“I never miss,” Faruk replied, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
“We’re hitting the Aegis refinery at 0400,” London grumbled, his voice like gravel. “No mistakes. This isn’t a training sim.” OF - Lawrence London, Halif Faruk, Roman Mercur...
Beside him, adjusted his flight suit. Faruk was the navigator, a man who could find a wormhole in a vacuum. His eyes, dark and sharp, never left the scrolling data streams. “The gravitational fluctuations near the refinery are spiking, Lawrence. If we don’t time the exit perfectly, we’re cosmic dust.” “I never miss,” Faruk replied, a ghost of
London straightened, his gaze sweeping over his team. “Faruk, get us in. Mercur, you’re the ghost—neutralize the internal sensors. I’ll handle the heavy lifting.” This isn’t a training sim
As they prepped their gear, the camaraderie was unspoken but absolute. They were the outliers, the ones the Federation called when diplomacy failed and the odds were impossible.
“And back,” London replied, slamming a fresh power cell into his rifle.
How should the once they breach the refinery's perimeter?