BROKEN UNITY | CHAPTER 02

a short story by Danny van Eck

Shauni worked alongside the Zenith Keepers to deploy the beacons. It was a task that should have taken no more than an hour. But as more escape pods came crashing down into the expanding wreckage, that timeline quickly unraveled. Each impact brought new cries for help, and Shauni moved without hesitation from one emergency to the next. She cleared debris, steadied disoriented survivors, and directed Keepers toward newly discovered escape pods. The chaos grew with every passing minute.

Yet amid the fire and fear, a strange clarity settled over her. This wasn’t the war she had trained for, but she could still make a difference. Right now, saving lives was all that mattered. She pushed aside the thoughts that had haunted her since the Midway fell. Thoughts tied to Alex, and the quiet things he used to say to calm her. This wasn’t the time to dwell on meaning or fate. Not when people still needed her. Not when there was work to be done.

Hours had passed by the time confirmation came through. The beacons were active, and the command center was beginning to bring short-range communication systems online. Shauni wiped the sweat from her brow as the sun reached its peak, the desert heat slowly baking her in its relentless grip. She was exhausted. The weight of yesterday's events, the long trek to the crash site, and the flood of emotions had taken their toll.

As promised, the Keepers escorted her to command. They moved through the broken remains of the Midway Station, where twisted steel and scorched plating told stories of devastation. As they walked, Shauni’s thoughts drifted to the dreams she once held close. She had always wanted to visit the Midway, to stand among the stars, to see the galaxy as more than distant light. It was a dream she and Alex had shared.

"Imagine it, Shaun," he used to say, lying beside her on the golden beaches of Valleteia. "Imagine the stories the stars may hold. The long-forgotten whispers of those who came before us."

That dream felt far away now, its edges worn and dim with sorrow.

Command was about thirty minutes from the wreckage, stationed at the edge of the crash zone. The makeshift base had been set up on a hilltop, overlooking the devastation that sprawled across the golden dunes. Once a vast sea of sand, the terrain no longer resembled a desert. Cracks and deep fissures had torn through the landscape, splitting it open in jagged patterns.

“Wait here,” the Zenith Keeper said, stopping beside a large remote operations tent that overlooked both the base and the remains of the Midway.

Shauni took in the view. Dozens of ships hovered around the crash site, their hulls marked by soot and dirt. Columns of smoke still drifted skyward. At the edge of the camp, survivors were slowly arriving, some walking on their own, others carried on stretchers. Some were escorted to the aid tents, while others were brought to the one Shauni was fixated on, their bodies sealed in rows of black body bags.

Shauni's chest tightened. The smaller bags were always the hardest to look at.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the light tap of the Keeper on her shoulder.

“You can come in.”

She gave a quiet nod and followed him through the tent’s flap.

Inside was chaos. Every available surface was taken up by terminals, wires, crates, or personnel. Technicians shouted across the room, voices layered over the hum of machines. The air was thick with urgency.

At the far side of the tent stood an older woman with ash-grey hair pulled back in a tight braid. Her black uniform bore the insignia of the Corin Guard, along with a series of metallic strips fastened to her chest, marks of commendation, no doubt. She was commanding one of the comms officers with sharp directions.

“Run the beacon protocol again,” the woman ordered. “Flush the whole thing if you have to.”

“Yes, Commander,” the technician replied. “System flush in progress. Attempting to reconnect now.”

The commander glanced over at Shauni and the Zenith Keeper as they approached, her expression unreadable.

“Commander,” the Keeper said, standing at attention. “This is Miss Selmare. She assisted with the relief operations and was a firsthand witness to the Midway’s crash.”

The woman gave a curt nod and motioned for the Keeper to step aside.

“Thank you,” she said, eyes now settling on Shauni.

Her gaze lingered for a moment longer than expected. She scanned Shauni’s arms, the lines of faded ceremonial ink still etched faintly into her skin despite the dust and sweat. Her eyes narrowed just slightly in recognition.

“Valleteian,” the commander said, more statement than question.

Shauni met her gaze. “Formerly.”

Another pause. Something unreadable passed behind the commander’s eyes, disapproval, perhaps, or caution, but she gave a small, deliberate nod.

“My name is Commander Veyna, Corin Guard, Forty-Second Division. I’m stationed here alongside units from several other kingdoms,” she said. “Sernatum, however, is setting up their own camp elsewhere.. as expected.”

There was a hint of bitterness in the way she said it.

“Miss Selmare, I was informed you were among the first responders at the aid camp near the Silent Vale?”

Shauni gave a small nod in acknowledgment.

“Thank you, for your service there, and for your help with the beacon setup here,” Veyna continued. “Your timing is fortunate. With the beacons online, we should be able to connect to all nearby vessels.”

She glanced at the screen in front of them, where ships from the allied kingdoms had begun to cluster around the wreckage.

“One of them is Valleteian,” she noted, glancing at Shauni again. “And as you know, your people can be… challenging to communicate with.” She paused. “Your presence may prove useful.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t think I’ll be of much help here,” Shauni said quietly. “We’re not exactly on good terms.”

The commander raised an eyebrow, then replied with firmness, “Be that as it may, their equipment and presence will be valuable for monitoring the perimeter.”

The technician in front of Commander Veyna interrupted the conversation with urgency in their voice.

“Commander, the beacons are fully functional. We’ve established stable connections with all allied vessels within range.”

Veyna stepped toward the central terminal, leaning over the display. A web of call signs blinked to life across the screen: Nexun, Corin, Eidolon, Vallethea. Behind them, the shattered remains of the Midway hovered like a ghost over the live tactical map.

“Good. Patch in Nexun Command first. Let’s hear their status.”

The screen flickered. The sigil of the Kingdom of Nexun appeared, followed by a stable feed of a lean, sharp-featured man with a closely cropped beard. His voice was deep and calm.

“This is Captain Varen of the Nexun vessel Kaleidos. We’ve secured four pods along the northeastern ridge and deployed drones to search for additional survivors. We’re transmitting terrain and environmental data to your relay now.”

“Understood,” Veyna replied. “Anything else?”

Varen hesitated. “Nothing confirmed. But we’ve detected elevated wave activity from the west. You may want to recheck your sea-level projections.”

Veyna’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Acknowledged. Thank you, Kaleidos.”

The feed cut.

“Bring in the Valleteian vessel,” she ordered. Her voice was steady, but Shauni sensed the tension beneath it.

The crest of Vallethea appeared, then resolved into the image of a man in his late forties. He wore the silver-trimmed uniform of Vallethea’s Fleet, his face partially shadowed by the overhead lights. Something about him stirred in Shauni’s memory.

She tilted her head. Why do I know him?

The man’s expression was tight with urgency. “This is Lieutenant Sarin of the Pelagia. Commander Veyna, we are monitoring seismic activity off Sernatum’s western coast. A few hours ago, a segment of Cyril’s Comet impacted the waters west of Blackmere Bay.”

Veyna straightened. “Impact confirmed?”

“Confirmed. The event triggered a massive displacement. Our sensors detected the first waves striking the cliffs along Sernatum’s coast moments ago. The primary swell is moving rapidly east. Estimated landfall at your location is just under two hours.”

The command tent fell silent.

“How high?” Veyna asked.

“We can’t say with certainty. But based on the entry angle and ocean shelf depth, it will be significant. This is not a minor surge. You must evacuate the crash zone immediately.”

Veyna gave a single nod. “Understood.”

The screen cut to black.

Shauni’s throat tightened. Two hours.

Veyna didn’t pause. “Sound the alert. Begin evacuation protocols. Prioritize the injured and those still trapped. Mobilize every active Keeper, soldier, or staff member in the field.”

“Yes, ma’am,” a technician responded.

A rising alarm echoed through the tent, followed by a cascade of sirens rolling into the valley beyond.

A race against time had begun.