The Adventures of Avon Sagan and the crew of the Aura
With the partial shard of The Seventh’s shield returned to the Head of the order, (Sol’s Father) The old monk bid his heartfelt farewell to the Son who had removed the headpiece that would have restored him to pure energy, without it he is unable to transform. “Look after this mortal son Avon, we will miss his contribution to our lives.” On that he rested his forehead on Sol’s, “May the Seventh guide you always my son,” “May the Seventh lead you always father.” He relied, the old monk glowed and vanished, returning to the energy of his race.
Tig having analysed the old sphere containing the information on the Unie, which was the payment for the artefact, announced in Avons mind, “The information is incomplete, someone or something, has removed it in an attempt to hide something important, there could be a sinister and possibly dangerous reason for it, as if the sphere itself is attempting to warn you off.”
Returning his thoughts directly to Tig, he replied, “That cheeky old monk, typical.” “Hmm,” Tig responded instantly, “As I seem to have failed to convey, I believe the Sphere is deliberately withholding information, we maybe able to access it, but for now I’m at a loss to explain how.”
“Fine.” Avon walked to the bridge, “let’s head off anyway, I’ll give Hannah the coordinates we do have, maybe something will shake the spheres stubborn brain loose.”
The Aura drifted in the quiet darkness beyond the Hollow Market’s last known coordinates. The golden hull still carried faint scorch marks from the fight with the Admiral, but the living metal had already started the healing process and was steadily putting itself back together, slow and patient, the way it always did.
Now on the bridge, Avon stood with his arms folded, watching the stars. Tig sat silent in the back of his mind, offering no commentary for once. Behind him, Pip leaned against the rail, the ornate gold crown still fixed firmly on his head. The red ruby glowed faintly whenever he concentrated. He still wasn’t used to it.
“Feels weird,” Pip said, tapping the band. “Like someone’s sitting just behind my eyes.”
“That’s because someone used to be,” Sol answered from the navigation console. His voice was quieter than before. The long black hair was the same, the dark blue eyes the same, but something essential had changed. The easy, ageless calm was gone. In its place was a new, careful awareness of every heartbeat, every breath. He was mortal now. He felt it in every step.
Hannah sat sideways in the co-pilot’s chair, boots up, cleaning one of her laser pistols with methodical care. She glanced over at Sol.
“You sure you’re all right?”
Sol gave a small, almost rueful smile. “I can feel the difference. Time moves differently when you know it can end. I used to watch centuries pass like weather. Now every hour matters.”
Saveena stood near the secondary console, her dark skin almost blending with the shadows of the bridge, pointed ears slightly angled as she listened. The leather tunic (Which is a deceptive appearance, for a tunic as strong as any military body armour) she had chosen still looked a little too elegant for the Aura’s steampunk chaos, but she already moved like she belonged. Her vivid green eyes flicked from Sol to Avon and back again.
“He sounds almost… human,” she said softly, a hint of quiet amusement in her voice. “It suits him.”
Avon turned, one eyebrow climbing higher than was strictly necessary.
“Well that’s just wonderful,” he said. “Four hundred and fifty-six years of floating about as pure cosmic smugness and the first thing you do with your brand-new expiry date is start sounding like a tragic poet. Outstanding. Really. I can already feel the crew morale soaring.”
He pushed off the console and walked closer, jabbing a finger in Sol’s general direction.
“Listen carefully, because I’m only going to say this once and I’d hate for the mortal brain cells to miss it. You didn’t have to rip that crown off your head and stick it on Pip like some sort of holy emergency hat. You could have let the pretty idiot bleed out like a sensible immortal and floated home to your shiny energy friends. But you didn’t. You chose the messy option. The human option. The one that hurts and scars and eventually stops working altogether.”
Avon’s voice dropped, losing some of the theatrical bite.
“So here’s the deal, Sol. You’re one of us now. Properly. No more stepping back into the light when things get inconvenient. No more watching the rest of us age while you stay perfect. You’re stuck with the same ridiculous, fragile, temporary bodies the rest of us have been complaining about since birth. That means you get to feel cold. You get to feel hungry. You get to feel scared. And when something tries to kill you, which it will, frequently, and with great enthusiasm, you get to bleed the same colour as the rest of this dysfunctional family.”
He paused, then added more softly, almost gently.
“And if that day ever comes when it looks like you’re about to check out early… we’ll fight the universe itself before we let it take you. Same as we’d do for Pip. Same as we’d do for Hannah. Same as we’d do for Saveena. Same as I expect you to do for us. Clear?”
Sol met his eyes. For a moment the old, unreadable calm flickered, then something warmer and far more human settled in its place.
“Clear, Captain.”
Pip pushed off the rail and walked over, clapping Sol on the shoulder with careful force.
“See? He likes you. That was practically a hug by Avon standards.”
“Shut up, Pip,” Avon said without heat, already turning back to the main screen. “Or I’ll have Tig rewrite your crown’s operating system so it only plays nursery rhymes.”
Hannah snorted and holstered her pistol. “He’s right though. Welcome to the short, messy, dangerous life of the rest of us, Sol. Try not to enjoy it too much, Avon hates competition in the suffering department.”
Saveena stepped a little closer to Sol, her expression calm but kind.
“You will learn the weight of each day,” she said. “It is not a curse. It is simply… living. I am still learning it myself.”
Avon dropped into the captain’s chair with a theatrical sigh.
“All right, enough emotional bonding before I break out in something unmanly. Hannah, plot the course for the Quiet Expanse. Pip, keep that fancy new headgear of yours from exploding. Saveena, keep an eye on our newly mortal philosopher before he starts writing poetry about the stars. Sol…” He glanced back one last time, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Try not to die stupidly. That’s an order. And for the record… I’m glad you’re here.”
The Aura answered him at once, engines waking with a low, eager thrum as she turned toward the Expanse.
Sol’s mouth curved into the first unguarded smile any of them had seen since the crown left his head.
“I intend to follow that order, Captain. For as long as this body lasts.”
Saveena’s green eyes met his for a moment, and she gave a small, quiet nod of agreement. “You’re not alone with this new feeling of mortality, with my restorative nanites removed I’m every bit as fragile in this body.” With a wink to Avon, “Don’t fret Avon I won’t be writing poetry about it anytime soon.” She grinned.
The Quiet That Screams
The Quiet Expanse was living up to its name for exactly eleven hours.
No stellar nurseries. No drifting wrecks. No stray signals. Just a vast, velvet blackness where even the background radiation seemed muted, as if the universe itself had decided to hold its breath while waiting for something to happen.
Avon was halfway through a cup of something that claimed to be coffee when Tig’s voice cut through his mind like a cold blade.
“Captain. The sphere is… reacting.”
Avon set the cup down. “Reacting how?”
“It is no longer merely withholding. It is actively suppressing. Sections of data are rewriting themselves in real time to remain hidden. Something outside the sphere is still connected to it.”
“You mean we’re being monitored? is this thing giving away our location?”
On the bridge the others felt the change, it was that electric chill that makes the hairs on the back of the neck tingle, before Avon spoke. The air grew heavier. Pip’s new crown flickered once, the red ruby pulsing like a something had triggered an alarm. It made him tense up, waiting for a blow to his body, Sol’s hand went unconsciously to the empty place on his forehead where the headpiece had sat for centuries.
Hannah spun her chair. “Avon what’s happening back there?”
He did not answer immediately. Instead he closed his eyes and let Tig pull him deeper into the sphere’s architecture. For a moment he stood inside a library of light and shadow. Most of the shelves were empty. The few remaining volumes slammed shut the instant he reached for them. One, however, remained half-open, as if the sphere itself wanted him to see the message within.
A single line in the builders’ language burned itself into his thoughts:
The Unie do not seek the living.
They seek the ones who remember how they died.
Avon’s eyes snapped open. He wasn’t aware he was talking aloud.
“That cheeky old monk didn’t just hand us incomplete information,” he shouted. “He handed us a locked warning. The sphere isn’t broken. It’s protected. Someone or something still has a live link, and they’re deleting every scrap that would tell us why the Unie are dangerous.”
Saveena’s green eyes narrowed. “Protected from us… or protecting us?”
Sol spoke quietly, the new mortality making his voice rough. “My father would never have given us a gift he believed would harm us. But he would give us a gift that tests whether we are ready to learn the truth.”
Pip tapped the crown. “Great. So what’s the truth?”
Tig answered in Avon’s mind, and Avon relayed it.
“The Unie were never a lost trading race. They were the last caretakers of the builders, the same race that constructed the Aura. When the builders vanished, the Unie stayed behind to watch over the ships that still lived. But something went wrong. Something that forced the Unie to erase themselves from every record… including the one we now carry.”
The sphere in Avon’s cabin suddenly flared. A thin filament of golden light shot from it, pierced the bulkhead as if the living metal simply stepped aside, and lanced outward into the Expanse.
Hannah’s console lit up.
“Something just answered,” she said. “Not a ship. Not a planet. Something big. And it’s moving towards us.”
Avon stood, the old Galactic Fleet jacket settling around his shoulders like a second skin.
“Battle stations. Whatever’s out there already knows we’re here. The sphere didn’t withhold the information to hide the Unie from us. It’s locked it because the Unie are still hiding out there from whatever’s coming.”
He looked at each of them in turn, Pip with the crown still flashing madly, Sol looked uncomfortable, being mortal will take a lot longer to adjust to, he felt the weight of every breath, Hannah was already calculating firing solutions, Saveena looked calm and lethal, as she eyed the screen, and the living golden ship that had chosen them all as crew was going into full battle readiness.
“Whatever the Unie feared enough to erase themselves from history… has just noticed we have their last remaining memory.”
The Aura’s engines shifted from a low thrum to a predatory growl.
Outside, closing fast on their location, something vast and ancient began filling the forward view screen.
Pip gulped, “I don’t like the look of that, that’s a planet eater if I ever saw one, and I’m looking at one right now.”
Sol looked to Avon, “It maybe wise to run?”
“I’ve been called many things Sol, I don’t recall wise being one of them. We need to know what the hell we’re dealing with, and I have the distinct impression running is no longer an option.”
They were no longer alone.
The object filling the forward view screen wasn’t a ship.
It was like a wound in space. A nasty looking scab from an ass the size of Saturn with vast irregular patterns like blackened moons, and living shadow, roughly the size of a small planet, its surface crawling with slow, deliberate movement. Entire sections flexed like muscle. Long, whip-thin appendages trailed behind it for hundreds of kilometres, each one tipped with something that looked uncomfortably like a prong, light simply died. No reflection. No heat signature that made sense. Just absence.
Pip’s voice cracked. “Yeah. Definitely planet eater material. Can we vote on the running thing again?”
“No,” Avon said flatly. He was already strapping into the captain’s chair. “Hannah full scan, passive only. I want to know if that thing has noticed us or if it’s just following the sphere’s little love-letter.”
Hannah’s fingers flew. “It’s noticed us. Energy spiked the second the filament hit open space. It’s adjusting course. Closing at… that’s not possible. It’s eating distance like it’s cheating time.”
Sol stood very still at the navigation console, one hand resting on the edge as though the ship itself might keep him anchored. Frantically trying to remember how to slow his racing heart, every breathe precious. “The Unie feared something enough to erase themselves from history. This… feels like the reason.”
Saveena’s green eyes never left the screen. Her posture was relaxed in the way of someone who had already selected which weapons she would use first. “Then we learn why they feared it. Or we die ignorant. I prefer the first option.”
Tig’s voice slid into Avon’s mind, colder than usual.
“Captain. The sphere is no longer suppressing. It is… terrified. Data is flooding out now that the connection has been made. Fragments only. Translation incomplete. One phrase keeps repeating:”
They are the Hunger That Remembers.
Avon relayed it aloud. The bridge went quieter than the Expanse outside.
The mass outside flexed. One of the long appendages uncoiled and pointed directly at the Aura, like a finger selecting a particularly interesting juicy insect.
The Aura answered with a low, defiant thrum that vibrated through every deck plate. Then a golden light rippled along her hull as ancient systems that had slept for centuries woke up and remembered what they had been built for, and the beam no one onboard had ever seen before blasted the arm out of existence.
Avon leaned forward, eyes hard. “That was impressive Hannah, what did you do?”
“It’s wasn’t me!”
Avon continued unfazed, “All right, you ugly wort. You want the last memory of the Unie? You’re going to have to come and take it from a crew that has already annoyed half the known galaxy and still working on the rest.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the others, Pip pale but gripping the crown like a lifeline, Sol fiercely present, Hannah already locking targeting solutions that might or might not mean anything against something that size, and she desperately wished she knew what the Aura did, because that’s looked like it hurt.
Saveena still calm and lethal, said, ”Aura can you do that again?” The ship hummed with readiness.
“Battle stations for real this time. Pip if that crown can do more than look pretty, now would be a brilliant moment to find out. Sol you’re not useless help Pip. Saveena, take the helm, stop us from flying into its mouth. Hannah make it bleed if it has blood. Saveena, surprise me.”
He faced the screen again as the second of the long appendages accelerated toward them, blotting out the stars.
“And Tig… start talking. Everything the sphere is screaming. I want to know what we’re about to die fighting.”
Outside, the Hunger That Remembers opened something that might have been an eye, a mouth, or a landing bay, and the Quiet Expanse finally screamed.
Saveena did surprise Avon, she rested an hand on the console and uttered the Anchent language Aura had waited a century to hear.. it’s open a golden churning of wormhole that ripped space apart, and the Ship tore through the Hunger as it screamed like an angry child denied its toys. The Aura exited lightyears away. Avon suitably surprised look at his newest crew member, with a new appreciation, “Wow, you and do that again anytime you like.”
Saveena shrugged, “I didn’t do anything other than ask Aura to get us the hell out of there.”
Tag, Broke the spell instantly but speaking in his mind yet again, “That’s incorrect Captain, Saveena asked Aura to take us where it felt safe.”
This made him smile, a rare thing, and he told them Tig’s interpretation of what just occurred.
The star system was unrecognisable, “Pip” Avon asked, “See if the Aura knows where it’s taken us,” he gestured with his hands…
“I believe it’s been here before.”
“You’re right, records show your grandfather found the Aura Here!, I think it’s come home.”
“Interesting.”
“Indeed.” Saveena nodded, this means it’s either a survival response, or, more intriguingly it’s the universe your Builders originated from.
“Hannah?” He asked, “Is that scabby bum planet thingy following?”
“Not a sign.”
Sol offered a suggestion, and he was laughing as he spoke, “Did you ever hear of a tale of The Wizard of Oz?”
“You lost me a Wizard, this is real life Sol, we’re not in a child’s story.”
“So you haven’t heard the Tale?”
“No,” he growled.
Hannah chuckled, “Oh watching you squirm is a joy Avon.”
“Haha, well get on with it Sol, I’ve a planet eater with our names on its todo list to find.”
“It’s an old Earth tale..”
Avon interrupted, “Oh please no more Shakespeare, it literally hurts my brain.”
“Not Shakespeare, I’ve no idea of the source, but that doesn’t matter, The Wizard wasn’t a Wizard.”
“Because they don’t exist?” Avon interrupted again.”
“Oh let him finish Avon.” Hannah asked annoyed.
“OK” he bowed, “Pray continue.”
“Finally.” Pip and Saveena said in unison, which prompted more laughter.
“Ready now?” No one interrupted so Sol continued, “Before you ask how I know this old Earth story, did I mention I’ve been around hundreds of your years” they all nodded like children waiting for teacher to come to the point of their detention.
“The Wizard,” he carried on with a raised eyebrow at Avon, “Wasn’t a Wizard at all, he was a Charlatan, he just wanted to get home, So to scare anyone asking Questions he couldn’t answer, and he’d project this giant head… You see?”
“You Think Gigantic wort that came after us was Fake? A hologram? Some form of projection?”
“Possibly.” Sol concluded.
“Well here’s my two pennies worth.. Shut up Pip, I’ve explained pennies before.”
Pip Smirked, “Damn it.”
“I think it’s the Sphere is trying to scare us, so it poked the bear..” Avon shot another warning glance at Pip.. Who gestured he’d zipped his lips. “To show us what we’re dealing with.”
“That’s also a reasonable assumption,” Sol concurred.
Hannah had to agree with Avon, having been the one watching the monitors when the Sphere sent the invite.”
The crew could see the logic, and Avon thrived on logic and rational thought.
I’m going to the observation deck, Tig has some questions to answer.
“Well at least the Aura isn’t damaged,” Hannah chirped.
“There is that,” Pip agreed, “but I need a shower after sweating myself out.” And with that he left the bridge to the other three, where that continued their conversation.. “How did you learn the ancient language so fast?” Hannah asked. “I haven’t a clue, other than the fact Avon did share his memories when I was in a coma, maybe it was an unintended bonus.”
“That’s feasible too,” Sol agreed.
It’s amazing what a good sleep can bring, and as the crew rested Tig took on sentry duties.
Avon often had his best ideas while his subconscious mind analysed a problem, and this one included advice from Fabien himself (Avon’s Grandfather)
“Well you’ve got yourself into a fine pickle haven’t you.” He look down on him, stern but understanding, with his arms folded over his muscular frame.. The Galactic uniform looked far more grander on this grey bearded old man, than it ever did on Avon.
“I would say, this pickle is inherited from you, and man, does it look angry.”
These dreams were nothing new, in order to run the ship, The Aura takes a mental imprint of its pilots and incorporates its into its system.. This was indeed, Fabien talking, as if he’d never gone.
“I think, and this may seem mental to you Granddad,” (The old man hated being called Granddad, it made him feel old) Fabien reminded him, “It’s Fabien or Captain to you boy, do I really need to repeat it?” “Point taken Fabien, but I’m Captain now,” Reluctantly Fabien agreed, “Continue Captain,” he barked.
“Finally, well, that entity is what’s left of the Builders Fleet, I hadn’t noticed at the time, with all the excitement, but I now realise the energy signature is the same as the Aura, and that’s why it reacted instinctively.. Hmm, OK here’s the mad bit, the fleet of ships have in my opinion, merged to form that Thing out there. It’s sentient and it’s bloody angry with the Unie for abandoning it.. Aura knows, it’s whispered it in my mind, and it’s terrified.”
Fabien let out a huff.. “Well, when I found the Aura, it did seem very keen to get going again, So desperate it implanted their entire language into my head, so I could understand, and control the ship.. It was a jumpy start to say the least, but it did pass on an enormous sense of relief.”
Avon nodded, “that now makes perfect sense, it chose you out of desperation..”
“Why you cheeky git, it found its Captain, that’s what happened.”
“Whatever,” Avon taunted, “We now we have a whole new problem, that’s angry and deadly, and out to murder Us. Why does Trouble always come at us so pissed off? It’s always personal isn’t it with our family. What did we do?”
“Well it’s in our DNA it comes with a lot of responsibility.”
On that Avon woke.. he sighed and rolled off his bed, and grabbing a huge flask of water he headed to the gym, a few hours of arduous exercise and fight training will soon wake him up.
On arrival he was surprised to see Saveena already hard at it, she was killing the poor wooden martial arts dummy. There were claw marks from her harden nails.
“Alas poor Yoric I knew him well,” he chuckled.
“Pardon?”
“Oh nothing, don’t let me stop you while in full flight..”
Avon leaned against the bulkhead, flask in hand, watching the rhythmic violence. Saveena moved with precision strikes that would have shattered bone, claws scoring deep grooves into the already abused wooden dummy. Sweat darkened the leather of her tunic; the material, for all its deceptive elegance, absorbed the impacts without complaint.
She paused mid-spin, green eyes narrowing at him.
“You quote dead Earth poets at wooden dummies before breakfast now?”
“Habit,” Avon said, taking a long pull from the flask. “It helps me pretend the universe still has a sense of humour. Besides, that thing looked like it needed last rites.”
Saveena’s mouth twitched a smile. She wiped a forearm across her brow and stepped back, giving the dummy a final, almost apologetic look. “It insulted my form, and my family.”
“Fair.” Avon set the flask down on a low bench and began wrapping his hands with the easy familiarity of long practice. “Mind if I join the abuse? Or are you still working out residual feelings about being as breakable as the rest of us?”
She studied him for a moment, pointed ears tilting slightly. “The nanites made me efficient. Not invincible. I was already learning the difference before I met any of you.” A pause. “But yes… the knowledge sits differently without them.”
Avon stepped onto the mat, rolling his shoulders. “Welcome to the club. Membership fees are paid in scars and bad decisions.”
They circled each other once, testing distance. Saveena struck first, fast, low, testing Avon’s stance. Avon blocked, with his legs now aimed at Saverna’s head. She countered, and the sparring began in earnest. No weapons. Just hands, feet, leverage, and the occasional growled comment.
“You move like someone who expects the floor to vanish,” she observed after a particularly sharp exchange.
“Grew up on ships that did exactly that when the gravity generators sulked.” He slipped under a clawed swipe and drove an elbow into her ribs; she twisted away, almost smiling. “You move like someone who used to regenerating mid-fight and is still annoyed it stopped working.”
“Accurate.”
They broke apart, breathing harder. From the doorway came a soft, amused voice.
“I leave you alone for one sleep cycle and you start recruiting sparring partners.”
Sol stood there, long black hair tied back, still looking faintly surprised every time his body reminded him it needed oxygen. He carried two more flasks. Behind him Pip hovered, crown glowing a subdued, almost thoughtful red, and Hannah leaned against the frame with her usual expression of someone calculating odds on everything in the room.
“Gym’s open,” Avon said. “Come bleed with the mortals.”
Pip raised both hands. “That’s a Pass. The crown still whispers things when I get too close to kinetic activity. Last time it tried to teach me a meditation mid-strike. I nearly face planted into a bulkhead.”
Hannah snorted. “I’ll stick to shooting things that deserve it. Wooden dummies are below my pay grade.”
Sol stepped onto the mat anyway, setting the flasks aside. “I would like to learn the weight of a punch that actually lands.” His dark blue eyes met Saveena’s, then Avon’s. “If the invitation stands.”
Avon grinned, sharp and genuine. “Always. Just remember you can’t no glowing, no vanishing, no cosmic smugness. All you have is pure human technique.”
Saveena’s green eyes brightened with the challenge. “Then we begin again. Three of us. Loser buys the next round of whatever passes for coffee on this ship.”
Tig’s voice slid dryly into Avon’s mind.
“Captain. While you play at controlled violence, the sphere has finished its latest data dump. Fragments only, but one sequence is clear: the Hunger is not a single entity. It is a collective of the surviving Builder vessels. They merged after the Unie withdrew. They remember every abandoned ship. Every silent call that went unanswered. And they have been hunting the last living memory of their caretakers for a very long time.”
Avon’s smile didn’t fade, Tig just confirmed everything he’d already taught himself, his eyes hardened a fraction.
He caught Saveena’s next strike, redirected, and spoke just loud enough for the others to hear.
“Good news, everyone. The Pip’s planet eater isn’t a hologram, isn’t a scare tactic, and it definitely isn’t finished with us. It’s the rest of Aura’s family… and they’re pissed we showed up carrying the Unie’s last diary.”
The dummy stood forgotten. The gym suddenly felt smaller.
Sol exhaled slowly, tasting mortality in the air again. “Then we find out what it wants before it decides we taste better than answers.”
Pip’s crown pulsed once, brighter. “Or we teach it some manners, until it begs for mercy.”
Avon cracked his knuckles.
“First we finish the sparring. No point ruining a good session. Then we discuss options before talking to a very angry rage monster, that used to be ships like ours. Aura’s already home. Time we found out whether home still wants her.”
Saveena shifted her stance, claws flexing.
“Ready when you are, Captain.” But Sol had already foot swept him, and he laughed in pain looking up at the bulkhead.
The Aura hummed through the decks, low, thoughtful, almost protective, as two newly fragile beings began to learn, one strike at a time, what it meant to fight for a future that could actually end very dramatically.
After Sol’s request. For a moment where heads, crowns, or anything that might explode, melt, or otherwise inconvenience a mortal philosopher. The only sounds were the soft pulse of the cellular regenerators and the distant, thoughtful hum of the Aura herself, as though the ship was still deciding how best to welcome the woman whose ancestors had once walked her decks.
Veelia looked from face to face. This small med-bay had unwittingly become a gathering hall. The fierce pride that had carried her through the first waking moments was still there, but exhaustion and the sheer weight of a thousand years was softening its edges. When she spoke again her voice was steadier, though it carried the careful cadence of someone measuring every word against the risk of breaking.
“You call yourselves a crew,” she said. “I call what I see a family. It is the only reason this ship still answers so readily and probably the only reason it didn’t answer the call of the Hunger, The Builders and the Unie May have created Aura but everything about her now is forged by the will of Fabien Sagan. And he’s still part of her.”
It’s true to say the Aura wasn’t just a Means of transportation anymore, the bonds she built with The Sagan’s and their crews current and gone, made Aura a unique entity, it now had a Conscious of its own and heart, any direct order from the Builders or Unie, would be politely ignored, because her loyalty belonged to Avon, and this mismatched band of scallywags.
“She never obeyed orders alone. She answered to belonging.” Veelia added, now fully aware of her surroundings. She realised Aura wasn’t owned, it had Family, and with that comes the responsibility to protect it from all that would wish them harm.
Avon leaned against the bulkhead, arms folded, the old Galactic Fleet jacket hanging open over his training suit. He had not bothered buttoning up, because He’d felt a pang of guilt about his cold logic earlier, but it’s how he thinks, Rational thought is what kept him alive, and shielding emotions that made him feel weak, or vulnerable is part of that process. “We’re working on the belonging part. Some of us more slowly than others.” He glanced at Sol with a flicker of amusement that held no sting. “Certain philosophers are still learning that a heartbeat is not optional experiment.”
Sol gave a small, self-deprecating smile. “I am aware. The foot sweep earlier was a useful reminder that there’s joy to be had in this body.”
Pip hovered near the foot of the bio-cot, at first the crown was a life saver, now with his hand hovering protectively near it, he felt as though it might decide to start lecturing him again. “So… we can actually try this filter thing? Without Sol’s brain turning into decorative smoke?”
Veelia’s gaze settled on the ruby. “We can try. The regulator was designed for exactly this kind of interface. But the Hunger is not merely angry. It is grieving. Every ship that merged carried the memory of every unanswered call, every abandoned hull, every caretaker who simply… stopped answering. When the Unie withdrew to their higher plane, the living fleet was left with silence. Silence that lasted centuries. Silence that became the rage of an abandoned child, they never matured mentality. ”
Saveena stepped closer, her green eyes steady. “Then the sphere’s warning was not only about danger. It was about unfinished business.”
“Yes.” Veelia’s voice dropped. “And unfinished business has a habit of finding the last people who remember it.”
Hannah had been quiet, checking readings with the methodical care of someone who preferred numbers to feelings until the feelings refused to stay quiet. Now she looked up. “The Aura brought us here for a reason. Home, you said. If this is where the Builders originated… is there anything left? Records? Ruins? Anything that might tell the Hunger we’re not the enemy?”
Veelia’s fingers brushed the golden bulkhead again. The metal answered with a soft, golden ripple that travelled the length of the bay like a sigh. Tears welled once more, but this time she did not fight them. They tracked slowly down her pale cheeks as the ship shared what little it still held of the old days.
“There is a place,” she whispered. “A vault moon, hidden in the outer debris of this system. We sealed it before the Great Merging began. Inside are the original harmonic keys, and codes that allowed the caretakers and the ships to speak as one mind rather than master and servant. If the keys still function… they might remind the Hunger what it used to be. Not a weapon. A family.”
Avon’s expression shifted. The theatrical edge he wore like armour softened into something more serious. “A vault moon. Of course there’s a vault moon. There’s probably a seedy bar in a mining system somewhere with a treasure map, there always is.” He straightened up, buttoning his jacket, looking at each of them in turn. “For goodness sakes people, put your uniforms on, this isn’t a pyjama party.”
Pip was still fretting over the crown, Sol carrying the new weight of every breath, Hannah calculating trajectories in her head, Saveena calm and ready, What is it with her? he thought, and Veelia looked fragile yet unbroken. “Right. We do this very carefully. No heroics or brain melting unless we have to. First we find the vault. We see what the keys can do. And if the Hunger shows up before we’re ready…” His voice dropped, steady and certain. “Well we’ll improvise. That includes our new arrival who just discovered she’s the last of her line, and the philosopher who decided mortality was a good career move.”
Sol shrugged. The old unreadable calm was gone; in its place was something raw and human. “I chose this body. I chose this crew. If the filter can give us even a fraction of what my people once knew… I will risk it. Not because I want the knowledge, but because I will not let this family face that trial alone.”
Pip swallowed hard. “That’s… actually quite moving. Can we not make a habit of the emotional speeches? My eyes are doing something embarrassing.”
Hannah reached over and squeezed Pip’s shoulder without looking away from Veelia. “You’re allowed. We’re all allowed.”
Saveena’s voice was quiet, and gentle. “You are not the only one learning how fragile a body can be. We will carry the risk together.”
Veelia looked at them all, and for the first time since waking the fierce intelligence in her eyes was joined by something warmer. Gratitude. Belonging. The beginning of trust. “Then I will help you recalibrate the crown. Slowly. Carefully. And when we reach the vault… I will open it. My ancestors built these ships to protect life, not to devour it. If there is any chance the Hunger can still remember that truth, we owe it to them and to ourselves to try.”
Avon nodded. The firm set expression is the closest thing he allowed to open affection. “Good. Because if this goes wrong I’m not writing the eulogy, and Pip’s handwriting is atrocious.”
The Aura’s engines answered with a low, resonant thrum that vibrated through every deck plate in agreement. Outside, the unfamiliar star system waited, its third moon a silent sentinel among the debris. Somewhere far behind them, in the Quiet Expanse, the Hunger That Remembers stirred in its long sleep, sensing the faint harmonic echo of one of its own.
For now, on the living golden decks of the Aura, a captain, a newly mortal philosopher, a crown wearing joker, a sharp-eyed gunner, a lethal and elegant warrior, and the last daughter of the Builders began the work of turning strangers into family.
Tig’s voice slipped into Avon’s mind.
“Captain. The sphere has gone quiet again. Not suppressing. It’s Listening. As though it is waiting to see whether we are worthy of the next step.”
Avon studied the room, he would fight the universe itself to keep them safe, and answered without words.
“Then we take that step together Tig.”
His dry humour was returning to its previous setting, and he appreciated that, just as an engineer appreciated a well soaked oily rag, comforting.
“All right, you lot. Enough standing about looking noble. Hannah, plot a course for that vault moon. Pip, keep the fancy headgear from humming anything heat related. Saveena, make sure our newest crew member doesn’t fall out her cot again, Aura’s already shown she’ll catch her, but let’s not test the ship’s parenting skills. Sol… try not to invent any new ways to die before breakfast. And Vee,” He offered her a small sign of caring, “Welcome to the short, messy, dangerous life of the rest of us. Try not to enjoy the poetry too much.”
Veelia’s answering smile was fragile, but real.
“I think… I already do.”
Outside, the stars of the Builders’ forgotten home watched in silence as the Aura turned toward the debris field, carrying the last living memory of two races and the stubborn, ridiculous hope of a family that refused to leave anyone behind.
The med-bay lights had dimmed to a soft gold, matching the gentle pulse of the Aura’s decks. Veelia sat propped against the pillows once more, the thermal blanket drawn close, as a child does on cold evenings, her amber eyes fixed on nothing in particular. The nutrient cup in her hands had long since gone cold. Around her the crew moved with quiet purpose, Hannah adjusting the regenerators, Saveena checking the readings on the bulkhead displays, Pip hovering near the doorway as though uncertain whether to stay or give her space. Sol remained closest, his newly mortal presence steady and unhurried.
No one had spoken the words aloud, yet the truth hung in the air like a held breath.
She was the last.
Avon watched her from the foot of the bio-cot, arms loosely folded, the dry edge of his usual commentary held carefully in check. He had seen enough endings in his time to recognise the particular weight settling over someone who suddenly found themselves alone in a lineage that once spanned stars. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than the ship’s hum.
“It’s a hell of a thing to wake up to,” he said. Not a question. Not pity. Just recognition. “Knowing the rest of your people are gone. That every face you have known, every voice that carried shared history in its bones… isn’t coming back.”
Veelia’s fingers tightened around the cup. A single tear slipped free, tracing a slow path down her cheek. She did not wipe it away. “Disturbing is too small a word,” she answered, her voice low and rough. “It is… hollow. Like standing in a great hall that once rang with children’s laughter and finding only dust. I can still feel the shape of them, my parents, the shipwrights, the children who used to chase the light along the corridors of our vessels. And then the silence rushes in and reminds me they are memory now. Only memory.”
Sol’s dark blue eyes met hers. The philosopher who had once measured time in centuries understood the shape of loss in a new and sharper way. “I chose to leave my people’s infinite state,” he said softly. “You had no choice at all. The difference is not small.”
Saveena stepped closer, her green eyes calm but not distant. “I know what it is to lose the certainty of what you were. The nanites are gone. The efficiency is gone. Some mornings I still reach for a strength that is no longer there.” She rested a light hand on the edge of the cot, careful not to crowd. “But the absence does not have to be the end of the story.”
Pip, never one for long silences, cleared his throat. “Look… I’m not good at the heavy stuff. But you’re not floating out there alone anymore. The Aura picked you up for a reason. And this lot…” he gestured vaguely at the others, crown glinting, “they adopt people the way other crews collect spare parts. Messy. Permanent. Occasionally loud. You’re stuck with us now, whether the universe likes it or not.”
Hannah gave a small, eye watering laugh and dashed the back of her hand across her eyes. “He’s right. Annoying, but right. We’ve all lost pieces of what we were. Avon’s still arguing with the ghost of his grandfather in his dreams. Sol’s learning how to be afraid of dying. Saveena’s learning how to be breakable. Pip’s learning how not to set his own head on fire. And me…” She shrugged, smiling through the tears that had escaped. “I’m still learning that family doesn’t always look the way you expect.”
Avon’s mouth twitched half a smile, half something more careful. He moved to the side of the cot and rested one hand lightly on the golden rail, close enough for Veelia to see the offer without pressure. “You’re allowed to find it disturbing. You’re allowed to grieve the hall that went quiet. But you’re also allowed to notice that the ship herself recognised you the moment you touched her decks. That this crew, dysfunctional, permanent, stubborn as hell is already rearranging itself around the fact that you’re here. Last of your bloodline or not, you’re not the last of something that matters.”
Veelia held them all on her gaze. The fierce intelligence in her eyes was still there, but it had softened, joined by a fragile, dawning warmth. Another tear fell, then another, until she set the cup aside and simply let them come. No one rushed to fill the silence with empty comfort. They stayed. Present. Quietly bonded by the shared knowledge that every one of them had, in their own way, already lost a version of themselves and chosen to keep going anyway.
When she spoke again, her voice carried the smallest thread of something that might one day become joy.
“I thought the worst part would be the loneliness,” she whispered. “I did not expect… this. To wake after a thousand years and find strangers who already speak as though I belong.”
Avon’s reply was simple, almost gentle by his standards. “That’s because you do. The rest is just details we’ll sort it out between the next crisis and this one.”
The Aura answered with a low, resonant chord through the deck plates, almost like agreement, come welcome. Outside, the debris field of the third moon still waited, and beyond it the Hunger still slept. But inside the med-bay a different kind of quiet had settled: the quiet of people who had decided, without needing a vote, that the last daughter of the Builders would not face the hollow hall alone.
Sol reached out and, with the careful new awareness of someone who now understood how precious every contact could be, rested his hand lightly over hers.
“We will carry the silence with you,” he said. “Until it becomes something else.”
And for the first time since the cryo-gel had melted from her skin, Veelia Prevain felt the trembling of something real.
No one rushed the moment. The Aura’s low, steady hum filled the spaces between words, as though the ship herself understood that some silences were necessary.
Veelia drew a deeper breath, the first that did not catch in her throat. The weight of being the last had not vanished, but it had shifted. It no longer sat alone on her shoulders. Around her the crew simply offered the solid fact of their company, instead of empty reassurances.
Avon at last, the familiar authority returning to his voice like a well worn coat shrugged back on. “Sentiment’s have been properly aired. Now we put it to work before the universe decides we’ve had enough quiet for one day.”
With Saveena keeping Vee company, the remaining team took up their allotted spaces on the Bridge. Avon slumped into his chair, He glanced at Hannah. “How long to the vault moon?”
Hannah’s fingers moved across the console. “Two hours at cautious speed. Debris field’s thick, but the Aura already knows the safest path. She’s… eager.”
“Of course she is.” Avon a finger on the intercom addressed Veelia. “You said the harmonic keys are there, do we need the crown calibrated first?”
Veelia considered. “The vault will recognise my bloodline. That part is simple. The keys themselves are another matter. They were designed to speak to both Builder and Unie frequencies at once. Without a regulated interface…” she looked at the screen towards Pip and the crown.. “we may risk waking more than we intend.”
Sol’s hands remained on his console for a moment longer before he withdrew it with quiet care he replied, “Then we prepare the filter while we travel. If the knowledge can be given in fragments, I will take what is needed. Nothing more.”
Pip shifted, the crown glinting under the soft lights. “Just so we’re clear if this thing starts humming in my skull again, I’m blaming the ancient technology and not my own questionable life choices.”
Saveena’s mouth curved slightly. And from the med-bay she said, “Noted. I will stand ready to catch you if the meditation lessons returns mid-step.”
A small laugh escaped Veelia, it was a surprised, but genuine. It was the first sound of real amusement any of them had heard from her. The sound seemed to ease something in her. Hannah smiled. Pip grinned. Even Avon’s expression softened for a fraction of a second before he masked it with his usual theatrical sigh.
“Excellent. Laughter. We’re officially a functioning disaster again.” He gestured toward the forward view screen, “Hannah, set the course. Pip, with me to the interface chamber, we’ll see what that crown can do without setting anyone on fire. Saveena, stay with Veelia until she’s steady enough to walk the decks. Sol…” He paused, the humour dropping away just enough to show the concern beneath. “You set the pace. No pushing. If it starts to hurt, you say so. Clear?”
“Clear, Captain.”
The Aura answered with a deeper thrum, engines waking as she turned toward the outer debris field. The third moon hung in the eerie silence, and a beckon began transmitting its message towards The Expanse.
There destination of The Vault Moon, was the only thing on the minds of the crew, still sealed after a thousand years. And the crew that had already chosen one another began the careful work of turning the last of one people into its newest member.
And for the first time since waking, Veelia Prevain did not feel entirely alone in the hollow hall.
