• He stared over the screen once more, a blanket of red, gray and black runes glared back at him as he examined system after system, trying to find something he had missed. 
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• "Sir?" Admiral Kalithka turned to look at the owner of the voice. Sir Morath Eld, Captain of the 8th fleet looked back at him, his face dirty, covered in splotches of grease and dust. 
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• "Give me good news Mor..." The Admiral's voice was more exhausted than he expected it to be. 
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• "I'm afraid I can't do that sir." The man shook his head. "We're practically dead in the water, adrift, most of our weapons are down and we can barely get power to those still functional. FTL is confirmed to be gone, we'd need a completely new drive. Sublight needs a complete overhaul and we're all out of shipyards out here in the void. We've got thrusters for maneuvering, but that's it for motion control, and it's mostly limited to whatever local reserves the thrusters have as, once again, most of the main circuits are completely fried." 
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• "And her?" Kalithka asked. The man flinched. 
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• "The Computer Central Core is badly fried sir, we were able to extract her from it, but only just, and some of her is damaged to boot. Honestly, I'd transfer her to another unit if we had one right away. I'm keeping her unit on low power mode in the hopes of avoiding it suffering a major malfunction and us losing her for good. Altogether though, she's out of action, there is nothing she can do for us." 
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• The Admiral nodded. "You know, that's actually a spot of good news. You frame it like its bad, but she's not gone, not yet. One spot of good news amongst everything else." 
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• The Captain nodded, a hint of a weary smile at the corner of his mouth. "Yes sir." He nodded, then his face grew serious. "We need orders sir." 
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• Kalithka nodded wearily, his eyes turning to look back at the screen he'd been staring at. "We've got thirty two still functional fighters, all of which have limited FTL Three transports with little better and one Civilian Trading Vessel we picked up on the way out. What class of ship was it again?"
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• "A Naarud Kanara sir, capable of taking maybe ten people in all." 
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• "That's pushing it?" 
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• "Yes sir, that's pushing it." 
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• "What if we sedate the wounded, could we fit more?" 
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• The captain mulled that question over for a bit before nodding. "Yes sir, they'd be breathing less, if we sedated everyone but necessary crew we could fit at least a few more, I'll consult the medical personnel and engineers, see how much more that'll add up to. Won't be much, but..." 
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• "That many more we won't be leaving behind." Kalithka said. 
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• "Yes sir." He nodded. 
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• "Very well." He dismissed the screen he'd been staring at and pulled up a star chart. "Have we any idea where we are yet?" 
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• "Yes sir, I personally went on a space walk outside and did some old fashioned star navigation, old passion of mine. Turns out we jumped over six hundred light years from our previous location, got decently close to two unknown systems and a few others further out that are border systems to the Natrile Confederation, which fell months ago…
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• "So... those will be dead worlds by now." Kalithka stated. 
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• "Yes sir, and that's stretching the range of our vessels, not all of them would make it that far." 
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• "What of these unknown systems, can we say anything with surety about them?" The Admiral asked. 
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• "The only thing we can say is that the Natrile never officially claimed them, nor shared any information on them with us. Since this is pretty far from our space, our information on them is incredibly limited. We can tell from here that there are planetoids in both systems, but we can't say with surety how many there are or what they'd be like habitability wise." 
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• Admiral Kalithka thought this over for a moment, examining the two systems. "They are very, very far apart." 
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• "Yes sir, we'd have to commit to one, or the other, we can't realistically go to one and then, if it isn't suitable, go to the other. They are both so far away from everything as to make them stupidly isolated. Probably why the Natrile never colonized them."
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• The Admiral nodded for a moment before turning back to his old friend. "Pick two of your best pilots and have them each take the two best fighters. Each will head to one of the systems, scout it out for habitability and send us back all relevant data."
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• It was incredibly subtle, but the Admiral saw his good friend flinch ever so slightly at the order. It was the best course of action, they both knew it, but it still hurt, because one of those men, possibly both, was being condemned to not only die, but die alone. It would be incredibly lucky if just one planet in one of those systems would be suitably habitable for them. It was utterly unrealistic to entertain the thought that they would both have habitable worlds.
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• "I'll see to it at once sir." Captain Eld replied.
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• "And Captain?" Kalithka said as he began to turn away, his head swiveling back to meet the Admirals gaze. "Have both those men report to my personal quarters before departing. I will have words for them, before they go."
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• The Captain straightened up, a little life entering his eyes as he nodded. "Yes sir." and he turned away smartly, marching straight from the Bridge.
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• Admiral Kalithka turned to look back at the screen one last time before he stood up and walked away from the Command Station, there was nothing left for him to command from there anyways, less than one percent of the ships systems were even capable of responding to any commands directly from the bridge anymore. He walked to a plaque mounted on the wall, with three words written on it. They were both a name, a motto and the resonate phrase that had been the rallying call of his nation, a nation that, if he wasn't mistaken, he and the people with him were the last survivors of. For over a year now, he had not been given any reason to believe otherwise. The once proud and mighty Kalithanian Nation, wiped them out, along with too many others.
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• Admiral Kalithka himself was a member of one of the original founding Houses that had united Kalithania, his name dating back to its very beginnings over a millennia before. He'd once been proud of that, but now the only thing he could find any pride in had been his men, his people and his ship. He was still proud of all three, despite the fact he was about to lose one of them.
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• "Give me Liberty..." He whispered.
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• "Or give me Death." Someone else whispered at his shoulder.
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• He smiled and turned to look at the figure who was there, but wasn't there.
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• "My dearest..." He whispered. "What are you doing here?"
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• The fair image of his wife stood next to him, her hazel eyes staring up at the plaque, a knowing smile on her lips.
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• "I oathed to be by your side whenever possible, my husband. Death is no hindrance to my keeping of that oath." She turned her eyes upon him, her face as youthful and vibrant as he had remembered from over fifty years before and certainly bore none of the wrinkles or scars she had accumulated over the long years since.
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• He turned to face her, tears welling up in his eyes. "I long to join you..." He whispered, his voice almost breaking. "But I am still needed. I send so many other good men and women to die over and over again, men and women who have living families still with us. So many... why not I?"
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• "You said it yourself." She said, her beautiful smile seeming to light up the bridge as she turned toward him. "You are needed. Kalthania lives so long as you live, my dearest husband, you will not let our people die, not while there is life still in you."
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• He drank in her words and closed his eyes, feeling hot tears roll down his face. "I miss you... heart and soul, I miss you. I miss your touch, I miss the long nights next to a roaring fire, I miss the sound of our grandchildren playing in our home, the long discussions with our sons and daughter about politics, tactics and ancient history... I miss it all."
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• He opened his eyes to see her gone, but her voice whispered faintly in his ear.
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• "We will have it all back my Husband, all of it. I await you, after your duty is done."
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• And though he no longer heard or saw her, he continued to feel her spirit, ever near him.
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• He stared one last time over the bridge before wiping his eyes and using the moisture now coating his hands to wipe away the soot and dust from the plaque mounted on the wall of the bridge. The words imprinted on them now shined clearly. Libertas Vel Mors. "Give me Liberty, or Give me Death." He whispered, before turning smartly on his heel and marching from the bridge.

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