Row upon row of faces stood at attention in one of the multiple cargo storage bays of Epsilon Tau A station, lit by white LEDs tuned to the cool white of a distant, forgotten sun. Magboots clung tenaciously to the epoxied steel floor, adding to the centripetal force pressing their feet against the floor.

  Commander Grayson stood atop a temporary podium composed of stacked containers with Liu quietly standing to the side. The gray banner of the Directorate flag hung on the bulkhead to their side, unfurled in its full glory. All members of the Peacekeeper crew were present, awaiting their pre-deployment speech. Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

  Grayson cleared his throat before speaking.

  “Crew of the Peacekeeper, welcome to the stage of history. I am your commander, Colonel Grayson Joseph. We are about to embark on a historic mission,” he said with a feigned conviction.

  Liu looked towards Okeke who was looking boredly away from Grayson’s face. His gaze shifted to Lin. Her face was slightly downcast and evasive. Their gazes met for a fraction of a second before veering away from each other.

  “The enemy, the self-proclaimed Eos Commonwealth, is a savage, insurgent force. One of their fleets, 6 battlecruisers strong, is attempting its final attack on Epsilon Tau. We are the Directorate's citadel in this subsector. Should we fail, the entire subsector may fall to barbarism," Grayson continued in a faint imitation of Vice Marshal Sanchez.

  With a wordless command, the rear wall lit up with a star chart. The projection showed Epsilon Tau as a central node connecting a thin band of star systems lined up against the Eos nebula, the closest point to the remainder of Directorate space and the most populated system by far, within an order of magnitude of core world levels.

  Liu's eyes shifted to Okeke, distinctly standing at one of the corners. His gaze was distant and staring forward past Grayson. The expression on his face was one of a terrifyingly calm mask that seemed to hide a roiling rage and contempt underneath. With each breath he took, his nostrils flared a bit. Liu couldn’t bear the pressure of looking at him continuously and swept his vision over the rest of the crowd. A faint energy of boredom was noticeable across the entire crew.

  “This is our mission,” Grayson said, interrupting Liu’s visual scanning of the crew.

  Another wordless command shifted the projection. Instead of a simple star chart, the display zoomed in intimately towards the binary star system of Epsilon Tau itself. Green vector arrows displayed their intended trajectory. A nearly straight path, only slightly bent by the influence of gravity, was shown to lead directly from the red giant system to its distant red dwarf binary, approximately 500 AU away. An enemy fleet was stylistically represented as a clump of six red vector arrows, pointing in at them from a trajectory originating in a system near the border with the Eos nebula. The display seemed too simple, too sanitized, almost as if it was hiding the level of violence about to be inflicted in the battle.

  “We must break the momentum of the enemy. Six battlecruisers plus unknown auxiliaries represent a major commitment of forces by the insurgency. A victory here would secure our momentum in this sector for possibly centuries. You already know the cost of defeat.”

  Grayson paused, giving the audience a chance to applaud his tactical brilliance, preparation or inspiring oratory. Instead, there was only silence. He continued, escalating his rhetoric.

  "The Peacekeeper is a heroic vessel. We are undefeated in combat and have completed all missions given to us with full commendations. This is why we are the tip of the spear, the leader of the battlecruiser squadron for this battle. It is an honor to be the vanguard of civilization."

  His lofty words had little effect on the crowd. Only the rustling of an artificial breeze against the grates of a massive air handler was heard. Some scattered applause was audible, but the source was ambiguous. Grayson's face subtly but visibly shifted with resentment. He continued his speech, but sweat began piling up on his face.

  "I have the honor of commanding this ship on the eve of this glorious battle."

  Grayson paused, half expecting the same applause that Sanchez had as ship commander at this time, but was met only with indifferent silence. He realized that there was little more that he could productively say. He looked towards Liu with a faint smirk.

  "My assistant and second in command, Lieutenant Colonel Liu Yang, will brief you on the technical details of our mission."

  Grayson stepped aside from the podium, magboots echoing on the epoxied steel of the container surfaces. Liu hesitantly turned towards the stage on hearing this command. As Grayson walked past, he touched Liu on the shoulder with an almost paternal condescension and a single fleeting glance.

  From the podium, Liu gazed upon the crowd. The dress uniform felt scratchy, wrinkled, ill-fitting. He could feel the slight wetness of sweat seeping into the back of his shirt, but he quickly reoriented his thoughts. There was nothing to fear, he reminded himself. As a veteran and a survivor, simply the honest recounting of experience would be sufficient for the crew.

  He scanned the crowd again. Okeke’s intense breath had seemed to fade into a regular rhythm, his eyes subtly more relaxed. Lin’s gaze was still periodically evasive, but repeatedly locked onto his for just a fraction of a second longer than before. Liu cleared his throat and began.

  “I am your executive officer and the military auditor of the Peacekeeper, Lieutenant Colonel Liu Yang. It is an honor to serve you in this time of crisis,” he said with a sincere humility.

  He saw that Lin lifted her eyes to meet his, without darting away again. There was a softness in her eyes that he had never noticed before. It was a look of trust, unburdened by pity or duty. It was a choice. He slowly shifted his gaze away from her and towards the entire crowd before continuing with the presentation.

  “Drive signature analysis from forward positioned sensor nodes indicates that the Commonwealth fleet has begun its deceleration burn. Allowing them to capture or destroy the orbital infrastructure of Epsilon Tau B would enable them to establish a beachhead and doom Epsilon Tau A. We must burn at full thrust, with little allowance for building up speed with repeat gravity assists. Local tugs will haul us to escape velocity at 0.3 g prior to release, at which point we will begin a burn-coast-burn trajectory.”

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  Liu visually scanned the room again. He found that the crowd was more attentive now, with eyes locked onto his figure and the screen behind him.

  “We plan to reverse thrust for a partial deceleration burn to reach maneuvering velocities, but will not commit to a full orbital deceleration until the battle is won. This will preserve our kinetic energy advantage while still enabling us to decelerate for maneuver if required. We will release our missiles at intermediate speed to achieve a balance of high ballistic speed and to allow ourselves to decelerate behind our missile screen,” he continued

  Nodding heads appeared in the crowd. Liu Yang chose to reveal the plan with full transparency. The tactical intent of the speech had been successfully conveyed, but there was one thing missing. He quickly added an emotional conclusion.

  “The remainder of the operation will depend on specific conditions encountered. We have 24 hours before the scheduled orbital departure. Please use this time to gather your belongings and energy. Let us make sure that we are prepared to complete our solemn duty to the state and people. It is my duty as the executive officer to ensure your safety. I cannot promise anything other than my utmost effort.”

  A wave of applause spontaneously erupted from the crowd of gathered officers. In the corner of his vision, Grayson’s frown deepened subtly into a scowl before quickly returning to a neutral expression.

  “All staff are dismissed. Roll call on the Peacekeeper within 18 hours,” Liu added as a final notice.

  The applause rose to a roar. Liu smiled and waved silently to the crowd. As the officers began filing out of the makeshift meeting room, he stepped away from the podium and walked towards Grayson.

  “Good speech, Lieutenant Colonel,” Grayson said in a low, cold voice. His eyes glared at Liu with the force of a laser drill.

  “I could only make it with your guidance,” Liu replied in another show of feigned deference.

  “Of course. Do not forget who is the commander on board,” Grayson stated flatly.

  “Yes sir. I am merely ensuring your mission intent is understood in terms of specific actions by the crew,” Liu said.

  Grayson glared at him before turning silently away. Liu took another breath. His shirt was damp with sweat yet again, but it was hidden beneath the outer jacket of his dress uniform. The cavernous storage bay was soon empty except for Liu Yang standing beneath the Directorate’s banner. He glanced up at it again before walking out of the room.

  The promenade was alive with activity as Liu arrived on the public walkway. Soldiers in dress uniform shuffled to the various hotels to gather their belongings while contractors and synths moved the last remaining supplies to the elevators in preparation for departure. Public viewscreens showed missiles being slowly lowered into their launch cells by loader robots with an almost reverent care. Waves of people and noise flowed around him.

  Liu walked back to the hotel to retrieve the last of his clothing. As he stood at the entrance to his room, he realized that he had no other belongings besides the experiences and credits safely locked within his head and his Neuronet chip. His body cast a faint gray shadow on the metal face of the door against the overhead lights.

  Another shadow joined him before standing still by his side, overlapping in shades of gray. He turned around in surprise, finding Lin silently placing one hand against his back. A gentle warmth was felt diffusing through the cloth of the uniform.

  Liu turned his head to look at her. Her face was a complex mix of emotions that Liu could scarcely parse. He gave her a shallow smile that quickly faded back to neutrality before turning back to the door.

  Behind him, he heard the gentle sound of her voice.

  “Good speech, Lieu- Liu,” she said quietly.

  The words hung like a mist in the air before Liu spoke up again.

  “It was what the crew needed to hear,” he replied quietly.

  “I received an AI evaluation that I didn’t apply for. It said ‘promotion due to initiative and asset preservation.’ Major.”

  “Congratulations,” he said simply. Liu smiled weakly, knowing that moving her closer to him was no salvation, only a fulfillment of his own selfish desires.

  “Thank you.”

  He turned to look at her.

  “It was just an AI evaluation,” he replied with a sigh. It was what little he could do. The decision wasn’t his. He had simply given her a small nudge on the trajectory of history and implicated himself in the process. She removed her hand, but the warmth still remained for a split second before dissipating into the cool, recycled air.

  “...See you on the ship, Lieutenant Colonel.” Lin’s voice had a subtle hint of wounded emotion and confusion, but it was cloaked in a feigned strength. Their shadows parted into two again as she left quietly. Liu looked after her, at her frame getting smaller and smaller as she walked into the distance before disappearing behind another corner.

  >Open door.

  The door slid aside. The room was as he’d left it after several days of focused duty, with an unmade bed and tangled blankets. The main lights had deactivated themselves in his absence, replacing the cozy ambiance with a stark darkness illuminated solely by the scattered light from the hallway. As Liu walked in, the lights flickered to life back to their stark daylight white, while the main viewscreen flickered to life with a disorienting, slowly tumbling view of orbit.

  >Display off.

  He lay down in the bed again, desperate for some rest before the departure burn.

  Liu’s return to the Peacekeeper was a quiet affair. The constant micro-orientations of the shuttle no longer nauseated him as he had learned to suppress the instincts of his inner ear. Being crowded with dozens of others with only a thin wall between life and death no longer unnerved him.

  The next hours passed in a blur of departure checks. Twelve hours later, Liu found himself strapped into the same haunted perch again, the restraints pressing against his chest like old friends. A cylinder of bored faces stretched above and below him, all facing the transparent central projection, all with personalized Neuronet overlays and controls customizing their reality. Lin was restrained below him at the edge of vision, staring forward into space.

  The gentle pull of the two planetary tugs attached to the Peacekeeper delivered a subtle push to his feet. Suddenly, a loud clanking was heard and the subtle pressure disappeared. Two vector arrows reversed direction relative to their ship.

  A neural announcement intruded on his thoughts and that of everyone on board.

  >Peacekeeper, all waking staff, this is Commander Grayson. System escape velocity has been reached. Tugs are away. Activating reactor in t = 10 s.

  On the central display, flickering flashes erupted in the darkness before becoming a loose lattice of steady beams. The task force lit up the darkness of interplanetary space with their reactors, tracing each other’s hulls with faint light. The reactor’s familiar nudge gave an almost imperceptibly tiny tap to Liu’s ankles. The nudging slowly grew stronger and more frequent, until it was a continuous, gentle force, propelling them forward into the black.