Front Runner

2356 AD

Aboard Invictus

Roland stirred first, his body aching as he fought to wake up. His head throbbed, and every inch of him screamed in protest as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. His vision was blurry, the world spinning as he leaned against a nearby console for support. Inez groaned beside him, wincing as she tried to stretch out her stiff limbs.

“Christ…” Roland muttered, rubbing his temples. “I think my spine just collapsed.”

Inez, still dazed, managed to stand, shaking off the lingering disorientation. “You’ll live.” She said, her voice strained but sharp.

Suddenly, a ping came through their Links. It was from Rosco:

Intruders regrouping. Heading toward the bridge. We need help.

Roland froze, his mind racing as panic welled up inside him. “No, no, no—this wasn’t part of the plan!” His voice was high-pitched, his usual composure completely shattered. “What the hell do we do now?”

Inez, gritting her teeth against the pain in her body, looked at him with determination. “Calm down, Roland. We’ll figure it out. There’s always a way.” Her voice was firm, though her face was still pale from the burn.

But Roland wasn’t hearing her. His hands were trembling, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. “We’re trapped. We’re trapped, and they’re going to kill us all. We should’ve just stayed down. Why did we even try this?”

“Roland.” Inez grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to focus. “Look at me. We’re not dead yet. Rosco and Amadeus are still holding them off on the bridge. We’re going to find a way to help. But you need to pull yourself together, okay?”

He swallowed hard, nodding stiffly, though his face was still twisted in anxiety. “Okay…okay. But what if—”

“We don’t have time for what-ifs,” she snapped, cutting him off. “We’re not out of options. Come on.”

Inez glanced around the hallway. They weren’t alone anymore. Other crew members, slowly recovering from the burn, had begun to rise. A few had scavenged weapons from the passed-out Vanguard men. Others were banding together, taking stock of the situation. Inez could hear distant weapon fire echoing through the corridors, sharp and chaotic, as pockets of crew members engaged the intruders.

“They’re fighting back.” Inez said. “Now’s our chance.”

As if on cue, a nearby crewman ran by, clutching a weapon in one hand and dragging another wounded crewmate with the other. “We’ve got some of their weapons! We’re holding them off!” He shouted as he passed, firing a few rounds back down the hallway.

Inez’s eyes narrowed with determination. “We need to join them.”

Roland, still pale, shook his head. “Are you crazy? We’re not soldiers!”

“No, we’re not,” Inez replied, spotting a discarded weapon and snatching it up. She checked the charge, her movements sharp and focused. “But we can fight.”

Before Roland could protest, she was already moving, pushing forward down the corridor. Roland cursed under his breath, his hands shaking as he ducked low behind Inez, using her as a shield.

Weapon discharges erupted around them as they joined the fray. Crew members were engaging the armed intruders, pinning them down in the narrow corridors. The air was thick with the smell of plasma burns and the metallic tang of blood. Inez fired off a few shots, taking down one of the armed men as they tried to rally their scattered forces. Roland, still cowering behind her, could barely look as bodies hit the ground.

Despite his terror, Inez’s calm precision carried them through the firefight. The crew was holding their own, managing to capture some of the now disarmed men, while others were gunned down as they tried to regroup. The tide was turning, slowly but surely, as the intruders were outnumbered and systematically suppressed.

“Inez, we’ve got to get to the bridge!” Roland muttered, still crouching low. “Rosco’s counting on us.”

She nodded. “Let’s move.”

They fought their way through the chaos, dodging plasma bolts and weaving between the bodies littering the corridors. Inez took down two more of the men, her aim steady even as the ship shook with the intensity of the firefights. Roland stayed close, his face twisted in fear, but he kept moving.

Finally, they reached the entrance to the bridge. The door was slightly ajar, blocked by the unconscious bodies of both Vanguard’s men and crew members. Inez and Roland pushed their way through, stepping over the carnage, until they were inside.

What they found on the bridge was worse than they’d expected.

Inside the bridge, the scene was pure chaos. Bodies were piled against the back wall, many unconscious, some dead. Rosco and Amadeus stood at the center, visibly shaken but still holding their ground, weapons drawn as they faced Vanguard’s leader, Illian. His face was twisted with fury as he had been shouting threats; his voice was now a mix of venom and desperation.

“You’re all dead!” he spat, his eyes wild with rage. “I’ll slit your fucking throats! You, your friends—all of you! You’re traitors to the Union! You don’t deserve to live!”

Rosco’s face was pale, his hands trembling as he leveled his weapon toward the man. He’d never felt more conflicted. Everything he believed in was being tested in that moment. His ideals of peace, of a unified humanity—all of it felt fragile now, crumbling under the weight of the violence unfolding around him.

But he had to say something.

“You’re wrong,” Rosco said, his voice firm despite the fear gnawing at his insides. “This isn’t about the Union versus the Jovians. It’s not about us versus them. Humanity is one race. We’re all the same.”

Illian scoffed, blood dripping from his mouth as he sneered at Rosco. “Humanity? Don’t make me laugh. You’re just another coward who sold out to the Jovians. You’re not human. You’re a fucking traitor.”

Rosco’s jaw tightened. “The politics… all of this division—it’s poisoned us. Front Runner is about more than that. It’s about pushing humanity forward, into the future. A future where we can coexist without killing each other over borders and flags.”

Illian let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Peace? You just finished murdering one of my men not but five minutes ago, and now you want to preach peace?”

Rosco faltered, his conviction wavering. He had no answer for that. The man was right. They had killed. And what did that make him? Did that invalidate everything he stood for?

He looked to Amadeus, who was standing beside him, eyes wide but unwavering. The weight of the Illian’s words settled over them both, heavy and undeniable. Rosco felt a growing confusion inside him—a sense that everything he thought he knew was being ripped apart.

But there was no time to dwell on it. Behind them, the sound of footsteps grew louder as more crew members flooded into the bridge. Inez and Roland pushed their way in, joining the fight.

“It’s over!” Inez shouted, her voice cutting through the tension. “Your men are dead. The rest have been captured. It’s over.”

Illian’s face twisted with rage, but before he could respond, Admiral Jin Wang stirred. He was still weak, his body trembling from blood loss, but he managed to pull himself up, his voice steady.

“There’s nothing more you can do.” the Admiral said, stepping forward. “You’ve lost.”

Illian’s eyes narrowed, his face a mask of fury. “You think this is over? There are fifty more Vanguard ships on their way. They’ll be here soon, and when they arrive, this ship will be nothing but dust. We’re now approaching no man’s land. The Union isn’t coming for you.”

Admiral Wang didn’t flinch. He stood tall, his voice resolute. “Maybe not. But we’re still alive, and as long as we are, we’ll fight.”

The bridge had grown crowded as more and more crew members poured in, many of them armed and furious. The intruders, now unarmed and cornered, could do nothing but watch as the room filled with people demanding justice.

“Blood for blood!” One of the crew shouted. “Kill them!”

“No!” The Admiral raised a hand, trying to calm the enraged crew, but his voice was lost in the swell of anger. The mob was beyond reason, their need for vengeance boiling over.

The men stood silently, their faces pale but defiant. Illian, with a sneer on his lips, spit at the nearest crew member’s feet.

“You’re cowards!” he hissed. “Every last one of you. You won’t fucking kill me!”

Without warning, a shot rang out. Illian’s head snapped back, a projectile tearing through his skull. Blood sprayed across the room as his body crumpled to the floor.

Admiral Wang was shocked. He couldn’t speak for a moment. He couldn’t believe that a member of his crew would kill this man in cold blood. He turned around, attempting to compose himself. He once again raised his hands, attempting to quell the enthralled crew,

But it was too late.

The crew erupted in a flurry of weapon fire, systematically executing the remaining Vanguard militia one by one. Admiral Wang tried to shout over the chaos, but the bloodlust had already taken hold. By the time the shooting had ceased, every last one of the men from the boarding party had been killed, their burned corpses now littering the once dignified and spotless bridge of Invictus.

Admiral Wang stood at the center of the room, his hands trembling slightly as he looked over the fallen bodies of Vanguard’s men. Blood pooled on the floor, spreading across the once-spotless surface of the command deck, staining everything it touched. The crew stood frozen, the tension in the air almost suffocating.

Admiral Wang’s face was pale, his expression unreadable as he stared at the carnage. Slowly, he shook his head, his voice thick with emotion. “What have you done?” He asked quietly, though his words seemed to hang in the air, heavier than the atmosphere around them.

Rosco stood stiffly at the back of the group, his weapon still clutched in his hand. His stomach churned with a sickening mix of guilt and disbelief. He hadn’t fired a shot, but that hardly mattered now. He still felt a sharp pang of guilt for what happened here.

The Admiral’s voice grew louder as his anger rose. “You had no right to kill these men! We are not murderers. We are supposed to be better than this.” His voice cracked slightly, but he held his ground, glaring at the crew. “We had them captured. They were unarmed. This—this is a betrayal of everything the Front Runner Initiative stands for.”

No one spoke. The weight of their actions seemed to settle in the room like a thick fog, leaving everyone trapped in their own thoughts. Some of the crew exchanged uneasy glances, others looked away, unable to face the Admiral's condemnation.

Rosco wanted to agree, wanted to say something. He believed in Admiral Wang’s words. But his voice felt trapped in his throat, the sight of the corpses before him too much for him to process. Everything he had believed in—the vision of peace, of unity—felt so fragile now. Were they really any different from the men they had just executed?

Before the moral quandary could develop any further, a faint ping echoed through the bridge from the vessel’s Non-Independent Intelligence Protocols:

“MULTIPLE VESSELS INCOMING. ESTIMATED ARRIVAL TIME: THREE HOURS TWENTY TWO MINUTES.”

The room tensed once again.

Admiral Wang turned slowly toward the display, his expression grim. “They’re coming.” He muttered, almost to himself. Then louder, addressing the crew. “We don’t have much time. We’ll figure out how to deal with what happened here later. For the time being, we have to get moving.”

The tension snapped back into focus as the Admiral moved with newfound urgency. He pinged the other Front Runner vessels still near Mars, quickly patching through to their captains. The incoming voice on the comms sounded strained, laced with panic.

“Admiral…” One of the captains began, “We’ve got small ships heading toward us too. What should we do?”

Admiral Wang clenched his fists, his mind racing. They’re trying to make sure we fail. The thought burned in his mind. If the Front Runner Initiative was destroyed here, no one would ever leave the Solar System. If things escalated any further, the Jovians would revoke their permission to pass through. He knew they had to act, they had to leave—now.

He turned back to the crew. “We have to leave. If we stay any longer, the Initiative is dead. This is our only chance.”

Rosco felt a chill crawl down his spine. Leave now? The thought felt surreal, as if they were about to be thrown into the vast unknown far sooner than anyone had planned.

The Admiral’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Patch me through to Chief Calculations Officer Namek.” He addressed the Intelligence Protocols.

“UNABLE TO COMPLY.”

“Why not?” The Admiral inquired, his brow raising.

“CHIEF CALCULATIONS OFFICER LARS NAMEK IS DECEASED.” The Protocols informed indifferently.

“Cause of death?” Admiral Wang’s tone began to weaken.

“PENETRATING PLASMA WOUND RESULTING IN PNEUMOTHORAX.”

“Goddammit…” The Admiral muttered quietly, his tone now betraying his emotion.

“Is there anyone from Calculations present?” He asked, scanning the room.

Rosco, Inez, and Roland raised their hands almost instinctively, though unease still permeated their expressions.

Admiral Wang’s eyes locked onto them. “Can you do it?” He asked, his voice low but urgent. “Can you make the calculations for the other vessels to depart from Mars immediately and align their speeds with Invictus as we accelerate to relativistic speeds?”

Rosco exchanged a quick glance with Inez and Roland before answering. “It’s possible. The Intelligence Protocols can handle most of the heavy lifting. They can run the calculations and share the programs between the ships in seconds.” He paused, glancing at the Admiral. “But we’ll need to approve the final numbers. We can make it work.”

Admiral Wang didn’t hesitate. “Good. Let’s get it done.”

The Admiral turned back to the crew. “Everyone else—listen closely. We need to move fast. Get to your quarters and prepare for cryosleep. We’re going to initiate acceleration to relativistic speeds, and when we do, every single one of you needs to be asleep. No exceptions.”

The room burst into action as the crew scrambled to follow orders, moving quickly to clean up the bridge, gathering weapons, and clearing the bodies. The urgency of the situation wiped away any lingering hesitation.

A communications officer approached Admiral Wang, speaking quickly. “The Vanguard ships will reach us in just under three hours, Admiral.”

Admiral Wang’s face tightened, but he nodded. “Then that’s all the time we have. We leave before then.”

Rosco sat in front of the console in the Calculations Division, his eyes moving almost mechanically as he checked the new heading for Invictus. His heart pounded in his chest, but his mind was laser-focused on the task at hand. The other Front Runner vessels had already begun to receive the calculations. The Intelligence Protocols ran through their final checks, then Rosco and the other calculations officers ran through theirs. Their numbers were displayed in neat lines across the console, now everything was set.

The final ping from the Protocols came through:

“DEPARTURE PREPARATIONS COMPLETE. RELEVANT DATA HAS BEEN SHARED WITH ALL VESSELS IN THE FRONT RUNNER FIRST WAVE FLEET.”

Rosco stared at the screen, his emotions swirling in a mixture of anticipation and dread. They were about to leave everything behind. Mars, the solar system—all of it would be nothing more than a distant memory by the time they woke up.

He glanced over at Inez and Roland. Roland’s face was pale, his hands trembling slightly as he fidgeted nervously with his uniform. “Are we… Are we sure about this?” He asked quietly, his voice barely audible.

Inez shot him a glance, her usual confidence faltering for the first time. “It’s the only choice we have. We’re running out of time.”

Rosco nodded in agreement, though a sinking feeling had settled deep in his gut. They were about to place the fate of the entire Initiative in the hands of the Intelligence Protocols. For the next five years, while they slept in cryosleep, those Protocols would control everything—navigation, speed, even their survival.

“There’s no turning back now.” He said quietly, his voice heavy with the weight of that realization.

Amadeus, standing beside him, looked more uncertain than ever. His usual laid-back demeanor had given way to nervous energy. “I just hope… I hope I’ll be useful.” He muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Inez placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been nothing but useful since this whole thing started, Amadeus. Don’t doubt that.”

He nodded, though the worry in his eyes remained. Rosco could see the fear in each of them. None of them had known each other for long, but the idea of being separated now—of going into cryosleep not knowing if they’d ever see each other again—it was unsettling.

Roland, still fidgeting, glanced over at Rosco. “We could always just go back to Mars.”

Rosco hesitated for a moment, then met Roland’s gaze. “No. We go forward. There’s no road back anymore.”

There was a heavy silence between them, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Rosco felt a deep sense of responsibility settle over him. This was what he had signed up for—pushing humanity forward into the unknown. But the weight of that mission felt crushing now.

“Good luck to all of you.” Inez said softly, breaking the silence. “We’ll see each other on the other side.”

They exchanged somber nods before turning toward their quarters. The walk down the corridors felt longer than usual, each step echoing with the finality of their decision. By the time they reached their rooms, the ship had already begun making preparations for departure. The hum of the engines grew louder, signaling the countdown to their acceleration.

Rosco entered his quarters, the soft glow of the cryosleep chamber casting long shadows across the floor. He paused for a moment, standing by the small port window, staring out at the dark expanse of space. There was a strange, tranquil stillness outside, as if the universe was holding its breath.

But Rosco knew better. The danger was lurking, unseen but very real. The Vanguard ships were closing in, and if they didn’t leave now, they never would.

He turned away from the window and stepped into the cryosleep pod. The machine hummed softly as it came to life, the lights dimming as it began its sequence. Rosco took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly as he tried to calm his racing heart.

This was it.

The last thing he saw before his consciousness began to fade was the countdown clock, its numbers ticking down to zero.

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