Lieutenant MacLeod lay perfectly still, hiding among wild grass as a Nrac patrol lingered nearby. The Firehawk's pair of shuttles had managed to make it down to the surface of Renatus without much trouble, thanks to both the efforts of the Vindicators and the final defiant actions of the ship's late captain. However, a patrolling gunship had spotted them while they searched for a place to land and gave chase.

Though the shuttles had managed to evade the gunship long enough to land in a clearing near some ruins, the gunship sent out a ground team to investigate their position. MacLeod and the rest of his surviving crew managed to hide before the Nrac patrol arrived, but they knew it was only a matter of time before they were found.

MacLeod could hear one of their power-armored soldiers stomp through the grass nearby, and he gripped his mag rifle tightly as he prepared for what might come next. He looked over at the others hiding alongside him—a dozen or so survivors from the Firehawk's crew, and only half of them properly armed—and gave them each a nod before returning his attention to the patrol.

The familiar drone of a Nrac gunship's anti-gravity engines from above made MacLeod's hair stand on end, and when it opened fire, he knew it was over. But the Nrac patrol suddenly scattered as their gunship's weapons turned against them. As a hail of plasma cut a few of them down, MacLeod came out of hiding and seized the opportunity. He picked a target and opened fire, then ordered the Firehawk's crew to do the same. "Light 'em up!"

The rest of the Nrac patrol quickly fell under the combined firepower of MacLeod and the rest of the crew, along with the support of the Nrac gunship he correctly assumed had been commandeered by the Vindicators. Once the last of the enemy soldiers fell, MacLeod raised his hand in the air and gestured for his crew to regroup. "Everyone alright?" he asked.

"We're good," said one of the survivors.

The Nrac gunship circled around them before setting down nearby, the gravitational forces of its engines kicking up a cloud of dust as it landed. The hatch at the rear of the vessel opened, and a triumphant Emerson and Beckett stepped out with their weapons in hand. "Can you believe the shit these assholes just leave lying around?" Beckett joked as he gestured toward the gunship.

MacLeod let out a chuckle. "I'm really glad you guys showed up when you did," he remarked. "Where's the other half of your team?"

Emerson shook his head. "MIA," he replied. "We all did our best to stay on your shuttles' tails, but Novak and Amari broke off just before we hit atmo. We were hoping you could help us track them down. Do those little biomonitors of yours still work down here?"

MacLeod nodded. "They might," he replied. "But I'm afraid they're not going to do us much good if we're stuck out here in the open." He gestured toward the nearby ruins. "We need to get to cover and regroup before we can start looking for our people."

"Sounds like a plan, sir," Emerson agreed. "Lead the way."

MacLeod gestured for the survivors to follow him, and Emerson and Beckett fell in behind them. The group made their way into the ruins, a decaying city of glass and concrete overgrown with vegetation. Whatever this place had been was long gone now, reclaimed by the wilderness that surrounded it. MacLeod led the team through the crumbling structures until they came across a large building that was relatively intact. It was far from ideal, but it was enough to offer some shelter from the elements—and any Nrac forces that might be searching for them.

The building appeared to have once been some factory or warehouse, but anything of value had been stripped clean long ago. Still, it provided more than enough cover to hide the stolen gunship and their shuttles. MacLeod had the FIrehawk's crew set up makeshift defenses from whatever scrap was on hand and sent two teams out to retrieve the two shuttles. Meanwhile, Emerson and Beckett took the gunship out to scout the immediate area for any lingering patrols.

While MacLeod waited for everyone to return, he decided to take advantage of the downtime by checking in on the biomonitors of those who were still missing. He pulled out his datapad and opened its tracking program, then keyed in Novak's ident code. A few moments later, a small blip appeared at the edge of his display; Novak was alive, but the signal was weak. He was at least a couple hundred miles out from their position. "Damn," MacLeod muttered. "That's gonna be a hike."

As MacLeod continued to scan for more signals, he noticed that Amari's biomonitor was nowhere to be found. He tried her code several times, but each time, it returned an error message indicating that she was either offline or out of range. Knowing her past with SCID, she may have been too paranoid to take the biomonitor pill in the first place. Whatever the case, searching for her without a signal was a lost cause.

MacLeod sighed and put his datapad away before making the rounds to check on the rest of the survivors. Most of them were still shaken by what happened aboard the Firehawk, but they appeared to be holding it together well enough, all things considered. The crew members who had been tasked with retrieving the shuttles returned safely with both vessels in tow, and MacLeod ordered them to get some rest while the others began unloading supplies and scavenging what spare parts they could.

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Among the mob was a familiar dark-haired medical corpsman organizing and tallying the medical supplies from the shuttle. Even as MacLeod approached, her face remained buried in her datapad, and she was utterly focused on her task. "'Chief Langley,' was it?" MacLeod asked. "I'm glad you made it off that ship."

Senior Service Chief Onora Langley looked up from her datapad to acknowledge MacLeod's presence. "Thank you, sir," she replied. But I'm afraid I'm all that's left from medical. I just happened to be in my quarters when the med bay got hit."

MacLeod gave Langley a sympathetic nod. "I understand," he said. "We lost a lot of good people today."

"We did," Langley agreed with a sigh. "May I speak freely, sir?"

"Go ahead," MacLeod replied.

Langley set down her datapad and folded her arms across her chest before looking MacLeod in the eye. "I don't know how else to say this, sir, but morale is in the shitter right now," she said bluntly. "A lot of these people are just going through the motions. They're scared and confused, and they have no idea what's going on. And I can feel all of it."

MacLeod raised an eyebrow. "You're...?"

"I'm an empath, sir," Langley confirmed. "I'm no Vindicator, but I can read emotions like a book. And right now? It's not looking pretty."

The lieutenant nodded. "I see," he said thoughtfully. "What do you suggest we do about it, Chief?"

Langley shrugged. "I'm just a corpsman, sir," she replied. "But if I were in command here, I'd start by getting everyone together for a group debriefing and maybe some rations. Let them know what's going on. Give them hope that this isn't the end of the line."

"That's... actually great advice," MacLeod remarked. "Thank you, Chief."

Langley gave him a nod and returned her focus to her datapad. "Just doing my job, sir," she said matter-of-factly.

As MacLeod walked away from Langley, he contemplated what she had said. He knew it was essential to address the crew as soon as possible, but there really wasn't much of a plan beyond survival right now. They were stranded on an alien world with no way to call for help and surrounded by enemies who would kill them or worse if they were caught. The odds were indeed not in their favor, but he had to do something—anything—to keep morale up and give these people some hope for the future.

MacLeod gathered everyone together in the center of the building and stood atop a crate so that all could see and hear him. "Everyone!" he called out. "I know it's been a tough day for all of us, and things are looking pretty grim, but I need you all to listen up. We're still alive, and we still have a chance to get off this planet. But it's not gonna be easy."

The Firehawk's crew listened intently as MacLeod continued. "Our ship is gone," he said somberly. "And with it, our only means of getting back home. But that doesn't mean we're out of options. We've got a Vindicator team on our side—the same team that hijacked a cruiser and a gunship. They've already pulled our asses out of the fire twice, and they're out there right now trying to find a way to help us. So until then, we need to do whatever we can to survive."

MacLeod paused for a moment to let his words sink in before continuing. "We have supplies, we have weapons, and we have shelter," he explained. "But most importantly, we have each other. We're going to get through this together, and I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure we all get home alive."

The crew members looked at one another with renewed hope and determination as MacLeod finished his speech. "Now, I know some of you are scared, and I know some of you are angry," he said. "But we need to hold it together if we want to make it through this. So take care of each other. Keep your heads up, your eyes open, and your weapons close. The path forward may not be clear, but we will find a way out of this mess together."

MacLeod stepped down from the crate as his crew began to disperse and return to their tasks. He looked over toward Langley, who nodded and smiled before returning to her inventory check. As MacLeod walked away, he noticed Emerson and Beckett approaching from outside.

"Nice speech, sir," Beckett remarked.

"Thanks," MacLeod replied. "How'd your scouting run go?"

"Didn't see any more patrols. I think we lucked out," Emerson replied. "The bluebloods seem keen on avoiding this island. We're probably safe here for the time being."

MacLeod nodded. "Good," he said. "So, what's our next move? Any ideas?"

"You make any progress on tracking down Lieutenant Novak? Or Amari?" Beckett asked.

MacLeod shook his head. "I've got Novak's signal, but it's weak," he explained. "He's a couple hundred miles out from here. No dice on Amari. She's either out of range or... well..."

"Shit," Emerson cursed.

"Yeah," MacLeod agreed with a nod before changing the subject. "Look, I honestly got nothing here. We have enough emergency rations for maybe a few weeks if we're careful, but that's about it."

Emerson nodded and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose Beckett and I can try to find a safe path to Novak with the gunship," he suggested. "Maybe tracking him down will lead us to something useful?"

MacLeod shrugged. "It's all we've got right now," he said. "But what about Amari? We can't just leave her out there on her own."

"We don't even know if she made it planetside," Beckett pointed out.

"Yeah," Emerson agreed. "I hate to say it, but we should assume worst-case scenario unless we can confirm otherwise. We'd just waste time and effort looking for her right now."

"Alright then," MacLeod sighed. "Get some rest. We'll head out in the morning."

"'We', sir?" Beckett asked with a smirk. "You're coming with us?"

MacLeod nodded. "Look, I'm no Vindicator, but I've known Novak since before he was even an esper," he explained. "He's my friend too, and I'm not about to sit here with my thumb up my ass while you two do all the work. Besides, having an officer along means you can just blame me when shit goes sideways, right?"

Beckett chuckled as he patted MacLeod on the shoulder. "I like this guy," he said, turning to Emerson.

"Me too," Emerson agreed with a grin as they both headed off toward the shuttles. "Sounds good, sir. Wouldn't hurt to have another rifle on our side."

MacLeod watched the pair depart before letting out a sigh of relief and heading off to find somewhere comfortable to sleep. The day's events had left him utterly fatigued, and he knew that tomorrow would likely be even more exhausting.

As he lay down in his sleeping bag and closed his eyes, he found himself wondering how everything had gone so wrong so quickly. The Nrac were practically on top of them the moment the Firehawk fell out of flux space; it couldn't have merely been bad luck.

The lieutenant let out another sigh and tried to forget such thoughts as he eventually drifted off to sleep.