The spacing between ships tells you everything about the people flying them.
The nav display showed three blips in tight formation: Locke, Vasquez, Okafor. The way it had been for two years.
“Still with me?” Maya said into the comm.
“Still with you,” Leon answered. His voice had that particular quality she’d learned in the first month, the steady note that didn’t change whether they were running drills or running for their lives. Reassuring. Constant. She’d stopped noticing it the way you stopped noticing the hum of a ship’s drives, and now, in the quiet before the engagement window opened, she noticed it again.
“Sector G2 on final approach,” Rhea said from the third position. “I’ve got debris signatures at bearing two-seven-zero. Could be the relay station. Could be what’s left of it.”
“Remus,” Maya said.
“Confirmed. The relay station at grid reference G2-441 is no longer operational.” A pause. “Krylon activity in the sector is elevated. Three battlecruisers, two scout formations. They arrived six hours ago.”