Ensign Hensley looked up from her tactical console as the loudspeakers boomed across the aging Danube’s bridge.

“All hands, this is your captain.”

Captain McCowan, who seemed almost as worn down as his ship, twirled the gold ring on his finger as he surveyed his ship’s tactical screen.  For the millionth time, he looked down at the words inscribed on the ring. Regional Champions. The crew would never know that for the millionth time, it filled him with regret. 

The other officers on the bridge paused their duties to look at him. All of those eyes on him made McCowan hesitate a moment before continuing. He wanted nothing more than to inspire his crew. He just wished it came as naturally as it seemed to for other captains. No one knew the hours he spent in front of the mirror in his cabin, practicing his public speaking and trying to put on the air of casual confidence he wished he truly had. 

“We have an important job today. The six civilian vessels we are escorting out of Konai are counting on us to protect them from any Alershian attacks while they evacuate deeper into TCR controlled space. We have trained for this. We have drilled repeatedly for this kind of operation. We have… uh…”

His voice began to falter. Hensley had seen his speeches devolve into rambling many times before.

“Rely on your teammates around you.”

McCowan couldn’t think of what else to say and the bridge crew were still looking at him. So he hastily finished with, “That is all.” 

Weapons officer Ensign Hensley shared a quick look with the communications officer Espesito that showed what they thought of the speech. Espesito rolled his eyes, while Hensley gave a small shake of her head. “Well we certainly practiced a lot.” 

Junior officers were not supposed to undermine their commanding officers, but Hensley thought she was special. That smug thought flickered but did not vanish when she caught Lieutenant Preston glaring at her from across the room.

Although it was far from an inspiring speech, Lieutenant Preston, the senior navigation officer, dutifully clapped while glaring at Hensley and Espesito. He was no sycophant, just a veteran officer who wanted to finish his tour and be able to go home to his family knowing he had served with pride. But he understood the importance of publicly supporting his commanding officer, no matter his personal feelings. He had his doubts about the captain, but also knew McCowan had been fighting the Alershians since the first days of the war. Maybe McCowan had only been given lower priority taskings like babysitting civilians, rather than being part of the TCR Navy’s main attack force, because he was burned out. Or maybe it was because he had never been that good in the first place. Either way, Preston had learned that anyone who had survived the war this long deserved the crew’s respect. The lieutenant’s eyes lingered a beat longer on Hensley, his expression leaving no doubt that he expected the same from her.

Hensley stiffened under the weight of it, biting back the smirk that had started to form. Behind her carefully neutral expression, though, she clung to the quiet certainty that she was destined to more than this. 

Ever since she had opened her acceptance letter to the academy, Hensley had focused all her attention on being the best at everything so that she could one day sit in the captain’s chair. Since her parents’ tragic death, she had almost no family connections anymore. The fleet would be her family. Her dream was to have no attachments on any planet so as to be free to put all her focus on command, reigning her own personal kingdom as her ship traveled the black depths of space, battling humanity’s enemies in glorious ship to ship duels. However, to get there, she had to finish this tour under her underwhelming commanding officer.

It wasn’t that Hensley thought Captain McCowan was necessarily a bad captain, she just thought he wasn’t… really good at anything. He treated his people well, but had an unfortunate habit of forgetting individual’s names, undermining their trust. He tried to be inspirational, but was awkward when speaking in front of groups. His technical skills were also just adequate. Hensley once looked up the captain’s scores from his days at the academy. He had finished with an overall rating of only 78%. Passable, but nothing to be proud of. Meanwhile, she had finished with an impressive 96% grade. If McCowan had been able to achieve command, even of an old outdated destroyer like the Danube, Hensley was sure she would one day have her own command of one of the most powerful warships in the fleet.

The one thing Captain McCowan was known for was drilling his crew incessantly. The Danube did more drills than any other ship in the fleet. The captain was fond of using the old saying an ounce of sweat can save a gallon of blood. He knew that putting in the hard work to prepare his crew before a battle gave them the skills they would need to survive. But the feeling amongst some of the bridge crew was that McCowan didn’t just do the drills for his crew’s benefit, but also for his own. Hensley thought the captain tried to use all of this practice to cover up his own weaknesses. She wondered if there was ever a time that the Captain had the natural skill and confidence that she possessed.

Captain McCowan leaned forward in his command chair and turned to the broad shouldered officer sitting at the Danube’s navigation console. “Lieutenant Preston, how long until the convoy reaches our jump point?”

“Sir, at our current velocity the Transport Thomas Edison will reach the jump coordinates in 17 minutes.” Even at their best speed, the six civilian transports and one aging destroyer would take much too long to clear the planet’s gravity well before they could jump to hyperspace. Everyone worried about Alershian raiders.

“Good. With a little luck we should make it out of the system without incident.” the captain nodded, speaking more as if he was trying to convince himself than his crew.

The Terran Constitutional Republic Navy had ordered most of Konai’s civilians and essential industry off of the besieged colony, but there simply were not enough ships left in the fleet to cover the evacuation. That’s why there was now just his one outdated destroyer trying to cover the six fleeing civilian ships. Since the ships had to maintain their spacing in order to execute the system jump, McCowan was left with no choice but to try and cover both ends of the convoy from the middle. As he looked at the old ring on his finger again, he couldn’t help but appreciate the deadly irony in that.

Just then, a sharp ping from the long range scanners echoed through the bridge. A Pavlovian response made the captain’s stomach flip. That sound meant that soon people were going to die.

Hensley narrowed her green eyes in concentration as she examined her sensors. “Sir, I’m picking up something… but I can’t get a confirmed reading.”  

Hensley’s nimble fingers danced through the holographic controls, trying to sort through the interference. “Whatever it is, it’s rounding Konai’s second moon and coming in on an intercept course… and fast. It’s using a slingshot orbit to pick up extra speed and cut down on our head start.” 

She shook her head as her readings continued to not make any sense. 

“But sir, it is too big for an Alershian interceptor.”

Captain McCowan had seen this before. With his stomach beginning to twist in anxiety, he said, “That’s because there are two of them. They are rounding the moon in formation, but they are going to split off and attack each side of the convoy.” 

His worst fear had come true.

Hensley narrowed her eyes in annoyance, taking his correction as a personal slight. She should have been able to figure that out from the data in front of her. She should not have needed to been told that from someone as washed up as McCowan. But was she more upset with the captain or herself?

Preston ran some calculations based on the sensor data. 

“Sir, at present velocity, the fighters will intercept the lead and tail transports in six minutes and ten seconds.” 

Captain McCowan turned the ring slowly on his finger, the metal biting faintly against his skin. As the weight of the moment pressed in, it felt like standing alone on the ice again, the game bearing down on him with no clear move to make… 

####

Years earlier, McCowan had been a star defenseman on his high school’s hockey team. His coach said he had the most natural talent and best understanding of the game of any other player he had coached. Being the best athlete in a group of twenty other teenagers gave him a chip on his shoulder that was validated when their team won a regional championship for the first time in school history. However, the big fish in the small pond soon realized that the ocean can be filled with sharks. He wasn’t prepared for the jump in skill level playing at Nationals brought.

With only six minutes left in the National Title game, McCowan’s team was down by a goal. They had played their hearts out, giving it everything they had. A few teammates were injured, but played through the pain, determined to not give up when it mattered most. However, despite everything they did, the other team’s offense was unrelenting and their goalie was blocking everything they could throw at him. With time running out, the coach called for a very aggressive attack, leaving only one defenseman back so that four offensive players could pummel the opposing net with shots. It was their only hope.

Needing to swap players on the ice, the coach tapped his star defenseman. If anyone could handle the pressure, it was McCowan. The timing was unfortunate though, as just as McCowan was jumping onto the ice, his teammates were caught too deep and the other team started coming back up the ice with the puck. McCowan started skating backwards while two opponents raced towards his own goal. It was a classic two-on-one situation, a defenseman’s worst nightmare.

For a split second, McCowan froze. Classic hockey strategy was to defend against the pass and let the goalie focus on the shooter himself. But McCowan wasn’t sure. The player with the puck was the best scorer in the league. He couldn’t just let him have an open shot. What should he do?

####

Captain McCowan continued to twirl the ring on his finger. He had drilled his crew in every situation he could think of, but this scenario was one that could not be solved, no matter how much they had practiced. It was an impossible situation. The timing of the incoming alien fighters would be before any of the human ships reached their jump points. The only good news was that at such a speed, the interceptors would have too much inertia to be able to slow down and turn around for another attack. The Alershians would only get one pass in which to take their shot, but it was all they needed. The civilian transports had no armor. A single energy bolt would easily tear through their hulls.

Hensley started spooling up the Danube’s point defense turrets. “Computing firing solutions for both targets now.” 

Captain McCowan shook his head. “Point defense turrets are short range, Ensign. I have seen your accuracy scores in all of our dills, and you are one of the best in the fleet, but at the speed those interceptors are moving, the chance of you scoring a kill in either direction is lower than I am comfortable with.”

The young weapons officer narrowed her eyes at what she took as an implied insult. She had only heard that her commanding officer thought she wasn’t good enough. “If there is any chance, I will take it sir. I know I can make both shots from the center position.”

”I appreciate your confidence, Ensign. But I will not risk losing both ships if I can guarantee the safety of one.” The captain knew his weapons officer had impressive skills, but had learned to rely on sound tactics over flashy young confidence. He then turned to Preston. “Nav, prepare to execute an OCM.”

An Overwatch Covering Maneuver would move the Danube to close proximity of the designated vessel, with the destroyer in between the incoming fighter and its target, physically shielding it from attack. Whereas civilian vessels had no defenses and were extremely fragile to weapons, even an old destroyer like the Danube had enough armor to easily take the punch of a single interceptor. Despite the complexity of moving a massive starship in close proximity to another moving at full burn, the crew was confident in their abilities since it was one of the maneuvers McCowan had been drilling over and over. The only problem was that such a tactic could only save one ship. 

Preston was the first to break the silence and ask the tough question. “Which ship do we cover, sir?”

Captain McCowan continued to turn the ring around his finger. Beads of sweat started to glisten on his forehead, but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. These were the moments he dreaded most. How did he decide which lives to sacrifice? He turned to his communications officer. 

“Comm, which ships are targeted?”

Espesito pulled up the diagram of the convoy. His finger touched the first ship in the line, and the holographic image zoomed in to show a list of details about the large freighter. “Lead vessel is the Heavy Transport Thomas Edison with ship building materials from the Konai Dockyards.” That was bad. The Terran Constitutional Republic Navy had deemed all ship building material as critical. The future of the human race could depend on relocating these shipyards to the inner colonies and building as many warships as soon as possible.

Espesito then returned to the convoy diagram and touched the last ship in the line. The image changed to an old space liner, which had been repurposed for troop transport and civilian evacuation. “The tail end ship is the Star Liner Eugene Parker, evacuating civilians from the capital.”  

He stopped short. 

When he turned to look at the captain, his eyes were filled with horror. “She has 2,824 souls on board.”

The bridge was deathly silent. For a second no one even breathed. Preston eventually broke the silence. 

“Orders sir?”

Captain McCowan didn’t move. Despite all of the training and all of the hard work he had put his crew through, there was simply no way to solve this no-win scenario. He sat there, staring at the display without even blinking. The only reaction he gave at all was to turn the ring on his finger even faster. Meanwhile the time to intercept continued to march towards zero. The interceptors would now reach their targets in just over five minutes. If the old destroyer was to get into position in time to save one of the transports, Preston would have to plot a course soon.

Espesito looked back and forth between the Captain and Preston. He had joined the fleet to protect the people of the Terran Constitutional Republic. To him, the answer was obvious. “We protect the Eugene Parker obviously. There are almost three thousand people on board.”

“I… disagree,” Preston said hesitantly. “We need those ship building materials. It’s a tough choice, I know, but the war effort has to come first.”

Espesito’s mouth hung open as he stared at the Navigation Officer. “What?!?” He glanced at the Captain who still hadn’t moved. “You are talking about putting tools and scrap metal over living breathing people. Protecting civilians has to be first.”

Preston sounded disgusted with himself, but he was adamant. “I know, but without a fleet, we can’t protect ANY civilians. If we can start pumping out warships, we might just be able to hold the inner colonies. Those ‘tools and scrap metal’ could end up saving a lot more lives in the long run.”

Meanwhile, Hensley was still willing to gamble on the point defense turrets at long range. In her mind, the captain was choosing the “safe” option that guaranteed they lost one ship. He was probably already thinking of how to defend his actions if an inquiry board questioned his command. On the other hand, she was willing to gamble everything to win it all. “I say we hold this position and try to blow both of those alien bastards out of the sky. I’m not willingly sacrificing either ship without a fight.” She had the highest test scores at the academy, and was confident she could make the shot.

The bridge officers continued to argue amongst themselves, a clear sign of the lack of confidence they had in their captain. In war, a skipper’s decision should be quick and absolute. Instead, McCowan remained frozen with the knowledge that his decision literally determined the fate of thousands of people. After so many losses throughout his career, so many battles lost and so many flagged draped coffins of his crewmates, he wasn’t sure if he could take another weight like that on his soul. Meanwhile, the time to intercept continued to count down.

The captain stopped spinning his ring and read the inscription again. “Regional Champions.” He had to make a choice.

####

With two opposing players racing towards him, the young McCowan’s skates carved frantic lines into the ice. The roar of the crowd faded into a dull thrum in his ears, his focus narrowing to the two players streaking towards his net. Every drill, every piece of coaching hammered into him said the same thing: take away the pass, trust the goalie with the shot. But in that heartbeat, McCowan made a snap decision that would change his life. He told himself he was different, that his instincts and raw skill could cover both options at once.

So he gambled. He shifted wide, knees bent low, stick sliding back and forth across the ice in a desperate attempt to shadow both the puck carrier and the passing lane. For a fleet instant, he believed he had it contained – believed he could bend the odds his way. 

In reality, McCowan was out of position to do either. 

The scorer bore down on him, then gave the subtlest flick – a fake pass so convincing that McCowan’s body reacted before his mind could stop it. He lunged to intercept, skates screeching against the ice. In that blink, the forward cut hard, exploding past him, the puck snapping off his stick in a flash of motion.

The shot slid clean through the goalie’s pads. 

The red goal light flared. The horn blasted. The crowd erupted in thunderous cheers as they leaped to their feet. 

McCowan collapsed on the ice in despair, the breath knocked out of him as if he’d been punched in the gut. He stared at the goal light burning like an accusation. His gamble had doomed his entire team. Down two goals with no time left, the momentum snapped, and with it their dream of winning a National Championship.

He had trusted himself over his training. And in that terrible moment, it cost his team everything. As the red light blazed above him, McCowan swore that if he ever faced a moment like this again, he would not falter. Never again.

####

Now, aboard the Danube, red alert beacons pulsed across the bridge, bathing every console and face in their glow. The holographic display showing the scattered convoy shimmered before McCowan, icons flickering like prey. This was it. The choice was his to make.

He stood, straightened his jacket, and then spoke with a confidence he had not truly felt in years.  

“Crew, I learned a long time ago that if you try to defend everything, you end up protecting nothing.” 

Captain McCowan set his jaw. He knew his next words would determine the fate of so many lives. “We protect the war material. Nav, plot a course to position us so we cover the Thomas Edison.”

Espesito started to argue. “But sir, the Parker has three thousand…”

“I’m giving an order, Ensign!” the Captain’s voice boomed. 

It had been a long time since he had raised his voice on the bridge. It snapped the crew back to their senses. 

“We don’t run this ship by committee.” McCowan barked with a fortitude unseen by this crew, “I’m ordering the Danube to protect the Thomas Edison.” 

While maintaining his renewed sense of command but with a returning softness in his eyes, McCowan looked at his team, knowing what he was asking them to do. 

“I am fully aware of the risk we are putting the Parker in, but there simply is no other choice.” 

He then turned his back on the tactical display and whispered so quietly that no one on the bridge could hear, 

“I called this play. I will own it…”

As Preston plotted in the new course, the captain moved to Hensley’s console. 

“Weapons, I want a firing solution with three point defense turrets to destroy the Alershian fighter targeting the Eugene Parker. We are not abandoning her.” He then locked eyes with his rookie ensign and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring nod. “We have trained for this over and over. If anyone can make this shot, it’s you.” 

Every other officer on the bridge looked to the young ensign, knowing the weight that now rested on her shoulders. Now that the Danube was heading for the front of the convoy, the already almost impossible shot had to be taken from twice the distance. 

When Hensley’s eyes met her captain’s, it conveyed more than any words could. He knew the situation he was putting the young officer in. The situation was grim, but he was willing to trust her with the responsibility of 2,482 lives. For the first time in her career, this was more than just a drill. She felt a flush of pride that for once he seemed to trust her. 

Hensley nodded back. “I won’t let you down sir.”

The Danube’s old but reliable engines flared to life, giving the destroyer the extra push it needed to surge forward and overtake the front of the convoy. With expert handling by Preston, small thrusters along its sides fired to roll the antiquated vessel so that the thickest part of the armor faced the incoming fighters. Soon the heavy transport found itself slipping into the shadow of the old destroyer, as the warship blocked out the harsh light from Konai’s bright blue F-class sun.

The maneuverings of the Danube did not go unnoticed by the rest of the convoy. Espesito’s communication console erupted with desperate calls from ships in the rear of the convoy.

“Danube please come in…”

“… we have women and children on board…”

“… can’t abandon us…”

Hensley tried not to listen. Her fingers flew across her console in a torrent of motion as she desperately tried to attain a firing solution. The lead fighter was still coming straight on against the destroyer, making it an easy shot. The rear interceptor on the other hand was moving so fast, and the distance to the Eugene Parker was so great, that Hensley couldn’t be sure of the computer’s calculations. She tried to double check the figures, but was running out of time as the icons continued merging towards each other. For the first time in her career, she felt a sense of doubt in the back of her mind. She continually worked the figures until the last possible second, then jammed the firing sequence. She wasn’t sure. But it had to be right. Didn’t it?

The four point defense turrets along the Danube’s structure spewed streams of magnetically accelerated metal shavings, just one for the nearest fighter while three targeted the one heading for the rear of the convoy, tripling the odds of a hit. For the next few moments, the bridge crew could do nothing but sit and watch as dual rivers of metal particles raced through the vast emptiness of space. Just before the shots disintegrated the first target, the lead alien interceptor fired a futile parting shot. The bolt of energy slammed into the Danube, searing a few inches of armor but causing no significant damage.

The second fighter, on the other hand, continued on its course as the second volley of point defense rounds tore through space on an intercept course. The beads of sweat on McCowan’ forehead condensed and dripped off of his nose, leaving a small damp spot on his uniform, but his eyes remained glued to the weapons screen.

Then came the moment of truth.

The stream of shots cut through space – only to take past where the interceptor had been only a second before. The firing solution was off by the tiniest decimal, but at those speeds and distances the rounds had missed the target by a mile.

Ensign Hensley felt her heart drop as if the ship’s gravity had just cut out. She blinked at the display, refusing to believe what her own eyes saw. The stream of shots continued on their course as the icon of the Alershian rocketed towards the end of the convoy unharmed. 

Then the grim reality struck her. All of her skills, and all of the practice she had done to get to be a weapons officer on a warship, hadn’t been enough. She had missed.

When it really mattered, she wasn’t good enough. 

Now every single person aboard the Parker was going to die. 

The surviving alien interceptor charged its energy weapon and fired a single blast. The concentrated plasma tore into the passenger vessel’s structure a third of the way up from the engine. For a few seconds, screams could be heard over the comm channel as a growing ball of light emerged from the disabled craft’s interior, swelling with the heat of a power reactor going critical. 

Everyone on the Danube’s bridge watched in horror as the Eugene Parker erupted into a flash of blinding white light, leaving nothing except a shower of radioactive sparks against the blackness of space.

Unable to overcome the massive intercept velocity from the slingshot orbit, the lone remaining Alershian fighter continued on its path back towards the inner system, content with the damage it had ravaged. Watching it go, Captain McCowan knew there was nothing they could do for the lost souls from the Eugene Parker. 

It was over. 

McCowan was the first to break the eerie silence. “Nav, take us back to our spot in the line. I want this convoy to jump the moment we are in position.”

“Aye sir.” Preston felt a growing knot in his stomach. He had advocated sacrificing the Parker to save the Thomas Edison, but a small selfish part in the back of his mind was grateful it wasn’t him that had to make the final command decision. How could he tell his family about this back home? Would he ever admit he advocated for abandoning civilians to their death? How could they understand?

He looked over at Hensley whose earlier smirk was long dashed from her face. She remained at her station, unmoving, her gaze fixed forward but unfocused.

McCowan glanced one more time at the holographic screen depicting his convoy, now reduced to only five civilian ships. One by one, the icons blinked out as the survivors made the jump out of Konai’s system and to the safety of the inner colonies. 

He exhaled slowly and shook his head. He had given his last ounce of strength to make the tough decision. 

But was it the right one?

His eyes drifted across the bridge, half expecting someone to meet his gaze and confirm his thoughts – to tell him he’d done what had to be done, but no one did. And then he saw her.

Hensley hadn’t moved. She sat rigid at her console, staring straight ahead, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists on her lap. McCowan knew that look. He’d felt that look. But this wasn’t a game. Lives of real people had been snuffed out in an instant. She hadn’t just missed. She was reliving it – the failed shot, the screams, the exploding light. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What could he even say?

McCowan removed his gold ring and held it up to the light. Only this time, he didn’t replace it on his finger. Instead, he put the ring in his pocket and walked off the bridge without saying a word. This would be his last command. 

Hensley, meanwhile, remained at her station. She had not been good enough to save them. What good was talent if she couldn’t stop people from dying? That single truth settled like lead behind her sternum, heavy and unmoving. All her training, all the simulation, all those damn academy test scores – they hadn’t meant anything when it counted. The screams of the Parker’s crew still rang in her ears. She would continue to hear them for the rest of her life. 

####

Twelve days after the Eugene Parker’s destruction, the Danube and the rest of the civilian convoy pulled into Martian orbit. As the five remaining transports split off to their own docking assignments, Captain McCowan felt his stomach finally begin to unknot. They had finally accomplished their mission, albeit with one less ship under their protection. He felt a mix of pride and sorrow as he watched for the last time his crew expertly pilot the massive destroyer under his command into its dock. He had sent a message to command offering his resignation the day after the attack, and TCRN Headquarters already had a new captain waiting to take command as soon as they docked. The need for warships was so great, the Danube would be heading right back to the warzone after only enough time to resupply and rearm. The rest of the crew wouldn’t even get a two day leave. 

Once the docking was complete, Captain McCowan went around to each member of the bridge crew, shook their hands, and wished them good luck. He hoped he had made a positive impact on them and had trained them well enough. Maybe that would be the difference whether they would each survive this war, but it was out of his control now. 

When he reached Ensign Hensley, he noticed the distant, heavy look in her eyes hadn’t faded. She was replaying her failure over and over. McCowan knew exactly how she felt. She barely registered his presence until he grasped her hand, then looked up just enough to meet his eyes before looking away.

He held her hand a moment longer than the others, trying to find the words. What could he even say? That it was fine that over 2,000 people died? That she tried her best? Those words would be hollow and false. Whatever comfort he meant to give, it hovered just beyond reach, unable to pierce the fog wrapped tightly around both their thoughts.

Instead of releasing her, he reached into his pocket with his other hand. For a moment, she thought she was receiving a notice of demotion, but what he pulled out was a ring. Heavy, gold, scuffed along the edges. It had once been a shiny point of pride before life had worn it down.

The word Regional Champions was engraved boldly across the top. McCowan pressed it into her palm, closing her fingers around it before she could object.

“Sometimes you can give it everything you have… and you’ll still lose” he muttered.

 Hensley blinked, confused. Was he admonishing her that she would never be good enough? She looked at him again, but he wasn’t smirking or angry. There was no sarcasm in his voice. Just weariness.

“All we can do is keep pushing forward,” he added after a beat, too quiet for anyone else on deck to hear. 

Then, as if embarrassed by the whole thing, he gave a stiff nod and moved on.

As McCowan neared the bridge’s exit, Lieutenant Preston’s voice called out. “Attention on deck! Commander of the Danube departing.” 

Every member of the bridge crew stood at attention and gave their commander one last salute. Captain McCowan solemnly saluted back, gave one last nod to his crew, then turned and walked off the bridge for the last time.

The rest of the bridge officers then began to disperse. They had just enough time for one good night’s sleep before they would need to prepare the ship to depart again under their new commander.

Hensley stared down at the ring in her hand and felt her throat tighten. The gesture wasn’t meant as a comfort. Not exactly. It was an acknowledgement. From one failure to another. From someone who knew the weight she was carrying – even if he couldn’t name it, couldn’t soften it. 

Then, the captain was gone. 

####

Hensley entered her cramped junior officer cabin and closed the door. Moving to her small desk, she brushed aside the empty bottles that used to contain a month’s worth of sleeping pills. She had taken them all in the last two weeks as they were the only thing that stopped the sounds of the Parker’s crews’ screams at night. 

She let out a sigh as she picked up her datapad and began to type. 

When she had stepped aboard the Danube on her first tour, she had done so with a fire in her chest. She felt with absolute certainty that she would have her own command one day. Top of her class, highest scores, clean record. It had never been a matter of if, only when. 

But that was before she had seen what command really meant. Before she knew what it was like to hold thousands of people’s lives in your hands, only to watch them slip through your fingers. 

She finished typing. It was a short letter. And then she sat there, blinking at the glowing screen, struck by the  sad realization  that she didn’t know who to address it to. She had no family and had not gone out of her way to make friends since the academy. Just a long list of instructors, evaluators, and superior officers she had worked to impress, but none that she could ever call close. All she had cared about were her scores and what that had meant for advancement. 

The letter was simply addressed To Whomever It May Concern.

It was a pathetic way to address her suicide note.

She placed the datapad down carefully, and drew her service pistol from the top drawer. with tears forming in her eyes and her heart racing, she brought the barrel to her lips.

And then paused.

Her eyes caught on the ring Captain McCowan had given her, sitting on her desk. Through watery eyes, she read the inscription again.

Regional Champions.

The hunk of metal was a symbol of failure, but he had still worn it every day. Not because he won every time, but because he wouldn’t quit. 

She curled her finger around the trigger.

Her hand trembled.

Sometimes you can give it everything you have and still lose. All you can do is keep pushing forward.

She set the weapon down on the desk beside the datapad. After a long moment, she reached for the ring instead. 

Hensley curled her fingers around it and began to sob. She cried for the people on the Eugene Parker. She cried for herself. She cried for the life she thought she wanted in her young innocence, now shattered to a million pieces in the cruel realization that sometimes the hardest thing of all was living with failure. 

After a moment, she wiped her eyes and reached back to her datapad. Her finger hovered over it for a second before she pressed the delete button. 

She wasn’t going anywhere.

She would keep pushing forward.

####

Two years later, Hensley stood on an observation deck with a glass of champagne in one hand and brand new lieutenant rank on her shoulders. Below her stretched the Martian dockyards – a monstrous ring of metal plating, docking clamps, supply corridors and welding platforms that held dozens of warships in various stages of construction or repairs. The sheer size of it was overwhelming. Here, the shipyards had become humanity’s lifeline, fed by the raw materials of the outer colonies and the salvaged bones of lost ships. All of it concentrated into this one system, a desperate effort to make Mars the greatest producer of warships in human space.

Konai was still under siege. Human defenders clung on the surface, buying time for the fleet to rebuild. If humanity hoped to push back to Alershians, every ship here would matter.

Hensley could see the hulls of numerous ships in various stages of construction, but her eyes fixated on the one newly completed cruiser sitting proudly in the center of the enormous window. With thicker armor and twice as many guns as a destroyer, the new cruiser could match all but the biggest ships in the Alershiaain fleet. It was her new assignment.

She raised the champagne to her lips but paused, catching her own reflection in the glass. The face staring back was not the same one that once brimmed with unchecked ambition. Grief had worked its slow erosion: her smile was rarer, her eyes burned something quieter, harder. Two years of carrying failure had changed her; she stood straighter, spoke less quickly, rationed every expression. To anyone else on that observation deck, which was filled with various military commanders and important civilian dignitaries, she looked every inch the rising officer – decorated, promoted. But Hensley knew better. Beneath the polished surface, she was still haunted by the echo of a single missed shot, carrying it like shrapnel of one of these warships too deep to be removed. So she kept to herself.

Since Captain McCowan’s resignation, Hensley had received a string of commendations from the Danube’s new captain. Her failure had lit a fire inside of Hensley, driving her to new levels of effort and preparation instead of relying on her own skills. Only this time she strove for excellence not for herself, but for the lives of those she might hold in her hands again. She may never be perfect, but she could always try to get better. She had become the biggest advocate for more drills among the crew, leading the newer officers and being a positive role model for them to emulate. As a wise man once said, an ounce of sweat saves a gallon of blood. Over the last few months, the Danube had tallied an impressive war record and Hensley was a major reason for that, but in truth every day she thought about that fateful convoy out of Konai.

As Hensley stared at the brand new cruiser, she gave a silent toast to the 2,824 lives lost so that the war material needed to build this ship could arrive here at Mars. She hadn’t been good enough to make the shot that day, but McCowan’s words would never leave her. 

Hensley raised her glass of champagne in memory of all of the civilians lost on the Eugene Parker. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, which wore a battered gold ring. Seeing it, people would often ask if she had played hockey. She responded no, but she had her own losses that she would always carry.

As she glanced at the new cruiser she would soon serve on, a hint of a smile crossed Hensley’s face. She may never be able to answer whether the price paid for this ship was too high, but at least she approved of the name. Command had christened the newest cruiser in the fleet the Parker’s Revenge.