The hum of activity aboard the Aethel Spear had taken on a new intensity. Gone was the tension of a fractured crew; instead, a focused determination permeated the air. Training exercises buzzed with renewed vigor, fueled by the knowledge from Lyra and the prospect of striking back against the Harbingers.Vel stood in the strategy room, holographic displays flickering with potential targets – Harbinger outposts scattered across the galaxy, identified by the anomalies Lyra had detected. Anya, her arm fully healed, paced before them, a pointer tracing strategic routes."This base here," she said, tapping a hulking, obsidian structure, "seems heavily fortified. A frontal assault would be suicidal."Lyra, her expression unreadable, materialized beside them. "Indeed. But the anomaly readings suggest an energy core fueling the outpost. A well-placed strike could cripple their entire operation."Vel nodded. "Agreed. But how do we infiltrate such a heavily guarded facility? We can't rely solely on brute force."Anya's eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint. "That's where the new training comes in, Captain. Remember the infiltration techniques Lyra showed us? A little Aethel manipulation and some well-placed distractions could open a window of opportunity."Lyra offered a rare smile, a flicker of amusement dancing in her silver eyes. "The Ascended are quick learners. Your mastery of Aethel is commendable."A pang of guilt twisted in Vel's gut. The Ascended's rapid progress was built on the foundation of knowledge gleaned from the Exiles. Yet, since the battle, there had been no sign of them. No telepathic messages, no flickering energy signatures. Were they truly gone, or were they simply biding their time, waiting for the right moment to reemerge?The silence in the strategy room stretched, thick with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Anya broke it."We can't dwell on the unknown, Captain. We need a plan, and we need to act fast. The Harbingers won't stay dormant forever."Vel steeled himself. Anya was right. Dwelling on the past wouldn't change their situation. He needed to focus on the task at hand, on leading his crew into this critical mission."Alright," he declared, his gaze firm. "Here's the plan. We'll…"He launched into a detailed strategy, incorporating infiltration techniques, tactical maneuvers, and the precise application of Aethel manipulation as outlined by Lyra. The plan was risky, a daring gamble, but it was their best chance to disrupt the Harbingers and strike a blow against their oppressive regime.As the final details of the operation were ironed out, a faint tremor ran through the ship. A flicker of unease crossed Vel's face. It felt familiar, a sensation akin to the telepathic whispers of the Exiles.Suddenly, a voice, distorted and weak, echoed within his mind. It wasn't the Exiles' unified chorus, but a single, desperate plea."Help…" it rasped. "Danger… within…"The message cut off abruptly, leaving Vel reeling. Was it a remnant of the Exiles? A last, fading cry for help? Or something more sinister, a trap laid by the Harbingers?The unease in the room was palpable. Anya and Lyra exchanged a worried glance. The mission now held a new weight, a chilling reminder of the unseen forces at play and the ever-present danger lurking in the shadows.Vel, his heart pounding, addressed the crew. "There's been a development. We may have… additional intel. But it's unclear…"He hesitated, torn between revealing the fragmented message and the risk of sowing unnecessary panic. Before he could make a decision, a wave of nausea washed over him. He stumbled back, clutching his head as a searing pain erupted behind his eyes.Images, fragmented and terrifying, flooded his mind. Images of twisted figures manipulating dark energy, images of a familiar obsidian warship, the Mortitor, docked at a Harbinger outpost... and a flicker of silver hair, trapped within a pulsating energy field.The vision subsided as abruptly as it began, leaving Vel gasping for breath, a cold sweat clinging to his skin. He looked at Anya and Lyra, his face pale."We need to change the plan," he rasped, his voice hoarse. "The Dominion warship, the Mortitor… it's not what we thought."