Captain Thorne’s voice cut through the chaos on the bridge like a blade. “Jump! Jump! Intercept that ship!”

The Vanguard surged into the fray, materializing in the space between the Razorwing and the raider vessel, hammering it with fire. Plasma bolts screamed across the void, shredding the raider’s defences. Under the continuous storm of energy, their shields collapsed, and the ship crumpled under the barrage, detonating into a burst of debris and burning metal.

“Captain, the jump drive’s straining. We can’t keep making jumps like this!” shouted one of the maintenance officers. “The drive can’t handle the load!”

Thorne didn’t bother to acknowledge the warning. His gaze was already locked on the tactical display as he turned to the flight and weapons officers. “Charge railguns. Target that cluster of three ships. Jump!”

The Vanguard shot forward again, flinging itself through space with another desperate leap. The deck shuddered beneath the strain, the ship’s dampeners barely compensating for the brutal acceleration. Thorne could feel the vibrations humming through his boots, the strain of an untested frigate being pushed beyond its limits. But he had his orders, and he wasn’t about to falter now. Not with Duke Draven’s expectations hanging over him like an executioner’s blade.

“One down,” reported the weapons officer, his voice steady amidst the chaos.

“They’re breaking formation,” called out the flight officer. “Splitting up!”

“Hold position,” Thorne ordered, his voice calm and steady. “Target both ships. Railguns only.” He knew his crew. They wouldn’t miss the shot. This might be a new ship, but these were seasoned hands. Veterans of countless engagements. They knew their roles as well as he knew his.

The bridge pulsed with activity as his crew carried out their tasks, voices overlapping in a controlled frenzy. Thorne allowed himself a small, grim smile as they executed another jump. The few remaining outlaw ships didn't stand a chance against the coordinated precision of the Vanguard. One by one, they were torn apart in fiery bursts, leaving the black void littered with the wreckage of a shattered fleet.

“Sir, all remaining hostiles have been dealt with. Orders?” Thorne's second-in-command glanced back at him, awaiting the next directive.

Thorne exhaled, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Open a channel to the Razorwing.”

“Channel open,” the comms officer confirmed.

“Razorwing, this is Captain Thorne. The field’s clear for now. Do you need a…”

The Vanguard lurched violently, sending a shockwave through the bridge.

“Shields at eighty per cent!” someone shouted, tension edging their voice.

“What hit us?” Thorne demanded, his tone sharp as a knife. “I want answers now. Turn us around. Full scan. All power to shields!”

A tense silence fell over the bridge as the crew scrambled to comply. Seconds dragged by, each one feeling like an eternity. Then, a voice rang out, breathless and tight. “I’ve got it, sir. Destroyer. It must have been lying in wait and just jumped in.”

“Class?” Thorne’s question was instant, reflexive. His mind was already calculating odds, assessing the grim reality of the situation. A destroyer meant they were outmatched in a head-on fight.

“Disruptor class, sir. It’s the Gravity Hammer,” came the dreaded response.

Captain Thorne's hands clenched into fists as the name sank in. The Gravity Hammer. A destroyer with a reputation as dark as the void, infamous for wielding the only known surviving gravity well generator in this sector. It was a weapon that could pull ships out of FTL, disrupt jump drives, and tear smaller vessels apart with raw gravitational force.

The last time it had shown its face, it had abandoned its comrades in the Empire’s darkest hour. Now, it had reappeared, and Thorne could feel the weight of its menace pressing down on the bridge like a leaden hand.

"Incoming fire!" someone shouted.

The Vanguard shuddered as a volley of disruptor blasts slammed into the shields, each impact rattling Thorne's teeth. The view on the main screen filled with flashes of light and streaks of energy as the destroyer bore down on them, an armoured behemoth with rows of glowing cannons and a prow like a dagger poised to strike.

"Shields down to 65 per cent!" yelled the tactical officer. "They're focusing fire on us!"

"Keep them at full power," Thorne ordered his voice like iron. "Flight control, evasive maneuvers. We can't give them a clean shot."

The Vanguard banked hard, engines flaring as the ship twisted away from the incoming fire, weaving through the debris field left by the earlier battle. The gravity well’s pull made it feel like they were dragging the ship through sludge, every turn taking more effort than it should. It was an invisible enemy, tightening its grip with every passing second.

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“Sir, we’re getting interference from the well,” the navigation officer called out, voice strained. “It’s disrupting our maneuvering thrusters. We can’t get enough distance.”

Thorne gritted his teeth. He could feel it in his bones. If they didn’t do something soon, they would be crushed like a tin can beneath the Gravity Hammer's heel. His eyes narrowed as he considered their options. He hadn’t fought in a dozen campaigns to roll over and die just because some cowardly warship decided to grow a spine.

“Target the gravity well emitter,” he ordered. “Railguns, full charge. No. Overload the railguns. And prepare for another jump.”

“Sir?” The weapons officer hesitated, glancing back at him with a hint of doubt. “The drive's already unstable. Another jump could…”

“It’s either we risk it or we die now, Lieutenant,” Thorne snapped. “Jump as soon as the railguns are ready.”

The bridge hummed with tension as the crew sprang into action, hands flying over controls and voices rising in clipped commands. The Vanguard surged forward, its railguns aligning on the emitter. A metallic whine grew in intensity as the weapons charged well past the standard safety thresholds, the ship’s frame groaning under the strain.

“Ready, sir!” the weapons officer called out.

“Execute the jump,” Thorne ordered, his jaw set.

The Vanguard vanished in a burst of light, reappearing almost instantly in a position that flanked the Gravity Hammer. The destroyer's silhouette loomed large on the screen, an iron mountain blotting out the stars. The railguns fired in tandem, spears of kinetic energy lancing toward the emitter. For a heartbeat, the rounds tore through the void uninterrupted, streaking toward their target.

The destroyer’s point defence turrets sprang to life, unleashing a hail of intercepting fire. One of the railgun rounds was deflected off course, but the other found its mark, smashing into the emitter with a bone-rattling explosion. The impact sent a shockwave rippling across the Gravity Hammer’s hull, and for a moment, the gravitational drag on the Vanguard lessened.

“Direct hit!” shouted the tactical officer. “The emitter’s damaged.” The damage spread like a spiderweb across the emitter's housing, with sparks and vented gases spilling from the ruptured sections. But it was still active,

“Damn it,” Thorne muttered. His hand hovered over the command interface, torn between desperation and grim resolve. If they didn’t act fast, the gravity well would crush them. There was only one way out now. It was a choice no captain wanted to make, but for Thorne, it was already decided. He wouldn’t let the Razorwing die here He would complete his duty..

Thorne took a calming breath. He had known the odds had been against them from the start, but he'd hoped for a different outcome. One last time, he placed his faith in his crew. “Engineering, prepare the reactor for overload,” he said, voice steady despite the cold pit in his stomach. “We’re going to take out that emitter once and for all. We will avenge the fallen. The traitors aboard this ship will pay.”

A stunned silence fell over the bridge. Someone whispered a curse. The engineering officer turned slowly to face him, eyes wide. “Sir, with all due respect. But that’ll…”

“I know what it’ll do,” Thorne interrupted, his tone hard but not unkind. “But it’s the only way to shut down the gravity well. We have a duty to carry out. Get it done.”

The crew exchanged grim looks, but there was no hesitation as they moved to carry out the order. Thorne’s gaze remained fixed on the screen, where the Gravity Hammer was recovering from the railgun strike, its cannons swinging around to target them again.

“Flight control. Can we jump again?” Thorne asked. He already knew the answer.

“No, Captain. The drives done for.”

“Fine, plot a collision course for the emitter,” he replied. “Full speed.”

The Vanguard surged forward, engines roaring at maximum thrust. The destroyer loomed larger with each passing second, its cannons unleashing a torrent of fire that battered the Vanguard’s failing shields. The deck shuddered, lights flickering as explosions rocked the hull. Reports of damage poured in from all sections, but Thorne didn’t waver.

“Captain, the Razorwing is signalling. Alex is asking what we’re doing!” the comms officer said, voice tight and urgent.

“Tell them this is their chance. They have to get out of here. No matter what.” he said softly.

Thorne allowed himself a brief moment to close his eyes as memories flashed through his mind. Moments that had seemed insignificant at the time but now stood out with startling clarity.

He remembered Lieutenant Harlan’s booming laugh that could lift the spirits of even the most weary crew member, echoing through the mess hall after a hard-won victory. Ensign Darrin, his face flushed and hands trembling as he asked Thorne for advice on proposing to his partner, had always carried a shy optimism despite the war raging around them. Chief Engineer Voss had always been the first to crack a dry joke after a close call, his gruff voice a constant source of reassurance.

They weren’t just his crew; they were family.

He had made a promise to Duke Draven to protect his son, but it was more than that now. It was about honouring the sacrifices of those who trusted him to lead them and repaying the debt to those who had already given everything. He had to ensure that their courage would not be in vain.

The weight of it all pressed on his chest, but there was no room for doubt. He would give Alex and the Razorwing a chance to escape, even if it meant paying the ultimate price. “All hands,” he said, his voice steady, “brace for impact.”

The bridge crew strapped in as the Vanguard raced headlong toward the Gravity Hammer. The destroyer's cannons spat fire, but it was too late. The Vanguard’s engines flared with a final surge, propelling the frigate like a spear into the heart of the emitter.

The Gravity Hammer loomed closer, its armoured hull filling the screen like a wall of black steel. Every second seemed to stretch, the distance between them shrinking at a terrifying pace. The bridge trembled under the strain as alarms blared and damage reports flooded in. Thorne’s voice cut through the noise like a lifeline. “Steady, all hands.”

For a fraction of a second, there was silence. Then, the Vanguard struck home. The explosion swallowed the bridge in a burst of searing light. For a heartbeat, everything was consumed by blinding whiteness and a silence so deep it seemed to stretch on forever. Then, the darkness of the void returned, filled now with the drifting remains of the Gravity Hammer, its cracked and shattered hull slowly disintegrating into pieces. The echoes of the Vanguard’s last stand faded, leaving only the emptiness behind.

Captain Thorne felt a strange calm settle over him in the final seconds. He had done his duty. He had kept his promise. Whatever awaited him beyond the stars, he would face it knowing they had not died in vain. With that, he let go.

Amidst the chaos, the Razorwing shot forward, free from the well’s influence. Alex’s voice crackled through the comms, calling out to Captain Thorne. But there was no reply. Only the fading echoes of the Vanguard’s last stand