The Foxfire Saga

The hangar bay pulsed with noise and motion. Drones of voices, the clang of tools, the whir of loaders shuttling parts from one ruined section of the Sovereign to another.

Cassandra Holt barely noticed.

A week had passed since the enemy frigate vanished into the void, and in that time, the Sovereign had become a hive of triage. Patching hull breaches. Rerouting power. Trying, and failing, to make sense of what they'd encountered.

For Cassandra, the days had become a blur of half-answers and mounting frustration.

Her current frustration had a name: Mark Weston.

The engineer crouched beside one of the salvaged drones, sleeves rolled, attention fixed on a charred circuit matrix. The drone itself was a twisted wreck of alien alloy, its hull etched with strange runes that had scorched faint patterns into the plating, still faintly iridescent in certain light.

Weston's hands moved with methodical calm, probing the internals with a handheld scanner. His expression was unreadable. Focused. Detached.

Cassandra stood nearby, arms folded tight. Her tone was clipped.

"You've been at this for days, Weston. Tell me we've found something useful."

Weston didn't glance up. "It's a drone," he said flatly. "It flies. It shoots. It's got shields we can't replicate. That's the summary."

Her jaw tightened. "We pulled this thing off the battlefield in one piece. You're telling me we can't figure out anything? No energy source, no shield composition, not even a data core?"

He finally set the scanner aside with deliberate care and exhaled through his nose.

"It's not a toaster, Lieutenant. There's no instruction manual tucked inside."

He picked up another component, something like a twisted coil of black metal, and scanned it again, frowning.

"These systems aren't just unfamiliar. They're unresponsive. The tools we use to interface with standard tech? They don't work. Half the time, I'm not even sure this thing's dead."

Cassandra took a step closer, voice dropping. "We don't have time for mystery, Weston. If we see these again, and we will, I need answers."

At that, he looked up. Met her eyes.

Something flickered there. Annoyance, yes, but beneath it, a bone-deep fatigue.

"You think standing over my shoulder is going to speed things up?"

She didn't answer.

He let the silence hang a second too long before setting the scanner down on the magnetized plate with a sharp clack. The sound echoed.

Then, pointedly: "You want answers? Try asking the fox in the medbay. She seems to have a better grasp of weird than the rest of us."

Cassandra blinked. The words landed harder than she expected.

She straightened. Her expression cooled.

"Just keep working," she said, turning sharply. "I'll get my answers one way or another."

She didn't wait for a response. But as she moved away, Mark's muttered words followed her:

"Sure you will, Lieutenant. Sure you will."

She didn't stop. Didn't look back.

The path to the medical deck felt longer than it should've, even in zero gravity.

Cassandra moved with practiced efficiency, gripping the handrails and launching herself forward with smooth, clipped motions. But beneath her calm exterior, frustration simmered.

His words gnawed at her.

Calloway met her at the entrance, arms crossed, expression already wary.

"Lieutenant Holt," she said coolly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Cassandra didn't bother with pretense. "I need to speak with Ensign Tsukihara."

Calloway's gaze sharpened. "She's still recovering. Whatever this is, it can wait."

"It can't," Cassandra replied. "If she knows anything about the drones, I need it now. We're running out of time."

The silence stretched long between them. Then Calloway sighed and drifted aside.

"Five minutes," she said flatly. "And if you set back her recovery, I will bring it to the captain."

Cassandra nodded once and pushed into the room.

The lighting was low. Monitors pulsed gently with Akiko's vitals. She lay half-upright on the bed, her wrist still cuffed to the frame.

Her tail, coiled and tense, loosened as she registered the intruder. Then it curled tighter again.

Her ears twitched. Her amber eyes narrowed.

"To what do I owe the honor, Lieutenant?" she said, voice dry, just on the edge of mocking.

Cassandra ignored the sarcasm. She floated closer and caught the edge of the bedframe with one hand.

"Cut the act," she said. "I know you're not telling us everything."

Akiko tilted her head. A faint smile tugged at her lips. "You'll have to be more specific. That's kind of a broad accusation."

"Mark Weston thinks you know something about the drones. I think he's right."

Cassandra leaned in, her voice low and sharp.

"You had no training, no clearance, no business being out there during that EVA. And yet somehow you saved the ship. That's not luck. That's knowledge. Where did it come from?"

Akiko's smile faded. Her tail curled tighter.

"Maybe I'm just full of surprises."

"Enough games," Cassandra snapped. "People nearly died out there. If you're sitting on something. If you know anything that could help, and you're keeping it to yourself…"

Her hand tightened on the rail.

"I'll make sure you regret it."

Akiko's expression flattened. The warmth drained from her voice.

"Do you even hear yourself?" she asked quietly. "You're so convinced I'm the threat, you can't imagine any other possibility."

She shifted her cuffed wrist with a soft clink.

"I've been trying to help since day one. I've put myself at risk for this ship. And for that? I get suspicion. Chains. Interrogation."

Cassandra didn't respond.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

She watched. Measured. The way Akiko's shoulders slumped beneath the defiance. The weariness in her voice. The tension that hadn't left her tail since she walked in.

Then Akiko spoke again, softer.

"Lieutenant. We don't have to keep doing this."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow.

"You already have me restrained." Akiko lifted her wrist. "You've got all the control here. But if you want my help? Give me something. Anything. I'm not asking for weapons access. I just need something to do. A console. Data feeds. A way to keep my mind from spiraling."

Cassandra studied her for a long moment.

Her gaze flicked to the cuff.

"What are you offering?"

"I'm not promising everything," Akiko said. "There are gaps even I don't understand. But I've seen enough. Felt enough. I know things. Fragments, instincts. If I can piece them together, maybe I can help."

She paused for just a moment.

"But I can't do that while I'm stuck in a room with nothing but my own thoughts."

Cassandra's jaw clenched.

The stalemate wasn't getting them anywhere.

She crossed her arms. "What kind of access?"

"Something harmless," Akiko said. "Ship schematics. Diagnostic logs. A sandbox system, if it makes you feel better. Just... something."

Cassandra stared at her a moment longer, then gave a short nod.

"I'll think about it. But don't expect me to drop my guard."

Akiko's expression shifted into a tired smile. "Wouldn't dream of it, Lieutenant."

Cassandra pushed off the frame, gliding toward the exit. Just before she passed through the hatch, she looked back.

"Don't make me regret this."

The door slid shut behind her.

Cassandra drifted down the corridor, one hand trailing along the wall rail. Her thoughts moved faster than her body, looping through arguments, hypotheticals, risks.

She reached a junction and caught herself on the nearest console, anchoring with practiced ease. The screen flickered awake beneath her touch.

She hesitated only a second before initiating a secure channel.

The display lit up with the stark, angular face of Commander Jonathan Hale.

He didn't waste words.

"Lieutenant Holt. What is it?"

Cassandra straightened, shoulders squaring. "Sir, I've just spoken with Ensign Tsukihara. She's made a proposal."

Hale's brow creased. "Go on."

"She's offering to assist with the drone analysis," Cassandra said. "She claims she doesn't understand everything, but she believes she can provide insight based on instinct, exposure, whatever it is she tapped into during the EVA."

Hale's expression didn't shift, but his voice tightened.

"And you trust her?"

"Not entirely," Cassandra admitted. "But locking her in a room isn't helping anyone. If she's genuine, and if she can help us make sense of that tech, we'd be fools not to use it."

Silence.

Hale leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing. "What's she asking for?"

"Something simple. Access to filtered data logs. A task. Structure. Nothing that touches core systems."

He exhaled, long and sharp. "She doesn't get access to anything live. Nothing with ship integration. No system hooks, no diagnostics feeds. If she needs data, you provide it. You supervise her. Closely."

Cassandra nodded. "Understood, sir."

Hale's eyes bored into hers. "This is a concession, Lieutenant. Not a vote of confidence. If she steps out of line..."

"I'll shut it down," Cassandra said. "Immediately."

He studied her for another beat, then gave a slow nod. "Keep me updated. Any progress. Any changes. Any unexpected developments."

"Of course, sir."

The screen went dark.

Cassandra stared at her reflection for a moment longer, then pushed off the console.

It wasn't trust, not yet. But it was a start.

And if Akiko was serious about helping. About earning even a sliver of credibility...

This was her chance.

Cassandra would give her that chance, but she'd be watching. Every step of the way.

The operations deck was quieter than usual, a subdued hum echoing through the microgravity as damage control continued. Cassandra floated at her station, eyes scanning the latest reports. Drone telemetry, spectral analysis, combat logs. None of it made sense. None of it explained how they'd survived.

Her fingers tapped the console edge, irritation mounting.

If Tsukihara really knew anything, it was time to find out.

She filtered out a data set: high-res rune images, heat maps from the EVA, external schematics of the drone wreckage. Then, with a sigh, she appended a folder of idle games and mindless apps.

Not a reward. Just containment. Keep the girl busy. Keep the pressure low.

She locked the data pad in secure mode. No network access. No ship integration. No excuses.

Satisfied, she secured the pad at her side and pushed off from the console.

The central spire blurred around her as she descended toward the medical deck, her expression a mask of practiced neutrality. Behind it, her thoughts churned.

What am I even hoping for? A confession? A key? Just proof she's as dangerous as Hayes thinks?

She hit the final corridor and adjusted her posture, spine straight as the hatch hissed open.

Akiko lay in her bed, one wrist still cuffed. Her expression sharpened the moment she spotted Cassandra.

"Lieutenant Holt," she said flatly. "To what do I owe the pleasure this time?"

Cassandra didn't rise to the bait. She unhooked the pad from her hip and flicked it into the air.

"You wanted something to break the boredom," she said. "Here."

The pad spun lazily through the air. Akiko scrambled one-handed to catch it, fumbling slightly before snatching it from drift.

She glanced at the screen, then back at Cassandra.

"Very funny," she muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched.

Cassandra let the smallest smirk pass before her voice cooled.

"You promised answers, Tsukihara. Time to deliver."

She floated back, giving the girl space, arms folded tight.

Akiko powered on the pad and skimmed through the files. Her tail curled a little tighter as she read.

"All right," she said carefully. "But before I say anything... don't freak out. I'm going to show you something small."

Cassandra's body shifted instantly. One foot braced against the floor, hand catching a wall grip. "What do you mean, 'show'?"

"Just trust me," Akiko said.

Her free hand lifted, fingers curling through the air in a slow, precise arc. Glowing trails of pale blue foxfire followed her movements, smooth, practiced and deliberate.

Lines intersected. Runes formed. And then...

A soft hum, like glass harmonics. A barrier shimmered into being between them, translucent and gently rippling.

Cassandra's breath caught.

The shield hovered in place, pulsing faintly with a soft glow. Like a soap bubble of light, and just as deceptively fragile-looking.

"What is that?" she asked, voice sharp with tension.

"A shield," Akiko replied. "Small, harmless, low yield. Well... mostly harmless. Don't walk into it."

Cassandra's eyes flicked between the glowing rune and Akiko's still-glowing fingers.

"And this is the same kind of power the drones are using?"

Akiko shook her head. "Not quite. This is structured. Taught. What they're doing is... messy. Shifting. Like code running wild. I work with brush strokes. They work with chaos."

Cassandra frowned. "And you think you can counter that?"

"I've done it once," Akiko said, letting the shield dissolve. The rune fragments faded into dust. "That's what I did during the EVA. It burned through me, but it worked."

She flexed her fingers, wincing slightly. "Still paying the price."

Cassandra didn't move. Her eyes were distant now, somewhere between assessment and possibility.

"You're saying you barely understand this yourself."

"None of this makes sense," Akiko muttered, sinking back against her pillow. "Not to me. Not to you. But I can feel my way through it."

She held up the pad. "Let me try."

Cassandra didn't answer right away. Then, finally:

"Keep working," she said, voice clipped.

She turned and pushed off the floor.

But just before the hatch closed behind her, she added without looking back:

"And don't make me regret this."

Cassandra floated into the operations deck, the hum of quiet activity around her a jarring contrast to the intense stillness of the medical bay.

She didn't greet anyone. Didn't make eye contact.

She pushed off the bulkhead and glided toward her console, movements mechanical, her mind a whirl of questions and images. All tangled like the runes Akiko had traced midair.

Settling into her seat, she buckled the harness out of habit more than necessity. A headache had begun to pulse at the base of her skull, sharp and insistent.

Effortless, she thought bitterly, rubbing her temple.

It had looked so effortless. That rune. That shield. The soft hum of energy as Akiko's magic flared to life like she was meant for it.

The image replayed over and over in Cassandra's mind. Glowing lines drawn in the air, light blooming from nothing, shimmering into shape as if it had always been there, waiting. A tangle of light and thought.

And then, gone. Like it had never existed. But it had. And that changed everything.

Could it be taught? Could anyone learn it? Could it be replicated?

Her fingers drummed restlessly against the edge of her console. She brought up the latest status logs, but they felt hollow. Routine system checks and hull integrity updates next to the implications of a girl who could bend reality with her hands.

Where do you even start? How does someone like me even begin to understand something like that?

Her eyes drifted to her own hand. She lifted it slowly, as if the angle might matter. As if intent alone could unlock some invisible threshold.

Nothing. No flicker of light. No strange heat. No hum of possibility.

Just her own hand. She dropped it, exhaling hard.

Of course not.

Akiko was different. Her physiology was alien. Her entire being wired for this strangeness. Magic, or whatever it was, lived in her blood, in her bones.

Cassandra's mind balked at the term. Magic. It still felt like a joke. But the evidence refused to cooperate.

A shield made from glowing air. Runes that shimmered and reacted. The enemy drones, their hulls etched with the same patterns.

And Akiko, caught in the center of it all.

Cassandra leaned back, pinching the bridge of her nose. The headache spiked.

"What's next?" she muttered. "Dragons?"

The thought sat uncomfortably in her gut.

Because if magic existed. Real magic. Then the rules of engagement had just changed.

Everything she knew, every battle plan, every simulation, every assumption about how warfare worked… it was all obsolete.

And they were already behind.

She opened her eyes and stared at the console glow, her expression hardening.

"I need answers," she whispered.

And she wasn't going to wait for them to come to her.

She began typing, fast and focused.

A new report for Captain Ward. Details of the demonstration, every observable movement, every flare of light. The drones. The runes. The way Akiko had looked. Not frightened, not boastful. Just certain.

Cassandra logged it all.