The Foxfire Saga

Cassandra entered the briefing room with her expression carefully neutral, her mind razor-sharp.

Captain Ward stood near the central display, a flickering projection of the station orbiting Stygia casting fractured light across her features. The Sovereign's damaged systems made the image pulse occasionally, like the heartbeat of something distant and watching.

Ward's posture was rigid, hands clasped behind her back. Every inch the captain. Composed, but carrying weight.

One by one, the senior officers arrived.

Hale came first, his expression unreadable. Rourke followed, nodding once toward Cassandra, curiosity in his eyes. Hayes arrived last, his face stony, the air around him already coiled tight.

They secured into their seats with practiced ease. Silence fell.

Ward turned.

"Let's begin. Cassandra, you're up. What have you learned?"

Cassandra exhaled, activated her datapad, and sent the feed to the central display.

The image shifted.

Akiko, in the medbay. Drawing in the air. Glowing runes. A shield blooming into existence, shimmering, impossible, and beautiful.

The room held its breath.

"Ensign Tsukihara demonstrated this during our last discussion," Cassandra said. "She described it as basic. A defensive technique. Small and controlled. According to her, it's distinct from the chaotic effects we've observed in the drones."

Rourke leaned in, eyes gleaming.

"Completely different," he muttered. "But functional. That shield, if it can stop physical or energy attacks, it changes everything. Imagine Sovereign with that kind of protection."

Hayes cut in, voice like ice. "If she can replicate the drones' defensive systems, what's to stop her from replicating their weapons?"

The room froze.

"Those drones tore through our armor like it was paper," Hayes continued. "What happens when she decides to turn that on us?"

No one answered.

Ward didn't blink. "Your concerns are noted, Chief Hayes. Continue."

Hayes leaned forward, voice lowering. "She's a threat we can't contain. Not in the brig. Not in isolation. If she weaponizes what she knows, she could punch a hole in this ship and end us before we knew it was happening."

His next words fell like steel.

"We can't take that chance. The only viable option is to neutralize her. Haven Command can analyze the remains. But we can't allow her to remain an active risk."

Silence.

Rourke's frown was deep, his earlier enthusiasm dimmed. Hale was silent, but his jaw was tight.

Cassandra felt her pulse quicken, but Ward didn't move. Not yet.

Finally, the captain spoke. "We'll address the Ensign's situation after we've reviewed all pertinent updates. Until then, I expect professionalism. This is not a decision to make lightly."

There were nods, tight and uneven. The tension didn't ease.

Cassandra cleared her throat and shifted the display.

Now: the station in orbit. A thermal overlay painted it in reds and oranges, glowing brighter at the core.

"We've exhausted what we can pull from the drones for now," she said, tone steady. "And as much as I hate to admit it, our current ability to interact with this phenomenon hinges entirely on Ensign Tsukihara's capabilities."

The air thickened.

She continued.

"But the threat isn't waiting. Look here. Thermal activity in the station's core has been escalating for days. This isn't residual heat. It's concentrated. Intentional."

The timelapse rolled. The heat signature spread across multiple decks.

"They're building something," Rourke muttered, leaning in. "Or preparing for something."

Cassandra nodded. "Exactly. Whatever this force is, it's replicating. It's organizing. Even if Akiko won't or can't help us replicate it, that station might already be doing it."

Ward said nothing, but her eyes were locked on the display.

Hale finally spoke. "And your proposed course of action?"

Cassandra didn't hesitate.

"We go down there. Priority one: disable whatever's causing the escalation. Priority two: risky, but critical, acquire any information we can about how this technology is being produced."

Another silence followed. Longer this time.

Rourke broke it.

"That's a tall order. If we're facing drones like the last batch, we'll be outmatched. Fast."

Cassandra turned to him. "I'm not saying it'll be easy. But we can't afford to wait for them to bring the fight to us again. This is our one shot at initiative."

Hayes folded his arms. "And if it's a trap?"

Cassandra didn't blink. "Then at least we'll know. Right now we're flying blind. And that's worse."

Ward raised a hand.

The room fell still.

"We're not moving without full readiness," she said. "I want contingency plans from every department. If we go in, we go in prepared."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Nods all around.

Cassandra felt a flicker of relief. Her proposal wasn't dismissed. That was all she needed.

Ward returned her gaze to the display. Eyes sharp. Expression unreadable.

"We reconvene in six hours. Dismissed."

The command room thrummed with quiet tension as the senior staff reconvened. Six hours of prep had passed, but the mood hadn't softened. If anything, the earlier arguments had calcified into silence.

Captain Ward stood near the central display, arms folded, gaze fixed on the holographic projection of the station in orbit over Stygia. The image flickered slightly, a reminder that the Sovereign was still limping.

Hale sat at her side, the picture of control. His eyes, however, scanned everything.

Ward motioned for the room to settle as Cassandra clipped into position near the display. She tapped her datapad, and the station schematic unfolded, sections highlighted in color-coded overlays.

"Here's what we've got," Cassandra began. Her voice was tight, precise. "Thermal activity in the station's core has spiked exponentially. We believe it corresponds to a drone production cycle. This is the source."

Ward stepped in without missing a beat. "We have two primary objectives. First, disrupt drone production. Second, extract data on their shielding and cloaking tech. We disable their advantage and learn how to match it."

She gestured to the schematic.

"We'll split into two teams. One will hit the drone bay. The other, the command core. The second team will focus on data recovery and system disruption."

Hale spoke next. "Rourke, you'll lead the assault on the drone bay. You'll have three marines. Cassandra, you'll lead the command core team. Weston's your engineer. Maris is your nav lead."

Cassandra blinked at that. Mark Weston made sense, he was the only one with enough drone exposure. But Evelyn?

She didn't doubt the girl's skills. But this wasn't a classroom exercise.

She raised a hand. "Permission to speak, Captain?"

Ward nodded.

"Do we have the intel to justify a split? This station's already shown the ability to adapt. Separating our forces might give it an advantage."

Ward exchanged a glance with Hale. "Noted. But if we focus on one target, we risk giving the other time to escalate. The window is closing. We take the risk."

Hayes leaned forward, his tone clipped. "What about Tsukihara?"

Every eye in the room shifted.

"If she really has the capabilities Lieutenant Holt claims," Hayes continued, "then she's just as capable of sabotaging us. For all we know, she's in league with the entity."

Rourke scoffed. "And what if she's not? If she can replicate the drones' tech, even a fraction of it, she might be the only reason this mission doesn't go up in flames."

Hayes's reply was icy. "Or the reason it does."

Ward's fingers tapped once on the table. Barely audible, but enough.

"We're not jumping to conclusions. If she's involved, it'll be under strict supervision. And that decision hasn't been made."

Cassandra cleared her throat.

"With respect, Captain, we need her. We've spent a week tearing apart that drone. I've got nothing. No data cores, no stable power sources, no working logic gates. Just melted alloy and runes I can't decipher."

She looked around the room, meeting each gaze.

"Tsukihara demonstrated a connection. However limited, it's something. And right now, we have nothing."

Hayes's voice cut in, sharp. "Nothing is safer than compromised."

Ward's gaze snapped to him. "If she's included, what precautions do you suggest?"

"Armed escort. Minimal equipment access. And a remote kill switch."

Evelyn flinched, her voice rising. "That's barbaric. She's not a weapon. She's one of us, or trying to be."

Hayes turned to her. "And what if she's pretending?"

Cassandra's hand slammed against the table. "Enough. We're wasting time fighting shadows. The real threat is out there."

Silence fell.

Ward waited a beat longer before speaking.

"I'll make the final call on her involvement. In the meantime, Cassandra, Rourke, prepare your teams. Evelyn, you'll helm navigation. We'll need quick thinking if this station starts rewriting its own layout."

Evelyn nodded. Her usual spark was subdued, but her voice was steady. "Understood, Captain."

Ward's gaze swept the room. Cool. Commanding.

"The mission begins first thing in the morning. Dismissed."

The mess hall was quieter than usual, conversations hushed, the clatter of trays sporadic. Cassandra stepped into the warm, dimly lit space, her boots soft against the deck plating. It was a rare pocket of calm aboard the Sovereign.

She didn't feel calm.

She grabbed a tray, punching in a standard ration. Protein cubes. Rice. Rehydrated soup. Fuel, not food.

Settling into a corner table, she positioned herself with her back to the wall. Habit. Defensive. Her tray sat untouched. The soft hum of ambient light overhead did nothing to ease the knot behind her eyes.

"You look like someone stole your favorite diagnostic tool."

Cassandra looked up sharply.

Ethan stood across from her, tray in hand. His smile was subdued but still somehow insufferably present.

She sighed, setting her fork down. "What do you want, Raines?"

"To eat," he said, dropping into the seat across from her. "And maybe keep you company. You look like you could use it."

"I don't recall asking."

He dug into his food anyway, unbothered. "Big day tomorrow."

She sipped her soup without replying.

"How's the team shaping up?" he asked casually.

Cassandra let the question sit before answering. "Capable. The mission's the problem. Too many unknowns. Too many moving parts."

"Like our favorite wildcard?"

Her grip tightened around her spoon.

"Tsukihara is an anomaly," she said. "A risk I can't quantify."

"She's also the reason we're alive," Ethan countered, voice still casual. "That has to count for something."

"'Something' isn't a metric," Cassandra snapped. "I can't base operational security on a gut feeling."

He set his fork down, leaning forward slightly. "You don't have to trust her, Cassandra. But you could try seeing her the way the rest of us do. She's not trying to hurt anyone."

Cassandra shook her head. "You're too trusting. One act of heroism doesn't erase the fact that we don't know what she is, or what she's capable of."

The direction of the conversation made her think back to the discussion with Hayes.

Damn it. Hayes' paranoia was infectious.

Ethan leaned back, folding his arms. "And maybe you're too paranoid. Not every unknown is a threat."

She didn't respond. Just stared at her tray. The conversation had veered too close to something she didn't want to name.

After a beat, Ethan's voice softened. "Look... I know this mission's on your shoulders. And I don't envy your position. But you're not alone in this."

Cassandra glanced at him, tired, skeptical. "You always have an answer."

"Not always," he said with a crooked grin. "Just enough to sound like I do."

She gave a small, reluctant smile. "You're insufferable."

He stood, tray in hand. "That's what they tell me. But hey, whatever happens tomorrow? You've got this, Holt. You always do."

He walked away.

Cassandra stared at the empty space he left behind. His words lingered longer than she wanted them to.

The mess hall felt louder somehow, even though no one had raised their voices. She stared down at her plate, poking at the vegetables with a dull sense of obligation.

He never notices, does he?

Another stab at the tray. Another unanswered thought.

It's not just Tsukihara.

Sure, the fox girl was charming. Irritatingly so. Within days of arriving, she'd wormed her way into friendships, into the crew's rhythm, into him.

How does she do it?

Cassandra remembered the way Ethan's voice softened when he talked about her. The way his eyes shifted. Lighter. Warmer.

He'd never looked at her like that. Never saw her beyond the title. Beyond the role.

Her fingers curled around her fork.

Maybe that's all I am to him. Efficient. Reliable. Competent. But never... warm. Never someone worth seeing twice.

She hated how much it bothered her.

And yet, she'd tried. God, she'd tried. Staying late on duty shifts. Sharing the rare joke. Letting down her guard inch by inch.

He never noticed.

Now all his attention was wrapped around someone who had arrived with a tail and a smile and secrets wrapped like ribbon.

Cassandra shoved her tray aside, the metal clatter turning heads. She didn't care.

Her thoughts swirled. Anger, shame, longing, all tangled into a knot too tight to unravel.

Focus.

The mission mattered. Not personal distractions. Not... feelings.

She forced a breath in. Then another.

The image of Ethan's gaze on someone else still clung to the edges of her mind.

She stood suddenly, grabbing her tray, and strode to the disposal chute. The clang of metal hitting metal echoed louder than it should have.

There was no more room for doubt. Or softness.

If Tsukihara was part of this mission, Cassandra would watch her every move.

Ethan could be charmed all he wanted.

Cassandra would be the one who made sure the crew survived.