Rhys slumped into his pilot seat, exhaustion creeping into his limbs as the adrenaline from their escape finally began to wear off. The Kestrel hummed with the low, steady thrum of hyperspace travel, a sound that usually brought him comfort. Today, it was little more than background noise to his swirling thoughts.

"Holding a steady course for Elysium, sir," Rex reported, his voice calm and measured as it always was.

"Thanks, Rex," Rhys replied, rubbing his temples. "Let's hope Silas finds some answers there."

Silas, looking battered but composed, stepped into the cockpit. "We need to talk," he said, leaning his large frame against the back of the co-pilot's chair. "About the Vexari."

Rhys nodded, leaning back. "You said they were organizing the raiders. Any idea what their game plan might be?"

Silas sighed, glancing at the hyperspace display. "They're consolidating power. The raider attacks were just the beginning. They're destabilizing the outer systems to weaken the empire’s grip. The Vexari may want to control the trade routes, and eventually, the core worlds."

Rhys absorbed this in silence for a few moments. "And Elysium? What’s there?"

"I have," he began slowly, searching for the right words, “a contact there. She can help us.”

Rhys smiled despite himself. "It’s us already, is it?"

Silas laughed softly, and for a while, they sat quietly in each other's company. A sudden beep from the ship's console broke the silence. Rhys frowned, glancing at the readout. "We've got a disturbance in the cargo hold."

Silas’s eyes narrowed, and he let out a deep sigh. "Could be one of the wounded."

"It never ends," Rhys muttered, unstrapping himself from his seat. "Come on, let's check it out. Rex, keep us posted if any other anomalies show up."

The robot nodded without looking up, already focused on his controls. Rhys and Silas moved swiftly through the corridors of the Kestrel, the ship's familiar hum growing louder as they approached the cargo hold. Rhys could hear muffled voices and a distinct scuffling sound. His hand rested on the grip of his pistol, ready for whatever might be waiting.

The door to the cargo hold slid open with a hiss. The soldiers huddled together in small groups, some tending to the wounded, others checking their weapons and gear. Wulf was at the center, flanked by her men, Dandridge and Henderson. Her intense gaze was directed toward a shadowy corner of the room.

"What’s going on?" Rhys asked softly, stepping inside.

Wulf turned to him, her stance rigid and focused. Her light brown hair was pulled into a messy ponytail that didn’t quite keep it out of her bright blue eyes, which remained fierce with determination. "We found something. Or rather, someone. You! Come on out of there."

A small figure emerged from the shadows, tearing Rhys from his thoughts. It was a girl, about nineteen, her hands raised in surrender. She was lean, wearing ragged clothes that had definitely seen better days.

Rhys dropped his guard immediately. The girl had a very pretty heart-shaped face with a narrow, delicate chin. Large, bright metallic gold eyes with a piercing, alert look stared back at him, framed by dark, slightly thick eyebrows. He had never seen eyes like that. For a moment his mind was filled with images of glittering treasure.

Someone slapped Rhys on the back of his head.

“Did you want to say something? Captain?” Wulf said through clenched teeth.

“Oh right. Uh. Who are you?”

"A stowaway," Wulf cut in before the girl could answer. Her tone was flat, but Rhys could hear the eye roll in it.

Rhys approached the girl, his eyes narrowing. "What’s your name?"

The girl lifted her chin, meeting his gaze without flinching. "My name's Tally."

"What are you doing on my ship, Tally?"

"I was hiding," she replied, her voice steady hiding the desperation that was so clear on her face. "I didn't have anywhere else to go."

Rhys exchanged a glance with Silas, then turned back to the girl. "Hiding from what?"

"From the aliens," she said simply. "They destroyed my home. I snuck onto your ship when I saw it was leaving. I’m sorry, but it was the last one. I didn’t think I’d be found out this soon."

Rhys let out a slow breath. "Alright, Tally. For now, you stay here. We’ll figure out what to do with you once we reach the surface."

Wulf shot him a skeptical look but didn’t argue. Rhys suspected that he had earned her respect during their escape, and that must have counted for something. He turned to leave but paused, looking back at Tally. Her black hair was short and messy, but there was something about it that he liked.

"Stay out of trouble," he said, holding her gaze for a moment longer.

She nodded, and Rhys felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. Wulf wasted no time in parking Tally on the deck where she was in plain view of Wulf and her troops. As he and Silas returned to the cockpit, he couldn’t shake the feeling that her presence on the Kestrel was more than just a coincidence.

Hours later, the Kestrel dropped out of hyperspace, and the blue-green planet of Elysium filled the viewport. The planet's surface was a patchwork of sprawling cities and lush forests, a stark contrast to the landscapes Rhys was used to.

"We’re here," Rhys announced, keying up the intercom. "Prepare for landing."

The ship navigated towards the bustling spaceport in high orbit above Elysium. It was far more populated than Chatham Station, with large cargo freighters and smaller ships buzzing in every direction bringing food and wares of every description to the station before being shipped planetside. Rhys guided the Kestrel towards one of the outer docking platforms.

As they approached the space station, an imperial navy ship loomed into view, sleek and formidable. Rhys's stomach tightened. "We've got company."

Before he could react, a voice crackled over the comm. "Kestrel, this is INS Argentum. Hold position and prepare for boarding."

Rhys muttered a curse under his breath. "Rex, get everyone ready. We’ve got a boarding party incoming."

“No party like a boarding party,” Silas said softly to himself as he turned to leave the cockpit.

The cargo hold was a flurry of activity as the soldiers prepared for their unexpected guests. Tally stood nervously to the side, her eyes wide.

"Quick, get her in one of these crates," Rhys ordered, grabbing Tally by the arm and dragging her towards an empty crate. "Stay quiet and don’t make a sound."

“Uh, why?” Wulf asked, lifting the lid.

“You don’t think it’s weird for us to have just one civilian?”

“You’re a civilian.”

“It’s my ship!” he protested. “Tally. If the navy runs your background, are they going to find anything?” She hesitated, then nodded. “See?” Rhys shot back at Wulf.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

After a bit of back and forth, Tally agreed to hide, her face pale, and climbed into the crate. Rhys looked down to make sure she was comfortable and gave her a smile.

“Trust me,” he said. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Wulf and her men secured the lid just as the Kestrel shuddered with the impact of the docking clamps. The hiss of the airlock opening filled the cargo hold, and a handful of espatiers stepped aboard.

These were not simple rank and file troopers or lowly conscripts, but experienced professionals. Trained to fight in the cold, dark space between the stars. They were imposing figures clad in heavy and ornately engraved armor, their presence immediately commanded respect and fear. Every imperial citizen knew of the exploits of the emperor's fiercest warriors, men and women who dared to walk where angels feared to tread.

The lead officer surveyed the room. "Who is in charge here?" His voice was soft and calm, barely above a whisper. Even if he hadn’t been wearing a helmet that covered his entire face, Rhys was sure his voice would have been impossible to make out without amplification.

Wulf stepped forward stiffly. "Staff Sergeant Wulf, sir."

"Your OIC?"

“Lieutenant Hartley,” she gestured to one of the more heavily wounded men. One side of his face was a mix of black soot and burned flesh. A haggard medic sat cross-legged on the floor next to him, the floor littered with wrapping from various medical supplies. “We just got him stabilized.” She admitted.

If the officer heard, he gave no indication of it. His head turned back and forth, casting his gaze across every person in the bay. His men were eerily silent and still. Watching. Waiting.

Rhys exchanged a glance with Silas and stepped forward. "I’m the captain of this vessel."

His head snapped toward Rhys. "And you are?"

"Rhys Redfield," Rhys replied, struggling to keep his voice even.

“I am Reinhardt. This is everyone aboard?”

“My copilot is manning the controls, but other than that, yes.”

“Very well. Glover?”

One of Reinhardt's men stepped forward. “Yes, sir?”

“Bring the captain.”

"The skipper or the commodore, sir?"

“The skipper,” the officer answered with the barest hint of annoyance in his voice.

As Reinhardt spoke to his man, Silas leaned down to whisper in Rhys’s ear. “The commanding officer of a ship is always called the captain. The commodore is someone who’s a captain by rank who’s probably in charge of some sort of command or intelligence element.”

“So what’s that make the captain of the ship?” Rhys whispered back.

The messenger, Glover, turned sharply to obey whatever orders he had just been given.

“A Commander,” Reinhardt said without turning. The man hears like a bat, Rhys thought to himself.

Moments later, the messenger returned with a tall man in a blue and gold dress uniform adorned with various medals and decorations. He wore the hat and sword of a naval officer, and he looked every bit as stern and commanding as Rhys expected.

"This is Commander Lucian Everett, captain of the INS Argentum," Reinhardt announced.

Everett surveyed the group with a practiced eye. "You’ve got a lot of wounded here. Why weren’t they taken to a proper medical facility?"

“The Chatham Medical Center was destroyed, sir.” Wulf interjected.

“We barely escaped with our lives,” Rhys added.

Everett’s expression softened. “I see. We’ll get the wounded taken care of. But first, I need to know what happened out there.”

“The Vexari attacked Chatham Station,” Rhys said quickly. “They’re amassing a fleet. We barely got away.”

Everett’s eyes narrowed. "The Vexari?"

Rhys nodded. Silas spoke up, “They’ve got some kind of plan. We think they might be trying to destabilize the outer systems. Their attack came with no warning.”

Everett's expression grew grim. "This is troubling news."

Rhys glanced at Silas, who nodded in agreement. Everett turned to Reinhardt. “Inform the commodore. He needs to hear this.”

Reinhardt saluted and left to carry out the order. Rhys could feel the tension in the room as they awaited the commodore's arrival. Tally's crate was hidden among the supplies, and he prayed she remained silent.

The Commodore, who introduced himself as Atticus Kane, arrived a few minutes later, his presence commanding and authoritative. He was a tall man with sharp features and stern gray eyes that seemed to see straight through anyone he looked at. His uniform was immaculate, and the air of confidence he exuded was almost palpable.

“Commodore,” Everett began, “these soldiers were on Chatham Station when it was attacked. They barely escaped with their lives.”

Kane's gaze swept across the room, taking in every detail. "What can you tell me about the attack?"

Rhys repeated the information about the Vexari and their plans. Kane listened intently, his expression growing darker with each word.

"We cannot take the wounded down to the surface," Kane said finally, his voice firm. "I’m sorry, but we must respond to this threat immediately."

The soldiers shifted uneasily, but there was no argument. Kane's authority was absolute. He turned to Rhys, his eyes piercing. "Stay out of trouble on Elysium. And don’t let this ship out of your sight."

Rhys nodded, relieved that the inspection was over. "Understood, Commodore."

Kane gave a curt nod and turned to leave, followed by his officers. As the navy prepared to depart, Rhys couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. The Vexari threat was real, and the empire was mobilizing to confront it. They were likely to send far more than just one ship to secure the planet.

Once the navy was gone, Rhys and Silas breathed a collective sigh of relief. Wulf and her men began tending to the wounded again, and Rhys moved to the crate where Tally was hiding.

"That was close," Silas muttered.

"Too close," Rhys agreed, prying the lid off the crate to free Tally. "You alright?"

Tally nodded, her face still pale. "Yeah, thanks."

Rhys managed a smile. "Just stick with us, and you’ll be fine."

"Where are you from, Tally?" he asked softly.

She hesitated, then began to speak. "I’m from a small colony on the outer rim. My parents died when I was young, and I had to fend for myself. I ran away when I was fifteen and have been on my own ever since."

Rhys nodded, listening intently. "How did you survive?"

Tally's eyes grew distant. "I had to do whatever it took to get by. I stole food and clothes from market stalls, pickpocketed for money, and broke into abandoned buildings for somewhere to sleep. It wasn’t easy, but I made it."

Rhys felt a deepening sense of connection to the girl. "You’re tough," he said softly. "You’ve been through a lot."

She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thank you. I didn’t think anyone would understand."

Rhys reached out and gently touched her shoulder. "You’re not alone anymore. We’ll keep you safe."

Tally nodded, her gratitude evident. "Thank you, Rhys. I don’t know what I would have done without you."

As the Kestrel finally touched down on Elysium, Rhys felt a sense of cautious optimism. They had made it this far, and now they had a chance to regroup and plan their next move. He just hoped that whatever awaited them on Elysium would help them fight against the Vexari.

The Staff Sergeant had made a transmission on their way down through some sort of official channel. Medical staff and military police were waiting for them when they landed. The cargo hold gradually emptied as the soldiers disembarked. The last one off the ship was Wulf. She paused briefly, watching her men half walk, half stagger. She reached down to her heavy utility belt and fished around a moment in one of the pockets before pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a flip lighter. She pulled one out and put it gently between her lips. Silas cleared his throat and took a step toward her.

“Mind if I get one of those?”

She pulled out another one without a word and held it out for him. He put it between his own lips as she lit hers.

“Please don’t smoke on my ship.” Said Rhys, to deaf ears.

“Do you mind?” Silas asked, holding his hand out for the lighter. Wulf stared at him for a heartbeat. Maybe two. Then she stepped very close to Silas and gently put one hand on the back of his head, bringing his face down to hers. She touched the glowing tip of her cigarette to his, and took a deep breath in. Rhys stood aghast. Silas himself looked at ease, if a little surprised, instead of his normal stern expression. Wulf, who Rhys had yet to see without a scowl on her face, was completely relaxed. She looked up into Silas's eyes without raising her chin, and after a moment released him and began walking down the ramp herself. “See you around, boys.” She called over her shoulder, leaving Rhys, Silas, and Tally alone to watch a small convoy of military and medical vehicles disappear into the night.

A heavy silence followed, and at last Rhys thought of something to say. "Let’s get you settled," he said to Tally, leading her towards the crew quarters. "And then we’ll figure out our next steps."

Tally followed closely. Despite the rough circumstances of her arrival, there was something about her that intrigued Rhys. She had a quiet strength, a resilience that he admired.

As they reached the crew quarters, Rhys gestured to an empty bunk. "You can take this one. It’s not much, but it’s better than a cargo crate."

Tally smiled, her expression softening. "Thank you, Rhys."

He nodded. "Get some rest. We’ll need everyone at their best."

As Tally settled into her new bunk, Rhys returned to the open ramp of the cargo bay. Silas was right where he left him, savoring the last of his cigarette. The view of Elysium’s largest city stretching up into the sky filled the viewport, and Rhys couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation.

"Alright," he said, clapping Silas on the shoulder. "Let’s go see what this contact of yours can do."

Silas nodded, a determined look in his eyes. "Do let’s."