Chapter 12: More Bracing

The Vanguard hurtled through the darkness, its engines a low, steady hum. The stars stretched out around them, endless and indifferent, as if watching silently to see if this desperate gamble would pay off. Scar stood in the command center, feeling the weight of their mission pressing down on him.

Jefro had managed to plot a course toward the Cordillera Expanse, but it was a route fraught with obstacles—asteroid fields, rogue planetoids, and radiation pockets that could fry their systems if they made even the slightest misstep. The tension on the ship was palpable, and the crew’s exhaustion hung heavy in the air.

Nova sat at the helm, her hands gliding over the controls with practiced precision. Every adjustment she made was deliberate, a constant balancing act between speed and caution. She knew that one wrong move could doom them all. “Entering the asteroid field,” she reported, her voice tight but calm. “Everyone brace yourselves.”

Cyko leaned back in his seat, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Asteroids. Classic. Can’t be a space adventure without a few rocks trying to smash us to bits.”

Nova shot him a glare. “Less talk, more bracing.”

The ship shuddered as they crossed the threshold of the field. Massive chunks of rock drifted through the void, some tumbling slowly, others moving at terrifying speeds. Nova gripped the controls, weaving the Vanguard through the chaos with all the skill of a master pilot.

Scar held onto a support rail, his knuckles white. “Jefro, how’s our shield integrity?” he asked, his voice even despite the chaos.

Jefro’s fingers flew over his console, monitoring the readings. “Holding at seventy percent,” he replied, though his brow was furrowed with worry. “But if we take a direct hit from one of these giants, seventy percent won’t mean squat.”

Scar nodded. “Nova, keep us in one piece. Cyko, ready the defense systems. Just in case.”

Cyko’s grin widened, a spark of excitement in his eyes. “You got it, boss. Never a dull moment around here.”

Arlen, seated in a small chair near the rear of the cabin, watched the crew with wide, anxious eyes. The constant danger was something he was still getting used to. He clutched his father’s notebook, as if it could anchor him in the storm of uncertainty swirling around them.

The ship lurched suddenly as a small asteroid clipped the edge of the hull. Sparks flew, and alarms blared, but Nova corrected their course in an instant. “We’re good,” she said, her voice strained. “But let’s not do that again.”

Scar’s comm activated, and Jefro’s voice came through, tinged with a new kind of tension. “Scar, I’ve picked up something strange. There’s an object moving parallel to us on the far side of the field. It’s… not natural.”

Scar’s stomach sank. “Can you get a visual?”

Jefro’s console flickered, and a grainy image appeared on the main screen. It showed a sleek, dark vessel, gliding effortlessly through the asteroid field like a predator stalking its prey. The ship bore no visible insignia, but the design was unmistakable: Delta Command.

“Stealth frigate,” Nova whispered, her hands tightening on the controls. “They found us.”

Scar’s mind raced. The frigate hadn’t engaged yet, which meant they were either observing or preparing to attack. He had to make a choice, and he had to make it fast. “Jefro, how long until they’re within firing range?” he demanded.

Jefro ran the calculations, his face pale. “Four minutes. Maybe less.”

Cyko’s grin vanished, replaced by a grim determination. “Well, that’s enough time to kiss our asses goodbye.”

Nova shot him a glare. “Not helping.”

Scar turned to the crew, his expression hardening. “We need options, and we need them now.”

Jefro spoke up, his voice hesitant but resolute. “We could try to outrun them, but we’d have to use the emergency hyperdrive boost. It’ll drain most of our fuel, and if we hit another pocket of radiation, we’re toast.”

Nova frowned. “Or we could hide,” she suggested. “There’s a dense asteroid cluster up ahead. If I maneuver us in there, we might be able to lose them—at least for a while.”

Cyko looked between them, his eyes alight with a wild idea. “Or,” he said, “we could go on the offensive. Ambush them. We lure them into thinking we’re defenseless, then blast ‘em to hell. Risky, but it could work.”

Scar’s mind spun with the possibilities. Each option came with its own set of dangers, but they had to make a decision. He turned to Arlen, who was watching with an expression of quiet terror.

“Arlen,” Scar said, his voice softer. “If we get through this, we’re heading straight for that wormhole. But we need to survive first. Do you trust us to make the right choice?”

Arlen’s eyes were wide, but he nodded, clutching his father’s notebook even tighter. “I trust you,” he whispered.

Scar exhaled, feeling the weight of the moment. He looked at his crew—his family in all but blood—and saw the exhaustion, the fear, but also the fierce determination in their eyes. They were in this together, for better or worse.

“Nova,” he said, his voice steady. “Take us into that asteroid cluster. We’ll hide and pray they don’t find us. Jefro, monitor their movements. Cyko, be ready for a fight if it comes to that.”

Nova nodded, her jaw set with resolve. “You got it.”

She adjusted their course, guiding the Vanguard toward the cluster. The ship slipped into the maze of massive rocks, weaving through narrow gaps and dark crevices. The tension was thick enough to cut, and every second felt like an eternity.

The stealth frigate hovered on the edge of their scanners, a silent hunter searching for its prey. Jefro’s hands trembled as he tracked its movements, his screen lighting up with data. “They’re scanning,” he whispered. “If they catch even a whisper of our signature, we’re done.”

Nova held her breath, guiding the ship deeper into the cluster. The asteroids loomed around them, each one a potential hiding spot—or a death trap. The Vanguard’s engines whined softly, the noise almost deafening in the quiet cabin.

Cyko had positioned himself near the weapons console, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Come on, you bastards,” he muttered. “Just keep flying. Nothing to see here.”

Scar stood motionless, every muscle in his body coiled with tension. He had made his choice, but now all they could do was wait. He hated the feeling—helplessness was something he rarely experienced, and it gnawed at him.

Minutes passed, each one stretching longer than the last. The frigate drifted closer, its scanners sweeping through the asteroid field. Nova’s hands were steady, but her breathing had become shallow. Sweat trickled down her temple.

Then, miraculously, the stealth frigate began to move away. Jefro’s eyes widened in disbelief. “They’re… they’re leaving,” he whispered, hardly daring to hope. “They didn’t find us.”

The crew released a collective breath, the relief almost dizzying. Cyko let out a nervous laugh, his shoulders sagging. “I can’t believe that actually worked,” he said. “I was ready to start shooting.”

Nova shot him a tired smile. “Let’s not make a habit of it.”

Scar allowed himself a moment of relief, but only a moment. He knew that their luck wouldn’t hold forever. They had survived another encounter, but the clock was still ticking, and Delta Command wouldn’t stop hunting them.

“Good work, everyone,” he said, his voice firm but laced with exhaustion. “But we need to keep moving. Jefro, keep an eye on our fuel reserves. We can’t afford to run out before we reach the Expanse.”

Jefro nodded, already running calculations. “We’ll make it,” he said, though he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

Arlen relaxed slightly, but the fear never left his eyes. Scar looked at the boy, feeling the weight of responsibility settle even heavier on his shoulders. They had bought themselves some time, but every decision from here on out had to be perfect.