Cygnus stood on the bridge, eyes unseeing on the nebula that flowed through the black void of space. All around him, people scrambled this way and that, involved in the piloting of the great flagship cruiser. But none of that touched him. His mind, as it so often was, was stretched almost to the breaking point. After all, no one else had the range to reach their far-flung forces, and they dared not trust regular communications. The latest attacks were clever. The invaders were avoiding psionic hubs after a particularly spectacular failed assault on Blood Star Base. Cygnus wasn’t there for that, but he had seen the recordings. Children and families they might be, but no one on Blood Star Base was psi-null. When they all worked together, there was very little that could take them on. The attack on their home made the most of every facet of psionic ability. The invaders lost six of their huge frigates, all to a base that should never have been able to repel them. Cygnus was proud of them. He wasn’t sure his mind would survive the loss of home on top of Andra’s death. In three weeks, every spare moment spent reaching for her, reaching for any hope at all, and nothing. His mind felt like an old house, too big for him alone now that he knew how it felt to share it. The corners echoed empty, even when he was in contact with a dozen other telepaths at once. They weren’t her. “Cyg, we have activity.” Cygnus blinked as his attention returned to his body, and not the dozens of updates that never stopped flowing in as attacks were repelled, or not, and humanity fought to keep their toehold in their small slice of space. Indus Crux was a good friend, and had an unusual primary psionic ability. He was a Shield. His other abilities were relatively minor, but his shields were second to none. Cygnus might, might, be able to break through, but it would take all his power. It was also the root of their friendship. Cygnus so rarely had the freedom to listen to a person’s words, and not their thoughts. Cygnus felt a pinch of guilt. He hadn’t been a very good friend to Dus lately, even given his mourning for Andra. Not that Dus would hold it against him, but he should apologize anyway. “Where?” he asked, and tried to push through the wave of heavy apathy that tried to swamp him any time he wasn’t actively doing something else. “Show me.” The ship was yet another of the endless destroyers. Not as big as the frigates, but more heavily armed and armored. Oddly, this one seemed to be in some distress. It was even putting off some sort of communication, if the techs’ excited cries were anything to go by. A burst of sparks shot off one end of the ship and sparked huge bolts of ion lightning through the nebula clouds. Moments later a whole swarm of small fighters poured out of the destroyer’s belly, close to the explosion. Apparently unconcerned by their mothership’s damage, the cloud of fighters blasted towards them, and Cygnus only sighed. They still hadn’t learned that flying at the flagship never worked. If he was angry enough, he could wreck their big ships. The fighters were child’s practice and nothing more. He had learned on heavier targets. He raised a hand, and braved himself, before stretching out his senses, lying in wait for the ships to get too close to escape him. “There are chimmas in the wiring?” The words sliced through Cyg’s focus, and he whirled, heart suddenly pounding. “What did you say?” he demanded, too shaken to dig through the tech’s thoughts without damaging her. “Say that again!” “It’s the distress beacon,” the tech stammered, face sheet white under his fixed stare. “It- it’s a frequency we can translate, but it just- just keeps saying the same thing. There are chimmas in the wiring.” Cygnus whirled to face the window, eyes scanning over the ships with something like hope boiling in his chest. “Where are you?” he whispered through a throat that closed on him, chest tight as he tried in vain to crush down that tiny spark that threatened to take him off his feet. “Where are you, Andra?” His hands shook where he clenched them tight around the railing, and forced himself to drag in one breath and then another. The swarm of tiny ships rocketed towards them, not attacking, he realized. Chasing one of their own. With moments to spare, he raised his hand again, and found hope more powerful than fury. The ships didn’t stand a chance, as he snatched them from the black and shattered them, the remnants exploding into other ships and creating a barrier of debris between the fleeing ship, and the pursuit. “Open the landing bay,” he snapped as soon as the last of the tiny ships were dealt with, and only that one last ship continued on towards them as fast as its small engines could take. “No one fire on that ship! She’s one of ours!” He didn’t know if they heard him, or listened, and he didn’t truly care as he took off running for the landing bays, shoving people out of the way with a driving wedge of telekinetic force. (It’s landed) Indus reported, mental voice flavored with coffee-colored concern, and bright golden flakes of hope. (Is it-) (No one else could know,) Cygnus told him, and hurtled into the landing bay where soldiers converged on the fighter. It was in sorry shape, beaten and blasted, but whole. He saw a few of the soldiers raise guns, and crushed the muzzles shut with barely a thought even as steam erupted outward, and the tiny pilot’s hatch scraped open. (No one else would choose that as a distress beacon.) Barely daring to hope, barely daring to breath, Cygnus reached out with his mind, seeking the clever bronze-colored intricacy that he had missed so desperately. (Andra?) (I knew you would understand.) Her touch was fragile with exhaustion, and Cygnus couldn't wait any longer. The ship flew apart as he approached, until Andra was able to struggle free of the alien technology and into his arms. (You're safe,) he told her, and pressed his face into her dirty hair as she clung to him. His eyes burned with tears, and he let them fall, relieved beyond measure that she was alive, and every inch the miracle he never dared to pray for. (You're safe, and you're home.)