Chapter 7: The Calm Before The Storm

The Ironsight floated silently in the aftermath of battle, surrounded by the debris of the Necrolythian auxiliary craft they had destroyed. Rhys watched the scanners, noting the retreat of the Necrolythian fleet. It wasn't like them to back off easily.

"They're… pulling back?" Jax said, disbelief thick in his voice as he observed the enemy ships retreating into the void. "I thought these bastards didn't know the meaning of retreat."

Rhys kept his eyes on the scanners, piecing together what had just happened. "They lost their Titan-class ship," he muttered. "That's why they're retreating."

Jax blinked in realization. "Right… they can't push our lines without that monster."

The destruction of their Titan-class ship had been decisive. The Necrolythians, normally relentless in their advances, were forced to retreat. Rhys knew this wasn't over—only delayed. Still, the sight of the once-unstoppable fleet retreating offered a temporary sense of relief.

"Whoever that Arbiter-class warmachine was," Rhys continued, thinking of Kross, "he saved us."

"Well, I'm just glad we're not the ones getting vaporized out here," Jax said, relaxing slightly.

For a moment, neither spoke. The scanner's soft beeping and the hum of the ship's engines were the only sounds between them. It had been a long, brutal fight. Now, with the Necrolythians retreating and the immediate danger passed, the weight of everything they'd been through in the last few hours began to settle on them.

Rhys shut off the scanner and stood up, stretching his muscles. The battle was over, but there was no sense of victory in the air. He could see it in Jax's eyes, too. They were both exhausted, not just physically but mentally. The battles were taking their toll, and it wasn't something either of them talked about much.

"I'm gonna walk around for a bit," Rhys muttered. "Clear my head."

Jax nodded, slumping in his seat, too tired to follow. "Yeah, you do that. I'll make sure nothing else out there is looking to sneak up on us."

Rhys gave him a short nod, then made his way to the ship's lower levels. The Ironsight wasn't a large ship by any means, but it had enough room for him to find some peace and quiet away from the bridge. He walked slowly, taking in the familiar sights of the corridors he'd come to know over the years. This ship had been his home for what felt like a lifetime. Now, more than ever, it felt like the only place he could feel even the slightest bit safe.

He stopped by the armory, not because he needed to check the weapons—he trusted Jax's meticulous care of their gear—but because he found comfort in the routine. Running his fingers over the racks of blasters and pulse rifles, he thought about how many times he'd had to grab one in a hurry, running out to face whatever enemy was on the horizon. It was strange how something so deadly could feel so familiar.

He picked up his personal sidearm, the one he always carried into battle, and held it for a moment. The weight of it was solid in his hand, a reminder of all the times it had saved his life. But now, standing there in the stillness, he couldn't help but wonder how many lives it had ended, too. He had never kept count. It was better that way.

After a while, he holstered the weapon and continued his aimless walk through the ship.

***

Up in the bridge, Jax leaned back in his chair, staring at the empty space on the screen. His fingers traced the edges of a data pad absentmindedly, though his mind wasn't on the scanner.

He hated moments like this—the quiet after the fight. It left too much space for the thoughts he'd rather not have. The kind of thoughts that crept in, the ones that made him wonder what they were even doing out here. What the point of all this was.

Reaching for his pack, Jax dug around until he found a small, folded piece of paper. It was old, worn at the edges from being carried around for so long. He unfolded it carefully, his heart skipping a beat as he saw the familiar handwriting.

Stay safe, big brother. Come back home to us.

He sighed heavily, folding the paper again and tucking it back into his pocket. His sister had given it to him the day he left for the front lines. Back then, the war had seemed like something they could win, something he was proud to fight in. Now, though, after all the battles, all the destruction... he wasn't so sure anymore.

But he'd keep going. For her. He had to make it back. He had to see her again.

Jax's thoughts were interrupted by the soft hiss of the door opening behind him. Rhys stepped back onto the bridge, his expression a little less tense after his walk.

"Feeling better?" Jax asked without turning around, his eyes still on the empty screen.

Rhys grunted in response, walking past him to take his seat again. "A bit."

Jax glanced over at him. "We don't get much time to breathe between these things, do we?"

"No," Rhys agreed. "But we're still alive."

"Yeah, alive," Jax echoed, his voice quieter now.

Rhys didn't ask what was on his mind. He could tell from Jax's tone that whatever he was thinking about wasn't something either of them wanted to discuss right now. Instead, Rhys turned his attention to the incoming transmission from the space station.

"We're cleared to dock," he said, the mechanical tone of the docking controller echoing through the ship.

Jax pushed himself up in his seat, shaking off whatever had been bothering him. "Let's get this over with."