Vigilance

Posted on Fri Jan 2nd, 2026 @ 1:00am by 2nd Lieutenant Elijah Hunter

Mission: Season 6: Episode 6: Conglomerate
Location: Flight Deck
Timeline: EOY (End of Year)
570 words - 1.1 OF Standard Post Measure

The USS Elysium drifted silently through the stars of the Circinus Galaxy, its hull bearing the marks of nearly nine months of cold space. Second Lt. Elijah Hunter stood on the flight deck, hands resting lightly on the console, eyes scanning the endless void. Every glittering star could conceal danger. Every shadow could hide the unknown hunters that had made the crew their prey. The weight of the mission pressed on him, but he welcomed the focus it demanded.
Elijah had arrived aboard the Elysium as a fresh Academy graduate, brimming with confidence and ambition. Those qualities had been tested and reshaped almost immediately. Nine months of constant vigilance had stripped away any naïveté, leaving a sharp, wary, and highly disciplined pilot in their place. The alien race that stalked them was unlike anything the Federation had catalogued—efficient, ruthless and terrifying. Every encounter, every sensor blip, carried the possibility of death.

Days and nights blurred into a relentless cycle of preparation, reconnaissance, and alert drills. Elijah had spent countless hours in the cockpit of his starfighter, running manoeuvres, calibrating weapon systems, and scanning the expanse for any sign of the enemy. Each evasive action, each tactical decision, had become second nature, ingrained into muscle memory. Yet no amount of training could entirely banish the tension that lingered in the crew’s shared consciousness.

Elijah’s gaze flicked over the squadron roster displayed on the console. Each name was a reminder of lives intertwined by shared danger. Wingmen who had survived near-misses, engineers who patched the hull after unexpected attacks, and officers who had coordinated evacuations under fire—all had earned his respect and loyalty. Trust, he realized, was no longer an abstract concept but a literal lifeline. A single misstep, a single hesitation, could be fatal.

He exhaled slowly, adjusting the flight jacket that had become almost a second skin. The Academy had drilled him in reflexes, strategy, and tactics, but no simulation could have prepared him for the unpredictable cruelty of their pursuers. The galaxy was far bigger and far stranger than any classroom scenario, and the hunters they faced seemed to anticipate every conventional tactic.

A faint alarm chimed from the tactical sensors, pulling Elijah into sharp focus. Probably interference, routine sensor noise—but he had learned long ago that caution was better than regret. He tapped the console, scanning the data with practiced precision, noting the subtle anomalies that could indicate movement or energy signatures. Every engagement in the last nine months had sharpened him for this moment. Every encounter had honed his reflexes and tempered his resolve.

Elijah knew the next attack could come at any moment. There was no guarantee of safety aboard the Elysium. And yet, beneath the constant tension, a quiet determination burned. He was here to fly, to fight, and to survive—not only for himself, but for the crew who depended on him. The stars stretched endlessly ahead, but for now, the young pilot of the USS Elysium was locked on, vigilant, and alive, ready to face whatever horrors the Circinus Galaxy might send their way.

"ALL HANDS TO BATTLESTATIONS! SENSORS ARE DETECTING INCOMING SIGNALS SIMILAR TO EARLIER ENEMEY CONTACTS! ALL CIVILIANS TO SHELTERS. FIGHTERS LAUNCH IN T-Minus 2 MINUTES!"

Elijah sighed inwwardly as the voice announced the incoming enemies. He quietly said a prayer for himself and his fellow crew as he stood and awaited his commander for orders.