Present Day
The stars outside the Neon Nights were not the comforting points of light they once had been. Instead, they streaked across the viewport as smudges of white against an infinite canvas of black. To Kara Soren, they no longer felt like distant worlds, but a cold reminder of how small she and The Voyager were—two figures, adrift in the universe, running from enemies whose reach was growing more all-encompassing with each passing hour.
The cockpit, usually filled with the reassuring hum of systems operating within their normal parameters, had become unnervingly quiet. The damage they’d taken while narrowly escaping Thrace’s fleet still reverberated through the ship’s structure. Kara could feel it in the subtle tremor beneath her boots, in the warning pings that blinked like silent alarms on the console. The Neon Nights was a ship accustomed to peril, but even she had limits.
“Shields at twenty-eight percent,” Kara muttered, more to herself than to The Voyager. Her fingers moved instinctively over the control panel, recalibrating power distribution as best as she could. But it was a temporary fix, a stop-gap solution to a problem that would soon become impossible to outrun.
“We won’t last through another direct hit like the last one,” she added, her voice low, almost absorbed into the muted atmosphere of the ship.
Across the cockpit, The Voyager sat motionless in the co-pilot’s chair. His dark eyes, glassy and distant, stared out at the endless void. He’d been like this since they’d entered hyperspace—silent, contemplative, almost absent. Kara had seen him like this before, during the quiet moments between the chaos, and she understood now that it wasn’t just exhaustion that haunted him. It was something much deeper. Guilt, perhaps. Regret.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, her voice soft but tinged with a hint of genuine curiosity. Kara wasn’t one to pry, but there was something about the way he carried himself, something that felt heavier now than it had before. The weight of the universe, she thought.
The Voyager blinked slowly, as if waking from a trance. His gaze shifted from the viewport to the console in front of him, though he didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular.
“We’re running out of time,” he said after a long silence, his voice a low murmur. There was no urgency in his tone, just a quiet resignation. “Thrace knows more than I thought. He won’t stop until he gets what he wants.”
Kara frowned, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms. “And what is that exactly? Just the Signal? Or is it something more personal?”
For a moment, The Voyager didn’t respond. His face remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes—an emotion he quickly buried. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, but the undercurrent of tension was unmistakable.
“He doesn’t just want control of the Signal. He wants to break the galaxy, to turn it into his personal battlefield. That’s what he’s always been after—war. But he doesn’t understand.”
Kara raised an eyebrow, though her expression remained guarded. “And you do?”
“I’ve seen what it can do. It’s not just… data or energy. It’s something beyond us. The Syndicate wants to exploit it, Thrace wants to weaponize it, but the truth is, it’s chaos. And chaos doesn’t bow to anyone.”
His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Kara let them settle, her mind turning over the possibilities. She had never been one for philosophical musings, but there was no denying the stakes they were playing with. The galaxy itself seemed to be unraveling, and the Signal was at the heart of it. But there was something else too, something that had been gnawing at her ever since they’d escaped Thrace’s grasp.
“What about you?” she asked, her voice quieter now, as though she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer. “What are you after?”
The Voyager’s gaze snapped to hers, and for a moment, there was an intensity in his eyes that caught her off guard. But then it was gone, replaced by the same calm mask he always wore.
“I’m trying to stop the inevitable,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Kara narrowed her eyes, but before she could press him further, a sharp alert pinged on the console. Her heart jumped into her throat as her fingers flew over the controls, instinctively checking the ship’s systems.
“Damn it,” she muttered, her pulse quickening. “We’ve got a power drain. Something’s pulling on the core—hard.”
The Voyager was already moving, his focus shifting from the philosophical to the practical in an instant. He leaned over the console, his eyes scanning the data streaming across the screen. “It’s the secondary thruster assembly. Looks like one of the power couplings is failing.”
Kara bit her lip, her mind racing. They didn’t have time for this. Not now. Not when Thrace’s fleet could be back on their tail at any moment. “We can’t stop to fix it,” she said, frustration creeping into her voice. “Not unless you want to be space dust.”
The Voyager’s expression was grim, but calm. “Then we don’t stop. We reroute power from the shield array. It’ll give us enough time to reach the Free Worlds.”
Kara hesitated for the briefest of moments, her eyes flicking to the shield diagnostics. The shields were already dangerously low. If they took another hit—
“We don’t have a choice,” The Voyager said quietly, reading her hesitation. “It’s either that, or we don’t make it at all.”
Reluctantly, Kara nodded and began the power transfer, her fingers moving with precision and speed. The ship’s systems groaned in protest, the strain evident in the flickering lights and the sharp increase in the hum of the engines.
“We’ll make it,” she said, though whether she was trying to reassure herself or The Voyager, she wasn’t entirely sure.
Admiral Rygar Thrace stood on the bridge of the GCS Resolution, his hands clasped tightly behind his back as he stared at the void outside the massive viewports. His scarred face was illuminated by the cold, sterile glow of the tactical displays around him, casting long shadows across his severe features. Every muscle in his body was coiled with tension, though outwardly he projected the image of perfect control.
Behind him, the hum of the bridge’s machinery was punctuated by the quiet murmurs of his crew, all moving with the mechanical precision he demanded of them. There was no room for error aboard his ship. Not when The Voyager was still out there, still slipping through his grasp like a phantom.
“Admiral,” came the voice of his tactical officer from one of the side consoles. “We’ve lost them.”
Thrace’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t turn. “They’re not gone,” he said, his voice low, cold. “He’s just buying himself time.”
The officer hesitated, clearly unnerved by the icy calm in Thrace’s tone. “Sir, their trajectory suggests they’re heading toward the outer rim. Possibly toward Free Worlds space.”
Thrace’s eyes narrowed, his thoughts churning. The Free Worlds Alliance. It made sense. The Voyager was running out of places to hide, and the Alliance was one of the few factions left in the galaxy that hadn’t yet succumbed to the Syndicate’s control.
But the Alliance wouldn’t be enough to protect him. Thrace would see to that.
“Prepare the fleet for pursuit,” Thrace ordered, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “And contact our allies within the Syndicate. I want every available resource at our disposal.”
The officer nodded and quickly moved to carry out the command, but before he could leave, a new figure stepped onto the bridge. Rina Torrin, her sharp eyes gleaming with cold calculation, moved with the deliberate grace of someone who was used to being in control. Her presence on the bridge was a constant reminder of the Syndicate’s influence, and Thrace’s reliance on their resources—something that grated against him more than he would ever admit.
“You seem tense, Admiral,” Rina said softly, her voice carrying a hint of amusement as she approached him. “I take it The Voyager is still proving… elusive.”
Thrace’s expression didn’t change, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. “He won’t elude me for long.”
Rina smiled faintly, though there was no warmth in it. “You’ve been saying that for years, haven’t you?”
Thrace’s hands tightened behind his back, but he kept his gaze fixed on the tactical display in front of him. “What do you want, Rina?”
Rina’s eyes sparkled with amusement, though her tone remained smooth and controlled. “The Syndicate is growing impatient, Admiral. Resources are being poured into this little vendetta of yours, and yet we have little to show for it.”
Thrace finally turned to face her, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a gaze that could freeze blood. “This isn’t a vendetta. It’s a war. And The Voyager is the key to ending it.”
Rina arched an eyebrow, though her smile never faltered. “The key to ending it, or the key to settling old scores?”
For a moment, the two stood in silence, the tension between them palpable. Rina was one of the few people who could speak to Thrace this way and survive it. Her influence within the Syndicate ran deep, and Thrace knew that crossing her would come with consequences he couldn’t afford—not yet, at least.
“The Voyager has knowledge that we need,” Thrace said, his voice low and controlled. “The Signal, the distortions—they’re the future of warfare. Whoever controls them will control the galaxy.”
Rina’s smile faded slightly, replaced by something more calculating. “And yet you’ve failed to capture him at every turn. What makes you think this time will be different?”
Thrace stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “Because this time, I know where he’s going.”
Rina’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
“The Free Worlds Alliance,” Thrace said, his voice a quiet growl. “He’s heading there for protection. But the Alliance is weak. They’re fragmented, and their leadership is divided. They won’t stand against the Syndicate for long.”
Rina tilted her head slightly, considering his words. “And what exactly do you plan to do when you catch him? Kill him and hope you can extract the information posthumously?”
Thrace’s expression darkened, his eyes flashing with a dangerous intensity. “No. He’ll be brought in alive. I want him to see what happens when he fails.”
Rina’s smile returned, though it was colder this time. “Just remember, Admiral—The Syndicate’s interests come first. Don’t let your personal vendetta cloud your judgment.”
Thrace didn’t respond, his gaze already shifting back to the tactical display. The Syndicate might hold the purse strings, but this was his war. And he wouldn’t stop until The Voyager was in his grasp.
Back on the Neon Nights, Kara could feel the strain on the ship’s systems growing with each passing moment. The power reroute had bought them some time, but it was a fragile balance, one that could tip in the wrong direction at any moment.
Her fingers moved quickly over the controls, making constant adjustments to keep the ship stable. She could feel The Voyager’s eyes on her, his presence a steadying force even as the situation became more desperate.
“We’re almost at the edge of Free Worlds space,” Kara said, her voice tense but focused. “If we can make it to the Alliance, we’ll have a chance.”
The Voyager said nothing, but she could sense his unease. It wasn’t just Thrace that weighed on him—it was something deeper, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“Kara,” he said quietly, his voice cutting through the tension in the cockpit. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Kara glanced at him, her brow furrowing. “Now? We’re kind of in the middle of something.”
The Voyager hesitated, his eyes dark with unspoken thoughts. “It’s about the Signal. There’s more to it than you know.”
Kara’s fingers froze over the controls, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“The Signal… it’s not just a weapon, or a tool. It’s something ancient, something powerful. And it’s connected to the distortions, to the unraveling.”
Kara’s heart skipped a beat, her mind racing to catch up with what he was saying. “You mean… it’s causing the unraveling?”
The Voyager shook his head. “No. It’s not causing it. But it’s part of it. The unraveling is bigger than any of us, bigger than the Syndicate, bigger than the Consortium. And the Signal is tied to it. It’s… a key.”
“A key to what?” Kara asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The Voyager’s eyes darkened, his face etched with a gravity that sent a chill down her spine. “A key to everything.”
Before Kara could respond, the ship’s proximity alarms blared, jolting them both out of the moment. She quickly turned her attention back to the controls, her heart racing as she scanned the sensors.
“We’ve got company,” she muttered, her fingers flying over the console. “Multiple contacts—looks like a patrol fleet.”
The Voyager’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. “Free Worlds?”
Kara shook her head, her expression grim. “No. Syndicate.”
For a moment, the cockpit was filled with the shrill whine of the alarms, the weight of the situation pressing down on them like a vice. They were out of options, out of time.
“Hold on,” Kara said, her voice tense as she pushed the Neon Nights into a hard turn, the ship groaning under the strain. “This is gonna get rough.”
The ship lurched violently as Kara threw it into evasive maneuvers, the stars outside spinning wildly as they dodged incoming fire from the Syndicate ships. The Neon Nights was fast, but the Syndicate fleet was relentless, their firepower overwhelming.
“We’re not gonna make it,” Kara muttered, her knuckles white as she gripped the controls.
But The Voyager’s expression remained calm, his eyes focused. “Yes, we will.”
Kara glanced at him, her heart pounding in her chest. “How can you be so sure?”
The Voyager didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the stars beyond the viewport.
“We have to be,” he said quietly.
And as the Neon Nights hurtled through the chaos, pursued by the full force of the Syndicate’s might, Kara couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, they were running not just from Thrace and his fleet, but from something much larger—something far more dangerous than they could have ever imagined.