As everyone returned to Station Beta-65, calm slowly replaced the chaos of battle.

  In the captain’s quarters, Captain Maeric sat behind his desk while Soren stood beside him. Lyssandra and Kael rested in nearby chairs.

  Kael whispered to Lyssandra. “I know they wanted a change of scenery, but why here.”

  She answered with a voice matching his. “Best place that's quiet and peaceful to talk.”

  Across from them, a man in a simple jumpsuit lounged with casual ease while a drone hovered beside him, projecting ZI’s voice.

  “Commander, cleanup is proceeding as scheduled,” ZI reported.

  The man scrolled through a datapad and sighed. “Good. We really need to change that name, though.”

  He leaned back with a stretch. “Man, that fight took a lot out of me.”

  “It also took much out of our fleets,” ZI replied.

  “Yeah,” he admitted, setting the pad aside. “It was within expectations, but it still hit us hard.”

  “Repairs and rebuilding will take approximately six months if all proceeds on schedule,” ZI added.

  The Commander leaned back farther, testing the chair’s comfort. “Nice chair. ZI, did you—”

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  “Move the citadel to a safer location and station ships to make it appear strategically important?” ZI interrupted smoothly. “Yes.”

  The man smiled faintly. “Thanks, ZI.”

  Around them worry looks of how relaxed about the aftermath of the battle they were. Their minds still, comprehending everything.

  Lyssandra took the opening.

  “How much of that was actually within expectations?”

  “Around fifty percent, give or take,” the Commander replied casually, eyes still half-closed.

  The way he said it… like he’d repeated that answer too many times over the years… chilled them more than the number itself.

  The answer hung in the air. Kael was the first to speak.

  “That’s half your entire force. Why do you sound okay with that?”

  The man waved a hand lazily, almost dismissive.

  “It’s fine. That was only the first line of defense. We’ve got several more to fall back on.”

  ZI’s drone gave a polite nod of agreement, as if that explanation made perfect sense.

  The room went silent, the atmosphere thick with disbelief.

  The Commander finally lifted his head, noticing the astonished faces around him — the shock he’d almost forgotten people still had.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked, genuinely puzzled, like he couldn’t see what they were seeing.

  A heavy silence settled in. No one answered.

  To the Solomon crew, his calm was more frightening than the losses themselves.

  Outside, Station Beta-65 rotated slowly against the dead-sector light, the world itself seeming to hold its breath.