Chapter 7: A Race Against Time

The Vanguard glided through the quiet void beyond the Keldian Drift, its engines humming softly. The crew sat in a heavy silence, the weight of their narrow escape and the truths they’d uncovered pressing down on them. The stars outside seemed dimmer, their light swallowed by the darkness of space.

Scar sat in the command chair, his gaze fixed on the viewport. The events of the last few hours replayed over and over in his mind—Arlen’s desperate plea, the firefight on the moon, and the revelation that Proxima-B, their last bastion, was on the brink of collapse. He felt the crushing pressure of responsibility, but he couldn’t let it show.

Nova, who rarely allowed herself a moment of vulnerability, leaned against the console with her arms crossed. Her dark eyes searched the space beyond, as if trying to make sense of the chaos they were heading into. “Where do we go from here?” she asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

Cyko, seated across the cabin with his boots propped up, let out a dry laugh. “Well, we’re running from Delta Command, we just pissed off an alien race, and our home planet’s about to get roasted. Sounds like we’re in for a fun ride.”

Jefro, hunched over his workstation, didn’t look up. His fingers tapped out complex calculations, pulling up charts and maps on his wrist interface. “We need to chart a course to the Cordillera Expanse,” he said, the stress etched into his face. “If Arlen’s telling the truth, that’s where we’ll find the wormhole—and maybe, a new world.”

Scar turned to the boy, who sat silently beside Nova. Arlen’s face was pale, but his eyes held a stubborn determination. Scar knelt down, meeting the boy’s gaze. “Can you tell us more about your father’s research?” he asked, keeping his tone gentle.

Arlen drew in a shaky breath. “My father, Dr. Aaron Velos, was one of the lead scientists on the Proxima-B Project,” he began, his voice steady despite his young age. “He discovered that Proxima-B’s orbit was decaying. The sun’s gravitational pull is getting stronger, and soon, the planet won’t be able to sustain life. Delta Command knew but refused to evacuate. They... they said it would cause panic.”

Scar exchanged a grim look with Nova. Cyko’s grin faded, and even Jefro stopped typing. Arlen continued, his hands clenching into fists. “My father found a wormhole in the Cordillera Expanse. It leads to a star system with a habitable world, one that could save us all. But Delta Command didn’t want to risk the power shift.”

Scar rose to his feet, his heart pounding. “Then that’s where we’re headed. But getting there won’t be easy.”

Jefro spun his chair around, his expression wary. “You realize Delta Command won’t let us just waltz into the Expanse, right? They’ll come for us, and we’re not equipped to handle another fight.”

Scar nodded. “We’ll have to stay under the radar, refuel, and resupply. But first, we need to lay low and come up with a strategy.”

Nova straightened, her confidence returning. “I know a place,” she said. “Port Karthos. It’s a neutral trade hub, full of smugglers and merchants who don’t ask questions. If we’re careful, we can blend in and get what we need.”

Cyko let out a relieved sigh. “Smuggler’s haven? Finally, a break from the doom and gloom.”

Scar gave him a pointed look. “We’re not there for fun. We’re in and out, quick and quiet. Understood?”

Cyko raised his hands in mock surrender. “Yeah, yeah. Quick and quiet. Got it.”

The journey to Port Karthos was tense but uneventful. The Vanguard drifted among asteroid fields and solar flares, weaving through dangers that only someone with Nova’s skill could manage. Jefro worked tirelessly on the ship’s systems, patching up the damage from their last escape and rerouting power to critical components.

Finally, the trade hub came into view: a sprawling structure clinging to the side of an enormous asteroid, ringed with ships of every make and model. Port Karthos was a hive of activity, its bright lights casting harsh shadows across the void. The place was notorious for harboring criminals and outlaws, but it was also the perfect hiding spot.

Nova guided the Vanguard into one of the docking bays, the ship settling down with a soft whine of its engines. Scar exhaled, a hint of relief breaking through his usual stoicism. “All right,” he said. “We split up. Nova, you and Cyko find fuel. Jefro, see if you can get any spare parts to reinforce our shields. Arlen stays with me.”

The team filed out of the ship, each member slipping into the crowd with a practiced ease. Scar and Arlen stayed close, navigating through the bustling marketplace where vendors shouted over one another, hawking everything from mechanical upgrades to exotic alien food. The air was thick with the smell of engine grease and ozone, a sensory overload that made Arlen shrink closer to Scar.

As they walked, Scar kept a wary eye on their surroundings. Port Karthos was a melting pot of species and allegiances, and trust was a rare commodity. Arlen tugged at his sleeve, his voice small. “Scar… do you think my father’s still alive?”

Scar’s heart ached at the question. He had no comforting lie to offer, so he gave the boy the only thing he could: honesty. “I don’t know,” he said. “But if he is, we’ll find him. I promise.”

Arlen nodded, clinging to that thin thread of hope. Scar’s mind churned with the implications of their mission. He had always believed in the Delta Union, in the idea that they were fighting for humanity’s future. But the revelations about Proxima-B and Delta Command’s secrets had cracked that faith. What if they’d been fighting for the wrong side all along?

Nova and Cyko moved through the fuel depot, blending in with the crowd. Cyko, ever the joker, kept his voice low as he examined a row of fuel cells. “Think we can haggle a deal? Maybe offer to perform some dance routines?”

Nova shot him a glare that could have frozen a star. “Or we could avoid drawing attention and pay. Use the credits Scar authorized.”

Cyko held up his hands. “Relax, Nova. Just trying to lighten the mood.” He grabbed a fuel cell, his expression turning serious. “But let’s be real… we’re running out of time. If Delta Command finds us before we reach that wormhole, we’re toast.”

Nova’s grip on her blaster tightened. “Then we make sure they don’t. We’ll get the fuel, fix the ship, and get out.”

They exchanged the necessary credits, loading the fuel cells onto a repulsor cart. But as they turned to leave, Cyko’s eyes narrowed. A trio of mercenaries in black combat gear were making their way through the crowd, scanning faces. Delta Command operatives, no doubt.

“Nova,” Cyko whispered, his voice low and urgent. “We’ve got company.”

Nova’s heart rate spiked, but her training kicked in. “Stay calm. We can’t afford a fight here.” She adjusted her grip on the cart, steering it away from the mercenaries as casually as possible. Cyko followed, keeping his hand near his sidearm, ready to draw at the slightest sign of trouble.

But trouble had a way of finding them.

One of the mercenaries spotted them, his visor locking onto Cyko. “Hey!” he shouted, drawing his weapon. “You there, freeze!”

Cyko exchanged a look with Nova. “Quick and quiet, huh?” he muttered.

Nova’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Run.”

They bolted, weaving through the crowd as the mercenaries pursued, weapons raised. The marketplace erupted into chaos, vendors shouting and scrambling to get out of the line of fire. Nova cursed under her breath, drawing her blaster and firing over her shoulder. Energy bolts sizzled through the air, but she didn’t stop.

Cyko grabbed the repulsor cart, propelling it forward with a burst of speed. “Scar’s gonna kill us if we lose this fuel!” he shouted.

“Then don’t lose it!” Nova snapped, covering their retreat with precise shots. The mercenaries were gaining, and she knew they couldn’t outrun them forever. But they had to try. Every second counted, and the fate of more than just their crew depended on their escape.