30 YEARS EARLIER…
Saturnia hangs in the dark expanse, a colossal mushroom-shaped space resort. Its lower half is a massive docking stem. The top domes shine like diamonds. As it floats near the gas giant’s icy rings, it shimmers like a jewel. Its windows shine bright, welcoming incoming ships.
Inside Saturnia’s security control room, monitors thrum. A younger Blake, squad leader of the Space Commandos, stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Colonel Harrison, the CO of the US Space Force battalion. Each year, a different United Space Force nation is responsible for Saturnia’s defenses. This year, the Stars and Stripes fly. Blake looks at the main console while his mind works like a chessboard, watching the monitors for potential threats.
Blake watches the bright space cruise ship, the Astral Odyssey, move closer to Saturnia. Three space fighters, part of the Space Commando squadron, take off from Saturnia. Their job is to guide the ship safely to the dock. Space liners, especially those decelerating for approach, are always prime targets for pirates hunting cargo or taking hostages for ransom.
“Squad, maintain formation around the ship until we’re in the clear,” Blake’s voice comes through the comm channel.
“Copy that, Major,” the squadron leader replies. “Squad, tighten formation. Eyes peeled. No surprises from space pirates today.”
Colonel Harrison, looking stern, commands, “Power up the defense turrets!” Saturnia’s anti-aircraft turrets swivel, they rise like huge towers, building a loud and scary vibration inside the space resort.
“Nothing on the scanner so far,” Harrison notes, a hint of surprise in his voice as he glances at Blake. “Looks like we’re not having any trouble from pirates.”
Blake shifts his weight. “Their behavior is always unpredictable,” he replies, his eyes still fixed on the main screen.
He feels relief as the Astral Odyssey grows bigger on the screen. His heart races with excitement instead of its usual steady beat. The space cruise ship brings more than just high-paying tourists and supplies. On board is his own family, arriving on Saturnia. The comm channel in his earpiece crackles, then the sound of his son’s voice fills his ear.
“Dad! Can you hear me?” his son’s voice chimes. “I can see Saturn’s rings really close now!”
“That’s fantastic, buddy,” Blake’s voice remains steady, though a thrill vibrates through his veins. “You’ll be seeing me up close soon too.”
A soft laugh follows, a sound that stirs a longing Blake usually keeps tucked away during missions. Then his wife’s voice, smooth and familiar.
“He hasn’t stopped looking out the window since we left Earth.”
Blake chuckles, picturing his son’s wide-eyed awe. He sees a reflection of himself in that curiosity for space, that thirst for adventure. “How was the journey?” he asks, trying to turn his attention to her.
“I’m just excited to finally spend some time with you,” Selena sighs over the line.
“That makes two of us,” he admits. But even as he speaks, his gaze remains glued to the monitors, tracking the Astral Odyssey’s docking progress.
“We are so lucky that we as families of Space Force officers get to spend vacation time here where you are stationed,” Selena remarks with excitement. “It’s a luxury most military families don’t get to experience.”
“I’m happy for the chance for us to be united here on Saturnia,” Blake responds, forcing a smile he knows she can’t see. He yearns for their warmth in this cold, hard world of duty. His year of service here is almost over. He will be spending his military leave together with them at Saturnia as of tomorrow. And, in a week, he’ll be joining them back to Earth on the Astral Odyssey.
Blake’s hand moves unconsciously to the pocket of his combat suit, his fingers finding the familiar outline of a silver locket. He withdraws it, the metal cool against his palm. The tarnished oval catches the blue glow of the monitors, reflecting his own distorted image back at him. For a heartbeat, he simply holds it, his thumb tracing the worn edge without opening it. He slips it back, returning his focus to the approaching Astral Odyssey carrying his family.
Outside the control room of one of Saturnia’s colossal defense turrets, two security guards stand sentinel by the access doors of the turret’s control room. Beside them, a security droid, its optical sensors glowing a steady blue, maintains a silent vigil.
Suddenly, the droid’s blue eyes flicker. Its safeguarding posture is replaced by a chilling menace. Before the guards can act, a shot from its weapon kills one, dropping one of the guards instantly. The other guard instinctively squeezes his trigger; a desperate shot strikes the droid’s arm, disabling its weapon as the guard reaches for the emergency button. A piercing alarm shrieks through the passageways, but the guard’s effort is cut short. The droid’s claw-like hand closes around his skull, crushing it with ease.
The alarm’s shrill wail rips through the security control room. Colonel Harrison and Blake snap to attention.
“Colonel, security breach! Turret number three maintenance chamber!” a frantic security operator reports.
“Bring up the surveillance footage!” Harrison barks.
The primary display flickers, showing the two crumpled bodies of the security guards. The rogue droid stands over them, interfacing with the maintenance room’s access panel.
“Shut down that security droid!” Blake exclaims with urgency.
“Turn it off, now!” Harrison roars at the control operative.
“It’s offline, Sir! We can’t access it. It’s beyond our control,” he stammered, his fingers flying uselessly across the console.
The droid punches a series of complex codes into the fortified entrance door, and it opens up. The droid slips inside, sealing itself in by closing the door behind it. It extends an appendage, plugging into the turret’s control module data outlet.
“It’s hacking the controls! Shut the turrets down!” Blake shouts.
On the main display, the indicator lights for Saturnia’s defense turrets flicker erratically, warning signals flashing.
“Sir, we can’t gain entry to the turrets’ control network. We’ve been locked out!” the operator announces, his fingers a blur over the unresponsive panels.
“Activate the backup emergency connection to the breakglass admin console!” Harrison’s eyes are locked on the unfolding disaster.
“Negative, Sir. The breakglass admin console has also been compromised. We’ve lost control of the turrets.”
“Damn it!” Blake grinds out. He doesn’t wait for orders. He bolts, his boots hammering against the floor, heading for the Turret’s maintenance room. “Squad leader, security alert!” he yells into his comm.
“Major, this is Squad Leader.” the voice crackles back.
“A security droid is hacking the turret controls! Keep the squadron and the cruiser away from the defense turrets!” Blake shouts out. But the transmission breaks up, his warning dissolving into static.
“Unable to confirm your previous message, Major. Please repeat.”
“Execute evasive action!” Blake bellows, but the interference garbles his transmission.
With chilling precision, Saturnia’s defensive turrets swivel. Their barrels lock onto the three space fighters shielding the Astral Odyssey.
The serene black of space erupts into a frenzied battleground. Luminous plasma bursts, fired from the turrets, streak like vengeful comets. One space fighter erupts in a silent, fiery bloom. The squadron leader’s eyes widen in horror. He wrestles with his comm, dodging the relentless blaster fire.
“Major, the turrets are firing on us!”
Blake runs through the seemingly endless corridor. The squadron leader’s voice is distorted, fragmented by the bad connection, but the message is chillingly clear: his squadron is under attack. Turret 3’s maintenance room feels a lifetime away.
“Steer clear of the turrets! Why have they turned on us?” the squadron leader roars into his comm, dodging a plasma bolt that scorches his fighter’s wing. He watches, helpless, as his last remaining comrade’s fighter is hit by the turret’s fire and dissolves into a fiery spectacle. He is alone.
Blake sprints, his heart pounding against his ribs. He glances out a nearby window. The turrets, now fully engaged, spat barrages of plasma bolts. The last lone fighter, a tiny silver fish in a sea of plasma fire, weaves frantically.
“Squad leader, status report!” Blake yells into his comm. All that returns is a wall of static, ripped through by the pilot’s life-or-death struggle. “Squad leader, report!” Blake screams again, watching as plasma blasts tear into the last fighter. The connection dissolves into silence.
Colonel Harrison’s gruff voice fills Blake’s comm. “Adams, we lost the fighter squadron.”
Blake’s fists are tight as pain fills his chest. Every pilot of that squadron had been under his command. He swallows the harsh taste and makes his mind focus. “Copy that,” he responds, “Almost at Turret 3 maintenance room.”
Suddenly, a shout from one of the operators pierces the security control room. “Colonel, the scanners…Massive energy signature detected! Another ship!!”
“Wide-angle view, port side, main screen!” Harrison’s urgency electrifies the room.
A scary shape appears on the big screen: a pirate ship stands out against the endless space, looking dark and menacing.
“Adams, we’ve got company… pirates!” Harrison announces through the comm.
Blake looks away from the window as he keeps running. There, in the desolate expanse, is the pirate ship, a predator closing in. The obliterated squadron, the compromised turrets, the Astral Odyssey carrying his family is a sitting duck.
A cold voice booms across all comm systems on Saturnia and the Astral Odyssey. “I will not allow any fighting back.” It is Magnus, the well-known pirate warlord. “This is your only warning. The guns of Saturnia now point at the space liner. If you fight back, I will blast the vessel into space dust.”
“Update on the gun turrets?” Harrison’s voice is sharp with desperation.
“Still locked out, Sir!” comes the reply from the operator.
Harrison reports back to Blake through the comm link.
“Adams, it’s Magnus. We still can’t control the turrets. He has aimed them at the Astral Odyssey. Eliminate that security droid as quickly as you can! Maybe we can regain control of the turrets if the droid is disabled.”
Blake’s seasoned instincts flare. Magnus, his ship looming, fuels Blake’s desperate sprint.
Magnus moves his pirate ship close to the Astral Odyssey like a skilled hunter. The battle-marked enforced sides of his ship shine with a dark threat. Magnus slams his fist down on his ship’s control panel, activating his ship’s droid deployment system. A swarm of droids, customized for brutal efficiency, launch like electronic locusts. The moment the pirate ship’s docking tunnel engages the Astral Odyssey’s cargo hatch, detonative charges blow the cargo door inward. The cruise ship’s corridors fill with the clanking sound of invading droids, on the hunt for the ship’s valuable payload.
Blake skids to a halt outside Turret 3’s maintenance room. The corridor echoes with the frustrated murmurs of security personnel, who have assembled at the control room’s entrance, now pressing against the locked door
“Can’t get in, Major! The entrance code has been changed!” one of them shouts.
Blake shoves past them, his features hardened by years of combat. “Stand down,” he commands. He slaps a small explosive charge onto the sealed door and yanks the security personnel back, taking cover. The blast rattles the corridor, spewing smoke. Blake charges through the damaged door, his mind a laser beam on the threat.
Inside, the rogue droid disengages from the turret’s control unit as Blake storms in. Its frame shimmering in the harsh artificial light as it calculates a new trajectory towards Blake. With its firearm destroyed, it twists its limbs into a makeshift battering ram, its alloy frame groaning as it reconfigures. Each powerful, piston-like limb lashes out with inhuman agility, transforming into a deadly weapon. Its smooth shape turns into a wild, thrashing mass as it tries with all its might to slam into Blake. But it fails to match Blake’s battle skills and quick moves.
Blake evades, sidestepping the droid’s piston-like strikes. His combat training kicks in, his gaze narrowing on the droid’s hull, searching for a weak spot on the droid. He finds it—a vital section of the robot’s processor, exposed by its hasty detachment from the turret’s control panel.
A quick, sharp motion, a flash of energy from Blake’s weapon. The plasma bolt pierces the droid. It sparks, stutters, and topples over, turned into a worthless, intricate skeleton of wiring and plating.
“The droid is down,” Blake reports to Harrison. “Are the turret controls accessible now?”
In the security control room, operators frantically work to get into the system, fear etched on their faces. Harrison bends over the main control panel, frustration on his face. “The damn droid locked us out with some security program,” he growls.
Blake’s eyes scan the turret display. His mind sifts through possibilities. “We need to bypass that security,” he murmurs, more to himself than Harrison.
A thought sparks: the manual override module. Every turret has one. A backdoor, a single weapon he can exploit.
Blake yanks out his datalink and slams it into port 8752 on the turret’s console. The machine’s control panel responds, the screen flaring with a burst of light. The console identifies him: Major Blake Adams, US Space Force, Saturnia. Access granted. Gripping the touch-sensitive controls, Blake operates the turret, his fingers following the manual instructions displayed on the screen.
His eyes flicker over the chaotic scene outside the viewport. He knows he has to strike with precision, with tact. A direct attack on the pirate warlord’s ship could endanger the Astral Odyssey, his wife and son within its hull. Instead, Blake aims at Magnus’s ship’s core power generator. Without it, the vessel’s energy systems would be crippled, its weapons disabled.
Blake adjusts his visor, bringing up the heat signature of the pirate ship. The pulsating red target guides his aim. His hands align the turret’s crosshairs with the power generator. A bead of sweat trickles down his brow as he squeezes the trigger.
A salvo rips through the void. The shots find their mark, tearing through the protective shielding, obliterating the inner mechanisms of the pirate’s ship power generator. Sparks of electricity dance erratically around the damaged area. The pirate ship’s essential core power supply, crucial for its operation and weapons, is destroyed. Magnus is caught off guard, his ship’s armaments falling silent.
Blake realizes he has to lure the pirate vessel away from the Astral Odyssey, protecting the space cruiser and its passengers. His sharp eyes trace the lines connecting the two ships: docking clamps, the only remaining links.
Without hesitation, he targets them. He fires a barrage of laser shots, each one calculated and precise. Sparks erupt in a dazzling display as each clamp buckles, shattering and detonating in the cold vacuum. The force of the explosions pushes the now-disabled pirate ship away from the Astral Odyssey.
Blake watches Magnus’s vessel drift aimlessly, its connection to the space cruiser severed. The Astral Odyssey, with his family aboard, is safe. For now.
Colonel Harrison’s voice breaks the comm’s silence. “Excellent work, Major Adams! You fended off Magnus’s attack!”
“We need to secure the Astral Odyssey and make sure there are no remaining threats,” Blake informs the colonel.
“Dispatch a shuttle with a security squad,” Harrison commands. “Infiltrate the pirate ship and seize Magnus.”
As a shuttle carrying Space Force soldiers launches from Saturnia towards the pirate vessel, Magnus maneuvers through his disabled ship, his fingers on the control panel. He initiates the emergency power source. A surge of energy flows through the vessel, vital systems and weapons flicker back to life.
He launches a wave of energy blasts at the rapidly approaching Space Force shuttle. The nimble craft, piloted by experienced hands, weaves to evade the onslaught. But the colossal Astral Odyssey, unable to maneuver quickly, drifts into the perilous line of fire. With a blinding flash, Magnus’s blasts strike the space cruise ship, a ripple of energy violently shuddering through its hull.
The impact sends shockwaves of alarm through Blake. Time seems to crawl. He watches the space cruiser with his family on board take the hit, the image is seared into his memory – they are in direct danger. His battle-hardened fingers grip the controls of the gun turret, locking onto Magnus’s ship’s blasters. The stakes are impossibly high. He fires, unleashing a barrage of plasma projectiles, aimed with precision at the pirate ship’s armaments, a frantic effort to neutralize the threat.
Blake’s heavy fire strikes Magnus’s ship. The pirate ship’s guns sputter and fail in a shower of sparks. Blasts spread along the hull one after another. Fire and wreckage burst out as the ship starts to break apart under the fierce attack. The pirate ship explodes in one last bright flash.
A quick burst of joy hits Blake as Magnus’s ship breaks into sparkling bits. But his happy moment ends quickly. He looks at the Astral Odyssey. The space cruise ship now looks beaten and broken. Deep cuts mark its sides, and inside, things stop working.
Just as he is about to process the extent of the damage, a sight more horrific than any war zone unfolds before his eyes. The Astral Odyssey, his family’s vessel, damaged by Magnus’s attack, erupts in a violent explosion, painting the canvas of space with fiery streaks of despair.
“NO!” Blake screams with raw pain and grief, his voice bouncing off the steel walls. The harsh reality clamps down: no one could survive the deadly explosion of that damaged cruiser. His chest throbs with the overwhelming burden of grief, the memories of his wife and son dissolving into the hushed cold emptiness of the cosmos. The Astral Odyssey, once a beacon of life, is now only shattered wreckage, drifting in the cold void.