Chapter 8: Fuel Crisis

The marketplace of Port Karthos had descended into complete pandemonium. Shouts of terrified merchants and bystanders echoed through the metal corridors, mixing with the crackling hum of blaster fire. Nova and Cyko sprinted through the chaos, the repulsor cart full of precious fuel cells rattling along behind them.

“Left!” Nova barked, her blaster raised as she fired a shot over Cyko’s shoulder. The energy bolt slammed into the ground near the pursuing mercenaries, forcing them to duck for cover.

Cyko skidded around the corner, pulling the cart with a grunt of effort. “Next time we do a supply run, let’s pick a place where Delta Command doesn’t have an open tab on our heads!” he called over the noise.

Nova ignored his banter, her mind laser-focused on the task at hand. She could feel the pulse of adrenaline in her veins, each heartbeat loud in her ears. “Just keep moving! The Vanguard’s this way!” she shouted.

The mercenaries were relentless, their dark armor glinting under the harsh neon lights of the port. They communicated with silent hand signals, splitting into two groups to flank the crew. Nova’s jaw clenched. These weren’t amateurs. Delta Command had sent professionals.

Ahead, the metal corridors twisted and branched off into multiple paths. Cyko paused, sweat beading on his forehead. “Which way?” he yelled, panic creeping into his voice.

Nova glanced over her shoulder, catching sight of the mercenaries closing in. Her eyes darted to the side, spotting a narrow maintenance tunnel half-hidden by a stack of cargo crates. “There!” she said, pointing.

Cyko didn’t hesitate. He shoved the repulsor cart into the tunnel, nearly tipping it over in the process. Nova fired off a few more shots to slow down their pursuers before ducking inside. The tunnel was dimly lit, the walls lined with pipes and conduits that buzzed with the flow of energy. The space was tight, making maneuvering the cart a struggle.

Cyko panted, pushing the cart forward. “This better not be a dead end,” he muttered.

Nova glared at him. “Stop complaining and keep moving.”

The mercenaries weren’t far behind, their heavy boots clanging against the metal floor. Nova knew they couldn’t afford to lose the fuel; without it, the Vanguard would be stranded. She activated her comm and called out to Scar.

“Scar, we’re pinned down near the west hangar,” she reported, her voice taut with urgency. “We’ve got the fuel, but Delta’s mercs are all over us. We need backup.”

Scar’s voice came back, tense but controlled. “Hold your position. Jefro and I are en route. Don’t let them cut you off.”

Back at the Vanguard, Scar exchanged a quick, grim look with Jefro. The tech specialist had already finished rigging up some emergency repairs to the ship’s shield array, sweat glistening on his brow. “You sure you’re up for this?” Scar asked.

Jefro wiped his hands on his jumpsuit, trying to hide his nerves. “No,” he admitted. “But since when do we get a choice?” He grabbed his sidearm, his fingers trembling just slightly.

Scar clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

They made their way through the crowded hangar, weaving around workers and supply drones. Scar’s pulse quickened, the familiar rush of battle readiness sharpening his senses. He had to get to Nova and Cyko before Delta’s mercenaries did. They couldn’t afford to lose the fuel—or each other.

Nova and Cyko had reached the end of the maintenance tunnel, emerging onto a catwalk overlooking a massive storage bay filled with towering crates and machinery. Cyko cursed under his breath. “Great. Now what?”

Nova’s mind raced. She spotted a stack of crates that could serve as temporary cover, but it wouldn’t hold against a concentrated assault. The mercenaries had fanned out, cutting off any hope of a simple escape. “We’ll hold here until Scar and Jefro arrive,” she said, her voice cold and determined.

Cyko’s eyes widened. “Hold? As in, fight?”

Nova didn’t respond. She raised her blaster and took aim, her heart pounding. The first mercenary to emerge from the tunnel barely had time to react before her shot struck him in the chest, sending him sprawling. Cyko joined in, his rifle blazing as he let out a whoop.

“That’s one!” he shouted, the adrenaline making his voice giddy. “Who’s next?”

But the mercenaries didn’t falter. They moved with precision, laying down suppressive fire that forced Nova and Cyko to duck behind the crates. Blaster bolts sizzled through the air, charring the metal floor and walls. The storage bay echoed with the deafening noise, every blast a reminder of how precarious their position was.

Cyko winced as a shot exploded just inches from his head. “So, Nova,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Any brilliant ideas?”

Nova didn’t answer immediately. Her mind worked furiously, calculating every option. She glanced at the repulsor cart, then at the fuel cells, an idea forming. “Yeah,” she said finally, her eyes narrowing. “We use the fuel as a decoy.”

Cyko blinked. “Are you insane? If those things explode, we’ll go up with them!”

Nova’s mouth twisted into a grim smile. “Only if we do it wrong.”

She grabbed one of the fuel cells, adjusting the power settings to make it unstable. Cyko’s eyes widened in alarm. “You really are insane,” he muttered.

Nova set the modified fuel cell on the ground and primed it. “When I say go, we push it toward them. It’ll act like a flash bomb and give us a window to escape.”

Cyko took a deep breath, nodding. “All right. Let’s do this.”

The mercenaries were closing in, their armored forms moving like shadows through the smoke and chaos. Nova waited, her finger hovering over the detonator. When the enemy was close enough, she pressed the button.

“Go!” she shouted.

Cyko shoved the unstable fuel cell forward, and it exploded in a blinding flash of light and energy. The mercenaries staggered, disoriented, their visors overloaded by the sudden burst. Nova and Cyko didn’t waste a second. They grabbed the repulsor cart and sprinted toward the far end of the storage bay, weaving between crates and machinery.

Scar and Jefro burst into the bay just in time to see the chaos unfold. Scar’s eyes locked onto Nova and Cyko, relief flooding through him. He raised his rifle, covering their retreat with a series of precise shots. Jefro, despite his fear, followed suit, his hands steady on his sidearm.

“Move, move!” Scar shouted.

Nova and Cyko made it to the cover of a nearby bulkhead, panting and sweating. The mercenaries were starting to recover, but Scar’s and Jefro’s fire kept them pinned down. Nova’s heart raced, but she forced herself to think clearly.

“Scar!” she called. “We’ve got the fuel. We need to get back to the Vanguard!”

Scar nodded, his jaw set. “Fall back! Jefro, cover us!”

The team moved as one, retreating with military precision. Jefro’s shots weren’t as accurate as Scar’s, but he did his best to keep the mercenaries at bay. Cyko hauled the repulsor cart, his muscles burning, but he didn’t let up. They reached the hangar, and Nova sprinted ahead, slapping the control panel to lower the ship’s ramp.

The Vanguard’s engines roared to life, the ship trembling as it prepared for liftoff. The crew scrambled inside, dragging the fuel cart behind them. Scar was the last to board, firing a final shot before slamming the hatch shut.

“Go, Nova!” he ordered.

Nova didn’t hesitate. She vaulted into the pilot’s seat, her hands moving with lightning speed. The Vanguard lifted off, its thrusters burning hot as they shot away from Port Karthos. The hangar bay fell away, and the stars swallowed them once more.

The ship leveled out, and a heavy silence filled the cabin. Cyko leaned against the wall, catching his breath. “I never want to do that again,” he gasped.

Jefro sank into a chair, his hands still trembling. “You and me both.”

Scar stood in the center of the cabin, his heart still pounding. He looked at each member of his team, taking in their exhaustion and relief. Arlen watched them all, his eyes wide, a mixture of awe and gratitude.

“We made it,” Nova said, her voice softer now, but still strong. “We’re still in one piece.”

Scar allowed himself a moment of relief, but he knew their reprieve was temporary. The crisis wasn’t over—not by a long shot. “We’ve got fuel,” he said.