Jessikah Santos's quarters were a monument to privilege that made her skin crawl every time she entered them.
The living space sprawled across nearly fifteen hundred square feet, occupying an entire corner section of The Hope of Acer's residential district. Floor-to-ceiling viewports offered a panoramic view of the flotilla, while the interior was appointed with the kind of luxury that most refugees could only dream of. Real hardwood floors imported from Earth. Furniture crafted from exotic materials that cost more than most people earned in a year. Art pieces that belonged in museums rather than personal residences.
Gabriel Santos had spared no expense in creating a living space worthy of his daughter, and Jessikah hated every inch of it.
The kitchen featured appliances that could prepare cuisine from a dozen different worlds, while the dining area could seat twelve people in comfort. The bedroom was larger than most family quarters aboard the ship, with a bed that could accommodate four people and a closet that housed enough clothing to outfit a small army. Even the bathroom was ostentatious, with a real bathtub made from marble and fixtures plated in actual gold.
It was everything a young woman of privilege was supposed to want, and it represented everything Jessikah despised about the inequality that pervaded human space. While refugees crowded into shared quarters and rationed their water usage, she lived in luxury that mocked their suffering.
Now, as she led eight people through the corridors toward her apartment, she felt a bitter satisfaction that the space would finally be used for something meaningful.
"This way," she said quietly, guiding them through a service corridor that paralleled the main residential thoroughfare. "My quarters are isolated enough that we can speak freely, and large enough that we won't be crowded on top of each other."
Nathan walked beside her, his military bearing making him constantly scan for potential threats. "How long do we have before someone notices we're all missing?"
"UNSC personnel are supposed to be in processing holding for at least six hours," Jessikah replied. "And the Carrion's Prize crew has no official schedule to maintain. As long as we're back to our normal routines by tomorrow, no one should ask questions."
Behind them, Korven studied the Liberation Front ship's architecture with professional interest. "Nice setup you've got here. Better than most facilities I've seen."
"Better than most military installations too," Kessler observed, her technical background making her appreciate the sophisticated engineering.
"My father believes in taking care of his people," Jessikah said, though her tone suggested mixed feelings about that philosophy.
They reached her quarters without incident, and Jessikah activated the door locks behind them. The apartment's luxury was immediately apparent to everyone, the kind of living space that spoke of resources and privilege that most people couldn't imagine.
"Jesus," Boomer whistled appreciatively. "This is bigger than some ships I've been on."
"It's too big," Jessikah said firmly. "But it's private, and right now that's what matters."
The Carrion's Prize crew had naturally claimed one side of the expansive living room, while Nathan's team gravitated toward the other. The divide wasn't hostile, but it was unmistakably present, two groups of people who shared enemies but came from very different backgrounds.
"Alright," Nathan said, settling into one of the expensive chairs. "We should start with proper introductions and then figure out how to coordinate our efforts. I'm Nathan Brant, squad leader. This is Damali Kessler, our technical specialist; Jacob Ilson, reconnaissance and precision engagement; and Riley Webb, who joined our team when we acquired the Meridian."
Captain Korven nodded from across the room. "Reese Korven, captain of the Carrion's Prize. This is Velasco Chen, my navigator and sensor operator; Owen Slade, chief engineer; and Dimitri Volkov, though everyone calls him Boomer."
"What's your background?" Riley asked, looking around at the civilian crew.
"Outer rim mining colonies," Boomer said cheerfully. "Learned to move rock and clear obstacles, discovered I had a talent for creative problem-solving."
"The kind that got us out of that firefight on Sigma-7," Vel added. "Though it nearly brought down half the station."
"Firefight?" Nathan asked, his attention sharpening.
"Arms dealer tried to kill us when he recognized the neural interface technology," Slade explained. "Turned out the stuff we salvaged was more dangerous than we thought. Dangerous enough to kill for."
"Which brings us to why we're all here," Korven said. "We've all got good reasons to want that technology out of Santos's hands before he can use it to create more weapons like Phantom."
Nathan felt relieved by the shared purpose. "Agreed. Question is how we accomplish that. We need to identify target locations, plan approach routes, establish timing..."
"Hold on," Korven said, raising a hand. "Before we start planning operations, we should understand what we're actually trying to achieve. Destroy the technology? Gather evidence? Rescue whoever's trapped inside Phantom? Those are different missions with different requirements."
Nathan paused, recognizing the wisdom in that. "You're right. We need clear objectives first." He looked around the group. "What's our priority?"
"Stopping Santos from creating more enslaved pilots," Jessikah said immediately.
"Which means securing the technology," Vel added.
"And documenting his crimes," Riley said. "People need to know what's happening here."
"Don't forget whoever's already trapped," Slade said quietly. "If there's someone inside Phantom who can be saved..."
Nathan nodded, appreciating the different perspectives. "So we're looking at a multi-phase operation. Secure the technology, gather evidence, and potentially mount a rescue."
"That's ambitious for eight people with limited resources," Korven observed.
"Maybe we approach it differently," Nathan suggested. "What if we planned multiple small-team operations? Divide responsibilities based on capabilities?"
Korven studied Nathan thoughtfully. "You've done this kind of planning before. Multi-team coordination under hostile conditions."
"Some," Nathan replied, then paused as he noticed something in Korven's assessment. "You sound like you have experience with operational planning too."
There was a moment of silence. Korven glanced at his crew, then back at Nathan. "I was UNSC. Logistics officer. Left when I couldn't stomach what they were asking me to do anymore."
Nathan felt like the air had been knocked out of him. "You were military?"
"For eight years," Korven said quietly. "Until they ordered me to abandon civilians during a corporate evacuation. Said resources were better used protecting assets than people."
"What happened?" Nathan asked, his whole perception of Korven shifting.
"When I refused, they made it clear my services were no longer required. Dishonorably discharged for 'failure to follow lawful orders in a crisis situation.'" Korven's expression carried old pain. "Funny how orders stop being lawful when they involve letting innocent people die."
The room went quiet. Nathan processed this revelation, realizing that Korven hadn't just disagreed with military authority, he'd sacrificed his career for the same kind of moral principles that had driven Nathan to defect.
"I'm sorry," Nathan said finally. "I didn't know. When you questioned my approach, I thought... I thought you just didn't understand military necessity."
"I understood it perfectly," Korven replied. "That's why I left."
Nathan looked at Korven with new respect. "So you've seen what happens when good people follow bad orders."
"And you've seen what happens when people finally refuse to follow them," Korven replied. "We probably have more in common than either of us expected."
The admission changed the dynamic in the room. Both teams were processing this new information, realizing that their potential conflict wasn't about experience versus inexperience, but about two different responses to the same moral crisis.
"Maybe that gives us an advantage," Ilson suggested. "Different approaches to the same problems. Military precision and civilian adaptability."
"Could work," Boomer nodded. "Gives us options if one approach fails."
"The question is coordination," Kessler said practically. "How do we maintain communication and timing across multiple operations?"
"That's where detailed planning comes in," Nathan said, falling back on his training.
"And where detailed planning gets you killed when it meets reality," Korven added, but his tone was more conversational than confrontational. "In salvage operations, you plan for the most likely scenarios, then stay flexible when everything goes sideways. Which it always does."
Nathan considered this. "So we plan multiple contingencies, but keep execution flexible?"
"Exactly. Rigid structure, flexible implementation."
"I can provide real-time intelligence and coordination," Naomi's voice suddenly came from the apartment's speakers. "I can see throughout the ship, monitor communications, and adapt plans as situations develop."
"That helps with the coordination problem," Riley observed.
"What about access?" Vel asked. "We need to know where the technology is being stored, what kind of security we're facing, how to get in and out without being detected."
"I can help with some of that," Jessikah said. "I have access to maintenance schedules, security rotations, facility layouts. At least for the areas I'm authorized to know about."
"And I can provide information about the areas you're not authorized to know about," Naomi added.
Nathan looked around the group, feeling the plan starting to come together. "So we're looking at coordinated small-team operations, with Naomi providing intelligence and communication, Jessikah providing inside access, and multiple contingency plans for when things go wrong."
"Sounds like a plan," Korven said. "Now we just need to figure out the specifics."
Before anyone could respond, Jessikah's comm unit chimed.
She glanced at the display and felt her blood turn to ice. "It's my father."
Everyone in the room went silent, planning forgotten in the face of immediate danger. Jessikah activated the communication with hands that only trembled slightly.
"Hello, Father."
Gabriel Santos's voice carried a quality that Jessikah recognized from childhood, the same tone he'd used when she was twelve and he'd caught her skipping school to explore the station's maintenance tunnels. It was the voice of someone who already knew the answer to the questions he was asking.
"Jessikah, darling. How did your interview with the Meridian crew go?"
The memory hit her like a physical blow: standing in their family quarters on Acer, still wearing the coveralls she'd borrowed from a maintenance worker, trying to convince her father that she'd been at school all day while he looked at her with that same knowing expression.
"It went well, Father," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady. "Standard asylum processing. They seem like genuine defectors with valid concerns about UNSC operations."
"I'm sure they do. And did anything unusual happen during the interview? Any... technical difficulties with the recording equipment, perhaps?"
Jessikah's mouth went dry. He knew something. "No, Father. Everything worked perfectly. Full documentation of their asylum request and background circumstances."
The pause that followed stretched for an eternity. Around the room, eight people held their breath while Jessikah tried to keep the desperation out of her voice.
"I see," Gabriel said finally. "Well, I think I'd like to review the interview recordings myself. Just to get a sense of these new arrivals and their potential value to our operations. I'll be at your quarters in ten minutes to collect the files."
"That's... that's not necessary, I can transmit them to your office through secure channels."
"I prefer to handle sensitive materials personally, darling. Ten minutes."
The communication ended, leaving silence that felt suffocating.
"He's moving faster than he said," Naomi's voice immediately came through the speakers. "Five minutes actual arrival time. He was lying about the timeline to try and catch you off guard."
Nathan and Korven looked at each other, their earlier philosophical differences suddenly irrelevant.
"We work together on this," Nathan said.
"Agreed," Korven replied. "Argue about tactics later."
"Jessikah, is there another way out?" Riley asked.
"No," Jessikah said, her mind racing. "One entrance, one exit. But I need to stay and maintain cover. If I'm not here when he arrives, he'll know something's wrong."
"Small groups, different routes," Nathan said quickly. "Avoid main corridors."
"Service areas and maintenance sections," Korven added to his team. "Stay invisible."
"Where do we meet?" Riley asked.
"The Meridian," Nathan decided. "Docking Bay 7. It's secure and they won't have sensor access inside our ship."
"Four minutes," Naomi announced.
"We need to pair up," Kessler said. "Balance capabilities across teams."
Nathan looked at Korven. "You want to work together on this? Pool our different approaches?"
"Makes sense," Korven replied. "If we're going to figure out how to coordinate military and civilian tactics, might as well start now."
"Kessler, you comfortable working with Vel? Technical backgrounds should mesh well."
"Sure," Kessler said, though she still looked uncertain about the whole enterprise.
"Ilson, you and Slade," Nathan continued. "Recon and engineering."
"That leaves me with the explosives expert," Riley said, eyeing Boomer with obvious concern.
"Don't worry," Boomer grinned. "I only blow things up on purpose."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Riley muttered.
"I can guide you through maintenance corridors that will keep you away from main security checkpoints," Naomi continued, "but you need to move now."
"What about the interview recordings?" Nathan asked as they moved toward the exit.
"I'll tell him there was a system glitch during processing," Jessikah said, her mind racing. "Database corruption, happens sometimes with sensitive files. I'll say I need to reconstruct the records from backup systems."
"Will he buy that?" Korven asked.
"For a few hours, maybe. Long enough for you to get to your ship."
"And then?" Nathan pressed.
"Then we better have a real plan," Jessikah said grimly.
Jessikah remained behind, already straightening furniture and clearing evidence of multiple occupants. "I'll maintain cover and contact you when it's safe."
The corridor outside Jessikah's quarters was empty, but Naomi's voice followed them through their comm units.
"Left turn ahead, then down the maintenance shaft. I'm disabling security cameras along your route, but I can only keep the surveillance off you for so long before people start asking questions."
As they moved through the corridors, Nathan found himself impressed by how naturally the teams had formed. His earlier concerns about coordination seemed less important now that they were actually working together.
"Not bad for a mixed unit," he murmured to Korven as they navigated the maintenance areas.
"Not bad for improvised planning either," Korven replied quietly. "Maybe we can make this work."
They'd made it halfway to the docking area when they encountered the first patrol, three flotilla security guards moving through the corridor with the kind of casual alertness that suggested routine patrols rather than active searches.
"Split as planned," Korven said quietly through his comm.
"Rendezvous point unchanged," Nathan added. "Docking Bay 7."
The teams separated smoothly, each pair taking different routes through the maintenance corridors. Nathan and Korven pressed forward together, timing their movement to avoid the patrol's sweep pattern.
"Your people are good," Nathan observed as they moved.
"So are yours," Korven replied. "Different training, same competencies I guess."
The guards heard something, voices, footsteps, the sound of people moving where they shouldn't be and began investigating. But by then, eight fugitives had vanished into the maze of maintenance corridors that honeycombed The Hope of Acer, guided by an AI who could see everything and was determined to keep them all alive.
Behind them, in a luxurious apartment that felt like a beautiful prison, Jessikah Santos waited for her father to arrive and tried to prepare lies that might keep them all safe for just a little longer.
The revolution was no longer a hidden conspiracy. It was a race against time, with the fate of human consciousness hanging in the balance.