The interior of Kael's shuttle was quiet, the low pulse of environmental systems the only constant. Commander Elias Renn lay propped up on a jury-rigged cot, pain clearly etched into the lines of his face. A freshly applied pressure wrap braced his broken leg, and a rough sling cradled his injured arm. He was pale, but his eyes were sharper now—conscious, alert, and calculating.
Kael sat across from him, his toolset stashed in a corner, visor retracted, arms crossed loosely over his chest.
"You said… Kael Verrick, right?" Renn rasped.
"Yeah. General technician. Pre-collapse systems maintenance, some security cross-training. I've been out here trying to hold the pieces together."
Renn gave a small nod, then flinched as he shifted. "Well… you've done more than that if I'm still breathing."
Kael didn't smile. "Barely. You were wedged in a shattered crew section. Suit was intact, but you'd taken a hit—hard. I patched you up as best I could. There's no medbed onboard, just improvised tools and stubbornness."
Renn's lips twitched at that, but his gaze was distant. "I remember… getting pulled into the wreckage. Then… nothing."
"You were unconscious for maybe twenty hours," Kael said. "You were lucky I saw your distress ping."
Renn stared past him, eyes unfocused. Then, quietly: "Med Lab Module 24. That's where I came from. My team… over a hundred people made it there before the Dagger blew apart."
Kael leaned forward slightly. "Go on."
Renn's voice steadied as he spoke. "We finished evac protocols just in time. Med Lab 24 sealed. Crew, wounded, some civilian staff. Enough rations and recycled water to last months. It wasn't comfortable, but it was safe. Or so we thought."
Kael listened without interrupting.
"After about a week," Renn continued, "the outer hull started taking hits. Micro-impacts. Stress fractures. Diagnostics flagged failing systems. We had power, but we needed tools and parts—things the lab didn't have."
"So you went out."
"Yeah. My squad and I took a tethered shuttle to nearby wreckage. Same as what you're doing, I guess."
Kael's jaw tightened. "What happened?"
"We weren't alone." Renn's eyes narrowed. "We were attacked. One of those creatures—like the one you found, but massive. Five times the size. It had barbs along its spine, serrated limbs, and it moved like it was bred for vacuum. Fast. Quiet. Smart."
Kael's stomach turned. "You engaged it?"
"No choice. It ambushed us near a collapsed cargo spine. I watched Lieutenant Maris get skewered right in front of me. We scattered, tried to draw it away from the module."
"And your squad?"
"I don't know." His voice cracked. "I ordered them to fall back. Radio contact cut out. I don't know who made it back—if anyone."
He swallowed hard, then continued.
"I made it near a derelict crew wing. That's when one of the smaller ones—like the one you found—jumped me. Knocked me into a twisted support strut. That's how I broke the leg. It hit me again, tore open part of my outer plating. Oxygen was dropping. I barely managed to draw my sidearm—a supercoiled pistol. It burned half the nerves in my arm, but I shoved the barrel into its throat and pulled the trigger."
"And it died," Kael said.
"Yeah." Renn exhaled. "After that, I crawled into a sealed module and blacked out. I thought I was done."
"You almost were," Kael said. "But you're not. You're here now."
Renn nodded, but the weight in his eyes lingered.
Kael stood and crossed to the main console. "I've been salvaging what I can. I'm almost done upgrading the shuttle's internal systems. Next pass, I should be able to run long-range scans and—"
"Wait." Renn raised his good arm slightly, wincing. "You've been upgrading your shuttle?"
Kael turned slightly. "Yeah. Fabrication subsystems, signal range extenders, minor shielding improvements. I even built a basic drone—Patch. He's more personality than muscle, but he helps."
Renn blinked, clearly taken aback. "You built a fabrication suite in a six-seat shuttle?"
"Jury-rigged from scraps," Kael said. "Fusion printer's limited, but with what I've got, I can push Tier 1 production."
Renn stared at him like he was seeing Kael for the first time.
"This is way beyond protocol," he muttered.
Kael's eyes narrowed slightly. "You think we're still operating under protocol? This is post-collapse survival."
Renn didn't argue, but there was a rising urgency in his voice now. "That's all good, but I need to get back to Med Lab 24. I need to know who made it. If the monster returned… they could be dead."
Kael frowned. "You're in no condition to move. Your leg—"
"I don't care," Renn snapped. "That module was packed with people—dozens of them. We had wounded, families. If that thing came back…" He looked at Kael, jaw tight. "I can't sit here not knowing."
Kael studied him for a moment. He saw what he'd felt himself, day after day: the gnawing guilt of survival, the fear that you'd been too late, the knowledge that every second wasted might be another life gone.
"I get it," Kael said. "Believe me."
Renn's breath slowed. "I'm not trying to be a burden."
"You're not," Kael replied. "You're a damn miracle out here. But we do this smart. I've already got others depending on me."
Renn's brow furrowed. "Others?"
"Cryo Module 57 is still intact," Kael said. "Fifteen people. Eleven still in stasis—including a woman I pulled out of hydroponics. She was badly burned. I got her stabilized and placed in cryo until we have real med support."
"And the other four?"
"Awake and functional. Dr. Arlen Voss, a med tech named Juno, and two military personnel—Sergeant Ivers and Corporal Renna. They're holding the module while I scout and recover."
Renn let out a breath, tension easing slightly. "Voss is alive… Thank god. He's solid."
Kael nodded. "And like you, he's anxious for structure. Which is where you come in."
Renn blinked. "You want me to take command?"
"Someone has to. They trust me, but I'm not military. We're going to need coordination, a plan—especially if those things are breeding."
Renn leaned his head back against the wall, silent for a long moment. Then, quietly: "Alright. Soon as I can stand, I'll do what I can. We rebuild from the survivors up."
Kael looked at him with grim agreement. "And I'll finish upgrading the shuttle. Once we've got the drone set finished—hauler, scavenger, two maintenance—I'll work on a route back to your module."
"You think they're still alive?" Renn asked.
Kael stared out the viewport, stars glinting cold and distant.
"I have to."
Outside, debris drifted across the void—scraps of memory, legacy, ruin. But in the heart of a scarred shuttle, hope flickered. Broken men stitched together a path forward, piece by salvaged piece.
They weren't out of danger. Far from it.
But they weren't alone anymore.
And that made all the difference.