Of - Lawrence London, Halif Faruk, Roman Mercur... File

“We’re hitting the Aegis refinery at 0400,” London grumbled, his voice like gravel. “No mistakes. This isn’t a training sim.”

“I never miss,” Faruk replied, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

“To the edge?” Mercur asked, checking the edge of his vibro-blade. OF - Lawrence London, Halif Faruk, Roman Mercur...

The hangar doors hissed open, revealing the sleek, black silhouette of their ship. The mission was suicide to some, but to London, Faruk, and Mercur, it was just another Tuesday in the void.

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. “We’re hitting the Aegis refinery at 0400,” London

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.”

“And back,” London replied, slamming a fresh power cell into his rifle. “To the edge

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.”