Chapter 19: More Asteroids

The silence of space enveloped the Vanguard as it floated between the massive asteroids, hidden and motionless. Only the faintest hum of life-support systems echoed through the ship, a reminder that they were still alive. For now.

Scar sat in the command chair, every muscle in his body still tense from their near-death escape. He listened intently for any sign of movement from the Delta Command cruiser, but the scanner showed only rocks and the empty void beyond.

Nova slouched in her seat, rubbing her temples to stave off the pounding headache from the stress of their escape. “That was too close,” she whispered, her voice raw. “We can’t keep doing this, Scar.”

Scar knew she was right. Each encounter was wearing them down, physically and mentally. But there was no room for doubt, not when the lives of his crew hung in the balance. “We don’t have a choice,” he replied. “We keep moving until we find a place to regroup. Somewhere safe.”

Cyko leaned against the wall, his eyes half-closed. “Safe,” he muttered, his usual humor gone. “Where does that even exist anymore?”

Scar didn’t answer, but the question lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating.

In the engine room, Jefro was doing what he did best: coaxing the Vanguard back from the brink of collapse. His hands worked over the exposed circuits, sparks flying as he reconnected power lines and rerouted energy flows. Arlen sat nearby, holding a flashlight steady despite the tremor in his hands.

Jefro glanced at the boy and tried to smile, though it came out strained. “You’re doing good,” he said. “Almost like you were made for this.”

Arlen didn’t smile back. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “It feels like… like we’re being hunted. And I hate it.”

Jefro’s heart ached for him. He had known fear, sure, but Arlen was just a kid, forced to grow up faster than anyone should. “I know,” Jefro said, his tone softer. “But you’re stronger than you think. We all are.”

Arlen looked away, clutching his father’s notebook to his chest. Pip, the little alien creature, chirped softly beside him, nuzzling Arlen’s arm as if trying to offer comfort. Jefro watched them, a pang of guilt and worry twisting in his gut. This wasn’t a life any child should have to endure.

Scar called the crew to the common area, their faces weary and worn. He needed to address their next steps, even if the path forward was full of uncertainty.

“All right,” Scar began, looking at each of them in turn. “We’re still running on borrowed time. Jefro, how’s the ship holding up?”

Jefro leaned against the wall, dark circles under his eyes. “We’ve got a few hours before the engines overheat again. I’m doing everything I can, but this ship needs a real dry dock, not a patch job.”

Nova crossed her arms, her gaze steely. “We also have a bigger problem. Delta Command isn’t going to stop hunting us. We need a plan, and running isn’t going to cut it forever.”

Scar’s lips thinned. “I know. But until we have a way to fight back or find a place where they can’t track us, running is all we’ve got.”

Arlen, who had been silent, finally spoke up. “My father’s research… he said there were places, ancient places, where the energy of the universe converged. If we could find one, maybe we could harness it to hide or… or fight.”

The room fell silent. Cyko raised an eyebrow. “Ancient energy? Sounds like one of those stories that ends with someone getting cursed or eaten.”

Nova shot him a glare. “We don’t have the luxury of dismissing anything. If Arlen’s father believed it, then it’s worth looking into.”

Scar considered Arlen’s words carefully. They were running out of options, and if there was even a chance of finding a hidden power source or a place to hide, they had to take it. “Where do we start?” he asked Arlen.

Arlen hesitated, then opened his father’s notebook. He flipped through the pages, his hands trembling. “There was a place he mentioned,” he said. “A moon called Vorlun’s Shroud. It’s in a system full of dust clouds and asteroid belts, almost impossible to navigate. But my father thought it was… special.”

Jefro groaned. “More asteroids. Great.”

Cyko rubbed his chin, a spark of interest in his tired eyes. “Special how?”

Arlen’s voice was barely a whisper. “He called it a place where the universe speaks, where the energy is so strong it can hide anything—or reveal everything.”

Scar knew it was a gamble. A moon lost in a dangerous system, with only a dead man’s theories to guide them. But he also knew that desperation often led to the impossible. “Then Vorlun’s Shroud it is,” he said. “Nova, plot a course. We leave as soon as the engines are stable.”

Nova nodded, her fingers flying over the console. “You got it. But it’s a long shot.”

Scar’s eyes hardened. “Long shots are all we have left.”

As the crew prepared to set off, Arlen stayed behind in the common area, staring at Pip, who had fallen asleep in his lap. The little creature’s trust and loyalty were a small comfort, but it didn’t make the fear go away. Scar approached, his footsteps heavy but quiet.

“You did good today,” Scar said, sitting beside him. “And your father would be proud of you.”

Arlen swallowed hard. “I hope so. I just… I miss him.”

Scar’s heart twisted. He knew what it was like to lose people, to feel that empty void inside. “Grief is hard,” he said quietly. “But he left you something important. And because of you, we have a chance.”

Arlen looked up at him, his eyes wide and vulnerable. “Do you think we’ll make it? To Vorlun’s Shroud?”

Scar didn’t answer right away. He wanted to tell Arlen that everything would be fine, that they would find a way, but he couldn’t lie. Instead, he rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I do know that we’ll keep fighting. Together.”

Arlen nodded, drawing strength from Scar’s presence. Pip stirred and let out a soft, sleepy chirp, as if agreeing.

Hours later, the Vanguard’s engines roared to life, pushing them back into the cold expanse of space. Nova guided the ship carefully, navigating through the shifting asteroid field until they were clear. The stars stretched out before them, and the system where Vorlun’s Shroud lay awaited.

Jefro returned to the engine room, his hands working tirelessly. Cyko resumed his post, scanning for any sign of trouble. And Scar stood on the bridge, the weight of his choices pressing down on him. They were moving forward, one step at a time, but the shadows of the past—and the forces chasing them—felt closer than ever.

As the ship moved through the dark, a strange feeling washed over Scar. A sense of foreboding, like a whisper at the edge of his consciousness. He shook it off, focusing on the mission.