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

The air in the sterile briefing room was thick with the scent of ozone and recycled oxygen. , his face a map of scars and sun-faded tattoos, leaned over the holographic display. He was the anchor, the veteran who had seen more deep-space combat than the rest of the crew combined.

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.” OF - Lawrence London, Halif Faruk, Roman Mercur...

“We’re hitting the Aegis refinery at 0400,” London grumbled, his voice like gravel. “No mistakes. This isn’t a training sim.” The air in the sterile briefing room was

“I never miss,” Faruk replied, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. London straightened, his gaze sweeping over his team

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.