The Raptor settles into a rare, watchful quiet. Red emergency light washes the bridge, and the last of the command hub’s debris is only a memory on the sensor feed.
Shifter stands at the console, trench coat hanging loose, with the ship’s hum under his boots. The victory feels real only because the void keeps answering with silence.
Mara Vey
We actually made it out.
Mara Vey
Her shoulders ease by a fraction, but her eyes stay on the scrolling data, as if expecting the Empire to blink back.
She pulls her hands off the controls and leans back, civilian clothes settling where armor used to be. For once, she looks less like an officer and more like someone allowed to breathe.
Mara Vey
That hub was supposed to be untouchable. Now it is dust.
A soft ping rolls across long-range sensors, harmless, distant, almost polite. The bridge stays intact around them, warm with power and the afterglow of survival.
Mara Vey
So, what do we do with the next quiet hour?
✓ Quest Accepted
Find out whether the rebel cause was a fabrication
✓ Quest Accepted
Learn what the next quiet hour means for the partnership