Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
Vaxon
The debris field looked like the corpse of a dying star of twisted metal catching Mothership's external lights, casting shadows that moved wrong, creating illusions of threat in every flicker.
I'd seen enough combat wreckage to recognize the violence here.
Whatever had hit the Liberty escape pods hadn't been gentle.
The wormhole had chewed them up, spat them out across this sector like a child destroying toys.
Some pods had fused together on impact, creating the cluster Elena's scans had detected.
Others had been pulverized into fragments barely larger than my fist.
Fifteen pods in total. Three showing active power signatures.
The numbers kept cycling through my head like a tactical assessment. Eighteen to three ratio. Eighty-three percent mortality before we'd even arrived.
I stood on Mothership's bridge beside Captain Tor'van, watching the tactical display while our approach vector narrowed. Elena stood three steps to my left, close enough that I could hear her breathing, rapid, controlled, the rhythm of someone forcing themselves to stay calm.
She'd barely slept in the three days since Captain Tor'van had authorized this mission.
I knew because I'd been monitoring her quarters' activity logs, watching her work through night cycles while the rest of Mothership's crew rested.
Security oversight, I'd told myself. Making sure she didn't do anything reckless before we reached the debris field.
The truth was more complicated.
"Structural integrity scans complete," Er'dox reported from his station.
His massive frame bent over the engineering console, hands moving across holographic displays with practiced efficiency.
"The pod cluster is heavily damaged but stable in three sections.
Multiple hull breaches, but the intact compartments have maintained pressure.
Radiation levels are elevated but within acceptable parameters for short-term exposure. "
"Life signs?" Captain Tor'van asked. His deep voice carried command weight, eight hundred years of Zandovian military tradition compressed into two words.
A pause. Then: "Inconclusive. The power signatures indicate active life support, but I'm not detecting movement or heat signatures consistent with living beings."
Elena made a small sound, barely audible, quickly suppressed. I didn't look at her. Didn't need to. The tension radiating from her small frame was tangible enough to serve as its own sensor reading.
"Could be stasis," she said, voice tight. "Liberty pods have emergency cryo capabilities. If they knew rescue wasn't coming immediately, they might have put themselves under to conserve resources."
Smart. Logical. The kind of solution an engineer like Elena would design.
The kind of desperate measure that spoke to weeks or months of isolation before hope finally faded.
"Vaxon." Captain Tor'van turned to me. "Mission briefing. Your assessment of threat level?"
I pulled up the tactical overlay, highlighting problem areas in the debris field.
"The location is exposed. No natural cover, clear sight lines in multiple directions.
We're four hours inside the Dead Zone, contested space that three different raider factions claim jurisdiction over.
If anyone's monitoring sensor traffic, they'll know we're here within minutes of our arrival. "
"Which means?"
"Which means we operate under the assumption that we're being watched.
Fast insertion, faster extraction. Minimal team, maximum efficiency.
" I gestured to the pod cluster. "The derelict's structural instability adds another layer of risk.
Any significant movement could trigger collapse. We'll need to move carefully."
"Team composition?"
I'd been planning this since Elena's presentation three days ago.
"Myself, Elena as technical specialist, Er'dox for structural assessment, four security officers for perimeter control, and two additional engineers for salvage support.
Nine total. Small enough to move quickly, large enough to handle complications. "
"Complications being?"
"Raiders. Structural failure. Hostile survivors." I paused. "Or survivors who've been alone long enough that rescue looks like a threat."
Elena's breathing hitched. Still didn't look at her.
Captain Tor'van considered for three seconds—his version of careful deliberation. "Approved. You have six hours for the operation. After that, we withdraw whether the mission is complete or not. The Dead Zone isn't worth losing Mothership over."
"Understood, Captain."
"One more thing." Captain Tor'van's golden eyes are fixed on Elena. "Ms. Vasquez. You discovered these survivors. You built the case for rescue. But once you're on that derelict, Commander Vaxon has operational authority. His orders supersede your expertise. Clear?"
"Clear," Elena said. Her jaw was tight enough that I could see the muscle flex.
"Then suit up. You launch in twenty minutes."
The shuttle bay hummed with pre-mission activity.
Security officers checking weapons, engineers loading equipment, Er'dox running final structural calculations on his portable console.
I moved through the controlled chaos, verifying every detail while my mind ran threat scenarios in background processing.
Elena stood near the equipment lockers, pulling on her environmental suit with movements that looked practiced but hurried.
The suit was designed for humans, much smaller than standard Zandovian gear, more flexible to compensate for her species' inferior durability.
It made her look even tinier than usual, like a child playing dress-up in equipment designed for actual danger.
I crossed to her. She sensed my approach, looked up, and something complicated flashed across her face before she could hide it.
"Your suit seals properly?" I asked.
"Ran diagnostics twice. Everything's green." She fumbled with the helmet connection. "I know what I'm doing, Vaxon."
"I know you do." I reached out, adjusted the seal she'd missed, a small gap in the collar interface that would've failed pressure testing. Her hazel eyes tracked my hands, and I felt the weight of her attention like physical contact. "That doesn't mean I'm going to stop checking."
"Because you don't trust me?"
"Because I care whether you survive."
The honesty landed between us, too raw for the setting. Elena's expression shifted, surprise, confusion, something that might've been hope if she'd let herself feel it. Then her walls went up again, professional mask sliding into place.
"I'm not your responsibility anymore," she said.
"You were never my responsibility. You're my—" I stopped. Reconsidered. "You're important to Mothership's operations. To me. And I'm not letting you face this alone."
"I won't be alone. There's a whole team."
"You know what I mean."
She did. I could see it in the way her breathing changed, the subtle shift in her posture. But instead of acknowledging it, she turned away, sealed her helmet, and moved toward the shuttle.
Running. Like she'd been running since I'd first met her six months ago.
I followed because that's what I did. What I'd apparently always do when it came to Elena Vasquez and her complete inability to accept protection.
The shuttle trip took eighteen minutes. I spent them reviewing mission parameters while monitoring Elena's vital signs through the team's shared sensor network. Her heart rate was elevated but steady. Breathing controlled. No signs of panic despite what we were approaching.
She sat across from me in the shuttle's cramped passenger bay, helmet on, lost in whatever thoughts drove her toward danger with such consistent determination. The other team members occupied themselves with final equipment checks or silent meditation, the usual pre-mission rituals.
Er'dox leaned close, voice low enough that only I could hear through our direct comm link. "She's holding together better than I expected."
"She's good at holding together." I watched Elena's gloved hands flex and release, flex and release, her nervous tell. "It's the falling apart later that concerns me."
"Then don't let her fall apart."
"That simple?"
"You're the one making it complicated." Er'dox's ice-blue eyes held that particular quality of ancient amusement he specialized in. "You care about her. She cares about you. Everything else is details."
"Details like the fact that she's human and I'm Zandovian? That she's half my size and I could accidentally hurt her just by existing too close? That she flinches every time I try to protect her because she's convinced she needs to prove something?"
"Yes. Details." Er'dox settled back against the shuttle wall. "Dana and I navigated the same details. So did Jalina and Zor'go. Bea and Zorn. If they can figure it out, so can you. Unless you're admitting you're less capable than a medical officer."
The challenge was deliberate. Effective.
"I'll figure it out," I said.
"Good. Because that woman is approximately thirty seconds from a complete emotional breakdown, and she needs someone who won't let her shatter alone."
I looked at Elena again. Saw what Er'dox had seen—the too-rigid posture, the controlled breathing that actually suppressed panic, the way her hands had stopped flexing and now just gripped her knees like she was physically holding herself together.
She was terrified.
And facing it anyway because that's what Elena did. Faced her fears through sheer determination and the absolute conviction that her survival mattered less than completing the mission.
"Approaching derelict," the pilot announced. "Docking in three minutes."