Malan pinned back Tanwen’s unease and moistened his dry lips. The hulking ship drifted leisurely through the wreckage towards him, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure how he was expected to respond.

Then, mercifully, he received a comms hail from the Namhai. He didn’t hesitate to accept, and his display shifted into a two-way video transmission. He couldn’t stop the smile at the sight of the two children huddled to the side, unbound. Their blond hair was sweat-matted and their clothes were filthy, but both seemed to be well enough, but for the crying.

His smile slid away as his gaze drifted to the centre of the image. A man in what seemed to be his mid to late twenties reclined on a captain’s chair about as far back as possible, one leg drooped lazily over one armrest. Malan’s eyes found his, and he was hard pressed to repress a shiver. He wore a lazy smile beneath swept back, raven hair, but his eyes were chips of pale blue ice.

Of course, Malan knew who he was. What he was. Namhai was a name known across the known systems. A top tier Starbound, known for his stealth capabilities and devastating hit-and-run strategies, he was one of the many Starbound Malan had grown up idolising.

Now, though, all Malan could think was predator.

The smile widened almost imperceptibly.

“Well, haven’t you just set the cat among the pigeons? I don’t think I’ve seen anybody get the UGC command and Nexus both in such a tizzy since that bastard Aethnir.”

Aethnir. The Starbound that had led UGC forces to victory against the last great united dependent collective. The way his teachers spoke of it, the only Dreadnought-class Starbound had near enough fought several fleet scale battles alone, such was the strength he wielded—though Malan had always assumed that to be hyperbole.

“For what it’s worth, I truly didn’t want that,” he said, leading with caution above anything else.

The man waved him off. “Don’t apologise on their behalf. For my part, the trip was worth my while just for the chance to lay my eyes on the upstart with enough balls to threaten the Nexus with trading their Starbound to the Eclipse if they weren’t given support.”

The man’s gaze became weighing, then, as though taking in not just what stood in front of him, but also what Malan may one day become. He couldn’t tell if he’d been found wanting or not, and shifted uncomfortably.

“Lying to them in our first conversation probably wasn’t the greatest first impression, but we needed the support.”

Namhai actually chuckled. “Perfectly timed, I must say. Had they known you even a little, they’d have likely called your bluff. Just hearing you talk to me I can tell you’re far too sensible for that. But you’re an entirely unknown variable to them. They couldn’t afford the risk. It was a good play—perhaps better saved for a worthy reward. You walk away with nothing but some paltry celestial energy and a victory to your name.”

Malan frowned and found himself standing a little straighter. “Neither of those things were why I did this.”

The older man’s eyebrow raised, and he followed Malan’s gaze to the two cowering children, and seemed to only just remember they were even there.

“Ah,” he said with a shrug. “Even less value than I had supposed. When I saw you had specified the children were the highest priority, I thought perhaps you’d been offered a particularly rewarding quest for their return.” An amused smile slipped onto his face, then, and Malan swallowed. “I look forward to seeing how long before your altruism is ground to dust by the life you’ve now chosen for yourself.”

Malan wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but Namhai barely seemed to notice his silence.

“Still, my own orders were to deliver them to you, so I shall see it done. Be aware, Tanwen: Several UGC and Nexus ships are headed this way. My orders also extend to ensuring you are still in this system when they arrive. Ensure that you are. I’d hate to lose a new comrade so early in his career.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The word comrade was said with such a twisted sneer, it took Malan back for a moment, before the communications channel closed off completely, leaving him in a strangely tense silence.

By any account, he should be thrilled. He’d essentially just had a conversation with a childhood hero of his—basically the equivalent of an Old Earth child getting to speak with a superhero from the old vid archives. If he told twelve-year-old him he’d have got the chance to speak with bloody Namhai, he’d have been bouncing off the walls.

Instead, he’d been left with nothing but an icy pit in his stomach, and a trepidation about the immediate future one of the Starbound—something he could never have dreamed of feeling until now.

In the back of his mind, Tanwen rumbled in low agreement.

----------------------------------------

Tarai hid her fidgeting hands beneath long robes. Plain grey and cool, off-white panels lined the bridge of the Atholl, the Nexus cruiser bearing them slowly down to the landing pads of Mykeser’s sole colonial outpost. It was a droll-looking place, stifling jungle encroaching upon worn buildings, but their display told them the port was bustling with activity.

An impatient sigh drew her eye. The only UGC military personnel from their party that had been approved to land stood over the vacant captain’s seat with her arms folded, a scowl making her already crooked face look positively twisted.

Major Odyll had been the highest ranking officer in duty when Tanwen’s request for aid had come in, and had been quite content to call his bluff and allow him to get himself killed. Of course, word of a new Starbound travelled fast, and she had been swiftly overruled. Then she had fought like a dog to not send any UGC assets to help, only for Namhai to call attention to himself and volunteer to go himself.

The enigmatic Starbound had apparently been in the room the entire time and had left to a silence so complete you could have heard an ant breathe.

Evidently, being overruled twice had stuck in Odyll’s craw, because Tarai could practically hear her teeth grinding from across the room. She was the worst kind of commanding officer type. Most Tarai never really had a problem with, but Odyll was a self-important busy-body who treated her crew like shit and had no idea how to gain their compliance without aggression.

It had only been a few days, and already Tarai had heard more half-yelled threats than Odyll could possibly carry out without being hauled in front of a tribunal herself. The eye rolls once her back was turned told Tarai that her crew knew as much, too, and complied only by virtue of the knowledge that once this mission was over, they'd likely never have to see her again.

The Atholl’s engines slowed to a low rumble, and her landing thrusters engaged, slowing their descent as the concrete landing pad below rose to meet them. An hour ago, and the Major’s foul mood had irritated her beyond measure, now she could barely muster a vague sense of annoyance.

How could she, when the Starbound her life was now sworn to would be down below? A life in service was one thing when it was some obscure, distant thing decades hence. It was quite another now she was staring down the barrel. Tarai had liked her life in the archives. No people, really, besides Muin, and a mountain of books, dataslates and other assorted knowledge so large it would have taken her three lives to read it all.

Now it was gone far more prematurely than she could possibly have been ready for. And for reasons that had her more anxious than she’d been willing to let on in front of Muin.

The ship lurched, and she adjusted her feet to keep her balance whilst the engines slowed to a low whir, before cutting completely. Odyll turned on her heel and stormed off the bridge, and Tarai had to stop herself from rolling her eyes and before following suit, stomach churning.

What was he like, this Tanwen? What she’d heard of his brief communication felt as though it should tell her a lot about who he was, yet it actually told her very little, and that was more terrifying more than maybe anything else. She could make her peace with dedicating herself to her new role for life—she had always known that joining the order might entail that one day. Tarai had decided to roll the dice on that, and she had lost fair and square. She could even make peace with a life of travel and danger.

But other Scribes liked to whisper in the darkened corners of the Nexus archives, and there were enough about particular Starbound—even among some of the most beloved by the public—for Tarai to knew it wasn’t just idle talk

Exactly who was her life now inextricably tied to?

She strode down the steel exit ramp, and the sweltering heat hit her like a wall, the already high tropical sun making a more than fair effort to bake her alive in her ceremonial robes. Already there, a battered cruiser sat smoking on the pad adjacent to them, and a flurry of mechanics buzzed around it. Sat on a crate, a stern woman that looked to be in her mid-30s pointedly ignored some sweaty bureaucrat that stood sheepishly nearby, his eyes shifting back and forth between her and the Atholl’s landing party.

Tarai this time could not control the grimace as Odyll made a beeline directly for the woman, her face still like thunder.

She thought of walking with her, attempting to mediate, when the low purr of another engine caught her ears. Tarai stopped dead, momentarily frozen, before jerking her head around to catch sight of its source.

Vivid blue filled her vision for a moment, before she finally saw it, and her breath caught in her throat.

She didn’t need to be told—Tarai could feel it, even from so far below. This was Tanwen. This was her Starbound.