A faint bluish glow illuminated the confined quarters of two ships—Luna and Bastion—each drifting somewhere between the stars. In these small sanctuaries, far from planetary surfaces and political upheaval, two figures faced one another through the soft shimmer of their holopads. Tia Stormclaw, slouched in her battered chair aboard Luna, looked every bit the war-torn nomad she had become, while John Derius Guerra sat upright and composed aboard Bastion, surrounded by sterile efficiency.
This was routine now. A moment of calm among chaos. A long-range transmission between two ghosts of war still breathing.
“I think I may have found it…” Derius’ voice broke the silence first, smooth but tinged with static. His metal-clad fingers tapped quickly across his console, swiping between files—images of a faintly glowing pendant flickering across the holographic display. The glow reflected in his dark cybernetic eyes.
Tia raised an eyebrow without looking at him directly. She lay back, arms folded, eyes scanning the ceiling of her cluttered quarters. Holotabs, dossiers, and faded photographs papered the walls in barely controlled chaos. “Found what?” she asked, as casually as if Derius had just offered her coffee.
“Another locator artifact,” Derius said, frowning as he zoomed in on a planetary scan. “There’s word of an auction going down on Crete. Corsair space.” He paused. “Shit.”
Tia finally turned toward the screen, uncrossing her legs and leaning in, elbows resting on the table. “Crete, huh? If the Maltese barely tolerated me, I doubt the Cretans will roll out a welcome mat. I can’t go in alone there. I’ll need backup… someone who doesn’t immediately trigger gunfire.”
“I know,” Derius replied, still tapping. “We’ll need a clean insertion. The item’s important. This isn’t just another trinket.”
“Which one is this? Fourth?” she asked, already trying to mentally account for their previous recoveries.
“Fifth,” he corrected. “We thought it was a pair at first. Turns out it’s a web—each one is part of a network. These artifacts don’t just point, they communicate. And they’re waiting for something. We need a vault to decipher the rest.”
He paused, one gloved finger hovering above a planetary readout. “Leeds,” he muttered. “Didn’t you say the Resistance mentioned a vault beneath the surface? Before… y’know…”
Tia winced. “Yeah. Old intel. Resistance had found something buried there before the glassing. Near an old university complex, if I remember right. But Leeds is half slag now. Scanners don’t work for shit and even walking on the surface could kill you if the suit tears.” She sighed. “But I remember where it should be.”
“Then we go old school.” Derius began pulling up archived survey data. “Topography, seismic records, pre-glassing scans. I’ll compile what we can use and build a pathfinding model. We’ll do it analog if we have to.”
Tia leaned back again, rubbing the bridge of her nose. It was all too familiar—another suicide mission that only they would be crazy enough to attempt. “Thanks…” she muttered. “You always bring the optimism.”
Derius gave a dry smirk. “So… anything interesting on your end?”
“Ran into an Oracle,” Tia said, as if talking about seeing an old acquaintance. “Diana Rivera. She’s different, not the usual cult-speak, no star-worshipping. Just… thoughtful. Grounded. We had a good conversation. Traveled through a few systems together. Oddly peaceful.”
Derius raised an eyebrow, half teasing. “Well well, look at you, finally going on a date. With an Oracle, no less.” He chuckled. “I actually spotted her in Delta a few days ago. She’s different, alright. Rejected most of the old ways. Curious girl.”
“Careful,” Tia said, grinning faintly. “You almost sounded like you liked someone.” Her tone softened after a second. “She’s been through a lot. Ex-slave, used by Outcasts. She’s still finding herself.”
Derius’s expression turned serious again. “Meanwhile, I’ve been making progress with Phoenix. They’re assisting on the cell project. Once we crack the encryption, we’ll have something powerful enough to defend against the Nomads—or whatever’s coming. I’m planning to get the Order on board too. It’s time we started building something together again. There’s no room left for fragmentation.”
Tia’s smile faded. She nodded, eyes drifting to a data map on the wall. “You’re not wrong. But it’s not just the Omicrons. Kusari’s… off. I don’t like how quiet it’s gotten. Someone’s pulling strings. Liberty’s wrapped in its own arrogance. Bretonia’s exhausted. Rheinland? No clue. The Taus are boiling again with IMG and BMM ready to claw each other’s throats. And the Core? Don’t even get me started.”
“Then we act fast,” Derius said. “One artifact at a time.”
“Agreed.” Tia stood up from her seat and started walking toward her cockpit. “I’ll hit Kusari next week. After that… maybe Tohoku. Depends on what I dig up. But artifact first. The rest can wait.”
“Tia—” Derius began, but before he could finish, the line cut out.
Back aboard the Luna, Tia collapsed back onto her bed, staring up at the dim ceiling of her ship. A chill passed through her—not from fear, not from cold, but from exhaustion.
There would be no rest.
But at least, in that moment, someone was still listening across the stars.
The glow of the holoscreens returned like clockwork, casting soft reflections across the metal surfaces of their respective sanctuaries. The Luna felt dim, quiet—its lights lowered for rest, though rest never truly came easy for Tia. She lay stretched across her bunk, her long black hair cascading over the edge, staring up at the dull ceiling with a half-bored, half-tired look in her eyes. Her voice broke the silence first.
“So… what have you been working on?” she asked, almost absently, her voice low and a little distant, as if the question had been weighing on her but only now found its way to her lips.
On the Bastion, Derius sat hunched over a cluster of terminals glowing faint blue and green, his augmented fingers tapping in calculated patterns. The soft hum of cooling systems and processors was the only soundtrack around him.
“Well… remember when you asked me to draft a battlecruiser blueprint?” he asked, his eyes still fixed on the flood of data flowing across his screens.
Tia blinked at the ceiling. “Yes. What about it?”
There was a pause, followed by the smooth shift of windows across Derius’ screen. “I decided to upgrade a bit. Actually—scratch that. I completely overhauled it.” His tone shifted from casual to focused. “While I was working in Liberty, I somehow kept the Alexandria’s blueprints with me. Don’t ask why—I guess old ghosts follow us for a reason. During my last trip back, I managed to pull them out. Salvaged every piece.”
On Tia’s holopad, a sleek, angular silhouette flickered into view—a new design of the Alexandria. It was unmistakably familiar, but leaner, more refined. Its frame was reinforced, the weapon arrays upgraded. Where the old vessel was raw and heavy-handed, this version was elegant and lethal. A proper predator reborn.
Tia jolted upright in her bed, eyes wide and lips parting in awe. “No shit, man… oh she looks good,” she breathed out, unable to mask the admiration. “That’s the only ship I’d trust with my damn soul.” She leaned closer to the holo, inspecting every inch. “Let me guess, you’re gonna power it with one of those Phoenix-upgraded IRG cells?”
“Correct,” Derius replied, nodding as he leaned back in his chair. “And I’m thinking of bringing the Order into the mix, too. With the situation in the Omicrons getting worse by the cycle, we need something they can trust and produce. I’m willing to hand them the design—under conditions, of course. Resources, support… and maybe a bit of persuasion. We share a goal now. Survival.”
He didn’t mention how strange it felt, offering an olive branch to those who once hunted him. But survival makes strange bedfellows, and the Nomads didn’t wait for grudges to be buried.
Tia exhaled through a crooked smile. “Well, good luck charming the Order. You might not get a warm welcome, but if they have half a brain, they’ll bite. And call me when you get something moving. You know I’ll jump to the Omicrons if you need backup.”
She swung her legs off the bed, standing up and stretching, her silhouette catching the dim starlight from the small viewplate. “Until then, I need to get my ass to the Sigmas. I’ve got a… uh… ‘date.’ Though I’m not sure if that’s the right word.”
Derius tilted his head, amused. “A date? Really now. Do we need to go over what constitutes one of those?”
Tia ignored the teasing tone. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. She’s sweet, alright? Different. Nothing’s gonna happen, but it’s… nice. Having someone to talk to who doesn’t want to kill me or praise the Nomads.”
She gave the holopad a last glance and offered a soft, amused smirk. “Alright, I gotta go. Don’t burn the Bastion down while I’m gone.”
And just like that, the signal cut—without even a goodbye.
Derius stared at the empty space where her projection had been. A familiar silence settled over the Bastion, punctuated only by the whirring of systems resuming their duties. He sighed, leaning back into his seat, eyes trailing the schematics of the new Alexandria rotating slowly before him.
“Every damn time,” he murmured to himself.
But even with the abrupt end, the conversation lingered—like signals carried quietly between stars.
