To Hell with Our Orders
Lyra's pacing was relentless, her thoughts spinning in a loop of worry and frustration. She could practically see the battle unfolding in her mind’s eye—vast fleets clashing in the depths of Hell, and in the middle of it, Spotty. Damn it, Spotty, why must you always put yourself in the thick of things? She ran a hand through her hair, her mind lingering on the promise Ila had made to protect Spotty. Ila is capable, but no one is invincible, not even her.
She clenched her fists, trying to calm the anxiety building inside her. The projections for the battle had ranged from optimistic to catastrophic, and she couldn’t shake the fear that the worst could happen. I have to know what's happening. That’s when she quickly called Grand Admiral David Lipovina.
“Any word?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended. His response, that he knew as much as she did, only heightened her frustration. Either he's stonewalling me, or they really don't know anything.
Her decision came swiftly, fueled by an urgent need to act. Spotty had given her orders to stay away, but Lyra couldn't sit by idly while her Empress—her friend—fought in a battle that could change the fate of the Empire.
“Tom,” she called. Her assistant entered immediately, as if sensing her resolve. “Prepare the Aurora.”
Tom’s response was measured but pointed. “Weren’t you told by the Empress to stay away from the battle?”
Lyra’s glare was cold, her heart too consumed with anxiety to entertain such concerns. She didn’t even have to say a word. Tom backed down quickly, adding, “I’ll have the ship ready asap.”
Aboard the Aurora, standing on the bridge, Lyra looked out at the stars. We’re coming, Spotty. Hold on. Addressing the bridge crew, her voice was firm: “I am about to commit a direct violation of the Empress' orders. If any of you wish to object, do so now, it will be noted in my log.”
The silence that followed was tense but expected. Good, they’re with me.
"Captain Elander," she said, turning to the commanding officer, “Get us to Hell, to the Picon Thanlon sector of the M13 galaxy, as fast as possible.”
"At once, Chancellor," Elander replied, his voice steady, but the weight of her decision hung heavy over them all.
Grand Admiral David Lipovina
David Lipovina sighed as Lyra's message disconnected. He could hear the tension in her voice, her impatience and concern for the Empress. She’s not going to sit by and wait, is she? he thought, already knowing what she would likely do next.
He glanced at his own command console, hoping for some update on the battle in Hell. But nothing came. Hell is a nightmare, and even our best reconnaissance is struggling.
Lyra had pressed him for information, but he truly had none. Still, he wondered if she even believed him. She’s a brilliant leader, but sometimes emotion clouds her judgment.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing as he considered the stakes. This battle could make or break the Empire. Let’s hope Spotty knows what she’s doing.
Tom
Tom felt his stomach drop the moment Lyra said to prepare the Aurora. We’re going to Hell? The Empress specifically told her not to do this.
He had tried to raise an objection, though he knew full well it wouldn’t do any good. When she glared at him, all of his resolve crumbled. “I’ll have the ship ready asap,” he said, though his thoughts raced. I hope this isn’t a mistake.
As he moved to ready the Aurora, a part of him admired Lyra’s resolve. She was willing to disobey a direct order from Spotty to protect her. That’s loyalty, but it could cost her everything if this goes wrong.
Tom just hoped Lyra was right—that her presence at the battle would tip the scales, rather than further complicate an already dangerous situation.
Captain Elander
Captain Elander stood at his post on the Aurora, watching as the Chancellor entered the bridge with purpose in her step. He knew what was coming before she even gave the order. We’re going to Hell.
Lyra’s words rang in his ears: “I am about to commit a direct violation of the Empress’ orders.”
He had to suppress a small smile. That’s Lyra, alright—fearless to a fault.
Still, this was no ordinary situation. The battle in Hell could be the most decisive engagement in Imperial history. Elander knew the risks, but he also understood why Lyra felt the need to be there. Spotty wasn’t just her Empress; she was her friend.
"At once, Chancellor," he replied, his fingers moving swiftly over the command console. Engines are primed, course plotted.
He glanced briefly at the stars. We’re heading into the fire. Let’s hope we make it out again.
Aurora’s Bridge Crew (Crewman Callen)
Crewman Callen felt a knot form in his stomach as Lyra spoke to the bridge. We're disobeying direct orders from the Empress herself? It wasn’t that he doubted Lyra’s capability, but the idea of rushing into Hell—into one of the biggest battles the Empire had ever fought—filled him with a deep sense of unease.
As the others remained silent, so did he. No one’s objecting? I guess neither will I.
His fingers hovered over the control panel as they prepared for the jump to M13. Callen’s hands shook slightly, but he steadied himself. This is what we signed up for. If the Chancellor wants us in Hell, we go to Hell.
But a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered, What if we’re too late? What if we get there and everything’s already lost?
Still, when Captain Elander confirmed the course, Callen focused on his duties. For the Empire. For the Chancellor. We’ll see this through.
As the ship lurched into its faster-than-light trajectory, Callen glanced out at the streaking stars. Hold on, Spotty. We’re coming.