‘Huh.’

That was the first response any of the assembled officers could gather as the last echoes of Cassidy’s briefing faded through the special operations unit lounge. Nallera was sprawled on one of the beanbags, the beef jerky she’d been chewing on as she’d come in now dangling out the corner of her mouth, her monosyllabic noise the only response anyone had summoned.

‘That about sums it up,’ Cassidy said, brow still furrowed. ‘This information’s hot off the presses. Rourke only got the message from Fourth Fleet two hours ago. Most of the squadron don’t know.’

Q’ira sat up. ‘Let me get this straight: some spooky long-dead empire from the other side of the galaxy is why warp doesn’t work, and now they’re using secret subspace tunnels to conquer the Federation? Who are these Veebwoo guys?’

‘Vaadwaur,’ Aryn corrected, but it was a distant sort of reflex, his eyes still locked on the holographic display in the lounge, which the team had taken to calling the Rookery. Cassidy had played them segments of the briefing from Fourth Fleet Command, which included records of their best intelligence. While from here, at Midgard, they couldn’t pierce the Blackout’s veil, the Fourth Fleet’s powerful subspace sensor array had assembled some limited information on the state of the galaxy and invasion.

It wasn’t good.

Cassidy hadn’t just gathered the Rooks, but the Blackbird’s command staff, too. Commander Ranicus stood at the back, leaning against a bulkhead with arms folded across her chest.

‘Are we expecting them to hit Midgard?’ she asked.

‘No way to know,’ said Cassidy, ‘except they’ve hit dozens of sectors and systems, and so far as the array can tell, that all happened pretty simultaneously. Within the same twenty-four-hour window.’

‘It would be strategically advantageous for them to stagger waves of invasion,’ said Lieutenant Jakorr. The tall, powerfully built Andorian had only been with Blackbird since shortly before the Blackout. Rosewood found him disciplined and distinctly un-fun, but as well as serving as the ship’s tactical officer, he provided strategic analysis for the Rooks.

‘Would it?’ mused Aryn. ‘We’re all isolated from each other. This happened a bit ago and if it weren’t for the array and this resurgent Project Pathfinder, we’d have no idea. I dare say much of the rest of Starfleet is the same: dealing with an invasion, or blissfully ignorant.’

A muscle twitched in the corner of Jakorr’s jaw. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand the intricacies of warfare, Lieutenant -’

Despite the clear jibe, Aryn carried on as if he hadn’t noticed, as if this were a scientific debate. ‘It’s not as if we can be redeployed to respond, only for the Vaadwaur to hit us in the places we just left.’

Rosewood leaned forward to interrupt as Jakorr irritably opened his mouth, eyes on Cassidy. ‘You said we’re some of the first in the squadron to know. Why?’

‘Ohhh.’ Nallera made an upset noise. ‘That’s not a good sign, is it.’

‘Yes, I’m sure Commodore Rourke wants the Rooks to personally save the galaxy,’ Q’ira pointed out in a low drawl.

‘Not just us,’ said Cassidy, ‘but yes, the squadron. And not the galaxy. But one of the most important star systems in the Federation.’ His thumb tapped his PADD. The display had been showing the galactic map, Federation borders pock-marked with vivid red symbols in the dozens of sectors and systems struck by the Vaadwaur. Now it zoomed in, and Rosewood was accustomed in this briefings for the display to focus on some dark corner of the galaxy.

Not Sector 001. Not the heart of the Federation.

‘Oh, thank God,’ Nallera groaned, clutching her chest dramatically. ‘I thought you were about to say we’ve got to save Earth.’

‘This isn’t far off,’ murmured Ranicus.

Cassidy nodded. ‘Less than five light-years, in fact. Guys, we’ve got to save Alpha Centauri.’

Rosewood could feel the eyes on him and knew Nallera had joked in part to deflect. As the native of Alpha Centaur in the room, as the man who’d grown up in the capital’s suburbs, attended its most prestigious schools, whose family dated back to the founding, he knew they were waiting for his reaction.

When it didn’t come, Q’ira pointedly stuck her hand in the air. ‘What? The five of us?’ Jakorr’s throat-clearing was indignant, and she made a face at him. ‘Oh, sorry; with the rest of the Blackbird behind us, we’ll be fine against an interstellar invasion from undead bogeymen.’

‘They’re not undead,’ Aryn said with tired patience. ‘They were woken from suspended animation -’

‘And twenty-five years later there’s a whole lot of them for a fallen empire,’ Q’ira pointed out, waving a hand at the deluge of red hotspots on the map.

‘Sirius Squadron,’ began Cassidy, raising his voice to shut them up, ‘is one of the largest cohesive combat units the Fourth Fleet can confirm is able to deploy, and that they could contact. Seems the array picked up on our the graviton catapult, too. Forty-eight hours after it’s fully operational, the squadron will use it for our mission: the liberation of Alpha Centauri.’

Aryn narrowed his eyes. ‘Why forty-eight hours after it’s operational?’

Rosewood made a noisy sigh and scrubbed his face with his hand. ‘Because immediately after it’s operational, we’re going in. Right?’ He looked up at Cassidy, who gave a thin-lipped nod. ‘We don’t know anything about conditions in the system.’

‘We know very little. An Underspace aperture opened in the heart of the binary star system. The main Starfleet task group was caught on manoeuvres when the Blackout fell, so they’re trapped closer to Earth than A-C. We think the Blackout boundaries reach as far as Wolf 359 and Barnard’s Star, but we’re not sure. No, we don’t know Vaadwaur fleet numbers, or what they’ve done since arriving, or the condition of, for example, Centauri Station,’ Cassidy confirmed.

‘Wait,’ said Q’ira, still catching up. ‘I didn’t sign up to be a canary in a coal mine when that coal mine is a war-zone.’

‘You’re a Starfleet officer,’ Jakorr snapped.

‘Provisional!’

Cassidy stepped forward again, pointing at the holo-map. ‘Blackbird will travel first through the graviton catapult into the periphery of the A-C system; specifically, the fringe of Proxima Centauri’s gravity well,’ he said, gesturing to the third star in the system, nestled point-two of a light-year away from the twin stars of Rigel Kantaurus and Toliman. ‘Once there, we have forty-eight hours to use Blackbird’s stealth capabilities to assess the strategic situation in the sector and formulate actionable intel for Sirius Squadron’s arrival. That could mean identifying key targets for an initial strike or pinpointing secure positions for the squadron to regroup and establish a foothold.’

Nallera leaned forward, brow furrowed. ‘Except if we get there and find the entire sector is crawling with a thousand Vaadwaur death-ships, we can’t send word to the squadron to stay away. We might just be the first to die before they join us in a death-pile.’

Cassidy raised a hand. ‘We are going in blind. But in regions where the array has been able to gather more complete evidence, we’re not talking about the sorts of numbers we stand no chance against. The Vaadwaur are clearly using the Blackout to their advantage. They’re relying on reinforcements not being able to get there, not on being too powerful for any reinforcements.’

‘We think,’ said Q’ira. ‘Because we have no idea how bad it is in A-C.’

‘It’s that or we sit here with our thumbs up our asses while the galaxy burns.’ Rosewood hadn’t realised he was speaking until his voice came rasping from his dry throat. ‘And if you don’t want in, I bet we can leave you to sun yourself on a beach in Alfheim. Have fun when the galaxy reopens and Starfleet doesn’t protect you any more.’

‘If the galaxy reopens. But I didn’t say I was going to stay behind.’ Q’ira subsided with a sulky air. ‘I just think this plan is crazy.’

Nallera gave her a sidelong, wistful look. ‘It’s the end of the galaxy, girl. You think this is gonna take anything less than crazy?’

Ranicus still hadn’t moved from the periphery. The Rookery had a near-literal inner circle of comfortable seating around the main projector, where the team themselves sat – or, in some cases, lounged. While Jakorr stood in that circle, she stayed at the back, watching, listening, participating, but not joining them.

When she spoke, her voice was guarded. ‘We are going in blind,’ she reasserted to Cassidy.

‘Yup. We’ve got operational priorities and a non-cloaking based stealth system which maybe the Vaadwaur can see through,’ he confirmed. ‘We might arrive and get turned to paste.’

‘Or assemble a plan that gets the squadron turned to paste.’

‘Avoid that, Commander.’ The big man straightened, jaw set as he looked at his XO. ‘That’s your job.’

‘Me?’

Rosewood, too, found some strength, twisting in his armchair. ‘Her?’

Cassidy shrugged. ‘I know you’re here because Command decided that association with Lionel Jericho was a stain of dishonour – even though they gave the man himself a starbase, because that’s how politics work. But fact is, you served at the right hand of one of Starfleet’s greatest combat leaders for eleven years. You just got an extra billet, Commander, as well as keeping this ship running while we’re having fun in the field: to formulate Sirius Squadron’s opening plan of engagement. Welcome to Squadron Strategic Operations.’

Q’ira snapped her fingers at her. ‘You win a prize! The fate of a dozen ships, hundreds of lives, and humanity’s second home are now in your hands!’

Ranicus’s expression did not change, nor did she miss a beat before saying, ‘Our hands, Ensign. We’re on this joy-ride together.’

‘Damn,’ Q’ira muttered. ‘Forgot that.’

‘The catapult’s going through final test phases now,’ said Cassidy. ‘You all have individual briefing packages to review. Prep to make. Assuming SCE give the catapult a clean bill of health, we deploy in twenty-one hours.’ He gave a curt nod. ‘Dismissed.’

Rosewood made sure he wasn’t the first to his feet. Carefully, he ensured he made eye contact with Cassidy, letting the gruff team leader give him a short nod in what passed for a professional checking-in on this ship. When Nallera clapped him on the back on her way out, he responded with a wan smile, the mask of the brave little soldier, finding it hard but pressing on.

It was Aryn who lingered, though; Aryn who caught him at the door to his quarters, expression sagging.

‘John. Are you alright?’

Rosewood paused, hand on the door control panel. ‘We just found out the galaxy’s falling apart, Mac. What counts as “alright?”’

‘Everything’s relative. For instance, there’s no sign of Angosia being hit, no sign of – shockingly – Earth being hit.’ Aryn swallowed. ‘Ardana’s been hit.’

‘Would you rather we were headed there?’ Rosewood turned. ‘So you could do something?’

‘It doesn’t matter. We’re not going there. We are going to Alpha Centauri.’

‘There’ll be plenty of time to think about A-C. You’ve got one more night. Go enjoy life. Go see your girl.’

Aryn looked like he’d argue with the evasion for a moment, then his gaze turned wry. ‘I expect I’ll see her more on this mission than most. Our first deployment together.’

‘It’s adorable. See you tomorrow, Mac.’

Aryn might have considered himself close enough to Rosewood to press him for a check-in. He still wasn’t adept enough to parry such a brutal dismissal, and Rosewood completed his escape into his quarters.

Beyond the narrow viewport window, the colony world of Alfheim hung like a sapphire against the black. Pristine. Safe. Watched over by Gateway, and, it seemed, spared from the darkness of the universe.

A darkness into whose depths they were willingly venturing. Blinder than ever. Against worse odds than ever. Again.