The station's docking clamps released with a mechanical thunk, and even though I couldn't see it, I knew we were moving away from Ring-14—and from Lev, who would face Captain Crai's deadline alone.

"Destination locked," Mac reported.

"Estimated arrival at drop coordinates: thirteen hours, forty-two minutes."

"Long enough for some more detailed mission planning," Thomas said, activating our new secure communications equipment. "Kepler Station's blackout creates significant tactical challenges on arrival."

Catherine brought up a holographic display showing star charts. "Kepler Station operates on the edge of Coalition space, monitoring exotic matter phenomena. Natural electromagnetic interference makes standard communication unreliable under normal circumstances."

"Total blackout suggests either catastrophic system failure or deliberate jamming," Thomas added.

"Dr. Martinez's research involved advanced medical applications in extreme environments," Lia said. "If something went wrong..."

"System cascade failure," Sorrel finished. "Uncontrolled equipment malfunction could create feedback loops that damage biological systems within a significant radius."

"Tactical assessment?" I asked.

"Insufficient data. But if Brakers are involved, they'll have significant advantages. We'll likely be outgunned in any direct confrontation."

"So, we have to avoid any direct confrontation," I said. "Reconnaissance first, then if we can, we'll rescue, extract as many as possible."

"And the medical equipment?" Mac asked. "We're still carrying fifty million credits worth of neural interface hardware?"

"Secondary priority. People first, equipment second, but if Kepler is compromised, the equipment will need a new home, one that isn't tied to Brakers."

The hours passed in detailed tactical planning and family conversation, the two activities blending together in ways that felt both natural and surreal. Thomas pulled up shipping manifests on his tablet, highlighting Braker subsidiaries that had redirected three medical supply convoys in the past month.

"They're systematically choking off remote research stations," he explained. "Average response time from incident detection to tactical deployment: six hours."

"If Kepler Station is compromised, Braker already has a head start," I said grimly.

Catherine moved the display to show Kepler Station's configuration. Three research modules connected by transit tubes positioned near exotic matter deposits. "The electromagnetic interference from those deposits could mask hostile ships. You need to assume you're walking into an occupied facility."

"What's our extraction protocol if the place is crawling with Braker operatives?" Mac asked.

"You've handled extractions before?" Thomas bounced back.

"Twice," Mac replied. "Once from a mining platform, once from a corporate facility. Both times, we prioritized crew safety over profit."

"Even when it costs you?" Catherine pressed.

"Especially when it costs us," Sorrel confirmed. "People first, always."

Thomas nodded approvingly. "That's why ONI wants to work with you."

"We have been documenting medical supply chain disruptions across twelve systems. Most corporate operators would sell that data to the highest bidder."

"Most corporate operators don't have an AI consciousness as a crew member," Mac pointed out dryly.

"Fair point," Catherine laughed. "Though I have to ask—how will you handle medical issues when Sorrel's processing delays kick in during combat?"

"Carefully," I said with a protective edge to my voice. "And with backup protocols."

"He means we all learned basic medicine, so we don't need to rely on one person," Mac translated. "Academy training plus practical paranoia."

"Add in smart AIs," Lia added.

"Smart indeed," Thomas agreed. "Speaking of Academy training, how do your infiltration protocols compare to ONI standards?"

Mac and I exchanged glances. This was up to him to answer; I didn't know. "As a team, well, we all have our specialty skills, we use those first, and improvise fast."

"Very fast," Sorrel added. "Remember the warehouse incident last semester?"

"Your stories are the best." I said. "Go on."

"The one where you convinced security you were conducting a surprise health inspection?" Sorrel said with a laugh.

"Hey, it worked," Mac protested. "Though I'll admit the clipboard sold it better than I ever could."

"That's exactly the kind of improvising that got you suspended from training exercises at fourteen."

"You suspended him?" I asked with interest.

"Took it upon himself to hack the simulation computer to give himself psychic powers," Thomas explained. "Claimed it was 'tactical innovation.'"

"It was," Mac insisted, his ears reddening. "Just... slightly outside mission parameters."

"Just slightly, I can only imagine what the other students thought of that."

"They wanted their own powers, asked if I could do it again for them too, after suspension."

A moment of silence spread, and only the ship's working sounds echoed around us. It was nice. A lull in the tension.

"What was the Academy like compared to the first time?" Catherine probed. "I know you hated the first round."

"I didn't hate it, but the flaws in their training after ONI were obvious."

"That different?"

"Yes, for schooling, it was a lot better structured the second time," Mac replied. "Every day was planned exactly from 0600 to 2200. Training simulations, tactical scenarios, psychological evaluations. We were being shaped into specific tools for specific purposes."

"Did you have many friends?" Thomas asked.

"At first, no. There were people I worked well with and trusted in combat situations. But real friendship..." He paused. "Real friendship requires emotional vulnerability, and you and the Academy actively discourage that."

"We never meant to," Catherine said. "We always wanted you to bring friends over."

"It didn't feel right until," Mac looked at me. "Well, till I met Lev and Sorrel. Then, when Peyton walked into our lives. I'd never felt such a draw to anyone as I did with him."

"Same," Sorrel said.

"Why?" I asked. "What did you see?"

"You really asking?"

"I mean it's not going to kill you to tell me, is it?"

I glanced around them and found heat rising up my neck.

"They never said a word to me," Mac shared. "But the moment you stood in front of our class, it was something in your eyes. Yes, you were way out of your depth, but there was a spark there. Something I wanted in my life."

"Your intelligence," Sorrel said. "I'd never met anyone who could match me that wasn't a dick."

Thomas laughed.

"You weren't a quitter," Lev added.

"That night, I got messages from both of them. I was already standing in Chezeks' office asking if we could have you permanently assigned."

I was nodding now. I knew this part.

Mac turned back to his parents. "Real friends, not till now, and I'm glad I have them." "I felt Lia's presence shift, attention on the conversation with something approaching anxiety. <<They are evaluating our relationship for strategic purposes,>> she observed privately.

<<Maybe,>> I replied. <<But they're also trying to understand their chosen family.>>

<<Family,>> she echoed. <<I like that a lot.>>

***

The rendezvous point was a worn relay station positioned near a gas giant's gravitational field. It was the perfect location for people who needed to disappear temporarily or be found, like Catherine and Thomas.

"There," Thomas pointed toward space that appeared empty until Lia showed where our sensors revealed the unknown vessel. "Lynx Corporation survey ship retrofitted for extended independent operations."

The ship that hove into view was sleek and purposeful. "That's one hell of a ship," I said.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Hell of a price, too," Thomas winked at me.

"Docking protocols established," Catherine reported. "Estimated communication delay for emergency contact: six to eight hours under normal circumstances."

"Nothing about our circumstances has been normal," Mac replied quietly.

The docking process proceeded with Lia watching over. It had taken some persuasion to come out in her core form, even though she had wanted to sit beside me. As the Faulkner's sensors painted the rendezvous ship, everything appeared routine.

Mac studied the readings more carefully. "Wait," he zoomed in on the view of the ship.

"What?" I moved to look over his shoulder at his screens.

"We have company..." He paused, rechecking the readings. "A modified transport attached to your ship."

Lia was already at the airlock controls. "How did anyone know about this meeting?" she asked.

"Hostile?"

"Unknown," Catherine replied. "But they knew our exact coordinates and timing. That suggests either surveillance or..."

"Inside information," Mac finished.

The comm system crackled. "FK 202, this is transport vessel Meridian. Request permission to come aboard for urgent discussion."

"I know that voice," Mac frowned.

"Markov," Lia said.

"What on Earth is he doing here?" Mac asked.

"At least that explains how they knew we were here."

Thomas activated the comm. "Meridian, stand by."

The comm crackled again. "FK 202, I have my family aboard and Braker ships are closing in. We don't have time for this."

I could see that the larger transport vessel was clearly modified for extended operations and discrete cargo transport. Docking lights revealed figures moving in the airlock, including what appeared to be a woman and two children.

"They really are with him," I observed.

"That changes things," Mac said. "Markov doesn't usually involve family in operations."

"Unless he's desperate," Sorrel added.

***

Ten minutes later, Viktor Markov stood in our cargo bay—an imposing man with the callused hands of someone who still did manual work despite his position in Cali's underworld.

"Viktor Markov," he said, extending his hand. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Captain Tachim."

I shook it, noting the firm grip. "How do you all know each other?"

"A very long story," Markov said. "Maybe I will get to tell it one day over beer."

"I'd like that." I gestured to his family. "What is this?"

"My wife Elena, my daughter Katya, and my son Pavel. They need transport to a secure location, along with some specialized medical equipment."

"What kind of equipment?" Mac asked.

"Advanced medical fabrication equipment and research databases," Elena said, stepping forward. She was nothing like her husband, petite, hair tied back in a messy bun. She also wore glasses, which was very unusual with our tech as it was.

<<They're enhanced, beyond anything I've come across.>>

"Medical technology that certain parties would prefer remained off the official market."

"How specialized are we talking?" I asked.

"The fabrication kind. The kind that could revolutionize frontier medical research," Markov replied. "Or create black market medical devices if it falls into the wrong hands. The equipment needs to reach Coalition research facilities, but standard shipping routes have been... compromised."

"So, you knew who we really were all along?" Mac asked.

"It wasn't hard to put two and ten together."

"You didn't cash us in though?"

"You wouldn't be here if I had," his eyes were firmly fixed on Thomas. "It pays for me to have the most up-to-date information when I need it."

"You have intel inside ONI?"

Markov smiled at him. "How else do you think your sons 'IDs are as foolproof as they are?"

"Damn," Mac said.

While they still eyed each other up. I studied the family—the teenage daughter who watched everything with intelligent eyes, the younger son who stayed close to his mother, and Elena, who carried herself like someone used to protecting what mattered most.

"This is about the Brakers, isn't it?"

Markov nodded. I've documentation for ONI's eyes only.

"We've been documenting their medical supply chain disruptions across multiple systems," Elena said. "The equipment we have with us represents independence—technology that could allow research stations to fabricate their own medical devices and break free from Braker supply monopolies."

"Carrying all of this makes us targets," I pointed out.

"You are already targets," Markov said bluntly. "The difference is now you'll have the tools to fight back, and my family will have protection while the equipment reaches people who can use it properly."

Elena produced a data pad. "This transport contract includes hazard pay—two million credits above the standard rate. But more importantly, it helps establish Frost Enterprises as a legitimate research transport company with appropriate security clearances."

I looked at Sorrel, who was studying the family with medical interest. "Are they in immediate danger?"

"Braker operatives identified our safe house three days ago," Elena confirmed. "We barely escaped with the equipment and research data. Standard extraction methods for us were compromised."

Markov needed his family safe, and the fabrication plans delivered to Coalition researchers. We needed security for Ring-14 and legitimate cover for our operations.

"Where are you heading?" I asked.

"Initially, wherever you're headed," Markov replied. "The equipment can be delivered during your mission, and my family can transfer to secure Coalition transport from there."

"We're heading into a possibly hostile situation," I warned. "Kepler Station has gone dark."

"Then we'll be safer with you than anywhere else," Elena said simply.

<<Captain, cargo manifest indicates advanced medical fabrication equipment and research databases worth approximately twelve million credits. Technology could enhance our medical capabilities and provide valuable research data.>>

"Why didn't you approach us before now?"

"I needed to get all my research and equipment together, which took time; sadly, others noticed me moving it. Hence, we're here now."

"Family quarters available?" I asked Mac.

"Two adjoining cabins, full life support and entertainment systems," he confirmed.

"Done," I announced. "But we do this properly. You give us a full briefing on the equipment, complete medical checks, and everyone follows ship protocols without exception."

Markov's relief was visible. "Understood. Elena will brief your medical officer on the equipment specifications. The children know how to behave aboard a ship during operational conditions."

Katya stepped forward, waving her hand around the ship. "We've both studied various ship specifications and protocol. I promise we won't be a burden to you. We'll muck in, and help."

"She's been helping to manage family security since she was twelve," Elena added, putting a hand on her daughter's arm.

Pavel remained quiet, but his eyes tracked everything.

"Please be safe," Elena turned to her husband. There was a vulnerability that flickered across her face as she took his hand in hers.

"Where are you heading?" I asked him.

"Back to Cali," he said. "I can't leave my people there with all that's coming."

"Lev is at Ring-14," Mac said. "Keep in touch with him there."

Markov held a hand out and they shook, "I will see you all again soon." He kissed his wife, then his two children, and he left.

"I'll see you to your quarters," Sorrel said, and the new family made their way inside.

Mac looked to his parents, and I stepped back.

"This isn't goodbye," Catherine said, embracing him briefly but fiercely. "This is tactical repositioning."

"I know," he replied. "Stay alive out there."

Thomas gripped his shoulder. "You too."

As they too left, Mac turned to me. "Estimated transit time: sixteen hours to jump point, then another sixteen hours to destination."

Mac nodded, and we watched through the viewport as his parents' ship separated, its engines engaging within minutes. "Ready to find out what happened to Kepler?"

"As I'll ever be. Let's do this."

***

Eight hours in, I walked into our mess to pour myself some coffee. Everyone else was asleep, or so I thought. Mac walked in.

"Smelled it," he said. "Can't beat a good blend."

"Real coffee," I poured a mug, and settled into one of the seats. "Sorrel bought the best she could find, and I'm glad."

"You haven't had second thoughts?" Mac asked as he poured his own mug, then joined me.

"About what? The mission? Your parents, or all of it?"

"Any of it. All of it."

I could only shrug and drink. It was still a little sour, so I added more sugar.

"You want some coffee with your sugar?"

I put the spoon down. "Habit," I said. "I like it sweet."

"You'll be putting weight on."

"With you and Lev around, not a chance."

He laughed and took a careful sip, then frowned and added sugar himself. "I keep thinking about what she said, tactical repositioning, not goodbye."

"It's a good analogy."

"Maybe." He traced the rim of his cup with one finger. "But when I blew up the garage roof, they didn't treat me like an asset."

I smiled, seeing his discomfort still. "What did they do?"

"What most parents would have."

"Grounded?"

"Yeah," he blew on his mug. "Not just for a week, either, a month. No friends around..." I raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, not that I actually had any."

"Bummer," I paused, then risked. "What was it like? Having parents who saw you as a person instead of just your potential?"

Mac looked up from his coffee, studying my expression. "Terrifying, sometimes. When people love you as an individual, your failures hurt them personally. The Academy ejection hit harder than any training metric—straight through bone, straight through my parents' pride."

"I don't know what it's like to disappoint parents," I admitted. "But I know what it's like to fail people who depend on you."

"That wasn't a failure," Mac said firmly. "That was being targeted by people with resources and planning you couldn't have anticipated."

"The result was the same. People died while I survived."

"People died because of the Brakers." He corrected. "You survived because you fought back. There's a difference."

We sat in comfortable silence for several minutes.

"What happens if we don't find Dr. Martinez alive?" he asked eventually.

"We recover whatever research data we can and get Elana and all the medical equipment to people who can use it," I replied. "The mission parameters don't change based on outcome preferences."

"Spoken like a true captain."

"Learned from watching you handle impossible situations with steady hands and clear thinking."

"Not sure how that will feel after today. We've got civilians onboard now," he added quietly. "Katya's barely sixteen, Pavel's what, twelve? If this goes sideways..."

"We'll keep them safe," I said. "Same as we would for each other."

Mac's expression shifted, surprise giving way to something warmer. "That might be the nicest compliment anyone's given me in years."

"Don't let it go to your head," I laughed and finished my coffee.

***

"Captain," Lia said. "We have contact."

"Where?" I asked, shoving my covers away, I'd had maybe two hours' rest.

"Contact bearing 047 mark 12," she replied. "Automated distress beacon, Coalition-encoded medical emergency."

I grabbed my boots and headed for the CIC. "Source identification?"

"Civilian vessel, designation unclear due to signal degradation," Mac reported as I slid onto the deck. "Estimated distance: six light-minutes from our current trajectory."

"Signal characteristics suggest power failure and life support emergency." Lia said. "Estimated survival time based on standard civilian specifications: ninety minutes maximum."

The mathematics was brutal and immediate. We could divert to investigate the distress call, potentially saving lives but delaying our arrival at Kepler Station by several hours. Or we could maintain course abandoning unknown civilians to whatever had crippled their ship.

"Rule 1," I said.

"Answer every ping," Mac replied.

"Could be a trap," I said aloud. "Distress signals are common bait for an ambush."

"We can't afford unnecessary risks," Mac glanced toward the back of the ship. "We've kids onboard."

"People are dying while you're debating," Sorrel countered, "Give us a decision now."

"Elena," I called. "Your assessment?"

"We're a target regardless," came her reply. "Rule 1."

Mac studied the communication data streaming across his display.

"Rule 1," I announced. "We're going in."

"Yes, Captain. Changing course," Mac said, adjusting our approach vector.

"Elana," Sorrel said. "Help me prep."

"ETA to distress signal source: thirty-seven minutes." Lia announced.

While those thirty-seven minutes ticked down, Sorrel and Elana prepped the medical bay, just in case.

It seemed a lifetime, and yet we were upon it in what also seemed like seconds.

"Approaching visual range," Lia announced. "Dropping to sub-light in fifteen seconds."

Reality reasserted itself as the Faulkner translated back to normal space, stars resuming their familiar configurations. Immediately, our sensors painted a clearer picture.

"Visual contact," Lia reported, the primary display flickering to life with enhanced imagery of the disabled vessel.

What we found was both better and worse than expected.

Better: The ship was real, civilian-configured, and showing genuine signs of catastrophic system failure.

Worse: It drifted toward an unstable asteroid field where gravitational stresses would tear it apart within hours.

"There's another ship," Lia added. "Maintaining position in the asteroid field's shadow. They're not responding to our communications."

"Braker?" Mac asked.

"Unknown configuration. But they've been watching the disabled vessel for at least thirty minutes."

The tactical situation unraveled around us like a ball of wool. We'd found either a genuine rescue scenario under surveillance or an elaborate trap with multiple moving pieces.

"Options?"

"We can extract the survivors and leave," Mac said. "Or we can investigate the watching ship."

"Or," Elena said, steel in her tone, "we can use this situation to our advantage. If that is a Braker ship, they're about to learn what happens when they threaten civilians carrying medical fabrication technology that could break their supply chain monopolies."

I stared at the tactical display, wishing Lev were here, and weighing lives against mission parameters. The growing certainty that nothing about today would be simple.

"All right," I said. "Let's go save some people and see what our watchers do about it."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.