Arduous hours after the battle ground by, as Laceeya dealt with several tasks and oversaw repairs. She ardently studied files and records, reading up on all the information on cloaking devices that were available, trying to stay focused for the remaining time she was on duty. All the while she managed to keep herself detached from the emotions bubbling inside her.

  Eventually, she departed the bridge after spending hours poring over intel and forming plans, keeping her mind active and busy. Laceeya arrived back at her quarters, the door sliding shut behind her with the familiar hiss of hydraulics. She leaned back against the door, sighing heavily and sliding down to sit on the floor. She’d forced her emotions down so much while on duty. But the deaths dealt in the recent battle were crushing down upon her shoulders like the weight of a mountain.

  The repressed emotions, the fear and stress suddenly rose up, in an overwhelming rush. Tears began to flow from Laceeya’s eyes as she finally couldn't hold back her feelings anymore.

  Wrapping her arms around her legs, Laceeya pulled her knees against her chest as tears spilled down her face. Sobs racked her body, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get the images of the fallen out of her head. She thought of all the people in the Chaos that the Grysks threatened, all those who had and would die or suffer because of them. She thought of all those she knew and everyone under her command who they’d slain.

  The list of the fallen grew longer and longer, and she knew it would continue to do so.

  Fear coursed through her body. Fear of the ever expanding darkness that was the Grysks. Laceeya leaned her head back against the door and hugged her legs tightly to her body. She sniffled, and wiped at her nose, finding her hand coming away wet with tears. A sensation of hopelessness and doom had settled over her, and her chest felt tight and her heart raced. Nausea washed through her like a tidal wave as the faces of the dead stared back at her in her mind.

  Laceeya gasped for air between sobs, but found herself unable to catch her breath. Why was there so much pain and suffering in the galaxy? What if the Grysks couldn’t be stopped? Why was she so weak, so unable to cope? All these thoughts desperately rushed through Laceeya’s mind at a blinding pace as she struggled to breathe, the tension in her chest and uneasiness in her stomach increasing as panic overwhelmed her. Her lungs refused to fill with air, leaving her breathing rapid and shallow.

  Laceeya felt like she was falling apart, spiraling into a darker and darker place, unable to escape the panic and fear and guilt. She wanted to scream but couldn’t find her voice. Her mouth and throat were like a desert.

  Images continued rushing through her mind. She saw the destruction on Renthass, where thousands had died. Ghosts of friends who’d been lost haunted her. The Varquak were being subjugated and she’d failed to defeat their oppressors. Laceeya was trembling, and tears flooded from her eyes.

  Laceeya felt trapped, stuck here fighting the Grysks, fighting the threats of the Chaos, with the toll of war steadily grinding her down. Victory against the Grysks was far from guaranteed, and there was no end to any of it in sight. It was an overpoweringly grim thought, causing her to hyperventilate even more. For all she knew, Laceeya might be stuck in a purgatory, deemed to fight a war for the rest of her life while others around her continued to die.

  Why was this happening to her? The recent deaths and events weren’t any different than things she’d experienced before. Yet the stress of it all seemed to build and build until now, were it was simply too much.

  She felt ashamed for being so weak. Imagine if the crew could see me, she thought as she continued to cry uncontrollably, her breaths shallow. What if she wasn’t fit to lead them? What if she too unstable, would the image of calm break at the wrong moment and cause the doom of the Ethereal and her task force? What if she caused Bren’s death?

  The thought of it made her feel sick, and another wave of intense nausea assaulted her. She hastily stood up, feeling lightheaded and unsteady on her feet. Rushing into the refresher, Laceeya knelt over it and threw up. She gagged as her stomach turned, and she continued to vomit until all that remained were dry heaves.

  Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Laceeya suddenly felt claustrophobic and quickly reached to unseal her tunic and yank it off, throwing it to the side. She inhaled short gasping breaths between the sobs that shook through her entire body.

  Laceeya felt terrified. She didn’t know why this was happening, it felt like the fear and panic and anxiety would go on forever. She couldn’t stand it anymore, she had to make it stop. Pinching her skin as hard as possible, she tried to focus on the pain.

  Yet it wasn’t enough to overcome the torrent of emotions coursing through her. Pounding rapidly in her chest, Laceeya’s heartbeat was like the nonstop beat of a drum, reverberating loudly in her ears, unable to slow down.

  Grabbing the small vibroblade she kept, she looked at its razor sharp blade. Laceeya’s eyes hurt from crying, her throat burned and her mouth was dry. Gripping the handle of the small knife, her knuckles white and jaw clenched, she placed it firmly against the top of her left forearm and forcefully slashed.

  She gasped from the sharp pain as red blood instantly welled and poured from the deep cut. It ran down her arm, dripping to the floor. Laceeya bit her lip and focused on the pain of the cut, staring at it as blood gushed down her arm, onto her hand and the floor.

  The pain helped, distracting Laceeya’s mind slightly from her thoughts and feelings. Although Laceeya had awareness of the fact that she was having a panic attack, that knowledge didn’t help her in the moment. Terror and fear consumed and overwhelmed her, feeling as if the emotions would be infinite. In her state, the only possible outlet to lessen the panic seemed to be self-harm.

  A sudden knock at the door startled her, and Laceeya jerked upright. She looked around her, at the blood that was streaming from her arm and pooling on the deck.

  The knock came again, but the room was too soundproofed to let any voices in. Laceeya’s eyes darted around the room. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this, especially Bren, who she knew would be devastated at what she’d done. She sat there, frozen.

  Laceeya heard the hiss of the door sliding open, and the sound of soft footsteps on the deck.

  “Laceeya?” Bren’s worried voice called out. “You okay?”

  Laceeya covered her mouth with her hands, attempting to stifle the sobs. She didn’t want Bren to witness her in such a state. Laceeya knew how much it would hurt her to see her like this.

  “Laceeya?” Bren called again worriedly. She rushed over to the open refresher door. “Laceeya!” She cried out as her eyes fell upon Laceeya, concern and fear plastered on her face.

  Laceeya looked up at her with tears still running down her face, meeting her worry-filled brown eyes,

  Bren crouched down next to Laceeya, her gaze flicking around to take in everything. “Oh, Laceeya,” she murmured, her mouth hanging open slightly.

  Shame and guilt washed over her from the level of concern in Bren’s expression. She looked as worried as Laceeya could imagine. Inhaling a long breath, Bren reached over to gently work the vibroblade from her clenched fingers, setting it aside. Laceeya hadn’t even realized she’d still been holding it.

  Quickly retrieving a medical kit from a cabinet, Bren applied a spray to quell the bleeding. Flinching slightly as Bren used the spray, Laceeya closed her eyes. The gash was deep, and Laceeya had lost a lot of blood, but the spray held, sealing the wound.

  Crouching down beside her, Bren wrapped her arms around her body, embracing Laceeya securely. “It’s okay,” She whispered softly. “You’re safe.”

  Laceeya buried her face against Bren’s shoulder, crying. “It’s too much,” She managed between sobs, her voice hoarse.

  “I know,” Bren murmured. “I’m here.”

  Laceeya’s body shook from the sobs. The pain of the cut had provided a slight distraction from the panic and fear, but not enough. And the consequences that it had on Bren certainly didn’t make it worth it. “I’m sorry, Bren,” She said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Bren soothed. “It’s okay. Here, let me clean this up.” She stood up to grab a towel, wetting it in the sink and crouching back down beside Laceeya.

  Laceeya looked up at her, tears still burning her eyes, her body trembling and pulse racing. She noticed that Bren’s eyes were wet with tears as well. Laceeya opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t manage to find any words. She felt so guilty. What had she been thinking?

  “I’m so sorry, Bren.” Laceeya croaked. Bren had taken her arm in her hand and was gently wiping away the blood that had previously been gushing from the wound. It was a deep cut. With one towel, Bren carefully cleaned the blood from her arm, dabbing at the area around the cut.

  “It’s okay, Laceeya.” Bren said, looking up at her and giving her a faint smile. But despite her attempt at a reassuring expression, Laceeya could tell just how scared Bren was for her. “Should I take you to the medbay?” Bren asked, worry coloring her voice.

  Laceeya just shook her head.

  “Okay.” Bren replied uncertainly, taking a quiet deep breath. Utilizing the spray once more to make sure the deep cut was sealed, Bren readied a bandage, gently wrapping it tightly around her arm a few times and sticking it firmly closed.

  “There,” Bren said finally, wiping off the cool metal floor with the towel. Bren set it aside, quickly rinsing her hands.

  Turning around, Bren held out her hands to Laceeya. Looking up at her, she accepted her gesture, interlocking their fingers and letting Bren assist in pulling her up.

  “Woah.” Bren said, catching Laceeya as she stumbled, her head spinning from lightheadedness. An arm around her waist, Bren guided her over to the bed. Laceeya sat down, squeezing her arms tightly around her own torso, and Bren crouched down before her to help pull off her boots. She sat next to her on the bedside, quickly undressing from her uniform.

  Sliding further into the bed and propping herself up against the pillows, Bren pulled Laceeya to her and embraced her tightly. Laceeya slipped her arms around her form, clutching onto her and laying against her chest. Tears wet her face and the fabric of Bren’s tank top where she lay, her body shaking as she sucked in short breaths as she cried. Bren ran her fingers through the midnight waves of Laceeya’s hair, her other arm snugly grasping her back.

  “I’m here.” Bren murmured softly. “You’re safe.”

  Her sobs eventually began to slow, the overwhelming rush of emotions shifting into a strong sense of emptiness.

  “None of it’s your fault,” Bren whispered. “You’re a damn good leader, Laceeya, a hero, and I love you so much.”

  Laceeya sniffled, hearing the words as they entered her brain, but not truly believing them. “I love you too,” She said, her voice cracking. “I’m so…” She sniffled again, breaking off from a sob. “I’m so sorry I did this.”

  “It’s okay,” Bren soothed gently. “I just…I’m just really worried about you.” She said, her voice breaking slightly. Bren paused, swallowing heavily. “I hate seeing you struggle like this. I wish I could fix it for you. All of it.”

  “I know.” Laceeya murmured, her throat and mouth arid, the salty taste of tears coating her lips.

  “One day we’ll be free from this,” Bren said reassuringly. “It’ll be me and you, and we won’t have any responsibilities or worries. We’ll get our own ship, go wherever we want, see the bright and happy parts of the galaxy. And you won’t have to worry about war or death. We’ll be together, we’ll be free, and we’ll be happy.”

  “I hope so.” Laceeya replied softly. “But…” She trailed off.

  “We’ll make it happen,” Bren insisted gently. “One day. We’ll stop the Grysks.” Yet it seemed so unattainable, a fantasy. For all Laceeya knew, she could be dead in a week.

  Hopelessness rose through Laceeya. “Stop saying that!” Laceeya snapped suddenly, tears brimming again in her eyes. “We don’t know that! People keep dying and it feels like the Grysks keep spreading no matter what we do.” The words rushed from her mouth. “I’m supposed to keep them alive, and I’m failing! And I feel like I won’t ever make it to ‘one day’!” She huffed out a heavy sigh.

  Bren looked taken aback by Laceeya’s sudden outburst. She lowered her brown eyes, the muscles in her jaw and neck taut. Her expression was carefully controlled, but there was evident hurt and concern hiding underneath. “Laceeya…” She murmured softly.

  Feeling instantly ashamed and guilty over her outburst, Laceeya sat up, dizziness washing over her as she pulled away from Bren. Drawing her legs in close, Laceeya hugged her knees to her chest and lowered her forehead onto them. She didn’t want to meet Bren’s eyes. She felt terrible, a mix of emotions filling her mind, and she trembled slightly as she sobbed with her head down.

  Bren remained silent. She had only been trying to help, trying to provide encouragement and hope. Guilt ate away at Laceeya for how she had snapped on her. The desperate hopelessness and defeat she was feeling was so overpoweringly intense, and it had burst through in that moment. The future Bren had been talking about seemed so impossible that it had set her off.

  Minutes crept slowly by as Laceeya cried. “I’m so sorry,” Laceeya finally said weakly, her voice dry and muffled. “I’m so sorry, Bren,” She gasped in a deep breath. “It just…feels so impossible.”

  “I know. But I want to help you, to give you hope,” Bren replied softly. “A future to look forward to.”

  Laceeya swallowed. “I know.” She said. “I feel awful for snapping on you like that. It’s been such a hard day…and I’m so exhausted,” She lifted her head, turning her tear stained face towards Bren. Her glowing red eyes met Bren’s brown gaze, a deep worry contained in them. “I hope you can forgive me. I’m really sorry, Bren.”

  Bren pursed her lips. “It’s okay, Laceeya,” She said gently. “I’m really worried about you is all.”

  “Times like this…I feel like I can’t keep going on this way,” Laceeya murmured. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs, a shiver running through her slim body. She felt cold. “What if we just left?” She whispered, staring into Bren’s eyes. “What if me and you took my TIE and ran away? We could make that future now, make it real.”

  Waiting in the hangar was her TIE Reaper, and there was nothing stopping the pair from going down there and flying off. She could be free from the crushing weight of command, and the constant pressure it placed on her.

  Bren sighed, closing her eyes momentarily. The room was left in silence for a long few seconds before she responded. “We can’t…” She said softly. “We can’t leave everyone. I don’t think you’d be happy doing that.”

  Laceeya let out a shaky sigh. She knew that Bren was correct, and the thought of actually leaving ashamed her. Guilt would consume her over abandoning her friends, her crew, her command. Guilt over abandoning her duty and all the people of the Chaos who the Grysks and other evils threatened. How could she do that?

  But there was a part of her that wished she could, that dreamed of abandoning the life of stress and death, throwing aside responsibility. What if she and Bren packed their things and went to climb into her TIE and simply flew away?

  It was an incredibly selfish thought, Laceeya knew. Despite it disgusting her to even consider it, the other portion of her mind lusted for it.

  “I know,” Laceeya finally said, her tone defeated. “I know. But I wish we could.”

  Bren scooted forward to wrap her arms back around Laceeya’s body in a snug embrace. “Me too.” She whispered into Laceeya’s ear.

  A throbbing headache pounded through her brow, and Laceeya's eyes burned with exhaustion as she lay in the bed.

  “We should get some rest, okay?” Bren said. “I know you’re tired.”

  “Yeah.” Laceeya murmured weakly, her mind still occupied with the idea of fleeing. Massaging her temples and rubbing her fingers over her eyes, Laceeya sank further back into the bed. Readjusting her position to lay her head against Bren’s shoulder, she draped an arm around her body. She felt the reassuring touch and pressure of Bren’s embrace envelop her.

  Closing her eyes, she exhaled a long and tired sigh. She hoped the nightmares wouldn’t find her tonight.

  Laying in bed, curled up around Laceeya, Bren's thoughts raced restlessly. She was unable to find peace, unable to sleep. Her mind was too active, too on edge. Sighing softly, she carefully extricated herself from the bed, being sure not to disturb Laceeya. Glancing back at her, Bren felt a strong pang of sadness. While asleep with her fiery eyes closed, Laceeya looked so peaceful in the dim light, her expression blank.

  There was no fear and pain coloring her face, no stress and exhaustion. Just a blank and serene mask of contentment. Bren compressed her lips tightly, staring at Laceeya’s still form for another minute. She yearned for Laceeya to always look so peaceful, not just when she was asleep.

  Pulling on a pair of low boots, Bren quietly slipped from the room into the grey corridor. She drew in a long inhale, holding the breath before releasing it with a hissing sigh. Trekking down the hallways, Bren made her way to a nearby gunnery station, which was unoccupied at this time. The heavy blast doors interlocked behind her, sealing her in a tomb of privacy. A reinforced viewport displayed the vastness of space, consoles with standby lights flickered. It was a location Bren liked to run off to in situations like this, a quiet and private spot where she could gaze into the starry void.

  Picking her way between consoles towards a gunnery chair, she collapsed into the seat. She gazed out the viewport before her, at the barrels of the quad laser cannon that stretched out into space. Bren leaned her head back with a weary sigh, shutting her eyes.

  It had been a hard day. She’d witnessed the death of multiple of the Hand’s people, not to mention the ominous discovery of the Grysks’ cloaking technology.

  Perhaps it was a selfish and narrow-minded thought, but currently, Bren was most concerned about Laceeya. Helplessness consumed her over the thought of Laceeya’s struggles. The stress and weight of war and command always pressed down on Laceeya, but today…

  Witnessing the state that Laceeya had been in was truly terrifying for Bren. She was unsure of what to do, unable to help solve Laceeya’s problems and ease her pain and fear. She’d never seen her so hopeless before. The battle hadn’t been anything worse than many other skirmishes in the past.

  Yet the effect it had on Laceeya certainly was worse. Bren squeezed her eyes closed even tighter, clenching her muscles in impotent frustration.

  Bren was worried about what was going to happen in the future. What if Laceeya’s mental state continued to degrade? After today, she was truly scared for her more than ever. The lengths Laceeya had gone to were frightening, and the image of her sitting on the floor, her arm gushing blood was imprinted at the forefront of her mind.

  Breathing in through clenched teeth, Bren wiped at a tear forming in the corner of her eye, her hand coming away moist. “Shit.” She muttered softly to herself, rubbing her eyes.

  In the past. Laceeya had always toiled with the burdens that came along with command. Yet recently, it had become increasingly severe. Was it her promotion to Commodore, and being given the command of a task force? Or having Shadow’s Bane placed under her leadership as well?

  The Victory-Class had thousands of crew members, significantly more than the rest of her task force combined. That was a lot of additional lives weighing upon her.

  Or was it the ever growing shadow of the Grysks, the feeling that the war wouldn’t end?

  Maybe it was simply all of it combined. Bren sniffled, tapping her foot anxiously on the floor. It all felt wildly out of her control.

  Rewinding her brain to their conversation, Bren considered what Laceeya had spoken about earlier. What if they ran away? They’d wistfully discussed the topic before, but never in a serious manner.

  However, she knew her so intimately, and Bren was fairly positive that Laceeya would not find happiness by leaving behind her friends and crew and task force. Guilt would fill her, she’d think about all the people threatened by the Grysks. Laceeya placed a severe amount of responsibility upon herself, as if she should be able to defeat the Grysks herself.

  Bren didn’t want to abandon her duty, her friends. Yet at the same time, what about the effect it was having on Laceeya? More than anything, Bren wanted to do what was best for Laceeya. What if she couldn’t stay? What if she actually would be happier leaving?

  Not knowing what to do, Bren was upset. She was afraid, and she wanted to help Laceeya, to do something. Yet she didn’t have the ability to single-handedly stop the Grysks, or prevent loss of more life in combat.

  Slamming a hand against the console beside her, Bren huffed out a breath in frustration. She felt tears slide from her eyes, hastily wiping them away. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt so afraid. Even in combat, Bren was usually confident, trusting in the skills of Laceeya, herself, and the Ethereal’s crew.

  Yet this was a far more nebulous danger, not able to be destroyed by a turbolaser or missile.

  Bren lifted her eyes to stare out the viewport at the expansive panorama of space. It was so quiet, so still. She could see the form of one of the Raider-Class corvettes and a pair of VT-49 Decimators floating in stillness, but aside from that, space seemed empty and calm.

  Focusing on the motionlessness of the dark void and the far off lights of stars and the quiet solitude it provided, Bren tried to calm her thoughts.

  The only thing she could do was keep supporting Laceeya, help her through her troubles as best as she could.

  Easing himself tiredly onto the couch, Safiram closed his red eyes for a long moment. His fears had been confirmed in the recent battle. Two of the new pilots in his squadron had been killed, two people he’d barely gotten to know, along with others from the other vessels of the task force.

  There was a small piece of him that was thankful that he hadn’t been closer with the newcomers in the squadron. Then it would’ve hurt even more.

  “Want to play a few rounds of sabacc?” Kyst’s voice cut into his thoughts.

  Safiram cracked open his eyes into two glowing red slits, readjusting his seated position slightly. His eyebrows raised expectantly, Kyst sat across from him on the other couch.

  “I’m game.” Faelynn Katani said from her spot beside Safiram.

  “Sure.” Safiram conceded wearily. “I’ll play a few.” Hopefully it’d help distract him from the recent deaths. But the game dredged up the memory of the last time they’d all played sabacc together with Joak, shortly before he died. Though it was still painful, the good memory did manage to bring a faint smile to his face. It felt a bit easier to not just think about the fact that Joak was gone, but to remember the countless enjoyable moments he’d shared with his close friend.

  It was still a fresh scar, but hopefully he was beginning the process of healing, Safiram considered, as Kyst dealt the cards. He knew that he would never fully heal from the death of Joak, but that was just the nature of loss.

  He shook off the grim thoughts. Joak would want him to enjoy the time with his friends. “Did you invite the rest of the squadron?” Safiram asked.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Kyst nodded. “A couple of them said they might stop by.” He answered, dealing out the cards around the table.

  “Good,” Safiram replied. “We’ll have to see how good at sabacc some of the newcomers are.”

  “I’m sure they’re better than you.” Faelynn put in wryly.

  “Here we go again.” Safiram said, shaking his head as he reached to pick up his cards. A flash of concern crossed his mind. Knowing that some of the new squadron members had been close with those who had been killed in the recent skirmish, he was worried about how they were coping with the loss. Hopefully they would stop by and join him and the others, he thought.

  Safiram understood far too well the pain of losing friends, having had plenty of unwanted experiences. He also knew that spending time with friends was often the most effective method of dealing with the loss.

  Beginning a game, the small group all appeared lighthearted and happy on the surface. Yet there remained an underlying somber sense.

  “Remember that time Safiram had a better hand than you?” Faelynn said, gesturing towards Kyst, trying to keep the mood light. “I can’t think of too many times that’s happened.”

  “Not my proudest moment,” Kyst admitted. “But let’s not forget about the hundreds of times I’ve beaten him.”

  “Hopefully I can repeat that result tonight.” Safiram said.

  “We’ll see.” Kyst said, narrowing his eyes. “It’s honestly impressive just how bad Safiram is at sabacc,” He grinned. “You’d think luck would at least let him win sometimes.”

  Faelynn let out a short laugh as she examined her hand of cards.

  A knock at the door sounded, and Safiram’s red eyes flicked over at it. Kyst was already hopping up from his seat, placing his cards face down on the table. Quickly striding across the room, he opened the door. Retracting into the wall, the open doorway revealed two Chiss pilots standing.

  The pair stepped inside, and Safiram recognized them both as a couple of the new pilots in his squad.

  “Good to see you both,” Safiram spoke, inclining his head in greeting. The unwanted thought that told him to shut himself off from his new squad mates briefly flickered through his mind.

  But he pushed it down. He was their leader, and they deserved the same respect and camaraderie as Kyst or Joak or Faelynn.

  “Thank you sir.” One of the pilots, a short Chiss woman named Yocressi, replied. Like the others, she was clothed in a black flight suit, though it was unzipped and tied around her waist, wearing a light grey shirt underneath. Her dark blue-black hair was cropped just above her shoulders.

  A little smile played across Safiram’s mouth. “No need for ‘sir’ here.” He mildly corrected her. He hadn’t spoken to her about it, but Safiram had realized that he recognized Yocressi from Taharim Academy, back in the Chiss Ascendancy.

  “Oh, right.” Yocressi returned a tentative smile. “Sorry. Still getting used to the more casual way things are here.”

  “No problem,” Safiram said. He gestured towards the table and couches. “We were just finishing a game of sabacc if you’d like to join the next round.”

  Yocressi and the other pilot, a Chiss man named Zijato, strolled over to take a seat on the couches.

  “I’m happy you both joined us tonight,” Safiram said. “I haven’t gotten the chance to know either of you too well yet since you were transferred to the Ethereal.”

  “I appreciate that you invited us.” Zijato said, his voice deep yet soft.

  Safiram nodded, peering at the cards fanned out in his hand. He shifted slightly in his seat, throwing a glance over at Yocressi. “I’m not sure if you recall, but I believe we were at Taharim Academy together for a short time.” He told her.

  Yocressi smiled, and inclined her head. “I do remember,” She said. “I recognized you, but wasn’t sure what to say.”

  “It’s a small galaxy after all.” Kyst put in wryly, placing down his cards as the game progressed. “Either of you played sabacc before?”

  They both shook their heads. “No, but I would like to learn.” Zijato said.

  “Well don’t worry, Safiram’s the worst sabacc player I’ve ever seen so you’ll probably be better than him.” Kyst said with a short laugh.

  “And he’ll lose his excuse that sabacc wasn’t something you had back in the Chiss Ascendancy.” Faelynn added. “That’s his go to.”

  Safiram shook his head in defeat. “They’re ruthless when it comes to teasing me about my ineptitude at sabacc.”

  “Speaking of…” Kyst flipped his cards. “Straight Khyron.” He allowed a cocky grin to form on his face.

  Faelynn grumbled and Safiram just sighed as they threw their hands down, both defeated by Kyst. “As you can see, I’m the champion around here.” He said, sounding pleased with himself as he raked in the small pile of sabacc chips.

  “Unless Bren is playing,” Safiram remarked. “That’s Senior Lieutenant Bren Shyka, the main weapons officer.” He explained to the pair of newcomers. They both nodded in acknowledgment. “She tends to win whenever she plays.”

  Gathering up the cards Kyst quickly shuffled them and began dealing them out to the group of pilots. “I could beat her if I wanted, but I just don’t want to upset the Commodore.” He joked.

  Safiram snorted. “Yeah, right. Thats definitely not true.”

  Frowning slightly, Yocressi squinted in puzzlement. “Why would that upset Commodore Laceeya?”

  Kyst exchanged a glance with Safiram. “Well…” Safiram began. “Kyst is just joking, but Laceeya and Bren are something of a couple.”

  “To put it mildly.” Kyst added.

  “Oh, interesting,” Yocressi commented, seeming somewhat surprised. “It really is a different environment here on the Ethereal than I’m used to.” Yocressi nodded to Zijato. “It’s hard to imagine our previous commander being in a relationship with another officer.”

  “That’s certainly true.” Zijato agreed with a short laugh.

  “Its not something they advertise,” Safiram said. “But Laceeya’s more open about it now than she used to be. Like I’ve mentioned, it’s a unique atmosphere here.”

  “You’re friends with the Commodore then?” Yocressi asked.

  “Yes,” Safiram answered. “We’ve known each other for quite a while now. You should have the chance to talk to her more at the ceremony tomorrow, if you’d like.”

  “Ceremony?” Yocressi asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “I guess you haven’t been notified yet,” Safiram said with a grimace. “We hold a ceremony for the fallen,” He explained solemnly. “We have one tomorrow.”

  “I see.” Yocressi murmured.

  Safiram’s throat muscles worked. “I’m sorry about your friends,” He said softly. “I wish I could’ve had the chance to know them better.”

  Lowering her fiery eyes, Yocressi swallowed, fiddling with her cards. “I’m sorry too.” She whispered. Silence fell over the room for a moment, the group introspective over the recent deaths.

  Shifting in her seat, Yocressi broke the silence. “So,” She began. “You’ll have to explain the rules of this game to me.”

  “It’s pretty straightforward,” Kyst said, going into the details of how sabacc was played. “But don’t worry, even just learning how to play you’ll probably still be better than Safiram.”

  “Good to know that the expectations are low.” Yocressi said with a little smile.

  Kyst laughed, and Safiram just shook his head yet again. “I keep telling them we need to play a game of tactica,” Safiram said. “But he knows I’ll beat him at that, and he’s too afraid to take me up on it.”

  “Maybe I’m just wise enough to only engage when I know I have the advantage.” Kyst said sardonically. “It’s a useful skill.”

  “Right,” Safiram said with a snort. “To be fair, tactica is only a two player game, not quite the same type of thing.” He conceded.

  “I’ll take you up on that challenge sometime, if you’re willing.” Yocressi said, a smile quirking the corner of her lips, inclining her head towards Safiram and meeting his eyes. “I’m a big tactica player myself.”

  Safiram smiled back. “I’d love that.”

  “We could always watch and place bets on the two of you playing.” Kyst mused.

  “And we could see if Safiram really is as good as he says.” Faelynn added.

  “Now the pressure is on.” Safiram said with a chuckle.

  “Be a shame to lose and be embarrassed after boasting about it all the time.” Kyst said.

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Safiram replied.

  They began playing the game of sabacc, chatting and laughing as they did. Looking around the room at the others, Safiram wished that Joak was here. He could imagine his grin, practically hear his laugh.

  But Joak was gone.

  He’d been hoping Bren and Laceeya would drop by as well, but there was no sign of them.

  A triumphant grin beginning to lift the corners of Kyst’s mouth, he laid his hand on the table, gesturing towards his cards. Safiram grimaced and tossed his own cards down. His hand had been good, but not enough to beat Kyst.

  Yocressi finally placed down her cards on the table. “I think this wins?” She asked tentatively.

  Kyst’s mouth hung open. “Damn.” He muttered.

  Safiram smiled and chuckled at his reaction to Yocressi’s hand. “I guess you’re a natural,” He complimented, nodding towards her. “Good job.”

  “I’m impressed.” Faelynn agreed.

  “Thank you both,” Yocressi responded. “I guess I’ll take these then…” She added, reaching to drag the chips in the pot over to her.

  “So she’s never played sabacc before, and she’s already way better than you,” Kyst observed, his eyebrows raised.

  Safiram shrugged. “I’ll just have to accept that my strengths are in different areas.” He said.

  Eyes moving around the group of pilots, Safiram was thankful for his friends, both new and old. It was a prescient reminder of what he was fighting for. His gaze fell on the two newest members of the squadron. It was also a reminder that no matter how tempting it may be to distance himself from them to avoid being hurt, it was worth it to form connections with the new arrivals.

  He just hoped that none of them would meet the same fate as the fallen members of his squadron.

  Laceeya made her way up to the bridge. She had dark circles under her eyes, and they felt puffy and tired. She herself was exhausted as well. It had been a rough night, filled with nightmares after she’d finally drifted off to sleep.

  Rikal looked up at her as she approached. “Vice Admiral Ilcunor has been requesting to speak with you, ma’am.” She reported.

  Laceeya nodded. “Good, thanks Rikal,” She said, taking a seat in her command chair. “Put him through here.” Her throat felt slightly hoarse from crying, a subtle rasp in her voice.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Laceeya tapped the buttons on her armrest to open the communications channel. A minute later the link had been established. “Vice Admiral? This is Commodore Laceeya.” She greeted him.

  “Commodore,” Ilcunor’s strong voice projected from the speaker. “I’ve heard news of the Grysks’ cloaking device.” He said grimly.

  “Yes sir,” Laceeya replied. “We encountered multiple Grysk warships that appeared to be cloaked, though they positioned themselves and deactivated their cloak in a way to make it look like they were dropping out of hyperspace. I assume they didn’t think we’d be able to detect that they didn’t emerge from hyperspace, and were instead deactivating a cloaking device. Clearly they’re still trying to keep it a secret, sir, and they almost got away with it. We only caught it thanks to the exceptional skills of my sensor officer. None of the other ships in the task force managed to do so.”

  “Yes,” Ilcunor murmured. ”It sounds as though they’re trying to play things close to the chest.”

  “Yes sir, they like to do that. I’ve been thinking,” Laceeya started, shifting in her seat. “And I believe that the Grysks are acquiring the necessary resources and materials from Kwenast,” She continued, taking a deep breath. “We were told by Zan’parrar that they were particularly interested in a type of crystal located on Kwenast, though he wasn’t sure of why they wanted it. We know that some of the most advanced cloaking devices use extremely rare crystal types with unique properties, and I think that’s why the Grysks are dedicating so many resources to Kwenast. And we’ve seen the Grysks use cloaking tech in the past.” She explained the rest of her reasoning to him.

  “I see,” Ilcunor finally said. “Could it be possible that it was actually the Grysks who sent Zan’parrar, intending to lure us into a trap?”

  Laceeya pursed her lips. The Grysks skill in manipulation caused everyone to second guess and be suspicious of seemingly innocuous things. “I don’t think so, sir,” She said slowly. “The Grysks had constructed an entire orbital facility for processing the materials they were mining. And they have a destroyer, some cruisers, as well as an interdictor frigate, along with the Kwenast’s forces guarding the system. That’s a lot of resources to dedicate to a ruse, sir.”

  “I agree, Commodore,” Ilcunor said. “But we’ve seen the Grysks go to extensive lengths before for such things.”

  Laceeya bit her lip. “Yes sir,” She conceded. “Regardless, I still believe that we need to make a move against them, and to strike at the Grysk operation on Kwenast. One other thing I was thinking. We know the Grysks value information, they like to observe and gain knowledge, sir. Nyar Three is clearly of great interest to them, and if I was in the Grysks’ position and had access to cloaking technology, I’d have a cloaked ship at Nyar Three.”

  “You believe a cloaked ship is here at Nyar Three currently?” Ilcunor asked slowly.

  “I do, sir,” Laceeya confirmed. “A scout of some sort, most likely. It’d give them the ability to monitor our fleet movements in the area, and to wait for the opportune moment to strike.”

  Ilcunor let out a long audible sigh. “In that case, it sounds like an even greater risk to leave Nyar Three undefended,” He said heavily. “I presume you would wish for my fleet to take part in this hypothetical strike on Kwenast?” He grumbled.

  “Yes sir,” Laceeya said, nodding to herself.

  “Yet if your assumption is correct and they are watching us, that would provide the Grysks the opening to counterattack,” Ilcunor pointed out.

  “Agreed, sir,” Laceeya said. “Though I doubt they’d be willing to pull their forces away from Kwenast at this point, after the Ethereal’s visit there. I think they’d send one of their client species, maybe a group that’s closer, to strike at Nyar Three while our ships are away.” She paused, wetting her lips. “My idea was to have your fleet depart Nyar Three to lure them in, and have both of our forces take up positions outside the system nearby. Then we wait and see whether or not they take the opportunity to send a strike force. When that force arrives, our fleet jumps in and ambushes them from behind.”

  “I see.” Ilcunor murmured thoughtfully. “You seem to have put some thought into all this.”

  “Yes sir. That should smoke out the cloaked ship as it joins the fight,” Laceeya continued. “And then afterwards we’d move immediately to Kwenast and launch our attack on the facility there,” She pursed her lips. “I don’t ask this lightly, sir. I truly think this is critical. Advanced cloaking devices like we've seen the Grysks use in the past are an extremely powerful weapon, and increased access to them could prove deadly. After our attempt to free the Varquak, it’s still imperative that we return to help them as well.” Laceeya winced at the thought of the Varquak people, possibly suffering under their Audeenaxu and Grysk conquerors. “But I think with the timing of things, the attack on Kwenast should be performed first.”

  “You mentioned that you assume the Grysks have sent reinforcements after your appearance at Kwenast?” Ilcunor asked.

  “I assume so, sir. Zan’parrar told us that they had already brought in additional vessels, and it seems likely to me that they’d bring more,” Laceeya said. “If it’s such a valuable operation like I think it is. Additional Grysk ships would also prove that it is incredibly important. That’s why I was hoping you’d be willing to bring your flagship and part of your fleet, along with my task force, sir.”

  Ilcunor sighed again. “It sounds like an awfully large risk,” He said hesitantly. “If a large Grysk force returned to Nyar Three…” He trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid.

  Laceeya clenched her jaw in frustration, and pinched the bridge of her nose. She really wasn’t in the mood to argue with Ilcunor about this. Her emotions still felt a bit raw and on edge. “I understand that it’s a risk, sir,” She acknowledged. “But I think it’s a necessary one. Excuse me for saying this, Vice Admiral, but we need to destroy the Grysk facility at Kwenast and stop their access to the mines. We can’t just sit aside and do nothing,” She insisted. Couldn’t he see how important this was? “Sir.” Laceeya was frustrated that Ilcunor didn’t seem to understand how much of a threat cloaking technology posed.

  “Watch your tone, Commodore,” Ilcunor reproved.

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Laceeya apologized, taking a slow breath. “I don’t mean to question your judgment.”

  “This really is something that should be discussed with Admiral Parck,” Ilcunor stated. “But we remain out of communications range with the triad down.”

  “I don’t think we should wait any longer, Vice Admiral,” Laceeya told him, shifting in her seat. “The longer we delay, the more time the Grysks have to bring in additional warships and prepare for an attack. And the more time they’ll have to continue taking advantage of the resources to construct more cloaking tech.”

  “I’d think they’ve had plenty of time for that already.” Ilcunor said.

  “That’s true, sir,” Laceeya conceded. “Regardless, my point stands. I’m asking you to trust me on this, sir. We can’t afford to let the Grysks do things on their schedule.”

  The comm was silent for a long moment. Laceeya bit her lower lip in anticipation as she waited. “Are you certain you’re not allowing your emotions to influence your judgement, Commodore?” Ilcunor said carefully.

  Laceeya bit her lip harder, scowling to herself. She wasn’t one to get angry typically, especially at a fellow officer, but Ilcunor was managing to upset her. With the state she was in emotionally, it was all she could do not to snap on him. “This has nothing to do with that,” She countered, forcibly doing her best to keep frustration out of her voice. “I believe this is necessary from a strategic perspective.”

  Ilcunor was quiet for a few more seconds. “Very well,” He finally answered. “I’ll prepare my fleet for the trap at Nyar Three and a subsequent strike on Kwenast.”

  Laceeya let out a long breath she’d been holding in. “Thank you, Vice Admiral,” She said, her tone relieved. “I suggest a rendezvous point outside the Nyar system.”

  “Very well, Commodore.” Ilcunor said. He was quiet for a long moment before continuing. “I’m certain you realize destroying the orbital station may not be enough. Even if we manage to drive the Grysks from the system, which is far from guaranteed, we don’t have the ships to spare in order to lock the system down. If the Grysks hold or regain control of the Kwenast homeward, they’ll still have access to the necessary materials, and will certainly construct new facilities in the future.”

  “Yes sir,” Laceeya answered grimly. She knew where he was going with this, and had already decided the necessity herself. “Zan’parrar supplied the coordinates of the mines, and I think they should be our primary objective,” She swallowed. “I’m sure the orbital facility is important, but I think eliminating the resource itself in the mines is even more paramount. If we can enter the upper atmosphere, we can perform an orbital bombardment on the location, sir.” The words felt robotic coming from her lips. She knew the possible consequences of such an act.

  “That does seem to be the only option to prevent the Grysks from holding access to the material,” Ilcunor said with a sigh. “There’s likely to be civilian casualties in such a scenario.”

  “Yes sir,” Laceeya murmured softly. She closed her eyes, feeling slightly sick at the gruesome image of numerous civilian deaths. She hated that it seemed like the only way, exhaustedly rubbing her hands over her tired eyes. “I wish there was another way.” She said softly. “We can ask Zan’parrar to check if there's a chance that he could sneak in as our attack starts, and see if he can evacuate any civilians that might be in the mines. But I’m not sure if that’s possible, given the Grysks hold over the planet,” She said with a quiet sigh. “Unfortunately, I think this mission is necessary, Vice Admiral.”

  “Very well. I don’t like it, but I do agree. Let’s hope it’s worth it,” Ilcunor responded darkly. “It will likely prove to be a costly battle.”

  He was certainly right about that, Laceeya thought after signing off the comm. She sighed wearily, sitting back in her command chair and shutting her heavy eyes. Laceeya felt a sharp pang of guilt at the thought of all the brave warriors who would likely die. And she was the one convincing Ilcunor to send them to their doom. On top of that, could she live with the consequences of knowing there was a chance that she’d inflict death upon innocent civilians? Yet it had to be done, to save lives in the long run.

  Knowing that didn’t help the sick feeling in her stomach, however. How many would be lost? She gritted her teeth as a wave of anger rose over her at the thought of the death and suffering the Grysks caused. Could they ever be stopped?

  Lately it felt like they couldn’t, like it was an insurmountable task. But destroying their operation on Kwenast was a key step in getting there, she was sure of it. She just hoped she could live with the consequences of what it would take.

  “Exiting hyperspace in three…two…one…now.” Apoyarp’s voice called out as the view ahead transformed into the dark star-filled void.

  Arriving from hyperspace at the rendezvous point outside the Nyar system a day and a half later, the Ethereal and the rest of the task force found Ilcunor’s fleet waiting. The Imperial I-Class Star Destroyer stood imposingly large against the blackness of space that enveloped it and the other vessels. This far out, the sun of the Nyar system mixed in with the endless array of other stars, not discernably larger with the naked eye.

  Laceeya stared at the many bright pinpricks, shielded from the cold vacuum by the thick transparisteel viewports. A few tightly packed brilliant clusters of stars were prominent, those dense clusters one of the many navigational hazards that made traversing the Chaos so difficult. It was an incredible view, the vibrant star clusters, the vivid colors of nebulae. There was an endless field of stars strewn across the void, with a countless number of planets orbiting them.

  “So now we wait,” Shyka spoke up sourly, her voice breaking the silence. Laceeya turned to face her, compressing her lips.

  “Yes,” Laceeya confirmed. She sympathized with Shyka’s impatience. Waiting for an impending battle generally wasn’t a particularly pleasant experience. It gave time for doubt and fear to trickle in. Laceeya knew she was certainly feeling that way. What if her plan didn’t unfold as she hoped? What if the Grysks had a huge armada waiting at Kwenast, and she was leading all of them to their doom?

  Accepting that certain aspects were beyond her control was difficult. She wanted to be prepared for every eventuality, to be as prepared as possible in order to guarantee victory in the most bloodless way.

  Yet war was unpredictable, and you could do everything you could imagine and more and still have an unforeseen variable pop up and lead to defeat.

  She shook the thoughts off. That was still a distant point in the future. The Hand had a trap to spring and a battle to fight beforehand.

  “Any expectations on the timeframe, Commodore?” Apoyarp asked, twisting around slightly in his seat to face her.

  “Shouldn’t be too long, I don’t think,” She answered. “They won’t want to miss the opportunity.”

  “Understood,” Apoyarp replied.

  “Captain Harax,” Laceeya asked, getting the older man’s attention.

  “Yes, Commodore?” Harax responded, stepping over to her.

  “Did the Sunbeam get their engines operational?” She asked.

  “They did, ma’am,” Harax confirmed with a nod. “I spoke with Lieutenant Commander Cyonne. Their thrusters and hull armor did receive damage that will require additional repair work, yet its functional for the moment, Commodore.”

  “Good. Thanks, Captain.” Laceeya said.

  With a brisk nod to Harax, Laceeya walked back to the rear of the bridge, stopping by one of the stations there. “Ensign, did the techs get the engines back up to peak efficiency?” She asked. “I know they were having a bit of trouble with the starboard main thruster.”

  “Yes ma’am, they did,” Ensign Xerlain confirmed. “Thankfully none of the damage was too serious, and it just took some recalibration and minor repairs.”

  “Got it,” Laceeya said, nodding her thanks.

  Noticing Shyka now standing by the holotable, Laceeya wandered over beside her. Ghostly blue holograms of various vessels hung over the holotable, casting a slight blue light over Shyka’s face. Glancing at her as she approached, Bren sent a little smile in Laceeya’s direction.

  “Just looking over details of Grysk and Grysk client warships again, ma’am,” Shyka explained, gesturing to the holograms. “I want to be sure I’m as familiar with their strengths and weaknesses when directing my gunners.”

  Laceeya nodded. “Good thinking.” She said with a faint smile, the pale glow from the holograms emphasizing the dark circles under her eyes. She’d been haunted by intense nightmares the past nights, and was still coping with the aftermath of the skirmish over Tryquata.

  “I’m going to go look over a few things in my office,” Laceeya called out over her shoulder to the bridge officers, heading to the bridge’s entrance. A moment later, Laceeya entered her quarters, settling herself into her chair behind her desk in the small office space that preceded her sleeping quarters. Plugging in her datapad to the built-in console, she scrolled through some files. There it was.

  A detailed hologram of a number of helmets materialized above the desk. Laceeya narrowed her eyes, peering closely at them. Apparently they were some sort of trophy that marked past campaigns, which Grand Admiral Thrawn had recovered from the Grysks. Her eyes traced the curves of the helmets, absorbing every line and detail. She studied the ritualistic disfigurement that had been performed on one half of each helmet, noting the different levels between each.

  The shape and design of the helmets told a story, speaking of the traits and characteristics of their creators. The disfigurement showcased the details of each campaign they represented. Laceeya’s glowing red eyes slowly moved from helmet to helmet, each providing insight and a look into the minds and culture of the Grysks.

  Laceeya let out a long sigh. At least, maybe they did. Thrawn was famous for his ability to gain insight into a species or group’s culture and their military strategy and tactics from their art. She didn’t have a clue how he managed to extract the thoughts and mindset of a group or species or individual from their art or relics. She’d spent minutes looking over the holograms, and any sort of deeper meaning behind them remained as opaque as it had when she started.

  Tapping a button on the console, the hologram vanished. Laceeya leaned back in her seat, pressing her lips tightly together in frustration and pinching the bridge of her nose. She didn’t know what she’d expected. She simply wanted to gain some sort of additional insight or knowledge that would help her to combat and defeat the Grysks, but to her they were just disfigured pieces of armor, nothing more. Thrawn had thankfully provided plenty of information about his own findings, all of which was very useful. But Laceeya had still hoped she’d be able to see something herself in the holograms.

  Switching lanes, she instead flipped through data that had been gathered of the Audeenaxu warships they’d fought during the past battle. It was possible the Grysks would send them to strike at Nyar Three, or that they’d encounter that particular foe again in the future, and she wanted to familiarize herself with the characteristics of the vessels. Laceeya bit her lip and sighed.

  There were so many client species that the Grysks used that it almost felt useless to try and study any one of them.

  But she liked to be prepared, and any extra possible advantage was worth studying. So Laceeya compiled data on the ships and tactics of the Grysks, of each enemy they encountered, and each client species of the Grysks. She regularly pored over the intelligence data, noting minor details and weaknesses in their warships, analyzing their strategy and forming plans on how to combat them.

  Sometimes, the time spent didn’t end up being useful. But there were also plenty of times where it had given a significant advantage. She'd often found during combat situations that even if the specific data wasn’t relevant, just being especially familiar with the design of various enemy vessels helped her identify ways to defeat them.

  Laceeya continued scrolling through data, studying holograms, and reading notes. She needed to keep her mind busy anyway. Resting her elbows on the desk, Laceeya placed her head in her hands for a long moment, exhaling a sigh. She rubbed at her tired eyes, the shadowy arcs beneath them remained present.

  Lifting her head after a minute, she returned her attention to studying the data. Laceeya hated feeling out of control. This was a way she could try and grasp onto some semblance of control over things, by being as familiar with the enemy as possible.

  So she continued reviewing the intel. If nothing else, keeping her mind occupied was a good thing.

  Footsteps sounded on the cold metal deck of the Doomweaver’s bridge. “General,” A raspy voice spoke. “We received word from our scout at Nyar Three. The fleet guarding the planet has departed, leaving only minor defenses behind, sir.”

  General Kazrus slowly turned his head towards the other Grysk. “When did this happen?” He asked, his interest piqued.

  “The ships jumped to hyperspace four hours ago, General,” The Grysk officer said, his head bowed in deference.

  Kazrus narrowed his eyes, moving his head to gaze back out the viewport. Perhaps the Hand had decided that the Grysks weren’t going to return. Their fleet was spread thin after all, and having such a large force tied up in guarding Nyar Three was certainly limiting.

  “Good,” Kazrus said softly. “This could be the opportunity we have been waiting for.”

  “Should I send word to the commander at Kwenast to send a task force?” The officer asked.

  “No,” Kazrus countered, slowly shaking his head. “No. Kwenast is too important to risk losing. It remains a possibility that the Hand’s fleet could be planning an attack there. We cannot afford to divert ships,” He cocked his head ever so slightly to the side. “Yet I agree that this is too important of an opportunity to pass up. Time passes by those who do not act.“

  “Understood, General,” The other answered. Knowing his place, he remained quiet out of respect, waiting for Kazrus to continue.

  Kazrus pressed a few buttons on the arm of his command chair, opening a chart of the region around the Nyar system, displaying various ship locations. “The Audeenaxu failed to defeat Commodore Laceeya at Tryquata,” He bit out contemptuously. “Yet they remain one of the closer forces to the Nyar system. Perhaps this could be a chance at redemption for them.” He considered. “How severe was the damage their ships sustained?”

  “They suffered the loss of a number of smaller vessels, and their larger ships took significant damage, General,” The Grysk officer reported. “Yet their heavy cruiser and frigate remain functional as do a pair of picket ships. Additionally, they have a cruiser and numerous smaller escort vessels in a nearby system.”

  “Understood,” Kazrus acknowledged. “Summon those vessels to join the others at Tryquata. I see our three cloaked warships still remain at Tryquata as well. Commander Yaxiv will lead the forces from his cruiser, and bring along one of his cloaked light cruisers. They will travel to Nyar Three, and the commander of our cloaked scout vessel will command the attack. He knows the enemy best.”

  “By your command, General.” The officer said.

  “Is there any update on the Kwenast transport that was spotted in the Nyar system?” Kazrus asked.

  “No, General,” The Grysk officer replied. “The Kwenast claim that it was merely a random civilian running to seek refuge.”

  Kazrus was silent, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “I see,” He murmured in his raspy voice. “Very well.” The Kwenast ship had been spotted by his scout arriving in the Nyar system, and it had seemingly remained there. But the Kwenast leaders claimed they new nothing of it, beyond saying it was merely a fleeing civilian who had gained access to the vessel, and who had heard of the Empire of the Hand’s base.

  The Grysks operations in the Kwenast system were kept extremely secretive, so there was nothing they could know anyway.

  “Go.” Kazrus spoke with a dismissive wave of his hand. With a bow, the other officer left to relay the orders. Lacing his gloved fingers together, Kazrus sat back in his command seat. It was indeed an excellent opening for an attack by the Grysks. Yet he wondered where the Hand’s fleet was headed. Perhaps all the smaller conflicts the Grysks had been fomenting had served one of their purposes to draw out the Hand’s forces, and spread them even thinner.

  The small fleet he was sending would be more than adequate to crush the meager force left behind at Nyar Three. But he knew the Hand’s other forces would return if they were not destroyed beforehand. And Kazrus did not merely wish to destroy the Hand’s ships that waited at Nyar Three.

  He wished to permanently hold the system firmly under Grysk control, which would require additional vessels. Kazrus allowed himself a confident smirk. Ships that he had to spare, thanks to the Fariivi, the latest powerful Grysk servant.

  Yes, he would soon be able to send a large fleet of Fariivi and Grysk ships to hold Nyar Three and place it permanently under Grysk control. It would take longer for them to arrive, but when they did, the system would be fortified against any future retaliation by the Hand.

  Once Nyar Three was theirs, the door would be opened to expand further east in that region of the Chaos.