Commander Stagner paced continually behind Vos’go, watching the back of the Sarvallan’s hairless, dark green head. This wouldn’t normally have bothered Vos’go; blocking out the presence of others was something he considered one of his strongest skills. But even beyond the clank of the officer’s boots on the floor and the drumming of his fingers, the human just would not stop talking.

“This has to be finished now, do you understand me? They’re going to be here tomorrow, and if this system doesn’t function flawlessly, it’ll be your head as well as mine.”

It was information Vos’go might have considered more relevant or pressing had he not been hearing it ceaselessly for the two months he had been working on the system. But the data had all been factored in a long time ago, so there were no more adjustments to be made. The threat of his own demise was droll and uninteresting, and he couldn’t help but wonder what it was with humans and needing to voice their frustrations out loud.

“Is almost done. Need quiet to work.”

The commander finally stopped pacing, but the grumbling continued. “Fine. I will be back in three hours, and it better be done. I will not tolerate failure.” The words had been intended with authority, but instead just gave away the fear he was feeling. Despite his threats, it was his own career that was at risk if the project failed.

The sound of his boots on the metal floor trailed off into the distance, and Vos’go listened for them until he heard the distinct sound of the bay door closing. Satisfied, he pushed back from the work bench. He kicked his feet up on the desk and leaned back, taking a moment to look up at the suspended spacecraft floating in the hangar bay on the other side of the window. He admired the work that had gone into it, including his own adaptation of the drone piloting program from existing, but much simpler designs.

After a few seconds of taking in the technical quality of the prototype, he reached down to a hidden pocket on the inside of his thigh and took out a small datapad. It opened to a document of technical scrawlings, designs for a collapsible scope, a side project of his. He closed it out, switching instead to a news feed, written in the elongated symbols of the language of his homeworld. After a few more moments of waiting to see if the Commander would return, he adjusted to get more comfortable in his chair and started reading.


Commander Stagner looked out at the vast emptiness of space through the large observation window. He greatly preferred the sight of that void to watching the room gradually fill up with his impatient superiors. This was his last chance, he knew, his last opportunity to prove his value to them and finally move up to the admiralty. To get back out into space aboard his own ship again, instead of being confined to research laboratories with shiftless scientists and technicians.

And they had nearly doomed him, that Sarvallan in particular. The drone control system had been completed at the last possible moment, leaving no time for a test run, just the basic diagnostics. Fortunately, the system had functioned correctly and all of the necessary commands were included. Since the fighter had performed admirably in all of it’s manned prototype tests, this was reason to breathe easy; even if the drone controls weren’t perfect, the brass should still be impressed by the ship itself.

It was a project he himself had envisioned, brought on by the great failure that had hamstrung his rise through the naval ranks. In that battle, of course, it had not been his stratagem, but incapable pilots that had cost the day. When his squadron of stealth bombers were detected mid-mission, the defense batteries came online early, and the fleet was decimated. But never again, he thought, finally feeling a sense of accomplishment replacing the anxiety that had consumed him over the previous months.

The room was full now, a dozen highly decorated uniforms and the old, stern faces of the senior admiralty accompanying them. They sat in two rows of chairs, silent, barely taking the time to acknowledge each other. On a different day, this might have given him pause, led him to question what it was that so desperately made him want to belong to this group of old insignia. But today was a victory, and he wasn’t going to miss his chance to enjoy it.

“Gentlemen,” he began, turning fully around to face the room. He clicked a button on the small remote in his hand, and a diagram of the fighter appeared on the observation window. “Today I will demonstrate the capabilities of the SF-44 prototype. With its advanced drone system, capable of taking over for its pilot automatically, it will fully eliminate the need for manned stealth fighters.”

He paused for a moment. He had hoped for a reaction of surprise there, but was met with only silence. He cleared his throat, then continued.

“The SF-44 is equipped with our latest compact stealth field technology, effective against all but the most specialized surveillance systems. It’s dual-thrusters and state-of-the-art stabilization system provide unmatched maneuverability and-”

“We’ve all read the dossier, Commander.” The voice came from the most senior officer in attendance, Admiral Koenig, a man feared and respected throughout the Navy. “Let’s see the ship.”

Stagner tried to absorb the break in his flow as well as he could. “Of course, sir, right away.” He pressed and held a button on the nearby wall. “Captain, begin the test.”

In the hangar bay below, Stagner knew the ship was powering up, the pilot bringing it fully online and beginning the agreed upon series of maneuvers. But from the window of the observation room, none of this was visible, and the impatience of his superior officers was already evident. The moments of waiting were killing him.

Finally, the slim form of the fighter streaked into view as it arrived, spinning about in careful fashion and presenting itself before the window, where it was visible that there was indeed no pilot. Stagner had prepared this flourish in case anyone suspected him of trickery, but no one did. It wasn’t a deceit that would have lasted for long, after all, and seeing the stoic faces of the admiralty, he couldn’t help but feel a little foolish for even including it.

“The SF-44s adaptive camouflage can make it nearly disappear, even from plain view,” he continued, hoping his practiced routine would calm his nerves. For an agonizing moment, the fighter was still, as his speech and the pilot’s actions became unsynced. But then, all at once, the ship was gone, and only the faintest shimmer remained. One or two of the members of his audience opened their eyes slightly wider, which he surmised was as much of a reaction as he was likely to get.

“And you’ll see now, as the pilot brings the ship around, that the camouflage is extremely effective even at high speeds.” The shimmer began to move, and he tracked it with his own eyes as best he could as it veered off towards the distance. But then all at once, he couldn’t follow it anymore. He smiled to himself, satisfied with the display. “This allows the pilot to deceive systems even after detection, and re-position as such.”

Nothing happened. He waited another few agonizing moments, assuming the timing was wrong, swearing to himself that he was going to tear into the pilot as soon as this meeting was over. But the ship never returned. Finally, he reached up and held the button down again. “Captain, please disable the active camouflage now.” It was his best attempt at making it seem like part of the plan, but it didn’t seem to be working.

“Sir, the ship is… the ship is gone, sir, I don’t… I don’t know what happened.”

The others in the room stared silently at Stagner as he tried to process the information.

“What do you mean it’s gone? Gone where?”

“Sir, I followed the commands exactly, but when I went to disable the camo, it jumped and severed my connection.”

“You mean to tell me, Captain, that the SF-44 is floating out there completely undetectable?”

“No… No, sir. I mean the ship jumped out of the system.”

Stagner was still, motionless as the realization hit him all at once. He had created the perfect, foolproof stealth fighter, sure to change the outcome of a thousand conflicts. And now, due once again to an incompetent pilot, it was gone. Worse, he thought. Someone else has it.

“Do you have some explanation for this, Commander?” Admiral Koenig said, finally breaking the silence. But Stagner couldn’t turn back to face them, not yet. All he could bring himself to do was stare blankely out at the empty stretch of space where all of his carefully laid plans had been only moments before.


Vos’go paid as little attention as he could to the noisy saloon, instead focusing on the old wristpad in front of him. It was too obsolete to be practical for its original purpose, but he liked the challenge of finding a new use for it. He worked at the chassis with a variety of tools, trying to see what room he could make for new components, and was consumed enough by it that he didn’t notice the human sit down across the table from him.

“Just heard from the crew, looks like the ship arrived.” He chuckled to himself. “Pretty impressive.”

Vos’go glanced up at him for a moment, surprised both by the compliment and that anyone was sitting there at all, but then returned to his work.

“Was simple. Hoping for something difficult next time.”

The man shrugged at the reply, unsure how to take it. “I’m sure they’ll come up with something. Always more work to be done.” He paused, expecting Vos’go to have something to add, but the Sarvallan didn’t look up to acknowledge him. “But uh… well, I’ve gotta know, how did you keep them from seeing the changes? Wouldn’t they have noticed the sequence was different?”

Vos’go continued working, spinning one of his tools idly about his fingers while examining the now fully open chassis. “Didn’t change the sequence. Swapped the names on the commands and didn’t leave time for a test run. Been done for weeks now.”

He stared at Vos’go for a few seconds and then burst into laughter. “Oh, wow, that’s uh… that’s pretty good. I wish I could have seen their faces.” He sighed, satisfied, enjoying the moment of victory. He expected some response from Vos’go, but the Sarvallan was thoroughly wrapped up in his tinkering. He stood to leave. “The money will be in your account in a few hours.”

At this, Vos’go finally looked back up at him, nodding slowly.

“Good.”