As they were loading the jump drive onto the alien vessel, a sudden thought sprang into Jack’s mind. The boarding probes deploy a sealed airlock once they penetrate the hull, using their maneuvering thrusters to exert constant pressure, keeping it in place. If they flew those probes away, the airlock would no longer be airtight, and the whole room would depressurize, killing everyone inside it.

“Eve, stop!” Jack cried out, with urgency in his voice. “We need to get the wounded to safety first. Once we leave, this entire cargo bay will be exposed to vacuum.”

“We’ll take them with us,” Eve retorted sharply. “There’s no time to wait around.”

“We have no one with medical training, no equipment, and we’re marching into battle. They don’t stand a chance. We need to call the med bay and evacuate them.”

“The mission comes first!” Eve roared, her eyes flashing with aggression.

“Your mission. Not mine. You’re more than capable of doing it without me. I’m getting these people to safety. Everyone who’s too wounded to fight, come with me. And I’ll need two able-bodied volunteers to help carry Lieutenant Ballinger to the med bay.”

Almost immediately, a small crowd of wounded crewmen gathered behind Jack, some in worse shape than others. Reluctantly, two of his unharmed squad mates also began walking toward him. To his surprise, he recognized the former squad leader—a man he had come to blows with mere hours ago—as one of the two.

Jack turned once more toward Eve, his tone softer this time. “Once we’re safely up the stairs, I’ll trigger the lockdown and you can leave. Good luck. And please, try to stay alive.”

Eve’s hardened expression softened into a small smile. She nodded. “You too, Rust Scrubber. May we meet again, hopefully under happier circumstances.”

With Lieutenant Ballinger placed on a makeshift stretcher, crafted from jackets and two Kharlath Energy Lances, the small group slowly made their way toward the upper levels. Jack was worried about Eve, not thrilled about letting her leave alone. But he couldn’t just let these people die. He tried to push thoughts of her out of his mind, focusing on the task at hand, but her possible fate still weighed heavily on his conscience.

As soon as the entire party reached the ship’s main level, Jack sighed and pulled the manual lockdown lever. Whatever would become of Eve and her group was out of his hands now. He grabbed his rifle and signaled to everyone else who could to do the same. In the distance, the sounds of violence still echoed through the corridors.

As they were about to enter one of the secondary access corridors—the ones beneath the floor, that the Kharlath had no clue about—a door swung open on the other side of the room, and a group of people began pouring in. Both groups nearly shot each other before realizing they were on the same side.

“What the hell are you doing here?” None other than Mr. Okoro, the mystery man, stepped out from the group, staring slack-jawed at Jack. “You were supposed to be in the cargo bay, you were supposed to board those probes and get out. What the hell happened?”

“Don’t worry, the jump drive team made it out,” Jack assured him. “I stayed behind to get the wounded to the med bay.”

Mr. Okoro shook his head. “I’m afraid that isn’t going to be possible. There are at least 30 Kharlath warriors between us and the med bay, with more likely on the way. We tried to reach it ourselves, wanted to get the captain out of there. But any attempt would be hopeless.”

Jack raised his fist defiantly. “Every damn thing we’ve accomplished today was supposed to be hopeless. Are we just going to abandon our friends? What is there even left to do? Just sit and wait until we’re overrun?”

“Nereus, listen to me.” Mr. Okoro walked toward him and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Ship’s comms are down, we have no way of reaching out to the fleet. Most of our weapons are gone, our drone bays are empty. The bridge is minutes away from being overrun, again. Our main reactor is gone. The captain is in a coma, or already dead. For all intents and purposes, we’ve lost. That’s it. The Bismarck is gone. All that’s left to do is find a boarding probe, point it at the Mothership, and do what we can to help the jump drive teams.”

“What about the self-destruct?” Jack replied, dejected. “Isn’t that our duty?”

One of the other men, an officer, spoke up. “That’s Commander Demir’s responsibility, not ours. If and when he decides to engage it, I’d rather not be aboard.”

“Come, there’s a boarding probe near the broadside airlock.” Mr. Okoro spoke warmly but firmly.

Everyone around him looked to Jack for guidance. With a heavy nod, he fell in line. His argument with Eve, getting separated from her—it was all for nothing. And Louise! The thought suddenly hit him. She was probably in the med bay, about to be overrun by enemy troops. He briefly felt the urge to grab his rifle and run, to fire away and take as many damned lizards with him as he could. Maybe, just maybe, through a miracle, he could single-handedly turn the tide of the battle. If he tried hard enough, he could cut a path through the Kharlath and make it to her. Of course, he knew it was a stupid fantasy. He would only die a pointless death. But it was tempting nonetheless.

The group soon came across the probe Mr. Okoro had spoken of, as he struggled to open the airlock. “Corporal Āwhina, a little help?”

A muscular, heavily tattooed woman in battered assault corps armor stepped forward. The two of them wrestled with the airlock for a while, slowly prying it open. Jack peered inside the probe, surprised to find it strangely familiar. Two rows of metal chairs with seatbelts, a slightly more comfortable-looking pilot’s chair, and a navigation console. If not for the slightly oversized nature of everything inside and the alien writing on the console’s buttons, he could almost believe it was a human-made vessel.

The group climbed aboard, immediately becoming dizzy and disoriented—there was no gravity plating. They switched on their magnetic boots and tried to find a little corner to make themselves comfortable in. The space was cramped but manageable. As Mr. Okoro settled into the pilot’s seat and pulled up the flight instructions on his wristpad—not exactly a sight that inspired confidence—a woman from his group quietly approached Jack. She seemed middle aged, though she had a sort of youthful aura, and she was strikingly attractive, far more so than anyone had a right to under these circumstances.

“My name is Julie, Julie Giordano. I’m a nurse. I’d like to take a look at your friend, if that’s alright with you.” She pointed towards the still-unconscious Lieutenant Ballinger.

Jack nodded. “He’s not actually my friend. Technically, we’ve never met. Well, he’s never met me, at least.” He let out a short laugh before stopping himself, wondering if it was inappropriate.

The nurse smiled. “You’re very brave, doing all this for a stranger, then.” She pulled out some sort of machine from her backpack, and soon enough, the Lieutenant’s body was covered in wires and suction cups. She looked at the machine’s display and frowned. “I don’t have the equipment or the expertise to treat him here. He’s stable, but he needs a hospital. Or whatever’s the closest thing to that we can find.” She then moved on to the other wounded, examining them and doing her best to treat them with the limited resources at her disposal.

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With a resonant thud, Mr. Okoro detached the probe from the ship, setting a course for the approximate direction of the Mothership. Jack tried to look through the window, but he could barely make out anything in the vast darkness of space. Aside from the occasional piece of debris, all he could see was the silhouette of the Bismarck, growing rapidly dimmer as the probe picked up speed.

It’s a funny thing, being in a space battle. Without the aid of sensors and drone screens, no one can really see anyone. The distances involved are so vast that it essentially has to be abstracted entirely, reduced to simple dots on a screen, while computers handle the incredibly complex calculations required to actually accomplish anything. And if you were to glance out a window—a real, unenhanced window, as Jack was doing now—all you would see is perfect tranquility, even in the most frantic of battles. It’s as if they were happening on a plane of existence entirely removed from human senses. It was a far cry from the immediacy and intimate violence of face-to-face combat. Jack wondered, if the Kharlath weren’t so keen on boarding their vessels, would they ever really see their faces? Or would they spend all their time blasting away at little dots on a computer screen, hoping those little dots didn’t shoot first? In a way, he was relieved that wasn’t the case. He’d already seen people dehumanized by this war. Who knows how far they’d be willing to go against an enemy that, to them, was nothing more than a few pixels on the screen.

“Hey, Julie,” Jack spoke up softly. “Do you know Louise Gill? She works in the med bay, she’s a…” Jack stopped himself, realizing for the first time that he didn’t actually know what Louise’s job was. She had a medical background, that much was obvious, but was she a nurse, a doctor? He felt guilty for not knowing.

“Combat medic?” Julie helped him finish his sentence. “Yes, I know her. Last I saw of her, she was in the med bay, taking care of some kid. Probably wasn’t going to make it. The kid, I mean!” she tripped over her words. “Louise was fine, I’m sure she’ll be okay. She’s a smart gal. You two close?”

Jack didn’t actually know how to answer that question. Were they close? He liked her a lot, though he wasn’t sure in what way, and she obviously liked him too, at least to some extent. But were they really close? They barely knew each other. Hell, he’d just learned what she actually did.

“If it’s not a no, it’s a yes,” she winked at him. “Listen, I know things look bad now, but you never know what’s going to happen next. I’ve been with the Fleet a long time now, over 20 years, and I’ve made it through enough hairy situations to know that nothing’s impossible—and losing hope is pointless. You either make it, or you don’t. Worrying about it won’t make a difference.” She placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder, reassuringly.

While they were talking, Mr. Okoro was fiddling with a strange stone device. It was like a box, with a number of symbols carved into slightly raised surfaces on the bottom. He alternated between placing his fingers on the symbols and warming them up with a vintage pocket lighter. While most of the ship’s passengers were too distracted to notice or care, Jack was fascinated by this bizarre ritual. Noticing his attention, the mysterious man smiled at him.

“It’s an ancient artifact. Most likely made by the same people responsible for the gate network. It’s a communication device, one of a bonded pair. This one’s sibling is in the hands of my boss, Major Barrett.” His eyes glowed with excitement as he described how the device worked. “Whatever happens to one device, happens to the other, no matter how far apart they are. So you heat up a symbol, and the corresponding symbol on the other one heats up as well, and you can communicate that way, instantly, across any distance.”

“How exactly does it work?” Jack asked, now completely engrossed.

“We don’t actually know for sure. As far as any test we’ve done on them can tell, it’s just regular granite, carved and painted. Some scientists have theorized that it’s something like quantum entanglement, but that stuff’s way above my head. All I know is, they’re really convenient.”

“So you lied to me, then?” Jack’s tone suddenly shifted. “About not being able to communicate with the rest of the fleet?”

“I didn’t lie, Mr. Nereus. I merely told the truth you needed to hear. The ship’s communication systems were indeed down. We did have to leave. None of that was untrue. I merely omitted some lesser, irrelevant truths.”

“You have a very strange relationship with truth, Mr. Okoro,” Jack laughed.

“Most men in my line of work do. You will find that I am, in fact, among the most honest. I very rarely lie, I simply tell the right truths at the right time.” Suddenly, he raised his voice, addressing everyone on the ship: “We’re coming up on the Mothership now. With a bit of luck, we’re going to be on that ship in about five minutes, so strap in and get ready. Those of you who can still fight, grab a weapon. Everyone else, I want near the front of the ship, and don’t come out until I say so.”

As they approached their destination, a gigantic, foggy orb began to materialize in the middle of the central window. At first, it seemed like a celestial body, perhaps a gas giant, but it quickly dawned on Jack that it was, in fact, the Mothership—or at least the electromagnetic field surrounding it. The field was now bogged down in debris, entirely covered in particles from myriad sources.

“Everyone, hold on!” Mr. Okoro cried out as he began inputting what seemed like a complicated series of operations on the navigation console. As soon as he finished, Jack felt an immense pressure all over his body, as if he were being crushed by some unseen weight from every direction simultaneously. Just as he felt he was on the verge of passing out, it was over. The ship had flipped completely, now facing away from the Mothership.

“Apologies for that maneuver, friends!” Mr. Okoro tried to feign an apologetic tone, though he was clearly enjoying himself. “We need to hit the EM field at 15 m/s in order to pass through. The forward thrusters on this thing just weren’t slowing us down fast enough, so I’m using the main engine instead.”

As soon as they hit the EM field, Jack’s hair began to stand up, and the entire ship started buzzing, barely audible. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or if it was a real phenomenon, but there was a certain degree of unease on everyone’s faces. Six or seven seconds passed until they had cleared the field, and Mr. Okoro once again began inputting a series of movements into the console. He seemed more casual and confident about it this time, which Jack found reassuring.

With the boarding probe once again flipped, the Mothership was, for the first time, in full view. It was a gigantic object-over 800 meters long, from Jack’s estimation, at least twice as wide, and close to 200 meters tall at its thickest point. Both its shape and construction were unlike any other ship he had ever seen, or read about, and it was exceedingly obvious that it was not made by the relatively primitive civilization responsible for the boarding probe he was sitting in. The only comparison he could make was not to any spacefaring vessel or piece of technology, but something far more mundane. With its deep grooves stretching across the entire surface, wide, rounded front end, and vaguely egg shell-like color and texture, what it resembled, in his mind, was a clam or a mollusk, or rather, their shells.

Getting closer to the gigantic vessel, Jack could see that it was virtually covered in strange looking turrets, relentlessly shooting a stream of who-knows-what, towards a swarm of assault drones that were meant to cover their infiltration.

As if sensing his discomfort at the sight, Mr. Okoro reassured his passengers, in a cheery voice:

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep out of their range until the last moment. We’ll have to penetrate faster than I’d like to, but it beats…” He stopped in the middle of his sentence, staring intently at something outside, before flashing a devious grin to his passengers.” “Or maybe we won’t have to penetrate at all. Corporal Āwhina, come up here and take a look at this.”

The muscular woman hurriedly left her seat, as if compelled to obey him, and began staring intently towards where he was pointing. After a few seconds, she nodded her head, and began speaking, in an unexpectedly pleasant and light voice:

“Yeah, it looks like we got lucky. One of the ship’s main hangars doesn’t have a door on it. We’re probably going to encounter heavier resistance than if we went in at a random point on the ship, but I think it’s still the safer choice.”

“But what if there’s some sort of force field or something?” Jack asked, fully prepared to be mocked for his concern

“There almost certainly is.” Mr. Okoro replied immediately, as if he was waiting for someone to ask that question. “They’re not going to have the entire hangar exposed to the vacuum. But we can check.” He turned to his wristpad, casually tapping a handful of times, and soon enough, one of the assault drones flew into the open hangar bay, momentarily slowing down as it passed through what could indeed only be described as a force field, though Jack couldn’t venture to speculate about the mechanics behind it. “There’s our answer.” Mr. Okoro turned to his passengers, smiling.