A Solitary Watch

The hum of the *Stray Dog*'s engines was a dull throb against the silence, a sound that had become more familiar than his own heartbeat. Bodyguard sat in the pilot’s chair, his gaze fixed on the swirling nebulae displayed on the main viewscreen. They were beautiful, in a way, these cosmic tapestries woven from stardust and light, but beneath their ethereal glow, he knew, lay an infinite, unforgiving emptiness. The void. It had swallowed so much, and now, it was all he had.

He ran a calloused thumb over the worn grip of his sidearm, the metal cool against his skin. The weight of it was a constant, grounding presence, a tangible reminder of the mission, of the blood, of the cost. Kepler-186f was a ghost now, a memory of screams and silence. The derelict station, a tomb for so many, still echoed in the dark corners of his mind. Thorne was gone, his network fractured, but the Lurker… the Lurker was still out there. Or something like it. The truth of its nature remained as elusive as a phantom limb.

He tried to focus on the present, on the next jump, the next system, the next whisper of a disturbance. But the past clung to him like a shroud. He saw the faces of the colonists, their hopes extinguished like cheap candles. He saw Aris, her brilliant eyes clouded with fear, her sacrifice a burning ember in his gut. He saw himself, a fool who had trusted, a weapon that had failed.