On Prireem, the skies erupted with fire and chaos.
The unified alien races stood side by side in defiance, defending their home against a threat they hadn't fully understood—until now. The alarms rang across the capital with shrill urgency, warning all civilians to retreat indoors. Above them, in the soft pastels of Prireem's atmosphere, the Empress and her sister clashed in a dazzling aerial duel.
Below, the truth finally bared its fangs.
Zen-barians, once trusted allies, shed their disguises and took formation. Shoulder to shoulder, they lined the streets in silent anticipation. One of them stepped forward, emerald skin gleaming beneath the twin suns. "We've waited long enough," he muttered, raising his rifle. In an instant, his brethren surged forward, unleashing a coordinated assault on the unprepared citizens. The silent revolution that had simmered beneath the surface was now a roaring inferno.
Meanwhile, aboard the Ascender...
Caught in the crossfire, the Starship Crusaders were under siege.
Zen-barian stormveil ships swarmed like vultures around their vessel, pounding the shields with relentless precision. Inside, Monette gripped the console, her voice tight with panic. "Shield integrity at eighty-three percent and dropping."
Arthur reclined in his seat with frustrating calm. "And what do we call this delightful scenario? Galactic welcoming party?"
Gunz whipped around, eyes blazing. "Ungrateful little brat—we just risked our necks to drag you out of that hellhole!"
"Seventy percent," Monette interjected, eyes darting across the data.
Arthur tossed his hair back dramatically. "Did it ever occur to you I didn't need saving? Tommy was my contact. You lot just tagged along like cosmic groupies!"
SkyRaider facepalmed as the argument spiraled. The plan—if one even existed—was unraveling in real time.
"Sixty-five percent!" Monette's voice cracked. She was curled in the pilot's seat, hugging her knees as the strain of maintaining the ship's systems wore on her.
"You think I wanted to rescue you?" Gunz barked, stepping forward. "Only reason I voted yes is because you're this guy's idol!" He jabbed a thumb toward SkyRaider. "If it were my call, we'd still be sipping plasma punch and leaving you in chains."
Arthur stood up, meeting his glare with equal heat. "Name's Arthur Eros, sweetheart. Learn it. And maybe I'll write a ballad about how I survived being babysat by a bucket of bolts."
"Are you two done?" SkyRaider snapped, pointing to Monette, who looked like she was on the verge of tears.
Then, a voice broke through the noise.
"Twenty."
Everyone turned to Tommy.
"Excuse me?" Raider asked, confused.
Tommy remained still, calm as ever. "It takes twenty seconds. After prolonged firing, their cannons have a twenty-second cooldown."
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're telling us this now?"
"While the rest of you were arguing—and while Monette was being completely ignored—I was tracking the attack patterns of the fleets," Tommy said calmly, arms folded. His voice was even, but edged with quiet intensity. "They follow a strict barrage interval. Monette, I know you're exhausted, but... can you give us one more push? Just enough to delay them?"
He stepped toward her, offering a reassuring smile. She looked up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. After a breath, she nodded slowly. Tommy gave her shoulder a gentle pat and turned to join the others.
SkyRaider clapped his hands and stepped into the center of the bridge. "Alright, here's the plan! When the fleet hits their twenty-second cooldown window, we bolt—straight for one of their ships. Abandon the Ascender if we have to."
Gunz stood up with a grunt, blocking SkyRaider. "Then some of us will need to stay behind. Provide cover. If we all try to run, they'll pick us off like insects."
Tommy returned to the viewport, eyes scanning the rhythm of enemy fire. Calculating. Silent.
Talbein emerged from the cargo hold, holding a set of compact, chrome devices. "Helmet tech. We clip them to our necks. Auto-deploys a pressure-sealed nanotech dome—good for short exposure in space."
He handed them out one by one—everyone received one except SkyRaider.
The captain raised a brow. "You're not giving me one?"
Talbein smirked. "You don't need one. You always find a way."
SkyRaider grinned, unbothered. "Damn right I do."
Talbein clipped his own device to his nape and tapped the center. With a soft hum, a translucent, high-tech helmet formed around his head. "Once we exit the Ascender, don't look back. Move fast, follow my lead, and aim for their cruiser. Monette, as soon as we're clear—disengage shields and divert the remaining energy to propulsion. Get this ship out of the line of fire."
She nodded, swallowing her nerves. "Got it."
The team assembled near the launch bay doors. They could feel it—the timing was almost right. Outside, the Stormveil fleet was approaching its next cooldown cycle.
Gunz cracked his knuckles. "Let's make 'em regret ever chasing us."
"Arthur, SkyRaider — you're with me," Gunz ordered. "Tommy, give the word when we move."
The trio took position at the shuttle door, muscles tense, eyes on the chaos outside.
Right on cue, the fleets ground to a halt. Tommy's voice rang out over comms: "Go!"
The shuttle doors snapped open.
Monette stepped forward, one hand blazing with a brilliant white light laced in icy blue. Energy rippled through her fingertips as she adjusted its intensity — a delicate balance between raw force and control. The fleets arrayed against them surged with hostile power, but Monette's light pushed back, holding the line for ten full seconds.
It was enough.
In that brief window, the Crusaders seized control of one of the enemy craft.
"Smooth sailing, love!" SkyRaider grinned, signaling to Gunz.
Gunz didn't hesitate. His weapon flared — and the enemy fleet erupted.
One detonation triggered another, the chain reaction blooming into a violent cascade of fire and metal.
The Crusaders stood in the aftermath, grinning like they'd just pulled off the perfect trick.
For a moment, they laughed — the warzone outside forgotten in the rush of victory.
The enemy fleet was no match for the Ascender and the Stormveil, both tearing through their ranks with surgical precision.
Then — from a roiling cluster of shadows — a rumble shook the void.
Thraq emerged.
Without hesitation, he vaulted into a waiting StarCraft and ignited its thrusters, streaking toward the distant planet Prireem.
"Gunz, wait!" SkyRaider barked over comms. "Stay here — we need you to keep anyone from getting involved on Prireem."
Gunz opened his mouth to argue. "Randall w—"
"No!" SkyRaider cut him off. "We'll take this fraud down. I'll come back for you — stay calm, brother, alright? Look after the team for me."
His voice carried both command and trust.
"Godspeed," Gunz said quietly.
SkyRaider pushed the Stormveil into overdrive, its engines roaring like a thunderclap in the void.
The hunt for Thraq had begun.