The war room of Havenreach was a ruin.
Holo-tables sparked, walls scorched by fire, fragments of Venra's banners littering the floor. Yet amid the wreckage, officers gathered, weary but resolute. Kael stood at the head of the chamber, not on a throne, not on a dais, but beside a battered table where star-charts flickered with uneven light.
He was no commander, but all eyes fixed on him.
Lyra stood near, silent but steady, her presence a reminder he wasn't alone. Darius leaned on the table, every inch the seasoned warrior, while Rhea kept to the shadows, her hawk-like gaze missing nothing. Joran lingered by the doorway, massive arms crossed, a shield of flesh and iron.
Captain Shira, her uniform torn but her voice unbroken, stepped forward. "Our scouts confirm what we feared. The Ghost Admiral's fleet has been seen at the edge of the Serath Belt. He's moving."
The room tensed.
Kael's heart sank, though he masked it. "How long until they reach Havenreach?"
Shira hesitated. "At most a week. Less if they burn their engines."
A ripple of unease spread through the officers.
Kael pressed his palms against the table, staring at the fractured star map. Taren. His brother. The man he'd once looked up to, admired, trusted beyond all else. Now he moved against them, a shadow across the stars.
Lyra's voice broke the silence. "He knows Havenreach is fractured. He'll strike now, before you can rebuild."
Kael nodded grimly. "He's always been a tactician of timing. He won't give us space to breathe."
Rhea scoffed from the shadows. "So what? We fortify, we bleed, we hold the line. That's what Havenreach is built for."
Darius shook his head. "Not as it stands. The soldiers are divided, the defenses half-broken, and morale barely holding. If we fight him head-on, he'll crush us."
Kael straightened, his voice steady despite the knot in his chest. "Then we don't fight him head-on. We fight him the way he doesn't expect."
All eyes turned to him.
Kael paced slowly around the room, words forming as much for himself as for the others.
"Taren knows Havenreach is a fortress. He'll come with overwhelming firepower to break it in one stroke. If we let him pin us inside, we're finished."
He stopped, turning back to the table. "So we turn Havenreach into a trap. We make him believe the station is weaker than it is, draw him in close, then strike where he least expects."
Shira frowned. "Risky. If the deception fails—"
"He'll win anyway," Kael cut in. "I know Taren. He's arrogant. He believes no one can outmaneuver him. That's his weakness. If we can use Havenreach's own scars to bait him, he'll come to finish us himself."
Rhea smirked, dangerous approval in her eyes. "A trap. I like it."
Darius crossed his arms, studying Kael. "But to set such a trap, we need precision. Every unit, every ship, must play its part. And Havenreach is… fractured."
Kael met his gaze. "Then we heal it. Fast."
Hours later, Kael stood before the assembled soldiers in the vast central hall. Hundreds of weary men and women, armor dented, uniforms stained, eyes filled with doubt.
He felt their judgment. Their mistrust. Some still whispered Venra's name, others cursed it.
Kael drew a breath. His voice carried, not with grandeur, but with raw conviction.
"I won't lie to you. Havenreach is broken. You've bled. You've lost friends, family, leaders. You've watched the place you call home burn because of betrayal."
Murmurs rippled. He pressed on.
"I didn't come here to rule you. I didn't come here to wear Venra's mantle. I came here to fight my brother—to stop the Ghost Admiral before he tears the Frontier apart. And whether you believe in me or not, that fight is upon us now."
He stepped forward, his voice rising.
"Taren is coming. With fleets of ships, with fire and steel, with every weapon at his command. He thinks Havenreach will fall. He thinks you will break."
Kael paused, his gaze sweeping the hall.
"Prove him wrong."
Silence fell—then a voice cried out. "For Havenreach!" Another echoed it. Then another. Soon the hall shook with voices shouting, fists raised.
Kael's chest tightened. It wasn't loyalty to him. It was loyalty to their home. And that was enough.
Later, Kael found Lyra waiting for him in the Ark's quiet command chamber. The room hummed with alien life, its soft lights reflecting off her dark eyes.
"You were born for this," she said softly.
Kael shook his head. "I was born to fight. Not to lead."
She stepped closer, her voice gentler still. "Leadership isn't about wanting it. It's about shouldering it because no one else can."
Her hand touched his chest. "But promise me one thing, Kael. Don't lose yourself in this. Don't become him."
Her meaning was clear. Taren.
Kael closed his hand over hers. "I won't. Not as long as I have you."
Their eyes met, the unspoken bond deepening. In the storm ahead, she was his anchor.
The next days were relentless.
Crews repaired damaged defenses, soldiers trained in coordinated units, scouts mapped the Serath Belt for ambush points. Kael worked beside them—not as commander above, but as fighter among them. His presence, his willingness to bleed alongside them, drew the fractured pieces of Havenreach together.
Rhea drilled infiltration squads, turning them into shadows. Joran led the rebuilding of barricades, his booming voice rallying exhausted workers. Darius forged discipline into the troops, his command sharp, unyielding.
And Lyra guided the Ark, weaving its alien systems into Havenreach's defenses, turning the ship into both shield and sword.
The trap took shape.
On the fifth day, as Havenreach's repairs reached their peak, the comms flared alive.
The voice that filled the chamber froze Kael's blood.
"Brother."
Taren's tone was smooth, commanding, edged with cold amusement.
"I see you've survived Venra's chaos. Impressive. Havenreach stands—though barely. But it won't stand much longer."
Kael's jaw tightened, his crew watching in tense silence.
Taren's voice lowered, almost intimate. "You should not be against me, Kael. You should be beside me. Together, we could shape the galaxy. Tear down the corrupt Council. Forge something stronger."
Kael stepped closer to the comm. "And how many must burn for your vision, Taren? How many homes, how many lives?"
A pause. Then Taren's laughter, low and chilling.
"As many as it takes."
The transmission cut.
The war room was silent. Havenreach's officers looked to Kael, fear in their eyes.
He turned from the comm, his voice firm, resolute.
"He's coming. And he won't stop until one of us is dead."
Lyra's gaze met his, steady but filled with worry. "Then we make sure it isn't you."
Kael nodded, the weight of command heavy but no longer unbearable. Havenreach was no longer leaderless. It had chosen.
And when the Ghost Admiral came, Kael would be ready.