That morning Rixon called the family to meet him outside the cockpit, gathered around the table. When everyone came together, the energy was awkward—no one had been properly introduced. Rixon walked in on crutches, his injuries still visible, while Relisis moved fine beside him.
"Look, it's time for us to get off this planet that's going to crap. But before we go, I want everyone to go to the person next to them and hug them. And if you don't know their name, ask for it and tell them yours." Rixon's face was serious, which only confused everyone more given how he'd presented it.
"Aye, Rix, I love your intentions here but my man, we got to present that better. Like, hold on, let me show you ho–" Sentio began, gesturing broadly.
Rixon put a hand on his shoulder and cut him off gently.
"Masinon, Kiala, Rel, and Oyric." He looked at each of them in turn. "I know we've been fighting together for some time, and this seems like I just threw this on you right after we lost someone. But what this idiot with some sort of emotional engineering has shown me, combined with watching this war unfold on this planet, has made one thing clear: we are more of a family than most people of blood. We have laughed, cried, fought, killed, and ate with each other. And I don't want to take an adventure to a new life with people I don't see as family." He walked past them, touching their shoulders, making eye contact. "So I'm asking you to please take these soldiers into our family."
"Rixon, I don't mind taking them in, but how do we know they can keep up?" Kiala grabbed his shoulder, holding his gaze. "You know what training we went through to finish the missions that brought us here. They look tough, like real soldiers, but to do what we're doing, they need to be willing to enter a place where we all survive by killing more than just the person in front of us."
"Plans have changed. That's part of why I brought you here." Rixon's voice was steady. "But before I get into that, I need to know—is everyone willing to pledge to this family? This family that my new friend Doctor Sentio named 'Voss.' That will be the last name you all take. What we pass down to our individual families. It's our declaration to forget the past and accept where we are now."
"Rixon, I don't care if we take that last name." The woman who led the twenty-five soldiers stepped forward. "But are you sure you're willing to drop the legacy of your parents? Of our planet?"
"Yeah, I'm sure." Rixon stood in front of her, crutches barely holding him up, his eyes soft. "And to start—what is your name, my sister?"
She held his gaze. "Vena."
Rixon moved with a swiftness that surprised everyone despite his injuries. He pulled her into a firm hug. "Welcome Vena Voss. To the family. The legacy of our people lives in us." He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. "Are you with me?"
Vena returned the hug just as firmly, holding him steady so he didn't need the crutch. "Glad to be here, brother."
The weight of the moment settled over the room. Then, one by one, everyone followed suit. Couples embraced. Siblings found each other. Strangers became family.
Rixon eased onto a couch against the wall, watching. A smirk slowly crept across his face. He watched Oyric's face shift as she learned that these soldiers had been their protection detail when they were kids. He watched Kiala pull a fellow Vernesa aside, their tails intertwining as they shared quiet memories of a home that no longer existed. He watched Masinon clap one of the new Cerlitza on the back, already deep in conversation about weapons modifications.
For a moment, he felt himself drifting—observing rather than participating. But Oyric noticed. She always noticed.
Sentio wandered over and dropped onto the couch beside Rixon. They fell into easy conversation, laughing about something that had happened during their escape from the city. Oyric watched them from across the room and finally understood. Her brother had found someone who matched him—not in stature or combat skill, but in respect and friendship. Back home, his friends had always been war buddies, people he trained and fought with but never truly relaxed around. This was different.
The Voss family at that moment stopped being a tactical concept. It became real.
As everyone settled into the comfort of new connections, Rixon straightened up.
"Aye! Check it." His voice cut through the room.
Everyone went quiet immediately, locking onto him.
"This morning, I got a message—which, for some of you, is a no-no in our line of work."
Masinon frowned. "Is that evil woman changing the terms or some crap like that?"
"In a sense, yes and no." Rixon's face grew serious. "Right now, the Yornkata Empire is attacking all branches of her family. As of this morning, there are only three branches left. They were hit last night by a massive fleet."
Holographic photos and video flickered to life on the table in the center of the room—ships burning, stations breaking apart, bodies floating in the void.
"We technically only had two more branches to take out, but both were wiped out in the attack on the family's main fleet. Them and two other branches." Rixon stared at the ground. "My cousin Zay contacted me. He says we should return to her planet. She's preparing to make her last stand there."
"Oh fuck, no." Oyric's voice was sharp, angry. "For what? So we can go die some heroic death with her on that dumb planet? With her out of the picture, we just focus on getting to the other side of the galaxy."
"She's right, Rix." Relisis moved to stand beside Oyric.
"Here's the thing." Sentio walked toward the holographic table. "Rixon told me she has highly sophisticated systems there. Droids that can manufacture anything."
Kiala's eyes narrowed. "Yeah? And what does that mean?"
"It means that getting to where we need to go isn't simple." Sentio pulled up a map of the galaxy, highlighting the impassable sector. "The odds of surviving that journey, with our current tech? Zero point five percent. I think we need to use this moment to negotiate. Get what we can from her without dying in her war." He tapped the map. "If we don't use those tools, we're looking at years—maybe decades—of building our own network, acquiring resources, slowly working our way toward a goal that keeps moving further away." He looked around at the faces watching him. "And now that we're family, I don't plan on losing any of you chasing a dream that may never get closer."
Vena stepped up to the table. "So you're saying we can modify this ship—and others—to make the crossing?"
"Oh, my sister." Sentio grinned with cocky confidence. "I got here on a one-man ship modded with years of work. Give me a team of six people who think like me? I can get it done in a timeframe that actually works."
"You've got one year." Rixon lifted his head. "I'm going to negotiate for two—whatever she has planned, Zay says she has enough troops to last five. But I don't want to be in her war any longer than necessary. We'll do our mission and get out." He looked at Sentio. "Make it three ships. Each one holding twenty-five to forty people. And that tribe on the ground? I'm bringing them into the family. She was going to entrust them to us anyway. That works in our favor."
Masinon's face showed clear disagreement. "But why? What do they do for us? That's more people to worry about when we don't have to."
"Because like Sentio stressed to me when we were in the heat of battle," Rixon said, pushing himself up on his crutch, "the hell we're walking into may be similar to this. But there's a real possibility of peace on the other side. We just need to be prepared to be molded to make it happen. Those bodies give us stability. Opportunity. The chance to create whatever life we want for ourselves."
"Understood." Sentio nodded. "So that's four ships total. If you want it done, make sure you negotiate for twenty-plus droids for us to use." He paused. "One last thing—how are we getting these other ships?"
"Yeah, Rixy." Oyric's tone was sarcastic, playful. "How are we doing that?"
"I've been rich since I came into this life." Rixon met each of their eyes. "Let me handle it. I got too much money sitting around. Time to get rid of it so we can get rid of this life on this side of things."
"I trust you." Vena nodded. "Get it done, chief."
She walked toward the rooms with some of the others.
"Yeah, chief." Masinon put his arm around Kiala. "I like that. Never really been a fan of boss or leader."
"I'mma stick with Rix." Sentio shrugged. "Don't want to blow your head up too much."
"Call me what you want." Rixon started toward the cockpit. "Just get ready. We got a place to get to."
"Alright everyone!" Sentio raised his voice. "Let's get ready to lift off. We're leaving in the next ten minutes."
Rixon reached the cockpit door, but his crutch caught on the threshold. He stumbled, falling against the frame. Oyric and Rel ran to help, but Sentio got there first.
"Oh nah." Sentio caught him. "He's not flying in this condition. Put him in the co-pilot seat. We'll do it together." He helped Rixon into the chair. "How come Rel is fine—just basic bruises—but you're still feeling everything?"
Oyric settled into a seat behind them, stowing the crutch. "It's his Delisurian blood. He doesn't heal fast from bruises. Broken bones, cuts—those heal quick. Bruises take forever."
Sentio looked back at her. "How long will he be like this?"
Oyric looked at Rel. "How long to get to the Boss's planet?"
Rel answered without hesitation. "Five months."
"Then that's how long it'll take." Rixon started clicking buttons, bringing systems online. "Now get us off this planet. The war's not getting peaceful anytime soon."
They lifted off. The blockade was thick—ships everywhere, patrols scanning for anyone trying to flee. But the Voss family worked together, everyone at their stations, shooting down threats, reloading weapons, coordinating fire. They escaped with minor damage and a story to tell.
The five-month journey became something none of them expected.
Rixon and Sentio stayed glued to the cockpit and the holographic table. They bonded over inventions, over engineering concepts, over the differences between their galaxies. Sentio created holographic prototypes as they talked, recording most of their conversations. It was like they'd both found someone similar—warriors in their own way, but brilliant engineers too. When Rixon showed off his shield, demonstrating how it formed from a flat wrist device into something that could stop blaster fire and the strongest swords, Sentio was genuinely amazed.
Oyric would sometimes sit and just listen to them, watching her brother finally have someone who understood him. Someone he could nerd out with. She and Relisis grew closer too—he moved into her room, and they trained together constantly. Sometimes the sessions got intense, but it was because he refused to lose her on a battlefield. They developed partnership moves similar to what he and Lo used to execute, carrying that memory forward.
Vena, Kiala, and Masinon worked on battle strategies and ran drinking games. Some nights the cafeteria became a battlefield of laughter, with everyone passed out until morning.
When they finally arrived at the planet, the mood shifted instantly.
A blockade of one thousand ships surrounded the tiny world.
"Yo Rixon." Masinon's voice was tight. "Did we just fly into a death sentence?"
"Everyone weapons ready." Rixon moved through the ship, grabbing his sword and rifle. "We may have to kill everyone in front of us to get where we're going. The plan will develop as we confront them."
But no one hailed them. Their ship was recognized. Four escort ships pulled alongside and guided them through the blockade. When they reached the tall tower, the escorts peeled away, and the side of the building opened.
Lights flashed on. Twenty-five armed guards stood at attention, lining the hangar.
The Voss family descended the ramp, weapons high, eyes scanning. But the guards weren't armed. Then the door opened, and Zay walked through—with the Boss behind him, Beelo at her side.
"Ah, the mercs of disaster." The Boss smiled. "Well done on your journey. Now we must go negotiate. Things have changed. If you want to shower and stop reusing the same water, you can do that first. We'll negotiate over dinner."
Rixon relaxed, lowering his sword. "Why you scare us like this? We thought we were going to have to shoot our way out of here, you crazy old wench."
"Look, you little shit." The Boss's voice carried no anger—just fact. "That's protocol now. Don't think you're special. My guard enters every room before I do. They kill anyone who means me harm before I set foot inside."
The newer family members exchanged glances, surprised at how these two talked to each other.
"Yeah, ight." Rixon turned to his family. "Everyone go take a shower. I'm going to make sure dinner isn't poisoned and there's no trap waiting. Watch each other's backs. Don't trust nothing until the coast is actually clear."
"Aye, boy." Zay's voice cut through the air. "Who do you think you are, talking to her like that?"
He sprinted past the Boss, sword raised, and slashed down at Rixon's head.
Rixon's hand shot up—a signal to his family to stand down. In the same motion, he unsheathed his shield and caught the blow. A smirk spread across his face.
"Oh, you thought these muscles were for show? That they slowed me down?" He pushed Zay off, kicked him in the side, knocking him off balance, then punched him square in the face. He stood over his cousin, looking down. "Normally people die for making that mistake. But you're emotional, so I get it. Now move."
Zay straightened up, spitting a thin line of blood onto the hangar floor. "Wow. Look at you. Strong and shit." He grinned through the pain. "We'll see how strong you are when I smack that smirk off your face after dinner. In the simulator."
He walked back to stand beside Beelo.
The Boss watched the exchange with something like approval. "Well, go now. Before you get Beelo's blood boiling for a fight. That would actually cause a war, with how much these idiots love him as their commander."
Rixon holstered his shield. "Yeah, I would hate for that."
He held the smirk, knowing he'd gotten the best of the first encounter. Knowing he'd proven—to himself, to his cousin, to everyone watching—that he had grown. As a fighter. As a man.