We drew in closer to the desperate ship. "Are there any life signs?"

"Weak but present," Sorrel confirmed, "Here."

She fired over the scans, and I looked them over. "What are they telling you?"

"They've reduced as many systems' drain on the ship as they could to keep out of the debris field, but it's failing them now. Maybe ninety minutes before life support failure becomes irreversible."

The mathematics was unforgiving. We had a narrow window to extract survivors before the asteroid field's gravitational forces finished what the initial damage had started.

"Lia, show me the shadow ship," I ordered.

Lia enhanced the sensor display, filtering out background radiation and asteroid signatures. "It matches no fleet signature design in my database."

"It's a command ship," Mac said. "The angular hull design and weapon placement give that away. Armed escort class, probably been sitting dark behind those asteroids for hours."

Mac leaned forward from the command chair, studying the tactical readout. "Wait... Lia, are you reading their ship right?"

"Scans are showing they've taken severe damage on their port side."

"Damage?"

"So they're not waiting for us? They're waiting for rescue themselves?"

"We are not rescuing Brakers...." Sorrel stated.

"They might not be Brakers. Life signs?" I asked.

Nothing.

"Sorrel, life signs?"

"Showing two," she replied. "Looks like four deceased."

"How long do they have with their current power supply?"

"Maybe six hours."

<<Analyzing vessel emission patterns,>> Lia reported privately. <<Minimal power signature suggests extended stealth operation. They have been monitoring this location for approximately eight hours.>>

Eight hours.

"Speculation to their damage?"

"The T710 got in several hits before they could be boarded, but it put both ships in danger zones. Both had to pool everything they had into surviving long enough till rescue."

"It's a trap," Mac stated with characteristic directness. "They're using those people as bait to draw in bait, responders to the distress call."

I studied the tactical display, weighing options that all carried significant risk. "Elena," I called through the comm. "What's your assessment? Could this be related to the tech we're carrying?"

"Negative," she replied. "The timing, the location, the fact that they're using research personnel as bait. It's coincidence."

"Lia, what's our stealth profile if we attempt a rescue approach?"

<<Analyzing. The asteroid field provides natural sensor interference that could mask our approach vector. However, the Braker vessel positioning suggests they have anticipated this strategy. Probability of detection during rescue operation: sixty-seven percent.>>

"And if we don't attempt a rescue?"

"Those people die," Sorrel said simply. "And we learn nothing about what happened to them or if it does connect to Kepler Station."

The tactical display updated as the Braker ship's power signature shifted slightly. "Movement. They're repositioning for better firing angles while maintaining a stealth profile."

The CIC fell silent. Three lives hung in the balance, along with potentially crucial intelligence about Kepler Station. Against that, we faced almost certain engagement with a Braker vessel designed for combat operations.

"Captain," Elena's voice came through the comm again. "With the shipment you're carrying and my own. If Braker gets hold of this ship, they'll be able to perfect their medical research techniques. Those people on that disabled ship might be the last people we can save."

"Options?" I asked.

"Option one," Mac began, "is to maintain course to Kepler Station and abandon the rescue. It's clean and simple and keeps us out of an engagement we might not win."

"Option two," he continued, "direct approach and extraction. Fast and loud, but the Braker ship will definitely engage. We'd have to fight our way out."

"Option three," Sorrel added, "stealth rescue attempt. Use the asteroid field for cover, extract survivors quietly, and hope we can get clear before Braker realizes what happened."

"Option four," Elena's voice added, "is to use the medical fabrication technology as a decoy. If they're really after our cargo, we might be able to create a false signature to draw them away from the disabled vessel."

"Captain," Lia said, "I'd recommend option three with tactical modifications. I can deploy enhanced ECM to mask our approach signature. Shuttle extraction would minimize Faulkner's exposure while maintaining rescue capability."

"What kind of ECM capability?" I asked.

"Advanced countermeasures from the military upgrades. Quantum field manipulators can generate false sensor signatures while masking our actual position. However, power requirements are significant, and duration is limited."

"How limited?"

"Approximately forty-seven minutes of maximum effectiveness before power drain becomes critical."

"Elena, get your kids somewhere safe."

"They can look after themselves," she responded.

"Plot us an approach vector using the asteroid field," I ordered Mac.

"On it," he said, his interface indicating potential pathways through the debris field. "We have multiple approach angles all accessible, but each requires precision navigation."

"I trust you, pick us the best one," I said. "Sorrel, shuttle bay."

"Give me two minutes to suit up," she replied and left the CIC. "Though we have some medical supplies we're not a full trauma unit by any means."

"I have additional supplies," Elena added. "Specialized equipment for trauma."

"Compromise solution," I said. "Stealth rescue with full tactical precautions. Lia deploys the ECM, Mac coordinates the approach vector, and Sorrel handles extraction. Elana? Ask Katya to prep our medical bay? We extract immediately and run for Kepler Station."

"Understood," came their reply.

"What about the Braker ship?" Mac asked. "If they detect us during extraction..."

"Then we find out how good our weapons really are," I replied.

The next few minutes passed fast.

"We're ready," Sorrel reported.

"I'm always ready," Mac glanced at me.

"Ready," Lia said.

"Deploy," I ordered.

"ECM deployed," she reported. "False signatures active. The vessel should read us as background radiation for the next forty-six minutes."

"Stealth approach initiated," Mac said. "Vector locked, navigating through asteroid field. ETA to the disabled vessel: twelve minutes."

Through the viewport, I watched asteroids drift past some large enough to hide cruiser-class vessels, others mere fragments that nonetheless posed navigation hazards. Mac guided us past every single one. Not just a commander, but a truly gifted pilot. The disabled research vessel grew larger as we approached, its hull damage becoming more apparent.

"They really did take a battering," Mac said. "I'm surprised they're still alive."

"Sorrel?"

"Life signs still critical, but they are stable," Sorrel reported. Waiting for launch."

"Whatever happened to them, it happened fast," Mac confirmed.

"Enemy Braker vessel is maintaining position," Lia said. "No indication they've detected our approach."

"I'm running passive scans," Elena reported from the med bay.

Eight minutes into the approach, something changed.

"Contact," Mac announced suddenly. "Braker ship is powering weapons systems."

My blood went cold. "Have they detected us?"

"Negative," Lia replied immediately. ECM holding. They're targeting... something else."

The main display shifted to show long-range sensors, painting the broader tactical picture. What I saw made the situation infinitely more complex.

The red dot pinged on our screens.

Another ship had entered the engagement zone.

"Coalition patrol vessel," Mac identified, studying the new contact's emission signatures. "Standard military configuration, broadcasting identification codes."

"They're responding to the same distress signal," I realized. "Standard military protocol—nearest available vessel investigates civilian emergency."

The Braker ship had been waiting for whoever responded. Now, they faced a choice: engage a Coalition military vessel in open space or maintain their position and hope their stealth profile would hold.

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"Military vessel is taking a direct approach," Mac reported. "No attempt at stealth or tactical caution. They're broadcasting standard rescue protocols."

"They don't know about the Braker ship," Sorrel observed.

"And Braker doesn't know about us," Mac added.

"Or what we're carrying," Elena added quietly.

The Coalition patrol vessel approached the disabled research ship with the confidence of someone who believed they were conducting a routine rescue operation. The Braker vessel remained hidden, weapons powered but not yet firing. And we continued our stealth approach, invisible to both parties, but all of us running on borrowed time.

"Orders?" Sorrel asked

"Continue our approach," I decided. "But be ready for anything."

"Continuing vector," Mac said. "Weapons?"

"Armed," Lia said. "Don't worry."

A few minutes later that we reached the disabled vessel.

"Docking with research ship," Sorrel reported from the shuttle. "Beginning extraction operations."

"Coalition vessel beginning their own approach," Mac observed. "ETA to disabled ship: six minutes."

"Braker weapons systems reaching full charge," Lia added.

"Shuttle launched," Sorrel said.

I gripped the armrests of my chair as multiple crisis scenarios played out simultaneously. "Can you get any more details from scanning?"

"Nothing," Lia replied.

"Shuttle approaching," Sorrel announced, then a moment later. "Docked. We're boarding now."

We followed her HUD camera and were inside the ship with her, approaching the CIC. "Anything?"

The damage to the ship inside was as bad as outside. I zoomed in to see, and in the next breath, Sorrel was announcing. "Captain, is Cat One," she said. "These people aren't just injured—Oh gods...."

When I looked up, I could see Elana with one of the others. "What is it?"

"I don't know, but whatever it is has made a mess of them."

"Elena?" I asked, shaking my head.

"I don't know either I've never seen anything like it," Elena replied.

"Enemy ship is moving," Mac reported. "Breaking stealth profile and they're moving to engage the Coalition vessel."

"Cutting it fine, Sorrel. Get them out of there."

"Deploying stabilization protocols," Elena said. "It will stabilize them during transport. We're bringing them in."

"Lia, close up of those ships, please."

The Braker vessel emerged from the asteroid field's shadow like a predator, finally revealing itself. The Coalition patrol ship, still broadcasting routine rescue protocols, had no idea death was approaching from the darkness.

"Can we warn the Coalition ship without compromising our position?"

"Negative. Any transmission would reveal our location. However, I can create a false distress beacon that might alert them to the tactical situation."

"Do it."

The distress beacon pinged across our screen, and we watched the Coalition ship stumble.

Multiple crises converged, and I was on the edge of my seat. "Sitrep, Sorrel."

"Almost there.

The Coalition ship's approach vector moved slightly as its sensors detected the new signal.

"They're targeting the Coalition ship," Lia reported.

"Extraction is complete," Sorrel declared. "All three survivors are safe. They're in critical condition but stable enough to transport."

"They're as stable as I can get them," Elena stated.

"Get back here right now," I demanded.

"Coalition vessel has detected the Braker ship," Mac stated. "They're breaking off approach, moving to defensive position."

Energy beams lanced across space, striking the Coalition ship's forward shields in a dazzling burst of energy. It was too late.

"Shuttle clear of the research vessel," Sorrel said. "Bringing us in, ninety seconds."

"The Braker ship's firing again," Mac remarked. "They can't take much more."

Lia turned to me. "Captain?"

"I know," I said, noting how wide her eyes were, real emotion there. "Get our people aboard first."

Seeing this up close, knowing we could help, but that disclosing our position too soon would almost certainly leave us worse off.

"Coalition shields are failing," Lia reported.

"Shuttle docked," Sorrel said. "All personnel aboard."

"Mac," I said.

He looked at me, then Lia. "Weapons hot," Mac said. "Looks like we've got a firefight after all."

"ECM duration remaining?" I asked.

"Eleven minutes remaining before power drain becomes critical."

"Mac?"

"They're distracted, going for a flyby, fire as soon as you have lock."

"Understood, commander."

Mac maneuvered us for the attack run, we had minutes to clear the engagement zone before our cover really collapsed and we became visible to the enemy sensors.

"Coalition shields down," Mac reported.

The next hit struck hard, tearing through their forward deck, ripping it apart.

"Captain," Elena's voice came through communications, tight with urgency. "Whatever technology Braker is using, it's—it's doing something to the crews minds."

"How many onboard?"

"Seven," Lia reported.

"They can't take another hit," Mac stated. "Enemy ship is powering up again."

"Get us in front of that ship," I ordered. "Lia, you throw everything you have at them."

"Primed and waiting."

"Captain," Sorrel said, equally urgent. "You need to hear this."

"Send it."

The voice that emerged from the speakers was weak but coherent, "They have Sarah... system containment failed... Brakers been targeting research staff for months... they're building something... something that requires the research data..."

So it was Brakers....

I stared at the tactical display, watching the Coalition vessel's death throes while processing intelligence that changed everything. Kepler Station didn't merely blink off-line; it was forced.

The Brakers ship was about to fire once more, and yet there we were. Right in its path instead.

"Take this, you fucking assholes," Lia said.

The Faulkner's weapons let loose in a volley I don't think any ship would have survived.

Our lasers struck the enemy, melting right through it.

Shields = 3%

Then our missiles struck home.

"For Ashley," Lia whispered.

Those two words stopped me dead.

The enemy ship split, then was blasted into nothing but space debris.

"Target destroyed," Mac reported.

"Coalition status?" I asked.

"Severe hull breaches, life support failing fast," Lia replied.

"We'll meet you in the hangar."

I was already out the door, still giving orders. "Mac, get us as close as possible."

"What are you planning?"

"The only way to get them off that ship is by hopping," I said

"That's going to be a hell of a jump."

Sorrel was already in her EVA suit. "Life support readings are cascading. Hull temperature is dropping fast—maybe five minutes before hypothermia becomes irreversible for anyone not in full protection."

Lia looked at me once as the bay doors opened, then she jumped.

I grabbed my helmet and ran through my suit's diagnostic sequence, watching the Coalition vessel's distress beacon pulse weakly on my HUD.

"I'm getting incoming comms from the Coalition Captain," Mac said.

"Send it."

The comm crackled with an incoming transmission. "Commander Torres of the Coalition Navy. We require immediate assistance. Can you help?"

"Yes, Commander," I replied. "Status for my medic?"

"Seven personnel alive, two unconscious. Hull breaches on decks two through four, life support failing."

"Understood. We're initiating rescue operations now." I sealed my own helmet and ran through the suit's diagnostic sequence, watching the Coalition vessel's distress beacon pulse weakly on my HUD.

Our hanger doors were opening, the darkness of space beyond exhilarating.

Lia stood waiting. "Get them ready for evacuation." She nodded once and jumped, rocketing out into the void. "My friend Lia will be right with you."

Torres' voice cut through the comm, tight with controlled panic. "I'm reading massive power fluctuations from your ship. Who are you?"

"Questions later, Commander. Right now, I need you to gather your people in the main corridor. Before the hull breech. Anyone who can walk helps those who can't."

"Copy that."

I was at the open hangar doors looking out into the space between us. "You are space hopping. Meaning you have to jump."

Lia landed on the side of the other ship, turned, and gave me two thumbs up. "Heading in now."

"We're coming across for the others. Be prepared."

Mac had positioned us perfectly—close enough for EVA jumps, far enough to avoid the Coalition ship's expanding debris field.

"Status report, Lia," I said through the comm.

"Two unconscious, one with suspected concussion, four ambulatory but in shock. Commander Torres is maintaining discipline, but they're in bad shape for EVA operations."

"What's their equipment status?"

"Three functioning maneuvering suits, four suits with basic thrusters. We'll carry the unconscious, EVA suits only."

"Then, like I said, you carry them," I said. "Sorrel, ready for intercept?"

"Ready," she confirmed, checking her suit's maneuvering thrusters. "Captain, that debris field is shifting. We've got maybe a ten-meter window between chunks that could crush someone."

"Talk them through the jump sequence, Lia."

"Stevens, Henderson, Wilson—you're going first," Lia instructed from aboard their ship. "Remember, short controlled bursts from your thrusters. The Faulkner crew will guide you in."

Three figures appeared in the opening—EVA suits, bulky and primitive compared to our military-grade equipment.

"Holy shit," Henderson's voice crackled across the communicator. "How are we supposed to navigate through that?"

"One piece at a time," Sorrel said, firing her thrusters and positioning herself as a guide. "Stevens, you are first. Aim for the brightest light on my costume. Use short spurts and avoid overcorrection.

Stevens launched from the Coalition ship, his trajectory erratic but largely accurate. A piece of hull plating drifted by, missing him by meters.

"Good day, Stevens. Henderson, you are next."

"I can't do this," Wilson said, panic setting in. "I've never done an EVA jump this distance."

"Wilson," Torres said firmly from within her doomed ship. "You trained for this. Short spurts, following Stevens' course."

Henderson leaped with a more controlled manner than Stevens. But Wilson paused at the airlock entrance.

"Commander," one of Torres' remaining crew members called out. "The bulkhead connecting sections four and five has buckled. "We're losing structural integrity quickly."

"Copy. Wilson, leap immediately, or we'll leave you behind."

Wilson finally launched, but his panic caused him to fire his thrusters for too long. He shot off course, straight into a spinning piece of debris.

"Wilson's off course!" Sorrel yelled, shifting direction to intercept. "Firing thrusters hard!"

Sorrel streaked across the void, catching Wilson before he collided with the debris. The impact, however, sent both of them tumbling, fast.

"Sorrel, status?"

"We're fine, just shaken. Wilson, cut your thrusters and let me guide you in."

"Lia, how much time before the next group?"

"Commander Torres reports structural collapse is accelerating. Maybe two minutes before the ship breaks apart completely."

"Torres, you need to get your unconscious personnel to the airlock now."

"Already moving," Torres replied. "But Captain, I don't see how we can carry unconscious personnel across that debris field. They'll be dead weight, literally."

"We'll figure it out," I said, though I wasn't sure how. "Get them to the airlock."

Through the comm, we could hear the growing desperation aboard the Coalition vessel. Metal groaned and snapped as the ship's structure finally began to fail catastrophically.

"Ready," Torres announced. "Persimmon and Thompson are secured with safety lines. I'll guide Persimmon, but Thompson..."

"I'll take Thompson," I said, firing my thrusters toward the Coalition ship. "Lia, can you help coordinate the jump?"

"Yes, but Captain—the debris field is getting worse. A section of their hull separated, and it's drifting right through your path."

I could see it—a massive chunk of twisted metal tumbling end over end, blocking the direct route between ships.

"Alternate route?"

"Negative. The window is closing fast."

"Then we go through it," I said, adjusting my trajectory. "Torres, as soon as I reach you, we'll jump immediately. No hesitation."

"Copy that, Captain."

I arrived at the Coalition ship as another piece of hull armor ripped away. Torres was present with the two unconscious crew members, whose corpses were secured with short emergency tethers.

"Captain," Torres said, "Thompson's breathing is shallow. I don't think he'll survive the jump in his current state."

"He'll survive," I murmured, strapping Thompson into my EVA harness. "Ready?"

"Ready."

We launched from the sinking ship as its main structural beam snapped. Behind us, the Coalition vessel began to fold in on itself, like a flower closing. "Hull collapse is accelerating!" Lia warned. "Debris incoming!"

A rain of metal fragments erupted from the exploding ship, some of which were large enough to punch through EVA suits. I fired my thrusters in a controlled burn, dodging between the larger fragments as Torres strained to keep control of Adelaid's dead weight.

"Those with maneuvering suits first. They can help guide the others across."

"Understood," Torres said, her professional demeanor frayed. "Stevens, Henderson, Wilson—go."

"Ma'am," another voice said, young and terrified. "I've never heard the hull make those sounds before." "Henderson, maintain position," Torres instructed. "Stevens, how are the others?"

"Adelaid took a nasty hit. Thompson has a brain injury. Neither one is in shape for EVA."

"Torres, you're drifting off course!"

"I understand! Adelaid is heavier than I estimated, and his suit is leaking atmosphere!"

"Sorrel, can you assist?"

"Already moving," she answered, her thrusters blazing as she dashed for Torres. "Torres, I'm going to grab your safety line and guide you in."

As the Coalition ship continued to die, the debris field became larger. Through my faceplate, I could see the Faulkner becoming larger, her hanger open and ready.

"Almost there," I said, but Thompson's respiration was worsening. The stress from the EVA leap was killing him.

"Medical emergency," I said. "Elena, Thompson is crashing. We need rapid assistance as soon as we board."

"Ready and waiting," Elena replied.

One by one, we reached the Faulkner's airlock. Stevens, Henderson, and Wilson were already inside. Sorrel guided Torres and Adelaid through the opening as I arrived with Thompson.

"Everyone aboard," I said. "Mac, get us clear."

"Already moving," he said. "Distance from the wreckage: two hundred meters and increasing."

Behind us, the Coalition ship collapsed completely, its hull crumpling into a twisted ball of metal that would float in this sector for decades. Emergency capsules were dispersed like seeds in the star wind, but no one was left alive to use them.

"Lia, return to core systems," I instructed.

"Already done," she replied, her projection fading as she exited the damaged spacecraft. "All personnel accounted for."

"Elena, medical status?"

"Thompson is critical, but stable. Adelaid has an internal hemorrhage, but he should recover. The others are frightened, but unharmed."

I stared at Commander Torres as we made our way down the ship's halls to the medical bay. Her EVA suit was scuffed from debris collisions, and her face looked pallid from fatigue.

"Commander," I said. "Welcome aboard the Faulkner."

"Captain," she answered. "I don't know how you did what you did, but my crew owes you their lives."

"What we did was the easy part," I replied. "What we're heading into is going to be much harder."

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