Glaring white LEDs flooded the room with a dazzling brightness. The small conference room was filled to the brim with the commanding officers of the task force, two dozen strong, all seated around a long central table. Each of them wore a face hardened by centuries of war and the witnessing of countless atrocities.

  Vice Marshal Sanchez stood at the head of the table with a confident smirk on his face, patiently waiting with his hands behind his back. The gray banner of a loosely crumpled Directorate flag hung motionless behind him. In the artificial viewport, the red giant glided slowly across the sky in a disorienting loop as the station rotated to provide an equally artificial illusion of gravity. He had a faint redness to his face, as if he had overexerted himself and drank too much at the same time.

  Liu turned back and forth in his chair with a slight impatience. His eyes felt heavy and his back was sore. It seemed everyone had slept well except him. Ah well, it was worth it, he thought smugly.

  After looking around briefly to confirm attendance, the Vice Marshal began the presentation with a silent command to the projector. A solar system map appeared before them, showing the swollen orange orb of Epsilon Tau A with the distant red dot of Epsilon Tau B. Stylized orbital trajectories representing the planets and their moons hugged the stars at this scale.

  “All right, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Sanchez said with a feigned apologetic air. “As you all understand, for senior staff, leave is still a time for duty.” The small crowd nodded lazily.

  “After speaking with Vice Marshal Nguyen, we have some disturbing news. During our transit, most of the systems beyond this beachhead have been compromised.”

  Another command was issued to the projector. A swarm of red vector arrows with interlocking projected trajectories lit up in mid-air, converging on a tiny white dot hugging Epsilon Tau B.

  “The Commonwealth has made a major push towards this system. If we lose this binary system, the Directorate will have lost this sub-sector. The remaining worlds will be cut off from each other. Our binary star Epsilon Tau B is bracing for an insurgent attack burning towards them at 0.03c. Their battlecruiser equivalents have already flipped for the decel-”

  “Excuse me Vice Marshal,” a bald man interrupted. Liu looked over at him instinctively. He was a slight man with a colonel rank pin and the name 'Patel' stamped on his badge. His uniform was a much darker shade of green, bordering on black. “Did you say battlecruisers? The insurgents have battlecruisers?”

  Sanchez nodded dismissively. “Unfortunately, poor security and corruption in this sector have resulted in insurgents acquiring some archaic ships and the technology to build more. Intelligence suggests some limited shipyard activity.”

  Patel said nothing, but his eyes were filled with skepticism. Sensing doubt, Sanchez spoke up again, this time looking past Patel at Liu and Grayson. His eyes met Liu’s with an arrogant gaze.

  “Task Force Sigma is still the dominant military force in this subsector. This is merely a small adjustment to our mission profile,” he added.

  The other commanders subtly shifted their gaze towards Patel instead of Sanchez. Sensing the political shift, Sanchez spoke up again with a feigned confidence.

  “We’ve handled peer threats before. The Peacekeeper is currently undefeated in peer engagements, and I have no doubt that our other battlecruiser crews are just as competent.”

  Liu looked over at Grayson. His steely eyes betrayed no emotion. This was not praise, but damnation, Liu thought to himself. Even Grayson must be able to see through it.

  Sanchez spoke up again, this time looking at each pair of battlecruiser commanding officers.

  “As I was saying, we will move at a maximum acceleration burn. This cannot be about efficiency. Let the logistics catch up with us. We need the fleet at Epsilon Tau B just as the enemy is beginning their final deceleration burn.”

  He motioned towards the projector. The map zoomed in, eliminating the enemy tracks and limiting itself to just the Epsilon Tau A and Epsilon Tau B systems. A trajectory showed the fleet’s expected hard burn as they were swung out from their local planetary orbit and their path interpolating to the Epsilon Tau B system. High thrust points were noted.

  “This trajectory will leave no delta-v for a return and we will need to wait for our tankers,” Patel noted.

  “Momentum is of the essence. If we do not attack now, the enemy can release missiles at high energy before decelerating or take up entrenched positions in close orbits. We must strike now while they’re in open space.”

  Grayson and the other commanders nodded as Liu sat silently.

  “The battlecruiser squadron will clear the way. They have been fully rearmed and outfitted with the latest upgrades for these special missions. Insurgent battlecruisers are no match for ours.”

  A quick Neuronet update went out to all staff present.

  >Asset gained: URN-18-A Sentinel class recon drones. Cruise missile form factor. Nuclear thermal rocket primary, hypergolic adjustment thrusters. Total delta-v: 15 km/s. Sensor summary: RF plume tracker, X-ray trackers, UV-VIS-IR sensor apertures, neutron spectrometers, IR searchlights.

  >Asset gained: AGN-30mm-6 modular CIWS remote weapons stations. 10k RPM, 5 km/s muzzle speed.

  >Software update for integration in progress.

  “I don’t want to put our marines in harm's way without orbital superiority,” Patel huffed.

  Liu stared at the projection. They would be the tip of the spear after all. He did not doubt his own command capability. He only feared that he would be betrayed while exercising it.

  “That will not be a problem. I will have one of my operations staff explain the situation,” Sanchez said. With a glance at a younger officer with a major pin, he yielded the floor.

  “For this mission, we will be replacing some of your marine complement with system defense frigates and their crews. Excess marines and landers will be reassigned to garrison duties in this system and managing the surface to space missiles,” the staff major stated calmly.

  Patel shook his head sullenly. “I’ve worked with some of these marines for centuries.”

  “This is a normal crew rotation. Based on our analysis, the replacement of the marines with interplanetary defense craft should not affect unit cohesion. The marine teams will be kept together and given access to stasis,” the staff major replied.

  There were no further objections or questions. Sanchez looked at the marine officers. They were mostly physically fit and gaunt with muscle, a stark contrast to the more cerebral softness of the fleet officers.

  “All assault carriers are to cut down to one lander. The other 4 docking slots will be used for frigate towing. Stasis slots will exchange marine teams with frigate crews and space traffic controllers.”

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “How will our frigates rearm and refuel? Our carriers don’t have external munitions handling for frigates,” one of the commanders remarked.

  Sanchez gave another wordless command to the projection. The star chart zoomed in on Epsilon Tau B’s star system, a crowd of three rocks hugging the red dwarf. A flashing symbol appeared over the middle rock.

  “Epsilon Tau Bb has an orbital armory. It will suffice for frigate maintenance and refueling of battlecruisers.”

  “What if we lose it?” Patel countered.

  “It is our primary objective and all efforts must be made to avoid its loss or capture,” Sanchez replied flatly. “But in the event of a total loss, we have some backup from the Harvest class logistics ships. Logistics replenishment from Epsilon Tau A will allow for defense, but without local armament, will severely degrade any offensive potential.”

  “What about rearming our battlecruiser squadron?” Liu asked tentatively.

  Sanchez turned his head.

  “We are rearming here along with the frigates,” he gestured. A photorealistic image of the orbital armory appeared, replacing the star charts. Unlike the massive, thick toruses orbital stations at Delta Draconis and Epsilon Tau A, the orbital armory at Epsilon Tau B was a thin, spindly structure rim, devoted almost entirely to a disproportionately long engineering truss filled with elevators and ammunition stores.

  “There are limited cruise missile stockpiles in the smaller system,” Sanchez added.

  “The Harvests will follow up with more cruise missiles for replenishing our stockpile. The followup will be tailored for demand in case any sudden changes in stockpile requirements occur.”

  Grayson looked at Liu with a skeptical eye, as if he was looking for trouble by asking questions beyond his station. Liu looked away and fell silent.

  The briefing continued, explaining their exact tactics, but Liu only passively listened. He could watch the recording again anyhow. The cruise missiles were the offensive heart of their armory. To be limited in firepower would be death.

  Sudden applause from the crowd of officers snapped Liu back to attention. He joined in clapping weakly, guided mostly by habit.

  “Carrier commanders and Vanguard staff, follow me to Conference Room 6 for additional strategy briefing. Battlecruiser commanders, you are free to go for now. We will release the mission files to you in transit. The Peacekeeper will be the overall squadron leader.”

  A shuffle of people walked out of the room, leaving several rows of chairs empty. Grayson was not among them. Instead, he stood at the projector, studying the map of the battlespace intently. His eyes silently flickered between the trajectory projections ahead and an invisible dataset in his retina.

  “Excuse me, Commander,” Liu remarked with calculated timidity. Grayson broke his near trance and transferred his gaze.

  “Yes? What now?” he replied with a hint of impatience.

  “As you know, some of our existing CIC staff do not have direct experience with combat.”

  Grayson chuckled weakly.

  “We were all there at Gamma Centauri.”

  Liu shook his head.

  “The… special operation was mostly conducted through…” Liu stammered, struggling to find his words. He quickly composed himself.

  “It was mostly conducted through an external consultant. Much of the CIC staff were only functioning as observers and implementors.”

  An arrogant snort came from Grayson’s throat as he sat down at the table again, but Liu knew he had no way to refute it.

  Grayson leaned on his elbow and stared at Liu, wordlessly commanding him to sit down. Liu complied, resting on a chair. The dizzying spin of the artificial viewport reminded them of their motion despite feeling stationary.

  “So, what do you have in mind then, Liu?” he said in a questioning voice.

  “Some of the less experienced CIC staff can be placed in stasis rotation and replaced by personnel with direct experience.”

  Grayson nodded. “Tell me then, doesn’t everyone awake during that rotation have equal CIC experience?”

  “Not everyone. Only a select few were awake during our most recent engagement at the brown dwarf waypoint,” Liu said, setting the board.

  “Who are you referring to?”

  Liu knew he had an opening. This was the only way to keep her safe, he thought to himself. Even though the stasis chambers were airtight and could act as temporary lifeboats in case the ship was destroyed, the chances of recovery were astronomically low. The CIC was a citadel and a priority for recovery. She would have a better chance there, if anything were to happen. It was an irrational emotion, a reckless display of nepotism, but it would be better than nothing.

  “The only other person in the CIC with us during that ambush. Captain Lin Yiran. Her skill at interceptor management and growing skill at the sensor suite is an asset.”

  Steely cold eyes examined Liu’s face with skepticism. Grayson sniffled a bit as his eyes drifted downwards to the table in quiet contemplation before looking back up.

  “A promotion. Based on a single incident. And during this incident you were her direct superior, and are now making the recommendation,” he said, scowling.

  “Sir, you were present as well. You witnessed the entire situation,” Liu said. His voice was shaky, with pitch slightly higher than normal.

  With a single neural command, the projection disappeared. In its place was Captain Lin’s service record: joining systems defense in a quiet frontier system, an uneventful stint in space traffic control with promotion to captain by seniority, followed by application to the Interstellar Fleet. Her file sat in the pool for years before acceptance. It was unremarkable in every way, a mirror of Liu’s own file.

  “It seems you have a personal interest in this,” Grayson said, looking at Liu with a vaguely smug expression.

  “No sir. If you believe our current CIC staff is sufficient, then I will drop this issue,” Liu said defensively, immediately pivoting to a pretended indifference.

  Grayson’s eyes silently wandered back to Lin’s exposed service record, studying the short document over and over again. His gaze then met Liu’s. Liu knew that he was being examined, and fully relaxed his face in a show of complacent neutrality. A person’s trajectory is often as uncontrollable as a missile’s, he thought bitterly. The initial conditions determined the final conditions, no matter what happened in the middle. After what felt like forever, Grayson cleared his throat to pronounce judgment.

  “I can authorize an AI evaluation of her file. It will be fully impartial, free of human bias. That is all I can do,” Grayson said, slowly examining Liu’s face for every detail.

  Liu nodded before lowering his eyes in a show of deference. This was the best he could realistically hope for. He stood up, forcing himself to salute Grayson with a feigned respect.

  “A prudent course of action, sir. Thank you, commander.”

  Grayson looked up at him as if he was a particularly petulant child that was finally given a toy in exchange for silence. “It is mere procedure, Lieutenant Colonel. Dismissed.”

  The heavy metal security doors slid open as Liu walked out of the secure meeting room to reveal a small waiting room equipped with glass doors opening to the outside promenade. The artificial morning had scarcely budged the station from its lethargy, with only a few shops opening their doors to the thin crowds. The other conference room’s doors were still locked, but Liu paid them no mind. Whatever games Sanchez was playing, he’d have to deal with them as they came. The outermost layer of glass doors then parted ways for him as he reemerged onto the public walkway.

  Liu’s magboots clicked on the epoxy coated deck with a hollow, echoing report. On Delta Draconis, the sound had been swallowed instantly by the murmur of a thousand conversations. Here, it was a solitary beat marking his passage. On Delta Draconis, there would have been a sleepless river of humanity. Here, there was now only a lazy sprinkle of people. A few light sleepers from the task force were wearing casual clothes now, eating synthetic noodles for an early breakfast.

  He reached the servicemember’s hotel sector after stumbling through the promenade in a daze brought on by both lack of sleep and a weariness from constant emotional pressure. Glass doors hissed open to enable his passage, then closed behind him with a sealing finality. The corridor of white doors was silent. He stood before his room. The camera hung like a dark eye above the frame.

  The door slid aside. The lights were still dimmed at a cozy 3500 K color temperature, but there was no intimate presence here. The blankets were folded, the sheets straightened, and almost all signs of her had been removed from the room. The sole signal of Lin’s former companionship was a scent of clean sweat mixed with hints of standard-issue soap still lingering in the air.

  Liu took a deep breath. The biting loneliness after connection felt icier than the numb cold of permanent isolation. He attempted to conjure a memory of their night, but it was dulled and spotty due to alcohol. Not even his implant could salvage this memory fully. Memories of his family emerged from his subconscious, but they were already fading away into history as strangers.

  He sat down on the bed, placing his hands on the sheets in the dim light, feeling for a ghost that was no longer there.