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.