We’re all that’s left.

No matter how much he tried to ignore them, the words
refused to leave Colt’s mind. The otter stared blankly out of his cockpit at
the white bulkhead of the United Terran Federation Starfighter Carrier Intrepid’s hanger bay. The starfighter
pilot still couldn’t believe it: almost the entire UTF Outer Systems Fleet
wiped out in a single surprise attack. And the only thing that had prevented
the Intrepid’s ten ship task force
from being caught in it was the fact that they had been out investigating a
possible pirate base. That, and someone putting love above loyalty to their
empire.

We’re all that’s left.

For the moment, that was the case. Part of him knew it
wouldn’t take long for Terran industry to churn out a new fleet—six months, a
year—but for now, they were all that could resist the expansion of the Chanthu
Imperium. Much as the pilot put forth the effort to be his usual upbeat and
optimistic self in front of the rest of the Vipers; here, by himself in the
cockpit of his Gryphon-class Starfighter, he didn’t relish the idea. And now,
he was going to war. A war that could make him chose between love and loyalty.

His thick tail thumped against the side of the cockpit as he
fought the urge to put the holo up on his display. His paw drifted towards the
console, but he managed to stop it before it pressed the button. Instead, he
brushed away a strand of short brown fur. Colt sighed and chittered in
frustration. His squadron mates knew about Sakai and wouldn’t be bothered if he
pulled up the image of the orca, but if a tech or someone else saw the otter
looking at a nude Chanthu male on his fighter display there’d be awkward
questions. Recognizing a species as individuals faded when they were on the
opposite side of a war. But Colt just wanted to see his—probably—boyfriend.

He was saved from the internal struggle by an incoming call
indicator on his status board. He grabbed his helmet off the dashboard and
pulled it over his head, pausing only to make sure his short ears were properly
aligned with the protrusions for them. That done, he flipped the visor down
over his snout, waiting for the click to indicate that it had properly sealed.
Only then did he reach out to tap the key next to the blinking light. A static
image of Drake’s winged dragon icon appeared on his board to accompany the
Viper commander’s audio message.

“All squadrons, we’re twenty minutes to target,” the wolfox
said, his voice betraying the strain he was under.  “We launch as soon as we come out of FTL at
Gamma Caeturn. We’ll be providing cover for evacuating the Walcott Intrusion
Army garrison planetside. Opposition is unknown, so be ready for anything.”

The otter closed his eyes and let out a frustrated chitter.
When he opened them, a stream of data about the system was scrolling across his
monitor. Aside from the fact that it was roughly equivalent to the Terran
system with eight planets and an inner and outer system jump point, he barely
saw it. He was too concerned with his thoughts.

 So this was it—they
were going to be fighting the Imperium. A chance to see Sakai again, in the
worst possible circumstances. He shook his head. He was overreacting—it was a
big galaxy after all. The odds of the Vipers facing off against Sakai’s unit
was remote. Not that the thought of the orca fighting against other Terran
units was a better thought. His paw squeezed into a fist. When the Intrepid had
returned to find the damage to the fleet, the entire taskforce was offered no questions
asked rotations back to Terra to become instructors. Colt had come within a
whisker of taking it.

“No heroics,” Drake went on. “You and your fighter are the
most valuable assets the UTF has right now, and I need them back in one piece.
Clear?”

Colt took a deep breath, pushing regret aside. There was no
time. The Federation needed him here in a cockpit. Every member of the Vipers
had more time in combat than most other pilots had flight time. They couldn’t
sit this out. The otter knew all he could do was go forward. He reached out and
hit the confirmation key. Drake’s voice came back one more time.

“Get ready to fly. Squadron commanders report when green. We
get in, we shoot, we scoot. Quick and clean. Good hunting.”

Colt closed the channel and began the Gryphon’s start up
sequence. The delta shaped fighter rocked in its cradle as the engines rumbled
to life. His whiskers twitched as he watched the status messages roll across
the screen. Engines green. Plasma canons ready. Missiles loaded. Deflector shields
primed. The fighter rocked in the cradle as he kicked his rudder pedals.
Looking over his shoulders, he saw the three other fighters in his flight
wobble as the pilots did the same. By the time he finished his status checks,
the squadron was checking in. He waited for Viper Eleven to report before
clicking his com.

“Viper Twelve standing by.” Colt let out a breath, closed
his eyes, and prepared himself for war.

His lids had just shut when the rumble of the Intrepid’s engines changed pitch. His
ears perked up, as much as they could in his helmet, as he heard the thump of
the ship dropping out of FTL and into normal space. Even before his turn came,
klaxons were wailing. He braced himself for the rapid acceleration of launch. A
tone sounded and the otter yanked his restraints tight against the sensation of
free-fall that the fighter’s G-force compensator couldn’t quite handle as the Intrepid’s fighter tractor beam shoved
his Gryphon out of the hanger bay.

And dropped him straight into a battle.