The transporter beam resolved into six figures materializing on the bridge, and Stellar understood immediately what his grandfather had meant.
They were human, mostly. But each one had been...modified. Augmented. Changed in ways that made them something both more and less than what they'd been.
The man in the center was tall, still carrying himself with military bearing despite the silver that covered half his face like a metallic mask. One eye was natural, brown and warm. The other glowed with a soft blue light. His right arm was entirely mechanical, intricate machinery visible through transparent plating that pulsed with energy.
But Stellar knew that face. He'd seen it in old photographs, in family albums, in the portrait that hung in his father's study back on Earth.
"Grandfather," Stellar breathed.
"Hello, Bub." James Stellar's voice was the same as the transmission, but hearing it from the man's actual mouth, half organic, half something else, made it real in a way that terrified him. "I wish we had time for a proper union. We don't."
Thorne's hand was on her blaster, but she hadn't drawn it. The five figures flanking James Stellar looked just as modified: a woman with circuitry visible beneath translucent skin on her neck and arms, a man whose legs had been replaced with articulated metal constructs, another woman whose eyes were entirely mechanical, processing light in spectrums no human should see.
"The Prometheus crew," Carmelon said, his voice filled with academic fascination and horror. "Pardon my bluntness. What happened to you?"
"Survival happened," said the woman with the mechanical eyes. Her name patch, still visible on her worn uniform, read Lt. Davidson. "The Confluence happened."
James moved to the tactical display, his mechanical hand interfacing directly with the controls. Stellar noticed Clark watching the gesture with scientific interest, already cataloging the technology. "Captain, I'm uploading coordinates to your helm. We need to jump to FTL in the next four minutes, or none of us are leaving this sector."
"Stand down and stand back," Stellar said firmly. "Nobody touches my ship's controls until I get some answers. Starting with what the hell happened to the Prometheus and why you look like you've been through a nightmare."
"Because we have," James said, pulling his hand back from the console. "And we're trying to keep you from following us into it." He glanced at the tactical display, where the incoming FTL signatures were growing closer. "But I understand. You need to know. The abbreviated version: seventy years ago, we received the same invitation you did. We went to The Confluence. We tried to prove Earth's claim. We failed."
"How did you fail?" Clark asked. "What was their evidence?"
Lieutenant Davidson spoke up. "Genetic markers in our DNA. Artificial sequences that don't occur naturally. They had documentation showing they'd seeded Earth with targeted mutations three billion years ago, then guided human evolution through periodic genetic interventions. According to Confluence Law, that makes us property. Engineered assets."
"Property? That's insane." Thorne said.
"That's galactic law," James replied. "At least, the version of it The Confluence enforces. They gave us a choice: accept relocation to a preserve world where humanity would be 'protected' and 'maintained' as a species, or..." He gestured to himself. "Become useful."
Stellar felt his stomach turn. "They did this to you? Modified you? Against your will?"
"We volunteered technically," James said quietly. "Captain Makinen negotiated a deal. If we agreed to serve The Confluence for fifty years, they'd leave Earth alone. We'd become part of their enforcement fleet, use our human adaptability and creativity in exchange for our species' freedom." His organic eye held Stellar's gaze. "We thought we were heroes. We thought we'd saved humanity."
"But what happened? Why are these people sniffing around my ship?" Stellar prompted.
"But The Confluence doesn't honor deals the way we understand them," said the woman with circuitry in her skin. Commander Rodriguez, her name patch read. "The fifty-year term was in Confluence standard cycles, which are approximately 1.4 Earth years. We've been serving them for seventy of our years...fifty of theirs. Our term ended two cycles ago."
"And they didn't let you go." Carmelon said, understanding dawning in his eyes.
"They offered us a new deal," James said bitterly. "Another term of service, with slightly better conditions. Or we could accept 'retirement', which we discovered meant a memory wipe and sale to some other species as skilled laborers. Once you're modified, once you're in the system, you're never truly free."
Mitchell released a low, mournful sound. Even the eagle seemed to understand the tragedy of what he was hearing.
"We escaped three months ago," Lieutenant Davidson continued. "Stole one of their transport ships, managed to disappear into uncharted space. We've been running ever since, trying to warn other species that receive the invitation. You're the forty-seventh ship we've found. You're also the first one that's actually from Earth."
"Jesus," Thorne whispered.
The tactical display flashed red. Hayes's voice cut through the moment. "Captain, those FTL signatures are reconstituting. Three ships, massive displacement. They'll be in weapons range in two minutes."
James interfaced with the console again, this time looking to Stellar for permission. The captain nodded. Data streamed across the display—schematics of ships that dwarfed the Pathfinder.
"Confluence enforcement cruisers," James explained. "Each one carries enough firepower to glass a planet. They're not here to negotiate. They're here to ensure compliance." He looked at his grandson. "You dropped your shields. They scanned your entire ship in that moment. Every system, every crew member, every weapon. They know exactly what you're capable of, and they know you can't fight them."
"So what is your recommendation?" Stellar asked. "Run? I'm not comfortable with that."
"You run. We stay." James gestured to his crew. "Our ships will engage them, buy you time to get to FTL. The coordinates I uploaded will take you to a safe zone, a section of space The Confluence hasn't mapped yet. You'll have time to regroup, to think, to plan."
"We can't fight these enforcement cruisers." Clark said, his voice incredulous.
"We can't win," James agreed. "But we can delay them long enough for you to escape. And we have an advantage because we know their tactics. We've served in their fleet for seventy years."
"No," Stellar said firmly. "I'm not leaving you here to die."
"Captain," Commander Rodriguez said, her tone gentle but urgent, "this isn't about us anymore. This is about Earth. If you go to The Confluence, if you try to negotiate, you'll lose. The system is designed for you to lose. And once you're in it, once they have Earth flagged in their records, there's no escape. The whole planet becomes property in their database."
"But if Earth doesn't show up," Lieutenant Davidson added, "if you disappear before the session, they lose jurisdiction. There are rules even The Confluence has to follow. They can't claim a species that refuses to participate in the adjudication process."
"So we hide?" Thorne asked. "Earth just hides from the galaxy?"
"Earth buys time," James said. "Time to develop better technology. Time to understand galactic law well enough to fight it. Time to find allies who aren't part of The Confluence's system." He moved closer to Stellar. "Bub, I've spent seventy years regretting that we went to that session. Don't make the same mistake I did."
The tactical display showed the enforcement cruisers dropping out of FTL, their weapons already charging.
"Captain," Reeves said from the helm, his voice tight with fear, "they're hailing us. Ordering us to maintain position and prepare to be boarded."
Stellar looked at his grandfather, this augmented, modified, broken version of the man who'd been a legend in his family. Then he looked at his crew. Thorne, ready to fight. Clark, already calculating odds. Carmelon, with Mitchell perched on his shoulder, both watching him with absolute trust.
Everything he'd trained for, everything he'd believed about exploration and first contact, was collapsing. The galaxy wasn't the place of wonder and cooperation he'd imagined. It was a marketplace where species were commodities and freedom was an illusion.
But he was still the captain. And his first duty was to his crew and his world.
"Hayes, send a response to those cruisers. Tell them we're experiencing engine difficulties and need time to make repairs." He turned to James. "How long do we need to spool up the FTL drive?"
"Ninety seconds once you give the order," James said, something like pride flickering in his organic eye.
"Reeves, prepare for emergency jump on my mark. Clark, I want every sensor on those cruisers. If they so much as hiccup, I want to know about it." Stellar moved to his command chair, settling into it with a certainty that surprised him. "Chief Ramos, I need everything the engines have got. And I mean everything."
"Already there, Captain," came Ramos's voice from Engineering. "We're ready to run."
"Good." Stellar looked at his grandfather. "I'm not leaving you behind. Your ships will escort us to FTL, and you're coming with us to that safe zone. We'll figure out the next steps together."
"Bub—"
"That's not a request, Commander. You said you've been waiting seventy years to save your grandson. Well, I've been waiting my whole life to meet the legend. I'm not losing you the same day I find you." Stellar's voice carried the authority of command. "Besides, you said it yourself, you know their tactics. You're an asset. We're going to need that knowledge."
James Stellar stared at his grandson for a long moment, and then something that might have been a smile crossed his modified face. "Your father would be proud of you."
"He'd be proud of you too," Stellar said quietly. "You did what you thought was right. You tried to save Earth."
"And failed."
"No. You bought us seventy years. Now let's make sure we don't waste them."
The tactical display showed the enforcement cruisers moving into attack formation.
"All ships," Stellar said into the comm, addressing both his crew and the Prometheus survivors, "prepare for emergency FTL jump. On my mark."
The bridge hummed with tension. Mitchell spread his wings once, a gesture that seemed almost defiant.
And then the first enforcement cruiser opened fire.
"Evasive maneuvers!" Stellar barked. "Farrah, return fire! Buy us time!"
The Pathfinder lurched as Reeves threw the ship into a rolling dive. Energy blasts tore through the space where they'd been moments before, close enough that the shields flared bright orange.
"Shields at eighty-five percent!" Clark called out. "Those weapons are more powerful than our database suggested."
The six ships from the Prometheus crew broke formation, scattering in different directions. Stellar watched as they moved with practiced precision, drawing fire away from the Pathfinder. One ship, piloted by Commander Rodriguez based on the transponder, cut directly across an enforcement cruiser's bow, weapons blazing.
"They're not going to last long," Thorne said, firing the Pathfinder's forward plasma. Their shots splashed harmlessly against the massive cruiser's shields. "Captain, our weapons aren't even scratching them."
"They're not supposed to," James said, his mechanical hand still interfaced with the tactical display. "We just need to be annoying enough to keep them focused on us instead of jumping ahead to cut off your escape vector."
Another barrage rocked the ship. Stellar gripped his chair as the deck tilted beneath him. "Shields?"
"Seventy percent," Clark replied. "Captain, at this rate we won't survive long enough to jump."
"FTL drive status?" Stellar demanded.
"Sixty seconds," Reeves said, sweat beading on his forehead as he corkscrewed the ship through another attack pattern. "Fifty-eight. Fifty-seven."
On the viewscreen, one of the Prometheus ships, the one piloted by the man with the articulated metal legs, took a direct hit. Its shields collapsed in a shower of sparks, and the ship began venting atmosphere.
"Rodriguez to Pathfinder," came a voice over the comm. "Patterson's ship is hit. We're moving to cover him."
"Negative," James said into the comm. "Maintain formation. Patterson knew the risks."
"James..."
"That's an order, Commander. We didn't survive seventy years to lose this opportunity."
Stellar watched the damaged ship spiral out of control, knowing there was a human being aboard, a man who'd sacrificed everything, been modified and enslaved, and was now dying to save strangers. The weight of command had never felt heavier.
"Thirty seconds." Reeves called out.
The lead enforcement cruiser changed tactics, firing a spread of smaller projectiles instead of energy beams. They tracked toward the Pathfinder with intelligent precision.
"Those are hunter-seekers," James said, his face grim. "They'll follow us into FTL if we don't shake them. Reeves, pattern Delta-Seven when I tell you."
"I don't know what that is!" Reeves protested.
James's mechanical hand conjoined the console, uploading data directly to the helm. "You do now. Execute on my mark."
Another hit. The bridge lights flickered.
"Shields at forty percent!" Clark announced.
"Twenty seconds." Reeves said.
Stellar could see the hunter-seekers closing in on the viewscreen, dozens of them, each one locked onto the Pathfinder's energy signature. If even one of them made it through to FTL with them, it could tear the ship apart from the inside.
"Ten seconds!"
"Pattern Delta-Seven, now!" James commanded.
The ship executed a maneuver Stellar had never seen before, a spiraling dive combined with a rotational flip that would have been impossible with standard navigational protocols. The hunter-seekers, locked onto their previous trajectory, shot past them harmlessly.
"Five seconds!"
"All hands, brace for jump!" Stellar shouted into the ship-wide comm.
"Two! One!"
The stars stretched, reality bent, and the Pathfinder leaped into FTL, leaving the enforcement cruisers and the battle, and Patterson's dying ship, behind in normal space.
For a moment, the bridge was silent except for the deep buzz of the FTL drive and the harsh breathing of the crew.
Then Hayes spoke up, her voice small. "Captain...I'm not detecting the other Prometheus ships. They didn't make it through with us."
Stellar looked at his grandfather, saw the pain flash across the man's modified face, quickly suppressed.
"They stayed behind," James said quietly. "To make sure the cruisers didn't follow us into FTL. They..." He paused, his organic eye closing briefly. "They knew what they were doing."
"I'm sorry." Stellar said, and meant it with everything in him.
James nodded slowly, then straightened his shoulders in a gesture that was pure military discipline. "They bought us time, Captain. Let's not waste their sacrifice. We need to talk about what comes next. Because running from The Confluence is one thing. Stopping them from taking Earth is another entirely."
Mitchell released a single, mournful cry that seemed to echo through the bridge, a requiem for the brave and the lost.