Chasing Ghosts

Rylan's brow furrowed. "So you had one. With whom?"

She met his eyes, the pain in her expression raw and unguarded. "Someone I trusted with my life. " Her voice hardened as she continued. "But trust doesn't mean much when you're up against the Codex. "

He didn't press further, his expression unreadable. As the shuttle docked with their ship, Sylvie's thoughts turned to her bloodchain tattoo—the one she had lost, and the promise she had made to herself to ensure their sacrifice wasn't in vain.

The shuttle settled onto the hangar platform with a soft hiss, its thrusters venting steam into the dimly lit bay. The dim light reflected off the scarred hull of the ship, a somber reminder of the chaos they had barely survived. Sylvie winced as she unstrapped herself, her side still aching from the wound she had taken during the mission. Each movement sent a sharp jolt of pain through her body, but she gritted her teeth and pressed on.

Her fingers brushed against the blood-soaked fabric at her side, and she let out a quiet sigh. "Chivalry is dead." she muttered under her breath, her voice tinged with a mix of irritation and exhaustion.

She shook her head as she glanced at Rylan, who was already halfway to the ramp despite his own injuries, his posture stiff but unyielding. His movements were deliberate, his left arm cradled against his chest, yet he showed no signs of slowing down.

Cassian stood at the far edge of the hangar, his presence commanding despite the muted chaos around him. Mechanics scrambled to service the shuttles, their voices echoing through the cavernous space, but none of it seemed to touch him. His sharp eyes tracked the returning operatives as they disembarked.

His gaze lingered briefly on Rylan, before settling on Sylvie. Her gut tightened under his scrutiny, but she forced herself to meet his eyes, her posture as steady as she could manage.

Rylan reached him first, snapping a crisp salute and handing over a secure data module. "Recon team Alpha returned three hours ago. The Codex's supply routes are mapped, and we've confirmed their defensive network," he reported, his voice clipped but heavy. "The situation is worse than expected. Their forces are far more organized than we'd projected."

Cassian accepted the module silently, his gloved hand tightening briefly around it. His expression betrayed nothing as his gaze shifted back to Sylvie. "And her performance?"

Rylan hesitated. His jaw worked, as though the words were difficult to force out. "She… performed her duties," he admitted at last. "Saved my life, actually."

Cassian arched a brow, a faint flicker of surprise breaking his otherwise composed expression, followed by a low chuckle. "High praise, coming from you."

This was exactly the situation Cassian had hoped for. Though Rylan was an exceptional soldier—disciplined, efficient, and relentless—Cassian needed him to become more than just a soldier.

He needed him to see beyond the immediate mission, to understand the broader strategy and take ownership of it. Leadership wasn't about following orders perfectly; it was about seeing the full picture, adapting to the unexpected, and inspiring others to do the same. Moments like this, uncomfortable as they were, were part of that growth—that's at least what Cassian tried to justify why he liked Sylvie. The real reason was much simpler: she reminded him of Rylan's mother.

Rylan's jaw tightened, as he mumbled under his breath, "It's not praise. It's a fact."

Cassian's eyes lingered on Sylvie, weighing her. She forced herself to remain steady, though the knot in her stomach twisted tighter. "You did well." said at last, his tone cool. "Get yourself to medbay. Debrief in two hours."

Cassian then moved towards the returnees, speaking to each survivor personally. His words were measured but sincere, a balance of empathy and resolve.

When he approached a young lieutenant clutching a blood-streaked helmet, Cassian placed a firm hand on the soldier's shoulder. "You did everything you could," he said, his voice steady. "Their sacrifice won't be forgotten."

Later, as the hangar quieted, Cassian called for his butler, Sven, a composed older man who had worked with the family for years. "Here are the names of the soldiers we lost," Cassian said, handing him a small data pad. "Make sure their families are taken care of."

The butler nodded solemnly, understanding the unspoken urgency. "It will be done, sir."

He exhaled quietly and squared his shoulders. With a brisk stride, he made his way to the briefing room, his mind already shifting to the next challenge ahead.

Though the grief in their eyes mirrored his own, Cassian gave them something to hold onto: direction, purpose, and the assurance that their losses were not in vain. By the time he stepped into the briefing room, the weight of those conversations lingered, sharpening his focus.

The briefing room was filled with quiet tension, the cold light of holographic projections making the air feel heavy. Floating maps, logs, and diagrams hovered above the table, casting shadows that shifted as they moved. Cassian stood in the center of it all, surrounded by officers and strategists, his face lit by the flickering display.

Sylvie entered quietly, her ribs still aching from medbay treatment. She moved to the side of the room, staying just outside the cluster of senior officers. Her eyes swept over the map dominating the space—a sprawling network of supply routes, depots, and defensive stations marked in vivid red and blue.

Cassian slid the data module into the central console, and Frost Fang's intricate network came to life. Converging trade routes and hidden refueling stations illuminated like arteries in a circulatory system. A sharp intake of breath rippled through the room as the full scope of the Codex operation revealed itself.

Cassian spoke, his voice precise. "This is confirmation of our worst-case scenario. Frost Fang is more than a supply hub—it's the keystone of Codex operations in this quadrant. Their supply routes are fortified, with redundancies in place to mitigate disruption. Automated defenses are more advanced than we've seen before."

He gestured to two key points where the supply lines converged. "These choke points are critical. Sever them, and we cripple their network. At first glance, it seems like attacking them is the obvious choice. But the Codex isn't careless. These aren't gaps—they're deliberate vulnerabilities."

The room stirred with unease.

A senior strategist leaned forward, his sharp features tight with skepticism. "You're suggesting they've built weaknesses into their system intentionally? That's counterproductive."

Sylvie's voice cut through before Cassian could respond, her tone firm but thoughtful. "It's not counterproductive—it's calculated. Those 'weaknesses' are traps, carefully placed to lure us into making the wrong move."

All eyes turned to her. Cassian's expression sharpened, but he gestured for her to continue.

Sylvie stepped closer to the map, her voice steady. "They want us to think we've found the key to unraveling their network. If we commit to striking here"—she highlighted one of the convergence points—"we'll overextend. They'll bleed us dry while consolidating their power elsewhere."

The strategist frowned, his skepticism evident. "You don't have any hard proof to back this up."

"I don't need proof," she shot back. "I've seen this tactic before. The Codex doesn't aim for straightforward victories. They thrive on destabilization—forcing their enemies to fight on their terms, to chase shadows while the real threat grows in the background."

Cassian's gaze didn't waver. "And what's the real threat?"

Sylvie hesitated, piecing together fragments of memory. "Velaris," she said at last. "It's their staging ground. Neutral trade routes, proximity to disputed systems—it's perfect for covert operations. Frost Fang is the distraction. Velaris is the objective."

Rylan, standing near the console, folded his arms. "If Velaris is so critical, why operate Frost Fang this close to our borders? They're inviting detection."

"Because they want us to detect it," Sylvie replied. "But only enough to act. It's bait. They're playing on our instincts, forcing us to commit resources while they finalize their preparations."