always known.

And yet.. about a decade ago, back when she still attended academy as cadet to the battle fleet of Terra, there had been a random incident.

Right at this moment, inside the skeleton of a wrecked battle cruiser, inbound for total obliteration, she understood that it wasn’t so random, after all.

… Decades ago …

“Hello, Misses Hayne?”

Someone tapped my shoulder. Still laughing from the joke cadet Tiff, or called Janet by her friends, had fired into the circle of the few smokers existing in the corps, i turned around.

“What?” I asked, in a not so friendly tone. I don’t like people creeping up on me from behind. Not at all.

Before me, stood a young man, maybe twenty years old.

Clearly, he was unfazed by my tone, as he started smiling a mocking smile in response.

Oddly, he didn’t wear the grey campus uniform but was dressed in black linen trousers and a cyan t-shirt.

Just as i was about to warn him about trespassing on military grounds as a civilian, my eyes fell on his shoulders.

Then, i forgot to breathe for a second. The people next to me, by now intrigued what was going on behind their literal backs, turned around as well. And also forgot how their lungs worked.

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On the non-existing shoulder pads on his t-shirt burned golden sickles, surrounded by an ornate circle of symbols.

After that brief moment of collective shock, everyone, including me, saluted immediately.

“C-Cadet Hayne apologizes for her rudeness, Sir! P-Please, forgive my unsightly behavior, Sir!” I managed to stutter out. Fuck, I have never been one to be shy, but being impolite to one like him took me off guard way much.

That bastard stared me directly into the eyes for a long moment, keeping on that mocking smile, before starting to talk. He knew it would be like this, I cursed internally. Otherwise, he could’ve just made a proper appearance instead of sneaking in from behind.

“At ease, Cadet Hayne. And you guys as well. I didn’t come here to pull rank, or give orders.” His voice was surprisingly melodic. It had a ring to it that could make people forget themselves in it. The voice of a great storyteller, though the stories he surely could tell, I wished to never have to hear.

Around me, the others relaxed the tiniest bit. No one dared to truly stand at ease though. Me neither.

If he wasn’t here for orders or to brag or to abuse cadets, then why did he come?

He directly asked for me, no?

Shit. As my heart started racing, I quickly tried to ponder any possible mistake I could’ve made that would trigger such an event, and came up empty.

There was just no way an Admiral of the wet-work division had any quarrel with me. Maybe I was a little disregarding towards the rules, but I’d never willingly provoke any of the truly dangerous people, like, ever.

I liked my continued existence way too much as to pull a prank on a leader of the deadliest force known to mankind.

The fucking wet-work division, really?

“My name is Ian Cer. But that is Admiral Cer for you.” The last part, I noticed confused, was addressed to my mates, not myself, as he pointed towards them. They were as confused as me, shooting me irritated glances, with a hint of fear.

The fuck is this?

I had never even heard that name.

“What might I serve you with, Sir?” I asked, shyly. Partially faked shyness, partially real.

He seemed to notice, as he let out an emotionless laugh.

“Care to give us some privacy?” Admiral Cer spoke into the round in a cold voice, sending shivers down everyone’s spine as they hurriedly scrambled away a few dozen meters without hesitation.

If someone of such high rank asked anything, you just acted on it, even if it was no formal order.

If that someone also had commando in wet-works, your continued existence even depended on it, probably.

There was no one in the fleet who didn’t know, that, sometimes, people just liked to vanish without a trace after an encounter with Division Zero.

From their ‘save distance’ away, the other cadets cautiously eyed the events to follow. Cowards.

Not that I fared any better. Sweat started pearling down my cheeks as I was tempted to glance towards my acquaintances for support, but in the end, I let it be.

Come hell or high water, if I showed fear now, there might be consequences later. Though I couldn’t tell what any of this meant, yet.

“Cadet Hayne, listen closely. I will not repeat myself, nor will I ever speak about this again. You got it?”

The tension suddenly in his behavior mirrored itself right into my pose as well. Taking a deep breath, I responded.

“Aye, Sir!”

Almost gentle, with just the faintest sliver of warmth, he started to speak.

“When darkness and lightning devour your world, and hope is truly lost, I will grant you a favor owed. Because by then, I WILL owe you. All you need to do is ask.”

Without further ado, Ian Cer, Admiral of Division Zero, turned to leave. It was clear to me, that this.. eh.. conversation? .. was over, so I didn’t even bother trying to talk back. Nor could I, really, because I was stunned in confusion.

What?

I stared on his back for what felt like minutes, as he slowly shrank into the distance.

Seriously, what the fuck?

… Present day, present time …

Seriously, what the fuck?

Hayne mirrored the exact same thoughts, she had so long ago.

Was this it? The black smoke furrowed with arcs of electric energy sure qualified, didn’t it?

Taking another look around, she wagered herself that hope was really lost. Dozens dead, the rest of the still living already had very near appointments with their own demise, herself included.

What gives, she thought. She was dead anyway, so might as well act crazy in what she figured were her last moments, grasping any illusionary straw.

Because what the fuck could a favor do to save her from this shit? Even if it was a real thing, and not some wild fantasy her concussed brain made up for her on adrenaline and natural painkillers?

Nothing. At least nothing she could think of.

Still, she shouted into the rumpus around at the top of her lungs, fighting down the urge to cough. No one even noticed, new and old explosions completely faded out her voice.

“I need that favor now! Whatever it is or why you owe it to me! You hear me, Admiral Cer .. I mean .. Ian? Fucking help me .. please?”

As she half expected, nothing happened in the next precious seconds. And yet, she was disappointed, somehow.

Wiping away the desperation, Hayne then rolled herself out of the rubble and tried crawling towards an exit. Any exit. She knew, that this was it, but she refused to sit down and accept death, out of stubborn principle.

“I am not a fucking sheep!“ She thought enraged. “I am not gonna cower down in fear and wait for the executioner .. fuck this!”

Without transition, something .. changed. For a brief moment, she failed to process events. Or the sudden lack thereof. That’s right. Out of the blue, everything just stopped.

Not that the attackers had simply stopped, no. Rather, reality and right along with it, time itself, refused to continue on. Like pointers of a clock stopped by a finger.

Literally, the world stood still. In front of her face, the smoke hung in the air, unmoving, frozen lightning inside.

“What kind of finger must this be though?” She laughed with gallows humor. “I must have brain damage from earlier, either that or I died and this is the afterlife.” She concluded.

The former managed to scare her, and not just a little. Did time stop forever, damning her to wander around alone, for all eternity, in an empty afterlife?

No thank you. Brain damage sounded like a vacation, compared to that.

All around her, faint laughter wafted through the scene.

“Great.. what now? The grim reaper?” She mused, half-heartedly.

Someone, other than her, sighed.

“Oh Hayne, though you could call me the grim one, I sure prefer my name over the term reaper. Congrats on becoming an Admiral though, nicely done.”

Her head snapped towards the melodic, almost hypnotizing voice.

Before her, stood a young man, maybe twenty years old. Unfazed by the chaos around, he had a mocking smile on his face.

Oddly, he didn’t wear the grey combat uniform but was dressed in black linen trousers and a cyan t-shirt.

“Okay, brain damage it is, then.” Admiral Hayne spoke to no one in particular, almost relieved.