Captain's Log, Supplemental DDSN-X1OO
USS Discovery Captain James Nolan recording
Christening Date plus 8 days
Lunar Re-Fuel and Refit Station aftermath
The battle is over.
The station stands.
Marduk is gone—for now.
The cost was Henry.
Victor.
Others we never knew by name.
The void took them.
We face the silence today. The black keeps its debts.
We pay with grief.
The hangar deck smelled of scorched composite, hot metal, and the faint tang of coolant venting from damaged birds. The large elevators descended from the flight deck airlock, carrying the battered Switchblades down into the main bay. Valkyrie's bird first—nose crumpled, scorch marks blackening the stealth gray, dozens of pot marks and minor holes peppering the armor like shrapnel kisses. Kaze's and Dragon's fighters followed, faring only slightly better—wings pitted, fuselages scarred from near-misses and grazing fire.
They rolled to a stop on the elevators, engines winding down with a fading whine. Deck crews and low-profile tugs swarmed, but the lane remained clear. Maintenance crew stood on either side in stiff salute—respect for the returning pilots, and for the one who never would.
Valkyrie looked out her canopy in numb shock as silent tears streamed down her face. She moved on autopilot—shutting down systems, regaining composure with each command.
Once done, she took a deep breath and opened the cockpit.
"Aa-ten-hut!" Master Chief Daniel Petrov announced, voice carrying through the bay. The crew saluted sharper. "Welcome home, ma'am."
Valkyrie looked at him, then the rest of the crew—men and women she had never met, who had never known Henry, yet recognized her loss and gave honor as if he were one of their own.
She felt strangely comforted—raw, aching, but comforted.
"Thank you, Chief," she managed, voice rough.
Petrov stiffened. "Petrov, ma'am. Master Chief Daniel Petrov, Chief of the Deck on
Discovery. If you need anything, let me know."
She nodded, returned his salute. "I'll do that, Chief."
She stood, tucked her helmet under her arm, and descended the ladder that appeared without notice. The crew began work on the fighter trio with practiced precision, hastened by Petrov's orders.
Kimberly came up to her, eyes moistened, tears threatening streaks if makeup were allowed. "Valkyrie... I'm so sorry." She fought back sobs. The four of them had trained over a year together—the kernel for the first four squadrons of the 1st Aerospace Fighter Wing. Closer than siblings. Henry her lover, though regulations banned it within units. The unique circumstances of forming the first fighter wing in the new branch had let it pass—they would never serve in the same squadron, never under each other's command.
Valkyrie placed a hand on her shoulder, grip tight enough to anchor them both. "We all are." Her voice cracked on the last word.
Dragon joined them, face grim, pulse still pounding from the fight. He said nothing—just stood with them, broad frame a silent bulwark. The three survivors looked at the empty cradle where Henry's bird should have been. Kaze's voice broke the silence—small, shattered. "He was supposed to buy the next round." Dragon's laugh was hollow. "He still owes me from Ceres." Valkyrie closed her eyes. The guilt hit like a missile—her damaged radar, her wild shots, the moment she couldn't cover him. She opened them again. "He bought us the future instead."
No one argued.
James approached from the control booth, Leanne at his side. He stopped beside Valkyrie.
"The station is safe," he said quietly. "Because of you. Because of him."
Valkyrie's voice was steady, but cracked at the edges. "He bought us the shot, sir."
James nodded. "He did." He looked at the battered fighters, then the empty space.
"We'll hold a service at 1800. For Henry. For the station dead. For Victor."
The name hung heavy.
Victor Cromwell had not survived the final impacts. His command center took a direct hit while he coordinated the defense. Kaze's breath hitched. "Victor too?"
James's jaw tightened. "Yes."
Dragon swore softly.
The deck crew continued their work—quiet, respectful.
The bay felt too large, The silence too heavy, James placed a hand on Valkyrie's shoulder. "Take the time you need." She nodded once—barely.
The three pilots stood together a moment longer, watching the deck crew work on their birds—repairing what could be repaired. The empty cradle remained untouched.
The void had taken its toll.
Captain's Log, closing entry — Chapter 8 complete
Battle won.
Station saved.
Henry gone.
Victor gone.
The cost is too high.
James Nolan, Captain DDSN-XIOO USS Discovery