Chapter 8
It had been two weeks since the raid, and Ginny was singing to Hope when I entered the medical bay.
I stopped a few feet away and watched them, not wanting to interrupt.
Mother cradling daughter, rocking gently in the dimmed lights of the family area.
Two weeks ago, I had held that baby in my arms while I dragged her mother out of a prison cell.
Now Ginny was smiling. Tired, yes. Still too thin. But smiling.
I waited for the guilt to hit. The familiar weight that should have settled on my chest. The ones who didn't make it, the ones I couldn't save.
It didn't come.
Not because I had forgotten them. I hadn't. I never would. But somewhere in the past two weeks, something had shifted. I could hold the loss and the victory at the same time now. Both were true. Both mattered. And only one of them could guide what came next.
I sent feelings of gratitude through the Tether and felt the echo of it return. Warm, steady, certain.
I smiled.
A lot had happened since our successful raid.
Yes, I was calling it successful now. We gave everyone a choice: leave the ship or stay on as crew.
Many had asked to be dropped at independent stations.
We made sure they were safe and had people to look after them before leaving.
We also made sure word got out about what the Starbreaker had done.
Not all of them had disembarked yet. They were still weighing their choice. We made sure they understood the benefits and risks of both options. The ones who stayed either had nowhere else to go or only one goal left in life.
To make the corporations pay for what had been done to them.
Ginny and Hope had family waiting, but the medics wanted to be sure the baby had a clean bill of health before releasing them from care. I looked at the women resting, healing, beginning to imagine futures they had been told didn't exist, and let the warmth fill my chest.
We had done something good. More than that, we had proven that the corporations could be challenged. That things didn't have to stay the way they were.
After a few more stops to check on the remaining survivors, I headed for the bridge. The corridors of the Starbreaker felt different. Lighter. Crewmembers smiled as they passed me, some with a skip in their step. They looked like people who believed in what they were doing again.
It felt nice.
When I stepped onto the bridge, all four Knights were already at their stations. There was no announcement of my arrival. No ceremony. No attention drawn. I felt fully accepted, like I had always belonged here.
Lyrin glanced up from his console as I entered. Through the Tether, I felt him register something, a subtle shift in how I was carrying myself. He didn't comment, but he sent a wave of quiet approval.
Torvyn turned, smiled, and motioned me over.
"Good. You're here," he said. "We can begin the intelligence summary."
"Yes, Captain," Vaelix said, his fingers dancing across his console to pull data onto the main display. "There have been reports of network instability across large sectors of corporate space. The patterns are unusual."
"What's causing them?" I asked.
"The disruptions appear to be originating from colony Kappa-7," Vaelix replied.
"What kind of colony is that?" Kaedren asked.
"There are multiple encampment types," Vaelix said. "Intimate service workers, technical maintenance operations, and sanitary services."
"Sex slaves, tech support, and janitors," Kaedren translated flatly. His jaw tightened. "All the people corporations pretend don't exist until they need them to fix something."
Through the Tether, I caught something sharp beneath his usual composure. Old anger, barely contained.
"Kaedren?" I asked quietly.
He didn't answer immediately. His eyes stayed fixed on the main display.
"I knew someone," he said finally. "In a colony like that. A long time ago."
I didn't ask what happened. Through the Tether, I already knew the answer was nothing good.
I moved to stand beside him. Not touching, not pushing. Just present.
"Then we make sure this time is different," I said.
He looked at me. Something in his expression shifted. Gratitude, maybe, or recognition that I wasn't trying to fix his pain. Just acknowledge it.
"Yeah," he said roughly. "We do."
"Could this be a coup?" I asked, turning back to the group.
"That seems likely," Torvyn said with a nod. "Some form of coordinated uprising. What are the corporate security forces saying?"
"They have not officially acknowledged any issues on Kappa-7," Vaelix said.
My eyes widened. "If they attack it or wipe it out, they risk making things worse. They can't blame the Starbreaker for this. We aren't anywhere near Kappa-7, and they can't spoof our signals. The only other groups with comparable firepower are the corporate frigates, and everyone knows it."
"It seems," Lyrin said quietly, "we may have started a revolution."
"We've also received a broadcast from the colony," Vaelix added. "It's transmitting on all channels, though corporate forces are attempting to block it from the core worlds and stations."
He pulled the feed up on the main viewscreen.
The image flickered, grainy at first, then resolved into the face of a young woman. Dark circles ringed her blue eyes. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, wrinkles already etched at the corners of her mouth. She was far too young to look that old and tired.
"We have claimed this colony in the name of the resistance," she said. "For too long, we have been ground down under the heel of corporate authority. Our lives and well-being traded for credits we were promised, but never paid. We are the sisters of Sigma-9, and we will no longer be silenced."
She lifted her chin.
"We call on Doctor Kira Vale and the ship Starbreaker to continue the fight and spread the fire of freedom across corporate space. The captives of Kappa-7 are ready and willing to stand with you. Long live the revolution."
The transmission cut out.
"The message has been on repeat for ten days," Vaelix said.
Heat crept up my neck. I had barely recovered from the panic of my first combat mission, of getting people killed, and now I was being named as a symbol of a galaxy-wide resistance.
I stared at the frozen image on the viewscreen. That woman, exhausted, defiant, broadcasting to the entire galaxy, was fighting because she believed rescue was possible. Because of what we did.
I took a slow breath.
This isn't about you.
Oh good. My psychosis is back.
Drama doesn't suit you. Don't take my word for it, ask your lover boys.
Can you crawl back into your little box and stay there?
"Kira?" Lyrin asked gently. He already knew the answer through the Tether, and I could feel his steady presence anchoring me, but he asked anyway. Giving me the choice of how to respond. "Are you okay?"
I looked down at my hands.
Was I?
Two weeks ago, this would have sent me spiraling. The weight of expectation, the fear of failing people I'd never meet, the crushing responsibility of being someone's hope.
But I had already faced that weight. I had held a dying man in my arms and kept working. I had accepted that my choices would cost lives, and I chose to make them anyway.
I met Lyrin's gaze. "Yes. We can use this."
Surprise flickered through the Tether. Not from Lyrin, but from all four of them. They had expected me to spiral. Instead, I was already thinking tactically.
"If Voss believes I'm the architect behind this movement, it gives the Starbreaker room to operate. It's easier to chase a ship than one person." I paused. "But I'm not sure how to leverage that yet."
"Decoys," Kaedren said. His eyes had sharpened, the grief from moments ago channeled into something harder and more useful. "We have a lot of angry women who look like you. Smuggle them to stations far from the colonies, report sightings anonymously, pull corporate forces out of position."
I stared at him. It was exactly what I'd been reaching toward, but he'd gotten there faster.
"That's good," I said. "That's really good."
"We will not put you in danger," Torvyn said.
"That's why it works," Kaedren replied. "She stays here. The decoys draw pursuit elsewhere."
I moved to the viewscreen and pulled up an overlay of corporate and corporate-aligned stations across the sector. Then I layered in the nearest colonies.
"Phase one: disinformation campaign," I said, building on Kaedren's idea. "We smuggle doppelgangers to stations far from the colonies, then anonymously report sightings. We pull corporate forces out of position."
"That will cost them time, money, and resources," Torvyn said.
"And damage their reputation and security posture," Vaelix added. "The tighter they squeeze, the more trade and commerce they disrupt."
"We make them overreact," I said. "We let them show everyone who they really are."
"The doppelgangers," Kaedren said, his voice flat again. "What happens when corporate forces catch one of them?"
"Volunteers only," I said. "Women who understand the—"
"That's not enough." He cut me off. "Understanding the risk and being prepared for capture are different things. They need extraction protocols. Dead drops. Safe houses they can reach if things go wrong."
I opened my mouth to argue that we couldn't guarantee extractions, that the whole point was misdirection. Then I stopped.
He was right.
"Okay," I said. "You're right. We build in extraction routes. Maybe not for every scenario, but for the ones we can plan for."
Kaedren's shoulders loosened slightly. Through the Tether, I felt something shift. Not quite surprise, but close. He had expected me to push back.
"I'll map the routes when I analyze deployment patterns," he said.
"Phase two," I continued. "I record messages of support. We broadcast them galaxy-wide. But I'm not sure about scope. Do we only name colonies already rebelling, or..."
"Name ones that aren't," Lyrin said quietly.
I turned to him, surprised. Through the Tether, I felt the weight of what he was proposing. And his certainty that it was necessary.
"Every colony you name becomes a potential threat in corporate eyes," he continued. "It stretches their forces. It also means some colonies might face retaliation for something they didn't do."
"You're asking us to gamble with other people's lives," I said slowly. Making sure I understood what he was proposing.
"Those people are already gambling with their lives every day," Lyrin said. "The corporations can destroy any colony they want, any time. That danger already exists. We're redistributing it. Making it visible."
I held his gaze. He wasn't flinching from this.
"And giving people a reason to believe resistance is possible," I finished.
He nodded once.
Silence stretched across the bridge.
Then Vaelix's eyes lit up. "That will stretch their fleet farther than they want."
"It also gives us freedom of movement," Torvyn said.
"We take responsibility for how this spreads," I said. "And we use that leverage to save as many lives as we can."
Torvyn nodded once, decision made. "We have our strategy. Let's execute."
He turned briskly. "Kira, can you canvas the crew for decoy volunteers? Make sure they understand what Kaedren said about extraction protocols."
"I'm on it."
"Kaedren, analyze corporate frigate deployment patterns. Identify stations farthest from fleet concentrations and map extraction routes for the volunteers."
"Already running the calculations," Kaedren said, his fingers moving across his console. A faint smile crossed his face. He liked this. The challenge of it.
"Vaelix, reach out to your contacts inside corporate space. Find ways to push both Kira's message and the Kappa-7 broadcast onto corporate-owned stations."
"I have three possibilities in mind already," Vaelix said. "One of them owes me a significant favor."
"Lyrin, compile a list of target colonies. Cross-reference with known frigate locations. You know what we need."
"You'll have it within the hour."
"I'll write a script and record the messages," I said. "That way, Vaelix has something ready to send."
Torvyn looked at me. Pride flickered through the Tether. Quiet recognition.
"Are we missing anything?" he asked.
"If we are," I said with a small grin, "we'll find out soon enough. But we have a plan. Let's move."
My Knights nodded and went to work.
I lingered on the bridge as they dispersed to their tasks, my eyes drawn back to the frozen image on the viewscreen. The woman from Kappa-7 stared out at me, chin raised, exhaustion carved into every line of her face.
She was fighting because she believed rescue was possible.
Because of what we did.
I hadn't asked to become a symbol. None of us had planned this. Not just me, but Torvyn's tactical mind, Lyrin's quiet strategy, Kaedren's insistence on protecting the people we put at risk, Vaelix's network of contacts that would carry our message into corporate space.
We had just been honest together. Named the truth aloud when everyone else was pretending it didn't exist.
Maybe that was enough. Maybe that was everything.
We would know soon enough.