Chapter 39: 39. Turning Tides
The Wraith floated silently in the Drift, its engines cooled for the first time in days. In the cockpit, Elara stared at the console, lost in thought. The stars stretched out before her, distant and uncaring. The message, the one with her voice warning about Valen replayed endlessly in her mind.
Damien entered quietly. "Can’t sleep either?"
She shook her head. "I keep thinking about that message. How could it have my voice?"
Damien leaned against the frame. "You think it’s fake?"
"Maybe. Or maybe there are parts of me—old versions—still out there. Copies. Clones. I don’t know anymore."
He crossed the room and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Whatever’s out there, we deal with it together. You’re not alone."
She nodded, but her heart was far from calm.
Nova sat alone in the mess hall, a cup of synthetic coffee cooling in her hands. Her mind raced. The Republic’s offer still burned in her memory bring in Elara, get a full pardon, a decorated return.
She had lied. Lied to the crew, to Damien, to herself.
Her fingers trembled as she activated her private comm. A blinking cursor awaited her input.
She typed: No deal. They’re my family now.
Then she deleted it.
She typed again: Tell me more.
Her finger hovered over send. In the end, she just shut the device off.
Damien entered. "You alright?"
Nova forced a smile. "Just tired."
But the mask was cracking.
Valen sat in the med bay, a stack of old data slates in front of him. He scrolled through the encrypted files he had smuggled off a Replicant outpost years ago. One file caught his eye: E7 Protocol: Subject Deviations.
He opened it. Images of Elara in earlier iterations flashed across the screen. Version 3. Version 5. Each one looked just like her, but subtly different.
Logs read: Subject continues to deviate from mission. Emotional anomalies increasing. Memory bleed suspected.
Valen’s breath caught. They weren’t just clones, they were reincarnations. Memories echoing across bodies.
He stood suddenly. He had to tell her.
Elara met Valen in the corridor. She looked exhausted, haunted.
"I found something," he said, holding out the slate.
She read quickly, her expression tightening. "They knew. They planned for this. For us to... leak. For me to remember."
Valen nodded. "You’re not broken, Elara. You’re evolving."
Her hand trembled. "Then why does it hurt so much?"
"Because growing always hurts."
They stood in silence, two experiments reaching for something more than what they were made to be.
An alarm shrieked. Red lights bathed the halls.
Nova’s voice came over the intercom: "Multiple vessels incoming. Drift signatures—Republic and Replicant. Together."
Elara froze. "That doesn’t make sense. They’re enemies."
Valen cursed. "Not anymore, apparently. They’ve united. Against us."
Damien shouted from engineering. "We’re surrounded!"
The ship rocked violently. A direct hit.
Nova spun the Wraith into evasive maneuvers. "Weapons ready! Shields holding—barely!"
Elara and Valen raced to the bridge.
Outside, a fleet loomed—Replicant drones and sleek Republic warships flying in tandem.
The screen lit up with an incoming call. Nova hesitated, then accepted it.
Admiral Korvus appeared, a scar across his eye and a sneer on his lips.
"Bring me the Replicant, and you walk free," he said.
Elara stepped into view. "I’m not going anywhere."
Korvus’s eyes narrowed. "Then you’ll die in that scrap heap."
He cut the feed.
Damien looked at Nova. "They contacted you before, didn’t they?"
She hesitated.
"Nova?"
She nodded slowly. "They offered me a deal. I didn’t take it. But I didn’t tell you either."
Damien’s fists clenched, but Elara spoke first. "We can’t afford divisions now. We fight. Together."
Nova looked at her. "You still trust me?"
Elara nodded. "We all have our shadows. What matters is what we do now."
Valen pointed at the star map. "There’s a gravity rift near the Halos Belt. If we dive into it, we can mask our escape."
Nova frowned. "We’ll be blind. No control."
Elara smiled grimly. "Sounds like freedom."
They all nodded.
The Wraith turned and shot toward the swirling storm of the rift. Republic and Replicant ships gave chase.
Damien rerouted all power to the engines. "Hang on!"
The ship dove into chaos.
Mm
Inside the rift, time bent. Lights distorted. Screams echoed without source.
Elara clutched the console. "We’re losing structural integrity!"
Nova kept her hands steady. "Trust me. I know how to fly through hell."
Valen adjusted navigation. "There’s a path. I can see it."
Outside, the enemy fleet faltered. One ship exploded under the pressure.
The Wraith spun, buckled—and broke free.
Silence.
Then stars. Clear and bright.
They had escaped.
The crew sat in silence in the aftermath.
Nova wiped blood from her brow. "We made it."
Damien looked around. "Barely."
Elara stood. Her eyes were distant. "They’re working together now. We’re not just fugitives. We’re targets."
Valen stepped forward. "Then we take the fight to them. We stop running."
Elara looked at him. "And start what?"
He smiled. "A revolution."
She nodded. For the first time in days, she felt purpose burn in her chest again.