In the main command room, the crew gathered again—this time more focused, purposeful. Caylee sat beside Ty'ris, eyes sharp. Ennis and Argo flanked the projection table as Silver Lining displayed the full schematics of the station in the center of the room.
The outline of Haven pulsed with soft light—old framework in red, newly reinforced zones in blue, and proposed residential, medical, and defense areas glowing green.
De'rax stepped forward, his voice strong and steady. "We need three teams: construction, medical setup, and perimeter security. We'll cycle shifts, rotate the crew. No one burns out."
"I'll lead defense," Ty'ris offered quickly, glancing to Caylee for a heartbeat before adding, "We'll make sure nothing gets close to Haven without us knowing."
"I've already spoken to the medbay staff," Ennis chimed in. "They're drafting a list of everything needed—beds, supplies, and trauma kits. I'll organize the interior layouts."
"And I'll coordinate construction," Argo said, scanning the crew. "We'll make this place livable before the next ship of freed slaves comes through."
Silver Lining's voice came softly from above:
"I will assist in all tasks and monitor Haven's atmosphere and power integrity. I am bonded to your cause."
You stepped up beside De'rax, placing a hand on the table, voice calm but passionate. "This isn't just a station—it's a sanctuary. Every wall we raise, every bolt we tighten, it's a promise. One that no one will be taken again without a fight."
The room was silent for a breath… then a low chorus of nods, fists tapping chests, and a few quiet cheers.
Ty'ris and Caylee – Perimeter Defense
The clang of metal echoed faintly through the outer rings of Haven as Ty'ris crouched beside a control panel, his hands moving with the ease of muscle memory. Beside him, Caylee carried a crate of sensor nodes and deployable barrier anchors, her face set in determined focus.
"Motion sensors to sweep every thirty seconds," she muttered. "And pulse walls up every entry point."
"You've been paying attention," Ty'ris said with a smirk.
"I was kidnapped, remember?" she replied with a dry look. "I don't plan to let it happen again."
Together, they set up interlocking defensive systems—shield generators tied to the ship's interface, early warning scanners, and pressure-detonation charges that could disable any incoming threats without risking lives inside.
Ennis – Medical Bay and Recovery Zones
The medbay lights flickered on as Ennis entered, datapad in hand. Half the walls were still scorched from years of disuse, but the bones were solid.
She directed crew members to clean and refit medbeds, rewire atmospheric scrubbers, and install nutrient dispensers. Portable scanners were linked with Silver Lining for real-time readings.
"This won't be a miracle center," she told her small team, "but we'll save lives here. That's what matters."
She paused at the end of the row of newly prepped beds, her gaze lingering on a cot where a child—rescued from the last raid—slept curled up with a soft blanket and a stuffed alien creature someone had given her.
"Worth every cut and bruise," Ennis whispered.
Argo – Transforming the Prison Blocks
Argo stood in the heart of what used to be Cell Block A. The doors had been removed, the walls scrubbed, and every trace of their former purpose torn out piece by piece.
"This used to be where hope died," he muttered to the worker beside him. "Let's flip that."
He directed teams to build partitions—some rooms for privacy, others communal spaces with bedding, soft lighting, and storage. Former prisoners helped, eagerly hammering, painting, and even hanging up handmade signs and decorations from their cultures.
One old, heavy door was kept.
Not as a threat—but mounted on a wall as a reminder. A symbol of where they'd come from, and what they'd never be again.
You and De'rax – Speaking with the Freed
Later, you stood with De'rax in the central gathering chamber. One by one, the freed prisoners came forward, some hesitant, others bold. Many carried only their names, others brought talents, languages, or years of training from lives stolen away.
You addressed them gently. "You're free now. That means you choose—whether you want to return home, or build something new here with us."
Some wept, overwhelmed. Others stepped forward proudly:
A tall woman named Drish offered her skills as a botanist.
An older man called Marrek had once been a teacher.
A soft-spoken teen, no more than sixteen, had a knack for repairing tech with little more than instinct.
De'rax stood beside you, his voice calm and commanding: "There is no shame in leaving. And there is no shame in staying. Both paths are yours to claim."
Tara found her place helping the young ones adjust. Others joined Caylee and Ty'ris for defense training. Some followed Argo, lifting tools with determination, shaping the station into something livable. A few planned their return home, and Silver Lining promised to see them safely there when the time came.
Hope bloomed—not loud or dramatic, but steady. Like roots pushing into fertile ground.