POV: Lyra
'Lyra!' Hale's mind-touch shattered through my deep sleep, the telepathic urgency like ice water on my consciousness.
'What? What happened, Hale? What?' I mind-touched back in a daze, fumbling for my communicator to check the time.
0232 hours. You've got to be void-kidding me. What the hell is happening at this hour?
'Lyra, sorry to wake you but we need you here now!'
'What happened? Where's Juan? Is he okay?' I bolted out of my sleep pod, yanking a tank top over the sports bra I'd been sleeping in. My shorts would have to suffice. Hale's telepathic signature radiated panic.
'He's fine. He's speaking to Commander Frederick from Jewel Station. Please come quick. You need to hear them out.'
'Coming!'
I didn't even check my reflection in the wall panel or tie up my neural filaments as I sprinted out of my quarters. My bare feet slapped against the cold metal flooring as I hit the emergency stairs, taking them three at a time to reach the floor above. The corridor lights brightened automatically as I ran, casting my rainbow-shifting skin in harsh relief—currently cycling through alarmed yellows and combat-ready reds.
Three sharp knocks on Juan's door. The military pattern.
Juan opened immediately. "Come."
His expression made my stomach drop. Juan worried was never a good sign. My eyes quickly catalogued the room's occupants: Juan, Hale, and three from Jewel Station—Commander Frederick, his partner Felicity, and their Combat Specialist Brighton. All three I'd just met hours ago at dinner. Felicity looked like she was restraining tears, but the puffiness under her glistening multifaceted eyes showed she'd already cried extensively before my arrival.
"What happened?" I dropped all formalities despite the cross-station leadership present.
Juan's voice went flat, military. "Lyra, there's been an attack. Jewel Station lost eleven out of fifteen defense specialists."
My eyes widened, skin flashing to shocked white before I forced it back to neutral silver. "The Deputy Commander?"
"He's one of the four who survived. He transmitted the alert to Commander Frederick."
"How many Rogues?"
"At least ten, possibly more."
"When did the attack start?"
"Shortly after 0000 hours."
I nodded, emotion draining from my face as tactical mode engaged. "Then we need to leave now. They'll attack again before dawn cycle."
"Yes, we know, Lyra. Who do you need? I can mind-touch the Commanders and partners." Juan asked. This wasn't his first time leaving tactical selection to me. I knew everyone's combat capabilities by memory—every strength, every weakness, every specialty.
I stared at the wall, my consciousness running through the invisible database in my head. "Specialist Tobias, Commander Tate, Commander Zeke, Partner Zelena, Specialist Raden, Partner Lovelace, and Specialist Sylvia. Most of us can handle two Rogues simultaneously. That should suffice."
"I apologize for this, Specialist Lyra." Commander Frederick said abruptly, his pathways dim with guilt.
I dropped my tactical mask, offering him a reassuring smile. "No, Commander. Don't apologize. You did the right thing seeking assistance."
I turned to their Combat Specialist, letting command authority ring in my voice. "Specialist Brighton, you're coming with us. There's no better training than defending your station. Don't worry—we won't let anything happen to you."
"Thank you for allowing me to accompany you, Specialist Lyra." He accepted immediately, not even checking with his Commander first. Something in my voice—that certainty born from too many battles—made people trust. There was no reason not to.
"May I come along?" Commander Frederick asked. I thought he was addressing Juan, but his eyes were on me. Juan had disappeared into the refresher, concentrating on sending telepathic summons to our selected team.
I glanced at Felicity's terrified expression before answering. "Only if your partner permits it, Commander Frederick."
With so many specialists dead, the Rogues could eliminate him. She's lost enough tonight.
Before he could ask, Felicity bravely held back fresh tears, her voice muffled. "Go, Fred. You must. It's duty."
"I'll stay with Partner Felicity until you've all returned," Hale assured Frederick.
"Thank you, Partner Hale."
Juan emerged from the refresher. "Let's go."
"Hey, Lyra! Here!" Hale threw me a band when she noticed my neural filaments hanging loose—completely unprofessional for combat.
I caught it one-handed. "Thanks, Hale. C'mon, Brighton, Commander Frederick."
Juan slammed the lift controls. When the doors hissed open, we piled in, dropping to ground level in seconds. Our requested team was already in the lobby, all looking like they'd rolled out of sleep pods and sprinted here without changing. I twisted my filaments into a tight combat knot as Tobias scanned me head to toe.
"Don't look at me like that, Toby. Not the first time you've seen me combat-ready at zero notice."
He scratched his head uneasily. "Yeah, well. Still not used to it."
Not used to seeing his former academy rival leading these operations, more like.
Juan asked, "Transport shuttle tickets?"
Commander Zeke said, "Confirmed. Departure in 25 minutes. 15 minutes to the spaceport from here."
"Already arranged ground transport. Should arrive in 2 minutes," Specialist Sylvia added.
"We're not taking our own vehicles?" Commander Frederick asked.
"Docking wastes time," Juan explained simply.
"Transport's here!" Sylvia called, and everyone sprinted out.
I paused at the security checkpoint. "Benjamin, if anyone asks, tell them we went to Jewel Station. Rogue Collective attack incoming."
Benjamin's eyes widened. "You should really inform the Emperor, your—"
"Yeah, I will from transport. Thanks, Ben!"
I dove into the ground vehicle as it started moving. The vehicle accelerated toward the spaceport, city lights blurring past the windows. I pulled up my communicator and called Orion. The connection rang but he didn't answer—probably in deep sleep cycle. I sent him a priority message explaining our destination and promising details later.
He's going to be furious I didn't wake him. But eleven specialists dead? We don't have time for Imperial protocol.
My skin shifted to battle-ready orange as we sped through the night. Through the vehicle's transparisteel roof, I could see the three moons aligning—a bad omen according to old Kaelari superstition.
Superstition or not, people are dying. And I'll be damned if I let Jewel Station fall on my watch.
"ETA twelve minutes," the vehicle's AI announced.
I closed my eyes, running battle scenarios. Ten-plus Rogues, four surviving specialists, eleven dead. They'd hit the weak points, probably had inside intelligence. The second wave would come harder, expecting minimal resistance.
They're about to learn what happens when you attack stations under my protection.
"Lyra?" Juan's voice cut through my planning. "You good?"
I opened my eyes, meeting his concerned gaze. "Always am when it counts, Commander."
But inside, that familiar pre-battle calm was settling in. The same feeling from my first command at twenty cycles. The same feeling that had kept me alive through five rejections and seventeen assassination attempts.
Time to remind the Rogue Collective why the mining colony girl became the youngest Station Commander in history.
"Two minutes to spaceport," the AI announced.
I checked my chronometer: 0247 hours. If we launched by 0300, we'd reach Jewel Station by 0430. Just before dawn. Just in time.
Hold on, Jewel Station. The cavalry's coming.