“Welcome, dearest traveler, to Worlds Away Industries! Our travel agents are here to help you and your family plan your next adventure! Just walk up to a terminal now!” The automated voice rang out, bright and chipper. A hologram flickered into form—a woman in a retro stewardess uniform, her hand resting under her chin in a familiar pose. Veronica smiled at the sight. The look was a throwback to an earlier age, one most people here wouldn’t recognize. It was charming, in a way that only a few travelers might appreciate.

A little girl nearby tugged at her mother’s sleeve, her face lighting up as she tried to speak with the hologram. Her mother’s laugh, soft but genuine, filled the air. The girl chattered away, captivated by the interaction as the hologram continued its cheerful script. Veronica’s gaze lingered on them. She wondered what the child had seen before this small moment of joy. Weeks of struggle? Months? Perhaps their world had been destroyed in The Great Betrayal, or maybe they had fallen for Persephone’s lies, their leaders selling out their people for power, only to be abandoned.

She shifted her focus, scanning the crowded terminal. Families sat huddled together, exhaustion etched into their faces. Some stood by the windows, staring into the void of space, while others flicked through data slates, likely searching for news—or escape in the form of cartoons or games. Every now and then, someone glanced at the hologram, but none with the wonder of the child.

The station felt heavy, crowded with the weight of millions of displaced lives. The ship, once a war vessel, now carried them, a vessel for survival rather than conflict.

Veronica moved through the terminal with purpose, unnoticed by most, avoided by those who did notice. Her uniform did enough to make her presence felt. A Shadow’s presence always had that effect. No one dared speak as she passed. The guards scattered around the terminal, undertrained and poorly armed, posed no threat, only there to maintain some semblance of order. Real protection lay with the few combat veterans guarding the wealthier passengers. The Shadow Fleet didn’t waste resources on escorts for ships like this. Not when the war spread them so thin.

She was here only because the ship’s course matched hers. No need for a special escort. Not now. This ship needed a chief medical officer, and Veronica, head doctor of the Shadows, had the credentials. It gave her a rare moment of respite, a chance to read, maybe catch up on some shows while the rest of the galaxy tore itself apart.

"Now boarding first class. Please have your tickets and ID ready," the voice over the intercom announced. People rose from their seats, gathering their things and lining up. Veronica passed them with ease. No one protested. Some glanced her way, but the moment they saw the insignia on her sleeve, their eyes dropped. They didn’t need to know who she was—only what she was. Being a Shadow had its benefits.

Her wrist buzzed. She glanced down at the flashing message. Aryanna. A rare smile tugged at her lips. She hadn’t expected a call, least of all from Aryanna. Most of her comrades were busy on distant battlefields, their minds far from hers. Aryanna, though—she was a wild card. On the battlefield, she thrived on attention, always in the thick of the fight. Off-duty, she kept her distance, a strange contradiction that Veronica had always found interesting.

With a steady step, Veronica moved through the gate. No one stopped her. No one asked for her credentials. The perks of being a Shadow included many things, and anonymity ranked among the best.