A beeping sound. Static. Then the cold voice of the onboard computer.
“Energy levels at minimum. Life support critical…”
My ship drifted through space. Smoke and sparks erupted from the damaged console in front of me. A faint grin crossed my lips. “We will return…” I whispered to myself – a vow, a promise to my brothers and sisters.
I pulled myself up, trying to get my ship operational again. But as I worked through the emergency systems, my thoughts drifted back… back to what had happened.
The day before, I was nervous. I had been invited to a test – a trial to prove my worth. A group within the Corsairs had contacted me: Deterrence. They wanted to see if I had what it took to fly alongside them.
We met at the designated time above Creta. Two or three veterans and a handful of fresh recruits like me, all eager to prove ourselves. It was nothing special at first. A few bounty hunters causing trouble at the edge of the system – perfect prey. The hunters became the hunted. We chased them down, each of us striving for the most kills.
Then, something unexpected happened.
Our small group grew. One pilot. Then another. Then a dozen. As veterans from DTR joined us, it was no longer just a hunting party – it was a fleet.
The atmosphere changed. The veterans communicated over encrypted channels, and then a voice echoed through the comms:
“Do you want to know what this is really about?”
Silence. Anticipation. No answer was needed. Then came the order. We set our course – not just anywhere. To Omicron Alpha. To the Hispania. The ship that had brought our people to Sirius.
For too long, it had rotted away in Alpha. She belonged at home. She belonged to Crete, to the Corsairs!
The fleet gathered around the Hispania. We began preparations to move it.
But our actions had not gone unnoticed.
A fleet of Outcasts was forming near Malta. These Parias. As if they had any claim to the Hispania! It didn’t take long before the two fleets faced each other. I gripped the flight stick of my bomber, feeling my pulse in my fingers. My breathing was steady. I was ready. Then the order rang through the comm:
“¡Por la gloria y la victoria, adelante!”
I pulled my bomber into formation and dove into the fight. Massive energy blasts tore through the void, explosions lighting up the battlefield. We made our run on the first enemy battlecruiser. The seconds before impact stretched into eternity.
Then, all hell broke loose.
The first torpedoes struck. Shields flickered as enemy fighters darted above us. I felt the shockwaves from the explosions as my torpedoes tore a hole in the battlecruiser’s hull. Again and again, we attacked.
Suddenly — a massive detonation.
The battlecruiser erupted in a blinding fireball. Debris scattered through space. A brief moment of triumph surged through me.
Then reality hit.
It seemed as if the Parias’ entire fleet had arrived. We were outnumbered.
I tried to reposition— but then I felt it. I hadn’t seen him.
A shadow at my six. An enemy fighter, fast and relentless.
My systems screamed warnings. The first hit tore through my bomb bay. The explosion nearly ripped my bomber apart.
“¡Mierda!” I cursed as I lost control.
The enemy fighter peeled away. He must have thought I was dead - but I was still alive.
Helpless, I drifted through the void. In the distance, I could still see my Corsair brothers and sisters slowly retreating.
Darkness crept in, but in my heart, a fire still burned.
My gaze returned to the Hispania— our legacy.
My ship was nothing more than wreckage. But I knew: This was not the end.
My hands clenched into fists, my lips forming the words— a vow as old as our people:
