《Return from Exile》


 Chapter 1

    Chapter 1


    Garen ascended the porch steps, each creak beneath his weight slicing through the stillness that had settled over the clearing. The towering Otay trees dominated the landscape, their thick trunks and deep red leaves casting long shadows. At the edge of his vision, the setting sun flickered through the branches, its light momentarily sharpening. For a moment, the leaves seemed aflame, fooling the eye before fading as night began to creep across the sky.


    A sharp gust swept through the trees, carrying the damp scent of earth and decay. The chill seeped through his clothes, turning his breath into mist. The air felt thick, laden with secrets buried deep in the soil. Maybe time had concealed them, or perhaps it had simply drained the will to uncover what had been lost.


    He took a swig from his flask, the cool liquid soothing his dry throat. His clothes, damp with sweat and evening dew, clung to his skin, worn and patched.


    His gaze shifted to the chimney, where thin wisps of smoke rose and vanished into the darkening sky. The pale smoke signaled the fire was low but steady. He kept it burning these days, preparing for Chiex¡¯s harshest season. Every sunset reminded him that the days were growing shorter, the cold creeping in with each passing evening, as brutal as ever. There would be no snow, but Chiex¡¯s chill bit deeper than most, it seeped into the bones.


    A decade on Chiex had stripped him down, year by year, scraping away the urgency and noise that had once filled his life. Now, he often lost himself in the peace, sitting for hours, listening to the distant trickle of a stream, the sway of trees, and the rustle of unseen creatures stalking the forest. Silence had replaced the chaos, though it had come with a cost. It always did. How could it not? Yet, with that silence came a clarity he hadn¡¯t known in years.


    War had taken its toll on everyone, and Garen knew all too well how it had taken its toll on him.


    Life in the wilderness was nothing like it had been in the Seven Worlds, where silence was a rarity, something to be sought out. In the crowded cities, such stillness was unimaginable. But on Chiex, that quiet had become something Garen had learned to appreciate. The nearest settlement was the Camerian outpost, Calio Landing¡ªthe only real sign of civilization on this remote world. The small spaceport saw the occasional trade vessel or passenger ship, though their arrivals were more of a hope than a certainty.


    Still, he didn¡¯t live in complete isolation, though he often let people believe otherwise. It wasn¡¯t entirely a lie¡ªhe was alone most of the time. Just not always.


    Building the cabin had been a battle¡ªnot just against the land, but against himself. Chiex¡¯s terrain was unforgiving, yet somehow, he had survived.


    He hadn¡¯t abandoned technology entirely, that was never the intention. It had its uses, and he didn¡¯t shy away from it, but he employed it sparingly. Still, there was something raw, almost primal, about relying on the land. Every log he chopped, every crop he harvested, reminded him that this life, however difficult, was one he had earned with his own hands.


    He had never planned to stay¡ªnot really. Chiex had been meant as a retreat, a brief escape from the relentless demands of Rhyus, the capital of the Seven Worlds, and the things he¡¯d chosen to leave behind. But over time, the thought of leaving faded, drifting away like a memory he no longer needed. He¡¯d be lying if he said the thought of returning to civilization had never crossed his mind¡ªhe¡¯d considered it more than once. But each time, he chose to stay. Chiex wasn¡¯t exile anymore; it was a choice. One he had made.


    Yet even knowing that didn¡¯t always make the solitude easier to bear.


    His gaze swept the clearing, taking in the small patch of land that had become his. Stacks of firewood lined the cabin, and neat rows of his garden stretched nearby. At the far edge, his mud-caked off-road vehicle sat idle, a jumble of salvaged parts, weathered but functional. Beyond it, the narrow path disappeared into the dense woods.


    He glanced at the woodpile. Almost done. A small wave of relief washed over him. The work was hard, but each task brought its own reward, even if the satisfaction was short. There¡¯s always more to do, always something else waiting. He had chopped enough wood for the winter¡ªhe hoped. But on Chiex, nothing was ever certain.


    He sank into the worn porch chair, its cushion long since flattened. The evening pressed in¡ªcold, quiet¡ªbroken only by the rustle of branches and the occasional distant calls of unseen creatures. Most were familiar to Garen, though even after all this time, there were still some he couldn¡¯t easily identify.


    As he lingered, night fell, shadows stretching across the clearing. Stars blinked into the sky. Garen¡¯s rough, calloused hands rested on his knees as he listened. The wind, once a gentle whisper, carried something unusual tonight¡ªheavier, more deliberate. His eyes flicked toward the treeline, narrowing. Something often lurked out there in the depths of the forest¡ªthe snap of a broken branch betraying its presence¡ªbut tonight felt different, a feeling he couldn¡¯t quite place. What¡¯s out there this time? A Yorbel? He shook his head, pushing the thought aside.


    He glanced up, tracing the familiar constellations. The twin moons hung overhead. one full, the other a pale crescent, bathing the clearing in soft silver light. His gaze settled on a distant star, holding it for a moment.


    "Rhyus," he murmured.


    He lingered on the star before moving on to name the others nearby, a habit he''d picked up over the years. Only on this remote world could he stargaze without the glow of city lights dimming the view. The cool breeze grew stronger, stirring the trees, rustling the leaves, and biting more sharply at his skin.


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    He wasn¡¯t in a rush to head inside, but the cold forced him. His sweat had dried, and his breath formed pale clouds in the crisp air. With a sigh, Garen rose from his chair, his knees protesting after sitting for hours, following a long day on his feet.


    He descended the porch steps, grabbed an armful of chopped wood, and climbed back up, nudging the door open with his foot. The hinges creaked softly. Inside, the cabin was dark, save for the dim glow of dying embers in the hearth. Setting the wood down, Garen split fresh kindling and added some dried moss he had been collecting, tossing it in with a few larger logs. Within moments, flames sprang to life, spreading warmth through the small room. He stretched his hands toward the fire, the crackling wood filling the silence.


    The cabin was small and simple, built for him and him alone. Visitors were rare, and none were ever invited. He told himself he preferred it that way, though sometimes, I¡¯m not so sure. As the cold season approached, those feelings always intensified. He still ventured outside, but rarely strayed far from the cabin during the planet¡¯s harshest months. His desires shifted with the seasons, when warmer weather returned, so did his restlessness. But the feeling always fades, doesn¡¯t it? When the weather was kinder, he could focus on other interests. The discontent that crept in during the colder months would eventually fade, just like it always did. But for now, the coldest days had yet to begin.


    Books lay scattered around the room, some so old they threatened to fall apart. In one corner, a blinking communications console pulsed steadily, cobbled together from mismatched parts. Klamarez had called it a "good model," but Garen suspected that was more optimism than truth. Still, it worked¡ªmost of the time. Tools hung on the walls: a bow, a quiver of arrows, a fishing rod, and a carved wooden falcata mounted nearby. Like everything here, they served their purpose. The small kitchen was tucked beside a cluttered work desk, while a fur-draped bed lay across from the hearth, with an old chest at its foot. It was a cozy little cabin made for one.


    After a quick shower, Garen changed into clean clothes, though they were still worn and frayed. The water, heated by a fire in a drum beneath the hearth, a complicated contraption that, surprisingly, worked, was enough to refresh him. He settled back into his chair, picked up a book, and activated a lantern.


    The book, an account of an ancient civilization long lost to history, was far from his first read-through. It blurred the line between myth and reality. Garen believed in those legends. There was evidence if you knew where to look within the galaxy. And Garen knew where to look, at least in a sense, but that barely narrowed it down. Most would dismiss such tales, he thought. But he had his own theories and ideas about the matter. If nothing else, it was something to ponder and pass the time.


    He had barely turned a page when a soft beep broke the silence. The communications console flickered to life, and Garen sighed, setting the book aside. He crossed the room and pressed the answer button.


    "Go ahead," he said, his tone flat.


    Static crackled in response. A faint, garbled voice fought through the interference. Garen frowned. Only a handful of people ever contacted him, and only one would do so this late.


    "Klamarez?" he muttered, irritation growing as static swallowed the reply. He adjusted the controls, but it was useless. Not tonight, he thought with a groan. I¡¯m really not in the mood.


    "If that¡¯s you, Klamarez, I¡¯ll stop by tomorrow," he muttered, his voice rough. He switched the console off.


    Too late for this, Garen thought, glaring at the device. I need to get it fixed. He had never liked the console, but Klamarez had insisted¡ª¡°for emergencies,¡± he¡¯d said. Garen wasn¡¯t convinced it was necessary.


    He crossed the room and pulled a half-filled bottle of Camerian whisky from the shelf. The sharp scent hit him as he popped the top, almost overpowering. The smell briefly filled the room before fading. As he poured, the amber liquid swirled in the glass, a faint vapor rising before settling. The burn was familiar, harsh. Camerian whisky wasn¡¯t exactly made for humans, but out here, choices were limited. He¡¯d learned to tolerate it. Besides, it was the only thing from Calio Landing that didn¡¯t turn his stomach.


    Sinking back into his chair, Garen took a small sip, then set the glass down beside him. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, occasionally gusting stronger. He picked up his book again, the whisky warming him as the fire crackled softly. A few chapters blurred by before his eyes grew heavy. The fire had dimmed but still held strong, keeping the cabin warm.


    He often drifted off like this¡ªbook in hand, the hearth¡¯s fading heat warding off the cold.


    Outside, the wind howled briefly, then fell silent. Garen slipped into a deeper sleep, only to be pulled awake by an unfamiliar sound. It wasn¡¯t the usual rustle of wildlife¡ªthis was something else. He was used to the night sounds: the distant howl of predators, the soft thud of hooves passing by. Those, he¡¯d learned to ignore. They weren¡¯t threats, not from inside the cabin. They passed, and any damage could be dealt with in the morning.


    But this sound was different.


    His eyes snapped open, heart pounding. Voices¡ªhe could hear voices. Camerian? he wondered. No. The cadence was off. He listened more intently, then realized: Human? Human voices. That was more alarming.


    Garen slid the drawer open beside him, the wood scraping louder than expected. He winced at the noise. Meant to fix that, he thought, his fingers curling around the grip of his fusion-powered blaster, worn and marked with scratches and notches. He powered it up, the low hum of activation offering a small measure of comfort¡ªbut not enough.


    Staying still, he tilted his head, straining to hear better. The fire crackled, momentarily pulling his attention. He glanced at it, irritation flickering in his eyes, as if scolding the flames for the distraction.


    He refocused, trying to discern the intruders'' intent. The cabin door was sturdy¡ªbuilt to withstand the elements and wildlife¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t made for this. Whatever this is.


    As he listened, he made out three distinct voices, low and muffled, carried through the night air. Too close. Could be more. Garen¡¯s thoughts sharpened. I could be surrounded. Why now? It didn¡¯t matter¡ªthey were here.


    Footsteps creaked on the porch steps. Someone was climbing them.


    Garen¡¯s breath stilled as the words drifted through the night air.


    "This is where General Garen Rivers lives?"


    The voice, low and hushed, was clear enough for Garen to catch. His grip on the blaster remained steady. His mind ran through possibilities, none of them good. Slowly, deliberately, he adjusted his position, angling himself toward the door without making a sound.


    Stay calm. Wait. He strained to hear more, trying to gauge their numbers, their intent.


    He remained still, not yet ready to confirm his presence.

 Chapter 2

    Chapter 2:


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± Garen¡¯s voice cut through the night, sharp but edged with weariness. His hand hovered over the blaster, muscles tensed. It had been a long time since anything had threatened him other than a wild creature.


    Outside, the two marines flinched at Garen¡¯s sudden voice, echoing through the cabin walls. Hands darted to their rifles before they realized it wasn¡¯t an attack. Private Kees, nerves frayed, nearly dropped his energy rifle. ¡°Dammit,¡± he muttered, his fingers tightening around the weapon. His face twitched with embarrassment.


    Corporal Dreen shot him a hard glare, unimpressed. From the porch, Colonel Conus Taylen snapped his attention to the marines, motioning for them to stay alert. Dreen gave a sharp nod but kept his focus on Kees. He¡¯s going to make me look incompetent, Dreen thought.


    Inside the cabin, Garen remained still. If they didn¡¯t respond soon, he wouldn¡¯t hesitate to fire. Whoever they were, they had the upper hand for now, but out here in the forest, Garen knew the terrain favored him¡ªif he could just make it to the trees. His eyes flicked toward the small back window, mind racing. Are they planning an ambush? He quickly mapped out escape routes, calculating where he could take cover if things went south.


    Could it be raiders? There had been reports of raids in the system, but they usually targeted trade or passenger ships. Surface raids were rare¡ªthere wasn¡¯t much value to be found on the ground. Still, it wasn¡¯t impossible.


    But the raiders here weren¡¯t human¡ªat least, not the ones Garen had heard of. And if it were raiders, they wouldn¡¯t have announced themselves. They¡¯d have kicked in the door by now. His thoughts drifted back to Klamarez¡¯s call earlier. What if something had gone wrong? The realization hit Garen¡ªit likely had. Whatever this was, it had to be connected.


    Outside, Colonel Taylen stood rigid, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. His chest tightened with tension. This wasn¡¯t his first mission¡ªfar from it. He had faced dangerous situations before, but standing at the door of General Garen Rivers, a living legend, was different. The stories hadn¡¯t prepared him for the reality of meeting the man.


    He¡¯s just a man, Conus told himself, forcing his nerves to settle. Just a man you¡¯ve read about for years.


    A distant howl pierced the silence of the surrounding woods, causing the marines behind Conus to exchange uneasy glances. He ignored it, his focus unshaken. What was that?


    Taylen adjusted his stance on the porch, straightening his back as he faced the cabin. ¡°I¡¯m Colonel Conus Taylen, Rhyus Defense Fleet,¡± he called out, his voice steady, though a hint of tension slipped through. ¡°I was told I could find General Garen Rivers here.¡±


    Inside, Garen frowned.


    Colonel Conus Taylen? The name was unfamiliar. Why send someone he didn¡¯t know? Maybe he¡¯s connected to someone I do.


    ¡°Who sent you? Who¡¯s your CO?¡± Garen¡¯s voice cut through the night, sharp and unforgiving.


    ¡°Admiral Amar Lavont,¡± Conus replied, his tone firm, though hopeful. Surely, Lavont¡¯s name would ease the tension.


    Inside, Garen¡¯s grip tightened on his blaster. Lavont. Too many years had passed, but the bitterness remained.


    Lavont hadn¡¯t just been a superior¡ªhe¡¯d been a mentor. A friend. Together, they had planned and led countless operations. Lavont had seen potential in him from his academy days.


    But their last encounter still burned in his mind¡ªheated words, accusations, betrayal. I thought I buried this, Garen mused. You should¡¯ve come yourself, Lavont.


    That respect had turned cold. Despite the years, the final conflict still haunted him. Leaving the RDF hadn¡¯t just been about Lavont, but he was a part of it. When Garen walked away, he hadn¡¯t just left the military¡ªhe had left behind who he once was.


    Garen stared at the door, wishing the colonel would just leave. Finally, with reluctance, he opened it. Conus straightened as the door swung wide, bracing himself. Face-to-face with the man whose reputation loomed so large, Conus felt the weight of his mission settle on his shoulders. Garen wasn¡¯t what he had imagined.


    Garen stood in the doorway, his expression cold, far from welcoming. His eyes swept over Conus and the marines, sizing them up like potential threats. The blaster in his hand remained ready, his finger hovering near the trigger.


    The marines exchanged uneasy glances. This is General Garen Rivers? The legends had painted a different picture. Here stood a weary man, hardened and distant¡ªnothing like the hero they had expected. Their grips tightened on their weapons, arms rising instinctively.


    Conus kept his hands away from his own weapon, raising one to signal the marines to stand down. Garen smirked, unimpressed, but didn¡¯t lower his blaster.


    Failure wasn¡¯t an option. Lavont had entrusted Conus with this mission, and if Garen agreed to return, he would lead the upcoming operation¡ªone that would begin as soon as they reached Rhyus. General Garen Rivers at the helm. That was all Conus knew, and the thought of serving alongside the legendary general thrilled him. But this wasn¡¯t just about following orders¡ªConus needed this mission to succeed. His career, perhaps even his future, hung in the balance.


    Now, staring into Garen¡¯s cold, distant eyes, that hope felt like it was slipping away.


    Conus had served the Seven Worlds for years, starting in the Rhyus Defense Fleet before transitioning to the Rhyus Strategic Intelligence Agency (RSIA)¡ªthe covert branch responsible for espionage and galactic security. Lavont, now head of the RSIA, had personally selected Conus for this mission. But there was a complication: Conus wasn¡¯t allowed to reveal his RSIA affiliation or the true nature of the mission until Garen agreed to return.


    This isn¡¯t the best way to rebuild a broken friendship, Conus thought, irritation simmering beneath his calm exterior. But now wasn¡¯t the time to dwell on it. Lavont should¡¯ve known better, but Conus couldn¡¯t question his orders.


    Garen Rivers wasn¡¯t just a name¡ªhe was a legend across the Seven Worlds. War stories often turned into exaggerated myths, but Garen stood apart. He was one of the true heroes of the war.


    Meeting him should have been an honor. It is an honor, Conus reminded himself. He just wished it were under better circumstances¡ªmore honest ones.


    But what had truly made Garen Rivers a legend? He wasn¡¯t just a skilled fighter or pilot¡ªhis tactical brilliance set him apart. The war with the Vorcons had raged for over two decades, and Garen had been on the front lines for nearly all of it. The Vorcons didn¡¯t just conquer¡ªthey dominated, turning entire systems into battlegrounds. Their invasions were slow, methodical. Instead of quick strikes, they embedded themselves deep within the planets, waging brutal urban warfare.


    The Vorcons thrived on resistance. They didn¡¯t just overpower their enemies; they prolonged the conflict, savoring the struggle. Their massive armadas encircled planets, systematically wearing down any defense. Though they could have crushed worlds swiftly, they preferred to dismantle their opponents piece by piece, making examples of their conquests. Those who survived were enslaved.


    The war hadn¡¯t directly reached the Seven Worlds of Rhyus or the Vorcon Empire itself. It played out in the star systems between them¡ªterritories the Vorcons sought to control. The Seven Worlds fought to push them back, liberating planets already under occupation.


    For Rhyus, it wasn¡¯t about expansion but preserving stability and ensuring a safer future. At first, the Seven Worlds weren¡¯t directly threatened, but as chaos spread, they had no choice but to intervene.


    Garen¡¯s reputation grew with every campaign. His mastery of the scalar falcata became the stuff of legends, with tales of him cutting down Vorcon elites. On the ground, in the air as a vertapilot, or commanding from the capital battle cruiser Riftkin, Garen excelled in every role. He didn¡¯t always win, but his victories were decisive. Stories circulated that his very presence on the battlefield could shift the tide in the RDF¡¯s favor.


    But now, standing in the doorway across from Conus, Garen hardly resembled the man from the stories. He looked worn, cold, and distant¡ªfar from the legend he had once been.


    The marines outside, stationed by the tracked vehicle, exchanged uneasy glances. Living in isolation for so long¡ªwas Garen still the hero they had heard about? From their vantage point, dimly lit by the faint glow of the cabin¡¯s fire and the pale moonlight, all they could see was a shadowy figure framed in the doorway.


    Garen¡¯s eyes moved from Conus to the marines. If not for Lavont¡¯s name, he would have sent them away without a second thought.


    Lavont had sent them for a reason, and for now, that alone kept Garen from slamming the door in their faces. Still, all Garen was prepared to do was listen¡ªand even that wouldn¡¯t last long.


    Garen stepped back, gesturing with his blaster for Conus to enter. Conus didn¡¯t hesitate; he sensed this might be his only chance to present Lavont¡¯s proposal. As Garen closed the door behind him, he cast a cold glance at the marines, leaving them to face the chill of the night.


    Inside, Garen flicked on a small lamp near the entrance, casting a soft glow throughout the cabin. The light illuminated Conus¡¯s face, allowing Garen to get a closer look. What immediately drew Garen¡¯s attention was the light gray synthetic skin covering the entire right side of Conus¡¯s face. It extended from his skull, down his neck, and disappeared into his uniform. The difference between the synthetic skin and his natural complexion was sharp and jarring.


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    Flawless, Garen thought, noting how seamlessly the synthetic components merged with Conus¡¯s body. Yet, it intrigued him how the artificial side contrasted so distinctly against his natural one.


    Conus¡¯s augmented right eye scanned the room with a faint glow, as if processing information. His right arm, concealed beneath his long sleeve and a gloved hand, made a soft mechanical whir when it moved. Garen quickly realized the arm was also augmented. Is he fully synthetic? Garen wondered. No, his left side seems natural. Could he be some kind of hybrid? Have I been gone that long?


    From what Garen could tell, Conus was still human¡ªbut with augmentations far more advanced than anything he had ever seen. I didn¡¯t realize this level of enhancement was even possible.


    Conus stood unnaturally still, his posture perfect.


    Garen briefly wondered, Did he choose these augmentations, or were they forced on him? There had to be a story, but he pushed the thought aside for now.


    Silence stretched between them.


    Garen didn¡¯t move, waiting for Conus to speak, studying the younger man, letting the tension build.


    ¡°General Garen Rivers,¡± Conus finally said, his tone respectful, his smile faint but polite.


    Garen kept the blaster in hand. He¡¯s ready to strike at any moment, Conus thought. Shouldn¡¯t the uniform be enough to show I¡¯m not a threat?


    Conus had expected some form of recognition, maybe even a hint of relief¡ªhe had assumed the general would welcome someone from the RDF. But all he saw in Garen¡¯s eyes was cold detachment. Is this what years of isolation have done to him? Conus had hoped to see the legendary figure from the stories, but all he found was suspicion.


    Garen¡¯s rugged appearance surprised him. The gray streaks in his thick beard and unkempt hair gave him a weathered, hardened look. He seemed healthy enough, but Conus couldn¡¯t help thinking, What does he do out here all alone?


    His gaze drifted to the wooden Falcata mounted on the wall. A wooden sword? He frowned. The legendary General Garen Rivers, known for wielding a scalar Falcata, now had... this? A wooden weapon? It didn¡¯t match the image at all.


    Conus¡¯s augmented eye flicked to the blaster. It¡¯s the same one from the war, he realized.


    What¡¯s he staring at? Garen wondered, growing impatient. He sighed and finally holstered the blaster, figuring it might be making the colonel uneasy.


    Garen¡¯s expression darkened, suspicion deepening. ¡°Lavont sent you all the way out here? Why?¡± His voice cut through the quiet, sharp and direct.


    ¡°Admiral Amar Lavont requests your presence at RDF Headquarters on Rhyus to discuss a mission,¡± Conus said, keeping his composure.


    ¡°Headquarters? A mission?¡± Garen muttered.


    ¡°Yes, General,¡± Conus replied.


    ¡°You know headquarters is on Rhyus, right?¡± Garen¡¯s tone carried a hint of sarcasm.


    Conus caught it immediately. ¡°Yes, General Rivers.¡±


    ¡°And what makes you think I¡¯m just going to leave my home and travel all the way to Rhyus?¡± Garen asked, his voice hard. ¡°It¡¯s a long way, Colonel.¡±


    The word headquarters felt foreign to Garen, like it no longer had anything to do with him. He stared at Conus, shaking his head slowly.


    ¡°What¡¯s this really about?¡± Garen asked.


    Conus¡¯s eyes flicked to a book beside Garen¡¯s chair¡ªThe Nalore: A History. ¡°It concerns the security of the Seven Worlds, General. Lavont needs your help,¡± he replied, keeping his tone steady despite the urgency simmering beneath.


    ¡°Yeah, sure he does.¡± Garen scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Lavont needs my help?


    ¡°Listen, Colonel, I don¡¯t have time for this. Unless you and your friends outside plan on chopping wood tomorrow, you¡¯d better leave. And don¡¯t expect dinner¡ªI¡¯ve got one plate, one fork, one glass. You get the picture.¡± He waved toward the door dismissively. ¡°Find someone else. Good night.¡±


    Conus stiffened but held his ground. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this, General,¡± he said, urgency creeping into his voice. ¡°Lavont needs you back. The Seven Worlds need you back. This is important.¡±


    Garen¡¯s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as irritation flashed across his otherwise impassive face. Once, words like duty, honor, and the drive to protect might have stirred something deep within him. Back then, he might have agreed without hesitation. But now, they only triggered bitterness.


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that bullshit, Colonel. Ten years in exile, and now I¡¯m supposed to save the Seven Worlds?¡± Garen¡¯s voice sliced through the room. ¡°I¡¯m not here because I have to be. I¡¯m here because I choose to be. And it¡¯s not a good time.¡±


    Conus felt the weight of Garen¡¯s words hit him like a punch. This isn¡¯t the man I expected, he thought. Garen seemed hollow. Is it just bitterness?


    He had braced for resistance, but not this level of detachment. How naive he¡¯d been, thinking this would be easy¡ªespecially with Garen¡¯s history.


    ¡°I apologize for the timing, General,¡± Conus said, though Lavont¡¯s final order echoed in his mind: Don¡¯t leave without him. It now felt like an impossible command.


    ¡°There¡¯s never a good time for this,¡± Garen muttered. ¡°I¡¯m not interested.¡±


    ¡°General Rivers, if you could at least hear what Admiral Lavont has to say¡ª¡± Conus began.


    ¡°Where is he, then?¡± Garen interrupted, already knowing the answer.


    Garen rubbed the back of his neck, frustration simmering. His patience was wearing thin as he studied Conus, who seemed to be choosing his words carefully. Garen hated this feeling¡ªplaying the role of the resistant recluse¡ªbut felt a flicker of sympathy. He knew what it was like to follow orders, even impossible ones. If Lavont had sent Conus Taylen all the way out here, it meant Lavont fully trusted him. Lavont doesn¡¯t give his trust away lightly.


    Garen exhaled, his stance relaxing slightly. Poor kid, he thought. Lavont sent him on an impossible mission. But I¡¯m not going back.


    ¡°Listen,¡± Garen began, his cold tone softening just a little. ¡°I¡¯ve moved on, Colonel Taylen. This might not look like much, but I¡¯m comfortable here. I¡¯ve built a new life, and I¡¯ve got work to do. Living out here isn¡¯t easy.¡± His voice carried a finality that was hard to argue with. Garen sighed. ¡°Tell Amar I¡¯m dead. You found me that way. And please, Colonel, don¡¯t come back.¡± He gestured toward the door. Conus could see Garen meant it, though a defeated look lingered in his eyes.


    Garen can be stubborn, Lavont had warned. The words echoed in Conus¡¯s mind.


    ¡°This is an important mission, General,¡± Conus said, his tone firm.


    Garen stared at him for a moment before responding. ¡°I¡¯m sure it is. I doubt you¡¯d be here otherwise. But tell me¡ªwhat¡¯s so urgent that I need to leave now?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have all the details,¡± Conus admitted, barely concealing his frustration. ¡°But Lavont will brief you when you¡¯re back on Rhyus.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a poor way to get my interest,¡± Garen replied dryly. ¡°This isn¡¯t your failure, Colonel.¡±


    Conus blinked. ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Garen said, his voice cold but certain. ¡°It¡¯s Lavont¡¯s failure. He should¡¯ve known better. He does know better.¡± Garen¡¯s mind began to drift, memories of Lavont tugging at him. Conus opened his mouth to respond, but Garen cut him off.


    ¡°Vorcons?¡± Garen¡¯s tone sharpened. It has to be. ¡°Has the Vorcon Empire declared war again? Is that what this is about? I¡¯m sure the RDF will manage just fine without me. I¡¯ve done my time, given my service. If that¡¯s all this is about, others will step up. It¡¯s all behind me now.¡±


    Conus stiffened. ¡°That¡¯s not exactly what this is, General,¡± he said, his voice trailing off, distracted.


    Garen noticed the shift immediately, eyes narrowing as he watched Conus closely. He¡¯d seen that look before¡ªsomething had rattled the Colonel.


    Both men froze.


    Conus blinked and whispered, ¡°Did you hear that?¡±


    A heartbeat passed. Then another.


    Garen shook his head, body tense, gaze locked on Conus. He took the Colonel¡¯s reaction seriously.


    They listened intently. For a moment, nothing. Conus closed his eyes briefly, focusing as if to sharpen his hearing. Garen stood motionless, waiting for something to break the silence.


    ¡°Could it be the marines?¡± Garen asked, though his gut told him otherwise. His eyes remained on Conus.


    Conus¡¯s expression tightened. ¡°No, I heard something else¡ªmovement. Not them.¡±


    ¡°That could be a lot of things, Colonel. These woods are full of creatures,¡± Garen said


    Then, a different sound cut through the stillness. A high-pitched whistle, faint but unmistakable. Fast. Close.


    A cry rang out. Corporal Dreen.


    Both men¡¯s eyes widened in recognition.


    ¡°Silenced energy weapons,¡± Garen muttered, drawing his blaster.


    Conus paled. We¡¯re under attack.


    ¡°No one should¡¯ve known we were here,¡± Conus whispered, disbelief creeping into his voice.


    Garen cracked the door just enough to peer outside, blaster raised. Corporal Dreen lay motionless, twisted unnaturally in the dirt. Private Kees knelt beside him, panic on his face, checking for signs of life. Without warning, a muffled blast split the air. Raw energy hit Kees, smoke curling from the wound in his chest.


    It was over before Garen could shout a warning. Kees collapsed, dead before he hit the ground, a smoking hole in his chest beside Dreen.


    Garen¡¯s eyes narrowed. Shadows moved beyond the treeline, down the path leading to the clearing around the cabin. He couldn¡¯t see them clearly, but the distinct sound of silenced weapons and the flash of white-blue energy left no doubt.


    ¡°Vorcons,¡± Garen muttered, pulse quickening. He gently shut the door, securing it. His heart raced, but outwardly, he remained composed.


    Conus stood frozen, disbelief washing over him. This wasn¡¯t supposed to happen. His mind spun.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure it¡¯s Vorcons, General?¡± Conus asked.


    ¡°You expecting someone else?¡± Garen shot back, already moving, curiosity flickering in his eyes.


    Conus didn¡¯t respond, though the question echoed in his mind.


    Conus quickly grabbed his scanner. ¡°Four humanoid life forms nearby,¡± he reported, his voice steady while his hand instinctively reached for his blaster.


    ¡°Just four?¡± Garen asked, eerily calm. Conus glanced at him, momentarily stunned by his composure. He moves like he¡¯s done this a thousand times, Conus thought, unsettled by the contrast between Garen¡¯s calm demeanor and the imminent danger.


    Garen¡¯s confidence was contagious. His movements were swift and fluid, like a soldier slipping back into long-buried instincts. He strapped on a holster, grabbed a handful of grenades, and clipped a personal shield to his belt, then to his forearm, tightening the strap. Hope it¡¯s charged enough, he mused.


    ¡°Time to move,¡± Garen said, his voice low and firm. ¡°We¡¯ll go through the back window. Any life forms that way?¡±


    Conus checked the scanner. ¡°Nothing in that direction.¡±


    A distant explosion rumbled, followed by another, louder blast.


    ¡°Sounds like your ship¡¯s been hit,¡± Garen observed, his tone cold and detached. ¡°Probably destroyed by now. Try your REM link.¡±


    Conus pulled the device from his belt. ¡°Transport R-97,¡± he called. Silence. He tried again. Still nothing.


    Garen shook his head. ¡°What the hell is going on, Colonel?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, General. There wasn¡¯t supposed to be anyone else here,¡± Conus replied, frustration creeping into his voice.


    ¡°You¡¯re telling me.¡± Garen cast a quick glance toward the window. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of this alive and figure out the rest later.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t get any response from my team,¡± Conus said, his frustration deepening.


    Garen¡¯s eyes narrowed. They¡¯re all dead. ¡°We stand a better chance in the forest.¡±


    Without another word, Garen slid the back window open and climbed out. ¡°Come on, Colonel,¡± he whispered. Conus followed without hesitation.


    The night was dark, with only the faint glow of the two moons filtering through the thick canopy of trees.


    Crouching low, weapons drawn, they moved swiftly along the cabin¡¯s perimeter, slipping into the dense cover of the woods. Conus stayed close to Garen, darting from tree to tree, using the foliage for concealment. They paused behind a thick Otay tree, their breathing shallow and controlled.


    Garen scanned the darkness. Shadows shifted at the forest¡¯s edge¡ªtall, slender figures moving. As they drew closer, their shapes became clearer: humanoid forms, clad in black armor, fully covered, standing between six and seven feet tall.


    Both men remained perfectly still.


    A sinking realization hit Conus: his entire team was likely gone. Now, it was just him and General Garen Rivers¡ªstranded, outnumbered, without a ship or backup. He¡¯d have to rely on the very man who had made it clear he wasn¡¯t coming back. Conus didn¡¯t know what Garen was thinking, but one thing was certain: he had no choice but to trust him.

 Chapter 3

    Conus leaned toward Garen. ¡°Too bad we couldn¡¯t reach the vehicle in time,¡± he whispered.


    ¡°The vehicle?¡± Garen¡¯s eyes narrowed as he whispered back.


    ¡°The one out front,¡± Conus replied, nodding toward the cabin where the vehicle stood.


    Garen shook his head. ¡°Yeah,¡± he paused before continuing. ¡°But it wouldn¡¯t be a good idea, Taylen.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Conus asked. All he could think about was putting distance between them and the Vorcons, hoping to find safety. ¡°It would¡¯ve been a good way to lose them, find shelter.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯d make us a target. They probably have air support, and it¡¯s noisy. The heat signature alone would give us away. Besides, I left the keys inside the cabin.¡±


    ¡°Keys?¡± Conus echoed, surprised.


    ¡°Never mind,¡± Garen muttered.


    Conus¡¯s mind raced, searching for a solution. No matter what had happened, this was still his mission¡ªto bring Garen Rivers back. The best course now seemed to be sticking with the general and following his lead.


    ¡°Is there a long-range comms array at the spaceport? There has to be.¡± Conus knew little about Calio Landing, a small, unremarkable port to anyone who didn¡¯t live there.


    ¡°There is, but we¡¯re not going there,¡± Garen said firmly. ¡°I¡¯m not dragging the Vorcons anywhere near Calio Landing.¡±


    Their options were dwindling.


    ¡°I need to send for backup,¡± Conus insisted, frustration seeping through. Why doesn¡¯t he want help? I don¡¯t want to be stuck here. Conus had assumed Garen was reluctant to deal with the RDF, but it wasn¡¯t that¡ªGaren didn¡¯t want to risk the Camerians. It was as simple as that.


    If the RDF showed up now, Garen would accept their help without question¡ªif it meant ending this. But that didn¡¯t mean he wanted to go back. All he truly wanted was for this to be over, to return to the life he had grown used to. No Colonel Taylen. No Vorcons. Yet, that seemed impossible now. Tonight had set a chain of events in motion that couldn¡¯t be undone. He had nothing left to lose.


    Garen sighed. ¡°Help¡¯s too far. It¡¯s just us now, Colonel. You know what the Vorcon Empire did to the Camerians¡ªwhat state they left them in.¡±


    Conus nodded. ¡°I do.¡±


    Garen had led two task forces to liberate Calio, the Camerians'' homeworld, from the Vorcons. The first mission had failed, but the second succeeded¡ªthough the damage was done. The Vorcons had left the planet in ruins, and recovery was still far from complete. Now, many Camerians were scattered across settlements like Calio Landing. Once a unified people, they were now spread thin across the galaxy.


    ¡°We need another way,¡± Garen said.


    ¡°But won¡¯t the Camerians need our help?¡± Conus asked. The Camerians were known for their peaceful, almost carefree nature¡ªnot fighters.


    ¡°They¡¯ll be fine. They¡¯ve been attacked before and have taken precautions to protect themselves.¡± Garen turned to Conus, his expression hardening. ¡°Listen, Colonel, we have to take them out.¡± He gestured toward the four Vorcons nearing the cabin.


    ¡°We¡¯re attacking?¡± Conus asked, his gaze flicking toward the Vorcons. He had assumed they¡¯d make a run for it.


    ¡°We can¡¯t let them follow us, and we can¡¯t stay here. They killed your team, Colonel,¡± Garen said coldly. He hated it¡ªthis place had been his peace, his home. Now, two marines lay dead on his land. A wave of cold detachment washed over him, but it still didn¡¯t feel right. It all feels pointless.


    ¡°You have a plan?¡± Conus asked, tightening his grip on his blaster.


    Garen gestured toward the Vorcons, outlining a strategy. Conus wasn¡¯t entirely convinced it would work, but he was ready to follow Garen¡¯s lead.


    ¡°Seen much combat, Colonel?¡± Garen asked, briefly eyeing Conus¡¯s augmentations. He was trying to gauge how useful someone so heavily augmented might be in this scenario. Does it enhance his reaction time? Make him faster? It has to.


    ¡°Some, General,¡± Conus replied evenly. He had seen plenty of action. Since joining the RSIA, he had found himself in increasingly dangerous missions. He was a good shot and skilled in deflecting melee attacks. Normally, he felt confident. But the Vorcons unsettled him. They weren¡¯t ordinary opponents¡ªthey felt almost surreal.


    Sometimes, when we build something up in our minds, it becomes harder to overcome. We convince ourselves it can¡¯t be done. He had heard those words before, though he couldn¡¯t recall where. It was strange for someone who could remember most things in vivid detail, yet this memory, like others from a certain time, remained elusive¡ªfragmented within him.


    Conus took a deep breath, steadying himself. He glanced at Garen, whose eyes remained locked on the advancing Vorcons, unflinching.


    With the plan set, Garen nodded and adjusted his weapon¡ªa QSF-14 Fusion Blaster. It was a classic in the QSF series. Garen¡¯s version, however, had a shorter range than the standard model but packed a far stronger punch. It had been gifted to him and further modified, making it one-of-a-kind¡ªa weapon of pure lethality.


    Conus eyed the blaster in Garen¡¯s hand. Slugger, he thought, recalling the nickname it had earned. He wasn¡¯t sure if Garen ever used it himself, but judging by what he¡¯d seen, it seemed unlikely. Conus remembered cadets ranking it as "Renowned," with stories of its legendary use circulating during the long war between the Seven Worlds of Rhyus and the Vorcon Empire.


    ¡°The Vorcons won¡¯t hesitate, Colonel. We can¡¯t either. They think we¡¯re still inside¡ªwe¡¯ve got the element of surprise,¡± Garen said, .


    ¡°Understood, sir,¡±


    ¡°Flank left draw their fire. I¡¯ll take the right,¡± Garen instructed, reaffirming the plan.


    Conus nodded, ready to execute.


    The Vorcons entered the clearing further, fully visible now as they prepared to breach the cabin. Four of them, clad in their signature black armor¡ªunchanged, Garen noted.


    Conus moved along the perimeter, slipping into the shadows of the towering Otay trees. He used the thick trunks for cover, positioning himself around the clearing. Activating his barrier field, he felt the protective energy envelop him.


    The Vorcons spread out in front of the cabin, weapons raised, still convinced they had the upper hand.


    Garen took a moment to assess the situation as Conus settled into position. Three of the Vorcons carried Distortion Rifles, while the fourth had a Vorcon Displacer sniper rifle slung across their back, with a Dissolver sidearm drawn. Each had sheathed blades, and one bore a Kelkor Blade.


    Garen had faced Vorcons wielding Kelkors before. Those battles had nearly cost him his life, saved only by luck. The others carried Kords, equally lethal energy weapons. Once activated, energy fields would envelop the physical blades.


    Conus fired first, as planned, landing several hits on the Vorcons. His blaster fire¡ªsharp orange streaks¡ªcut through the night, drawing their attention. Unprepared, their shields flickered, already absorbing damage.


    With the Vorcons scrambling to return fire and focusing on Conus¡¯s position, Garen seized the moment. He opened fire from the right, his blaster unleashing bursts of orange energy tinged with static white. Each shot hit its mark, adding to the Vorcons'' confusion as they began to zero in on Conus¡¯s location. Two of them turned and fired at Garen, but they were startled, unfocused. Garen¡¯s barrier field flickered to life, absorbing the hits.


    Together, Garen and Conus strafed the Vorcons, advancing with synchronized volleys. Trapped in the clearing with no adequate cover, the Vorcons found themselves under fire from two directions. Their personal shields flared, barely holding under the relentless assault, but holding for now. For a brief moment, the Vorcons appeared completely disoriented, caught off guard by the ambush.


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    Garen landed several direct hits, but his close-range weapon wasn¡¯t effective at this distance. He tried to close in, but there was no opening. Meanwhile, Conus, equipped with a longer-range blaster, kept firing precise shots, gradually weakening the Vorcons'' shields. He took some hits as well, but the Vorcons were reeling, their shields visibly failing.


    Still, the Vorcons were relentless. It wouldn¡¯t be that easy. They regrouped quickly, and the fight devolved into a brutal exchange. The confusion that had given Garen and Conus the upper hand was gone. The Vorcons had refocused, and now the two men¡¯s shields began to flicker, holding but draining rapidly under the concentrated retaliatory fire.


    Garen¡¯s concern grew. Their shields wouldn¡¯t last much longer without a chance to recharge.


    ¡°Cover, now!¡± Garen barked.


    Both men darted to new positions, narrowly avoiding another barrage of shots. Each took a hit while moving, their barrier fields absorbing the impacts but depleting further. Hunkering down behind the thick trunks of the Otay trees, they gave their shields a brief moment to recover.


    The Vorcons scrambled for cover as well. The trees they chose weren¡¯t as thick.


    Sniper fire zipped past Garen¡¯s head, nearly hitting him.


    The clearing had turned into a battlefield. Energy blasts lit up the forest, the sudden heat clashing with the cold night air. Stray shots scorched the surrounding trees.


    Garen and Conus held on, returning fire whenever they could. They needed to press the attack. Though their accuracy suffered due to their positions, they kept the pressure on. Neither side wanted to give the other an advantage.


    As the exchange continued, the Vorcons¡¯ cover began to fail. The trees around them, weakened by Conus¡¯s fire, started to splinter and collapse.


    The Vorcons scrambled to find better positions, regrouping as they continued to return fire steadily.


    ¡°Surrender, General!¡± a deep, raspy voice cut through the chaos, the Vorcon hiss echoing in the clearing.


    ¡°I¡¯ll consider it!¡± Garen shot back, unleashing another volley. He glanced across the clearing¡ªConus was still in the fight, taking cover, his barrier holding as he fired shots at the enemy.


    Vorcon Fal Velharith, a Centurion by rank, had been tasked with leading the strike team to kill General Garen Rivers. His commander had a long history with Garen, and Fal was eager to carry out the order. His Kelkor blade remained sheathed at his side. You will die by my hands, General.


    The tree Garen had been using for cover exploded above his head after repeated fire, splinters flying as concentrated shots struck it. He rolled swiftly to another tree, barely dodging the next barrage.


    Reaching for his belt, Garen pulled out three Fractal grenades, a quick smile crossing his face.


    ¡°Taylen!¡± he shouted.


    Conus nodded in acknowledgment.


    Fractal grenades¡ªperfect for disrupting energy shields.


    Garen hurled the grenades toward the Vorcons, targeting three separate locations in rapid succession. The grenades hit the ground near their targets.


    Garen and Conus stayed behind the trees, avoiding the blast¡¯s impact as shockwaves rippled through the ground. The Vorcons¡¯ shields flickered, then collapsed under the intense energy disruption, leaving them physically stunned.


    ¡°Move!¡± Garen shouted.


    Both men sprang to their feet, advancing with a barrage of fire. The grenades had shattered the Vorcons'' shields, leaving them disoriented. Though they still gripped their weapons, their aim was wild and unfocused.


    Garen moved in closer, each shot finding its mark. The nearer he got, the more powerful his blaster became, tearing through the weakened armor. He took down one Vorcon, leaving a smoldering hole in its chest.


    Conus followed, his shots just as precise. Aiming for vital points, he quickly took down another, his blaster cutting clean through the failing armor.


    With a final burst, Conus locked onto the next Vorcon. His aim was steady, and with a series of sharp, precise shots, he overwhelmed the opponent. The Vorcon¡¯s armor crumbled under the intense fire.


    As the last Vorcon fell, leaving Fal alone, the Centurion staggered, unsheathing his Kelkor blade with a defiant yell. Garen didn¡¯t hesitate. He aimed directly at Fal and fired a clean shot, hitting him square in the face. The blaster surged with extra energy¡ªa quirk of Garen¡¯s modified weapon. Fal¡¯s Kelkor blade slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground as his body crumpled, his shattered helmet exposing raw flesh.


    Silence fell, broken only by the crackling of burning trees. The bodies of the fallen Vorcons lay scattered near the marines¡ªa small measure of justice.


    As the battle''s sounds faded, Garen and Conus stood amid the wreckage, their breathing ragged. The Vorcons¡¯ pale, cold skin peeked through the charred remains of their shattered armor, their bone-like fingers still gripping their weapons.


    Conus holstered his blaster and pulled a scanner from his belt. As he scanned the area, a reading appeared. ¡°Two more!¡± he shouted to Garen.


    Before Garen could respond, two larger Vorcons emerged, advancing with Plasmord blades drawn. These bruisers were taller, bulkier than the previous attackers¡ªdesigned for brute strength and unwavering obedience. They grunted as they charged forward, their massive forms crashing through the underbrush.


    Conus activated his forearm shield just in time to block the first bruiser¡¯s strike. The kite-shaped energy shield flickered to life, absorbing the force of the oversized Plasmord blade. Sparks flew as energy clashed, the impact nearly knocking Conus off balance. He searched for an opening, reaching for his blaster, but staying on his feet was a challenge. Each strike from the bruiser hit harder than the last.


    Meanwhile, Garen activated his Heater Projection shield, deflecting the bruiser¡¯s blows. But his shield, not fully charged, was already faltering. He knew he couldn¡¯t rely on it for long. Dodging and weaving to avoid further attacks, Garen¡¯s shield gave out completely after blocking another hit, leaving only his barrier field, which was rapidly depleting under the relentless assault.


    Garen¡¯s barrier flickered as blow after blow rained down from the Plasmord blade. It wouldn¡¯t hold much longer. With one final strike, the barrier flickered out, leaving Garen fully exposed.


    The bruiser swung again, but Garen rolled just in time, the blade missing by inches. The force would have been lethal. As he rolled, Garen snatched the Kelkor blade from Fal¡¯s fallen body and ignited it. The weapon hummed with raw, violent energy, its low frequency unsettling.


    Barely braced, Garen met the bruiser¡¯s next strike. The two blades clashed violently. Matching the bruiser¡¯s strength was impossible. Each blow grew heavier, forcing Garen to deflect and dodge, sweat trickling down his face as the relentless attacks drove him back. The bruiser¡¯s massive form seemed unstoppable. Garen ducked under another heavy swing, the blade crackling through the air.


    Nearby, Conus was locked in his own battle. Each hit from the Vorcon reverberated through his forearm shield, rattling his bones. He tried to counter, but the bruiser pressed hard, leaving no room for error. Conus managed to fire a few shots, but the Vorcon¡¯s armor absorbed most of the hits. One shot landed solidly, but the bruiser¡¯s shield took the full impact. Conus was holding his ground, but the bruiser showed no signs of slowing.


    The clash of blades echoed through the clearing. Arcs of energy lit up the night, filling the air with raw power. Garen found himself backed against a burning tree, the heat searing behind him. The bruiser swung again, but Garen dodged. The Vorcon staggered over debris, giving Garen an opening.


    ¡°Come on, you big goof,¡± Garen muttered.


    Garen slashed the Vorcon¡¯s leg with the Kelkor and followed up with a clean strike to the neck. The  collapsed .


    Across the clearing, Conus was struggling. The bruiser had gained the upper hand, knocking him to the ground. He barely managed to block a few more blows as his forearm projection shield flickered and then failed. With a roar, the bruiser raised his sword for a killing strike.


    The blade came down, but Conus rolled aside just in time, the weapon burying itself in the dirt. His shield and barrier were both depleted¡ªhe was completely exposed.


    Garen sprinted toward him, his breath ragged. The Vorcon raised his blade again, ready to deliver the final blow. Kelkor in one hand, blaster in the other, Garen fired rapidly. The bruiser¡¯s shield absorbed the shots, but its energy was nearly drained.


    The bruiser turned, swinging his massive sword at Garen. He parried with the Kelkor, their weapons clashing violently. They traded blows, each strike ringing out through the clearing. Conus, now back on his feet, fired at the bruiser¡¯s exposed back. The Vorcon¡¯s shield finally gave out, its blue glow fading to nothing. Disoriented, the bruiser hesitated.


    Garen didn¡¯t. He drove the Kelkor into the Vorcon¡¯s stomach and twisted, his face tight with anger. The bruiser collapsed, blood pooling beneath his frame.


    But Garen wasn¡¯t finished. Adrenaline still surging, he fired one more shot into the fallen bruiser, point-blank, leaving a smoking hole beside the embedded Kelkor blade.


    Deactivating the blade, Garen tossed it aside and helped Conus to his feet.


    ¡°You alright?¡± Garen¡¯s voice was hoarse, strained from the intensity of the fight.


    ¡°Yeah, sir,¡± Conus replied, still catching his breath but steady.


    For a moment, both men stood in silence, surrounded by the wreckage. Battle debris lay scattered, with smoldering trees lining the clearing. Conus moved toward the bodies of the fallen marines.


    ¡°This is all on me,¡± he whispered to himself, barely audible.


    Garen shook his head at the state of it all.


    ¡°Our intel didn¡¯t pick up any threat here. This wasn¡¯t supposed to happen. I don¡¯t know how they slipped in undetected,¡± Conus said, looking to Garen, feeling the weight of responsibility.


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be the first time our intel¡¯s been off,¡± Garen replied.


    Conus nodded. ¡°Is there a ship we can use nearby?¡± His hope was fading, but he had to ask. It didn¡¯t seem likely.


    Garen sighed, frustration clear on his face. ¡°No.¡± He paused, reconsidering. Maybe...


    He looked at his home one last time.


    ¡°It¡¯s time to leave,¡± he said, casting a lingering glance at the cabin.


    Smoke curled from the smoldering trees around the clearing.


    ¡°Good thing it¡¯s going to rain tomorrow,¡± Garen muttered.


    Without another word, Conus followed him into the forest, unsure where the general was taking them.

 Chapter 4

    Chapter 4.


    Garen and Conus pressed through the thick forest, not having stopped since they left Garen¡¯s cabin. The air was dense with the scent of damp moss, decaying leaves, and the rich, earthy musk of the soil. Occasionally, vines snagged their clothing as they moved, while moisture clung to their skin. Their breaths grew heavier in the biting cold.


    Low-hanging branches forced them to duck or push their way through at times. Every so often, the snap of a twig or the rustle of leaves made them pause, subtle movements of unseen creatures, stalking from a distance. The ancient trees towered above them, their trunks thick, with roots burrowing deep into the soil. The forest felt still, Garen knew better¡ªsomething was always watching in the woods. On a planet like Chiex, the wild thrived unchecked.


    Garen led the way. He guided them through clusters of smaller trees, over rolling hills, and across stretches of slick, clinging muck, his eyes scanning their surroundings, noting every slope in the land. His mind raced, calculating the quickest route to cover.


    Though the sky was still dark, the first hints of dawn began to creep in, though the sun had yet to rise. They had covered significant ground since leaving Garen¡¯s cabin. By this point in their journey, the once-dense Otay trees were thinning. Fading beams of moonlight blended with the softening of morning light.


    Conus followed in silence.


    Garen hadn¡¯t spoken much since they¡¯d left the cabin, maintaining a steady pace through the woods. He paused only occasionally to check their path, clearly familiar with the route.


    Conus scanned the dark with the aid of his augmented right eye, equipped with night vision¡ªa feature he had possessed for as long as he could remember.


    He was impressed that Garen navigated the terrain even in areas that were pitch black. Even when Garen stumbled, he quickly regained his balance, moving as if the darkness didn¡¯t hinder him at all. Curious, Conus closed his right eye, relying only on his natural vision.


    I can¡¯t see a thing, he thought, trying to compare his sight to what Garen might be seeing.


    ¡°You spend much time in these woods at night?¡± Conus asked, breaking the long silence.


    ¡°Plenty,¡± Garen replied, his tone clipped.


    ¡°What do you do out here?¡± Conus pressed.


    ¡°Hunting.¡± Garen said.


    Garen had done his share of hunting in the woods of Chiex¡ªand more than once, he¡¯d nearly become the hunted. The planet¡¯s wildlife was abundant across its continents, each with its own harsh, unforgiving nature.


    ¡°Stay alert. Chiex has creatures you might not even see coming.¡± Garen warned.


    Garen enjoyed exploring the planet, discovering buried remnants of its past. Someone had lived on Chiex long ago¡ªthere was evidence of that, scattered and hidden beneath the surface.


    Conus scanned the trees around them. ¡°What do you hunt?¡±


    ¡°Depends on the season,¡± Garen replied.


    A loud screech echoed through the forest as a large bird with wide wings soared above a clearing.


    ¡°What do you call that?¡± Conus asked.


    Garen glanced up. Everything in these woods had names he¡¯d come up with. Whenever he encountered a new creature on Chiex, he named it.


    ¡°Trellow.¡±


    ¡°Trellow,¡± Conus repeated, letting the name settle in.


    He was still surprised they had survived the Vorcon attack. That Vorcon Bruiser had him¡ªif not for Garen, he¡¯d be lying in the ground with the rest of his team.


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    But there was something different in the way Garen fought. That final shot into the already fallen Vorcon... His anger had been unmistakable. Was it the war? Or the bitterness surrounding his retirement from the RDF and everything that had led to it?


    Has he always been like this?


    It¡¯s wise to remember, stories of heroes never fully held true.


    Conus knew what it was like to lose everything¡ªhe had lost everything.


    But which was worse? To remember what you had lost and be haunted by those memories day after day? Or to forget entirely and struggle to reclaim fragments of a past that felt distant and foreign? And what if, after remembering, you found that those memories were better left buried? Sometimes, it was easier to wonder and search than to uncover truths far harder to accept.


    Garen paused, pulling back his sleeve to reveal a jagged scar on his forearm. ¡°Got this from a Yobrel,¡± he said, his voice tightening.


    ¡°What¡¯s a Yobrel?¡± Conus asked, assuming it was a battle scar.


    ¡°It¡¯s a two-legged predator¡ªand vicious,¡± Garen replied.


    As they continued forward, Conus took a deep breath, inhaling the forest¡¯s rich, earthy scent. ¡°That fragrance is nice,¡± he remarked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t breathe it in too much,¡± Garen cautioned, pointing to a bright teal plant hidden in the underbrush nearby. ¡°Up close, that plant releases a toxin. It lures you in, but it¡¯s deadly.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s it called?¡± Conus asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Garen said. ¡°I don¡¯t name plants.¡± He kept walking.


    ¡°You know, General Rivers, that was quite a display back there.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Garen said, his tone flat, offering no further comment.


    As they trudged through another stretch of thick underbrush, Garen¡¯s mind drifted back to the fight with the Vorcons. He thought about how Conus had handled himself. The man was a good shot¡ªno denying that. Precise, methodical.


    Garen had seen plenty of soldiers in his time, and Conus had that calm, focused demeanor. But there was something else¡ªsomething that didn¡¯t sit right with Garen.


    He¡¯d sized up Conus¡¯s augments, was he holding back? Garen couldn¡¯t quite place it, but it nagged at him. He¡¯d met countless fighters over the years, he didn¡¯t sense dishonesty in Conus. Still, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that Conus was capable of more.


    An effective general knew how to get the best from his crew, recognizing both their potential and their demons. In war, it was all about results.


    ¡°Can I ask you a question, General?¡± Conus spoke up after a moment.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Garen replied.


    ¡°Where¡¯s your Scalar Falcata?¡± Conus asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s on your mind?¡± Garen let out a quick, sharp laugh.


    ¡°Just curious,¡± Conus admitted.


    ¡°I left it with someone when I left the Seven Worlds,¡± Garen said quietly.


    The realization that he had no control over his destiny weighed on him. He could steer it, but sometimes, something else took over.


    Conus hesitated, then asked, ¡°General, where exactly are we heading?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s someone not too far from here. An old friend.¡±


    Garen¡¯s thoughts drifted to Amar.


    Was working with Conus part of Amar¡¯s plan? Was he already on the mission? Garen had known Amar long enough to understand that nothing was ever a coincidence. Whatever was happening now, Amar had likely set it in motion, and whether Garen liked it or not, he was already involved.


    What Garen didn¡¯t know was that Admiral Amar Lavont had left the Rhyus Defense Fleet and now commanded the Rhyus Strategic Intelligence Agency, wielding considerable power, with vast resources and personnel under his control.


    ¡°And will your old friend help us?¡± Conus asked, searching for reassurance.


    ¡°He¡¯ll do what he can,¡± Garen replied.


    They halted when Conus tilted his head, listening. ¡°I hear a ship.¡±


    Garen stopped in his tracks. The sound grew louder, and they caught sight of a distant Vorcon ship through the sky, barely visible through the thick canopy overhead.


    Garen squinted. ¡°Looks like a troop transport.¡±


    The ship passed on, its sound fading into the distance.


    They had walked all night, and this was the first ship they¡¯d seen or heard. Garen¡¯s hand tightened on his blaster. Are they waiting?


    ¡°So, where¡¯s home for you, Colonel?¡± Garen asked.


    Conus hesitated. It was complicated. ¡°My parents were traders.¡±


    ¡°Born on the ship?¡± Garen asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Conus replied, though he wasn¡¯t entirely sure if that was the truth. ¡°Near the Enyo Dorez system.¡±


    At least, that¡¯s what he¡¯d been told¡ªdetails were always scarce and vague.


    ¡°Spent your childhood there?¡± Garen pressed.


    ¡°Until I was ten,¡± he said ¡°Then I went to live on Cresnor.¡±


    Cresnor, a planet within the Seven Worlds of Rhyus.


    ¡°Sounds like you¡¯ve always been on the move,¡± Garen observed. ¡°Must¡¯ve been dangerous. I imagine you had a lot of run-ins with raiders.¡±


    ¡°We had our moments,¡± Conus said, his thoughts drifting back. He could recall flashes of danger¡ªimages, feelings¡ªbut piecing together anything concrete was impossible. His memories were fragments, buried deep in his mind¡ªaccessible at random, but never whole. But the raiders... I remember them.


    Eventually, they emerged into a clearing. At its center stood a dilapidated house, its presence almost surreal. The structure had rotting wooden walls and patches of rusted alloy roofing barely clinging on.


    Conus stared at the structure. This is where his old friend lives? he thought. What a dump.


    Mechanical debris littered the ground around the house¡ªparts and components from old ships and vehicles lay strewn about.


    Reaching the rusted, peeling door, Garen knocked firmly. The sound echoed through the stillness.

 Chapter 5

    <h3 align="left">Chapter 5


    Garen and Conus stood in silence after knocking on the rusted, peeling door of the rundown house. The knock echoed through the clearing they had just emerged from. A security camera above the door tracked their movements as they scanned the tree line and sky, finding no signs of hostiles. Though the sun had fully risen, its light was already fading behind the gathering clouds.


    The clearing, more exposed than the dense woods surrounding Garen¡¯s cabin, was overgrown with wild grass and scattered debris. In the distance, the faint roar of a waterfall echoed.


    Behind the cabin, the land sloped sharply toward a cliff''s edge. Beyond that, mountains stretched out, their rounded peaks blanketed in thick forest. The clearing felt exposed, vulnerable.


    Garen knocked again. Where are you? Has something happened? Is there danger at Calio Landing?


    Through his augmented eye, Conus spotted more cameras hidden among the debris. Why all the security?


    Moments later, footsteps sounded from within, followed by the clatter of locks turning. The door creaked open with a long, drawn-out squeak.


    Klamarez appeared in the doorway, his light-green pupils dilating as he took in Garen and Conus. Dressed in faded blue coveralls with brown straps and a utility belt full of tools, a compact sidearm was holstered at his hip. His fur was a blend of brown, white, and subtle orange.


    ¡°Quick, get in!¡± he urged, his pointed ears twitching as he scanned the clearing behind them.


    Garen and Conus stepped inside without hesitation as Klamarez locked the door behind them. The interior was cluttered with components and half-assembled gadgets. Klamarez¡¯s gaze lingered on Conus¡¯s RDF uniform, briefly noting the insignia of his rank and the augments that covered much of him, but his attention shifted to more pressing matters.


    ¡°Garen, why is the RDF here?¡± Klamarez asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.


    His gaze settled on Conus, who offered an awkward smile under the scrutiny.


    ¡°They came looking for me,¡± Garen replied simply.


    ¡°They?¡± Klamarez¡¯s ears twitched. ¡°You¡¯re saying there¡¯s more?¡±


    ¡°There was,¡± Garen said.


    Klamarez nodded slowly, the realization sinking in. His ears lowered, and his eyes narrowed. Can¡¯t we ever have peace? This kind of trouble was the last thing he¡¯d expected on this remote world.


    He exhaled deeply. ¡°Last night, I detected signals from an RDF ship, followed by three Vorcon transports.¡±


    ¡°Three?¡± Conus couldn¡¯t hide his disbelief. How did we miss it? He was in command. The failure was his. ¡°We didn¡¯t detect any ships on our approach,¡± he admitted.


    ¡°They came in from the far side of the planet, staying low until they neared your landing site. Their signatures were masked¡ªdetectable, but only if you knew what to look for. It¡¯s an old trick,¡± Klamarez said, his tone almost instructional. Suddenly, memories of the Grand Vorcon Imperial Force flashed through his mind¡ªships blotting out the skies of his homeworld.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t intend for this,¡± Conus said. The failure to spot the ships nagged at the back of his mind. They died because I missed it.


    ¡°I get it,¡± Klamarez replied, his tone softening before frustration returned. ¡°But make no mistake¡ªwe don¡¯t want the RDF here either.¡± He shook his head.


    Conus raised his brows, genuinely puzzled. ¡°Why not? The RDF liberated your homeworld,¡± he asked, his tone more curious than accusatory.


    Garen rubbed the back of his neck, well aware of Klamarez¡¯s strong feelings on the subject.


    Klamarez didn¡¯t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on Conus, unreadable. Young and na?ve, he thought. The Seven Worlds fill their heads with tales of heroics, but the struggle doesn¡¯t end when the battle is won. When the day is saved.


    Turning back to Garen, Klamarez asked, ¡°What exactly happened? Did they come for you? The Vorcons?¡±


    Garen detailed everything: Conus¡¯s unexpected arrival, the marines'' deaths, the RDF transport¡¯s destruction, and the brutal encounter with the Vorcon soldiers.


    As the story unfolded, Klamarez felt a long-buried fear stir within him, one he hadn¡¯t felt in years. His ears twitched involuntarily. ¡°It¡¯s worse than I thought.¡±


    The gravity of the situation deepened. Could this remote world of Chiex suddenly be the spark of a new conflict between the Seven Worlds and the Vorcon Empire? He dreaded what might come next.


    ¡°Is Calio Landing secure?¡± Garen asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Klamarez replied. ¡°The settlement¡¯s on lockdown, and as far as I know, everyone from the outskirts has already made it there. The shield is fully operational.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear,¡± Garen said, feeling a brief sense of relief.


    ¡°I tried to warn you too, Garen, but you never answered,¡± Klamarez added.


    ¡°I got the message, but it was garbled. I was going to bring it to you to fix. It¡¯s been acting up again,¡± Garen said, then let out a quick, hollow laugh. ¡°Not that it matters much now.¡± His expression betrayed anything but amusement.


    With the discussion of communication still lingering, Conus saw an opportunity.


    Conus turned to Klamarez. ¡°Do you know of any way to send out a long-range communication?¡±


    "Only from Calio Landing, but it''s too risky," Klamarez replied. "Going there would put the settlement in danger."


    "We could relay a message from here," Conus suggested.


    Garen shot him a sharp look. "We¡¯ve been over this. And if there are at least three troop transports, I¡¯d bet there''s a bigger ship out there. They¡¯d pick up the signal."


    Klamarez nodded in agreement. "We can''t risk involving the settlement."


    Conus absorbed their words. His gaze drifted around Klamarez''s home. From the outside, it looked like it could collapse at any moment, but the inside had reinforced walls, braced structures, crammed with tech, wires, and half-assembled gadgets. His augmented eye flickered, identifying tech from dozens of worlds scattered across every surface.


    Conus couldn¡¯t fathom how anyone could live or work in such disarray.


    "If you don¡¯t check in on time, Colonel, protocol says they¡¯ll send someone to look for you," Garen said, breaking the silence.


    "That¡¯s true," Conus replied. He wasn¡¯t convinced anyone would be looking for him anytime soon. The RDF didn¡¯t even know about the mission, and the RSIA was already stretched thin with multiple operations. No one was coming¡ªnot anytime soon.


    Garen shifted, concern edging into his voice. "Why didn¡¯t you head for the spaceport when you saw the ships?" he asked Klamarez.


    Klamarez sighed, his ears twitching slightly. "I had a feeling you''d show up here. I knew it had something to do with you. Don¡¯t take it the wrong way, Garen¡ªI¡¯m not blaming you."


    I should¡¯ve picked somewhere more isolated, Garen thought. "Thanks for taking us in, even with the risk," he said, his thoughts drifting to the Camerians at Calio Landing. Absentmindedly, he scratched his beard. "The shields¡ªthey¡¯ll hold, right?"


    "They¡¯ll hold," Klamarez assured him.


    Curiosity got the better of Conus. "What exactly do you do at Calio Landing? Did you build the shields?" he asked.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Garen sighed quietly. Here we go. He knew Klamarez well enough to expect a long explanation whenever his work came up.


    Klamarez¡¯s face brightened, his fangs briefly visible as he smiled. "What don¡¯t I do?" he said with a grin. "One of my first major jobs was setting up sensors in the mountains. The view from up there? Absolutely breathtaking."


    "Sensors for orbital traffic?" Conus asked, intrigued.


    "Exactly," Klamarez nodded. "They link up with an orbital satellite and send signals straight to the spaceport. Early warnings, so we know when ships are inbound."


    "That¡¯s impressive," Conus said, leaning in with interest.


    Klamarez¡¯s grin widened. "I thought so too. I even routed the signals here so I can keep an eye on things myself. Perks of building the system."


    "No one can trace that signal back to you?" Conus asked, narrowing his eyes.


    "Like the Vorcons?" Klamarez smirked. "Not a chance. It¡¯s encrypted."


    ¡°So you track all incoming traffic?¡± Conus asked, glancing around. Where are the computer systems? he wondered.


    "Exactly, Some might call it nosy, but I prefer to stay informed. If a trade ship¡¯s coming in, I like to have the first look at whatever they¡¯re hauling. And if something breaks down? Even better¡ªI can trade repairs for the parts I need." He leaned back. "I handle upgrades, repairs, general maintenance at the spaceport. You name it. I¡¯m not officially on the payroll¡ªjust contract work. I leave the small stuff to others. When something big needs fixing, they call me."


    "And it pays well?" Conus asked.


    Klamarez smiled, nodding. "Oh, it pays well enough, but I¡¯m probably too fair for my own good. Most of what I earn goes right back into parts. Still, every now and then, I splurge a little," he said with a chuckle, patting his belly. "Calio Landing always has something that needs fixing, so I stay busy."


    "What about the shield generator?" Conus inquired.


    Garen rubbed the back of his neck, already sensing where the conversation was headed. "Let¡¯s not get too deep into this..."


    But Klamarez''s eyes lit up. "Ah, the shield generator! That was a major project¡ªone of my proudest. Getting all the parts together wasn¡¯t easy, but I managed. Calio Landing isn¡¯t just a spaceport; it¡¯s the heart of the Camerian community here on Chiex."


    "I can see why you¡¯d be proud of it," Conus said.


    Klamarez nodded. "When trouble comes, everyone heads to the spaceport. We¡¯ve had raiders pass through before¡ªnothing too serious, thankfully. But with the underground bunker and the shield system up and running, as long as we¡¯ve got power, we can hold off orbital bombardments and ground assaults."


    His voice trailed off, his expression darkening as memories of his homeworld surfaced. If only we had a shield like that back then.


    Garen, growing impatient, interrupted. "Now¡¯s really not the time for this, Klamarez."


    "Oh." Klamarez snapped back to the present.


    "Sorry, General," Conus quickly apologized.


    "General?" Klamarez tilted his head slightly.


    "I need your help," Garen admitted, his voice heavy.


    Klamarez exhaled deeply. "I''ll help however I can. We need a plan. You both can stay here for now."


    "Thanks, Klamarez. But I didn¡¯t come here to hide."


    Klamarez¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing there was more to Garen''s words. What¡¯s he really after?


    Without a word, Klamarez led them through the cluttered space to a small kitchen. As they moved aside scattered equipment, he busied himself with his overly complex coffee setup¡ªtubes, vats, and pots far too elaborate for simple brewing. Soon, the inviting scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air.


    ¡°Smells great,¡± Garen remarked.


    Finally, mugs of steaming coffee were placed before them.


    ¡°I never thought they¡¯d come after me directly,¡± Garen said, disbelief edging his voice. Why now? And why just as the RDF showed up?


    Klamarez¡¯s expression tightened. ¡°Targeting a retired general is concerning. Makes you wonder¡ªwhat else are they willing to do? Could this be happening elsewhere?¡± His mind raced with possibilities. His dealings with the Vorcons had shown just how ruthless they could be.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to say,¡± Garen replied, his voice heavy. ¡°But I¡¯ve got a feeling this is just the beginning.¡±


    Conus nodded grimly. ¡°Reports say the Vorcon Empire has fully rebuilt the GVIF.¡±


    ¡°And we let it happen,¡± Garen muttered bitterly.


    ¡°They must¡¯ve figured out where you were,¡± Conus noted.


    ¡°Plenty knew I was on Chiex,¡± Garen admitted.


    Klamarez tilted his head, curiosity piqued. ¡°What does Admiral Lavont want? Are you thinking about going back to the fleet?¡± He remembered Garen¡¯s drunken vows never to return. The irony of the situation wasn¡¯t lost on him.


    Garen gave a faint smile. ¡°No, I¡¯m not going back to the fleet. That hasn¡¯t changed. But I can¡¯t ignore this threat. They came for me here, of all places. Staying puts this world at risk. I need to draw the Vorcons away from Chiex. And for that, I need a ship.¡± His gaze fixed on Klamarez.


    Klamarez stood, his hand tightening around his mug, claws extending slightly. ¡°You¡¯re not seriously thinking about using my ship, are you? It¡¯s nowhere near ready.¡±


    Conus, intrigued, interrupted. ¡°Wait, you have a ship? What kind?¡± But his question went ignored.


    ¡°I¡¯m running out of options, Klamarez,¡± Garen said calmly.


    ¡°Even so, the ship¡¯s not ready. Not even close. I can¡¯t¡ªI¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± Garen said calmly.


    Klamarez dropped back into his chair with a long exhale.


    Conus, still curious, repeated, ¡°What kind of ship?¡±


    Garen shot him a look that silenced any further questions.


    They sat in uneasy silence for a moment, sipping their coffee.


    With a heavy sigh, Klamarez leaned back. ¡°Look, Garen, it¡¯s not that I don¡¯t want to help. I¡¯d lend you the ship if I could, but¡­¡± He hesitated before continuing, ¡°I owe the Vanicktus Syndicate a lot of money for the shield parts.¡±


    Garen was caught off guard. "Klamarez..." he said softly, concern creeping into his voice.


    Klamarez, sensing the need to explain, continued. ¡°You know how it is out here. Resources are scarce, and the Syndicate was my only option for getting what I needed. Those materials were crucial for the shield at Calio Landing."


    "How much do you owe?" Garen asked, concern clear in his tone.


    Klamarez hesitated, then sighed. "A lot. Selling the ship might be my only way out. If the Syndicate finds out, they¡¯ll try to claim it. But in its current state, it wouldn¡¯t even cover my debt unless I finish it. I never built it for this... but that¡¯s the reality now."


    Garen shook his head, understanding the weight of the situation. "Dealing with the Vanicktus Syndicate is always a gamble. They¡¯re ruthless."


    "I know," Klamarez said, his expression darkening.


    Conus leaned back, absorbing the conversation. The RSIA kept tabs on the Syndicate¡¯s operations, and he¡¯d heard stories¡ªnone of them reassuring.


    ¡°I needed those shield parts and was falling behind on the contract. I felt cornered, with no other choice,¡± Klamarez admitted.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Klamarez. I didn¡¯t realize how deep this went for you.¡± Garen paused, then added, ¡°But we still need a way out. The safety of many is at risk¡ªit¡¯s not just about me.¡±


    Klamarez exhaled again, his mind slipping into deep contemplation.


    Garen turned to Conus. "Any ideas, Colonel?"


    Conus leaned forward, undeterred. "What if we hijack a Vorcon cruiser? We need a ship."


    Garen raised an eyebrow, half-skeptical, half-intrigued. ¡°You¡¯re serious about this?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve looked at the parts lying around,¡± Conus continued. ¡°I think I can build an explosive strong enough to disable a group of Vorcons. If we lure one of their ships to a location and get them to chase us on the ground, we could potentially take control. All we need is to lead them into a trap and let the explosive do its job.¡±


    Garen considered the risks. ¡°It¡¯s risky,¡± he admitted. The longer they waited, the more aggressive the Vorcons would become. Doing nothing wasn¡¯t an option, though this plan seemed reckless with their limited resources. Still, in situations like this, brainstorming was essential, even if the plan wasn¡¯t ideal.


    As Garen and Conus discussed the details, Klamarez, after a moment of thought, rejoined the conversation. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking¡­ Taking my ship might actually be our best¡ªmaybe our only¡ªreal option,¡± he said, surprising them both. ¡°After weighing the risks, I can¡¯t just stand by while Calio Landing is in danger. Like you said, we need to draw the Vorcons away from Chiex. I¡¯m ready to help make that happen.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure this is the path you want to take?¡± Garen asked.


    Klamarez nodded firmly. ¡°The well-being of others far outweighs my personal debt. I know what needs to be done. If something happens to the settlement and I could¡¯ve stopped it¡­ I couldn¡¯t live with myself.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Klamarez. I don¡¯t want to put you at risk,¡± Garen said.


    Klamarez stood, his voice steady. ¡°I¡¯ve faced danger before. But you should know¡ªthe ship isn¡¯t perfect. Not all systems are operational, but I¡¯ll get her flight-ready. Just enough to get us off Chiex and through a rift. She¡¯s capable enough.¡±


    Garen raised an eyebrow again, this time half-serious, half-amused. ¡°I¡¯ll pilot her, but just to be clear¡ªare we sure she¡¯ll actually take off?¡±


    Klamarez gave a confident nod.


    Conus, more concerned, asked, ¡°What exactly does ¡®capable enough¡¯ mean?¡±


    With a grin, the tips of his fangs visible, Klamarez¡¯s ears twitched. ¡°It means a few tweaks here and there, nothing major. She¡¯ll work for what we need.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not ideal,¡± Garen admitted, ¡°but we¡¯ve got a fighting chance.¡±


    A familiar surge of excitement flickered inside him. It had been too long since he¡¯d been in space, and the thought of flying again stirred something deep within.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the ship?¡± Conus asked, still uncertain.


    Klamarez pointed to the floor beneath them. Conus, using his augmented eye, detected the outline of a hidden door embedded in the flooring.

 Chapter 6

    Chapter 6.


    The scent of coffee lingered in the air, half-empty mugs abandoned on the table. Garen, Conus, and Klamarez stood around, their attention fixed on the spot Klamarez had pointed out moments earlier. At first glance, the floor looked no different from the rest of the room, blending seamlessly.


    Conus had thought Klamarez was joking¡ªuntil his augmented eye caught the faint outline of a square hatch beneath the surface. How did I miss this?


    His augments hadn¡¯t just restored his abilities; they¡¯d enhanced them. But sometimes, Conus questioned their true purpose.


    Klamarez knelt, claws extending as he slid his fingers under the seam and lifted the panel.


    ¡°Where does this lead?¡± Conus asked. ¡°A cave?¡±


    Klamarez chuckled and glanced at Garen, who responded with a short laugh. With the floor panel removed, a dark, marbled hatch was revealed. No visible lock¡ªjust a lever. Klamarez pulled out his PDA, activated a command, and a heavy click echoed through the room as the locks disengaged. A low, rolling sound followed as the hatch loosened.


    ¡°Is that Rinorite?¡± Conus asked, his eyes scanning the material.


    ¡°Ever seen it before?¡± His curiosity hard to miss.


    ¡°No, never thought I would.¡± Conus tilted his head. Rinorite was rare¡ªhighly prized for its strength.


    ¡°Not many do,¡± Garen said, shifting the topic. ¡°I remember when you started putting the ship together. Wasn¡¯t long after I arrived, right?¡±


    ¡°eemed impossible back then,¡± Klamarez replied.


    Klamarez had never expected Garen to stay on Chiex this long. There were times he¡¯d seen Garen think about leaving, but somehow, he¡¯d stuck around¡ªalmost as if he was waiting, outlasting them all until they finally came back, asking for his help. If they¡¯d asked nine years ago, would he have gone? Klamarez wondered.


    Now Garen¡¯s time on Chiex was ending. The thought unsettled Klamarez. What does this mean for me? We¡¯re heading to Rhyus, aren¡¯t we? His stomach tightened. What have I agreed to?


    Klamarez gripped the lever and pulled. The metal creaked as the hatch opened. Garen descended first, followed by Conus. The ladder led into a narrow, square tunnel. Once they reached the bottom, the hatch clicked shut, the locks sliding back into place.


    They stood in a small, well-lit chamber with a single door ahead. Klamarez stepped off the ladder, pulled out his PDA, and entered a few commands. A series of sharp clicks echoed as the locks disengaged. He pocketed the device and yanked the lever, swinging the door open. Once inside, he sealed it behind them.


    The hallway was cluttered but organized, lined with shelves packed with spare parts, gears, and wiring. Despite the cramped space, everything had its place.


    As they moved deeper, the corridor split at an intersection. Conus slowed, drawn to the half-finished projects scattered around. A partially built Synthetic caught his eye¡ªa red frame, missing legs, its eyes narrow and lifeless.


    ¡°That¡¯s an Assault model,¡± Conus said, inspecting the Synthetic. ¡°A Render.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been working on it for a while,¡± Klamarez replied. ¡°Still need a few components¡ªan interface module, a couple of power cells. Legs.¡±


    Garen stepped closer, eyeing the scattered parts. ¡°Too bad it¡¯s not operational,¡± he said dryly. ¡°Could¡¯ve given us a hand¡ªassuming it¡¯s been reprogrammed.¡± He paused, his thoughts drifting. ¡°The Kyther.¡±


    Before the Vorcon Empire, the Seven Worlds fought the Kyther of the Kohamus System, who had built a Synthetic army. The Kyther accomplished what others couldn¡¯t¡ªthey set foot on Rhyus itself. Yet, in the end, Rhyus¡¯s victory displayed the full might of its Defense Fleet, leaving no doubt about their power. That  cemented Rhyus¡¯s dominance in the region. Ironically, years later, the Kyther and the Seven Worlds became close allies.


    ¡°Tell him where you got it,¡± Garen said with a sharp laugh, catching Conus off guard.


    Klamarez grinned, his right fang showing. ¡°Won him in a game of cards. Been collecting parts ever since.¡±


    ¡°Too bad you didn¡¯t win the bottom half,¡± Conus quipped with a smirk, letting out an awkward chuckle.


    Klamarez shrugged. ¡°Lost that hand.¡±


    As they continued, the bunker opened into a larger complex. Hallways branched off into a living area, a small nook with security monitors, a communications terminal, and a lounge. The entire facility ran on its own independent power supply.


    Conus¡¯s eyes landed on the communications console. ¡°Can I use this to try and reach my team?¡± he asked, a hint of hope in his voice.


    ¡°If Klamarez doesn¡¯t mind, go ahead,¡± Garen said quietly.


    Klamarez nodded, leading Conus to the console. Conus entered the necessary information. Silence followed.


    ¡°Did you check for signals on your RemLink? Assuming they were synced for the mission?¡± Garen asked.


    Conus paused, then shook his head. ¡°No.¡± He pulled out his RemLink and scanned it. All the signals had ceased at the same time¡ªthe moment of the explosions. Confirming what he had already suspected.


    Klamarez moved around the room, gathering parts and packing a suitcase.


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    ¡°So, you live down here? Not on the surface?¡± Conus asked, though he already knew the answer.


    Klamarez gave a brief smile. ¡°I¡¯d rather no one knew about this place. Don¡¯t tell anyone.¡±


    ¡°Did you build all this yourself?¡± Conus pressed.


    ¡°I wish,¡± Klamarez replied. ¡°No, I found it while scouting Chiex as a potential settlement.¡±


    A group of Camerians had hired Klamarez to find them a new home. After scouting several planets, he recommended Chiex, following Garen¡¯s suggestion.


    ¡°So, you just stumbled across this bunker?¡± Conus asked, still skeptical.


    ¡°Yeah. Pretty lucky, right?¡±


    ¡°The bunker¡¯s about 250 years old, according to the memory banks. The rest is encrypted,¡± Garen added. He had often wondered who had built it¡ªand what they had been searching for.


    ¡°Whoever built it knew what they were doing,¡± Klamarez said, running his hand along the wall. ¡°It¡¯s pure Rinorite.¡±


    ¡°The entire bunker?¡± Conus asked.


    Klamarez nodded.


    ¡°I could try decrypting those memory banks,¡± Conus offered.


    ¡°No need,¡± Klamarez replied with a grin. ¡°You¡¯re probably wondering how I found it, right?¡±


    He had followed a faint power signal during one of his scouting missions. The structure that had once concealed the bunker had long since collapsed. Tracing the signal had led him to a cave along the cliffside, revealing an alternate entrance to the underground bunker.


    They continued down the hallway until they reached a large, solid door. Klamarez stepped forward and entered a code. The door slid open, revealing a spacious hangar bay dominated by a spacecraft.


    The ship rested on three-pronged landing gear, its silver hull streaked with a dark orange stripe. The narrow, sloped front ended in a small dome. The body stretched back in a sharp line, flaring into fins near the rear, where three engines¡ªtwo large and one smaller. The ship was topped with a circular communications dish and a cluster of arrays, with light energy turrets mounted on either side.


    ¡°Bigger than I expected.¡± Conus said, eyeing the turrets. ¡°Not much firepower, though.¡±


    Klamarez, focused on the open panels, barely looked up as he continued working.


    Garen and Conus circled the spacecraft, inspecting it closely. Conus peered into some of the open panels.


    ¡°You¡¯ve made a lot of progress,¡± Garen commented. ¡°Can she fly?¡±


    ¡°I wish I had more time,¡± Klamarez said, securing a panel on the hull. He closed it, then opened it again, making a quick connection inside before sealing it for good.


    Garen smiled faintly. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Klamarez activated the side hatch, which slid upward as steps extended. He led the way inside. The cockpit featured three stations at the front, all centered around a large display screen. There were no viewports; external cameras and sensors provided the outside view.


    The helm had manual controls and touchscreens, with two auxiliary stations behind it, each responsible for managing various ship systems. The seats showed signs of wear, each slightly different from the others. Despite the patchwork construction, the cockpit had enough space to comfortably accommodate three operators. Additional screens and control panels lined the walls near the auxiliary stations, leaving room for future upgrades that were in progress.


    Toward the rear, the ship branched into two sections. One contained four bunks and basic facilities, while the other housed a small lounge and a paste dispenser. At the far end, an additional control station  power access and engineering functions. A door beside it led to the engine room. To the right, the ship¡¯s main power source, a Capture Reactor, in the rear corner.


    Garen and Conus made their way to the bridge. Garen examined the helm. We need to get this moving.


    ¡°Conus, take that station,¡± Garen instructed, gesturing toward one of the auxiliary consoles. ¡°Monitor both long-range and short-range scans. Keep an eye on weapons and shields.¡±


    Conus activated his console, rearranging the display layout. Meanwhile, Klamarez moved between the ship¡¯s interior and exterior, hauling in extra parts and securing the remaining open panels. Once he finished outside, he returned with a box of spare parts and chips, connecting them to an internal panel hidden in the floor near a large hatch.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need a little more time. Get familiar with the controls,¡± Klamarez said with a shrug.


    A couple of hours passed with Garen and Conus at their stations, giving him space to work despite their repeated offers to help. Once the final components were in place, he shifted to the rear station and activated the ship¡¯s primary systems. A soft vibration coursed through the ship beneath their feet.


    Klamarez paused, taking in the moment. ¡°Listen to her purr.¡±


    Settling into the front Auxiliary station to the right, Klamarez pulled up a detailed overview of the ship¡¯s engineering controls. ¡°Just about done,¡± he said, though he still needed to gather a few more supplies. He moved back and forth, hauling in items and filling the ship¡¯s storage compartments.


    Garen ran through the pre-flight checklist, confirming everything was operational. Klamarez finished hauling in items, closed the hatch, and took his seat at his station. ¡°Fire up the thrusters,¡± he instructed. ¡°She¡¯s as ready as she¡¯ll ever be.¡±


    Garen exhaled. What¡¯s the worst that can happen?


    He engaged the maneuvering thrusters, smoothly lifting the ship off the deck as the landing struts retracted. Klamarez remotely opened the hangar bay door, revealing the dark tunnel ahead. The ship hovered steadily toward the light at the opening, thrusters firing softly. Beyond the tunnel, the cave opened into a wide valley, a mountain range in the distance. Garen guided the ship out and circled back toward the upper level of Klamarez¡¯s home.


    ¡°Watch this,¡± Klamarez said, initiating the lockdown sequence for his bunker. The display screen showed the structure on the top level collapsing in on itself, concealing the top hatch entrance. He shot Conus a quick wink.


    As the ship climbed higher, Garen glanced back at Klamarez. ¡°Has this ship been named yet? Bad luck to fly without one.¡±


    Klamarez, still focused on his screen, responded absently, ¡°Not yet.¡±


    ¡°The Seeker?¡± Conus suggested.


    Garen shrugged. ¡°What do you think, Klamarez?¡±


    Klamarez repeated the name under his breath. ¡°The Seeker, huh?¡±


    Garen refocused on the helm. ¡°She¡¯s handling nicely, Klamarez. Let¡¯s see how long it takes the Vorcons to notice.¡±


    The Seeker climbed steadily. Garen¡¯s eyes were fixed on the display ahead. The spaceport of Calio Landing came into view, with a protective shield covering a small section of the town and port, along a bay that opened to the ocean.


    ¡°Three Vorcon ships on short-range,¡± Conus reported, his eyes locked on the trace display.


    ¡°Klamarez, send them a message,¡± Garen said.


    ¡°What should I say?¡± Klamarez asked.


    ¡°Anything,¡± Garen replied.


    Klamarez quickly typed and sent a simple message: Hello, Vorcons.


    Garen adjusted The Seeker¡¯s course, thrusting it upward.


    ¡°They¡¯re following us,¡± Conus confirmed, watching the contacts on his screen as their proximity steadily closed.

 Chapter 7

    Chapter 7.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    . Behind them, the green forests, blue oceans, clouds and rugged terrain of Chiex now just a blur. The planet¡¯s moons hovered ahead, as the Seeker cruised forward.


    ¡°, give me an update on the Vorcon ships,¡± Garen said.


    . Let me know the moment something changes.¡±


    ¡°


    It¡¯s surprising they work at all.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡° optimal, shes good to go.¡± Klamarez replied, though there was a hint of doubt in his voice. He felt a surge of pride but couldn¡¯t shake the reality¡ªthe Seeker was Unfinished, untested, its maiden flight thrown straight into combat. He¡¯d hoped for test runs, careful adjustments.


    ¡°


    ¡°Received,¡± Garen acknowledged, accessing the Navcon¡ªan advanced navigation computer.


    ¡° to the Trace display, monitoring their pursuers.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°I think... the IRD¡¯s fried.¡±


    ¡°


    ¡°


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    video feed. The distant shape of the Vorcon warship approaching closer.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°, still focused on the IRD. He scanned a section with a tool. ¡°I need to reroute this, recalibrate the regulator flow, replace these damn CPU units... That should stop another blowout. It¡¯s a mess, but it¡¯ll hold,¡± he said.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    into a broad, triangular hull, narrowing into a rectangular core that stretched back. Jagged protrusions on its surface. A bank of engines at the rear emitted pale blue-white exhaust.


    trapezoidal hulls and hammerhead noses. Reinforced wings and heavy armored frames.


    new contacts appeared on the Trace display. The Vorcon transports from Chiex were still distant, trailing far behind.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°Which isn¡¯t much.


    ¡°


    Of course, it was him.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡° Empire. I¡¯m seeking peace,¡± Garen said, keeping his voice even, though his mind raced. What does he want? Why here, of all places?


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    . As he lowered the hood, his features came into view: pale, chalky skin, large black eyes with deep red centers, and faint ridges for a nose.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°

 Chapter 8

    Caul Malocktus stood on the bridge of the Rheeavher, his black eyes¡ªeach with a burning red core¡ªfixed on the spot where the Rift had just sealed, allowing The Seeker to slip away. The stars stretched before him, distant and indifferent. A faint smirk crept across his face, like a predator watching its prey struggle. How long before he realizes I let him escape? He must know by now¡ªhis isolation couldn¡¯t have dulled his instincts that much. Return to the Seven Worlds, Garen. Take your place on the battlefield.


    I need him strong. Garen¡¯s defeat had to be absolute, witnessed by many. Yet the question lingered, unspoken but persistent: Who is superior? If even he had doubts, others surely did as well. That uncertainty was an unforgiving constant, lingering¡ªthe whispers behind his back. There was little doubt about Caul¡¯s ability, but then came the exception: Garen Rivers.


    Caul''s father, often a calming voice in his life, had once told him it was a good thing. Garen Rivers had a reputation, even within the Vorcon Empire¡ªhis enemies respected his abilities. "When you finally defeat him," his father had said, "it will be considered an even greater victory now that his legend has grown. His defeat will mean more now than it would have years ago."


    Caul¡¯s reflection flickered in the observation window¡ªblack armor edged in silver. His Dissolver hung at his left hip, balanced by the Kelkor Blade. Beneath his cloak, a dagger lay strapped to his back, always within reach.


    Two years of commanding the Rheeavher in peacetime had stirred a restlessness deep within him. Forged in war, Caul craved the chaos that had once defined him. For the first time he could remember clearly, the Vorcon Empire was not at war, and the stillness unnerved him. It left a hollow he could not fill, though the last ten years of had greatly benefited the Malocktus family.


    Becoming Major Legate was a rare honor for someone of his birth¡ªan achievement usually reserved for noble bloodlines. Yet here he stood, in command of one of the fleet¡¯s most formidable war galleons. He now wielded power he had never before held, and he was eager¡ªaching¡ªto unleash it. To be granted such power and not be able to use it was torment.


    His name was already whispered in both fear and reverence. But this command, this ship, would prove he was more than just a warrior. He would lead. He would conquer.


    It wasn¡¯t just battlefields that had brought him here. n truth, it was never solely his skill in open combat¡ªthere were many great Vorcon warriors with skill. They were bred to be warriors from youth.


    What had elevated him, what had truly granted him power, were the whispers. Secrets. A blade in the dark. Caul had mastered them all before his enemies even knew they were marked. In the name of Velor.


    The Vorcon Empire had rebuilt itself after the treaty, stronger and more determined to erase the shame of defeat. Though their armada had not been destroyed in the last war, it had been battered, supplies stretched thin, with far too much territory to defend. Since then, every shipyard, every resource had been funneled into its resurgence.


    Yet, despite this newfound strength, Caul sensed hesitation. What are they waiting for?


    In recent months, Emperor Nor Kotoron had grown distant. Where once they shared words often, now there was only silence. The gap between them widened, and rumors of rivals vying for the Emperor¡¯s favor reached Caul¡¯s ears. He had been sure of his place for a time¡ªuntil now. Was it Nor¡¯s age? His failing health? Had others taken control? He would find out soon enough.


    One thing was certain: many feared him. They all do, Caul thought, his jaw tightening. And when the Emperor falls¡ªand he surely will¡ªwhat will that mean for me?


    Caul had grown up with little power. The Malocktus family had owned nothing, lowborn in an empire ruled by the Emperor and noble lords. Now, they possessed both power and wealth, yet they were still regarded as lowborn¡ªbecause they were.


    He had earned his power through loyalty, fulfilling every duty. Where would the Vorcon Empire¡ªwhere would Nor¡ªbe without him?


    This position is mine, Caul thought. Caul¡¯s fingers brushed the hilt of his Kelkor Blade. He had earned it¡ªsacrificed for it.


    If they took everything, he would return to the shadows¡ªhis true domain, where power shifted unseen. Let them try to strip me of command, of my titles¡ªthey¡¯ll find me far more dangerous without the pretense of honor. In the dark, he was at his deadliest. And he wanted more than what he had¡ªpower was endless. He would not give it up easily. He would take more.


    Caul¡¯s return to Kor, the capital of the Vorcon Empire, was next, now that his personal mission to Chiex was concluded. The upcoming meeting would gather those who truly held power in the Empire¡ªThe Emperor, noble leaders, the Emperor¡¯s council, and the top GVIF officials. Rumors had circulated for months that war was near, and many believed this gathering would mark the formal announcement of the Empire¡¯s next conflict.


    To complicate matters, Emperor Nor Kotoron¡¯s frailty was no longer whispered in hushed tones but spoken openly among the nobles. The question was no longer if the Emperor would pass, but when¡ªand who would pick up the pieces. Though Nor had heirs and a clear line of succession, confidence in them was nonexistent. Could this be the end of the Kotoron dynasty?


    Nor Kotoron had not come to power easily. He inherited the throne under unusual circumstances following the mysterious death of his brother, Tor, in the aftermath of the last war. Though the treaty had been signed, peace had come at a price¡ªone many in the Empire were reluctant to accept. It wasn¡¯t peace; it was defeat. Many of Tor¡¯s sons¡ªthe rightful heirs¡ªhad fallen in the final battles, while others met untimely deaths after the treaty and their father¡¯s passing. Too much coincidence to be ignored.


    As a result, the Empire teetered on the edge of collapse. Noble lords scrambled for power, forging and dissolving alliances. Amid the chaos, Nor, the unlikely brother, ascended to the throne. In truth, he was the rightful heir, as far as anyone knew.


    Nor¡¯s rule had not been without struggle. He assumed the crown at an advanced age. Before his ascension, he had been instrumental in rebuilding the Vorcon armada during the war, keeping them supplied with new ships¡ªa responsibility given to him by the previous Emperor, his brother.


    Now, after a decade as Emperor, Nor had grown weak. His frailty¡ªboth physical and political¡ªdeepened the uncertainty. An empire was only as strong as its Emperor, and Nor¡¯s strength was slipping away. Whispers of his decline stirred doubts about the Empire¡¯s future. Who will command when Nor falls? His eldest son, Ryn Kotoron, was next in line, but he inspired little confidence. The path forward for the Vorcon Empire was far from certain.


    There will be war, Caul thought. There is always war.


    Nor would die without ever leading the Vorcon Empire into battle. History wouldn¡¯t remember the Emperor¡¯s frailty. Nor would not lead them to victory, even if the new armada he had built could achieve just that.


    As Caul moved across the bridge, his eyes glanced briefly at the arches etched with Vorcon gods¡ªfigures of legend. He imagined himself among them one day. Figures many aspired to join, just as Caul did. In his mind, he was already on that path. Pillars lined the bridge, supporting the high ceiling.


    At the heart of the bridge sat the command chair, slightly elevated. Only Caul, the Major Legate, was permitted to sit there, regardless of who was overseeing the bridge.


    A few feet behind the command chair stood a large, round display table. From here, Caul could command the armada that would fall under his control in wartime, a responsibility tied to his rank. Though he had yet to lead the Rheeavher into open battle or command an armada of his own.


    To the left of the command chair sat Commodore Rados Gahlenka, the ship¡¯s second-in-command. His seat, though positioned for authority, was dwarfed by the Major Legate¡¯s.


    The war had worn Gahlenka down. Once a respected warrior, his frame had grown frail, weakened by years of conflict and a final encounter that had left him broken. His body had never fully recovered, though his mind remained sharp. That was why Caul had chosen him¡ªhe was competent. He was useful. Nothing more, nothing less.


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    In front of the expansive observation window, five lowered workstations were manned by Vorcon crew members. The central station, responsible for the main helm, controlled the Rheeavher''s navigation. The others¡ªtwo on each side¡ªprovided support.


    Operational stations lined the bridge in neat rows, each dedicated to a specific function. Some, intended for communication with the Armada during wartime, sat vacant, waiting to be manned when the ship assumed its role as a command vessel.


    The crew worked with rigid focus, heads down, eyes fixed on their tasks. None dared glance at Caul. Since The Seeker had vanished into the Rift, he hadn¡¯t moved. The crew waited in silence, aware that the journey to Chiex, as far as they knew, had yielded nothing. But they knew only what Caul had allowed them to. Their role was to operate the war galleon, not to question him. His motives were his own.


    The central area remained open and spacious, while Vorcon guards stood at attention by the entrances, fully armed and armored.


    Caul turned from the observation window, his steps slow and deliberate, his cloak whispering against the floor. Every officer on the bridge stiffened, silently hoping to avoid catching the Major Legate¡¯s attention.


    Rados Gahlenka¡¯s bone-white skin had long lost the vibrancy of youth. His black eyes¡ªeach with a burning red core like Caul¡¯s¡ªno longer held their sharpness. Though only a few years older than Caul, Gahlenka felt the weight of his age far more keenly. As Caul paused beside the command chair, he cast a sidelong glance at Gahlenka. A flicker of old pain crossed Rados¡¯s face, but he kept his posture straight.


    Once, he had taken pride in his promotion to Commodore. Now, that pride felt distant, eroded under Caul¡¯s command. He shifted slightly in his seat, another flash of discomfort crossing his face as his eyes briefly met Caul¡¯s.


    All he does is maneuver in the shadows, Gahlenka thought, keeping a neutral expression. What has he done to deserve this command? Fought in the war? Sure, he was a good warrior¡ªI¡¯ll give him that. So was I, once. His thoughts turned bitter. I know his family¡¯s secrets. He thinks I¡¯m a fool, thinks we¡¯re all fools. Let him think it. I¡¯ll play the fool¡ªfor now.


    We traveled all this way for what? Gahlenka¡¯s frustration simmered beneath the surface. To taunt an old RDF general? It feels beneath us. He resented Caul for dragging them on what seemed like a wasted mission. Yet, despite his irritation, Gahlenka knew his position aboard the Rheeavher was an honor, even if it was overshadowed by Caul. Years of loyal service, and still, the independent command he craved remained just out of reach. Commodores usually led their own ships, but not here¡ªnot under Major Legate Caul Malocktus.


    Much of the ship¡¯s operations fell under Gahlenka¡¯s purview, yet it was never truly his vessel. Days would pass without Caul setting foot on the bridge unless something demanded his attention. Gahlenka was beginning to accept that this might be the peak of his career¡ªa realization that was slowly killing him.


    Caul¡¯s voice cut through his thoughts. ¡°Gahlenka.¡±


    A slight tremor ran through Gahlenka¡¯s hand, though he quickly suppressed it. Once, I would have stood up to anyone, he thought bitterly. Even Caul.


    ¡°Finish boarding all craft,¡± Caul¡¯s low, raspy voice commanded, dragging out the end of the sentence.


    Gahlenka stiffened. ¡°As ordered,¡± he replied, his voice steadier than he felt. He turned back to the console and relayed the command.


    A few moments later, Gahlenka¡¯s confirmation came through. ¡°All craft are docked, Major Legate, except for the cruiser on the surface,¡± he rasped, his voice strained.


    Caul¡¯s gaze lingered on Gahlenka. ¡°Good,¡± he said. ¡°Inform me the moment the Inquisitor returns. I expect a full report.¡±


    Without waiting for a response, Caul moved across the bridge, his steps nearly silent. The officers at their stations straightened as he passed. They felt his presence without needing to see his eyes.


    Caul exited the bridge, flanked by his personal guards¡ªtwo Vorcon Bruisers, fully armored, with Plasmords strapped to their backs. Their heavy  echoed through the halls as Caul reached his chambers, where the guards stood waiting outside.


    Inside, Caul poured a glass of dark red wine, the liquid thick and slow, its scent pungent and sour. One wall was lined with shelves of ancient volumes, texts, and scattered artifacts¡ªsome broken. Another displayed his personal arsenal: three Kelkor Blades, four Dissolver pistols, and a Kord. Behind his desk, a concealed door led to his private quarters.


    He sat at his desk, sipping his wine as he scanned the ship¡¯s daily reports on his console. His mind moved through the names of officers, assessing their performance. On the Rheeavher, exceptional performance wasn¡¯t a goal¡ªit was the only option.


    The transceiver buzzed. ¡°Major Legate Malocktus, Inquisitor Rellocha has returned to the Rheeavher.¡±


    Caul pressed the transceiver. ¡°Rellocha, report,¡± he ordered. He could have contacted her directly, but he preferred to broadcast his voice through the ship, letting his name echo through the halls.


    A few moments later, the door buzzed a raw sound, and Inquisitor Nelve Rellocha entered. She stood tall in her black armor, her black eyes with dark green centers locking deliberately with Caul¡¯s red-centered gaze.


    Caul swirled his wine, the thick scent rising between them, though his eyes never left her. His gaze pinned her in place, just as it had the first time she stood before him. What does he see in me? Nelve wondered, resisting the urge to shift under his scrutiny. She still didn¡¯t fully understand him, but she knew enough¡ªenough to be careful.


    ¡°Have you destroyed his home?¡± Caul¡¯s voice was almost casual.


    ¡°There is nothing left, Major Legate,¡± Nelve replied. ¡°We launched several high-yield missiles. The site is annihilated.¡±


    A thin silence followed, but Caul¡¯s smirk widened as his gaze narrowed on Nelve. She held her composure, though the weight of his stare pressed down on her, oppressive, like a physical force.


    ¡°He has nowhere to return to now, other than the Seven Worlds,¡± Caul said with a faint snicker.


    Nelve stood motionless. This is what it was all about?


    "Where does true power lie, Inquisitor?'' Caul¡¯s voice softened, daring her to answer wrong.


    Her response was immediate, reflexive. ¡°In a united Empire, with the gods¡¯ favor,¡± she said, her tone steady.


    Caul¡¯s eyes sharpened. ¡°Does the Emperor hold true power?¡± he hissed.


    ¡°If the Empire is united, yes,¡± she answered.


    ¡°And what if the Emperor is weak?¡± Caul leaned forward slightly.


    ¡°Then the Empire will fight until strength is restored. By the will of Valtos, by the will of the gods,¡± she replied, keeping her voice controlled, emotionless.


    Caul took a sip of wine. ¡°And our Emperor at this moment?¡±


    Nelve hesitated, recalling her father¡¯s words: Tell him what he wants to hear, but believe it. ¡°The Emperor lacks strength,¡± she said, forcing her voice steady while her heart raced. Is this what he wants?


    "He does." Caul¡¯s voice was ice. "And that makes us weak. The Empire weak. For now, it holds together, but war will test its true strength.¡±


    His gaze drifted, something dangerous flickering in his eyes before he refocused. ¡°I hadn¡¯t realized until now that this was foretold to me. The state of the Empire as it stands today.¡± His thoughts briefly returned to something he had heard long ago.


    Nelve remained still, processing his words. Finally, she ventured, ¡°Foretold, Major Legate?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Caul replied, his gaze distant, as though recalling a long-buried vision. ¡°They told me.¡± He was silent for a moment, memories surfacing before he pushed them aside as if they had never existed. ¡°We will support Nor Kotoron,¡± he added, a smirk spreading across his face.


    ¡°For the Empire, for the Emperor,¡± Nelve said, reciting a common Vorcon saying.


    Caul studied her, his silence heavy Finally, he spoke, voice smooth but rasping. ¡°Soon, Inquisitor, you and Ubar will handle several tasks for me. First, your training will be tested to its limits.¡±


    ¡°I am ready,¡± Nelve replied quickly, though the words felt hollow. What training is he referring to? Am I not trained?


    ¡°Are you?¡± Caul hissed. ¡°Loyalty, Inquisitor, is not something to be spoken¡ªit must be proven. Every action, every breath must serve me... and the Empire.¡± He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. ¡°I expect more than just obedience. I expect devotion.¡±


    ¡°I will obey,¡± Nelve affirmed. Her family¡¯s honor, her future in the Empire¡ªeverything hinged on her loyalty. She could not afford a single misstep.


    ¡°My words may mean little to you now, but soon, I will ask more of you. Further commitment.¡± Caul leaned back in his chair, letting the words linger. He took a slow, deliberate sip of wine, savoring the moment before speaking again. ¡°Garen Rivers. You destroyed his home. What do you know of him?¡±


    ¡°A respected warrior and strategist,¡± Nelve answered, careful not to misstep. She knew much of Garen¡¯s history¡ªand Caul¡¯s.


    Caul nodded, a sharp smile revealing his back teeth. ¡°And after the war?¡±


    ¡°They turned their backs on him¡ªthe Seven Worlds,¡± Nelve replied, her tone steady but cautious. ¡°Disgraced him. Cast him aside.¡±


    ¡°Remarkable, isn¡¯t it? How they discarded someone so loyal, so valuable to their cause. It reveals the true nature of humans¡ªloyalty means nothing to them.¡± Caul¡¯s thoughts briefly drifted to his own situation. ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s a trait common across many worlds. I could have destroyed him today, but what would be the point?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve already proven your superiority. You¡¯ve grown in power and rank, while he has nothing now.¡±


    Caul laughed, cold and sharp. ¡°That is all for now, Inquisitor.¡±


    ¡°Major Legate.¡± Nelve gave a swift nod and turned to leave.


    Caul remained at his desk, wine in hand. Nelve had proven herself capable so far, but Caul needed more. It was time to test her further¡ªto uncover her true worth.

 Chapter 9

    Chapter 9.


    Inside the Seeker, the remnants of their clash with the Rheeavher lingered. Garen sat at the helm, watching the swirling white streaks of the rift stretch ahead, carving a tunnel through space.


    Caul Malocktus''s threats echoed in Garen''s mind¡ªa promise of impending war. For Garen, it was hardly surprising. The Vorcons thrived on conflict; it was embedded in their cultural ethos. Rituals preceded every campaign: seers pronounced the divine will, while shamans purported communion with deities to secure favor for forthcoming battles and placate the gods. The Vorcons existed perpetually in a cycle of warfare or preparation for it.


    Yet, for the Vorcons, mere battle was insufficient. Conflict had to be monumental¡ªa spectacle crafted to forge a place in legend. Their ambitions transcended mere conquest; they sought enduring glory, achievements meant to resonate across generations. The Vorcons not only venerated their gods but also exalted the Immortals¡ªfigures whose names achieved transcendence in the annals of history. Caul Malocktus wasn¡¯t just a warrior chasing triumph¡ªhe sought a place among the Immortals, a legacy to ensure his name lived on.


    The Vorcon Empire¡¯s mythical past wasn¡¯t seen as fable but as historical fact, and from Garen¡¯s experience, much of it contained unsettling elements of truth.


    Garen had distinguished himself early in his RDF career. He led troops in ground engagements, survived duels with Vorcons, even bested them. However, his initial encounter with Caul had seared itself into his memory¡ªa chaotic battle on a desolate world, the air thick with dust and debris. He recalled the choking cloud that enveloped everything, explosions reverberating through the barren landscape, and the agonized cries of the fallen echoing around him. He had watched as Caul tore through RDF Marines, his Kelkor blade leaving jagged, uneven wounds, with soldiers collapsing in pools of blood. Caul moved as though he were untouchable, as if the Vorcon gods themselves provided him with divine protection¡ªrelentless and impervious.


    Garen had barely survived. His vision blurred in the midst of the chaos as reinforcements arrived just in time. Without them, Caul would undoubtedly have finished him. That battle had been an awakening for Garen. Part of him blamed his youthful arrogance, but another knew the truth¡ªCaul was simply superior.


    Now, Caul held the rank of Major Legate, an extraordinary ascent for an individual born outside the noble class in a society that revered emperors and the nobility.


    Facing Caul again was not a matter of if¡ªit was a matter of when.


    Is that why Amar Lavont summoned me? Did he really think I could return to my old role? Command another Capital Battle Cruiser? He doubted his capacity to return to that life. Those days felt irrevocably lost, buried deep within his past. Garen had no inclination to resurrect them.


    Amar required Garen for a mission, but not to command a capital battle cruiser. He needed someone intimately familiar with the enemy, someone who could remain composed under extreme pressure, and someone he could trust to make the difficult decisions that this mission demanded. A mission so critical, only a select few could be trusted to ensure its success.


    But Garen¡¯s time with the RDF had ended. There was nothing left for him there. How could Lavont expect him to return after all these years? And even if he did, what use could he possibly be? Did he even want to help?


    Garen knew the enemy well, but a decade had passed. This wasn¡¯t the future I¡¯d envisioned. If things had gone the way I''d planned... Perhaps he could have made a difference. He¡¯d been preparing for the next phase of his life¡ªa chance to contribute to the Seven Worlds as the war wound down. He didn¡¯t want a promotion, just a chance to teach at the RDF Academy. But unforeseen events had driven him down another path¡ªinto exile on a remote world, where the days blurred together in quiet solitude.


    Years had passed. Garen had changed. How could he not? Isolation had reshaped him, dismantling the man he once was and forging something new in his place. Lavont was searching for a man who no longer existed. Soon, others from his past would come to realize the same truth.


    Why now? To return to war? That was never why he enlisted. Garen hadn¡¯t joined the RDF simply to serve the Seven Worlds. It was his curiosity that drove him¡ªa fascination with the Karadolex Galaxy and its countless worlds and species. What better way to explore it all than by joining the RDF? Yet, soon after graduating, he found himself trapped in a twenty-year war.


    Before entering the Academy, Garen had a deep interest in other civilizations and histories. His father, a seasoned RDF officer, had fostered this curiosity, often bringing home volumes on various galactic cultures, including those of the Vorcons. Garen particularly remembered a translated manuscript on the Oiroen¡ªa species that had reached its height centuries earlier, commanding one of the galaxy¡¯s most powerful fleets. At their peak, no force could challenge them. However, their strength eventually turned inward, leading to an endless civil war that left their system in perpetual conflict. Once a dominant power, they had since become largely irrelevant.


    Garen often wondered what might have happened had the Oiroen maintained their unity. Would they still wield the strength they once did? The galaxy was full of empires that rose to greatness only to crumble into obscurity.


    Some of these books were original texts, while others had been translated into the galactic standard. Over the years, Garen built an impressive collection. His passion for knowledge drove him to follow in his father¡¯s footsteps and enlist¡ªthough his father had been more scholar than soldier.


    While Garen had attended the RDF Academy, with war against the Vorcon Empire seeming likely, Garen immersed himself in studying them. Their unwavering devotion to ancient gods, each representing a distinct virtue, captivated him. The Vorcons treated their home system as sacred, preserving it with meticulous care. They revered beasts and upheld cultural traditions that spanned centuries. They were more than warriors¡ªtheir culture had depth beyond conflict¡ªbut their obsession with war defined them.


    Was it blind faith or deeply ingrained tradition that drove them?


    The Nalore resisted the Vorcon Empire for decades before ultimately facing extermination. The Nalore valued peace. They maintained a defense-oriented fleet focused on repelling incursions. For a time, their strategy worked¡ªsuccessfully fending off several attacks from the GVIF. However, the relentless pressure from the Vorcons gradually eroded their defenses.


    Eventually, the Vorcons obliterated the Nalore fleets, and the final days of the conflict spilled across their planets, into the very streets of Nalore cities. In the capital city of Relore, the Larocol held out for days, fighting fierce, street-to-street battles. But they were ultimately overwhelmed. The Vorcons concluded their conquest with orbital bombardments. By the end, few, if any, survived. The Vorcons didn¡¯t just defeat the Larocol¡ªthey systematically ensured their extinction.


    Garen had long been drawn to the fallen Nalore system, now abandoned, looted, and left desolate, lying in ruins. Rumors persisted of sacred sites scattered across the Nalore worlds¡ªsites tied to theories that Garen had followed with casual yet persistent interest.


    These locations were said to hold clues about the origins of the Karadolex Galaxy¡ªpossibly containing artifacts or ancient maps pointing to a distant point of origin. One theory suggested that the original inhabitants of the Karadolex Galaxy had migrated from a far-off galaxy over five thousand years ago. Some even believed these sites held powerful relics and ancient weapons.


    Since the Vorcons'' departure, the Nalore worlds had been stripped and looted, after their lands were reduced to ruin. What intrigued Garen most, however, was why the Vorcons abandoned the system after conquering it. Perhaps they had found something they feared, or maybe the resources they sought weren¡¯t as valuable as expected. Such behavior was unlike them. What could have prompted it? Was it a strategic withdrawal or something else entirely?


    He wondered if there was truth hidden in those rumors. This is what I should be doing, not wasting my time with the RDF.


    The Seeker shuddered as it emerged from the final rift, the sudden pressure shift causing a creak within. A surge of residual energy propelled the ship forward as the swirling streaks of the rift dissipated, and the tear in spacetime sealed behind them. Normal space reasserted itself, the vast darkness stretching endlessly ahead. The Mottmor System slowly came into view.


    ¡°The Mottmor System,¡± Klamarez remarked, his voice laced with contempt. ¡°A festering hive of corruption and villainy, deception, violence, and betrayal at every corner. We should be cautious.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the worst that could happen?¡± Garen shrugged, a faint smile on his face. He projected indifference, but beneath the surface, a dread lingered¡ªan instinct he had learned to heed. Klamarez, observing him, wasn¡¯t fooled. He had known Garen long enough. Garen might brush off the situation with a casual remark, but Klamarez could tell the weight of it was heavier than Garen let on.


    ¡°Everything I just said,¡± Klamarez retorted.


    A dry chuckle escaped Garen as he gazed ahead. ¡°It is what it is. We¡¯ll be careful.¡± He added, ¡°Relax, Klamarez, just don¡¯t get shot.¡±


    Klamarez snorted.


    ¡°And let¡¯s not forget the RDF presence here,¡± Conus interjected, a hint of optimism in his voice. ¡°That adds another layer of stability. There shouldn¡¯t be any issue.¡±


    Conus believed in the ideals of the Seven Worlds of Rhyus. Whether it was the RDF or the RSIA, their core values remained the same. The mission was always clear: protect the Seven Worlds, maintain order in chaotic regions like this, and act in the interest of the greater good. At least, that¡¯s how Conus saw it.


    Upon Conus¡¯s recommendation, they had exited the rift just beyond the system''s perimeter. The Seeker, unregistered and absent from RDF databases, might attract attention`.


    Eteren One would be their first real refuge since leaving Chiex. The Seeker¡¯s bunks were adequate, but the food¡ªa bland nutrient paste designed purely for sustenance¡ªhad been the target of countless sarcastic remarks from Klamarez. Ironic, since it was his ship, and he had stocked it himself, convinced it was a wise investment.


    Garen reclined in his chair, adjusting the ship¡¯s trajectory as the sublight engines kicked in, propelling them closer to their destination. He didn¡¯t want to go to Eteren One. He didn¡¯t want to return to the Seven Worlds. All he wanted was to be back in his cabin on Chiex. He had no way of knowing that everything he¡¯d built there was destroyed.


    Klamarez, engrossed in his PDA, hummed a soft tune as he made some notes, a list of items to fix. His eyes scanned the power readouts, paying particular attention to the shield matrix, where a subtle fluctuation had briefly registered.


    Conus sat at the trace display, briefly adjusting his glove over his augmented hand before continuing. His eyes narrowed in concentration, posture rigid. Several distant contacts appeared on the long-range sensors¡ªan unidentified freighter and a few smaller ships.


    "The IRD held up better than I thought," Garen said, his shoulders relaxing.


    "Thanks to Conus''s reroute," Klamarez replied, glancing at him. "It''s holding steady for now. I''ve got plenty of data to work with."


    "She''s solid, Klamarez," Garen said, gesturing toward the unfinished panels and exposed wires. Modifications still waited to be completed.


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    Klamarez gave a small, appreciative smile, his fang showing briefly. "Thanks, Garen. But you know me¡ªnever fully satisfied."


    Conus didn''t look up from his screen, his augmented eye tracking ship IDs as lines of data scrolled past. "Glad to help get us here," he said.


    Klamarez rubbed his temple, frowning at the fluctuating readings. His eyes narrowed as he studied the diagnostics again. ¡°Still... something¡¯s off. The shield matrix is fluctuating¡ªit could be minor, but I¡¯d rather not take chances. I need to replace those damn converters. I need to give this whole thing a look over, once we¡¯re at the station.¡±


    ¡°Just don¡¯t take too long,¡± Garen muttered, impatience creeping into his voice. Eteren One was just a temporary stop, he hoped.


    He ran a hand through his beard, feeling its length. His hair was in a similar state. Maybe I should get a haircut. His eyes drifted to his worn clothes. And some new clothes, too.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take the time I need, Garen. Or have you forgotten the Vorcon attack?¡± Klamarez''s tone was casual.


    ¡°No,¡± Garen replied, his voice distant. ¡°I haven¡¯t forgotten.¡±


    ¡°The hits we took weren¡¯t direct, but they carried a lot of energy,¡± Klamarez continued. ¡°Repeated impacts like that can compromise critical systems. The damage might not show immediately, but it¡¯ll come eventually. I¡¯d rather deal with it now while we¡¯ve got some breathing room. We¡¯re a long way from Rhyus.¡±


    Garen gave a faint smile. "I suppose I could help. Assuming you''re desperate, that is."


    Klamarez laughed, shaking his head, his ears twitching in opposite directions. "No, that''s okay. Let''s keep her intact."


    Garen let out a dry chuckle, leaning back. "Just offering."


    "Oh, I¡¯m sure you were," Klamarez quipped, flashing a grin. In truth, he looked forward to some time alone, tinkering with the ship, maybe hunting for parts¡ªanything to decompress. He glanced around the ship, already mentally listing the adjustments he wanted to make.


    Conus''s voice cut in, his expression stern, eyes focused on the data in front of him. "We also need to brief the RDF. They must be informed about the Vorcon activity."


    Garen nodded. "Proceed, Colonel. I''ll leave that in your hands."


    "Understood, General," Conus responded. I still need to tell him I''m with the RSIA.


    Klamarez''s thoughts wandered. News of the Vorcons near Calio Landing would spread quickly. It would instill fear¡ªnot only among the Camerians but across other species that had suffered under Vorcon rule. Their presence alone was enough to unsettle anyone familiar with their ruthless reputation.


    ¡°Why is the RDF here?¡± Garen cut in, his voice sharp. ¡°Trade deals? They never move without a bigger play.¡±


    He paused, suspicion growing. "It has to be more than just trade bringing them to the Mottmor system."


    Conus leaned forward, his eyes brightening. ¡°It started when the Ottorins discovered substantial trivieum deposits in their moons."


    Garen listened as he absorbed the information, rubbing the side of his neck. "They have enough to mine for decades. However, they lacked the technology and the will for deep mining." He paused. "The Seven Worlds made the best offer¡ªsecurity in exchange for mining rights. They provided assistance with infrastructure development as well."


    ¡°So they outsourced it?¡± Garen asked.


    Conus nodded. ¡°Precisely. The Seven Worlds get their share. The RDF provides security, ensuring the space around the planet remains protected. That allows the Ottorins to focus on agriculture and expanding their trade. It¡¯s mutually beneficial. The Ottorins keep a large portion of the trivieum, and with the RDF stationed here, raider activity has dropped significantly.¡±


    ¡°What about the rest of the system?¡± Garen pressed. ¡°The RDF¡¯s always got more going on,¡± he muttered darkly, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.


    ¡°The whole system benefits now. The Mottmor Trade Union has flourished. Resources from the system are reaching farther than ever, thanks to the Seven Worlds¡¯ extensive trade networks. They¡¯re not just working with the Ottorins anymore, but with all the trade union members. Though security is limited to the Ottorins and Eteren,¡± Conus added.


    Klamarez shook his head. "The RDF, always there to help. Helpful neighbors," his tone made it clear he meant the opposite.


    Conus tilted his head slightly, his expression hovering between amusement and annoyance. "Just happens to be profitable this time."


    "Not surprising there''s an agenda," Klamarez said.


    Conus hesitated, processing the sarcasm. They always think there''s an ulterior motive. ¡°Agenda or not, the Ottorins benefit from RDF¡¯s presence. It¡¯s... mutually beneficial.¡±


    Garen smirked. ¡°I see something else this system provides.¡± He glanced at Conus.


    Conus thought about it for a moment, surprised by all the skepticism but quickly grasped Garen''s meaning. "Mottmor is a strategic location if conflict breaks out. It gives them an outward staging area should a conflict happen." He still believed the RDF had saved more than they had harmed. Maybe General Rivers seen too much, been away too long, Conus thought.


    Garen smirked again. Conus really bought into all of it, believing the RDF was all about helping and always had good intentions. But Garen knew that no military force became powerful without being aggressive at times. He had witnessed too many so-called ¡°mutually beneficial¡± deals where one side ended up exploited. The RDF had its own interests, and he doubted their motives were purely selfless. Then again, perhaps I¡¯m just out of touch with the current political landscape.


    ¡°No shortage of danger here, especially with the Vanicktus Syndicate,¡± Klamarez added. ¡°They¡¯ve built a real foothold in the system. The Moon Ynd might be the worst of them¡ªit''s run by crime lords. At least Eteren One is secure.¡±


    ¡°The RDF presence probably just pushed them underground,¡± Garen said. ¡°Groups like the Syndicate don¡¯t just vanish.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Conus agreed.


    ¡°Is this station strictly commercial?¡± Garen asked, a hint of doubt in his tone.


    ¡°It has defensive capabilities as well,¡± Conus replied. ¡°The starbase is also the primary hub for trade in the system. The Mottmor system is complicated¡ªdifferent species, each with their own agenda. Nsalron, Sabons, Netraxians, Ottorins, and more... it¡¯s an odd amalgamation.¡±


    The green orb of Planet Eteren appeared on the display. Eteren One¡¯s starbase, an octagonal structure with docking ports and defense turrets, came into view. Blinking lights from ships and floating markers surrounded it, directing traffic.


    Garen glanced at the station. It wasn¡¯t just a temporary outpost; it was a major investment. The RDF had a strong military presence here. The Seven Worlds had constructed a substantial starbase with advanced defensive capabilities¡ªturrets, shield generators, and hangars for rapid deployment of RDF Verta fighter craft. The Seven Worlds had always been known for humanitarian aid and peacekeeping, but this felt different. This isn¡¯t how they usually operate. It looked permanent.


    He thought of Vesnara, a planet in a nearby star system that had been overwhelmed with flooding. The RDF had gone in, helped clean up, restored the planet''s utilities, and then left. That was what Garen remembered. This, however, looked different.


    ¡°They¡¯re preparing for an invasion, aren¡¯t they?¡± Klamarez half-joked, a crooked smile barely masking the seriousness behind his words.


    ¡°Klamarez?¡± Conus glanced over, taken aback.


    ¡°You don¡¯t like the RDF? You don''t trust them at all?¡± Conus asked, his voice neutral, betraying no emotion as he awaited the answer.


    Klamarez''s feelings were more nuanced than simply liking or disliking the RDF. He had seen Camerians, who had always valued peace and family, turn into something else in the aftermath of the occupation, abandoned by the RDF after the Vorcon devastation. While Eteren received a massive starbase due to its strategic value and resources, the Camerians were left with nothing¡ªforced to rebuild with ruined infrastructure, scarce resources, and no support. The Seven Worlds could have helped more than they had, but they chose not to when there was nothing in it for them.


    Klamarez sighed, his tone heavy. ¡°After the war, they left us. We had nothing left to offer, but we still needed help." His claws out, his eyes darkening with the weight of old memories. He looked away for a moment. "Maybe if they¡¯d stayed, we wouldn¡¯t have fallen so far... Instead, we were left to pick up the pieces alone.¡±


    Garen glanced at Klamarez, noting the bitterness there. He remembered that feeling well¡ªit was familiar to many who had been left behind. Klamarez had told Garen more than once what it was like on Calio. Garen had seen it firsthand when the task force he led liberated the planet.


    Conus absorbed the gravity of his words, his mind wrestling with the conflicting beliefs he held about the RDF. ¡°I didn¡¯t think about it like that. There must be a reason why they didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°We had nothing of value,¡± Klamarez said bluntly.


    ¡°There¡¯s more to it than that,¡± Conus insisted.


    ¡°Come on, Colonel, sometimes it¡¯s as simple as it seems,¡± Garen said, leaning back with a dismissive shrug. ¡°What do they teach at the Academy? That the RDF were the heroes of the galaxy? Do they tell you they did no wrong? You don¡¯t fight a twenty-year war and come out clean. Sure, we did a lot of good, but we messed things up too.¡±


    Conus fell silent, aware of the depth behind Garen¡¯s critical view. He could feel the weight of Garen¡¯s experience pressing on him, the disillusionment of a man who had seen the reality behind the rhetoric.


    Was he right? Had he been blind to the truth, preferring instead to see only the noble image the RDF projected? Garen had once been a highly respected general, only to retire disillusioned. He¡¯d advocated for the complete dismantling of the Vorcon military to prevent a resurgence after the conflict. When he voiced his concerns, the leadership of the Seven Worlds shunned him, publicly tarnishing his reputation and branding him disloyal.


    Still, the RDF had saved worlds, hadn¡¯t they? Conus couldn¡¯t help but wonder.


    The Seeker pushed forward at sublight speed, roaring with dark blue exhaust streaked with violet. Eteren came into sharper focus¡ªa green orb, with its three moons peeking from behind the planetary curve. Trade vessels moved around, while bulky cargo haulers lumbered through space. Shuttles darted between them. Verta fighters flew in tight formations, patrolling the area.


    Ahead, the RDF starbase, Eteren One, rose like an octagonal structure against the backdrop of the green planet, adorned with bright navigational lights and beacons. Hangar doors of varying sizes dotted its surface, while turrets were strategically positioned along its perimeter, contributing to the station''s defenses. Garen tracked the ships maneuvering around the starbase, while larger vessels held position nearby, smaller ships ferrying goods.


    ¡°The Seven Worlds never do anything halfway, do they?¡± Garen muttered. ¡°This could rival Port Narris.¡±


    ¡°Port Narris is actually larger,¡± Conus replied, eyes fixed on the sensors. ¡°But this place has everything. You could live here and never leave.¡±


    Garen shrugged, letting the comment pass. The idea of living on such a station held no appeal for him.


    As they neared Eteren One, Garen¡¯s attention lingered on the station. A colossal trade vessel moved toward it, shrinking as it drew closer, before disappearing behind the structure. Garen steered the Seeker forward, steady and deliberate.


    ¡°The Ottorins don¡¯t want outsiders settling on their planet,¡± Conus said. ¡°That¡¯s why the Seven Worlds brokered the deal¡ªkeeping most of the activity in orbit on Eteren One and the moons. Their farmlands are their main source of income and value in this system.¡±


    The RDF¡¯s assistance focused strictly on infrastructure, ensuring that Ottorin life remained undisturbed.


    ¡°A quiet people¡ªI can respect that,¡± Klamarez said with a nod.


    Klamarez activated the general communications channel, opening a link. Inside the Seeker, dozens of voices on various frequencies coordinated with station operators. ¡°Eteren One, this is Shuttle Equis requesting priority docking for medical emergency,¡± came a transmission, quickly followed by, ¡°Shuttle Equis, priority granted. Divert to docking bay E-3.¡±


    As the starbase drew closer, Garen¡¯s eyes locked onto a spire at the top of the station. A strange sense of familiarity washed over him. He hadn¡¯t spent much time in this system¡ªjust passed through years ago without much thought¡ªyet seeing the RDF¡¯s growing presence felt almost surreal.


    Proximity alarms blared from Conus¡¯s station, a shrill, urgent sound. The trace display detected new contacts.


    ¡°Two RDF capital battlecruisers, approaching fast!¡± Conus¡¯s voice was tight with alarm. His eyes widened as he leaned over the console.


    Garen frowned. ¡°Report, Colonel. What¡¯s their course?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re heading straight for us,¡± Conus replied. Conus might have wanted to inform the RDF about the Vorcons, but he didn¡¯t want to be greeted this way. He was with the RSIA, and there had been increasing tension between the RDF and RSIA, particularly over their differing approaches to security. They had no idea about the mission. How would they react to General Garen Rivers being on board?


    ¡°Well, that didn¡¯t take long,¡± Garen muttered, already flipping switches. ¡°Just what we needed.¡±


    Soon they would learn the RDF had tracked the mission. In fact, they were already aware of the Vorcon attack on Chiex.


    Garen brought the Seeker to a complete stop as the two battlecruisers continued towards them, moving at top sublight speed.

 Chapter 10

    Chapter 10.


    The Rheeavher had left Chiex behind, cutting steadily through the Venddral Raidezel Sector as it continued toward the Cavaglatar Sector on its return to the Vorcon Empire. Caul Malocktus stood alone in his chambers, his red-centered eyes fixed on the PhotonMap¡ªthe only source of light in the room. His gaze was locked on the Rhyus system, home to the Seven Worlds of Rhyus. The faint starlight from the map spread across the chamber, casting a cold, distant light over his expression.


    The map, projected from a small silver sphere on his desk, expanded to reveal the Known Karadolex Galaxy. Star systems, nebulae, and points of interest stretched toward the arched ceiling and across the walls, each cluster marking the territories of various powers. The Prine System, the Vorcon Empire¡¯s home system in the Calix Sector, was highlighted, with its eight planets and numerous moons.


    Caul observed the distance between the Seven Worlds and the Vorcon Empire. Conquering them wouldn¡¯t be easy, but it was the only way to right the wrongs of the last war.


    Humans think they beat us, Caul thought. They defeated an already weakened force, worn by years of war.


    His gaze shifted to the Karadolex Nebula, dividing sectors of the Known Galaxy. Few dared to cross it, and those who ventured too far never returned¡ªneither by sublight nor by rift travel.


    For a moment, doubt stirred in his mind. His allies were scattered across the Vorcon Empire, their loyalty tenuous at best. Vorcons valued power above all else, and true allies were rare in a society built on manipulation. Some remained loyal, but even those could be swayed by the right price¡ªunless his power became absolute.


    Caul seldom allowed himself the comfort of certainty¡ªthere was always more to take, always the lingering question: What if? What comes next? What possibilities have I yet to consider? He would be a fool to think he was the only one plotting.


    But failure held no fear for him. Death? That would be a call from the gods¡ªa fate he no longer dreaded. In his vision, death would be his transition to immortality, joining the great figures who had shaped the Empire before him. That day would come only when he chose it¡ªafter his legacy was carved, immortality earned, and the Empire bent to his will.


    The true burden was his reliance on others. Caul believed no one matched his capabilities. Others had talents, yes, but they always fell short. It was the simple limitation of being just one Vorcon. His plans required more than his will alone, no matter how carefully orchestrated. He would do everything himself if he could, but there might come a time when he needed to be in more than one place at once.


    A soft hiss escaped him, frustration coiling deeper in his thoughts. Relying on others grated against his nature, but it was unavoidable. His rise would demand sacrifices from those loyal enough to follow him.


    A sharp buzz broke the silence. Caul paused, then pressed a button on the smooth stone panel of his desk. The door slid downward with a mechanical clink, revealing Commodore Rados¡¯s rigid form.


    Caul¡¯s eyes swept over Rados, noting that he was unarmed. Disappointing. Vorcons should never be without a weapon¡ªit was a sign of weakness. Vorcons valued skill with melee weapons above all else; one should always be ready to defend themselves. Being unarmed was the same as refusing to fight. Caul expected his ship to not only meet the discipline of the Grand Vorcon Imperial Fleet (GVIF) but to exceed it. An unarmed second-in-command was unacceptable. If Rados, his second-in-command, wasn¡¯t prepared to defend himself, what did that say about the rest of the crew?


    Caul felt a brief pulse of irritation but quickly masked it. Rados wore light armor¡ªblack plating over a dark gray underlayer¡ªprotecting his vital areas. The insignia on his chest marked him as a Commodore of the GVIF.


    "Major Legate Malocktus," Gahlenka greeted with a quick nod, his voice tight and strained. His eyes briefly meeting Caul¡¯s before darting away.


    "Commodore Gahlenka, enter," Caul hissed, his smirk hidden beneath slow, deliberate words. He stepped aside, allowing Gahlenka to enter fully before the door slid shut behind him with a series of metallic clinks.


    Caul gestured toward the PhotonMap. "Do you know what this is?" His eyes narrowed as he watched Rados shift, his shoulders tensing.


    The answer seemed obvious, but with Caul, nothing was ever straightforward. He often communicated indirectly, turning even simple conversations into tests. Caul frequently summoned Gahlenka to his chamber, and Rados knew this visit would be no different.


    "Our... field of battle?" Rados ventured, his thoughts heavy. It¡¯s going to be one of those visits.


    Caul¡¯s smirk deepened as he let the silence stretch. "In a way, yes." His finger traced the Prine System. Nearby, the Lownex, Estgar, Votros, and Chalarov Systems remained under Vorcon control, their populations enslaved and producing for the Empire, highlighted and marked as part of Vorcon territory.


    Close by was the Dratermur System, home to the Rulnali, who aided the Vorcons in managing these territories¡ªhandling supply lines and overseeing the regions beyond the Prine System. Perhaps they were the only true allies, though the balance of power clearly favored the Vorcons.


    He issued a command on his slate, a multi-purpose tablet with various functions, and the map expanded, revealing a broader territory¡ªformer Vorcon-controlled star systems, now returned to their original rulers after the peace treaty with the Seven Worlds of Rhyus.


    "What do you make of this, Commodore Gahlenka?" Caul¡¯s voice was calm, measured, as he waited for a response.


    Rados¡¯s eyes swept over the map. "It¡¯s... different when seen like this, Major Legate. The Empire sacrificed much¡ªtoo much. We held many systems before the treaty. We barely had time to exploit their resources." His tone was cautious, his voice low as he forced the words out after clearing his throat.


    "Sacrificed?" Caul¡¯s red eyes bore into Rados, making the Commodore¡¯s appear dull by comparison. "No, Commodore. We allowed weakness to dictate our actions, and in doing so, we lost too much." He gestured toward the map, switching it back to the systems still under Vorcon control. "This is the price of peace¡ªa price I refuse to pay again."


    The debate over the peace treaty had never truly died, often a heated topic within the Empire, especially among those who viewed defeat by the Seven Worlds as an affront to Vorcon pride. Vorcons were a proud species, seeing themselves as superior in military power, and they did not accept defeat easily. They were bred for war¡ªfrom the relentless training of their young to the belief that every Vorcon should always be armed and ready for combat, regardless of their role in society. Some could accept the treaty, but not what had been lost¡ªterritory, resources, labor, and slaves that could have strengthened them for the next war.


    The conflict with the Seven Worlds had dragged on for over twenty years, with tensions building long before their direct involvement. When the Humans of the Seven Worlds entered the war, they changed its course. As the conflict dragged on and the Empire suffered greater losses, defeat became a genuine threat. Emperor Tor Kotoron ultimately agreed to the proposed treaty, believing it was the only way to save the Empire from complete destruction. The Vorcon Empire lost everything it had gained¡ªeverything was gone.


    "Emperor Tor Kotoron gave the Empire a prosperous war," Rados said, his voice low. And it was true¡ªthey had collected much through their conquests.


    "Prosperous?" Caul¡¯s eyes narrowed further. "What good were those campaigns if everything was lost afterward?" His tone darkened. "Was that the sacrifice? The treaty itself was the real sacrifice." He let the silence stretch, allowing his words to settle. "Even his life was part of that sacrifice." Caul paused, letting the weight of his statement linger. "Yes, it was prosperous in a way. The Empire took what it could before the treaty was enforced, but it was only a fraction of what we could have claimed. The day that treaty was signed, Commodore, was a dark day for the Empire."


    "We were stretched too thin. Our enemies were too many. I¡¯ll never forget that day," Rados said, forcing the words out. His voice remained harsh, low, and raspy as he aligned himself with Caul¡¯s view.


    "Neither will I, Commodore. We abandoned systems we could have held¡ªvaluable ones, rich in resources and strategically located. We should have taken a defensive stance, bought time for rebuilding." Caul¡¯s gaze returned to the map. "We will reclaim what is ours."


    "The next Vorcon conquest will restore what was lost," Rados replied.


    Satisfaction briefly surfaced in Caul¡¯s eyes. "Indeed. But it will take more than strength. It will require patience, careful planning, and strategy. We must move with purpose and foresight."


    Caul''s voice dropped to a low rasp. "Do you believe we¡¯ll succeed where we failed before?" Rados had to strain to hear, knowing he couldn¡¯t ask Caul to repeat himself.


    "I do, Major Legate. The Grand Vorcon Imperial Fleet is stronger than it¡¯s been in decades," Rados replied, confidently. "I believe the Imperial Force is ready. We are strong. We are ready for war."


    "Yes, the Empire is strong," Caul pressed, his voice laced with challenge. "And what of the Emperor¡¯s health?"


    "I¡¯ve heard rumors," Rados began cautiously.


    "Yes." Caul¡¯s eyes narrowed, expectant. "What have you heard?"


    "They say he is ill."


    "He is?" Caul asked.


    "It¡¯s what I¡¯ve heard."


    "If he¡¯s ill, can he restore what we¡¯ve lost? How ill is he?"


    Rados hesitated, unwilling to reveal his frustration. Why is he toying with me? "I don¡¯t know if the Emperor we have now will restore the Empire to its former glory¡ªif Emperor Nor Kotoron will," he admitted, discomfort creeping into his voice. Quickly, he added, "But I will always follow the rightful Emperor."


    Caul¡¯s eyes narrowed, studying the Commodore closely.


    "You¡¯re not wrong to question. We can only hope the Emperor begins to overcome it. Perhaps the gods will grant him strength," Caul¡¯s voice softened, almost coaxing. "But strength alone won¡¯t guarantee victory. We need loyalty¡ªand the will to do whatever is necessary."


    Rados nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "I understand, Major Legate. I will do whatever is required for the Empire. I will serve you¡ªand the Emperor."


    He held his attention on Rados, letting the quiet deepen, watching every subtle shift of discomfort.


    "Gahlenka," Caul began, drawing out the name. "Still..." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "I¡¯m surprised you¡¯d say that, knowing I correspond with the Emperor directly. I wonder how he¡¯d feel, hearing his Commodore from the Rheeavher thinks that way of him."


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    "I meant no disrespect, Major Legate," Rados replied quickly.


    "Your lack of faith in our Emperor... is that true?" Caul pressed.


    Rados straightened. "Rumors are... the Emperor¡¯s health is failing. His strength is waning, and many believe he won¡¯t last much longer. I¡¯m only repeating what I¡¯ve heard. My loyalty remains with the Empire, and with the Emperor," he said, almost pleading. What have I become?


    Caul let out a cold, mocking laugh, his sharp teeth flashing briefly. He stopped laughing as quickly as he had started, his eyes still locked on Rados.


    "No one questions your loyalty, Gahlenka. I certainly don¡¯t." Caul¡¯s voice softened, low and rasping. I question your usefulness. "Your concern is understandable. You¡¯ve served the Empire well, fought bravely. I respect your commitment, Commodore Rados Gahlenka."


    "You honor me, Major Legate." A compliment? From him? Rados¡¯s eyes widened in surprise. He straightened, his body aching as he tried to stand taller. What does he really mean?


    Caul deactivated the map and switched on the room¡¯s lighting. He gestured toward a seat, and Rados, grateful for the opportunity, sank into the chair. The ache in his back lessened slightly.


    "The Rheeavher remains untested, as does much of our crew. Some fought in the last war; others have yet to see real combat. It¡¯s crucial this war galleon runs at peak efficiency, and that our crew is fully prepared."


    "It will be done, Major Legate." Rados straightened. "I¡¯ll ensure the crew maintains efficiency, and training continues. I¡¯ll increase the drills."


    "Good." Caul nodded slowly. "On our return to the Prine system, I want you to scout for... opportunities. We can train endlessly, but nothing compares to real experience."


    "Opportunities, Major Legate?" Rados echoed.


    "Yes," Caul¡¯s voice grew firmer. "Perhaps some pirates. There are plenty of bases between here and Prine ripe for training exercises."


    Pirates? "I¡¯ll begin identifying locations," Rados assured him. A waste of resources. A waste of time. Pathetic pirates.


    "I¡¯m sure you will," Caul said after a brief pause. He leaned back slightly in his chair. "You¡¯ll be pleased to know the Emperor will give me command of the First Armada, Gahlenka. We¡¯ll be at the forefront of the coming war¡ªour chance to shape its outcome."


    "The First Armada?" Rados barely masked his shock. The Emperor promised him that? It can¡¯t be. He has the Emperor¡¯s favor, but the First Armada? No way a low-born commands that much power. How did he manage this? Rados¡¯s grip tightened, and then, as if Caul sensed his tension, he released it.


    "Yes," Caul continued, a smirk spreading across his face, clearly sensing Gahlenka¡¯s doubt. "A low-born will command the First Armada. Promised to me by Emperor Nor Kotoron himself. You have an issue with this?"


    Commanding the First Armada is one debt repaid, Caul thought.


    "I mean no offense, none at all," Rados quickly interjected, his tone laced with apology. When the Emperor passes, everything will change. Malocktus may find himself on Fyndria with nothing.


    Caul¡¯s mouth twitched, forming something close to a smile, but not quite. His tone sharpened. "It¡¯s rather uncommon, isn¡¯t it, Gahlenka?" He dragged out the name. The rhetorical question remained. "A low-born like me, commanding the First Armada. And yet, here you are¡ªof noble birth¡ªserving under my command."


    His smirk widened with amusement. "Emperor Nor Kotoron entrusted me with this responsibility¡ªa trust I earned through relentless dedication."


    Rados gave a stiff nod, forcing his voice to remain steady. "It is well-earned, Major Legate. I am honored to serve under your command. The Malocktus name has gained much recognition." And many would love to see your head removed.


    "It has," Caul agreed, his voice calm but pointed. "My father¡¯s service to the Empire secured our family¡¯s place. My own service to the Grand Vorcon Imperial Force has elevated us further. While our name isn¡¯t noble like yours, Gahlenka, our contributions speak for themselves."


    "You are honored to receive such a pivotal command," Rados replied, forcing respect into his tone. He¡¯s always reminding me of his low birth versus my noble birth. I¡¯ve never made an issue of it¡ªnot to him.


    "I am," Caul said simply, letting the conversation hang in the air, waiting for Rados to speak again.


    "Your father served alongside the Emperor, didn¡¯t he?" Rados asked, choosing his words carefully, though he already regretted steering the conversation in that direction.


    Caul moved to a nearby cabinet, retrieving an ornate bottle with a long neck and a wide, rounded base. As he poured a thick, almost paste-like dark wine into a glass, the potent aroma filled the room¡ªa vile smell.


    "He did," Caul confirmed, swirling the wine thoughtfully. The liquid clung to the sides of the glass, slow and thick. "Long before Nor Kotoron took the throne. They served together."


    "Emperor Nor Kotoron is fortunate to have had someone as loyal as your father by his side all these years," Rados offered. No doubt that loyalty is what propelled the Malocktus family from obscurity. But was it loyalty alone? He doubted it. Loyal to whom, exactly? Was it really just loyalty? It was far more than that. It''s why Caul stands before me now, wielding power that should have belonged to others.


    "Our Emperor is indeed fortunate to have my father as a loyal friend, now a councilor. A faithful advisor," His tone turning reflective. "Nor Kotoron¡¯s rise was... unexpected. Thrust into power at the twilight of his life. A path paved with tragedy." He took a sip, letting the taste linger. "So much death... so many accidents. Unlikely, don¡¯t you think? I wonder if the gods themselves intervened."


    Rados shifted in his seat. "The gods help the Empire in... unlikely ways. Sometimes they watch, sometimes they step in. I believe."


    Caul responded with a faint smirk and a long hiss.


    After Tor Kotoron¡¯s death, the Empire teetered on the edge of civil war until Nor Kotoron rose as the leader they needed. At any other time, those deaths wouldn¡¯t have been so easily overlooked. The Empire had been on the verge of tearing itself apart, but Nor Kotoron¡¯s rise prevented that. Many houses were grateful for the reprieve, eager to rebuild after years of conflict, welcoming the stability that another Kotoron on the throne could bring.


    Caul noticed Rados shifting in his seat and decided to show a rare moment of candor. "We stand on the brink of a new era, Gahlenka¡ªone where the Vorcon Empire will grow in power." Caul watched him closely, noting the Commodore¡¯s discomfort, though Rados remained silent, enduring the constant pain.


    "For the Empire, Major Legate. We will reclaim all that was lost," Rados nodded.


    Caul raised his glass in a silent toast. "This war gives the Emperor the opportunity to forge a legacy that will endure through the ages. Or it could have, but the rumors of his poor health... unfortunately, they¡¯re true. Frail, weak¡ªin both body and mind. I respect what the Emperor has done, and the Empire would have benefited from a longer reign under Nor Kotoron, but history only remembers the conquerors¡ªthose who perform unforgettable deeds. Those who fail... are forgotten. Lost in time."


    "It¡¯s true. Only a few are remembered by history. It takes more than power to stand out in an empire where so many have achieved great deeds." Said Rados


    "What will Emperor Nor Kotoron be remembered for?" Caul¡¯s attention slipped, his expression distant, as if lost in thought.


    "Taking power when it was needed," Rados replied confidant. "The Empire might have destroyed itself without him. He rebuilt our armada, restored our strength. He stopped us from tearing ourselves apart and now gives us the opportunity to fight a new war with renewed power. That is a legacy in its own right."


    "Perhaps you¡¯re right, Commodore," Caul agreed. "But it¡¯s impossible to know how the future will remember things. That¡¯s why one must never rely on chance. One must ensure they are remembered. A great deed can easily be eclipsed by another. Just as easily, it can be erased by one less desired."


    Rados¡¯s discomfort deepened, but he pressed on. "Do you think the Immortals or the gods knew their names would be revered in their time?"


    "I doubt it," Caul¡¯s voice dropped low. "But they knew they were shaping history. You can feel it when it happens. Time decides how deeds are remembered, but the gods and the Empire remember those who carve their names into it. Time has no effect on their view."


    Rados winced, feeling a sharp pain shoot through his back. "The legacy of the Vorcon Empire is unmatched. Emperor Kor Kotoron united us over 4,000 years ago. A Kotoron still sits on the throne today. That is a legacy I¡¯m proud of, Major Legate."


    Caul¡¯s voice dropping to a soft hiss. "Your loyalty never wavers, Commodore. Your faith in the Empire is inspiring."


    "My life is the Empire, Major Legate."


    "Do you ever think about your legacy, Gahlenka?"


    He hesitated before answering. "My legacy will live on through my offspring. I fought in the war, gave my strength to it, and I will gladly give what¡¯s left of me to the Empire until I pass. Perhaps I will not be remembered long after, but I will die knowing I gave all I was capable of."


    "You should be proud of your service, Commodore. Your career is commendable. You have served the Empire well, and the Rheeavher benefits greatly from your presence, Gahlenka."


    "You honor me, Major Legate Malocktus." Rados gave a quick nod.


    Caul¡¯s expression darkened. "For some, legacy is a burden¡ªone that weighs heavily on those who strive to surpass the expectations set before them. Many Vorcons aspire to live up to great standards, placing pressure on themselves to achieve more than they are capable of. Not all can succeed."


    "It¡¯s not a burden for me," Rados replied.


    "I will forge my legacy through my own actions, not through lineage," Caul said, as he deliberately sipped his wine.


    "I believe you will, Major Legate."


    "You have five offspring, don¡¯t you, Commodore Gahlenka?" Caul asked.


    "Yes, Major Legate. My two eldest will be tested in this coming war," Rados replied, his thoughts racing. I never discussed this with him before.


    "I wish them well. Should we have them assigned to the Rheeavher?" Caul asked.


    "They are pleased with their current assignments. They¡¯re focused on ground combat¡ªeager to gain experience," Rados replied, his tone growing slightly defensive.


    Caul let out a faint snicker. "A wise path," he said, calm as ever. Shifting the conversation away from Rados¡¯s offspring, he continued, "Still, I believe the gods play a part in legacy, alongside personal will. The will of the Vorcon is as important, or perhaps more so, than the will of the gods. I wonder if our Emperor¡¯s rise was guided by divine will¡ªconsidering all that transpired for him to seize power."


    "It was an unlikely occurrence," Rados admitted cautiously. "A twist of fate."


    Caul¡¯s tone grew colder as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "Gahlenka... your understanding of history disappoints me. Have you not studied our annals? The Empire thrives on such ''twists of fate,'' as you call them. The gods decreed their will ¡ªthe improbable made inevitable. Study our history more¡ªit¡¯s filled with such moments. It has a peculiar way of repeating itself."


    His smirk faded, his demeanor darkening. "Nor Kotoron¡¯s rise wasn¡¯t by chance. He didn¡¯t seek the throne; he was destined for it. His reign, though it may seem brief in the future, will be pivotal. These shifts in power¡ªthey¡¯re the work of the gods and those who are willing to shape the Empire in their image."


    "It¡¯s... remarkable to be thrust into a role one never sought."


    "Precisely," Caul said, savouring the discomfort in the air. "An emperor born of destiny," his voice trailing into a slow, drawn-out hiss. "Are you prepared, Gahlenka, for what¡¯s coming?" Caul¡¯s tone dropped, charged with intent.


    "I am ready to serve the Empire, Major Legate," Rados replied, forcing the words out, his voice still no louder than a harsh whisper.


    At Gahlenka¡¯s declaration, Caul hissed again, this time more approving than amused. His stare slid toward a dormant Kelkor blade resting on a nearby shelf. Rising from his desk, he moved toward it, his bone-like fingers activating the weapon. Raw energy crackled to life, filling the room with a steady hum¡ªa violent mixture of red and orange light.


    Caul began pacing, the low frequency of the weapon changing with each step. He moved behind Rados, who sat rigid in his chair, tension radiating from his still form. Caul held the blade dangerously close to Rados¡¯s head.


    "Where is your Kelkor blade, Gahlenka?" Caul¡¯s voice was casual, almost indifferent.


    Rados stiffened. "In my quarters, Major Legate." He could feel the raw energy pulsing near his head and dared not move.


    Caul lowered the blade, circling around to stand in front of Rados. His voice hardened. "Unarmed? On my ship?"


    "I¡¯ll carry it from now on," Rados said quickly.


    Silent, Caul kept his focus steady, unblinking.


    "Immediately," Rados added, his voice more resolute.


    Caul deactivated the blade and set it on his desk.


    "You may leave," Caul said evenly, none of the earlier tension lingering in his tone.


    A sense of relief came over Rados as he rose, his footsteps brisk as he left the chamber, the ache in his back fading in his rush to escape.


    Caul let out a soft snicker, amused for a brief moment.


    Then, reaching into a drawer, he pulled out a necklace. The pendant encased a jewel, swirling with various colors.


    "Vorkythos," he whispered, barely audible.


    "Vorkythos," he repeated, louder now, a hint of desperation slipping into his tone. But the jewel remained mute, offering no response.


    For a long moment, Caul stared at the pendant, waiting for something¡ªanything. When nothing came, he returned it to the drawer, frustration coiling within him. What do I need to do for it to speak?

 Chapter 11

    Near Planet Eteren, Eteren One Orbital Starbase


    Mottmor System, Venddral Raidezel Sector


    Date: Zeran 18, Year 4731


    "Maybe," Garen muttered, though his instincts told him otherwise. I don¡¯t like this.


    Klamarez, scanning the feeds with his usual focus, wrinkled his nose as an ad for an Eteren One buffet flashed across his display. "Nothing new on the Intrak Network," he said, ignoring the rumble in his stomach. Nutrient paste... great choice.


    ¡°


    Conus leaned forward, examining the signatures. ¡°The first is the ResilienceArbalest


    The Resilience


    The ArbalestResilience


    Garen glanced at Conus, noticing something off in his demeanor as he intently focused on his console. What aren¡¯t you telling me, Conus?


    ¡°


    ¡°


    Garen¡¯s eyes lingered on Conus for a moment before nodding at Klamarez to respond. Klamarez¡¯s ears twitched, and he leaned into the comm. ¡°This is the civilian vessel Seeker


    Conus frowned at Klamarez¡¯s casual tone. That¡¯s not how you address the RDF.


    Seeker, this is the RDF Resilience


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    Conus tilted his head, his thoughts racing. What else do they know?


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡° Why the show of force?


    ¡° How did they know?


    ¡°


    ¡°


    "I could blame someone else for this mess," Garen muttered, his thoughts drifting to Admiral Lavont. Another thought surfaced: What if Conus hadn¡¯t shown up? What if it had only been the Vorcons?


    ¡°


    Immediately after, the comms activated. ¡°Seeker


    Conus quickly took control of the communications. "This is Colonel Conus Taylen of the RSIA. I¡¯m transmitting my credentials now," he said, his tone steady. The crew waited for the RDF¡¯s response as Conus sent the authorization code to the Resilience


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    Collapsed? The RSIA?¡± Garen drew a sharp breath. What happened while I was gone?


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    And now we¡¯re caught in the middle of it,¡± Garen muttered. ¡°I suppose my presence will be a nice surprise for them.¡± He briefly wondered, Were they monitoring Chiex before?


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    The ArbalestResilienceSeeker


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    Klamarez smirked, briefly baring the sharp tips of his fangs, mischief flickering in his eyes. But Garen, though amused, found the show of force excessive. What are they trying to prove?


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    They don¡¯t like the RDF here?¡± Garen asked as he navigated the Seeker


    ¡°


    ¡°


    Following the docking instructions, Garen guided the SeekerResilience


    The SeekerResilience


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    Conus made a slight face but shrugged it off. What are they so worried about?


    Klamarez opened a compartment, stowed their weapons, and sealed it. As the boarding ramp descended, they stepped onto the deck, where a squad of marines had just arrived. Faces hidden behind black helmets and clad in full tactical gear, the marines stood ready. The sergeant in charge barked an order through external speakers, his voice distorted but commanding.


    ¡°


    Garen calmly raised his hands, followed by Conus and Klamarez. Two marines stepped forward, efficiently patting them down, while others boarded the Seeker


    ¡°


    Klamarez glanced around, his thoughts dripping with sarcasm. Oh yeah, we look just like Vorcons.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    Of course, General. We¡¯ll get you settled in. I¡¯m sure General Maylone will make sure you¡¯re comfortable aboard the Resilience


    Admiration spread through the group, but Garen barely moved, a rigid discomfort settling over him under their watchful eyes. They looked at him like a legend, yet all he could think was, That¡¯s not who I am anymore. Not even close.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    What¡¯s this guy¡¯s problem?


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    At the mention of Terra, a heaviness settled over Garen. Deep down he knew if Amar was with the RSIA, so was Terra. Leaving his home, battling Vorcons, facing Caul Malocktus, and now being back on an RDF ship¡ªall of it had already been overwhelming. But the thought of seeing Terra again stirred something deeper. Does she even want to see me?


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    Nolvin led them briskly through the corridors of the ResilienceAs they walked, anticipation stirred within Garen¡ªhe hadn¡¯t been aboard a capital battlecruiser in years.


    They reached a lift and ascended to the command level. After navigating a few more corridors, they arrived at a door marked General Maylone¡¯s Office


    Floor-to-ceiling viewports provided a sweeping view of the surrounding space. The Resilience


    Welcome aboard the


    ¡°


    ¡°


    "I¡¯ll inform Admiral Lavont of your situation and ensure your safety," General Maylone said, though Garen sensed she intended to consult RDF Command first. "The RSIA has its own protocols, I understand that. But we¡¯re here to assist. We all serve the Seven Worlds of Rhyus¡ªwhether in the Rhyus Defense Fleet or the Rhyus Strategic Intelligence Agency. I¡¯ll have rooms arranged for you. Feel free to use the Resilience


    Outside, Sergeant Wallace and his squad stood ready to escort them to their quarters. Wallace led them through the corridors of the Resilience


    As Garen sat on the edge of his bed, the weight of the past and the uncertainty of what lay ahead filled his thoughts. He realized he had no idea what the current state of the Seven Worlds was.

 Chapter 12

    Chapter 12.


    The Cavaglatar Sector


    Date: Zeran 19, Year 4731


    Caul Malocktus stalked through the Rheeavher¡¯s corridors, his Kelkor blade at one side, Dissolver pistol at the other. His gray cloak trailed behind him, catching the subtle sway of each step. His gaze swept steadily over the crew, lingering just long enough for each member to feel his scrutiny, weighted with his unspoken demand for acknowledgment. Caul¡¯s expectation for respect was well-known¡ªan unstated rule among many commanders within the GVIF¡ªthough he took it a step further. Those who failed to meet his eyes or show deference risked a slight he would not soon forget.


    Two Vorcon Bruisers marched behind him, their heavy footsteps echoing through the corridors. Encased in armor fitted for their solid frames, they moved with low, labored breaths muffled beneath their helmets. Where the Bruisers wielded brute strength, Caul¡¯s form appeared slim and agile, exuding a fluidity their bulk could never match. Each Bruiser carried a Plasmord sword strapped to their back and cradled distortion rifles in their arms, awaiting any command Caul might give. Their obedience was unmatched.


    Caul found mild amusement in knowing that Garen Rivers had taken down two Bruisers on Chiex, along with four other Vorcon soldiers. Garen was godless¡ªdriven by will alone, yet he had survived. Caul knew victory was more than brute strength; it required skill, the ability to defy fate itself. Strength was essential, but intellect held the true power. He assumed Garen had been responsible for most of those deaths, and the thought pleased him¡ªGaren hadn¡¯t weakened; he remained a worthy foe.


    The corridor stretched ahead, long and wide. Crew members moved quickly, some engaged in their work, others in quiet conversation, but each offered respectful nods to their commander as he passed.


    Midway down, Centurion Kanvelak stood at attention, bracing himself for the Major Legate¡¯s approach¡ªan encounter he had both anticipated and dreaded. Caul¡¯s eyes darkened with disappointment, the red centers narrowing. Kanvelak lacked the potential that Velharith had shown. Without a word, Caul glided forward, his presence suffocating. The Bruisers halted, statuesque.


    ¡°Centurion Kanvelak,¡± Caul¡¯s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. ¡°I¡¯ve heard your recent performance has been... disappointing.¡± He drew out the words, each syllable laced with a quiet threat.


    Kanvelak hesitated. ¡°Commodore Gahlenka addressed the matter with me, Major Legate. The issues are fixed. I¡¯ve doubled my efforts.¡±


    A dark satisfaction stirred within Caul¡ªGahlenka was falling right into place. Well done, Commodore. Still, he doubted whether his second-in-command had conveyed the full message, but he appreciated the effort.


    Caul circled Kanvelak slowly, the clatter of his gear punctuating the silence. He saw the fear in Kanvelak¡¯s eyes, the struggle to stay composed. Pathetic. Weak. Velharith would have stood tall, ready to challenge me.


    ¡°Ensure you maintain those efforts,¡± Caul rasped, drawing out the last word in a hiss. His hand brushed the hilt of his Kelkor blade, ensuring Kanvelak noticed. ¡°Incompetence will not be tolerated.¡±


    Kanvelak nodded quickly. ¡°I will work to meet your standards.¡±


    ¡°With Velharith gone, there¡¯s an opportunity for more responsibility. There may come a time when I require your abilities.¡±


    Centurion Fal Velharith had shown promise before his death in the skirmish with Garen Rivers. Caul had intended to elevate him, perhaps even grant him more command. But Fal¡¯s death was a minor inconvenience. His Pneuma, along with the others, would be offered to the gods when Caul returned to Kor. There would be more offerings before they reached the Prime system.


    ¡°I would be honored.¡±


    ¡°Would you have succeeded where he failed?¡± Caul¡¯s voice rose slightly, drawing out Kanvelak¡¯s name with a lingering hiss.


    ¡°I would have killed the human.¡±


    Caul¡¯s expression remained impassive, though his eyes flickered with cold calculation. Fool.


    ¡°Good.¡± Caul stepped back and, with a nod, dismissed Kanvelak. He continued down the corridor, the Bruisers falling into step behind him. Kanvelak strode in the opposite direction. When will one of them find the courage to challenge me? That was what Caul sought, though he knew his reputation often prevented it. They fear me, he thought, yet courage could earn my respect.


    Reaching the stairwell, Caul began his descent, the spiraling steps taking him deeper into the ship. At the base, he crossed another corridor and approached a melee training room, one of several scattered throughout the vessel. He gestured for his guards to remain outside. They took their positions without a word, offering only a low grunt.


    The door slid downward into the floor at Caul¡¯s command, a faint tremor passing through as it locked into place.


    Inside, Nelve was immersed in training. She wielded her Kelkor blade, its edge crackling with a faint bluish-white plasma field that pulsed with each movement, accompanied by an unsettling frequency that shifted pitch. Opposite her stood a Stryder model Servitron, a combat-programmed artificial. Its shielded practice blade emitted a steady faded blue energy, designed to withstand the force of her strikes.


    The Stryder, built to match a Vorcon¡¯s physique and reach, mirrored Nelve¡¯s every move with mechanical efficiency. Its featureless, sensor-equipped face intercepted her aggressive blows. Her blade sliced through the air, each impact altering the frequency¡¯s unsettling tone. Every calculated strike was met with a precise counter; the Stryder absorbed each blow as though her efforts posed no threat.


    Caul observed from the corner of the room, scrutinizing her reflexes and decisions. Impressive. But is it enough? He needed more than skill; Nelve would have to be tested beyond technique. If stealth fails her, will she escape? Will she survive? Caul demanded more than obedience¡ªhe required agents capable of vanishing without a trace, leaving no evidence, no connections, and no fear of meeting the gods.


    ¡°Stryder, pause,¡± Caul commanded, his voice low. ¡°Initiate offensive protocol, level four.¡±


    A smirk crossed his face as Nelve braced herself, her breath coming in shallow bursts, her chest heaving. Father warned me: his silence is his only praise. She stepped back, widening the distance as the Stryder reset.


    The Stryder advanced, gears grinding as its movements grew more aggressive. Nelve¡¯s gaze darted to Caul; his sharp black teeth showed a glint of quiet amusement, igniting her determination. She raised her Kelkor blade, preparing for the onslaught¡ªwithout the use of shields, as Caul had forbidden them in her training sessions. There may come a time when shields fail; do not rely on them fully.


    The Stryder¡¯s assault came faster, heavier. Nelve¡¯s movements slowed under the relentless barrage. With each strike, her body grew sluggish until, finally, she dropped to one knee, the Stryder¡¯s blade hovering coldly above her, signaling her momentary defeat.


    ¡°You¡¯re holding up,¡± Caul remarked. ¡°But let¡¯s push you further. Increase attack level.¡±


    Nelve barely had time to recover as the Stryder¡¯s strikes intensified¡ªfaster, heavier, more precise. Exhaustion sank into her muscles, her blocks becoming weaker, more desperate. The ceaseless assault finally drove her back to her knees, then to the floor, the Servitron¡¯s power pressing down on her.


    ¡°Cease,¡± Caul ordered.


    The Stryder halted instantly. Gritting her teeth, Nelve hauled herself to her feet, clutching her blade tighter as pain flared through her. Caul approached, each step measured and purposeful.


    ¡°Inquisitor,¡± he said, his tone almost casual, ¡°you¡¯ve lasted longer than most.¡± A trace of approval across his face, vanishing as quickly as it came. ¡°Survival is not victory. Endurance alone is meaningless.¡± His voice darkened as he moved closer, his presence oppressive. ¡°I require sacrifice, strength, and the will to claim what others cannot.¡±


    Caul paused, his eyes narrowing as his words settled over her. After a moment, he turned to the console and reviewed its data. ¡°In a real battle, you would have managed only three kills.¡±


    Breath by breath, Nelve steadied herself, though her body shivered with fatigue. ¡°I¡¯ll keep pushing myself, Major Legate,¡± she replied. Every day, he ordered her into the training room for hours, pushing her to the brink. Her recent mission to Chiex had been her only reprieve from the relentless drills he demanded of her.


    ¡°Yes, you will,¡± Caul responded, his eyes narrowing. ¡°There will be tasks that push you beyond your limits. I expect you to succeed where others fail.¡± His gaze locked onto hers, holding her firmly. I was tested the same way.


    ¡°I will obey,¡± Nelve said.


    Caul¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°I expect more than compliance, Inquisitor.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± she answered, wondering how much more she could possibly give.


    ¡°Surviving this long against a Stryder should make facing ordinary enemies insignificant,¡± he said with a lingering hiss.


    ¡°I am ready for greater trials and missions,¡± Nelve vowed. But doubt crept in. Can I truly live up to his expectations? They seem impossible.


    Caul snickered. ¡°Are you truly prepared? You must claim your place... or lose it.¡±


    ¡°I will, Major Legate.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± He paused briefly. ¡°In the future, Ubar will lead a critical mission¡ªone that will involve both of you. You will assist him.¡±


    Nelve nodded solemnly. I¡¯d rather face it alone than with him. ¡°And the mission?¡± she asked before she could stop herself.


    Caul didn¡¯t seem fazed by her question. ¡°The specifics will depend on what intelligence Ubar gathers,¡± he explained, his voice carrying a hint of mystery. ¡°All my plans are flexible, Inquisitor. A true plan is incomplete by design¡ªit can shift at a moment¡¯s notice. I may send you off without warning.¡±


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    A realization struck Nelve. So, Ubar has been preparing... but for what? Following him felt like little reward, but perhaps it would build trust, she considered.


    Her thoughts were interrupted by Caul''s next command. ¡°Stryder, resume offensive stance, level nine. Arm yourself with the Scalar Falcata.¡±


    The Stryder retrieved the weapon. With the blade in hand, its movements quickened, each strike growing faster and more precise. Nelve barely had time to brace before the Stryder¡¯s blade came down, jolting her arm with the impact. She struggled to maintain her stance as each blow landed harder¡ªand harder.


    The Stryder¡¯s relentless assault pushed her to her limits. She fought back with everything she had, but the speed and complexity of its attacks left her little room to recover. At first, she held her ground, but eventually, it became too much.


    ¡°Stryder, halt. Training complete. Deactivate,¡± Caul commanded, his tone flat. ¡°Better than expected, but still not enough.¡±


    The Servitron complied, returning the weapon to the wall before disappearing behind a panel that slid shut, hiding its presence.


    Caul stepped forward, drawing his Kelkor blade and activating it in one fluid motion. He swung without warning. Nelve barely managed to parry, but his counters came too fast. With one sweeping movement, he knocked her legs out from under her, his blade hovering at her throat. After a pause, he deactivated the weapon and sheathed it.


    As Caul slid the blade back into its scabbard, he assumed a contemplative stance¡ªone arm behind his back, his right hand extended slightly. Nelve, regaining her footing, glanced up at him. He fights me without hesitation, even after all this training... I wonder how long I could last if this were serious. Doubt crept into her mind. Caul Malocktus¡¯s reputation as a warrior was well-earned.


    ¡°The Scalar Falcata,¡± Caul mused, letting the words linger. His gaze settled on Nelve, expectant.


    Realizing he was waiting, she responded. ¡°The weapon Garen Rivers used,¡± she said, catching her breath. ¡°He was proficient with it.¡±


    ¡°He was indeed¡ªa warrior through and through, and as cunning as ever. What did you think of his home? You saw it.¡±


    After all these years, it seemed impossible that Rivers could still be a threat, yet the bloodshed on Chiex left little room for doubt. She had seen the planet. ¡°Chiex is harsh¡ªcold. He had little technology to support him. It looked as though he lived off the land. His cabin was far from the Camerian Settlement.¡±


    Caul nodded, impressed. ¡°Yes,¡± he hissed. ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°Chiex seems like a place where survival is a constant battle. He could have gone anywhere, but he chose that planet; he chose that struggle,¡± Nelve added thoughtfully.


    Caul nodded in approval. ¡°Understanding humans is crucial,¡± he said. ¡°They possess remarkable resourcefulness. You may face them someday¡ªperhaps even him, the General.¡± Though that was far from Caul¡¯s plan; no, Caul would face Garen himself. Garen was his to fight, his to kill.


    ¡°I would like to test myself against him,¡± Nelve affirmed, though Rivers¡¯ reputation left her uncertain¡ªas uncertain as the thought of facing Caul in a real fight. She did not fear Garen as she feared Caul Malocktus.


    ¡°Good,¡± Caul said with a slight smirk, nodding once. It was the answer he had expected, though he already knew what the outcome would be.


    ¡°Your training for today is concluded.¡± Without further words, he turned and exited the room, leaving Nelve alone.


    ***


    The next day, Nelve resumed her training. The sharp clash of her Kelkor blade against the Stryder¡¯s practice weapon echoed through the room, plasma energy crackling along its edge as it struck the Stryder¡¯s shielded blade. Each hit surged with power.


    With a final blow to the Stryder¡¯s chest, she ended the session, panting for breath. Deactivating her blade, she ordered the Stryder to finish. It complied, returning its practice weapon to the wall before disappearing behind a concealed panel.


    The door slid open, and Nelve turned to see Major Legate Caul Malocktus enter, his pale white Vorcon face unreadable.


    Caul strode toward the training console, setting a wooden case on a small ledge as he reviewed the day¡¯s training statistics. Nelve remained at the center of the room, her deactivated Kelkor blade still in hand.


    Without looking up, he gave a slight nod. ¡°Your progress is commendable.¡± He left it at that.


    Still catching her breath, Nelve replied, ¡°Yes, Major Legate Malocktus.¡±


    Caul regarded her in silence for a moment. Then he lifted the wooden case. ¡°Inquisitor,¡± he hissed, ¡°put away your blade.¡±


    Nelve complied, hanging her Kelkor blade on the wall alongside the others. She returned to her position at the center of the room, where Caul now stood, unmoving.


    ¡°I¡¯ve brought something for you,¡± Caul said, unfastening the clasps. He lifted the lid to reveal a twelve-inch dagger, its blade curving to a fine point, almost claw-like. The handle, unlike standard Vorcon daggers, was designed as a push dagger¡ªfor a different style of combat.


    Nelve¡¯s eyes widened slightly. She had seen this type of blade before but couldn¡¯t recall where. The dagger had a power source with a small control panel built into the hilt, complete with buttons and a dial.


    ¡°This is no mere weapon,¡± Caul said, his voice low and reverent as he lifted the dagger from the case. ¡°It is a symbol of your commitment to the Brotherhood, should you accept. This blade will serve you, but only if you prove yourself worthy of wielding it¡ªa Katarath Dagger.¡±


    The Brotherhood? Nelve¡¯s face betrayed nothing, though her pulse quickened. ¡°It will be useful,¡± she replied, though the hidden intent behind the gift made her wary. What exactly am I supposed to do with it?


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Caul replied. ¡°Used incorrectly, it could mean your death.¡±


    He handed her the dagger, watching as she tested its weight. What is he really asking of me? Caul nodded, signaling for her to activate the weapon. She pressed the activation button, and the blade surged to life, raw and volatile. Sparks of pale blue and white energy flickered along the edge before it abruptly deactivated.


    Nelve shifted her grip, noting the precision of its balance as she punched forward experimentally.


    ¡°Is that how it¡¯s supposed to function?¡± she asked, turning the dagger over in her hand.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Caul confirmed. ¡°The energy can only be sustained briefly. If left on too long, the weapon destabilizes and destroys itself. It¡¯s designed for swift, precise strikes¡ªfor a killing blow. One second is all it needs when used properly.¡± He studied her for a moment. ¡°It also symbolizes my trust in you and your acceptance of further guidance.¡±


    ¡°I accept your teachings,¡± she said, though her heart pounded in her chest. Do I have a choice?


    Caul¡¯s eyes took on a deadly focus. ¡°You¡¯ve been a fine officer in the Grand Vorcon Imperial Force, a fine Inquisitor, but this is a pledge to embody the true virtues of our Empire¡ªthe virtues of our ancestors. You will help restore them and ensure our Empire does not fade into insignificance in the Karadolex Galaxy. Sacrifices must be made to secure our growth and prosperity. True dedication means communing with the gods as our ancestors did and standing among the Immortals of our history. Are you prepared for that?¡±


    Nelve¡¯s thoughts raced. ¡°I am. I will follow your command.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Caul said, his voice carrying a faint note of satisfaction. ¡°But you don¡¯t fully understand what¡¯s at stake. Not yet. What I¡¯m about to tell you isn¡¯t easily grasped.¡± His tone lowered. ¡°I am part of an ancient order¡ªthe Brotherhood of Velor,¡± he revealed, watching her closely. ¡°Have you heard of it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I have,¡± Nelve replied.


    To most Vorcons, it was a myth, a legend. Could it actually be real?


    ¡°The Brotherhood of Velor is shrouded in mystery,¡± Caul continued, his voice dropping lower. ¡°It has lingered over our Empire for centuries. I tell you, Inquisitor, the Brotherhood has always been as real as the Empire itself.¡± His tone became deliberate, each word weighted. ¡°You have a choice to make, and you must make it now. Continue your training with me and join the Brotherhood of Velor, or refuse and end your training. Once we reach the Empire, you will no longer be under my command. Accept only if you¡¯re fully committed¡ªif you¡¯re willing to put the good of the Empire above your own beliefs. If not, I will find another.¡±


    Join the Brotherhood¡­ or die here.


    Nelve hesitated, though the pause felt like an eternity. ¡°I will join,¡± she declared, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. She questioned whether this was what her father had intended for her¡ªan assassin¡¯s path, taking lives without honor or recognition. I can¡¯t afford to hesitate. Not now.


    ¡°There is a price for joining,¡± Caul said, his tone unwavering. ¡°And the toll cannot be delayed. An initiation of sorts.¡±


    ¡°I accept the price,¡± Nelve replied.


    Caul nodded, his eyes reflecting the weight of her decision. ¡°Many challenges lie ahead¡ªtrials that will reveal the true nature of the Brotherhood of Velor. I cannot yet tell you all,¡± he continued. ¡°This order worships Velor, a god long forgotten amid the noise of politics and war. He¡¯s called a forgotten Immortal, but he is a god. It¡¯s an insult to call him otherwise. Previous emperors decreed that Velor should no longer be revered. That decision has never sat well with some.¡± Caul stepped closer, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper. ¡°Velor¡¯s loyalty to the Emperor demanded sacrifice. The Brotherhood expects no less. Our strength lies in making impossible choices for the prosperity of the Vorcon Empire.¡±


    ¡°I am prepared to face the challenges,¡± Nelve said, standing taller.


    Caul¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°You are not prepared. You have no idea what¡¯s required,¡± he said, his tone cold and piercing. ¡°You must kill someone. Offer them to Velor.¡± His words hung in the air, weighted with finality.


    Nelve¡¯s mind racing back to her father¡¯s cryptic warnings. His words echoed: sacrifice is the foundation of power. But as she stood before Caul, she questioned whether this was the kind of sacrifice he had meant. Killing without honor or hesitation was one thing¡ªbut what would it make of her? She had killed before and had no qualms about taking life, but this felt different.


    ¡°There are those in the Empire who have outlived their usefulness and now serve only themselves,¡± Caul continued. ¡°The Brotherhood once played a much more active role. We never disappeared; we act when required. Now, with the Empire on the verge of a new war, we must ensure its strength. Failure is not an option. We cannot afford to lose another war.¡± His voice carried a sense of urgency.


    ¡°I would give everything for the Empire to grow stronger,¡± Nelve proclaimed. ¡°If my hands can help, then I will die with honor and the respect of the gods.¡±


    ¡°No less is expected.¡±


    ¡°I understand, Major Legate,¡± Nelve replied.


    ¡°I am taking you as my apprentice,¡± Caul declared sharply. ¡°Remember, the Brotherhood¡¯s secrets must never leave this room. In private, you will call me Master.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master,¡± she said, forcing the words past the knot tightening in her throat. Nelve¡¯s mind raced, caught between the weight of Caul¡¯s demands and the irreversible path she had chosen¡ªor perhaps been guided toward.


    Caul¡¯s eyes narrowed as he studied her face, searching for any sign of hesitation. ¡°Did your father prepare you for this?¡±


    ¡°He spoke of responsibilities, of difficult decisions that would fall on me,¡± Nelve replied.


    Caul nodded slowly, a sign of approval. ¡°Now, the question remains: for your first task, for your initiation, have you decided whom you will kill?¡± His voice lingered, each raspy syllable laced with a dark, expectant tone.


    Nelve¡¯s thoughts churned, and a question clawed at her mind¡ªwhom would she condemn?


    ¡°I¡¯ll need to consider it,¡± she said, her voice wavering despite her best effort to stay steady.


    ¡°Time is limited. Your initiation begins now,¡± Caul replied, his gaze fixed on her, watching for her reaction, for her understanding.


    Nelve¡¯s stomach tightened. ¡°Someone... here?¡± Her voice cracked as her mind spun. The dagger felt heavier in her grip. How do I choose who dies?


    ¡°Yes, someone on this ship,¡± Caul confirmed, his tone firm, unyielding. ¡°By tomorrow, someone must die by your hand, by the blade you now carry.¡±


    ¡°It will be done,¡± Nelve affirmed, though the task weighed on her like a leaden burden. Determination settled within her as she spoke. Hesitation would mean losing everything; one wrong move, and Caul himself might strike her down.


    ¡°I was once where you are now,¡± Caul continued, his tone softening. ¡°Tasked by the Brotherhood for the good of the Empire. That task left a mark¡ªa great deed, though I can never claim credit for it. You must do the same. Your deeds will remain between us, within the Brotherhood. Be assured, the gods will know.¡±


    He paused, letting his words sink in. ¡°Go to your quarters and rest. It may be a long night for you.¡± His voice dropped into a low rasp, ending in a drawn-out hiss.


    Without another word, Caul turned and exited, the door sliding shut behind him, leaving Nelve alone with the dagger.

 Chapter 13

    Chapter 13


    Garen awoke in his quarters on the Resilience to the familiar, long-forgotten beep of the Relay unit, drawing him from deep sleep. The sound repeated in a sequence of rising octaves¡ªa tone he¡¯d heard countless times during his years aboard the Riftkin as part of the Rhyus Defense Fleet: orders, emergency calls, dreaded alerts of an incoming Vorcon armada. But that was years ago. Memories surged through his mind, momentarily pulling him back to those days before fading as he fully woke, taking a moment to identify the sound.


    Blinking against the darkness, he noticed a small desk lamp casting just enough light to outline the room¡¯s details. I¡¯m on the Resilience, he reminded himself, slowly reorienting. The past few days¡ªthe escape from Chiex, the Vorcon encounter, docking on the Resilience¡ªall came rushing back. Realizing he¡¯d slept longer than expected, he found himself sprawled on top of the covers, still in his clothes. He¡¯d only meant to rest briefly.


    Sitting up, he swallowed against the dryness in his throat, nearly choking. The comm unit beeped again, sharper this time, insistently pulling him back to the present. He touched the switch, and light filled every corner of the room. He winced, eyes narrowing against the brightness, which was harsher than he¡¯d intended or wanted, then pressed the Relay unit, a green light signaling its activation.


    ¡°Rivers here,¡± he managed, clearing his throat.


    An impersonal voice came through, formal and direct. ¡°Good morning, General Rivers. General Maylone requests your presence in her office in an hour and invites you to join her for breakfast.¡± The voice sounded familiar¡ªlikely the same one that had addressed the Seeker the day before.


    Garen¡¯s hand hovered over the Relay as he processed the message. Breakfast with General Maylone? Was this unexpected courtesy¡ªor a carefully planned move? Shaking off the last remnants of sleep, he replied, ¡°I¡¯ll be there. Rivers out,¡± ending the connection with a touch more force than intended.


    Invitations like this weren¡¯t unusual among RDF commanders, but being on the receiving end felt different. The Resilience¡¯s insistence on docking the Seeker and extending his stay had struck him as excessive¡ªalmost aggressive. Yes, aggressive, he decided¡ªthough it had offered him a rare chance to rest since Chiex. Despite the formality of the invitation, the familiar atmosphere of the RDF ship, shaped by years of service, felt instinctively comforting. Still, a lingering thought hinted that the RDF might not be entirely pleased with his return. Yet, strangely enough, he felt... secure.


    Garen winced as his stiff joints protested with each movement. Rolling his shoulders, he worked out the tension built up from days spent on edge, unaccustomed to the constant sitting in the Seeker¡¯s cockpit. Before all this, he¡¯d been in constant motion, always on the move¡ªbecause he had to be. There hadn¡¯t been a choice. Motion had meant survival, keeping him occupied both physically and mentally.


    He pushed himself up and went to the refreshment unit, pouring a glass of water. The cool drink soothed his dry throat, though a pang of hunger reminded him he hadn¡¯t eaten much since early the previous day. Maybe breakfast isn¡¯t such a bad idea, he thought, though a strange, dreamlike feeling lingered. Am I really here, aboard the Resilience? For a moment, memory and reality blurred, but the details of his surroundings grounded him. Yes, he was indeed aboard the RDF battlecruiser. Much had happened in recent days, and he sensed there was more to come¡ªmore that was unexpected.


    The guest quarters were functional yet comfortable: a bed, refreshment station, compact lounge, computer station, and Hygiene Module¡ªeverything he needed, with nothing superfluous. Garen headed straight to the shower. The strong spray jolted him fully awake, though the water felt different¡ªlacking the natural purity of Chiex¡¯s mountain streams. There, the water had been clean, untouched, and unrecycled, a reminder of a life he was no longer living.


    After his shower, Garen dressed in the civilian clothes that he assumed the quartermaster had provided, perhaps at General Maylone¡¯s request. He doubted she wanted him looking the way he had been. Waiting for him was an outfit: dark trousers, a charcoal shirt, and a navy jacket. The clothes felt strange against his skin, so different from the rugged, patched garments he¡¯d grown used to. He rarely had the time to wear his better clothes. He slipped on a pair of new brown shoes, feeling an unexpected comfort.


    Catching his reflection, he ran a hand through his hair and over his graying beard. If I¡¯d planned to leave Chiex, I might have shaved, he thought, though the beard felt like a part of him now, grown out shortly after his exile began. Maybe just a slight trim.


    Garen stepped into the corridor, catching the distant murmur of crew conversations. The air on the Resilience was clean and controlled¡ªso unlike the rugged, earth-scented atmosphere of Chiex or the Seeker¡¯s own lived-in air, which held a distinct, indefinable quality. He¡¯d never dare mention it to Klamarez; he¡¯d likely tear it all apart. It worked, and that was the main thing. Here, on the Resilience, the reality of his departure felt sharper, like a return to a life he thought he¡¯d buried long ago. Yet now, here it was, unearthed once more¡ªlike a dream he half-expected to wake up from.


    Garen rounded a corner, coming face-to-face with Sergeant Wallace, who moved in the opposite direction.


    ¡°Morning, General Rivers,¡± Wallace said, dressed in full gear aside from his helmet and weapon.


    ¡°Good morning, Sergeant Wallace,¡± Garen replied.


    ¡°I trust the ship¡¯s treating you well?¡± Wallace asked, his steel-gray eyes holding a steady gaze.


    ¡°It¡¯s more than comfortable, thank you,¡± Garen answered, appreciating the courtesy. He hadn¡¯t seen much of the ship since falling asleep soon after arriving. Though curious to see more, he preferred to move on and depart soon.


    With a nod, they parted, each continuing in opposite directions. Conversations hushed to whispers as Garen walked down the corridor. He caught fragments: ¡°¡­ didn¡¯t expect Rivers back¡­¡± and ¡°¡­ thought he was dead¡­¡± A few crew members greeted him with quick nods, though most averted their gaze. Other snippets floated his way¡ª¡°... heard he went on an expedition to another galaxy¡­¡± and ¡°¡­ Vorcons? Are we headed for another war? ¡­ he¡¯s investigating the Origins? No way, you¡¯re making that up.¡±


    The gossip faded as he passed, silencing as though his presence alone quelled further speculation. Occasionally, a crew member paused to introduce themselves, shaking his hand and offering polite well wishes before returning to their duties. Some glanced at him with reserved doubt, quietly questioning his return.


    The attention felt strange; he appreciated the respect yet wished to avoid it.


    After navigating his way through the ship¡¯s corridors, Garen found himself standing outside General Maylone¡¯s office. He paused, collecting his thoughts. There was a time when meetings like this had been routine, but now it felt anything but. This isn¡¯t my place anymore, he thought. He felt like an outsider, as if he no longer belonged on any RDF ship. In truth, he didn¡¯t¡ªnot anymore. That time had long passed.


    His hand hovered over the chime panel. What¡¯s this all about? Curiosity, or pity? He recalled giving tours on the Riftkin to retired generals from a generation before his own. Is that what I am now?


    The door slid open, revealing Maylone¡¯s office. She rose from behind her desk and crossed the room to greet him, extending her hand. Their handshake was firm¡ªhis calloused, worn hands meeting her smooth ones as she offered a polite welcome.


    She led him through an inner door into a secluded dining area. The room, adorned with understated art and quiet luxury, centered around a large table surrounded by high-backed chairs and a floor-to-ceiling viewing port. Through it, the emerald planet of Eteren loomed in the near distance. Garen eased into one of the chairs, noting the pristine quality of everything¡ªso unlike the battered, front-line vessels he¡¯d known. The Riftkin had always felt like a machine of war, but the Resilience, though equally powerful, exuded a distinctly different atmosphere. This is a ship of comfort, he thought, feeling the contrast. He wondered how quickly that might change if another war broke out. I hope they don¡¯t find out.


    Maylone sat across from him, activating a relay on the table to summon refreshments.


    ¡°General Rivers, your arrival was unexpected. You were the last person I thought to find aboard that vessel when we detected its entry into the Mottmor system.¡± Though her smile was warm and polite, a spark of curiosity lingered behind it.


    Garen wondered if that was entirely true; he suspected they¡¯d known he was coming long before the Seeker arrived. They knew about the Vorcons¡ªhe was almost certain they¡¯d known he was on board, too.


    Maylone leaned back, her gaze a careful blend of interest and suspicion. ¡°It¡¯s been quite some time since anyone last saw you. Still, having you aboard the Resilience is a pleasure. Your contributions to the Seven Worlds are remembered.¡± Her focus didn¡¯t shift; her eyes stayed locked on him, an unreadable expression betraying a hint of contemplation, as though she were weighing unspoken truths.


    Garen nodded, sensing the depth of her words. ¡°Thank you, General Maylone. I have to admit, it¡¯s... disorienting. I¡¯d grown used to the idea of staying on Chiex.¡± The Resilience felt familiar in some ways¡ªRDF battlecruisers all had a shared atmosphere¡ªbut everything about it seemed altered. Different didn¡¯t quite capture it; it was as though his time with the RDF had almost never happened at all. Really, it was as if the RDF had moved on, evolving as he¡¯d known it would, yet seeing the changes up close after ten years revealed how much was different while hints of the past still lingered.


    ¡°I can only imagine,¡± Maylone replied, her tone neutral and expression composed.


    She poured herself a cup of coffee, and Garen followed suit, savoring the warmth as he took a sip. Her silent gaze held an undercurrent of questions.


    ¡°Thank you, General,¡± he said, his voice a mix of gratitude and weariness. ¡°I appreciate the hospitality.¡±


    Maylone¡¯s nod was slow, her eyes distant, her face calm and reflective, as if piecing something together. ¡°Your return¡­ has raised some interest,¡± she said, her gaze fixed on him, observing his every movement.


    The way she lingered on ¡°interest¡± made him uneasy. ¡°Interest?¡± he repeated, a crease forming in his brow. ¡°RDF Command? The Council of Seven?¡±


    ¡°I meant it more generally,¡± she replied, a note of caution threading her tone.


    Garen nodded, uncertain of her intent. ¡°I suppose not many expected me back.¡±


    Maylone¡¯s mouth curved in a faint smile. ¡°After all this time... no, I¡¯d say not.¡±


    Garen exhaled, his gaze drifting. ¡°Not exactly where I thought I¡¯d end up either. Not by choice. I didn¡¯t expect to be uprooted from my home like that.¡± He paused, recalling the Otay trees that had surrounded his home, last seen ablaze. He didn¡¯t yet know that Caul Malocktus had ensured its complete destruction.


    Maylone leaned in, her eyes sharpening with curiosity tempered by a hint of compassion. ¡°We¡¯re more than happy to provide a safe haven, General Rivers.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, General,¡± Garen replied, fully aware they were here for questioning, not refuge.


    Her tone shifted, taking on a guarded edge. ¡°Still, I must admit, I¡¯m curious about your journey back to the Seven Worlds. It¡¯s quite a distance. I was concerned about your safe arrival.¡±


    ¡°Safe arrival?¡± Garen echoed, a hint of confusion in his voice.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Your ship appears to have seen better days,¡± Maylone observed, her gaze sweeping over him with a scrutinizing look. ¡°Will it make it back in one piece?¡± Her tone was almost¡ªbut not quite¡ªmocking.


    Garen took a measured breath, accepting that the Seeker was, admittedly, a bit rough around the edges. ¡°The Seeker is more than capable. Klamarez is skilled. It¡¯s still under construction, but it¡¯ll hold. As you can imagine, there weren¡¯t many ships available on Chiex, and we didn¡¯t have much time. Still, given the circumstances, it held up well.¡±


    Maylone raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. ¡°Then it seems you were fortunate to escape all that,¡± she remarked, her voice soft but laced with intrigue.


    Garen nodded, though he knew that Caul Malocktus had merely let them go, toying with them. It didn¡¯t seem worth mentioning, but he sensed that Maylone was probing, subtly questioning how they had managed to escape without saying it outright. Conus had provided them with data, and they¡¯d had ample time to analyze it. Garen was certain they¡¯d reach their own conclusions soon enough.


    ¡°I admire your confidence in the Camerian, Klamarez,¡± Maylone continued. ¡°But I wish we had a ship to loan Colonel Taylen, just to be on the safe side. Unfortunately, our fleet is limited in this system. Hopefully, your friend can get his vessel fully operational.¡±


    ¡°The Seeker¡¯s functional, just needs some fine-tuning,¡± Garen replied with a slight shrug. ¡°Bit of a work in progress. Still, not bad for a maiden voyage.¡±


    Maylone¡¯s eyes widened with a mix of amusement and disbelief. ¡°Maiden voyage?¡± she echoed, eyebrows lifting. ¡°It¡¯s remarkable, then, that it¡¯s operational at all. And once it¡¯s fine-tuned, what then? I assume your stay here will be brief¡ªin the system, I mean?¡±


    ¡°Mottmor was just meant to be a stopover,¡± Garen replied, omitting details he wasn¡¯t ready to share¡ªlike the fact that Colonel Conus Taylen had concealed his affiliation with the RSIA, not the RDF. From what he¡¯d observed, suspicion ran deep among the crew here. General Maylone concealed her feelings well, but Colonel Nolvin had made his doubts clear. Eteren One was never meant to be more than a regrouping point, he thought. A place for safety, maybe a chance to inform the RDF about the Vorcons¡ªor so I¡¯d hoped. But Maylone didn¡¯t need to know all that. They already seemed more wary than they let on, and he wasn¡¯t about to overshare and fuel their suspicions.


    ¡°And after the stopover?¡± Maylone pressed.


    Garen¡¯s eyes flicked to the viewport, watching the steady movement of ships around Eteren One¡¯s starbase and the planet Eteren beyond. ¡°I plan to head to Rhyus.¡±


    Her expression softened, though her eyes held a wary curiosity, as if weighing what was left unsaid. ¡°Returning to Rhyus after all these years must hold some significance for you.¡±


    ¡°It does. Never thought I¡¯d be going back,¡± he replied.


    She gave him a look that hinted at doubt. ¡°The RSIA has taken a keen interest in you, from what we can gather. Do you have any idea what might have piqued their curiosity?¡±


    Garen kept his expression unreadable, sensing her careful probing. ¡®Not specifically, no. Maybe they want my perspective on something from my career. Hard to say. But really, your guess is as good as mine, General,¡¯ he replied, his tone guarded but open.


    As he mentioned the RSIA¡¯s interest, Maylone¡¯s smile lingered, her eyes narrowing briefly before settling back into their usual warmth.


    ¡°I see. With a career as extensive as yours, it could be any number of things.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m as curious as you are,¡± Garen replied, his tone deliberately vague.


    ¡°Your history with the Vorcons¡ªand their sudden reemergence¡ªmakes the RSIA¡¯s interest even more intriguing, however,¡± she remarked, her voice carefully neutral. Her gaze stayed sharp, studying him closely.


    ¡°Intriguing? What makes it so?¡± Garen asked.


    ¡°Just the timing, General Rivers. A coincidence, don¡¯t you think? Your history with the Vorcons...¡± She let the implication linger.


    ¡°My history with the Vorcons?¡± Garen echoed. ¡°You mean the history of the Vorcon Empire and the Seven Worlds of Rhyus?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Maylone replied smoothly. ¡°Though it¡¯s hard to deny that your career is intertwined with the Vorcon Empire.¡±


    Garen leaned back slightly. ¡°It was a long war,¡± he said, his voice flattening as memories surfaced. ¡°Twenty years of war takes its toll.¡±


    Maylone¡¯s gaze remained fixed, silently urging him to continue.


    ¡°I did what I had to do,¡± Garen went on, his tone resolute. ¡°We fought to keep the Seven Worlds safe, to protect other systems from conquest, to free them. That¡¯s not just my history, General Maylone¡ªthat¡¯s the history of the RDF, of the Seven Worlds. I was one part of it, like so many others who gave years to that war. I¡¯m sure you fought in it too, did your part.¡±


    ¡°I did indeed, General Rivers,¡± she replied, recalling a time long before she held her current rank. And I was glad when the peace treaty was declared¡ªunlike you, she thought.


    ¡°My contribution was no different than anyone¡¯s. We all had our roles to play,¡± Garen said, his tone final.


    Her gaze held firm. ¡°And yet, you lost your career standing by your beliefs. You faced the Council of Seven, advocating for continued conflict with the Vorcons. That¡¯s a significant sacrifice for one¡¯s principles; most of us were relieved to see the war end¡ªI know I was,¡± she remarked, a slight edge to her words. ¡°It¡¯s remarkable how your return aligns with theirs.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a matter of perspective,¡± Garen replied coolly. He was in no mood to revisit his stance on the peace treaty or the speech he¡¯d given before the Council of Seven all those years ago. He¡¯d made his point then and was past defending his position. ¡°And I didn¡¯t return by choice. The Vorcons saw to that. I¡¯d refused Colonel Taylen¡¯s offer to speak with the RSIA, but the Vorcon attack forced my hand.¡± What is she trying to imply? That I somehow brought the Vorcons back?


    Maylone absorbed his words thoughtfully. ¡°That is quite a chain of events.¡±


    ¡°I would agree,¡± Garen replied.


    ¡°Any regrets about how your career ended?¡± Maylone asked, her tone probing.


    Garen¡¯s expression remained steady. ¡°Perhaps I could have handled things differently, maybe taken another approach¡ªit¡¯s hard to say. But regret? No.¡±


    ¡°Even after all you lost?¡± she pressed.


    ¡°No regrets,¡± Garen replied without hesitation. Well¡­ perhaps a few.


    Maylone took another sip of coffee, her eyes fixed on him. ¡°Still, you can¡¯t deny that your return and the Vorcons¡¯ resurgence at the same time¡ªit¡¯s unlikely, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    Her pointed look prompted him to consider his words carefully. ¡°Unlikely, yes,¡± he replied, keeping his tone calm even as his thoughts raced. Why does she keep pressing that point? It felt as if RDF Command was more concerned about his return than the Vorcons¡¯. His sudden departure from Chiex, his presence on the Resilience, and the RSIA¡¯s involvement had surely unsettled more than a few on the Council of Seven. Do they think I¡¯m here to reignite the war¡ªor are they just looking for a reason to suspect it?


    He nearly smirked. What kind of power do they think I have?


    ¡°As for the Vorcons,¡± he said, his tone intentionally casual, ¡°I trust RDF Command is monitoring any developments.¡± He took a slow sip of his coffee, letting the silence settle before continuing. ¡°Since the incident at Chiex, have there been further Vorcon activities? Additional sightings?¡±


    ¡°Not that we¡¯re aware of,¡± Maylone replied. ¡°Rest assured, General Rivers, we remain vigilant. Our assessments suggest a low threat level for now, but if the Vorcons enter our territories, we¡¯re prepared to respond. Engaging them isn¡¯t something the RDF does lightly¡ªonly when absolutely necessary.¡± Her tone, formal and placating, felt as though it were meant for a civilian rather than a retired general of Garen¡¯s reputation.


    Garen leaned in a fraction, his gaze steady as it met hers. ¡°And the engagement on Chiex¡ªwould you consider that an escalation?¡±


    ¡°An engagement involving a retired RDF officer and a Camerian does not concern the RDF,¡± she replied with a calm that seemed immovable.


    ¡°But there were lives lost,¡± Garen countered. ¡°Colonel Taylen and I fought them, took down six Vorcons. The Vorcons destroyed a transport¡ªColonel Taylen lost his entire team.¡±


    ¡°Regardless, Colonel Taylen is part of the RSIA, not the RDF,¡± Maylone responded, as if the line had been rehearsed.


    I see, Garen thought. Is this her stance, or Command¡¯s? The RDF and RSIA had always functioned independently, but Maylone¡¯s words hinted at a complete severance. Just how deep is the divide now? he wondered. Deeper than I¡¯d imagined. Did the Council of Seven see it that way too?


    If this new Vorcon threat is real, then the RDF and RSIA should be working together more closely¡ªfor the good of the Seven Worlds.


    His thoughts shifted briefly to Amar Lavont, the current head of the RSIA. Under Lavont¡¯s direction, the agency¡¯s approach to intelligence and security had changed dramatically. Has he stirred things up this much? Enough to create a divide like this? There had to be more at play than Lavont¡¯s leadership alone. Conus had mentioned the RSIA¡¯s near collapse. What exactly had happened? Garen was beginning to realize he was far from seeing the full picture.


    Just then, an older woman and a young man entered, wheeling in a cart laden with fresh coffee and an array of food. Both wore crisp white uniforms, and soon the table overflowed with delicacies¡ªthe aroma of coffee mingling with the scent of baked goods and a full breakfast spread. Garen couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the excess.


    He nodded and thanked the servers warmly as they departed. Maylone watched him closely, her faint smile lingering, as if she were reading his thoughts.


    ¡°What about after your visit with the RSIA?¡± Maylone asked. ¡°Have you thought about returning to Rhyus? To live, I mean?¡±


    Garen shrugged slightly. ¡°I might end up back on Rhyus, or maybe even return to my homeworld. I haven¡¯t really decided,¡± he admitted. ¡°I¡¯m still adjusting to everything that¡¯s happened, keeping my options open.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re from Amoreron, aren¡¯t you?¡± Maylone¡¯s tone suggested she already knew the answer.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Garen replied with a faint smile. ¡°I might be overdue for a visit.¡±


    Maylone nodded slowly, her gaze intent as she studied his expression. ¡°Do you still have family there?¡±


    Garen paused, drifting into thought. ¡°Yes,¡± he said simply.


    ¡°Well, it might be nice to visit them,¡± Maylone said thoughtfully. ¡°Being away from the Seven Worlds for a decade is quite a stretch. You should know, many crew members were eager to meet General Garen Rivers. There was quite a buzz about you possibly joining us in the mess hall last night. They even reserved a seat for you.¡±


    Garen felt a wave of relief at having missed it. I¡¯m not ready for that, he thought, shying from the attention. Forcing a smile, he replied, ¡°I¡¯d intended to join, but honestly, I fell asleep. The last few days have been more eventful than I¡¯m used to.¡±


    ¡°Chiex must have had its challenges,¡± Maylone observed, letting her words settle as if inviting him to elaborate.


    ¡°More than enough,¡± Garen replied evenly. ¡°But it was necessary¡ªI needed the change.¡±


    Maylone leaned forward, adding to her plate, her interest sharpening. ¡°Tell me about Chiex. It¡¯s intriguing that you chose to live there, so far from the comforts of the Seven Worlds. What were the challenges like? How did you adapt?¡± Her tone was casual, but a probing edge undercut her words, as though she sought more than he was offering. Her gaze lingered, assessing him.


    Garen shifted slightly in his seat. ¡°Chiex was... simple, but survival wasn¡¯t,¡± he replied, recalling the mountain winds and the nights when even a fire barely held off the chill. He could almost feel those silent, endless nights again, the kind of cold a fire alone couldn¡¯t chase away. The cold season had been approaching when he left¡ªsomething he¡¯d prepared for. But now, it was no longer his concern.


    ¡°It was a necessary change,¡± he added distantly, briefly mentioning growing his own food, hunting, fishing, and exploring¡ªjust enough to satisfy her curiosity without delving too deeply.


    ¡°That¡¯s an admirable way to live, General Rivers. I can barely imagine it,¡± she remarked, her smile composed, though her sharp eyes missed nothing. He sensed the unspoken questions behind her carefully chosen words, coaxing him to reveal more.


    He decided to steer the conversation. ¡°This is a fine ship, the Resilience.¡±


    Maylone nodded, pride evident in her tone. ¡°I was fortunate to receive its command. Competition was stiff.¡± She mentioned taking over the Resilience, but soon shifted the topic back to the RSIA. ¡°You¡¯re aware Amar Lavont now heads the RSIA? Given your history with him, I imagine it might be useful. Have you spoken to him since you left for Chiex?¡±


    Garen¡¯s expression softened slightly, a quick smile escaping, faintly amused by her persistence. ¡°I haven¡¯t spoken to him since I left a decade ago.¡± He paused, the weight of past events lingering. ¡°Our last meeting left some things unresolved. My departure wasn¡¯t under the best of circumstances.¡±


    Maylone nodded, a flicker of understanding in her gaze. ¡°Difficult times often lead to difficult decisions,¡± she said. ¡°He must still hold respect for you, after all the years you served together.¡±


    Garen kept his expression neutral. ¡°Respect, yes,¡± he said quietly. Loyalty ran deep, layered with memories¡ªsome of Lavont warm, others¡­ less so.


    After they finished breakfast, Garen and Maylone returned to her office, where a large map display on the wall caught his eye. He lingered on the details of the Ottorins¡¯ situation within the Mottmor System.


    Their conversation flowed naturally to the Ottorins and the RDF¡¯s role in the region. Maylone explained the mutually beneficial mining agreement between the Ottorins and the RDF. ¡°The agreement allocates a fair percentage of profits to enhancing their agricultural efforts while reinforcing our supply lines,¡± she explained.


    Garen studied the star charts, his thoughts shifting to the complexities of the RDF¡¯s military presence in the area¡ªparticularly at Eteren One. He considered the potential impact of a withdrawal, skepticism clear in his expression. Would the RDF really consider vacating their positions here?


    ¡°I¡¯ve enjoyed our discussion, General Rivers, but I have a full morning ahead,¡± Maylone said, rising from her chair to signal the end of their meeting.


    ¡°Being in command of a capital battlecruiser keeps you busy,¡± Garen replied, rising. ¡°It¡¯s been a pleasure.¡±


    ¡°The pleasure was mine, General Rivers,¡± Maylone responded, her smile warm.


    As they parted, Garen noticed a synthetic entering Maylone¡¯s office just as he stepped out. What¡¯s she really after? he wondered, their conversation lingering heavily in his thoughts as he walked away.