Chapter 3: Briefing and Preparation

The Delta-S crew gathered around the central console in their quarters, the tension from their debriefing still hanging in the air. Scar leaned over the table, his gaze steady but lined with concern. The holomap the lieutenant had provided pulsed with the image of Aldros-IV, a barren, rocky world wrapped in swirling dust storms. Even from space, it looked like a place that had forgotten the meaning of mercy.

Cyko sat on the edge of his bunk, absently cleaning his laser rifle with practiced ease. He was rarely serious, but there was a gravity to his movements now, a hint that the situation had cut through his usual bravado. “You know,” he said, breaking the silence, “I’d feel better if ‘classified’ didn’t usually mean ‘someone’s about to get shot in the face.’”

Nova stood near the viewport, staring out at the sprawl of Proxima-B Station. Her arms were crossed, and her posture was rigid. “It doesn’t matter what it means,” she said, her voice calm but with an edge of steel. “We’ve got a job to do. Let’s get it done.”

Jefro, hunched over his workstation, ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. He had already pulled up detailed schematics of the Vanguard, checking every system for wear and tear. “The ship’s taken a beating,” he said, almost to himself. “Hyperdrive’s running on a prayer, and the shield array could use some TLC. We’ll manage, but... if things go south, we won’t have many escape options.”

Scar straightened, rolling his shoulders to relieve the stiffness. “Then we don’t let things go south,” he replied, his voice carrying a note of finality. “Prep the ship. Nova, run a diagnostic on the navigation systems. Cyko, make sure we’ve got enough firepower to deal with whatever surprises are waiting for us. Jefro, see if you can patch up that shield array.”

Jefro looked up, a hint of skepticism in his eyes. “Patch it with what, exactly? We’re low on supplies, and the station quartermaster’s a stickler for requisition forms.”

Scar’s lips curved into a grim smile. “Do what you do best. Improvise.”

Cyko let out a laugh, but it was devoid of his usual mirth. “Improvise. Great. Our whole operation should have that word as its motto.”

They split up, each member diving into their respective tasks. In the hangar bay, Nova knelt beside the Vanguard’s main console, her hands moving over the controls like a conductor orchestrating a symphony. The ship hummed in response, and she could feel its pulse, the intricate dance of circuits and power relays. “Come on, girl,” she whispered, coaxing the ship to respond. “Stay with me.”

The ship’s diagnostics unfolded on the screen, lines of data scrolling faster than any human eye could follow. Nova’s brow furrowed. The navigation system, while functional, was glitchy. Every now and then, it blinked, almost like a heart that skipped a beat. “Damn,” she muttered. She made a note to adjust the calibration, knowing full well that in a mission as critical as this, even a small error could spell disaster.

Meanwhile, Cyko had set up an impromptu armory station on a workbench. Ammunition clips, grenades, and energy cells were neatly organized in rows. He adjusted the sights on his laser rifle, checking and double-checking every piece of equipment. As he worked, he muttered to himself, his hands never slowing. “Bet Aldros-IV is crawling with nasties. Maybe sentient rock monsters. Or invisible predators. Or worse, lawyers.”

Jefro appeared behind him, holding a tool kit that looked like it had seen better days. “You should get your humor gland checked, Cyko. It’s malfunctioning.”

Cyko grinned, finally some of his usual cheer creeping back in. “It’s a survival mechanism, genius. Besides, you’d miss me if I were normal.”

Jefro rolled his eyes and turned to face the ship. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t blow us all up, okay?” He headed over to the shield array, inspecting the battered panels with a practiced eye. A network of cracks ran through the system’s core plating. He sighed, already feeling the headache coming on. “Looks like I’ll have to reroute power from the auxiliary generator. Again. One of these days, Scar’s going to run us straight into a black hole, and this ship will finally call it quits.”

Cyko glanced over, still grinning. “When that happens, we’ll be too dead to care.”

Jefro just snorted and got to work, his fingers deftly manipulating wires and circuits. It was tedious, delicate labor, and each time he made a connection, he held his breath, waiting for the hum of energy to stabilize. The shield array flickered but held steady, and he allowed himself a moment of relief.

Back in the briefing room, Scar sat alone for a moment, reviewing the mission data on his wrist interface. His mind raced, analyzing variables, contingency plans, and every possible outcome. Aldros-IV was known for its unpredictable weather patterns, vicious wildlife, and rumors of abandoned military installations. The word “classified” echoed in his mind, a constant thorn of doubt.

The door slid open, and Nova stepped in. “Diagnostics complete,” she reported, her voice breaking him out of his reverie. “Navigation systems are stable for now, but we’ll need to be careful. Any sudden course corrections could throw us off.”

Scar nodded. “Noted. Thanks, Nova.”

She hesitated, her eyes searching his face. “This mission... it doesn’t feel right. We’re flying in blind, and the lieutenant’s not giving us the whole picture.”

Scar leaned back, his expression unreadable. “We’ve flown blind before.”

Nova crossed her arms, her jaw tightening. “Yeah, but this feels different. Whatever’s in that cargo, it’s more than just a package. And if we’re dealing with Delta Command secrets...”

Scar’s eyes darkened. He knew she was right, but he couldn’t let that doubt fester. “We’ll handle it. We always do.”

Nova didn’t respond, but the unspoken words between them were louder than any argument.

When the team reconvened, they stood around the central console once more. Cyko was the first to speak, slinging his laser rifle over his shoulder. “Locked, loaded, and ready to turn any alien nasties into space dust.”

Jefro wiped grease from his hands, his expression tired but determined. “Shield array’s patched. It won’t take much more abuse, but it’ll hold for now.”

Nova’s gaze swept over the group, her eyes lingering on Arlen, the silent boy who had yet to say a word since they found him. His presence was a constant reminder of how little they understood about their mission. “Engines and navigation are ready,” she said. “Let’s hope Aldros-IV doesn’t decide to kill us on arrival.”

Scar looked at each of them, his team, his family in all but blood. They were tired, worn from years of missions and battles, but they were the best he could ask for. And he trusted them with his life. “We launch at 0600. Get what rest you can.”

Arlen finally looked up, his eyes wide and curious but still mute. Scar met the boy’s gaze, something heavy settling in his chest. There was more to this mission than Delta Command had revealed, and he had a feeling that this boy was at the heart of it.

Cyko clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. “Well, since sleep is apparently a luxury, who’s up for a game of holo-chess?”

Jefro groaned, “Only if you promise not to cheat this time.”

Nova allowed herself a small smile as the two bickered. Scar watched them, feeling a pang of something he couldn’t quite name. Hope, maybe. Or dread.

He turned to the viewport, staring into the abyss of space. Whatever awaited them on Aldros-IV, he knew they’d face it together. But that knowledge did little to quiet the storm brewing in his gut.

The mission was set. The countdown had begun.