The mess hall felt smaller with armor on.

  Theta-3 came in together, helmets tucked under arms or clipped to belts. The space was already busy: engineering jumpsuits smeared with grease, deck crews still half in vacuum harnesses, a few officers at a corner table pretending not to be watching the overhead screens.

  Kaden grabbed a tray and slid into the serving line behind Navarro. Metal clunked as ration plates hit polymer. Today’s offering was a slab of protein loaf, a scoop of something green that might have been vegetables in a previous life, and a square of bread that looked like it could stop small arms fire.

  “Luxury,” Vos muttered behind him. “They’re spoiling us before they throw us at something sharp.”

  “You complain this much and Aurora’s going to smite you,” Navarro said. She accepted her tray from the galley tech and stepped aside. “Somewhere there’s a poor logistics kid who thinks this is cuisine.”

  “I’ll send them a thank-you note the day I taste flavor,” Vos said.

  Kaden picked up his own tray and moved with them toward a table near the far bulkhead. Jax and Tanaka were already there. Tanaka sat with his back to the wall, habit more than paranoia, carefully cutting his loaf into precise squares. Jax had her tray pushed to one side, hands around a cup of coffee that looked like it had been brewed to strip paint.

  “Sit,” she said as they approached. “Eat. Fleet can wait for you to finish chewing.”

  Navarro dropped into the spot beside Tanaka. Kaden took the seat across from her, Vos sliding in beside him. Armor creaked as they settled.

  The loaf tasted mostly of salt and texture. Kaden chewed anyway. His body did not care about taste; it wanted calories.

  “You going to actually eat that, Navarro?” Vos asked after a moment. “Or just glare it into submission?”

  “I’m working up to it,” she said. “Stomach is staging a protest.”

  “Eat anyway,” Tanaka said, not looking up. “If you black out because you skipped lunch, I’m not carrying you and my shield.”

  “Touching,” Navarro said, but she speared a piece and forced it down.

  Across the room, a familiar profile caught Kaden’s eye. Song sat two tables over with Theta-5, armor on, helmet on the table, posture a little too straight to pass as relaxed. Theta-5’s squad leader, Moreau, was talking, gesturing occasionally with a fork. Song’s gaze drifted, tracking the overhead screens, then the room.

  His eyes found Kaden.

  For a second, the noise in the mess seemed to thin. Song lifted his fork in a small salute, eyebrow ticking up.

  Kaden answered with his cup. The little gesture felt like a rope thrown across the space.

  “Who are you flirting with?” Vos asked without looking, shoveling in a bite of loaf.

  “Song,” Kaden said. “Theta-5.”

  “Right,” Navarro said. “I forgot they stole him.”

  “They assigned him,” Jax said. “No one stole anyone.”

  “Still rude,” Navarro replied.

  As if summoned, Song said something to Moreau, got a nod, and threaded his way through the tables. A few heads turned as he passed; the Theta tag over his chest plate made it clear he was another marine, not some officer out of place.

  He stopped at their table and tapped the edge with his knuckles. “Room for a traitor?”

  Vos squinted at him for half a second, then snapped his fingers. “I remember. You’re the guy who did the power slide in the highlights.”

  Song groaned softly. “If that’s how Aurora decides I’m going to be famous, I want a refund.”

  “You stuck the landing,” Tanaka said. “Could have been worse.”

  “We’ve met, Vos,” Song added. “Mess hall, after the sim. You heckled my choice of dessert.”

  “I heckle on principle,” Vos said. “Come on, sit. Share the joy of beige food.”

  “Afraid Theta-5 gets the same brick as everyone else,” Song said, but he slid in at the end of the bench between Jax and Vos. Up close, he looked a little more tired than last time, faint shadows under his eyes that said too many drills, not enough sleep.

  “Sergeant,” he said, nodding to Jax.

  “Song,” Jax said. “Theta-5 treating you all right?”

  “They haven’t spaced me yet,” he said. “I’m taking that as a good sign.”

  “Moreau running you hard?” Tanaka asked.

  “She says she’s pacing herself,” Song replied. “If that’s pacing, I’d hate to see full speed.”

  Navarro snorted. “I like her already.”

  “You would,” Vos said. “She’s the one who gets to order Song into stupid situations first.”

  “Hey,” Song said mildly. “I make my own bad decisions sometimes.”

  Kaden smiled despite himself. “How’s Theta-5?” he asked. “Aside from the sad food.”

  “Functional,” Song said. “Half veterans, half like us. They don’t talk much about the last run. Moreau keeps it tight.”

  He glanced between Kaden and Navarro. “You all right?”

  “Define ‘all right,’” Navarro said. “We’re on an assault cruiser about to drop into a corridor that ate half a fleet.”

  “So that’s a no,” Song said.

  “It means we’re doing what everybody else on this ship is doing,” Jax said. “Staying upright until there’s a reason not to be.”

  Song’s mouth twitched. “Comforting, Sergeant.”

  “You want comfort, find a passenger liner,” she said.

  On the overhead screens, the rotating Hegemony crest winked out, replaced by a live external feed. The mess hall’s noise dimmed as attention swung upward.

  Eridani Staging Yards filled the view: a sprawling lattice of girders, docks, and habitat modules hanging against the starfield. Floodlights washed over the spine of the structure, picking out hulls clamped to docking arms. Tug craft drifted like insects around them, puffing little bursts of attitude flame.

  The camera feed panned slowly as the Valiant shifted her orientation. Off to port, a broad, flat wedge came into view, marked by yawning bays along its flanks.

  [SERAPHIM – CARRIER]

  Status: OPERATIONAL

  Role: Strikecraft operations

  Fighters were already parked like teeth along the open maws of its hangars. Tiny lights flickered as deck crews moved. Kaden imagined the pilot ready rooms below, people strapping in, running their own hand checks.

  “If they brought Seraphim, they’re not playing around,” Tanaka said quietly.

  “They never are,” Jax replied.

  On the starboard side of the view, slimmer shapes moved into position. A light cruiser slid across the frame, hull lines sharp, dorsal turrets tracking in lazy arcs as she realigned.

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  [CUTLASS – LIGHT CRUISER]

  Status: OPERATIONAL

  Role: Escort / Fire support

  Aegis and Shenzhou appeared in turn, the Harrow’s Wake a little farther back, paint still too clean against the darkness. Frigates and corvettes took up the gaps, flickers of engine light marking their paths.

  “That’s a lot of metal,” Navarro said under her breath.

  “In the vids they call this a ‘limited task force,’” Song said. “Enough to ask questions, not enough to win a war.”

  He sounded like he was quoting something half-remembered from the Academy, not speaking from experience.

  A chime touched Kaden’s implant.

  [AURORA//SHIPWIDE]

  Task Force Harrow: Forming.

  Slip schedule: T–02:18:32.

  Text echoed the message along the top of the main screen. Below it, a schematic of the task force blossomed. The Valiant sat at the center as a solid block. Light cruisers flanked her forward. Seraphim floated slightly “above” the plane, like a shield raised over the others. Frigates and corvettes dotted the edges in a loose shell.

  Kaden stared at it for a moment, feeling something tighten just under his ribs.

  “First time seeing a full formation for real,” he said quietly.

  “Yeah,” Song said. “On a vid it looks like pieces on a board. This feels more like… being inside the piece.”

  “Backbone looks solid,” Jax said. “Let’s hope they keep us somewhere it makes sense.”

  “You don’t like clever?” Navarro asked.

  “I like simple plans that survive first contact,” Jax said. “Clever plans are what you get when simple died three moves ago.”

  “Comforting theme,” Vos murmured.

  “Sergeant,” Song said, “Theta-5’s getting a similar talk. Moreau says if they break something big enough, we get to go patch whatever’s still breathing after.”

  “That tracks,” Jax said. “You tell her if she gets you killed, I’m going to be very annoyed.”

  “I’ll pass that along,” Song said.

  Tanaka finished the last bite of his loaf and set his fork down. “You eating, Song?” he asked. “Or just pushing it around so it looks social?”

  Song glanced at his half-finished tray, then shrugged and forced himself to take another bite. “Would not want to disappoint the galley,” he said.

  “You think we’re coming back?” Navarro asked him. It came out more blunt than she seemed to intend.

  Song chewed, swallowed, and took a sip of something pretending to be juice. “I think the Valiant’s too stubborn to die quietly,” he said. “And I think I don’t want to find out how loud she can scream, so I’m going to do my job. Same as you.”

  Navarro nodded once, eyes dropping back to her tray.

  Another tone rolled through the room, followed by a gentle flicker in the lights.

  [AURORA//SHIPWIDE]

  All hands: Prepare for maneuver.

  Dock clamps: RELEASED.

  Anchor distance: increasing.

  Slip entry in T–01:45:00.

  Kaden felt a faint, different vibration under his boots. Not the deep, steady hum of cruise engines, but the sharper pushes of maneuvering thrusters. The external feed showed the staging yards drifting slowly out of frame as the Valiant eased away.

  “We’re really doing it,” Navarro said.

  “What did you think was happening?” Vos asked. “Group hallucination in the auditorium?”

  “I thought there might be a last-minute ‘never mind, stand down,’” she said. “You can’t blame me for hoping.”

  “Wrong fleet for that kind of hope,” Tanaka said.

  “Wrong galaxy,” Song added.

  Jax glanced at the screens, then at their trays. “Five more minutes,” she said. “Then we clear out and let the galley crew pretend they’re not listening to the same countdown.”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” Kaden said automatically.

  He forced down the rest of his loaf. It sat heavy, but it sat. Navarro managed another few bites before setting her fork aside. Song finished most of his, barely.

  Vos eyed the bread. “One day,” he said, “I’m going to be shot at in a corridor and think, ‘I miss that terrible loaf.’”

  “If you say that out loud,” Navarro said, “I’m leaving you there.”

  They cleared their trays and stacked them in the return slot. As Kaden slid his in, he saw the galley techs behind the hatch glancing up at the screens again, hands still moving on autopilot. No one on the ship was really off-duty anymore.

  On the way out, Song slowed his steps.

  Theta-5 was already rising from their table, Moreau saying something that made two of them snort quietly. Song watched them for a second, then looked back at Theta-3.

  “I should get back,” he said. “They start thinking I defected and Moreau will make me regret it.”

  “You going to be all right?” Navarro asked.

  Song smiled, thin but real. “You take care of your squad, I’ll take care of mine,” he said. “We’ll argue about who had it worse in the mess when we’re back.”

  “Deal,” Kaden said.

  Song touched his knuckles briefly to Kaden’s armored forearm, then to Navarro’s, then nodded to Jax.

  “Sergeant,” he said.

  “Don’t get dead,” Jax told him. “I’m not breaking in another medic for Theta-5.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Song said, then turned and trotted off to rejoin his squad.

  “Good kid,” Tanaka said.

  “Same age as Mercer,” Vos pointed out.

  “Good kid,” Tanaka repeated.

  The corridors felt narrower on the way back to the bay.

  Not because they had actually shrunk, but because more people were moving through them. Crew hustled between stations in pairs and threes, carrying tool cases, coiled lines, sealed crates. Somewhere overhead, a physical klaxon whooped once, then cut off as Aurora replaced it with implant whispers.

  [HIS VALIANT//NAVIGATION]

  Attitude thrusters: ACTIVE.

  Anchor distance: increasing.

  Transition to pre-slip profile: IN PROGRESS.

  Kaden shifted his grip on his helmet as the deck gave a faint, almost imperceptible shimmy. The Valiant was turning, aligning herself with whatever invisible line Aurora had carved through space.

  “They really are going,” Navarro said quietly beside him.

  “We knew that when Gaunt talked,” Kaden said.

  “Knowing and watching are different,” she said.

  The marine bay doors stood open. Inside, squads flowed in and out of their lanes, some still tinkering with gear, others already gathered in little clusters, the way people did when they were waiting for something big they couldn’t speed up.

  Jax checked the time in her HUD, then turned to Theta-3.

  “Helmets nearby, not on,” she said. “I want ears clear until we’re closer to slip. Anything you forgot to ask, now is the time.”

  They stood there for a moment, letting the question sit.

  “Sergeant,” Kaden said, “how many slips like this have you done? Into somewhere that’s already hot.”

  Jax tilted her head, thinking. “Depends on your threshold for ‘hot,’” she said after a breath. “A dozen and change where somebody was already shooting when we came out. More where it got loud soon after.”

  “Does it feel different?” Navarro asked. “The slip, I mean.”

  “The slip feels the same,” Jax said. “Ship hum changes, your head aches for a minute, then it settles. The part after is what matters. Sometimes Aurora drops you into quiet and lets you get your feet under you. Sometimes it dumps you straight into a bar fight.”

  “Comforting again,” Vos said lightly.

  “Think of it this way,” Jax said. “While we’re in slip, the ship and Aurora do most of the work. Your job is to be ready to move when the deck stops pretending it’s a cruise.”

  She glanced at the time again.

  “Grab anything personal you need on you for the next few hours,” she said. “Extra mag, protein bar, lucky charm, I don’t care. If we get called as soon as we come out, you won’t be coming back here first.”

  They scattered toward bunks and lockers. Kaden swapped an almost-empty med foam canister for a full one, checked his injector counts again. Red, blue, green, all at full capacity. He palmed a sealed electrolyte packet from his locker and tucked it into a side pouch. It barely added weight, but his brain felt better for knowing it was there.

  The ship’s motion changed again a few minutes later. The faint shove of maneuvering jets gave way to a steadier, heavier pull toward the aft bulkhead as the main drives came fully online.

  [HIS VALIANT//NAVIGATION]

  Acceleration profile: CRUISE TO SLIP.

  Time to FTL entry: T–01:12:09.

  Theta-3 gathered near their gear racks, almost by instinct.

  “Everyone topped up?” Jax asked.

  Tanaka nodded. “Armor’s good. Ammo’s good.”

  “Wasp’s clean,” Vos said. “No echoes from last sim run.”

  “Rifle’s behaving,” Navarro said. “For once.”

  “Med harness is stocked,” Kaden said. “Nothing loose, nothing missing.”

  “Good,” Jax said. “That buys us the luxury of sitting and thinking for a bit.”

  “Luxury,” Vos repeated. “Sure. Let’s call it that.”

  “Trust me,” Jax said. “You’ll miss being bored later.”

  They ended up perched in their little corner: Tanaka on a crate, Navarro leaning against a support beam, Vos sitting cross-legged on the deck, back braced against a locker. Kaden took the edge of his bunk, boots planted to counter the constant, subtle pull of acceleration.

  The bay hummed. Voices from other squads rose and fell in the background.

  “Did you think we’d be here this fast?” Navarro asked quietly after a while. “In a task force, going back into that corridor?”

  “Yes,” Tanaka said.

  Navarro looked over. “You really did?”

  “Fleet doesn’t like letting assault cruisers sit at a dock,” he said. “They patch the holes, load the magazines, and send them back where it hurts. That’s what ships like this exist for.”

  “I thought we’d get more time,” Vos said. “A few more sims. Maybe some nice safe anti-piracy patrols. Let the fresh paint on Harrow’s Wake scuff a little before we throw it at the Opp again.”

  “You think any part of this is nice or safe?” Jax asked.

  “I think some of it could at least pretend,” Vos said.

  Jax’s mouth twitched. “The only part that pretends is the brochure,” she said. “You all skipped that stage.”

  “Conscription perks,” Navarro muttered.

  Another soft chime kissed Kaden’s implant.

  [AURORA//SHIPWIDE]

  All hands: FTL transition in T–00:30:00.

  Secure loose equipment. Assume slip stations.

  Jax straightened slightly. “From here until we’re stable in slip, keep chatter down and ears open,” she said. “If they decide they need us soon after we come out, you won’t get much warning.”

  “Slip ever get easier?” Navarro asked.

  “No,” Tanaka said. “You just get used to pretending it does.”

  “That’s reassuring,” Kaden said.

  “You’ll be fine,” Tanaka replied. “If you hate it enough, you’ll be too busy being annoyed to think about getting shot later. Silver lining.”

  They laughed at that, small but real.

  “Helmets within reach,” Jax said. “If boarding alarms sound any time after slip, you grab them and move. No one delays because they can’t remember where they dropped their head.”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” they answered.

  Kaden set his helmet on the bunk beside him, fingers resting on the rim. The matte surface felt cool and solid through his glove. He let his hand stay there longer than he needed to, breathing slow, matching the rhythm to the steady push under his feet.

  He flicked his eyes to the corner of his HUD.

  Time to FTL entry: T–00:27:42.

  Out beyond the hull, Task Force Harrow slid into its lane, a pattern etched into the dark. Somewhere ahead, invisible but real, waited the line they had lost six weeks ago and everything the Opposition had built since.