Deep Space
Uhlek Badlands
ISS Negelle

“Ssteady as she goess, helm,” ordered Commander Gallryss, standing fully erect while the captain sat silently in his chair. That’s how Captain Puller ran his ship: he didn’t. He seldom countermanded his executive officer, informing him of his wishes privately. From the perspective of Warrant Ensign Kanavus, sitting at Negelle’s helm, it seemed like the Thrynn commander was fully in charge. “Roll back engine power, let her drift,” said the XO.

Captain Puller’s eyes were fixed on the view screen in front of him. Long range optics showed the swarm of Uhlek slave-sentry ships tearing into a stray Spemin vessel they’d come across, this one without the Leghk technology. The captain looked down at his armrest display. Negelle was still a safe distance off and in perfect position to fight, flee or hide, he noted. Gallryss would be ready for a ship of his own very shortly, and all the better. The Spemin won’t wait forever.

Puller looked back at the view screen. The Spemin vessel was destroyed and the G’Nunk ship was plucking the valuable debris from the cooled wreck. The Uhlek ships just floated. Negelle had witnessed this scene several times over the past few days and it was becoming clear what had happened. The G’Nunk had found a way to harness the Uhlek drifters that still haunted the outward reaches of the Earth Sector. The good news kept coming.

Windward Passage
Vega Rillius 144,80
Aboard ISS Belfast Windfall

Biggs flattened his palm against the window, looking down at the replenishment activities, supplies going up the ramp and into his ship. He turned to look at Commander Grx’bzzgah on the other side of the duty lounge, said, “what do you make of things?” The insectoid shifted in his seat as the translation came through.

“A mess,” he offered. “When the Spemin decide to move…everything’s wound too tightly. It’s all going to fly apart.” The Elowan contact had said it all. The Thrynn and the Elowan were heading for a violent collision. And the Thrynn with each other, or so it seemed. “And there’s that static coming from the Gazurtoid frontier.” Biggs grunted at that and eased himself into the booth opposite Grix, pouring himself a cup of coffee, stirring in milk. He took a sip of the hot beverage.

“God help us if that breaks open. Who even knows if we can beat what the Spemin are going to throw our way…” he trailed off. The intercom clicked on. It was Mack.

“Skipper, we’re almost done with the gear. I’d say twenty minutes and we’re ready to jet,” said the crackling voice. Biggs smacked the comm box, then told his junior lieutenant to wrap things up and get the muster count. Short moments later a congenial buzz warmed to life as Belfast Windfall’s engine wells ran up to speed. Biggs dumped his unfinished coffee in the sink and walked with Grix out into the passageway and then toward the bridge.

Preparations complete, they jumped off world. From behind his bulky grey desk, Biggs Hilsfar said, “set the main sail, boys. Outward course. Hit it.”

Leghk Sector
Nassau Town Colony

Back in the saddle for another day, Urussa pulled back on the reigns, if half-heartedly, and lifted a set of binoculars from her worn leather saddlebags. In the distance, a small flock of skeetlefish birds shifted to and fro with uncanny symmetry, as if conducted by some external force. Suddenly, the birds swooped down on unseen prey, then shot back up, their movement an unflawed dance. Like disparate executors of a single will, they shot into the waves and were gone. Urussa was stunned by the vision, her hands trembling. She eased the binoculars down to rest in the saddle. Her husband was out there among the monsters and villains.

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Next: “Raising Vell”