"So what you're telling me is that we have a whole lot of absolutely nothing," Silva said, slapping the data post down on her desk and glaring at the clustered faces regarding her. "We have no launched escape pods, but ninety percent of the crew is missing. We have no sign of hostile boarding but our people were shooting at 'something'. The only survivors, the only witnesses, can't actually tell us anything, and now we have no black box surveillance either because 'someone' injected 'something' into the computer system."

"That's the long and short of it, ma'am," Bullfrog said. He stood at parade rest, alongside Parry, Jon, and the Corinth's chief of medical. Eve was seated nearby, but looked no less exasperated than Captain Silva.

"I know it is frustrating, but the simple lack of evidence is, in itself, evidence," the chief of medical, a fellow named Jake Gordon, told her.

"Enlighten me."

"The substance that was injected into the computer panel at the helm was a genetically sterile, non-conductive lubricant. In and of itself, it did not cause what the engineer reports happened to the computer system. On its own, it has no effect on those kinds of systems- that is telling. To create such a lubricant that contains no bio-organic nor synthetic markers and is non-conductive would take sophisticated technology that neither we, nor the Cats to our knowledge, possess. What happened to the computer system is still likely some sort of self-eliminating virus or directed EMP- either of which may direct us at the group that did it if we can determine the exact cause.

"Secondly, from the blood spray pattern that Commander Elban noted in the corridor, we can conclude that the void was not created by a human or a Cat infiltrator. So, that tells us that we are either dealing with a drone or some other piece of infantry equipment that we are unfamiliar with that was developed by humans, the Cats, or something else entirely."

"My money is still on the Cats," Bullfrog said, but Gordon shook his head.

"There are too many questions still to come to that conclusion. Yes, the wounds to the dead we recovered could have been caused by claws, however the tear pattern is inconsistent with known Cat claw injuries. The Kilrathi keep their claws extremely sharp and well maintained. They produce devastating but clean-edged wounds."

"My back can provide the proof of that, if you'd like," Parry said, and Gordon nodded.

"These wounds were not clean-edged. They were ragged, torn, and larger than you'd expect with even a grown Kilrathi male. I'd say 'dirtier' but there are few genetic traces in the wound patterns and what few we have found degraded extremely rapidly. I have never seen organic material degrade so quickly, which could mean we are dealing with an organic source outside of our experiences, or a deliberate technology, also outside of our experiences, that degrades it quickly by design. As well, Cats would have shot back. They use their claws in melee only when they have no other options. Nothing we are seeing here indicates a direct invasion by the Cats or by any human hostile source."

"So if the Cats didn't do this, and we didn't do this, that means a new alien species we have never encountered before. Is that what you're telling me, Gordon?" Silva asked.

"I'm saying there's not enough evidence or information to conclude, but if this attack was a hostile boarding, then there are only three possibilities. One, a human faction, one of the many that splintered off from the Mandarin, perhaps, has been developing technology in secret that is not in line with anything else we've ever developed. Two, the Kilrathi have developed tech in secret during their mysterious ten-year absence that is also not in line with anything else we've ever developed, or seen from them before. Or three, there's a new player on the field out there. I'm disinclined to believe number one because, as the Ambassador can surely attest-"

Eve immediately nodded, following his logic. "None of my people work with the human terrorist factions. Without a Blazer, they would not have been able to jump out here to begin with. And the Cats do not have Blazers. We have no treaty with them, and have not been able to spy into their space. If they managed to jump out here they did so using tech unrelated to us."

"That tech tears holes into your home space," Silva said, looking at her sharply. "If they were using it-"

"Our home space is as vast as your space, with places just as empty and unoccupied by life as material space," she said. "In unoccupied or unexplored regions, tears would likely go unnoticed. Just as an uninhabited world being hit by a comet on the other side of the universe would go unnoticed by you. The tears have improved in our inhabited regions since we have made our treaty with you, however, my people who have never experienced material space still find it extremely difficult to comprehend time. They have no concept of past, present, or future. Even were I to ask them about tears in this quadrant of material space, they would be unable to tell me if any tears that occurred had happened recently, or a million years ago. Or a million years in the future, for that matter."

Silva sighed and wiped a frustrated hand over her face. "And our survivors? I can understand Major Baynton having no knowledge of what happened - she was injured in the explosion of the Black Eye and was unconscious and drifting for nearly three days – but Coron Jax? That engineer was cut, over the face, by whatever claw or weapon eviscerated those other men. He ran into engineering and closed the door. Are you telling me he didn't see a thing?"

"He was extremely traumatized," Gordon told her. "As well, the corridor was in chaos, from what he can recollect, and in a 'haze'. He says he saw nothing beyond one of our men falling to the ground in a spray of arterial blood and something swiping out at him from one side."

"A haze? What kind of haze?" Bullfrog asked.

"My understanding is the HEP system went off?" Eve said tentatively, but Gordon and Silva were already shaking their heads.

"The HEP system does not cause a haze or residue," Gordon told her. "Initial chemical residual studies don't indicate anything was in that corridor that could have caused a haze."

"Our salvage teams don't report anything else of any use," Silva sighed, slumping back into her seat and rubbing at her forehead. "We've been able to locate and salvage nearly all the wreckage from the Black Eye and the fighters that were destroyed when it was blown. I've gotten from the salvage teams the same information I have gotten from the lot of you. No indication of weapons' fire, no engine core traces from any other ships thanks to this damnable nebula. Nothing. It appears the Black Eye explosion originated from inside the ship, somewhere near the engine core, but we cannot even confirm it was the engine core itself that went. Unless any of you can see any merit to remaining here, our orders are to return to home space and turn the salvage over for more detailed analysis with the eggheads at HQ. Thoughts?"

"I see no merit in remaining," Bullfrog said. "We've been here over a week, and even our long-range scans have picked up no hostiles. Granted, the nebula interferes, but if this was the work of hostiles, they took out two of our ships already. Chances are they would have either attacked us as well, or reconsidered their chances with our numbers and fucked off out of the sector completely."

"I agree," Parry said. "Our wide-patrols have picked up nothing, both for manned and drone Wings. If any hostile force was still in this sector chances are extremely remote we would not have seen a single sign of it. It either wasn't hostiles, or they're long-gone."

"Gordon?"

"Everything forensically that can be done here, has been. My patients would recover better in home space as well, and there is nothing more for SNR to do. All lifeboats are accounted for, as are all destroyed fighters- Major Baynton was the only survivor. I see no merit in remaining further."

Here, Silva nodded, then looked at Eve. "I can see you're not terribly comfortable with leaving."

"We still do not know what happened to my people," Eve told her. "The Blazers, both from the Black Eye and the Gaza…just gone. Leaving without those answers grates at me, as I know it grates on you, not knowing where the human crew could be. I feel reluctant to go, I feel that I am leaving them behind. However, we have scanned every possible landing zone in the sector, with no sign of them or anyone else. It is clear that whatever happened to them, they are not here. And with no other trail to follow, I'm afraid we have no choice. Despite my better judgement, I have been sorely tempted to go and look for them in my true form-"

"You'd do no one any good if you vanished as they did," Silva said. "Not to them, not to us, and not to yourself."

"I know, which is why I have not, but the not knowing…"

"The not knowing…yes." Silva echoed, then sighed again. "I'll let Command know that we will be returning to home space at thirteen hundred. Have your groups pin up what they're doing and prepare to go home. Dismissed."

They filed out of Silva's office, and as Parry and Jon approached the lift that would take them back down to the launch decks, Jon said, "I suppose that's it then. Alpha Wing will be returning to the Tenacious."

"Are you gonna miss us, Jon?" Parry said with a half-smile at him, and he returned it.

"Of course I am. We all are. But there's Fleet Week coming up."

"Unless something arises that cancels it, yes," Parry said. "It'll be good to be on Earth again, even for a little while. First Fleet Week we've been able to go home in six years. I just wish we had more than a night's leave for it."

"That's what happens when you're the top SFT Wing in the Fleet," he said. "You're expected in all the processions and demonstrations. Why do you think I turned down the job?"

"Is that why?" she asked, then hmmed thoughtfully. "Doesn't seem to have done you much good. Last I checked, Beta Wing has the same procession and demonstration schedule we do."

"Shit. You're right," he said, then grinned at her when she laughed. The lift doors opened and they stepped out, but as he started directly toward the flight decks, she headed toward the left. He paused, looking back at her. "Not coming?"

"Wife's been haunting the outside of the infirmary. I need to collect her," she said.

"Really? Oh, that's right. She used to work with Major Baynton, didn't she?"

"That's a kind way of saying it," she told him, folding her arms. "Baynton was in her flight class at Yelchin, and treated her like absolute shit when she found out that Ray was the daughter of Armin Ckinlin."

Armin Ckinlin was one of the most hated names in Earth history. Back during the war, before Parry's time, he had joined forces with the Kilrathi and the Mandarin order and used bioweapons to kill innocent colonists. Ray, who had been very young at the time of the attacks, had been put into foster care and given a new name by the Alliance. When she'd entered the Flight Academy, however, she'd dared to trust Karen Baynton, one of her new flight class, with the truth of who her father was. Karen had rewarded this vulnerable show of trust with vehement hatred, doing her best to first get Ray drummed out of the Confed, and when that didn't work, trying her damnedest to get her to wash out. She had turned all of Ray's classmates against her, and made her the focus of intense bullying and harassment that had lasted the full two years of flight training.

Ray had confided in Parry the truth of her parentage as well, but Jon hadn't found out until that day in front of the Confederation President and Joint Chiefs when Ray had revealed that she was really a Nephilim. All things considered, he'd taken it ok, but he and Parry were still the only ones out of the old Rho Wing that knew Ray's real name.

They were also the only ones that knew Ray was a Nephilim, and that it was the Confed's experiments that were responsible for Ckinlin's terror actions in the first place.

Jon shook his head, letting out a low breath. "Your wife is a far more forgiving person than I am," he said.

"Me too," Parry said. "Well, if I don't see you again before Fleet Week, safe travels and good hunting. Give my regards to the rest of your Wing."

"And yours, mine," he said. "Take care, Parry."

She found Ray right where she expected her, sitting on a bench in the empty waiting room outside of the infirmary. She slowed as she caught sight of her there, looking small with her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. Her heart hurt to see it.

Silently, she sat down beside her, and without hesitation Ray leaned against her, dropping her hands as Parry put her arm around her shoulders.

"Hey, you all right?" Parry asked, glancing at the closed door and wondering suddenly if Baynton had taken a turn for the worse.

"I'm fine," Ray said calmly. "What did Captain Silva say?"

"We're heading back to home space at 1300," she told her, as Ray sat back a little, straightening. "There's nothing more we can do here."

Ray nodded slightly, and Parry took her hand.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" she asked, and when Ray looked at her, clarified. "Why are you sitting here outside the infirmary? Baynton was terrible to you."

"People change."

"Sure, but even if she has, you don't owe her anything, Ray. Your time, your worry, an apology, none of it."

"I'm not here for her," Ray said quietly. "I'm here for me."

"I don't understand," Parry said, putting her free hand over the one that clasped her wife's. "Are you looking for closure? An apology? Because she certainly owes you one -"

"Absolution, I suppose."

"For what? Ray, you are not responsible for what your father did. You know that. You - "

"Do you forgive him, Parry?" Ray asked, and her eyes were so beseeching that Parry was taken aback.

"Do I forgive your father?" she asked, not sure she had understood what her wife was asking.

"What he did…it wasn't his fault," she said. "You know that it wasn't his fault. It was…it was the Nephilim's fault. They only meant to keep him alive, but it really was their fault."

Since she had declared she only wanted to be human, Ray had taken to referring to the Nephilim as if they were completely other to herself. Parry had accepted that as necessary, especially if someone might overhear, but this was the first time she heard the bitterness behind it, a bitterness that suggested that Ray had not just separated herself from her people out of a desire to just be human, but out of possible bad blood between them.

Where the hell could any bad blood have come from?

"It was a bad situation, one everyone was pretty blind in," Parry said. "The Nephilim were just trying to help, to understand. If anyone was at true fault for Armin Ckinlin, it was the Project for experimenting on him, and you, unethically."

"So you forgive him?"

Parry didn't know why it was important to Ray that Parry forgive the terrorist acts of her father, but it clearly was, so she nodded. "He was a victim of circumstance. From what I understand of him before Project: Lure, he was a good and decent man. I don't hold him responsible for what happened. It was a tragic mistake."

"What if it wasn't? What if he'd done those terrible things of his own free will, even if he just thought he was doing the right thing, out of fear or….or desperation. Could you forgive him then?"

"I don't- Ray, what's the matter? Why are you asking these things?"

"I can't hate her," Ray said, glancing toward the infirmary door. "I can't hate her, because she's right in hating my father for the horrible things he did. She's right in hating me for-"

"No she is not right," Parry said angrily. "She's not right in hating you, and she's not right in treating you the way she did just because of what she thinks or believes about your father. She absolutely is not right, Ray. And you don't owe her a damned thing."

Ray lifted a hand and, although her cheeks were dry, she brushed her fingers over them briefly as if expecting tears. Parry gently touched her cheek as well.

"Come on. You don't need to be here, Ray. We're going home. You don't need to give another thought to Major Baynton. She doesn't deserve it."

"You didn't answer my question," Ray said, making no move to rise even as Parry stood.

"Which?" Parry asked, looking down at her as she gently stroked the hand still in hers.

Ray slowly met her eyes. "Could you forgive him then?"

Parry thought about it a moment, a muscle jumping in her jaw, before she slowly shook her head. "I don't know. I find it really hard to believe how someone could believe they were doing the right thing as they liquify the lungs of innocent men, women, and children. To be honest, I don't think I could, but I just…I don't know, Ray. I just don't know."