the Camelot without incident. As the team exited, they were greeted by the sight of the bustling hangar, where Chief Riggs and his engineering crew were hard at work tackling the repairs. Matthews removed his helmet, relishing the return to fresh air—or at least the closest approximation of it you could find in space. He spotted the chief standing near a bank of monitors, surrounded by several other engineers, and made his way over.
“How’s she looking?” Matthews asked, his gaze flicking to the screens.
Chief Riggs spared him a quick glance but kept his focus on the monitors. The screens displayed live feeds of his engineering team working outside the ship, their bulky EV suits equipped with an array of tools. Three of the engineers were positioned on the starboard engine strut, a large laser cutter humming between them as they methodically worked on the damaged sections.
“Worse than the initial reports suggested,” Riggs replied, his tone all business. “Micro-meteor impacts riddled the engine nacelles. We’re sealing what we can and cutting away the worst of the damage. We’ve got the shields back to maximum, fixed the coolant leaks, and patched up the damaged armor plating. Once this team’s done, we should be good to go. Find anything interesting down there?”
Matthews rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. “Yep. Something pretty weird, actually. Looks like the planetoid was occupied by Luminist cultists.”
Riggs’ eyes widened, finally tearing his attention from the monitors. “Shit. My grandpappy used to tell stories about those freaks. None of them were ever good. His own grandfather was just a boy during their holy war—lucky to have escaped them. The atrocities they committed… hell, there are still parts of the system that bear the scars. Around Titan, there’s still debris from a destroyed Luminist attack frigate, now a tourist attraction, of course. I’m amazed they still exist.”
“Yeah, well, out here seems to be where they made their home. The colony was in ruins, so maybe we discovered their last and final holdout,” Matthews said, his voice tinged with a mixture of intrigue and unease. “Anyway, I’d better go to debrief. See you around, Chief.”
Riggs nodded, already turning back to his work. “Good luck with that. I’ll keep you posted on our progress.”
With a final nod, Matthews headed toward the debriefing room, his thoughts still on the eerie remains of the Luminist colony.
***Deep in the shadow of a distant asteroid, a ship lay in wait. The Grim Stars space pirates had been tracking the Camelot’s movements since it first entered the region. Their flagship, the Black Mamba, was a menacing sight—its dark, angular hull covered in a patchwork of stolen technology, giving it a predatory look.
Inside the dimly lit command centre, Captain Sol Marlow leaned over a holographic display that showed the Camelot’s current position. His eyes narrowed as he studied the ship his rough, scarred face a mask of concentration.
“They’re sitting ducks out here,” Sol muttered, his voice a gravelly growl. “The asteroid field did a number on them. Now they’re licking their wounds like a wounded animal.”
“Looks like they’re trying to fix the damage,” said Zera, his second-in-command, a heavily tattooed and sharp-eyed woman with a no-nonsense demeanour. She tapped a few buttons on the console, zooming in on the Camelot’s image. “We could hit them now, catch them off guard while they’re vulnerable.”
Sol smirked, baring his yellowed teeth. “Patience, Zera. Let’s see what they do next. If we strike too soon, we might lose our advantage. We’ll keep monitoring them, wait for the perfect moment.”
Zera nodded, though the gleam in her eyes betrayed her eagerness for the impending raid. “What if they detect us? The Red Brotherhood won’t be happy if we blow this. I don’t wanna be on the end of Zadar’s photon blades.”
Sol’s grin widened. “Relax Zera. We’re too well-hidden here. By the time they realise we’re on them, it’ll be too late.”
The pirates continued to monitor the Camelot, their ship’s stolen stealth systems keeping them concealed from any prying sensors. For now, the Grim Stars watched and waited, like predators eyeing their prey.
***
Meanwhile, on the Camelot, the crew was on high alert. After the tense mission on the planetoid and the ongoing repairs, the last thing they needed was another threat. But ELON, ever vigilant, had other concerns.
“Admiral Clarke,” ELON’s voice echoed through the bridge. “I am detecting a faint anomaly on our long-range sensors. It’s subtle, but I believe it could be indicative of a vessel nearby.”
Clarke, who had just returned from his debrief with Matthews and the others, snapped to attention. “What kind of vessel, ELON?”
“It appears to be a slight distortion in the surrounding electromagnetic field,” ELON replied. “Given the sophistication of our own stealth systems, I believe it’s possible we’re being monitored by a ship employing similar albeit more primitive technology.”
Clarke frowned, his eyes narrowing as he considered the implications. “Pirates?”
“It is a likely scenario,” ELON confirmed. “Their presence in Wild Space is well-documented, and they may see us as a valuable target, especially given our current condition. It is also possible that they are in the employ of the Red Brotherhood.”
“Damn it,” Clarke muttered under his breath. He turned to the bridge crew. “All stations, prepare for a potential engagement. I want every available sensor sweeping the area. If there’s something out there, I want to know about it before they get the jump on us.”
The crew sprang into action, tension crackling through the air as they prepared for the worst. Matthews, having just finished his debrief, was back in the hangar bay, readying his Talon fighter with the rest of the squadron. The repairs were progressing, but the ship wasn’t battle-ready—not yet.
“ELON, any idea how many ships we’re dealing with?” Clarke asked, his voice calm but urgent.
“Difficult to say, Admiral,” ELON replied. “The readings suggest a single vessel, but it’s possible others are hidden within the surrounding debris. I recommend extreme caution.”
Clarke nodded, his mind racing as he considered their options. The Camelot was vulnerable, and if the Grim Stars were indeed stalking them, they needed to be ready to defend themselves—and fast.
“Launch all fighters,” Clarke ordered. “We’re not going to wait for them to come to us. If they want a fight, we’ll give them one.”
***Dr. Anne Colter stood outside Matthews' quarters, her hand hesitating just before she knocked on the door. She had been mulling over what to say, replaying the events on the planetoid in her mind. She owed him her life, and that wasn’t something she could easily brush off. Finally, she gathered her courage and knocked softly.
“Come in,” Matthews’ voice called from inside.
The door slid open, and she stepped in, immediately feeling the shift from the cool, sterile corridors of the ship to the warmer, more personal space of Matthews’ quarters. He was seated on the edge of his bunk, still in his flight suit, albeit unzipped to the waist. From the dampness of his hair he must’ve just had a wash. His eyes softened when he saw her.
“Doctor,” he said, rising to his feet. “What brings you here?”
“Please, call me Anne,” she said with a small smile. “I just wanted to thank you... for what you did back on the planetoid. If you hadn’t been there... I—”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Matthews interrupted, his tone gentle. “I was just doing my job.”
She stepped closer, her hands clasped in front of her. “No, it’s more than that. You didn’t have to put yourself in harm’s way, but you did. I owe you my life, lieutenant.”
He shrugged, trying to downplay his actions, but the sincerity in her voice and the look in her eyes made it impossible for him to dismiss. “I’m sure you would have done the same for me.”
She shook her head slightly, her blonde hair catching the light. “Maybe. But it wasn’t me saving you. It was you who saved me, and that’s something I won’t forget.”
There was a moment of silence, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Anne took a small step closer, her gaze locked on his. “Lieutenant...”
“Call me Matthews,” he said his eyes looking deeply into her own.
“Matthews… I don’t know what it is, but ever since I met you, I’ve felt... different. Like there’s something more here.”
He could feel the tension building, his pulse quickening. She was close now, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering longer than it should have.
“I’ve felt it too,” he admitted, his voice low. “Ever since we started, I saw you... I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.”
She smiled, the distance between them closing even more. “Maybe it’s just the stress, the danger of it all...”
“Maybe,” he replied, but the hungry look in his eyes said otherwise.
Their faces were inches apart now, the tension between them palpable. He leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, but she didn’t. Instead, she closed the gap, her lips brushing against his in a soft, tentative kiss. It was as if the world around them melted away, leaving only the two of them in that moment.
Matthews deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. She responded in kind, her hands sliding up his chest, feeling his strong muscles. The kiss grew more urgent, more passionate, as the barriers of being professionals began to crumble. But just as things were about to escalate further, the ship’s alarms blared, jolting them both back to reality. The urgent red lights in the room flickered, casting an ominous glow over their faces.
“All pilots. Report to your fighters. Battle Stations,” Admiral Clarkes voice said over the comm.
“Damn it,” Matthews muttered, pulling away reluctantly. “I have to go.”
Anne nodded, her breathing still heavy from the kiss. “I understand.”
He grabbed his helmet disc from the nearby table and turned to her, his expression a mixture of regret and determination. “We’ll have to pick this up later.”
She smiled; a bit breathless herself. “I’ll hold you to that.”
With one last look, Matthews rushed out of his quarters, his heart pounding.
***Matthews sprinted through the corridors of the Camelot, the alarms blaring in his ears as red lights flashed overhead. The urgency of the situation drowned out everything else—the kiss, the moment with Anne—it all faded into the background as his focus narrowed to the mission at hand.
He reached the hangar bay, where the chaos of battle preparation was in full swing. Mechanics were making last-minute adjustments to the fighters, and pilots were strapping into their cockpits. The roar of engines echoed through the massive chamber as Matthews bolted toward his Talon.
“Matthews, over here!” Coel’s voice cut through the noise, and Matthews saw him already in his fighter, helmet on, ready to launch. Matthews gave him a quick nod before leaping into his own cockpit. The canopy hissed shut, sealing him in the familiar confines of the Talon’s cockpit.
“ELON, status?” Matthews barked as he put on his helmet and powered up his fighter, the systems coming online with a series of beeps and hums.
“We’ve detected multiple hostile vessels and a swarm of pirate fighters of unknown design. Judging by their heat signatures they appear to be rather crude amalgamations of various stolen and captured fighter craft,” ELON’s calm voice replied. “The Camelot is currently outnumbered and outgunned. Captain Valdez is formulating a strategy.”
“Just give me the targets,” Matthews muttered, checking his weapons systems. “I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Coordinates uploaded to your HUD, Lieutenant.”
“Good. Let’s light them up.”
The hangar bay doors slid open, revealing the vastness of space beyond. Matthews could see the flashes of the Camelot’s energy weapons lancing out toward the enemy as they opened sending. His heart pounded in his chest as he gripped the controls, feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline that always came before a fight.
“Core, you are clear for launch,” Valdez’s voice came over the comms. “Stay close, stay sharp. We’re outnumbered, but we’re not outmatched. Remember your training and follow my lead.”
“Copy that, Captain,” Matthews responded, his voice steady despite the tension. The others also checked in.
One by one, the fighters launched from the Camelot, their engines flaring as they shot out into the blackness of space. Matthews felt the familiar pull as his Talon fighter accelerated, the ship responding to his every command with precision and power.
As soon as they cleared the hangar, they were in the thick of it. Pirate fighters swarmed toward them.
The pirate fighters were a chaotic blend of stolen and reengineered craft. Unlike the sleek, uniform Talon fighters of the Star Core, these pirate vessels were a hodgepodge of parts and technologies, cobbled together from whatever the pirates could salvage, steal, or scavenge from the battlefields of Wild Space.
Some of the fighters bore the distinctive angular lines of older, decommissioned EF military craft, their original hulls now scarred and patched with mismatched armour plating from various sources. The pirates had modified these ships, replacing their standard issue weapons with more volatile and unpredictable armaments—missiles scavenged from captured cruisers, energy cannons repurposed from disabled freighters, and even laser turrets ripped from civilian transport ships. The result was a collection of fighters that, while visually disjointed, could pack a serious punch in combat.
Others were clearly of Martian origin, their sleek, aerodynamic designs now marred by hasty repairs and aftermarket additions. Some had additional engines strapped to their hulls, providing a burst of speed at the cost of stability. Mixed in with these were the remnants of civilian craft—shuttles and cargo haulers converted into makeshift fighters. These vessels, once used for transport and trade, now bristled with crude weaponry and makeshift armour. Their heavy, cumbersome frames contrasted sharply with the more nimble fighters, but they compensated with reinforced hulls that could absorb a surprising amount of damage. Some even had whole sections of their interiors repurposed as storage for additional munitions or even boarding parties, ready to launch attacks on larger vessels.
Each ship bore the unique marks of its owner, with graffiti, insignias, and personal emblems spray-painted across the hulls, giving the fleet a ragtag, rebellious appearance.
Their formations were just as unpredictable as their ships. They swarmed like locusts, their mixed fleet creating a chaotic battlefield where the line between friend and foe was often blurred.
“Engage, engage!” Valdez ordered, her voice cutting through the chaos.
Matthews banked hard to avoid a volley of enemy fire, then rolled his Talon into a tight spin to get behind an enemy fighter. He squeezed the trigger, and his cannons erupted with a stream of energy bolts. The pirate fighter exploded in a bright ball of fire, debris scattering in all directions.
“Nice shot, Matthews!” Coel called out over the comms, as he took down another pirate craft. “But there’s plenty more where that came from.”
Matthews didn’t need to be told twice. The enemy fighters were everywhere, darting in and out of his vision as they tried to overwhelm the Star Core pilots. It was like fighting a swarm of angry hornets—every time they took one down, two more seemed to take its place.
Suddenly, his sensors screamed with warnings. Three new signatures had jumped into the fight—frigate-class pirate ships, bristling with weaponry.
“We’ve got incoming frigates!” Carbin shouted. “They’re targeting the Camelot!”
The situation was rapidly deteriorating. The Camelot was a powerful ship, but with its recent damage and the overwhelming numbers of the enemy, they were at serious risk of being overrun. The ship now turned its guns on the new arrivals and began a roll manoeuvre to bring its strongest shields to bear. The frigates opened fire creating bright flares where the shields were being pummelled.
Valdez’s voice came through the comms, calm but urgent. “All fighters, listen up! We can’t take these frigates head-on, not with their numbers. We need to draw them away from the Camelot so that the Havoc bombers can launch and take out those frigates. We’re going to lure these bastards into the asteroid field.”
Matthews’ eyes flicked to his HUD, where the asteroid field loomed large. It was a risky move—navigating through that debris while under fire would be a nightmare. But it was their best shot.
“Copy that, Captain,” Matthews replied, already adjusting his course. The others fell in beside him, their fighters forming a tight formation.
“Stay close, keep your shields up, and follow my lead,” Valdez instructed. “We’re going to make them chase us, then lose them in the field. Camelot, hold position and keep those frigates occupied as long as you can.”
“Understood, Captain. Good luck,” Admiral Clarke’s voice came over the comms, laced with tension.
Matthews and the others accelerated toward the asteroid field, firing off a few parting shots at the pursuing pirate fighters to keep them interested. The pirates took the bait, their bloodlust driving them to pursue the Star Core fighters into the dangerous terrain.
“Watch your six,” Matthews called out as they entered the asteroid field, the massive rocks hurtling past them at deadly speeds. He weaved through the debris, his Talon’s engines straining as he pushed the ship to its limits.
Behind them, the pirate fighters followed, their superior numbers making them bolder. But the asteroids were as much a danger to them as they were to the Star Core, and the pirates soon found themselves struggling to keep up.
“I’ve got one on my tail!” Coel shouted, his voice tight with strain.
“I’m on it!” Matthews replied, swinging his fighter around in a tight arc. He lined up the pirate fighter in his sights and fired, forcing it to shy away. An alarm flashed and he threw the fighter into a dive just as a missile shot past him. It flew by striking an asteroid.
The explosion sent a shockwave through the surrounding asteroids, causing several to shift course and create even more obstacles. Matthews gritted his teeth as he narrowly avoided a spinning chunk of rock the size of a sky car. His shields flared as they were struck by smaller rocks.
“Keep moving!” Valdez urged. “We’re almost there.”
The plan was working. The pirates, had bloodlust in their hearts. They sensed the vulnerability of their prey and followed them deeper into the asteroid field to finish them off. The chaotic battlefield was a flurry of laser fire, missiles, and the deadly dance of ships weaving through the asteroid field.
“Keep tight, everyone!” Valdez’s voice crackled over the comm, cutting through the chaos. “We’re drawing them into the field—stay focused!”
Matthews darted through the dense asteroid belt, his Talon twisting and turning as he desperately tried to evade the weapons fire of the pirate fighters pursuing them.
To his right, Corporal Royth Rand maneuvered his Talon around a massive asteroid, using the rock as cover before looping back out to engage another group of pirate ships. His deep voice came over the comm, a hint of excitement and determination in his tone. “Got another in sight. Moving to engage!”
“Roger that, Rand. Keep it tight,” Matthews replied, his eyes scanning the field, noting the shifting positions of the asteroids and the fighters alike.
But in the frenzy of battle, even the best pilots could make a fatal error. As Rand banked hard to avoid incoming fire, an asteroid suddenly shifted in his path, its trajectory altered by a nearby explosion. Rand’s Talon clipped the edge of the massive rock, the impact sending his fighter spinning out of control.
“Rand, pull up!” Yumi shouted, her voice urgent as she watched her wingman in peril.
“I—I'm trying—!” Rand’s voice was filled with panic as he fought to regain control, but the damage was done. The Talon’s stabilizers failed, and the fighter careened wildly, slamming into another asteroid with a sickening crunch. The ship shattered on impact, debris scattering across the void.
The comms fell deathly silent for a heartbeat, the loss sinking in like a cold knife. The first casualty of the mission.
“Damn it!” Matthews swore, his hands tightening on the controls, his mind racing. Royth Rand, one of their own, was gone—just like that.
“Stay focused, Core,” Valdez’s voice came over the comm, firm yet tinged with grief. She was holding it together, but they all knew what this loss meant. “We’re not done yet.”
The remaining pilots pressed on, but the mood had shifted. The pirates, emboldened by the kill, pressed their attack, forcing the squad to dig deep and find the resolve to continue the fight.
Matthews gritted his teeth, his focus razor-sharp as he targeted another pirate fighter. “For Rand,” he muttered, pulling the trigger and watching as his kinetic cannon fire tore through the enemy ship.
The Talon squadron continued their desperate manoeuvring through the asteroid field, drawing the pirates deeper into the treacherous terrain, each pilot pushing their ship to the breaking point, but Valdez’s plan was working. The asteroids were as much an enemy to the pirates as they were to the Star Core, and one by one, the pirate ships were being picked off, either by the Core’s superior tactics or by the unforgiving rocks.
“Havocs are away,” said ELON. Matthews dared a glance at his sensors and sure enough the slower but heavily armed Havoc bombers had launched from the Camelot.
“Give them hell,” Sung snarled over the comm.
The Havoc bombers, lumbering but formidable, emerged from the Camelot’s hangar and immediately set course for the pirate frigates. Unlike the nimble Talons, the Havocs were built for heavy assaults, armed to the teeth with high-yield missiles and powerful energy cannons. Their thick armour made them resilient against enemy fire, and they carried enough firepower to turn the tide of any battle.
As the Havocs advanced, the pirate frigates, which had been focusing their attacks on the Camelot, began to react. Their turrets swivelled, spitting out streams of laser fire, but the bombers pressed on, shrugging off the glancing hits. The first Havoc reached missile range and let loose a salvo of heavy torpedoes, the projectiles streaking through space toward their targets.
The frigate’s shields flashed as they absorbed the initial impacts, but the relentless assault from the Havocs quickly overwhelmed them. Explosions rippled across the frigate's hull as the missiles found their marks, tearing through the outer armour and igniting secondary explosions within.
“Direct hit! Their shields are failing!” ELON’s voice came through the comms, laced with a rare note of satisfaction.
“Press the attack!” Valdez ordered, her tone sharp and focused.
The pirates, now realizing the full scale of the threat, began to panic. Frantic messages and orders filled the comm channels as the pirate commanders tried to recall their fighters from the asteroid field to defend their capital ships. But it was too late. The Talons, still weaving through the asteroids, saw the opening and moved to strike.
“Now’s our chance! Hit them hard!”
The squadron broke from the asteroid field, engines flaring as they rocketed after the fleeing pirate fighters. The pirates, caught between the relentless assault of the Havocs and the sudden, vicious counterattack from the Talons, were thrown into disarray.
Matthews targeted a pirate fighter attempting to make an attack run on a Havoc, and with a squeeze of the trigger, his cannons shredded the enemy ship, sending debris spinning into the void. All around him, the Core pilots were doing the same, cutting through the retreating pirates with brutal efficiency.
“They’re breaking!” Coel’s voice came over the comms, a mix of excitement and adrenaline. “They’re scattering!”
“Keep up the pressure,” Valdez ordered. “Don’t let them regroup!”
The pirate frigates, now severely damaged and with no fighter cover, began to retreat. One of the frigates, unable to withstand the relentless bombardment from the Havocs, erupted in a massive explosion, the blast wave knocking out several nearby pirate fighters to create smaller explosions.
“Frigate down!” Sung reported, his voice tinged with grim satisfaction.
The remaining frigates, their confidence shattered, turned tail and fled, their engines flaring as they made a desperate bid to escape. The Talons gave chase, picking off the stragglers, while the Havocs focused their fire on the retreating capital ships, ensuring they would never return to the fight.
“Camelot, this is Blue Squadron,” Valdez said, her voice steady. “The pirate fleet is in full retreat. We’re mopping up the last of their fighters.”
“Understood, Captain,” Admiral Clarke’s voice responded, a note of relief in his tone. “Well done, all of you. Finish up and return to the Camelot.”
Matthews took a deep breath, allowing himself a moment of satisfaction as he watched the remnants of the pirate fleet flee into the distance. The battle had been hard-fought, and they had lost one of their own, but they had survived. More than that—they had won.
As the last of the pirate fighters was destroyed, the Talons reformed and began their return to the Camelot.
“Let’s go home,” Valdez said, her voice carrying the weight of their victory and the loss they had endured.
***