The Krasnikov drifted into Sigmund's orbit, its hull bearing the scars of the two recent battles. In the silence of the command deck, the weight of their mission pressed down on everyone present. Cassian stood near the viewport, arms crossed, his face as still as stone as the verdant surface of Sigmund came into view.
The resupply was necessary; they were running low on rations, medical supplies, and a dwindling reserve of plasma-sequenced energy cores—the ship's power source. The fleet supply shortage was a result of two factors: the reconnaissance fleet it belonged to had been launched with limited provisions to keep the mission swift and covert, and the reinforcements had arrived in such a rush that they didn't account for the potential of an extended deployment.
"Scan the sector," Cassian ordered, his voice sharp but calm. "Anything unusual, I want to know about it immediately."
Rylan, seated at his console, carried out the task without hesitation. Despite the friction between him and Saria, his loyalty to Cassian was unquestionable. The man who had taken him in after his parents' deaths had earned his respect in ways that went beyond rank. Still, the presence of Saria on the ship made Rylan uneasy, even if he'd never voice it openly.
"No anomalies so far," Rylan reported, his tone clipped but professional. "Sigmund's surface traffic seems normal. No signs of interference or hidden threats."
Cassian nodded, his gaze still fixed on the planet. "Maintain vigilance. We're not taking any chances."
Nearby, Saria stood quietly, her fear of the Codex keeping her on edge. She could feel Rylan's eyes on her now and then, though he quickly looked away whenever she glanced his way. She didn't blame him for his distrust—her own actions hadn't exactly inspired confidence—but the tension between them was a distraction neither of them could afford.
"We should arrange for docking at station Sigmund-Twelve," Saria offered, stepping forward. "If the Codex plans anything here, it'll be harder for them to execute it under the station's protocols."
The Krasnikov descended toward the station, docking smoothly despite its battered state. The crew wasted no time unloading the remaining supplies to make room for the incoming shipment. Engineers and medics from Sigmund-Twelve hurried aboard to assess the ship's damage and tend to the injured.
Rylan supervised the resupply, his sharp eyes monitoring every crate and every interaction. If there was even a hint of Codex infiltration, he would catch it. His unease with Saria simmered in the background, but he kept it in check, focusing on the task at hand.
"Keep this area secure," he instructed one of the junior officers. "Triple-check the manifests. I don't want anything slipping through unnoticed."
As the operation continued, Cassian convened with Saria and a few trusted officers in the war room aboard the Krasnikov. A holographic map of Sigmund rotated slowly above the table. Cassian had delegated the hands-on coordination of the resupply to Rylan and a trusted team of officers, ensuring the operation proceeded smoothly without him.
Saria hesitated before speaking. "He doesn't trust me," she said quietly.
"He doesn't hold it against you," Cassian said. "But he's protective of his crew. They are like family to him. Prove to him that you're not a threat, and he'll come around."
The conversation ended as a chime sounded, signaling the completion of the resupply. Cassian straightened and motioned for Saria to follow him back to the command deck. The Krasnikov had what it needed to continue its journey, but the uncertainty of what lay ahead lingered like a storm cloud on the horizon.
Saria's fleet, or what remained of it after Saira switched sides, had been scattered. Cassian had made that abundantly clear when he gave her second-in-command, Jaroslav, the same ultimatum he had given her.
In the war room, Cassian stood at the head of the table, flanked by two officers.
"The Codex infiltrated your fleet," Cassian began, his tone even but carrying an edge. "We've detected at least 18 Codex operatives within your ranks, embedded over time and positioned strategically. Some of your officers were complicit in those betrayals, while others... became casualties of misplaced trust." His gaze lingered on Jaroslav, and the man straightened instinctively.
"I won't pretend that my fleet wasn't compromised," Jaroslav admitted. His voice was deep and steady, the kind that had earned him respect as a leader among Saria's people. "But the ones who remain with me now are loyal. They've shown it through their actions, and I trust them completely."
"Then they'll prove it under my command," Cassian replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Your officers will integrate into the Krasnikov's ranks. They'll answer to me and my chain of command. Those with ties to the Codex will be sent to the mining colonies or exchanged with the Erythians."
Saria stiffened but said nothing. She knew Cassian's pragmatism was necessary, but it still stung to watch her people reduced to assets in a larger game. The mention of the mining colonies struck a nerve.
These were harsh, isolated outposts, known for grueling labor and poor conditions. To be sent there wasn't just exile—it was a sentence to years of backbreaking work with little hope of return. It was Cassian's way of ensuring no further Codex influence remained, but it felt like a heavy price to pay.
Jaroslav, however, met Cassian's gaze without flinching.
"And me?" he asked.
Cassian's eyes narrowed slightly. "The deal I offered Saria applies to you as well."
Jaroslav didn't flinch. "If that's what it takes to ensure my people survive, then so be it."
Cassian studied him for a long moment, then inclined his head. "Good."
As the last of the supplies were loaded, Rylan approached Cassian, who had been overseeing the process from the dock's edge.
"All supplies accounted for," Rylan reported. "No signs of interference."
Cassian nodded but didn't look away from the activity. "Good."
As the Krasnikov prepared to depart to Celene, Saria found Jaroslav in one of the observation decks, staring out at the station, his silhouette outlined against the cold expanse of space. The weight of his decision, of the toxin now coursing through his veins, was evident in the set of his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw, and the way his hands gripped the railing as though it could anchor him against the tide of regret threatening to engulf him.
"I didn't expect to find you here," Saria said, her voice soft, almost hesitant as she approached him. The observation deck was a sanctuary of sorts, a place for those seeking solace or clarity in the vastness of the void. Jaroslav didn't turn, his gaze fixed on the station below, the lights of its bustling corridors blinking like distant stars.
"There's not much else to do," he replied after a long pause, his tone devoid of bitterness but heavy with resignation.
Saria frowned, stepping closer. "It's not a death sentence, Jaroslav. The toxin—it's a safeguard, not an execution."
He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "A safeguard that guarantees I won't live long enough to forget who holds the leash. Don't sugarcoat it, Saria. You know what this is."
She fell silent, her own emotions a tangled web of guilt and frustration. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that Cassian's methods, though harsh, were born of necessity. But the truth was undeniable: Jaroslav's life now hinged on his obedience, and the price of defiance was more than either of them wanted to consider.
"You didn't have to take the deal," she said quietly, the words carrying more weight than she intended.
Finally, Jaroslav turned to face her, his eyes dark with determination. "I did," he said firmly. "For the same reason you did. Our people deserve a chance to survive, even if it means working under someone like Cassian. If my life is the cost of that chance, so be it."
Saria looked away, her chest tightening. "He's not as heartless as he seems," she said, though the conviction in her voice wavered. "Cassian... he does what he believes is necessary."
"Necessary," Jaroslav echoed bitterly, his gaze shifting back to the station. "That's what we all tell ourselves, isn't it? That our choices, our sacrifices, are justified because they're necessary. But tell me, Saria—at what point do we stop being soldiers and start becoming monsters?"
She had no answer, and the silence that followed was as heavy as the air between them. Leaning against the railing, she stared out into the stars, her thoughts spiraling. "We're all pawns in this war," she murmured, the words more to herself than to him. "But if we play our parts right, maybe we'll live long enough to be more than that."