Thalen's Pit — Desert Wasteland Adjacent to Thalen's Reach
Eve stood at the gas station, sweeping the perimeter. Her squad had ransacked nearby structures—nothing useful. Just a wine depot brimming with barrels.
The Soul Drifter had been shot down and wasn't getting fixed anytime soon. With no way to radio Nomad and a disruptive thermosphere scrambling comms—even under clear skies—the environment had turned against them.
"Commander, there's nothing in there. What do you want me to do? Build catapults?" Anya grumbled.
"Catapults would be fun. It's a wasteland, Anya. What'd you expect?" Eve replied without turning. Annoyed, Anya stormed back to the garage, scowling.
Kai approached, drones hovering by his side like curious birds. "I'll set up the perimeter and activate scanners."
"Off you go," Eve replied, turning back to the rover where Jax unloaded supply crates.
"She's not exactly in a good mood," Jax muttered.
"Maybe next time we should take her advice rather than our hunch," Kai replied. Jax nodded in agreement.
They were on a recon: retrieve the black box from a lost Nomad scoutship, locate the pilot, and detect any signs of Thelarian or Syndicate presence.
Eve had proposed landing in a carnival town by the ocean. But Jax, Kai, Anya, Vayne, and Zara argued it was crawling with crime. The desert route was safer.
Eve warned them twice—but eventually relented. "Alright… whatever the pilot says."
When they crossed a mountain ridge near an unknown outpost, rockets struck the hull. The Soul Drifter spiraled down into the canyon.
They found the abandoned outpost nearby, using the land rover to reach it. Now pinned down, vulnerable—attackers could return at any time.
This was an early mission, predating Nomad's Starfleet status. The team was green, and Eve—seasoned and legendary—had much to teach.
Zara confronted Eve. "Okay, we say sorry. Now can you stop treating us like screw‑ups and tell us how to get out of here?"
Eve replied sharply, "Because you are a bunch of muck‑ups."
Vayne jumped in. "I'm sorry. Next time we'll actually listen to you."
Eve sighed. "I'm not angry. I'm thinking. Scavengers will come—fast and in waves. First scouts. Jax and Kai—you two ambush before they reach us."
Vayne nodded sharply and moved out.
"Zara—get Anya to fix the truck and fill barrels with gasoline. Load them up."
Zara joined Anya in the broken-down garage.
Hannah, who'd known Eve longest, needed no instructions. She grabbed a sniper rifle and took position atop the gas station.
"Commander," came Hannah's voice over comms, "a dozen armed scavenger trucks inbound—guns, rockets."
"Let the first wave be Jax, Kai, and Vayne's. Wait till they're close. Then assist—and reinforce the idiots."
"Roger that," came replies through the comm static.
Inside, Eve casually gathered snacks and beer, eased onto the counter, sipping calmly as gunfire lit the perimeter. A datapad glowed faintly in her hand.
"All clear here, Commander," Jax reported.
"Seize their weapons. Gear."
"On it."
"Any vehicles worth salvaging?"
"Sorry… I blew them all," Jax admitted.
Anya muttered: "You dumb meathead."
Jax quipped back: "What was I supposed to do? They had rockets."
Hannah said: "I was trying to save an AWD, but Jax wrecked it all."
Vayne asked: "What's an AWD?"
Anya sneered: "All‑wheel drive. Obviously you don't know—never seen a road vehicle, do you? Spaceships are all you've known."
Vayne barked: "Someone shut her up already."
Anya fired back: "Swing at me, bro. I dare ya."
Hannah cut in: "Commander—rider bikes inbound!"
Eve cracked a grin: "Save me one, please."
Jax replied: "I see them… yikes. Brain-splattering visuals. That's Hannah shooting?"
Hannah answered: "Three bikes, Commander."
Eve whispered softly: "Love you, sweetie."
She placed her beer down. "They'll keep coming. We sleep rooftop. Kai—keep scanners active."
Kai replied without hesitation, picking through wreckage, searching enemy gear—guns, comm cores, loot.
At night, Eve kept watch beside Hannah under a starlit wasteland.
By morning, the barrel-trap truck was ready. They mounted up—Eve on a salvaged dirt bike; the others in the truck. Hundreds of scavengers erupted in pursuit across the plateau.
Barrel bombs exploded, slowing them. Eve weaved between vehicles, executing stunts that left her squad awestruck.
At last, the scavenger wave broke. The team escaped to an outlaw bazaar at a town center fountain.
"Look at her go," Vayne remarked, eyes glued from the truck's window.
"That's called a dirt bike, Vayne," Anya teased.
They camped by the bazaar fountain. The truck became mobile HQ.
Fortunately, Eve had underground connections there. The truck served as their RV.
Later, she conferred with Brantley, a local cyber-enhanced pilot turned businessman.
"Nomad pilot, right? Brantley. I can leave, but trust me… you don't want Nomad raining laser cannons on your town."
He growled: "Aren't you the boss?"
She replied: "Yeah… there's a chain of command. Don't press it."
Brantley, tense: "It wasn't my guys. You want gear? Take it. Just keep Nomad off my tail."
"You downed the scoutship on our turf."
"I'm small-time business. Shit happens. You know how it is."
"I need to radio home."
"Go ahead."
Three days later, Nomad dropped supplies. The downed pilot was found—dead, no Syndicate or Thelarian signs. Black box secured. Anya repaired the Soul Drifter.
They left.
Moral of the mission: Always listen to the Space Commander.