Redshift

Are you sure it’s worth it?

Max rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and sat up. The first light of dawn bleeding through the blinds into the studio told him he was up far before his alarm. He shook his head to clear the sleep fog from his mind and dragged himself to the edge of the rickety futon.

“Last day on Earth, Max,” he muttered to himself, taking in the small living space around him, littered with ancient science fiction posters and old research articles, “might as well start it early.”

Standing up in standard gravity was something he was never going to grow to like, no matter how much time he spent planetside. There was just something so unnecessarily laborious about everything on Earth. Even leisure felt like work, with basics like cooking and cleaning being tedious and old-fashioned. If he wanted to live like a wildman, he could just go camping in the Simulator back on base.

Max grimaced at the coffee grinder’s noise as he started his morning routine. Another piece of old tech he’d never get used to. He remembered his mother having her own personalized set of antique coffee-making supplies from Earth and how much noise the whole operation made.

“Machines can make something good enough,” she would say, “but they can’t add soul.”

He set about packing for his trip while the coffee brewed. At least the machine that filled the pot was silent, albeit painfully slow. After the essentials were tucked into his travel case, he peered around the studio, looking for anything important enough to fill the empty space.

The cruise books his father left him stared back from the little memento shelf he kept by the door. He approached them carefully and quietly. It had been years since he had even managed to look in their direction, let alone open a single one of them. The one marked RP//TR-IV stuck out like a sore thumb, more well-worn than the others and sporting a handmade leather dust cover.

Max took the cruise book back to the case on his futon and sat, running a hand over the aged front. The first time he had ever seen this book was his first meeting with his father. Family reunions were few and far between, but the cruise books stuck around as reminders that the man still existed.

The coffee timer and alarm clock sounding off in unison startled him. He tucked the book into his belongings and rushed to silence both offending sounds before making his coffee and taking one last tour of the single-room apartment. He sipped his coffee, grabbing a few extra drives, notebooks, and photos. Just in case he ever needed them. Someone from the Corps would be by to pack the rest of his things into storage, and he’d probably forget they were even there by the time he got back.

Forty-five minutes later he was in his flight undersuit and out the door, toting his travel case by the shoulder strap. It was going to be a long ride, so he figured he might as well stretch his legs with an early morning walk to the office. A few eyes lingered in his direction, but he brushed them off and kept up his pace. He dug a ratty pair of earbuds out of his pocket, hoping they’d at least help distract him for the rest of the trip.

The people of Cincinnati were unfazed by Space Corps officers walking around in uniform on a normal day. But whispers of classified plans and sightings of high-ranking officers people had only ever heard about, that was something new and different. Even the birds in the sky seemed to circle overhead consistently, as if they were following along. Like they, too, were curious to know if the clouds would be cut by vertical thrusters attached to a great metallic beast. No launches were scheduled, according to the press releases, but that didn’t always mean the atmosphere was safe from rocket fuel that day.

Max watched the looming Earth base rise into view, with its sprawling launch facility and towering observatory standing starkly between the bustling city and the vastness of the rural fields behind the ignition pads. While Base 5 was more simplistic and minuscule than the star bases and space stations he grew up on, it was still a giant compared to the standard Earth architecture. Most designs were cost-effective and space-saving, while the Earth Bases were built to support expedition launches and massive, elaborate laboratories.

As it served Max, it was a perfectly suitable base to take off from. Any base that got him back into a ship was as good as any other. That was all that really mattered. To him, they were just convenient rest stops in between otherwise difficult missions.

What is it you think you’re trying to prove?

“MAXWELL.”

Max grimaced at the ringing in his ear and turned to face his auditory assailant, removing the earbud that was shouted through.

“Yes, Commander Roust?”

“I keep telling you, you can’t hear with those things on,” the Commander griped, crossing her arms over her jump vest.

“That’s the idea, Court,” he quipped with a smirk. Into the pocket, the earbuds went.

She fell into step with him as they passed through the entrance into the courtyard. Scientists were milling about in the early hours, shuffling around on autopilot and starting their day.

“You’re here early,” she pointed out. Max swiped his badge at the main door.

“Woke up early,” he answered simply, adjusting his travel case as he stepped through the security scanners.

“Is that an admission that you’re excited?”

“It’s a statement about my poor sleep habits more than anything,” he admitted, holding the door to the cafeteria open for his colleague.

“Come on, you have to be at least a little stoked for this,” she pried, gesturing while she punched commands into the order screen.

“If I agree with you, will you pay for breakfast?”

Two disposable cups plunked down on the delivery platform and started filling with fresh coffee.

“Fine, but we’re having lattes on you. The foam isn’t the same in Artificial-G.”

“Just a bit.”

“A bit?” Her voice rose incredulously as Max swiped his badge over the paypad scanner. “Maxwell, you can’t be serious right now.”

“What do you mean?” He took his drink from her hand and followed her to the food queue.

“Come on, Max. It’s your research, your mission, and it’s even your ship. That’s huge!”

“Courtney,” Max started.

“I mean, it’s literally Space Corps history, especially with--”

“--Court,” he tried again, wearily. Courtney frowned deeply at him and crossed her arms again.

“You’re afraid,” she accused.

“It’s not fear,” he insisted. It sounded about as unconvincing as it could have possibly been.

“Max,” Courtney put a gentle hand on his arm. “You can’t keep thinking of the past like that.”

“Let me guess, I need to move on?” He took a step forward in line and tried to maintain an even tone despite the heat rising in his core.

“No, it’s not about moving on.” She shook her head and followed the queue. “It’s about you thinking it’s your fault.”

“That’s because it absolutely was.”

“Max--”

“Courtney,” he cut her off as they approached the order screens, “I understand what you’re trying to do. I really do. And I appreciate it. And I’m sorry I can’t give you more than that, but if I mess this up--”

“I get it, Max. I just really wish you could have more faith in yourself.”

“Whenever I figure myself out enough for that, maybe we’ll talk.”

Courtney pursed her lips and input an order. She turned to Max as two trays dropped down and the machinery began to count down various heating timers.

“So, very tactless segue,” she began, “you pick your crew yet?”

Max breathed out a half-laugh.

“I have. Most of ’em, anyway.” The delivery system worked its way through dropping off the different ingredients for their wraps.

“And?”

“And what, Commander?”

“Who’s on it?” She slid closer, poking him in the side with her elbow.

“That’s classified.”

“Oh come on,” she whined, taking her tray and moving back so he could reach his. “At least tell me if I’m on it.”

“Also classified,” he answered simply.

“I don’t even think it is. I think you’re making that up.” They took an empty table, continuing their bickering without pause.

“Why would I tell you if I was? That wouldn’t be any fun.”

She jabbed a cafeteria fork into her eggs, mixing them with the rest of her toppings.

“I find it clinically concerning that it’s fun for you,” she grumbled.

“If you actually bothered to read a rulebook, I’d have absolutely no power,” Max pointed out.

“Yeah, but I have you to read those for me.”

“How you even made it through the academy is beyond me.”

“Did you take any of your dad’s old stuff?”

Max frowned.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just figured, you know. You might regret not bringing any memories.”

“Can we talk about this later?” Max pushed the remaining half of his food away and opted for the caffeine instead.

“Later, as in, up in the air later?” Courtney prodded, scavenging at Max’s abandoned breakfast. Max groaned.

“Maybe,” he answered slowly.

“So I am going,” she guessed. He stared at her over the rim of his cup.

“I don’t know, are you?”

“Max, for the love of god, I hate this game.”

Max let out a soft chuckle and stood. He turned halfway before telling her, “If you had checked your messages, you’d have known the answer a week ago.”

He made it to the lift doors before Courtney came bursting out of the cafeteria, jogging down the hall and waving her base-issued tablet.

“I can’t believe you,” she panted. Max smiled and gestured to the opening lift doors.

“You coming or not? We have a meeting to get to.”

Max leaned towards Courtney as the lift started.

“Hair’s out of reg,” he reminded her. She tsked and fished some pins out of her pocket.

“So’s yours,” she pointed out.

“Only technically,” he answered flatly. “It’s curly, so no one’s ever actually noticed. Besides you.” He reached out into the space between them.

“You gonna be like this the whole trip?” She demanded, setting the pins into Max’s outstretched hand.

“That sounds tiring,” he admitted, untangling the hairpins from each other as she twisted her swinging ponytail into a bun. “I don’t think I’d be up to it.”

“Bullshit,” she called him out, plucking one pin at a time from his hand and securing her hair. “You could run rings around the Admirals any day.”

“That’s because I conserve my energy, Commander,” he offered, handing her the last pin.

“Says the wildest graduate I’ve ever met.”

“That was before the carpal tunnel set in and my knee started making that funny sound when I stand up.”

“You act like you’re a hundred years old.” Courtney rolled her eyes and smoothed her hair.

“I could be,” he mused. “Maybe I found a wormhole I didn’t tell you about.” He shook a few stray auburn hairs from his sleeve.

“Yeah and maybe you’re a space wizard,” she suggested with a cackle. “You smoke too much.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,”

Max feigned, a sarcastic shock entering his tone.

“Still playing it that way, huh?” she teased, then paused. “Hey, what’d you make me on the crew, anyway?”

Max was saluted as soon as the lift door opened.

“Commander Mason,” The man greeted. Max waved him down and lifted the remains of his coffee towards his face.

“For the next few hours, anyway. ’Morning, Lieutenant Doran.”

The officer saluted Courtney and fell into step, guiding them to the conference room. Max pitched his cup into a trash receptacle by the door and straightened his jump vest before looking the room over. A glass wall to one side overlooked part of the launchpad area, and a huge oval table sat in the middle. Doran flicked the lights on, though they didn’t illuminate the room much more than the morning light was already doing.

“The Admiral should be here shortly, and we have the rest of the crew on standby,” Doran relayed as Max walked apprehensively toward the glass.

“Thank you, Mark,” Courtney answered for him. Lieutenant Doran nodded at her and exited the room. Max’s half-gloved fingers trailed along the sleek table as he approached the giant window.

“She out there?” Courtney asked, a twinge of awe already creeping into her voice.

Max nodded, the view below him capturing his life’s work. Dozens of engineers trailed in and out of various parts of the meticulously built starship, checking over every inch of metal and every rivet. Inside, the science team was already performing the final checks on the ship’s programs and systems. Everything needed to be perfect for this, down to every molecule in the recyclers.

Courtney joined him at the window, watching the base crew load the last of the cargo into the ship. The designation RP//TR-VII emblazoned beside the entry deck stood out against the burnt orange paint of the ship’s exterior. The ship’s downward curving wings made it look like a great bird of prey, resting nestled close to the ground. The sharp, aerodynamic angles that cut through the ship’s typical graceful curvature told Courtney that it was designed for more than just cruising around at thrusting speeds. Max had outdone himself. This thing looked like it could spring to life at any moment and soar upwards faster than the blink of an eye.

“It’s like watching your baby being born,” she marveled.

“Don’t make it weird,” Max chuckled, giving her a nudge.

“That thing really the fastest ship in the Corps?” she asked, peering down at the rear engines.

“Theoretically. The reactor and generators are all brand-new designs.”

“Not quite the Gloria, is it?”

“The Gloria is a terraforming expedition vessel made to fit an entire major city’s worth of people,” Max reminded her. “The Raptor 7 is a research ship with a maximum capacity of around a hundred.”

“I really should have read the briefing,” Courtney groaned.

“I wrote one and everything.”

A knock on the doorframe drew their attention away from the Raptor.

“Commanders,” the Admiral greeted, moving into the room. A second officer followed her. Courtney and Max saluted her in unison.

“Admiral Traegis,” Max replied.

“Maxwell, you’re familiar with Dante Leit, the director of this project. Director Leit, this is Commander Courtney Roust. I believe she is the First Officer for this expedition.”

Max suppressed a smirk at Courtney’s barely audible wheeze as she saluted the director.

“That’s correct,” Max confirmed. He could feel Court’s eyes burning into him as he stepped forward. He ignored her. “I’ve hand-picked the most capable crew I could find for this mission.”

The man nodded and spoke, his thick European accent cutting through the stale air in the conference room.

“So I have heard. A three-year journey is not easy for most, even through favorable conditions.”

“Unfavorable conditions seem to be my strong suit, Director.”

“So I have also heard.”

Max openly grimaced before continuing, “I have full confidence that my people can carry this expedition with great care and expertise, sir,” Max assured the older man.

“I have no doubt,” Admiral Traegis cut in, sensing Max’s discomfort, “that Commander Mason is capable and prepared. As is his team.” The director regarded Max solemnly and spoke again.

“Be that as it may,” he started, “the two of you understand the risks of observing such an unstable deep-space anomaly up close?”

Courtney and Max shared a look, and Max nodded.

“Absolutely.”

The Admiral passed them both tablets. Courtney started skimming the whole of the report. Max could her her breathing shorten as he read over the contents in the logs.

“This-- what we presumed to be an infant black hole between these two Nebulas-- anomaly has presented a blockade in travel to this sector for some time now,” Leit explained. “But problems have become something a black hole does not produce. Behavior we have not seen.”

Max frowned at the projection on his tablet.

“Behavior like an entire ship’s signature ceasing to exist,” he muttered.

“Or a ship being thrown 115 lightyears off course with a dead reactor and a panicked crew,” Courtney added gravely.

“Understanding what the risks are is one thing, Commander Mason,” Leit warned, “being prepared to experience them is another.”

“So we collect what samples and data we can from a safe distance,” Max calculated, straightening up, “or we find a way to jump it that opens Sector 738 up for travel again.”

“Or we come back empty-handed but still breathing,” Courtney added, still scrolling through reports.

“If you manage to get through,” Admiral Traegis informed them, a strain coming into her voice, “We’ve been cut off from contact with the jump station in that sector ever since the anomaly appeared.”

“If we get through, we get ’em out,” Max confirmed. “Might’ve mentioned the whole ‘rescue mission’ aspect a bit earlier, Admiral.”

“Does this change anything for you, Commander?”

“Guess that’s up to the anomaly,” he responded darkly.

Director Leit pointed out the star map on their tablets. “This border here seems to be the closest any registered ships have been able to get before sending distress signals and alerts. After that...”

“After that, it’s up to chaos,” Max finished for him.

“Awfully poetic for a starship captain,” the Admiral joked.

“Yeah, well, Corps ships don’t come in orange either, Admiral.”

“You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about regulation--”

“--And like that, we’re off-topic. Wasn’t this meeting about the launch?”

“When was the last time you had a haircut?”

“Can we not do this right now?”

Admiral Traegis shook her head and tossed a badge at him. He caught it and ran his fingers over the wings of the little gold falcon.

“Had them put your ship’s number on the back,” she informed him as she turned to leave. “Welcome to the Nebula Initiative, Captain.”

“Welcome accepted,” Max answered, letting the magnet on his vest secure the insignia.

“We’ll be finishing this discussion when you return,” she added before she exited with the director.

“We definitely won’t,” Max muttered, facing Courtney’s smug grin.

“No one’s ever actually noticed,” she mocked, tugging on a curly lock from his bangs.

“Shut up,” he groaned, batting her hand away.

“You weren’t gonna tell me you made me First Officer?” Courtney questioned him as they walked back out and Doran let them into the lift.

“I could have sworn I put it in the message,” Max hummed, tapping his chin.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

The lift began to descend toward the ground level.

“You should have seen your face,” Max teased.

“I can’t believe the things you find funny,” she huffed.

“Come on, who else would I have picked? Really, Court,” he said a little more seriously.

“I’m touched. And here I thought you’d leave me on the ground to do much easier and much less dangerous jobs.”

“And let you slack off in Recreation all day while I’m risking my ass in nebula jumps? Not a chance.”

“Anything to not admit you actually need me,” she sighed. The lift doors opened to the ground lobby and they headed towards the launch gates.

“Who’s flying this thing, anyway?” Courtney finally asked as they stepped out onto the windy pavement.

“What? You don’t think it could be me?”

“You, flying your own ship instead of standing around and drinking coffee? When’s the last time that happened?”

“Special circumstances aside? Probably before I was old enough to even drink coffee.” Max shifted his travel case and watched the entry deck’s landing descend.

“Pretty quick port mechanisms,” Courtney observed.

“Being able to get in and out quick never hurts,” Max explained as they climbed the steps, “I didn’t design the Raptor just for this trip.”

“Let’s hope she makes it back, then.”

Max didn’t reply. He just led the way into the entry deck. The deck was simple and lobby-like after the airlock, with a few monitors showing views of the ship’s public areas and some of the environmental readings.

“I wanted the entry deck to be clear of debris and necessities in case of a port seal failure or any kind of damage to the entry,” Max explained, starting a tour without being asked. “Plus, I think it’s easier to take a starship in when you’re gradually introduced to all its parts. As opposed to a visitor stepping on and being overwhelmed with unfamiliar tech and appliances.”

Courtney followed him through a port towards the bow that led them into a sterile, clinical area.

“Medbay’s here, too. Convenient I figure, since it’s the first stop anyway.”

A woman with matte crimson skin and wide, dark eyes made her way from the back to greet them. A wine-colored braid laid itself neatly down the back of her lab coat, ending just above her waist.

“Doctor Kor’ra came all the way from Mars Base 1, and also comes highly recommended by every one of her commanding officers,” He droned on.

“First Officer Courtney Roust,” Court cut in, introducing herself.

“Pleased,” Doctor Kor’ra responded politely, shaking her hand. “Captain Mason provides a medical facility I am interested in.” She held out a medscanner, passing it over Courtney.

“Believe me, I’m just as glad to have one as you are. Those jump ships with nothing but a first aid station are nightmares.”

“I am aware of. Medically clear for boarding, Commander.”

Max stood still while Kor’ra scanned him.

“Medically clear for boarding, Captain,” she informed him before putting the scanner away.

“Thank you, Kor’ra. The rest of your medical team should be here in an hour.”

“Appreciated. A staff is useful.”

The recyclers sent a gentle waft of fresh air down towards the two as the Medbay port whooshed shut behind them.

“A Martian of few words, Doctor Kor’ra,” Max said, amused.

“You really went all over for crew recruitment, huh?” Courtney followed him to the opposite end of the entry deck.

“You have no idea.”

The other wing held three materialization platforms and a complicated control console.

“A telepad like that on a ship this size?” Court asked, stepping onto one of the platforms and inspecting the materializers.

“The telepad and the escape pods are designed to hold the entire crew if necessary,” Max answered with a hint of gravity. Courtney paused, mulling over Max’s designs so far and his reasoning for taking the Raptor to the extreme.

“Max, what happened on the Destiny--”

“--Isn’t going to happen again. Not if there’s anything I can do to prevent it.”

“Max,” Courtney breathed. Max shook his head, looking over the console.

“I’m not going to let another sole survivor mission happen. I’ll lead people into danger, Court, but not death. Not again.”

“Aye, Captain,” she answered softly. There was no need for Max to explain it to her. She had been on direct comms the entire time The Destiny was under attack. She had heard the ship’s agonized groans as its hull was split open from all sides, exposing every deck to a frozen vacuum. And she had listened to Max’s ragged, barely-conscious breathing while he drifted through the wreckage in deep space with fatal injuries and a crippled oxygen tank.

It’s never far enough for you, is it?

Max took a breath and straightened up from the console.

“Wanna see the bridge?”

“And find out who’s actually getting this bird in the air? Finally.”

“Too bad,” Max responded, strolling out and heading for the lift. “We’re heading to the core first.”

“Oh good. Radiation.”

"Shielded radiation, Commander. Perfectly safe.”

“What happened to the first FTL core you built again?” Court asked as the lift initiated.

“Blew up in my uncle’s backyard,” Max answered proudly.

“Your dad had to call half the government, if I remember correctly.”

“There were definitely a lot of ’bureau’s present at the time.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t become the youngest person in an intergalactic prison,” the commander laughed.

“Turns out, Captain Mason the Second had enough pull to get an eight-year-old into spaceman school.”

“I believe what you’re describing is called nepotism, Captain.”

“Hey, you make babies in space, you can’t be surprised when they wanna go back to space and do space stuff,” Max excused, stepping into the engineering deck.

“Weird lack of Engineering Mustiness going on in here,” Court pointed out.

“The recyclers are top-notch. Me and Chief designed and tested them ourselves. Give the engie crew a couple of weeks down here though, they’ll bring the scent on their own.”

“It really is amazing how they do that.”

“I think it wards off predators,” Max stopped on the catwalk and peered around before letting out a short, birdlike whistle.

Another trilling whistle answered back from below them and Max headed for the stairs.

“Chief, you down here?” He called out. A light shone from a maintenance vent and bobbled towards them before rising.

“What d’you think?” a gruff, baroque voice responded.

“I think it’d be weird if you weren’t,” Max admitted. “Morning, Hank.”

The light cut off and the catwalk lights brightened around them enough for Courtney to recognize the Chief Engineer as he approached.

“Henry LeBeaux,” she greeted him, shaking his hand enthusiastically. “You worked on the Gloria."

“Designed half ’er hardware myself,” he boasted. “You must be Commander Roust. Hell of a resume for this li’l ship.”

“Likewise,” she agreed.

“How’s our core, Hank?” Max asked, leaning over to look at Henry’s data tablet.

“Shiny, hot, and ready to get goin’, Captain,” he said proudly. “Gonna blow that jump record out of the books.”

Max cracked a genuine smile. “Speed and precision, Chief LeBeaux. Those Titan-class whales might move fast, but our Falcon-class? This is a shark."

“Aye, Captain. Can’t wait to see her up in the air.”

“Soon enough, Hank. I’ll make the call for hands on decks the second launch prep is finished.”

“You got it.”

“Hank LeBeaux?” Court questioned when they were back in the lift. Max nodded and punched in the bridge code.

“Best engie the Corps’ got,” he stated.

“Your quest for redemption is rather obvious, Captain,” she remarked.

“It’s not about redemption, Roust,” Max stressed. “It’s about making it back here with the same crew I left with.”

Max’s eyes shone as they approached the bridge, and Courtney decided against replying. They would have three years in deep space together, and that was plenty of time to get to whatever was actually bothering the anxious captain. Still, she couldn’t help but question whether Max was actually ready for a full mission. She thought of the stranded crew’s logs. How their captain had been so paranoid about the crew that he had jettisoned them towards an unscanned planet in shieldless escape pods. Not a single officer made contact with the surface alive.

“Max,” she started.

“This is the part you wanted to get to, right?” He interrupted her, stepping out of the lift as soon as the doors opened.

The bridge was designed with artistic care, with every arch and platform placed deliberately so that each station had a full view of the entire area. The viewing window wrapped around the front of the bridge from top to bottom, currently providing a view of the launch platform and part of the base facility. Each seat was outfitted with an automatic jump harness and a discrete control and communications panel. The whole area felt more like it belonged on one of the starbases in a Simulator.

The frontmost chair closest to the viewing window swiveled around and Courtney also recognized the pilot that stood and beamed at Max.

“Lieutenant Victor Bernard,” Max announced, clasping hands with the man tightly.

“Aye,” Bernard agreed before dropping Max’s hold. “When I heard Maxwell Mason was going back up in the air, I had to come see it with my own eyes.”

“You’re the one putting us in the sky, Burn. You’ll have plenty to look at, then.”

“Your bridge is my bridge, Captain.”

Courtney resisted the urge to shake her head. Of course, Max had called in Victor. The first pilot to ever make a nebula jump without the help of a jump station, and the first person to ever make an untethered rescue in an exosuit. All for a wayward captain he had met only a handful of times in an orbital station bar.

“Max. MAX. God dammit, wake up and MOVE.”

--Commander. I am reading failures in Captain Mason’s exosuit. Oxygen tanks are damaged and at 3%. Life Preservation Protocol is malfunctioning. Suit thrusters are completely totaled.--

“Computer, how much time does he have?”

--Uncertain. The captain has sustained life-threatening injuries and the integrity of his exosuit remains unclear. Ambient Radiation in this sector is lethally high. Estimated calculation: One hundred ninety seconds.--

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Courtney gasped, listening to Max’s breath rattle over the comm space. “Set that on a timer.”

A solid black ship dropped from jump speed and appeared at the edge of the Velocity’s viewing window. A second comm feed cut into Courtney’s channel. The feed from Max’s helmet was in one ear, with the newcomer in the other.

“Velocity. This is Officer Victor Bernard, acting as Captain of the Gravity in Lieu of my absent command crew.”

Courtney flipped the view to The Gravity’s comms. Officer Bernard was already suited up, his exohelmet sealing with a hiss of air.

“Officer Bernard, this is Commander Roust of the Velocity. If you’re about to do what I think you are, that is inadvisable.”

“With all due respect, Commander,” the man said gravely, “I’m still alive. And so is that lad out there. I’m not abandoning anyone until their last breath.”

“Gravity, without a manned tether, there’s no way you’re going to make it to a port on either ship.”

“I’ve calculated that risk, Commander Roust.” Bernard stepped backward, mashing commands into his data tablet.

Courtney watched the seconds tick down on Max’s life. In her left ear, Max’s breathing was slow and staggered, cut in with random hitches and shudders.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, crewman.”

“Aye.”

Courtney kept Max’s comm link locked in as she watched an exosuited body somersault out of Gravity’s emergency hatch. Bernard hit his suit’s brake thrusters just enough to slow his approach to the drifting captain. A soft grunt escaped from Max’s throat when the untethered man caught him around the waist and their helmets knocked together.

Forty seconds.

“I got you, Captain,” Courtney heard the man assure over Max’s helmet. Bernard’s boot thrusters kicked them back towards the Velocity. A sickening crack could be heard over her headset.

“Officer Bernard, the seal--” Courtney cut into Victor’s comm feed.

“I hear it, Commander,” He griped over the comm.

“Vic--?”

Courtney gasped at the sound of Max’s weak, rasping voice crackling through the comm. Oxygen was now audibly leaking from his suit, creating an eerie whistle in the silent wreckage.

“S’me all right, Mace. You good?”

“--Vic. ‘m dyin’.”

“The hell you are. Commander, how many degrees am I from your emergency port?”

Courtney blinked tears out of her eyes and matched Vic’s coordinates to the port.

“S’okay Burn. S’fine.”

“Shut up. Velocity, the port.”

“Thirty degrees, Bernard. At your current speed, you’re not going to--”

“I’m gonna make it, Roust. I got one option and it in’t failure.”

Victor let go of Max with one of his arms, using his wrist thruster to adjust course while he gripped the neck of Max’s exosuit tightly. Max was eerily silent, and the computer was reading his oxygen levels at 0%.

--Commander. Captain Mason’s life expectancy has fallen to--

Courtney silenced the computer and focused the viewer on the two officers hurtling towards her ship.

“Lieutenant, is the emergency airlock clear?”

“Completely, Commander,” her acting second in command answered.

“Get ready to open that port and close it as fast as you can. The faster they get air, the better their chances are.”

“Aye.”

“And try not to cut either of them in half, will you?”

“Roger, Commander,” the woman responded anxiously.

“Bernard, you’re off by seven degrees still and fast approaching.”

“Got it,” Victor called over comms. His voice was strained, and his thrusters were starting to sputter. He yanked Max’s unconscious form into a bear hug and took a deep breath.

“NOW!” Victor’s cry crackled over the comm. His left thrusters sent him into a dizzying barrel roll with Max. Courtney was actually glad he wasn’t fully awake for that move.

The emergency hatch opened and shut in the blink of an eye. Courtney flipped her view feed just in time to see a blur of exomaterial shoot its way through the port like a bullet, slamming hard into the floor and skidding along it for a few meters.

Courtney rushed from the bridge, down the hall of the tiny jump ship, and halted abruptly at the emergency airlock entry.

“Come on,” she muttered, “cycle, you son of a bitch.”

The port buzzed and whooshed open, greeting Courtney with a wave of freshly recycled oxygen. She froze for a moment, watching the unmoving heap with her breath held.

Victor sputtered and gingerly rolled over onto his side, lying Max down next to him on his back. He sat up, dusting frost from his exosuit and disengaging the helmet before resting his head on his knees and panting heavily. Damp blonde strands hung in front of his eyes as he let out a painful cough.

“Max!”

Courtney was at his side in an instant, her fingers fumbling for the release on his cracked helmet. When it finally retracted, she had to strangle back a scream at the sight of him. His hair was matted to his forehead with blood, and from the looks of things he had lost a lot of it. His lips were blue and cracking and radiation burns speckled his skin.

“He-- He’s not breathing,” Courtney choked out. Victor examined Max for a moment before thumping a broad fist straight downward onto his chest.

Courtney turned to scold Victor, but a ragged gasp took her attention away.

“Court?” Max’s head lifted slightly. His eyes were barely open and unfocused.

“Hey, Max. How ya feelin’?”

“Concussed,” Max coughed, curling in on himself. A few drops of fresh blood speckled the floor.

“You’re alive,” Victor pointed out. Max heaved and shuddered.

“For now.”

“Bernard, your ship,” Courtney started. Victor waved her off.

“Everyone else podded out before I made the jump. Ship’s dead in the water after I used up all its power on that maneuver. Beam it along if you want, but it ’int worth the energy.”

“Got it. If we leave the Gravity here, we can be at the nearest substation in about three hours. There’s a decent med facility there.”

“Good,” Max croaked shakily, resting his forehead on the cold floor. “I’m-- so fuckin’ irradiated.”

“I told you, Captain,” Victor boomed, clapping Max on one of his narrow shoulders. “You ever need my help, all you gotta do is call.”

Max shook him off, chuckling. “Victor was definitely my top choice.”

“You’re a shit liar, Mace,” Victor sneered. He turned to Courtney. “You know, he actually called Lieutenant Saundra first? What was it she told you again?”

“‘The day I step on a ship with you in command is the day I should have my psychological stability called into question’,” Max quoted with a visible cringe.

“And I thought I had a reputation for being a madman,” Victor laughed.

Suddenly, it clicked for Courtney. Max was right. It wasn’t about redemption, or about some secret goal he wasn’t telling her about. He hadn’t hand-picked a crew based on the Destiny mission. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

“That’s it,” Courtney exclaimed. Max and Victor turned to her, with Victor seeming confused and Max just radiating amusement.

“Yes, Commander?” Max prodded.

Courtney pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“You didn’t have some weird secret reason for the crew you ended up hiring. It’s just all the people absolutely insane enough to work with you.”

Max smirked and folded his arms.

“What does that make you, First Officer?”

“Your babysitter, if you ask me.”

She glanced at Victor, who was fixed on the wide scar running vertically beside Max’s left eye while he spoke.

“Could be some of us just have the same compulsion to throw ourselves into the unknown,” the pilot mused. Max laughed and lightly punched his arm.

“With any hope, the only thing we’re throwing is some particle probes. Maybe a telepad signal or two if we’re extra hopeful.”

A hint of worry flashed through the captain’s bright green eyes, if only for a moment. He fished a buzzing communicator out of his pocket and rubbed at his neck.

“Last core checks are going down,” he announced. “I should probably meet up with Hank and make sure everything’s in shape. Court?”

“I’ll stay up here, thanks,” she answered, holding up her hand. “I’m not a fan of close proximity with nuclear materials.”

“Suit yourself,” Max shrugged. “Bridge is yours ’til takeoff.”

Courtney could feel Victor’s eyes boring into her as the lift doors closed on a saluting Max. She held in a sigh and turned to face the man who was leaning against the flight console and watching her.

“So,” she started, straightening up to regard the tall man, “Lieutenant now, is it?”

“Aye, Commander,” Victor responded evenly, tension betrayed in hazel irises. “Lovely to see you again.”

“Last time we met, you were just a recruit about to turn my best friend into a pancake against my ship at terminal velocity.”

“And about four inches shorter. As I recall, I also saved his arse instead. Twice.” He held up two fingers, his thick arms still folded defensively. Courtney let out a sigh and dropped her stance first.

“I just want this to go smoothly, Bernard.”

“Nothin’ smooth about Mace, Commander, you know that,” Victor responded softly, unfolding his arms and taking a step away from the console. “You’re not the only one worried about him.”

Courtney allowed the pilot to close the distance between them, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say. Not this time. The man rested a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Command is tough, and we’re all on the same ship together now. I may not get whatever’s going on in that curly little head of his, but I know Max wouldn’t have agreed to this if he wasn’t ready for it.”

Courtney nodded and Victor dropped his arm.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Anytime.” Victor turned to face the view window. “Not as nice as the stars, is it?”

Courtney stepped forward, peering up at the dreary concrete surrounding them.

“Can’t say it is,” she muttered, before pausing. “You grew up on the Stations too, right?”

Victor thumbed away a smudge on the glass, likely left by one of the installation crewmen.

“Aye,” he answered wistfully. “Ran into Mace a few times after the Academy. Seems we Stationers tend to fancy the same pubs.”

“I can’t imagine. Growing up looking out instead of upwards and just seeing the whole galaxy.”

“You’re from planetside, then? Awful brawny for being raised down here.”

Courtney laughed and watched the commissioned officers gearing up to join the crew down on the launch deck.

“I was born at sea level, actually. About as grounded as you can get.”

“You know, there’s something to be envied in that as well,” Victor responded, following the crew’s formations with sharp, dark eyes. “Being able to really send yourself into the sky for the first time and look down at where you came from, that’s likely incomparable.”

“It’s magical,” Courtney breathed, looking past her own reflection in the view window. “and completely terrifying.”

“The unknown always is, Commander.”

The lift doors whooshed open and Max entered, blipping away at a data tablet.

“Everything seems to be on track,” he thought aloud, “We’ll be good to finish suiting up and finally boot up that new computer in a few.” He looked up from the tablet. Courtney shot him a pointed look and he cut his eyes away.

“I have to say, Captain,” Victor spoke, settling back into the flight console seat, “Not keen on an AI telling me what to do.”

“M.A.D.I. has no authority, Vic,” Max assured him. “She’s just here to make calculations and monitor the ship’s automated features.”

“Still don’t like that you gave it a name,” he grumbled, “what’s wrong with ‘computer’?”

“It’s impersonal and boring, Lieutenant. We’re gonna be on this ship for a long time, might as well make friends with it.”

“If you say so.”

“You built an AI for the ship?” Courtney questioned. Max still wasn’t looking at her.

“Among other things.” His tone was dismissive.

“Max,” Courtney warned. He was already keying a deck number into the lift.

“Burn, show the Commander to Residential when you have a minute, will you?”

“Aye,” Victor answered, but he was just talking to closed lift doors. The pilot heaved a sigh and shook his head, turning back around to face the console. “Mad bionic bastard,” he muttered, before waving an irritated hand in Courtney’s direction.

“Deck 4-B. Go on and deal with it, then,” he insisted, tapping at the console and grumbling.

“Bridge is yours, Lieutenant.”

Residential was quiet and empty when she entered. It wouldn’t stay that way for long, but an empty ship always felt haunting. Her quarters were at the end of the wing, along with the rest of Command. Two names she didn’t recognize were etched into the plating beside her neighboring ports.

CMDR. LIA TASANI

OPERATIONS CHIEF

CMDR. BRONWYN MONTANA

HEAD OF SECURITY

Courtney made a mental note to ask Max about the rest of the Command crew once they were ready to launch. She unpinned her bun and shook out the loose hairs before running a check on her new jump vest and hooking up the attachments for her exosuit and launch harness. She spotted a Command communicator on her dresser, along with a note.

Communication is key! Bios should scan as soon as it’s powered on. Don’t forget to suit up in ship gear.

-MM

Courtney booted up the device and waited for it to log her biometrics. When it was finished, she plucked the badge from the rear port and let it magnetize to her vest, just like the Captain’s badge Max had equipped earlier. The silver falcon stood out against her crimson jump vest and black shirt. Better than the gray and navy blue the base crews had to walk around in. She grabbed a small tool case from her coffee table and dropped it into her vest pocket before kicking on her flight boots and heading back to the entry.

The air recyclers silently conditioned the hallway as she stepped into it. A couple of doors down, she heard a port open and saw Max’s head stick out.

“There you are,” He greeted, straightening up when she met him at his doorway. She entered his quarters and pursed her lips.

“It’s bigger than mine,” she pointed out.

“Captain’s quarters,” he joked, before throwing his hands up at her unamused expression. “What do you want me to do?” He asked incredulously.

“No, it’s very... You,” she argued, looking around the space. “I can’t believe you still have all those old space show posters.” A bearded actor in a red and black uniform beamed at her from a photo on Max’s bookshelf.

“Brought some of them along on drives, too,” Max added, shoving his unopened travel case under the dresser. “Just in case I get bored. Corps computers have a hard time rendering the oldies.”

“Isn’t that one from the 1900s?” she asked, nodding at the photo.

“The late 1900s, Commander,” he corrected, stooping over to root around in a little refrigerator for a flask of carbonated water. “You know, it’s astounding how many things they actually got right about our time.”

“And how many things they got wrong,” the commander pointed out. Max sipped his water and came near her.

“Sure, some names are different and the tech isn’t engineered the same,” Max insisted, “but science is still science, Commander.”

Courtney huffed a short laugh and ran a hand through her loose hair.

“We wanna actually talk about the real reason I’m here, Captain?” She asked, crossing her legs curtly.

“Right to business, huh?” He took another sip and stared out the window at the concrete below.

“Max.”

Max grimaced and set his water down on the center table before approaching her with a heavy breath.

“If we must,” he sighed, seating himself on the floor with his back to her. He reached up and tugged a bundle of soft, dark curls away from his neck and leaned his head to the left.

Courtney ran her fingers over the tech port behind his right ear, nestled snugly against his cochlear bone.

“How’s it feeling?” She asked, picking the circuit cover open with her fingernail. A small, round motherboard glowed faintly against Max’s tanned skin.

“Itchy.”

“That’s not itching, that’s electrical interference,” she scolded, opening the tool case with one hand and picking a pair of rubber-tipped tweezers. “And it’s because you never use the Antistatic I give you.”

“Something about dumping oil into a hole in my skull,” Max complained, “Not big on it.”

Max’s teeth clicked in discomfort while she pulled a circuit from its place and plugged in a fresh one.

“You’re planning to plug an entire ship into yourself, and a few drops of static-dampening oil is where you draw the line?”

“One I’m used to. The other one makes my neck feel tingly.”

“You’re such a baby about the weirdest things,” Courtney sighed, focusing her eyes on the tiny ribbon cables surrounding the port. “Victor knows, huh?”

“Had to tell him,” Max groaned, making a fist when another circuit was replaced. “Kinda hard to avoid when someone drags you to an infirmary with an exosuit wired directly to your brain.

Max hissed through his clenched teeth when the Antistatic drops went in. A firm hand on the side of his head prevented him from flinching away. “Hate it,” he mumbled. She blew her compressed air gun into the port, ignoring the ‘--ack--’ sound that Max let out. She initialized the implant and waited for the little chirp that signaled its activation.

“Any new side effects?” She asked, closing the circuit cover and letting it seal against Max’s skin. The wire port was now the only thing visible, albeit barely. “Auditory anomalies, migraines, memory loss?”

“Nothing like that,” Max dismissed with a wave. He seemed to hesitate before continuing. “If it gets weird, I’ll let you know.”

“Immediately, Max,” she warned. “If your implant malfunctions and the Corps finds out you have it--”

“You don’t have to tell me, Court,” Max reassured. “I know how Planetsiders feel about augmentation.”

A grim silence fell between them for a few moments before Courtney broke it.

“Anyone else know?”

“Ren does-- Doctor Kor’ra. No way she would have cleared me for boarding if it came up on one of her scanners.”

“You sure that’s safe?”

Max brushed off his neck and faced her, wearing a smug expression. His hair fell back into place, covering his implant and the rest of his neck.

“Why d’you think I asked for her? You think she developed all that fancy, expensive equipment herself just to unbreak bones and cure radiation poisoning?”

“She’s an Augment Engineer,” Courtney gasped.

“Same as you,” Max confirmed. “If you ever get around to working together, maybe you can show her some of your specs.”

“Those are top-secret.”

“Only because you’re the only implant technician you know. Besides your dad.” Max stood and dusted off his black pants.

“Really? Denim? Where did you even get those? They must be ancient.”

“Earth,” he answered simply, kicking his flight boots to seal them against his legs and grabbing his captain’s jacket from the back of a nearby chair. “Some place south of here that used to be called Kentucky, I think. Maybe Kansas. You know people still work on those old gasoline bikes?”

“Some people refuse to modernize, I guess.”

“I admire the passion,” Max commented, shrugging on the jacket and zipping it halfway up. He reached up behind his ear to fully power on his implant. “If there’s one thing those old-school Planetsiders have, it’s that.”

“Can’t help but notice we’re missing some of Command,” Courtney mentioned when they entered the lift. Max shrugged and punched in the bridge code.

“Lia Tasani is an old friend of Vic’s, he actually recommended her. Monty, I’ve never met before, but their record was about eight screens of commendations and some pretty impressive mission logs.”

“Who recommended them?”

“Commander Tasani insisted on Commander Montana being a part of the crew, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yep. ‘We pick up Bronwyn or I’m not going,’ she said.”

“Wow.”

“I needed a security chief, so hey. Works out for me. We’ll be picking them both up before we hit our first jump station.”

“Got it.”

“Which you would have known,"

“Oh god, don’t start--”

“--if you had read the briefing."

“I hate you.”

“It’s already downloaded onto your ship tablet.”

A burst of sound startled them both when the lift opened to the bridge. Max stepped out first, greeted by loud music thumping over the comm speakers. Victor was leaning over the console, poring over star maps, dropping waypoint markers, and bobbing his head and hips along to the beat.

Max held out an arm to stop Courtney and mouthed, one sec. He folded his arms and leaned against the command console, watching Victor with a wry smile. Courtney covered her mouth to keep from laughing. The secrecy was ruined when Victor raised his arms and performed a dramatic dance pose while one of the maps loaded in. Max doubled over and let out a howling laugh, holding his sides. Courtney’s giggles joined his, and Victor was standing up indignantly and cutting the music off with a wave of his hand.

“No, no, don’t stop,” Max gasped in between breaths, “Your choreography is amazing.”

Victor rested his hands on his hips and just stared at them. Courtney straightened up and wiped her eye.

“With moves like that, I can’t wait to see what you can get a ship to do,” Courtney wheezed. Victor maintained a frown.

“You lot finished?”

“I could probably think of a few more things to say,” Max giggled. Courtney snorted. Victor pursed his lips and stalked over to the command console.

“When you’re both done having a merry little time, I did some course mapping for us.”

Max hummed in interest and followed Victor to the console, tapping at the starmaps and expanding the waypoints.

“Pretty impressive, Vic,” he marveled. “Every jump point, even the anchoring coordinates outside Sector 738.”

“And alternate routes if necessary,” Victor added proudly, opening up two other maps. “Never know when an errant comet might change our course.”

Max checked his communicator and raked a hand through his hair.

“Up in ten.” He turned to Courtney. “You ready to meet the computer?”

“No,” Victor answered sourly instead. Courtney shot him a look.

“Max, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Max unplugged an earpiece from the command console and checked its charge status.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because no one’s ever actually done this?”

“Heard that one before,” Max half-joked, plugging the device into his tech port. After looping the wire around his ear and securing the inner bud, he stood back and cleared his throat.

“MADI, initialize,” he commanded in a clear voice. The various consoles and panels around the bridge lit up, and a voice came over the speakers.

--All ship computer systems are online, Captain.--

Max winked at Courtney and Victor before addressing the AI again.

“Life support?”

--Life support systems are online and fully functioning.--

“Autopilot?” Victor scowled, but Max silently held up a finger.

--Autopilot is functional, but currently disabled. The Raptor-7′s autopilot function can only be enabled by order of Captain Mason, Commander Roust, or Lieutenant Bernard.--

Victor rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

“How much of the base crew is on board?”

--All registered crewmates scheduled for Earth Base 5 have boarded. The entry deck is currently sealing, and launch presequence will begin in 5 minutes.--

“Thank you, MADI, that’s it for now.”

--Sure.-- the AI responded politely before falling silent. Max strode over to the captain’s chair and settled into it.

“Manually Augmented Database Initiative,” he announced, flipping his command console open and initializing the rest of the bridge. “She’s really quite impressive, if you ask me. Vic?”

Victor tsked and turned back to his console.

“Man’s put a computer in his head and thinks we should all be properly chuffed,” he muttered before calling out, “Time to wake her up!”

Victor punched in a few commands and the ship rumbled gently, before letting out a series of hisses and vibrations that indicated the gravity thrusters being powered on.

“She breathes,” Victor whispered, amazement and pride in his voice. The great wings angled themselves to direct the thrusters, and the ship brought itself to a gentle hover above the ground. Courtney watched the drab concrete lower itself from view until she was looking out over the top of the observatory and the city skyline behind it.

“Well, everyone sees us now,” Courtney remarked.

“Good,” Max answered with a sly grin. “Let ’em know, Vic.”

Victor bared his teeth in a much wider smile than the captain’s.

“Aye,” he agreed, thumbing an orange button with the falcon insignia painted on it. Before Courtney could even ask, the ship let out a piercing shriek. The call of a great bird of prey.

“Patriotic, isn’t it?” Max prompted, chuckling.

“And now they know who’s on the ship,” Courtney finished, rolling her eyes.

“Eeexactly,” Max answered her, pointing a finger-gun at her.

“Different person in the chair, in’t he?” Victor asked with a chuckle.

“He’s a Mason, all right,” she agreed, taking the First Officer’s chair and readying her jump vest.

“Aye,” Lieutenant Bernard agreed, a mischievous sheen behind his eyes. Admiral Traegis paged the bridge. Max nodded to Courtney, who patched the comm in.

“Quite an entrance, Captain,” she announced, her tone threateningly close to scolding.

“Bit of a tradition, Admiral, you understand,” he excused. The admiral shook her head slightly and began again, more stoic.

“Are your ship’s functions all online and prepared?”

“The Raptor 7 is ready to go, Admiral,” Max responded proudly. Traegis looked like she wanted to say something more, but changed her mind.

“Right. Up in 60. Good luck, Maxwell.”

“Luck,” Max muttered after the Admiral signed off. He was hyperfocused on the launch switches he was setting. “When’s that ever shown up?”

“How you get away with mouthing off to the Admiral as much as you do escapes me,” Victor told him, readying his own panel and engaging his launch harness. Courtney said nothing and did the same.

“Commander, what was that word you used earlier?” Max snapped his fingers lightly in thought, tapping the arm of his chair.

“Nepotism, Captain,” she answered, hiding a smile.

“Yeah, that,” Max confirmed. “Probably that.”

“Old man’s been dead for a decade and he’s still got more authority than me,” Victor grumbled.

“Authority doesn’t look good on you, Bernard,” Max argued playfully as the gravity thrusters graduated to launch power. “You’ve got too much of the loose-cannon thing going on. Speaking of, we have got to talk about that jacket.”

Bernard turned his head, the leather collar guarding his neck making a slight sound.

“What’s wrong with my jacket?” He asked, offended.

“Up we go!” Max interrupted the topic, pointing to the sky. Victor rolled his eyes and initiated the launch countdown.

“Captain? Might wanna-- Yeah, that,” Lieutenant Bernard yelled over the thrusters as Max engaged his launch harness. “Commander,” he continued, his voice straining, “what’s the fastest launch you’ve ever been in?”

“What? From pad to orbit? I don’t know, an hour?” She gripped the arms of her chair. She did not have a good feeling about whatever was about to happen. Bernard threw his head back, laughing madly.

“An hour!” he cackled. “You hear that, Mace?”

Courtney’s horror grew when she turned to Max. He was watching the countdown intensely, a wide grin slowly creeping onto his face.

“One big leap, Burn,” he announced, beaming with pride.

Victor hit the upward jump as soon as the launch timer reached zero. In a rush of gravitational force and the blink of an eye, Courtney was looking at the last layer of atmosphere, just below the ship.

“Holy--!”

“Try not to lose your breakfast, Commander,” Max commented. Sure enough, her stomach lurch caught up with her and she heaved. Everything in her digestive system fortunately stayed in place.

“You get used to it,” Victor called. Courtney shuddered and sent their location signature back to base.

“A jump from the ground?” she questioned. “You could have told--” her eyes narrowed. “Briefing.”

“Not everything has time to be spoken, Commander.” Max disengaged his harness and thumbed the comms to make a shipwide announcement.

“Attention: Crew of the Falcon-class starship Raptor 7. This is Captain Maxwell Mason and I’m happy to tell you that our journey has finally begun. We are officially off-planet and up in the air.” He paused, likely to let sounds of relief and excitement among the decks die down. “If you’re feeling a little seasick from jump, please don’t hesitate to see the very capable Doctor Kor’ra over in Medical. That aside, we have a groundbreaking undertaking in front of us. Most of you have read the mission reports,” Max shot Courtney a wink before continuing.

“But let’s go over it once more before we hit the planetary stations. We will be making one half-orbit and navigating to the Pluto 2 Jump Station. After we pick up the rest of our crew, it’s into the unknown.”

Courtney watched Max turn serious as his monolog continued. “Some of you have your own reasons for being here. I know I do.”

Ren Kor’ra looked up to the intercom while she scanned a nauseated crewmate. Max’s voice was crystal clear across the sterile Medbay.

“Some of you still aren’t sure why you came on board. But let me tell you, The Raptor didn’t build herself, and she sure as hell isn’t flying herself.”

Henry LeBeaux wiped Antistatic oil from his forehead and looked to his crew, sniffling a bit. The engineers were focused on the speakers making themselves barely audible above the clang of the engine room.

Max’s eyes were sharply focused on the viewing window in front of him as he finished his launch speech. It felt as if he was addressing the entire city instead of just sixty space explorers.

“The ship isn’t the one conducting this mission. It’s the crew. It’s all of us. And no matter what, above all else, this crew’s safety and integrity is the foremost mission objective. You’re all part of something bigger than yourselves now. Welcome to the Raptor."

Max signed off and let out a deep breath.

“Beautiful, Captain,” Victor sniffed, wiping his eye. Max shook his head and exhaled a short laugh.

“I hate doing those. Feels like I’m blowing smoke while everyone just stares.”

“The Captain’s Address has been a thing for hundreds of years, before starships even,” Courtney remarked, “You’d think a captain would be used to it by now.”

“They always look so much more grandiose in the old movies,” Max sighed, kicking back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head.

“That’s because they’re speaking in that drawn-out ancient English,” Victor pointed out. “Sounds fancier.”

“Make it so,” Max tried, pointing and mimicking Victor’s accent.

“I dunno, I think I sound more like that engie fella from the movies.”

“You did watch it!” Max gasped.

“Eh, let’s say I skimmed it,” Victor admitted. Max let out a cackle and stood, approaching the viewing window. Victor and Courtney joined him.

“There it is, Captain,” Victor breathed, staring down at the oceans and mountains still visible below. “Bird’s in the sky.”