The relay on Varros's third moon was a skeletal thing of rusted metal and dead lights, a forgotten sentinel orbiting a gas giant's swirling ochre face. Inside the Osprey, parked in its shadow, the air was tense and still.
Reia's fingers danced across the console, a silent, rapid-fire tap dance on glowing keys. Her face was a mask of concentration, illuminated by the stream of data reflected in her eyes.
"The packet is ready," she said, her voice flat. "Routing through the relay now. Boosting gain through our core. This will be… loud."
Lucian stood behind her, arms crossed. "Do it."
There was no grand speech, no dramatic countdown. Reia simply pressed a final key.
A status bar filled on the screen. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, deep in the Star-Jumper's belly, a low thrum vibrated through the deck plates. Through the viewport, a faint, coherent beam of energy, invisible to the naked eye, lanced out from the derelict relay and stabbed into the void.
