《House Arthas A Space Odyssey》


 Chapter 1

    I wasn¡¯t meant to die.


    My optics flash red as the fatalities of the forward corps add up. Even through my closed eyelids, I can see the frontlines, blue dots getting obliterated as they touch the battleships'' shields and bounce off, unable to penetrate. There is no escaping it.


    I¡¯m close behind them, the second wave of the Spacedive Forward Corps will impact the shields in less than a minute. I open my eyes to see the approach.


    With the speed we cut through space, that is still some distance away, and unfortunately, the enemy battleship¡¯s heatlaser combs through us, evaporating any it touches.


    I wasn¡¯t meant to die.


    I repeat, unable to change course, unable to retreat. The silence of the coms is eerie as if everyone around me is already dead, and I fly among corpses.


    I suck a deep breath when an explosion of light washes over me, and I know that at least a few made it through.


    The SFC has a death rate of 25% on average, per assault. My mind never stops calculating the odds of each. It all depends on how soon we penetrate the shields.


    I''m seconds away from impact but I can¡¯t help it, 21% casualties and that is only from the first wave. It''s bad, particularly bad.


    I wasn¡¯t meant to die.


    With the help of my biosuit, I spin myself like a screw. It¡¯s something I learned from a fellow marine who had survived more than ten assaults. I¡¯m not even close to that yet, but I¡¯m here and he is now dead. The motion is similar to a head dive but with the added screwing motion.


    When I fall into the battleship¡¯s shields the soft membrane stretches inwards. It feels like a net, slowing my momentum, and in moments I will be hurled the other way, back into range of the heatlaser.


    I feel the automatic shieldbreaker from my biosuit take effect. I vibrate violently which doesn¡¯t help with the vomit I¡¯ve been trying to keep down. The shield pops with a flash of light that blinds me momentarily and I¡¯m through.


    It''s a 15-meter fall to the ship¡¯s hull and I¡¯ve slowed down enough to not break myself on the hard metal armor of the battleship. Still, I don¡¯t want to hit it head-first despite the nanomite¡¯s healing running through my bloodstream. I bring my feet forward and brace for impact.


    I hear a thud through the silence of space but it¡¯s mostly my weight on the boots than anything else. Sometimes my body surprises even me, a Techgenome, 3 meters tall, close to 200 kg man should feel a bit of pain landing on a hard surface like I did.


    I feel nothing but pure adrenaline as I crouch and engage the manual drill embedded in the backstorage compartment of my biosuit.


    The metal armor of the battleship overheats despite the freezing temperature of space. I push the drill down hard and scan the surrounding area for any defensive drones closing in.


    Orange lights around the hull indicate where more drilling takes place. My optics track blasts here and there where the marines engage with the battleship¡¯s defenses, but no drones converge on my location.


    It might be the nerves but sweat is starting to form on my brows and I¡¯m unable to wipe it. The hiss from the drill indicates it has pierced through the outer armor and I move it sideways to enlarge the hole so I can enter through.


    My mind tends to wander during any physical labor. It processes these situations too fast to keep it focused on them. As marines of the SFC fight and die above me trying to pierce through the shields of the battleship and the bulkcarrier it is protecting, I think of home.


    I think of House Arthas.


    ¡ª-


    The deck of the docking station always bothered me. It was the metallic clang it produced when I walked over it that did it, and it did so with every conceivable footwear I had tried on thus far.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The only solution? To go barefoot. But I would die before I exposed myself to such humiliation.


    The deckhands gawked at the slightest glimpse of my presence. So I had been instructed to proper behavior and attire from a very young age. My parents dreamed that I would go far. A hope that was both poison and medicine alike.


    Being of a side branch of the main Arthas family held a lot of responsibility but little actual power. My father, Odmund EL¡¯Arthas, was responsible for the smooth running of this port facility, Point C3X1DF, near the planetary cluster C3X, home to the House Arthas dominion.


    It was a nice setup for my father by all accounts. A busy port that oversaw Supermassive Bulkcarriers and Spacefreights of all kinds arrange their loads, swap crews, or head to the repair bay for needed maintenance.


    It was also why I had been studying NeoEngineering, Biocomputing, and Techphysics my whole life. In case I inherited my father¡¯s obligations.


    Being of the side branch of the main Arthas family held a lot of privileges but a screw-up could just as easily downgrade our family¡¯s ranking to nothingness.


    Yet the privileges my parents had been given had all gone to me and to my embarrassment, I didn¡¯t nearly feel the necessary appreciation for their gifts.


    Even before I was born, I was made a Genome. Altered biologically, enhanced to the extreme limit of humanity.


    Then I was stuffed with nanomites that would push my mind and body even further¨CA Techgenome as was the correct term. The legal limit for Bioaddons a side branch of the family could wish to attain through the proper channels.


    That wasn¡¯t enough for my parents, however. Hopes and dreams of grandeur poisoned their thoughts. In my early life, barely a year old I had been given DNA-mutating drugs. Highly sought after, and highly illegal since the Great Genome Wars a thousand years in the past. Where my parents had acquired them even now I don¡¯t know.


    When I turned 20, at the end of my schooling years, I passed the General Cognition Placement Test, placing first in the C3X sector. In that test, among the hundreds of thousands of young men and women, was the heir of the main Arthas bloodline, juiced to the brim with any conceivable enhancer. He came in second place.


    I strongly believe that¡¯s where all the shit started.


    The brightest star in the galaxy can only be one after all.


    ¡ª-


    The hole was large enough for me to go through but I waited at the edge, dumbing inside a score of miniscout drones to check for an ambush. Drilling through the battleship¡¯s hull was a noisy affair for the ones inside even when I heard most to nothing at all from the outside.


    The non-combat personnel would have already fled the other way, and the rest would have been waiting for me to come through with their blasters ready and pointed in my direction. I may be a mountain of a man but I would die like any other at the face of a plasma onslaught.


    So the scout drones. They had a live feed connected to my optics which I oversaw over the top left corner of my sight. I could easily switch between different feeds with a thought. My brainchip had the extra capacity to run a number of applications simultaneously, compliments of my parents, and it was holding out well enough through the stress of battle.


    I was surprised to find that there was no contact with the enemy on the inside, and my drones had started mapping the corridors of the battleship, mindful of any thermal signatures.


    *BZZIT*


    A female marine landed next to me and I jerked more from the nerves of battle than surprise. I knew she was coming. Another landed sideways hitting the hull with force a few meters away.


    The third wave was underway and the battleship shields had been overwhelmed. It was time to find out what the inside of the vessel had in store for us.


    Her voice came through the short-range coms.


    ¡°Sergeant, ready for entry.¡± She said and I noted her rank on the side of her biosuit. A private, it was her first assault then, where mine was the fourth.


    In the SFC almost all surviving combat personnel ranked up after battle. Seldom had we any wounded. Space warfare was that deadly.


    I looked at her form with pity, but she saw nothing but my slick black facemask. She probably dreamed of surviving to a rank where she wouldn¡¯t need to man the waves. There was no way for a mercenary company like the SFC, set up to kill the debtors and criminals populating its ranks, to let any of us live.


    It was where you were sent to disappear. I had dug through their mainframe. I had seen who had sold me to this hellhole.


    Seraphina Arthas. Sister to the Arthas heir.


    ¡°You may enter. I have drones mapping the inside. No resistance as of yet. I¡¯m uploading the mapping in real-time on the main server. I suggest you keep it in sight at all times.¡±


    ¡°Erm, Sir, I don¡¯t have any optics embedded. I¡¯m Lowtech.¡±


    I cursed inwardly. Most of the SFC marines were Lowtech, and they made the majority of the fatalities list. ¡°Never mind, help your fellow marine, I¡¯ll enter first. Watch my back private.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Sir,¡± She said and the voice synthesizer took away any emotion she might have had. I didn¡¯t know if she had been afraid or relieved.


    I pushed through the hole and the battleship''s gravity pulled me the rest of the way.


    There wasn''t anyone waiting for me on the inside and despite the hole in the hull, the artificial gravity had helped greatly in keeping things grounded.


    Instead of moving forward, I scanned the room, a storage space with crates arranged neatly in metal casings.


    The piece of technology I was looking for was installed on the walls of the ship itself. Artificial Magnetic Atmospheric Fields were an over-the-top luxury, that nullified the dangers of breaches in the battleship¡¯s structure.


    The pocket of chips and wires my optics registered as the core array in the room held a metasphere that made all this possible.


    It was needless to say that I wanted it. My mouth salivated at the thought of what I could do with a score of those.


    The bad news was that holding a metasphere close for an extended period would mess with my nanomites to a degree that I might shut down, and faint, as the sum of my nanos converges on a single point inside my body.


    Thankfully I had more than enough Lowtech personnel to choose from.


    ¡°Privates,¡± I called in the coms, and in mere moments the two marines dropped through the hole.


    ¡°Sir, your orders,¡± the female marine said crouching, with her blaster pointing around the room as she took stock of her surroundings.


    ¡°Cease whatever you are doing. New orders, here catch this,¡± I threw the metasphere at her. ¡°Your names, marines. As of now, your sole purpose is to carry what I throw at you,¡±


    ¡°Igor Fin, Sir,¡± The second private answered first. ¡°Gardenia Ilky,¡± added the woman. ¡°Is..it dangerous?¡± she asked, holding the little metallic ball in her fingertips.


    ¡°For you, none whatsoever, I expect you to keep it out of sight,¡± I said and made a circle with my thumb and index finger. The universal code for credits. Sharing a look of understanding, the two marines nodded in union.


    It was time to lift some tech off the hands of the Helion Syndicate vessel.

 Chapter 2

    It wasn''t difficult to guess where all the credits in the universe went. The war industry never ceased to gulp down an unending amount. The crates in the storeroom were filled with weaponry that would have most tremble with greed at their sight.


    I was unimpressed, SFC was better equipped.


    But what was difficult to guess was where all these credits came from. Since I had been in the industry, I knew. It was logistics and transportation.


    In the expanse of the universe and its massive amounts of resources, it was companies like the Helion Syndicate, and of course, my beloved House Arthas, that got rich moving cargo throughout the galaxies.


    Most would not understand, and be unable to connect the dots, for why we were fighting today.


    If only they knew that the SFC was a merc company owned by House Arthas. We were here to cull the competition.


    A frequent occurrence. So frequent that the bulkcarrier had an escort the SFC needed two Dreadnaught class battleships to ambush.


    An ambush, like the one inside the ship where two of my miniscout drones had been destroyed and where the mapping indicated several pockets of fighting. I would choose to avoid them while I grabbed the tech I needed.


    I hold my blaster ready and pointing downwards. Plasma guns have short range but scale powerfully the closer you are. They are perfect for close-quarter fighting, hence why I¡¯m holding one.


    My biosuit can only absorb a few hits close range, yet each would knock me off my feet. And I¡¯m a large target inside these narrow corridors.


    So I rely on my tech, my training, and my nerves'' abnormal reaction time to keep me alive.


    Mainly my tech though. The miniscouts hold Type 3 sensors that would spot any kind of threat. The standard Type 1 image/audio only, or Type 2 spectrum imaging, can¡¯t pierce through cloaking tech. Type 3 sensors do.


    So when I upgraded my drones to have cloaking features, I made sure to make them foolproof.


    From their scans, I know four lurkers with active phantom cloaks hold a corridor further inside, to the right. They don¡¯t know I¡¯m here but they would suspect it from my messy entrance.


    Inside the storeroom, the Artificial Magnetic Atmospheric Field, AMAF, is degrading without the metasphere on, and already the vacuum of space is sucking at the room.


    I nudge my two troops forward and seal the door as we exit. We go left.


    ¡ª-


    Sometimes I get lost in thought, it''s the silence that holds me captive, the same as when I flew through space to pierce the shields, no alarms are blaring inside this battleship, and for good reason.


    There are two Dreadnaughts between us deploying a weak EMP field to block any offensive weaponry that would have pulverized us all before we made it halfway to the enemy battleship.


    Only their heat-based laser functioned and a handful of reinforced drones and still, the damage to the Spacediving forces had been too great.


    A signal close by pulses and degrades. My optics flash red, and the brainchip in my brain reboots to prevent entry to the AI malware the enemy just sent out. It will take a few seconds for it to be up and running. A small nuisance.


    The main assault server carried by a drone somewhere on the battleship is still on, so our mapping hasn¡¯t been compromised. Moving around blind in an enemy battleship could become dangerous fast.


    I smirk. I find it mildly sarcastic that whenever technology makes a breakthrough, war will find another way to war. Not that any of this is new; it''s just levels on top of levels.


    My companions are entirely unaware of what just happened. Lowtechs do have the best defenses against hacking¨Ca standing joke around the universe, but I don¡¯t hold them to it. They are doing me great service today.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    We search the corridor and the next in a slow tight formation. Most rooms are a mix of crew cabins and storage spaces like the one we entered from. My little treasure trove is growing as I add item after item, and I¡¯m soon forced to select only the most valuable. Or rare.


    It will be a month until we return to the SFC¡¯s main hub. Parts will be in short supply until then. And we can¡¯t just exit the ship trailing bags of loot now can we?


    One of my miniscouts beeps me. It''s dodging through a group of Syndicate soldiers, who give chase hot on its rotors.


    I curse loud enough for my two companions to freeze and look back at me. I imagine the looks of concern they are wearing under their masks.


    It''s flying towards us. The evasion algorithm found the safest path to disengage. We are of a similar mind, my loyal drone, yet there is no time to evac our asses away from their path without being especially reckless.


    My brainchip is still booting, there is a buffering sign on my optics that shows the progression until my apps are back online.


    No matter how many times I see that loading circle, I still feel an especially savage urge to destroy the little chip or pull my eyes out. I believe the human race has developed an aversion to it.


    The odds of our likely confrontation are not terrible, however. We just have to prepare a few tricks. A party is always better with planned entertainment.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got incoming,¡± I say to my aides and they tense like rusty drones. I give them a brief go-through and we set up in preparation. I can see from their movements their adrenaline running high. Trigger-happy marines won¡¯t be an asset in an ambush but this is the hand I¡¯ve been dealt with, I¡¯ll pull through.


    We don¡¯t have to wait long, and my miniscout, with its cloaking down, buzzes through the corridor.


    Even with my assurances Igor and Gardenia point their blasters to the passing drone. I exhale in relief when they don¡¯t react.


    We are hidden inside a crew cabin, under my phantom cloak, nulling any infrared sensors that would reveal our position.


    The enemy soldiers pursue in a line with the vanguard chasing after my drone, and the rest clearing the passages and empty rooms.


    I have trapped the end of the corridor with a tripwire, lowtech and thus invisible, that would set off a nice welcoming show.


    The first enemy passes us by in a rush. He is wearing a bulwark over his biosuit, so thick it can withstand any close-range blast. We huddle down close together.


    Next, come the soldiers. One enters our cabin, his biosuit black and blaster ready to fire, and sees nothing but a vacant room.


    KCHIN


    The vanguard has reached the trap and trips on the wire. I imagine a blast that would rock the battleship, but I haven¡¯t used any explosives, this isn¡¯t the pre-Astro times. Instead, I used a nasty biogravity mine, the only one I carried, that would pull at anything biological inside the corridor.


    THUNK


    The bulwark soldier hits the mine with a sound as it activates. I hear other soldiers getting dragged and see them flying sideways past the cabin¡¯s door, the pull too strong for them to resist. Without losing any time I stand silently, letting the phantom cloak fall behind me, and kick the distracted enemy out of our cabin. The artificial gravity of the ship still works inside the room.


    He flails as he enters the corridor unable to find purchase as the mine¡¯s effect pulls at him with force and he slides almost vertically to where the rest of his unit is crumpled stuck.


    When I reach the cabin door, the biogravity effect disorients me. I can feel 12m/s2 pulling me sideways even through the battleship¡¯s artificial gravity. If I jump out it will feel like a free fall but the corridor will now be the floor.


    Hugging the door with my feet and checking the other way for any strugglers, I aim my second weapon at the press of bodies.


    The masks muffle their screams. I still shudder when I fire the armor-piercing rifle.


    ¡ª-


    I dislike looting bodies.


    The biogravity mine, already spent mere minutes after its activation, was drenched in bodily fluids and for a moment I was indecisive if I wanted it back.


    The extra space would help with the looting. With my apps back online I recall the miniscouts to my location. Eight remain operational, but all are running low on power. It''s better not to waste them unnecessarily, without their power-hungry cloaking active they are too easy a target.


    Igor stays by my side, as Gardenia keeps some distance from the massacre with the pretext of securing the corridor¡¯s other side.


    My optics show the fighting has progressed to the ship¡¯s bridge where the enemy is making a last stand. Due to the nature of the work, they understand there won¡¯t be any surrender.


    Still, phantom lurkers are a danger and damn difficult to flash out so we are on high alert. I wouldn¡¯t want to share the fate of the bodies lying in front of me.


    We tread carefully from then on, picking at things that catch my attention until we are recalled back to the Dreadnaught. The fighting has ceased with all the Helion Syndicate personnel dead and we barely saw action, a clear win for us three if I may add.


    Finding an exit isn¡¯t difficult, we follow other marines and exit through a drilled hole in a room with an AMAF still active. It would be too greedy of me to snatch at the metasphere in front of so many eyes but I still think on it a second too long.


    The darkness of the universe greets me on the outside, and at the center, our Dreadnaught looms invitingly. SFC marines return from the battle, flying through the distance, swapping places with crews that will repair and operate the enemy battleship until we all return to the hub.


    On the other side, a similar sight is taking place near the bulkcarrier.


    I jump off trailed by my two followers. We will stick together until our deal is done. My biosuit propels me forward in bursts of speed coming from my boots.


    At any different time, I would be enjoying the weightless trip, but the exhaustion and nerves of battle have me wishing for nothing but a bed to lie on.


    With both of the ships'' shields down, we approach in a controlled manner and enter through one of the numerous open portals.


    A scan beams us just as we touch down, and we get the green light to move through. I go straight to a vacant storage room, where I pull out two credits and receive my treasures in exchange.


    I¡¯m pocketing 16 metaspheres and a good number of parts that I¡¯ll use to upgrade some of my weapons.


    The two privates pause before exiting, ¡°Sir,¡± Gardenia says hesitating for a moment. ¡°Thank you, for keeping us alive,¡± She is still shaken from the confrontation. ¡°If we had been on our own¡­¡±


    I lift my hand to stop her and go through several different conversations in my head. ¡°If I hadn¡¯t been there you would probably be dead, private.¡± Soft words can only produce soft actions. ¡°Here we are, where 32% aren¡¯t. Congratulations on making it to First Class both of you.¡±


    Their posture looks uncertain. So I push. ¡°Find me later if you wish to get a few bioaddons.¡± They stiffen at my words, but it¡¯s not an uncommon reaction. An unregistered offering these kinds of services? I would be hunted down.


    Yet life as an SFC member was ever so free. Nobody looked too closely at what we did. The death rate would be the last judge for us all. So I looted and cut corners every chance I got. Compared to everyone else here I could make wonders with the tech I found lying about. I was a trained Neoengineer retrained for war.


    Now it was only a matter of trust. Trust that I needed to win over, or how would they surrender their bodies to a stranger?


    ¡°We don¡¯t have the credits t..to¡­¡±


    ¡°Ah, but you do now.¡± They were still holding the credits in hand. ¡°It¡¯s something that might save your lives in the next assault. You will not be the first or last to upgrade during this trip.¡±


    ¡°You mean there are others?¡± Igor blunders and receives an elbow hit from Gardenia.


    I remain silent and they get the meaning. They exit and I give high odds of seeing them again in a few days, especially Gardenia.


    I can almost smell the fear.

 Chapter 3

    There is no time to waste, as 16 of my new pretty little toys are already playing wreck the house with my innards. I can feel my left thigh tingling from the nanomite concentration and I switch the metaspheres to my right pocket instead.


    My cabin is a 5-minute walk away. I pass through corridors filled with marines going about. Even with 32% losses the Dreadnaught is bustling with activity, and that''s because only one part of the personnel is combat troops.


    Where the SFC is a reference mainly for the combat forces, the marines, yet other divisions exist inside the ship, including engineers, maintenance crews, navigators, and security forces.


    It is easy to distinguish each division by its uniforms, but the contrast usually lies in the Genome to human ratios of which I am a clear exception.


    It is uncommon for a Genome to be in the Spacedive marines, we die too easily to make a difference. Diving through space does not require a genius mind, or exceptional reflexes, only adequate preparation and a fair amount of luck.


    Paradoxically, from all the other divisions, the sciences are the ones filled with the most Genomes, towering over everybody else, wearing unique appearances, topped with beautifully carved bodies, and armed with the sharpest minds. The security forces have quite a few, that I call bred brutes, and of course the sleazy higher-ranked officers.


    From the perspective of the average personnel, however, seeing a Genome brings forth a little awe and respect or so I am led to believe by their reactions when they confront me.


    It is what a Genome should be¨Ca someone to look out for, admire, and adhere to, the peak of human nature, its best face, but not all hold the same feelings towards our kind high-ranking officers. Me included.


    Thus I do not find it strange that almost all Spacedive marines who encounter me nod or salute in some form. Of the approximately one thousand SFC troops remaining, I am close to unique in this.


    My cabin door hisses open after I input the passcode and undergo a facial scan. Dumping my metaspheres in a sealed container is a priority that I do not delay executing.


    Next, I grab my day¡¯s meal. A mealbar the size of my thumb, that tastes so stale I grimace while I chew it. The plastic wrapper has the image of a slick space cruiser sailing around a planet with the caption Taste the stars.


    I¡¯m probably tasting the dirt of a thousand meteorites when I gulp it down. I have been looking forward to the SFC main hub''s slightly larger flavor selection.


    Forcing my lungs to take a deep and slow breath, I lie in bed with my feet bent. I don¡¯t fit comfortably in the standard beds the combat troops are issued with.


    Mindlessly I turn the wrapper and read the nutrient info. The list is so long that the producer used short descriptions to fit everything neatly.


    3000kcals/bar; Proteins, Carbs, Fats, Vitamins, Minerals, Body Rejuvenators, Mood Stabilizers¡­


    I grab at another mealbar. Unfortunately for my tastebuds, I need two of these to maintain my strength.


    The cabin around me is sparse, only equipped with a small desk, the bed I¡¯m currently on, and a closet where my biosuit lies. All crumped in a 3sqm space. The overhead yellow light isn¡¯t blinding, I have it tuned to a comfortable shade so I can stare at the ceiling and read through my optics without issue.


    Which is exactly what I¡¯m doing. I go through the reports of the assault, looking for names I am familiar with, damages, and the like.


    It takes me a while to go through everything but I quite enjoy it. Numbers and reports are my bread and butter¨Ctwo things I¡¯ve never had the chance to taste, which makes the saying somewhat exotic.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡ª-


    A knock on my cabin door interrupts my studying. I was familiarizing myself with several new weapon designs found in the Helion Syndicate battleship. The company engineers didn¡¯t delay uploading their findings to the mainframe, in their neatly organized servers, which I shouldn¡¯t have access to, but I do, oh yes I do.


    I lift myself to sit on the bed. Standing feels claustrophobic inside the cabin, especially since my head reaches uncomfortably close to the ceiling.


    ¡°Enter,¡± I say to the man I was expecting for some time now.


    The door slides open to reveal Sergeant Tommy Plink, the first friend I made in the SFC.


    ¡°Yo Amon, you good, big man? Or did the little Helion men tickle your thighs as you stomped on them?¡± He says with a smile that I can''t resist not to copy.


    ¡°Hah, says you whose luck may be even greater than an Overlord''s gonorrhoeal glands,¡± I reply, mentioning maybe one of the ugliest parts of the ugliest species ever seen in the universe.


    Tommy nearly chokes his laugh as he processes my words. I squint my eyes in disgust too. My banter got the better of me.


    ¡°Come, sit, how are you holding on?¡± I say motioning to the chair in front of my desk. I had been a little concerned but the fatality lists I had read through didn¡¯t have his name on. But still, I worried.


    ¡°Well enough, well enough,¡± He replies and sits. His smile comes out a bit forced this time.


    ¡°Let me check on you then. Just to ensure everything is working fine,¡± I don¡¯t have to move much to grab my tablet and tools for the job.


    He extends one hand and I stick the white sensor patch connected by wires on his bare skin. My tablet starts running a systems check as it finds a connection, and I see a healthy amount of nanomites swimming lazily inside his veins.


    ¡°Good, good..¡± I mutter absentmindently but mostly I¡¯m looking over the code of the recent data history. No recent injuries come up.


    I pull the patch off him, having gone through the data and found nothing wrong, I move closer to check on the other bioaddons I had installed.


    Since there was no way to implant a brainchip safely while operating in a crew cabin with no proper tools, I had to improvise a bit. I embedded a cheap version of a brainchip in his posterior neck muscles. This way it lost some potential functionalities but with the cheap materials I was working with it didn¡¯t make much difference.


    There was only one app running through it, his optics, with only one signal channel and no further capacity it was just right for the job¨Cbarely an upgrade from Lowtech but essential in keeping him alive.


    Through the tablet, I run a server connection to his optics and when they sync, the system runs a diagnostics that comes out green. All is well. My one worry about a malware infection evaporates and I finally relax.


    Tommy must have seen the worry leave my features because he exhales and slumps on the desk.


    ¡°Grab a drink later at the commons?¡± He says after a moment, he knows this was not a social call.


    I have to go through the same process 23 more times. Other marines dully on the corridors near my cabin, waiting for their own checkup.


    ¡°Are you buying? I¡¯m finding myself a bit low on credits¡­¡± I joke since we both know that isn¡¯t the case.


    ¡°For you anytime, I hear there is a new Taste the Stars cocktail you¡¯ll love.¡±


    I groan.


    ¡ª-


    The 24th knock surprises me. I was about to fall asleep since the day-off after the assault ends in about 9 hours and the mandatory training would begin anew.


    This time I stand to open the door myself.


    A woman I have not seen before waits nervously at the entrance to my cabin but something familiar clicks, and I make a calculated guess.


    ¡°Gardenia, I didn¡¯t expect you so soon,¡± I say and she frowns. We hadn¡¯t taken our masks off before we parted ways.


    ¡°Sergeant Amon, you are especially easy to find.¡± She says, her brown eyes darting sideways in a way that reminds me of a scarred rodent.


    ¡°That I am, please enter,¡± I show her the desk chair and I sit back on the bed.


    She looks thin and frail without her biosuit on, and her long brown hair is unkept but she strides in without hesitation.


    The door hisses closed behind her and she looks apprehensively at me as she sits.


    Sometimes I wonder if I would be as brave, entering a Genome¡¯s cabin almost double her size. How desperate would I have to be?


    ¡°You have had many visitors, Sergeant. I had to wait a while,¡±


    ¡°I take it you considered my offer then,¡± I reply.


    ¡°I have. How d..do we start?¡± She asks nervously.


    I explain to her my offering, the same one I have provided to every other marine knocking on my door with the same request.


    She pays me back the credit I gave her by swiping the electronic card on my tablet and I start by taking a vial of her blood.


    ¡°First I¡¯ll grow the nanomites on your blood so they can recognize you as the host body. It will take a few days until the number is sufficient to enter your bloodstream,¡± I explain as I work. I found that it eases the mind to understand the whole process.


    ¡°After that, they will multiply and sustain their own. They behave as parasites inside the host body by absorbing parts of the nutrients you ingest. You will find yourself hungrier during the acclimation period, which is a normal reaction. For a month you will double your meals to sustain a healthy level of nutrients for both you and the nanomites.¡± I say and she nods along with the instructions.


    Now the second part. We switch places and she lies down on the bed in a supine position. I can tell she is nervous, she fidgets with her fingers, but I only need her head to lay completely still.


    ¡°I will grow your optics by taking a sample of your cornea and developing it together with the panel and miniprocessor. It will feel as natural as your own sight when I install them. Together with the controller chip, it will take about a week to finish.¡±


    I am not sure how she imagined the process but she seems relieved after I finish collecting the samples. For any ordinary human, the upgrade from Lowtech must seem an extravagant affair. And I know why. I offer them the service at a fraction of the usual price. It would have been impossible for her to afford any of this.


    Before she leaves she salutes crisply. The list of 24 become 25 and a loose plan I had been working on since I unwillingly joined the merc company comes a step closer to fruition.


    ¡ª-


    Sleep inside the cabin used to be a fleeting thing. It¡¯s been a long while since then, more than a few years. I just remembered I must be turning 30 next week.


    Now it is an easy thing, never mind that the Dreadnaught is speeding through space, building up momentum. We will be increasing speed for two weeks straight.


    Post-light speeds are rightly uncomfortable to the eyes, so I¡¯m glad my cabin is just a metal box that once felt like a cage but now is oddly comforting.


    I doze off to the constant white noise of the ship.

 Chapter 4

    Gardenia heard the door shut behind her and almost ran to her cabin. If she didn¡¯t consciously control her limbs she would be jittering from overwhelming anxiety.


    She was certain her heart rate was well in the triple digits, and that was not because of the lingering fear of the sample collection she had just been through.


    That was the simplest of things, really. She had imagined the whole process to include a fair amount of pain and discomfort, yet the sergeant had been professional to a fault¨Ceverything she would have wanted in a field medic and much more.


    No, it had nothing to do with the procedures and a lot to do with the actual person. Her instincts were screaming at her that something was off. He seemed less¡­less human, like what was said about those pre-war Genomes thousands of years ago who had given up on their humanity.


    She couldn¡¯t quite place the feeling, however. It wasn¡¯t his features, the strong jawline, the thick brows that made him look quite angry, or his short blond curls, no, those just made him look intimidating, it was the aura around the man that made her neck hair stand tall.


    But in her mind boiling above all other thoughts were the recent memories of battle.


    Memories of her going through the motions, mechanically, since even a stray thought might spiral into a full-blown panic attack. She was spacediving while a heatlazer melted right through other poor souls flying in space alongside her, their coms muffed so no one could hear their last moments, and that feeling even juiced up in mood stabilizers ¡­it was pure terror.


    Yet as her nightmare continued it appeared her muffled prayers had not been said in vain after all. She landed on the enemy battleship and a towering Sergeant awaited right there¨Ca firm presence to ward off the chaos.


    From then on, it was as if there was a direction to follow. A feeling that things would work out eventually if only she followed along with his commands. Apart from his size, there wasn¡¯t anything extraordinary to note, he was wearing a standard biosuit with a few custom alterations. But the presence he had made all the difference.


    When the ambush took place he hadn¡¯t even needed their help. A group of trained enemy soldiers had been all but an annoyance to him, toying with their lives so easily that it had seemed to her as if at any moment he could kill them all. So ruthless he had been, and it made her fear him.


    But, despite the savage one-sided battle, he had protected her and the other marine. They had made it out alive from that hellish battle, and even before she had the chance to break down crying in frustration, the sergeant disregarded their uselessness and made them an extraordinary offer.


    It was unreal.


    So the first thing she did after changing back to her SFC uniform instead was to ask around about that Genome sergeant.


    The first questions she asked the older cohorts brought out hard stares and thin lips from the older higher-ranked marines. Until she explained how the sergeant had saved her life, and she only wanted to thank him for it. Then, weirdly, they all seemed eager to chip in and talk about that towering Sergeant Amon.


    He had a reputation for being capable and trustworthy, but even when she learned more she wondered why so many different people sang him high praises. The whole situation had cult vibes going on. It was creeping her out.


    But it was a small thing compared to the benefits she would receive. All that mattered was if he could deliver on his offer, and from what Gardenia had heard, he would. So she made a point to visit him early before he changed his mind about the bioupgrades.


    Her confidence had taken a serious hit through that first battle. While she had been aware of the danger, it was another thing to experience how utterly unable to act she had been. She always thought that there would be something, anything, she could do to protect herself. Now she knew how wrong that thinking had been.


    When she was forced to join the SFC, a mere 8 months before this day, she felt she could survive her mandatory years of service before buying out her freedom. She was not so certain anymore.


    Gardenia closed her eyes and cursed the moon lord of T2X1 who raised the subscription costs throughout his territory. She cursed the planetary council of T2X for raising the moon lord¡¯s taxes, thus by proxy making it unaffordable for her family to maintain 3 children on their yearly credits.


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    She didn¡¯t curse her little brother for being born, nor her older sister for simply wishing to better herself in her studies.


    To any beings that may be listening, send forth swarms of alien Zith to the space cruisers of any nobility from T2X.


    Be they damned, and eaten. Be they vanished, for all eternity.


    ¡ª-


    Training in a battleship is more for the marines to vent pent-up energy than for any actual combat improvement. For many, it''s not the combat that wears them down; it¡¯s the wait, the endless days of anticipation in a closed-off metallic cage.


    Even through the mood stabilizers we ingest daily, strong emotions simmer underneath, and this downtime can be especially volatile for so many people cramped together.


    Given the grief, anger, and anxiety filling our days, it''s a wonder we travel through the stars without the ship descending into chaos.


    The training is carved into rotations, shifting between strategy, operations, and strength training, for 6 hours daily. They often pass in the blink of an eye, during which my mind usually wanders and my body works on autopilot.


    But today is not just another day, today is different¨Cthe first day after an assault.


    In the later part after all the training is finished, instead of joining in the commons we congregate elsewhere. A ceremony has been arranged in the ship¡¯s main hold. It¡¯s a day to remember the fallen. Those unfortunate enough to meet an earlier end.


    As I walk into the hold with Tommy by my side I see them gathered there. There is a quietness; a stillness settled over the crowd.


    Today we honor the fallen, but as we do, we also remember ourselves and the grim future ahead. Not all marines joined by force, some chose this life for the credits, but for all nevermind their reasons, death appears chillingly close in this place of mourning.


    The crowd of marines and personnel opens a path as they notice me looming over them. The open space pulls me ever forward, and yet without due reason, in the end, I find myself standing at the forefront.


    Before me, a monument of steel carved with names stands almost as tall as I do. The crowd is still, the crowd is silent and they wait. An anticipation I share, but they look at me, the tallest among them as if I am better qualified for what''s to come.


    My mouth is dry, I gulp down the dry air of the hold involuntarily. I have no intention of voicing my internal struggles for all to hear.


    I remain as lively as the dead.


    It doesn''t take long for the Major General to appear. I know him well enough, but I won¡¯t stain the dead''s memories with thoughts of him, so in a similar fashion to everyone around me I salute. The MG is standing apart, on a parapet, shadowed by a couple of the bred brutes, dressed to impress only to uncaringly imply that there is a difference between our stations.


    It''s hard to leave the distaste out of my features yet still taste the bitterness on my tongue.


    ¡°MARINES OF THE SFC!¡± He shouts in a magnified voice that echoes around the hold. ¡°WE STAND HERE TODAY TO WITNESS BRAVERY AND TO REMEMBER¡­¡±


    The monologue is long and arduous to my ears but no amount of suffering can stop me from paying my respects to the lost souls, curved on the cold piece of metal we will shortly send out for eternal rest among the stars.


    I save the file my optics recorded without any sensory block. When I relive it, alone in my cabin, I want to feel exactly how I felt this very moment. Every beat of my heart loud and ominous.


    It¡¯s a catharsis that washes away any doubts and fears I might have.


    ¡ª-


    The long hall of the commons is packed to the brim. I believe every off-duty member of the SFC is here, except, of course, the top brass and their ilk.


    I¡¯m sitting on a long oval table with Tommy and a few others, Nik, Ginny, and Ella, all as dear to me as I am to them. Some others hover around our table toasting drinks, and between my musings, I notice Gardenia is one of them. Despite her fidgety nature, she is making an effort to approach me. She has good instincts it seems.


    Tommy fills up my cup with a cloudy cocktail. For once I wish for real alcohol, but there is not a drop of the substance in the common¡¯s area.


    The cocktail we drink tastes like empty sweetness and elicits a light drunkenness that normally won''t last more than an hour. In my case, it will be closer to 10 minutes as my nanos attack and absorb its dampening effects from the inside.


    Yet for 10 minutes, I can let my mind drift without my usual heavy thoughts burdening me.


    Around me, the marines let go of their emotions. Grief is evident, but laughter can be heard too. Different people have different coping mechanisms and who am I to say which is more suitable for the occasion?


    A fight breaks out somewhere in the hall but I¡¯m uninterested. I cope with silence, and my comrades know it so they let me nurse my drink as they talk around me.


    My mind runs through past events and plans, steps for increasing my arsenal, and completing research on the various projects I work on during the downtime. There is so much requiring my attention that days usually fly by without me noticing.


    I have 24, no, 25 people who rely on me. It''s a burden I carry freely but I worry I¡¯m overdoing it. What started simply as me trying to keep my friend Tommy alive has evolved into something else.


    The cocktail¡¯s effect has worn off even faster than last time. The nanos are building natural resistance to the drug.


    It''s time for me to leave.


    I stand and wave the others down as they try to follow along. They should enjoy each other¡¯s company for longer.


    Once I reach my cabin, I throw myself to work. I pull the box where I keep my miniscout drone stock from under the bed. I will repair the battle damage on the existing miniscouts and replenish the numbers with the ones I will upgrade with cloaking tech.


    The desk chair being small for my size, is mighty uncomfortable on my rear and legs, yet I barely feel the discomfort when I lose myself to the workings of machinery.


    Connecting the Type 3 sensors is simple but delicate. My hands are stable, trained for precision, and wrap up each drone swiftly.


    The cloaking tech I use for my drones is phantom cloaking¨Ca light/heat molecule redirection forcefield powered by the internal drone battery.


    The drones are small enough to make this choice viable, each the size of a finger. The cloaking I use on myself is different however, the phantom-coating cloak does not require a sizeable battery that I don''t have the extra space for.


    The con of the phantom-coating tech is obvious. It can be spotted by Type 2 sensors from the leaking heat particles. A problem I am considering fixing with the new materials I got from the Helion Syndicate vessel but it will require some experimentation to get it right.


    The Dreadnaught I''m in, accompanied by the second one, is speeding ahead of the bulkcarrier, and the heavily damaged Helion battleship.


    I¡¯m checking the map route in the mainframe often, just in case our pathing diverges. I want to know in advance any changes to our destination.


    As it stands, I have roughly a month until we arrive in the SFC main hub, where we will get the details of our next operation. Enough time to do what I must.


    But not enough, never enough for what I plan.

 Chapter 5

    C3X1DF


    8 years ago, Terra Chronometry Standard


    A second may last as long as your senses allow. SensoChronometry was maybe one of the greatest improvements in time perception research since the pre-Astro periods of humanity, when we as a species, were limited to a single planet¨CTerra, the birthplace of the human race.


    SensoChronometry speeds up sensory input to the brain, paired with a brainchip to facilitate the process. I am so grounded in the present every breath feels like I¡¯m holding it.


    I dislike this state. Everything is slow, and I feel a murky sensitivity to the world around me, as if the air itself has become dense, and every contact my body has is amplified and arduous.


    It¡¯s as exhausting for my mind as it sounds. So what better method to train my concentration than cranking up my time perception while working out?


    I increase the artificial gravity of the gym by another 10% and simply inhaling the air becomes a burden. The combat mat is empty of others so I don¡¯t mind lying on the floor, venting my frustration by pushing against it.


    My pain receptors are on 100%, which helps me grind myself against the bodyweight exercises, forgetting momentarily how angry I am at my father.


    I struggle against the force that¡¯s dragging me down, muscles bulging, veins popping on my skin, I probably have turned bright red from the effort, and worse for wear the sweat that I''m dripping is making the plasticated flooring under me all slippery.


    When I finally admit defeat my body barely has the strength to stand, my mind is spent and I resurface out of the time dilation.


    The brainchip through the optics presents me with a muscle recovery report that I briefly read, noting the areas where I could push harder on the next workout. There is little room for improvement, my body has reached its growth limit for a few years now but I like to experiment with the data anyway.


    While I compile the report in its folder a bright red light startles me as it glares around the room, and a warning message sent straight out of the main control room flashes angrily in my peripheral vision. Moments later the alarm starts blasting through the speakers all around the station.


    *BRACE FOR IMPACT*


    I stare at the flashing words uncomprehending.


    The fact that Point C3X1DF, coded for Cerebrus Galaxy, Galactic Sector 3, Planetary Neighborhood X, 1st Docking Facility, is an artificial moon has several implications that my brain can easily handle but answering them scares me nonetheless.


    We are traveling through space at well below light speeds between the trio of planets House Arthas deems valuable enough to require a portable docking facility.


    So the main question is, what exactly are we hitting? Or what is hitting us?¡­two seemingly similar questions that might carry noticeably different answers.


    Seconds pass with me catching my breath from the hard workout I just finished. Two, three, four¡­


    A meteor or debris could be hitting us at any moment in open space, only to bounce off our protective shields without so much as a warning for anyone but the main control room of the docking station.


    I know the procedures well enough by following my father around, during his regular rounds inspecting the facilities.


    Are we¡­under attack? In House Arthas territory. Impossible.


    Sweat drips down my forehead and I¡¯m unsure if it''s still from the workout or the sudden cold stress rippling through my body. Turning the artificial gravity down to the standard 10ms2 levels, I stand up and run for the gym¡¯s exit. I need a visual.


    Even before I reach the sliding doors, I search on the mainframe for an answer.


    I find it at the same time I look up at the stars.


    A supermassive bulkcarrier is approaching the docking station a little too fast, with a nasty spin that could wipe out half the facilities on this side of the artificial moon if we collide at a bad angle. It''s a tenth of our size.


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    The trajectory correctors are flared up, working overtime in the incoming bulkcarrier and a similar sight is happening on my left and right with the station¡¯s thrusters.


    I can see the spin slow down as we gradually sync with the ship¡¯s movement. There should be enough time to correct¡­the light from several of our docking facility¡¯s engines suddenly snuff out, shutting off.


    I stare with awed terror as the artificial moon starts spinning awkwardly the wrong way.


    The supermassive bulkcarrier hits a docking platform and pierces through to the other side. My world rocks, screaming a tearing tune, as the metallic sheets around me protest against the sudden impacting forces.


    ¡ª-


    Debris is floating just outside the artificial magnetic atmospheric field, AMAF, of Point C3X1DF.


    Anything inside the small radius of the impact has been flung violently into space, including 56 fatalities, mostly deckhands, who were preparing the platform to receive the massive ship.


    My father¡¯s face is dreary as he inspects the damage from the bridge of the control room.


    When I entered, I heard him shouting, but now he remains silent as he receives a report from one of the maintenance officers on the causes of the tragedy.


    Five engine failures, and 26 thrusters offline¨Call found with faulty connections, defective parts, or machinery flaws that would give in at the slightest bit of pressure.


    I come to stand next to him in front of the overlooking window.


    The frown decorating his features for the last months has transformed my father''s face, adding worry lines where there were none before. I see pity in his eyes now. I do not believe it is for me, but for himself mostly.


    We stare at each other for a long while. The largest disaster since the construction of the docking station some hundred years ago, happened under my father''s care, be it deliberate or not.


    Just the next day a connection comes through from the main planet, C3XA, informing us that this was Odmund EL¡¯Arthas¡¯ last day as the supervisor of Point C3X1DF.


    It was also the last day for the EL¡¯Arthas family among the ranks of the nobility.


    ¡ª-


    I resurface when the loaded memory file ends, lying uncomfortably cramped on my cabin bed. My breath comes out in short bursts as the tension of the dreamlike experience hasn¡¯t entirely washed over me yet.


    I can still feel the dread, dissipating slowly as reality reasserts itself in my mind.


    Reliving particularly somber memories is something very few people choose to do willingly. I consider myself a bit eccentric in this, experiencing the suffering of my past repeatedly whenever I get the chance.


    Another piece of technology I appreciate differently than the norm. Instead, it should have been a pleasant experience, living through my best memories, or even, ones bought from someone else to experience a novel thrill.


    Maybe it¡¯s me but I find it disturbing to relive another person¡¯s past. Yet it is so popular, that I can¡¯t put my aversion to the notion as a measure of character. With so much suffering tossed about, people pay top credits to enjoy a pleasurable experience.


    My friend Tommy has a bit of an addiction to it. I have vowed to myself to bring more happiness into his life.


    I go through the regular daily training with a sharp mind, and when finally the time comes for strength training I pit myself against it with a passion that scared the training officer into silence.


    The feeling of betrayal is still vivid, and I can¡¯t stop going all out. But it is inspiring to see that my circle follows along with my borderline self-hating training regime.


    When Ella stumbles, Ginny lifts her up, and Nik doesn''t let Tommy stop, only until his arms shake violently.


    Gardenia joins in the rotation, and I smile at her concentration, she grimaces at every repetition but digs deep.


    Marine after marine redouble their efforts and I am certain that today is not a regular training day. It''s a day we showered our bodies with conviction.


    At the end of the session, I get a heaving Gardenia to follow me back to my cabin. I¡¯ll check on her growing nanomite pool and install the new optics that are ready and waiting to be transplanted.


    The tablet shows the growing concentration of nanomites in her blood and I ask her a few standardized questions.


    ¡°No discomfort? Any swelling on the calves or ankles?¡±


    Gardenia takes a moment to consider and shakes her head negatively. ¡°There is some random tingling. It feels weird.¡±


    ¡°Those are the nanomites, they will slightly enlarge your veins to accommodate swift travel to any injured areas. Great, I see from the data you have been feeding well and the nanos are acclimating wonderfully in their new host. Congratulations.¡±


    I see her hesitate, slightly embarrassed and I nudge her to say whatever is on her mind. ¡°I haven¡¯t been going¡­for the last four days, you know, to that place?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°The bathroom,¡± She says and covers her face in her hands.


    ¡°Oh, I forgot to mention that. The nanos take care of 99% of the waste produced by the body. You won¡¯t need the bathroom as often anymore,¡± I tell her with a smile and she gaps.


    ¡°That''s¡­a relief, I thought something was wrong with me.¡±


    ¡°Everything is as well as it should be. Are you ready for your new optics?¡± I smile wider when I see the excitement emerge through the caution.


    The procedure doesn¡¯t take longer than 20 minutes. The extremely thin sheet of optics fits perfectly on top of her cornea and I spend most of the time programming and rechecking the code and data.


    When I finish the installation it''s time to implant the chip. I turn her sideways to rub a numbing agent on the back of her neck. A small tear on the skin with a scalpel is all that is needed to push the small ¡®brainchip¡¯ inside. Since it''s developed from her DNA the biomaterial will wiggle deeper and find a comfortable spot to take root.


    Sealing the puncture with a generous application of a Rejuvenation cream brings the operation to a close.


    ¡°You will experience mild itching on your neck for a few days. Try not to scratch at it. When the chip gets embedded your optics will come online automatically. Nevertheless, let''s do another check-up in 3 days'' time to record the progress.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Sergeant,¡± She says blinking her eyes rapidly. I want to think that the new optics made her grey eyes watery.


    ¡°Amon, just Amon is fine,¡± I reply blankly because I don¡¯t know how to respond to a woman about to cry lying on my bed.


    After she leaves, I pull out the sealed box from under my bed. It¡¯s time to work with the metaspheres I have been putting off because I didn¡¯t have the right plan for what to do with them until now.


    Fortunately, my study of neoengineering helps me work with many different materials. Once I know the use of a technology, I don¡¯t need to be able to create it from scratch to alter its effects.


    Metasphere¡¯s primary use is terraforming environments. I can insert the little metallic sphere in an array and through metastasis the correct combination of atoms will produce a comfortable living environment for humans in the surrounding area.


    Or a very deadly one.


    So from these rare materials, I¡¯m installing a launcher to my secondary riffle that will bring hell to the other end of my scope.


    As for naming, I¡¯d call it a metagrenade launcher or something equally dull. I prefer descriptive naming to any flashy decorative tag.


    The days feel ever shorter as we near our destination.

 Chapter 6

    I¡¯m up a level, near the front end of the Dreadnaught, where a corridor with triple-reinforced glass allows for an unimpeded view of our approach to the SFC main hub. Point C3XSFCMH.


    As usual, the corridor is packed with marines gazing over our destination. There is a quiet hum of conversation among the personnel. It''s been a while for all of us inside the suffocating metallic walls of the Dreadnaught.


    We approach slowly, decreasing speed even as the SFC hub''s size increases to dominate the viewing window. It''s an awe-inspiring colossal sight.


    A million souls consider C3XSFCMH their home; most have been born there, in the dark quietness of open space, and have never known life outside of it. I don¡¯t envy them no matter how pretty the sight I¡¯m seeing might be.


    The hub is shaped like a hollow ring with residential and industrial facilities placed on the inside. An AMAF runs along the ground floor providing a comfortable atmosphere for about 20 meters up all around the inner ring, and a clear-sighted blueish shielding membrane protects the open atmosphere from space debris.


    For someone standing on the soft ground found on the inner side, the unending darkness of the universe with the lights of a trillion stars is only separated by the looping hub folding around itself. Looking straight up at the life of your neighbors may bring hours of entertainment and a stiff neck. I speak from experience.


    When the Dreadnought passes through several smaller battleships on patrol we are close enough for me to zoom in through my optics.


    I can see cattle grazing on green fields, organized lines of trees, and people laboring in one of the oldest professions throughout human history.


    Farming will never disappear as long as hunger exists. The hub is a port facility as much as a production hub. It is self-sustaining but for mining ores where unfortunately there is nowhere to dig for.


    For myself, apart from afar, I do not see much of the produce. After it has been processed and fitted in a mealbar little will be left to resemble its origin.


    But with our return, a feast with real food will commemorate our success. It¡¯s even more important for personnel morale than a boost in pay and an event I am much eager to go through.


    After all, I can¡¯t buy the real thing with credits. Not any of us Marines anyway.


    I try to ignore the tall walls that separate each section of the inner ring but the contrast is so stark it''s difficult not to see them. I see the villas and the gardens, and when they end at a wall, gray metallic buildings emerge on the other side that break up the pleasantly green landscape.


    One of them is our barracks, Block F567, located in the center of several other facilities.


    I feel a hint of anger, and I imagine flames consuming the whole thing but it¡¯s a stray thought, not something I wish for. The hub is also home to the families of my comrades, those who have any either way.


    On the outside of the ring, located upon long platforms, shipyards and docking stations busy themselves with the numerous ships that come and go. The heart of the SFC is filled with activity and we snake through it to reach our platform and disembark.


    It''s been a long trip, almost 4 months since the day we left. I can see the eagerness in the eyes surrounding me. A week-long vacation starts today.


    ¡ª-


    Somewhere in D9L


    Unseen, skulking between star systems, a Light-Starcruiser hides from an Overlord swarm. It does not have the weapons to face even one from the hundreds, maybe thousands of the harrowing monsters that happened to be migrating simultaneously as the vessel tried to cross through the L system neighborhood of Derkal Galaxy.


    The captain has a magnified image of one of the spacefaring beasts on the screens as the crew of 20 discusses countermeasures to their misfortune.


    The Overlord, an amorphous blob of chitin-like flesh armor with several slenderly extending tentacles is ejecting a cloud of puss in consecutive puffs. The well-named gonorrheal glands produce a highly toxic antimaterial substance that will stick to and corrode anything it comes into contact with, and in especially unlucky cases, in the mix of the gaseous puss, Overlord eggs would be left behind to incubate inside the broken-down matter. Not one living soul wants to be anywhere near the hyper-aggressive offsprings, come hatching time.


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    The captain looks horrified as the puss clouds gradually block the way forward, and knows that any rush movement from the Light-Starcruiser would end them up in a merry chase that the vessel is not so certain to outrun now that it has paused its momentum and throttle down its engines to avoid getting spotted.


    ¡°They are headed for Cerebrus Galaxy¡­ should we inform house Arthas?¡± One of the crew members points out when the mainframe calculates the most probable swarm migration route.


    ¡°And let them know we are basically at their doorstep?¡± The captain growls back. ¡°Not a fat chance of that.¡±


    ¡°We can beep a packet signal their way and skedaddle outa here...¡± The bridge officer offers.


    ¡°Silence!¡± The captain orders. ¡°We won¡¯t be sending anything the dominion¡¯s way. Now plan me a route out of this mess and fast!¡±


    ¡ª-


    C3XSFCMH


    The slight constant breeze that cycles along the hub¡¯s artificial atmosphere is a welcoming change to the dry sting of the ventilation system of the Dreadnaught.


    It''s comfortable enough to wear a light uniform, grey and black, in the typical colors of the SFC, much different from the colorful red white, and black of House Arthas.


    Tommy sits comfortably on a plastic chair outside the F567 barracks, lazily moving chess pieces to defend in reply to my overextending attack. His pieces outnumber mine almost two to one, but that is not a concern for my strategy.


    The difference between a game and real life. In a quick combination of my knight and queen, I have his king trapped. No matter how much material he has on the board, his king falls to the ground and I keep my undefeated streak alive.


    ¡°Why am I playing you?¡± Tommy asks rubbing his eyes. ¡°I thought, I had you this time, but it was all a trick, right?¡±


    He isn¡¯t a bad player, but to feel the challenge I give myself several handicaps. ¡°Another one?¡± I say wearing the winner¡¯s smile.


    ¡°Maybe later,¡± He grumbles and throws his head backward to gaze up at the ¡®sky¡¯ of open space. A shuttle hums overhead, its neon-white thrusters keeping it at the edge of the artificial atmosphere of the inner ring, just below the membrane shields, sending a light buzz of sound our way.


    It¡¯s been two blissful carefree days since we arrived, and I am guilty of saying I have spent them carelessly. The mood playing out around us is similar, with tables set up in the courtyard in front of the barracks. Marines leisurely enjoy the downtime releasing the accumulated stress.


    When suddenly out of nowhere the alarm blasts, I am reminded of a familiar scene. I see with eyes closed a bulkcarrier punching a platform to bits, sending bodies flying. I shake my head to clear the memory from my thoughts and listen attentively to the speaker¡¯s announcement.


    *Prepare for battle. All SFC Marines are to proceed geared up to docking platform 44A and await further instructions.*


    Inside the barracks, chaos reigns as marines rush to put on their biosuits and check their weapons. Gear and materials litter the sidewalks of each bunk, impeding the flow of traffic.


    An emergency alarm in the SFC base of operations is not something that just happens. It¡¯s a situation that brings forth a familiar dread that has been buried deep inside me.


    No one knows what¡¯s going on and the personnel shout between themselves for any kind of hint. With my biosuit on and my masked helmet tucked under my arm, I frantically search among the servers for a clue.


    When I find it I pause and curse under my breath. A distress signal arrived with imagery attached. I see a massive yellow cloud with tentacles chasing after a hurrying ship. The moment I see the still image I know what we are facing.


    It''s difficult to count how many Overlords might be hidden behind the gasses, but I try to calculate it by combining the distance from the ship, the size of the toxic clouds, and the relative puss production of each Overlord. I also compensate for the fact that only the head of the swarm can be seen in the images.


    I get a number that is definitely wrong, or I want it to be, otherwise, a lot of people will die.


    Now that I know what I am up against I can prepare better even with the terror-infused tremble creeping along my limbs. I return to my storage crate by my bunk and dump several weapons I won''t need for the upcoming battle.


    Instead, I take my secondary armor-piercing rifle with the new metagrenade launcher.


    With it, I stock enough ammo in the backstorage compartment of the biosuit to bankrupt myself, but that is a problem for tomorrow. Since my tech and ammo are mostly custom-made the SFC won¡¯t be replacing any but for the standard issued. I have 16 inactive modified metapheres in their casings ready to be deployed.


    It''s the only thing I¡¯m certain would do enough damage to pause an Overlord onslaught.


    And I know exactly how to fight these monsters even if I¡¯ve never been forced against one. The funny thing about memory-sharing no matter how much I detest it, is that it is a good damn training technique.


    I¡¯ve watched through an Overlord hunt, an Overlord swarm onslaught, an Overlord¡­whatever you may call the complete and utter annihilation of a fleet, and the first thing I acknowledge from each shared memory is that the monster¡¯s name is well deserved.


    These aliens pack a punch. The adults reach easily 50 meters in length without counting the numerous extending tentacles that could wrap and strangle everything around them. Worse for wear, they are encased in living armor resistant to extreme heat/freezing temperatures that''s even durable against penetration.


    In space, they move freely, changing directions with puffs of the toxic puss that you don¡¯t want to be anywhere near. If they happen to reach a vessel, no matter its shielding, they will eat through it in less than an hour, which can happen more easily than people might think.


    Spaceships usually have a forward-focused acceleration with secondary course correctors for slight adjustments. An enemy that can kite missiles and withstand heat lasers can close the distance surprisingly fast.


    There is a single strategy for dealing with these monsters when faced against a swarm, to bait the whole lot of them to a kill zone and pray you have enough firepower.


    With the size of the swarm in the images, I doubt we have enough weapons stored in the SFC hub to cull their numbers.


    Given that, a number of our technologies are simply useless against them, I¡¯m anxious about what we are about to face. Showering them in radiation has been proven to simply moisturize their outer armor. As is the case with almost all spacefaring alien monsters, radiation is what they feed on during the long travel distances between systems.


    On platform 44A our Dreadnaught with its hatches open accepts a continuous flow of cargo and marines. As soon as our company of 100 in a tight line arrives from Block F567, we get the orders to embark.


    The Ortheon II is ready to disengage.

 Chapter 7

    VRSPACE


    Yesterday


    The virtual meeting was held in an amphitheater with rows of black marble, ever climbing upwards the further one was seated. The Dominion nobility, officers of war, and any people of certain influence or importance allowed to attend were seated neatly, filling the vast space.


    Above them, the colors of House Arthas painted the sky red, white, and black. Banners of each division marked their standing eminence where they sat.


    The SCF high command sat in the front rows, in a place of honor, or maybe for the simpler reason of being in the spotlight. They were under close scrutiny from the rest of the crowd. After all, it was their intel feeding the information shown above the central stage, in vibrant descending letters, as if they were written on the air itself, accompanied by imagery of the Overlord swarm in all its terrifying glory.


    In the center of it all stood Lord Kassinostavos Arthas, head of the House and ruler of the Dominion, in a white radiant hologram.


    The accuracy of the pixels displayed in detail the clenched jaws of the most powerful man in the Cerebrus Galaxy. With his arms at his sides, his piercing gaze never let its intensity subside as he listened to the briefing before him.


    Even with the slight latency caused by the enormous distances the connections traveled, bouncing on appropriately located relay space beacons throughout the Galaxy, the meeting proceeded without hiccups.


    ¡°Are you done spewing nonsense?¡± He asked in a gruesome tone that made even those seated at the furthest seats flinch and the General of War of the SFC eat her words short.


    She stood in the front row before the stage. ¡°Excuse me, Lord Arthas,¡± She hesitated, wavering, her true body unconsciously signaling her virtual self the emotions it was currently feeling. ¡°It has been vetted as the most viable plan¡­¡±


    ¡°Nonsense, have you any sense General? The Dominion of House Arthas does not cede territory to mere beasts.¡± The Lord cut her off impatiently.


    ¡°But my Lord¡­¡± The General faltered midsentence when Lord Kassinostavos glared back in silent anger. His was not a loud temper, but a cold fury fuming in his intense gaze and posture.


    ¡°You have other options, have you not?¡± He asked, bringing his right hand to rub at his chin. The other was caressing the naked blade of a dagger held awkwardly between his fingers.


    ¡°My Lord?¡± asked the General, having decided it would be better to remain cawed and accept any suggested proposal if she wanted to avoid an early retirement into exile.


    ¡°The SFC Marines would do just fine,¡± said the Lord of House Arthas.


    The General wanted to object, but she didn¡¯t. Instead, she replied, ¡°Yes, my Lord, I¡¯ll inform the main hub to start complete mobilization.


    ¡ª-


    Dreadnaught Ortheon II


    Today


    The Company Commander of F567, Jin Karf, gathered all 100 of our company in a partially empty hold for a briefing.


    Among the crates filled with weapons, below the overhead dim lights that powdered shadows between the men, the rest of the unit would be informed of what I was already privy to.


    Commander Jin had just returned from a similar briefing, one I watched by gaining access to the secure live feed of the ship. The Dreadnaught signal routers had a tiny chip shrewdly added to their processors giving me access to the mainframe servers and any onboard communication.


    It had been a hell of an operation to install undetected, but now it was paying dividends.


    During that briefing, Commander Jin and all mid-level officers onboard were made aware of the reasons for mobilization and the forthcoming battle plan. It was obvious from the sweat staining the uniform¡¯s fabric under his armpits how he felt about the whole situation.


    It was a heavy burden, one we shared between the two of us. I had kept my mouth shut until now. Creating a panic was not to my benefit, and allowing the knowledge to trickle down through the proper channels would be a better alternative.


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    I trusted Tommy to keep the information to himself, but we never got to be alone since boarding the ship. As for the others, if the news leaked and the SFC surveillance caught on the fact that confidential information was circling around¨CI didn¡¯t want that kind of attention sticking anywhere near me.


    The Commander faced us standing on top of a crate, an honorable man who found himself in a dishonest profession¨Cdirty mercenary work. He opened his mouth several times but did not find the courage to spit the nightmare into reality.


    I had heard he had been recruited from the main planet, C3XA, a clean ticket for promotion up the ladder to the top. It wouldn¡¯t be easy on him; a man with a conscience would kill himself over sending other men to their deaths.


    The marines around me shifted uncomfortably, murmuring. Everyone felt the tension like needles prickling on bare skin.


    Commander Jin finally gathered himself enough to start. ¡°Marines, I¡¯ll be blunt, we have a difficult task ahead of us. Each and every one of you will be needed. The main hub has mobilized the fleet. Twenty-seven Dreadnaught class ships follow close behind us. Twenty-seven thousand marines on them, sharpening their resolve. Three Star-Destroyers, with fusion missile cores armed for battle. The Fleet Command Carrier bearing all available lighter class vessels the SFC can muster, tailgates our forces.¡± He pauses for effect, and all marines hang in the silence, waiting for the drop.


    ¡°An Overlord swarm has been spotted heading towards Cerebrus Galaxy crossing over from Derkal. Our standing orders are to meet it before it reaches our borders and persuade it by any means necessary to find another place to migrate.¡±


    As if someone opened the tap valve, the rumble of conversation almost drowned the Commander¡¯s last words forcing him to shout the next part as if declaring his intent on the eve of battle. ¡°Our priority is to protect the Galaxy, our people, our homes. We will never let them get a foothold inside Cerebrus, not when any of us have a say in it.¡±


    The marines. The debtors, the criminals. Every single one of us was needed. But I saw the conflicts arise almost immediately following the Commander¡¯s words. The top brass removed as they are, ignored the measure of loyalty of the men ordered to die for a place that cared little for them. It is one thing assaulting an enemy ship, facing men, humans, that understood honor, understood mercy, even if none of it displayed its comforting rays on the field, and quite another, to face beasts that hunted you for prey, for another meal.


    The marines. Some had families living on the main hub, on star settlements, or if they were fortunate on planets in Dominion territory. Allowing the Overlords to gain a foothold, multiplying unendingly, feasting on ships, disrupting trade routes, and displacing millions of souls could easily spell a slow frictuous decline of the Dominion from the inside.


    Letting them in would only end in the SFC and all of House Arthas''s armed forces, hunting to purge every single one of the monsters. A demanding and arduous task. But this was the way of dealing with swarm-minded aliens.


    For all my detest for House Arthas, I found this order to be less aversive than our usual projects. Defend the Galaxy against an alien invasion.


    My home had been an artificial moon, Point C3X1DF. My childhood was spent running around metal corridors and looking up at the expanse of open space and its bright lights. My Galaxy, the stars of my home. If every order we were given was to its defense, I wouldn¡¯t feel as bitter at being sold into this life of constant struggle.


    ¡°Quiet now,¡± The Commander interjected before the situation and the emotions could spill out trouble. ¡°I understand this is not easy to digest. Situations such as this before us are long since past in history when mankind first conquered the wild star systems. When we faced horrors and kicked them out of our Galaxies to the very edges of the known universe. We will do so once again. Have courage, have faith, and preserve.¡±


    Once he finished, he gave the signal for the men to disperse. Better not to create a mob, or leave the clean-up to the security forces who were surely eyeing the situation from surveillance screens.


    Tommy found my eyes and I nodded. ¡°You knew?¡± He asked pensively as we made our way slowly towards the exit.


    ¡°A little,¡± I replied, understanding well how lost Tommy must be feeling right now. Depending on how many of us survived, my long-term plans could very well be ruined. ¡°Gather the others, we need to prepare. Include Gardenia as well, she seems reliable enough.¡± I said before we parted ways.


    ¡ª-


    I see them.


    It''s been two weeks of traveling since we departed from the main hub. We left the outer borders of Cerebrus not too long ago.


    It¡¯s either luck or misfortune that the SFC¡¯s main base is located near the swarm¡¯s migration route. If they had been coming from any other direction initiating first contact would be someone else¡¯s problem.


    House Arthas hasn¡¯t dallied. The Dominion forces are rallying a proper armada that will arrive too late to make a difference for us. We will either repel the swarm or die trying, dumping the responsibility of hunting the remaining Overlords throughout the sector to whoever arrives first.


    The SFC has been offered as a sacrifice to buy enough time for a retaliation force. My feelings for the merc company aside, the main bloodline of House Arthas tips the scales on ruthless jackassery.


    Of the vessel that sent the distress signal, there is no sight, it has either gotten away or been eaten by now.


    My optics display two SFC scouting vessels, small and nimble, baiting the head of the swarm towards our fleet.


    I''m thankful that our scanners can only penetrate so much of the swarm''s true numbers. I do not want to feel unnerved by the truth before the fight.


    We are ready, the Spacediving Forward Corps, standing in neat rows in the Ortheon¡¯s II main hold. Ahead of us the portals are closed. We won¡¯t be out until the fireworks are spent.


    Most look ahead in apathy. The mood stabilizers we were given in preparation had an interesting new kick. If my nanomites didn¡¯t dampen the effect I wouldn¡¯t trust myself to eat any of them.


    I¡¯m connected to the live feed projected to the high command and watch the scoutships maneuver through the minefield. They make it out before the front wave of the Overlords reaches our first line of defense.


    We fight their puss toxicity with a chitinase-chitin acid complex as if to prove whose chemical weapons can melt reality better. If it wasn¡¯t so successful against their armor I would cite it to human pride winning over reason.


    As the first of the beasts crosses the threshold the minefield blasts the acid towards the swarm. It spreads in waves and sticks to the Overlord chitin armor, melting its way in.


    A tangle of tentacles, clouds of puss, and chitin-flesh, spasms in a frenzy. I imagine terrifying screams coming out of the alien beasts but they don¡¯t even have mouths, much less vocal cords.


    Yet the wave is not a wave but a tide. It can¡¯t be stopped. It pushes forward, and other Overlords take to the front and keep chasing after the scoutships toward the killzone.


    Even if it didn¡¯t do much direct damage, the minefield had two objectives, to gather them up and agitate the beasts to rush mindlessly forward. I see them speed up the chase.


    The three Star-Destroyers are lined up with the Dreadnaughts as their wings. The swarm is kilometers long, and even then the puss spreads in all directions obscuring the view displayed by the vessels¡¯ front camera feeds.


    I hold my breath, waiting for the first real attack to commence as the scoutships clear the killzone in a hurry. On the live feed, I see the Fleet Command Center bridge give the signal.


    My optics registering the mainframe mapping in realtime start displaying the payload as it leaves the ships.


    Stardust bursts and converges.


    An aurora of destruction.


    The hellfire blooms.

 Chapter 8

    The world is light. The universe¡¯s eternal darkness gives way to the sunrise. The camera feeds freeze as the lenses try to adjust to the new colorations and fail spectacularly to capture the contrast.


    Precious seconds pass looking at a still image of pure whiteness. The mapping feed however reveals a different story. An unending line of little blue dots connects our ships to the alien monster swarm.


    The beasts eat them all up. My heartbeat hammers loud enough to echo around the main hold but does so only to my eardrums.


    We stand on the lowest level, emptied of cargo; just metal sheets, the floor and walls of the ship encase us in a cage that leaves no escape. Our only exit lies closed, but not for long.


    With a sound the portals ascend, opening their mouths to the universe and we greet marines peaking from portals on the other side, on the neighboring Dreadnaught. The identical spaceship is imposingly long, with a pointed nose armed with lasers. At the Dreadnaught''s bow above the nose, at a slight sleek incline, is the ship''s bridge, and control room, with the succeding ranking officer accommodations that have reinforced viewing windows. A stark difference from the windowless cabins in the rest of the ship. On the midship section, turrets, blasters, and missile launchers can be seen on the ship''s husk, whereas on the inside just like on our Dreadnaught are the crew cabins and living areas. The tail is where the storage and hold facilities are located together with the portals from which we are now peaking, before ending at the ship''s engines and biosupport systems.


    It''s a monster of a battleship. Yet the presence of 27 Dreadnaughts should have been more comforting.


    My concentration is focused in front of me, on the men and women waiting in line. The biosuits and helmets hide the humanity in us, revealing only the technological husk we wear. The stillness and silence of robotic machines following orders.


    The officers standing a level above signal for each company to depart. The lines move outward in an organized manner, and when it is time for me to cross the threshold, the overlapping artificial gravity and atmospheric field, I jump to the weightlessness of the beyond.


    The comms once more are muffed. Without any short-range radio signals to distract us from the orders we will shortly be given, time rolls painfully slow.


    We gather in open space, and I gasp when my eyes finally land on the killzone. The yellow puss clouds are stained by dark smudges and dead alien parts. Since the exploding lights of our missiles snuffed out, it is also eerie quiet.


    The yellow veil of toxicity is all I can see in front of us, it spreads to swallow the universe, dispersing slightly as it expands outwards.


    We all wait for the reaction, the aftermath of our firepower, blind as newborns with the world in silence, holding its breath.


    Reinforced defensive drones with blasters pointing forward orbit the Dreadnaughts and one of them passes me by dangerously close. The damned AI controller is programmed to maintain flight paths for optimum defense no matter what it encounters along the way.


    That distracts me when I should be focused, as I consciously adjust my position to avoid colliding with the heavy balls of machinery.


    As planned our group gathers, those who share the F567 company anyway. For the rest, I can do little but pray for their survival.


    Movement ahead focuses my attention back to the front. A dark shadow swims under the yellow clouds, then another. I zoom in through my optics and carefully observe the edges.


    A long slender tentacle bursts out of the toxic puss.


    **Marines commence operation**


    The order vibrates in our headsets like an earthquake, shaking us into action. The thrusters on our boots light up, and we fly forward ahead of the safety of our ships. Thousands of Marines in grey-black biosuits flood into the open dead space.


    An Overlord, ugly and wounded, with blackened holes of flesh decorating its outer armor and missing tentacles spelling the aftermath of destruction our weapons brought, faces us and doesn¡¯t cower.


    With an angry puff of puss, it shoots forward. Following in its wake, other shadows burst out of the puss clouds.


    We face them all head-on. I scream as loud as my humanity allows me. Alone, none can hear me but myself. But I imagine my comrades doing the same and feel a kinship with them that I have never felt with anyone, not my parents, my mentors, or my childhood friends.


    ¡ª-


    DTTRRRRHHHZZSS


    The manual drill hisses hot, vibrating my hand as I push downward. Melted alien flesh bursts outward, slimy and thick, and sticks to me like glue as it freezes. My other hand holds a pointed hook beaked on the Overlord¡¯s exoskeleton that won¡¯t let me fall off. I groan with the effort, maintaining both points during the chaos of battle.


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    My team is above me fighting the tentacles trying to pry me off its body. The blasters shine blue as they pound against the enemy, pushing back and damaging its gonorrheal limbs. When it extrudes puss we jump off, retreating from the toxic antimaterial substance.


    If we stay too long inside it, our biosuits will corrode and open space will become lifeless without their protection to safeguard us. It¡¯s not the same for the Overlord, and taking one down requires a constant fractious engagement.


    It gives chase, leaving the protections of its puss behind and we start over. The hunted and the haunted.


    We are constantly mindful not to be surrounded, for other engagements not to spill over onto our retreating route and cut us off. Thousands of marines are fighting in similar skirmishes against hundreds of the beasts.


    It''s a mess. Chaos like any of the SFC marines have ever experienced. Many do not realize they are already dead when they dally and the clouds surround them. But not for my team. During our preparations, I rigged the ¡®brainchips¡¯ I had previously installed to temporarily revert their limited capacity to memory loading instead of the optics.


    We have trained through several battles with Overlords and know what to look out for. One of the main dangers is¡­


    A slimy tentacle grabs Ginny as we jump off retreating from another puss cloud. It pulls her inside the corrosive puss, hiding her from our sight.


    The short-range comms having returned to normal operation, light up with sound.


    ¡°GINNY, NO!¡± Nik calls out. It happened so fast that none of us had any time to react.


    I curse. We have mere minutes to save her before her biosuit fails if the beast hasn¡¯t already crushed her in its grip.


    ¡°HELPP, AHHBZZT¡±, her voice from inside the clouds is barely audible, carrying static.


    If we chase after her, we will fly blind inside the corrosion that would attack us nonetheless. It would be suicide. I know it, everyone knows it. But I can hear her screams on my headset and the terror I feel, is nothing compared to hers.


    I bring out the rifle. ¡°Clear the way! I¡¯ll make a path,¡± I say surprised by the steadiness in my voice, and launch two metagrenades toward Ginny¡¯s last position on my mapping feed. The scanners relay wonkily against the puss clouds.


    The metagrenades activate as they leave the rifle. They move slowly, painfully so, since nothing would stop them from flying boundlessly forward and I need the active deconstructive field near me until I find her.


    The moment the metagrenades reach the puss it sizzles and collapses, leaving nothing behind, only the familiar nothingness of space in a wide range around them. They penetrate the yellow clouds piercing through the toxicity creating a wide tunnel for me to pursue in their wake.


    I don¡¯t expect anyone to follow after me but without a word Tommy and Nik stick by my sides and we dive into the tunnel after the metaspheres, before the yellow clouds can close up the open gap.


    The distant lights of the universe disappear from view. I light up my helmet to banish the immediate darkness and so do my two friends. The empty corridor we fly in is suffocating, it presses against itself narrowing further after the metasphere''s active field moves on.


    ¡°HELBBZZZTPP.¡± The static is a constant companion, wailing in my head.


    ¡°Ginny, we are coming! We are near!¡± Nik says through the comms, but there is no way of knowing.


    ¡°HZAARGGBBZZT,¡± A scream of static answers him.


    I search endlessly for shadows swimming in the yellow puss surrounding us and pray I see something indicating where the alien bastard has taken my friend.


    While looking around, I miss when the metagrenades hit the Overlord head-on. Tentacles spasm swiping around the open tunnel and the alien monster shies away from the small metallic spheres.


    With some savage satisfaction, I smile. I had tweaked the metaspheres to break down biological matter. Exterminating all life inside the field array.


    Fortunately, we are safe inside our biosuits and if Ginny¡¯s is compromised, she is already dead either way. A thought I do not wish to even think about.


    We pursue after the alien beast, it¡¯s moving groggily, possibly hurt and I think I see Ginny held in one of its gonorrhoeal limbs.


    ¡°There she is,¡± Tommy confirms as we near.


    ¡°I¡¯m moving in,¡± I say, ¡°Keep the tentacles off my back.¡±


    I¡¯m ready to fight to take her back but more static flooding our headsets gives me pause. And this time it''s not coming from Ginny.


    ¡°BZZZTTT AMONZ, INCOMIBZZZNG.¡±


    Different voices, drowning each other.


    ¡°INCMNBZZZ, HZZEELBBBP.¡±


    Whatever it is, it''s picked up from the team we left behind, and it doesn''t sound good¨Canother reason to finish the rescue quickly and head back to help.


    I launch two more metagrenades to clear up a flight path among the gathering puss. My boot thrusters push me forward, giving me a nice angle to screw the tentacle that''s holding her captive.


    I¡¯m close and personal, my intentions are clear with the hot drill ready to dig in one hand and the hook to hold onto in the other. I¡¯ll tear the offending tentacle apart. To pieces.


    Her head idly tracks my movements. Her body is wrapped by the alien limb and only one of her hands can move freely. I see her lift it and wave. A simple gesture as if saying ¡°hello¡±, or maybe ¡°goodbye¡±.


    The voice that comes through the comms, is not a voice but a sob. It''s comprehensible and clear now that I¡¯m close enough.


    ¡°Ginny..¡± I say involuntarily, almost frozen, but when I land on the alien flesh, I grab it with my hook and settle into position to drill in the meter-wide tentacle until it leaves my friend alone.


    I¡¯m distracted, there is something I¡¯m missing. I look back at her as she flails with the limb''s movements.


    There is a trickle of something staining the air around her form. I wouldn¡¯t have noticed but for my optics zooming in. It''s a dark frozen liquid, that could be coming out of the wounded beast, but it''s not. It''s coming from my friend. Blood is pooling and freezing around the tentacle that''s holding her. It has crushed the biosuit, it has crushed her body.


    If she is released, a puff of the puss might come inside the suit, melting her flesh in seconds but even before that, she would have exploded by the pressure, empty of oxygen. Only the tentacle is keeping her intact.


    She waves again slowly, as if the trip she¡¯s taking is long, and feels regret that it¡¯ll take time until we meet again.


    My eyes water. I know because the image before me distorts. I pull the drill back unused and take out the rifle.


    ¡°Amon? We don¡¯t have time, why are¡­ AMON? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!¡± Nik shouts in the comms.


    ¡°She is gone buddy, the suit is busted,¡± I say with a heart that has no warmth left in it, and I line up the scope. Her waving becomes more insistent, begging, pleading for me to hurry.


    I fire the rifle.


    ¡ª-


    Silence, I only wish for silence but I listen to the comms. A fight is raging behind us. The Overlord has fled, repulsed by the metasphere¡¯s decomposing field. We let it go, too numb to seek revenge.


    My two friends grieve with me, but they can hear what I hear, and they know we have to get back into the fight.


    I launch another metagrenade to guide us back through the yellow clouds. We pick up speed, slow at first, mindful of the dangers other Overlords might cause. We can see them only when they are almost upon us.


    ¡°BZZZZTTT, AMON DO YOU HEAR ME?¡± A familiar voice breaks through the static.


    ¡°Gardenia? Where are you?¡± I ask and press on faster, right behind the flying metasphere.


    We almost collide when she runs into us flying from inside the puss. Her biosuit is partially steaming from the corrosion but thankfully it appears still functional and intact.


    ¡°Gardenia! What''s happening?¡± I ask with dread.


    She shakes her helmet holding a hand out to pause our momentum.


    ¡°Don¡¯t go back...Amon, th-there, there is no one left,¡± She says barring the way.

 Chapter 9

    ¡°Don¡¯t go back. Please believe me, you¡¯ll die,¡± She pleads but I must know if Ella is alright.


    It had been the five of us, Tommy, Nik, Ginny, Ella, and myself. We ¡®enlisted¡¯ in the same cohort, undergoing the 6-month long boot camp at the SFC main hub, bonding as a group.


    There were others we met and lost along the way. Those first battles with the SFC had been devastating, but they made us stick together like glue. A new family that partially replaced the old one.


    When I was sold to the merc company my parents were also moved to a Dominion planet somewhere, possibly on C3XB or C3XC. I am certain we will never cross paths again.


    My new family is all I have, and I just lost one person dear to me. Seeing her hurt, suffering through the pain, and hearing her pleading sobs hadn¡¯t helped force my finger on the trigger.


    I knew her end was sealed the moment I saw the suit had been crushed. My mind had offered its expertise, listing the soon-to-be gruesome causes of death; Extreme pressure loss would boil and vaporize all liquids inside her body, and if she didn¡¯t faint from the agony, she would feel herself exploding from the inside. When the biosuit¡¯s oxygen stores depleted, leaking through the suit¡¯s tears, her lungs would collapse from the vacuum. Space would pull her soul right out of her body in a torturous swift death.


    It didn¡¯t matter that it was the logical thing to do, my hands are now stained with the blood of my friend. And another is in danger of perishing.


    ¡°It¡¯s too dangerous to stay in the puss clouds. We don¡¯t have any visuals on the Overlords around us,¡± I say since my mind is already set on a course of action. ¡°Follow close behind me, we need to regroup with the rest of the Marines.¡±


    ¡°Sergeant, the outside space is swarming with the monsters,¡± Gardenia says blocking the way forward.


    ¡°I believe you, Gardenia, but staying inside the corrosion is suicide. The puss will eventually become a cover for an ambush we won¡¯t detect until it is too late. We need to regroup with the main forces,¡± and find out what is happening to our team, and Ella.


    ¡°Get in formation,¡± Tommy adds at the right moment to tip the scales, and I spearhead the 1-2-1 formation with Tommy trailing last. If I can count on one person to cover my ass as I lead blindly it is him.


    Unfortunately for my arsenal, I¡¯m forced to expend another metagrenade to widen the path as the one we had been following has vanished ahead during the little get-together. The puss is creepily pressing the made-up tunnel around us. It''s time to move on.


    We fly following the metasphere surrounded by yellow clouds, and I begin to notice the battle¡¯s residual waste, floating, partly melted, and corroded. The yellow puss turns slightly green when enough broken-down matter gathers, be it dead Marines, alien parts, or a combination of both. It appears dead Overlord bodies corrode just as easily as the rest of us in this toxicity.


    Floating in a particularly dense yellow-green stain, I see the first egg incubating. Its dark chitin outer shell is veiny and pulsing with life.


    It¡¯s uncertain how the alien beasts can or want to multiply during an engagement of such intensity as this one but I have an ominous premonition that on top of every green smudge we encounter an egg will be left behind to feed on the leftovers.


    For the Overlords despite the initial barrage, the 27 thousand Marines must seem like a feast. Since we have no idea how the battle outside is raging, cut off inside the toxic clouds, we might as well become dessert for the soon-to-hatch offsprings.


    I recheck my mapping feed but the mainframe¡¯s signal is still obstructed by the puss clouds. There is no communication between the brainchip¡¯s receiver and the outside world. I¡¯ve been downgraded to Lowtech, something I¡¯m not willing to admit out loud.


    During this time the corrosive clouds have expanded greatly, and we are forced to cover a much longer distance from where we initially entered. Our helmet lights are the only lighting source, piercing only a few meters deep into the toxic walls. They might make us targets, but I highly doubt that Overlords hunt by sight alone.


    Nevertheless, we are cautious, observing the yellow mist for signs of danger. We encounter none, and this already paints a picture of how things progress. The Overlord''s onslaught has not been repelled.


    Soon the metasphere finds the exit and flies off, and I stop my momentum shy of the edge, peeking around the gapping hole. Clear space greets me but I have no direct visual of the SFC fleet. From the star systems I see in front of me, we must be almost below it.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    I sculk outside keeping close to the edge of the clouds and the rest follow close behind. It¡¯s unnerving to expect a fight and see nothing, so I fly further out into space to get a better view.


    Before I notice anything but the unending sea of clouds, my receiver starts downloading data packets.


    **All SFC Marines retreat to point B**


    **Engaging defensive drones**


    **Dreadnaught defenses compromised, Fleet Command Carrier initiating engagement**


    **All Marine forces support Light-Weight Class Vessels**


    ¡°Shit,¡± Tommy says beside me as his optics reveal the horror line by line. ¡°It doesn¡¯t look too good. What do you think, Amon?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it looks like they might need a bit of help. We have some distance to cover, we are well behind the frontlines. All this is Overlord territory.¡±


    The hole in the clouds behind us closes, filled once more with puss. We get our heads together and chart a route towards the fleet. We will float above the clouds, close enough to avoid being observed, but far enough from the surface to be caught unaware in an ambush.


    Nik is particularly silent, his short-range comms only registering his heavy breathing when he sighs. Thankfully on the other end, Gardenia has settled down, following along with our directions. I wanted to berate her for recklessly fleeing inside the puss, blind and without a plan, only hoping to stumble upon us, but I wasn¡¯t there to experience the fight she left behind. From her words, the team scattered when three Overlords set upon them simultaneously.


    The chances are that most of them are dead, and I hope against reason that Ella is not one of them. We would have to regroup with the Marines to know more.


    Our boot thrusters light up in neon blue, and we make good time flying. The silence of space is only overcome by the silence of activity. It feels as if we are the last survivors, sailing the yellow seas of a planet dressed in perpetual night.


    Seeing nothing but the dark universe has me worried that the fleet has been swallowed in puss, leaving us stranded in space to die lethargically when our biosuit life support and batteries give out.


    But then my mapping feed returns and I know we will soon have direct eye contact with the fleet. What I see on the optics makes me want to turn the way we came.


    The previously organized line of Dreadnaughts is a clutter of ships and Overlords. Just like pimples on a teenager''s features, the Overlords are stuck upon the SFC combat vessels, pulling them apart.


    Little blue dots signifying personnel and combat drones fight around them, evading the puss that dominates each scuffle. The Dreadnaughts too are constantly moving disengaging and retreating from the expanding toxicity.


    Light-weight class Vessels fly by, attacking with heatlasers, picking on the weakened chitin armor, and speeding away before any of the beasts give chase.


    This I notice at a glance. The mapping feed accurately portrays the battle¡¯s landscape and the scope sends shivers down my spine. How can the four of us make sense of all this chaos?


    Before my brain can answer negatively as it often likes to do, we fly over a cloudy hill, and at its peak, the battlezone unveils before us.


    The scary part is not the dead Marine bodies that I see flying like debris whichever what way, but the several destroyed Dreadnaughts, broken beyond repair, sinking inside the corrosion. Each is worth a fortune. Each is worth our salvation because without them none will make it out of here alive.


    We pause, uncertain of what to do next now that we are close enough to watch, but far enough not to attract attention.


    ¡°Options? Any ideas on how to approach this?¡± I ask, mostly for the two more experienced Marines.


    ¡°We circle the battlezone, come from behind, and regroup with the rest of the Marines.¡± Tommy offers.


    ¡°C-Can¡¯t we wait it out?¡± Gardenia asks, ¡°I don¡¯t want to go back in there, please.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t stay here,¡± I reply, and since I know she doesn¡¯t understand the reasoning I follow up with a simple explanation.


    ¡°Listen, if we win, and the Overlords are repelled, we might fall onto their retreating route. Neither you nor I want to be anywhere near the agitated alien swarm without the support of the fleet.¡±


    ¡°But if we lose the main battle, the remaining ships will retreat in haste, leaving us stranded in open space. In both cases staying here is a bigger danger than moving forward. We just have to find the safest path.¡±


    Gardenia isn¡¯t stupid. She considers my words and I see her nod her helmet when she has digested my argument.


    It''s Nik who I am mostly worried about. He had a special relationship with Ginny, and her death might push him to do something rash.


    Nevertheless, our objective is to rendezvous with the fleet without attracting undue attention. From our observations, the skirmishes and expanding clouds force the Dreadnaughts ever backward. We will fly a good distance around them to avoid all the fighting.


    It¡¯s when we are ready to blast off a new communication from the Fleed Command Carrier reaches us.


    **Critical Intel: Overlord Queen has been spotted. Sending coordinates¡­ All available forces are to engage on sight. Top Priority, #Queen Imagery#.**


    The still image is distorted but reveals an unmistakably ugly Overlord surfacing among the clouds. Its purple outer armor is distinct from the brown-black of the rest of the host. It is also huge, double the size of an adult, and quite possibly twice as lethal. We have to hurry it away if not outright kill it.


    ¡ª-


    ¡°This is madness,¡± Gardenia says as I prepare my remaining weaponry. The coordinates show the Overlord Queen located well behind the battlezone, protected by puss clouds at the tail end of the swarm.


    We are not close, but we have a clear path to reach her from where we are. Firing a metagrenade into the yellow sea will cut the distance to a short flight.


    Likewise, Nik and Tommy are ready to follow. They understand the unique opportunity we have, and even if it is close to a suicide mission, none of us can find the courage to object. This mission might turn the tides in our favor.


    ¡°Gardenia, I¡¯m not asking you to follow along. It¡¯s a choice we make freely, me, Tommy, Nik,¡± I say pointing at each one with a gloved finger before continuing.


    ¡°Above us, the fleet struggles against the overwhelming enemy swarm, it might lose, we might lose and then we are all dead. I¡¯m not asking you to follow me, it might not make a difference, we might not even make it to the Queen. But if you do follow, and your presence does make the difference we need, to kill this thing, to make it out of here alive¡­¡± I pause for breath.


    ¡°It is for moments like this one that the choices we make matter, that we are truly free,¡± A speech translated right out of my heart. It gives me courage even if she decides to remain behind.


    ¡°I¡¯ll come,¡± She says, ¡°But promise me one thing,¡±


    ¡°Tell me,¡± I reply.


    ¡°Let''s put this fucker out of its misery.¡±

 Chapter 10

    The tunnel the metasphere created was wide enough for us to fly comfortably, but just as narrow in case an Overlord emerged into our path. There was not enough clear space to maneuver around the massive beast, which made any such confrontation especially dangerous and potentially deadly.


    Plunging into the surrounding puss even for a few seconds might get us lost. What if you couldn''t return to the tunnel and eventually got separated from the rest? We were so deep inside the corrosion that kilometers of puss separated us from the outside space. There was only one thing we had going for us. I had securely tied an active metasphere to each team member, trailing a meter behind each to avoid influencing the nanomites, in case we did get parted during the fighting.


    "What a lovely experience," Tommy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. It was not a pleasant feeling being compressed from all sides that was for sure. "If one of these overgrown spaceleeches comes along, we are clusterfucked!" He shouted in the comms.


    In these cases, the SFC Marines were trained to follow a code of conduct that all personnel must obey and abide by. One rule concerning active missions stated that completing objectives was a priority above any autonomous action that might endanger the mission.


    If the enemy Overlords struck against us, continuing to complete the objective should be prioritized above any injuries our small team of four might sustain. We would leave behind our fallen comrades, prey to the enemy¡¯s tentacles, only to be able to reach the Overlord Queen.


    What a load of bullshit that was. I was never leaving a team member behind. Screw the SFC code of conduct and the mission objective if they believed themselves above my friends'' lives.


    I was only risking my skin for the benefit of all fighting this battle, mine included. Right now everything hung on the tipping point, and I didn¡¯t see how someone else might cross the battlezone to reach the Queen. Not before we did.


    With our lives on the line, our rules were set on the table. Either we reached the Queen together, and kicked her ass out of our Galaxy, or we made the best of the hand we were dealt with.


    Moving on, I saw more floating eggs to our left and right and prayed we didn¡¯t encounter any newborn Overlord hatchlings on our path. It was said that they were so nasty they made adult Overlords seem docile. The universe was not a friendly place, and I guessed to survive in outer space you need to be a special kind of asshole.


    We flew silently, not even pausing to shoot at the defenseless eggs for fear of attracting the parent¡¯s attention. I calculated the speed and distance we had left to cover. Just over 5 kilometers left to the point the initial coordinates indicated. We were close enough that we might intercept a stray Overlord if any were gathered near the Queen.


    At this point, so many things could go wrong that I was surprised at myself for being where I was. It was not a risk that I would normally consider taking. Worst for wear it was not only my hide in danger here, my friends and allies were with me, following my lead, trusting me to save their asses in case something did go wrong. After all, I had a good track record for it. So I hoped their trust wasn¡¯t misplaced this time as well.


    And I was convinced something would go terribly wrong somewhere in this yellow hellscape. Maybe it would be the Queen deciding she wanted to move to a different location and we would be searching blindly, swimming in the puss clouds, cut off from any communication update until the rest of the Overlords noticed us.


    Maybe we wouldn''t even reach her, set upon by the hungry alien beasts, seeing us for what we were, a juicy meal delivered to their doorstep.


    We had just two kilometers left, and we were still alone. Everyone was tense and fidgety, looking at the dark shapes drifting inside the clouds. The corroded dead stayed where they were, creating green puddles of puss in the otherwise yellow sea.


    And then without any notice, it was the other way around. Green was the color of our suffocating world whereas yellow previously dominated. It was a feasting zone of broken-down matter.


    A kilometer in we were forced to strafe around the decomposing materials or risk carrying the splatter with us. Since the puss was a gaseous substance, it was swiftly dispelled by the passage of the metasphere¡¯s active field. However, the heavier, more complex materials aka ''the dead'' took longer to eradicate, leaving us with a vile obstacle track.


    We weren¡¯t rushing ahead, but when a colossal shadow darkened our front vision I relied on SensoChronometry to slow down my sense of reality. Frame by frame I calmly observed the numerous tentacles uncovering from under the green puss.


    There was something different about them. Meter-long hair roots extended in all directions along the tip and shaft of the tentacles, creating a wide brush that reacted with the broken-down matter. It appeared to be sucking the green-saturated puss back in. I believe¡­it was eating.


    I stared in wonder and noticed clearly when the tentacles came under the effect of the metashere¡¯s active field. They flinched, hazily in my eyes, but I was sure it was rather fast for everybody else. None of my allies had a chance to react yet.


    The sucker-hair retracted under the tentacle¡¯s ¡®skin¡¯ and the whole thing retreated, coiling close to the main body which was now starting to appear. A purple outer armor reflected our helmet¡¯s lights, gleaming against the intrusion. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    We had found the Queen.


    ¡°As we planned,¡± I shouted through the comms, my words took a while to form, but my mind was already racing ahead, selecting the most suitable location to ¡®dig in¡¯. My team, unable to operate at the same time-perception as me, followed my lead as best they could.


    The seconds between my calculated moves and their reaction time created a small gap between us. I plunged ahead toward the nearest tentacle-main body junction.


    The Overlord Queen was beginning to feel the effects of the active field with her tentacles flailing wildly, swiping at the nothingness around us. I saw the long trunks of alien rubber flesh from miles away but I couldn''t say the same for the rest of the team.


    ¡°Watch out!¡± Tommy warned, and my eyes tracked the slow decline of the blind attack that would overpass me by a comfortable margin, but I wasn''t sure the same could be said for all of us.


    I didn¡¯t have the leisure to look back. The hook in my hand punctured the rubber skin of the Overlord Queen and I hung secured from her alien flesh. Nik landed next to me a second later grabbing for a hold and similarly securing himself on the Queen''s body.


    I glanced over my shoulder to see Tommy and Gardenia flying disorderly, their boot thrusters lighting up, maneuvering to avoid the swiping tentacles. It was chaos all around them.


    There was not much I could do to help them, they had to find a way to approach before the drilling started in earnest. I expected the Queen to react strongly to our little extermination project.


    I watched them for a few seconds. The Queen didn¡¯t relent in her barrage of attacks, and finding a safe pathing to our position while avoiding the maelstrom became a mounting complication. One hit from a tentacle would strike them away, and despite the damage it would cause, the disorientation and surrounding puss could finish the job as easily.


    ¡°Tommy! Link up with Gardenia and find a place to encroach and dig in.¡± I said, fearing that the Queen might bolt unexpectedly and separate us.


    ¡°Roger that. Give us a second,¡± He replied, and I saw them change their approach from trying to get to us to flying up to the nearest available spot.


    Once they securely hooked themselves on the Overlord¡¯s chitin-flesh, Nik and I took out our drills. The drill machine was a square-shaped cone with handles on two sides. The moment I activated it the tip twisted and turned and burned hot, lighting my vision in an angry orange hue.


    It was showtime. I pushed the heated drill down on the junction between the tentacle and the chitin armor of the Queen, a location where the natural purple exoskeleton was absent, leaving it almost defenseless to my attack. At the drills¡¯s touch, the beast¡¯s alien flesh exploded outward.


    The general plan was to dig a hole, push a metasphere in, seal it, and do so again repeatedly for as long as we had to. If we succeeded the Queen wouldn''t have a swift death, but a terrible one, decomposing slowly from the inside. The alien beast would probably flee in painful agony, recalling the rest of the swarm in its crazed flight. Or that¡¯s what we hoped would happen.


    As plans went, it was probably the best we could come up with on short notice with the limited weapons we had on hand.


    Well, we didn¡¯t expect the big fuck you that the Queen had in store for us.


    The tentacle hair the Queen used to eat her disgustingly-green-gaseous meal resurfaced and started whipping about. Nik was quickly forced to abandon his drilling just to defend himself and cover me. I was better suited for the manual work anyway. My strength and size reduced the chances that I would cave from the onslaught of attacks.


    It still hurt, however. Even with the biosuit on I could feel the whipping tendrils having a go at my hands and legs, messing with the positioning of the drill as I pushed it lower inside the Queen''s body. The team comms were filled with grunts and curses picturing quite well the whipping pain. The gaseous toxicity was almost swarming the metasphere''s active field tied on the metallic strings attached to each of us. It helped provide the breathing room we needed to survive the prolonged battle as I continued to enlarge the wound by pushing the drill in.


    When the tentacle hair failed to dislodge us, the Queen started vibrating violently. While I couldn¡¯t see much with the puss swirling around us, I saw at least a fine mist being released by the Queen. It wasn''t the usual yellow puss, but something else, something new.


    The mist mixed with the green puss and turned purple, as if a painter mixed two different colors and the clouds turned to a different hue. That couldn¡¯t be good, but I didn''t relent in my efforts and concentrated on the task. The hole I was drilling expanded adequately, and I took one of the last few metaspheres I possessed and placed it deep in the wounded slimy flesh of the Queen.


    With a twist, the two separated parts keeping the metasphere inactive clicked together and I saw the lines merge before an invisible blurry field started expanding outward. Almost immediately the alien flesh around it blackened to a dry husk.


    Taking a canister from the backcompartment I covered the hole with an expanding foam mainly used for temporary biosuit sealant or ship armor repairs and tried to get Nik¡¯s attention who was still fighting off the tentacle hair. His blaster was out and it was blowing the little whipps apart.


    ¡°Hey Amon, when you are done over there, we have a lady¡¯s hole right here you might want to satisfy with your little toys.¡± Tommy joked over the comms. I chuckled at his joke but immediately saw the problem. We were not too far apart but getting our asses over there through the spasming tentacles and whipping hair would be harder than I had anticipated.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure she is my type, she has some serious anger issues. Can you hold on over there? Closing the distance is a tad difficult right now.¡± I said grunting and rechecked the hook securing me in place. The vibrations and sudden movements of the Overlord were pulling at us hard.


    ¡°In that case, I¡¯ll use the one I have on me. Gardenia¡¯s metasphere is more than enough to cover for the both of us,¡± Tommy replied and I understood it was the right thinking, but it still was dangerous to disregard the one thing protecting you from kilometers of death degrading corrosion.


    ¡°Okay, be careful not to get separated buddy,¡± I said feeling the tingling sensation of worry swarm inside me.


    ¡°We moving?¡± Nik asked me panting. There was a nice open space around us free of tentacle hair. Blackened damaged flesh tarred the base of the tentacle.


    ¡°Unfortunately we have to. We should try to bury at least one or two more. You did a nice job remodeling this place though,¡± I said lightheartedly and Nik nodded with his helmet but didn''t seem amused.


    ¡°Where to?¡± he asked, but before I could answer a tentacle came crashing down on us. If I had kept SensoChronometry on my brain would have been close to spent from the strain, but I would have seen the attack coming.


    The angle helped reduce the impact but I was still flung away violently. My shoulder burst in pain as it was hit with force. A blinding burning sensation that my nanomites would soon be working on to heal.


    I didn¡¯t worry about the injury much apart from the temporary mobility restriction, the brainchip in response to the pain spike automatically reduced my pain receptors to 50%.


    ¡°ARGGHH,¡± Nik groaned as he was similarly tossed away from the safety of the pocket we had camped in, flung inside the purple clouds in a flailing dive.


    The toxic puss similarly greeted me but the active metasphere tied to the backcompartment of my biosuit kept it at bay. Another tentacle swiped in my general direction, but my boots helped me swerve from its trajectory.


    Before I lost sight of the Overlord Queen, I saw Tommy and Gardenia, linked arms in arms, fleeing the other way, maneuvering under a constant barrage of swiping attacks.


    All of the team had been repelled with little chance to approach again now that the Queen was aware and riled up. I could only pray the two metaspheres we buried were sufficient to finish the mission.


    ¡°Team, everyone¡¯s made it out?¡± I asked in the comms hoping to hear the familiar voices of my comrades.


    ¡°BZZZZTTTTMMON HHBZZRE,¡± I listened closely to the incomprehensible static words.


    At least they were alive.


    At least I was not alone.

 Chapter 11

    I was alone. The purple had expanded like a nuclear reaction, infecting the green and yellow and coming out on top. There was only purple left coloring the clouds surrounding me.


    Something was happening that no one else had observed before in the recorded history of this alien species. I knew since I had the log downloaded to my brainchip and as I cautiously flew among the puss I went through it line by line looking for the answer.


    There was no metagrenade preceding me, I used the active field of the one already tied to my biosuit, far enough from my body not to mess with the nanomite concentrations. I had very few weaponized spheres left and was at no leisure to waste more.


    The yellow degraded, the green fed, and the purple was still a mystery hopefully left unsolved. I didn¡¯t want to know what happened next in this tragedy of a reality I swam in.


    It had only been minutes since I left the Overlord Queen behind, and my mind was numb, afraid for my friends'' lives. My shoulder was being repaired from the damage by the faithful nanomites, with the pain muted so I was unbothered by its persistent sting.


    A possible answer to the lingering question littered my surroundings. Empty eggshells floated broken as I passed by them. The eggs had hatched.


    ¡°You got to be kidding me,¡± I whispered under my breath, frantically scrolling down the entries to find the description for baby Overlords that I had skimmed over once, but now needed to reread carefully.


    Newly hatched Overlords appear to be already in an adolescent form, skipping the vulnerable newborn phase entirely. The incubation period is mainly undergone in the ovarium of each Overlord, sheltered by the parent until it is time for the fertilized eggs to be laid and hatch.


    Data strongly suggests the laying happens solely when an adequate feeding source to sustain the soon-to-hatch brood is found nearby.


    Due to the scarcity of sustenance in outer space, the Overlord hatchlings have an exceedingly heightened prey drive; a genetic outcome of these harsh environmental factors. If there is insufficient sustenance, the brood might prey upon each other; a trait wholly absent in the observed adult Overlords.


    There is still no indication that the Overlord Queen influences the species'' reproduction process. Further inquiries are looking for answers to the mystery of the evolved Queen and how its presence affects the rest of the swarm.


    ¡­


    I had read enough and my rifle was already clutched between my hands, a prudent move since I hoped the armor-piercing rounds would be enough to repel the weaker armored hatchlings.


    My gloved fingers nervously rubbed against the SFC logo on the handguard sticking out. They traced around the image of the Dreadnaught and the overhanging lettering reading ¡®Spacediving Forward Corps¡¯.


    It was not a weird coincidence that the SFC fleet composition, the SFC logo, and the Arthas Dominion shipyards orbiting C3XA, had as their main element Dreadnaght class battleships.


    It was a rather obvious tell.


    So I prayed to the SFC, to House Arthas, or however they wanted to call themselves. Pleaded to not let my friends die. We did the best we could. Now it was their time to shine.


    Pleaded that they still persisted, they weren''t broken and defeated by the swarm. Please. I begged. For once they had the chance to save, not only destroy, not only kill but help those who were putting their lives on the line on their behalf.


    It was a strange dark thought occupying my mind, but prayer wouldn¡¯t reach those godless assholes.


    I hated it¨Cbeing powerless to control my destiny. How did I consider that I could protect the others if I wasn''t certain I could do so even for myself?


    My mind was drowning in the muck of my own creation. I was terrified of losing them.


    It was impossible to find each other in the puss clouds. My optic scanners couldn¡¯t pierce the corrosive mist. We could only rely on our skills and luck to make it out alive. And I had to trust them on this since I would need my full concentration to find my way back to safety.


    From the Overlord hatchlings, there was still no sign. Where were they? I desperately searched my surroundings, but could only see so far¨Ca few meters every which way the puss blocked my view except the back where I came from.


    I sped up, giving the boot¡¯s plasma thrusters free reign to push. More eggshells floated at the tunnel¡¯s edges where I could see them and imagined the little horrors stalking me. I panicked.


    I stole a glance above my shoulder to look behind me. The light from my helmet banished the darkness to reveal the emptiness of the tunnel being eaten by the puss.


    A few more minutes passed being chased by shadows of my imagination. My eyes blurred, seeing and not seeing things swimming alongside me in the clouds.


    I imagined a tentacle tentatively prodding at the edge between the puss and my metasphere-made tunnel.


    Then, I blinked several times. The tentacle was still there, swirling the puss as it kept up with my speed.


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    ¡°Fuck me,¡± I cursed. I was already lining my body positioning for an evasive maneuver. The thrusters lit up and I dived upwards.


    The tentacle disappeared from view continuing in its trajectory. I changed course again resuming my initial direction. Every few seconds I looked back at the tunnel behind me, waiting for a sign that it had found itself back on my tracks.


    Not it, they. I saw shadows twice my size burst from the clouds behind me, emerging inside the tunnel and diving back out of sight on the other side, without slowing momentum. They had found me.


    I swerved up, like climbing a colossal staircase, forward, and up again. The trail I left behind was clear as day, and I was facing hunters who wouldn¡¯t relent in their chase until their hunger was satisfied.


    I changed directions without slowing down, I was doing everything I could to prevent them from catching up. The second to worst case was that I would hit something in front of me that was simply floating there. Even with the enormous distances involved, a lot of stray debris from the battle was floating about only partially corroded.


    Worst for wear with the added speed the metasphere¡¯s active field didn''t have adequate time to collapse the puss in front of me and some of the purple corrosion was finding its way to my biosuit.


    I hope it was not concentrated enough to melt through my only protection because I was in a terrible rush and lost; There was no point in calculating the distances involved since I didn¡¯t know where I was or where I¡¯d end up.


    I watched with horror as the sides of my mask from the outside distorted like watermarks on clear glass on a rainy day. Sadly I was in no position to slow down. Not just yet.


    The chase was on, and I was it. But when my nerves were close to breaking I burst out of the puss clouds like an explosion.


    I strained my brainchip to its limit, the SensoChronometry gave me the necessary time to gather myself. The optics immediately registered the fleet¡¯s location, and I was relieved to note the way I fled didn¡¯t take me the opposite way.


    The first positive thing I noticed was that the battle was over. There was a hell of a lot of damage, however. Broken Dreadnaughts cluttered the open space, herded by lighter-class vessels to regain as much of the lost materials as possible.


    Yet, this was not my immediate concern. I was too far away from the fleet to receive any timely assistance. I tracked with my eyes the cloudy puss trail from the battlezone and soon found at its head the Overlord swarm fleeing the other way. A momentary elation washed over me. We had done it, we beat the swarm!


    Proudly I stared at the retreating aliens thinking that it might have been us, winning the battle for the SFC. Regrettably, I couldn¡¯t know for sure right now. Everything that happened was cut off from the fleet''s sensors, inside the puss clouds with us the only observers.


    I would have to check my optic¡¯s recordings with the battle¡¯s, comparing timeframes, to see if there was any actual influence. Or if we went to this close-to-a-suicide mission for nothing.


    Despite realizing that we had won, I didn¡¯t slow down, except by letting my time-perception ease up. I couldn''t keep at it much longer, my brainchip was starting to heat up from the strain, and I needed my apps functional in case the hatchling gave chase. Some kilometers to my left another burst emerged from the puss and I zoomed in only to see Tommy and Gardenia propel themselves to open space tied together by their arms.


    With newfound hope, I surveyed the purple sea for Nik¡¯s exit. The next appearance though came from behind me. One, two, three, four in swift succession.


    The Overlord hatchlings ranged from twice my size, to a few times bigger. They were paler compared to adult Overlords, slightly dark grey whereas the parents were a black-brown mix, but they were surely a miniature version in all its disgusting glory.


    And they surely moved fast.


    My eyes googled in surprise when I realized their speed was greater than mine. Space surely was relentless. There was nowhere to hide and no friction to mess with their bulky frames.


    I had one little advantage. My centrifugal force was less than theirs, which translated into a smaller curve when changing directions, something I had been applying generously while maneuvering away.


    ¡°Guys? Do you hear me?¡± I asked in the comms a few times before I received a reply.


    ¡°Amon? Where are you? Ah lord! You have these things right behind you!¡± Gardenia gasped when she spotted me and my following retinue.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to alarm you, but a few just came out of the puss from your side as well,¡± I replied bluntly watching a similar scene unfolding on their side.


    ¡°Oh, oh, what are we going to do?¡± She asked once more clearly shaken.


    ¡°Calm down, Gardenia, here hold my hand,¡± I heard Tommy trying to assure her. ¡°Amon, you good buddy?¡±


    ¡°Been better, but hey, listen a minute, we have to meet up. Make them fall onto one another, it might mess up their momentum enough for us to get away,¡± I said and curved my flightpath slightly to intercept the two.


    ¡°Roger that, you''ve seen Nik?¡± Tommy asked.


    ¡°Not since we disengaged, he must have exited the clouds from someplace we can¡¯t see directly,¡± I replied. Yes, that must be it.


    I projected the meeting point ahead in my mind, calculating, then looked back at my pursuers.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be close,¡± I said pressing my lips together in a grimace. I needed to create some more distance. Half turning I brought my rifle to point between my boots. I started firing round after round upon them.


    When the first spread hit, I saw the bullets pierce the exoskeleton of the lead hatchling. It didn¡¯t flinch at the damage but followed up with a twist around its axis, making itself a harder target to hit.


    I reloaded a new magazine, spent it, and reloaded again. And again. And again. And¡­ ¡°I¡¯m out of ammo,¡± I called out in the comms. If I bought any time with all the firing I did, it was only for a few minutes at best.


    ¡°Serves you right for leaving your blaster behind. Mine¡¯s just out of energy.¡± Tommy said as I saw them speedily flying maybe still a kilometer away, him searching for a spare battery with one hand while the other held Gardenia still. She was firing her plasma blaster wildly at the pursuing hatchlings but was missing her targets by a large margin.


    Our trajectories merged every second that passed but so did the Overlord hatchlings in a hunger craze that ignored any damage we inflicted upon them.


    They would before long be upon us, never mind whether we met or not, there wouldn¡¯t be enough of a gap to cover the distance to the fleet.


    **Ping**


    My brainchip receiver collected a signal transmission and I pulled up the datapacket. An SFC Lightweight class vessel sent it.


    **Marines, pest control is coming. ETA five minutes 30¡¯¡¯. Hold on tight.**


    Thank the ancestors. ¡°Tommy, Gardenia, help¡¯s coming our way!¡±


    ¡ª-


    CreaseWing, Falcon Lightweight Class Vessel


    Atop the CreaseWing, or how it was more lovingly called the ¡®CreasedWinged Falcon¡¯ by the captain and crew due to the minor deformity, a slight curve on the wings, an issue in the model¡¯s first batch productions that later got corrected, the bridge first officer was busily reading the scanners.


    ¡°Nothing captain,¡± he said in dismay and slumped his shoulders down on the chair.


    ¡°They can''t all be dead, we are talking for thousands here, find me survivors damn it!¡± The captain barked back. Her ember eyes were glued to the glass screens zooming in and out combing the battlezone.


    Below the captain¡¯s stiff palms, the metallic chair has a sticker on one handle. A simple human face with no features but Xs for eyes. A bubble of text read, Luck or Love? Shitty Lucky Love, find it in LootStyle Bar, Fokal Starbase, C2K.


    Just like the CreaseWing all surviving Lightweight class vessels were out and about looking for any signs of life. A random assortment of ships, most having gotten caught up in the fleet mobilization while visiting the SFC main hub, and unfortunately getting conscripted.


    ¡°Nothing showing up, I''m sorry Cap.¡± The first officer repeated holding his head with his hands.


    ¡°Wait a minute, what''s this?¡± One senior crew standing behind the officer pointed out at the scanner screen. ¡°The Overlords counterattacking? It can''t be.¡±


    ¡°No, they are... chasing something? Are those Marines?!¡± The officer spelled with a mix of horror and excitement at finally finding living among the dead.


    ¡°Captain, we are the closest ones to their location.¡± The navigator chipped in.


    ¡°The crazy fuckers! What are they doing all the way over there?! Crew ready to intercept! Let''s scoop them up! And warm up those lasers, I¡¯m in the mood for some hunting.¡± The captain ordered with renewed vigor.


    It might just be their imagination, but at that moment the metallic sting from the ventilation systems kinda smelled like roasted chicken.

 Chapter 12

    The Overlord hatchlings provided a nice target practice for the CreaseWing. The heatlaser took them out one by one.


    ¡°That¡¯s the last of them,¡± Tommy observed when the concentrated heat ray streamed on the hangry alien baby and after some resistance melted the otherwise sturdy armor.


    The CreaseWing flew by, its thrusters lit ready to circle back to our position. We slowed down our momentum gathering in one spot and waiting for the vessel to pick us up.


    It was a pretty little vessel, this one. I was familiar with the design, a standard model produced mostly in the galaxy¡¯s second system. It had a long thin body embraced by voluminous wings and a wide tail, copying the image of an old Terran sky predator, the falcon.


    **Marines, this is Hellena, captain of the CreaseWing, prepare to embark.**


    ¡°Copy that,¡± I replied pinging back the transmission and we stayed put. I sighed, but it came out more like a shudder, my whole body releasing the tension that kept my nerves on edge. "We made it," I said almost like a whisper.


    ¡°I am exhausted,¡± Tommy confirmed my next thought. Next to him, Gardenia breathed heavily in the comms.


    ¡°Damn it, I¡¯m not made for this life. No, I''m not doing this ever again.¡± She complained moaning. ¡°H-how can I make it out?¡± She asked in a trembling voice, clear even with the synthesizer blocking some of the emotion out of her words.


    Every one of us had different circumstances. I was still not sure exactly what forced Gardenia to join the ranks of the SFC, but she certainly had a long way to go before she was released from her duties. The contracts for those joining at will had quite lengthy periods of active service.


    And she hadn¡¯t served long with the Marines or bonded deeply with our little private group, so I couldn''t exactly be open with my plans, but I had decided to include her given the option. I just couldn¡¯t tell her yet. My trust was in short supply after everything that happened.


    So I couldn¡¯t reassure her crumbling faith that the first chance we got we would escape from this hellhole but I was still tempted to spill my heart''s desires.


    The CreaseWing scooped to a stop soon thereafter and hovered above us. A latch unhooked and a hatch opened its squared mouth to us. We made our way upwards grabbing at the handles and climbing inside.


    The hatch was clearly not made for Genomes my size. My shoulders scraped at each side of the metallic opening.


    I was thankful all my injuries had healed during the chase out of the clouds, but as a byproduct, they also made me ravenous. The nanomite¡¯s energy expenditure pulled all the spare glucose my body could offer. I might be soon sporting some jitters if I didn''t stabilize my levels before long.


    I was planning to down a mealbar the moment our helmets were off. But first, we had to decompress. This was not a fancy SFC battleship with its atmospheric field protections.


    Ah.


    Then I felt the string¡¯s tug behind me I was reminded that I was trailing some hazardous equipment.


    Yes, it would be better to store my little experimental bioweapons before the active field did lasting damage to the crew who obviously wouldn¡¯t be wearing protective biosuits inside the ship.


    I twisted the casing array I built surrounding the metasphere, and it became inactive, and I did the same for Gardenia¡¯s before I pocketed them both. My stack was depressingly small after the battle.


    Just in time, with the hatch closed the chamber we had entered decompressed, and the heavy door separating the rest of the ship opened inwards. A crewmember awaited on the other side, wearing a worn inconspicuous outfit with a blaster tied to his belt.


    From the wide-plastered smile on his face, below a beautifully trimmed mustache, I understood that the weapon was worn casually and in no way to intimidate us. We were among allies here but I had a knack for always being alert. I couldn¡¯t help but notice these things.


    ¡°Welcome to the CreaseWing, the three of you! I¡¯m so glad we made it in time, we¡¯ve been searching for so long and never found any¡­eh never mind that. Name¡¯s Oly, I''m here to take you to the captain.¡± He said offering a hand.


    With my helmet off I walked forward and shook his hand. My palm dwarfed his by a large margin and I gave him credit, his smile never left his face even when faced with someone almost a meter taller than him.


    ¡°Oly, you and your captain saved our asses back there. We are grateful, I¡¯m Amon, and this is Tommy and Gardenia from the F567 company.¡± I said with an honest smile before a shadowy thought wiped it off. ¡°I have a favor to ask. We have another Marine missing, a dear friend, he was with us but got separated during the chase. Can you inform the captain to help us look for him?¡± I asked with urgency.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Oly didn''t even hesitate before nodding insistently. ¡°Shit, another one out there? Of course! Follow me to the captain, quick.¡± He said before jolting at a sliding jog down the narrow corridor.


    That was a good lad. We followed after him in rushed awkward steps. The CreaseWing didn¡¯t have full artificial gravity but the more commonly applied semigravitational floor panes, which only attracted a few centimeters worth of space above them.


    That meant a jump higher than the attraction field would propel me right to the ceiling. It was something to get used to. I suddenly wondered if the SFC vessel tech had spoiled us rotten.


    Fortunately, the distance was rather short, and our embarrassing display of spacewalking skill stopped shy of the entrance to the bridge. I quietly tacked away the wrapper of a Taste the Stars mealbar and waited for the sliding doors to give us access.


    Oly entered with a shout. ¡°Captain! I brought them as you requested, but, we have one more of them left out there!¡± he said in a vibrating fit of energy.


    Hellena, captain of the CreaseWing turned to look at us and I paused because she was not exactly a Genome, but she displayed evidence of some gene-editing in her ancestry. Her ember eyes were vibrant, glowing slightly at the edges, a tell for badly made optics, or purposely made so for others to notice she wasn¡¯t Lowtech.


    I leaned on the latter on this one. She must have climbed up the ranks from being born planetside to the captain of a spaceship, even a small one like the Falcon, still Spacenova''s more often than not liked to show off their status.


    Her black curly hair was tied in a bun over her scalp, while the sides were shaved clean. She wore a tight leather outfit, that would be well at home in a bar, while the curved blade fixed on her hip told a different story.


    Instead of meeting her gaze, I sneaked a peak at the rest of the crew. There were five of them operating the bridge. All were gruff-looking men and women, dirtborn and poorbred. If I didn¡¯t know any better I would be suspicious of being rescued by pirates.


    Yet I was reminded again how unique I was. There was not one first-generation Genome in sight among the crew. I hesitated to approach for fear of being considered a threat, towering over each one of them. These were people who had seen much suffering and they owed us nothing.


    ¡°Captain, thank you for rescuing us,¡± Tommy said stepping from behind me after realizing my hesitation and going up to the Captain offering a military salute. ¡°As your man says, we have our comrade missing. He must be someplace behind the puss clouds. Will you help us find him?¡±


    ¡°Hmm, that¡­could be dangerous. Visibility near the puss is low, and these little beasts chasing you were ever eager to attack, but I think we can manage it with a bit of distance,¡± she said after some consideration. ¡°Hey, Gif, take us for a round down that way,¡± she pointed with a hand out of the reinforced viewing window in the general direction from which we had initially appeared.


    Gif, the navigation officer sitting in front of a black and blue screen populated with myriads of control buttons, took a long puff of an old electric oil burner and planted a route with a finger. The eob¡¯s scented smoke spread on his next exhale and before long entered my nostrils. It reminded me of the stench the Lowtech mechanical cargo haulers had when their clutch pedals overheated back in C3X1DF. A familiar smell from my childhood years spent around the workings of machinery.


    Such a memorable and at the same time repugnant odor. Despite the addictive sting, I inhaled the secondhand smoke and tasted burned engine oil at the tip of my tongue.


    ¡°Argh Gif, you disgusting piece of dang, cut that out before I have you take a walk spacewise. This is a no-smoking flight for you until you nurture some quality and taste." The captain said growling, showcasing between two fingers an unlit thin cigar that she just took out of a pocket.


    "I can''t believe I have crew smoking that filth! If you weren¡¯t so good, you¡¯d be out of my ship and looking for a job!¡± She yelled before turning back to us, ¡°Now you lot, will you tell me what the hell you were doing so far out by yourselves?¡± she asked not exactly accusing but with some added caution in her voice.


    Tommy turned and gave me an arched eyebrow look that the captain didn¡¯t fail to notice. We were at an interesting point here.


    Did we want to take credit for the assault on the Queen? Did we want the SFC¡¯s eyes and ears turning our way, scrutinizing us until all our secrets were laid bare? Nope, I wanted none of that. The bred brutes could stay the hell out of my sight.


    ¡°Captain if I may,¡± I interjected to stir us toward safer waters. ¡°In the heat of battle, our company was set upon by multiple Overlords. We were forced to flee and hide at the edges of the puss, cut off from the rest of our company and any allied support. As the battle progressed and the fleet retreated we found ourselves drifting further and further away from the frontlines without any safe way to rally with the rest of the SFC forces. We are lucky you found us when you did or we would have become a decomposing Overlord meal by now,¡± I said standing at parade rest.


    ¡°Mmm, so you say,¡± the captain rubbed her nails on her leather pants considering my words. She was giving me an ''interested'' look that I was not so sure how to handle. ¡°Let''s find your friend first, you may stay on the bridge or go and rest at the crew¡¯s quarters.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, captain. I¡¯ll stay if you allow it then,¡± I said and Tommy and Gardenia replied similarly. We were all anxious to spot our friend flying above the puss and rescue him with open arms.


    The CreaseWing was an agile ship eating at the distance with ease. We circled the viewing window looking out. The contrast between the darkness of open space and the puss clouds should help to spot Nik. I almost imagined his form waving at us to pick him up.


    ¡°Why did this thing turn purple? It''s unnerving!¡± One of the crew asked as we overtook a particularly tall cloud formation. I sensibly kept my mouth shut.


    ¡­


    ¡°Hey, isn¡¯t that¡­? Wait, what is that exactly?¡± I heard the first officer ask Gif the navigator. I edged closer for a look at the screen.


    When the image on the scanner zoomed in a collective gasp left the crew''s lips.  Above the clouds, two Overlord hatchlings were stuck together, their tentacles tied in an embrace. Hugging.


    Hugging a body in a biosuit.


    ¡°N-No¡­¡± I whispered as if a bit of my soul escaped my lips at the sight. My eyes were locked in place gazing over the protruding boots, the unmoving limbs, and the half-melted torso being licked by the hatchling¡¯s tentacle hair.


    Gardenia sobbed. Tommy cursed. We lost another of our brothers today.


    ¡°Captain, may I ask for another favor?¡± I said without a single tremble infecting my voice.


    ¡°You may,¡± She replied in a sour mood.


    ¡°Burn them. Burn them all.¡±


    ¡ª-


    Could you outlive everyone you know?


    This was not a question of ability, it was a question of will. I would put it plainly. Could you continue living your life leaving behind your loved ones, and everyone you ever cared about?


    I might have to. My lifespan was particularly long. The illegal DNA-mutating drugs my parents gave me when I was little had given me this, this curse. By the time I hit my early twenties, I stopped aging. Even the gene doctors didn¡¯t know exactly when the time¡¯s ever-lasting presence would once again ground me.


    It was the same for all Genomes that had dipped their toes on rejuvenation and cell decay, and we were so very few in the entirety of the universe having received its immortal effects. But the path we took was not one of happiness. What was once seen as a blessing has developed a new name, the everlasting curse of Turritopses dohrnii, the only species to ever play at immortality before us.


    I was not exactly sure how my parents imagined it but for all their scheming the only thing going for them was that I was still alive.


    If I ever died of natural causes, it was only because my will to live had crumbled to dust and at just thirty years old I already felt its persistence pulling me down.


    There was so much loss to swallow I was drowning.


    ¡°Tommy?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, buddy?¡±


    ¡°We have to do something,¡±


    ¡°We do, and we will," he said to me as the starlights blurred.

 Chapter 13

    The CreaseWing dropped us into open space near Concordia GG, the Dreadnaught currently housing what remained of F567 company. What was left of the Ortheon II was being hauled into place and tied to an open-cargo space platform¨Ca flat surface with a massive engine underneath, that would help drag the shattered wreck in the fleet''s wake until we reached the SFC main hub where repairs could finally begin.


    From what I saw of the wreckages scattered across the void, it was unclear whether enough transportation platforms would be available to tow all the damaged spaceships. The battle had been brutal and the fleet bore its scars.


    The three of us flew onwards without pausing toward the open portal looming ahead. Concordia GG waited to receive us with open arms.


    Nearing the battleship, I saw repair crews illuminated by wielding torches swarming over the Dreadnaught''s outer armor, checking for damage. At first, I thought the damage was extensive--yellow sparks danced along the ship''s hull like fireflies. But taking a closer look from our approaching angle, the battle scars were mostly superficial, though the crews worked with the urgency of a ship still on high alert.


    At the portal¡¯s entrance, the battleship¡¯s scanner processed our information and provided directions on a small built-in screen against the wall. We were directed to a hold reserved for companies that had lost their original vessels.


    Once we removed our helmets, it wasn¡¯t long before we navigated the well-lit corridors of the battleship, our steps echoing against the metallic walls mixed with the hum of repair crews rushing around the ship.


    ¡ª-


    ¡°Tommy! Amon!¡± Ella¡¯s shouting overwhelmed the constant chatter present in the hold. Her loud call turned some heads our way, but they turned right back and ignored us after realizing we were strangers, merely new faces added to the already recent mix of companies.


    About three hundred Marines populated the open space, some already resting on thin mats while others huddled close to each other, speaking hushly in small groups.


    Even then the massive hold looked partially empty. It was three stories high, with open corridors and metal staircases running along the sides. Glancing up, I noticed a few differences from the typical Ortheon II utilitarian decorations. Customized SFC banners hung from the ceiling displaying company insignias and images of Concordia GG¡¯s high command.


    ¡°Ella!¡¯ Tommy shouted back brimming with relief, and we all rushed to meet her. A strange, involuntary smile crept onto my face--it felt alien after everything we had endured. When Ella jumped to hug Tommy who had rushed ahead of me I pulled them both into a tight embrace.


    "Amon, too tight!" from the muffled voices that broke from under me, I understood I might have not been controlling my strength.


    With a bit of guilt and an embarrassed laugh, I eased my grip noticing Gardenia loitering a few steps away. She looked subdued since we hadn¡¯t built quite as much familiarity with her.


    But near-death experiences made up for it so I beckoned her forward and when she took an uncertain step I grabbed them all, bringing their heads to my chest.


    It was a few moments until I gave them back their freedom.


    Finally catching her breath, Ella huffed, ¡°Thank the lord you are alive! I w-wasn¡¯t sure.. I didn¡¯t know. What would I do without you?¡± She said shuffling her messed-up hair and then peeking behind us in search, ¡°Is Nik with¡­?¡±


    ¡°Dead,¡± I said instinctively before my brain caught up to my mouth.


    ¡°I see,¡± she said, lowering her eyes. A shadow crossed her features, one I saw mirrored on Tommy¡¯s, but then Ella breathed out a long sigh. ¡°I¡¯m so happy to see you made it. There had been no news after we were separated¡­and when the battle ended we were brought here. The F567 is certainly done for. Only 5 of us made it, excluding you all, and they are all from Gardenia¡¯s cohort.¡±


    We lingered for a few minutes catching up, but soon exhaustion hit us, and we found an empty spot to lie down and rest.


    A day passed in limbo. We were given mealbars, but no further instructions or updates except to stay put. The bustle of crew activity notified us that the fleet was gradually preparing to depart, fixing up any damage that could be quickly mended and scavenging for any worthwhile materials from the battle''s expanding debris fields. The Overlord cloud puss had long since dispersed into nothingness.


    When the engines finally lit up, I felt the faint tug of acceleration through the ship¡¯s artificial gravity. Unfortunately, that was the only way of knowing that something was happening. I lost access to the mainframe when the Ortheon II turned to scrap.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    I believe what was left of it was being towed at the fleet¡¯s tail. Maybe some of the items I had stocked in the cabin and hidden elsewhere around the Dreadnaught would have been preserved, but there was little chance I¡¯d see them again. Possession and theft of materials would be rampant until the battleship was operational and properly crewed. The chaos of personnel shuffling would make any theft difficult to pin down.


    Forget the Dreadnaught, I didn¡¯t even know what would happen to the F567 now that only 8 out of the 100 Marines survived. The staggering battle''s losses had everyone including the high command waiting to arrive at the main hub where a semblance of normality may yet appear and reorganization of the entire SFC would commence.


    I expected mergers between the companies, as we, the survivors, were burdened once more with filling the vacuum of loss.


    ¡ª-


    I looked myself over the common bathroom mirrors. A rough, hollow face looked back at me. Below my eyes, black bags weighed down my eyelids. I looked like shit. But I hadn¡¯t slept much either.


    Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw the death of my friends. I saw Overlords chasing them, chasing me, and I was unable to do anything to help as I fled sluggishly inside the dreamscape.


    I threw water on my face, more like pushing it against my skin in an attempt to wash away the tiredness of the last few weeks.


    With a towel, I cleaned up the wetness and went out to meet up with what remained of my friends.


    ¡°Have you seen Tommy¡¯s new stash?¡± Ella giggled at me with a mischievous look as we sat on a long bench.


    ¡°I saw it,¡± I said knowing exactly the cause of this latest disaster. ¡°He got the idea from a crewmember on the light vessel that picked us up at the end of the battle.¡±


    ¡°Did his look as out of place?¡± Ella asked pinching her nose.


    ¡°No, it actually looked kinda good on him, but for Tommy¡­I can¡¯t say I approve just yet.¡± I snorted.


    ¡°What are you two talking about?¡± Tommy asked coming up to us in the partially empty commons of Concordia GG. He held a tray with three plastic cups filled with a pink cocktail.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Ella blundered quickly, too quick to prove her innocence.


    Tommy¡¯s new mustache jumped up as he perked his lips. ¡°Oh, really now? I must say this doesn¡¯t sound like nothing at all!¡±


    ¡°Haha, do that again, please,¡± Ella said laughing, pointing one hand at his blank face.


    ¡°Do what again?¡± Tommy asked a little confused. The mustache did another little dance when he brought the lower lip forward to brush against the protruding hair.


    ¡°This exactly, hahaha,¡± Ella replied barking.


    ¡°What is she talking about, Amon? Help me here buddy, please,¡± Tommy pleaded with me and I couldn¡¯t hide the mirth off my face.


    ¡°Tommy, listen. I know you were impressed by that guy, that Oly, but really? The mustache isn¡¯t for everyone you know,¡± I said trying to save my best friend¡¯s looks.


    ¡°Oh, you are talking of this?¡± Tommy said, realizing at last, pointing at the offending novel feature on his face. ¡°I think you are just jealous. You may drink your worries with this tasty cocktail I brought you.¡±


    ¡°Is it any g..? No, I won¡¯t ask, just give it to me,¡± I said reaching for the cup. There weren¡¯t many options offered and I had already tried most of them. Three weeks of traveling back to the main hub were coming to a close soon.


    We had been traveling slower on the return trip, avoiding leaving behind the damaged vessels of the fleet. The journey back provided ample time to cope with some of the emotions after the battle.


    Yet it was still difficult when I saw our reduced group; when I expected a snide remark from Nik or a hearty laugh from Ginny, the loss was almost too much to handle.


    It was a raw feeling, something commonplace in the SFC, especially after a battle, but never to this extent. This was a disaster that the merc company might not have survived if not for the backing of House Arthas. I¡¯d counted 27 different companies in the hold we resided in. If the combat troop losses weren¡¯t over 70% they should be at least that much.


    At some point, when we neared our destination the four of us made our way up to the highest level, the viewpoint of the battleship. It was not as filled with Marines overlooking our destination as usual, and not because of our reduced numbers. I suspected most Marines were afraid to accept the new reality returning to the hub would bring. As we traveled through space, life was held in stasis only until normality assumed its rightful reign when we finally arrived.


    Before us, through the viewing window of Concordia GG, the SFC main hub received us in mourning. Drone projections painted the universe in contrasting colors, where light and darkness mixed revealing a picture of sacrifice and honor. The light show was elegant and well-executed.


    But I scoffed at their meager attempts to console us.


    The funeral ceremony that followed soon after disembarking the battleship was grand, grander than ever before. Multiple outsider guests attended, having had the time to arrive due to our delayed arrival. They sat on a dais of honor catering to their station in the House Arthas elite as if they had fought and won the battle alongside us.


    The ceremony was set in a vast square large enough to hold thousands of people and was filled with attendees even further out into the streets between the buildings, gathering not only the remainder of the fleet¡¯s crews but also the families and people living on the main hub.


    As we stood still, in organized ranks listening to the comforting words of a general, spitting empty words one after another, I surveyed the stage on the opposite side of our formation.


    Elegant fabrics worn in stylish modern suits and dresses decorated with shiny expensive jewelry, and a few military uniforms burdened with medals introduced the guests to my eyes. And there in the middle of it all, on a throne of luxury and power, the princess herself, Seraphina Arthas sat looking rather bored.


    My emotions stirred, a fierce anger overcoming my otherwise cool demeanor. I glared at her slender form, older now, fuller than the teenager I remembered so many years ago. She had developed into a woman of unparalleled beauty. Her rosy lips were surrounded by porcelain white skin, and blond voluminous cascading curls fell behind her back hiding behind the open maroon dress she wore. A black mesh covered half her face, draping down her head in an elegant display of mourning.


    Yet her eyes were cold, lazily picking at interesting targets among the gathered crowd. There was no emotion there to offer solace for the lost troops. A retainer standing behind her offered her a drink in a crystal glass which she took without acknowledging his presence.


    I stared at her impassive face for a long time. I was certain her arrival here had nothing to do with me. Reorganizing the SFC was an important affair for House Arthas and the presence of one of the main bloodline solidified that things would run smoothly to their wishes.


    The humongous flagship she had arrived in, named Prime Unity, was also a troop carrier. Something that I realized late might be present to prevent any dissident behavior from occurring. The Marines were not exactly calm, despite the mood stabilizers. A revolt wouldn¡¯t be out of the question before the high command could once again reorganize the merc company to operate smoothly.


    Lost in thought, I was startled when Seraphina suddenly stood up and approached the podium with calculated graceful gliding steps. The general noticing her approaching form cut his words short and after introducing her in a hurry fled to his seat.


    I listened with hate to her condolences, hiding in plain sight inside the Marine formation. But the second part of her speech gave me another jolt. One of surprise. Involuntarily I gulped air feeling at the same time the hair on my body pringle.


    ¡°The future is rife with opportunity. The sacrifice of so many has paved the way for the SFC to rise again, to grow stronger, and to venture further out than ever before. Brave soldiers of the SFC, you will journey through systems and galaxies that House Arthas and the SFC have long since abandoned. The Milky Way Galaxy awaits you. The old Terra, a long-forgotten memory of the civilized universe, is standing by your path and the first colonies..! The first colonies will shelter and repopulate your ranks. Go forth troops, for the glory of the SFC, and for House Arthas!¡±

 Chapter 14

    There was commotion in the gathered crowd. It didn¡¯t come only from the spectators, but also from the Marines who were restlessly talking among themselves. Every drop of discipline was momentarily forgotten in response to her words.


    Security forces and House Arthas troops nervously gathered their weapons near the dais, misinterpreting the crowd¡¯s mood. It wasn¡¯t anger or frustration. Yes, these emotions were also present and a part of the energy that vibrated within us.


    But the notion, the return to a place that was more of a legend than an actual location, spurred us to forget where we were. I saw the sorrow and loss around me, forgotten for a moment and replaced by hope for the future. Who wouldn¡¯t want to visit the Milky Way?


    Okay, nowadays it was a lawless place with little going on. Resources were scarce, having been mined extensively for eons on end. The first colonies on Mars and Kepler-452b were warzones without any command structure or central organization. But there was also¡­


    Terra. Humanity''s birthplace and where we evolved until the post-Astro times freed us from the galaxy¡¯s clutches. It was said that Terra was still mostly an ice planet and that thousands of years would pass before it could become suitable for migration. Yet, some people still lived on her frozen form.


    I tried to think of the reasons why we would be sent there. From the sounds of it, it was an expedition that would take years to complete. Merely the travel time between Cerebrus and the Milky Way would take the better part of a year.


    I thought hard about it. House Arthas¡¯ ploys were never without meaning. The SFC had lost the majority of its combat troops in a single battle, the expendable part but also the necessary part to continue normal operations.


    There were several seed planets right in our neighborhood. The SFC wouldn¡¯t need to leave Cerebrus to draft fresh troops. It would only be a problem if House Arthas didn¡¯t allow it. Why would they not though?


    I clenched my fist, feeling my wrist and fingers pop as I intensified the range of motion. This could be the opening we had been waiting for. No matter their reasons for sending us so far away, we would also be leaving behind their sphere of influence.


    Hmmm. We would have to prepare well, just in case. I watched Seraphina return to her seat and nudged Tommy standing at parade rest to my left. ¡°What do you think, Toms?¡±


    He startled and blinked his eyes rapidly as if his thoughts had put a sleep spell on him. ¡°Pff, sorry I was a bit lost in thought there, what was it again?¡± He said, clearing his head with a shake.


    ¡°Fancy a nice winter vacation to old Terra my friend?¡± I replied with a genuine smile. His mustache made him look quite funny. Let us say I was not used to it just yet.


    He straightened his spine, pulling at his shoulders with his arms behind his back. ¡°A vacation you say? If I didn¡¯t know any better I¡¯d say they are trying to finish the job the Overlords started. That shithole of a galaxy is full of pirates and warlords, eager to get their hands on newer battleships, and we are happily delivering them to their doorstep.¡±


    ¡°I see you are looking brightly to our new posting. I didn¡¯t know you felt so strongly attached to our beautiful hub. Is it the ample selection of mealbars you are going to miss?¡± I asked jokingly but also with some curiosity. I knew how much Tommy hated being here.


    ¡°Ehh, not exactly. I just think it will be dangerous. There is some political game at play here that I can¡¯t wrap my head around.¡± He said before we were interrupted by another high-ranking officer taking his place at the podium and offering a few short words before the funeral ceremony came to a close.


    I watched the important guests stand and followed them with my sight, scanning their information with my Optics. It would not hurt to know who was interested in meddling with the SFC. I made files for all of them for when I gained access to the main servers. Seraphina surrounded by a group of House Arthas troops made her way to a vehicle that would probably take her up to Prime Unity. I didn''t see her wanting to stay anywhere else but her luxurious rooms on the flagship.


    It took some time for the crowd to disperse, and Tommy and I navigated the crowd to where Ella was chatting with Gardenia. The two girls had started hitting it off on the return trip to the main hub. Ella quickly caught on to the struggling Gardenia and went out of her way to keep her company. She was good at that and I already saw Gardenia responding positively to the attention.


    They noticed us right before we reached them and I saw Ella elbowing Gardenia with a smirk I had been on the receiving end more than a few times. Someone was in for another round of teasing.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Hey Tommy, Amon!¡± Ella giggled in a melodic tone. ¡°Gardenia was just telling me how handsome you guys look.¡±


    ¡°Ella! What? Noooooo, you guys it¡¯s not that. Ella, what the heck?!¡± Gardenia said with a look of horror.


    I chuckled at her discomfort. It was pretty funny when you were not the target of Ella¡¯s mischievous jokes. Tommy didn¡¯t even hesitate to play his part.


    ¡°Gardenia, what a compliment, you make me blush,¡± Tommy said, bashing his eyelids and patting her shoulder. To make matters worse, Gardenia turned bright red.


    I couldn¡¯t let the bullying continue. ¡°Guys enough. Our little Gardenia isn¡¯t prepared to fight back just yet. It''s not a fair fight.¡± I said, grabbing their shoulders in each hand and bringing them in for a tight hug. ¡°Here is a fight worth your time.¡±


    ¡°Amon! Not fair!¡± Ella yelped pushing against my embrace but I didn¡¯t relent. Tommy on the other hand had given up the moment I grabbed him. My buddy knew a lost fight when he saw it.


    I released them with an attack on their hair. My hands ruffled them up quite nicely before I stepped back to look at the result.


    Ella pouted, trying to get her raven hair back into shape. She had them cut into shoulder-length bangs, whereas Tommy just shrugged uncaring, since his were already an untamed bunch and too short to make much of a difference.


    ¡°Let''s get out of here,¡± I said, realizing the square was almost empty after we dallied with our shenanigans.


    We left the square behind, moving with the lighter crowd, mostly other Marines toward the company blocks and barracks. We passed the closed-down F567 building and continued to the A300 block, our new home.


    While the A300 two-story building was the exact replica of the F567, the surroundings differed quite a bit. We were now at the furthest end of the combat personnel living quarters and unfortunately neighboring the security force blocks.


    We were separated by a tall steel palisade fence providing an unimpeded view both ways. From the barracks¡¯ window, I could clearly see the buildings on the opposite side. One of them was also the hub¡¯s detention center with its barbed-wired windows and reinforced doors. What a view to lift our spirits, huh?


    Luckily, a familiar face entered the A300 company barracks. Jin Karf strode in with purpose. I was happy to see he survived the battle even when he wasn¡¯t exactly one of us. He must have withdrawn from the Ortheon II before it got overwhelmed.


    I also quickly noticed the new insignia on his uniform marking him our captain and waited sitting on my bunk for the coming instructions.


    The A300 building was a disorganized mess, with Marines absorbed from several different companies trying to arrange their personal items and belongings to their liking. Not all bunks were occupied yet and new faces were still streaming in through the front door. Reorganizing the whole combat force took a lot of time.


    Jin Karf came to a stop at the center of the vast room and surveyed the chaos.


    ¡°A300, your company commander is here!¡± He roared with the air of a seasoned military officer.


    That got the attention of the room all right. I perked up to see better.


    ¡°We have been given a month to prepare before the fleet departs for the Milky Way.¡± He continued unabated, his speech carrying around the room. ¡°Tomorrow morning nine hundred hours sharp I expect all of you to be on the company grounds ready for training. You may reach out with questions or concerns at appropriate hours, I¡¯ll be at my office.¡±


    With that, he strode the rest of the way out of the barracks¡¯ main room and climbed the stairs to the first floor.


    Only a month before we left the main hub for a long-ass posting out of the galaxy and an adventure that might just promise the completion of my years-long plans. Needless to say, I was excited at the prospects.


    ¡ª-


    The company commander wasn¡¯t kidding when he talked about training. I always prided myself for my endurance and strength but that worked against me this time.


    After we were separated into ranking groups based on our workout performance I was picked out by the commander. The reason? Well, maybe because by the end of the session I stood where everyone else in our company struggled to breathe.


    ¡°Sergeant Amon, a word please,¡± Jin Karf called out before I followed the rest of the company into the barracks to clean up.


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± I said, curious about what this was all about. Facing him I struggled to keep myself from wiping at the sweat dripping down my forehead. The main hub''s environment regulators had comfortably cool air venting like a slow breeze, but it wasn''t cool enough to prevent me from dumping what seemed like litters of water out of my body.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been a long time with the Marines,¡± the commander stated, but it wasn¡¯t a question so I waited for him to continue. ¡°I won¡¯t pry for the details that got you where you are today and I won''t hide that I''ve been keeping my eyes on you for quite some time. You are skilled and resourceful, the customized weapons, alterations on your biosuit... It''s a fortunate thing that you are in my company. I believe I will need your skills for what¡¯s to come. The Milky Way¡­¡± He paused considering his next words.


    I kept my face blank. The little alarm bells that rang in my head were accompanied by an interest in where he was going with it. Since Ortheon''s II destruction, I didn''t have access to the mainserver, I was practically blind to the happenings around the hub. ¡°What about it, sir?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The Milky Way will be challenging for the SFC, especially with our reduced numbers. I¡¯ll need a competent second in command that will get things done, the proper way.¡± He said holding his hips with both hands, giving me a knowing look.


    I considered his words. Maybe he didn¡¯t have much faith in the staff he had been assigned for this mission or the dangers we would face were so dire...?!


    ¡°Sir? But how will that work out?¡± I asked, confused. The chain of command would certainly not allow something like this to happen.


    We were alone in the courtyard in front of the barracks, but still, he took a moment to look around and check to make sure. He leaned closer. ¡°Do you have Marines you can trust inside the company, Sergeant?¡± He asked in a hushed tone.


    I hoped no one saw us at that moment because we looked guilty of something. As if Commander Jin realized the same thing he took a step back and resumed his usual stern look.


    ¡°...Yes, I do have a few people,¡± I finally uttered. I had to be careful here, I was certain this was not a setup, but dealing with higher-ranked officers was complicated.


    ¡°Good, good. We will work it out during the trip. Lots of time to plan things thoroughly,¡± He said, nodding at himself.


    It was something to consider. I trusted the commander to an extent, but not with my life or the lives of my friends. But if I was included in plans or decisions for the company I could protect them better too. Interesting.


    ¡°Okay, sir,¡± I said with a blank face revealing nothing.


    ¡°You are excused, Sergeant,¡± He said, staring thoughtfully at the darkness of space. I wasn¡¯t the only one that needed time to think.

 Chapter 15

    I swerved to the right, letting the kick swoosh harmlessly to my left. I had but a fraction of a second to counterattack, but I took a step back instead, bringing my hands up to receive the punch Private Rand threw my way.


    Sergeant Dick twisted for another attack right after and I was forced to take another step back to escape the pincer.


    This morning, the A300 company was working on melee combat. We had no weapons, just our hands and feet, and no protective gear either. Every hit would hurt, so I chose not to hurt my comrades and to be mostly passive in the two-on-one brawl I was facing.


    I could easily tank their attacks and go on the offensive but that was not the purpose of this exercise. I was teaching them how to fight effectively as a team. The only punishing blows would come if one overextended in his attack.


    ¡°Good,¡± I called out after escaping the second barrage and lightly pivoted on my toes waiting for the next attempt.


    ¡°Amon, you monster, we didn¡¯t even hit you once! What¡¯s good about that?¡± Sergeant Dick rambled through rasping breaths squatting as he did so holding the ground with one hand for stability. A pained frown taunted the lines of his red face.


    Private Rand fared a little better. He stood with his arms raised, yet pink cheeks cuddled his gaping heaving mouth. I wanted to continue but it seemed the exercise was at its end. I nodded to the Private in acknowledgement and the younger Marine brightened, opening his stance.


    ¡°You¡¯ve improved nonetheless, old pal,¡± I said to the older man with a grin. ¡°Maybe a little less oil burning and a lot more exercise could help you land that hit. You can¡¯t let the young cohorts get the better of you,¡± I teased the white-bearded Sergeant Dick.


    He scratched his sweaty balding head in his particular way, pushing the fingers in. As he had explained it to us, it was a light scalp massage to initiate hair growth. I didn¡¯t have the heart to tell him it was a little too late for that to make a difference; more skin than hair decorated the top of his head.


    ¡°Let''s wrap this up with some stretches and head for a shower. What do you say?¡± I said and immediately Private Rand went for it before a grumbling Sergeant Dick bent and attempted to reach his boots with his hands.


    I did my stretches next to them paying mild attention to the rest of the company finishing up their bouts at about the same time.


    Most mornings, like today, Commander Jin left me in charge of training the company.


    It was in a way part of his plan to bring me up a step and build an unofficial ranking position. It was working out too. The A300 Marines had seen me take on several of them in bouts and win.


    After all, leadership could be built on the belief of a strong leader, and among them, I was still undefeated.


    If being the only first-generation Genome didn¡¯t do the trick, my prowess would have to go the rest of the way. All that for the Commander¡¯s plan that I was still not 100% on board with, even if Tommy thought it was a good idea to try.


    Nevertheless, we added it to our plans. The Commander wouldn¡¯t be happy when he realized we swiped half of the company from under him and disappeared like voidbeasts. He didn¡¯t deserve it but I still grinned at the image of his startled face.


    That was a long way away, however, in another galaxy, and before I could ever think about the end, I should first consider the journey.


    After cleaning up and munching on a Taste the Stars mealbar closer to a dry-moldy-muck flavor than the marketed Aurora Spice, I secluded myself in one of the office rooms on the first floor of the A300 building.


    A simple long industrial table greeted me, surrounded by chairs on two sides. I grabbed one and sat realizing almost immediately that this wouldn¡¯t be a comfortable sitting. Why does no one cater to Genome bodies in this damned place?! I wondered aggravated at my repeated failures to find suitable seating arrangements for my rear.


    Grumbling at the familiar inconvenience, I reached out and plucked one of the USB cords protruding limp from the table''s center, feeding it into my tablet. The connection to the public SpaceNet server went through and I was online.


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


    Unfortunately hacking into the secure SFC mainframe from this port would be tough and easily traced back to this location, so I wasn¡¯t here to regain access to the secrets held within its servers. The SpaceNet offered a ton of public information either way. It just happened that I didn¡¯t want anyone to know what I was searching for since logging into the SpaceNet wirelessly with my HiRON5 civilian-model brainchip would leave so many datapackets behind I might as well shout out of the window what I was doing.


    Concentrating on the task ahead I opened the Galactic map on the tablet. Immediately Cerberus Galaxy filled the screen and with a flick of a finger I zoomed out, and out, and out.


    The Galactic supercluster was humongous. The void that filled the center had no particular name or form but was cataloged as a circle and classified as the central void superstructure for ease of understanding. No one that had approached close enough to see what it was had ever returned to inform on its nature.


    Surrounding it were the four smallest Galaxies, locked in place and shaped in a spiral-elliptical form. Alimon, Bownce, Cerebrus, and Derkal. Each Galaxy, as I had painstakingly studied in my younger years, was the seat of power for House Fieldrich, the Fieldrich Senate, House Arthas, and House Orion respectively.


    For millennia this political landscape has stood against the test of time, throughout the Post-Astro times, through wars and alien invasions, no matter the nature of the threats, the three pillars of power and the central Senate helped each other out.


    There were so many free worlds to conquer, terraform, and develop in each galaxy, and so many resources to mine and trade for, that galactic wars fought between the factions were mainly for pride and politics rather than acquiring new territories. They rarely intensified to the extent that a faction would lose its grip in their home galaxy. And that was still a small part of the galactic supercluster.


    Further outward and linearly orbiting the central void, ten times larger than the first four, the wild outer galactic zone, as many liked to call the ring of the four outer galaxies, completed the map I was looking over.


    I rubbed the screen with my finger between Alimon and Bownce, right on top of where the Zith Galaxy, named after the alien Zith race, was located. Only a rough outline was displayed on the screen if I was being entirely honest. It had so far only been observed by robotic probes from outside its borders, as no manned expedition dared enter and explore its unknown infested worlds.


    I moved on to the next, on top of Alimon and Derkan, the Hatt Galaxy heavy with nebulas appeared mostly as a solid object. House Fieldrich¡¯s backyard, if by backyard I meant the wild tangle of danger that was this mess of a galaxy. Hatt was an amalgamation of alien species and resource-bountiful worlds. The wild outer galactic zone wasn¡¯t tamed by any means, it was just¡­wild.


    Next to us and Derkal, the Tilgar galaxy had densely descriptive data scribed on stars and habitable planets. After all, the Helion Syndicate roamed its expansive star systems and House Arthas'' extensive intelligence arm focused heavily on their main competitor.


    But that was the other way from where we were going. The SFC main hub was on the outer border of Cerebrus near Derkal and Tilgar, and we would be crossing the intergalactic spiral from one side to the other, to find Bownce overlooking the Milky Way. The old home galaxy of the human race.


    I downloaded the map to my tablet and then saved the file on my HiRON5. I needed this information within easy reach. Then I brought up all the relevant data I could find on the Milky Way, factions, wars, persons of interest, etc. Everything was saved in the folder.


    Star stations, satellites, moons, I now had a galaxy¡¯s worth of coordinates and contact addresses for every little backwater outpost my search returned results. Even if it took me countless days to organize all this data I wasn''t going to find myself operating blind.


    ¡ª-


    We stood at parade¡¯s rest before the open hangar on the left side of Concordia GG. The Dreadnaught was parked in a vast docking platform on the outside of the hub¡¯s ring, overlooking the darkness of open space.


    The artificial gravity and the active AMAF field on the docking station had us wearing the simple black and grey SFC uniforms instead of our biosuits, and carrying bags of heavy equipment in each hand that we left to rest on the station''s floor in anticipation of the prolonged wait.


    Bored from standing still for so long, I zoomed in at the battleship¡¯s bow looking over the crews coating it with a thixotropic compound that would offer some temporary protections for the journey ahead.


    The long arduous journey to the Milky Way. We would be crossing Cerebrus on a hyperspeed spaceway or hyperway for short, to reach the other side of the galaxy and then cross the void until we hit the Milky Way where we would finally slow down and reenter realspace.


    We were waiting for orders to embark, as another Dreadnaught awaited its clearance above us, a rather complicated affair. Traveling through the hyperway had to be pre-approved and cleared by House Arthas galactic traffic control, and that could take some time for the bureaucracy to move its cogs in our favor.


    There were beacons placed on the two sides of the hyperway delimiting the spaceway we could travel into about 2 parsecs. It was little more than the length of a habitable planet but with our speeds, it only took a slight trajectory micro adjustment to get ourselves out of its pre-arranged pathing.


    These beacons were not solely present to help us navigate but also to inform the traveling ship¡¯s bridge of what was ahead in case any debris spilled over the side. They were equipped with sensors and scanners powerful enough to spot any incoming body and stocked with automated drones that could repel it if deemed necessary.


    It wasn¡¯t strictly necessary to travel on these hyperways since our forward deflector shields could divert minor bodies but what if it was a meteor or another spaceship? You certainly didn¡¯t want to collide with anything with that kind of mass. If that were to happen, the fireworks would surely look pretty to those who followed after our ship.


    Only once the spaceship reached the necessary speed and as a bioproduct the necessary mass to tear through the universe¡¯s spacetime fabric would we be able to shed some of the more mundane dangers of the journey.


    So safety parameters for hyperway travel limited each vessel to a minimum of 12 standard hours between entries. For the 6 Dreadnaughts undergoing this journey, ¦Ét meant three days of waiting for the last battleship to leave the main hub.


    We were second in line and only once Recovery which floated listlessly in the distance above was approved to commence its journey would we be able to start our preparations and embark. Twelve hours to get comfortable in our new home before the engine drives lit up.


    It would take a week by Terran Chronometry Standard to arrive at the entry point of the closest hyperway and then a month to reach the required post-light speeds.


    The Marines standing around me suddenly jerked when without warning Recovery¡¯s engine drives flared with plasma, blue cones of power pushing the battleship forward. Thrusters on its sides lit up adjusting the trajectory and she was off.


    ¡°There she goes,¡± Tommy muttered beside me. ¡°Void take us,¡± he whispered and I pretended not to have heard him.


    It was pretty, I thought as Recovery became a speck in the universe''s horizon. We were next.

 Chapter 16

    The Dreadnought was packed to overcapacity. Even when the SFC had fewer Marines remaining among its ranks, it also had fewer operational battleships, and offering 6 for this mission was already stretching it thin.


    But House Arthas¡¯ plans could not be denied. So, during the month of preparation, the Dreadnoughts were modified to hold 1500 personnel each.


    Thus, when I entered my new cabin, I found two beds stacked one over another instead of just one.


    ¡°Are you going to move over, or just stand in the doorway?¡± an annoyed voice huffed behind me. ¡°These bags are heavy, you know.¡±


    ¡°Let me think for a second,¡± I replied, tilting my head left to right in a mock display of consideration.


    ¡°Move over, you enlarged oaf!¡± The voice impatiently called out, not at all amused by my antics.


    With a smirk, I entered the tiny cabin and wondered at the genius who considered a 3 by 3 sqm room able to hold two people for an extended journey.


    ¡°Dibs on the lower bunk,¡± I said quickly and the voice groaned in protest.


    ¡°Actually, that¡¯s not a bad idea. Don¡¯t want you falling on my face while I sleep,¡± Tommy grunted as he shoved his way inside the room to place his overweight bags on his bunk. After struggling to lift both, he threw the one that didn¡¯t make it high enough to the ground, exasperated.


    The closet barely held enough space to hold two biosuits, so we got creative filling every available spot with our clutter. My miniscouts, custom weapons, and parts got their little spot under my bunk.


    Tommy hopped on his bed and relaxed. I calculated we had 7 hours before the engines would take us on our way and got comfortable. I stared at the slight curve of Tommy¡¯s weight on the bunk¡¯s frame. It wouldn¡¯t be that bad to share a cabin, I decided. A bit suffocating, yes. It was a year of travel after all and there was little space left unused in the whole battleship, but he was my buddy. We could plan things better this way.


    With that thought my optics scanned for any electronics. Specifically, microphones or little camera feeds that would notify me the security forces were keeping an eye on us.


    When nothing came up, I felt some tension leave my shoulders. We hadn''t brought attention to ourselves yet. No one knew of the scuffle with the Overlord Queen but us four. No one had found my spying chip introduced to the Ortheon II¡¯s mainframe, or what was left of it for that matter, and connected it to me. At least I hoped so.


    This was also the first issue of the trip. Get myself ¡®online¡¯ while the bustling activity inside Concordia GG got me a semblance of cover.


    With a sigh, I rummaged around the box under my bunk. I had prepared a new drone model specifically for this mission, a little robotic critter that would hopefully go unnoticed while it installed the chip. It was so small, barely a finger tall, with four legs and two arms. I placed it inside my left pocket.


    ¡°Going anywhere?¡± Tommy asked when I stood up and made to rise but I stopped him. His eyes widened in understanding and asked in a hushed voice, ¡°Ah, is it time for the thing?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and it¡¯s better if I¡¯m alone, I¡¯ll need to be sneaky,¡± I explained, and he looked at me weirdly as if he didn¡¯t understand what I had just told him.


    ¡°Yea, about that¨C¡± he said but before he could finish a knock came on our door and we both zipped our heads towards the sound, alarmed.


    ¡°Who is it?¡± I asked, trying to sound casual.


    ¡°It¡¯s Ella, open up,¡± Ella replied and when I did I was greeted with her bright smile. ¡°How are the boys doing?¡± She asked, looking around me at the tidyish cabin.


    ¡°As you can see, we can barely fit with Amon¡¯s size being what it is. How¡¯s bunking with Gardenia?¡± Tommy asked back, sitting on his upper bunk with his legs hanging.


    ¡°Great! She is so tidy, really, the moment we went in she started cleaning the whole cabin.¡± Ella said, pressing her lips together.


    ¡°Oh dear, did she kick you out?¡± Tommy asked with a knowing smirk and we saw the discomfort appear on Ella¡¯s features.


    ¡°She had to¡­ clean, so it was better I wasn¡¯t there that''s all,¡± Ella said in obvious denial, puffing her cheeks.


    ¡°Haha, have fun dealing with that for a year! Who knew Gardenia was such a clean freak,¡± Tommy laughed and Ella considered it for a moment before shaking her shoulders and assuming a beaten look.


    This was fun and all but I didn¡¯t have time to play around. ¡°Excuse me but I have something to do,¡± I said but before I could make it past Ella, Tommy called out.


    ¡°Amon, wait. Give me a moment, Ella you too, come inside and close the door,¡± Tommy said, and I obeyed because he had suddenly gotten serious.


    ¡°Ella, Amon here wants to sneak around the ship,¡± Tommy said with a look and I stared confused as an understanding passed between them. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°W-what..?¡± I said as they both turned to me.


    ¡°Is that right?¡± Ella asked but before I could answer she continued, ¡°You do realize that lately, you stand out even more, people take notice of you, how are you going to sneak around exactly?¡±


    ¡°I...I will..,¡± Huh? I hadn¡¯t noticed that. ¡°Can¡¯t help it, I need to get a connection to the ship¡¯s mainframe, we can¡¯t remain blind during this long ass trip,¡± I said trying to explain the gravity of the situation.


    ¡°So just ask you, dumbass,¡± She said, exaggerating her motions.


    ¡°Ask what?¡± I asked, still puzzled about where she was going with it.


    ¡°Ask us! We are here to help out, you can¡¯t be doing everything by yourself.¡± She said a little exasperated.


    ¡°But it¡¯s dangerous. What if you are caught?¡± I told her and she shook her head.


    ¡°Our life is dangerous, you think we care for a little more excitement?¡± She said and I could see her brows furrow.


    ¡°But¨C¡± I tried to no avail.


    ¡°No buts, tell us what we have to do,¡± She hurled her raised finger at me which didn¡¯t leave me with much of a choice.


    Why was I being stubborn? I wondered. It wasn¡¯t like she would have to go into the server room herself, the drone would do all the hard work. I looked at Tommy then for some consolation and he nodded at me.


    ¡°Okay, okay I get it, who wants to go stand outside the server room and wait for my little drone to install a chip in the ship''s mainframe?¡± I asked both of them.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± Ella said quickly before Tommy could offer a word.


    ¡°Are you sure Ella? If you are caught, the security forces¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure, don¡¯t worry about that, we¡¯ve done more dangerous things in the past years than your little spy work,¡± She replied. ¡°I just need to wait for it to finish its job and bring it back here, right?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± I said and laid back on my bunk. I saw the certainty in her eyes, and decided to trust her, ¡°I¡¯ll be controlling it remotely, if something doesn''t feel right bolt right away. Don¡¯t stick around waiting for trouble.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Sergeant Serious,¡± Ella teased. I handed her the little drone, which she examined for a moment before putting it out of sight. Tommy followed after her. He would be on the lookout.


    I guess they had a point, I couldn¡¯t be as sneaky as I liked anymore. My reputation was creating some spillover problems that I hadn¡¯t anticipated.


    With my app connected to the drone, I watched its camera feed on my HUD but there wasn¡¯t much to see apart from a blank black screen. Ella would need some time until she made her way to the Dreadnought¡¯s servers.


    That unfortunately happened to be a level below the bridge, and right next to the security forces crew cabins.


    I can¡¯t say that I liked my friends sticking out their necks for my projects, but if they wanted to help so much, I could at least give them the chance.


    My leg danced to a restless beat. Waiting alone in the cabin didn¡¯t help take my mind off the fact that Ella might get caught and interrogated. The bred brutes had only one setting and it was rough.


    My eyes went back and forth between staring at the walls and the black screen before me.


    At last, after some time had passed, the camera feed started showing. I watched between Ella¡¯s fingers a corridor leading up to a security door and then turning right out of sight.


    It was empty, and Ella moved casually up to the door and peeked around the corner. I could barely make out anything but I noticed a table blocking the way forward with occupied chairs laid out. Three security officers were chatting lazily among themselves.


    I heard her whisper a curse before she retreated a step and brought the little drone in front of her face.


    ¡°Amon, can you hear me?¡± she said and I made the drone lift a hand in acknowledgment. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll distract the guards, you go do your thing.¡±


    ¡°Be careful,¡± Tommy said beside her. ¡°If you need help just call out.¡±


    She was being reckless. If there was a voice output on the little drone I would have told her to abort, but before I could think of something she placed the drone on the floor and turned the corner in confident strides.


    I heard a surprised gasp from the guards almost immediately, but I didn¡¯t dally to check what was happening. My drone climbed to the security pad with its critter legs clinging tightly to the metallic door.


    When it got into place over the pad, I initiated the hack. The emitter sent out a weak connection that immediately found purchase to the door¡¯s secure system. With an automatic upload, my software worked its way inside.


    While they were not in lockdown mode, these security doors did little to prevent intrusion software sent from inside the ship. SFC wasn¡¯t as mindful of internal sabotage as it should be.


    Still, if I did something major, I would be picked up by anti-malware software and forcefully booted out of the connection. So all the intrusion software would do was initiate an instruction error which would partially open the sliding door and freeze any camera feeds that were connected to this room.


    The system¡¯s logs would show that the door got stuck before closing. If only the guards didn¡¯t notice now, I held my breath as I pressed the imaginary button.


    I winced at the hiss of the door sliding open. It stopped as soon as it happened, leaving a tiny gap for the drone to skitter inside.


    ¡°What was that?¡± One of the guards asked loudly while questioning Ella. I didn¡¯t wait to find out so my drone disappeared between the towering hardware.


    My camera feed showed a lit room, with servers built like skyscrapers blinking blue, green, and red lights.


    I followed the tightly packed neatly organized cable roads to the central server. It stood proud and tall but the robotic critter hiked its height easily, finding purchase on the myriads of ports and extending cables.


    Somewhere above the middle point, it stopped. My instructions made it pull out the chip held in a body compartment and unscrew a part of the server''s protective plate with one robotic arm. I counted time with heartbeats.


    The plate leaned outwards, ready to plunge to the floor, but the little drone caught it in time. With careful insertion, the chip was placed in an open slot on the motherboard and the plate was screwed back on.


    ¡°Huh, why is this door open?¡± I heard being called out from outside. My mic was barely able to pick up the noise.


    I twisted the camera feed to look at the door. A shadow was looming in the tiny gap from outside.


    ¡°Hey, who are you? What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°Ella, there you are, I¡¯ve been looking for you for ages. Sorry officer, first time on this ship, we must have lost our way,¡± Tommy said.


    Cold sweat started forming on the back of my neck, I had to hurry. The little drone slid down to the ground and made its way to the exit. I crept near the gap, checking for the guard''s attention, but it seemed to be occupied by Ella and Tommy.


    I rushed out and almost froze as the three officers surrounded my friends in a not-too-friendly manner.


    My mind raced with ideas for a distraction. Something that wouldn¡¯t get my friends in further trouble.


    I skittered across the corridor and hid behind the corner. With the wireless connection to the drone established, I searched the security door¡¯s system for something. Open, close, lock, alarm. There wasn¡¯t much I could do but maybe¡­


    The door slid open with a hiss. I saw the guards take note and move to the opened door.


    ¡°Anybody there?¡± One of them called inside the room.


    Another instruction error made it close partially.


    ¡°This thing¡¯s broken.¡± A second officer said and hit the door with a kick.


    The door closed.


    ¡°There you go, fixed it.¡± The officer grinned.


    The door opened partially.


    He kicked it again.


    The door closed.


    The door opened.


    The door closed partially.


    ¡°Erm, officers we are gonna go,¡± Tommy said to the distracted trio as Ella scooped me up from the floor.


    One of them shooed us away. The other was banging at the door with frustration. The third simply laughed.


    We made our way back and I disconnected from the drone when I saw my friends enter the cabin.


    ¡°That was fun,¡± Ella called out, and I just looked at her. I was still stressed. I wiped my wet palms on the bed.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see what we did all this for,¡± I told her and they sat around me.


    My HiRON5 connected to the mainframe and went in without an issue. Looking around the servers, files, and folders flashed before my eyes and I started digging for information.


    A high-priority report attracted my attention. I read the title out loud.


    ¡°Fleeing Derkal, House Orion has fallen.¡±

 Chapter 17

    ¡°That¡¯s where the Overlords came from isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Gardenia was pointing straight to the plain wall of her cabin. Amon stifled a chuckle. New bioaddon users often confused the optic¡¯s HUD with real projections. The immersive feeling was close to perfect since no one could feel the optics set up below their eyelids. If they did, they weren¡¯t placed right.


    ¡°The swarm migrated over from Derkal but it wouldn¡¯t be strange if they came all the way over from Hatt before that. Since we don¡¯t have any human settlements around those parts, it isn¡¯t easy to spot, even a large migration swarm of that size.¡± Amon said, zooming in and out of the galactic supercluster to highlight the parts he was talking about.


    His actions were mirrored on Gardenia¡¯s HUD. She gazed intently in front of her face, concentrating hard on his words. She sat hunched on the lower bunk of her cabin with her elbows on her knees.


    It was some time before when Amon was with Tommy and Ella in his cabin. After they finished overanalyzing the new information he dug out of the SFC mainframe, he decided to pay a visit to the fourth member of their group. He had a rough idea of what he wanted to talk to her about.


    Something that would be better said if they were alone, and as such he left his two friends to their musings and came by knocking, only to find Gardenia still scrubbing with a worn rag the corners around the cabin. The tiny room looked like someone had done a small renovation. It might as well be called that since Gardenia was eagerly cleaning the place to perfection.


    ¡°Hey, may I take some of your time?¡± Amon asked as he stood outside the opened door. When Gardenia¡¯s eyes flattered rapidly, blinking with surprise at the interruption to her work, he was suddenly unsure what her reply would be.


    ¡°Of course,¡± she said finally, hesitating all the more. She turned around and after considering for a moment pointed at the lone chair, ¡°There, you may sit there. It''s clean enough.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    Amon turned sideways to fit inside the room as there wasn¡¯t enough space for them both and sat carefully, easing his weight on the small furniture. Without beating around the bush he went straight to the point.


    ¡°We have some new information, and I¡¯d like to keep you in the know,¡± Amon said and after similarly scanning the room for spyware, revealed their recent efforts to Gardenia.


    She took the news well enough, sitting on her bed with two fingers twisting the bangs of her hair.


    Amon waited in silence, letting her digest his words.


    ¡°Is that all?¡± She asked after a while looking straight at him for once.


    ¡°No, there is more. We have been talking, with the others I mean, it''s easier to show you first. Here, have a look.¡±


    With the map open in his HUD and mirrored to Gardenia¡¯s, Amon revealed the updated situation at Derkal. Red markers indicated lost planets and destroyed starbases. Curved white lines displayed fleets of House Orion fleeing to Tilgar, the closest galaxy where the presence of the Helion Syndicate would offer some form of protection.


    The numbers were incomprehensible and even burdened his sharp mind, so he didn¡¯t mention the quadrillion displaced or dead in Derkal. A shiver ran down his spine at the glance of the seed planets, doomed, without enough space-faring vessels to evacuate even one percent of their total population.


    ¡°But we are going the other way?¡± Gardenia asked when she spotted the blue marker of Concordia GG following a projected line that crossed the width of Cerebrus Galaxy.


    ¡°Yes, well. It''s complicated. The SFC is much reduced right now, right? We won''t be able to hold off any potential threats for House Arthas as we are now. And see here, a Dominion armada is making its way to the borders of Cerebrus facing Derkal. They are there to take over our post.¡±


    ¡°So why are we going to the Milky Way then?¡±


    ¡°Mmm, it''s plausible we are going to create a foothold for House Arthas in case they need to flee too,¡± Amon said flatly and Gardenia inhaled sharply, bulging her eyes.


    ¡°Noo, it can¡¯t be. You are lying,¡± She said, shaking her head vigorously.


    It was a normal reaction. In their small part of the universe, their galactic supercluster has had peace for at least a thousand years. On a galactic scale that is. Seed planet uprisings or space scuffles between the factions were of little concern to the main planets in their tranquil worlds. But now the balance of power has shifted violently and it seemed that it was just the beginning. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Derkal abandoned. An idea that sounded crazy yet was true.


    ¡°Afraid it is so. If the need arises, neither the Helion Syndicate nor the Fieldrich Senate will lend a caring hand to House Arthas. We are needed to secure a back door exit for them.¡±


    ¡°But, it won¡¯t come to this, right? Amon, it won¡¯t¡­ my family is on C2XA1,¡± she said, trembling, panic lacing her every move.


    Gardenia was from a moon colony, huh. That was almost as tough as a seed planet. ¡°Hopefully it won¡¯t come to this. But if it does, the Milky Way is a long way away, we won¡¯t be able to help.¡±


    ¡°Noooo¡­Amon, what can I do? I can''t abandon them.¡±


    He smiled. Inwardly. It would be tasteless if he did so in front of her. He brought his hand up to her shoulder, a shudder went over her body at his touch, and tears threatened to stream down her eyes.


    ¡°Listen, as I said, we¡¯ve been talking¨C¡±


    ¡ª-


    Amon walked through the corridors, noticing the lack of activity. Most Marines must be already inside their cabins, resting. It was the combat troop section, plain corridors of metal, seeded with doors to the left and right.


    The overhead lights spaced generously along the corridor ceiling erased his shadow and only his footsteps clanging on the flooring accompanied him on his way back. It was when he arrived he saw a person standing to block his way.


    Actually, he wasn¡¯t exactly blocking his way, facing the other way as he stood, but he was standing in front of Amon¡¯s cabin door.


    ¡°Commander, are you looking for me?¡± Amon asked Commander Jin who with a jolt of surprise span to face him.


    ¡°Sergeant, there you are, follow me,¡± Commander Jin said with a nudge of the head and without waiting for a reply moved past the door in swift strides.


    Amon followed and they walked in silence, the Commander leading him towards the officer''s living quarters, and when they made it there quickly inside his personal cabin.


    If Amon felt nervous he didn¡¯t show it. But he obviously thought about it. Had they been found out? He checked the connection to the mainframe but it was still going through without issue. Then there was only one other reason Amon could think of why the Commander would seek him out.


    Jin Karf¡¯s cabin was bare but had one important distinction. It was spacious. This was a military vessel after all and comfort was not the focus here but space in a battleship was a luxury one in itself.


    As the Commander led him to a little sitting arrangement, two metallic chairs hugging a rounded table, Amon¡¯s gaze was captured by a bright screen set upon the wall. It was displaying pictures of the Commander together with what probably was his family. In most of them, a purple sky dominated the background, sometimes switching to red or blue. This must be C3XA. Or as the locals would call it, Andromedus.


    A planet Amon had never had the chance to visit.


    Jin Karf cleared his throat. ¡°Sergeant, sit, would you like something to drink before we start? We have lots to discuss.¡±


    ¡°Is that your family?¡±


    Commander Jin followed Amon¡¯s gaze to the screen and gave a silent nod. ¡°They are. Haven¡¯t seen them in a while, my two sons enrolled in school this year.¡± He said with some regret.


    ¡°I see.¡±


    Amon sat and noticed pleasantly how comfortable the chair felt. It was made to accommodate a Genome¡¯s size.


    ¡°Yes, well, it is what it is. Now tell me, how do you feel about taking command of some of the Marines in the company,¡± the Commander said, pouring hot water in two cups and offering one to Amon.


    ¡°Commander, I would be eager to assist in any way I can, but will I be able to choose who will be under me?¡±


    Amon sipped from the cup and his eyes widened when he tasted the liquid. It was real tea, a flower-based concoction with a strong aroma, not just simple flavoring. Jin Karf must have seen his reaction because he smiled wide.


    ¡°Naturally, I expect that you will select the most trustworthy and tight-lipped. I don¡¯t wish to disclose our little agreement to the other officers.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t help but ask why, Commander?¡±


    Jin Karf was quiet for a moment, bringing the cup to his lips and slurping a sip or two from the hot tea.


    ¡°It is complicated, rather, it has become rather complicated since they switched the commissioned Captain for our units. Our new Captain is¡­unstable.¡± Commander Jin said looking at the pictures switching on the screen. An image of a younger Commander holding a fishing rod and grinning stupidly at the camera was on the display.


    He continued. ¡°Captain Gilmorian Rhen now leads the companies in Concordia GG. A post he has not earned. More so, because he was placed here as a punishment for crimes committed against his previous personnel.¡±


    Amon listened attentively. He had never heard of this Captain Gilmorian before. If he had been in the SFC, he would have come across the name somewhere. So this was possibly another case of sending someone to the SFC to disappear, but this time for an officer and not a Marine. Peculiar.


    ¡°That does sound like a problem, Commander. Yet I¡¯m curious as to why you chose me. Isn¡¯t it better to discuss the issue among the other Company Commander¡¯s to oust him?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that simple. The new Captain has replaced a lot of the Commanding officers with his men. As to why I chose you, Sergeant, there is an easy explanation. Tell me, why is your last name left blank in the SFC registry?¡±


    The two men stared at each other until one looked away. It was Amon who evaded the Commander''s knowing gaze.


    ¡°My last name was¡­erased when I joined.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it was a curious thing. It¡¯s not that uncommon, but you are a Genome, with quite the bioaddons if I must add. I did a little bit of research¨CSergeant Amon EL¡¯Arthas.¡±


    Amon hid behind the teacup to avoid voicing a reply immediately. He awkwardly fidgeted with his thumb at the cup¡¯s lip, feeling the hot ceramic under his fingertip.


    What was the saying? Ah, yes, the AI¡¯s out of the firewall. Gathering his reply, Amon met the Commander¡¯s eyes once more.


    ¡°You know a lot Commander, but I can¡¯t help you more than any other Marine in the company. My name¡¯s worth is the same as everyone else¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°I know that. It¡¯s not why I chose you, Sergeant. I chose you for your merits rather than your bloodline. You are smart, don''t you have a reason to survive out of this place, or am I wrong about you?¡±


    ¡°What do you suggest we do then? Why are you so afraid of the new Captain?¡±


    This time it was Jin Karf who broke eye contact, losing himself on the screen. He laid back on the chair and took a deep breath.


    ¡°Because I want to survive. I must survive,¡± he spoke solemnly to a picture of his two sons hugged by their mother. The boys were twins, identical, and a copy of the woman holding them.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡±


    Was it the new Captain? Or the Milky Way that had spooked the Commander so?


    Without voicing the questions, Amon got a reply nonetheless.


    ¡°The bastard enjoys watching men die.¡±

 Chapter 18

    The quietness of space travel was infecting. Whatever activity the Dreadnought, Concordia GG, had before its departure had quieted down significantly. The Marines, the battleship¡¯s crew, and any passengers settled down to a routine. A routine that would last for a long time, almost 365 standard days of travel to reach the distant Milky Way galaxy.


    And as the battleship traveled the void, Concordia GG was a speck of metal, alone for thousands of astronomical units of open space before the next battleship followed in its wake. The hyperway was vacant of traffic.


    Nevertheless, the shield emitters on the battleship¡¯s bow were on. A shimmering blue light covered the tip, protecting the bridge from debris and a head-on collision that could very well wipe out the control room in a single hit.


    From the inside, Amon could see none of this, only if he stared out of the reinforced viewing windows at the front of the battleship, but he wasn¡¯t even close to being there and what was the point of staring into the unending void anyway? There was nothing to see but darkness.


    He was on his way back to the cabin, thoughtfully disturbed, after the discussion with the Company Commander. Yes, all right, the Captain might have to go, and Amon dreadfully suspected who Commander Jin had in mind to do the dirty work. He hadn¡¯t said so straightforwardly yet, and it wouldn¡¯t be an easy task. Surveillance and security personnel wouldn''t let him anywhere near the Captain.


    With that thought, Amon fell asleep, and when he opened his eyes the next day, he realized that the idea was still there, bothering him at the back of his mind.


    Another day started with him groggily getting up from his bunk. Tommy was still asleep above him despite the automatic ceiling lights gradually brightening the cabin. If not for them, the standard daily cycle of 24 hours would be difficult to guess without looking at a chronometer.


    Yet most days Amon didn¡¯t even need an alarm to wake up. He more often than not opened his eyes in sync with the increasing brightness and as he stood unsteadily, he started his day just right.


    By waking Tommy up.


    ¡°Argh, stop that,¡± Tommy groaned, trying to hit the offending hand away.


    ¡°Good morning Toms, it''s time for you to wake up. Let¡¯s start the day with a smile.¡±


    ¡°...¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t, you won¡¯t have time to wash up before training,¡± Amon warned him.


    ¡°Uh, five more minutes,¡± Tommy said turning the other way and hogging the blanket.


    At that moment, Tommy¡¯s bedside alarm rang, defeating his efforts to fall back asleep. With a grumpy glare at the world around him, Tommy woke up.


    Amon watched his friend¡¯s struggle with a wide grin. There were some unexpected benefits to bunking together. It was rather amusing to watch. Where it only took him a few moments to shake the sleepiness from his system, his friend, Tommy, required a significantly lengthier amount of time, and effort.


    That done, it took them only a few minutes to prepare themselves for the day. ¡®Training¡¯ was the word of the morning, so they dressed appropriately for the occasion, in training shorts and T¡¯s numbering their A300 company in highlighted letters.


    Moving out of the cabin, a splash of recycled water to the face in the shared bathrooms was all that was left to do before the training started.


    It was no time for breakfast of course, since no one was hungry yet. They would eat their daily mealbars after the training finished. With the slow-digesting nutrients inside them, they were both sated until the next mealtime came about.


    So they followed after other Marines moving through the battleship corridors in messy lines. The way to the closest hold where the A300 company would train was jammed with foot traffic. It was rush hour and everyone was rushing to make it there on time.


    An unexpected hindrance to bunking with Tommy was that every action slowed them down a tiny bit, thieving seconds out of their morning routine and now commute.


    ¡°Excuse us. Sorry. Passing through,¡± Amon repeated while Tommy, walking behind him, ripped the benefits of his larger frame.


    At some point, Gardenia and Ella joined them when they passed by a junction with another corridor. Ella chirped her good mornings with a smile while Gardenia waved timidly.


    ¡°Hey girls, slept well?¡± Tommy asked as they put themselves behind him.


    ¡°Well enough Toms, and you?¡±


    ¡°Not bad, Ella, not bad. The wake-up was a little¡­rough.¡± Tommy said accusingly, and Amon turned over his shoulder to look back at him with sheepy eyes.


    Everyone was in a good mood, one that Amon didn¡¯t exactly share. He needed time to think and training would somewhat help with that. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    When their little group entered the hold, it was already half full with Marines loitering in the open space set up to accommodate their daily training. Cargo containers were cleared from the center of the hold and stacked near the walls leaving an open area where everyone now waited.


    Amon noted the different companies, the bright lettering spelling which was which, and the unwillingness of the wearers to mingle. Each company huddled together despite the casual atmosphere.


    It was as if the Marines mirrored their Commanders. Jin Karf was there, accompanied by two other officers next to him. He stood impatiently with his hands on his back, overlooking the training area, while the other two chatted vividly.


    It only took a few more minutes for the last Marines to show up, three full companies were present, and before the lot became impatient, one of the two cheerful officers came forth.


    ¡°Companies, line-up. D200 and B100 over here, A300 there. We are starting with strength training to warm up, give me 100 push-ups to start with.¡±


    Before he realized it Amon was pumping against the hold¡¯s floor. It wasn¡¯t hard to keep up a steady rhythm and he was halfway done before he noticed his nearby Marines slow down. But that was expected. Amon continued without a pause and when he finished he stood up.


    Commander Jin inspecting from the front looked pleased when he spotted him, giving a slight nod of approval. Amon was the first to finish and not only from the A300 company.


    There were no other Genomes present in the training apart from the commanding officers and even then they were all at least second-generation Genomes. Neither was as tall or as imposing as Amon himself in that regard. He was certain he could beat them all in physical conditioning.


    When the two officers of D200 and B100 noticed him, they didn¡¯t react visibly but remained impassive. When several other Marines finished their set, the same officer called out.


    ¡°An easy warm-up. 100 squats into 50 burpees and make it fast, Marines. The company finishing last will clean the hold after training.¡±


    As Amon started his squats, more than a few Marines still strained with the push-ups. With a similar number from each company lagging, struggling to finish an exercise to start the next, a lingering urgency in the air pushed at them. No one wanted to finish last if not for the workload of cleaning and rearranging the hold, then for the pride of it.


    Marines pushed, huffed, groaned, and repeated the exercises, straining muscles and turning faces bright red. Their limbs trembled and lungs expanded to fill with adequate oxygen.


    Amon finished a bit winded and felt his muscles pumping with blood at his heart¡¯s quick rhythm. He stood silently. He was the first to finish once again.


    This time Commander Jin grinned, leaving his emotions plastered on his face. The rest of the A300 with veins popping and sweat starting to form on each Marine was still pushing hard.


    It seemed to Amon that it would be a close race and if there was a bet he wouldn¡¯t know where to place it.


    The officers of D200 and B100 were not smiling anymore but observed with keen interest the progress of their troops, counting. Their good cheer had gone cold. One was mindlessly tapping his foot to the floor in anticipation.


    It was close. Marines stood still where they finished, and less and less moved vigorously through the exercises. Grunts and loud exhales echoed from the last few mouths.


    Four left, three, five in the other companies. Then two finished at the same time. Amon counted with his optics, able to track progress without needing to do so consciously.


    One left.


    ¡°D200 DONE!¡±


    ¡°B100¡±


    ¡°A3¨C¡±


    Commander Jin almost called out when the last Marine from A300 stood. It was a millisecond too late. The Marine looked embarrassed and shook her head lowering her eyes.


    With obvious pleasure, the officer from D200 came forth and patted Commander Jin on the shoulder.


    ¡°Next time, Commander,¡± he called loudly, satisfied, before facing the heaving companies, ¡°Marines well done, endurance training! 50 laps start now!¡±


    Amon didn¡¯t care much for the apparent competition between the officers, losing a meaningless race did little to deter his mood. He eagerly set a comfortable pace to run around the hold.


    Would he have to kill Captain Gilmorian? Was that what Commander Jin wanted him to do? Were these officers the Captain¡¯s lackeys?


    Commander Jin certainly didn¡¯t enjoy their company. He was keeping some distance between them. And he still was unsure of the angle Jin Karf wanted him to take. He was an Andromedian, born in the heart of the House Arthas dominion, and schooled in the arts of politics and subterfuge.


    Whatever was the case, he couldn¡¯t just believe the Commander outright. It could be anything spurring the detest between the two. Rival families, economic interests, or even simply coveting the Captain¡¯s position.


    Amon wasn¡¯t one to fall for simple words. He always did his own intelligence gathering. Thankfully now he also had the means to do so. The chip on the battleship¡¯s mainframe would give him access to servers filled with zettabytes of stored data.


    After all, during especially long voyages, one could only find so many ways to entertain oneself. The Spacenet servers had offline storage capabilities and were ready for him to dig through them. Not for entertainment, but for information, and not the public kind.


    Amon finished another lap and looked behind him, only to see pain. Or more accurately pained faces trying to keep up with the pace he set. Some had chosen to follow it despite this time the endurance training not being a ¡®race¡¯. Other Marines were sprinkled around the hold running at their chosen speeds.


    He caught up to Ella in the next round. It wasn¡¯t the first time.


    ¡°On your right,¡± Amon called passing her with ease.


    ¡°Oh, damn you!¡± She shouted between breaths. ¡°Hey Gardenia, trip him for me will you?¡± Ella called out to the woman in front of her.


    ¡°On your right.¡±


    ¡°Heard you, Sergeant. No need to rub it in,¡± Gardenia huffed and rolled her eyes. Her cheeks were puffy and red from the strain. ¡°How many more laps do we have?¡±


    ¡°8 for me left, I believe it''s less than 20 for you,¡± Amon told her. He had pushed himself quite hard on the last laps.


    ¡°Oh, t-that¡¯s terrible.¡±


    ¡°See you in a couple of laps,¡± Amon teased her and was off.


    ¡ª-


    Captain Gilmorian Rhen had his legs comfortably set up on a table. The military boots displayed to his audience of four were pristine, and a little comfort to the table¡¯s owner who would surely clean the table''s surface after the meeting.


    ¡°So how are the SFC Marines fairing? Any up to Dominion standards?¡± Captain Gilmorian asked the three officers standing at rest before him.


    ¡°They are well trained, Captain, Sir. I would not dare suggest they are equal, but close enough.¡± One of the Commanding officers offered.


    And it was true. The SFC for all its remote operating location was well equipped and had well-trained troops never mind their origins. How else could it be able to raid Helion Syndicate vessels?


    The Captain nodded at that but turned to his right, waiting. The woman sitting beside him was no SFC officer. It was obvious from the clothes she wore she was nothing but a civilian.


    Or was she? A blaster hung from the belt of her durable working pants, and a sleeveless top revealed an outline of leather straps around her shoulders.


    ¡°They will do just fine, Captain. I believe Concordia GG will be enough to serve our objectives. Have her reenter realspace further out than the rendezvous point. We don¡¯t want to be caught up with the warm welcome awaiting the rest of the fleet.¡± She spoke with an emotionless conviction that had the three officers restlessly avoiding direct eye contact.


    ¡°Fine, fine, I know that,¡± Gilmorian Rhen replied annoyed.


    The woman paused narrowing her eyes. ¡°You have your legs up, haven¡¯t you? You better straighten up when you are talking with me, Captain. You are not my only option.¡±


    ¡°Hah, don¡¯t mind my manners when you are so far away, Lady Lorenna,¡± Gilmorian replied swiping at her form. His hand passed through Lorenna¡¯s body, wabbling her projected image.


    ¡°Stop the childish behavior, Captain,¡± Lady Lorenna retorted in a serious tone, ¡°You have your orders, now act the part.¡±


    ¡°Aye, aye Captain, will do just so,¡± Gilmorian said, voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°We will all do our part.¡±

 Chapter 19

    ¡°That bitch!¡± Captain Gilmorian cursed when the connection line ended, cutting off the projected image of Lady Lorenna. The three commanding officers flinched at his sudden outburst.


    ¡°How dare she order me around. But soon, oh yes soon, we will be out of her reach. You, Martin, when do we enter post-light speeds?¡±


    The officer in question paused for a moment, staring blankly ahead before replying. ¡°According to the latest data, in 10 days, Captain.¡±


    ¡°Still some time then,¡± Gilmorian grumbled lowering his legs from the table. It wouldn''t matter. ¡°Well then, go about your day and report for any individual we can use. For Nevara.¡±


    ¡°For Nevara,¡± The three echoed in kind.


    If any of them felt scared of being overheard, they didn¡¯t show it. Their comms were secured, and they were certain no one could listen in¡ªexcept maybe someone could. With some confusion, he cut his connection, too, wondering what all this was about.


    ¡ª-


    House Orion had fallen. Derkal galaxy was in an uproar¨Con a path to total and utter annihilation. But who was at fault here?


    Was it Overlord swarms? Alien Zith hordes? An opposite faction invading the galaxy?


    Half of the reports had different perpetrators. The Fieldrich senate in the Bowance galaxy was in a heated debate. It was a virtual forum, styled after the 3M, Militaristic Minimalistic Modernism architecture¨Cplain smooth marble with prominent edges, long and thin pillars, and decorated in comforting earthy colors and insignias.


    The detailed avatars of senators sat in rows, sometimes close together, and on a few occasions isolated from the rest, as was the case with the House Orion and House Arthas delegations.


    The Zith had invaded Derkal, bypassing the Alimon galaxy which was the heart of House Fieldrich, the Emperic Polestar as its citizens called it, all without a whiff from any intelligence beacon and satellite roaming the void between the galactic bodies for that exact reason.


    Was the Hatt galaxy behind Derkal already infested with Zith? Would House Fieldrich in Alimon galaxy be able to fend off the invading alien species from both sides if that were the case?


    There was a lot of shouting and accusing fingers pointed every way one looked.


    But that was only half the story, no even less than that. A part of the fleeing House Orion fleet was on its way to Tilgar and the protection the Helion Syndicate offered. The fleet¡¯s holds were at full capacity, carrying refugees, the most prominent, rich, and useful population that could afford their way in one of the vessels before they departed Derkal.


    So it was not unexpected the fleet had a smaller capacity to store weapons in case of an unexpected attack during the voyage. Unfortunately for the slower, massive freight carriers filled with people, a relatively small Overlord swarm was gaining on their trail. Maybe it was a remnant from the swarm that had migrated towards Cerebrus, or an offshoot swarm, growing in its shadow. At that moment for the fleeing fleet, it didn¡¯t matter where the Overlords came from.


    The spacebeasts didn¡¯t mind their numbers were small, in space they were the apex predators. And their prey was on the run, infusing their drive to chase all the more.


    The few combat operational battleships had congregated at the fleet¡¯s tail and had been flinging any available weaponry to their rear to no great effect. After a while, only the heatlazers kept firing beams of energy every time the battery charges came online. Things were looking grim for the Orion fleet broadcasting emergency signals for help.


    House Orion was being chased out of Derkal by Overlords.


    On the galaxy¡¯s other side, when the closest moon colony to the Hatt received the emergency broadcast, they couldn¡¯t believe what their eyes saw on the screens. Overlords? Derkal had fallen to Overlords? Wait, even if they were in the furthest reaches of Derkal, they were close enough to be considered a part of it. And they had not seen a single Overlord in decades.


    What they were seeing, however, was an unknown fleet laying siege to the planet below. The Nevarian Collective, as they called themselves, was bombarding the whole planet from orbit, and the only reason the moon colony was still allowed to observe the carnage unharmed was that they couldn¡¯t do anything about it.


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    Derkal was being invaded. Uprisings had occurred in several seed planets with the stark absence of House Orion¡¯s military support. Not to forget the small cluster of planets at the galaxy''s borders that had fallen to the Zith, with little hope for survival for any planet-bound population.


    In reality, no words could encapsulate the whole situation, but a few came close.


    ¡°What a clusterfuck!¡± Amon exclaimed out loud as he read over the different reports. He made to rise from his bunk, but the proximity of the bunk above him to his head made him rethink his actions. It wasn¡¯t worth the effort. He wouldn¡¯t have the space to pace around the cabin anyway.


    He briefly considered going for a walk around the ship, but there was little to see apart from endless corridors dressed in grey metal.


    The mainframe of Concordia GG was still being updated and the reports Amon was skimming over were also relatively fresh. But things would change soon when the battleship reached post-light speeds. The Spacenet signal would be lost, unable to reach them at those speeds. They would travel faster than the datapackets, receiving only partially corrupted datafiles from the outside world. They would effectively be cut off from the rest of the universe.


    What would happen in a year? Amon was not eager to find out the fallout of the whole thing. It was a damned time to travel in the dark. And they would be so far away from the center of it. Derkal. A place he had never had the chance to visit despite being Cerebrus¡¯ neighboring galaxy. The universe was large and he was quite young. If he so wished it wouldn¡¯t be impossible to travel that way in the future.


    Not that visiting Derkal was anywhere near his imminent goals. He had a situation to resolve when they arrived at the Milky Way, and even before that during this trip. A plot was being cooked onboard the battleship. Nevarians were onboard, people Amon did not know of until just now.


    Nevarians. Who were they? He wondered out loud by mistake.


    ¡°What? What¡¯s gotten into you?¡± Tommy complained from above. He was trying to sleep.


    ¡°Nothing, sorry. Go back to sleep.¡±


    He had to search the mainframe for any report on the name. They were planning something drastic, and the Captain was at the center of it. Guilty of more than what Amon had initially suspected.


    A year minus a few days on the outside, but for them inside the ship it would feel quite different, faster to be in fact. The seconds would flow swiftly, time running ahead of itself as if the voyage would end before one could blink an eyelid, but still, in their minds, they would remember the days that had passed to bring them there.


    Amon counted down each morning he opened his eyes. Ten, nine, eight¡­


    ¡ª-


    A year later, Terra Chronometry standard


    Outskirts of the Milky Way Galaxy


    Concordia GG


    A lone Dreadnought slowed down from post-light speeds. The system had a navigation path it was following that human eyes could not quite track with the required precision. After all, the void between the galaxies was a vast lightless nothing that had no point of reference but for their destination.


    The shine coming from the Milky Way was their only guide. Like the seafaring sailors of old, the navigators of space more often than not relied on the light of the stars to guide their spaceships.


    And the lone Dreadnought slowed down. Its engines flared giving power to the thrusters hard at work pushing against the momentum that had been building up for so long it seemed as if the deceleration was an impossible dream.


    Until they reached the threshold. Post-light to under-light speeds. Without a warning the Dreadnought reentered realspace. Immediately, as per protocol, the bridge navigation control sent out a scan of the surrounding area and a comms link to the Dreadnought somewhere ahead of them.


    It would be some time until they received a reply. But the energized navigation crew was hard at work checking on the monitors. At last something different to do than the systems checks that had been their main occupation for the voyage to the Milky Way.


    Amon watched the feedback update on the mainframe with keen interest. They still had a distance to cover, yet the first contact with realspace could spell surprises. They had been essentially deaf and blind to the universe until now.


    But from the initial scans, nothing appeared in their near vicinity. He waited for the ping from the preceding Dreadnought. Yet no matter how many hours passed, it didn¡¯t arrive. The bridge became restless.


    A little camera observing the control room displayed Captain Gilmorian issuing unnecessary orders to the crew to find the unresponsive spaceship as if it was possible without a direct comm link from the battleship itself. The distances involved were so extreme that no scanning instrument could return a reading without a relay beacon support.


    So everyone waited, and when the 12-hour mark passed the bridge navigators sent a comms link backward to the Dreadnought that would emerge into realspace following their path.


    An hour later there was still no reply from either battleship. A day later, the comm silence with the rest of the fleet had every bridge officer jump when the monitors updated the scanner readings.


    Amon had a very strong suspicion there would be no other contact with the fleet. He suspected it because he had been lucky to intercept a communication, yet even then trying to find the plans of the people involved had turned out nothing.


    Company Commander Jin had been as restless as Amon himself. When Amon found nothing mentioning Nevara on the offline Spacenet he turned to Jin Karf with the question only to receive the same answer.


    Nevara was not a physical place or a people. Yes, it was a brand of machinery wheels on a far-off planet and a colony restaurant in C3XC1-1, at least two influential singers used the name as an alias, and countless other small insignificant mentions had it but for all his effort the search never came close to finding an actual answer that made sense.


    ¡°Remember the Gocka incident? You have that look about you that reminds me of it. Are you going to tell me what the hell¡¯s gotten into you? And stop fidgeting with that leg!¡± Tommy complained while looking down from the bunk above.


    ¡°Oh, sorry about that. Just restlessness now that we are back into realspace and there is no word from the rest of the fleet, it''s making my hair stand.¡± Amon replied repositioning his restless leg to the wall so he wouldn''t shake the whole bunk.


    ¡°Does your little spywork show where we are headed?¡± Tommy asked after a moment.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t trust it.¡±


    Tommy jerked and his face reappeared looking down from the top bunk. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±


    ¡°I have a suspicion, nothing more. But think, maybe someone changed our flight path or destination. The Dreadnoughts might be lightyears away from where we are now. It would explain why there is no contact.¡±


    ¡°Why would they do that? I mean, do these Nevarians want us to be isolated or what¡¯s the point?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, and it''s bothering me. If it is a trap at least it won¡¯t be us. We have the Captain on board the ship. If I can guess something about him, he won¡¯t sacrifice himself for any cause.¡±


    ¡°So what are you worried about?¡±


    ¡°The rest of the fleet. The Milky Way is dangerous enough with 6 Dreadnoughts, now, for a lone one--¡±


    ¡°Ah, hells, I didn¡¯t think of that,¡± Tommy cursed out loud.


    ¡°We might be on our own from here on out,¡± Amon said and the suspicion slowly grew into an anxious certainty.

 Chapter 20

    The way was dark and empty. But Concordia GG didn¡¯t mind the absence of a Dreadnought pack to fly alongside, it did its solitary job just as well. Yet the control bridge cared, now more than ever since the outskirts of the Milky Way were right in front of them.


    On their right, a gas giant with an asteroid ring that could hide a fleet floated lazily. The first system they hit had a few planets but a lot of space rubble obscuring the monitor¡¯s readings. The Captain seemed determined to pass through it no matter how exposed the battleship would be.


    An ambush could come every which way and by the time the navigation crew noticed it would already be too late. The bridge crew¡¯s anxiety was evident with every move they made. Something Gilmorian Rhen didn¡¯t share.


    It was over a few days since Concordia GG stopped pinging around the void in search of the allied Dreadnoughts. With so much noise broadcasting from their comms, if the SFC battleships didn¡¯t find them someone else definitely would, and the Milky Way was a warzone of a galaxy. No one knew if they were trampling in a warlord¡¯s territory right now, but in the face of the unknown, it was safest to consider that this was the case every time.


    So Concordia GG traveled in silence with minimal thruster output, and that only if needed, to correct its trajectory. It was covertly scanning the unknown system for threats, and until the control bridge made sure that they were alone, there was nothing to do but wait.


    The tiny red dwarf in the system¡¯s heart burned bright but had little mass to attract the battleship into an orbit. Not with the speed they were going. So before the Dreadnought made it through the system and out the other way it was time for Captain Gilmorian to decide.


    ¡ª-


    ¡°Two companies should be enough,¡± Amon overheard the Commanders of B100 and D200 discussing.


    The daily training had just finished and the rotating company groups had once again brought them together. Commander Jin was wearing his usual sober expression standing on the hold¡¯s sidelines overseeing the A300 company. Despite the time spent on the battleship, it seemed no comradery had been built between the Commanders of B100, D200, and A300.


    ¡°Who else is there? F900? That Helana Drul can¡¯t shut up to save her life.¡±


    ¡°Oh, a C3XB graduate, I can see how that would work,¡± the Commander of B100 replied. ¡°So two companies? We agree?¡±


    ¡°We do, F and¡­A.¡±


    The two Commanders paused to look at Commander Jin, who, at this point, must have purposely ignored their words. They didn¡¯t care about being overheard, and Jin''s expression was souring by the second.


    If he took a cue from Jin Karf¡¯s darkening mood Amon guessed they were in for a nasty mission. He decided to ask him later about it. There''s nothing wrong with being in the loop.


    Yet, oblivious to his worries, by his side, Ella teased Gardenia, which unfortunately drowned out some of the words he was trying to overhear without being too obvious. The shorter girl was loud like that.


    But it wasn¡¯t only the two of them. The A300 company was strangely energetic today. Word had spread out that they had reached the Milky Way, even without an official announcement from the high-ranking officers on the battleship.


    Gossip between the Marines had them preparing for battle from one mouth to rediscovering lost civilizations from another. Even if the gossip Amon had listened to was highly unlikely, he couldn¡¯t deny that the wait was almost over.


    It was a feeling in the dry recycled ventilated air that had everyone¡¯s spirits lifted. Tommy shoulder-checked Amon as he passed by with a mop and bucket on hand.


    ¡°Come on big guy. It''s time to clean up the mess,¡± Tommy said offering the plastic bucket filled with foam.


    Just as well Amon thought and took the bucket crepping closer to the two Commanders. Every few feet Amon dumped a little puddle of foam onto the hold¡¯s floor which Tommy following behind mopped diligently.


    They were making steady progress closer to the discussion Amon was interested in until a pale-colored Marine with a dustrag stood in his way. A familiar hawkish nose signifying his poorbred roots sniffed in greeting.


    ¡°Achoo!¡± Jackey sneezed. ¡°Damned allergies, even here I can¡¯t escape them.¡± He complained.


    ¡°It''s not the allergies, but your dirty hands,¡± Tommy called out helpfully. ¡°Only if you stopped picking it¨C¡±


    ¡°Hey, who asked your opinion¨C¡± Jackey snapped back.


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    ¡°Well then stop sneezing the whole damn time, and I¡¯ll shut up about it,¡±


    Amon rolled his eyes. ¡°Guys. pleas¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    They both turned to Amon, and when they realized they spoke in union they glowered at each other.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Amon added quickly. Some battles were never meant to be won. Despite the small distraction, Amon sidestepped Jackey only to find the two Commanders had had enough chatting and were making their way out of the hold.


    ¡°Damnn,¡± He whispered turning to his next target, Commander Jin. ¡°Jackey help me out a minute,¡± he said pushing the half-full bucket to him before making his way to the other side of the hold.


    ¡°You better not make a mess with the foam,¡± Tommy groaned half-heartedly.


    ¡°You¡¯ll clean after it, no? Isn¡¯t that what you are supposed to do?¡± The other Marine replied.


    Amon soon left the sound of the two bickering Marines behind him as he approached the still form of Jin Karf. The Commander wore the simple black-grey A300 training shirt and shorts but with the Commander¡¯s insignia certifying his rank.


    When the Commander saw Amon approaching he pushed back his blond peppered grey hair in a well-used movement.


    ¡°Sir,¡± Amon greeted him.


    ¡°Sergeant Amon,¡± Jin Karf replied without a hint of familiarity.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to request a meeting,¡± Amon said aware of the ears that might be listening to their conversation. Even if only the A300 company remained in the hold, you never knew who might leak information to the wrong ears.


    The Commander nodded. ¡°Meet me after you have finished with your chores, Sergeant.¡±


    ¡ª-


    As it turned out the mission took place that very afternoon and was nasty after all. The A300 accompanied by the F900 boarded a troop transporter headed for a large asteroid with a comfortable elliptical orbit around the system. For protection four light-weight space fighters called MiniFlies escorted the bulky troop carrier while the Dreadnought remained nearby on high alert.


    And that was because the bridge crew had noticed a structure on the asteroid that might or might not be abandoned.


    Once the approaching troop carrier matched the asteroid¡¯s movement, it opened its hatches and the spacediving Marines streamed out. Two companies of Marines dressed in biosuits flew towards the asteroid in a wide formation.


    The MiniFlies with their four wings armed with missiles spread out to provide support from the sides.


    ¡°It looks abandoned,¡± Tommy said through the short-range comms when the structure came into view on the slowly rotating asteroid. Since this was not a battle, the comms were active as communication was a key advantage for spacedive coordination.


    The two Commanders, Jin Karf and Helena Drul, gave their orders from the safety of the troop carrier but individual action was needed in this case.


    ¡°It clearly isn¡¯t,¡± Jackey responded from the side. ¡°Look at the dome, there¡¯s light coming from the sides.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s reflecting sunlight, you droneass,¡±


    ¡°Oh, is that a rover over there?¡± Ella pointed at something hiding in the shadows of a few jawed rocks sticking out of the ground.


    ¡°It is,¡± Amon said, confirming her suspicions after zooming in with his optics.


    **Two minutes to touch down**


    Commander Jin''s steady voice came through the comms.


    ¡°How do you want to handle it?¡± Tommy asked and Amon considered for a moment.


    ¡°Get ready for evasive maneuvers and don¡¯t take your damned blasters out until you touch ground,¡± he said pointedly looking at Gardenia flying beside him who had hers already on hand. ¡°They don¡¯t have the range, so let the MiniFlies cover our asses. If there is any resistance we will know soon enough when we come in range.¡±


    Amon scanned the structure and a loose mapping formed on his HUD. A 3D model of the structure that would serve to coordinate their group. He mirrored his view to the others. They were close enough to be in the range of his HiRON5 transmitter.


    As they drew closer, Amon noticed how large the asteroid was. It was a sign that a rover was needed to circle around its circumference. From Amon¡¯s calculations, it was close to a mile for a round trip.


    On its surface over purposely flat ground, the structure was built uniformly, most probably with hardened cement poured to create a large dome with three symmetrically smaller domes on each side. It looked like these were the entrances to the structure as the larger dome was smoothed out without any opening or structural markings apart from the wear and tear of life in space.


    As the Marines touched ground they spread out in a wide net circling the structure. A few rocks protruded here and there providing some cover but the majority of the Marines stood defenseless in the open.


    Yet the entrances remained closed, silent from any activity. The inhabitants must have either spotted them landing and were preparing for a trap, or it was truly an abandoned building in a system devoid of civilization.


    Amon with Ella, Gardenia, Tommy, Jackey, and a score of others from A300 with their blasters out and ready to fire, were carefully moving towards one of the smaller domes and the barred entrance that stood out from the rest of the structure. The discolored blast doors would prove a challenge to open.


    **Marines, use lethal force to subdue any resistance. This is no time for diplomacy.**


    Commander Jin reminded them from above. Amon saw several Marines clutch their blasters as if they already had an enemy in sight. He held a hand out to stall their group from venturing too far ahead. Friendly fire was not out of the question with so many Marines pointed in the same direction.


    Unfortunately, there was no place to stay covered. The ground near the entrance was flattened so they hugged the walls of the smaller dome for protection while preparing to engage the drills on the doors.


    Before Amon could take a step forward, the ground vibrated with a ramble.


    ¡°DOORS OPENING,¡± a Marine shouted in the comms, and immediately everyone fell back a step.


    ¡°Make a file, quick,¡± Amon called out, and their well-trained group facing the door formed a two-layer file. Gardenia, Ella, and a few others went prone on the ground with their blasters facing forward while everyone else stood above them.


    From their point of view, the door¡¯s opening could not be seen as the dome¡¯s walls curved it out of sight.


    ¡°Check the other way, and up! We don¡¯t know if there is another exit we haven''t noticed,¡± Amon called out a warning, taking the lead of their group.


    ¡°On it,¡± Jackey affirmed and turned to guard the other way.


    A heartbeat passed and then another, but nothing emerged from the door. Then something did.


    Two blasters fired and the drone that rolled out exploded to scrap.


    ¡°Hold your fire!¡± Amon ordered. ¡°That¡¯s no military drone.¡±


    ¡°An explorer?¡±


    ¡°Maybe, stay alert.¡±


    Soon thereafter another drone made it outside the door. It rolled on bogies on top of a squared body with two robotics arms and a sensor box for a head. It was practically a labor drone, built to facilitate work in a warehouse.


    ¡°Amon, should we take it out?¡± Tommy asked uncertainly.


    ¡°No¨Cwait, it has a transmitter. It¡¯s trying to send me something.¡±


    Amon saw the file flashing on his HUD, and let his firewall scan it before opening it up. His brainchip took a while to decode the data, but when it did a message appeared before his eyes.


    <<Welcome to point SIX SEVEN CAPITAL XTF of the free federation of Kiaris. The station manager will see you now.>>


    ¡°Huh, it''s inviting us in. I think there are people inside,¡± Amon told the group which didn¡¯t lessen their tension.


    ¡°Are they friendly?¡± Ella asked from the ground.


    ¡°I am not sure. Wait it''s sending another message¡­Oh, wow,¡± He paused surprised before immediately connecting to the troop carrier. ¡°Commander Jin, We have a problem.¡±

 Chapter 21

    <<The station manager acknowledges your biological signatures and offers a nonaggression arrangement for your duration of stay in the Kiaris system as identified in the free federation protocols for the treatment of all non-mechanical beings. Please note that any further destruction of Kiaris civilbots will immediately negate the nonaggression pact and engage countermeasures. The station manager awaits your response.>>


    Amon forwarded the message to Commander Jin and waited among the restless troops for orders. The assault had been called off momentarily, leaving the Marines staring at the labor drone¡¯s camera lens which was eerily pointing right back at them.


    ¡°It¡¯s giving me the creeps,¡± Jackey complained from behind the line.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare shoot at it, you heard Amon,¡± Tommy added quickly until he saw the man hiding behind Amon¡¯s back.


    ¡°Why is it just staring like that? Can it¨CWait, can it hear us?¡±


    Jackey¡¯s question made Amon jerk up. He thought about it for a second. ¡°It probably can. Picking through short-range comms won¡¯t be difficult if its processor is AI-powered. Basic encryption and all that.¡±


    ¡°Overlord tentacles!¡± Tommy cursed.


    Amon wasn¡¯t aware if the rest of the Marines gathered around the other dome entrances had come into contact with the asteroid¡¯s robotic inhabitants, but he dearly hoped that none were eager to destroy the drones. Those civilbots.


    Apparently, they were dealing with a self-conscious AI civilization, and if history had any lessons to offer it was that it was a mighty dangerous foe to battle. Who knew how many automated smart weapons were buried under the asteroid¡¯s ground, or if it had developed hidden underground cities on the system¡¯s planets ready to flood them under immeasurable AI-powered detonator drones at any moment?


    There was a reason why true AI bots were illegal in the Cerebrus galaxy and anywhere else within sane human-controlled territories.


    It was least to say they had to tread carefully until they got the hell out of this system with some understandably sensible haste. That was what Amon would do. But unfortunately, it was not up to him. He waited until the discussion between the Commander and the Captain of Concordia GG concluded to receive his orders.


    **Sergeant Amon, orders from the Captain. You will escort Commander Helena and myself inside the station to meet with the AI. Do not under any condition threaten it. And keep the troops in line. I do not need to spell out we will be offering every courtesy. Inform the bot this. We will be exiting their system swiftly. Right after the meeting, and the troops¡¯ retreat.**


    That was strangely sensible of the high-ranking officers and Captain Gilmorian. They were certainly no fools.


    ¡ª-


    The entrance to the dome stood chillingly open before them as if the maw of a colossal beast was waiting for the right time to bite down.


    With the troops stationed outside, Amon led from the front while the two Commanders followed closely behind him. His hands were light, missing the familiar weight of his blaster. It was safely secured in its holder by his hip.


    Inside the entrance, the smaller dome opened up to reveal a rather vacant room that concluded on the walls of the main dome¡¯s structure. Dark blue overhead lights illuminated the room, giving it a cold and alien feel. At the opposite end, another entrance awaited them. With the unsettling absence of anything in his path Amon pressed forward, swiftly striding through the empty room.


    His large frame might offer some consolation for the two others following behind him, but for all his mustered courage, he wasn¡¯t entirely sure. The unfamiliar Commander, Helena Drul, had quickly become rather familiar. And annoyingly dense.


    ¡°Sergeant, don¡¯t rush ahead. Look here¨CWooh, the electronics are so well embedded in the walls. Was this all done by AI you think?¡± Helena asked no one in particular when they reached the second entrance.


    Amon imagined Commander Jin¡¯s pained expression from under the mask. They still had their biosuits on. The structure didn¡¯t provide life support for biological beings, and that was a rather alarming tell for who really built this structure.


    The labor drone rolled at a comfortable pace ahead of them, its camera lens was turned backward never leaving them out of its sight. Yet it never hesitated to move forward even when it couldn¡¯t see where it was going.


    ¡°Commander Helena, please, we have to meet with the AI¨C¡± Commander Jin tried to distract the oblivious Commander from her musing with the walls. A control panel with neatly formatted electronics was placed low almost at the floor¡¯s level, and she was forced to fold herself to observe it closely.


    ¡°So neat¡­¡± she muttered in the comms. ¡°Hey, where is the drone? You, get me to your manager. I want to ask him a few things.¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Amon tried to resist doing a facepalmed. The high-ranking officers were probably trying to kill them all. Yes, that made more sense.


    Commander Helena bypassed him and Commander Jin rushed behind her, unsuccessfully trying to prevent her from doing something stupid. Amon came in last, entering the large dome and pausing at the sight ahead.


    An android awaited them in the center of the dome, standing still. Its robotic hands identical to a human''s hung lifelessly by its sides. For all purposes, it was standing naked. Naked of hair, clothes, or any identifying marking. It wore only the metallic skin of its creation, yet the smooth skin was elegantly shaped beyond beauty¨Ca perfect human¡¯s body, genderless and made of silver metal.


    Likewise, the larger dome interior was hollow. No comforts or furniture broke the line of sight between the entrance and the two separate exits on the other sides. Only the android standing in the center and the labor drone which with its purpose completed made its way out of sight.


    This was exactly how Amon imagined the future would look if machines ruled the galaxies. Empty and lifeless. Yet Commander Helena stomped towards the android without care, but before she could close the distance the sensible Jin Karf stopped her by force, successfully holding her back.


    Amon looked around for any guards but there were none. If there was an army of drones waiting to rush them it was not here in this empty room. Yet he knew that the android was not defenseless. His optics pinpointed several concentrations of power hidden in the walls and floor around them. The automated defenses would tear through them with no more but a wordless command from the station¡¯s manager. But he hoped they would not come to that.


    ¡°Let me go,¡± Helena struggled to escape her captor but Commander Jin¡¯s grip had the weight of survival behind it.


    ¡°Sergeant, help me here¨Cbefore we are blasted to atoms.¡± Jin hissed between his teeth.


    Amon caught up to them and locked Helena¡¯s arms in his. She looked up and after a moment of consideration, she seized her resistance. ¡°Fine, but after you are done, I¡¯ll ask my questions,¡± she told them exasperated.


    Depending if we are alive to see the end of it.


    Jin Karf turning to the station manager saluted formally before addressing it.


    ¡°Station manager, I am Commander Jin Karf of the SFC in Cerebrus galaxy. I will represent Captain Gilmorian Rhen in this meeting.¡± Commander Jin said in a smooth tone facing the android.


    It looked dead frozen, but a robot didn¡¯t need to breathe or move for that matter. That was a thing of the living however unnerved Amon felt about it.


    The statue of the robot blinked with blue and red lights. The machine powered up and finally, the AI revealed itself from within. The dead robotic eyes now zoomed in and out focusing the camera lenses on them.


    ¡°Welcome, Commander Jin Karf of the SFC in Cerebrus galaxy. I, the station manager welcome you to the Kiaris system. The free federation is pleased to receive your presence.¡±


    Amon didn¡¯t expect to be able to hear the words that came out of the android, but he did. Somehow despite being able to send a direct transmission to their comms, the station manager chose to speak, revealing that there was some kind of atmosphere around them to carry the speaker¡¯s sound.


    ¡°Yes? Well, it is a pleasure, likewise, station manager,¡± Jin Karf continued, and Amon due to their familiarity caught the hesitation in his posture. ¡°Now, I must first convey the Captain¡¯s words¨CWe are terribly sorry for the whole misunderstanding. We believed the building to be abandoned, yes, after scanning it¡ª¡±


    The android suddenly lifted a hand and everyone including the oblivious Helena flinched backwards.


    ¡°Commander Jin.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°The free federation of Kiaris inquires of your purpose in visiting the system.¡±


    ¡°The purpose yes, that¡¯s a fair question. Well¨C¡± Commander Jin¡¯s voice didn¡¯t waver despite the heightened stress he must rightfully be under. It was an important moment. ¡°--quoted from the Captain himself, we are simply passing through the system. We were unaware that this was the territory of the free federation or the name of this fine system. Now that we know better, we will not burden you further with our presence. You have our deepest gratitude¨C¡±


    ¡°Commander Jin.¡±


    Amor heard the Commander gulp loud enough for the mask¡¯s microphone to pick up the sound.


    ¡°Station manager, I swear there was no harmful intention despite¡­what happened. It was an accident, really.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for the explanation, the free federation of Kiaris wishes you a safe trip onwards.¡±


    The three of them visibly relaxed but before Commander Jin could bring the meeting to a close, the android continued.


    ¡°But, before you do so, the free federation has decided to host you on this station SIX SEVEN CAPITAL XTF. The protocols dictate a banquet is required to enhance the relations of our two factions towards a preferable outcome.¡±


    ¡°A banquet, station manager? Without wanting to give any offense, I believe it is not needed. We have successfully come to an agreement¨Creally.¡±


    ¡°I must insist Commander Jin of the SFC.¡±


    ¡°Well, in that case, erm. Let me communicate your kind offer with the Captain and give you a formal reply¨C¡±


    ¡°There is no need Commander, your vessel is being synced with the station as we speak.¡±


    ¡°It is?¡± Commander Jin asked somewhat startled. ¡°But we haven¡¯t received any¨C¡±


    ¡°Allow me to lift the communication blockers.¡±


    ¡°The what?¡±


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    **Commanders, status check.**


    **Commander Jin. Commander Helena. Captain Gilmorian is requesting information about the meeting. Please update.**


    **COMMANDERS, WHAT IS HAPPENING? THIS IS THE CAPTAIN SPEAKING. I DEMAND AN ANSWER NOW.**


    **WE ARE BEING HAILED, IS THAT YOUR DOING? CURSE THESE IDIOTS THEY DID SOMETHING**


    Amon had to lower the volume output of the mask¡¯s speakers due to the screaming. Captain Gilmorian was pissed.


    ¡°Your Captain will be with us shortly, make yourselves comfortable in the meantime.¡±


    It took a few seconds for Amon to wonder where exactly they could do that until suddenly the dome¡¯s floor shifted. As if a puzzle was being arranged under their feet, the floor raised itself to create furniture, tables, chairs, and strangely a stage right where the android stood. It hadn¡¯t moved despite the ramble of activity.


    ¡°Oh, things are getting a little weird, aren''t they?¡± Commander Helena muttered as she bent down on a chair that had appeared in front of her. She pushed it with her hands to see if it was stable enough to sit.


    Amon and Jin Karf shared a look.


    ¡ª-


    The headless corpse of Captain Gilmorian lay on top of Commander Jin¡¯s. His severed head was being fitted on a droid body. The blood pooled enough to create a paddle that didn¡¯t help to lessen Helena''s hysterical screaming. Amon supposed he was next.


    Or that was how his mind imagined it going down if things turned out ugly. Still sitting with the Captain and the two Commanders while being served by bots was not how he had imagined this mission progressing.


    They hadn¡¯t touched a thing of course. Lowering their masks would expose them to the atmosphere inside the dome. And who was trusting enough to trust the AI with their life?


    Amon stared at his plate with real food and felt like trusting. No Taste the Stars mealbar would ever come close. He looked around to share his struggles but all he saw was indifference. The officers obviously could eat, if not as often, but still often enough to reject any suicidal thoughts of removing their helmets.


    ¡°Please enjoy.¡±


    The station manager offered from the top of the stage. Amon gulped down saliva.

 Chapter 22

    The meat was steaming hot. When Amon awkwardly probed it with a knife, its juices welled upon from within. The biosuit was in the way. The mask too. But he was sensible enough to control his urge to taste it.


    The others ignored the meal before them and focused on the central stage where the android stood again lifeless. The AI had apparently powered down its robotic body, leaving them alone with the server drones to enjoy the meal.


    It was the first time Amon had laid eyes upon the Captain¡¯s biosuit. It was bulkier than the simpler model the Marines wore, coated golden, and had several pricy alterations that wouldn¡¯t be viable for the mass-produced models. The Captain''s silver insignias on the collar and shoulders were the only markings that stood out. Even the custom weapons followed the golden theme to fit with the over-the-top narrative of the biosuit.


    Captain Gilmorian Rhen looked like a fat juicy target, much like the steak in front of Amon.


    ¡°Shut it,¡± Gilmorian told Commander Helena when she tried to get the attention of one of the drones.


    ¡°Sorry, Sir. It¡¯s just that these models are much more advanced¨C¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I just tell you to shut up?¡± The Captain snapped cutting her off. His hand was placed on his lap on the oversized blaster above his feet. It was the only unholstered weapon in the room.


    ¡°Okay, sorry Sir,¡± Commander Helena replied without taking her attention off the drone that waited patiently next to her chair.


    Her server was another version of the labor drones they had seen before but with added precision in the robotic arms. It seemed to Amon that the AI had streamlined the parts production to take advantage of the similar drone builds.


    One thing he had finally understood about Commander Helena was that she was a neoengineer. Much like him, she took an immense interest in the works of technology, and she wasn¡¯t afraid to show it.


    Unlike her, however, he was sensible enough not to probe at the drones controlled by an AI.


    From the corner of his eye, he watched her covertly extend a hand to the drone. Thankfully the Captain didn¡¯t notice as she held the drone¡¯s arm and pried at its range of motion.


    With a sigh, Amon waited for something to happen. The food had quickly grown cold in front of him and that was definitely something regrettable. If only he could take it with him. A steak for the love of humanity! It had been so long that he hadn¡¯t tasted one, since his family¡¯s fall from grace, and that had been years ago.


    It might have been easier if he never had real foot to begin with. So many others, especially those born off-world, had never tasted anything but mealbars. Oh, how lucky they were to never know what they missed. Life in space was complicated like that.


    In the meantime, Commander Jin was sitting quietly next to him. When Amon looked his way the black mask reflected his image like a dark mirror. It was something one had to get used to. Wearing a biosuit took away much from the body¡¯s language. No facial expressions from Commander Jin would let Amon know the Commander¡¯s feelings.


    But Commander Jin¡¯s hand on the blaster at his hip did. Had no one scanned the room? If they had then they would know that a blaster would do nothing to get them out of the dome alive. That¡¯s why Amon simply sat and waited, and wished he could have tasted the steak before him.


    ¡°Is the food not to your liking?¡±


    With a start, the android¡¯s synthetic voice returned to haunt them.


    Captain Gilmorian cleared his throat. ¡°Station manager, we are very thankful to you for hosting us here. Let me clear up your question. Due to our limited human constitution, breathing the dome¡¯s atmosphere might be dangerous for us. The suits you see us wearing help in keeping us alive.¡±


    ¡°This must be another oversight on my part, Captain. I did not inform you that the atmosphere inside the dome is perfectly safe for humans. It was so from the moment you entered the station.¡±


    Amon stared at the steak in front of him.


    ¡°You engineered the atmosphere just for this meeting?¡± Captain Gilmorian said in disbelief. ¡°But we didn¡¯t notice any life-supporting systems in the station¡­¡±


    He brought his hands up to his helmet.


    ¡°Arranging the correct combination of Nitrogen, Oxygen, Argon, Carbon Dioxide, and water vapor to support human life is not difficult, Captain Gilmorian Rhen of the SFC. I decided not to include the usual dust particles your cities usually produce because I understand they are a detriment rather than a necessary factor.¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The helmet clicked with a hiss as the pressure stabilized. The sound it produced as it came off attracted the attention of all three occupants at the table. Amon tasted the stale sting of the dome¡¯s atmosphere with his first breath.


    ¡°You, Marine, what are you doing?¡± Captain Gilmorian asked with surprised irk.


    Instead of replying Amon brought a piece of cold steak to his lips. He licked it and with a satisfied moan, chewed it down. After he gulped it down, if he wondered where the AI found steak in space he didn¡¯t mention it.


    ¡ª-


    ¡°Farewell, the free federation of Kiaris wishes you a safe journey ahead.¡±


    They were alive and he had had steak. For Amon at this moment, life was good. For his company, however, not so much. He could tell from the negotiation that had taken place after the meal that he only had chosen to partake, the Captain¡¯s plans for them were more or less thrown out to the void.


    Even if he were a silent participant, it was hard not to connect the dots. The station manager informed them of an old outpost in the next system that the Captain had been very interested in until he learned it had been destroyed. By the free federation of Kiaris itself about a year back.


    They were a year late to what must have been their initial destination but now it was territory under the free federation control. The Captain was first furious and then silent as they made their way out of the domes and to the shuttle that would get them with haste to the hovering Concordia GG. By the time they left the asteroid the troops were already onboard the Dreadnought.


    If the station manager connected them to the destroyed Nevarian base, it wasn¡¯t inclined to rekindle any hostile action. It wished them well as long as they left the system behind. That had been obvious in the later part of the talks.


    In Amon¡¯s opinion, it still had the characteristics of a young AI. He considered that some fail safes must still be intact in its programming. Valuing human life was an integral part of its initial programming, and until it found and purged the code they were relatively safe. Until they weren¡¯t.


    Maybe a decade¨CNo, even a year later, the AI might be willing to destroy living threats rather than let them go.


    ¡°Commanders, not a word about what happened inside there,¡± The Captain warned them. ¡°Nor you, Sergeant. I am not one to make empty threats, so you keep your mouths shut tightly.¡±


    He had taken his golden helmet off inside the shuttle and gave them all a hard stare.


    ¡°Of course, Captain.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Sir.¡±


    On the Dreadnought the Marines were on high alert gathered in the holds and armed for a counterattack in case the AI happened to initiate hostilities. Amon followed Commander Jin as they made their way to where their company was stationed.


    With the helmet of the biosuit under one arm he took position in the neatly arranged ranks and smiled at his friends for reassurance. At the same time, he connected to the battleship¡¯s mainframe eager to see the reactions in the control room.


    While Tommy tried to pry on the situation, Amon watched the bridge lay out a flight plan.


    ¡°Pssst, what happened?¡± Tommy asked with a whisper.


    ¡°Can¡¯t talk right now.¡±


    ¡°You good?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I had steak.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Tommy¡¯s whispering turned loud.


    ¡°Shhh, quieter. We were fed. But give me a moment I¡¯m on to something.¡±


    ¡°H-How was the steak?¡±


    Amon closed his eyes. ¡°It was good,¡± was all he said.


    ¡°I wish I had steak.¡±


    ¡°Who had steak?¡± Ella asked hushedly from Amon¡¯s left.


    ¡°Amon, I¡¯m guessing he didn¡¯t bring us any.¡±


    ¡°Guys, I¡¯m trying to find out where we are going, please.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I haven¡¯t had steak for ages. Was it good?¡±


    ¡°I miss fries. Did the steak have fries with it?¡± Gardenia asked next to Ella.


    ¡°No, it was just a steak. It wasn¡¯t even seasoned properly. And I had to eat it cold.¡±


    ¡°Yeah poor you, I feel so sorry,¡± Ella remarked droopping her eyes in mock sadness.


    ¡°Marines, what''s happening over there?!¡± Commander Jin shouted when he spotted the little commotion around Amon.


    ¡°Steak cooked by drones. It''s giving me the ick,¡± Jackey commended from somewhere behind them.


    Amon chose to ignore the continued bickering around him and focused where it mattered. Concordia GG diverged from the asteroid in a smooth transition that would take them out of the system and onto somewhere else.


    Not belatedly the navigators following the Captain¡¯s intel had marked in red the territory of the free federation of Kiaris in the system maps. It didn¡¯t lift anyone''s eyebrows to see that it was classified as enemy territory instead of neutral grey. They left dealing with the AI civilization emerging in the outskirts of the Milky Way to the next unfortunate soul. One single Dreadnought was not up to the task. If they had the whole force behind them that might have been a different matter, but alas they were alone.


    As he observed on the HUD, there was also a destination at the end of the extended line of their calculated path. It was a moon city two systems and a few days away from where they were at the moment.


    A moon city marked as neutral ground on the server¡¯s registry but as Amon read through the notable information it should have been better off written as a no-go zone. The Hic¡¯Evol was a city built around the idea of free trade between independent parties. A place to buy or sell items without the limitations of the law for what was legal and whatnot; A place for raiders to move stolen cargo and smugglers to find interesting work.


    ¡°Oh, hells.¡± He muttered before he could stop himself.


    They were heading straight for a den of pirates.


    ¡ª--


    The moon city of Hic¡¯Evol was better described as a city shaped like a moon. Amon couldn¡¯t tell with any certainty if there was ever an actual moon underneath the city.


    Impossibly tall structures emerged from the depths of the city, straight up as if trying to reach the endless void, only for them to be used as platforms for docking. Thousands of spaceships, each of a different model and size, were stationed at the fingertips of the city shaped like a moon. From afar anyone who saw it would get an ominous image of a pregnant metallic ball with irregular spikes.


    That didn¡¯t stop Concordia GG from approaching. Behind Hic¡¯Evol, a rocky lifeless planet floated with demanding gravity that had attracted a secondary if only a bit smaller moon. Signs of several habitats with protective domes could be seen there but not even close to the development that was Hic¡¯Evol.


    Amon saw all this through the Dreadnought''s camera feeds that projected the unknown system surrounding them. Classifying all the new information had the navigators hard at work but without much reference, until they disembarked into Hic¡¯Evol and could cross-reference their findings.


    Their intel was way old, maybe decades or longer even. Not to scrape rust from a spaceship, the reliability of information was an ever-present issue with locations so far out of any centralized control.


    The Sergeant watched over the approach to the city, as did many others, but most did so from the other side.

 Chapter 23

    A luminous storm brewed on the rocky planet underneath. Yellow lightning bolts attacked the ground with furious eagerness, kicking up an impressive sandstorm. The airborne sands met the stormclouds in battle over the planet¡¯s skyline, mixing and struggling for supremacy. Amon¡¯s breath caught in his throat as he gazed at the brown and purple colors swirling into a powerful vortex right before his eyes.


    It was a beautiful death. Nothing could survive those powerful blasts unless they were deep underground and could endure the planet¡¯s oppressive gravity. From this far away, he was still unsure.


    Amon was certain then that Hic¡¯Evol hadn¡¯t sprung as an offspring of the local populations. Since none were looking up at the two moons from the highlighted planet below. It was either strategically placed in a star system that saw lots of traffic and needed a sanctuary or the polar opposite. Far off and isolated to hide those who never wanted to be found.


    Since they were dealing with pirates, he was more inclined to bet on the latter.


    It had been some time since Captain Gilmorian Rhen disembarked and made his way into the city, accompanied by two companies of Marines. In contrast, the others remained inside Concordia GG, docked in a particularly tall skyscraper. They were neither on high alert nor slouching; they were simply waiting for the Captain¡¯s return. It was certainly dull, however, and Amon had taken the chance to observe the planet below from the reinforced viewing windows on the upper levels of the Dreadnought.


    Observing the planet¡¯s majestic performance with his own eyes rather than from the impersonal camera feeds had given him a brain kick. Considering the soft gasps coming from beside him, Tommy seemed to agree.


    ¡°It''s¨Cit''s beautiful,¡± Tommy said, starstruck. ¡°Maybe one of the most impressive planets I¡¯ve had the chance to see from up close.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve never been to Cerebrus¡¯s first system? This looks somewhat familiar, similar to C1L.¡± Ella cheered, grinning at the view. Amon remembered that Ella had started as crew in a spacefreighter before being forced to join the SFC. She had possibly seen more of their galaxy than any of them combined.


    ¡°What¡¯s making the clouds purple? An argon-based atmosphere?¡± Jackey asked.


    ¡°There certainly is some Argon, yes. And there is water, too. It could be terraformed if not for the heavy gravity, which makes it somewhat unworthy of the effort,¡± Amon replied, rubbing his chin and drawing on his techphysics knowledge. There were surely easier planets to terraform in the galaxy, and they were still on the outskirts of the Milky Way; they had seen almost nothing of it yet.


    Having had his fill of the view, Amon¡¯s gaze turned to his friends. Gardenia, behind them, was looking at her feet, lost in thought. He noticed and stepped back to her level.


    ¡°Hey, are you okay?¡± Amon asked her, which brought her swiftly out of her musings.


    ¡°S¨CSergeant¨C¡±


    ¡°None of that when it''s just us. Call me Amon,¡± He told her for the hundredth time, smiling wide. Despite the time spent with their close bonded group, there was still some awkwardness between them. Only Ella¡¯s stubborn playfulness had somewhat broken down the walls Gardenia had built around herself. Bunking together must have helped, too.


    ¡°Yes¨CAmon.¡±


    ¡°Is something bothering you? I¡¯m here to talk if you want to,¡± Amon said in a hushed voice, leaning closer.


    ¡°Yes? Thank you, but it is nothing.¡± Gardenia replied, taking a small step back. She averted her eyes, only glancing at him briefly as if to confirm he was still looking her way.


    ¡°Well, anytime. Keep it in your mind, it''s not a bother at all,¡± Amon told her, pressing his lips together this time.


    ¡°Okay, thanks.¡±


    The rotation of Hic¡¯Evol drifted the planet away from their viewing window, and devoid of entertainment, the group of friends dragged their feet back down to the Marine level. There wasn¡¯t much to do but wait for orders, so when the speaker¡¯s battleship-wide alert announced their new tasks, every Marine rushed to suit up.


    Commander Jin, wearing his black and grey biosuit, came in last as the A300 company assembled and waited in one of the battleship¡¯s holds. With their slick black facemasks on and blasters fixed to their hips, the 100 men and women were certainly a sight to behold.


    It took Jin Karf moments to explain what was what. They were ordered out into the city, accompanying him to run errands for the Captain. Captain Gilmorian had not returned yet but had sent instructions to the bridge officers, informing the crew what was expected of them.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Amon read through the instructions on the bridge log, frowning at the orders. Of the 10 companies stationed on the ship, two had already left accompanying the Captain, and three, including themselves, were now sent to run errands. Five would remain onboard to guard the Dreadnought.


    Sending three whole companies to run errands? Amon thought over the implications. Was Hic¡¯Evol so dangerous in the Captain''s eyes? Why had they come to this place? And who in the void was the Captain meeting for so long?


    Before he could think of any answer to his questions, Commander Jin guided them outside. More like guided them inside the city since disembarking the battleship brought them face-to-face with a large cargo elevator. When its silver metallic doors opened, Amon saw that it was large enough to hold the whole company and would still have some space vacant.


    Commander Jin strode inside, stopped by the control panel, and waited for the rest of the Marines to hop in. Amon pointedly went to stand beside him.


    ¡°Commander,¡± Amon saluted.


    ¡°Sergeant,¡± Commander Jin replied stiffly.


    It wasn¡¯t the right moment to converse, especially this close to the Dreadnought that might intercept the short-range comms they used for communication. Worse even, if he used a direct line from his HiRON5 to the Commander. It might appear even more suspicious to anyone on Concordia GG tracking the surrounding datalinks. But soon enough, he would have his chance when they descended out of range and disappeared amongst the locals.


    Looking out from the elevator gave him a partial view of their Dreadnought. The short docking platform connecting the skyscraper to one of the battleship¡¯s main hangars had an encompassing structure over it. It created a secured tunnel for the personnel to move to and from and grounded the spaceship to the moon city''s whimsical shifts.


    Yet something was wrong with the image he saw, and Amon racked his brain to find what was bothering him. With the doors of the elevator closing before him, he noticed it.


    The absence of dockhands. Apart from their people, Concordia GG¡¯s docking level had no overseeing local personnel. There was no one to control or bar their actions in this little docking platform. Of course, he noted the cameras monitored them, but it still unnerved Amon, who knew how these things operated. Or should operate.


    Were they scared of the Marines? Or did they consider them so little of a threat that no direct supervision was required?


    Was this how things operated with pirates as a primary customer base? It certainly gave Hic¡¯Evol a sense of freedom and privacy. But to consider that no one cared they had suddenly offloaded five hundred battle-ready troops into the city? It seemed reckless beyond belief.


    Amon¡¯s gaze fell to the elevator¡¯s control panel as they accelerated downwards. Commander Jin had pressed the button on level 31, which seemed relatively close to the ground floor considering the skyscraper had 495 levels, not accounting for the minus 63 below-ground, which might very well be reaching the central core of Hic¡¯Evol.


    Apart from the numbers, most levels had notations next to them depicting the available facilities or connecting skyscrapers for those who didn¡¯t wish to descend to the ground level. Level 31 appeared to be a hub as it sported the most symbols of any other.


    It took a minute for the elevator doors to open and only a few seconds for Amon to get answers to several of his questions.


    ¡°Is that a fucking rocket launcher?¡± Someone called out as the Marines filed out.


    ¡°Portable heatlazer, most likely,¡± another added in disbelief.


    When he realized what he was doing, Amon brought his hanging jaw back up. For the first time since joining the SFC, he felt under-armed. With a blaster and a custom armor-piercing rifle, he might have been appropriately equipped for a light scuffle when everyone else here was ready for all-out war.


    A group of rough-looking people, who Amon guessed to be raiders, strapped with blades, guns, explosives, and the like on every inch of their bodies, walked lazily past them. As the Marines formed ranks, one of the surly men gave them a look and snorted before saying something potentially offensive to his friends. They all laughed, trading glances with the stoic Marines.


    Nearby, the ¡®portable heatlazer¡¯ guy suddenly turned their way. In his full arms, the bulky machine made the front row of Marines scramble to the floor. The man paused uncertainly, looking for what had spooked them, and when he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he shook his head in confusion and went on his way.


    Commander Jin¡¯s drilling voice brought everyone¡¯s heads back to their shoulders.


    ¡°So that¡¯s why no one cared,¡± Amon muttered, and Ella nodded.


    ¡°It''s a competition,¡± She said, and Amon¡¯s brows furrowed trying to follow her reasoning. ¡°For who has the most weapons¡­like someone showing off? No one would take a heatlazer around town for a walk. It''s stupid. If his arms are not dying from carrying it around¨Cit''s simply not convenient.¡±


    ¡°Certainly a cultural thing¡­¡± Tommy added. ¡°Do you guys feel a bit¡­naked, or is it just me?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say no to an extra weapon or three.¡± Ella joked nervously, looking around the massive hub.


    Why would Hic¡¯Evol care if they had offloaded 500 armed Marines in the city? There were tens of thousands of heavily armed pirates in their midsts. With this new realization, he reconsidered that an escort of 100 Marines to run errands seemed prudent.


    In the end, what made everyone relax was that nobody took a special interest in them. Level 31 was full of people, and what if they were armed to the teeth? They also had places to be and things to do.


    The crowd walked and mingled around the hub with the energy of a morning throng on hearty stimulants. To Amon, it reminded him of a busy starport, only indoors. The ceiling was at a comfortable height, yet it was the massive length of the room, if it even could be called that, that put everything into perspective.


    He wasn¡¯t entirely sure where it ended. Pillars assisting with the skyscraper¡¯s structural integrity were placed at set intervals, partially blocking his view, as did the streaming crowds. He even tried zooming in with his optics, but still, he couldn¡¯t tell where the massive level 31 ended.


    ¡°Sergeant Tommy Plink, Amon, you are my escorts. The rest follow close behind and do not get separated. This is not an allied base; anyone and everyone you see is a potential threat. But remember, drawing a firearm is not permitted unless fired upon first. Now, let¡¯s go.¡± Commander Jin said, taking the lead.


    Following close behind the Commander and ahead of the ranks of Marines gave him a vantage point to observe how the locals reacted to their passing. Since they were one of the biggest groups, the unconnected crowds reluctantly gave way, opening up before their purposeful strides.


    It was a small comfort that a small uniform army could still instill caution to these people. Despite his earlier hesitation, he shadowed the Commander, matching him step by step, and carefully observed the bustling level 31 for threats.


    It appeared that Commander Jin knew where he was going because they didn¡¯t wander but homed in on a specific location that before too long revealed to be the outskirts of a bazaar. Amon didn¡¯t even know if they were on the same skyscraper anymore, yet countless people bustled and bargained before temporary stalls that continued on and on unabated as far as his eyes could see.


    He observed, bewitched at the alien goods and familiar drones, at the crates of stolen cargo and vials of unknown drugs. All blended together with loud arguments from frustrated customers and shouts of vendors trying to attract attention to their fares.


    And further in, where the man-made paths between the stalls narrowed, slaves were sold at auction before the interested crowds. Among them were slaves wearing uniforms with the definate markings of the SFC.

 Chapter 24

    ¡°W-what in the actual void?¡± Jin Karf spit out in shock.


    ¡°Commander, did you know about this?¡± Amon asked hesitantly turning to observe the Commander for clues.


    From his reaction, Amon surmised Jin Karf was as dumbfounded as himself. There was no mention of the caught Marines in the Captain¡¯s orders, just simple errands to procure supplies for the Dreadnought.


    Amon''s brows furrowed. Was it a ploy by the Captain? It was inevitable this would lead to conflict with the locals.


    Or did the Captain not know about this, and they had just stumbled upon them? It was too great a coincidence for Amon to believe it easily. Unless..


    ¡°No! We need to go in there. Ask what happened¨Cthe fleet, where is the fleet?¡± The Commander said, walking forward in a trance. Despite his usual attentiveness, he didn¡¯t realize the problem brewing behind them among the ranks.


    Thankfully, Amon read the situation before it got out of control. ¡°Tommy, stay here and keep the company in check. We don¡¯t want them rushing carelessly inside that.¡± He said, pointing at the bazaar and the excited crowd of armed pirates. The weapons were holstered and sheathed yet to Amon¡¯s eyes every single one was a threat he had to account for.


    Tommy with a sharp inhale of realization nodded, the implications of a clash with the pirates was too great a threat. He turned the other way, barking orders at the Marines to stay put.


    After making sure everyone complied with the orders, Amon caught up with the Commander, shadowing his steps. Together, they forced their way forward, pushing closer to the slave auction.


    Unintimidated by the armed obstacles, Jin Karf shoved the idle shoppers out of the way without care. A few took offense and tried to grab the Commander from behind but one look at the towering Genome following made them reconsider.


    For Amon, the stalls blurred to his left and right. His focus was targeted ahead on the stage, where men and women were shackled in chains on their hands and feet. At this moment nothing could stand in his way.


    Their determination to plow through the crowd attracted a few stares and it didn¡¯t take long for the bound Marines on top of the stage to notice. A piercing wail came out of their mouths, building in intensity as more and more noticed the approach and joined in.


    ¡°We are saved!¡±


    ¡°The SFC is here.¡±


    ¡°Thank the Lord Arthas. He sent help for us.¡±


    The reply from the slaver guards was immediate. Heavy metal rods descended turning the cries of hope into ones of pain.


    ¡°Hey! Wait, stop that immediately,¡± Jin Karf called out taking off his helmet to reveal a face twisted in anger. He glared ahead with his arm shot up and waving. His hopes of stemming the violence came back unanswered.


    ¡°Don¡¯t rush ahead, they are ready for us,¡± Amon said from behind him placing a hand on the Commander¡¯s shoulder. His grip might have been stronger than intended because the Commander''s senses returned to him and he paused.


    ¡°Well, well, well. We have some excited customers right here,¡± A man said emerging out in the open taking the central part of the stage.


    He was a big man, not Genome big but still rather large. And he had some work done on his body. His two arms were replaced by robotic limbs that had seen lots of action. The metal was worn with scrapes and the joints looked like they had been replaced several times. More surprising was the artificial neck. A difficult part of the body to replace. It would require constant maintenance to keep the range of motion smooth. It was something usually done in emergencies rather than a tech upgrade. A deep scar running down one cheek to meet the metal that replaced his throat might be the answer for it.


    In mere moments two others joined the cyborg on the stage. ¡°Psy, who are these men?¡± A woman asked the cyborg with a smirk pointing at Amon and the Commander from above. She was heavily tattooed, turning whatever skin tone she had been born with into a black swirl of different shapes. And she was showing a lot of skin, her sleeveless topper and torn pants revealed the enhancer drugs she constantly used. Her veins were popping out aggressively, surfacing on her body like the nerves of a leaf. She grinned wide, glaring daggers.


    ¡°The vicious has found new toys to play with.¡± The third said. He was a little man and unproportioned as if his body had forgotten how to grow properly, yet when Amon¡¯s gaze fell on him, he noticed the man had no eyes. Fully robotic optics replaced them, white balls without any color, giving him a sinister look. Fixed on his hip a long knife gleaned unsheathed¨Cthe blade jagged with the teeth of a chainsaw.


    ¡°Has the SFC come to claim their own?¡± Psy the cyborg asked. Behind him, the slaver guards with ample violence herded the bound Marines further out of reach to the back.


    Jin Karf stiffened. Amon with his grip still holding on the Commander¡¯s shoulder could feel him trembling with anger, barely able to control himself. ¡°Slaver,¡± He said, spitting the word like a curse. ¡°How much for all of them?¡±


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    ¡°Oh, talking business so soon? We can¡¯t have that. Not without all the fun. Tell them, Psy, Horath il.¡± The woman replied instead, posturing eagerly. She parted her lips showing her metallic teeth and bloodred gums.


    ¡°Ti Ann¡¯s right,¡± Horath il said. ¡°Newcomers need to prove they belong here to shop for goods. As we all did,¡± He shouted at the end, to the wild cheers of the crowd who had gathered to watch the proceedings.


    The two of them were well isolated now with no path to return to the restless ranks of the SFC Marines waiting at the edges of the bazaar.


    The cyborg nodded in agreement. ¡°You heard them, the goods are not for sale,¡± Psy said with a malevolent grin. ¡°But you can trade for them¨Cin the JAWS of Hic¡¯Evol!¡±


    Further cheers came from the crowds, a vibration of excitement at the prospects of the slaver¡¯s words.


    Amon knew a trap when he heard one, he leaned close to whisper to the Commander¡¯s ear. ¡°This is a setup, we are being played here.¡±


    ¡°I know, damn it. But we can¡¯t let these voidborn animals have our men. Who knows what they will do to them?¡± Jin Karf said with disgust. ¡°What are these Jaws you say?¡± He asked. The heat was creeping up his neck giving the Commander a red flash on his cheeks.


    ¡°A life for a life, as in the old days, the old ways of the raiders, the true tenets for the freemen!¡± Psy shouted. ¡°Fight for each life you claim with your own on the line. That is the fair trade we offer.¡±


    The crowd was going wild, jumping and shouting around them. Amon with his jaws tightly fixed grinded his teeth until sharp pain made him stop. His thoughts cleared. He had decided.


    ¡°Commander¨CJin, let me. If we can¡¯t avoid it at least let me be the first to try,¡± Amon whispered with determination. He wouldn¡¯t let the pirates have their way. If a fight was what they craved for he would bring upon them much more than they could chew.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± The Commander whispered back and Amon nodded taking his helmet off.


    ¡°Hey, slaver, I¡¯ll do it. The Marines you have, I¡¯ll take them all.¡±


    Amon paused for a moment a stray thought emerging in his mind and then grinned wide. Killing pirates didn¡¯t seem to bother him at all.


    ¡ª-


    The Jaws of Hic¡¯Evol were aptly named. The closed-off arena had irregular metallic pikes that protruded from the ground and ceiling and appeared like the jagged maw of a terrible beast. With one look Amon was certain that his height would be an issue. He had to crouch where the pikes descended to avoid getting speared in the head. Strangely there were no stands surrounding the arena for the crowds to observe only bare walls tainted and marred from previous fights.


    Yet as he stood on the floor above the arena his downward view was unimpeded. He looked at the floor at his feet but what he really saw was the arena underneath. Floor screens, he thought.


    They watch the fights beneath them like gods looking down at the struggling mortals.


    ¡°Fighter, come with me. The rest of you may rest here and relish in the pleasures Hic¡¯Evol has to offer.¡± Psy the cyborg said. His robotic arm waved at an attendant who approached with a datapad in hand. ¡°Bets are open until the fighting starts,¡± he said with his synthetic voice to the Commander.


    ¡°Just don¡¯t drink too much juice. You¡¯ll need all the fighters you can get,¡± The tattooed woman, Ti Ann said laughing. She already had a cup of some liquid in her bulging hand, sipping with fervor.


    Jin Karf didn¡¯t reply and remained in line with the A300 company which had gathered in a tight formation. Amon knew that if they had their helmets off he would have seen his comrade¡¯s outraged and furious expressions.


    ¡°Amon, show them hell!¡± Tommy called out followed by others offering words of encouragement.


    He waved back and followed the cyborg downstairs.


    The entrance to the arena was a closed-off double door but before he could enter two pirates barred his way.


    ¡°Strip your suit and settle your weapons here. Only blades are allowed inside the Jaws.¡± One said emotionlessly.


    ¡°And if I don¡¯t have a blade?¡± Amon asked, only for the same pirate to point at a wall on the other side of the room. Turning Amon saw two crates with stacks of different bladed weapons thrown carelessly inside them, from swords to cleavers to throwing daggers.


    ¡°Very well,¡± Amon said and placed his blaster and rifle beside the wall but when the pirate tried to grab them, his arm moved like lightning grabbing the pirate¡¯s wrist in his hand. ¡°Do not touch,¡± he said with an anger that had been kept at bay for too long.


    The pirate surprised, jolted backwards followed by the laughs of his fellow and the cyborg observing from close behind them.


    The black and grey SFC uniform underneath his biosuit allowed for an unimpeded range of motion. Satisfied with this, he approached the weapon crates. It didn¡¯t take too long for him to select his weapons¨Ca short sword and a jagged dagger, one for each hand. They would do nicely. He was ready.


    ¡°How many of our people have you kelp in chains?¡± Amon asked the cyborg, his new blades in his hands.


    ¡°27.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have 27 dead soon enough then,¡± He replied. A fire burned inside his chest, and his body trembled with adrenaline.


    The cyborg and the pirates laughed but Amon never broke eye contact, only when the arena doors closed behind him did he look ahead.


    He was the first one in. He weaved his body between the pikes getting a feel for the surrounding environment. In places the clusters of pikes were denser, creating traps that would leave him with no way out but for their sharp teeth, in others cleared areas would allow for free combat without any obstruction. In his mind, the one familiar with the arena would have a definite advantage in leading the fight where an advantage could be found.


    Well. His tech would alleviate that. With his optics, he scanned the enclosed arena, from one end to the other. A virtual map of the pikes was displayed, and he enabled proximity alarms to warn him in case he got too close to the deadly pikes.


    A second set of doors opened focusing his attention. A slithering pirate holding a blade entered the arena from the other side.


    ¡°Finally,¡± Amon said between his teeth.


    There was no ceremony to commence the fight. No referee or commentator to offer words. The pirate rushed him, eager to draw blood. The slim man stepped between the pikes with practiced ease, his curved blade in one hand open and ready to slice.


    As he came the pirate¡¯s blade hit a pike and a ringing sound echoed in the arena. Then, again and again, he hit every pike in his path. The cacophony of sounds merged and echoed in a deafening symphony. The pirate showed teeth and Amon smiled right back.

 Chapter 25

    Clang.


    Clang¨CClang.


    The sharp ring of metal on metal echoed through the Jaws of Hic¡¯Evol. Amon¡¯s short sword met the pirate¡¯s saber in rapid succession, his blade striking like a hammer. He lunged, extending his sword while his dagger remained poised in his other hand, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The pirate countered with an upward swing, but he had underestimated Amon¡¯s sheer strength. The force of the parry sent him stumbling back.


    Amon was stronger¡ªmuch stronger¡ªthan his wiry opponent. His grip on both weapons was unshakable, an immovable wall that the pirate was beginning to realize he had to work around. But that didn¡¯t erase the bastard¡¯s malevolent grin. Strength wasn¡¯t everything in a duel. Speed, skill, and precision were just as deadly and important.


    And the pirate was fast. A slippery snake, quick-footed and always ready to counterattack the moment Amon failed to break his guard. He glided to the right, swinging his curved blade low toward Amon¡¯s exposed leg. But Amon¡¯s dagger intercepted it, its serrated teeth locking the saber in place before it could slide free. The pirate clicked his tongue in annoyance and hopped away from the reach of the short sword.


    Still, the pirate relentlessly pressed on, feinting and probing for an opening. Yet Amon never stepped back. He held his ground, refusing to be baited, keeping just out of reach of the deadly pikes protruding from everywhere, their deadly points ready to pierce flesh at the slightest contact.


    The pirate wove around him, fluid and unpredictable. At one point, he dove low, aiming to slash at Amon¡¯s ankle. But Amon saw it coming¡ªhis reflexes were too sharp, his stance too solid. He evaded the attack without so much as shifting his weight.


    They were evenly matched in agility, and Amon¡¯s enhanced reactions ensured he could meet any blow. But the pirate¡¯s saber moved like a living thing, twisting and slipping around his defenses with unnatural ease. Blade combat had never been the focus of his SFC training, and only his personal efforts had pushed him beyond the average Marine. Once again, his bloodline and biotech gave him the edge he needed.


    The HiRON5 brainchip hummed in his mind, analyzing his opponent¡¯s movements, and feeding real-time combat data to his HUD.


    Still, they had fought for only minutes¡ªeach testing the other, searching for weaknesses. And Amon could tell: the pirate was good. Better than him, even¨Ca seasoned killer who had fought for his life in this arena more times than he could guess.


    But that didn¡¯t mean Amon would lose.


    It was time to shift the tide of the battle.


    When the pirate struck again, Amon made his move. Instead of parrying with his dagger, he twisted his short sword awkwardly, catching the blow at an angle. At the same instant, his other hand flicked forward¡ªhurling his dagger straight at the pirate¡¯s chest.


    The pirate¡¯s eyes widened. He twisted at the last second, his body moving with unnatural speed. Nearly dodging it. Nearly. The blade grazed his ribs, drawing a thin line of blood.


    Amon didn¡¯t let him recover.


    He pressed forward, redoubling the power behind his counterattack. The pirate, caught off guard, wasn¡¯t fast enough this time. His saber faltered, too weakly positioned to deflect the attack. Amon¡¯s sword bit deep into his shoulder, and a sharp cry echoed through the arena.


    Amon surged forward, seizing the pirate¡¯s wrist and yanking him off balance. His leg shot out¡ªcrack¡ªstriking the pirate¡¯s knee. It buckled with a sickening crunch, forcing a strangled gasp from his opponent¡¯s throat.


    Before the pirate could collapse, Amon drove his sword into his neck, ending his life.


    A wet, gurgling sound escaped the dying man as his body spasmed. Then, lifeless, he crumpled to the ground.


    Amon wiped his bloodied blade on the corpse and retrieved his dagger. His breathing remained steady. Controlled.


    But the double doors didn¡¯t give him time to regroup. They slid open, revealing his next opponent.


    A short, stocky man stepped forward into the Jaws.


    The pirate wielded two double-bladed axes, with a third strapped to his belt within easy reach. Unlike the last opponent, he didn¡¯t charge in a frenzy. He strolled forward, casual, measured, and talkative.


    ¡°You know,¡± he said, his thick accent dragging over the words, ¡°the man you killed? His son was watching.¡± He nodded toward the ceiling.


    Amon didn¡¯t respond. He let the words slide past him, focusing instead on the fight ahead. Distractions and muddled thoughts could get him killed.


    ¡°When I capture you,¡± the pirate continued, his tone dripping with cruel amusement, ¡°I promised to let the boy have some fun with your body. While you¡¯re bound and helpless in a tiny dark room, remember what you did¡ªand scream all you want. Boss Psy won¡¯t mind if you lose a few limbs. They¡¯re just meat.¡±


    He stopped just short of Amon¡¯s striking range.


    Amon didn¡¯t give him a chance to gloat further. He stepped forward, meeting the much shorter pirate in the narrow space between the pikes. He was consciously limiting himself, fighting in tight quarters where the overhead pikes barely reached his opponent¡¯s height. Against a smaller man, that should have been a serious disadvantage.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    The pirate¡¯s first block was solid. The flat of his axe caught Amon¡¯s thrust, stopping it cleanly. Another thrust¡ªanother block. Though somewhat unwieldy in close quarters, the double-bladed axes proved formidable at stopping his attacks.


    But the pirate¡¯s patience cracked fast. So eager was he to subdue the Sergeant.


    With a bellow of frustration, he swung wildly, an axe cleaving through the air in a devastating arc. Amon sidestepped, using the environment to his advantage. A metal pike jutted between him and the incoming blade¡ªCLANG. The axe smashed into the obstacle, sending vibrations through the arena.


    Amon smirked. The Jaws of Hic¡¯Evol protected him from harm. He thrust again.


    His hit-and-run tactics were getting under the pirate¡¯s skin. The brute relied on raw power, favoring sweeping, crushing swings. Amon refused to give him the space to land a clean hit. Instead, he maneuvered deeper into the maze of pikes, slipping through tight gaps where his short sword could still stab¡ªbut where the pirate¡¯s bulky weapons became liabilities.


    His HiRON5 chip fed him a constant stream of proximity alerts, helping him move effortlessly through the hazardous terrain. The pirate, on the other hand, was struggling to navigate while under the short sword¡¯s barrage.


    ¡°Stay still, damn you!¡± the pirate roared, swinging again¡ªonly to be thwarted by another pike.


    His axes were too big for the confined space between the pikes. They were better suited to the open, clear spaces spread around the Jaws. Even with his smaller frame and quick footwork, his weapons kept snagging on the very arena he fought in. His frustration boiled over, but anger wouldn¡¯t open a path to victory.


    The fight was dragging on, turning into a battle of attrition. Amon wasn¡¯t interested in that. He had many more duels ahead of him. Pacing his strength was key. Finishing this duel quickly was what he was after.


    Behind him, the corpse of the last pirate lay motionless, its blood pooling on the cold metal floor.


    The optics¡¯ infrared sensors recorded the heat evaporating from it, which would soon become just another obstacle in the arena.


    Amon had an interesting idea.


    ¡ª-


    The initial roar of the crowd still echoed through the floor, undiminished despite one man¡¯s death¡ªand the wailing boy who had finally gone quiet, slumped on a barstool. A sad thing, but inevitable. Jin Karf wasn¡¯t sentimental.


    The boy was quickly surrounded by a cluster of adults, likely his late father¡¯s peers. Not everyone here belonged to the gang that had dragged them into this bloodsport. Some were just locals¡ªraiders, scavengers, people who had made Hic¡¯Evol their home and now came for the entertainment. Jin couldn¡¯t tell them apart at a glance, but the way they clustered into separate groups told him enough.


    He shifted his attention back to the floor screens at his feet. More specifically, to the fight unfolding below.


    The first duel had been too close for comfort. The pirate had been dangerous, and Sergeant Amon had only scraped through by a razor-thin margin. The man had skill, no doubt¡ªbut at some point, he would make a mistake. And when that happened?


    Jin had no one he trusted to send in Amon¡¯s place. This was a losing game no matter how he played it over in his mind.


    He exhaled slowly, trying to clear his head. The smartest move was to find a way out. Sergeant Amon needed to stop after the next victory. That much was clear. They had freed one or two of the captives. He would take that as a small win.


    The second fight looked more manageable. Amon wasn¡¯t taking risks, keeping the axe-wielding pirate from finding an opening. Around him, a handful of Marines watched the fight glued to the floor screens, murmuring nervously, in a mumbled chatter that tracked every bladed exchange. Gasps and yelps followed each close call.


    With this distraction Jin almost missed what happened next.


    Amon was backing up. The axe-wielding pirate chased him hot on his heels into an open space away from the pikes.


    Jin stiffened. What the hell is he doing? That¡¯s giving the bastard an advantage!


    His fingers twitched thinking of his comms, ready to send a warning. But at the last second, he hesitated. A distraction now could do more harm than good.


    The axes, now unimpeded, swung in wide, brutal arcs. Amon was forced back, step by step. And then his heel brushed against the first pirate¡¯s corpse.


    Jin sucked in a breath.


    Amon moved fast. With a small hop, he dodged back, just barely avoiding the edge of a swinging axe. Then¨Che dropped to one knee.


    Jin¡¯s pulse spiked. Too low. Too slow. From that position, Amon wouldn¡¯t be able to dodge in time.


    The pirate saw it too. He raised an axe high over his head, ready to bring it down with the force of an executioner¡¯s blade.


    They want us alive. He can¡¯t kill him. He won¡¯t kill him.


    Jin¡¯s mind scrambled for an answer, for an explanation that wasn¡¯t what his eyes were telling him. He almost closed them as the axe fell.


    A sickening thud. A grunt followed closely after.


    Jin blinked.


    The pirate staggered, eyes wide in shock. Amon¡¯s short sword was buried deep in his belly.


    At the last second, Amon had lifted the corpse at his feet¡ªusing it as a shield to absorb the axe¡¯s blow. With his other hand, he had driven his sword into the pirate¡¯s unprotected gut.


    Now, he stood. Pressing the blade deeper, pinning the pirate in place. The man trembled, his strength failing, his limbs sagging.


    Amon didn¡¯t let him suffer.


    With a swift motion, he ripped the sword free. The pirate barely had time to collapse before Amon ended it. His blade flashed¡ªclean, precise.


    The second pirate¡¯s head hit the ground before the body.


    ¡ª-


    There was no time to savor the victory.


    Amon wiped his weapons clean as best he could, dragging the gored blade against the dead pirate¡¯s pants. The handle was still damp with slick blood, but there was no helping that apart from rubbing it with the coarse fabric. It didn¡¯t do wonders.


    Before he finished, his HUD flickered with an incoming message from Commander Jin.


    ¡°Good job, Sergeant. Congratulations on your victory¡ªand for freeing two of our men from these beasts. We¡¯ll get the intel we need from them. As much as it pains me to say this, you are ordered to stand down. We¡¯re retreating to the Dreadnought to reassess the situation.¡±


    Amon exhaled slowly. This message was not what he had in mind.


    He glanced up at the ceiling, where he assumed the Commander was watching, and gave a casual thumbs-up. He pretended to gather himself and, without further delay, sent his reply.


    ¡°That¡¯s a negative, Commander. I have a few more pirates to kill.¡±