"Vedmann's on his way up, once he gets here I’ll be heading out. A few things are in need of shoring up."

Esma did not look thrilled by his sudden intent to leave the bridge.

"And what exactly would you recommend I do in the meantime?"

Cade gave their newbie a once over to gauge where she was at mentally. No point in giving her additional tasks if the stress of their current predicament was already too much for her. That being said she seemed stable. A bit antsy, but stable.

"Grab the binoculars and keep your eyes peeled for that rocketeer, and make sure you don’t ignore comms. One of the other Crusaders might relay crucial information or updates to command, and it’ll be up to you to keep the rest of us updated."

"Count on it."

The sound of heavy footfalls approaching from behind sent a pang of anxiety through Esma but proved unwarranted as the other engineer trotted into the bridge. As he made for the controls a hand reached inside the collar of his tank and produced a key. He tossed it over to Cade who made to trade it for the additional headset. The new arrival refused.

"Keep that, you'll make better use of it than I will. Speaking of which, Nocks has the gun. Don't forget to collect it before we disembark. We'll discuss coordinating reports in the yard."

"Gun?"

Esma raised a neat brow in Cade's direction.

"About ye big, we use them to shoot people trying to take our shit.”

She assumed the sudden bout of sarcasm was her bridge mate's way of saying to drop it for now. So Esma saw him off with a nod of understanding that the new pilot seemed to get a kick out of.

As for Cade, he was off. Exiting onto the back deck, he cautiously examined the immediate state of the convoy. Beginning with the status of their own Crusader. For the time being their security officers were split between the upper and lower levels. The upper level consisting of Lux who was holding down the front deck and Browder who was responsible for the back. Gandlin, who'd been designated the utility position, had vacated to the lower level to help hold off the boarding party with Engler. The fact that the front and back decks were relatively quiet spoke to the two of them being successful. The remaining Volts having been driven to the weak side platform according to a last second update from Vedmann.

Not for long though. They’d be smart enough to know that the front deck secuirty officer, in this case Lux, could easily wipe them out from atop the stairs if made aware of their presence. Hence the reason the weak side stairway had affectionally become known as the “Stairway to Heaven.”

The crew’s whereabouts aside, the raiding party had seemingly determined that their best bet at achieving their objective was gaining entry to the cargo bay from the interior. A tall task now that they had two privy officers camping the junction. Unless the raiders found a way to infiltrate from the strong side platform for a pincer attack, reaching the cargo bay from the interior would require considerable casualties. It was safe to say that the raiders inability to capitalize on the gas canister feint had resulted in a temporary stalemate onboard C248, one that skewed in the LCF's favor.

Assuming Quiet Murn's leadership caught wind of this development, Cade expected they'd either act right away to relieve their stranded party members or create another opportunity for them to breach the interior. But any actions taken would depend on how the raiding party's initial approach on the convoy had faired overall.

C248 may have the upper hand but at least two more approaches had been executed simultaneously on the other Crusaders. Had they proved successful, the party would be inclined to allocate any additional forces to those Crusaders they had a larger foothold on. Fortunately, Vedmann's insistence on him keeping the headset meant Cade had access to valuable insight on the battles taking place onboard the other Crusaders. Provided he remain on the correct channel, he could receive updates meant for the Head CO.

Normally this would be frowned upon as it tended to crowd the channel with involuntary crosstalk, but since his mic was off it wouldn't be an issue. And by pairing those insights with direct observations Cade could gain a solid grasp of the convoy's status as a whole and act accordingly.

Confirming he wasn't under any immediate danger of being shot, Cade hustled over to the strong side railing and attempted to ascertain the engagement status of C384. The Crusader opposite to them in the formation. He quickly sighted one security officer whom he didn't recognize laying incapacitated on C384’s strong side platform. But beyond that couldn't glean any further information on the state of the lower level. Though things must be serious if no one had come to administer first aid or move the unfortunate soul inside. Cade considered his other options for collecting information from afar, such as sound. But relying on that would be unwise since he had no way to differentiate between the noises coming from the rest of the convoy.

"Did you really come out here unarmed?"

Cade glanced to his left and spotted Evan along the rear railing of the back deck, taking shots at what had to be Demens trying to take heat off the approaches. That would explain why she’d been unable to handle the presence on the weak side platform. Rushing over and crouching so as not to become an easy target, Cade waited for a moment between shots.

"Did you happen to see which Crusaders the other two approaches targeted?"

"C384 definitely got pounded, but from what I could tell their officers on deck reacted well enough.

She delayed the thought in order to fire a few more shots.

Safe to assume the third hit the rear. As you can see they’re having problems."

Cade peered in the direction of C217 and saw that the front deck was void of officers. A troubling development indicative of the sorry state the lower level must be in. And something Quiet Murn's Hussards will have taken notice of. He expected they’d direct additional forces to the rear of the formation to take advantage. On cue the Demens that had been harassing Evan pulled back, shifting their sights from C248 to C217. A solemn voice belonging to Yulent suddenly sounded over the headset’s frequency.

"This is C217, all available SOs are currently engaged on the lower level and our bay is vulnerable. Requesting permission to pull forward for assistance. I repeat, requesting permission to pull forward."

The voice of Commander Heenan responded in kind.

"This is command, temporary permission to pull forward is granted. Deck officers onboard C248 and C384 will assist in clearing the bay of C217. Thereupon officers will resume prior defensive commitments."

Cade looked over towards Evan and motioned towards C217.

"Problem child’s all yours."

"Every convoys got a least one."

He inwardly debated whether to extend the order to Lux on the front deck. To the best of his knowledge there were technically still hostiles onboard. Who knew if or when they’d get restless enough to attempt going up and around the bridge. Talk about giving the rookie a heart attack.

"I'd rather leave Lux to her current post, think you can get by without her?"

"I’ve made it this far haven’t I? Not all of us get the same Luxuries as you do."

Cade really hated that wordplay, more so because he didn’t know who started it and therefore didn’t know who to threaten to discontinue it. Eager to change the subject he directed an affirmative thumbs up towards the bridge, letting Esma know that he’d briefed Evan.

"We'd better make this quick, doubt we can afford to create another opening..."

*

"Preece, tell Leora to get down here! Then I want you to come back around from the strong side! See to dragging Laud off the platform while you’re at it! One wrong bump and we'll be informing his next of kin!"

"I can't leave now! They're about to rush us!"

"In a narrow space like this having too many bodies creates fewer options! Besides, if you're quick we might be able to flank."

In truth Youn didn’t trust Preece in melee situations just yet and preferred him out of the way so as not to worry. It would have been so much easier if he could bring himself to be more honest in these high stress environments, to straight up tell Preece to fuck off because he’d be in the way. Like Lux. Lux wouldn't think twice about saying such things. But in Youn's case everything he said traveled through a filter of unease and allusiveness. He didn't have the convenience of being that direct with people, a product of the culture and family he'd grown up in.

Even earlier when he'd directed a volatile remark at Lux over the group call, he'd left room for interpretation. But that could also be because he didn't really mean it. Of course everyone knew what he'd been alluding too with the remark, how people viewed the western branch of that council. Which is exactly what made it such low hanging fruit.

Lux would never withhold information if she thought it would affect the safety of the convoy. Youn knew that. And yet he’d done what he hated most, thrust unreasonable demands and expectations on another. Figures he'd take out personal frustrations with himself on someone who couldn't understand the weight of this particular self-imposed burden.

Watching Preece disappear up the ladder, he proceeded to lower his rifle in preparation for the oncoming rush of Volts. Because in the close quarters of a Crusader's corridor, there were times when raising your rifle was as ill-advised as it was ineffective. As at this range it became easy for a raider to grab the rifle and redirect it or rip the weapon away altogether. If a security officer did shoot it would be from the hip during the brief openings created in the melee. Less accurate to be sure, but more lethal up close. Closer proximity also made it easier to breach the body armor worn by Volts. Granted their armor had to be limited in coverage area and weight, otherwise it would limit the mobility required to board and maneuver a moving Crusader.

Youn observed four Volts rush in single file, a strategy intended to limit the number of targets he could shoot. But as he planned on meeting them head on, this wouldn’t matter. He exploded into a running start and aimed his shoulder at the lead Volt’s chest. To counter the would be tackle the raider, a stout man, lifted his buckler arm to absorb the force of the blow. Youn reacted accordingly and dropped his hips lower prior to contact, allowing him to hit the buckler from below rather than head on. The force of the tackle sent the Volt flailing backwards into those behind him, knocking two of them down in the process. Eager to take advantage of the tangle of bodies, Youn extended the butt of his rifle and struck the Volt who remained standing in the solar plexus. Reeling from the momentary paralysis to his diaphragm, the raider dropped his chin on reflex prompting a meeting with the upward swipe of his rifle. One down.

The victory was short lived however, as one of the raiders on the ground sprang forward to wrap around Youn’s hips and legs. Not good, his best option for avoiding the grapple being to roll backwards. But that would involve taking his eyes off the three for a moment. A lethal prospect in such close quarters, especially if one of the raiders felt trigger happy. Although with the mess of bodies in the corridor discharging a weapon became very risky. No telling if they’d hit a fellow party member who happened to lift themselves right into the line of fire. A possible solution to this problem would be voicing their intent to shoot, but that would tip him off and invite return fire as a countermeasure.

Of course, he could always grant the takedown. Part of the training security officers endured was learning to fall properly after all. This meant he knew how avoid hitting the back of his head or sustaining any other debilitating injury. Falling back would also give him a clear shot of the would-be tackler. Leaving him with only two more Volts to contend with. Both of which were bound to reach their feet soon. Safe to assume they'd be on him immediately after the killing shot had been fired. Just like that Youn’s path to victory became obvious.

Youn started by allowing the raider to bring him down from the waist and fell back, both bracing himself and raising his rifle as he came in contact with the ground. Next, he aimed at the raider furthest down the corridor, and fired. As shooting the closer of the two would have created an opportunity for the other to use his buddy as a meat shield.

Instead the shot went straight through the furthest raider’s neck causing him to fall back in the direction of the platform. The closer raider stood stunned for a moment, processing what had just happened. Youn had to credit the man for figuring it out without turning around.

The raider let out a cry of rage as he lunged forward. As much as Youn would’ve liked to shut the man up right then and there he could feel the raider at his legs reaching for something on his person. In response he fired his second shot into the top of the tackler's head. The raider fell limp immediately, right on top of Youn’s lower half. The additional weight of his carcass making it difficult if not impossible for him to maneuver his way off the ground. Realizing this the remaining Volt leapt through the spray of his own comrade's blood and gray matter so as to knock Youn's rifle down the corridor. He then tried to jam his right forearm into Youn's neck to cut off his airway.

"You’re going to die slowly for that!"

The raider growled the threat through tightly clenched teeth, a mixture of blood and viscera dripping down the man’s face onto the security officer's.

"Council dog!"

Youn gurgled out his own primal growl as he tried to muscle the man's forearm off his throat. His other hand desperately trying to jab at the man's eyes and face. But it was no good, his free hand couldn't reach due to his upper body’s proximity to the corridor wall. Small flecks of white light began to flitter across Youn's vision as his airway continued to be trapped by the forearm. Running low on options he attempted to raise either of his knees, but the combined weight of two raiders, one dead one living, was too much.

Now on the verge of losing consciousness, a surplus of thoughts both related and unrelated to his current predicament flooded into Youn’s mind. Two of which standing out the most. Just how much longer could his trachea hold up against this guy's forearm? As for the second. Why hadn't his father ever spoken out against the abuse he suffered at his wife’s hands?

It didn’t seem to matter how poorly the man had been treated; his kindly father would ALWAYS return to that seat at the end of the dinner table. From which he was constantly forced to endure his supposed partner's tirade of unreasonable demands and behavior. Night after night, after night. It'd affected Youn so much growing up that he'd invent reasons to go without dinner altogether, regardless of how hungry he was.

Even if Youn did somehow survive this encounter, would he just end up growing to be like his father? A pathetic pushover who couldn't confront people with their honest thoughts and opinions?

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I’m sorry Dad...I know you weren't the pathetic one.

It was your useless son, who despite being the one who took exception never said a damn thing in your defense.

It was your disillusioned wife, who realized you'd never refute her and took full advantage.

His dad would go on to die from overwork and chronic stress while Youn was away attending Federation Academy. He'd willingly left his father at that dinner table, alone with that woman. But Youn didn't want to see his father again, not yet. He couldn't. Not until he fixed himself. Become someone they could both be proud of. Only then could he look his old man in the eye and apologize. Like he should have done all those years ago.

Summoning every last bit of strength in his body, Youn used both arms to press the raider's forearm off of his throat. The man, stunned by the sudden and unexpected burst of vigor, quickly moved to replant his forearm when a shot rang out. The final Volt fell forward dead, a shot nestled between the eyes. Tracing the path of the bullet led to Preece, who stood in the doorway of the strong side platform.

Youn groaned under the dead weight piled on top of him before meeting the eyes of a very concerned Preece who'd run up and taken in the grizzly scene. Pulling precious oxygen back into his lungs Nocks spoke out.

"I take back what I thought about you getting in the way...good work Preece."

*

Evan made sure to reload ahead of the temporary formation change, but not before a quick scan of her surroundings deemed it safe to do so. She also took the opportunity to reconsider her new charge. According to Cade they had the leeway to make zone assignments ancillary to the objective of intercepting the assault on C217's cargo. Reasonable, if the Demenaguers succeeded in getting the bay doors open the cargo onboard C217 would be lost. As one or two well aimed explosives or combustibles would damage the Cinnabark beyond usability for construction. Personally she was leaning combustibles, since it was in the party’s long-term interest to minimize the extent of damage done to the Crusaders.

To laymen this came across as a conflict of interest, but on the contrary made perfect sense to those well versed in Luridian history. Because some three decades ago the LCF chose to enact a new system intended to help moderate Crusader traffic across the Expanse. And one of the primary measures this system employed involved categorizing known raiding party's according to the threat they posed to convoys. Those earning high ranks would be actively avoided through careful route allocation and scheduling, made possible through careful scouting. This effectively limited the number of convoys any given raiding party would encounter and therefore be able to attempt raids on.

A popular counterargument to the establishment of such a system was that it would make higher ranked parties more desperate for successful visits and therefore more violent. Those in support of the system argued the corresponding increase in rank as a result of excessive violence would cripple the party due to greater scarcity overall. Creating a cycle designed to wear down a raiding party's resources and motivation to prolong their activities.

In the event convoys were unable to rule out possible visits from high-ranking parties, the LCF would respond by raising the convoy's crew requirements across the board. That way only personnel beyond a certain level of experience in the field could apply for the crew roster.

Given such convoys would be that much more dangerous, incentives for joining became necessary to fill out rosters in a timely matter. It also wasn't unusual for the LCF higher ups or Convoy Commanders to put in requests for personnel they had an existing working relationship with. Specifically those who met all the requirements. For example, requesting one or two sharpshooters for a politically charged convoy to New Kantler. As for incentives they usually ranged from monetary in nature to recommendations for specialized job courses.

To make a long story short, straight up destroying a Crusader or rendering it inoperable would raise a raiding party's rank substantially. Something party leaders needed to consider if they wanted to manage their resources properly. A larger raiding party while having higher chances for success would also expend more resources during raid attempts. Meaning they'd have to increase the number of attempts and visits overall to break even or profit. But even that could be circumvented if the party got their hands on a particularly valuable cargo. Hence the significance of keeping a convoy's manifest under wraps prior to departure and during transit.

Naturally Hussards developed methods for gauging a convoy’s value, most of which involved analyzing reactions to leading plays and maneuvers. Say you had a convoy transporting fragile cargo. They might make adjustments to the route immediately to avoid a possible visit or do the opposite and act as if the party’s presence was of no consequence. A form of reverse psychology. Regardless a party's initial approach generally served as a mechanism for gauging the response of deck officers, the Convoy Commander, or both.

Evan could go on forever about the different strategies employed by both sides to gain an upper hand, but her job as a member of the security division was shooting stuff that threatened the convoy. Best to leave all the mind games to the CCs, COs and weirdos like Cade who got off to stuff like this. Speaking of Cade. Where had the man gotten off to?

In the non-existent amount of time it’d taken her to reload he’d wandered off somewhere. We'll maybe not wandered. Wandered implied the person didn't have a set destination in mind, whereas everything Cade did had some form of logic behind it. Weirdo. Lux hated that about him, or so she always said whenever they shared a night out after a convoy.

The subtle sound of a Crusader's aeriform engine revving up suddenly reached her ears. A signal that C217 had begun to pull forward. Evan readied herself by readjusting her posture and aiming down sights. She'd start by taking out the raiders acting as escorts for the Demens. They'd most certainly commence cover fire once the Crusader pulled forward all the way. But rather than responding in kind her immediate focus needed to be ensuring none of the raiders took advantage of the opening formation changes often presented to pursue the strong side platform.

“...”

Evan suddenly had a pretty good inkling as to where Cade had gotten off to. If not to defend the strong side platform himself, he'd at least gone downstairs to tell either Nocks or Tristler too to see to it. Considerate of him.

It was then as the full view of C217's rear finally entered her vision that Evan got to work. Both she and a fellow deck officer onboard C384 peppered the area around the bay door, startling the collection of Demens hell-bent on blowing the locks. The raiders operating the bikes they rode on wobbling a bit but standing firm in their objective. Determined to make full use of the ruckus their comrades in the boarding party were making.

Abruptly Evan was forced to change targets as several Volts tried their luck at shooting the gap between Crusaders in pursuit of the aforementioned strong side platforms. Fortunately the dangerously limited amount of space between them made it easy to anticipate lines of approach.

She'd just successfully taken out the gunner of one such approach when the sound of a small blast caught her attention. A sign they'd already blown off at least one of the locks. Not good. Trusting that Cade would see to the downstairs platforms, Evan refocused her efforts on deterring the Demens who kept appearing one after another. Knowledge that they'd already succeeded in removing one of the locks seemed to have invigorated them along with the nearby raiders. They became more bold in their approaches of the rear as a result. Here's when picking her targets took on a whole new level of importance.

A feronetic rifle's magazine was only so large, and the seconds it took to reload it were at least enough to apply another charge to the remaining locks. To her dismay she also realized that the Demens had begun planting spikes along the edges of some of the Crusaders. Giving them another option in clinging to the sides of the cruisers for boarding or lock work. While that might make them easy targets, it also meant taking out bikes didn't guarantee they'd be out of the fight.

C217’s back against the wall, Evan attuned her senses to the body language of the Demens while simultaneously keeping their escorts in check. Easier said than done. Though she doubted it would be much of a challenge for a sharpshooter. Too bad they were stuck on the opposite end of the convoy searching for the rocketeer.

As an escorting Volt who'd been firing on her position finally went down, so did Evan's internal reload counter. Two shots. She only had two more shots before she'd have to reload, not nearly enough to stop the number of raiders closing in on bay doors from the opposite side. She could only hope whoever was on C384 was as conscious of ammo usage as her. Now that's a bad sign. Relying on hope to get through a crisis.

If it's not tangible, it can't be counted on. One of many lessons bestowed upon her and the other students during Federation Academy. Reminiscing on the past, another bad sign. She needed her mind in the present, where her targets were. But once she was through with them, they too would be things of the past best left forgotten.

*

To say the situation had become dire would be an understatement. How dire you ask? Well, Tristler was down to his second to last smoke, so the world might as well be ending. He'd taken up defense of the strong side platform per Cade's request and seen to cleaning up the raiders who’d managed to clear the guys up top.

All the while keeping a close eye on the corridor, as it was still under threat from the opposing platform. Nocks remained stationed at the junction to be safe and the engine room remained inaccessible. Cade disappearing up the ladder after organizing the adjustments to the defense. Although he'd briefly stopped by the cargo bay for reasons that eluded Tristler. To check on the Cinnabark’s condition perhaps. He didn't exactly have the leeway to check himself at the moment.

Based on what he could gather from his platform the fighting onboard C217 remained ongoing. It being pulled up alongside them now meaning he could both see and hear flashes of fierce back and forth combat, but none he could readily contribute to without leaving his post or running the risk of friendly fire. Tristler had also heard various explosions coming from the rear, an indicator that some of the locks had been blown.

As another cry of anguish reached him from his spot on the platform so did the notion of throwing caution into the wind and clearing the gap between Crusaders. For the sake of assisting the crew onboard C217. But he wasn't young or spry enough to make such hasty decisions or attempt such wild maneuvers anymore. Perhaps if the smoke carton in his breast pocket were a bit heavier, then he might be able to muster the conviction to act.

As if his conscience was looking for another reason to stay put, the throbbing from the remnant of his right ear suddenly increased in intensity. Reminding Tristler that he wasn't the only one dealing with an injury right now. Nocks was more or less operating on one leg, and with his limited mobility it would be cruel to up and leave him without backup. Not when he’d likely struggle in a physical matchup.

A bitter taste suddenly spread across his tongue, a sign Tristler was about to be down to his last smoke. He spat the filter over the railing and debated whether to light it now or later. It would be wiser to save it for later. Granted, no end to the current visit was in sight. But with plenty of headache inducing possibilities still awaiting them along the home stretch of the route it was a safer bet.

Boy could he use it now though. Normally he wouldn't run out like this. It would seem the barrage of visits employing guerrilla tactics earlier had made Tristler more paranoid and stressed than usual, expediting his consumption. He was running low on nerve essentially. So why not use whatever little remained of that nerve to do something bold. He cast another glance at the distance between platforms, sounds of physical struggle occupying the space across from him.

"Trist!"

Tristler snapped his attention to the source of the voice, in this case the top of the strong side stairway. There he found Lux. Patiently adhering to her zone assignment.

"I don't like that look! Take these and pull your shit together!"

She underhanded him something from the pouch on her hip. And Tristler caught what turned out to be an unopened carton of smokes. His preferred brand no less. He couldn’t help but look up in surprise.

"It’s my bad! Forgot to return them before shit kicked off!"

He'd forgotten that she even confiscated them.

"Save one for Cade if you don't mind, I think this convoy is stressing him out more than he's letting on! Oh, and the fools on the weak side plat are taken care of!"

Having said her piece, Lux disappeared back onto the front deck.

Tristler released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and opened the carton. He plucked from the far right, as per tradition, and lit up. Just like that everything around him seemed to slow down again. Realizing he needed to relay Lux's message about the weak side platform to Nocks, he poked his head back inside the corridor to seek his fellow officer’s attention. As he did so Tristler couldn't help but notice he’d forgotten about last smoke in his breast pocket.

Lux’s request immediately came to mind as a solution but then again he couldn't really imagine Cade accepting it. Unfortunately for Cade he was adamant on fulfilling his rescuer's request. Something the engineer would have to commiserate with once he knew the source of the goodwill.

*

Esma was getting restless, and no amount of pacing about the bridge with a pair of binoculars in hand quashed that growing unease. She'd also been fiddling with both the switchboard and her headset. It kept her hands busy for one thing, but she also wasn’t sure whether the updates streaming through the headset were helping or hurting her ability to focus.

A bulk of the incoming transmissions related to the scenes unfolding on or around Crusaders C384 and C217, both of which she was in no position to offer anything of note. Not long ago she'd been among the racket of voices informing Flannery of a successful boarding by party members.

According to Trislter's earlier report from the corridor, four Voltigeurs had managed entry into the lower level. And that was with Nocks seemingly being on top of things downstairs. Esma shuddered to think what would have happened if he'd been amongst those to fall victim to the faux gas canisters. But that anxiety quickly dissipated upon seeing the steady and reliable form of the front deck security officer through the front window. Lux would have happened, that's what.

She'd been present on the other side of the bridge's ballistic glass as the sharpshooter ruthlessly mowed down the leftover raiders on the weak side platform. And she'd continued watching in a mix of surprise and fascination as Lux retrieved the bodies, only to rearrange them at the top of the weak side stairs. Esma hadn’t confirmed anything with the blonde, or Vedmann for that matter, but she assumed Lux intended to use them to buy time in the event more visitors via the platform arrived. A necessary precaution for if she was preoccupied sharpshooting. A tad crude, but surely effective on multiple levels. Having the dead body of a comrade come flying down the stairs at you would give anyone pause after all.

But while Esma had described the tactic as crude it seemed Lux’s placement of the bodies had been methodical to the extent she had to have optimized the method through trial and error. As the bodies had to be placed in positions that wouldn’t be affected by minute jostling or movement from the Crusader. At the same time they couldn't be in a spot that obstructed her or another officer's ability to maneuver the front deck and stairway.

Just great, her comrades were desecrating the dead to get a leg up on the enemy. Alternatively, Esma might as well be bird watching from the safety of the bridge.

"Everything alright over there? You seem jumpy."

She turned to look at her new bridge mate, who while not as nonchalant as Cade on the surface, carried a palpable confidence with him as well.

"Frustrated more like, feels like I'm just watching things unfold at this point."

The man pondered her words a moment.

"Just watching has its merits too you know. They're plenty of things that only your unique perspective will be able to see from here."

Those words resonated with Esma for some reason. Something of a similar ilk must have been imparted on her at some point in her youth. As if triggered by this inkling, the scene in front of her suddenly shifted from the bridge of C248 to the extravagant ramada of a prodigious residence on a summer day. Where a younger, dejected version of the CO stood alongside a sturdy older woman who smelled of linens and black tea.

"Life is beautiful because it is broad, and yet you’ll find our vision to be very narrow in comparison. It’s those times when you catch yourself that one should expend a breath to observe their surroundings. You'll soon find there are a great many things to be seen from that vantage point."

Just as abruptly as it had come, the memory dissipated. Leaving part of her wishing she could've existed in it awhile longer. But it had served its purpose, reminding Esma that her current position offered its own unique advantages. They only needed to be sought out and utilized properly.

"Thanks for the pick me up."

She resumed her role with a renewed vigor. Yora for his part was pleasantly surprised his words had any effect on the girl.

"You're a strange one rookie, you’ll do just fine in field service."

*

"Commander! The deck officers have managed to clear C217's bay door, it would seem that half of the locks were compromised however. C217 is now on standby awaiting instructions on how to proceed."

"C217 is to resume its previous position in the formation effective immediately."

"You don’t want to wait for the all clear from Yulent? Sounds like the combat onboard got pretty messy, there’s a chance members of the boarding party are still active."

"Once surviving members of the boarding party learn their comrades failed to blow all the locks, they'll get desperate. More so if we take away their avenue for retreat. Better to let them believe they can escape to fight another day. Naturally our deck officers will have something to say about that, they’ll handle picking off the stragglers."

"Understood, relaying orders now."

Despite the clash transpiring at the rear of the formation, Heenan opted to keep the bulk of his attention at the forefront. Ever vigilant for what would surely be their greatest impediment on this day; the unaccounted for, RED toting, anti-faith faction. They'd be fools not to take advantage of Quiet Murn's ongoing visits. Which meant an appearance should be expected sooner rather than later.

Would it be too optimistic to hope they'd been deterred by the recent broadcast denouncing them as terrorists of the Commonwealth and stripping their rights? Yes, most definitely. If anything they’d be more inclined to double down now that there wasn’t anything to return to. What did the new joint government think it was accomplishing?

Best to forget about it and focus on what they could control. Which in Heenan’s case meant scheming his sharpshooters into positions where they could respond to the rocketeer threat uncontested. He’d get it done, brush with disaster be damned.

After all, Heenan had faced far worse circumstances with far less competent crews in the past and still come out the other side. So there was no reason a crew roster of this pedigree couldn't do the same and reach Belveer. Something he should have relayed to the convoy over comms in retrospect. He couldn't even begin to imagine how his attempt at a motivational speech would have been received by this roster. They’d probably think they were doomed. For now he’d keep the idea in his back pocket, just in case a good laugh became necessary.