Heward Aerospace

  “Heward Fighters — Reliable. Affordable. Everywhere.”

  From asteroid patrols to home defense, Heward Aerospace provides dependable starcraft that anyone can fly. Our MP-Series Mass Production Fighters make security scalable and affordable across every colony in the Nova System. Engineered for accessibility, manufactured for availability — Heward keeps you flying.

  Expert Commentary:

  While Heward’s marketing emphasizes reliability and accessibility, pilots have noted that the MP variants represent a dramatic decline in build quality. Ignition failures, overheating blasters, and even catastrophic shield leaks have been documented. Once considered the “The everyman's fighters” — practical, midline, and reliable — Heward’s reputation has plummeted in recent cycles, raising concerns about cost-cutting in essential safety systems.

  Damascus Shipwrights

  “Fly the Impossible. Master the Sky.”

  For pilots who refuse to accept limits, Damascus offers legendary craft like the Quattuor Alis, with its iconic four-winged silhouette. Damascus fighters reward dedication, skill, and mastery — designed for those who see flying not just as survival, but as art. For those who want to be remembered not just as pilots, but as aces.

  Expert Commentary:

  Damascus remains respected for its specialist designs, but its fighters are often described as “unforgiving.” Many veteran pilots avoid the brand due to the steep learning curve and the need to unlearn standard muscle memory. While newer models attempt to address this with traditional controls and automatic stabilization, the tradeoff comes at the cost of maneuverability — a sacrifice that reduces Damascus’ appeal among elite pilots.

  Argonaut Engineering

  “Perfection in Motion.”

  When only the best will do, there is Argonaut. Every fighter is precision-built under rigorous multi-phase quality control, delivering unmatched balance, responsiveness, and firepower. From bounty boards to battlefronts, Argonaut remains the fighter that defines excellence. Argonaut: the gold standard in the Nova System.

  Expert Commentary:

  Argonaut’s reputation as the premium manufacturer is well-earned. Each fighter undergoes extensive quality checks, making them highly sought after by seasoned bounty hunters. For many pilots, ownership of an Argonaut is considered a career milestone, symbolizing both success and skill. The only barrier is cost — Argonauts are priced well above Heward and Damascus equivalents, keeping them out of reach for most new hunters.

  Talon Industries

  “Heavy Metal. Unmatched Power.”

  Forged in the foundries of the Pollox Empire, Talon heavy fighters bring unparalleled shielding and devastating firepower to the battlefield. Built for squad warfare, Talon craft are the iron wall of the Nova System — turning every skirmish into overwhelming dominance.

  Expert Commentary:

  Talon dominates the heavy-class fighter market, with craft that can soak punishment and deliver extreme damage. However, the company’s focus on shielding and weapon systems comes at the cost of speed. Talon fighters are the slowest ships among the major manufacturers and struggle in solo operations. As a result, Talons are heavily squad-dependent, functioning best within coordinated military or paramilitary units.

  Evan

  It took me a few moments to register her request. On a purely objective level, I needed to earn the trust of my new teammates. On a personal level, though, I was not mentally prepared to be put on the spot like that. I also had no idea how they were going to react to me being human. The only two people who knew about that would be Simmy and Oscar. I had no idea how the Federation at large even viewed humans. I just knew Simmy said not to show my face to anyone unless I trusted them.

  With a silent breath, I reached up. Slowly I disconnected the air recyclers. Then I reached under my chin to disconnect the integration cable. Lastly, I brought my hand to the release latch on the back of the helmet. I looked my new squad leader in the eyes as my hand hovered there. For once there was no judgment, no vitriol, just anticipation. My hand flipped the latch and slowly my mask depressurized. After a few seconds, I lifted off my helmet. Cold, filtered air kissed my face, flatter and drier than I remembered. The bay lights felt too bright against my eyes.

  I was met with silence as Emerald studied my face. Rather than disgust or confusion, I was met with curiosity. I think. Foxes are hard to read—at least Oscar was. Come to think of it, I rarely interacted with people outside of communication screens.

  “Oh wow, I never would have guessed Shadow was a human,” Nia said with more ease as she observed me from the side.

  Emerald, for her part, now wore a smile.

  “It’s definitely unexpected. But it’s good to know you’re not some criminal masquerading around the Federation.”

  Oh, that’s actually pretty reasonable. For some reason, the practicality behind the request took a bit of my nervous edge off. Hopefully I still had a good poker face. Otherwise I’d probably look pretty embarrassed now.

  “You seem rather certain about that,” I said half-jokingly.

  Based on their reaction, it’s not like I was the only human in Federation space.

  “You’re the only human I’ve heard of in Federation space in the last two standard centuries. Pretty sure we’d know if you were a criminal, bud.”

  A voice contradicted my internal dialogue from below. Looking down, I saw a tiny fennec. His white jumpsuit was covered in stains, and he held an arc welder in one paw. Looking around, I noticed three fighters sitting in the hangar, one of which was raised slightly off the ground by a maintenance lift. Going by context clues, I guessed this was our engineer.

  The fennec began to look nervous as I realized I’d been silent. He spoke before I could.

  “Umm, I’m sorry?” he asked, his words more question than statement as he looked toward our squadmates for help.

  “Shit, my bad. I tend to get lost in thought. But, two hundred years, huh?” I said, trying to alleviate his discomfort.

  I saw him visibly let out a sigh of relief.

  “Yea. You guys rarely leave Pollox territory. Even over there you’re pretty rare. I don’t even think we’ve seen one of you when we take bounties over there.”

  Well, that was a bit to unpack. But seeing as I’d never gone after a bounty in Pollox space, it made sense I’d never heard mention of other humans outside a few dubious holonet searches. Searching “humans” on the holonet had led me to believe we were more urban legend than reality. Especially considering I couldn’t find any images beyond crude sketches that looked more like neolithic outcasts than modern humans. Add the fact we’d left zero impact on the cultural zeitgeist of the Federation, and I think I can hardly be blamed for my skepticism.

  Though it did make me wonder why Simmy and Oscar were so adamant I be careful about disclosing my species.

  “So how’d you end up becoming a bounty hunter on this side of the galaxy?” Emerald asked.

  My mind reeled at the sudden, innocuous question. Memories of my last conversations with Pops and Mom, a massive headache, and the sound of shattering glass rushed to the forefront of my mind. Nope, we’re not touching that right now.

  “Sorry, that’s a bit of a long story and something I’d rather not get into.”

  Rather than pry, Emerald nodded understandingly.

  “Well, thank you for extending this bit of trust to us. I’ll let Ratchet show you to your new room. I’ll order out and we can all get to know you more over dinner.”

  My social anxiety flooded back at the thought of more personal interaction.

  “Ratchet?” I asked.

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  I felt a tap at my waist and looked down to the fennec, who now extended his hand out to me.

  “That would be me, my guy. Ratchet Lott.”

  I shook the offered hand.

  “Evan August,” I replied with a slight smile.

  Maybe it was his stature, but this guy was disarming.

  “Evan, huh? Yea, that works a bit better for conversation than Shadow.” He joked, earning a chuckle from Nia and a pensive look from Emerald.

  “Fuck, tell me about it. All these monikers feel like a lottery to find the most embarrassing name.”

  He smirked at me. “Says you. I think Overclock is pretty sick myself.”

  Hold the fuck up. I get some teenager’s goth name, and the guy whose ears only come up to my waist gets Overclock?

  “Trade?” I joked.

  That earned me a scoff and a chuckle from the small fennec. He started up the stairs, which Emerald was no longer blocking, and beckoned over his shoulder.

  “Come on, broski. Let’s get you to your room.”

  A small smirk found its way to my lips at the idea of having a place to call my own again.

  Emerald

  The Arctic fox watched their backs as they made their way up the stairs to the living area.

  “So, that was something,” Nia said once the two were out of earshot.

  “Holy shit, Nia. We have a human.”

  The Persian raised an eyebrow. “Not sure that’s how I’d phrase it.”

  Emerald ignored the comment and continued. “His personality isn’t too bad either.” She spoke with a mischievous smile.

  Nia deadpanned. “Not really sure we’ve interacted with him enough to come to any conclusion in regards to his personality. But regardless, let’s not scare off our squad member with your fangirling before he settles in.”

  Emerald shot her a hostile look. “Bite me. And I’m not a fangirl I appreciate his skill as a pilot and as a bounty hunter.”

  Nia smiled slyly. “So what were you watching on the way to the Gerallian base?”

  Emerald’s eyes went wide as she moved her comm-pad away from her grinning squadmate. As she did, the pad began to vibrate. She hit a button on the touchscreen and lifted it to her ear.

  “Uncle,” she answered.

  “Emmy, we’ve got Evan’s Alis outside of your hangar. Open up.”

  Nia, having overheard, moved over to a panel on the wall and hit the large red button. The hangar entrance slid open, and a wide ramp deployed down to the docking area. Soon a hover taxi with Gerallian heraldry and a mag-lift trailer towing a pitch-black Quattuor Alis rolled inside.

  As the taxi stopped, three people stepped out: two Gerallian military engineers—a miniature pinscher and a grey wolf—and, astoundingly, the Rear Admiral himself. Emerald was surprised to see her uncle show up in person just to deliver the fighter. A highly customized and more than likely extremely valuable fighter, but still just a fighter nonetheless.

  “Uncle, were you off today?” she asked, because she could think of no other reason for a Rear Admiral to personally take time for bounty hunters—even if one was his niece.

  “I was supposed to be, but such is military life,” the red fox joked.

  One of the engineers came over with his tablet. He had release forms pulled up for Emerald to sign, which she did. Within minutes, the Alis was taken off the mag-lift and the engineers drove off, leaving the Rear Admiral with his niece and her squadmate.

  Oscar’s eyes hardened. “I expect you had him remove his helmet.”

  Emerald nodded, confused by his tone.

  The red fox studied her face. “I can’t say why, but you need to keep what you saw inside your team.”

  Nia cocked her head. “With respect, Rear Admiral, I understand humans are rare, but why is it that big of a deal?”

  “It’s not just that he’s human…” Oscar started, then thought better of it. “But that’s not something I can get into. Please, for his sake and your squad’s, don’t let others see his face.”

  Nia looked conflicted. Emerald narrowed her eyes. “Does Evan know why he needs to hide his face?”

  Oscar shook his head. “No. And it’s better that way. It also has nothing to do with him personally. It’s enough to say he’s a good man dealt a bad hand.”

  Emerald cocked an eyebrow but pressed another question. “How do you know him, anyway?”

  Oscar smiled faintly. “That’s something you’ll have to pry from him.”

  The conversation wound down after that, and a military transport came to retrieve the Rear Admiral. Nia excused herself to order food for dinner and to let Evan know his ship was here.

  Left alone in the hangar, Emerald made her way over to the vantablack ship. She ran a paw across the surface until she reached the kinetic weapon system mounted under its nose—likely to make aiming easier. She couldn’t find an ammunition feed, so it had to be internal.

  Moving to the wings, she found a pair of twin-linked energy blasters on each side, which confused her. Twin-linked blasters had fallen out of favor in recent years due to their lackluster firepower. Once, their rate of fire compensated, but with modern shields so efficient, they were useless against most targets.

  A frown creased her face. “Why would he even use these?”

  “They’re connected to an overclocked battery behind the cockpit,” Evan answered.

  Emerald spun to find the human walking down the stairs. He wasn’t in his power suit now, but in a plain blue T-shirt and sweatpants, which—she had to admit—he filled out rather nicely. Sweatpants confused her, until she remembered his lack of fur.

  “You’re fucking with me. How’d you convince someone to set that up?” she asked incredulously.

  Overclocked batteries weren’t unheard of, but they were illegal to install due to their volatile nature. One bad shot or heavy rattle and it could either explode or start pumping out radiation like a runaway reactor.

  “I didn’t. I installed it myself. Same with the other modifications, except for the paint and the removal of the emergency beacon.”

  She stared at him like he was crazy. He actually flinched at her reaction.

  “Vantablack’s pointless if the cockpit glows like an altar every time I cut power,” he said defensively.

  Emerald shook her head in disbelief but didn’t press. If a solo hunter had to activate their beacon, they were likely dead anyway.

  “You’re carrying a portable beacon keyed to the carrier,” she said. “Non-negotiable.”

  The human paused for a moment clearly uncomfortable. After a moment he nodded, then walked to the other side of the fighter. A beep sounded and the cockpit slid open. He climbed inside, rummaged briefly, then emerged holding an archaic-looking comm-pad.

  “That’s an odd-looking comm-pad,” she remarked as he hurried past her toward the stairs.

  “Something from home,” he said simply, pausing only briefly at the foot of the steps before continuing upward.

  Emerald was left disappointed by the abrupt end to their exchange. Had she done something wrong? She replayed the moment—his reaction when she confronted him about the beacon. It wasn’t about the beacon itself. It was her tone.

  The realization struck her: his silence wasn’t stoic indifference like everyone assumed. It was quiet discomfort. Withdrawn more than awkward. A personality that pushed people away.

  But for Emerald, it presented an opportunity. Charisma was common enough. Pilots like him were rare.

  A smile bloomed as she thought of the countless clips she’d seen of his flights—most traded among hunters and brokers, not holonet trash. She had paid top dollar just to watch him maneuver an Alis like he’d been born in one. His voice when describing modifications carried a pride she understood. Emerald’s own Argonaut was a custom marvel—improved shields, a blaster capable of overcharging beams. He was like her. She could feel it. But she’d have to draw him out.

  Evan

  Returning to my room from the hangar, I felt dread and shame well up in my chest. I walked into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked a little more grizzled than I had when I first arrived. The faint bags under my eyes looked carved in with a chisel, and the lines across my brow hadn’t been there a year ago. The muscle was real, but the man staring back felt half-finished. Have I really changed?

  If I’d been wearing my helmet, I was sure I could have just endured it. She had been coming from a place of concern, but the order brought back memories of late nights at the office: a corporate bitch offloading her paperwork onto me, a coworker getting fed up and leaving only for their work to fall on my lap, and the coward too weak to stand up for himself still staring back at me.

  I’d known for a while that the helmet was a crutch, but to fall back into old habits so quickly… My fingers twitched at the phantom weight of it, as though reaching for the visor to hide behind. By every metric I could measure, they had done right by me so far. Hell, I could see the passion in the way she looked at the Alis. I took a deep breath in and out. I’d do right by these people until they gave me a reason not to.

  A knock on my door brought me back to reality.

  “Hey, pizza’s here! Come down to the lounge.” Ratchet’s voice sounded from the other side.

  I looked at my still-unpacked bags and frowned.

  “Give me a minute, I still need to unpack something,” I yelled back.

  “Okay, but don’t take too long—we’ll wait for you.”

  I walked over to my bag, unzipped it, and pulled out a small bottle. Inside were about one hundred and twenty tiny pills. I popped it open, fished two out, and downed them. This was one of the downsides of living in an environment with half the gravity I was used to. If I wasn’t constantly wearing my power armor, I had to take two of these pills every twenty-four hours or I’d start to lose muscle and bone mass.

  These things sucked too, but luckily the medicine here was miles ahead of home’s. Neither my kidneys nor my liver would be checking out any time soon. According to Oscar, if I ever earned enough zorkmeds, I could get a procedure done to alter and prevent the bone and muscle breakdown.

  I cracked my neck and steeled my resolve before finally heading out the door and down to the lounge. The mask might have been gone, but I could feel its shadow clinging to me all the same.

  Emerald

  It only took an hour for the food to arrive—Nia had ordered pizza. The Gamma Hounds gathered in the lounge, save for their newest addition. Ratchet explained Evan was still setting something up in his room, but he’d join soon.

  Emerald and Nia used the time to prod Ratchet for impressions.

  “He seems more laid back than his reputation made him out to be, if a little withdrawn,” the fennec said.

  Emerald nodded, relieved she wasn’t the only one with that impression.

  Evan arrived just late enough to overhear the tail end. Rather than confront him or put him on the spot, the Hounds let the conversation drift. They ate. They talked—not about bounties, but station gossip and system news.

  Evan mostly listened, ironically embodying the “Shadow” name he despised. Occasionally he quipped, adding a sentence or two, enough to show he was there.

  When dinner wound down, Emerald addressed them all.

  “With a new team member, we’re back to a full roster of four. That means we’ll start getting contract bounties again soon. We need to be ready. Over the next few days we’ll run drills in the simulators—four-ship formations, and fire teams of two. Evan, I want you to rotate through with each of us. You’ll need learn our rhythms as fast as you can manage.”

  “Sounds good,” Evan said with a nod.

  “Good. Then get some sleep. Drills start early.”

  The team rose, disciplined as always. Evan and Emerald were the last in the lounge. She clapped him on the shoulder as she passed, causing him to glance down at her.

  “Welcome to the team,” she said simply, and walked away toward her room.

  Leaving Evan alone with his thoughts.