The Midstates Bar was alive with noise and laughter, marines from the Liberty taking full advantage of their brief downtime. Private Daniels and Corporal Hayes were sitting at a corner table, nursing their drinks and eyeing the boisterous crowd. They had just overheard a group of soldiers from another ship making disparaging remarks about their crew.

  "Did you hear that guy?" Hayes muttered, his eyes narrowing. "He called us a bunch of rejects from an intergalactic daycare center."

  Daniels scowled, slamming his glass down on the table. "Yeah, I heard. We should go teach him a lesson." He slammed his drink down and cracked his fingers.

  Just as they stood up, ready to confront the army grunt, a stern voice cut through the din. "You two, get your asses moving. We're leaving."

  Sergeant Collins stood behind them, his expression one of irritation. "The Captain's called for all personnel to return to the ship immediately. Let's go."

  "But we were just about to have some fun," Daniels protested, his eyes still on the table where the heckler sat. "We were going to mess that guy up for calling our crew a bunch of rejects."

  Hayes nodded in agreement, his frustration evident. "Yeah, Collins, we can't just let that slide."

  Collins rolled his eyes and grabbed both of them by the ears, dragging them toward the exit. "Shut your traps and move. The Captain himself gave the order, and I don't want to hear any more whining. Now, get moving!"

  “AH AH WHAT THE HECK?”

  “DAMN YOU SERGEANT!!!”

  The patrons of the bar laughed at the two's misfortune with their superior officer, and Daniels, as they were dragged out of the bar, was having none of it.

  "What the hell, man? We were just getting started!" Hayes muttered.

  "Why's the Captain calling us back, anyway?" Daniels asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

  Collins sighed, his grip still firm on their collars. "All I know is that it's some kind of drill. That's all I got. Now quit asking questions and keep moving."

  As they made their way through the bustling bar, Collins cast a glare at the crowd, silencing any further laughter. He pulled over a waitress, exchanged a few whispered words with her, and handed her something discreetly. The marines couldn't hear what he said, but the waitress nodded, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. Without missing a beat, Collins continued to drag the marines out of the bar.

  As they made their way down the bustling streets of the station, passing by other soldiers, civilians, and maintenance crews, they spotted a military hover transport truck idling by the side of the road. Collins flagged it down, and the driver, a grizzled marine with a friendly demeanor, rolled down the window.

  "Need a ride?" the driver asked, his voice gruff but welcoming.

  "Yeah, can we hitch a ride to the docks?" Collins replied. "Captain's orders."

  The driver nodded, a knowing smile on his face. "Always happy to help another marine. Hop in."

  The trio climbed into the back of the truck, and as it rumbled toward the docks, a formation of supers flew overhead, their sleek figures cutting through the air with precision. The sight was both awe-inspiring and a reminder of the power at the Union's disposal.

  "Man, those supers always give me the chills," Hayes admitted, watching them disappear into the distance.

  Daniels nodded in agreement. "Yeah, no kidding. Let's just hope we don't need them today."

  As the truck rumbled along, Sergeant Collins looked at the two marines and sighed. "Listen, I get why you wanted to fight that guy. But punching out people won't help our case. It just causes more trouble."

  Daniels and Hayes grumbled but knew he was right. Collins then allowed a small smile to spread across his face. "Doesn't mean I can't spice up their drinks, though."

  They looked back and saw a bunch of army guys running out of the bar, heading straight to some portable toilets. The sight of their predicament made the crew chuckle, lifting their spirits.

  The transport truck eventually arrived at the docks, where the Liberty and other ships were docked. The marines disembarked, their earlier frustration replaced by a sense of duty and anticipation.

  Sergeant Collins addressed them one last time. "All right, you two sober up. Last thing we need is a couple marines puking all over the captain "

  Daniels and Hayes exchanged determined looks, their resolve firming. "Understood, Sergeant."

  Daniels and Hayes, along with Sergeant Collins, made their way into the cargo hold of the Liberty. The sound of their boots echoed off the metal floors as they entered the bustling area. They were greeted by their marine buddy, Private Jenkins, who couldn't hide his surprise.

  "Well, well, if it isn't the infamous drunkards," Jenkins said with a grin. "I thought for sure you two would be the last to leave the bar."

  Daniels chuckled. "We would have been, if it weren't for the Sergeant here." He pointed a thumb at Collins, who was standing nearby with a stern expression.

  "Yeah, he dragged us out before we could teach those guys a lesson," Hayes added, trying to stifle his laughter.

  Collins glared at them, and the laughter quickly died down. "Focus on the mission, boys. We've got bigger things to worry about."

  Jenkins shook his head with a smirk. "Oh well, you guys are the last ones to show up. Head to the vehicle bay." He pointed down one of the corridors branching off the cargo hold.

  As Daniels and Hayes started walking in the direction Jenkins had indicated, Jenkins looked around the outside of the ship before closing the cargo hold door with a heavy thud. The dramatic sound drew the attention of nearby troops, who glanced over curiously.

  "What's the Liberty's crew up to now?" one of the soldiers asked, eyeing the closed cargo hold door.

  "Just some odd drill they're having," another soldier replied with a shrug. "Nothing to worry about."

  As the soldiers began to walk off, a figure watched from the shadows. The S.T.A.C.C. the agenttreacherous captain

  As the agent disappeared into the crowd, he muttered to himself, “What are you up to, Captain?”

  As Daniels and Hayes stood in the vehicle bay, they couldn't help but talk to each other about the current situation. The entire crew of the Liberty was present, and the tension in the air was palpable.

  "Do you have any idea what's going on?" Hayes asked, glancing around at the bustling activity.

  Daniels shook his head. "Not a clue. But it has to be something big for the captain to call everyone back like this."

  Hayes sighed, his curiosity getting the better of him. "I just wish we knew what we were up against. The suspense is killing me."

  Daniels nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and all this talk about drills and preparations... I can't help but feel like there's more to it."

  As they continued to talk, they noticed other marines in the bay sharing similar conversations. The uncertainty and anticipation were universal, and everyone seemed eager to find out what was happening.

  "I heard some of the higher-ups talking about something like promotions," Daniels said, lowering his voice. "Maybe it has something to do with that."

  Hayes raised an eyebrow. "A promotion? Why the hell is everybody talkin about drills then?"

  Daniels shrugged. "Who in the hell knows. Maybe their planning it like its a surprise birthday party for someone."

  Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Sergeant Collins appeared; his expression serious. "You two, quit standing around and get ready. We might need to move out at a moment's notice."

  Daniels and Hayes exchanged a quick glance before nodding. "Understood, Sergeant."

  As they continued to prepare, the atmosphere in the vehicle bay remained tense. The marines were filled with a mix of apprehension and determination, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

  Captain Lewis stood in the center of the vehicle bay, his eyes scanning the room as his crew gathered around him. The tension in the air was thick, the hum of the ship’s engines and the distant echoes of soldiers preparing for a mission added an undercurrent of urgency to the moment.

  He motioned to a group of his most trusted marines, signaling them to take position near the doors. They immediately moved to lock the entrances, weapons in hand, ready to ensure that no one from outside could hear or see what was about to unfold.

  “Alright, listen up,” Lewis began, his voice calm but heavy with the weight of what he was about to say. The crew, who had served alongside him through thick and thin, knew the gravity in his tone. They weren’t about to get a typical briefing.

  “The ships in lockdown,” he continued, his eyes meeting each member of the crew’s gaze. “No one gets in, no one gets out, and you’re not to speak of this to anyone. We need to make sure nothing gets into the wrong hands. We’re keeping the ship clear of outside eyes for now.”

  He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in before continuing, “The government is falling apart. The higher-ups are losing control, and the Union is descending into chaos. The Director is spiraling, and it’s not just the civilians suffering. He’s tearing the Union apart from within, killing anyone who stands in his way to preserve a lost cause.”

  The crew exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions darkening at the realization of just how dire the situation had become.

  “On top of that, there’s an invasion coming. The Allied fleet’s forces are mobilizing, and they’re coming for us. I’m talking about a full-scale assault. The kind that’s going to make everything we've been through so far seem like a warm-up,” he said, his voice lowering. “We’ve heard the rumors—the commanders, the agents, the generals—they’re all panicking. The Union’s grip is slipping, and there’s no way we can hold it together under the weight of this invasion.”

  A cold silence fell over the crew, their faces growing grimmer with each word.

  Lewis stepped forward, his face hardening with resolve as he looked at the men and women who had been by his side since the beginning.

  “We’ve been through hell together. We've fought and bled for each other, for this cause. But I need to ask you something now,” he said, his voice steady but the weight of the question clear. “The Union we know is falling. Should we stand and fight with them, or should we walk away, find somewhere else, and survive this invasion?”

  The room was still. Every crew member stood motionless, unsure of what to say. Some looked at each other, some at the floor, while others met the captain's gaze with uncertain expressions.

  “Think carefully, everyone,” Lewis urged. “This decision could determine everything. Our loyalty has always been to each other, and to the people we swore to protect. But now, we have to make a choice. We can either stay and fight for a government that is losing its mind, or we can leave. We’ve fought for the Union, but now it might be time to fight for ourselves.”

  He gave them a long moment of silence, letting the weight of the question settle in the room. Then, his eyes flicked from one crew member to another, waiting for the answers that would shape their next move. The decision was now in their hands.

  “Make no mistake,” Lewis said, his voice unwavering, “whatever choice you make, I’ll stand by it. We’ve made it this far together, and whatever happens next, we will face it together.”

  The room remained silent for a long beat as the crew digested the enormity of their captain's words. Each person had a decision to make, and it was clear that whatever choice they made, there would be no going back.

  As the room remained still, a heavy silence filled the vehicle bay. Each crew member was weighed down by the monumental decision before them. Captain Lewis’s words hung in the air, and it was clear that no one would take this lightly. But as the tension stretched on, something remarkable happened.

  Commander Patrick McGregor, the captain’s trusted second-in-command, stepped forward first. Without a moment’s hesitation, he raised his hand high. His expression was firm, his loyalty to Lewis unwavering. "I’m with you, Captain. All the way," he said, his voice steady, but with a fire of conviction that echoed in the hearts of everyone present.

  A murmur ran through the room, and one by one, others began to follow suit. Marines, engineers, officers—they all raised their hands in unison. Each person’s expression varied, some showing determination, others a quiet resolve, but all of them knew that this was their moment. Their decision would define who they were in the coming storm.

  “Captain, I’m with you,” Sergeant Collins said, his hand shooting up next, his eyes hard but resolute. "We stick together, or we go down together."

  Private Daniels followed with a smirk, raising his hand. "Hell, Captain, I’ve got your back." Hayes stood next to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "No turning back now, eh? I’m in."

  One after another, the rest of the crew raised their hands, pledging their loyalty to Lewis. The room began to hum with energy as their decision was made. The Captain's crew—his family, in every sense—was united in this moment.

  Captain Lewis looked around at the room, his heart swelling with pride. His crew had chosen to stand with him, no matter the cost. Their loyalty was something that couldn’t be shaken, not by a failing government, nor by an impending invasion. They were in this together.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "Thank you," Lewis said quietly, his voice full of gratitude, though he didn’t show it fully. “I knew I could count on you all. Now, let’s make sure we’re ready. We don’t have time to waste.”

  He straightened, his demeanor shifting back to the calm, tactical leader everyone knew him to be. “We need to gather supplies, and we need to know exactly when the Allies are invading. I’ll do everything I can to get that information. Until then, we’ll prepare—anything we can scavenge, fortify, and organize. We need to be ready for anything they throw at us. We can’t afford to be caught off guard.”

  McGregor stepped forward again. “We’ll hit the storage bays and check the supply caches. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, but we’ll manage. Right, Sergeant?”

  Collins nodded. “We’ll make sure everything’s locked down tight. Let’s not give anyone a chance to slip through the cracks.”

  “Right,” Lewis replied. “Get to work, everyone. I want every crew member to be ready for a full-on defense. We’ll need every hand available. We’re all counting on each other now.”

  As the crew dispersed to prepare, the vehicle bay seemed to shift into a new sense of urgency. The once casual conversations and laughter were replaced by focused chatter and the sound of boots marching in line with the captain’s orders.

  Lewis stood there, watching them move with a sense of pride. He knew that no matter how bad things got, this crew would stand by each other—and they’d fight until the very end.

  But in the back of his mind, a nagging thought lingered. They had a long road ahead of them, and the worst was yet to come. The Allies were coming, and they wouldn’t show mercy. Time was running out, and Captain Lewis had to make sure they were ready, whatever it took.

  Captain Lewis let his gaze sweep over the gathered crew, taking in the unwavering loyalty reflected in their faces. The weight of their decision settled heavily on his shoulders, but there was no time to dwell on it. They had work to do.

  "Alright," Lewis said, his voice steady and commanding. "You’ve made your choice, and I won’t forget this moment. We stand together, not as blind followers of a dying government, but as a crew—one that has fought, bled, and survived together. Now, we prepare."

  He motioned toward the loyal marines standing guard by the doors. "Dismiss the crew. Have them get to their stations, begin inventory, and quietly start gathering supplies. We’ll need food, ammunition, fuel—everything we can get our hands on without raising suspicion. We don’t know how long we have before the invasion begins, so we prepare now."

  The marines saluted and moved to open the doors. One by one, the crew members filed out, murmuring amongst themselves but with clear determination in their eyes. His second-in-command, Commander Patrick McGregor, was the last to leave, nodding to Lewis before stepping out into the corridor.

  Once the last of the standard crew had left, Lewis turned his gaze to the officers who remained—his most trusted commanders and chiefs of the ship. With a firm nod, he motioned for them to follow.

  "Command staff, with me. We have a war to survive."

  Without another word, he strode toward the command briefing room, the heavy footfalls of his officers following close behind.

  Briefing Room, Aboard the

  The air inside the briefing room was thick with tension as the ship’s senior officers gathered around the central display table. The hum of the ship’s systems and the occasional distant clatter of machinery were the only sounds that filled the room as Captain Lewis stood at the head of the table, arms crossed. His face was grim, his eyes scanning the faces of the men and women who had served under him since the beginning.

  Commander Patrick McGregor, Lewis’s second-in-command, leaned forward, his hands clasped together. “Alright, Captain, we’re all here. What’s the plan?”

  Chief Medical Officer Dr. Evelyn Carter adjusted her glasses, her expression tight with concern. “Captain, I know you said we’re preparing, but preparing for what, exactly? You’ve just told the crew we’re cutting ourselves off from the Union, and we don’t have much time. If we’re truly leaving, we need to think about supplies, medical stockpiles, and long-term survival.”

  Beside her, Chief Engineer Markus Vance rubbed his beard, his voice low and steady. “And we need to figure out how we’re getting out of here in one piece. I can get spaceworthy, but if the Union finds out we’re trying to leave, they’ll shut us down before we even get clearance from dock control. We need a plan, and we need it fast.”

  Captain Lewis exhaled, gripping the edges of the table. “We don’t have many choices. The Union is collapsing, and its leadership is spiraling into madness. The moment they realize we’re not going along with them, we become traitors. That means every port, every checkpoint, and every supply depot could be a trap. We need to act carefully and decisively.”

  McGregor frowned. “So, what do you propose?”

  Lewis straightened, his gaze sweeping across the room. “First, we quietly start gathering everything we can. Weapons, rations, medical supplies, fuel—anything that’ll keep us running. Second, we find a way to get off this station without drawing attention. If we wait too long, they’ll start asking questions.” The tension in the room thickened as the realization set in. McGregor leaned forward, resting his hands on the table.

  "Captain, if the Union is a multiversal empire, then where the hell do we go? They own entire ," he said. "We jump, and they can still find us. We need a destination they can't reach."

  Lewis nodded. "You're right. That’s why we’re not just running—we’re disappearing. There are universes they haven’t fully explored, hidden pockets of reality the Union never conquered. I was given access to star maps, classified records of expeditions that went dark. There are places out there—realities the Union abandoned because they were unstable, too far, or too dangerous.”

  Chief Engineer Vance folded his arms, gears already turning in his mind. “So we’re looking for a blind spot in the Union’s reach? A universe where they won’t chase us?”

  “Exactly,” Lewis confirmed.

  Dr. Carter rubbed her temples, deep in thought. "But we don’t know what’s out there. For all we know, we could be jumping into a universe with conditions worse than what we’re running from."

  Lewis met her gaze. “I know. And I won’t lie to any of you—this is a gamble. But staying means dying in a war we can’t win.”

  McGregor exhaled, looking around at the other officers. "Then it’s simple: we find one of these uncharted universes, jump in, and cut ourselves off. No signals, no transmissions, nothing that lets the Union or the damned Allies track us."

  Vance nodded. “I can modify our systems to mask our energy signature after the jump. The was designed for interdimensional travel, but I can rig the drive to fry any traceable energy residue. It'll be like we never existed.”

  The weight of the moment pressed down on them all. They weren’t just defecting. They were vanishing—leaving behind everything they knew, cutting all ties to their past lives.

  Lewis stood. His voice was steady, resolute.

  “We make the preparations. We move carefully. And when the time comes, we take the and every soul aboard somewhere the Union will never find us.”

  One by one, his officers nodded.

  The decision was made.

  Now, all they had to do was survive long enough to see it through.

  Three Days Later – The Admiral’s Office

  Captain Lewis stood outside Admiral Hale’s office, the dim lights of the station flickering slightly as the hum of distant machinery filled the silence. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was about to come. The decision he had made for himself, and his crew was not an easy one, but it was the only path left.

  The doors slid open with a hiss, revealing Admiral Hale seated at his desk, holographic displays flickering in the air around him. The older man looked up; his face worn with exhaustion. He gestured for Lewis to enter.

  “I was wondering when you’d show up,” Hale said, leaning back in his chair. His voice was calm, but there was an undertone of resignation. “I assume you’re not here for pleasantries.”

  Lewis stepped forward, his posture rigid with resolve. “No, sir. I came to tell you what I’m about to do.”

  Hale sighed, rubbing his temples. “Let me guess. You’re taking the and making a run for it.”

  Lewis nodded. “That’s right. The Union is collapsing, sir. The government is eating itself alive, and the Supreme Chancellor… he’s lost his mind. He’s dragging everyone down with him.”

  Hale remained silent for a moment, then exhaled slowly. “I won’t argue with you on that. We’re standing on the edge of an abyss, and no one at the top seems to care.” He tapped a few buttons on his desk, pulling up strategic reports. “The Allies have been gathering. We’ve intercepted fragmented reports, but from what we can piece together, they’re assembling the largest fleet in recorded history just outside of station range.”

  Lewis clenched his fists. “Then you know what’s coming. This station, this entire sector—it’s going to burn.”

  Hale gave a grim nod. “And I assume you don’t plan on staying to go down with the ship?”

  “I can’t,” Lewis admitted. “I have my crew to think about. I have a way out.” He hesitated, then continued. “The was designed for multiversal travel. There are uncharted universes out there—places we can escape to, places untouched by this war.”

  Hale’s gaze sharpened. “You were privy to that kind of information?”

  Lewis allowed himself a small smirk. “Being an admiral once had its perks.”

  Hale let out a dry chuckle. “I suppose it did.” His expression turned serious again. “You know, Lewis, if it were any other captain, I’d have them shot for even suggesting desertion.”

  “I know,” Lewis said simply. “But you also know this isn’t desertion—it’s survival. We both know the Union isn’t winning this war. If we stay, my crew dies for nothing.”

  Hale leaned forward, his fingers steepled. “And what would you have me do?”

  Lewis met his gaze. “Let me go. Keep the higher-ups off my tail long enough for us to make the jump. Once we’re gone, they’ll be too preoccupied with the battle to chase ghosts.”

  The Admiral studied him for a long moment. Then, to Lewis’s surprise, he chuckled softly. “You always were a stubborn bastard.” He exhaled, nodding slightly. “Fine. Take your ship, your crew. Get as far away as you can. I’ll do what I can to keep the eyes off you before the fighting starts.”

  Lewis felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “Thank you, sir.”

  Hale’s expression darkened. “Don’t thank me. I’ll be staying behind, leading the defense. The people here… they don’t have a choice.” He stood up, walking around the desk. “Make sure your people survive, Captain. That’s your duty now.”

  Lewis gave a firm nod. “I won’t fail them.”

  Hale extended a hand. Lewis clasped it firmly.

  “Good luck, Lewis,” the admiral said.

  “You too, sir.”

  As Lewis turned to leave, his eyes wandered across the room. The admiral’s office had always been a mix of old and new—advanced holo-projectors sat alongside dusty books, ancient maps, and relics from past battles.

  His gaze settled on a framed photo atop a filing cabinet. He stepped closer, picking it up gently. It was an old picture, taken during the Third Battle of Kuwait on Earth-345. A younger Hale and Lewis stood side by side, covered in dirt and blood, grinning like fools. Around them were their fellow soldiers—brothers-in-arms who had fought tooth and nail just to see another day.

  Lewis smirked. “That was one hell of a fight.”

  Hale looked over his shoulder and chuckled. “Yeah… back when we were young and stupid.”

  Lewis’s eyes drifted across the office again, landing on a familiar object mounted on the wall—a traditional katana with an intricately wrapped hilt. His smirk widened. “You still have that?”

  Hale followed his gaze and grinned. “Of course. Hard to forget a sword given to you by the guy who saved your damn neck.”

  Lewis chuckled, stepping toward it. “I’ll never forget that samurai bastard. Came out of nowhere, swinging like he was in some ancient duel.”

  Hale nodded. “Yeah, and I was about half a second away from losing my head before you blasted him.”

  “To be fair, you were the idiot who charged him with a bayonet.”

  Hale sighed. “Desperate times.” He patted the hilt of the sword. “I kept it as a reminder.”

  “Of what? That I saved your sorry ass?”

  Hale gave him a dry look. “That even in the worst situations, we have to look out for each other.”

  Lewis nodded slowly. “And that’s what I’m doing now.”

  Hale sighed, rubbing his temples. “Yeah… I know.”

  A heavy silence settled between them. The weight of history, the shared experiences, the lives lost along the way—it all lingered in the air.

  Finally, Hale exhaled and turned back to his desk. “Go, Lewis. We can reminisce another time, I think right now you have other things to deal with.”

  Lewis hesitated a moment longer, then gave one final nod before stepping out of the office.

  He didn’t look back.

  With that, Captain Lewis stepped out of Admiral Hale’s office, his mind weighed down by the conversation he had just finished. The station's corridors were dimly lit, the artificial glow casting long shadows on the metallic walls. The battle was coming, and it would be one for the history books—a final stand that he and his crew would not be present for.

  As he took a step forward, a slight movement in the darkness ahead caught his attention.

  A figure emerged from the hallway's shadows. The dim light revealed a man in a sleek but nondescript uniform—an agent of S.T.A.C.C. His face was sharp, calculating, and his eyes carried the kind of arrogance that came from knowing something others didn’t.

  Lewis’ instincts kicked in. His hand shot to his holster in a practiced motion, and before the agent could take another step, the cold barrel of the Captain’s pistol was pointed straight at his chest.

  The agent froze, his hands subtly hovering near his waist. "Well, well," he murmured with a smirk. "No need for that, Captain. We’re all friends here, aren’t we?"

  Lewis' grip tightened. "You’ve been following me," he stated coldly. "Give me one good reason I shouldn’t drop you right here."

  The agent raised his hands slightly, a disarming gesture. "Because, Captain, I have something you need. And, more importantly, I know what you’re about to do."

  Lewis remained silent, his finger brushing against the trigger.

  "You’re planning to run," the agent continued. "You and the crew of the Liberty. And before you try to deny it—don’t bother. I’ve been watching. I know about the supply runs, the quiet modifications to your ship, the encrypted orders. You’re getting ready to leave before all hell breaks loose."

  Lewis’ eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak.

  The agent took a cautious step forward. "Now, here’s where things get interesting. You could shoot me, sure. But then the Minister is going to find out everything. Because I’m not the only one watching."

  A tense silence filled the corridor.

  "Or…" the agent continued, his voice like silk, "You let me on board. I can be useful, Captain. I have skills—surveillance, infiltration, information control. You’re going to need someone who can misdirect anything that goes wrong on your ship, someone who can keep your crew in line and make sure the Minister and his forces don’t catch on to what you’re up to."

  Lewis clenched his jaw. He hated this—hated being forced into a corner, especially by someone like this. But he couldn’t deny that the agent had a point. They were about to do something unprecedented, something that would put a massive target on their backs. Having someone with inside knowledge of the Union’s intelligence network could be invaluable.

  The agent smirked, sensing the hesitation. "Face it, Captain. You need me."

  Lewis exhaled sharply, lowering his weapon just a fraction. "If I let you on my ship, you answer to me. You breathe when I tell you to breathe, you move when I say so, and if I so much as suspect you’re feeding intel back to the Minister, I’ll space you myself. No trial. No second chances."

  The agent’s smirk widened. "Fair enough, Captain. I wouldn’t expect anything less."

  Lewis stepped back, keeping his gun raised as he motioned towards the direction of the docks. "Move. And don’t make me regret this."

  The agent turned on his heel and began walking, his posture relaxed, as if he had just won a game of chess.

  Lewis, however, wasn’t so sure. He holstered his weapon but kept his eyes locked on his new "passenger."

  The Liberty was preparing to make its escape—but now, they had a serpent among them.

  The station was eerily quiet at this hour, the usual hum of activity subdued under the weight of impending conflict. He walked down the dimly lit hallway towards the main elevator, his boots echoing against the metallic floor of the dark halls.

  The glass-paneled elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss, and he stepped inside, pressing the control panel to take him down to the ship berths. As the lift descended, he looked out at the vast docking bays stretching before him. Colossal warships were lined up in rows, their hulls gleaming under the artificial lighting. Battleships, dreadnoughts, carriers—an entire armada being readied for war. A war he and his crew would not be part of.

  As the elevator continued downward, his earpiece crackled to life.

  “Captain, it’s McGregor,” his second-in-command said. His voice was steady, but there was an underlying tension, the same tension that ran through every member of the Liberty’s crew. “We’ve finished stocking up. We’re fully armed, full payload of missiles, plenty of supplies, and 3D material for the printers. We’ve got enough to last us a hundred years if we ration properly.”

  Lewis nodded to himself, impressed by their efficiency. “Good work, Monroe.”

  There was a brief pause before McGregor spoke again, his tone turning wary. “So, when are we launching?”

  Lewis hesitated. “We have a problem.”

  “What kind of problem?”

  The captain clenched his jaw. “I ran into a S.T.A.C.C. agent outside Hale’s office. He was spying on me. Knows exactly what we’re up to.”

  McGregor cursed. “Tell me you put a bullet in him.”

  Lewis sighed. “I considered it, but he made an offer. He wants in.”

  Silence. McGregoer scoffed. “And you believed him? Sir, he’s intelligence—his job is deception.”

  “I know that,” Lewis snapped. “But he made some solid points. We’re about to vanish into the unknown, and we’ll need someone who knows how to misdirect any unwanted attention. Someone who understands how the Union’s intelligence network operates.”

  Monroe wasn’t convinced. “Or someone who’s going to sabotage us the first chance he gets.”

  “I don’t trust him,” Lewis admitted. “But he has skills that could be useful.”

  “Or skills that could get us all killed,” Monroe countered. “We don’t know how deep his loyalty runs. The Minister might already know what we’re up to. Hell, he might have sent that bastard to infiltrate us from the start.”

  Lewis exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “I’ll keep him close. If he blinks so much as blinks wrong, I’ll put him down myself.”

  McGregor grumbled but didn’t argue further. “Alright, fine. But if this backfires, I’m saying ‘I told you so.’”

  Before Lewis could respond, a thunderous explosion ripped through the station, shaking the very foundation beneath him. The elevator jolted violently, and he was thrown off balance, slamming against the glass wall. Outside, a brilliant flash of fire and debris erupted from a section of the docking bay, metal plating twisting and breaking apart as the shockwave spread.

  Alarms blared throughout the station. Red emergency lights flickered on, bathing everything in a blood-hued glow. Smoke and fire billowed from the impacted area, and even from the elevator, Lewis could see smaller figures—crew members, engineers—being sucked into the void as the station’s atmospheric shielding flickered and failed in some places.

  “Lewis! What the hell was that?!” Monroe’s voice was sharp, demanding.

  The captain braced himself as the elevator lurched to a stop, emergency protocols kicking in. He steadied himself against the railing and looked out at the chaos. More explosions rippled across the station’s infrastructure. The battle had begun.

  “It’s beginning,” Lewis muttered, his hands tightening into fists. “The invasion is here.”