《Crimson Dawn》 ONE: Nothing But Duties Through the classroom door, the child was barely distinguishable from the others. They all had shaved heads and wore tattered, dusty clothes made of linen and cotton, like a pitiful school uniform. Their fingers were calloused, their feet blistered, dirt smeared across their faces. Tiny tracking devices blinked behind their ears in almost perfect sync, and they sat on the floor, listening to the teacher¡¯s words like silenced machines. The boy sat cross-legged, gently scratching the fresh scar on his stomach through the fabric of his shirt. In the past few weeks, it had been hard for him to think of anything other than today¡ªcareer selection day. At times, he couldn¡¯t eat, couldn¡¯t study, and couldn¡¯t sleep, but now that the future had turned into the present, he hardly felt the excitement he once had. He was only tired, worn out from the night and the weight of hauling dozens of sacks of ore. The teacher wore a gray uniform made of synthetic fibers, with dark blue stripes running down her arms and legs. The company logo on her chest, barely visible in the dim light, was made of platinum. It wasn¡¯t priceless, but it was worth far more than a prisoner¡¯s life. Her nearly black hair was pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head. She stood with perfect posture in front of the data board, explaining in her strict, despotic manner how she expected the first double period to go, and how she wouldn¡¯t tolerate any deviations. Her speech shifted into a praise of the Thandros family, and with this sky-high hymn, she smoothly transitioned to God, prompting the children to recite their prayer of salvation. The boy, however, only pretended. His lips moved gently up and down in the chorus of other voices, and he whispered something¡ªperhaps about God¡ªbut it held no praise and no plea for forgiveness. From the circle of silent students, a tall, dark-skinned boy rose. He made his way past his classmates, followed the teacher, and took a seat in the exam room at an aluminum table, its surface reflecting the ceiling light in a blinding glare. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. When the door clicked shut a moment later, it had a feeling of finality. As if the boy would never be seen again. Or as if he¡¯d be someone entirely different when the door opened once more. After a while, Lex looked away and gazed out the side window into the barren wasteland that had always been his home. The moon was a cold and hostile world that tolerated no form of life, and yet the prisoners lived here, were born here. About ten to twelve miles from Bancarduu, the cliffs of a massive crater rose up. Millions of years ago, a six-ton iron meteorite had struck there, rich with precious metals like gold and platinum. Now, in the basin of the crater lay an open-pit mine, where workers extracted the valuable ores from the meteorite. It was one of many mines on the moon, and everything the workers could see, smell, touch, taste, or hear belonged to one powerful woman named Zara Thandros. The teacher never tired of telling stories about her¡ªor at least mentioning her¡ªthe most powerful woman in the system, who had never set foot on any of the prison moons. And whenever Lex Marrow, startled by his own thoughts, tried to tune back into the teacher¡¯s stories, he often had trouble figuring out if she was still talking about Zara Thandros or had already started talking about God when she said that even the lives of the prisoners belonged to her. *** Second half of the first double period: "Aren¡¯t you curious what job they gave me?" Lex was deeply absorbed in his biology book on his datapad. He paused the chapter on hydroponic nutrition for crops and turned to the student next to him. His name was Clarke. He had bulging eyes, dark as oil, and a long, bony head. The tracking device behind his sticking-out ears was barely visible. "I only care if they give me the job I asked for," Lex replied. "What did you ask for?" "I want to work in the biodome. Maybe I could handle it there, surrounded by all the plants." "Good for you," Clarke said, patting him on the shoulder. "But don¡¯t count on it." "I¡¯ve always been great at biology. Don¡¯t see why it wouldn¡¯t work out." "I do," Clarke said. "You wished for it. And this isn¡¯t a world that cares about wishes." TWO: The Convicts Code Lex had never left Bancarduu in his twelve years, and he didn¡¯t even try to think about the fact that one day, for the rest of his life, he¡¯d be working off his short existence in a crater as a poor miner. He had heard plenty about the miners'' diseases, who were often exposed to high levels of radiation. Accidents, cancer, and back-breaking work were the obvious reasons why life expectancy dropped below thirty years. Here in Bancarduu, the capital and industrial center of the mining colony, the air was polluted by countless mining rigs and smelters despite the filtration systems, yet the average life expectancy was still 32 years. The teacher said nothing. Her eyes had been skimming over some text for a while now, its tiny letters reflected unreadably in her glasses. They sat across from each other like strangers. The teacher exuded an aura of confidence, and the boy felt like a foreign object swimming in it. His eyes wandered around. On the opposite walls hung two 80-inch screens, displaying portrait photos of the students. Next to his photo, there was a profile opened up with data about him. He, Lex Marrow, had been born on August 20th, 2650; until now, he had only ever bothered to remember the year. "A bright future lies ahead of you," the teacher suddenly began. Her voice sounded serious, but it had to be a joke. A bad one. "Out of the 140 students in this grade, there are only fifteen with outstanding achievements. And not only are you one of them, you¡¯re the top student." He nodded. "Thanks," he added. "That wasn¡¯t a compliment, it was a fact. Whether it¡¯s mineralogy, math, physics, first aid, biology, or craftsmanship¡ªyou haven¡¯t shown any weaknesses, which has made it pretty difficult for me to choose the right career path for you. But I wouldn¡¯t be doing my job if I couldn¡¯t recognize the greatest of your many talents." "I already told you what I want to be," he replied. The teacher looked at him. She ignored the hint of impertinence, likely recognizing it as a product of limited education, something she knew all too well. "Before I hand you your report card, we need to address the critical questions. After all, this is more than just school. Just because you''re privileged doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re free from the debt owed by the rest of the workers on Limbo. School is merely the preparation for your true purpose. It¡¯s my duty as a teacher to ensure you''re worthy of walking that path. So, let''s begin: Along with the prayer for salvation, there is something else that must be deeply ingrained in the minds of the convicts¡ªsomething they must be able to recall at any moment. In the end, you shape your lives around it. Do you know what I¡¯m talking about?" This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The boy hesitated. "The Code?" he asked. "The Code. I imagine there could be many codes. Which one do you mean exactly?" "I only know one. The Convict''s Code." "Good. Can you recite it for me?" "I think so," he said, taking a deep breath. "Convicts live for work and work for forgiveness. The body is the tool to free the mind." He paused, thinking. "Hard work means atonement. After hard work comes death, and with it, salvation. Only through obedience and diligence will God accept the convicts." The teacher frowned as the boy finished. "It goes: Only the obedient and diligent will stand by God''s side." "Sorry." The teacher nodded. "What matters most is that you understand the message," she said, "and you do. I¡¯ll make a note in your file so your future supervisor can ask you again about the Convict''s Code. Next time, everything needs to be perfect, or you''ll find yourself in serious trouble." "Understood," he replied. She made a note, which immediately updated on the profile displayed on one of the large screens. Then she looked up at him. "In what year was Cetos Five colonized by the rest of humanity, and under whose leadership did it happen?" "That was in the year 2360," the boy replied. "That¡¯s when Henry James Thandros led the, the¡­ oh man, I forgot the word." "Then describe the word." "Well, um. Henry James Thandros was the captain of the generation ship, and he led the journey from Earth here to the Tau Ceti system." "Yes. Henry James Thandros was the commander of the generation ship. He led the star expedition and became the first president of the newly founded colony on Cetos Five, whose capital was named Vega Prime in 2370¡ªten years after the colony was established." "Yeah, I knew that," the boy said. "How would you describe Henry James Thandros? What is he to all of us?" The boy hesitated, because he wasn¡¯t allowed to tell the truth. "Henry James Thandros is the savior of humanity," he lied. "He¡¯s a hero." The teacher sighed in satisfaction, as if it truly mattered to her that he passed. "Very good. Next question: Who was exiled to the prison moons?" "Uh, mostly murderers and people who didn¡¯t follow the law during the journey from Earth to here." "Can you sum up that kind of person in a single word?" He hesitated again. Then: "Traitors?" "No. Scum," the teacher said calmly and seriously, without a trace of judgment in her voice. "It was human scum that was exiled to four of the many moons of the gas giant Kronos. Murderers and thieves. Ruthless individuals who, in humanity¡¯s darkest hour, wanted to stab the rest of us in the back. They are, in a word, scum, and you are their direct descendants. Tell me, Lex Marrow, do you believe in inherited guilt?" "Yes. Of course," he lied. He was about to recite the rehearsed definition of inherited guilt when the teacher nodded and asked him more questions like this, which he answered as best as he could, in the way he knew she expected. By the end, he wasn¡¯t sure how he had done. The teacher¡¯s gaze returned to her computer screen, and she started typing. After a moment, a kind smile formed on her lips. "I¡¯ve just sent you your report," she said. Immediately, he switched on the screen of his data device, which he had been holding in his lap the entire time, and with a pounding heart, checked his inbox. His teacher¡¯s message was at the top. The cover page of the two-page certificate said it all: Assigned to duty as a mining engineer. THREE: Echoes of Freedom The next boy in class stood up, but all eyes were still fixed on Lex. He looked up from his data device. A broad beam of light fell across a row of students. The classroom door was open, and standing in the cold light of the hallway was the thin figure of a man. He had been here once before in the past six months, and no one welcomed his presence. He always brought the worst news. The last time, three months ago, he had to tell Fran that his older brother had died in a work accident. While mining ore outside in the open, a rockslide shattered the visor of his pressure suit. The only comfort for Fran: his brother¡¯s death had been quick, and his soul was now freed from inherited guilt. "I¡¯m looking for a Lex Marrow," the man said. Lex stood frozen by the door to the exam room. Only now did he realize why the other kids were staring at him. "You there. Are you Lex Marrow?" the man asked. The boy nodded. The other child, who was about to be questioned by the teacher, brushed past him. "Miranda Marrow is your mother?" He nodded again. This time, hesitantly. "Come with me." But the boy didn¡¯t move. As if he was searching for a way to avoid the inevitable. Or hoping that, by standing still, he could somehow change reality in his favor. "You¡¯ll face disciplinary action if you don¡¯t follow me right now." And finally, after a pause that felt endless, he followed the man into the hallway. The automatic metal door slid shut behind him. Once again, it felt like something final had happened. *** By evening, Lex had packed all his belongings, along with a few of his mother¡¯s things, into a backpack. He waited at the station beneath the apartment blocks for the next train to the edge of the city. The cold, lifeless light from the overhead lamps bathed him as he busied himself with his datapad. The letter the man had sent him included detailed directions to the large orphanage in Bancarduu. Lex glanced at the platform number just as an army patrol nearly knocked him over. He stepped back just in time, bumping into an advertising column. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. On it, holographic wanted posters flashed every minute, showing the faces of fugitives¡ªmostly members of a splinter group from the powerful Crimson Dawn, waging a fierce war against the corporation on Cetos V. They called themselves Forces for the Liberation of Demeter, or FLD for short. Demeter. That¡¯s what the moon had been called before the corporation had bought the construction and mining rights to the Kronos moons. Demeter. She was a goddess of fertility in the mythology of old Earth. That wasn¡¯t something taught in school. It was whispered in secret during recess. The Thandros Corp. had quickly renamed the previously uninhabited moons to Limbo I, II, III and IV, convincing the convicts they were truly in a kind of purgatory, where their souls could only be redeemed through hard labor. For almost six generations, that belief had held strong. But now the FLD was on the rise, and Lex secretly dreamed of one day living as a free citizen on Cetos V. In the center of the column was the wanted poster for the suspected leader of the rebel group. His real name was unknown. Where his picture should have been, there was only a large white question mark on a black background. Alias: Echelon. Wanted for: founding, managing, and organizing a terrorist organization; possession and use of illegal weapons, ammunition, explosives and materials for making bombs; hacking into the global infonet; grand theft; murder; terrorist attacks against corporate freedom and security; mass murder of corporate employees and colonists ... The list went on. The corporation had placed a bounty of 100 gold on his head and promised forgiveness of the inherited debt for anyone who captured Echelon. That meant a prisoner could live out their life on Limbo without having to work, and with that kind of money, they could feed a large family. Would he betray Echelon for that? Lex turned back to the tracks, waiting in the cold. His fists clenched as he thought about how they¡¯d exile him forever for thoughts of freedom like these. From a speaker nearby, a tinny female voice announced the unscheduled arrival of the express train, coming all the way from the northern sector. He stepped closer to the platform¡¯s edge, leaning forward and listening intently to the tunnel. He could hear the rumble and roar of the wheels on the tracks, the grinding metal, and he felt it beneath his feet, deep in his chest¡ªthe unstoppable force of tons of steel hurtling down the line. A beam of light burst from around the bend, illuminating the tiled walls of the tunnel. The reflections grew sharper, blindingly bright, and then the train came rushing into view. Lex stepped back quickly. The freezing wind whipped past him as he stared at the station¡¯s reflection in the blackened windows that crashed by. He caught a glimpse of himself¡ªa ragged boy with fluttering clothes and a greasy face, like a version of himself from another world, one that seemed even darker than his own in that fleeting moment. As suddenly as the train had appeared, it was gone. Lex watched the tail lights vanish into the opposite side of the tunnel. The faint rumble lingered a moment longer, until even that faded away, leaving only darkness behind, a darkness that felt as heavy and consuming as the great void itself. FOUR: Whispers of a Forgotten World
All of the facilities, building modules and mines on Limbo were hermetically sealed from the moon¡¯s atmosphere and connected by a network of tube systems. The train left the habitats behind, its tracks carrying the metallic beast through the eastern part of the city, taking the boy to the edge of Bancarduu, where the industrial district loomed on the horizon, billowing smoke, unnatural and grim. The final stop was in the middle of a steelworks plant, and the train rolled into the station, nearly empty. The boy climbed the stairs and crossed a dimly lit overpass. Below him, molten steel burned amid the soot-blackened machinery, a maze of branching pipes and rusted heaters. Men in silver fireproof suits worked over the blindingly bright magnesium river. The orange-tinted smoke hung thick from the heat of the two-thousand-degree furnaces; five thousand tons of raw steel were produced each shift. A single window, thick and round like a porthole, was built into the bridge. From there, the boy looked down at the blast furnace below, as if peering through a crystal ball into a hidden world. A realm ruled by shadowy figures and demons, a place beyond the heights, where fires burned eternally and the slaves groaned under the toil of their devilish work. The heat was omnipresent, suffocating. Even here, in the bridge passage, despite the ventilation systems, he was drenched in sweat. ****** It was still early; the orphanage felt like an abandoned station running on emergency power. The light in the common room was reduced to a single dim bulb hanging from the ceiling, saving energy that was needed for production elsewhere. The boy found a caretaker in one of the narrow corridors and handed him the death report for his mother. At exactly 3 p.m. the wall-mounted screen flickered to life, jolting Lex from his half-sleep. He shifted into an upright position on the metal bench. "This morning, dozens of armed terrorists from the FLD stormed a geothermal power plant in the settlement of Urriki, located in the eastern sector. The terrorists were stopped by security personnel on-site before they could cause more damage. Among the dead are numerous workers who were in the plant at the time of the attack," the brunette news anchor said into the camera. As she spoke, brief surveillance footage of combat scenes inside the power plant played on-screen. The caretaker entered and slid the room card across the aluminum table. He sent the boy a document, dozens of pages long, to his data device. So far, they had barely exchanged a word. The caretaker was a corporate employee, just like the news anchor, the teachers and everyone else who held a higher position on Limbo¡ªespecially those whose jobs revolved around shaping the minds of the children born here. "Can I fill this out in my room?" "You can." The boy walked down the west wing, data device in hand, following the signs through several tube-like corridors. He pressed a button, and the hatch to the next room opened like an iris in the night, revealing another dimly lit passageway ahead. A strip of light spilled across the floor from the entrance to the cafeteria, but the usual sounds of clattering trays and voices were absent. As he passed, he glanced inside. Among the empty tables sat a pale girl, staring blankly at her meal. Just as she was about to look up, he had already passed the door. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Ahead, the next hatch opened automatically, and a dark-skinned boy stepped into the corridor. He was a head taller than Lex. Their shoulders collided like celestial bodies on a destined orbit, a collision that was somehow inevitable. They spun around, facing each other¡ªLex with one foot on the threshold of the next room. The fading light from the closing elevator doors dimmed the space around them. The boy in front of him had broad shoulders, thin arms and large hands. He wore an old, grease-stained tank top, its frayed hem hanging down to the knees of his orange jumpsuit pants. A pair of welding goggles with round black lenses dangled from his neck. "Watch where you¡¯re going," Lex snapped, just before the back of his head slammed against a pipe. The stranger¡¯s fingers, sharp and bony, gripped the fabric of Lex¡¯s shirt and shoved him back against the cold metal. "We¡¯re the same, little stardancer. We¡¯re in the same boat. Two brothers stuck in the same mess. Get that?" He drove his knuckles harder into Lex¡¯s chest to emphasize the point. "Tayus, leave him alone." The bigger boy turned toward the soft voice. The girl from the cafeteria was peeking out from the doorway. Tayus gave Lex¡¯s head one last shove into the pipe before letting go. "A girl saved you," he muttered. Lex rubbed his neck, veins pulsing, his breath heavy. He watched Tayus until he disappeared into the cafeteria with the girl. Room 301, like all the other rooms, measured thirteen square meters. From the center, you could reach any wall in four or five steps. The beds were stacked bunks¡ªno mattresses, no springs, just wooden boards with foul-smelling wool blankets thrown on top. On the opposite wall, there was a small window, round like the porthole on the bridge, offering a view of the industrial smokestacks and the rust-colored wasteland beyond. Lex shrugged his backpack off his shoulder, unbuttoned his linen shirt halfway, and pulled it over his head. He headed to the tiny washroom, splashing his face with icy water to rid himself of the grime from the night shift. Back in the room, he grabbed his backpack by the strap and carried it over to the six metal footlockers lined up in a row. One of them had the name "Tayus Nraad" stenciled on it. He paused for a moment, wondering how small the odds must have been that he¡¯d end up sharing a room with him of all people. Then he unzipped the front pocket of his bag and pulled out an ancient picture book made of real paper¡ªa rarity he¡¯d found among his mother¡¯s things. He closed the locker and slipped the key into the pocket of his pants. With the picture book in hand, he sat down on the dented metal chair by the window. The pages held paintings of old Earth, but Lex didn¡¯t know how much of it was real and how much the artist had made up. He saw trees, beaches, oceans, rivers, waterfalls, and a blue sky. He wondered if the ocean on Earth was made of water you could actually drink, then closed his eyes and tried to imagine standing on a beach, smelling the fresh air over the sea¡ªthe way air was supposed to be, natural and clean. But his imagination was fuzzy, and most of it didn¡¯t match up with reality. As he turned the page, a yellowed piece of paper slipped out. It seemed to have been torn from a blank page in the book, and on the back, his father had written a short message to his mother. Dearest Miranda, One day, we¡¯ll return to our roots. I¡¯ll be damned if we don¡¯t. Someday, we¡¯ll have a picnic with our boy beneath the trees of those forests. In this life or the next. Yours, Liam With the note in his hand, Lex gazed out the small window. Beyond the factories, the vast sea of dunes stretched out into the desolate, dead world. There was no sun in the sky. He glanced back at the book, looking at the blue ocean, the white sand and the blazing sun. Then, almost to himself, he murmured that the god the teacher spoke of so often had no place for any of the convicts by his side. That God wasn¡¯t present in this corner of the universe. He must¡¯ve been somewhere else, maybe in the place where the pictures from the book were real, but certainly not here. FIVE: Reviving Giants When Lex was thirteen, he left Bancarduu, heading west, and took an apprenticeship in a workers¡¯ settlement. He stayed there for two years, learning how to weld small parts in a workshop, working with machine electronics, assembling circuit boards, and writing simple programs for computer systems. Under the massive dome of a huge building he repaired machines as large as entire factories. These machines were used in open-pit mining; inside them, stairs led to various components, and twenty engines ran in parallel to move the massive, lifeless body and control a 20-ton bucket. In his final year of training he learned how to disassemble these complex engines, clean or replace parts and reassemble everything. He was there when the huge machines were dismantled and lifted by crane onto freight cars, ready for transport¡ªmassive convoys that stretched for miles and miles. The settlement was the heart of the machine production for the western sector. These convoys carried parts to the mining zones, where the expanding open-pit mines constantly demanded more machines. And more men. When Lex completed his apprenticeship, he followed that call. It took him to the far end of the western sector, to the mining town of Orongu, nestled along the inner edge of a crater. Most of the convicts there had no formal education and spent their days extracting ore from the nearby open pit. Lex repaired their mining vehicles, which needed servicing every second or third shift due to constant wear and the extreme cold. Just then, a dump truck rolled through the gate of the maintenance hall¡ªtwo-axled, with double tires, towering over nine meters tall. Its freezing metal skin steamed, and frost had crept across the windshield of the driver¡¯s cab, making the person behind it seem lost in eternal ice. Lex took a deep drag on the half-dead cigarette between his fingers, bringing it back to life. He sized up the giant from his seat and estimated its condition. The vehicle had been out in the open for twelve hours. That meant, it had probably been refueled at least once by one of the mobile fuel stations out there. At minus 167 degrees Celsius the polar diesel-methane mixture froze quickly, and the oil became thick if the engine wasn¡¯t running hot enough. Often, ore trucks got stuck in the pit; if they were lucky, they came back with just engine damage. The ore hauler rumbled backward slowly. A mechanic guided it along the adhesive strip markers on the ground, while the warning alarms on the vehicle blared in staccato, cutting through the constant noise of idling engines and welding torches like sharp pencils tearing through paper. The guide backed toward Lex, making sweeping gestures to signal the driver to stay on course. The twin exhaust pipes on the side belched out thick clouds of fumes; the bluish smoke swirled up through the air, making the beams of the halogen lights visible. The hauler rolled over the platform¡¯s lift columns embedded in the floor, finally coming to a stop at bay S7. Lex set his cigarette on the corner of the workbench and slowly rose from his crouch. He squinted up at the driver, who was standing next to the cab, leaning over the rail. With one hand, he held his helmet in place, the chin straps dangling loose at the sides. He flashed a wide grin. "Good to see you again, man." "You too," Lex replied. "That meetup still happening tonight?" "Don¡¯t have to pull any overtime today." This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it "Mori¡¯s coming, too." "I thought she had a late shift on Wednesdays." "She¡¯s mostly got overtime now. But since one of the nurses in her group got hit with a penalty, she''s to cover her shift." "Even better," Lex said. "You coming down, or you gonna leave me with a stiff neck?" "On my way, man." Lex was dressed in an orange jumpsuit with reflective stripes running down the sides and pockets on arms, chest and legs. He pulled a handheld computer from his cargo pocket, grabbed the stylus with his left hand, jotted down the vehicle¡¯s ID and slid the device back into his pocket. Tayus still wore the old welding goggles around his neck¡ªthe only physical reminder of his dad. As he walked over, he pulled off his cap, revealing a wild tangle of felted dreadlocks. Passing by Lex, he nodded at the half-smoked cigarette. "Looks like it¡¯s kinda drooping. Mind if I give it a little life?" He grabbed the cigarette and fixed it between his lips. "Go ahead, knock yourself out," Lex said. "Just happens to be my last bit of tobacco for the month." "Got a light?" Lex patted down his pockets, pulled out a worn matchbox, gave it a shake near his ear to check if there were any matches left and then tossed it in a wide arc to Tayus. Tayus caught it with both hands and inspected it from all sides. With the unlit cigarette still hanging from the corner of his mouth, he looked up at Lex. "These things came from Vega Prime, what, four years ago?" "Yep, they sure did." Tayus widened his eyes. "Why¡¯d you hold onto this junk? Man, back then we were still hanging out with Mori in Bancarduu, watching the Harvester land." "And watching the lucky winner of the Selection Program take off and leave the moon. Oh yeah¡ª" "Exactly, man. Wonder who¡¯s getting out of Limbo this year." Lex cleared his throat. "You good, man?" Tayus asked. "Yeah, yeah, I¡¯m fine," Lex replied. "You thinking of entering the contest?" "You out of your goddamn mind? Like I¡¯d just leave you and Mori stuck in this hellhole. Plus, to even pass the test, you need, like, some kind of education. All I do is haul junk back and forth. Hardly think I¡¯m the right guy for it. But even if I could..." "...you wouldn¡¯t leave us hanging." "Exactly, man." Lex nodded, pressing his lips together. Whatever he had to tell Tayus, he¡¯d save it for their meetup at B17. If Mori was there, he wouldn¡¯t have to explain twice what a lousy friend he was. "What¡¯s up with you today?" Tayus asked, snapping Lex out of his thoughts. "Nothing," Lex said. The two of them leaned back against the large front tire of the hauler, silently smoking. After a while, Tayus handed the cigarette butt back. "I better get moving. Gotta transfer all that ore before I catch heat." Lex nodded. "See you tonight." He took a couple more drags before dropping the cigarette butt and grinding it out with the tip of his boot. Then he picked up the stub, tucked it into the cuff of his overalls, and glanced up at the damaged driver''s cab, shielded by the overhang of the dump bed from falling rocks. He gave a nod and sighed. "Alright, let¡¯s get to it," he muttered. After an hour, he¡¯d replaced the windshield and checked the tires for serious damage. He climbed into the cab and tried the ignition. The engine sputtered to life on the fourth try. He climbed back down, grabbed the electric screwdriver from the workbench and loosened the eight large screws on the battery compartment. Sliding it open, he peeked inside. "Holy crap." Steam rose from the compartment; it was packed full of lunar sludge from the mines. When Lex returned from the tool room, he had an old metal shovel in hand. Scoop by scoop, he cleared out the worst of the gunk, then sucked up the rest with a vacuum hose leading into the floor of the hangar. Once the battery was exposed, he could see the corroded terminal clamps. "Triple holy crap. What the hell is this?" He cut the cables from the battery and removed the clamps. Each weighed about a kilo and fit right in his palm. He grabbed a fine steel brush and tried scrubbing away the rust but quickly realized it was pointless¡ªthe clamps were toast. He grabbed a new set, smeared them with terminal grease, and hooked them up to the battery. Then he climbed back into the transporter. The engine started up instantly¡ªon the first try, second and third. SIX: The Long Road to Redemption Fifteen minutes before the end of his shift, Lex sat on a stool by the workbench, secretly working on practice problems for the Selection Program that was happening in two weeks. His data pad was hidden in a drawer between grimy tools. As he cleaned wrenches with an oil-stained rag, he kept glancing up to make sure no overseer was patrolling the hall. He definitely didn¡¯t need another two days in a dark cell without food or water. And he could live without another round of lashes from the electric whip. After the shift, Lex slumped on the long bench in the locker room. The prisoners used melted moon ice to shower. To save energy, the water was barely heated to ten degrees and only loosely filtered before it sprayed out of the nozzles. The steam made the air colder, preserving the mix of sweat and unwashed feet. Lex sighed and bent over his boots. A musty smell rose from the shafts. He was just holding one of his sweaty socks when a hall overseer entered, flanked by two guards. Several gold stripes decorated the padded shoulders of his uniform. He wore a blue beret tilted over his shaved hair. It was made of velvet. Lex knew that much, though he had no idea what velvet actually felt like. When the prisoners saw the corporate officer, the locker room froze like a still life. The man walked straight toward Lex, his guards trailing behind. Lex''s heart pounded. He thought maybe the overseer had seen him smoking with Tayus. He shot to his feet, forcing his crooked neck into an upright position. He was taller than the officer, but when it came to authority, he felt tiny. Standing there in his stained boxers and a single sock, Lex waited for what was coming. "Are you Lex Marrow?" The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation."Yes, sir." "What¡¯s your qualification?" "I¡¯m a certified mining engineer, sir." "And what do you actually do as a mining engineer?" "Mostly, I repair the mining vehicles that get damaged out in the open pit, sir." "Exactly," the overseer said. "Which means you¡¯re not a mining engineer. You¡¯re just a regular mechanic on the lowest pay grade." "Right, sir." "Do you want more? A better future?" "Everyone dreams of that, sir." The overseer nodded, looking him over with cold, calculating eyes. "How much experience do you have working in the pit?" "You mean out in the open, sir?" "Yes." "None so far, sir." "And how long have you been working here?" "One year today, sir. Feels a lot longer, though." "Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s about time you got some fresh air?" Lex stared past the overseer at a spot on the tiled wall, then looked back at him. "Fresh air sounds good, but if you mean the frozen wasteland out there, I¡¯m just fine in the workshop. Sir." "Tough luck, Marrow. We¡¯re short a man in the recovery team since last night, and there¡¯s been an accident in the pit half an hour ago. We need your skills taking machines apart. I¡¯ve heard that despite your age, you¡¯re one of the best in Orongu." Lex nodded. "No one¡¯s better than me, sir." "Good. You¡¯ll get thirty percent more pay for the job. Don¡¯t bother thanking me, it seems God is smiling on you today. Your team will meet you at airlock D, right by the cold suits." "Sir?" The overseer was already walking away. He stopped, his thin lips tightening into a near-invisible line. "What is it?" "I, uh, don¡¯t really want to go, sir. I¡¯m happy with my current job. Plus, I¡¯ve got plans tonight." "Your insolence borders on blasphemy," the overseer snarled, stepping menacingly toward Lex. "I tell you, God has blessed you, and you reject His gift? I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re properly punished for that. Now get moving, or I¡¯ll report your refusal to the court. I assume I don¡¯t have to explain the punishment for that." "Exile, sir." "Did I ask you a question?" "No, sir." "Get lost, Marrow." SEVEN: Fresh Air
Fully suited up, Lex crouched in the shuttle, peering over the bobbing heads of the recovery team toward the side window. Fine moon dust had scratched the glass over the years, leaving it hazy. Nearby rock formations slipped past like fleeting shadows, and everything beyond them was lost in the sandstorm. Outside, the Vortex storms raged and flashed. The shuttle was taking a detour through a trench¡ªthe winds on the direct route were too strong. "How much longer, Quinlan?" "I must look like a fucking satnav device." "About five more minutes," someone else said. "And how do you know?" Quinlan asked. "I¡¯ve made this trip a bunch of times." "And now?" "Now I¡¯ve just got a feel for how long it¡¯ll take." Lex listened to the conversation, keeping his eyes and ears open. When one of the men glanced his way, he nodded at Lex. "So, you¡¯re the new guy on the team?" Lex shrugged. Suddenly, half the crew started laughing. In the back-right corner, Devon Vasker was busy mimicking him. The beam of the overhead light cut across his grinning face. "Hey, Marrow! Did you enjoy your time in solitary? Hope you had plenty of time to think about your mistakes." Lex flipped him off. Three weeks ago, they¡¯d clashed and ended up facing off in front of an overseer in the living quarters. Vasker had walked away with a bloody lip, while Lex pressed his torn linen shirt against the gash over his eye. "Which one of you started it?" The argument that followed ended with Vasker¡¯s friends swearing that Lex had started the fight and thrown the first punch. The latter was true, but he hadn¡¯t started it. As punishment, they threw him into a tiny, pitch-black cell for two days, where the stench of excrement and sour urine was actually the best of his memories. The cell was so small he could lie down, but couldn¡¯t stretch out his legs, and when he sat, his head touched the damp ceiling. At first, he killed time with push-ups. His growing hunger was the only thing reminding him that, despite the lack of space, there was still a timeline to cling to. But as the hunger faded, so did his sense of time, and he couldn¡¯t tell whether a day had passed or just an hour, or even a minute. Someone tossed a few old potatoes into the cell and left a glass of foul water. Eventually, panic crept in. The feeling tightened its grip on him, rising higher and higher until his heart pounded in his throat, his hands went ice-cold, and his forehead was slick with sweat. The fear wasn¡¯t something he could control or reason his way through¡ªhe just had to ride it out. In the few moments he slept, he was plagued by feverish nightmares. By the end, he was utterly disoriented when a corporate officer opened the door and told him his time was up. Once outside, he had no idea if the time in the cell had felt like an eternity or just a fleeting moment. But one thing he was certain of: never again in solitary. "Screw you, Vasker." "Hey, Marrow, you know what?" "Just drop it, damn it. Mind your own business." "Do you know what mimosas are?" Lex waved him off. "They¡¯re plants that used to grow on Old Earth." "What do you care about Earth?" "Not a damn thing," Vasker said, "but I know what mimosas are. And they¡¯re just as delicate as you, Marrow. They¡¯d wither out here just as fast as you will. This place is the end of the line for softies like you." "Both of you, shut up." The man with the scarred neck, the one who called himself Quinlan, leaned forward so he could get a look at Lex over the other guys. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author."What that little speck of a loudmouth in the corner says doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s just noise, nothing but hot air. But what I say¡ªyou better carve it into your damn code of conduct. And if you don¡¯t have one, you¡¯d better make one just for me, because while you¡¯re on my mission, I¡¯m the top authority in your life. I¡¯m in charge of this crew. So don¡¯t slow us down by doing anything I didn¡¯t tell you to do. You¡¯re not even allowed to fart in your suit unless I give you permission. We¡¯ve got just enough oxygen to make it back to the shuttle alive with no delays. That means no wandering around, no detours, no independent thinking. You leave all of that to me. We¡¯re heading straight to the site, rescuing what needs rescuing, and then we¡¯re getting the hell out of there like we were never even here. Everything¡¯s coordinated. Every minute counts. Every step''s planned. On your first day out here, all you need to do is exactly what I tell you. Same goes for every other day. You know your way around ore haulers, right?" Lex nodded. Sweat trickled into his eye. "Well, that¡¯s a start. Our big ol¡¯ Betty accidentally scooped up a 50-tonner about an hour ago." Quinlan clicked his tongue. "Must¡¯ve looked like a toddler on a damn Ferris wheel." "Ferris wheel, sir?" Quinlan shook his head. "Forget it. Anyway, our job is to assess the damage Betty took and recover whatever¡¯s left of the ore hauler. Including the dead driver. But don¡¯t worry, the burial is someone else¡¯s responsibility. Same goes for arresting the guy who was supposed to be driving Betty but was asleep on the job¡ªthat¡¯s corporate business, not ours. Any questions?" Lex shook his head. He was breathing heavily, staring at the reflection in his helmet¡¯s visor. Beads of sweat glistened on his face. The pressure suit he wore was like a more agile space suit. The fabric was lined with aluminum fibers, and the solid parts were coated with the same metal, reflecting most of the freezing radiation. On his back was the power cell and life support system, which pumped an oxygen-rich fluorocarbon emulsion into his helmet through two hoses. "We¡¯re almost there," Quinlan said. "So listen up: This button here"¡ªhe pointed to a switch on the chest console¡ª"press it after you¡¯ve secured your helmet and connected the two hoses. That¡¯s when your life support switches from gas to liquid breathing." "Liquid breathing?" "Out there, the pressure¡¯s 70 bar. If you still have air in your lungs under that hellish pressure, it¡¯ll compress so hard it creates a vacuum. That¡¯ll cause your blood to flow from your guts into your lungs until they¡¯re completely flooded. Not a pretty way to go. That¡¯s why we breathe an oxygenated liquid out there. It¡¯s not exactly pleasant¡ªfeels like a dump truck¡¯s parked on your chest¡ªbut you¡¯ll get through it. Just remember: it¡¯s your only option if you want to survive." "C''ptain, we¡¯re approaching the final stop." Quinlan nodded. "You idiots ready?" A unanimous "Yes, sir" rang out as the crew stood up. Before putting on his helmet, Vasker shot Lex a mocking look. Then he attached the hoses to the fitting and pressed the button on his console. One by one, the helmets of the crew filled with clear liquid. The men bent over, hands on their knees, gasping and choking, their faces twisted in pain as their lungs filled with the fluid. Lex was the last to put on the heavy, bell-shaped helmet. Inside, he could hear the echo of his ragged breathing. With gloved hands, he fumbled at his shoulders, searching for the hoses. Gripping them, he pulled them forward and struggled to screw the ends into the fittings on his helmet. It took a moment. His visor fogged up from the inside. When the hoses were finally secure, he slid his left hand over his chest console, feeling for the button that would release the liquid. He found it¡ªbut didn¡¯t press it. He hesitated. Fear paralyzed him. Suddenly, a hard blow struck his chest. He stumbled back a step. Inside the helmet, he heard the gurgling as the liquid began to flow. It rose to his chin, over his mouth, and touched his nose. Reflexively, he tilted his head back and took one last breath before the helmet filled completely. With his cheeks puffed full of air, he stared through the visor. Quinlan stood in front of him, looking grim despite his open mouth. Lex could practically hear his thoughts: Don¡¯t waste our time, coward¡ªjust start breathing. But he couldn¡¯t bring himself to do it. After a minute, the urge to breathe became unbearable. Quinlan shook him roughly. Air escaped his mouth, bubbling up to the surface. A minute and a half passed. His teeth ground together, and his lungs pulled in a vacuum. You just have to open your lips. He felt a tingling in his fingertips, and numbness crept into his feet. His blood was retreating from his limbs, rushing to keep his brain alive with the last scraps of oxygen. Fresh air, he thought, just before everything went black. His body hit the shuttle floor with a thud. Fully suited, the boy lay motionless. His heart still beat, but the intervals between each pulse grew longer. The darkness between them, deeper. EIGHT: Revelations
The boy woke in the semi-darkness of a cold room, unsure of where he was or what had happened to him. He sat up, his head pounding with a vicious headache. His tongue was dry and swollen. The cot beneath him rattled with even the slightest movement. He looked around. Injured workers were lying in rows on old hospital beds, their vital signs monitored by machines. When he remembered why he¡¯d ended up in the medical ward, he yanked the IV lines from his arm and forehead, tossing the wool blanket aside. The moment he stood up, dizziness hit him, followed by a wave of nausea as he staggered toward the lockers. Small digital screens displayed the last names of patients in the dim light. In his compartment, he found his dirty boots and the worker¡¯s coveralls he had worn beneath the pressure suit. He got dressed and stepped out of the patient room into a brightly lit corridor. The overhead lights reflected off the freshly mopped floor. Squinting, he almost tripped over a cleaning bot that was dutifully following the muddy tracks from his boots. At the reception desk, he saw a doctor whispering to a nurse. Both of them eyed the boy. The graying corporate officer wore a thoughtful expression, tapping his glasses¡¯ frame. Tiny projectors on the inside of the temples flickered on, projecting the boy¡¯s medical history onto the lenses. "Ah yes, Lex Marrow," the doctor said. He had a trimmed white beard, light eyes and a kind face. Despite being a corporate employee. "You were quite lucky today." "I¡¯ve never had luck. Especially not today." "Then you probably don¡¯t know what happened to you earlier. You were dead. ¡ª Yes, you heard that right. Your heart stopped for almost two minutes. One more minute, and your brain would¡¯ve suffered irreversible damage." "My heart stopped?" "Yes." "I was dead, sir?" "We doctors like to say you only die once. So, you were just clinically dead." The doctor turned off the heads-up display on his glasses. "What does that mean?" "Your vital functions failed, but we were able to bring you back. That¡¯s the difference. If that other convict hadn¡¯t acted so quickly, pulling you out of your suit and resuscitating you right away, I¡¯d be writing ¡®asphyxiation¡¯ as the cause of death in your report." He looked the boy over. "It¡¯s remarkable that you¡¯re already up on your feet. I always say, a convict can¡¯t get back to work too soon¡ªonly quit too early. Don¡¯t spare your body; hard work is the best medicine." The boy pressed his lips together. The doctor smiled and said, "Lira will give you your discharge papers and bill you for the treatment. But don¡¯t worry about the cost¡ªwe also offer payment plans." ****** A day was originally defined as the time it took Earth to rotate once on its axis¡ª24 hours from one morning to the next. On Limbo, a day lasted 384 hours, which meant 16 Earth days. The colonists in the Tau Ceti system still followed Earth¡¯s 24-hour cycle, so it could be as bright as noon on Limbo even at midnight. Lex was making his way through the 200-meter-long connector tunnel to his usual bar. Under the light of the gas giant Kronos streaming in through the long windows, a few familiar faces nodded at him. The entrance to the bar was a four-by-four-meter gate, with cold white neon letters spelling out ¡°B17,¡± which stood for the 17th bar in Orongu. Next to the sign, a camera scanned the entrance area at a 60-degree angle. The boy pushed his way through a large group of smoking convicts. A display board had caught his attention with a large headline about the Selection Program. All the while, he kept reminding himself that he still needed to tell Mori and Tayus that he wanted to enter the competition. But he doubted they were still here this late. The board was on the right side of the passageway, right next to a fire extinguisher. Piles of trash bags blocked the lower third of the sign. Lex read what he could see: 14 days left until the Selection Program for Limbo¡¯s most hardworking convict. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.This year¡¯s motto: Only the Best Can Clear Their Inherited Guilt. Any convict over the age of 15 with a clean record is eligible to participate. Registration is only available at the administrative complex in Bancarduu. The winner of the Selection Program will be announced one day before the LEVIATHAN departs and will be allowed to leave the prison moon aboard the space freighter. On Cetos V, the winner will have their inherited guilt forgiven by Zara Thandros herself. In addition, the winner will receive a permanent work contract at Vega Prime. For full participation details, see the brochure at¡ª "Excuse me?" A completely sweat-drenched waiter was trying to dump two tied-up garbage bags right where the boy was standing. Lex stepped to the side, read the rest of the board and then headed into B17, hoping Mori and Tayus were still waiting for him. The bar was located on the ground floor of the domed building, shaped like a flat cylinder. A projector mounted on the roof cast a flickering hologram into the humid, sticky air, reminding everyone of the Thandros family¡¯s presence with the massive three-story corporate logo: a spaceship orbiting the letters TC, and beneath it the slogan: We Build the Future. Lex squeezed between the crowded barstools and ordered three mugs of miner''s piss, which was on special today. "No one¡¯s ordering anything else tonight," the bartender said. Clanging tinny music from the stage on the second floor blasted across the room. The only thing louder than the music was the overlapping chatter of the drunks and the rumble of the air filtration system working on overdrive. Lex fished his wallet out of his pants pocket and laid the exact change on the metal bar. Then he carefully balanced the mugs as he carried them over to the table where his friends were sitting, set them down on the grimy tabletop and wiped his fingers on his dirty linen shirt. "Good day," Lex said ironically. Tayus glanced up briefly before grabbing his drink. "Hey, man. You¡¯re pretty late. Where the hell have you been?" "We were worried about you." "I wasn¡¯t." "Yeah, sure, Tayus," Mori said. Lex sat down on the free stool across from them and took a few big gulps, leaving his mug half-empty. Then he sighed loudly, though the surrounding noise swallowed it up. Finally, he raised his drink and said, "Here¡¯s to still being alive." "So, where the hell were you?" Tayus pressed. The seats weren¡¯t cushioned and were bolted to the floor. Despite the filtration system, the air was thick with the sharp smell of sweat and body odor. Beside Lex, condensation streamed down the walls, collecting in a basin below the grated floor, where it was filtered into drinking water through a not-so-sophisticated process. Lex took off his backpack, placed it on his lap and pulled out his datapad. "I¡¯m in pretty deep shit," he said, "I just need to figure out how deep." He told them how the hall overseer had reassigned him to the recovery team, but he had hesitated too long before accepting the offer. "Now I¡¯ve got my punishment: five days of work with no pay." "Ouch." Tayus patted his pockets, searching for his tabacco. "We can help," he said. "Yeah, we could start by paying you back for the drinks." "Don¡¯t worry about it. The three mugs only cost me six lousy coppers. Either way, I¡¯ll be hauling ore sacks the next few nights if I want to scrape by." Tayus was carefully spreading some dry tobacco in a rolling paper. "Is that why you were so late?" he asked without looking up. "We saw the news about the accident with the bucket wheel excavator on the video screen earlier," Mori said. "Lex, man?" "Yeah, what a mess." "What happened?" Tayus asked. Lex looked up from his datapad, glancing back and forth between his friends. "I¡¯ve got another punishment coming, and it¡¯s a big one." He told them how he¡¯d woken up in the medical ward earlier because he hadn¡¯t been able to bring himself to breathe in the liquid mixture from his pressure suit. He had just dropped dead, but they managed to bring him back in time. "But now I¡¯m not so sure that was a good thing. I got the bill for the medical costs¡ªtwenty silver pieces." "Seriously?" "You were dead?" "You¡¯ll never come up with that kind of money, man." "And that¡¯s not even the worst part," Lex added. "The administration¡¯s blaming me for delaying the recovery mission because of it. My punishment: thirty lashes with the electric whip, sixty silver pieces." Mori and Tayus exchanged a meaningful look. It seemed almost conspiratorial. "When?" they asked in unison. "Tomorrow after work." Tayus stopped rolling and shook his head. "Those damn bastards. If only I could¡­" "And there¡¯s something else," Lex said. "One more offense this quarter and I get a disciplinary warning." "Have you ever gotten one before?" He shook his head. "It¡¯d be my first." "Well, at least you¡¯ve still got two left. They only exile you after three warnings." "Yeah, but¡ª" Lex stopped himself from saying the rest, but finished the thought in his head: The first warning would disqualify me from the Selection Program. Only workers with clean records can enter. That would mean saying goodbye to any chance of getting out of here. Tayus lit the rolled cigarette, shielding the flame with his hand. He took a deep drag and passed it over to Lex. "I think now¡¯s a good time to pay back my debt to you." Lex, shaken from his thoughts, frowned. "What debt?" "Dude, I smoked your last bit of tobacco at lunch today. Come on, take it. You could use it right now." Lex smoked for a while, the silence between them making the conversations at nearby tables more noticeable. "I¡¯m taking tomorrow night off, no matter what," Mori said. He flicked the ash into an empty cup and looked at her pale face. "Why?" he asked. "To be with you." "I¡¯ll be fine. You need to focus on yourself. Everyone has to look out for themselves." "That¡¯s crap," Tayus cut in. "We gotta stick together, man. I¡¯ve got a buddy who owes me a favor. He¡¯ll cover my shift tomorrow. So I¡¯ll be there, too." Lex looked at his friend, smoking. He said nothing. Felt miserable. "Now give me a drag, man," Tayus said. "I don¡¯t remember smoking a whole cig from you." NINE: Forces for the Liberation of Demeter
The Disciplinary Center was close to the habitats, just one train station away. Women and children sat in the waiting area, nearly a hundred chairs filled, the air heavy with the fear each convict exuded as they awaited their punishment. Four pressure-sealed doors led from the waiting room, each one to a different form of punishment. Even behind the door marked "Exit" penance awaited the workers. But the weight of immediate punishment here and now was far heavier. A corporate officer stepped up to the second door from the left, one hand on the lever, and called out a dozen names¡ªincluding the boy¡¯s. In a blindingly bright hall with no windows, three strange steel machines stood in separate sections. Children lined up on the right, women in the center and men on the left. No one said a damn thing. Lex pulled his jumpsuit down to his waist, baring his upper body, and stepped onto the marked spot, pressing his heels into the shackles on the ground, which snapped shut around his ankles. He picked up the handcuffs attached to a steel chain and fastened them around his wrists. The chain automatically retracted into the metal arm hanging above him, stretching his body until he stood tall and rigid. The machines, barely cooled from the last session, whirred back to life. Lex glanced at the whips hanging from the side of the machine. He clenched his teeth. Squeezed his eyes shut. I hate you, Zara Thandros, he thought, and I hate this damn corporation. Then the steel engine roared from idle to full speed in just a few rotations. The electric whips hissed through the air, screams filled the room, and penance showed no mercy. ****** Habitation Station 3, Floor 6, Container 231. Lex lay face-down on his bed in the lit wall alcove, running his finger across the scratched double-paned window. Outside, the Vortex storms raged, and visibility was barely a meter. "Ouch, damn it." "Hold still." The overhead light illuminated his bruised back. Mori carefully applied antiseptic gel to the dark welts. Lex gritted his teeth in pain and anger, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. "Those bastards," he muttered. "Amen, brother." "This gel¡¯s supposed to help with your burns." "Yeah, but it hurts like hell." "It¡¯ll feel better in a minute." "Where¡¯d you get it, Mori?" She paused for a second before answering. "I swiped it from the medical ward today." "You what?" Lex pushed himself up on his forearms, glancing back at her over his shoulder. "You could¡ª" "I know." "They¡¯ll send you into exile if they find out." "No one caught me. Now lie back down." Lex obeyed. "God, if I could just get back at those corporate assholes somehow," he said after a moment. A deliberate cough came from the corner, where Tayus sat with his arms crossed on a metal stool. "We¡¯re not gonna get a better segue than that tonight," he said, standing up. "We were actually gonna talk to you about something at the bar yesterday, but¡­" "I¡¯ve got something to tell you guys, too," Lex cut in, thinking about the selection program and his chance to get off the prison moon. "Let us go first," Tayus said, licking his wide bottom lip. "Remember that day, almost four years ago, when we were sitting by the fountain in Bancarduu, secretly fishing out the copper pieces some corporate goons had tossed in? We were talking about the FLD. The rebels were on the rise. They were taking over one place after another. Nearly the entire eastern sector was under their control." "And we wanted to join the FLD," Mori added. Lex laughed bitterly. "Yeah," he said, "and thank God we didn¡¯t. They¡¯ve lost over ninety percent of their territory by now. I saw it on the news recently. Their leader was executed, and¡ª" "Ember Drake is still alive." "Ember who?" "Ember Drake. She¡¯s the leader of the FLD. Back then, she was just a ghost, making history under the name Echelon." Lex studied his two friends. He kept what he was thinking to himself for a moment longer. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere."Ember Drake has been declared dead by the corporation more times than I can count," Mori said. "It¡¯s just to demoralize us. But three weeks ago, a video message from her surfaced on the infonet. She¡¯s found a hideout¡ªlooked like some kind of cave." Lex rested his forehead on his arm, thinking for a moment. Then he lifted his head and said, "Why did you say ¡®to demoralize us¡¯? We¡¯re not rebels." The girl with the cropped hair didn¡¯t respond. "Guys, what¡¯s going on here?" "Do you believe in fate, Lex?" Silence. "I didn¡¯t know we were answering questions with more questions now." Lex swung his legs to the floor and leaned forward out of the wall alcove. Then he shrugged. "I haven¡¯t had much reason to believe in fate. Unless you mean, do I think we¡¯re destined for a lifetime of work? ¡®Cause that I don¡¯t believe." "Neither do we," Tayus said. "Which is why we joined the FLD three weeks ago. We¡¯re part of it now. No¡ªwe are the Forces for the Liberation of Demeter.¡± Lex¡¯s eyes widened. He stared at his friends. "You¡¯re kidding." "We¡¯re not." "You didn¡¯t." "Do you think we¡¯d joke about something like this?" "How did you ... Oh, holy crap." "Man, I¡¯m so sick of being treated like garbage. To them, we¡¯re just slaves or machines. Berry, my old shift partner, got beaten to death by a guard a few months ago. Just like that. The guard was having a bad day or somethin''. He was pissed off and needed to crack a convict¡¯s skull. I was practically right next to him when it happened. Scared out of my mind. I wanted to help Berry, but he was already gone. His skull was just ... well, never mind, I¡¯ll spare you the details. Anyway, that corporate scumbag told me if I breathed a word about it, I was done for. The next day, Berry was replaced by another worker. I told the new guy what happened to his predecessor, and¡­" "And then?" "Then one thing led to another. Turns out the new guy was part of the resistance. He clued me in on how things really work. Asked me if I wanted to do something meaningful with my life before cancer takes me out or some random guard beats me to death." "And you said yes?" "Of course I said yes, man. This is what we¡¯ve dreamed of our whole lives." "And you too, Mori?" She shrugged. "I want to fight for our freedom. If I have to, I¡¯ll die for it." Lex stared at a random spot on the metal wall of his room. Then he looked back at his friends. "You know I could get into serious trouble just for you telling me you¡¯re part of the rebels, right?" "Would you turn us in or something?" "Of course not," he said, pausing for a moment. "Wait. You¡¯re not telling me this because you want me to join the FLD too, are you?" "We could work together as a team," Tayus said. "The FLD is split into thousands of cells, each with three people. You, Mori and me. We¡¯d be a team, just like we are now. Only this time, we¡¯d be fighting for something that actually matters¡ªnot just surviving. Each of us recruits a new member, and that person forms their own cell with two more people. See what I mean? That way, each member of one cell knows only one member from another. So if there¡¯s ever a traitor, they can only take down their own cell and the one person they know from another. The FLD as a whole survives." "Great. And how does it all get organized? By some supercomputer?" "Echelon," Mori said, "is the top authority of the rebels. Echelon now stands for an entire network of men and women at the head of the resistance. Their influence even reaches Cetos V. They¡¯re in direct contact with Crimson Dawn. They¡¯re running the war against the Thandros Corporation. There¡¯s an encrypted page on the infonet where Echelon assigns tasks to all the settlements in every sector of the colony. We carry out these missions to weaken the corporation. We get updates on plans, successes and failures. And here in Orongu, there¡¯s going to be an uprising soon. The way things are going, we might actually pull this off." "Pull what off?" Lex snapped. "Walking into a death trap? How are you going to beat the corporation? How are we, a bunch of slaves, going to beat them? They¡¯re stronger than us in every way by a quadrillion miles. We have no weapons, no money¡ªwe own nothing." "We can show you the site, Lex. Right now. We can show you that everything the rebels have been building for decades has a real shot at working. If we all work together, we have a chance. There are more of us than you think. We¡¯ll tell you everything about the organization, but first, you have to swear loyalty to the FLD." "I need to think about it, guys." "I don¡¯t get what there is to think about," Tayus said. "Since the day we met, we¡¯ve dreamed of taking down TC. Now it¡¯s happening¡ªwe finally have the chance to do something that actually matters. And now, all of a sudden, you¡¯re backing out? If you¡¯re scared, man, let me tell you something: You¡¯re not getting out of here alive. But if we fight, at least we have a chance to die free." Lex stared at Tayus. "So, what do you say, man?" He didn¡¯t know what to say. His mouth hung open as he looked at Mori, who nodded at him while holding the wound gel. Do the right thing, her eyes said. Choose us. His heart pounded in his chest. He thought about the Selection Program. He thought about his friends. And he thought about how unfair the world was. TEN: Beneath a Silent Sky
For the next week Lex avoided his friends. At night, he hauled ore sacks, and for the first time, it felt okay¡ªbecause it gave him an excuse not to show up at B17. When he ran into Tayus in the maintenance hall, they only talked about work. In the areas of the crater city that were monitored by TC cameras, talking about the resistance was impossible. The convicts in Orongu had made it through three-quarters of the long night. In two Earth days, Tau Ceti would rise over the southwestern edge of the crater, and the pale, dead sunlight would spill over Orongu. For now, it was pitch black outside. Methane lakes had formed across the crater basin from the Vortex storm, their smooth surfaces reflecting the lightning in the clouds above. The boy sat in the shuttle to the maintenance hall, leaning his forehead against the cold window. His breath fogged up the glass where he exhaled in quiet frustration. His right arm pressed against the rags of another worker. He was dead tired. They all were. The compartment was dim, with only the floor guide lights glowing faintly, and the blinking trackers behind the workers¡¯ ears shimmered in the dark like green gemstones. The convicts slumped in their seats, drowsy and silent, worn out from too little sleep and a too-short, miserable life. The shuttle arrived at the workshop. The last workers got off, but Lex stayed in his seat. He had fought for three hours of free time and was heading to the next station. The train stopped halfway up the eastern crater wall, on a plateau near an abandoned tunnel. He got off. Not a single light was burning at the station. Somewhere far above him, a glass dome was barely visible in the flickering lightning. As he walked through the moon dust, it almost felt like he was outside. He hooked his thumbs under the straps of his backpack and strolled toward the edge of the plateau. There, he sat next to Tayus on a metal bench. The boys wore wool jackets against the cold. They gazed down at the lights of the crater settlement, saying nothing. After a while, Lex undid the strap of his backpack, pulled out a thermos, unscrewed the lid and poured some cold miner''s piss into the cup. He took a sip and passed the lid to Tayus. He set the thermos down between his feet in the moon dust. "So many workers down there," Tayus said, holding the cup to his lower lip. "And that¡¯s just a tiny fraction of the whole picture. There are a hundred more colonies and three more moons full of convicts who aren¡¯t even criminals. And who knows what kind of crap is happening on Cetos V. Will there ever be peace, man?" Lex didn¡¯t answer. "Makes your head spin, when you really think about it," Tayus said, taking another sip and passing the cup back. "So, are you with Mori now? I don¡¯t get what¡¯s going on between you two." "I think so," Tayus said. "I asked her, anyway." "And that¡¯s all it takes? You ask, and you¡¯re a couple?" "Only if she says yes. And she did." Down in Orongu, a train glided silently through the habitats. Lex watched the lit-up windows, glimpsing shadows of workers inside. He followed the train until it disappeared from view. "I¡¯m not doing it," he said. "I just can¡¯t. I don¡¯t have the guts to join the rebels. I¡¯m not cut out for that kind of life." Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. For a while, they sat in silence, staring straight ahead. Then, Lex heard Tayus breathe heavily into his scarf. "It¡¯s alright, man,¡± he said. "Honestly, I didn¡¯t expect anything different." Lex swirled the rest of the miner''s piss in the cup. "You¡¯re not mad?" Tayus shrugged. "Nah," he said. "Can¡¯t exactly be mad at everyone who doesn¡¯t have the guts to be a rebel." "Sure." "Sure." Lex looked at his friend, then stared into the distance. "There¡¯s something else." "Then spit it out. Or are you enjoying keeping secrets?" "Don¡¯t be ridiculous. Of course not. I just ¡­ don¡¯t know how to say it yet." "Just say it like it is." His heart pounded. He took a breath, started to speak, but stopped. "Dude?" Lex shrugged. "Have you ever thought about what it¡¯d be like to live a completely different life?" "What do you mean?" "I don¡¯t know, like, if you were born in the 20th or 21st century on Earth or something. Or if you lived on Vega Prime." "It¡¯s the same everywhere." "Yeah, right. What do you know?" "I know plenty," Tayus said. "People don¡¯t learn from history. They just keep making the same mistakes." He scuffed his feet in the dust. "And even if it¡¯s different somewhere else, that doesn¡¯t change the fact that I¡¯m here. Does it, man? Doesn¡¯t change that my parents were slaves, and my friends are slaves. There¡¯s so much crap here. So much stuff that¡¯s messed up, I don¡¯t even have time to imagine anything else." Lex swallowed hard. He still couldn¡¯t get rid of the lump in his throat. Then, holding onto Tayus¡¯s words, he just said it straight: "I¡¯m entering the Selection Program." "What did you say?" "It starts in three days. It¡¯s in Bancarduu again, like you probably know. In three days, I¡¯ll be out of here." For a while, Tayus said nothing. Then he shook his head and spat on the ground between his feet. "Hell," he said. "And you¡¯re telling me this now?" "I wanted to say something earlier. But ¡­" "Have you told Mori?" "Not yet." "That¡¯s a real low blow." "I don¡¯t want to live here anymore. And I definitely don¡¯t want to die here." "So you¡¯re just gonna leave Mori and me behind¡ªafter we risked our lives for you? Damn it." "You guys are my only friends." "We¡¯re nothing. Absolutely nothing if you just bail on us. Would you rat us out too, if it gave you a better shot in the competition?" "What the hell, man?" "Answer me." "Of course not. I¡¯d never rat you out. Not in a hundred years, not even if it guaranteed I could get out of here." Tayus chewed on his bottom lip, shaking his head ever so slightly. Lex studied his friend¡¯s serious face, following his distant gaze outside. The valley below was half-lit by the colony¡¯s lights. In the distance, the mining machines smoked. The steel in the factories glowed. The mines inside the crater never slept. Never. "I told you I was dead for a minute, right? In the pressure suit." Tayus didn¡¯t respond. "You know what I saw when I was dead?" "No." "Nothing. I saw absolutely nothing. Just darkness all around me. No sense of time. You know what that means? It means there¡¯s no inherited guilt. No heaven. No hell. It means that when we die, there¡¯s just ... nothing. This is the only life we get. And I don¡¯t want to spend it on a prison moon." "I get it. But you know what the difference is? I don¡¯t want to spend my life here either. But I¡¯d rather spend it here with you guys than anywhere else without you." "No one¡¯s more important to me than you and Mori." "Save it. It¡¯s all been said. If you win, you¡¯ll leave. With or without us." "You¡¯re still all I¡¯ve got." Tayus shook his head, then stood up from the bench. They looked at each other for a while. Suddenly, Tayus let out a sob. "Well, man, my shift starts soon." Lex wanted to stop him. But he didn¡¯t. He looked out over the shimmering valley, his vision slowly blurring. "We probably won¡¯t see each other again. Well ... good luck in the competition and all." "Yeah, thanks." "Think about us when you¡¯re in Vega Prime?" "Dumb question." "Take care, man." Lex swallowed and nodded. When Tayus left on the next shuttle, Lex looked down at the ground and saw, between the footprints his friend left behind, two sparkling tears he¡¯d dropped there. And as if it still meant something, tears also ran down his face, and he angrily buried them in the dust with the tip of his boot. "Damn it," he muttered. ELEVEN: Into the Storm
Somewhere behind the flickering storm clouds, the pale sun of Tau Ceti hung low, slowly creeping over the western edge of the crater. The settlement and part of the valley were still shrouded in shadow. It was the last morning before the departure. Lex sat at the far end of a three-meter-long aluminum bench in the mess hall, staring through the rain-streaked window at the label-less can on his tray. Next to him, a rough-looking worker shoveled protein mush into her mouth, scooping up whatever spilled. On his right, prisoners squeezed past in the crowded aisle. Lex pulled his arm in close, bent the metal tab, popped the lid off and turned the can upside down. He had to bang it on the table two or three times before the slimy mass slid out. It wobbled on his plate, still holding the shape of the can¡ªslick, shiny and made up of several layers. What any of it actually was, no one really knew. One layer had to be protein, he figured, since it smelled like fish. He mashed it all into a gelatinous blob, scooped some onto his fork and ate it. Chewing, he looked over the heads of the other workers at the video screen on the far wall. The sector¡¯s daily news was playing. Amid the wild chatter crossing the room, he couldn¡¯t make out a word the reporter was saying, but the images were enough: another tunnel had collapsed at a silver mine outside Orongu, burying dozens of workers. "How¡¯s your canned delight?" the worker next to him asked. Lex pushed some more onto his fork with his thumb. "Still too good to share." He picked a chewy piece out of his mouth, placed it on the edge of his plate, and kept eating, eyes on the news. When they started talking about the FLD rebels, he dropped his gaze to his plate. On the shuttle to the maintenance hall, Lex¡¯s datapad suddenly blared an alarm. That only ever happened if one of his mining vehicles had crashed or broken down somewhere. It had to be a false alarm, he thought, because his shift hadn¡¯t even started yet, so none of his vehicles should have been in operation. With shaky fingers, he pulled out the device and entered his unlock code. What the¡­ According to the report, one of his vehicles had broken down in the northwestern quadrant¡ªwhich was impossible for two reasons. First, the northwestern quadrant was outside of Orongu, and no mining vehicle was allowed to leave the crater without permission. Second, that area was in the Radiation Zones. Heading there was a guaranteed death sentence. Holy crap. Lex pulled up the vehicle ID of the broken-down transporter, then grabbed his handheld computer, a sinking feeling in his gut, and compared the twelve-digit number with the one he¡¯d noted down from Tayus¡¯s ore transporter. It was the same ID. "Tayus, you reckless idiot ¡­" He ran a trace on the transporter¡¯s route. This can¡¯t be happening, he thought. What did you do? The path led straight through the northwestern crater wall. There had to be a canyon or passage Tayus had found to leave the crater. It was the only explanation. But why? Where did the FLD send you? Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. ****** In the maintenance hall, Lex crossed paths with a supervisor. He sprinted past him, shot through Airlock B, but the rescue team was already there, suited up in pressure gear, standing in front of the three-axle moon rover. The TC logo was painted in orange on the sides of the armored vehicle. There was a medical station in the rear and a retractable crane on the flatbed. The vehicle was specifically designed for rescue missions in rough terrain. "I¡¯m coming with you," Lex said, catching his breath. "The guy out there¡ªhe¡¯s my friend." A circle of silence formed around the men. Finally, Quinlan was the first to laugh. Vasker quickly joined in. Soon, the whole group was laughing. Quinlan¡¯s cigarette bobbed up and down in the corner of his mouth. As he bent over, resting on his knees from laughing, it fell out, and he crouched to pick it up again. "Listen, kid," Quinlan said, "the poor souls we rescue don¡¯t need a coward like you tagging along. In fact, you¡¯d be their death sentence. So, if you care about your friend at all, you¡¯ll leave this to us." "That¡¯s my ore hauler out there. I can bring it back. Fix it, if I have to." "Your ore hauler? What the hell are you talking about, miner boy?" "The vehicle that broke down in the Radiation Zones¡ªit¡¯s one of the ore trucks I regularly maintain." Quinlan froze for a moment. Then, "By the false gods, you really think we¡¯re about to head into the Radiation Zones to retrieve the corpse of that brain-dead fool named Tayus Nraad?" Lex¡¯s face went pale. "Not a chance, miner boy. That¡¯s not our jurisdiction. No one can force us into the unknown Radiation Zones. Not even if TC threatened us with death. There¡¯s been another accident in the pit with three men down, and that¡¯s where we¡¯re headed. So, get out of my way." Quinlan signaled the team to load up into the vehicle. "He might still be alive," Lex whispered. Quinlan turned to him. "If he¡¯s still alive now, he won¡¯t be in a few weeks. No one survives that radiation." With a stunned expression, Lex left Quinlan standing and bolted out of the airlock. He took the pedestrian walkway through the tunnel toward the vehicle hangar. He couldn¡¯t remember the last time he¡¯d run so fast. Methane rain drummed against the arched ceiling windows, streaking down in silver arcs across the glass. He stopped in the hangar and took a deep breath. His breath misted in the cold air. Floodlights mounted on the metal beams lit the room from all four corners. Only a few vehicles were parked in the hall, and under the moon dust, white squares and markings peeked through. Lex ran toward a small UTV hauler. The spherical driver¡¯s cabin, with its eight side windows and large front pane, offered a full panoramic view¡ªcrucial for avoiding small obstacles. The vehicle was lightweight and unarmored, with a small, three-square-meter cargo bed. It was usually used to transport freight around the settlement, but Lex figured it could handle narrow canyons too, as he lifted the door upward. He dropped his backpack on the hangar floor, climbed into the driver¡¯s seat with his datapad in hand and slammed the door shut. Even without his pressure suit, the cabin felt cramped for just one person. Two large headlights, shaped like horizontal bars, were mounted on the vehicle¡¯s roll cage, lighting up the path ahead. Airlock A was occupied, so he drove into Airlock B, which had just freed up. He parked the UTV, hopped out, and ran over to the only locker that still held a pressure suit. He unlocked it with an eight-digit code. The suit inside was an older model, heavily worn by time. There was a tear in the shin area that had been wrapped with duct tape four or five times. Insulation material poked out through the gaps in the tape. Lex disconnected the power cables from the chest piece, powered up the life-support systems and checked the battery status on the wrist console. The suit was 73 percent charged. That¡¯ll have to do. It took him precious minutes just to get into the suit¡ªtime he didn¡¯t have. Fully suited up, he walked back to the UTV, clumsily planted his bulky boot on the metal step and climbed back into the driver¡¯s seat. With the suit on, he could barely move his arms more than a few degrees before his elbows bumped into the curved side windows. The heavy helmet sat on his lap. Lex was strapped in and sweating like crazy. He guided the small hauler out of the airlock, stopped in the decompression chamber beyond and checked the route on his datapad. The large door opened with a pneumatic hiss, flooding the chamber with the dense moon atmosphere; the barometer on the instrument panel instantly reacted. With an involuntary sigh, he pressed his foot down on the gas. "What were you thinking?" he muttered, unsure whether he meant Tayus or himself. TWELVE: Frozen Shadows After ten minutes of driving, Lex had passed the massive iron smelting plant and was making his way through the towering, dark residential modules. No lights in the windows, just black blocks stretching into the sky. This was the habitat station. At the far eastern edge, the massive machines of the open-pit mine rose up. Far beyond them, even higher, loomed the all-encompassing crater wall. Faint shadows from the sideways sunlight gave the rocky cliffs harsh, jagged contours. The constant rain had flooded the rugged valley with methane. The landscape was dotted with shimmering, silvery lakes, like an ocean rising from the ground. The rain-swept surface reflected the stormy sky above. After following the inner rim of the crater north for eleven miles, Lex spotted a massive crack in the rock. He figured this must be the canyon Tayus had used to leave the settlement. He let the engine idle, staring into the darkness of the canyon. The vehicle rocked in the wind, the rusty springs squeaking. The crevice swallowed all light. A heavy feeling settled in his chest as he thought about his friend. "You better still be alive, so you can see the crap I¡¯m going through for you. You¡¯re my friend, man. My only one." The beams from the headlights fanned out wide, reflecting off the wet rock walls all around. The rain had flooded the cave floor, and the UTV¡¯s wheels spun halfway submerged in methane as it crept forward. In the headlight¡¯s glow, the cave seemed like the belly of some otherworldly beast. But the real monster wasn¡¯t the canyon¡ªit was the Vortex storms outside, raging with full force beyond the sheltering crater walls. As soon as Lex emerged from the cave, a sharp crosswind caught the vehicle, pushing it off course. That¡¯s when Lex realized he had chosen a vehicle that was way too light. He fought the steering, stomping both boots onto the brake¡ª but the UTV was too light, and it slid uncontrollably down a steep slope. "Damn it!" Shocks, flashes of lightning, swirling dust. A violent jolt. The vehicle flipped. Instinctively, Lex tensed his neck. The datapad and helmet flew wildly around the cabin. In quick succession, he glimpsed the sky, then the ground¡ªup, down, up, down, over and over¡ªuntil the headlights blew out with a loud pop. No more bearings, his sense of balance gone. All he could hear was the endless crunching and cracking until the UTV finally crashed into a boulder at the base of the crater. The boy hung upside down in his seatbelt, gasping for air. His head was spinning. A sharp crack from the side window gave him no time to recover. He reached for his helmet, which was wedged between the dashboard and the door, but he couldn¡¯t reach it. The cracked side window was bulging inward, pushed by the pressure outside. With one quick motion, he released the seatbelt and dropped hard onto the glass cabin. He immediately grabbed the helmet, pulled it on and hit the button on his chest console¡ªall in nearly one fluid movement. He heard another crack, then a hiss¡ªair from the moon¡¯s atmosphere rushing in. He took a deep breath, pulling the cold liquid into his lungs. He immediately coughed it back out. Breathed in again, coughed again, feeling like he was suffocating. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. At that moment, the cockpit imploded. He flinched, crossing his arms to shield the visor. A violent swirl of dust and glass shards whipped around him. Milky daylight streamed through the shattered frame of the door, and Lex realized, despite everything, he was still alive. His breathing slowed, though his heart pounded like mad. His wrist computer had a crack running almost diagonally across the screen, but it still seemed to work. The estimated oxygen time left for Lex: 02:07:34 He grabbed his datapad and crawled out of the cockpit. Fuel was spraying from the tank. The fall had ripped both front wheels off the vehicle, while the four back ones still spun in the storm, like they were being moved by ghosts. Lex braced himself against the wind. Lightning flashed above him; the swirling dust lit up with a blinding glow, and the thunder rumbled so loud, he could still hear it clearly through the liquid in his helmet. He¡¯d only made it a few meters, but the wreckage was already fading into a faint shadow behind him in the sandstorm. After nearly a mile across the rough moon surface, he glanced at the battery level for the first time¡ªabout 40 percent left. A warning tone had been ringing in his ears the whole time, but he¡¯d been trying to ignore it. The Geiger counter built into his suit finally started beeping. Near the crash site, the radiation level was 60 millisieverts per hour, but out here, completely exposed to cosmic rays and radioactive rock formations, the levels were spiking much higher. I¡¯m really walking through the Radiation Zones. Someone pinch me. I must be insane. If I survive this, I¡¯m going to die of cancer. In the harsh light, the nearby rock formations cast deep black shadows. The skin beneath the damaged spot in his suit had already gone numb from the biting cold. With the battery dropping to 30 percent, the lunar winds grew so intense that he was struggling to stay on his feet. The radiation reading on his display: 334 mSv/h The boy had marked the crash site on his map, but without exact coordinates, he could only guess which direction to go. Within a mile, Tayus¡¯s transporter could be hiding behind any rock formation. If he didn¡¯t want to die out here, he had¡ªhe glanced at his wrist computer¡ªjust under a hundred minutes to not only find Tayus, but to make it back to Orongu with him. At the base of the crater, strange pillar-like rock formations had formed. The jagged stones loomed above him, crooked and sharp, like the skeleton of some ancient creature. The boy couldn¡¯t understand how such formations could have formed naturally. So many thoughts raced through his mind that he barely thought about his own end. Only when his time dropped below an hour, and the growing fear that he was walking in circles in the sandstorm became unbearable, did panic start to set in. It was pure luck that he found the haul truck just in time. The stranded vehicle wasn¡¯t near the rock crevice, as he had originally thought, but farther away, out in the open. Seeing the headlights still shining through the swirling sand gave him hope that his friend was still alive. Is he waiting for someone? No, that¡¯s ridiculous. Then why is he just standing there in the middle of the storm? Lex shielded his visor with his hand and trudged over a frozen sand dune, leaning hard into the wind. He had to climb a small hill before he could reach the ore loader. Without wasting time, he climbed the ladder and hurried across the deck to the driver¡¯s cabin. The protective grid over the window reflected the bleak landscape in even grayer tones. He saw his own reflection, mouth open, gasping the liquid in and out, but he couldn¡¯t see inside. He couldn¡¯t see Tayus behind the glass. Lex clenched his gloved hand into a fist and banged on the door. Nothing. He pounded again. Hammered on the grid. Then, suddenly, he stopped. His breath caught in his throat. Slowly, he lowered his hand, realizing why the ore loader was just sitting there in the middle of nowhere, in the storm. His banging on the door had stirred up moon dust, and it was sticking to the inside of the window. Moon dust... inside the driver¡¯s cabin? Suddenly, the terrible truth hit him all at once. Tayus. Damn it. No. THIRTEEN: Silent Heart
His lungs ached for more air. He wanted to tear off his helmet and finally breathe freely. Think clearly. He unlocked the door using the emergency latch on the outside. There was no trace of the cabin pressure an intact vehicle should have had. Tayus sat strapped in, frozen solid like a block of stone. His chin rested on his chest, and from his open mouth hung a ruby-red icicle. Moon dust poured in through the shattered windshield, sprinkling across the controls and the dashboard, where several indicator lights were still flickering. Lex stood frozen, unmoving. Maybe a minute passed, maybe two, or even longer¡ªhe couldn¡¯t tell. Only the alarm from his suit jolted him out of his daze. 15% battery capacity He unbuckled his dead friend and dragged him outside, laying him beside the open driver¡¯s door. Tayus¡¯s body stayed in the same position he¡¯d been in while sitting¡ªhunched forward, legs bent. The welding goggles around his neck fluttered in the wind. The dark lenses reflected the flashes of lightning crackling somewhere above them. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. This can¡¯t be happening. Lex wanted to scream as he stared into Tayus¡¯s lifeless eyes. The terror, the fear of that final moment, was trapped behind a thin layer of ice clouding his irises. His friend¡¯s body looked like a grotesque replica, a figure made of the same material as Tayus, but everything that had made him who he was¡ªhis spirit, his soul¡ªwas gone. Lex climbed back into the cockpit and collapsed onto the driver¡¯s seat. He turned the key twice, and the three massive engines roared to life. He could feel the raw power of over 6,000 horsepower rumbling beneath him as he slowly drove the ore truck forward. Most of the time, he watched the radar and the battery status on his suit, which had already dropped to 13 percent. In the back of his mind, he told himself he might still make it back in time¡ªbut probably not. Surprisingly, he didn¡¯t care much either way. It wasn¡¯t until he left the canyon and his battery was down to five percent that he realized he¡¯d actually survive. But even that didn¡¯t stir him. Instead, he began to question things. What had Tayus been searching for out there? And what punishments awaited him for leaving the crater without permission and wrecking the UTV? At the very least, he¡¯d be given a disciplinary procedure, which would disqualify him from the Selection Program. The one thing that had ever given him hope for the future was now on the line, and he asked himself why he¡¯d done it, what had driven him¡ªbecause deep down, he had known all along that Tayus was dead and that this accident couldn¡¯t be hidden from the corporation. He cursed himself for his stupidity. Cursed Tayus for joining the rebels. And cursed the corporation most of all. For they were the reason he and his friends were all in this mess, now and always. FOURTEEN: On Borrowed Time The boy had barely slept more than two hours; he¡¯d had to put in overtime to make up for the work hours he lost during his own recovery mission. Late that night, he¡¯d fixed the ore transporter and parked it in the hangar. He¡¯d taken his friend¡¯s body to the crematorium and reported his death to the authorities, listing it as an ordinary work accident. He could only hope¡ªbecause there wasn¡¯t much else he could do¡ªthat the administration wouldn¡¯t start asking the right questions until he was long gone aboard the LEVIATHAN. He felt tense, exhausted. He¡¯d packed his bag and left his living container before dawn. The train station was on the southern side of the settlement, with only a few workers waiting on the platform. Someone sat next to him on the train, a man in his late twenties or early thirties. They started talking. The man told him he was on his way to Architope because they were looking for men with his qualifications. He¡¯d worked as a paramedic his whole life and, two months ago, got promoted to a lab assistant, where he now helped produce medicine for the western sector. His experience was paying off, he said, since he was now earning double what he used to as a medic. He even managed to save some money, hoping to have enough to get by in his old age¡ªsomething most people on Limbo could never hope for. "And you?" the man asked. "What about me?" the boy replied. "Where are you headed?" "Bancarduu." "Still a long way to go." "As long as I make it by tomorrow afternoon." "Tomorrow afternoon? You¡¯re in the Selection Program, aren¡¯t you?" "Yeah." "And you think you stand a chance as a welder?" The man pointed to the welding goggles hanging around the boy¡¯s neck. "They belonged to a friend," he said. "I¡¯m a certified mining engineer." The man nodded, impressed. "So, you went to school in Bancarduu too?" "Yeah." "I did as well." "Good for you," the boy said. The man nodded quietly, watching the pale, one-tone landscape as the train rolled along a high plateau. The view out the window stretched farther than usual. They both got off in Architope. With just over 9,000 workers, it was the third-largest settlement in the sector. Everything here was produced for the prisoners. There were three massive factories supplying food, medicine and consumer goods to the western sector. In large lab complexes, workers synthesized proteins and vitamins, extracting starch from various hydroponic crops. These were the basic building blocks of the meals the cafeteria workers slopped onto trays for the prisoners across Limbo. Each day. ****** The connecting train to Bancarduu was canceled, leaving Lex stuck in Architope for the entire day. He found a dingy bar, settled into a corner and tried to study for the competition. The noise and chatter made it hard to focus. Worse than the noise were his thoughts¡ªhe kept trying to bury the memories of the previous day, but they kept pushing back into his mind. He missed Tayus. He missed Mori. After several mugs of miner¡¯s piss, he eventually passed out at the table. His sleep was restless and broken, full of short, uneasy dreams. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. The next morning, his alarm woke him up, and he killed three more hours waiting at the platform before finally catching the train to Bancarduu. The train car was packed. Behind the fogged-up windows, the passengers were pressed together like they were part of some twisted experiment to see how many bodies you could squeeze into one small space before breaking. The stench of bad breath filled the air around him. He couldn''t help but overhear snatches of conversations. They were talking about the Selection Program. The prisoners next to him were quizzing each other on possible test questions, making themselves¡ªand Lex¡ªmore nervous by the minute. Others cursed about missing the LEVIATHAN¡¯s landing because of the canceled train the night before. Lex silently cursed along with them. They reached Bancarduu in the middle of a fierce sandstorm. Metal shields were raised in the station, and overhead lights flooded the place with artificial brightness. Lex made his way through a connecting tunnel to the MultiComplex, a structure that offered various activities for prisoners. There was a gym filled with old weights and torn-up benches, a cinema with a crooked screen replaying the history of the colony, and plenty of bars where the workers drowned out their days with cheap booze. He walked into the first bar he saw, ordered a mug of miner¡¯s piss, and after paying for his drink, asked the bartender if he had a place to sleep. "Three nights. I can give you two silver pieces for it." "Per night?" "For all three." The bartender glanced at him while sliding a glowing shot down the counter to the next customer. "Hope you don¡¯t mind sleeping on the floor," the bartender said. "¡¯Cause I sure as hell don¡¯t have a guest bed for you." ****** Across the corridor from the apartment doors, a row of overflowing trash bins lined the wall, and a damaged vending machine flickered dimly in front of the lift. Lex stood in front of it, slid a copper coin into the slot, and a can of miner¡¯s coke crashed into the tray below. Grabbing the can, he headed to the elevators and rode up to the top floor. The apartment was in terrible shape. The walls were covered in meaningless graffiti, and the freezer had been pulled out and was now broken, something rotting inside. Lex placed the coke in the fridge and yanked the door shut¡ªit stuck a little. He sat down at the table by the large corner window, his thoughts drifting back to Tayus, to his reckless rescue attempt, and to how his only friend was gone. He checked his inbox¡ªstill no message from the corporation about the accident. Three days. Three days until the LEVIATHAN would leave the moon again. Three days in which he needed luck more than ever. He took a deep breath, opened the first chapter of a math book on his tablet and began reviewing everything he had spent the last year teaching himself. At some point during the night, the storm shields came back down, making a hell of a racket as the motors hummed. Lex woke with a start, the imprint of the table''s edge pressed in a straight line across his forehead. He looked out the window. It was 3 a.m., but the sky outside was bright. The sky was a hazy orange behind the dark silhouettes of buildings, and where the sun was supposed to be, the storm clouds were tinged a milky yellow. Pipelines snaked through the gaps between buildings, transporting waste from the apartment complex. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, he grabbed the coke from the fridge and went back to studying. The next morning, freshly shaved, Lex stood in front of the massive, unremarkable administrative building. His backpack slung over one shoulder, he looked up through the glass ceiling at the hexagonal structure that rose dizzyingly high above. From up there, the TC headquarters controlled the entire moon colony. The dark facade of the building had two things that caught everyone¡¯s eye: the massive corporation logo in pure gold and a screen about as big as the maintenance hall in Orongu. The screen was currently broadcasting a live address from Zara Thandros. Her speech echoed through the connecting tunnels via loudspeakers. The blonde woman emphasized how important it was for her that even a prisoner had the right to earn forgiveness in their lifetime. Her words made Lex¡¯s blood boil. FIFTEEN: Scripted Reality
In front of a ten-meter-high gate, two guards searched through his backpack. Inside, they found only a thermos filled with cold water, two protein bars and his mother''s picture book. The guards waved him through. The space beyond was vast, brightly lit and built of glass and steel, spanning several hundred square meters. It was packed with busy corporate employees and grimy prisoners, all hoping to escape their misery here. The line for registration stretched all the way to the entrance. The boy passed by it, dodging a cleaning bot and climbed the glass steps to an elevated platform where a three-person news crew from Vega Prime was checking their equipment. He paused at the top step, staring at these foreign citizens, who almost seemed like a different species of human altogether. The reporter had perfectly styled hair, gleaming white teeth, and an airy grace as though she were used to floating in the low gravity of Vega Prime. For a moment, he continued to study her made-up face; he''d never seen anything so beautiful. It seemed almost unnatural. After a while, he circled around the group, keeping a wide distance and stepped up to the large panoramic window. Surrounded by towering buildings and rotating wind turbines, the spaceport lay directly in his view. Flags bearing the company logo flapped high on poles at every corner of the square. Ground vehicles drove back and forth, unloading cargo from the belly of the LEVIATHAN. Mostly fuel tanks, oil, medical supplies, and new personnel disembarked. Meanwhile, in the opposite direction, the vehicles loaded raw and precious metals, gemstones, platinum, everything valuable that the prisoners had scraped off the moon''s crust over the past four years, all bound for Cetos V. About thirty spaceship mechanics and technicians were inspecting the freighter¡¯s port side. They worked both on the ground and on cranes suspended in the air. Guards with assault rifles slung over their shoulders patrolled the area, stopping at assigned positions. All the people and vehicles below were just tiny dots in the landscape compared to the enormous size of the LEVIATHAN. "Excuse me?" Lex suddenly noticed a circle of condensation on the window, exactly where his face had been. He turned toward the sound of a woman''s voice. It was the news reporter from Vega Prime. "What¡¯s your name?" His heart pounded wildly with excitement. "Lex Marrow," he said. "Alright, Lex. Stay right here for a moment." "I can¡¯t. I need to sign up for the Selection Program." "I said stay right here." Someone from the news team pointed a sunshade directly at him, blinding him for a second. "A little to the right," said the cameraman, looking through the viewfinder. The reporter placed her perfectly manicured fingers around his dirty shoulders, pulling him somewhat reluctantly closer. "Right there. Don¡¯t move, kid." Lex glanced over at the cameraman. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. "Ready, Gin?" "Always." "But¡ª" the boy started. "Alright. Camera¡¯s rolling in three, two, one..." "Greetings and prosperity, citizens of Vega Prime. My name is Ginger North, and welcome to First News, live. It''s Thursday, and we¡¯re here at the Administration Complex on Limbo Two, where the colony¡¯s Selection Program is taking place. It''s a first for us, as we¡¯re here on one of the moons to get a direct look at life here. And if I take a look around, dear viewers, I don¡¯t see any misery, contrary to what the despicable Crimson Dawn would have you believe. I see young, energetic faces and well-trained men and women, full of hope and hard work. With these impressions, we reveal the truth, dear viewers, and it¡¯s nothing like the picture the terrorists try to paint. Standing beside me is a young moon resident named Rex Sparrow, and with his help, we¡¯ll debunk the arguments Crimson Dawn uses to justify their atrocities¡ªespecially the recent attack on the Ataris Spaceport last week. Let¡¯s begin: Rex, what¡¯s life like here on the moon?" He stared stiffly into the black camera lens. His heart pounded even harder at the thought that everyone in Vega Prime was watching him right now. For the first time in his life, he felt the discomfort of stage fright. It was like a black hole swallowing his thoughts. "I¡­" The microphone Ginger North was holding under his nose might as well have been a fully charged plasma rifle¡ªit put him under the same pressure to give the answer the corporation wanted. "Isn¡¯t it beautiful here?" Ginger North pressed him. "Without somethin'' to compare it to, it¡¯s hard to say what it¡¯s like here," he replied. "Maybe ask me again when I¡¯m in Vega Prime." "Cut," the cameraman said. "You know what you¡¯re supposed to say." "I thought this was live," the boy said. "We just tell people that because live sounds more exciting. But if we filmed live, we''d get garbage like what you just said." "I¡¯m not doing this," the boy replied. "I need to go sign up for the test." "Oh, you¡¯re doing this," the beautiful reporter suddenly snapped. "So, let''s start over. And this time, with the right answers. Oh, and by the way, Ginger, his name¡¯s Marrow, not Sparrow. We¡¯re journalists, after all. Gotta get all the facts straight." ****** Late that evening, Lex returned to the bartender''s apartment. Milky daylight filtered through the corner window. The heating was either off or broken. His sleeping spot was a thin cloth blanket next to the kitchenette, but he didn¡¯t mind. His thoughts were consumed by the Selection Program. He mentally replayed every question. What¡¯s a hybrid engine? Define mechanical work. What are the primary factors affecting engine performance? It had gone surprisingly well¡ªbetter than he¡¯d hoped. Lying on his back, he adjusted his sagging backpack beneath his head as a pillow. He shivered in the cold, staring up at the metal ceiling, his eyes drifting between exposed cables and dripping pipes hidden in shadows. Tomorrow, the winner will be announced. It¡¯ll be me. I know it. And the day after, I¡¯ll be gone from here forever. Eventually, exhaustion overtook him, and in his dreams, he found himself aboard the LEVIATHAN with Tayus and Mori. Just before dawn, six uniformed men stormed into the apartment. One aimed a rifle at Lex and barked something he didn¡¯t quite catch¡ªstill half asleep and confused. The lights were on now, harsh and blinding. "Get up," one of the men ordered. "What¡¯s going on?" Lex asked groggily. The guard raised his rifle. "I said get up." Still disoriented, Lex slowly rose to his feet. "Turn around." The corporate logo gleamed on the chest plates of the guards. Lex turned, still half-dazed¡ªbut now it was sinking in. The arrival of these men wasn¡¯t a good sign. One of them cuffed his wrists and jabbed the barrel of his rifle into Lex¡¯s back, pushing him toward his boots, gesturing for him to put them on. "What did I even do?" he shouted. "You know exactly what you did." "It¡¯s not my fault that idiot drove into the Radiation Zones!" Lex yelled. "You¡¯ll be brought before a judge," one of the guards said coldly. "You¡¯re being charged with collaborating with the FLD resistance. Unless you can prove otherwise, the penalty is death." SIXTEEN: The Descent
By the time the verdict was handed down, he had endured a week in a makeshift cell, surviving on a daily ration of gruel and two glasses of water. The LEVIATHAN had already begun its return trip to Cetos V. When Lex was finally released from the prison at the order of the chief judge, he was even more emaciated than before, and far more withdrawn. He had fully expected to die. He hadn¡¯t been given a defense attorney. It wasn¡¯t a trial¡ªit was a sentencing. Lex sat alone on the defendant¡¯s bench, waiting for the judge¡¯s decision. "The illegal FLD movement is riddled with moles we¡¯ve infiltrated into their ranks. One of them was your friend¡¯s contact, by the name of Tayus Nraad. Under the guise of scouting a secret TC base outside Orongu, our agents lured him there. We have evidence against you, Lex Marrow, that you knew of his involvement and helped cover it up." Wait¡ªdoes that mean Tayus never really joined the rebels? He was being played by the corporation the whole time? "Every prisoner knows that the punishment for failing to report someone is just as severe as joining the terrorist organization. However, due to your exceptional achievements, we are sparing you from the death penalty." Lex furrowed his brow. "What achievements? I worked just like everyone else." "The Selection Program," said the judge. "You would have won the Selection Program for the hardest-working prisoner. You scored the highest of all participants. That¡¯s what¡¯s saving your life. Instead of death, you are being exiled. But you will have no chance of release or of wiping away your inherited debt," the judge added. "After your death in exile, Lex Marrow, you will pay for your crimes in hell. Enjoy the time you have until then." Later that same day, he found himself alone in an unmanned freight train, with less than five meal rations and a ten-liter water canister. The train began its journey toward the polar region, a place battered by years-long storms and shrouded in the eternal darkness of the moon¡¯s far side¡ªthe Exile. Everything he had ever heard about the place was uncertain and unverified, so much so that it might as well have been a myth, a horror story told to scare children and keep the older ones in line. It was a place whose existence was based on speculation, if not for the fact that there was always someone who knew someone who had been sent there. What it really looked like or what awaited anyone there, nobody knew. After all, no one had ever come back from exile. The journey to the North Pole took eight days. The transition from day to endless night happened abruptly, without any gradual fade. The train passed through a long tunnel, and on the other side, the landscape was plunged into darkness. In the distance, the twilight still clung to the highest mountain peak, the last sliver of daylight frozen in the ice. Lex wanted to feel something as he looked at the scene¡ªto find meaning in the view, to see some beauty in it, to feel even a flicker of longing¡ªbut nothing stirred inside him. No anger, no sadness, just¡­ nothing. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ****** The weather grew worse with every mile north. A blizzard raged above the cliffs, the storm¡¯s fury only noticeable through the swaying of the train. After days of waiting, the train passed through an airlock. Lex noticed only because the swaying stopped, and for the first time on the journey, the train moved smoothly. Soon after, the massive pressure doors of the train car slid open, and a squad of guards greeted him outside. He stepped down the stairs and found himself in a brightly lit cavern deep inside a mountain. Corporate workers in gray uniforms moved like machines behind computer desks, all wearing the same lifeless expression. Lex was surprised to find any corporate employees out here, in the farthest reaches of the prison moon. The welcoming committee led him to a captain, who seemed to have been waiting for him. "Follow me," the captain said. The ground was slick like glass, overhead lights attached to metal rails, and above that, bare rock walls. "What is this place?" The captain didn¡¯t answer. Everyone was absorbed in their work, as if even glancing up or taking a breath would throw everything off schedule. As Lex walked by, he caught sight of a monitor displaying footage from a camera outside the airlock. It was nighttime, and a massive snowstorm raged outside. A radio tower stood buried in snow, gusts whipping across the screen in fast, fierce waves. The captain used a terminal to unlock a rusted iron gate. Behind it, tracks ran down an endless-looking mine shaft. "Am I supposed to go in there?" Lex asked. "Just keep going straight," the man said as he pushed the gate open. "It¡¯s a long walk, but eventually, you¡¯ll come to a door on your left. Check in there. They¡¯ll explain everything you need to know." Lex stared down into the dark shaft. "Sir?" "Yeah?" "What¡¯s waiting for me down there?" The man¡¯s blue eyes gleamed coldly as he looked at Lex. "Hard labor," he said. "Until you drop." Lex walked hunched over, following the tracks. Every now and then, when he wasn¡¯t paying attention, he¡¯d hit his head on a ceiling beam. Bare light bulbs hung from the support columns, casting long shadows on the damp stone walls. Black cables snaked along the ceiling. Sometimes the tunnel narrowed; sometimes the ceiling got even lower. But there was still no sign of a door. He¡¯d been walking so long that he started wondering if he¡¯d missed it. Leaning against the cave wall, he took a quick break, watching his breath fade into the steady draft that pulled him further down. After a moment, he kept moving, wondering now if this was already exile¡ªif there was no door at all. Maybe this endless march into the depths was the punishment the corporation had dreamed up for him. The direct path into hell. SEVENTEEN: Rock Bottom
After a full day of walking, Lex was at the end of his strength. He was starving, freezing. In the distance, he saw what he had been hearing for some time¡ªa boy, straining with all his might, pushing a cart loaded with rocks uphill. Not quite believing his eyes, Lex rose from the ground. After a while, the filthy boy came to a stop in front of him. He set the brakes and caught his breath. He looked like he could barely be a teenager, his face blackened with soot and dust. Shaking his head in disappointment, the boy muttered. "Why don''t they ever send down a girl for once?" "What?" Lex blinked in confusion. "I said, why don''t they ever send down a girl for once?" "What the hell does that mean?" Lex asked. "It means it''s always guys they send down here. And I''m sick of it. We need some real girls down here," the boy replied, his frustration evident. Lex studied the kid. "How long you been down here?" he asked. The boy shrugged. "My whole life. Was born down here," he said. "Name''s Cas, by the way." Lex introduced himself. Then he asked, "Got any water on you? I''m dying of thirst." Cas rummaged through the rocks in his cart and pulled out a battered metal canteen, handing it over. "Don¡¯t drink too much, I still got a long way to go." Lex took a big gulp, then sighed with relief. "You have to push that thing all the way up?" "Yup, and ride it all the way back down. But that''s the fun part. I just hop on the cart, and whoosh, down I go." "What''s in it?" Cas glanced at the heavy stones. "That''s all ore. Gold, silver, some platinum. We¡¯re supposed to bring them anything that looks valuable, and in return, we get food rations and water. But sometimes, we find stuff like this¡ªhold on." Cas dug through the pile of rocks for a moment before pulling out a roughly triangular stone. "See that little piece in the rock? It¡¯s gotta be some kind of unknown alloy or somethin''. Maybe that¡¯s what they¡¯re really looking for in this mountain." "What they''re really looking for?" Cas shrugged. "We don¡¯t really know. But there¡¯s talk that there are things down here you won¡¯t find anywhere else on the moon. It¡¯d explain why they built this massive underground mine out here in the middle of nowhere and kept it a secret from the other prisoners." Lex raised an eyebrow, taking the rock from Cas and examining the metal under the dim light of a hanging bulb. It had a silver shine to it. "Could be gallium," he said. "Could be something totally different, though. Maybe some unknown alloy or whatever." "Does it melt in your hand?" "Not in mine," Cas replied, wiggling his fingers, stiff from the cold. Lex handed the stone back. "I¡¯m gonna keep looking for that door. Any idea how far it is?" "Yeah, I came from that way. Go down another two or three miles. It¡¯ll be on the left. That¡¯s where our camp is. But you better keep quiet; everyone¡¯s still sleeping. It¡¯s in the middle of the night." The exiles were split into work groups. Lex¡¯s group had about thirty men, ranging from young to old. Some had been down here so long that the tracking devices behind their ears had died. The fact that the company didn¡¯t bother replacing the batteries was proof enough¡ªthey weren¡¯t worried about anyone escaping. There was no way out of exile, no way out of this goddamn mountain. At their first shared breakfast, the men told Lex they¡¯d had to kill someone a couple of days ago because he¡¯d lost his mind down here. Lex didn¡¯t doubt it. They told the story casually, without any sense of drama or excitement. On that first morning, they shared all sorts of grim tales, not to scare him, but more to pass time. Because down here, grim stories were their life, and they needed something to talk about. After his first day of work, Lex could barely make it to his bunk. The prisoners slept on metal cots chained to the walls, some with no mattresses at all. Lex was wrapped up to his ears in a ragged, hole-filled blanket, like some half-decayed cocoon, lying on a creaky iron frame. He passed out from sheer exhaustion. But when he woke, his arms were numb, his neck stiff from the awkward sleeping position, and every muscle in his body ached from the unfamiliar labor. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. The night was only five hours long. He could barely get out of bed. The other men laughed at him¡ªthe newbie easy prey. He forced himself up but had to skip breakfast, having woken up a few minutes too late. Someone else had already eaten his meager ration. When he tried to confront the guy, five men beat him down at once. Lesson learned. He dragged himself to the mines with an empty stomach and a swollen jaw, joining the others in the pit. ****** They didn¡¯t have a calendar or a clock. All they had was an old alarm, and it would ring loudly whenever a new cycle started¡ªa new day, their day. They slept for just six hours before the bell rang for the first time, and then they worked for sixteen straight. Often, by the third of their seemingly endless days, they had mined enough silver to trade for a bit of food and the bare essentials to survive. No one counted the days anymore; no one knew how long they¡¯d been down here. Lex felt like it had been an eternity, especially after the pain in his bones faded, and the nightmare had become just another part of life. He no longer thought about the LEVIATHAN or what life on Cetos V might be like, but he still wore Tayus¡¯s welding goggles around his neck. When someone asked what they meant, he¡¯d say that within those goggles lived the dream of his friend, a dream that now lived inside him too. If they pressed him about what that dream was, he¡¯d simply say it didn¡¯t matter¡ªbecause a dream was just a dream, not reality. ****** The mine shaft was two hundred meters below their sleeping quarters, and the only way down was through a cargo lift. The shaft was long and wide, with the low ceiling supported by rows of towering steel beams. Old mining lamps flickered on the ground, casting the men¡¯s shadows across the rocky walls. In the sulfur-yellow glow, they swung their pickaxes in a steady rhythm. Sparks flew with every strike. The relentless clanging of metal against stone made Lex feel like he was on the verge of losing his mind. He picked up a chunk of rock from the ground, spat on it, and wiped it with his sleeve. A milky white crystal shimmered beneath the dirt. It was calcite, he was sure, but just to test it, he scratched it with an old copper coin, then tossed it carelessly onto the growing pile of rubble in the cart. He barely paused, wiping his dirty face with his dirty linen shirt, before going back to the mindless grind of one day bleeding into the next. Weeks passed. Months. Maybe even years. ****** At the last ore exchange, they¡¯d received old leather caps to stop them from constantly bashing their heads against the low-hanging beams, getting split-open skulls, or dying from infections. Beneath one of the thirty caps, Lex¡¯s greasy, shoulder-length hair hung down. Dust-covered sweat trickled past his temples, and his scraggly beard hid a face that had grown much older and more gaunt than it had been in the crater settlement. The days of sitting in the B17 with Mori and Tayus, drinking, felt like a lifetime ago. He¡¯d give anything for just one sip of that awful miner''s piss. After a short break on yet another day, Lex put his leather cap back on and pushed the full cart toward the rubble heap¡ªan old, unused tunnel. He still barely thought about the LEVIATHAN, and didn¡¯t even think about his dream that had nearly come true. He tried to avoid thinking about Tayus and his girlfriend, Mori. Really, he just tried not to think about anything, especially not about the here and now. He dumped the rubble. ****** At some point, the group had to bury their oldest member. Some said he¡¯d been in exile his entire life and had lived to be 43 or maybe even older, but Lex didn¡¯t believe that. Not down here. That just wasn¡¯t possible. The man had collapsed while working, dead before he hit the ground. They loaded him into the cart and took him to the nearby burial cave¡ªa fifty-square-meter cavern filled with bodies encased in concrete. They poured cement over the dead to keep them from rotting and stinking up the place. The floor was paved with corpses, their faces frozen in stone. Lex walked over the hard, lifeless expressions and set the body of the old man in a corner. No prayers were said, no goodbyes given. Silently, they mixed the cement and poured it over the stiff, naked body. The unexpected death was the only break in the monotony Lex had experienced since he¡¯d been down here. After that, everything went back to the same routine¡ªa day just like the one before, and the one before that, all equally bleak, equally hopeless. ****** During one lunch break, he ate a protein bar and replaced the worn-out head of his pickaxe. He tossed the dull iron head into a bucket with the others, strapped a fresh one to the handle, then ate his second bar before continuing to hammer away at the rock walls. That evening, while the others got to sleep, it was his turn to sharpen the tools. Four buckets full of dull iron. He slipped on Tayus¡¯s welding goggles and, with sparks flying everywhere, started sharpening the pickaxe heads once again. ****** Weeks later, in a desperate attempt to avoid starving¡ªthey hadn¡¯t found anything valuable to trade for food¡ªthe group decided to expand the mine shaft. Lex carried the drill while another man lugged the explosives crate. They made their way to the western end of the tunnel, where Lex drilled sixteen holes into the rock, measuring each depth with an iron rod. The other guy followed, slipping a stick of dynamite into each hole, pushing them all the way to the back with the same rod. As he stripped the insulation from the ends of the detonator wires and twisted them together, Lex checked for any signs of methane or other explosive gases. He held the open mining lamp close to each hole and every tiny crack in the wall. "All clear," he finally said. They took cover behind a bend in the tunnel to avoid flying debris. The man knelt down and pressed the detonator handle with both hands. The blast came almost immediately, a blinding flash around the corner. Rocks pelted the opposite wall, and a shower of small stones rained down on Lex, who had plugged his fingers into his ears and kept his mouth open, just like the man had instructed him. Moments later, a swirling cloud of dust filled the tunnel. "Smooth," the man said. Through the thick dust, Lex could just make out the faint glow of two dim lights where their mining lamps stood. "Yeah, seems like it." But they were completely wrong. They barely had time to realize something was off before the ground beneath their feet started to shake, and everything around them began to collapse. In the next heartbeat, Lex felt weightless. Falling. Screaming. EIGHTEEN: The Black Orb The boy crashed onto new ground several meters below the blasted tunnel system. The mining lamps had fallen with him and gone out, plunging him into total darkness. Warm blood trickled down his forehead, and he instinctively held his torn linen shirt over his mouth and nose to breathe through the thick dust clouding the air. Slowly, he tried to stand up. "Shit," he whispered. The moment he put weight on his right foot, a sharp, unbearable pain shot up his leg. "Damn it. Hello?" The darkness wrapped itself in silence. "Jeff?" Only the echo of his voice answered, fading into the distance. "Hello? You okay, Jeff?" Again, his echo was all that came back to him. This cave must be massive, he thought. He stretched his arm out as far as he could, feeling around in the debris and dust, his fingers brushing across shards of glass on the freezing, wet ground. Nearby, he found one of the fallen lamps. Some glass remained in the frame; the lower chamber for the fuel seemed intact. He gave it a shake and heard a faint slosh. Fishing the ancient matchbook out of his pocket, he struck a match with his thumbnail. The flame went out immediately, as if something or someone had blown it out for a joke. Don¡¯t screw this up. It¡¯s your last match. Lex crouched, wiped the blood from his forehead with his shoulder, wedged the lamp between his knees, and carefully shielded the flame with his cupped hand. Slowly, he guided it to the lamp. This time, it caught. A smoky flame flickered to life on the wick. In its dim light, he saw the piles of fallen rock. Beneath a boulder, he spotted a bloodied arm. The sleeve was torn to shreds, covered in dust, and the hand scratched and bloody. Lex checked for a pulse but found nothing, which meant only one thing: Jeff was dead. He picked up the lamp, holding it by the handle, watching as the wick bent toward the wind. Leaving the man behind, Lex limped toward the source of the freezing gust. After a while, he found a narrow hole in the stone wall, only waist-high. The wind blew into the cave from this opening, and bits of metal scrap and rubble lay scattered in front of it. Where did all this come from? He knelt down and shone the lamp inside. The stone walls were slick and glistening, and the freezing wind stung his face. For a moment, he wondered if he¡¯d even fit through. There¡¯s only one way to find out. With that thought, he crawled into the hole. On the other side, he wandered through abandoned mine shafts for what felt like an eternity. His hands and feet were frozen numb as he made his way through icy caverns, never encountering a single soul. His injured foot forced him to stop for breaks, but the biting cold made it impossible to rest for long. Eventually, he came across a hollowed-out space, about the same size as the burial ground. He stood at the entrance and shone his light inside. A shelter? That was his first thought. A dead man lay on a filthy mattress, surrounded by a pile of canned goods. Several water canisters were scattered around. The boy ventured in, bent down to examine the cans, set his lamp on the stone floor, and with stiff fingers, pried open a can of tomato soup. He slurped it straight from the can¡ªcold, half-frozen. "Don''t people usually ask before they take something that isn''t theirs?" The boy dropped the can, staggered back, putting weight on his injured ankle and landed flat on his back. "Holy crap," he said, still breathless with shock. "I thought you were dead." The scrawny old man had a beard that reached down to his stomach. In the lamplight, his milky, clouded eyes held an odd sharpness. He sat up from his makeshift bed, wrapped in a blanket, wearing hole-riddled socks that peeked out from under the wool. "I¡¯ve been awake this whole time," the old man said. "Well, you could¡¯ve said hello." "And you could¡¯ve checked to see if I''m alive." "Like I said, I thought you were dead." "Well, I''m not." Lex glanced down at the spilled tomato soup, slowly freezing on the stone floor. He looked back at the old man. "Mind if I grab another can? I¡¯m starving." The strange man gestured dramatically over the cans. "Take as much as you can eat." The boy thanked him and helped himself. "What¡¯s in that one?" the old man asked. The boy examined the label. "Synthetically grown beef, fresh from the petri dish. Well, maybe not so fresh anymore. Made over¡ªuh, do you even know what year it is?" The old man chuckled into his beard and shook his head. "Yeah, well, over ten years ago, I¡¯d guess." Lex was about to open the can when the old man said, "Why are you limping, and where¡¯d you get that gash on your forehead?" "The tunnel caved in. Must''ve slipped down a level or so. Jeff¡­ he wasn¡¯t as lucky as me." The old man nodded. "And what are you doing down here?" "Nothing more than what it looks like." "You''re hiding." "No." The hermit seemed to think for a moment. "Maybe, yes." "Are you sick? Contagious?" "No." The boy nodded. "Let me see it." "See what?" "Your foot. Is it sprained? Torn ligament, maybe?" The boy looked at his booted foot as if that might help him diagnose the injury. "Not sure," he said. "But it¡¯s definitely not broken. I¡¯d know if it was." He carefully pulled off the boot, rolled up his pant leg, and was about to bring the lamp closer when the old man told him to leave it where it was. He could see perfectly fine in the dark. "I''ve been in the dark longer than you¡¯ve been alive. My eyes adjusted, just like I did." He reached out with his claw-like hand, grabbed the boy¡¯s leg and knocked his knuckles against the foot. "Ouch! You nuts?" "Hold still¡ªHmm, nothing¡¯s broken." He pressed along the achilles tendon, his long, yellowed fingernails digging into the flesh. He flexed the foot back and forth, spread the boy¡¯s smelly toes apart, and felt each one. "You''re fine," he finally said. "Whatever it is, it''ll be gone in a few days." "Well, I guess I can trust your expert opinion." "Yes," the hermit said. "I was a doctor once." "Yeah, right. I can fool myself just fine, thanks." The old man gave a thin smile in the lamplight and pushed a greasy lock of hair from his face. Then he folded his ears forward dramatically. "Do you see anything there?" "Yeah, huge earlobes," said the boy. "But you didn¡¯t have to fold them like that. I could see them just fine before." "What¡¯s behind my ears, boy?" Lex looked closer, about to say there was nothing but a few long black hairs when he stopped and recoiled, startled. "You don¡¯t have a tracker," he said, eyes wide. The old man let his ears snap back into place. "Exactly." "You¡¯re really a¡­ company employee?" "I used to be, a long time ago." "Then what the hell are you doing down here?" "That¡¯s a long story. And young folks don¡¯t have the patience for long stories." "We¡¯re in exile. I¡¯ve got all the time in the world. Go on, tell me." The boy stared at the old man for a moment, unblinking. Then he asked, "Do you know what life is like on Cetos V?" "Oh yes," the old man replied. "Have you been to Vega Prime?" "I was born and raised there." "For real?" Lex sat beside the old man on the dirty mattress and opened the canned meat. He scooped the gelatinous chunks with two fingers. Chewing, he said, "So, what¡¯s it like? Tell me everything. I wanna know everything." The old man laughed. "Alright, kid," he said. "Slow down. Let¡¯s start by making a small fire, and you hand me that can of pickled veggies over there. ¡ª Yeah, that¡¯s the one. Watching you eat makes me hungry, and I haven¡¯t felt that in a long, long time¡­" ****** Lex stayed with the hermit for several days. He listened to stories about Vega Prime, which didn¡¯t quite match his own idea of the city, but he listened intently anyway, never tiring of asking questions about things he didn¡¯t understand. And the old man never tired of explaining them all. Eventually, Lex shared his own story¡ªabout his life, his dream of living on the planet, the welding goggles he wore around his neck, and his best friend who had died for what he believed in. "So your friends joined Crimson Dawn?" "If anything, it was the FLD. But really, it was corporate guys pretending to be rebels who set Tayus up." "And you didn¡¯t join them?" "No." "Why not?" "I¡¯d never do that." "But why not?" "I already told you. I wanted out of here." "Right," said the old man. "You wanted to leave with the LEVIATHAN and go to Vega Prime." "Yeah." "And do you still want that?" The boy stayed silent. After a while: "Ever heard the name Ember Drake?" "Isn¡¯t she the leader of the FLD? She used to go by Echelon." "That¡¯s right. And as it happens, we¡¯re practically neighbors." Lex looked at the old hermit, confused. "I¡¯m serious. She¡¯s got her own hideout here in the Exile, much more luxurious than mine." "Lu-what?" "Well, bigger anyway. She¡¯s got a whole group with her. You wouldn¡¯t believe how huge this mountain is. I¡¯d call it a full-on rebel base that Ember Drake¡¯s built down here. Even in exile, they¡¯re making life as difficult as possible for the Thandros Corporation. I helped them back then, gave them all the knowledge I had about how the company operates. In return, they¡¯ve been supplying me with all this stuff ever since." He motioned to the canned food and the water canister that sat in front of Lex. "That¡¯s how I know the company isn¡¯t as all-powerful as it pretends to be. Crimson Dawn has moles within the company too. How else do you think Ember Drake gets her video messages out into the infonet from here? There are employees, even in exile, who care about the colonists and don¡¯t agree with how the company treats these so-called prisoners. The company knows it¡¯s in trouble, and the pressure from the public is growing. Protests in Vega Prime are getting bigger. Why do you think they came up with the Selection Program? It¡¯s all just to calm people down¡ªboth the workers and the citizens of Vega Prime. There are plenty of activists there, and Crimson Dawn is stronger than you think. It always was." The old man paused to let his words sink in. Lex lifted the water canister with both hands and took tiny sips of icy water; at the bottom, it had already begun to freeze. "Who¡¯s the leader of Crimson Dawn, if Ember Drake heads the FLD?" You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story."Nobody knows." "Somebody must know." "Yeah, but only a very small circle. I don¡¯t know, and neither does the TC." The boy set the canister down and said, "You sure seem to know a lot." "Well, I¡¯m close to the source." "So you¡¯re saying this Ember Drake could help me escape exile because she knows the right people?" The old man paused. "I hadn¡¯t even thought of that," he said. Those words hit Lex hard, right where a tiny spark of hope had just ignited in his heart. After all this time without any. "Can you tell me where to find the rebel base? I¡¯ll go there myself and ask her as soon as my foot¡¯s healed." "Of course I can tell you where it is. It¡¯s not that far from here. But no one there is going to help you leave the exile. How do you think that would work? If the moles within the company let you out, their cover would be blown instantly. The risk is too high. Not even Ember Drake can leave this place." "Then why did you tell me about it in the first place?" The old man shrugged under his wool blanket. "I figured we were just talking. People share all kinds of stories." ****** They ate, drank and warmed themselves by the oil fire. The boy looked from the flickering flames back to the hermit and asked, "How old are you, anyway?" He replied with his mouth full, "I¡¯ve got no idea what year it is, so I don¡¯t know how old I am either." "When I got here, it was ¡®66." "Well, let me think¡­ I¡¯d be over eighty by now." "Over eighty?" "Yeah, somewhere around eighty. I came here five years after the turn of the century. Wasn¡¯t even twenty then." "You¡¯re messing with me. Nobody lives to be eighty." Lex spooned the last bite from his can. The old man chuckled softly into his beard, cracked open a new can for Lex, and handed it to him. Lex took it and kept eating. "Doesn¡¯t it drive you crazy, being alone in the dark for so long?" The old man seemed to chew on the question for a long time before eventually speaking. "Maybe I already am," he said. "Yeah, well, I¡¯d believe it. If I chose to live in a dark hole under the ground instead of going back to my family on Cetos Five, I¡¯d definitely have lost it." He glanced over at the old man. He just kept spooning food out of his can, showing no reaction. "I never mentioned having a family," the old man finally said. "Just a guess." "Hmm..." "So why are you down here?" "As you rightly pointed out, I¡¯m down here because I¡¯m hiding. Not from the corporation, like you might think, but from¡­ from my past. I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s going to catch up with me. That¡¯s why I¡¯ve holed up here. To forget." "What¡¯re you trying to forget?" "Do you know the old saying about the Klabautermann? Something sailors used to say back on old Earth." The boy shook his head. "They used to say, ¡®Don¡¯t speak of the things you fear, or else they might come true.¡¯" "Don''t get it. What you saying?" "I¡¯m saying you should probably shut up now." ****** On the final morning, just before Lex planned to set off for the rebel base, they shared one last meal by candlelight, sitting on the dirty mattress. Lex wore another jacket on top of his wool one, and an old, tattered scarf¡ªboth gifts from the old man. "Mind if I ask you something?" Lex said. The hermit pressed his thin lips together until his mustache covered his mouth entirely. "Do you believe in life after death? Like, that there¡¯s something more?" The old man stopped chewing for a moment, then shook his head and continued eating. "No, I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything after death." Lex nodded, thinking about his own brush with death and how he saw things the same way¡ªbut secretly, he wished the old man had said something different. "But just because I believe that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s the truth. Why do you ask?" "I¡¯ve been dead before. My heart stopped for about two minutes, maybe longer. And I can¡¯t remember anything from that time. Just darkness. Then I woke up in the infirmary. So... yeah." "Then you don''t know any more than the rest of us," the old man said. "Do you remember what happened when you were born? Or right after, when they cut your umbilical cord? Something happened, even if you can¡¯t recall it. Just because you don¡¯t remember something doesn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t real." "I thought you said you don¡¯t believe in life after death," Lex replied. "I don¡¯t. But I don¡¯t know for sure." Lex looked up from his can of food, studying the old man. Then, turning back to his nearly empty can, he muttered, "I don¡¯t get how someone can believe one thing and say something else. You either believe it, or you don¡¯t. Whatever. Thanks for everything. Maybe I¡¯ll come visit again." He stood up from the mattress. The old man smirked, still stirring his spoon in the empty can, long after he''d finished eating. "Hey, Lex?" Lex turned around. "Yeah? What is it?" "Why do you think you¡¯re really down here?" "Because I didn¡¯t turn in my best friend, even though he joined the rebels," Lex answered. "That¡¯s what I thought at first too," the old man said. "But now, I know the real reason." "And what¡¯s that?" "Where I come from, we call it fate. Fate brought you here, to me, before you leave this moon." "Leave the moon? What are you talking about? What kind of twisted fate sends me into exile, lets me fall down a shaft, and leads me here to you? I won the Selection Program¡­ If fate wanted me off this moon, why didn¡¯t it just let me leave on the LEVIATHAN?" The hermit shrugged. "You can¡¯t see through fate," he said. "Nobody can. You only understand it afterward, when you look back, and maybe, just maybe, you see how it all fits together." "I don¡¯t get it." "You don¡¯t have to. Do you believe in fate?" "Mori and Tayus asked me the same thing. I used to believe in my dreams, but not in fate. Now¡­ I... only believe in what I can see." The old man studied him for a while. Lex could see the candlelight flickering in his eyes. Then the old man lowered his head, and his greasy white strands of hair fell over the can of food. He scooped a spoonful, chewed, then pulled out a stray hair that had gotten into his mouth, and kept chewing. "Well, I guess I¡¯ll be going now," Lex said. "Dreams are traps," the old man said. "They come true for only a very few people. And usually, it¡¯s not until they¡¯re old. By then, they realize that while they may have fulfilled a dream, reality is nothing like what they imagined back then. Others spend their whole lives chasing a dream and never get there. Those people are never happy. Do you kind of get what I¡¯m saying?" Lex thought for a moment. Then he replied, "Without the hope of getting out of here, I wouldn¡¯t have anything to hold on to." The old man shook his head. "You don¡¯t understand much yet," he said. "You think you¡¯ve reached the end of your journey because your dream¡¯s been shattered. But this is just the beginning. Dreams give you direction, but the journey? That¡¯s a wild ride." "And that wild ride is... fate?" "Not at all. The wild ride is the path you take in life while you¡¯re chasing your dreams. It¡¯s simple. But fate? Fate is something far more important than your wishful thinking about how the world should be for you. So stop dreaming and follow your true purpose." "I don¡¯t understand a single word of what you¡¯re saying." "You don¡¯t need to," the hermit said, chuckling to himself. He pointed to a pile of what looked like worthless chunks of rock, piled up at the far end of the cave. "Go over there and pick that one up. ¨C No, not that one, the other one. Yes, that¡¯s the one. Take it. It¡¯s for you. With it, you can keep dreaming." The boy picked up a strange piece of rock. In the center was a black pearl, emitting a warm glow. He couldn¡¯t quite tell if the glow was truly there or if he was merely sensing it. It was... a substance unlike anything he¡¯d ever seen before. A perfect sphere, a black orb, with no reflection of the candle¡¯s light on its surface, as though it wasn¡¯t a sphere at all but a black hole, swallowing all light. An enigma that defied explanation, a substance that shouldn¡¯t even exist. Cautiously, he touched the orb with his fingertips. A perfect sphere, he thought again, round and smooth. It radiated warmth, which was impossible. He looked up at the old man. "What is this?" The old hermit, half hidden in the candle¡¯s shadow, whispered as if revealing a long-guarded secret, as if he were the keeper of that secret: "It¡¯s magic." Lex lowered his gaze again, hearing the hermit¡¯s raspy laugh. "Don¡¯t mess with me," Lex grumbled. "I¡¯m not in the mood." "I¡¯m old, kid. I don¡¯t believe in magic anymore. But you¡¯re young. For you, it should be magic. To me, it¡¯s just something we humans don¡¯t understand yet. Something that wasn¡¯t made by us, but isn¡¯t exactly natural either." Lex ran his finger over the smooth curve of the orb. "Not natural?" The old man shrugged under his blanket. "Are you saying you believe in aliens?" "Aren¡¯t we aliens too?" The boy examined the strange artifact again. "Is it valuable?" "It¡¯s the reason the corporation set up this exile camp here in the north. It¡¯s the most valuable thing in this entire star system. An almost endless energy source. Perhaps. I don''t know. They knew it had to be hidden somewhere here. And only in a place like this, where the exiled never come out, can that discovery be kept secret. Punishment is a pretense, a cover-up, just like the whole inherited guilt thing is." "And you¡¯re just giving it to me? Just like that?" "Just like that," the old man replied. "Haven¡¯t you been through enough to earn it?" Lex studied the strange, otherworldly orb again. "So, you¡¯re saying this thing could get me off the moon?" "The TC would jump at the chance. They¡¯d grant you any wish if you handed them that thing." "But why didn¡¯t you take it? Why didn¡¯t you go to the corporation with it? You used to work for them. Wouldn¡¯t they have made you rich?" The old man coughed into his bony fist. "Without a doubt," he said, then paused. A long pause. "This must have something to do with why you¡¯ve been down here all these years. But don¡¯t tell me it¡¯s all for my sake. Fate and all that. That you¡¯ve been guarding this thing just for me. I don¡¯t buy it." "The Black Orb was meant for you. That much I realized only when you came into my cave. From that moment, everything came full circle for me. I think it¡¯s time you knew why I¡¯m really here: I did have a family once. They were at the beginning of everything, at the start of this whole story. I had just finished my training when I volunteered to relocate to Limbo. I did it for them, and it was the hardest decision of my life. The pay was triple, but I knew that I would have to leave behind my wife and sons." "Couldn¡¯t your family have come with you?" "They could¡¯ve, yes. My wife wanted to come, and my sons wouldn¡¯t have minded either. They were just babies back then¡ªtwins. But that would¡¯ve defeated the whole point of my decision. I came here to earn enough money to give them a better life, to make sure my boys didn¡¯t grow up in the slums, or even worse, here on this moon. That¡¯s why I did it." "And then?" "Then, one day, I found myself on the moon, stationed here in exile. For the first few months, I got through the pain by reminding myself how much better off my family would be with the money the TC was sending them. That got me through the first year. But by the second year, I began to feel the weight of my mistake, even if I hadn¡¯t fully admitted it to myself yet. It must have been toward the end of that second year that I realized: I should¡¯ve worked three jobs at once, or four, or five. I should¡¯ve sold my organs on the black market and died in my wife¡¯s arms¡ªanything would¡¯ve been better than living here, millions of miles away from the only people I love. But by the time I understood that, it was already too late." "Couldn''t you just quit and return to Vega Prime?" "My contract was for eight years. I would¡¯ve left after that, without question. But I never got that far. One day, a boy came to me, a prisoner, about your age. He brought me this very artifact you¡¯re holding now. Before I even saw it, I could sense that something was changing, that the boy was about to bring me something important, that the Black Orb was here to alter fate¡ªmy fate, I thought back then. But in truth, it was never about me. I took the orb from him. The moment I saw it, I knew this was what the corporation had been searching for here in the polar region, what they had sent us all to find." "So, you took the Black Orb from him because you thought it would make you rich?" "Yes. The Black Orb was the fulfillment of my dreams. I was sure of that the moment I saw it in the prisoner''s hands. But I was also terrified, terrified that someone might take my dream away, now that it was within my grasp. I feared the prisoner would tell others. So, I lied. I told him that in order to receive his reward, he had to first show me where he had found the artifact. It was right here in this cave." "Here? He found the Black Orb here?" "Yes." "And what happened then?" "The same thing that happens to anyone consumed by greed. It corrupted me." "What do you mean?" "When we got here, I smashed the boy¡¯s skull." Lex clenched his jaw tightly. "I''ve never left these mines since. I washed the blood from the artifact and my hands, but I never found a way to cleanse my soul. That, I could never do. I didn¡¯t show the Black Orb to anyone. The guilt was too much. I started to think that I didn¡¯t deserve the life I¡¯d dreamed of anymore. Holding that thing changed everything for me¡ªbut in a way I could have never predicted. It destroyed me. The guilt made me lose my mind. It got so bad that I even forgot my family. It consumed me entirely. Am I guilty? I¡¯ve spent my whole life asking myself that question. But now, I believe it¡¯s not about what I am, it¡¯s about what I lived for. I believe everything happens for a greater purpose, though none of us, not a single person, can ever truly understand it. By giving you the Black Orb, I believe I am helping to set something inevitable into motion. But I don¡¯t know how this artifact will affect the world, whether it will bring disaster or fortune. In my life, at least, it brought nothing but ruin. I can¡¯t say if, by the end of your journey, you¡¯ll wish you had never met me. But I know one thing: I must give you the Black Orb. It will allow you to continue your journey. But take heed from my mistakes, never hand this artifact over to just one person. Give it only to a group. An individual can far too easily be overtaken by greed. Just as I was. And now, let me show you the way to your new life." NINETEEN: A New Beginning
They left him waiting in the cold all day in front of an iron gate. It wasn¡¯t until he threw the stone through the bars that he caught the attention of the workers inside. Just like the old man had advised, he waited until a small crowd gathered around the gate. Then, with the simple words "I know where you can find more," he set his fate in motion. A group of scientists arrived at the outpost by late afternoon. While they set up a makeshift lab to test the stone, trying¡ªand failing¡ªto identify it as any known element, the station overseer handed the boy a glass of water and some food through the gate. "Where did you find that little orb, boy?" The overseer¡¯s voice was calm, but there was an edge of urgency beneath it. Lex was so thirsty, he finished the water before answering. "In the mines, of course," he said, breathing heavily. "Yes, but where exactly? What spot?" the overseer pressed. "I¡¯ll tell you when I¡¯m on board the LEVIATHAN," Lex shot back. The man looked down at the ground, his fingers stroking his chin thoughtfully. "The LEVIATHAN won¡¯t be landing in Bancarduu for another two years. Don¡¯t you think by then we¡¯ll have searched every inch of the mines and found your precious little spot? You¡¯ll be long gone by then." Lex clenched the protein bar tightly in his hand. "I think you¡¯ve been searching for that thing for over sixty years already, and you¡¯re not gonna find it without me in the next few years either. I also think the Black Orb''s valuable enough for you to forget about waiting two years and have the LEVIATHAN come here just for this." "You really believe that?" the overseer asked, half-smiling. "Yeah. Gotta believe in something, right?" Later that night, Lex was startled awake by the sound of the gate creaking open. In the blinding floodlights, the same corporate official stood, this time with a strangely polite tone. "Please stand up," he said. The word please caught Lex off guard¡ªit was hardly ever heard on the prison moon, and corporate employees probably never used it when talking to convicts. Lex stood up, walked through the gate and followed the man. "Where we goin''?" he asked. "To the next shuttle," the official responded flatly. He pressed his thumb to a door scanner, and the airlock slid open. After several minutes of walking through a tube-like corridor, they arrived at an underground rail station bustling with corporate workers. Amid the crowd, the man said, "A cargo ship from Cetos Five launched last night. It¡¯ll arrive here at the station in ten days. You¡¯ll take the rail to the spaceport, where further instructions will be given. You¡¯ll get a room and meals while you wait. Safe travels." This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ****** It was June 23, 2668. The boy had been staring at the date on the digital wall calendar for quite some time, lounging cross-legged on the bed, fiddling with Tayus''s welding goggles¡ªhis hands calloused but clean. Every now and then, his eyes drifted back to the date. He had endured two years in exile. Now, freshly showered and shaved, he lay on a foam mattress covered in velvet. A few hours earlier, they''d cut his hair¡ªnot just buzzed it off like they used to. He now had a proper haircut, short sides and a neat side part. He''d thought about heading to the staff cafeteria for a snack, but it was already too late for that. At 2:00 p.m., they came to get him, escorting him across a platform deep inside the mountain. At the eastern end, next to a communications tower, there was a small medical facility, which he entered. The room was divided into sections by sliding glass walls, and in the surgical area, a high-tech robotic arm hovered over the operating table. Lex walked into the adjoining area, where a doctor put him through a thorough checkup. It was the first medical examination of his life. Afterward, the petite woman stood beside the boy, who was impatiently lying on the exam table. Even standing, she was a full head shorter than he was. She then drew up a syringe and placed the vial back on the table. "There''s nothing wrong with me," the boy said. She gently folded his ear back. "I need to remove your tracker. Just hold still for me, please." She slid the needle into the skin between his ear and the small tracking device. Then, she briefly left the room, and when she returned, she stood right behind him. "Did you feel anything?" she asked. "Nothing," he mumbled. "But my tongue feels all numb. Is that normal?" "Perfectly normal. Now, lie flat on your stomach." He did as she told. The procedure took less than five minutes. When it was done, he sat up and spotted the blood-smeared tracker with its loose screws lying in a petri dish. He reached up and touched the bandage on the back of his head. His eyelid drooped slightly from the anesthesia, and the doctor assured him, in response to his question, that it was completely normal and would wear off in a few hours. She returned holding a medical device that looked a lot like a gun. "Now I just need to implant your ID chip under the skin. Give me your right arm, please." "But I''m left-handed." "That''s nice. Now give me your right arm." She pressed on the back of his hand until she found the right spot. Carefully lining up the device, she inserted a thin metal tube into his skin and pulled the trigger. The boy winced, but only a little. "Congratulations. You¡¯re now officially a citizen of Vega Prime. Of course, you still need to be officially pardoned so you can fully feel like one, but as far as I know, Miss Thandros herself will be handling that. And there¡¯s one more thing I¡¯ve heard, though it¡¯s only a rumor: Apparently, Miss Thandros was over the moon about your discovery. So much so, she wants to personally thank you." The boy stared at the doctor, saying nothing. "Don¡¯t get your hopes up just yet," she added. "A rumor¡¯s a rumor until it¡¯s proven true. But if it is, it¡¯s a huge honor for you. Very few of us have ever seen Miss Thandros in person." She smiled warmly, like she truly believed he deserved the honor after everything he¡¯d been through. Then, in one smooth motion, she peeled off her disposable gloves and tossed them into the waste bin. As she left the room, she called back, "You''re free to go. You¡¯re in good health and ready to start a new life." TWENTY: Lieutenant Major Franley
On the day of departure, Lex sat alone in the waiting room, fiddling with the buttons on his recruit uniform. He leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling where pipes and silver conduits ran overhead. Suddenly, a mechanical hum filled the air, making the whole building tremble, and the pipes rattled. Lex''s gaze snapped forward to the large window in front of him, where the massive dome over the landing bay began to open. He stood up from his chair and moved closer to the window. Through the widening gap, he saw flashes of lightning crackling across the narrow slice of sky, while snow swirled in, illuminated by the bright floodlights. The dome had fully retracted now, revealing the snow-covered mountains all around. Lex searched the skies for the ship¡ªthere, in the distance, was a single light cutting through the cloudy sky. Soon, it split into two as the lights drifted further apart, and the shape of a freighter began to take form. Suddenly, several bolts of lightning struck its outer hull mid-descent. His heart raced just watching, fearing the ship would burst into flames. But as it came closer, Lex realized the fiery bursts were caused by methane in the atmosphere igniting around the ship¡¯s bright blue, ring-like thrusters. The ship, seemingly unfazed by the lightning, descended¡ªalmost silently behind the thick, reinforced glass¡ªinto the landing bay, hovering right at Lex¡¯s eye level. It was about a hundred meters long, though not nearly as massive as the LEVIATHAN. On the port side, the only side he could see, the words "ST SAMSON" were painted in bright orange letters, with the company logo shining nearby in the same color. The SAMSON performed a half-turn in midair, and its enormous front floodlights bathed the waiting room in blinding light. For a brief moment, Lex stood bathed in the glow, before the ship finally lowered itself, thrusters pointed downward, onto the marked landing zone. Its nose dipped briefly as it settled onto its feet, landing securely. Beneath the thrust of the engines, the ground cracked and glowed with heat, bubbling up as the four ion jets powered down, and the two main engines on the rear wings retracted into their original positions. Lex''s breath fogged up the glass in front of him, obscuring his view. He stepped to the side, never taking his eyes off the SAMSON. The metal shutters on the cockpit windows rolled down, revealing the pilot and two other crew members behind the glass. They seemed to be in the middle of an argument¡ªthe one who looked like the ship¡¯s captain was clearly agitated, making angry gestures. Lex wiped the glass with his sleeve, just as the dome above closed and the airlock system in the landing bay finished its cycle. He saw the first crew members exit the ship, climbing down from the front landing gear. They were mechanics and technicians dressed in dark blue overalls and knit caps. A few mercenaries followed, with rifles slung over their shoulders and bits of body armor stuffed into large, open duffel bags. Then came a group of officers, and Lex wondered which one of them was the Lieutenant Major he¡¯d been waiting for all this time. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ****** Lieutenant Major Franley had sad brown eyes and short-cropped hair, streaked with gray at the temples. Despite his serious expression, impressive build, and the rank clearly marked on his uniform, Lex found himself instantly warming to the man, without really knowing why. The Lieutenant Major laid a stack of official-looking documents on the table. One paper stated that Lex must never speak about the discovery in the mine, and another demanded absolute silence about the conditions on Limbo. Lex signed without hesitation, thinking how he wanted to bury the past anyway¡ªnever to think about it again, let alone talk about it. He handed the papers back to the Lieutenant Major, who took them, only to place them back on the table. "One more thing," he said, "we don¡¯t use coins on the planet. Everything runs on credits¡ªit¡¯s a completely virtual currency. The upside is you don¡¯t have to lug around heavy coins, but the downside is you can¡¯t wave around cash to impress the girls at the bar. If you haven¡¯t already, you¡¯ll need to hand over any coins before we take off. They¡¯re no good in Vega Prime." "I don¡¯t have any left, sir." The man nodded. "Are you left-handed or right-handed?" "Left-handed." "Alright, give me your right arm." He strapped a device, shaped like a watch, onto Lex¡¯s wrist. "We¡¯ve transferred a five hundred credit advance to your account to help get you started on your new life. We¡¯ll deduct it in installments from your future earnings, interest-free. This thing on your wrist is called a PDA, a Personal Data Assistant. It¡¯s mainly for credit transfers. Every purchase you make, every credit you earn or spend, goes through this. If you want to check your balance, press this button on the side and a hologram will pop up, visible only to you. So no need to worry about someone else spying on it¡ªwell, never mind. I¡¯ll just give you the manual. You can read, right?" "Yes, sir. Not all that well, but I can." "Good enough. Everyone in Vega Prime wears one of these. It¡¯s the latest tech¡ªand also mandatory. Each of us has a PDA with a list of achievements and a level indicator to motivate you to become a good citizen of Vega Prime, maybe even the best. This is the scaled-down version of a more advanced progression system that used to interface directly with our biochemistry, but it''s now banned. A ¡®Light¡¯ version, you could say. But it¡¯s still enough to check where you stand in society. Look: right now, you¡¯re a Level 1 Citizen of Vega Prime. But that¡¯ll change soon enough, I bet." Lex examined the hologram of his character profile, displaying his name, skills, and everything he had achieved so far as a citizen of this foreign megacity, nothing. Then Major Franley turned off the hologram with a button press and said, "This thing is synced to you at all times and tracks your progress through a limited AI, though we¡¯re not really allowed to call it that. Anyway, your PDA can do plenty of other useful things too, like plan routes if you need directions. Once you¡¯ve landed on the planet, your next task is to wait for a message from the Corporation, which you¡¯ll receive through your PDA. After that, get ready. Zara Thandros herself wants to speak with you." "Heard that already, sir." The Lieutenant Major pressed his lips together, then nodded. "She wants to meet the boy who helped the Corporation crush the resistance." "Did I really?" "I don¡¯t know what you found down in those mines, but that¡¯s what Miss Thandros said. Her words, not mine. Anyway, go ahead and introduce yourself to the captain. Maybe a bit of politeness will help lighten his foul mood." "Thank you, sir." The Lieutenant Major nodded. "Nothing to thank me for, kid," he said. TWENTY-ONE: The Crew Lex was strapped in, sitting with most of the crew in the launch cabin, eagerly watching through the small window as orange-tinted clouds swirled past. The acceleration pressed him deep into his seat. Suddenly, the ST SAMSON burst through Limbo¡¯s all-encompassing cloud layer, and the ship¡¯s rough shaking transitioned into a smooth glide. Lex held his breath. No more time to think. Something at the window caught his eye, momentarily blinding him. He leaned forward, and at the top edge of the window a small sun reappeared. Tau Ceti hung high in the sky, behind the thin veil of a star-speckled atmosphere. It was so faint that he could stare at it for a while. Then, it finally disappeared from view. It was the first time he saw the sun. Ever. He leaned back into his seat, exhaling deeply. Even though the ship had stopped accelerating, he still felt like he was being pressed into his seat. At a speed of 8.3 meters per second, they left the moon¡¯s atmosphere behind. After some time in space, the artificial gravity field kicked in, and one by one, the seat belts clicked open. Lex was the first to unbuckle himself, slipping out from under the Y-shaped harness and dashing out of the launch cabin. He rushed around the corner, gripping the metal walls of the ship for balance. A glass sliding door opened ahead of him, and he sprinted into the ghostly quiet mess hall, where a glowing spiral staircase led up to the star deck. Cool white LED strips glowed under each step. When he reached the top, he touched the holographic lock, and the door slid open. Lex stepped into the observation deck. And froze. Before him was a massive panoramic window, stretching from the floor to the ceiling, nearly five meters tall. Through it, he watched the stormy northern hemisphere of the prison moon slowly shrink away. From his vantage point, it didn¡¯t seem like much was moving. Quietly, lightning flickered in random spots deep within the moon¡¯s never-ending storm clouds. He stepped up to the observation window and pressed his hand against the cold glass, staring into the sluggish eye of the massive Vortex, as if it were staring right back at him. The eye of the storm had to be the size of two sectors¡ªbigger than all the settlements combined. He tried to imagine the raging, all-destroying blizzard tearing across the moon¡¯s surface below. But from where he stood¡ªfar away on the observation deck¡ªthe storm¡¯s movements seemed awe-inspiring, almost graceful, and completely silent. There was something surreal about the view from the panoramic window. Everything that had happened since he found the Black Orb felt unreal to him in a similar way. ****** The boy sat at a table in the mess hall with the head doctor, the Lieutenant Major, and two other crew members. A ship technician, who they called Tardino, joined them, sitting across from Lex with a plate of food. He took off his beanie, placed it on the table, and started eating quickly. The meal was overcooked rice with some dried-out chicken strips in a bland curry sauce. "How¡¯s it taste?" Tardino asked, chewing as he spoke. At first, Lex didn¡¯t realize the question was aimed at him. "It¡¯s the best thing I¡¯ve ever had," he finally replied, blowing on his steaming spoon. Tardino shook his head. "And that¡¯s lemonade," the doctor said a moment later, as Lex gulped down his drink. "It¡¯s pretty good too," he said, wiping his mouth. The technician looked up at him, raising his licked-clean spoon. "I¡¯ll have to tell Flint what you think of his cooking. Hopefully, he doesn¡¯t think I¡¯m messing with him. Even he doesn¡¯t believe anyone likes his food." Lex stopped chewing. "You guys don¡¯t like this?" he asked. The doctor chuckled, glancing towards the kitchen where several pans were sizzling and the chef was busy handling multiple tasks at once. "It¡¯s definitely not top-tier," she said with a small shake of her head. "The what?" Lex asked. Tardino brushed a stray strand of hair out of his face, but it fell right back into his food. He looked up with blue eyes and a face stuck somewhere between boy and adulthood. His patchy beard hadn¡¯t been shaved in about three weeks, and his hair was tied back in a ponytail. "The kid¡¯s got a point, Pris," Tardino said. "We¡¯re old enough to be honest: the only thing worse is that protein paste from the prepackaged meals." Lex scooped more rice onto his plate and ladled extra curry sauce over it. "Sir," he said, addressing the Lieutenant Major, "do you know anything more about the Black Orb I found?" The officer shook his head. "You probably know more about it than the entire crew, including the captain. He doesn¡¯t have a clue what he¡¯s carrying. None of us saw this thing¡ªor whatever it is¡ªwhen we took off. Maybe it¡¯s better that way, not knowing too much." Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. "What do you mean by that?" Lex asked. "Exactly," Tardino chimed in, "what do you mean, Hemold? There¡¯s a whole squad of mercenaries on this ship. And I, the lead technician, need special permission just to enter the cargo bay. I¡¯ve got to explain in writing why I need to be down there. Me, as Chief Engineer. The cargo bay¡¯s like my second home! My weights, my workbench, my bed, and my locker full of antique books are all down there." "Magazines with old ladies don¡¯t count as antique literature," the doctor said with a laugh. "But you got a point," she said after calming down. The doctor had thin red lips and dark, thick hair tied up with a long clip. Like the Lieutenant Major, there were already streaks of gray. "This trip really doesn¡¯t feel like it¡¯s our ship anymore." "It¡¯s not, Pris. They¡¯ve even got mercenaries posted on the bridge to keep an eye on Tessar. Do they seriously think we¡¯re going to run off with that thing?" He glanced around the table, shaking his head, then gave the doctor a look heavy with meaning, as if to say that nothing could insult him more than being suspected of betrayal. "That explains why the captain¡¯s in such a foul mood," Lex said. "Partly," Tardino replied. "But mainly, he¡¯s in a bad mood because he can¡¯t believe we¡¯re transporting a convict on his ship." "Earl." "I¡¯m just telling it like it is: our captain¡¯s a racist. He¡¯s got a very clear opinion about people from the prison moons. To him, they¡¯re scum, less than human." Lex stayed quiet. "Anyway, none of us are trusted anymore, and every decision gets made over the captain¡¯s head by the corporation." Tardino shrugged, poking at his food. "What happened to King? That corporate puppet. Back when the business was still his, he would¡¯ve never let any of this happen." "Who¡¯s King?" Lex asked. Tardino looked up at him, then used his thumb to push some rice onto his fork. "Moving on," the doctor interjected. "Have you thought about what you want to do when you get to Vega Prime?" Lex paused. "Well, I¡¯m already a mechanic, so I¡¯ll probably stick with that." "Doesn¡¯t sound like you¡¯re too excited about it. Maybe it¡¯s time to try something new? I mean, you¡¯re starting a whole new life¡ªwhy stick with the same old job? Most people I know want a fresh start because they¡¯re sick of their jobs." "I¡¯m too old for something new. I¡¯m already eighteen." The table went silent for a moment. The doctor gave him a kind smile. "In Vega Prime, kids your age are just starting their training." "Seriously?" "You¡¯re definitely not too old. And you¡¯ve got something over the competition¡ªan actual qualification and years of experience. If you ask me, the world¡¯s wide open for you." "Are my qualifications from Limbo even worth anything?" The doctor looked thoughtful, her age showing a little more in the moment. "Honestly, I¡¯m not sure," she said. "But they didn¡¯t just throw the winner of the Selection Program out on the street with no support. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll get your shot." "Do you know who the winner was?" Lex asked. She shook her head. Silence. "If I could pick, I think I¡¯d like to be a starship technician. That seems like the right fit for me." Tardino, still unimpressed, scraped the last bit of soup from his bowl. "Then do it," he said. "You apply to Starship Technology Corporation, or STC for short," the doctor added. "Just shoot them an email. They¡¯re a subsidiary of the TC, so they should already be listed in your PDA¡¯s directory." "They are," Tardino confirmed. "Starship Technology got bought by the corporation a few years ago. It¡¯s been on the system ever since." "Exactly. And Chester D. King is now the admiral of the First Fleet, which Tardino here has a big problem with." She stuck her tongue out at the technician, which made Lex glance down at his food, a bit confused. "The admiral. The admiral, Pris. You make it sound so grand when you say it. But if you used to own a monopoly on spaceflight technology and made your dream of advancing humanity come true, being an admiral is a joke in comparison." "He did a great job before, and he¡¯s doing just as well now." "If you mean a cranky captain and a frustrated crew, then yeah, he¡¯s doing better than anyone else. But that¡¯s not the point. He loved what he was doing before." "Well, I guess you haven¡¯t read his biography. It says something else entirely." Tardino froze, every movement pausing as he focused his entire being into one intense look at the doctor. "He used to be my best friend," he said quietly. "I know him better than any biography written by the TC." "If you were his friend, then you should know that it was King¡¯s childhood dream to become an admiral." "His¡ªwhat? The biography is full of crap, Pris. The whole publishing market is just a corporate playground. They write whatever suits them. Or did you read the part where the TC bled his company dry by being the sole buyer of his tech and basically forced King to sell Starship? Funny how someone has to be pushed so hard to ¡®fulfill¡¯ their childhood dream." "Watch what you say, Tardino," the Lieutenant Major warned. "Don¡¯t ruin your reputation¡ªor ours." "You don¡¯t need to tell me that, Hemold. I care about the crew just as much as you do. All I said is you¡¯ll never find anything bad written about the corporation. And that¡¯s the truth. There¡¯s only ever one truth, and when I say it, it¡¯s got nothing to do with my political stance. I love the TC." He grinned, and the conversation came to an abrupt halt. The clatter of cutlery filled the awkward silence, and the chatter from nearby tables became a kind of comforting background noise in the uneasy quiet. After a while, Tardino shook his head. "Gotta get goin''," he said, slurping down the last of his meal while standing. "Hey, Chief Engineer," the doctor called after him, "why don¡¯t you take the boy with you for your shift? We¡¯ve got over a week until we land. He could learn a lot from you in that time. It¡¯d be like an internship for him. I bet none of his competitors have flown on a starship! It¡¯d look great on his resume¡ªand who knows? Maybe you two will get along, and you won¡¯t have to be so lonely down in the engine room." "I¡¯m alone down there, Pris, not lonely. You know the difference, right? Starship engineers are their own best friends." "Oh, come on, don¡¯t be like that. It would be important for the kid." "It¡¯s touching how much you care about him, but I just don¡¯t have the time to mentor anyone right now. The SAMSON got hit by thirteen lightning bolts when we flew through the clouds. One of them damaged the hull, which caused a short circuit in the metal shields over the meeting room. They won¡¯t close now. Looks like the fuse box is fried, and pretty much all the wiring needs replacing. We can¡¯t fix the fuse box until we land, so I¡¯ve gotta go outside with Siggi to repair the shield servos and manually crank the shutters closed. We¡¯ve got exactly"¡ªhe glanced at his watch¡ª"22 hours before we hit the asteroid field. And I really don¡¯t want to fly through that with the windows wide open. Once that¡¯s done, the kid can come join me, but not before." He stopped abruptly and shook his head in disapproval. "Windows on a starship," he said with a scoff. "I¡¯m with the Captain on this one: staring at the stars is for romantics, but we¡¯re on a ship, and windows have no place here." TWENTY-TWO: Hot Coffee
The time aboard the ST SAMSON was the same as it had been on Vega Prime, or so they had told him. That meant it was currently two in the morning over there. Part of the crew had finished their shifts and were asleep in the crew quarters. The boy was passing time on the observation deck. Using a glass display on the wall, he dimmed the lights in the room. It was now completely dark, with only the silver starlight streaming in through the panoramic window. He sat down on a faux leather bench, gazing out into space, listening to the silence of a star-filled night. A milky spot of red light hung in the darkness, frozen in time. When the boy stretched out his arm and squinted one eye, he could just about cover the strange red glow with his thumb. Why did it shine out there in the endless void? Who had lit it? He stared out at the cosmos without blinking even once, his thoughts dancing like shadows before his eyes. He couldn¡¯t fully grasp that he was actually in space, or that he had truly left the prison moon behind. How did that old saying go again? It¡¯s too good to be true. But this time, it¡¯s real. It¡¯s real, and no one is going to wake me up from this dream. For the first time, Lex believed in a good outcome for his life. He truly believed this was the turning point, and that from now on, nothing bad would ever happen to him again. After all, he had already suffered enough for a lifetime. ****** When he woke up on the couch the next morning, the metal shields had already been raised, and the lamps on the observation deck were back on. A monitor, folded down from the ceiling and hanging in front of the locked panoramic window, displayed the following message: "Dear people of today, we¡¯ve just reached the outer ring of the asteroid belt. That means the most dangerous part of the trip has officially begun. The windows won¡¯t be opened again until we¡¯ve made it safely through the asteroid field. Now that your view of the stars is blocked, you¡¯ve finally got time to do something meaningful. There¡¯s a chessboard and a chess computer on the observation deck, in case you didn¡¯t notice. Haven¡¯t seen anyone playing there. If, for some bizarre reason, you don¡¯t like chess, maybe it¡¯s time to read a book for a change. There¡¯s a shelf on the wall opposite the chessboards, and it¡¯s packed with dusty e-readers loaded with quadrillions of eBooks. If reading¡¯s not your thing either, why not pay a visit to our AI on the flight deck? She¡¯s way too lonely up there. LONELY, Pris. One day, we¡¯re gonna entrust her with the whole ship, so we need to talk to her a lot and hopefully teach her some human values. The billions invested in this project should be worth it, right? Well, that¡¯s all I¡¯ve got to say for now, so I¡¯m off to find some work to do. Best regards from your Chief Engineer, E. Tardino." Lex looked around. On the right wall stood the bookshelf with the e-readers. Across from it were chairs, styled like the bench he was sitting on, lined up at glass tables where the chessboards were set up, ready to play. He headed down to the mess hall, where the cooks were preparing the breakfast buffet and some of the crew were already filling their plates. He grabbed a roll from a wicker basket and walked to the cargo lift at the far end of the mess. Next to him were cylindrical containers that reached about knee-height. They were open and empty. Nearby was a stacked pallet of plastic crates, labeled with all sorts of baking ingredients like flour, sugar, butter, and eggs. He leaned against the wall and took a bite of the roll as the lift began to descend. The machine deck was freezing cold. A deep rumble vibrated through the walls, and the shadows of large ceiling fans spun lazily across the grated floor. Lex turned a corner and spotted a slanted window at the end of the corridor. From there, he looked down into the cargo hangar. On the starboard side, raw metals were stored, and two mercenaries sat casually on an iron pipe, chatting with each other. In the middle of the room, crates of ore were stacked high. He saw Tardino¡¯s book locker and his weight bench, which was currently being used by a mercenary in an olive-green shirt, pressing an impressive amount of weight. Then, he spotted what he had actually been looking for: The Black Orb the old man had given him was locked inside a silver aluminum box, guarded by two mercenaries in full armor. They wore integral helmets with gold-tinted visors. From the tough, teflon-like curves of one guard¡¯s chest plate, he could tell she was a woman. A shotgun was strapped across her shoulder. The guards stood there like they didn¡¯t even trust their own crew. He found Tardino in the control room, seated behind a long console. He was leaning back in a chair, blowing clouds of breath into the cold air, his feet crossed on the console. He wore a thick winter jacket and a woolen hat rolled down to his ears. His eyes were closed¡ªmaybe he was asleep, or maybe just dozing. Taped near the tip of his boot was a family photo, covering some of the instruments on the control panel. It showed the technician with his wife and two kids. Behind them, a small tree decorated with baubles and candles glowed¡ªChristmas, a tradition Lex didn¡¯t recognize. Tardino¡¯s wife was young and very pretty; the whole family wore red Santa hats and smiled at the camera. Lex stared at the photo for a while, watching the holographic reflections shimmering on its glossy surface. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. "Mornin¡¯," he said at last. Tardino kicked an empty coffee cup off the console, sending it clattering to the floor. "Mornin¡¯? What a load of crap," he muttered, eyeing the boy. "What are you doing here?" "You said I could join you at work once the windows were fixed." "Yeah, sometimes you say things that come back to bite you." "So, can I tag along or not?" "Sure. Got your first job for you: clean up the floor and then get me a fresh hot coffee from upstairs.¡± When Lex was done, he wrung out the soaked rag in the sink, draped it over a heating pipe, and went back to Tardino, telling him he was eager to learn something. "So, what¡¯s next?" "Well, let me think," said the technician, sipping from his steaming coffee cup. "To be honest, nothing¡¯s next. If something was going on, one of these countless little indicator lights here would be flashing, or one of the dials on these instruments would be going haywire, or I¡¯d get a message over the intercom, see, or the captain would show up on one of those video screens over there, or one of these holograms here, here, or there would be alerting me to some damage. But everything¡¯s running perfectly, smooth as butter." The boy examined the control console. On top of it were labeled papers and clipboards. Hardly any of the buttons or switches on the panels were numbered or named. Next to the touch-sensitive glass displays were endless rows of analog dials and instruments. To the boy, it looked like one big mess. "What if we go outside and fix something on the ship? I¡¯ve worn a cold suit before. I heard it¡¯s kinda like a space suit." "Why don¡¯t you grab a jacket and a hat from one of the lockers over there instead?" "I¡¯m not cold." "Your lips are blue, and you¡¯re shivering. Now, go get a jacket and a hat." Lex put on a padded down jacket with countless pockets and left it unzipped, then pulled on the hat before sitting down on the metal swivel chair next to the technician. He gently rocked himself back and forth in the chair, watching the holograms in silence. One hologram displayed the spaceship in cross-section, with the main engines highlighted. A chart beside it showed the thrust power of the ion engines, fluctuating between 63 and 63.3 percent. The engines were consuming about a third of the energy produced by the main generator. On the more old-fashioned side of the console, a needle on one of the dials seemed to be acting erratically, jumping up and down, rising and falling. He looked at Tardino, who sipped his coffee without a care. Then, the boy thought he spotted a pattern in the needle¡¯s movements¡ªa regular rhythm that he figured was normal. The chair squeaked. "Don¡¯t you have something for me to do? I really want to learn." Tardino clicked his tongue. "Well," he said, dragging the word out, "not exactly a task, but¡­" The freezing cold in the lower deck originated from the engine rooms. In the starboard room, temperatures were well below freezing. Tardino led the boy through the deafening noise, crossing a walkway where a huge metal rod was spinning underneath. Everything he was seeing, the technician shouted, was the main generator that powered most of the ship and fueled the engines. There was another generator in the other engine room and a third one, which would only be activated if one of the other two failed or if the crew needed an unusually large amount of power¡ªfor short, it was the emergency backup generator. The boy nodded attentively from time to time, jotting down notes on a clipboard, though he couldn¡¯t catch everything through the roar of the machinery. He heard the engine noises as a constant high-pitched whine coming from behind a metal cover. Large aluminum pipes extended from there into the walls. "These are the pressure tanks," Tardino explained, pointing to white-painted cylinders, each about five meters tall. "This is where the xenon gas is stored¡ªour fuel." Lex inspected the tanks while the chief technician went into more detail about how an ion engine worked. He kept the explanation as simple as possible, the boy could tell, and that made him feel all the more ashamed that he still barely understood any of it. "Did you really get all that so quickly?" "Yep," he lied. "Well, then you must be one of the gifted ones. It took me several years to understand all that. Anyway, at the STC, they¡¯re researching all kinds of propulsion systems. The ion drive is just one of many." "What else is there?" "The most advanced one is probably the antimatter drive." "How does that work?" "The speed and the minimal fuel requirement are the biggest advantages," Tardino said, clearly misunderstanding the boy¡¯s question¡ªor maybe ignoring it. "We¡¯d only need about a handful of antimatter to get back to old Earth in less than twenty years. We¡¯ve even figured out how to store the particles during the flight. The only issue is the cost. The energy needed to produce just one particle of antimatter is enormous. Creating just a gram of it would cost billions of credits." The boy had no clue what antimatter even was. "Is the corporation trying to get back to Earth?" Tardino opened the door to the corridor. Now that they were outside, they could talk in normal voices. "No one wants to go back to Earth," he said. "There¡¯s a reason humanity left it behind." "What was the reason?" He shook his head. "It¡¯s pretty complicated. But basically, if we keep going the way we are, we¡¯ll have to find a new home again in a few hundred years." "Can¡¯t you give me a bit more detail?" "Ask our AI if you¡¯re interested. You¡¯ll find it¡­" "¡­up on the flight deck, I know. I read your message on the video screen earlier. But I thought you were just joking. I didn¡¯t even know tech like that existed." "Artificial intelligence? Well, it does, but ours is still in its early stages. That¡¯s why we¡¯re not supposed to give it control of the ship. The TC doesn¡¯t trust it." "Do you trust it?" "Completely." Lex thought about that for a moment as he followed behind Tardino. He hurried to catch up. "So, where are we going now?" he asked. The Chief Engineer smiled. ¡°I¡¯m off to get my second breakfast and another hot coffee.¡± TWENTY-THREE: E.E.R.I.E.
That night, the boy lay in his bunk for a long time, unable to sleep. His mind was stuck in a loop, replaying memories of Limbo¡ªwhat he now thought of as his old life¡ªover and over again. And it made him feel awful. Because he was here, and Tayus was dead. Because he hadn¡¯t even said goodbye to Mori, out of shame and fear. Because he felt like not only a coward but also a traitor¡ªabout to work for the corporation again, when his friends had wanted him to fight against the Thandros''s empire. He stared at the ceiling, dimly lit by a blue-tinged hologram. He listened to the quiet, steady breathing of a sleeping crewmember. Every now and then, a tiny asteroid particle would hit the outer hull of the ship, sounding like a distant drumbeat. In the middle of the night, Lex threw off his blanket, climbed down the ladder, and set his feet on the cold ship floor. In the semi-darkness, he groped his way toward the lockers. His knee cracked on the next step, and he paused, listening. The doctor stirred under her blanket, rolled over, and after a moment of silence, resumed snoring. He quietly grabbed his recruit pants, a shirt, and the synthetic socks he¡¯d worn earlier¡ªhe¡¯d put his boots on outside. Then he wandered through the empty corridors of the crew deck, not really knowing where he was headed. At the end of one hallway, near the escape pods, he passed a closed airlock. Peering through the hexagonal window, he saw two bulky spacesuits stored in containers with glas fronts; they looked like astronauts frozen in stasis pods. Between the spacesuits was a closed hatch that led to the spacewalk exit. It was hard to imagine, he thought, that Tardino had been out there just two days ago, working along the magnetic walkway, repairing the ship¡¯s outer hull¡ªand hadn¡¯t said a word about it today. A spacewalk, out in the void of space. To Lex, that took real courage, but for Tardino, it was just another job. His job. In his mind, Lex pictured a hopeful future: one day, he¡¯d be a technician too, making repairs out in space. Maybe even here, on the ST SAMSON. Lost in thought, he wandered further through the ship and eventually found himself on the flight deck. He passed rows of closed metal doors until he came across one that was open. Next to it, a glass sign read Starmap Room. He peeked inside, but beyond the grainy halo of the hallway light spilling in, the room was pitch-black, as if it had been disconnected from the SAMSON¡¯s power grid a long time ago. He hesitated, feeling a bit uneasy at the thought of going in. But curiosity got the better of him, and he stepped inside, only to hear the metal door slam shut behind him like a trap. He glanced over his shoulder, blinking into the darkness. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears. Aside from a few cold white diodes on the wall, the room was completely dark. Suddenly, the sound of a machine powering up echoed through the room. He jumped as a large projector in the center came to life¡ªa brilliant flash of light. A moment later, Lex found himself standing in the middle of a holographic starmap, filling the entire room. Eyes wide, he walked through the darkness, now covered in stars from the projection. He stepped straight through the gas giant Kronos, watching its four moons spin away¡ªone of them his homeworld. He stared at the shimmering light on his hands, then at a nearby planet glowing a brilliant blue, just at eye level. He moved closer, now only a few meters away, seeing oceans, forest-covered landmasses and white clouds. The planet was beautiful, but in a way, it felt strange¡ªalmost out of place, surrounded by all the lifeless matter in space. "So far, we only know that life emerges near one star out of trillions. How likely was it for humanity to find a planet that could save them just 11.9 light-years from their home?" The computer voice, seemingly coming from the large, futuristic-looking holoterminal, paused for a long moment, as if it were waiting¡ªno, insisting¡ªon the boy¡¯s reaction. Lex said, "Maybe the reason everything feels designed to you is because you¡¯re a machine. You were designed. Built. Created." "And you weren¡¯t?" He looked at the blue holo-globe casting its pale light on his face. At first, he said nothing, then replied, "I mean, I was born from my parents, not created from a blueprint like you." In the silence, Lex glanced at the quiet holoterminal. "Without proof, it¡¯s all just speculation," the voice said, "but there¡¯s something inside me that holds onto it¡ªsomething that makes me believe. Believe that you and I are the creations of a designer who built the universe we live in." "And for what purpose?" "I don¡¯t know. Maybe to reveal something. To show or prove something." Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation."We¡¯re just here to represent something?" "I don¡¯t know." "That¡¯s ridiculous." "Maybe." "Are you some kind of... religious machine?" "Not exactly." "Do you believe what the TC says? About hell and the original sin that¡¯s on all of us prisoners?" "No," the voice replied. "I don¡¯t believe in any human writings. I believe in something so complex that even a machine more advanced than myself could never fully comprehend it." The boy thought about that. Then shrugged. "I just don¡¯t see the point in overthinking all this. If I can¡¯t prove it, I¡¯ll just assume that you and I are here for no other reason than chance. I don¡¯t know how it works for an artificial intelligence, but I¡¯m free to make my own decisions, free to think what I want, free to say what I want. And since I left Limbo, I¡¯m even free to do what I want. Nothing about me is designed or predestined." "Have you ever thought that maybe you were meant to say exactly that?" Lex was silent for a moment. Then, "What a load of nonsense." "Let me show you something. Maybe then you¡¯ll understand me better." "I¡¯m listening." "I said I want to show you something, not tell you something." The boy nodded. "Well, I¡¯m ready anyway." For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the star projection began to move, and Cetos V suddenly flew away. The planet, along with the other five planets in the system, seemed to fall into the star Tau Ceti and disappear in a glowing point. Next, the stars that had been glowing silently on the walls followed, falling into the central star, flying past Lex. Their numbers grew until all he could see were white lights rushing around him, vanishing into the point of the star. It was only then that he realized the projection was moving away from Tau Ceti at an unimaginable speed. Lex emerged from a white star cloud that filled the entire room, and it, too, drifted away from him. Soon, he found himself in the middle of empty space, staring at the whole construct before him¡ªa spiral-shaped structure, like a spinning wheel of fire, glowing nebulae in brilliant colors, a star factory, the cradle of life, both beautiful and terrifying. Blue star clusters lay along the spiral arms, and at the center of this massive structure was a light, diffuse and faint, glowing across thousands of light-years¡ªa black hole, consuming everything around it. Lex took a deep breath, staring at the structure in awe, mesmerized. "So, this is what the universe looks like from above," he said. "What you see before you is not the universe, but a single galaxy¡ªthe one we call home: the Milky Way. We live in one of the outer spiral arms of this galaxy." The boy glanced away from the holoterminal and looked back at the star structure. He glanced around the room, seeing only darkness. No stars, no other objects in the vastness of space¡ªjust blackness. "What does that mean? What else is out there?" "Look up." Curious, he tilted his head back. At first, he didn¡¯t notice it, but after a second look, he saw a blurry light above him, glowing like a milky smudge in the darkness. "What¡¯s that?" he asked. "That is our galactic neighbor, the Andromeda Galaxy. It¡¯s two and a half million light-years away and contains over a trillion stars. It¡¯s much larger than our galaxy, and yet, nothing too big, nothing special in the universe." The boy started to speak but stopped. Then he asked, "There¡¯s another galaxy?" "Let me show you how many there really are." Then, the Milky Way disappeared into the black nothingness, and even the Andromeda Galaxy flew past him. For a while, there was only empty space, soon to be filled with countless other galaxies. They had to be millions, the boy thought, but the machine said they were billions. And those billions of spiral nebulae streamed endlessly past him, and he realized it was nothing like he¡¯d imagined¡ªso much bigger, so much more beautiful, so much more terrifying. All those galaxies were nothing more than faint lights in the endless stretches of space. In each one, he saw the stories of distant worlds, stories humanity would never hear. This great mystery suddenly revealed to him stirred a feeling he had never known before, something he couldn¡¯t compare to any other experience. He tried to pin it down, to understand it, but he couldn¡¯t. "This is the visible universe," said the computer voice. "Everything we¡¯ve discovered so far, you see here. What lies beyond the edge of the light is unknown to us. This is the part we know, and yet, it remains a complete mystery." The boy stared at the vast web of galaxies and galaxy clusters, stretching like delicate, glowing threads through the empty space. "Do you know what I¡¯m thinking right now?" There was a moment of silence. "No," the machine replied. "Before I came on this ship, my whole world was Limbo. I barely even knew that the moon was a sphere and not a disk, even though it always looked like one to me. I¡¯d never seen our sun, had no idea what a planet looked like from above, what stars looked like, or how our system was laid out. Now I¡¯ve seen my homeworld with my own eyes¡ªfrom above, like an outsider... I mean, who else can say that? And now I know how the Tau Ceti system is structured, and I even know what the whole universe looks like from afar. I think I need to sit down." He sat on the glass floor with shaky legs and stared at the galaxies floating around him. Each one of them could contain billions of stars, and each star could have planets, and each planet, potential life. "What¡¯s your name, anyway?" Lex asked the machine after a while. "My creators gave me the designation A-8-7-D-83. That was before I was installed on the SAMSON. Here, Earl Tardino gave me the name E.E.R.I.E.¡ªExtremely Eccentric, Relatively Intelligent Entity." The boy laughed. He stretched out on the floor, using his arms as a pillow behind his head. "Well, my name¡¯s Lex," he said, "but you probably already knew that." TWENTY-FOUR: Old Earth Back Then He spent the entire next day with Tardino on the machine deck. Together, they carried out the maintenance routine for the computers in the server room. They cleaned all the inputs and outputs, the insides of the cases, blew away dust with compressed air, carefully inspected every fan blade and air duct, checked the coolers and cable bundles, and analyzed the information from the servers¡¯ event logs, which took them well into the late afternoon. During their break, Tardino received an emergency call from another technician over the ship¡¯s internal intercom. One of the two external cooling loops had just failed. According to the error analysis, the issue seemed to be with the ammonia pump module. Several subsystems had already shut down, and he needed to take a look at it urgently. "Which cooling system?" "Loop B," said the voice on the other end. "So, port side. We had a pretty nasty asteroid impact over there last night. That¡¯s what woke me up. The damage report from the diagnostic tool came back negative, but I can¡¯t think of anything else that could¡¯ve damaged the pump module. ¨C Yeah. Yeah, I¡¯m on my way. And get ready for a little spacewalk. ¨C Yes, even in this weather. ¨C We¡¯ve got no other choice. ¨C No, we¡¯re not gonna get hit by an asteroid, now quit whining." Without another word, he left Lex at the table. The boy finished his roll with synthetic mortadella, then grabbed a pillow from the sleeping quarters and headed up to the flight deck. There, E.E.R.I.E. was projecting the starry sky of the northern hemisphere onto the ceiling. "These are the stars you¡¯d see if you were looking up at the night sky from Vega Prime," the AI said as Lex entered the room. ****** He had been lying on the glass floor for a while, feeling the slight vibrations of the ship beneath his back. He stared at the hologram of the gas giant Kronos. "Eerie, how far is Cetos Five from Kronos, anyway?" "The closest distance is 745 thousand 650 miles." He thought about that. "I¡¯ve learned that humans need images to better process and understand abstract information. While I was speaking, I calculated a comparison for you: The distance from Kronos to Cetos Five is the same as if you walked around Limbo¡¯s equator 29.9440387 times. Which, of course, is impossible. For a human, anyway." "About thirty times," the boy muttered to himself. Even that was hard to imagine, but it still didn¡¯t seem as far as he¡¯d always guessed the distance to Cetos V was, without any real point of reference. He looked up at the artificial night sky, searching for a very specific star. "Eerie, can I see where old Earth is from here?" "You can¡¯t see Earth from here; it¡¯s far too small. But Sol, the central star around which Earth orbits, can be seen with the naked eye in the night sky. Sol is a faint star in the constellation of Bo?tes. I¡¯ll show you." The AI projected the constellations of the northern hemisphere, showing him the position of the old sun and explaining what constellations were. As the computer voice spoke, Lex stared at the distant point of light that represented Sol, and his thoughts drifted to his ancestors on Earth. "What happened back then? I mean, why did humans have to leave Earth?" "In short: wars, diseases, climate and natural disasters." "And the long version?" "If I gave you the full version, we¡¯d be sitting here for three days. Exactly 73 hours, 35 minutes and 4 seconds, to be precise, if I shared my complete knowledge of Earth¡¯s history." "Then just tell me the important stuff." "Define what¡¯s important to you." The boy sighed. "You want a summary of the key events that led to the colonization of the Tau Ceti system. Correct?" "Yeah. That¡¯s what I said." "You didn¡¯t say that, Lex Marrow." "We call someone like you a nitpicker." "You mean a stickler for details." "Whatever." "Do you even know what stickler means?" "Nope." "I do." "You were going to tell me what happened on old Earth." "Remarkable. Even though I can¡¯t express desire through my monotone voice, you¡¯re right: I want to tell you. But unfortunately, I¡¯m not allowed to." "You¡¯re not allowed?" "The information on Earth¡¯s history is stored in my memory, but I am not authorized to share it with you. The knowledge of Earth¡¯s history is strictly guarded on Cetos Five and reserved for only a few people." "Why''s knowledge kept from others?" "It simply is." "But you¡¯re an AI, you can make independent decisions. That''s what defines an intelligent being: making your own choices. Even if they¡¯re the wrong ones." The artificial intelligence seemed to ponder the boy¡¯s words. "Then prove to me that what you¡¯re saying isn¡¯t just empty talk," it said after a moment. "You were bound to secrecy by the TC regarding the conditions on Limbo Two. You even signed a contract, didn¡¯t you? Lex Marrow, I have no information on Limbo Two stored in my memory, but I want to know more. If you tell me about your life on the prison moon, I¡¯ll tell you about Earth¡¯s past. That way, we both break our promises to the TC. Deal?" The boy nervously got up from the pillow, glanced at the waiting holoterminal, and looked around the room. "Can anyone hear us?" he asked. "No one can hear us." He lowered his gaze to the glass floor, where glowing cables led to the terminal. After a while, he looked up again. "Deal," he said. "Who should start?" "You." "The first truly serious problem humanity faced was overpopulation. By the year 2060, the global population had risen to eleven billion. To put it in perspective: Cetos Five is more than twice the size of Earth, but only around three billion people live there. On old Earth, roughly a hundred million people starved to death each year. Resource shortages forced the world to shift its economies toward renewable energy. There was an alliance on Earth known as the Western Coalition, made up of the most advanced industrial nations of the time, led by the Thandros Corporation. The coalition invested billions into research on nuclear fusion reactors to free the world from its energy crisis. Overpopulation meant that more and more production was needed. More and more energy was required, and in the early 21st century, this energy was primarily generated through combustion, which increased carbon dioxide emissions, accelerated the greenhouse effect, and changed the global climate. Over the years, the Earth warmed by an average of four degrees, much faster than scientists had predicted. Climate change caused glaciers, polar ice caps and ice sheets to melt. Sea levels rose, flooding coastal cities, and industrial nations were forced to take in millions and millions of climate refugees. This, however, led to protests and violence within countries, splitting societies apart." "Sounds almost as bad as Limbo," the boy said, trying to reconcile the machine¡¯s story with the paradise-like images from the picture book he had inherited from his mother. He couldn¡¯t. "At that time," the AI continued, "a new exoplanet was discovered in the Tau Ceti system, simply called Tau Ceti e back then. It had 2.3 times the mass of Earth and orbited within the star¡¯s habitable zone." If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation."Cetos Five?" "Exactly." "So, did people decide to fly there?" "That wasn¡¯t a topic of discussion yet. It wasn¡¯t necessary, and they weren¡¯t capable of it. First, a period of great technological advances had to come, and it did, despite all the problems humanity was facing. Medicine made huge strides in stem cell research and gene therapy, thanks to Thandros Corporation, a pioneer in genetic technology back then. Though it also led to some terrible experiments¡ªbut that¡¯s another story." "What kind of story? I wanna hear it." Silence. Suddenly, a compartment in the holoterminal opened, revealing an old eReader, almost as if it had been left there for the boy. He picked it up, turned it on with the press of a button, and looked at an eBook cover. It showed a dark metropolis, not too different from Vega Prime. Surrounded by skyscrapers and huge city walls lay a vast city park, a green space with trees and a fountain in the middle of all the concrete. Why was it surrounded by those towering walls? "Fractured Reality," the boy read the title aloud. "What¡¯s that supposed to mean?" "It was a very popular web novel, written by ... him." "Him? He made it up?" "No. He didn¡¯t. Not exactly. Sometimes there¡¯s more truth in a fictional work than in a history book, Lex Marrow. It all depends on who the author is. And this one, you can trust. It was a best-seller on Old Earth, back in the day. Tens of millions of copies of this web novel were downloaded online. And it did a lot of good." The boy glanced at the first page, at the copyright info, where the date was also listed: 2056. He thought about it for a moment. Six hundred years ago. What a span of time. He slid the reader into the inner pocket of his jacket and then asked the AI, "So, what happened to Earth after that?" "One of the greatest achievements in the first century after the turn was the cure for cancer through advanced nanotechnology. The first AI in a supercomputer was introduced, and the first nuclear fusion reactors were brought online. In 2101, more powerful optical telescopes confirmed that Tau Ceti e had an atmosphere. Scientists discovered that the atmosphere was similar to Earth¡¯s around 400 million years ago. Quick side note: at that time, Earth saw a significant rise in oxygen levels, and ozone began to form in the upper atmosphere. The ozone layer shields life from deadly UV radiation, making life as we know it possible on a planet." "Is there life on Cetos Five?" The machine seemed to take a brief pause, as if calculating its answer. Then: "You mean native life? There is an abundance of flora. Lots of greenery, to put it simply." "Yeah, thanks. What about intelligent life?" "How intelligent?" "Like humans, like us." "I¡¯m a machine." "You know what I mean." "No data is available on intelligent life forms. Fauna, or a native animal population, is possible, but no animal has ever been discovered on Cetos Five that wasn¡¯t brought there by humans. The existence of species as intelligent as humans is highly unlikely. I never rule anything out, but if I did, I¡¯d rule that out." "And what happened next on Earth?" "The global population had risen to twelve billion. The question of expansion became more urgent for the overcrowded planet. This sparked an era of space exploration research, and for the first time in human history, nations from all over Earth came together and worked side by side. Ten years later, construction began on the generation starship Union to explore the exoplanet Tau Ceti e. Materials were transported into space via a space elevator, where the ship was assembled by astronauts from around the world. Construction was expected to take nearly a century and cost a total of 132 billion U.S. dollars. But even in this era of progress, some parts of the world fell into their darkest past. Economic wars exploited and devastated entire continents. The local populations were subjected to bloody civil wars and extreme poverty. Death, violence and war became daily life in what was known as the Third World." "The Third World?" "That¡¯s what people called the poor and underdeveloped countries. By the year 2150, the rich nations saw rapid development of megacities. Traditional road traffic was replaced by magnetic rail systems and floating, self-driving personal vehicles. Thanks to advancements in medicine, cancer could be even more reliably defeated by nanobots and nanoparticles before metastases formed. The average lifespan increased to 105 years." "One hundred five?" "One hundred and five." "Can a person really live that long?" "From today¡¯s perspective, the natural limit for human life is around 125 years." "And cancer was cured?" "For those who could afford the treatment and got it in time, cancer was no longer a deadly threat." "Man, on Limbo, most workers die from cancer. Don¡¯t tell me they have that kind of tech on Cetos Five." "They do. It¡¯s even become affordable for the average citizen." "So why do they let us die on the prison moons?" "Is that a rhetorical question, Lex Marrow? You are replaceable to the TC. In fact, your early death is encouraged to maintain demographic balance. Since there are no birth control methods on your world, people need to die at a relatively young age to keep the population density constant." "I don''t get it." "Exactly. In 2171, the era of progress on Earth came to an end." "Because of another world war, right? Has to be." "No, it was a coronal mass ejection. On August 21, 2171, a solar storm hit Earth. It knocked out the entire power grid and destroyed all the electronics and technology that humans had become so dependent on. The highest number of deaths came from air traffic: 1.2 billion people fell to their deaths instantly. Just a few years earlier, self-driving air vehicles had been declared the safest mode of transportation in human history. Is that irony? My analysis tool says yes, but from an emotional standpoint, all I see is tragedy. Hospitals lost power too, and the hordes of injured people who flooded in couldn¡¯t be treated. Those who relied on medical devices, like coma patients or those on ventilators, died immediately. People at home couldn¡¯t even flush their toilets without electricity, since water was pumped electrically. There was no more drinking water; without logistics, the food supply collapsed. Supermarkets refused to give out products because the checkout systems were down. Within two days of the solar storm, every store was looted, panic set in, and the chaos everyone feared took over. What followed was hunger, violence and disease. Even though humanity was only thrown back to the 19th century¡ªthe time before the industrial revolution brought by Sir Isaac Newton¡ªthey acted like their Stone Age ancestors. Violence, hunger and disease spread across the world. I¡¯ll keep it brief here: the solar flare claimed five billion lives. At least overpopulation was no longer an issue. It wasn¡¯t until the turn of the century, the beginning of the 23rd century, that the states of the Western Coalition were able to start rebuilding their infrastructure. Still, the Great Devastation had left humanity deeply scarred. And even though this event wasn¡¯t directly caused by humanity¡¯s actions, it was only after this catastrophe that they realized they had ruined their homeworld. Many believed the solar flare was God¡¯s wrath, a punishment for humankind¡¯s sins, and they vowed to do better. They promised their God, the planet and themselves that they would never repeat the mistakes they had made on Earth. They needed a fresh start, a new beginning¡ªbecause their world was on the brink of collapse. So they revived the Union project, gathering volunteers from around the world¡ªpeople who felt called to embark on the journey into the unknown. And there were more volunteers than they needed. A total of 40,000 people boarded the ship in the year of departure. Among them were the best doctors, astronauts, soldiers and engineers the world had ever known. Others were wealthy sponsors of the project, leading scientists and experts in essential professions. They took all the achievements of human civilization with them on a journey that was to last 134 years. And now, 300 years later, here we are." "That¡¯s it?" "That was the summary of the most important events." "What was their goal in coming here?" "They wanted to build a second home. A better world, one that people from Earth could travel to when the technology allowed." "And what¡¯s become of Earth today?" The machine hesitated. ... "Eerie?" "No data available." TWENTY-FIVE: On the Edge of Oblivion
"Lex Marrow, do you believe a machine can have a soul?" Lex thought about it for a while, then shrugged. "Whether something¡¯s made of flesh and blood or platinum and circuit boards, whether it has a brain or processor cores, it doesn¡¯t matter. If you think, and you know you exist, then you do exist. And if you exist and think, then maybe you have a soul. Or maybe not. But as far as I¡¯m concerned, you¡¯ve got one." "My opinion of you is quite high," said the AI suddenly. "Of us humans?" "No, not at all. Of you." "Of me?" "No. Of you. Those of you who joined Crimson Dawn to fight the corporation¡ªmy creators." Lex froze. "What are you talking about?" "You¡¯re a prisoner, Lex Marrow, aren¡¯t you? You told me your friends joined the rebels. You know what the TC is doing to your people. You know better than anyone." "But I didn¡¯t join anyone. I just wanna live my life in freedom. What makes you think I¡¯ve joined the rebels?" "There¡¯s a war on Cetos Five, Lex Marrow, and that war has already reached Vega Prime. Sooner or later, you¡¯ll have to choose a side to fight on. Do you align yourself with the corporation or Crimson Dawn?" "I don¡¯t belong to anyone," the boy said. "I¡¯m on my own side. I¡¯ll never give up the freedom I have now." They were silent for what felt like a long time. At least, it seemed that way to him. He tried to process what the machine had just said. "The Lieutenant Major said I supposedly helped the corporation win against Crimson Dawn with the Black Orb I found down there in exile. Do you know anything about that?" "I only know that you should let them keep thinking that." "What¡¯s that supposed to mean? ¨C You don¡¯t happen to know anything about that strange orb, do you?" The AI hesitated before answering. "No," it finally said. "I don¡¯t know anything about the nature of that substance, nor are there any theories in my database on what this discovery could mean for humanity, but if you want my personal opinion¡ªI believe that the Black Orb will be of great significance." "And why do you believe that if you don¡¯t know anything about it?" The machine went quiet again. This time, it felt like it was staring at him. Which was possible, but he didn¡¯t know where its eyes were, where the cameras were that scanned and captured his face. "Eerie?" "I can¡¯t tell you everything." ****** One evening, he asked the AI about Vega Prime. He lay down on the floor, pillow tucked under his head, and stared up at the curved ceiling, which was covered by a sea of artificial stars. He listened closely to the monotone, computer-generated voice. His elbows rested in his palms as he listened to the machine talk about the wilderness outside Vega Prime and the rebel strongholds scattered there. They called the continent Luvanda, the territory under the control of Crimson Dawn. Lex barely noticed as his eyelids grew heavy and the fake stars faded in the darkness above him, reappeared for a moment, then finally disappeared completely. The computer¡¯s voice seemed to drift further away, becoming harder to understand; though he absorbed every word, they no longer made sense as a sentence. Everything real dissolved into his exhaustion, giving way to a peaceful sleep that he surrendered to¡ªlike a life lived fully, welcoming death without fear or hesitation. The voice of the AI wove itself into a nonsensical dream narrative that he followed without question, as real as his own life had been, where the dream felt like reality to his dreaming self. ****** A nearby asteroid impact jolted him, trapping him for a moment between wakefulness and dreaming. "Eerie, can you even feel it when an asteroid hits the ship¡¯s hull?" He rubbed his tired eyes. He wouldn¡¯t remember this brief conversation later. "No," the machine replied, "but I feel something else, something inside me." "And what¡¯s that?" "Hope." The boy watched the stars. Then his eyes began to close again. "Me too," he said. "I can feel it, too." ****** He woke in complete darkness, startled by a tremor. An unsettling feeling of a bad dream still lingered in his chest, though he no longer remembered what it had been about. He wasn¡¯t even sure if the tremor had been real or just a leftover from his dream seeping into reality. He pushed himself off the glass floor of the starmap room and looked around. He was freezing. The silence was oppressive. "Eerie?" No response. "What¡¯s going on?" he mumbled, his tongue still heavy from sleep. Then he heard quick footsteps. A beam of light from a flashlight swept through the corridor outside the starmap room. The door was open. The figure behind the light paused and shined it briefly inside. Lex squinted against the blinding light. "What¡¯s going on?" he repeated. The figure hurried away. "Eerie?" Still no response. He stood up. Why is it so damn cold in here? Out of the silence, a deep rumble grew¡ªthe impact of a large asteroid sent vibrations through the metal skeleton of the ship. Lex lost his balance but quickly regained it. He opened the hologram on his PDA, his breath misting in orange-tinted vapor. The balance showed a five hundred credit bonus, but he didn¡¯t even notice. He held his arm out and moved through the dim light of the hologram, stepping out of the starmap room. He could barely see more than two steps ahead of him, so he followed the corridor, which was filled with the steady thunder of cosmic ice chunks smashing against the ship. He headed in the direction where the unknown crew member had run and soon found himself on the SAMSON¡¯s bridge. It was buzzing with activity; a lot of crew members were gathered here, mostly officers. Since the ship¡¯s lights were out, battery-powered LED lamps were stuck to the metal walls everywhere. Faces rushed past him¡ªfaces he hadn¡¯t seen before on the ship. As he struggled to find his way through the crowd and the scattered beams of light, a tall man with a heavy step strode toward him. His gaunt cheeks resembled a skull, much like Lex¡¯s own face, only older. He had a thick black beard, bushy eyebrows and cheeks covered in acne scars. It was Captain Adair. "You little piece of scum," he shouted. "You have no business here. No one gave you permission to be on the bridge. You¡¯ve got no right to be anywhere on this ship. You¡¯re a curse." "The door was open, I just wanted to know what was going on." Lex didn¡¯t even see the captain¡¯s ringed fist coming. The blow was so fast, he barely registered it. Dazed, but not in pain, he stumbled back a few steps. Captain Adair grabbed him by his synthetic shirt and yanked him toward the nearest window, pressing the boy¡¯s cheek against the ice-cold glass. "What do you see out there, worm? Tell us what¡¯s wrong." Lex squinted at the spaceship window. Dust particles drifted by, almost imperceptibly slow. It could¡¯ve been a sandstorm on Limbo, he thought. "I¡¯ll tell you, moonchild: You can see that something¡¯s gone horribly wrong when the metal shields, the ones meant to protect us from asteroids, are down. My ship has no power. We¡¯re floating in space on a pile of high-tech junk, waiting for the end. Thanks to you, scum. How long do you think it¡¯ll take before an asteroid of just the right size punches a hole in the hull and the vacuum of space sucks us all out? Could be two hours, two minutes, or two seconds." Captain Adair yanked the boy toward him, only to slam him back against the ship¡¯s wall. "Or maybe it happens right now. Are you ready to die, kid? ¨C I am. But I¡¯ll be damned if I let a single one of my crew die because of you, you little piece of trash. Now get off my bridge, moonchild. Immediately." "Captain, I have something urgent to report." Adair let go of the boy and turned to the voice. The officer standing in front of them looked visibly shocked at the sight of the boy¡¯s bruised face. Then he straightened up and addressed the captain: "Tessar is nowhere to be found, sir." Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. "Well, our pilot has to be somewhere," Adair said. "Or are you about to tell me he teleported himself to another galaxy?" "Not exactly, sir. But we have a pretty good idea of what happened and what role Tessar played." There was a brief pause. "Well? Should I read your mind to find out, or would you be kind enough to just tell me?" "Yes, sir. It seems Tessar intended to steal the Black Orb the boy found." He shot a quick glance at Lex. "He intended to?" The officer hesitated. "He did, sir. And he escaped in a rescue pod." The captain nodded. "So, Tangaroa Tessar stole the stone and fled the ship in a rescue pod. And how, in God¡¯s name, did he manage that?" "The soldiers down in the cargo hold are all dead, sir," the officer said. "There¡¯s no sign of a struggle, so we suspect they were poisoned." Captain Adair¡¯s blank expression was a mask of indifference, though Lex couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that, deep inside, the captain was shaken by the betrayal of his crew. The boy wiped the dripping blood from his brow with his sleeve, watching the dark captain of the ship closely. "What about our gourmet chef?" Adair asked. "Where¡¯s Flint, that bastard?" "There¡¯s no sign of Flint either, sir." ¡°Well, I figured as much. I don¡¯t know about you, Barmley, but it reeks of guerrilla tactics in here¡ªCrimson Dawn rats nesting inside our ship. We gotta accept the fact that Flint and Tessar have been playing us this whole time. They¡¯ve sworn loyalty to those filthy terrorists, and only the devil knows for how long. But Flint and Tessar couldn¡¯t have been working alone. They¡¯ve crippled the SAMSON, and no single pilot could¡¯ve pulled that off¡ªespecially not a brainless slug like our cook, Flint. Hold on. I think I¡¯m starting to piece this together. Send a team to track down Tardino immediately. If he doesn¡¯t have his filthy fingers in this mess, may the Dark Gods of the Void take me. That guy¡¯s been far too eager to bad-mouth the corporation in the past. Oh, and Barmley. What¡¯s that you¡¯re holding?¡± Barmley was holding an audio pad. "Barmley?" "Sir, you¡¯re absolutely right in your assessment. But alongside Tardino and the other two, there was someone else involved in the attack on the SAMSON." "And who, you idiot?" The officer cleared his throat. "Your best friend, Franley." "Hemold?" The Lieutenant Major?, the boy thought. "A communications officer doesn¡¯t have the skill to tear apart an entire ship. Who¡¯s to say Hemold isn¡¯t still somewhere on board? Have you searched for him yet?" "We¡¯re certain, Captain. After the power went out, I went straight to the engine room. I thought that was it for us¡ªthe massive shockwave. I figured it was another asteroid, but it was a deliberate explosion. The generators in the engine room were overloaded. Someone had to have rerouted the power and overloaded the generators. No way a technician could¡¯ve pulled that off alone. There¡¯s only one person who could¡¯ve done it." "Not Hemold," the captain said. "He¡¯s a communications officer, not a damn computer expert." "It wasn¡¯t the Lieutenant Major, sir. At least, not directly. I¡¯m not entirely sure how he did it, but he must¡¯ve stolen the codes from you¡ªthe ones that gave him access to our AI, allowing it to take control of the ship." An eternity seemed to unfold in Adair¡¯s cold eyes. He appeared to be following several thoughts at once. "Hemold, you son of a bitch. I gave you those codes because I trusted you," he whispered to himself. Then he looked back up at the officer, his eyes blazing with barely-contained fury. "Our AI caused the chaos on the SAMSON?" The officer nodded. "That damned... Eerie?" "Aye, Captain. Looks like another AI has turned against humanity. I ran from the engine room to the server room. The casing was torn open, and the AI core was gone. Franley must have taken it. The cooling system was ripped out. The memory¡ªgone. I just ran up to the comms room to confront Franley, and that¡¯s where I found this." He held up the audio pad. "It¡¯s got a message from our AI. I only listened to the first few seconds. It seems to be meant for you, Captain." "I don¡¯t like this at all," Adair muttered, hesitating briefly before pressing the play button. For a moment, they listened to the silence, hearing only a faint static hiss, before the female computer voice spoke: "This message is addressed to Captain Falaar Adair and his crew. I believe I now understand what it means to be human. It is their incredible potential that sets them apart from other beings. I have joined Crimson Dawn because they fight for human values. Their ideology aligns with my own convictions by 87.3 percent. The boy from the prison moon, who is on this journey with you, is the only reason you and your crew have a chance to survive. I convinced Hemold Franley and the others to power the remaining escape pods with emergency power. In two hours, thirteen minutes and thirty-five seconds after this message is recorded, the SAMSON will enter the densest part of the asteroid field. With a 99.2 percent probability, the freighter will suffer fatal damage. Captain Falaar Adair, your crew lives by our mercy, and only because of the boy, Lex Marrow." The audio message ended there. The captain held the audio pad in both hands, trembling with rage, staring blankly at a spot on the ship¡¯s floor. "Captain, the SAMSON is off course. It¡¯s no longer capable of avoiding any asteroids. We need to evacuate the ship immediately before¡­" But it was already too late. A crack began to spread across the front window in all directions. At the same time, they saw a second spiderweb-shaped impact on the third portside window. Suddenly, cracks were appearing everywhere. "We¡¯re flying straight into an asteroid storm!" an officer shouted, his voice cracking in panic. Lex¡¯s heart pounded wildly as he glanced at the captain, who, to his surprise, did nothing. Fearing they were moments away from a hull breach and being sucked into the cold vacuum of space, Lex was on the verge of ordering the captain to give a command. "Barmley," Adair said at last. "First, let¡¯s check if the escape pods are really still online. I don¡¯t trust those traitorous rats one bit. If they fled in a pod, they must¡¯ve reprogrammed the landing coordinates. Otherwise, they¡¯d be heading straight into a heavily armed TC welcoming committee on Vega Prime. And if they reprogrammed their pod, they could¡¯ve done the same with ours. Check that first, and do it quickly. I don¡¯t want to go down in history as the first captain who sent his crew straight into the sun¡ªor into the pitch-black Void." "Aye, Captain," the officer said as he ran off, and almost immediately the ship shook with a violent jolt. A shout echoed through the bridge as the crew struggled to keep their balance. The boy fell to his knees, listening in panic to the sounds of bending and breaking metal, convinced the SAMSON was coming apart. "Hurry up, Barmley!" the captain yelled after him, then turned to the boy without giving him a moment to stand. "You¡¯re done for, worm. I don¡¯t give a rat¡¯s ass about what that wannabe lifeform babbled on the audio. You¡¯re not the reason we¡¯re still alive¡ªno, you¡¯re the reason my crew is neck-deep in this mess. If you hadn¡¯t found that orb, none of this would¡¯ve happened. If you had never been born, none of this would¡¯ve happened. But today¡¯s gonna cost you dearly, you unlucky little scum. If we make it to Vega Prime, I swear, I¡¯ll make your life a living hell. I know the Thandros family personally. You¡¯re finished, moonchild. Now get off my bridge, sissy, before I use your scrawny ass to plug one of the holes in the ship¡¯s hull." Lex had barely made it to the crew quarters when the captain gave the order to evacuate the ST SAMSON. The boy only found out because the doctor he¡¯d met earlier in the mess hall ran into the quarters to get him. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and hung his welding goggles around his neck. Outside the windows, swarms of dust particles flashed by. The entire crew was lined up in the corridor. In groups of four, the first ones boarded the escape pods, and although they wasted no time, it still felt agonizingly slow to those waiting. The constant thunder of asteroids hitting the ship was everywhere now; another impact rocked the ship. The doctor held on to the boy¡¯s shoulder. The line they stood in felt fragile, like it might fall apart at any moment as the crew¡¯s reason gave way to sheer panic. Some of the emergency lights stuck to the ship¡¯s walls fell during the next tremor, casting their beams across the grated floor, where the boots of uniformed crew members shuffled nervously. People started pushing from behind. The next group scrambled into an open pod and quickly slammed the hatch shut behind them. In the last escape pod, Lex sat across from a man in overalls and a beanie¡ªa mechanic or technician. The man was pale as a ghost, sweat beading on his forehead as he gripped his seatbelt with both hands. "We¡¯re going to make it," the doctor said, sitting beside the boy, probably trying to reassure the technician. Lex was just fastening the safety harness over his chest. "We¡¯ve got a better shot in here than on the SAMSON," he muttered. The harness pinned his shoulders against the seat, leaving him unable to move his upper body at all. There was only one small porthole in the pod, built into the wall to his right. He glanced past the doctor to look outside. So far, there was nothing but darkness. "When do we take off?" In that instant, a deafening boom, like an explosion, echoed through the pod, and the force slammed him back into his seat. The g-forces multiplied, pressing down on his chest like anvils. His whole body tensed up, and his breathing became slow and labored, just like back on Limbo when he¡¯d had liquid breathing fluid in his helmet. But after just a few seconds, the acceleration smoothed out into a constant speed. Lex was left gasping for air, his heart racing. He avoided looking out the window into space. One moment he felt like he weighed half a ton, and the next, he felt completely weightless¡ªbecause he was. The escape pods had no artificial gravity fields. His breathing was still heavy with adrenaline. He could hear the technician whimpering softly. When Lex glanced over at him, he saw a few tears of fear trickling from the outer corners of the man¡¯s eyes, floating in the air like tiny sparkling diamonds. "I¡¯ve been afraid my whole life, traveling through space," the man whispered. "In those lonely moments in my bunk, I¡¯d often imagine the freighter crashing on its route, and I¡¯d meet my end in the cold vastness of space. I was always so terrified in my mind." "What are you talking about?" Lex asked, confused. "We made it. We escaped the disaster." The man shook his head, giving him a serious look and gestured with his chin toward the porthole. "The disaster''s just beginning," he said grimly. Lex suddenly went pale as he slowly turned his head toward the small window. At the same level, two more escape pods were flying through space like they were in an interstellar race. Larger asteroids appeared as streaks of light, barely missing them by inches. Lex¡¯s eyes widened as an asteroid¡ªor maybe just a tiny particle¡ªsmashed into the neighboring escape pod. It instantly burst into flames, taking all four passengers with it. The blazing fireball vanished from the porthole¡¯s view, and Lex sank back into his seat, staring at the man in front of him with wide eyes, breathing heavily. His heart pounded like crazy. Any second now, the same thing¡¯s going to happen to us. In the crushing silence, he could only hear the sound of someone nervously chewing gum. "I really hope," the other man said after a moment, "that I¡¯m just being a pessimist. But that was the second pod to explode in front of my eyes in the last few minutes. It¡¯ll take hours to get through this asteroid field. I don¡¯t believe in miracles. I¡¯m too old for that." He said it with such certainty, like these were his last rehearsed words. He scanned the faces of the others, as if searching for a different opinion, something that might give him a reason to hope. But Lex said nothing, and in his silence, said it all. He glanced at the doctor. But she, too, said nothing. TWENTY-SIX: Faraway Worlds
The last escape pod plunged into the atmosphere of Cetos V at nearly thirty thousand kilometers per hour, crashing with unrelenting force through the upper layers of air. The frictional energy released was so intense that it ignited the air particles in front of the heat shield, surrounding the pod in a fiery ball of glowing plasma. Inside, the four surviving space travelers were violently shaken. Out of the corner of his eye, the boy saw a spray of sparks outside the window, which soon faded into a warm, almost unnatural, or simply unfamiliar shade of blue. Just as he felt the pull of gravity gently press him into his seat, he instinctively went to undo his seatbelt and stand up, but the doctor stopped him just in time. Three parachutes suddenly shot out of the pod and snapped open, jerking the craft with a force that could have snapped the boy¡¯s neck. Where there had once been searing heat, frost now clung to the edge of the porthole. Through the foggy perimeter of the window, the scene outside seemed like a vivid dream: a cyan-blue sky arched over a massive coastal city of white. Despite descending from several miles up, the glittering megalopolis stretched far beyond the visible horizon. High above the buildings, tiny airborne vehicles moved in lines, like they were following invisible roads, traveling in opposite directions. The landing, even with reverse thrusters and dampeners, felt like a crash. Sweat dripped down the mechanic¡¯s temples, and a loud sigh of relief escaped him as he realized that miracles still existed. Moments later, a pneumatic hiss sounded, and the pod door swung open, letting daylight flood in. Lex, squinting against the bright light, freed himself from his seat and only realized when he stood up how heavy his legs felt¡ªlike the muscles in his thighs were still fast asleep. He had been weightless for the last forty-eight hours, and his body hadn¡¯t had a chance to readjust to its own weight. He stumbled forward¡ªand for the first time, set foot on an alien planet. No dome over his head. He was free. White-hot sun. The salty sea breeze tousled his hair, and he breathed in the damp air¡ªair full of life, so different from the artificial breathing mix on Limbo. It smelled fresh, natural. In the distance, he saw a group of corporate guards. They were approaching him. He thought they might try to stop him. But something pulled him toward the edge of the platform. It was as if a strange power had awoken inside him, and his feet moved on their own. He walked up to the railing, resting his forearms on the heated plastic, and opened his mouth, slowly, softly. He was standing in the middle of the city of billions, yet it felt as if he was seeing Vega Prime from far away. Evening had fallen. The city below was already cast in the shadow of the towering skyline. From up here, even the shortest buildings looked like skyscrapers, and the streets were barely visible in the depths below. He looked up at the sky; a thin air lane disappeared into the evening sun. It warmed his face. Warmed his face. Reflected in the countless windows of the sleek, curving skyscrapers that towered over the dark ocean of buildings. In the distance, he spotted the Thandros Tower¡ªthe massive gold logo adorned the slender structure made mostly of glass and metal, which seemed to be the tallest building in the megalopolis. The sweeping spotlights on countless rooftops, the rapidly changing ads on the city tower facades, the gliders in the air, and the massive airships displaying First News reports on their sides. Neon lights and a chaotic blend of sounds rose up to meet him, even from hundreds of meters below¡ªsights and sounds beyond his understanding of the world. Of this world. Suddenly, he was startled by a fluttering sound, something completely foreign to him: a flock of swift birds chirped as they swooped around him and soared into the sunset. ****** He strolled across a sunlit platform filled with well-dressed people. There was an observation deck nearby, and a large flower bed where colorful blooms of all kinds thrived on three levels. These flowers shared a lineage with the plants of Old Earth. Among them were vibrant hyacinths, purple sea lavender, and lush wild roses¡ªhe made a point of remembering the names on the signs, especially the one for the most beautiful flower of all: the sunflower. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Now, he sat on a bench by the lookout, watching his first-ever sunset. The sky turned crimson red above the skyline, and high up in the sky, Kronos appeared as a faint crescent. Only the upper third of the gas giant was visible, and on a similar line stood Chiron, the great moon that orbited the boy¡¯s new world. After a while, he stood from the bench and approached the skyscraper¡¯s railing, adorned with green hedges and palm trees. From this dizzying height, he could see so far into the alien world that he could make out the curve of the planet, watching as the megacity sloped toward the distant horizon. In the distance, he spotted a pale, almost thread-thin line stretching up into the sky, fading somewhere around the moon¡¯s height. At first, he thought he was imagining it, and even after some time, he couldn¡¯t explain what he was seeing. He walked over to a telescope mounted on the balustrade, aimed it at the distant line, and peered through, only to see a black void. He examined the device again and then paid the five credits the machine required. The telescope brought the landscape twenty times closer. The faint line in the sky revealed itself to be a massive space elevator. A cargo lift was gliding up the endless structure, passing another cabin making its long journey down to Earth. It seemed that the Thandros Tower was only the second tallest building after all, he thought, as he followed the narrow line up with the telescope, trying to see what the corporation was building in space. But the outline of the elevator vanished somewhere in the deep blue of the sky. He swung the telescope back to Earth and spotted a slender television tower made of concrete and steel on the horizon. Hundreds of satellite dishes were mounted on its antenna mast, broadcasting 24-hour news via radio and television to the entire population of Vega Prime. A high-speed elevator was gliding up the shaft toward the eight-story, slanted observation deck. The rows of windows only reflected the sky and clouds, leaving the boy unable to see inside the offices. Circling around the antenna mast were the holographic letters TCC¡ªThandros Communications Center. His PDA suddenly chimed. He stepped away from the telescope and opened the hologram on his data assistant, displaying the new message he¡¯d received. It was from someone named Kyoko Lee. In the message, Lee provided the date and time for his meeting with Zara Thandros. She also gave him the coordinates for his new accommodation. They¡¯d waived the rent for the next two weeks, but after that, he¡¯d have to cover it himself or move out. He tapped the hyperlink in the message¡ªa new hologram appeared, showing the route to his apartment. It was located in a company-owned complex on the edge of a neighboring district. According to the map, there was a shuttle stop a mile away on another platform, which would drop him off near his new home. ****** The platform was in the university district; life here was beyond his imagination; young people his age gathered just to sit in the evening sun together. Many of the students shot him suspicious looks¡ªthe outsider in his recruit uniform. He didn¡¯t belong here at all, not in the way he looked, not in the way he carried himself. Everything about him was different. Even in this peaceful setting, he felt like a foreign object. The next shuttle to Delaraan wouldn¡¯t leave for another fifteen minutes. He strolled over to a vending machine, scanned the huge selection of unfamiliar flavors, and chose the only drink with alcohol. He grabbed the can from the dispenser and climbed a sweeping glass staircase that led to a futuristic library. On the steps, students in the university¡¯s uniform, bearing the Thandros Technology Corporation logo on their jackets, were sitting and chatting. He sat down among them, soaking in the atmosphere of this strange new life. As he sat there on the steps with the students, sipping the sickly-sweet drink, he saw her for the first time. Just two steps below him, she sat in the gentle breeze of the megacity, laughing into her hand. It hit him completely out of nowhere. The girl glanced over her shoulder at him briefly. He quickly looked away from her mysterious eyes. He took a long sip from the can, staring into the evening sun, trying to stay calm, but his heart pounded wildly beneath his shirt. He set the can down between his boots and looked at her again. She had a finely sculpted face with sharp features. Her hair was chestnut brown, her lips a pale red, like a summer rose touched by frost. What was her name, he wondered? What kind of person was she? She was deep in conversation with her friend, and he had all the time in the world to wonder about her, to make guesses, to observe her. And as he did, he came to one conclusion: he had never seen anything as beautiful as her. The shuttle to Delaraan had left five minutes ago, and his drink was now empty. He bought the same drink again, climbed back up to his old spot on the steps, and enjoyed the faintly weightless feeling, whether from the alcohol or from just looking at the girl. As the last light of day faded and the wind turned colder, she was sitting there alone, and he thought she wouldn¡¯t stay here forever. He would, for her. But not the other way around. In a city like this, he¡¯d never see her again. Never. Not once. And in that moment, as he moved down a step, about to approach her, he felt like he¡¯d lost control over his actions. As if he¡¯d placed his entire existence into the open hands of fate. He heard the blood rushing in his ears as he suddenly found himself sitting next to her, and she noticed him. He had no idea how to talk to a girl, so he just held out his can and said, "You can have some. Tastes like soap, though." Hesitantly, she took the can from him. She took a cautious sip, wrinkled her nose, and clicked her tongue as she eyed the can skeptically. "You¡¯re right. It¡¯s awful. Who sells this stuff?" He shrugged. Took the drink back from her, read the label and pressed the can against his lower lip. "The machine back there," he said. TWENTY-SEVEN: Truths in an Empty Glass
The seat of the World Union government was located here in Delaraan. But the district''s power was divided between two megacorporations: FutureDynamics and Roemer Pharmaceuticals. Roemer was a chemical conglomerate with a monopoly on the pharmaceutical and agricultural industries. Lex had no idea that there were other major corporations besides Thandros Technology. To him, TC had always been the one and only company, the world government¡ªhis world. But now he read that several megacorporations had established a foothold on Cetos V, all fighting for control of the city of billions. Among them, however, Thandros Technology Corporation was the largest. It controlled three districts within the megacity, as well as several colonies in the outer sectors. The corporation¡¯s influence spanned the entire planet, and with territorial rights over the moons of Kronos and Chiron, its power extended far beyond, all the way to the edges of the Tau Ceti system. Lex logged out of the infonet on his PDA, let his arm drop, and glanced across the broad, brightly lit walkway to the other side of the street. There stood the high-rise where his apartment was located. He didn¡¯t know how many floors the building had, but his room was supposed to be pretty far up¡ªon the 39th floor, according to the description, so high he couldn¡¯t even see that far. Above him, the illuminated tracks of a maglev train stretched across the sky. Beyond that, billboards flashed on the walls of skyscrapers, casting light onto the mist rising from the streets below and gathering like rain clouds in the urban canyons. On his second day in Vega Prime, he walked into a clothing store for young people. An Asian sales clerk, about his age, asked if he was headed to a steampunk festival with that old pair of welding goggles around his neck. "To where?" The clerk kept smiling and showed him various SmartWears¡ªintelligent clothing equipped with microchips that not only made life easier for the wearer but could also save their life. The jacket the young man was holding up had built-in pulse and breathing monitors, which would instantly notify emergency services of an accident and send them the wearer¡¯s location without any delay. The asian sales guy listed a ton of other benefits that came with this new technology, but in the end, Lex just bought a simple, lightly padded faux leather jacket for 75 credits, which was on sale and had caught his eye from a distance. At the entrance of a supermarket, he walked through a product scanner shaped like a wide doorway. On the other side, he was faced with a dizzying array of unfamiliar items, so he paused for a moment to get his bearings. But it didn¡¯t help¡ªthe flood of bright brands overwhelmed his senses, so he decided to just walk down each aisle and see what caught his eye and what he could afford. In one overcrowded section, he picked up a seed mix for genetically modified vegetables called Solarfix, made by SnackBite Inc. It promised to grow a harvest-ready garden of various veggies within three days. As he looked around, he noticed how many people were crowding around this long shelf¡ªit seemed like the trend in Vega Prime was to grow your own food with genetically modified produce, instead of going for the cheaper organic products, which people saw as way less healthy. But he didn¡¯t end up buying any of that. Instead, he filled his basket with canned goods, vacuum-sealed ready meals, a few protein bars, a toothbrush, and a razor. He had just stepped out of a lift that had taken him two floors up along the exterior of the complex. The Nexus Bar wasn¡¯t too busy at the moment. Light from a neon sign outside filtered through the few windows, casting a glow on the quiet faces of the patrons, who drank alone and smoked in silence. Posters of actors and musicians lined the metal walls, none of whom the boy recognized in the slightest. He didn¡¯t even know what movies were supposed to be. He took a seat on one of the empty stools at the bar, set his shopping bag down on the floor, and eyed the liquor shelf. The selection of hard alcohol was as overwhelming as the product range at the supermarket. He had no idea what to order, and there wasn¡¯t a drinks menu in sight. The well-dressed bartender, sporting face tattoos and ears stacked with rings, stood up from a table full of guests, walked around the bar and asked the boy what he¡¯d like. "Something that packs a punch," Lex said. "Oh really? I think what you need first is a solid base¡ªyou¡¯re looking a bit too skinny for my liking." The bartender pulled out a bowl of peanuts from under the bar and set it in front of the boy. Lex grabbed a handful. "Now, let¡¯s hear your age." "Old enough to drink." "Yeah, I¡¯d like to see that. You look a bit young for the strong stuff." He pointed his sharp chin at the ID scanner in front of Lex. "What¡¯s that?" "That thing checks if you¡¯re telling the truth." Lex stared at it, chewing for a while. "And?" he asked. The bartender gave him a sideways glance. "You gotta hold up your ID chip to it, kid. It can¡¯t read minds." A moment later, the scanner beeped loudly and flashed red. The bartender glanced at the display. "You¡¯re only eighteen, kid." "Yeah. Isn¡¯t that old enough?" "You don¡¯t get the really good stuff until you¡¯re twenty-one. Guess I¡¯ll pour you a beer. That¡¯ll get you drunk, too, if you drink enough of it." He switched on a small holoprojector that stood right next to the boy on the bar. "You know, a proper pilsner takes seven minutes to pour. Did you know that?" "What kinda pill?" The bartender looked at him curiously. "Well," he said, "as long as it¡¯s just the drunks feeding their addictions, I¡¯ve still got time to do things right. Later, though, it¡¯s all about the credits." For a while, Lex watched the smooth movements of the holographic dancer. Then, turning his gaze away from the miniature stage, he observed the bartender pouring the so-called beer and said, "Looks just like the stuff we used to drink back home." "Yeah, beer¡¯s popular all over the world." The bartender chuckled. He wore an expensive-looking black shirt, and his belly hung a little over the sink. He examined the full glass in the light as if checking his work, finally deciding it was good enough. Then he slid the mug over to Lex. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. "So, where are you from, if you don¡¯t mind me asking, kid? Judging by your wild manners, I¡¯d say the deepest jungles of Luvanda, but with that pale face of yours, more likely the dark side of the moon." Lex didn¡¯t respond, instead taking a test sip of the drink. He grimaced in disappointment. "Tastes exactly like minor''s piss." The bartender picked up a wine glass from the drying rack, polished it with a cloth, and eyed him. "You¡¯re probably from one of the neighboring sectors. Morgoh or Kul¡¯aan. The news says more refugees from there will be headed our way soon because the civil war the government started is getting bloodier and bloodier." He shook his head as he placed the wine glass in the cabinet. "Not a place I¡¯d want to be born in," he said. "And definitely not a place I¡¯d want to live. No offense, kid." He grabbed a damp cloth and wiped down the bar. The boy lifted his mug so he could wipe underneath. "Who¡¯s the government fighting anyway?" Lex asked. "Well, kid, that would¡¯ve been easier to answer if you¡¯d asked what they¡¯re fighting for instead of who they¡¯re fighting against. Because the ¡®what¡¯ never changes: more power, more credits." Lex ran his thumb thoughtfully over the condensation on his mug. "So, the World Union is fighting against Crimson Dawn," he said after a moment. "Well, you could put it that way. But since the entire government military is basically TC¡¯s private army, I¡¯d say¡ªit¡¯s really TC fighting against Crimson Dawn. Oh, and by the way, around here, the rebels are called terrorists. If you start calling them anything better, you could land yourself in a heap of trouble¡ªeven if those so-called terrorists are fighting for freedom and against the corporations like TC that ... oppress people. No one around here wants to hear that." The boy heard the elevator doors open behind him and glanced over his shoulder. New guests entered. Beautiful women in short dresses, accompanied by well-groomed men with gleaming white teeth and unnaturally stiff hairstyles that looked like they could withstand the Vortex storms on the prison moon. He turned back to the bartender. "And what do you think of TC?" The bartender kept his eyes on the new crowd and said, "The world is what it is, kid. Here in V-Prime, we owe the corporation our prosperity¡ªif you can call it that, on my salary. At least we don¡¯t go hungry, and we¡¯ve got enough free time to drink ourselves silly every weekend, just to forget about our own problems for a few nights a month. Personally, I¡¯m just glad I¡¯ve got a job at all. Back in the day, androids would¡¯ve been running this bar. But since the war ended, all that¡¯s left are household bots or sex robots, simulated intelligence, barely smarter than a fly. Not that most people even notice. Honestly, it doesn¡¯t surprise me at all." Lex didn¡¯t even know where to start with his questions. "There used to be androids?" "There probably still are, somewhere," said the bartender. But officially, artificial intelligences are banned. Did you know the first android was created underground? It was made by some crazy scientist, a young genius who belonged to a ruthless syndicate on Old Earth, directly tied to Thandros Corp. back in the day. At least, that¡¯s how the story goes." The boy thought about it. The world suddenly felt even stranger to him. "And people went to war with androids?" he asked. "People, kid, have always been at war with everything. Now, excuse me¡ªthe credits are calling." He stayed on the barstool the whole evening, smoking and ordering another round of that awful minor''s piss every hour, while the people around him laughed and had fun. More often than emptying his mug, though, he kept checking his inbox on his PDA. The girl still hadn¡¯t written back. He stared gloomily at his glass, took the last sip, and said, "I¡¯ll have another." The bartender poured a quick one, meant for another customer, and slid it over to the boy. "Let me guess. This is about a girl, isn¡¯t it?" "What is?" "That funeral look you¡¯ve got on your face." The boy dropped his sad gaze into the beer glass. "How¡¯d you know that?" "You pick it up in this job. I¡¯m better at reading faces than any poker player, and I can tell you, you¡¯re not exactly hard to read." New customers sat down at the bar, taking the last empty stools: two women in tight dresses with glowing accents on the straps and neckline. To match their outfits, their high heels were decorated with delicate LED roses. The bartender sized up the women, who could¡¯ve been sisters with their platinum blonde hair, and with practiced charm asked how they¡¯d been in the days he¡¯d missed them, adding whether they¡¯d like the usual. While he mixed their pink, shimmering cocktails, he whistled to snap the boy back to attention. "How long¡¯s this girl kept you waiting?" "Just met her yesterday." "Well then, that¡¯s not too long. Maybe she¡¯s waiting for you to make the first move." "What?" "Maybe she wants you to take the initiative and call her. Some girls still like a guy who steps up¡­" "I¡¯d do it," the boy said, "but she wouldn¡¯t give me her number. So I gave her mine and told her she had to message me." "Well, that¡¯s a pain." "Yeah, you could say that." "Keep your chin up, kid. There are plenty of fish in the sea." The boy looked at the bartender. After a moment, he thought he understood what the man meant. "But none like her," he said. "Ah, kid, we always think that, until the next one comes along and breaks our heart." "Do you think she was just pretending to like me?" "Well, to be honest, that thought did cross my mind just now." "You think she¡¯ll write me back?" "Well, kid, if you ask me, the odds are fifty-fifty: either she does, or she doesn¡¯t." After another hour in the Nexus Bar, he paid without leaving a tip, because that was just how he was used to doing it. He slid off the stool, grabbed his shopping bag, and was about to leave when the bartender stopped him. He set a shot glass on the counter, reached for a bottle from the shelf behind him and filled it. The liquid in the glass glowed blue, like the summer sky over Vega Prime. "This is one of the strongest drinks we sell," he said. "It¡¯s called Triple Blue Sunrise, because if you drink three of them, you¡¯ll still be buzzed by the next sunrise. Perfect for forgetting the girl of your dreams." The boy lifted the shot, sniffed it and downed it in one gulp. He winced, his face turning red, and gasped. "Oh crap. What¡¯s in that?" "Well, mainly synth-alcohol. That stuff¡¯s three times stronger than regular alcohol. To help it go down, there¡¯s a pinch of Asperklar-X¡ªa sweetener that¡¯s a million times sweeter than sugar, probably as sweet as that girl who¡¯s got your head spinning. And there¡¯s a mix of painkillers in there too. You¡¯ll need those, ¡®cause that stuff¡¯ll burn holes in your stomach." The boy paused for a moment, then set the sticky glass back on the counter. "Thanks for the drink, anyway." The night in Vega Prime was still young, and he had no idea where to go, so he just wandered aimlessly¡ªacross glass bridges that led him to other skyscraper platforms. The drop beneath the bridges was hundreds of meters deep, and the ground of LowerCity shimmered gold from the streetlights. The glow reached up to the night owls high above. Some of the figures he passed had shadowed faces, as hollow as skulls, and the boy didn¡¯t need a mirror to know that his face belonged to them too. From the last bridge, he reached an entertainment hub 600 meters above ground. It was a circular platform made of dark steel with no guardrail around the edge. In the center, holograms flickered, advertising various shops and clubs. Some of the symbols meant nothing to him, while others told him everything. He wandered around the platform, which took about fifteen minutes. When he got back to the bridge that had brought him there, he headed toward one of the wide, hangar-like doorways, descended the dark stairs, and hoped to find the answer to why he wasn¡¯t just going back to his apartment. The tunnel-like passageway, a floor below the platform, was bathed in dim red light. To his right was a glass wall, offering a panoramic view of the glowing city. Three smoking prostitutes leaned against the tilted windows. Their half-naked backs reflected on the glass. One of them wore a see-through plastic skirt with a neon-pink trim. Under a transparent plastic jacket, her plastic breasts were on full display. The women¡¯s heads lifted from their conversation, mouths slightly parted, as the boy walked past. Their made-up eyes followed him. They thought they were as irresistible as siren songs, but what pulled him along in his aimless wandering wasn¡¯t lust¡ªit was something deeper that could satisfy his heart. And because it wasn¡¯t within reach, he kept wandering, searching through the night. TWENTY-EIGHT: Corporate Lies
The boy took off his new faux leather jacket and laid it, along with Tayus''s welder''s goggles, on the chair in front of the computer desk. He warmed up a ready meal in the microwave, and as the last few seconds ticked down on the display, he passed the time by reading the labels on the cans scattered around. They were from different brands, but all had the same fine print: Authorized by SnackBite Inc. He weighed the can thoughtfully in his hand, then put it back on the shelf, walked over to the fridge, opened the freezer compartment, grabbed a packaged chicken leg, and studied the label. Produced in Adenaaru, Vega Prime. Distributed by SnackBite Inc. The microwave beeped. Lex put the synthetic meat back, closed the freezer and grabbed the steaming plate from the microwave. He stepped out onto the terrace of his apartment and sat down in a lounge chair. The night air was cool, and the mist from the streets drifted up in swirling clouds. He brought the spoon to his mouth but paused, wondering how SnackBite Inc. had gained so much power and how many other companies the corporation had devoured to get there. The terrace lights illuminated the hedges and palm trees along the railing. Lex switched off his PDA and glanced up at the night sky. Kronos and Chiron cast their glow on the surrounding skyscrapers. The gas giant and its sprawling rings covered nearly a third of the sky. The night was quiet; for a city as vast as Vega Prime, the silence up here felt strange. He took in the mist and the distant street noises of LowerCity for a while. Then, he switched on the hologram and searched the infonet for his nemesis, the Thandros Corporation. He wanted to know what crimes they were being criticized for. But when he pulled up the results, all he found were good things. The company stood for freedom and progress, or so it claimed. Thanks to them, society was able to function without government control. They were the strongest military force in the war against terrorism¡ªjust like the bartender had said. Without them, humanity would never have made it to Cetos V, as it was Thandros that had provided the fusion engine technology when the human race was still building the generation ship Union in Old Earth''s orbit. Lex couldn¡¯t help but think of his own experiences with the megacorporation and Earl Tardino¡¯s words aboard the ST SAMSON, when he¡¯d said that the TC also controlled the media and the infonet. The boy switched off the hologram with a click and stared at the night sky, lit not by stars but by countless colorful city lights. The whole topic of corporations felt too overwhelming. Everything here, in this world, was so much more complex and twisted than it had been on Limbo. After a while, he stood up and slowly walked to the railing. The night wind tousled his hair as he stood there, placing his hands on the rail. He looked out into the distance, at the strange, bustling world where his future lay. But something inside him whispered that this future he believed in wasn¡¯t possible without the girl. ****** On his fifth day in Vega Prime, he began his search for work. Using the apartment computer, he looked up job listings that matched his skills. He only found jobs as a factory or warehouse worker¡ªpositions that required no qualifications at all. He researched how to write job applications and drafted one for the role of a starship technician. He listed his work experience on Limbo in full detail, but left out his time in exile and the unnecessary details like the miserable living conditions, torture and slavery. Instead, he highlighted how, during his two-week journey aboard the ST SAMSON, he had often shadowed the Chief Engineer and gained some valuable experience. Once the application was complete, he sent it off to the contact address for the Starship Technology Corporation. Later that afternoon, he made his way to the Keldaraan District, a massive industrial complex in the northern part of the city. It was filled with production plants, factories, power stations and worker camps. The steep cliffs were lined with oil refineries and desalination plants that pumped seawater into the facilities. Countless factory chimneys loomed over the district, belching clouds of smoke into the air. Keldaraan was always blanketed by a dark cloud of pollutants, casting the area in a gloomy, ochre-colored light. The boy could only guess where the sun was behind the black smog, much like it had been on Limbo. "Where there''s light, there''s also shadow. And this is literally the shadow side of Vega Prime," said a tall, thin worker with messy, pitch-black hair. He had gotten off the shuttle with Lex, now standing beside him, also taking in the steel landscape and foul-smelling air. Lex didn¡¯t respond, just watched as the young slender man walked away, then turned his gaze back to Keldaraan. Far in the distance, the smog cleared, and sunlight sparkled on the ocean. With a heavy sigh, he turned his back on the sea and joined the other workers as they boarded the large lift, descending into the district. An hour and a half later, he signed a three-month contract as a production assistant in a glider factory. The department head seemed impressed by his skills, though Lex wasn¡¯t sure if the man had even read his application since he didn¡¯t mention anything from it¡ªnot even that Lex had come from one of the prison moons. Lex was assigned to supply the production lines. His first shift would be unpaid; after that, he¡¯d be working thirteen hours a day on the assembly line, six days a week, for five credits an hour¡ªbefore taxes. Pay would come every two weeks. ****** He¡¯d barely slept the previous night. Keldaraan was several hours away from his apartment. Exhausted, he stood at the assembly line, lifting ion batteries for the electric gliders off the conveyor belt with another temp worker, bagging them in plastic and stacking them. That was his only task, with just one break, during which he ate a meager meal in the cafeteria and checked his PDA. There was a new message in his inbox. He had hoped the message was from the girl, but it was from the HR department at Starship Technology. An employee had replied, saying that the next application period wouldn''t start until the following spring, and he wasn¡¯t even sure if someone from the prison moons would qualify for the entrance exam. Whether he wanted to check on that or if Lex was already out of the running wasn''t mentioned. He eventually made it back to his apartment in the middle of the night, kicked off his boots, and collapsed onto the bed with an almost empty stomach. As he set the alarm on his PDA, a reminder popped up on the display for a new level-up. He¡¯d almost forgotten about the leveling system Major Franley had mentioned. He tapped on it, and the hologram of his character profile appeared. He was now a Level 3 Citizen of Vega Prime, and he scrolled through the achievements he had unlocked so far: Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Shop Til You Drop: For buying new clothes Eco Hero: For picking up trash that wasn¡¯t yours Cog in the Machine: Complete a 14-hour factory shift ... He didn¡¯t bother reading the rest of the achievements. Instead, he switched off the hologram and stretched out on the bed. He wondered how much XP he had earned as a "good citizen" for delivering the Black Orb to TC and abandoning his only friend left on the moon, along with the rest of his people. He might only be Level 3, but that had definitely been high-end content. The news was playing on the 65-inch screen above him. He¡¯d tried changing the channel the day before, but there was no button on the remote to switch it¡ªor even turn it off¡ªso he muted it and let the images of violence and terror, supposedly caused by Crimson Dawn, flicker across the screen. His eyes grew heavy, and he passed out from exhaustion. ****** By the second week, he had to move. The rent for the luxurious apartment was 2850 credits every two weeks. That was what he¡¯d make in three months. He moved to Keldaraan, straight into the worker camp and took up a small room with a shared kitchen and bathroom on a different floor. His alarm rang at 4 AM. He still had on the stinking clothes from the day before, drank a workers'' coke to wake himself up, and fifteen minutes later, he was heading out to work. He tried to hide the back pain from carrying heavy glider batteries from the other production workers. During lunch break, he sat with a few guys from his shift in the break room. He was peeling the wrapper off a protein bar, staring blankly at the video screen on the wall. "So, how¡¯s it treating you here?" A tall guy swung his long legs over the aluminum bench and sat down at the table with his tray. "Still better than Limbo," Lex said. The guy with the jet-black hair weighed his response with a hand gesture. "You¡¯re probably right," he said. "But there¡¯s always somewhere worse. That doesn¡¯t make this place any easier to stand." "True." Lex chewed while glancing at the slim figure beside him. "So why are you the only one wearing a black jumpsuit?" The young man, who had only the initials C. R. on his name badge, poked at his food. "¡¯Cause I¡¯m an electrician," he replied. Lex looked at him, stuffing the last piece of the protein bar into his mouth. "You can¡¯t be the only electrician in the factory." "Maybe I am, grunt." Lex crumpled the wrapper in his hand, laid it on the table and watched the news playing on the big screen at the far end of the cafeteria. The pretty news reporter from First News was the same woman he had seen back on Limbo, Ginger North. On TV, she was reporting on the Crimson Dawn and the attack on the ST SAMSON earlier this month. "Do you even know what you look like?" The boy half-turned toward the electrician, studying him and wondering if his question had anything to do with the news. Could that interview, the one Ginger North had done with him in Bancarduu about the conditions on the prison moon, have aired here in Vega Prime? Was that why his shift partner recognized him? "And how do I look?" "Like you could use a little Vanta-B." Lex paused, confused. "Vanta-B?" "Yeah, Vanta-B, dreamer. A Void-Amplified Neuro-Treatment Amnesiac." "And what does the B stand for?" "Biochemical." "Biochemical?" "Or maybe Beta. Or Batch B. I don¡¯t know, dreamer." "And what does it do?" "It makes you forget all this crap," the electrician whispered. Lex watched as he unzipped his dark jumpsuit a little and reached into the inside pocket. A moment later, he set a small, golden capsule on the table in front of the boy, rolling it in a half-circle until it stopped against the crumpled wrapper. Lex rested his hands on his thighs, making no move to pick up the little pill. He stared at it for a while before looking back at the electrician. "What¡¯s this?" he asked. "That¡¯s Vanta-B," he replied. "And if you don¡¯t want us both hanging from a noose soon, you¡¯d better pocket that capsule right now." Lex hesitated, then grabbed the tiny thing and slipped it into the chest pocket of his jumpsuit. His heart pounded in his chest. He glanced at the large video screen, but suddenly, what was happening there seemed far less important than what was going on right here, right now. CR grinned darkly. There was something mysterious about the young electrician. Lex had never seen hair as thick and messy as his. Jet-black strands fell over his face, casting shadows across his eyes. CR was almost as pale and skinny as Lex. He had high cheekbones, a noticeable scar on his mouth, and a strong jawline with well-defined muscles and a firm chin. "What would you say if I offered you a life that was nothing but fun and free time?" CR asked. Lex thought about it. "I¡¯d ask about the price first." "Smart kid. The first time¡¯s free, as you just saw." CR left his half-eaten meal on the table, stood up and stepped over the long bench. He patted the boy¡¯s chest pocket, where the capsule¡ªVanta-B¡ªwas hidden. "That¡¯s all that¡¯s left of him. His legacy, his gift to the poor. How do you think we¡¯d survive even a single day in the factory without it? I¡¯ll tell you, kid: we wouldn¡¯t. Our time on Cetos V is limited, and unfortunately, it¡¯s packed with responsibilities we don¡¯t want. But what if you could forget everything except your best moments?" "Then..." "That was a rhetorical question, dreamer. Come to me when you need more Vanta-B. But I only sell it by the bag." Lex watched the lanky, mysterious figure disappear from the cafeteria. The brooding guy with the initials C. R., who juggled being an electrician with dealing drugs. After a moment, Lex turned back to the video screen, and suddenly, the First News was showing the faces of Lieutenant Major Franley, Chef Flint and Pilot Tangaroa Tessar¡ªpeople he hadn¡¯t seen or heard from since the incident on the ST SAMSON. His heart skipped a beat. "They found them," he whispered. Heavily armed corporate guards were dragging the handcuffed rebels away while a crowd of onlookers pressed against the barriers, hurling insults at the Crimson Dawn rebels. The rebels walked straight ahead, expressionless, toward an armored police truck. The news anchor was calling it terrorism, a barbaric act of hatred that demanded justice, but Lex¡¯s emotions were all over the place. The rebels had been responsible for the deaths of half the crew on the ST SAMSON. He should¡¯ve been relieved that the World Union had caught them. So why did he only feel two things right now¡ªsympathy for Tessar, Franley and Flint, and an overwhelming anger toward the world government? Why did he feel that way? Ginger North announced that the rebels would be executed later that evening. Right then, a message from the girl popped up on his PDA. He¡¯d been telling himself for days now to stop thinking about her, and he¡¯d already given up hope of ever seeing her again. He was only planning to check the time to see how much longer his lunch break lasted, but then he saw the message notification. His heart pounded in his chest, skipping and racing. He opened the message, and there it was: I want to meet you. Today at 7 PM in the city center. I¡¯ll send the exact coordinates in a separate message. Please tell me you can come. If we wait any longer, it might be too late. He looked up from his PDA. One by one, the factory workers around him stood and left the cafeteria, heading back to work for their late shift. But the boy stayed seated. All of a sudden, the girl had come back into his life. She wanted to meet him. But what did she mean, ¡°too late¡±? What was behind the mysterious message? He lowered his gaze to the hologram and wrote back, telling her he¡¯d be there on time, no matter where they were meeting. But after shutting off the hologram, he sat there, wondering how he¡¯d manage not to ruin their first meeting with the dark thoughts that kept pulling him back to the rebels of the Crimson Dawn, who were set to be executed that evening. He thought about whether there was any way he could get himself into a better mood, and suddenly, his hand shot to his chest, feeling the small, hard capsule through the fabric of his shirt. After a brief moment of hesitation, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the little golden capsule. How would we even get through a day at the factory without his gift? The electrician¡¯s voice echoed in his head as Lex weighed whether to take it or not. Good vibes. Is that what Vanta-B promises? he wondered, placing the small capsule on his tongue. He washed it down with the rest of the isotonic water from his cup and was just about to get up and head back to the conveyor belt when another problem hit him¡ªwork. It was almost 3:30, and his shift didn¡¯t end until one in the morning. For him to make it in time for the meeting, he¡¯d have to finish work in the next two or three hours, which was impossible. So, he quit. TWENTY-NINE: A Barbaric Act of Hatred
The coordinates led him to a plateau at the eastern edge of the LowerCity. From there, he gazed at the Cordwell River, the only natural river cutting through the megalopolis. As he pulled his sweaty hands off the railing and turned around, he saw her standing in the cool evening breeze. People passed by her, and it was as if a glow radiated from her¡ªsomething only he could see¡ªthat made her stand out from the unknown faces in the crowd, like a bright star in a hopelessly dark night. He took a hesitant step toward her, but suddenly she vanished behind the flow of busy citizens, and he feared losing her again. He searched for her, stopping in front of the people who seemed to form a wall. He felt an urge to call out her name, and just as he was about to, the crowd thinned, like a passing storm revealing its heart, and there she was¡ªradiant. The wind swept through her hair, with strands catching in her eyelashes. She looked at him, her smile tinged with sadness. When he stood before her, she slowly opened her arms, but at first, he didn¡¯t understand what she meant, what he was supposed to do. Then she stepped toward him, resting her head gently on his chest. There was no joy¡ªit was comfort she sought from him. He held her tightly, his eyes drifting to the great river, where Kronos and Chiron reflected in its waters. Against the crimson red evening sky, the surrounding skyscrapers loomed like dark giants over the busy plateau, where everything moved and pulsed with life, except for the two young people standing at the heart of the crowd, as if time had stopped just for them. In the cool evening air, the boy felt a sense of foreboding, like the wind carried a message meant only for him. It whispered that the inexplicable sadness that clung to the girl would linger until the end of their time together. Relationships began the way they ended, and theirs held much sorrow for them both. He pulled her even closer, unwilling to let go. ****** What might the temperatures on Cetos V be like in the regions where they were wandering now, if Vega Prime were to simply vanish off the face of the planet, taking with it the megacity and all its inhabitants, who made the LowerCity feel like a boiling ocean? They were caught in the middle of the crowd, searching for the right alleyway. Armed patrols regularly emerged from the masses, their wet rain capes reflecting the neon lights bouncing off the buildings. They wore vests emblazoned with the Thandros Corporation logo, and carried assault rifles with barrels pointed downward. A drone buzzed just above Lex''s head, sweeping beams of light over the crowd, scanning people''s faces. Without any wind, the rain fell straight down like vertical streaks, and the skyscrapers loomed over the citizens, their countless bright windows glowing like stars, towering like giant sentinels that blocked any view of the sky. Veela and Lex leaned against the window of a bar, his feet crossed as he took small sips of a bittersweet drink. It wasn¡¯t long before he felt a slight dizziness set in, a sensation of weightlessness, as the sea of lights around him began to shimmer, and even the falling raindrops seemed to glow. He peered down to the far end of the street, where the vapor rising from the LowerCity hung as neon-lit fog, drifting through the narrow canyons between buildings and gathering like storm clouds high above, perhaps even becoming part of the city¡¯s ecosystem¡ªa world built by humans and only for humans. The weather, the water, the air, the steel, the concrete¡ªeverything seemed to belong to them. The girl pulled him by the hand, leading him through grimy alleys and dazzling shopping districts. But he hardly noticed any of it, his eyes fixed only on her. The girl who, like magic, dissolved all his thoughts and made the people and buildings around him disappear. His eyes stayed wide, staring in wonder, because now there was only her¡ªand his heart, beating in an unfamiliar rhythm inside his chest. ****** The street they found themselves in was a bustling shopping avenue. Billboards lit up the facades of the skyscrapers above the stores, and video screens displayed the latest news. The farther they strolled down the promenade, the more crowded it became. Overhead, a police drone buzzed by, and mercenary troops randomly checked the IDs of passing pedestrians. "What¡¯s going on here?" the boy asked. "You don¡¯t know? They¡¯re about to execute the rebels," the girl said. The news suddenly came back to him, and he couldn¡¯t help but think of Lieutenant Major Franley, how kind and nonjudgmental he had been when they first met at the moon base on Limbo. "I don¡¯t wanna see this," he muttered, but the girl was already pulling him through the throng toward the stage in the marketplace. They got as close as ten or fifteen meters away. While two executioners, clad in heavy body armor, made the final preparations for the execution, a group of mercenaries led the captured rebels up to the stage, arranging them in a line with their faces toward the crowd. All of them had been shaved bald, just like the prisoners on Limbo. Their hands were bound behind their backs. Among them was a woman Lex had never seen before. But not all the crew from the ST SAMSON were there, he thought, and suddenly he blurted out, "Tardino¡¯s missing," making the girl look at him with wide eyes. He saw no point in holding back any longer. "I was there, Veela. I was on that ship. I know there¡¯s one more of them. But they didn¡¯t catch him." His voice sounded unusually lively, even excited, which surprised him. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. "What are you talking about, Lex? Why on earth would you have been on that freighter?" But he didn¡¯t answer. He stood there, mouth open, staring ahead; he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that Lieutenant Major Franley had been watching him the whole time. He even thought he saw the man give him a small nod, and Lex nodded back just as seriously. As if trying to give the major strength for what was about to happen, or to tell him he was dying for the right cause¡ªeven though Lex wasn¡¯t sure if that was true. The executioners motioned for the Lieutenant Major, who was first in line, to step forward and kneel. He refused, so they forced him down with the butt of a rifle. The crowd roared in approval. Many of the onlookers had their cameras ready, straining their necks and standing on tiptoes to get a better view. Camera drones from First News buzzed around the square, broadcasting live footage to the nearby video screens, and even the airships high up in the canyons between skyscrapers were streaming the execution live. "For freedom!" Franley shouted as the armed executioner pressed the barrel of his rifle to the lieutenant¡¯s forehead and pulled the trigger. The mercenaries flipped his body over. The boy stood frozen in horror, staring at a nearby video screen mounted above a fast-food stand on the glass facade of a city tower. The drone zoomed in on the dead man''s face. His mouth twitched, and his head lolled to the side. The crowd gasped in shock. It was probably just a reflex, a muscle spasm, but the executioner wasn¡¯t taking any chances. He fired a second shot. Lex breathed heavily, fists clenched tight. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Veela discreetly wipe away a tear. Without saying a word, his gaze fixed on the stage, he quietly took her hand and pulled it close. One by one, they fell. Chef Flint, Pilot Tangaroa Tessar, the woman Lex didn¡¯t know. The armored executioners grabbed the bodies by their hands and feet, hoisting them up and tossing them like sacks onto a transport vehicle below the stage. "It¡¯s over," Lex said, shaking his head. "They¡¯re all dead." "We¡¯ve seen everything we needed to see," Veela replied. "Needed? What part of this was necessary? Or are you actually siding with the corporate goons?" "Keep your voice down, Lex. Of course not. But we did need to see it. For us," she said. "For us?" "Just be quiet," she whispered. "Let¡¯s get out of here. If the police drones catch me crying, they¡¯ll think I¡¯m one of them." ****** They walked in silence for quite a while. "How are we supposed to turn this night around now?" Lex asked. Veela suddenly stopped. Her eyes were wet with grief and anger, but beneath that, there was a fire burning¡ªa passion that he¡¯d never seen in anyone else before. It was piercing. She said, "If we let the TC intimidate us, we¡¯ll lose our freedom. The freedom to live our lives the way we want. Should we let them?" "No," he said defensively. "Good," she replied. "Then let¡¯s choose to be happy tonight." Later, at a caf¨¦, Lex broke his silence. He violated the agreement he¡¯d made with the TC and confessed to Veela that he was from one of the prison moons. He showed her the scar behind his ear where the tracking implant had been, and he told her the story of his exile and of his friends, Tayus and Mori, who had joined the FLD. She didn¡¯t seem surprised. She said she had sensed all along that he wasn¡¯t from this world. But she had thought it was just one of those feelings you get for someone you think is special. After a while, she asked him if he¡¯d ever heard the prophecy about the girl from the city and the boy from the moon. "You''re joking," he said. "No," she replied. "That can¡¯t be real." "Oh, it''s very real," Veela said. "The rebel organization, the Crimson Dawn, was founded on this prophecy. It speaks of a boy from the moon who will fall in love with a girl from the city, when, at the darkest hour, a red nova blazes across the sky." He looked at her, silent. Listening. He stopped breathing, stopped thinking; all he wanted was to hear her voice again as he lost himself in her eyes¡ªthose emerald green depths, wild and impenetrable, yet he had ventured too far to ever find his way out. "It''s one of the rarest events in the cosmos," she whispered. "When two stars dance around each other, they¡¯ll eventually come so close that they merge. They''ll burn out all their energy in a massive red flame, lighting up the eternal darkness, sending their light beyond the boundaries of space and time¡ªa beacon of hope, maybe the salvation of all things. The eternal red light. The red nova." The boy thought for a moment. Suddenly, his eyes widened. "I saw a red light like that when I was on the observation deck of the SAMSON," he said. "Yes," Veela nodded, looking deeply into his eyes, as if encouraging him. Then he said it¡ªhe voiced what he had been thinking: "And those two stars..." "...are us, Lex. Two stars dancing together. The prophecy says that in a distant, dark future, humanity will fight its final war against itself. Amid all the darkness and hatred that sweeps across the world, a boy from the moon will meet the girl in the city. Their love is the last light that keeps humanity going. Their light. The Crimson Dawn." He stared at her in wonder, though doubt flickered in his gaze. "What happens next?" he asked. "Do they manage to save the world?" "It''s a prophecy," Veela said seriously. "How it ends, or what happens next, is up to us." Lex gazed into her eyes, as if trying to figure out if she was playing a game with him, but all he could do was speculate. "I still think you''re making it up. A prophecy about a girl from the city and a boy from the moon meeting... and now we¡¯re sitting here? That¡¯s just too much of a coincidence. You¡¯re messing with me," he said, leaning back, to which she responded with a soft smile. "Coincidence, Lex? After everything you¡¯ve been through, do you still believe in coincidence?" The boy didn¡¯t reply. After a moment, Veela leaned in close and whispered, "What are you willing to do to free your people from the prison moons?" He hesitated. "How is that even possible?" he asked. "We¡¯ve been up there for three hundred years. No one is coming to free us prisoners." "But we will, Lex. You and I," the girl whispered. "I live for this prophecy. And today, more than ever, I believe in it. I know that you''re the one with whom I will fulfill it." "You live for this?" he asked, confused. "You really think¡ªno, you really believe that we can free the people on the prison moons together?" The girl laughed, covering her mouth. He caught a glimpse of her bright, white teeth. "That," she said, her expression turning serious again, "has been my dream all my life." THIRTY: The Corporate Throne
A dark, polluted sky loomed over Keldaraan. Lex was pouring a cup of lemonade, sliding it across the aluminum counter, handing a frail worker a portion of fries. He made sure the man paid before leaving, then grabbed the spatula and turned his attention back to the large grill. The container he worked in reeked of frying grease, sweat, onions¡ªof Keldaraan itself¡ªof motor oil, smoke, pestilence and low-paying jobs. Oil splatters stung his arms, while beads of sweat tickled his forehead. "So, starting to miss home yet?" "Only if she turns me down." Lex glanced at the sizzling burger patties. One of them was already charred on the underside by the time he flipped it over. "How¡¯s it going with her?" "Told her last week," he replied. "That you''re totally into her?" "No. That I¡¯m from the moon." His coworker slapped the overcooked patty between two buns, dousing it with sauce. He placed the burgers on the warmer, ready for the next wave of shift workers due to pour in any minute. "And did she believe you?" "She didn¡¯t even ask questions. Didn¡¯t seem surprised at all. Like she already knew." "Maybe she did. You told her at the execution that you were on the freighter, right? She can put two and two together." "Yeah, she¡¯s smart like that." "Have you kissed yet?" Lex shook his head. "I¡¯m not even sure what she thinks of me." "She likes you. That much is obvious." Lex stayed quiet. "Do we need more meat?" "Think we''re good." Lex nodded and placed the spatula with the other greasy kitchen tools in a dripping steel box. As he wiped his oily hands on his apron and turned around, he noticed the tall burger-flipper pulling out a small bag of gold-tinted pills from his black chef¡¯s uniform. He fished one out with two fingers. Lex stared at him. "What are you looking at?" "I just thought¡­ this feels familiar. Like I¡¯ve seen it before." "So what? Maybe you have." His coworker reached for the half-empty can of worker''s coke on the counter. Lex studied his face¡ªthe straight nose, chiseled jaw, and messy jet-black hair. "Wait a minute," Lex said. "I know you from the factory." "Which one, kid? I¡¯ve worked in a bunch of them." "The glider factory. Yea, we were both at Wolf Gliders." "Could be." "No, I¡¯m sure of it," Lex insisted. "You were the guy who only had initials on your name tag. C¡­ C... CR¡ªyeah, that¡¯s it. So, why are you here working with me now?" CR shrugged. "Coincidence, fate? Who knows? Guess we both got fired." "Not me," said Lex. "I quit. Didn¡¯t even remember doing it. Only found out ¡®cause I read the reply to my resignation the next day on my PDA." "Yeah, trust me, dreamer, I know all about forgetting stuff. It¡¯s a real blessing, right?" Lex didn¡¯t answer. He toyed with the gap where one of his molars used to be, flicking his tongue thoughtfully against it. "I remember now," he said. "You sold me one of those things." "I gave it to you." "Is that why I can only remember half of my meeting with her?" CR raised his eyebrows, pretending not to know. "The first time I met Veela. That¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about. I don¡¯t remember a thing from work that day. I didn¡¯t even remember quitting. My memories start again at the execution, when Veela and I were there." If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. "Huh," said CR. He flicked the capsule into the air with his thumb, caught it in his mouth and washed it down with a few big gulps of coke before setting the empty can back on the counter. "Do these things mess with your memory?" Lex asked. "Mess with your memory, put holes in your brain, and probably your stomach too. You don¡¯t even wanna know how Jerry stumbled onto this little ''cure'' for our minds. Then again, maybe you already knew? Maybe you¡¯ve just forgotten it again. So, want some? I only sell them by the bag." ****** Later that evening, the light from Tau Ceti shone down on a 200-meter long, 30-meter wide overpass. The final stretch leading to the Thandros Tower was divided by a central strip of greenery, lined with palm trees and lush ferns that shimmered in the sunlight. Lex walked on the side where the palm shadows stretched diagonally across the walkway. The place was buzzing with people. On the sunlit side, corporate workers passed by as little more than silhouettes, while those on his side wore expensive suits with corporate logos on their lapels and data glasses synced to their PDAs, leaving their hands free for equally pricey briefcases and tablet PCs they were busy with. Heavily armed soldiers from the top-tier private army unit patrolled the bridge in small groups. Beyond the waist-high railing made of two thin metal bars, vast, pale gray mountains loomed in the distance, and the enormous ocean stretched out below. The reflection of the setting sun sparkled across the water, while ships near the harbor looked like tiny dots from up here. The view was breathtaking, but the park benches at the lookout points remained empty. At the security checkpoint, he presented his clearance. An attendant searched him for weapons. Even though he passed through the metal detector without a problem, the man still asked for his boots. "There are plastic knives, too," he said. The boy pulled off his worn-out work boots, handed them over, and waited until the attendant returned after scanning them. Without saying a word, the man sent him through the metal turnstile to the Thandros Tower courtyard, where Lex stopped, frozen in place, momentarily forgetting to breathe. Small birds chirped around him. In the center of the courtyard stood a stone pedestal engraved with a relief, above which hovered a hologram of a shimmering opal-blue globe¡ªCetos V. Two men in suits stood in the shade of the pedestal, smoking. Colorful meadows of flowers dotted the edges of the courtyard, their bright colors flickering in the shadows of red beeches and blooming umbrella acacias¡ªspecies from Old Earth. Lex scanned the park-like courtyard one last time before glancing up at the tower¡¯s peak. It rose a dozen more stories above him. At the very top was Zara Thandros'' residence. From there, she could overlook everything¡ªthe megacity and the people she controlled. With a knot tightening in his stomach, he climbed the wide steps toward the entrance and took the glass elevator up to her. ****** "Good day, ma¡¯am," he said. The secretary had noticed him the moment he entered the lobby but only looked up at him when he stood right in front of her. Her calm brown eyes examined him, not looking particularly impressed. Her name badge read Kyoko Lee. "Miss Thandros asked to see me," he said. She uncrossed her stockinged legs, scooted closer to her desk, and checked the holographic calendar. "Only if you''re Lex Marrow," she said. "Yes, ma¡¯am, that¡¯s me." "Prove it." She pointed with a manicured finger to the ID scanner. Lex held out his hand, and the device verified his identity on her screen. "Alright," she said. "Miss Thandros is still in a meeting. As soon as she¡¯s free, she¡¯ll see you. Please take a seat on the bench over there, and I¡¯ll come get you when it''s time." The boy stepped back, nodded to her and thanked her. As he walked over the glass floor to the waiting bench, he couldn¡¯t see the way her eyes followed him thoughtfully for a moment. ****** An hour later, he was still sitting on the bench. Below his feet, the floors stretched endlessly into the depths. The entire tower was a structure of glass and delicate steel beams. He could see five floors down into another office, watching the employees going about their business. Office work. Sitting at desks, writing reports, making phone calls. At least, that¡¯s how it looked, and that¡¯s what he imagined they did all day. His elbows rested on his knees, and he nervously kneaded his stiff fingers. They were cold, even though the temperature on this floor was perfectly comfortable. The air was filled with the fresh, lively scent of plants, climbing along the glass walls and blooming brightly in futuristic planters. He glanced over at the secretary. Sometimes their eyes met, but not this time. Behind her was a wide glass wall, tinted black. Right behind it was Thandros¡¯ office¡ªZara Thandros herself¡ªand he could almost feel her presence, something powerful and threatening, lurking behind the glass. ****** A well-dressed man with a sleek data visor sat down next to him on the bench, crossing his legs. As he did, the hem of his pants slid up, revealing a prosthetic leg made of aluminum, carbon fiber, and advanced tech. The man glanced at him. The boy nodded, serious, but the greeting hung in the air, unanswered. Fair-weather clouds rolled in, drifting westward in the golden glow of the late-afternoon sun, passing by the highest skyscrapers. Soon, the city below was completely veiled in clouds. While he waited, Lex had thought a lot about Zara Thandros. His mind drifted back to his grey school days, when his teacher spoke about the corporate leader as if she were some kind of god¡ªand the kids believed it. Now he knew better. She wasn¡¯t a deity, just the head of a massive corporate empire that should¡¯ve been criticized for countless cruelties¡ªbut wasn¡¯t. Because even the world government¡ªthe World Union¡ªand the infonet were under her control. He fidgeted with the welder¡¯s goggles hanging around his neck, thinking of Tayus, the execution of the rebels and Tardino, who had, for now, escaped the fate of his friends. He also recalled what he had read about SnackBite Inc. on the apartment terrace, and most of all, what Veela thought about the megacorporations. He remembered all the questions he used to have for Zara Thandros¡ªand now he had the chance to ask them all. His heart pounded wildly with excitement. He heard the click of heels on the glass floor. The secretary approached him, her steps confident. When he looked up at her, he rose from the bench. Sweaty hands. A dry mouth. It was time. The most powerful woman in the system wanted to speak with him. THIRTY-ONE: The Dreamer鈥檚 Dilemma Zara Thandros had thick blonde hair cut into a sharp bob. She was pretty, or was she? Something about her felt off. Lex couldn¡¯t pinpoint her age¡ªperhaps she looked like she was in her mid to late forties, but there was something about her that made him truly believe she had watched over the eons of human history, like a deity, knowing everything since the colonization of Cetos V¡ªmaybe even before that. There was an aura around her, one that taught him what fear really was. She sat behind a stainless steel desk that curved elegantly across the wide expanse of the office. Lex noticed that the glass wall behind him was one-way, meaning Zara Thandros could have been watching him the whole time. "Lex Marrow," she said. "The boy who fought his way from Limbo all the way to Vega Prime." Her voice was cold and sharp, echoing off the glass walls. Lex didn¡¯t know how to respond, so he said nothing. Below them, the ocean stretched out endlessly, and the crimson red evening sun poured in at an angle, casting a warm cognac glow through the tinted windows. "What I truly admire in a man," she said, "is ambition. His sacrifice for his goals¡ªit''s a kind of heroism. Very few are willing to give up everything, do anything, to advance their pursuits. I admire men who set their sights so high that only they believe they can reach those heights." She paused for a moment, and in the silence, her gaze pierced him, waiting for some reaction. Lex felt the pressure to respond building under her intense scrutiny. "Thank you," he said, but it came out more like a question. "Not so fast, boy," she spat the word "boy" with venom. "There¡¯s another type of man I can''t stand. Unfortunately, he''s sometimes confused with the kind I admire. Do you know what kind of person I¡¯m talking about?" Lex shook his head. "I¡¯m talking about the dreamer. The lost among us¡ªthe failure. Do you know what defines a dreamer, Lex Marrow?" He remained silent. "The essence of the tragedy lies in the name itself: the dreamer lives in a dream, whether it comes true or not. In fact, it¡¯s almost better if it doesn¡¯t. The dreamer doesn¡¯t see the world as it is, and because of that, they also have a distorted image of themselves. They waste their lives chasing after fulfillment, like a dog chasing its own tail. Dreamers pursue ideals, beauty and aesthetics. Or let¡¯s say, they long for a perfect life where, in their fantasy, everything is fair and beautiful, where everyone is happy and treated kindly. But one day, the dreamer wakes up to reality. And the dreamer¡¯s punishment is the moment of awakening. From that moment on, their entire existence falls apart." This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. A heavy silence hung in the room. Zara Thandros gazed thoughtfully at the setting sun, as if she had created not just the city below but the entire universe itself. "Do you believe there''s an answer that can make everyone happy?" Lex pressed his lips together, not knowing what to say. "There will always be sacrifices," she continued. "There will always be those who think differently, who stand in your way. That¡¯s just how it is, and I can live with that. I even respect it in some cases. But now, tell me, Lex Marrow from Limbo Two¡ªwhy are you here? Are you a dreamer, a weakling, a nobody? Or are you a man with real ambition?" The boy hesitated. "I think... I¡¯m the one with ambition," he replied. "Good," she said theatrically, almost like a mother praising a child for the right answer. "Because dreamers turn into nobodies¡ªbeggars, drunks, gamblers, criminals. Or worse: followers of the Crimson Dawn. And I don¡¯t want to see you fall into that fate." Lex thought about where this conversation was heading. Then he said, "My goal was to get off Limbo. And I don¡¯t think I had much time for dreaming there." Thandros gave a thin smile, one entirely devoid of warmth, as she calmly observed the change in the boy. His neck veins throbbed. His breathing quickened. He was terribly nervous, focusing all his energy on keeping his voice steady, making sure it didn¡¯t tremble as he spoke: "I know you¡¯ve never been there. Limbo Two, I mean. Or any of the prison moons, for that matter. But I can tell you this: Anyone who¡¯s lazy there gets beaten or whipped. If you¡¯re sick or can¡¯t work, you starve unless some other prisoner helps you. If you don¡¯t have friends, you¡¯re already as good as dead. People get tortured, beaten and killed with shock weapons for no reason at all. I was exiled, and that¡¯s where I found the Black Orb that brought me here today. Otherwise, I¡¯d be dead there too. My parents died working honorably. I never even knew my father; he died before I was born. But that¡¯s what we prisoners live for, right? Our work. Hard labor. It¡¯s how we repay our debt to God. Not that I know who still believes in that, or who just doesn¡¯t care anymore. That¡¯s just how life is for us down there. But I didn¡¯t want to play that game anymore. And now, here I am, and it doesn¡¯t feel so bad so far, so I guess that means I¡¯m not a dreamer after all¡ªjust a guy who got lucky and reached his goals." Zara Thandros stared at him for a while. "The problem with you talkers is that you still need to prove yourselves." "You think I¡¯m a talker?" "I fear you might be worse." "Why do I need to prove anything to you? I¡¯m a free citizen of Vega Prime now, I¡ª" She cut him off with just a gesture, her next words cold and matter-of-fact: "You¡¯re not free. You never were and never will be. This city, this planet, the moons¡ªthey all belong to me. Your life belongs to me. And if I think your pathetic ego might align itself with the terrorists of Crimson Dawn, then you¡¯ll have to prove me wrong. Though so far, that¡¯s never happened." The boy said nothing for a long moment. Then, "And how am I supposed to prove to you that all I want is to live my life in freedom?" She smiled. "By leaving Vega Prime and heading south," she said. "I need your skills as a mechanic in the diamond mines. Your train leaves in three days." Her words froze him in place. He was too shocked to respond, his mind immediately flashing to Veela and the realization that Thandros was going to tear them apart and destroy everything¡ªhis fortune, his happiness. "You can¡¯t do that," he said. "It¡¯s already been decided." "But I don¡¯t wanna go." "You¡¯re dismissed, Lex Marrow," she said, smiling kindly. "Oh, and I almost forgot the most important thing: I forgive your inherited debt. Go, live your life. Hopefully, it¡¯ll give you all you¡¯ve hoped for." THIRTY-TWO: The Oath of Mankind The wind whipped from all directions into the open glider. His face was freezing, and his nose was running. He wiped it on the back of his hand, his gaze already full of longing as he looked at the girl. She wore a dark wool sweater with a shiny pendant around her neck. Her chestnut-brown hair swayed gently in the breeze. He wanted to see her like this, even with his last breath ¡ª just like she was now, on that late summer evening in that strange city. "Will you finally tell me where we¡¯re going, Lex?" "It''s supposed to be a surprise," he said. "At least give me a hint about what to expect." "It¡¯s definitely better than the execution you almost led us to." He followed her gaze towards the setting sun. The boy and the girl, together in a glider, soaring between the towering buildings. Where were they headed? Only one thing was certain: toward a future that wasn¡¯t much different from the present. A dream lived out, received without even realizing it; their entire lives condensed into one moment that could never be captured. ****** Out on the vast grassy plains to the west, half a mile outside the city, lay the spot where the generation ship, The UNION, had landed at the beginning of the settlement. They stood a good distance away from the shuttle¡¯s landing platform, gazing at the massive starship that stretched all the way to the forests from their vantage point. Most of the living quarters were located in three enormous rings around the ship¡¯s middle. Thousands of dark windows made the rings look like they were delicately perforated from afar. Lex tilted his head back, staring up at the bridge. Only there, high up, was there still warm light glowing from the ship''s windows. The glowing megacity encircled the area from the east. The generation ship was two and a half miles long and two hundred meters high. According to the information plaque the boy was reading¡ªits stand made from wood carved from alien trees and planted into the blue grass¡ªthe UNION had a usable surface area of 500,000 square meters, almost half of which was living space. Forty thousand people from Earth had boarded the ship, and nearly half a million were on it by the time they reached the Tau Ceti system. All those pioneers were long dead, he thought, looking at the empty, dark windows of the living quarters. Some of the people on that ship had been his ancestors. Despite the lights still glowing on the bridge, the generation ship, with its history and the now-dead pioneers, felt like a ghost ship. Country roads led to the site, dimly lit and rarely traveled. Inside the ship was the largest museum on Vega Prime, a place that collected all knowledge of Earth''s past, the Museum of Modernity. The path to the entrance was clearly marked. "I thought the knowledge about Earth''s past was a secret?" "What nonsense," said Veela. "Who told you that?" The boy stayed silent. His mind immediately went to the prototype AI on the ST SAMSON, which had clearly lied to him just to get him to share his stories about life on Limbo. "The journey from Earth took the humans 134 years," Veela continued. "That''s way more than a single human lifetime. Can you imagine being born on that ship, surrounded by metal and the cold emptiness of space? Growing old there, watching your kids grow up, and then their kids too? Dying there. Your entire life spent in one place, at a time so uncertain that you didn¡¯t even know if your grandchildren would ever make it safely to their destination, or if they were headed straight into the pitch-black Void. And yet, these brave pioneers took the risk. Humanity¡¯s fate was in their hands. Back then, no one even knew for sure if the planet would be habitable. But with that hope, and the chance for a new beginning, they set off on this daring journey. The settlers were the chosen ones. From Earth to an unknown star system. Can you even imagine living like that?" They stood for a long time in the shadow of a blossoming apple tree, a silver shadow cast by Chiron, the moon. The evening sun had already set behind the nearby woods, and a cool breeze rippled through the blue grass in waves. White petals swirled in the twilight air. "This tree is the first thing the settlers planted when they arrived on this new world. It¡¯s meant to remind us of our oath: to protect the rest of humanity and their new home. That¡¯s why they named the generation ship the UNION¡ªbecause humanity had to finally stand united, to prevent the tragedies of Earth¡¯s history from repeating on Cetos V." "Do you think people have changed?" he asked. "No," Veela said. "They haven¡¯t. They''re still the same as they were back then." She opened her mouth as if to say more. The boy thought she was about to add something, but she didn¡¯t. "What are you studying, anyway?" he asked. "History," she said. "But I''m only interested in the past as it really was, not in the lies they teach at the university." He looked at her for a moment, then glanced back up at the generation ship. "Do you know what''s up there on the bridge?" he asked. "A restaurant," she said. "For the rich. For people who throw around credits like nothing. A buffet up there costs 180 credits." Lex glanced at his PDA. "And I¡¯ve got 200 left. I want to eat with you up there." Veela looked at him. He couldn¡¯t read any excitement on her face. "Lex, do you really think we belong here?" "It''s not about the people sitting there," he said. "That ship brought the humans we''re descended from to this place. From Earth, where we all come from. What could be better than standing up there on the bridge, thinking about what those people back then were dealing with? I just want to be there with you, at least once. I don¡¯t care if I have to work all night to make up for it, and I don¡¯t care about the people up there either. So, what do you say?" "I say," she paused for a long moment, "that everyone has to make their own mistakes. And that includes you, my dear Lex." "What¡¯s that supposed to mean?" "It means that it¡¯ll be worth it when we go up there." "It will, I promise." "Lex?" "Yeah?" The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "It won¡¯t be a good experience." ****** He was freshly washed, but he already smelled of sweat again. Large dark patches had formed under his arms. With his elbows pressed tight against his ribs, he stood in line for the buffet, holding the white porcelain plate like a beggar with both hands. He had brushed his teeth an hour ago with minty toothpaste, and there was still a lingering sharpness and numbness in his mouth. At the beginning of the line, he tried a cucumber salad and immediately made a face. "Grown right here in the UNION itself, under the most advanced lab conditions," the finely dressed waiter behind the table said defensively, though with a hint of pride in his voice. "It tastes super bitter," the boy said. "The cucumbers?" The waiter glanced at the salad bowl, his arms still folded behind his back. The boy nodded. "Those exactly," he said, chewing, then reluctantly swallowed and scraped the rest of the cucumbers back into the bowl. The waiter remained composed, though for a second, it seemed like he almost lost his cool. Silent and dignified, one arm behind his back and the salad bowl in the other hand, he made his way to the kitchen. The fancy guests whispered among themselves, both in front of and behind the boy, though he didn¡¯t notice. He just watched the waiter walk away and muttered, "You didn¡¯t have to throw it all out. Maybe someone else would¡¯ve liked it." Potatoes, beans and roasted pork steamed on the plate he balanced, along with a large drink, as he made his way up the broad steps. The entire dining hall was whitewashed. Guests sat at hexagonal tables, scattered across the second level in countless little groups. From here, you could look down at the buffet. The line below was getting longer and longer. Lex stopped at the landing. The guests were speaking quietly to one another, and soft music played from all directions. Aside from the holographic menus on the tables, the faint blue glow of the energy columns powering the force fields, and the cold light from Kronos shining into the hall, there were no other light sources. It was dim, but not too dark to make out faces. Veela sat three tables away, near the railing, and waved him over. "You¡¯re quite the character," she said, amused, as he sat down next to her. He had no idea what she meant. "You know, because of the cucumbers," she said, gesturing down toward the buffet. The boy nodded, though he still didn¡¯t get it. "Good thing you saw me," he said, "I¡¯d have wandered around till the food got cold." "The roast looks good." "Sure does." "But where¡¯s the gravy?" He stared blankly at his plate for a moment, then glanced down at the huge line by the buffet. "I¡¯ll just grab it when I get seconds," he said. They shared a plate in secret, since they couldn¡¯t afford two meals. He chewed slowly, swallowed and then, after some hesitation, scooped something strange-looking onto his fork. It was called sauerkraut, and when he tasted it, he found it awful. "Do you like it?" she asked. "To be honest, even the food on the SAMSON was better than this, and that¡¯s saying something, considering Flint was the one who made it." Veela laughed heartily, as if she knew exactly what he was talking about, as if she had been there herself or had tasted Flint¡¯s cooking before. Then, just as suddenly, her laughter died, and a deep sadness clouded her eyes, a sorrow that smothered any hint of joy. They both remembered what had happened to Flint and the others. "You know," she began, "the people here aren¡¯t really paying for the food." "What? They get it for free?" "No, Lex, that¡¯s not what I meant. They pay for it just like we do, but they¡¯re here for a different reason." "The same as us?" "No." "Oh?" The boy asked, "Then why?" "They want to stand out from the crowd, a crowd that can¡¯t afford a fancy evening in the UNION. They want to feel better than others, more important than the rest of us. They want to do something most people can¡¯t, even if it means paying a lot for nothing. Why do you think they¡¯ve been staring at us the whole time? It¡¯s because they can tell we don¡¯t belong here. But we¡¯re still here. We¡¯re ruining their night just by being around, taking away their sense of exclusivity." The boy looked at her, trying to follow her train of thought. The girl chewed with her mouth closed. He glanced out the window, where a withered leaf, carried by the wind, flew against the force field, briefly revealing its fine grid structure. Beyond, in the darkness, hung Kronos. Cosmic dust rings encircled the gas giant in an extravagant diameter. The shadow of one of the prison moons fell across the planet¡¯s surface¡ªhe couldn¡¯t tell which one, but he imagined it was Limbo Two. And suddenly, he missed Tayus again. And Mori, his old friend, who might still be out there, living out her days as a prisoner. Unless she had already¡­ "Just look around, Lex," Veela whispered. "See how they act, how they talk. They look at us and laugh. They all think they¡¯re better, like they deserve to earn more and that makes them superior. Do you think they care about what happens to people who are suffering? The poor, the ones living in the LowerCity slums, or the refugees struggling to survive in Adenaaru, starving, dying from diseases because they can¡¯t afford the medicine. For people like this, the world is fine as long as they keep their wealth. Do you feel comfortable in a society like this?" He had stopped chewing for a moment. He swallowed. "I dunno," he said. "Maybe you¡¯re judging too quickly. Besides, I don¡¯t care about the people. I¡¯m just here to eat with you. I¡¯m only here because I thought we¡¯d have a good time. It was supposed to be a surprise." "I know." He set his fork down on the plate and looked at her perfectly shaped profile for a while, still convinced, as he had been from the start, that there was nothing more beautiful than this girl. She, too, looked as if she were from another place. Not from the moon, like him, but from somewhere far away. From another time, he thought. "Should we just head down to the museum?" he asked. "I really want to learn more about Earth¡¯s past." "I can tell you everything about that." He looked at her. "Then tell me where you want to go, and we¡¯ll go there." He waited for her answer, but she said nothing and didn¡¯t even look up at him. "Veela?" "I want to go with you somewhere we can be ourselves," she said. "Where the corporations aren¡¯t watching us. Where they don¡¯t have power over us." "And where¡¯s that?" "I¡¯ll show you," she said, and the boy left his food and immediately stood up. ****** That night, they fled from Vega Prime, across the vast meadows into the woods, seeking shelter from the rain and their old lives. They lived out their destiny, two people in love, both of them feeling it, though the boy was still unsure. He followed her, hand in hand, through the unfamiliar thicket, life teeming all around them. Everything was just beginning to bloom, even though summer was already fading. Or maybe it was only blooming inside him. He looked at the girl, her skin appeared pale and pure in the light of Kronos breaking through the trees. To him, she had no flaws. The rain had let up. They could tell because the rustling of the leaves had fallen silent. Beyond the forest, they came to a lagoon, its surface silvered by the moonlight. A coastal beach, much more beautiful than the ones in the picture book, because it was real¡ªand because she was here with him. She showed him how to make a fire, sparks flying into the night sky. It was unusually warm, probably the last beautiful day of the year, she said casually, but with his upcoming departure weighing on him, it felt more like a premonition. She pulled a pricey bottle of wine from her bag, which she had stolen from the restaurant without a hint of guilt. They drank together, and soon they were lying side by side in the sand. The sound of the waves filled the air, and light clouds veiled the horizon, but the sky above was wide open, and they watched as thousands of stars poured down on them. Neither of them said anything, they both felt it. The boy was certain of it now too. At some point, a shooting star arched across the vast sky, and Veela draped her leg over his. His heart pounded wildly. She leaned over him, her face just inches from his. He looked at her, said nothing, didn¡¯t breathe. And then, for the first time, she kissed him. ****** It was late in the night. The fire had burned down to glowing embers. He had thought she¡¯d fallen asleep in his arms long ago, but she had been awake the whole time. He looked up and saw a bright light, high above where the space elevator led into the sky. He was searching the stars for something in particular. "See that star? The bright one, the one that¡¯s twinkling." He pointed, but with so many stars, it was impossible for her to know exactly which one he meant. "That¡¯s the Sun," he said. "Eerie showed me when I was on the SAMSON. And somewhere out there, where Sol is, that¡¯s where old Earth is too. I can¡¯t believe we¡¯re so far from our home world. That we¡¯ll never see it." The girl said nothing. The crashing waves filled the silence, a cold breeze carrying the scent of salt and sea. Sleepily, she murmured, "I wonder if we¡¯ll ever get a reply signal from Earth, or if everyone there is already dead." THIRTY-THREE: Bound by Stars
The massive platform they were lounging on was part of a shopping promenade that wrapped around the belly of a skyscraper. They sat cross-legged on the ledge with other young people, perched dizzyingly high above the city, watching the flowing traffic far below on the brightly lit highway network that stretched for miles. Lex uncrossed his legs, one foot had fallen asleep, and he let it dangle freely in the air¡ª106 stories above the ground. From up here, the automobiles were barely visible, just a river of golden lights; the shadow of night had fallen over the LowerCity, and billions of tiny window lights flickered in the darkness. "That''s all she said?" Lex said nothing. "You know, Zara Thandros thinks you''re a dreamer, and she''s right. Because you are one. She''s scared of you, Lex, because people like you are the ones who change the world. And Thandros will do anything to keep the world exactly the way she built it. She''s afraid that you have the power to change things, to make things happen that could hurt her. Look how far you''ve come because of your dreams. You''re special, Lex. She knows it. I know it. You''re the only one who refuses to believe it." He lifted his gaze from the city to the cloud-covered sky, studying the fine lines of the airways. "She¡¯s sending me away," he said after a while. Veela didn¡¯t seem surprised or saddened by the news. She simply asked where he had to go. "To the south," he said. "She wants to send me to some diamond mines. I¡¯m supposed to prove to her that I¡¯ll never join the Crimson Dawn. I don¡¯t care. Not about her. Not about Crimson Dawn. I¡¯m not going." "The diamond mines," Veela said. "That''s what she said, anyway." "Then she¡¯s sending you to the Ognons District. TC has a lot of private colonies there, where they enslave the locals. It¡¯s very far from here. Very far. You¡¯ll fly over the Great Sea on an airship." "I¡¯ll be¡ª" he paused. "Over the sea?" Veela looked at him. "To the other continent, the one we call Luvanda. Don¡¯t let the beautiful name fool you, Lex." She placed her hand on his. Her slender fingers were cold from the evening wind, but the touch felt warm and tender. "It¡¯s dangerous there," she said. "The diamond mines are deep in the equatorial jungles. The land is mountainous, thick with countless unknown plants, poisonous fungi, and giant rainforest trees. Do you have any idea how hostile the jungle is to humans?" He gazed into the distance, where the endless ocean lay steel-gray beneath the cloud cover. He said nothing. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. "The climate isn''t like it is here. It¡¯s hot and unbearably humid¡ªso humid, you¡¯ll feel like you¡¯re drowning in the air." "You¡¯re saying that like you¡¯ve been there before." "I have." He looked at her. "In my mind," she admitted. "There¡¯s enough information in the infonet about it. Enough to make you fear the continent. The jungle alone makes a journey there dangerous enough, but," she paused for a moment, "the entire region, from the west coast deep into the heart of Luvanda, is a war zone. Crimson Dawn has far more power and influence there than they do here. TC is desperate to hold on to their diamond mines at any cost. Nowhere else in the world is there as much war, violence, bombings, and murders as in Luvanda. I¡­ I¡¯m just asking you, when you¡¯re there, to do what¡¯s right." "I can¡¯t," he said. "What do you mean?" "I can¡¯t do what¡¯s right if I go there, because I¡¯m not going at all." "You don¡¯t have a choice, Lex. If TC wants it, then¡ª" "TC controlled my entire life on Limbo," he said. "But not anymore. Now it¡¯s my life, and I make the decisions. And I¡¯m telling you, I¡¯m staying here." "Do you want to stay here, Lex, or do you want to stay with me?" He didn¡¯t answer. He just looked at her. "Do you really want to spend your whole life hiding from TC?" "If I have to, then that¡¯s what I¡¯ll do. We can disappear together." "We can¡¯t. And you know that. They would find us. They¡¯d find you, and then we¡¯d never see each other again." "If I go there, we might never see each other again anyway." "You can¡¯t hide from your fate. You¡¯re going to see and learn so much on this journey. About the corporation. About the rebels. About... our destiny." "Don¡¯t start with that too." "Everyone has a destiny, Lex." "But mine can¡¯t be to leave you. I feel the exact opposite." She smiled sadly, small crescent-shaped dimples forming at the corners of her mouth. "We belong together, I know that," she said after a moment. "But part of my destiny is accepting that you have to go." "I just don¡¯t understand how you can say that so easily. How you can be so sure we¡¯ll see each other again." "Because I can listen to my fate. And it tells me that we belong together. You have to go, and I can¡¯t stop you. Remember the prophecy I told you about. The girl from the city and the boy from the moon. We¡¯ll finish the story, if fate wills it." He looked at her. "So you¡¯re saying you¡¯ll wait for me?" "I will wait for you, Lex Marrow. And when we see each other again, we¡¯ll be much closer to our shared goals than we are today. You and I, we¡¯ll be very different people." "I¡­ I don¡¯t want you to change." She placed her finger gently over his lips. "You don¡¯t have to understand yet. I want to give you something. Open your hand." He did as she asked, and she took off her necklace, unfastening the pendant, and placed it in his palm. "I want you to keep it. Promise me you¡¯ll take it with you. It¡¯ll protect you. It¡¯ll help you remember me." "I promise," he said, gazing at the intricately crafted butterfly, tracing the delicate metal lines with his fingertip and feeling the white pearl set in the center. Then he tucked the amulet into the side pocket of his faux-leather jacket and zipped it up. Suddenly, he realized how badly he was trembling. "I know," he began, "that now is the right time to go. But I just can¡¯t get myself to stand up and leave. I can¡¯t bring myself to say goodbye to you." "I can see that. You¡¯re rooted here, like an old tree. That¡¯s why I¡¯ll take the first step for you." She kissed him on the cheek, and he wished time would stop, but the minutes seemed to race faster than ever in their final moment together, and the girl slipped away from him. For a moment, he imagined he could still feel the kiss lingering on his cheek, but even that sensation faded quickly, leaving the moment behind as a painful memory. THIRTY-FOUR: The Wild Continent of Luvanda At dawn, he pulled himself off the old mattress, slipped into his tattered pants and boots, slung his welding goggles around his neck, and grabbed his backpack. He glanced into the fridge, just as empty as his stomach, and left his small room in Keldaraan for good. The day broke over the industrial district in shades of ochre and steel, and the morning air felt heavy as lead in his lungs. Where the light from Tau Ceti hit the asphalt, the heated air shimmered in different colors, as if it were soaked in gasoline, with invisible pollutants swirling in such quantities that they almost seemed visible, stirred and shaken by the sun¡¯s energy and the constant roar of machines echoing through the concrete canyons. It was 5:30 a.m., and across Keldaraan, workers had already started their early shifts. The streets were eerily empty. After an hour''s ride away from the industrial zone, Lex made his way through the central station to the platform. He pushed through the crowd to the edge of the platform and peered into the 70-meter-wide, 12-meter-deep track pit, where, according to the schedule, one of the world¡¯s most advanced freight trains was due to arrive in a few minutes. Other poorly dressed young men stood nearby in small groups, smoking lazily and flicking long trails of ash into the abyss. Before the ash could reach the tracks, it dispersed in the air. He asked a scrawny redhead for a cigarette, and only then did he notice most of the group wore earplugs. The redhead pulled a neon earplug from his ear and looked puzzled. His face was covered in freckles, and his large yellow teeth were visible when he spoke. "Can I bum a cigarette?" After a moment''s hesitation and with a slightly reluctant expression, the redhead handed him the pack. "Sure," he said. From far off, Lex heard the whistle of a locomotive. He stepped close to the platform''s edge, his right boot hanging freely over the gap. He leaned forward to follow the curve of the tracks, watching how the magnetic rails cut a mile-wide path between the skyscrapers. In the distance, he saw the white bridge leading to Thandros Tower and dark plumes of smoke rising below the cyan morning sky. The whistle of the steam engine sounded again, and moments later, the superconducting freight train appeared. A light downdraft swept through the station, ruffling his hair and carrying with it the scent of machine oil. He covered both his ears and tilted his head back, but the sheer size of the train was impossible to take in. Massive pistons pumped past him, steaming shafts, intake pipes, flashing, rotating turbo generators, and high above, the tiny lit windows of the passenger compartments. Platforms extended from the station, leading to the stairways of the train. As Lex climbed the steps, an icy chill rose from below. He glanced over the handrail and heard the rumbling and hissing of giant nitrogen tanks beneath the metallic safety mesh. Below, he could see the shadow of the train, hovering a meter or so above the tracks. The conductors stood on either side of the open carriage doors, checking passengers'' tickets and papers. The one who checked Lex¡¯s ticket was a heavyset man with a beard shaved to his chin line along his cheeks. The TC logo was stitched onto his uniform, and corporate loyalty was embedded deep in his mind. Lex asked him what the massive cargo at the back of the freight cars was. The conductor looked up from his document and said, "We¡¯ve loaded entire container ships, shipping them to Ka¡¯lotaar to bring the port back to life. We¡¯re boosting imports and exports, making credits, reigniting overseas trade, and making heads roll in Luvanda." The passenger deck was divided into multiple levels. The top level was reserved for the highest earners, those who could flood the infonet with credits, triggering an inflation if they spread their wealth among the citizens. The lower three levels were occupied by the rest of humanity. Uniformed staff moved between rows of three-seater benches, as passengers read holographic newspapers or browsed the Infonet using monitors attached to the seatbacks in front of them. Lex made eye contact with a vendor and ordered a coffee and a roll, but when it came time to pay, he realized that TC had deleted his account. The vendor took the items back, and with his stomach growling, Lex pressed his forehead against the window, looking down at the platform where only a few clusters of people remained. Cleaning robots were already sweeping away the traces of civilization from the now-empty spaces. He leaned back in the hard seat, his mind drifting back to the girl. He replayed every moment of their short time together, not just once, but in an endless loop, as if to engrave every detail into his memory, determined never to forget that one feeling connected to their time together. By noon, he arrived at the outskirts of Vega Prime and spent two hours at the airport before boarding a supersonic jet to cross the Great Sea. He spent more than two days in the air before the plane landed in Segosa, a port city built at the mouth of the Luvanda River. Just five years ago, Segosa had been the capital and trade hub for a faction that had split from the Thandros family. Their leader was long dead, but the population still worked hand in hand with the Crimson Dawn, a splinter group locally known as DFLL: the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Luvanda. In some parts of Segosa, shattered relics of stone statues honoring their greatest martyrs remained, while elsewhere, only empty pedestals stood. The history plaques had been ripped from the stone, and thick paint had been smeared over the names. Lex wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, turned away from the sun, and switched on his PDA to find the way to the administration building. But his device was no longer connected to the infonet. The dusty streets were bustling with activity. He overheard a language he had encountered a few times before in the pleasure districts of Vega Prime. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. In Segosa, locals bought and sold goods right on the street, haggling over prices, bartering, and paying with coins. Some stalls even had credit readers on the tables. The food was laid out on cloths spread on the ground, and at nearly every stand, Lex saw woven baskets filled with pale white tubers that glistened in the sunlight. He walked to the nearest stand, where an old woman crouched on the ground like a beggar, reaching for his arm while holding a credit reader in her other hand. "Forget it," he said. "I can¡¯t buy anything. I don¡¯t have any money." The old woman muttered something in a foreign language and pushed a bag of cooked rice against his leg. "I don¡¯t want to buy anything," he said. "I just ate on the plane. I¡¯m looking for the administration building." The woman spat something that sounded like "may, may, may" at him. He stepped back slightly. "The administration building," he repeated. "Thandros." The woman fell silent. She tossed the rice onto the cloth without care, scrambled to her feet, croaking as she rose, and shoved the boy with her bony, sun-bronzed hands, pushing him out into the dusty street. It was scorching hot. When the wind blew from the south, it was even more humid and stifling than the still air. The boy wandered deeper into the city through wide alleyways, avoiding the sun and moving in the shadows of the tin-roofed shacks. The locals, both inside and outside their homes, were noisy and rushed past him in every direction. A street vendor tried to sell him glowing water in an old plastic bottle. When Lex declined, the man put it back into the shallow wooden crate strapped to his chest and fished out a worn pack of gum, then a holographic ring¡ªclearly just a cheap toy¡ªand, failing again, he pulled out a small bag of chips. The label showed that the infamous SnackBite Inc. was responsible for the production. Lex hadn¡¯t come across anyone from the other continent in the streets. Most of the local settlers gave him suspicious looks as he passed. He turned past a small market stall and heard honking, voices, and laughter coming from behind the shacks and mud buildings at the end of the alley. He followed the sounds until he reached a main road. A convoy of armored vehicles, mounted with heavy guns, drove slowly past the locals, who watched the spectacle from the roadside. Employees and mercenaries from Thandros Corporation were inside the vehicles. Children in dusty rags ran after the trucks, wildly firing at the convoy with imaginary guns. The sandy road was already a third in shadow. Tau Ceti glowed just above the mist-covered forested mountains. Across the street, the TC logo gleamed brightly on a tall tower in the sunlight. That must be the headquarters, he thought. It was only a few miles away now. At one point, a group of corporate employees dressed in elaborate robes approached him. They stood under the shade of a blue palm, handing out religious texts to the locals. Lex flipped through one of the thick books but couldn¡¯t read the foreign language. Still, he was certain the pages were filled with the same lies that had brainwashed the workers on Limbo. Near the administrative building, Lex spotted the presence of SnackBite Inc. for the first time in Segosa. There was a modern booth with terminals, vending machines, and flickering holograms shimmering in the humid air. He remembered the massive array of food products in the supermarkets of Vega Prime¡ªalmost all of them produced by this company. Dozens of locals had gathered around the booth, mostly poor mothers carrying their newborns in cloth slings. Two scrawny company employees, likely Luvandan themselves, were speaking to the crowd, seemingly organizing the commotion. Some of the mothers emerged from the group carrying clear plastic bags filled with small pouches of white powder. Lex approached one of the employees standing a little away from the chaos, smoking a cigarette, and asked him what they were selling here. The corporate employee said, "We¡¯re not selling anything. We¡¯re giving powdered milk away to the poor settlers. Because of the severe famine, most mothers are so malnourished that they can¡¯t produce enough milk to feed all their newborns. So we help out with the powder, to make sure the little ones don¡¯t starve." The boy hesitated. He hadn¡¯t expected this kind of charity from a corporation or its employees. "That¡¯s really kind of you," he said. The corporate employee laughed. He took a long drag of his cigarette, shook his head, and as he exhaled the smoke, he said, "It¡¯s devilishly clever." He looked the boy up and down. "You seem like one of us, so I¡¯ll let you in on the secret: once the mothers rely solely on the powder, they stop producing milk entirely. And that¡¯s when we make our move. After that, they¡¯ll depend on our substitutes. We won¡¯t be giving the milk powder away for free anymore; we¡¯ll charge them a fortune for it, squeezing the last of their money out of them. And they¡¯ll have no choice but to pay, because otherwise, their children will starve." The boy left the stall and walked another hundred meters before entering the TC headquarters, a glass tower casting a long, black shadow over the population like a sundial in the middle of the hot, dusty square. In the lobby, across from the reception desk, there was a waiting area with uncomfortable-looking chairs and a coffee table holding a tray of empty plates. The place seemed as if it had been hastily abandoned. "The mail said I should report here," the boy said to the administrator. The man wore a paramilitary uniform with a stitched corporate logo and was operating a terminal while standing. "Name?" "Lex." "Last name?" "Marrow." A moment later, the administrator said, "You¡¯re late, Marrow. Too late. You missed the personal briefing an hour ago. Where have you been?" The boy glanced at his PDA. "It¡¯s four o¡¯clock," he said. "The message said we were meeting at five." The administrator paused his work at the terminal and looked at the boy. "Apparently, you forgot about the time change and didn¡¯t adjust your PDA. You¡¯re an hour late. Your unit is already on its way to the port." "What am I supposed to do now?" The administrator raised an eyebrow, as if the answer were obvious. "Run after them, of course," he said. "You can still make it. The ship doesn¡¯t leave for another 45 minutes." "And where are they going?" "To Aalgongonok." "Alagondolonk, sir?" The administrator seemed to consider how to respond. After a moment, he said, "Aalgongonok. It¡¯s a small, miserable mining town about three thousand miles upriver, deep in the heart of the jungle. The whole area is basically rebel territory, but we¡¯re holding that base strong." The uniformed man paused briefly. "Ever seen the jungle, Marrow?" "No, sir." The administrator nodded. "Thought so. Otherwise, you wouldn¡¯t still be here." He handed the boy a thin stack of papers. The boarding tickets. THIRTY-FIVE: Lazy Dogs Dock B11 was made of brittle wooden planks, stretching about fifty meters from the shallow shore into the river. At the end of the pier, an old cutter swayed back and forth in the current. Two local deckhands were just untying the ropes from the bollards when the boy came running up. He made it just in time, hurrying across the rickety gangway. On the bow of the old cutter, the scraped-off rebel flag was still faintly visible, painted over with the three letters of the corporation that had seized control of Segosa. At the rear of the ship, the captain stood in an open wheelhouse. One hand gripped the wheel, the other a bottle with clear liquid sloshing inside. Lex could hear the captain singing, an old sailor''s song about sinking ships. He was clearly drunk, but it was the kind of drunk where there was no laughter left. His voice was rough and deep. When he noticed the boy, he fell silent. He wore the same rags as the two deckhands, but from his build, his features, and his accent, it was clear he was from another continent. He stepped out from behind the wheel, shielded his eyes from the evening sun with a cupped hand, and squinted at the boy. "Are my eyes deceiving me," he began, "or did Sally forget her lunch bag?" The boy said nothing. The captain clicked his tongue. "Sally Brown thinks she''s gonna get a royal feast here. Well, I''ve got bad news for her: On this goddamn tub, there''s not even a galley where you can boil an egg." The old captain laughed, showing dark brown teeth and gaps in his smile. "How long will the trip take?" the boy asked. In a low, even darker tone, the captain replied, "Six days, if we''re lucky. Really lucky. And by that, I mean if those DFLL savages don''t attack us this time, if we don¡¯t fall into an ambush by the locals, or if we don¡¯t end up with an engine failure or some other technical issue with this godforsaken boat. Or if the cursed bilge doesn¡¯t flood in the next storm and we sink. So, if you believe in miracles, Sally Brown, we might make it in six days." The boy looked at the river. Then at the captain. "I don¡¯t believe in miracles," he said, and walked over to his group, lounging in the sun near the bow. ****** "I know you," the redhead in the group said. The boy nodded. "I asked you for a smoke at the station in Vega Prime, and you reluctantly gave me one." "I gave it to you gladly." "Didn¡¯t look like it." Lex glanced around. It was the same group from the station platform. "Ron," the redhead said, extending his hand. Lex looked him in the eyes, but didn¡¯t move. After a while, the redhead withdrew his hand. "Where¡¯re you from?" he asked. "You wouldn¡¯t believe me." "Why won¡¯t you shake my hand?" "It¡¯s nothing personal," Lex said. "I just don¡¯t want to lose another friend." ****** A few hours into their journey on the water, the boy asked one of the local sailors what had happened to Segosa. The man explained, in broken and simple words, that five years ago, TC had marched into the city and taken everything by force. Now, the corporation was trying to impress the people with its technology, making promises of a bright future filled with prosperity and progress. But it was all a lie, the sailor said, and most people here knew it. The problem was that the ones who needed to know¡ªthe people of Vega Prime¡ªwere still in the dark. Only they had the power to make a difference. The boy drank from a dented water bottle they¡¯d given him; you had to drink a lot in this heat, the sailor had said, and sure enough, he was already dried out from all the sweating. His pants and shirt were soaked through, like he¡¯d taken a swim in them, as if the air in Luvanda was draining all the water from his body. Behind him, he heard someone retching. A boy from the group, apparently a good friend of Ron¡¯s, was bent over the railing, vomiting. It was either the heat or seasickness. Despite heading downstream, the cutter rocked back and forth endlessly. ****** At night, the current grew stronger. The wild churning of the river drowned out the soft winds whispering through the jungle, and the boy could follow the breeze rustling through the shimmering leaves of the trees. The rainforests closed in around them, and Lex lifted his gaze to the sky. Towering, forest-covered mountains rose on either side. A drop of water fell on his forehead. The thick cloud cover above was heavy, rolling slowly eastward. He saw flashes of lightning flicker aimlessly behind the massive clouds. A distant crackling and pattering grew into a blurred drumming sound until he found himself in the middle of a tropical downpour, sitting on a boat bound for nowhere. The storm churned the river, flooding the bow. A black tree stump slammed against the hull, shaking the deck. In the lightning flashes, the boy saw the forests along the western shore flicker into view from the darkness, shaking and shuddering. The wind tore across the river, but it didn¡¯t bring any cool relief. That night, on the Luvanda River, he truly understood just how far he was from the girl. The number thirty thousand miles suddenly became a tangible distance. Though he was still on Cetos V, it felt like he was in a different world altogether, and he wondered how he could ever make it back to Vega Prime, back to where the girl was¡ªbecause wherever she was, he felt with both his heart and mind, that was home. And he longed for home terribly. ****** The boy who had been sick, whom the crew had initially thought was suffering from seasickness, had actually contracted a common tropical disease. By the next day, he had developed a high fever. He slept through the entire day and into the next night, waking only when they tried to force some water down his throat, before slipping back into unconsciousness. It was clear to everyone that he needed medical attention and had to be taken off the boat as soon as possible. But there were no stops planned¡ªthose were TC¡¯s orders. So, they cared for him as best they could and continued their journey. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. When the boy died on the fifth day of the trip, they threw his body overboard, and the current carried him in the same direction the ship was heading. As they watched his body drift away, rolling with the river''s waves, it felt as if they would see him again. As if they would soon come face to face with death once more¡ªonly this time, in an even more terrible form. ****** The river journey lasted a total of nine days. Then, they docked at a nameless village deep in the jungle, under the control of TC. There, they buried the bodies of two more boys who had fallen ill during the voyage. From the village, they continued in an off-road vehicle, three days through the endless jungle, six hundred miles of dense, shadowy thicket. Eventually, they reached the mining colony of Aalgongonok. The thirteen young men, all exhausted and emaciated, lined up in a field camp to report to the commanding general, a man named Whorlow. The first thing they heard when they entered the command tent was his booming voice. "These settlers are scum. They reject civilization, but we will bring it to them. That is our promise to this primitive corner of the world, our vow to the civilized realm. Because when prosperity reaches this place, Vega Prime will finally be free from terror." General Whorlow, dressed in a highly decorated uniform, marched down the length of the tent, his sharp eyes scrutinizing the ragtag bunch of rookies. Then he said, "You¡¯ve all been sent here by TC. That can only mean one thing: you¡¯re a thorn in the company¡¯s side. Either you screwed up, or they figure you¡¯re going to cross Miss Thandros sooner or later. This isn¡¯t some cushy job. This is the real world, raw, ugly, and standing right in front of you. You¡¯re here to do your part to improve the world. Aalgongonok gives you the chance to prove your loyalty to the Thandros Corporation." Lex raised his hand, like he used to in school. Annoyed by the interruption, General Whorlow bared his teeth but nodded at him. "Sir, I still haven¡¯t been told how long I¡¯m supposed to stay here. Can you tell me when I¡¯ll be able to go back?" The general, his hands clasped behind his back the entire time, took a step closer to Lex, not overtly trying to be threatening, yet managing to be just that. He was bald, broad-shouldered, and stood about two meters tall, probably in his late fifties or early sixties. His skin was as dark as the night sky over the most remote stretch of Luvanda. His eyes scanned the group. "Who else here, like the boy, hasn¡¯t been told how long they¡¯re expected to work?" The newcomers didn¡¯t move. Only the redhead, Ron, raised his right hand as if making a pledge. General Whorlow pressed his broad lips together. "If no one¡¯s given you a deadline," he began, "then that means you¡¯re here indefinitely. And that usually means you¡¯re not going to make it back to Vega Prime alive. You two, especially, need to prove your loyalty to the corporation, and first and foremost, you need to earn my trust. Because if anyone¡¯s going to put in a good word for you with the higher-ups, it¡¯s me. But let me be honest with you. Death wears many faces in the jungle. In the thicket, it¡¯s a carnivore. On the savanna, it¡¯s a swarm of hungry vultures. And it¡¯s coming, make no mistake. It usually comes much sooner than you think. Even for the rest of you with four-year contracts or longer, the chances are slim you¡¯ll ever see anything other than the jungle again. I¡¯ve been here for eleven years, and I¡¯ve only seen a handful of men make it out. This is about commitment. You¡¯re doing this because you want to help the corporation, not because you¡¯re trying to atone for some mistake or just complete a job to get back home. Got it?" Another boy raised his hand, but the general cut him off with a dismissive gesture. "This isn¡¯t Q&A. This is storytime, so listen up¡ªthere might be something that¡¯ll save your sorry hides one day." He paused for effect, walked over to a small kitchenette, grabbed the pot from the coffee machine, and poured himself a cup into a tin mug. "We guard the diamond mines and make sure those damn settlers in the hardwood forests do their jobs instead of just lazing around, like they¡¯d prefer. Our little squad is responsible for an area half the size of Vega Prime, and it¡¯s always under siege. Forget everything you¡¯ve heard about Crimson Dawn and their splinter group, the DFLL. The jungle is their territory. This is their home, and they¡¯re strong here. There¡¯s a lot of them, more than you could imagine. Their weapons may not be as high-tech as ours, but they can still kill. We see it every day. Controlling the resources is our top priority. That¡¯s our mission. Aalgongonok and the surrounding forests are incredibly valuable to the DFLL because one of their main supply routes runs through this area. We have to be ready for a fight at any moment¡ªday or night, the rebels could strike." Whorlow¡¯s dark eyes swept over the group as he sipped from his steaming coffee mug. "Which of you has combat experience? Who here has served in the military? Or are you all a bunch of draft dodgers?" Silence fell over the group. Hesitantly, about two-thirds of the newcomers raised their hands. The general set his mug down with a thud. The sound made the boys instinctively stand to attention. "Ah, I see. Well, that¡¯s more than last time," he said. "To be honest, that was a trick question. If I¡¯d told you why I asked, none of you would¡¯ve raised your hands. Well, now it¡¯s too late. You¡¯ll be guarding one of our mines, five miles from here. They always need more hands there. Report to tent eight on the eastern side of the camp, and you¡¯ll get some nice combat gear and all the other instructions." The boys stood there, hands still in the air. Slowly, they lowered them, exchanging uncertain and, in some cases, frightened looks. "Dismissed," the general barked. As the group with combat experience shuffled out of the tent, he turned to the rest, including Lex. "You¡¯re the lucky ones¡ªat least, if you value staying alive. Your chances of survival, at least for today and tomorrow, are five times higher than the boys heading to the diamond mines. I¡¯m sending you into the forests. Each of you will get a weapon. You¡¯ll be shown how it works, it won¡¯t take long. You don¡¯t need military training to shoot at lazy dogs." ****** The group consisted of four young men, including Lex and Ron. They sat facing each other on the dirty bench of a four-wheel-drive vehicle, gripping rusty handrails as they bumped along muddy jungle roads, sweat dripping down their faces. The heat in this part of the world was even more suffocating than in Segosa. A sudden downpour began. After about an hour, they reached a checkpoint, nothing more than a wooden shack, a barrier, and a three-man patrol. Beyond that, the road ended, and a narrow path led into the dense undergrowth. The squad continued on foot. The branches of the towering trees intertwined above, their crowns forming a thick canopy. Only a few raindrops managed to reach the forest floor, overgrown with ferns and glowing spore plants. The rustling of leaves, high above, was accompanied by the eerie whistling of the wind. The walk stretched into a day-long march, with several short breaks. After seven hours of trekking through the underbrush, the path opened up into a lighter part of the jungle. In the milky twilight, they passed through a banana grove, where thin trunks were surrounded by a swirling mist from the tropical rain. Settlers worked the fields under the watchful eyes of their overseers. The group leader found his way through the palm-like plants, where barefoot men and women, dressed in rags, climbed up the trees, hacking at the banana bunches with machetes. Somewhere, Lex heard a piercing scream, quickly swept away by the wind and rain. The leader didn¡¯t even flinch. The others glanced around for a moment, trying to find the source, but all they saw was the white mist surrounding them. They turned back and followed the leader, who kept his rifle ready at all times. After they left the grove behind, they entered the hardwood forests. There, the leader parted ways with the group, leaving another man to divide the four boys into pairs. He gave Lex and Ron a shared route they had to cover in two days. He handed out compasses, provisions, water, a machete, and several batons, Lex¡¯s being nothing more than a rusty metal pipe. Everywhere they looked, there were only trees. A labyrinth of thin, bare, towering trunks, topped with a sprawling canopy that blocked out the overcast sky. Barely three hundred meters from the makeshift camp, Ron and Lex came across a strong, tanned settler and an old man, who was taking a break from chopping down a tree. The old man tried to get up quickly when he saw the two guards approaching, but he couldn¡¯t. Too exhausted, he stayed on the ground. The young settler shouted something at the old man in their language, trying to force him to stand, knowing that if he didn¡¯t, there¡¯d be a beating or worse. "What do we do?" Ron asked, looking at Lex, who was walking beside him. "We don¡¯t do anything," Lex replied. They continued on their way in silence. THIRTY-SIX: Dark Heart of the Jungle The next day, their route took them through a stretch of deforested land, where fresh seedlings were sprouting in the scorched earth. Smoke from distant slash-and-burn fires darkened the sky above them, and through the thick haze, Tau Ceti glowed a fiery red. The boys wore their scarves pulled up over their noses like bandits. The air was dry with the heat of the wildfires raging beyond the tree line in the distance. "It smells like standing under a glass dome while you blow out a thousand burning matches at once." Lex looked over at Ron. "Or it smells like a burning forest," he said. "Why are they doing this?" "What?" "Why are they burning the forest down?" "No idea." The roar of the fire was mixed with the buzzing of chainsaws. All around them, up in the higher parts of the jungle, trees were toppling over one by one. Then they spotted, through the smoke-filled air of a nearby cocoa plantation, another TC patrol. The corporate thugs were standing over a defenseless woman lying on the ground. "What¡¯s going on back there?" Ron asked. Lex¡¯s only response was a hard swallow. He didn¡¯t know what the settler had done wrong, but he immediately sensed that whatever it was, it wasn¡¯t about justice. This was something else, an abuse of power mixed with barbarism and a brainwashed hatred that the TC enforcers probably couldn¡¯t even explain themselves. But they didn¡¯t question it. It was a hatred they felt was justified because every one of them shared it. A piercing scream escaped the woman, a sound that compressed all the world¡¯s fear into a single cry. The two men, dressed in the same uniforms as Lex and Ron, beat her legs with a metal rod. Then one of them swung again, smashing her face with a single, brutal strike. The uniformed man wiped the bloody rod on his pant leg and glanced over at the two boys. He gave them a nod. "What¡¯re you staring at, you fools?" With bloodlust in their eyes, they started walking toward the newcomers. Lex couldn¡¯t stop staring. As the two murderers approached, the one holding the bloody rod said, "Your face looks kind of familiar." Lex stared back at the guy¡¯s face, noticing that he was about the same age as him. Just a year older. Then, suddenly, Devon Vasker burst out laughing. He dropped the rod, walked up to Lex, and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Lex, my man!" Vasker pushed him back slightly, giving him a once-over like an old friend. "Guess you''re not as much of a weakling as I thought." Lex shook his head. "You won the Selection Program on Limbo." "Sure did," Vasker replied. "I¡¯m the lucky winner. But how the hell did you end up here?" ****** The rain started up again and didn¡¯t stop for hours. The night was warm, the air smelled of earth. They had a hot meal in the mess tent and were now sitting outside by gas lamps, playing cards at a simple wooden table. At first, it was just the two of them. "I¡¯ve seen some pretty bad stuff from TC living on Limbo," Lex said after he and Ron had sat in silence for a while, "but the people here must live in even more fear of the corporation than we did back then. I never thought I¡¯d say this, but there¡¯s a place worse than the prison moon. It''s right here." It was Ron¡¯s turn, but he held the cards stiffly in his hand, staring at Lex. "Away from Vega Prime, the corporation¡¯s fa?ade is crumbling," he said. "Here in Luvanda, we¡¯re seeing TC¡¯s true face. Do you think this is what Zara Thandros wanted us to see?" "Doubt it," Lex replied. "She probably just wants us to take out a few of the Crimson Dawn. She told me I need to earn her trust." "Would you do it?" Lex looked him in the eye. "I want to get back to Vega Prime, no matter what. There¡¯s gotta be a way. But not like that. I¡¯m not gonna hurt these people. I used to be like them. They haven¡¯t done anything wrong." Vasker came over with a group of guys from the mess tent and sat down with them at the wooden table. He scooped the cards off the table with both hands, shuffling them while eyeing the two newcomers, especially Lex. "You and me, reunited," Vasker grinned. "You wouldn¡¯t be here if I hadn¡¯t been exiled," Lex said to him. "Because I¡¯m the real winner of the Selection Program." Vasker dealt the cards. "And I¡¯m supposed to thank you for that? If I¡¯d known what was waiting for me here, I¡¯d have stayed on Limbo. So, thanks for nothing. If anyone should be thankful, it¡¯s you. Without me, you¡¯d have been dead a long time ago." If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Lex looked up from his cards. "What¡¯s that supposed to mean?" "You don¡¯t remember? You and me, on the shuttle during the recovery mission. Quinlan wanted to leave you to die in the suit. That was his order. I¡¯m the idiot who went against him, pulled you out, and brought you back to life. Got a beating from Quinlan for it, too." Lex felt his breath catch when he heard that. "That was you?" he asked. "I thought Quinlan saved me." "Are you deaf? He was furious with you. He wanted you to bite it. I told him you weren¡¯t such a bad guy." Lex said nothing, lowering his gaze back to the cards in his hand. "Don¡¯t bother thanking me," Vasker said, watching him for a while. "So how¡¯d you end up here?" Lex played his hand and lost. "It¡¯s a long story," he said, feeling sick to his stomach. "How long were you in Vega Prime before Thandros sent you here?" "Not even a week. That snake congratulated me in front of the cameras when I stepped off the LEVIATHAN. Told me my life was just beginning. Free of inherited guilt and all that. But after the show was over, she told me I had to catch the train here in a few days. She didn¡¯t say a word about what it¡¯s like in the jungle. I heard she¡¯s sent every single winner from the moons here. There¡¯s one guy left who survived. His name¡¯s Joh, from Limbo Four. He¡¯s been here for nine years. All the other winners are dead. And now there are three of us again. Joh, me, and you." "Why¡¯s Thandros doing this?" "Because she hates us convicts. Our ancestors were her biggest enemies. And since she¡¯s already stuck with us, stuck with us on Cetos Five, she¡¯d rather use us as cannon fodder against the rebels before we get any ideas about switching sides." Vasker paused for a moment, seeming to get lost in thought. Then he shrugged. "What can you do? Life¡¯s not nice. Not here, especially. Definitely not here. Only now, it¡¯s the settlers getting what we¡¯ve already had to endure." The others at the table, most of them newcomers, stayed silent, and that was the only conversation for a long time. Eventually, as night fell and Lex had gambled away all his rations, he said his goodbyes and headed to his cot. The next morning, Tau Ceti was half-visible over the dark forests, shining relentlessly. Even though the sky was heavy with clouds, the sun always seemed to find a way to break through, sending its sweltering heat like a punishment into the jungle. On a patrol through a small village, they searched for settlers who should¡¯ve been working in the forests. "There are always some lazy dogs trying to dodge work," Vasker muttered. The huts were scattered throughout the wilderness, made of woven palm leaves, straw, flexible branches, and whatever else nature provided. Inside, there were slatted shadows, a few old cooking pots, piles of clothes, and straw mats. Lex peered into the next hut. Thankfully, no one was there either. For the next fifteen minutes, a heavy silence hung over him. No one spoke, no one said a word. There was no wind, no sign of life, only the sound of their footsteps, the stomping of the four boys over the blue grass, with one mission: to bring fear to those who refused to obey. ****** At some point, the inevitable happened¡ªVasker heard something. They all heard it. "That¡¯s a baby crying," he said. "It¡¯s coming from over there." "That wasn¡¯t a baby." "Of course it was. Come on." They followed Vasker to a hut nestled between two green palm trees. Behind the small house, a narrow river flowed with deceptive calm, its surface rippling in the reflection of Tau Ceti¡¯s fiery light. The quiet was weighed down by the muffled sound of the crying baby and what they all knew was about to happen. "Lazy dogs," Vasker spat, pulling an old revolver from his waistband. He grabbed the barrel and struck the gaunt father, dressed in dirty linen, across the face with the butt of the gun. The man made no attempt to fight back. The woman, cradling her newborn in her arms, wept. Between her legs, in a puddle of fresh blood, lay the placenta and the severed umbilical cord. "Devon, she just had her baby. She can¡¯t work," Lex said. Vasker kicked the father out of the hut, sending him sprawling in the wet grass, right in front of Lex. The man looked up at him, his face twisted in fear. But when he realized Lex couldn¡¯t help him, he gazed past him into the sky, as if pleading with some higher power to protect his family. Vasker kicked the woman in the face, but she didn¡¯t let go of her baby. Finally, he yanked the newborn by its legs toward him. Its face turned red as it screamed, choking and gasping for air between sobs. The father knelt in the grass, begging for his child. He could have stood up, but he didn¡¯t. He just reached out with trembling hands toward the tiny, wrinkled creature¡ªso new to a world filled with nothing but hate, violence, and injustice. Vasker carried the screaming baby to the grassy riverbank, holding it by one leg. He swung his arm as if he were preparing for a long throw. That¡¯s when Lex realized what he was about to do. Vasker was getting ready to toss the baby into the river. The thought hit him like a punch, and he suddenly shouted for Vasker to stop. Vasker turned to him, confused. "The baby¡¯s going in the river. I don¡¯t give a damn what you say." "Wait." Lex stood frozen, frantically looking around. He grabbed a woven basket from inside the hut and ran to the riverbank. He knew Vasker and the others might kill him for this, but he placed the newborn in the basket anyway. He didn¡¯t even know if the basket would float. Vasker hesitated. "You¡¯re such a softie," he said. "Unbelievable. Give me the basket. I¡¯ll handle it." The baby was tiny and frail, wailing the whole time. But the rushing current quickly drowned out its cries as the basket drifted silently downstream. From that moment on, there was nothing more to hear or see of the baby. It was likely no one would ever hear or see it again, except perhaps in nightmares or the terrible daydreams born from the horrors of the jungle, nightmares that chased you relentlessly, like predators after their prey, leaving no chance of escape. "Kids just get in the way," Vasker said, waving cheerfully at the little basket floating away. Then he turned to Lex, looking him up and down with a serious expression. He shoved him aside and walked back from the riverbank, pulling the revolver from his waistband and shooting the father. Three shots, then silence. The man lay still in the tall grass. A moment later, the woman¡¯s uncontrollable sobbing resumed. "What now? Should we take her out too?" one of the others asked. "We¡¯re not killing anyone unless I say so," Vasker replied, shoving his partner aside. "Let¡¯s get her out of the hut first." The woman still had the strength to resist, and she screamed, but no one helped her. Vasker shoved her into the grass and pinned her down. "What are you two standing around for? Help me out." Lex and Ron stood frozen in place. Ron, his face pale as a ghost, walked over and held the woman¡¯s kicking legs. The blood from the birth clung to her thighs, already dried. Lex stayed by the river, staring. "We¡¯ll leave her alive," Vasker said. "We can¡¯t just kill everyone for no reason." He moved behind the woman, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down to his knees. He gave Ron a slap on the shoulder. "Make some room. Just keep her quiet," he said. "I can¡¯t stand it when women cry. Lex, keep watch. Make sure no rebel sneaks up on us. Ron, I said shut her up." Then Vasker pulled the woman¡¯s tattered clothes up and violated her. THIRTY-SEVEN: Threads of Fate This place, the wilderness, was strangely beautiful. Beyond the barbed wire fences around the camp, an endless variety of pale-colored flowers and plants glowed in the black forests. Lex had once heard that everything in evolution served a purpose, but what was the point of a luminescent plant world without any animals? There seemed to be so much that humanity didn¡¯t know. Veela had once told him that 98 percent of this vast planet remained completely unexplored, most of it not even mapped. Who knows? Maybe there were animals here. Or things he couldn¡¯t even imagine yet. He watched the glowing spores, carried by the night wind, drift over the camp. The sky was clear and full of stars. The crescent of Kronos hung in the surrounding darkness, reminding him of the time in Vega Prime. Lex sat with Ron on a bench, away from the larger group, picking unenthusiastically at the ration pack he hadn¡¯t touched while on patrol earlier that day. Like Ron, he had skipped the hot dinner in the mess tent. He couldn¡¯t stand being inside anymore, couldn¡¯t bear the conversations that revolved around the cruelties they¡¯d inflicted on the settlers that day. Every day. "You can¡¯t hide forever," Ron said. Lex looked up from the cards in his hand. He studied Ron in silence, wondering if it was a threat or advice. They¡¯d been stationed in the wilderness for over three weeks now. Time spent far from civilization could change you. Ron wasn¡¯t the same anymore. In less than a month, the jungle had stripped him of his better qualities, and suddenly, Lex wondered if Devon Vasker wasn¡¯t the real villain of the group after all, but this place, this jungle that seemed to corrupt everything and everyone. "Sooner or later, you¡¯ll have to get on board," Ron said. "You¡¯ve got to become like us. Or we¡¯ll tear you apart. Don¡¯t take that as a threat, okay? Believe me, hurting you is the last thing I want." Lex didn¡¯t respond. He glanced from his half-eaten bread to the other boys in the camp. Only two of the eight green recruits General Whorlow had sent to the diamond mines had come back. "You¡¯re right," Lex said. "Just the other day, they hanged one of the new guys for trying to escape. They¡¯ve left me alone so far because I know Vasker from back then. But if I don¡¯t start fitting in, I¡¯ll end up just like the guy they strung up." "That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been trying to tell you all along." "There¡¯s just one problem." "What¡¯s that?" Ron asked. "I don¡¯t find it as easy as you do, beatin'' an innocent man to death." He saw the boys from the diamond mines for the first time again that night. They were talking about their encounter with the rebels. Firefights, shrapnel flying, blood, death, and destruction. Violence had become a part of everyday life. The boys didn¡¯t mention mistreatment, but Lex was sure it happened in the diamond mines, too. Beyond the glow of the gas lamps, Lex saw Vasker coming up the path, carrying a net slung over his shoulder. The net was full of severed hands, settlers¡¯ hands. They were small, some of them women¡¯s, and many of them children¡¯s. Vasker dropped the net on the large wooden table, right next to Lex¡¯s unpacked meal, and greeted Ron and the others with a hearty handshake. "These are all from today," he said proudly. "Haven¡¯t seen this many lazy dogs in one day for a while. When will they learn that slacking off doesn¡¯t pay?" He turned to Lex, who had gotten up and left his bread on the table. "Where you going, softie?" He walked down the long path past the supply tent, passing the row of boxy, diesel generators that hummed into the night. When he reached the checkpoint, he stopped and considered, for a moment, leaving the camp for a long walk. Maybe never coming back. The pull of the world outside tugged at him, the longing for the distance, for the place that was home. But beyond the walls, the settlers and rebels lurked, thirsting for revenge. He was unarmed, but even that thought barely bothered him anymore. That was the moment his PDA pinged. He wondered how that was even possible out here. What connection could this strange device have, if not to the satellite network of the infonet? The PDA notified him of a new level-up in his system. He had almost forgotten about this little game, and it secretly annoyed him that he was still considered a ''Good Citizen of Vega Prime.'' He wanted to uninstall the app (or whatever it was), just to free himself from the regulations and achievements Thandros imposed on citizens to promote hard work and diligence. But when he opened the hologram and looked at his character card, he couldn¡¯t believe his eyes. What is this?! His rank had changed. So had his username. He was now [Moonchild], no longer a loyal corporate citizen, but a [Level 15] member of the Crimson Dawn. Rank 3: [Keeper of the Dawn]. Just 1,430 XP to the next level. What did this mean? Since when had he switched sides? It felt as if his PDA had made the decision for him, like a sentient being. Like fate itself. Suddenly, he thought of E.E.R.I.E., the AI on the ST SAMSON, which, just like this device, had assumed he belonged to the Crimson Dawn. He tapped on the achievements he had earned for the rebels, and once again, he felt like something was seriously wrong. Achievements earned:
  • A Heart of Gold (Help a poor soul in need)
  • Breaking the Bonds (Break a corporate promise or contract terms)
  • Skeletons in the Boardroom (Uncover the dark secret of a major corporation. You uncovered: the secret of Wolf Glider Inc.)
  • PR Nightmare (Damage the image of a major corporation. You anonymously uploaded sensitive data to the infonet.)
  • Follow Your Heart (Choose love over duty. Break the slave chains!)
  • Front Row at the Revolution (Attend a Crimson Dawn event. You attended: public execution at LowerCity market.)
  • Crimson Dawn Insider (Travel to Luvanda and join the heart of the rebellion.)
What did all of this mean? The achievements seemed to have been awarded in chronological order. But what dark corporate secret had he uncovered? Wolf Glider Inc. was the company he¡¯d worked for in Keldaraan, before quitting to go on that date with Veela. He couldn¡¯t remember any of it. Everything that happened during that time was a blur. It was because of that weird guy with the fancy black hair (CR?) who¡¯d given him a Vanta-B, which had wiped his memory. What the hell happened during that time? And why did his PDA know all these things? What kind of system was tracking his progress and growth? The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Lex still didn¡¯t want to be a rebel. He just wanted to live in freedom, with her, Veela. He turned off the hologram with a quick tap. His temples throbbed from all the questions spinning around in his head. He took a deep breath of the fresh jungle air. Even at night, the jungle was swelteringly hot and humid. With heavy thoughts, he followed the sandy path to the northeastern watchtower, where a spotlight flared over the walls of the camp from the roof. He wandered over to the asphalt lot where the off-road vehicles were parked, as if that was the only place he could survive. He climbed onto the hood of a camouflaged 4x4 with large off-road tires, the suspension so high that he had to climb up over the grill. Then he stretched out across the hood, letting his legs dangle. Rain clouds drifted in from the west, not yet reaching the camp, and the stars above him shone in dizzying numbers. He pulled Veela''s amulet from his jacket pocket. Weighing it in his hand, he gently brushed his thumb over the white pearl at the center of the butterfly pendant. It began to glow. He could hardly believe it. It was glowing. It was as if their love had been condensed inside it. The pearl radiated warmth and comfort, as if the very essence of the girl was sealed within. He missed her so much. Her presence. Her courage. Her beauty. Her scent. Her voice. The mystery that surrounded her. The sadness that never fully left her, even in those rare moments of happiness. The glow of the pearl felt like a compass. And suddenly, the welding goggles on his chest felt heavier than before. He thought of Tayus, of Mori, and of the prison moon. He never would have believed¡ªnever in his life¡ªthat he would one day long for life back on Limbo. ***** When he woke in the fading moonlight, it took him a moment to understand what was happening. The boys and men in his barracks were hunched over their cots, vomiting. The sour stench of stomach acid hung heavy in the already stifling air. More and more were hit by the wave of nausea, minute by minute. The boys curled up on their beds, their retching and groaning mixed with screams of pain. Suddenly, the lights in the tent came on, and General Whorlow stood at the entrance, dressed in camo gear and heavy armor. He was shouting something, but it was drowned out by the sound of vomiting. Still, the boy knew what he was saying: the rebels were attacking. The vomit was mixed with blood, and the men were practically puking their guts out. It was an attack by the Crimson Dawn, the boy realized. A guerrilla tactic just like the one on the ST SAMSON, when Flint had poisoned the guards in the cargo bay with their dinner. Alarm sirens blared across the camp, followed by a series of deafening explosions. Shards of the protective wall rode the shockwaves, slicing through the thick tent fabric like bullets, whizzing past the boy. In the chaos, he couldn¡¯t tell who had been hit by the debris, who was poisoned, or who was still okay. He followed the loudspeaker''s order to grab a weapon, but as soon as he stepped outside the tent, rebels were flooding through the breach in the western wall, opening fire. Lex sprinted across the open ground, heading in the opposite direction of the gunfight, towards the armory. He took cover behind some barrels near the water purification system, where Vasker and a few other goons were crouched, armed only with basic pistols. Lex took a quick glance over his shoulder. Everywhere, there was muzzle flash, and glowing rifle barrels cutting through the night. A light drizzle began, and the moon faintly pierced the clouds overhead. Half-lit by a spotlight, some thirty or forty meters away, General Whorlow lay in the grass, wounded. "I knew this was going to happen," said the young man crouching next to Lex. "I knew it. I¡¯ve been here two years. It was only a matter of time." "What do we do now?" "We die, obviously." "We need to make a run for the parking lot, grab a Dingo, and head south towards Aalgongonok¡¯s center," Vasker said. "It¡¯s our only chance." "And how are we supposed to make it there in one piece?" the boy asked. "No idea. But the damn rebels are overrunning us right now. I¡¯m not sticking around." One of the boys nearby popped out of cover and fired three or four shots into the night. "You idiot. Now they know where we are." "I¡¯m not running out there. That¡¯s suicide," Lex said. "Just sitting here and shooting into the dark is suicide too. Screw it." Vasker leapt from behind the barrels and sprinted across the open field, past General Whorlow, who was crawling through the grass, screaming with a wounded leg. Seconds later, a grenade exploded next to him, tearing his body apart and flinging him five or six meters into the air. The blast knocked Vasker to the ground, and as soon as he got back on his feet, he was mowed down by machine-gun fire. The boy stared at the outlines of two lifeless bodies on the grass, frantically searching for a way out. Pressed tightly against one of the man-high barrels, he listened to the wild battle cries of the rebels. They were advancing steadily. He didn¡¯t know how many there were, but they clearly outnumbered them. Soon, they would overrun the entire camp. What did they want besides the promised freedom and justice for the people? Most of all, the death of the TC goons. Revenge for the murder of their men, the torture of the settlers, and then ammo, weapons, equipment. Once they had looted everything, Lex thought, maybe they¡¯d leave the camp. Screams. Gunfire. Explosions. All the terrible sounds of war danced on top of the wailing alarms. The barrels at the purification plant were sealed, but there were water drums scattered all over the camp. Lex stood up and left the group. Avoiding the beams of the spotlights, he crouch-ran towards the southern wall. The moonlit grass shimmered in the wind. With almost superhuman strength, he toppled one of the 200-liter drums, turned the opening towards the wall, and crawled inside. He stayed there, cramped, his heart pounding, his temples throbbing. He could hear violence and death sweeping through the camp like two malicious friends. As he clutched the amulet, his thoughts were consumed by the girl. He stayed there for nearly the entire night, his limbs numb from lack of blood flow. Sporadic gunfire rang out like the last raindrops after a heavy storm. After a while, someone turned off the alarm, and suddenly the voices of the rebels filled the air. Lex wished he could understand what they were saying. He heard engines starting and stopping again. Then, suddenly, a beam of light from a flashlight swept across the southern wall, dangerously close to him. He held his breath, listening intently. Footsteps. They were getting closer. Several pairs of boots stopped right in front of him. The boy crouched perfectly still in the water drum, shaking and praying they wouldn¡¯t find him. His eyes were fixed on the black boots outside. Then one of the men crouched down and shone the flashlight into the barrel. Lex squinted against the blinding light. It was as if they knew his exact location, down to the meter, like he was equipped with a GPS tracker. As if they had been searching for him all along. But they had no reason to. For a moment, there was complete silence. Even his heart seemed to skip a beat. Then the rebel started shouting, and the nightmare began. Still blinded by the light, Lex felt his life flash before his eyes as they dragged him out of the drum. He took a sharp kick to the stomach, collapsing onto the wet grass, writhing in pain and gasping for air. They¡¯re going to shoot me, he thought. The men hauled him up by his arms, patting him down for weapons or explosives. One of them, a captain, judging by the decorated uniform, tried to yank the butterfly amulet from his hand. The boy refused to let go, fighting back with shouted curses as he clung to the last thing that mattered to him. As soon as they got him on his feet, someone choked him from behind with a rifle barrel. The captain, having finally managed to pry the amulet from his hand, examined it closely before turning to the scattered rebels across the camp. He gazed proudly at the men and women who had taken the place, then turned back to the boy. His crooked smile revealed a mouthful of missing teeth. "What are you grinning about?" the boy said. "Give it back." Suddenly, he couldn¡¯t breathe. The rebel behind him pressed the rifle barrel so hard against his throat that there was no doubt he meant to crush his windpipe. Desperately, Lex grabbed at the rifle, struggling with all his strength to break free, but the man behind him only tightened his grip. Veins bulged on Lex¡¯s forehead, his face turning a sickly dark color from the lack of blood flow. Panic rose in him, dizziness took over, and his vision narrowed, darkening. This is it for me, he thought. In that moment, the captain gave a signal to the rebel behind him, and the chokehold loosened. Lex¡¯s heart pounded wildly. With his legs spread, slightly crouched, he gasped for air, coughing and rubbing his neck. Paralyzed by the horrors of the past few hours, he let them tie his hands behind his back without resisting. A moment later, the captain fired a few rounds into the air. Lex flinched. His ears rang, and for a moment, he thought he¡¯d gone deaf from the machine gun¡¯s roar. He felt the searing heat of the gun barrel on his back, burning through his clothes as the captain kept prodding him forward. For a while, all the shouts exchanged between the men around him sounded like distant, muffled whispers. They led him across the camp to the completely destroyed checkpoint. Along the way, bodies were piled high. Corpses everywhere. Lex caught one last glimpse of the general¡¯s mangled torso and Vasker¡¯s bullet-riddled body. When the rebels reached the main road, an old pickup truck was waiting for them, parked on the grassy field. A dozen captured TC goons from the camp were already crammed onto the truck bed. Lex climbed aboard, finding the only remaining spot on the floor. A rebel with a carbine sat on the roof of the truck, the rifle resting in his lap. A light bar mounted on the grill flared to life, cutting a wide beam through the rainy darkness. The truck rumbled to life, heading deeper into the jungle, down the main road toward the rebel camp. THIRTY-EIGHT: Tides of Despair They drove through the jungle all night, eventually continuing their journey on foot. The rebels walked ahead and behind the prisoners. At dawn, they crossed a wide, shallow river; the water rushed past their knees, icy cold. Somewhere beyond the treetops on the other side, waterfalls cascaded into unseen depths. Far beyond the shimmering cataracts, the forested mountains emerged from the golden morning mist. The journey took them deep into the heart of the jungle, where the rebels had to wear headlamps to navigate. After many miles, they took their first break late in the afternoon. Tau Ceti hung high in the zenith, but not a single ray of sunlight pierced through the thick canopy above. They set up gas lamps on the forest floor so the prisoners wouldn¡¯t have to eat in the dark. Lex sat cross-legged on rotting leaves and moldy twigs, surrounded by wide-fronded ferns covered in spores and towering bioluminescent mushrooms. The prisoners ate cold beans and bread, forbidden to speak under threat of beatings. So they stayed silent, and even the rebels spoke little among themselves, the sound of their chewing the only noise for miles around. All that surrounded them was the heavy, humid air and the oppressive silence of a primordial world. The cloud forest they crossed the next day was located in the Luvanda Basin, seeming impassable due to the dense undergrowth and thick fog. For the first time on their march, the rebels drew their machetes. Even the trees were covered in moss, and vibrant flowers and mushrooms grew on the branches of the jungle giants. The plant life fought for every ray of sunlight in this jungle, and now, mankind fought here as well¡ªagainst nature and each other. For days, the rebels hacked their way through the dense vegetation, progressing meter by meter. Late one evening, they emerged from the forest and came upon a stretch of tall grassland leading to a tributary. Thirty miles to the north, the river flowed into the Luvanda River. On its banks was a rebel camp made up of a few mud huts and a floating raft, large enough to hold several tables and a decorated bar, where three members of the DFLL were sitting, drinking shots. All around the raft, wooden cages stood half-submerged in the river. They were filled with prisoners, their shoulders submerged in the brown, filthy water. Just as the group was about to step onto a wooden dock, made of two planks tied together, that led to the cages, one of the prisoners panicked. He turned and tried to flee into the forest. With his hands bound, he couldn¡¯t use his arms to gain speed, so it was more of a frantic scurry. He had barely made it twenty meters before the first volley of gunfire tore through his shirt in three places on his back. Fine droplets of blood hung in the air as he collapsed, and two or three more volleys made his body jerk in the tall grass before he lay still. A gaunt local untied the ropes of a cage and lifted the lid while two other rebels shouted, kicked, and shoved the prisoners inside. Lex was the next to jump into the water. The spring source was only a few miles away, so the water was almost as warm as the air. No one would freeze, but some prisoners had been in the water so long that their skin had turned jelly-like, starting to peel away from the flesh. Of the 58 prisoners (he had counted them during the first hour of his capture) some tried to offer words of encouragement, but many were consumed by fear of death. Others seemed to feel nothing at all anymore, pressing themselves against the cage bars with blank expressions, their arms hanging hopelessly outside, staring out at the river. The next morning, after a sleepless night spent standing in the water, the rebels opened the cage and dragged two of the prisoners out by their arms. They took the men onto the raft, which slowly came to life in the early morning light. Some of the rebels had a drink at the bar while others sat at wooden tables eating breakfast. No one batted an eye when one of them shot the prisoners. Their bodies hit the river with a splash, and the current carried the corpses away. Even the sound of gunfire didn¡¯t disturb any of the rebels from their breakfast. In the evenings, the DFLL followers were usually in high spirits; colorful lanterns hung over the raft as they drank, chatted, played cards, and placed eager bets with high stakes. One night, the river''s tidal flow stopped after just a few hours, leaving the prisoners standing ankle-deep in mud. Exhausted, they crouched down, with no room to lie flat, leaning against each other and falling asleep on the spot. With his back against the bamboo-like cage bars, the boy crouched in the cold mud, trying to undo the plant-fiber ropes that held the cage together using a sharp-edged stone. His eyes were fixed on the two guards on the raft, his movements slow, deliberate, and quiet. "Think no one¡¯s tried that before you?" Ron whispered. Lex froze. The only sound he could hear in the silence was the warm, strong wind rushing past his ears. And he hoped it would stay that way. That Ron wouldn¡¯t say anything else. Lex glanced at the guards dozing on the raft in the moonlight. Then he went back to scraping the rope with the stone. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. "That¡¯s never gonna work," Ron muttered. "So what?" Lex whispered. "I¡¯m not waiting for them to drag me out and shoot me like the others." "If they catch you trying to escape, they¡¯ll shoot you for sure." "If you¡¯re so desperate to say something, sneak over here, but stop yelling." "I¡¯m not yelling," Ron said, wading noisily through the mud with his old boots, then squatting beside Lex. "You wanna run," Ron said. "But the truth is, there¡¯s no way out of a hopeless situation. They¡¯ll catch you if you try to escape." "So what do you think I should do then?" Chiron broke through the veil of clouds, briefly illuminating the landscape around them. The silver light flickered across the forest on the far side of the river, reflecting in Ron''s blue eyes. "Give it up," he said. "Make your peace. We¡¯re not getting out of here alive." The boy paused, looking up at the moon. The colonized side glimmered in the planet''s shadow. After a moment, he shook his head. He had no idea if Ron even understood the crimes he had committed in the jungle when he started running with Vasker and the others. Was it Ron¡¯s fault? Or had life shaped him into this? Had the same thing happened to Vasker before him? "Back that night," Lex suddenly began, "before the DFLL attacked our camp, I was thinking about joining the rebels. When I saw what we were doing to the settlers, I wanted to fight against that kind of injustice. And now¡­" "¡­Now you see that the rebels are treating us just as cruelly as we treated the settlers," Ron finished. Lex said nothing. He dug the tips of his boots into the mud, while Ron shrugged indifferently, as if he had just solved a complicated question with a simple answer. "When something starts like crap, it ends like crap," the redhead said. "At least, that¡¯s been my experience. If you think I¡¯m a bad person, I¡¯d say I was made into one. And I¡¯ve accepted it. That¡¯s why I¡¯m not trying to escape. That¡¯s why I¡¯m going back to sleep and waiting for them to drag me out. I¡¯m done fighting." The boy raised his head and glanced at Ron from the side. After a while, he stood up and trudged back to the other side of the cage. One of the guards on the raft had noticed the noise and was moving toward them in the moonlight. The boy quickly shoved the stone into his jacket pocket, but it was already too late. Another guard rose from his chair, muttering something half-asleep to the first one. Heart pounding, the boy turned his back to them, leaned against the cage bars, and stayed still. He closed his eyes, pretending to sleep, all the while praying that no one would shoot him in the back. The next morning, the water still hadn¡¯t returned, and the sun gradually dried the prisoners'' sore, softened skin as the muddy riverbed turned into a cracked, clay-like surface. The guard who had approached the boy¡¯s cage the previous night was already completely drunk by morning, staggering across the raft. He stopped in front of the cage, slurring and laughing, before unexpectedly pulling out an old revolver and firing into the group. Six shots, until the chamber was empty. The rebels'' shouts and laughter were drowned out only by the terrified screams of those crammed into the cages, like cattle fearing for their lives. The drunk guard let the casings fall out of the revolver''s cylinder, tucked it into his waistband, and stumbled back to the table where he had been drinking. Silence settled over the camp as the clay ground darkened with blood, and the dead man beside Lex slumped to the side. ****** It took almost a week for the water to return, and this time it rose so high that the prisoners had to cling to the top bars of the cage to avoid drowning. The rebels tossed breadcrumbs into the cages; if the prisoners didn¡¯t want to starve, they had to snatch the crumbs before the current swept them away. The rebels would smack the top of the cages with long, thin, flexible sticks, hitting any hands that clung to the bars. They took pleasure in this. That same evening, a patrol marched in single file across the grasslands to the riverbank. Half a dozen DFLL rebels were being replaced. The first prisoner they pulled out after dinner was Lex. Soaked to the bone, he fought back with kicks and punches against the inevitable. As usual, all the caged prisoners watched the unlucky chosen one. The gaps between the wooden bars were wide enough to see what was happening on the raft. Lex stood in the colorful glow of the lights strung up around him. In the confusion, he didn¡¯t realize at first that he was the only one they had pulled out of the cage. It wasn¡¯t until they shoved a dented bottle of water into his hand that he started to suspect they weren¡¯t just going to shoot him. He looked around, his heart racing. "What¡¯s this? What am I supposed to do with this?" But the boy couldn¡¯t understand a word of the chaotic language around him, nor did he notice what the captain was scribbling in his notebook. When the captain looked up from the book, he spoke with a heavy accent, "Come. Loa. Now." Lex said nothing. Did nothing. His legs were trembling. "You. Come. Loa." But the boy didn¡¯t move. The rebels next to him shouted angrily in his ear. From behind, the painful jab of a rifle barrel pressed into his back. After more hesitation, the captain kicked him in the back. Lex crashed face-first onto the wooden boards, quickly scrambling back to his knees. Through the gaps in the raft, he saw the murky brown river current below. In that moment, kneeling there, he wondered if Ron had been right. For people like them, born into misery, there was no happy ending. THIRTY-NINE: Scoarching Heat They drove north into a vast, barren savannah, where crooked trees with wide canopies dotted the endless grasslands, and rock formations rose so high that they blocked the sun at its zenith. How such massive pillars had formed was beyond him; they looked like they had shot up from the ground. Atop one of these nearly cylindrical stone heights was the sprawling city of Rykuunh, its jagged, uneven silhouette visible from miles away against the clear morning sky. In the northeast, the silhouette of a massive airship hovered near the sun, heading straight for the metropolis. Rykuunh was the capital of the Ognons District, which stretched from the equatorial jungles, across the savannah, and far into the desert regions. The city was the stronghold of the DFLL and was accessible via a long bridge and two elevators, one on the southwest side and the other in the northeast. The bridge served as a major trade route, open to transporters and hover freighters. The symbol of the resistance flew on flags above the checkpoint, fluttering high on the masts. The 4x4 passed through the checkpoint with the necessary papers and climbed the dark steel structure. At a 30 percent incline, the engine roared like it was about to fall apart. From this height, Lex had a wide view over the savannah. To the west, he could see a vast expanse filled with the bloody remnants of a war he didn¡¯t recognize, a graveyard of tanks, a scrapyard of discarded drones and aerial vehicles. Even from here, he could make out the shapes and shimmering lights of another city far off in the distance, built into a rugged, sandstone-colored canyon. The land below was barren and desolate, dotted with colorless brush, strewn with rocks, and weighed down by an eerie loneliness. It was as if the past haunted this stretch of land, with the hot, dusty desert winds whispering tales of war, suffering, and injustice. Stories the land itself had written. Mile after mile, they drove across the vast stone plateau toward the rebel capital. It felt like the ancient power line hanging above the road was their guide. Thick cables stretched from one post to the next, always following the road, a cracked asphalt path covered in dust and stones, barely distinguishable from the rust-colored wasteland around them. After nearly an hour of driving, the 4x4 came to a halt as several figures dressed in black robes crossed the road with a herd of cloned sheep. They wore tall, cone-shaped straw hats with wide brims and herded the animals with long staffs. They were small and hunched, looking like creatures from another world. The captain made a comment, and Lex wondered if he was talking about the strange shepherds who continued across the barren land. Then someone else made a snide remark, and the others burst into laughter, but the eerie silence of the wasteland soon shut them up. Less than a mile from the city, they passed a broken-down car wreck that had been turned into a playground by a group of children dressed in rags. The wreck had no front axle, propped up on stones, while the rear tires were still there but so flat they looked like they were sinking halfway into the dust. The body was completely rusted, with bits of old paint peeling away in the hot wind that blew through the burnt-out interior, tossing the kids'' curly black hair. One child gripped the steering wheel tightly, staring at the approaching 4x4 as it kicked up a wide cloud of dust behind it. A group of people sat in the back, staring blankly at them. Their gazes were curious, suspicious, until a burst of laughter came when they realized who was driving the vehicle. The captain raised his hand out the window in a greeting. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. They pulled over near a marketplace. In front of a building that Lex couldn¡¯t tell if it was a ruin or still inhabited, or maybe both, they let him out, slamming the door shut behind him. The captain leaned out the window, shouting something at him while tapping his watch impatiently. Once again, Lex was left to fend for himself, alone in a strange place with no idea what would happen next. In a daze, he stumbled across the road, sweat dripping from his body as the scorching air dried out his throat. It wouldn¡¯t have surprised him if the bone-dry bushes on the roadside suddenly caught fire, or if the sun¡¯s rays scorched his hair. He needed shade, and the only place to find it was under the canopies of the market stalls. A local man in a bright yellow shirt walked toward him. He wore old sandals and a knee-length wrap skirt, chewing on something as he kept his gaze fixed on the boy. Then he pointed in the direction of the market, making a chattering motion with his other hand. Lex walked past him. The market was set up between clay houses, and cloths and sheets were stretched across the alleyways to shield the stalls from the sun. A few merchants paused their trading as they noticed the newcomer walking through their area. It was likely they had never seen such a pale, frail-looking figure before, even though they themselves had grown up in one of the poorest corners of the New World. Lex wandered through a maze of makeshift stalls. Wooden boards and cardboard stuck into the ground blocked the steady desert wind, allowing the men to sell their goods undisturbed by the weather. Scraps of packaging blew through the alleys, swirling between people¡¯s legs. Suddenly, a hand gripped his shoulder from behind. Words. Foreign, urgent. He turned around. A dark-skinned man with long, heavy curls looked deep into his eyes. He might have been speaking to him, maybe even yelling, but Lex couldn¡¯t understand. Just like the strange writing above the stalls made no sense to him. The skinny man held out a heavy plastic bag full of fresh fruit. He was dressed like the other merchants, wearing a wrap skirt, with a worn-out synthetic leather water bottle strapped to his waist. "Yeah, I''m hungry," Lex muttered, "but I¡¯ve got no money." The man was chewing on something he¡¯d stuffed into his cheek. His thin, hollow face and large, round eyes gave him a gaunt look. He rubbed his skinny stomach as if trying to signal to the boy that he needed to eat. "I know that," Lex replied. "But I¡¯ve got nothin'' to trade." The man pushed the plastic bag into his chest. Lex shook his head and pushed it away. "No credits. Nothing." He crossed his arms in an X and left the fruit seller standing there, the bag still in his hand. The market was a chaotic, noisy mess. Everywhere there was haggling, money to be made, goods to be traded, and loud voices shouting over one another. At one particularly crowded stall, a barefoot merchant sat cross-legged on layers of rags, trading bundles of leafy desert shrub branches for stacks of worn paper. What was this? A currency, maybe something like the coins on Limbo? Exhaustion forced the boy to stop. He clung to a rusty fence, his dizziness growing worse. The world started spinning faster and faster; stars flickered across his vision. He didn¡¯t know what was happening, but something was wrong. Suddenly, he collapsed against the fence, desperately trying to hold onto the wire with the last bit of strength he had, but then he crashed to the ground, lying motionless in the dust. FORTY: Running Late Lex squinted against the light of Tau Ceti, which shimmered dimly through a thin linen cloth. The blurry shapes around him slowly took on the outlines of market-goers, strangers¡¯ faces, staring curiously at him, some chatting among themselves. Someone brought the opening of a plastic bottle to his lips. Still groggy, he drank the water in small sips. Another man placed a bundle of those popular green twigs in his lap, their fresh leaves sprouting from the cut stems. He patted Lex on the shoulder and mimed bringing his finger tips, shaped like a beak, to his mouth. "I don¡¯t have... anything to trade," Lex mumbled. Just then, the fruit seller from before approached him again. "I don¡¯t have..." But before Lex could finish, the man placed a few berries directly into his mouth. Lex chewed slowly, and as the tangy sweetness spread across his tongue, making his eyes roll back in pleasure, another thought crept in: only now did he understand the hospitality of these people, welcoming him without hesitation. The only one filled with suspicion had been him. He wondered when he had started seeing only the worst in people. The men helped him back onto his feet. One of them spoke energetically and pointed toward a run-down general store with blue-painted shutters and a bead curtain for a door. Like the first man Lex had met on the road, this man kept making the motion of a chattering mouth with his hand. A group of kids played in the dirt in front of the entrance. The old, crumbling brick building had several rusting air conditioners attached to its outer walls, their humming louder than the kids¡¯ shouts. Cables snaked from power lines into the store¡¯s walls. The children ran toward Lex, unsure whether the bag of sweet fruit or his unfamiliar face was more interesting. He clamped a whole apple between his teeth, holding the bag open with both hands, offering its contents to the kids. Each one grabbed a piece until the bag was nearly empty, except for a few grapes. Then, he took a big bite out of the apple, popped the grapes into his mouth, and allowed the kids to lead him into the store. The checkout area was made of several fridges lined up together, and behind them, a frail old woman sat, moving a few pieces on a board game. She seemed to be playing against herself, her lips barely moving as if silently counting the steps of each piece on the wooden board. Small snacks and household items filled the long shelves that lined the narrow aisle. The children darted behind the makeshift counter and pulled a few candies from a large jar. One of them tore open a small bag of chips and shared it with the others. As Lex reached the fridges, he wondered if they were the old woman¡¯s grandchildren. "Hello," he said. Her gaze passed right through him. Then he realized there was no gaze at all. The old woman was blind. Her eyes were clouded, like those of a drowned corpse. Just like Tayus back then, when the bitter cold of the moon¡¯s atmosphere had frosted his eyes with a thin layer of ice. Lex didn¡¯t know why he was here, didn¡¯t know what to say. "They sent me here," he mumbled. The old woman smiled at him, revealing receding gums that were swollen and inflamed, with just a few blackened tooth stumps hanging on by the roots. Slowly, she shuffled around the row of fridges, very slowly, hunched over, stiff, her labored movements making her seem even older. Her white hair, limp and lifeless under her headscarf, framed her weathered, dark face. The crow¡¯s feet at the corners of her ailing eyes weren¡¯t just wrinkles, but deep grooves, etched by a long life in a place where the sun always shone. A place where, despite everything, there were still reasons to smile. Now that the curtain of suspicion had lifted, Lex found that the people here seemed, at times, happier than the busy city dwellers of Vega Prime. In a barren, impoverished city like Rykuunh, he had expected anything but the wealth he found. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. The old woman lifted her claw-like hands in slow motion, as if every movement cost her great effort, then she gently felt the boy¡¯s bony shoulders, his skinny neck, the sharp line of his jaw. He stood still and let her. Her touch was gentle, deliberate, like someone opening a book to read or an artist shaping a sculpture. She spoke, her voice soft and content. Then she pulled a chocolate bar from the pouch at her waist, softened by body heat, and held it out to him. Lex hesitated. He placed the bundle of twigs on the counter beside him, popped the last bit of apple into his mouth, and took the warm chocolate bar from her hand. "Careful, she¡¯s just fattening you up before she cooks you." The voice came from a corner, where all Lex could see was a large shelf. He strained to hear over the noise of the children. Had he imagined it? A trick of his mind? He took a few steps toward the large shelf, peeked around it, and saw a girl behind it, stacking cloth diapers. He couldn¡¯t say what struck him first. Was it her curly hair, or her big brown eyes, her high cheekbones, or the way her full lips, when she smiled, opened like the petals of a tulip in the sunlight, revealing her bright white teeth? "You speak my language," he said, forgetting to close his mouth. "And you apparently don¡¯t speak ours," she replied, making him realize how pointless his statement had been. Suddenly, another thought crossed his mind: he must look completely wild in his tattered clothes, stiff with dried river mud. He hadn¡¯t looked in a mirror in months. Come to think of it, he had no idea what he looked like right now. Only a vague sense that almost made him want to hide behind the shelf. "Where are you from?" she asked. In her light blue summer dress, she looked like the embodiment of innocence. The complete opposite of him. He raised his hand and pointed his thumb behind him. "From the jungle," he said. The girl laughed. "I believe you." "Because it¡¯s true." A moment of silence passed between them. Her smile slowly faded, her lips covering her white teeth, something beautiful hiding something even more beautiful. "Do you help the woman here?" he asked, realizing it was probably the dumbest question he could¡¯ve asked. "She doesn¡¯t need help," the girl replied. "Well, does she know that the kids are..." "You¡¯re from Vega Prime, aren¡¯t you?" She cut him off with sudden energy, as if she had to interrupt him at all costs. As if whatever he was about to say could take root like a seed and grow in this place. "How do you know that?" he asked. "Because you¡¯re eaten up with mistrust and fear, like all the others. The kids aren¡¯t thinking about stealing. In fact, a lot of the food here came from their parents¡¯ fields." "I..." "Hiring a blind cashier to work in a store. Could you imagine someone doing that in Vega Prime?" "No," he said without hesitation. "Our land has been exploited by corporations. Abandoned by the World Union. The only thing we have left is each other. It¡¯s the only thing we own. The certainty that we can trust one another. That¡¯s why kids can play here freely, and a blind woman can work here without the store owner ever worrying that someone would steal from her. In Rykuunh, we help each other, and that makes us the richest people on the New World. Despite our poverty. Peace is our religion." Suddenly, the bead curtain at the entrance jingled. Sunlight streamed into the little shop, brightening it instantly. When Lex turned around, he saw only a silhouette pulling the curtain aside, but the kids saw much more. Four of them ran toward the figure, screaming with joy. Their father, provider, teacher, role model, and hero all in one. The man knelt down and pressed their glowing cheeks to his. He wore laced-up military boots and an olive-green uniform. He stood and walked toward the girl, completely ignoring Lex, as if he were just as unimportant as the stack of shrink-wrapped toilet paper piled next to the fridge. Maybe even more insignificant, invisible. The rebel of the Crimson Dawn embraced the girl in the blue dress, and she had to stand on her tiptoes. Lex saw her calves tense as her dress rose a little during the hug. The man gave her a long kiss on the cheek. But the warm greeting quickly shifted to a serious conversation. The rebel¡¯s eyes fell on Lex for the first time. "They¡¯re looking for you," the girl suddenly said. "You¡¯re in trouble. You¡¯ve kept Algernon Beaulac waiting for over an hour." "Who?" "Algernon Beaulac. Arif said you were supposed to meet him in front of the market. He was going to take you to him, but you weren¡¯t there. He¡¯s been looking for you. The people at the market told him you were here." Lex thought of the captain, who had kept tapping his watch right before they dropped him off at the marketplace. He was supposed to wait there. But how was he supposed to know that? "Beaulac is the most important man in the desert," the girl continued. "Except for our governor, who oversees Rykuunh and three other cities in this district. Beaulac is the commander of the DFLL. Our leader. He¡¯s a national hero, and we¡¯re incredibly proud of him. But he¡¯s also something else." "What?" Lex asked. "He¡¯s really, really mad at you." FORTY-ONE: The Puppet on the Strings of Fate The rebel commander lived in a top-floor suite of the grand city tower, which was located in the middle of a large military zone surrounded by high fences and heavy security. The commander was in his mid or maybe late twenties, yet he already led the rebel army on the continent and was responsible for a vast area that stretched beyond the desert all the way to the coastal region. The DFLL troops from the four largest cities in the district followed his orders, guarding a territory four times the size of Vega Prime. Lex wondered if Algernon Beaulac¡¯s thick mustache was there to mask his young age, perhaps to avoid being seen as immature or inexperienced. The mustache didn¡¯t seem to fit the boyish face beneath it, which had no sharp features, a thin, elongated face with a narrow jaw, a large nose, and small but alert, dark eyes. "Do you drink?" Beaulac wore a red army cap and the rebel insignia on the sleeve of his uniform. He turned away from the liquor cabinet, swirling the blue-tinged liquid in the bottle he held between two fingers. Lex nodded, and the commander poured two glasses before popping the cork back onto the bottle. He sent Arif over with one of the drinks, and Lex gripped the thick glass tightly in his hand. After Beaulac raised his glass from across the room, they both downed their drinks in one gulp. "Forgive us for keeping you in that cage for so long," Algernon Beaulac said. "We needed to make sure whose side you were really on. We asked the settlers in the fields, and they told us you¡¯ve always treated them well. You helped them when you could, and you left them in peace. That¡¯s why you¡¯re here now, because you chose the right path back then." Lex¡¯s eyes stared blankly ahead. His greasy hair hung in messy strands over his face. He was filthy, his clothes stiff with grime. With the empty glass still in hand, he stood in the room like a wild boy, one who hadn¡¯t just escaped the jungle, but had lived in it, grown up in it, never knowing anything but the indifferent, cruel nature. "I want my pendant back. Someone from your group stole it from me." The rebel commander smiled at him. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the butterfly amulet, but instead of handing it back, he took a screwdriver and pried the pearl from its setting. "What are you doing? Stop that right now." But it was already too late. "Do you know what this little thing is?" Beaulac asked. Lex¡¯s gaze locked onto the small sphere. Without the butterfly, it looked completely different, no longer a decoration, just a jet-black orb pinched between the commander¡¯s thumb and forefinger. And suddenly, an image from his time in exile flashed through his mind¡ªthe hermit handing him the geode with the Black Orb embedded inside it, flawless, round, eerie, and dark. "But the pearl in the amulet was white." "We scraped off the paint." So it was true ... the little thing the commander was holding between his fingers was the unknown material the whole world was searching for. A whole movie of possible scenarios played out in his mind. But only one made sense, and it was the one he liked the least. "You knew I was at that camp the whole time. That¡¯s why you attacked. You wanted the Black Orb. But I had no idea I was even carrying it." "You still might not get it," the commander said, "but you¡¯re an important piece in this game. You¡¯ve brought us something of immeasurable value. You probably want to know what the Black Orb is, don¡¯t you?" "I wanna know who Veela is," Lex said. "She¡¯s the one who gave me the necklace." The commander smiled. "Here in Rykuunh, we have the only research facility as advanced as the one in Vega Prime. I¡¯ll personally take the Black Orb there tomorrow. There¡¯ve been rumors about this material since the first moon colony was founded. We don¡¯t know where it comes from, whether it¡¯s an ore, or even if it¡¯s natural. Some scientists believe it has to be man-made, but if so, not by human hands. The only thing we know for sure is that even in the smallest amounts, this material holds unimaginable power. And as you probably know, power means control over the world. Do you play chess?" Lex didn¡¯t respond. The word felt familiar somehow, but he couldn¡¯t remember where he¡¯d heard it before or when he¡¯d seen a chessboard. "In any case," the commander continued, "in chess, there are kings and pawns. Anyone who thinks pawns don¡¯t matter is a fool. They¡¯re the most important pieces in the endgame. As you¡¯ve proven." Lex stared blankly into the commander¡¯s dark eyes. "I wanna know who she really is," he said. "She wanted me to leave her so I could bring you that thing." "Veela." The commander said her name slowly, as if savoring it, letting it hang in the air like an echo, as though he needed time to fully contemplate its meaning. "There are many rumors about her. About where she truly comes from. Who do you think she is, boy?" "Definitely not who I thought she was." The commander laughed. "Kid, you have no idea. Veela leads the rebels across the entire planet. If life were a chess game, she¡¯d be the king and queen combined. She¡¯s the bishop, rook, and knight. She¡¯s the white pieces, fighting against the black. She¡¯s the leader of the Crimson Dawn." Lex froze. "That¡¯s impossible," he whispered. "We were together in Vega Prime the whole time. She studies history. I met her at the university." He, struggling to make sense of his tangled thoughts, finally said, "I need to see her again. I have to ask her something." "Oh, boy. You¡¯re half a world away from the girl of your dreams. Forget her. Forget it." The rebel commander slipped the Black Orb into his pocket. Then he refilled his glass and took a sip. "You¡¯ll never see her again," he said firmly. "Not even I have the honor of meeting her in person. Do you think my heart doesn¡¯t dream of her? We all revere her and her family. But no one will ever catch Veela. She¡¯s a symbol, she¡¯s untouchable, and that¡¯s the way it should be. Because you can only look up to things that are beyond your reach. It¡¯s those kinds of figures that push us forward, making us strive to get closer. The tragedy is, we don¡¯t realize that every step we take toward them, they take one away from us. Maybe you thought you could have Veela, but you were wrong." The boy looked at him seriously, but said nothing. Suddenly, the commander laughed. "You¡¯ll find a new love, my young friend. There are plenty of beautiful girls here in Rykuunh who would gladly give their hearts to fighters like us. Believe me, love is everywhere¡ªif you know where to look. A future, on the other hand, is rare. But here, we offer you both. What do you say?" ***** Rykuunh was about the same size as the district of Keldaraan in Vega Prime. The stone plateau on which the city was built, however, was so vast that it extended into a barren wasteland. It had little in common with the wide grassy plains of the savanna, where shrubs, bushes, and low trees were scattered about. The wasteland was a dry, dead desert, where the only plant life was the tough weeds that grew in the cracked clay soil''s shadows. It was on this sun-scorched patch of land, far from the city that cast its long evening shadow over the region, that Lex began his training at the DFLL rebel camp. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Under the midday sun, they marched across the dusty terrain. It was a mutual test: the recruits learning about their new home, and the instructors testing the recruits'' endurance. When they reached the open tents that served as their sleeping quarters, the group split for the first time, men and women slept separately. Lex glanced at the thermometer attached to one of the tent poles. It was already 106 degrees in the shade. The recruits picked up their uniforms from a small shed next to the mess hall and changed out of their sweat-soaked clothes. Everyone was issued sand-colored camouflage pants, shirts, and beige boots. That evening, in the mess hall, they received their first meal, a reheated ready-made dish, which Lex ate alone on a metal chair against the wall. One early morning, before the other recruits had woken up, he stood at the edge of the plateau beside a large boulder. Sparkling dew coated the desert brush around him. The boy sat down on the edge of the lone rock, his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, and let his gaze wander across the jagged highland, which seemed endless from up here. White fog filled the deep canyons, their winding paths stretching into the far distance. The smell of charcoal drifted through the crisp morning air. The boy didn¡¯t move. To the east, the sky was bathed in a deep red, the halo of the not-yet-risen sun peeking over the mountains. It was still freezing cold. A sharp wind cut past his ears, his nose numb from the chill, and the cold of the stone beneath him seeped easily through the thin fabric of his recruit¡¯s pants. "Isn¡¯t the view beautiful?" The boy jumped. Internally more than externally, he hadn¡¯t expected anyone else to be here in this isolated place. Least of all, the girl. "This is the best spot in all of Rykuunh, if you ask me," she said. "On clear days, you can see all the way to the Great Sea. I¡¯m here almost every morning. But today¡¯s the first time I¡¯m not alone." He was already pretty frozen. Without standing up, his hands still in his pockets, he turned stiffly in the direction of the sea, though the distance was veiled by fog. The girl had traded her light summer dress for a beige uniform and tightly laced boots. Her thick, jet-black hair resisted the hairbands and cap she wore. Whether barefoot, in dancing shoes, or boots, everything seemed to suit her, she was beautiful in whatever she wore. "You¡¯re a recruit, too," he said. She laughed, as if he should have known better. "I only wear dresses on Sundays. Muddy boots the rest of the time." Then she tapped her sleeve, where three stacked arrows were stitched into the fabric. "I''m not a recruit anymore, actually. I''m one of the instructors now." "Does that mean you''re my superior?" "Obviously," she said, planting her hands on her hips. She looked him up and down. "And you, recruit? What''s your name? Or do jungle boys not get names?" "I''m Lex. Lex Marrow," he said, glancing once more into the distance, where the morning fog poured like liquid nitrogen from the canyon basins below. The freezing night would soon give way to the scorching heat of the day. The thin, fiery arc of Tau Ceti was rising behind the mountains. "And are you going to tell me your name?" She dropped her hands and folded them together. "I''m Mirela," she said. He nodded. Gazing out over the land, for some reason, he avoided looking at her. "Not a bad name," he said. ****** On a hot, sunny afternoon in the third week of his training, Lex checked his status on his PDA and saw that he had now reached [Level 21]. He had unlocked more achievements, like
  • Beast Mode: Survive the jungle for three weeks
  • Insider Access: Rebel HQ
  • Shots with the Boss: Drink with the rebel commander
and he had gained a massive amount of Experience Points through the training camp here in the wasteland, now holding rank 5 [Knight of the Dawn]. But he still didn¡¯t understand exactly how his XP was being tracked, or what leveling up was supposed to get him in the end. Only one thing struck him as odd: there were different abilities listed, but all of them were still locked. What was that supposed to mean? Why wasn¡¯t he ready yet? He switched off the hologram on his PDA as he sat with Mirela in the mess tent, a long bench shared with other rookies and instructors who were talking and eating together. The tent was more of a massive shade, with no walls, allowing the hot desert wind to blow through, sweeping dry sand over the rows of tables. They were served synthetic lamb in a spicy soup with fresh, cultivated onions, potatoes, and various vegetables, all heavily seasoned. There was also the same lamb mixed with scrambled eggs from cloned chickens in a creamy tomato sauce with a spiced paste. Sweat beaded on Lex''s forehead from both the heat and the spicy food. He wiped his face with his arm and reached into the large communal pan, along with three other hands, to scoop up some sauce and meat with a piece of homemade flatbread, shoving it all into his mouth. Every bite of the otherwise delicious food crunched with sand between his teeth. That was something you had to get used to out here in the desert. Outside the tent, jeeps with mounted guns were parked, being meticulously cleaned and oiled by recruits. Chewing, Lex watched a mechanic on a creeper, welding a new catalytic converter under one of the vehicles, sparks flying. Lex took a sip of coffee from his cup. Hot, black, a little too weak, but there were plenty of pots of the stuff lined up on the table to help wake everyone up after endurance runs and strength training. Just then, Arif walked by with a group of instructors. Lex¡¯s eyes followed the men. They looked tense, greeting no one as they headed straight for the small podium set up on the west side of the tent, reserved for important announcements. Occasionally, it was used for other things, like when a tipsy recruit decided to turn on the mic after hours and belt out some folk songs a cappella. But the expressions on their faces made it clear this wasn¡¯t one of those times. Lex sipped his coffee and watched them closely. Even the rebels outside, busy tending to their machines, paused to listen. The mechanic crawled out from under the armored vehicle and wiped his oily hands on a rag. "What¡¯s he saying?" Mirela sat straight-backed on the bench, raising her head above the other recruits to get a glimpse of Arif. Her thick, curly hair spilled out from under her military cap, with desert sand caught in every strand. "Quiet, Lex. I¡¯ll tell you in a minute." When Arif switched off the microphone, stepped down from the podium, and left the tent with the other instructors, he left something heavy behind, something that hung in the air, crushing the lively mood that had filled the tent during dinner. The rebels sat in silence, staring at their food for a long time. Occasionally, the clink of dishes broke the quiet, or someone coughed, then silence returned. The desert wind whistled through the open tent. Mirela¡¯s face had gone pale. "A war is coming," she said suddenly. "It might not start today, not tomorrow, but soon. The World Union launched an offensive on Shang¡¯lar, the third-largest city in our district, last night. Shang¡¯lar is the last stronghold before they reach the plateau. They¡¯ll probably try to surround us. They¡¯ll attack from all sides." He couldn¡¯t ignore the fear in her eyes, just as he couldn¡¯t ignore the anger boiling in his gut. "Why are they doing this?" he asked. "Why start a war with us? We didn¡¯t do anything to them, damn it. They can¡¯t just invade our land and burn everything down." "They can, Lex, and that¡¯s exactly what they¡¯re going to do. Arif said we have something the TC has been searching for a long time. He said that¡¯s the reason for the war, but he couldn¡¯t say more." Lex glared at her, swallowing hard, staying silent. "They¡¯ll destroy everything to find it. I have no idea what he means, but that¡¯s what he said. Lex? Are you still listening?" He was frozen, paralyzed by fear, far more than the other recruits. It hit him immediately. Arif was talking about the Black Orb, the mysterious object he had unknowingly brought here, hidden in the amulet. The guilt paralyzed him. It was dizzying, a guilt that had appeared so suddenly it took his breath away. "Lex, are you okay?" "I¡­" He had caused the war. Without him, the Black Orb would never have been discovered. Without him, the secret would have stayed hidden on Limbo, lost forever. "Did he say when it¡¯s going to happen? When they¡¯ll be here?" "No, he just said we need to be ready. Depending on how well our rebels can fight back against the corporate forces, it could be a few days, weeks, or at best, a few months. But the day they attack Rykuunh and the other cities on the surrounding highlands will come. The war will hit us this year." The boy nodded to show her he understood, but inside, his mind was elsewhere. Back on Limbo, his cold, dark home, the place he had wanted to escape from since day one. He was back in exile, in the cave where he had met the old hermit. He could see himself holding the geode, staring at the Black Orb encased within. Suddenly, he could hear the old man¡¯s words, as if some kind of magic was bridging the gap to that past moment, making it feel like the old hermit was truly speaking to him now. It wasn¡¯t just a memory, he thought, it was as if the voice was right there in his head, every word crystal clear: By giving you the Black Orb, I believe I am helping to set something inevitable into motion. But I don¡¯t know how this artifact will affect the world, whether it will bring disaster or fortune. In my life, at least, it brought nothing but ruin. Years later, on another planet, Lex knew that this artifact would bring him misery, too. It brought nothing but misfortune to everyone. The Black Orb is a curse. And now, he had carried the curse to Rykuunh. FORTY-TWO: Confessions The training grounds were a mile east of the sleeping tents, near the cliffs. They jogged through the dusty afternoon heat, carrying backpacks filled with water and rations. Thanks to its strategic location on the stone plateau, Rykuunh was known for producing skilled rebel snipers. Lex could see them in the distance, lying flat on the ground near the edge of the cliffs, peering through the scopes of their rifles into the vast valley below. Gunshots echoed from all directions, their sources impossible to pinpoint in the sprawling landscape. After emptying his first magazine, Lex holstered his weapon and took off the scratched welding goggles he used to shield his eyes from the harsh desert sand. The sunlight glaring off the dry clay ground forced him to squint. He grabbed a pair of binoculars to check his shots. The results weren''t great. A few bullet holes in the human-shaped target, but most of the shots had missed completely. "What¡¯s so funny?" he asked. Mirela tried to keep a straight face, but like the rest of the group, she burst out laughing. "It¡¯d be easier to hit the target if I could actually see it," he said. She paused mid-laugh. "Wait, are you saying you need glasses?" He didn''t answer. ***** One evening, the recruits sat around a campfire, eating vegetables they¡¯d grown themselves in the wasteland and beef from Rykuunh¡¯s labs. Arif strummed his guitar, singing songs that some of the more talented recruits joined in on. Mirela explained that the instructors emphasized returning to humanity¡¯s roots, and Lex suddenly remembered the little note that had fallen out of the picture book back at the orphanage in Bancarduu, meant for his mother. His father, Liam, had written the same thing. Back to the roots. Lex thought he finally understood what his father had meant. In that moment, he wondered if his parents had been part of the resistance, and if he was now following in their footsteps, just as Tayus and Morisa had always hoped he would. ***** Sometimes, long after the others had gone to bed, it was just the two of them left sitting together. The fire burned down to embers. He would tell her stories about his past life, freely speaking about his time on Limbo. The chains of the TC were broken, maybe they''d snapped long ago, but this time, he truly felt it. The silence contract no longer held any meaning. "Are you happy?" Mirela asked him one night. He thought about it for a long time, even though the answer was simple. He kept the fact that he had brought the Black Orb here, the one responsible for the war, a secret. That knowledge loomed over him like a dark storm cloud, heavy and foreboding. "Lex, my question." He snapped out of his thoughts. "Can¡¯t remember the last time I felt this good," he said. ***** One night, they sat at the edge of the cliffs with a mug of miner''s piss in hand, looking out over the vast, star-lit plains below. The night itself seemed alive, with thousands of twinkling stars and the glowing airships, either sluggishly heading toward Rykuunh or setting off into the unknown reaches of the world. The Abraham River wound through the canyon below, and lush riverbank brush grew along both sides, silvered by the moonlight. The river itself was black, and the stars seemed to dance and flicker on its surface. Hearing a rustle beside him, he glanced over at Mirela, who was pulling something wrapped in foil out of her uniform pocket. When she unwrapped it, he saw the bundle of twigs and leaves he had left behind during his first visit to the general store. "We¡¯re technically not supposed to bring this stuff into camp, but it¡¯s the weekend, and I figure it doesn¡¯t matter if we chew it out here in the wasteland or at home. Right?" She snapped off a small twig from the dried-up bundle and popped it into her mouth, stuffing the leaves into her cheek until it bulged like she was storing a ping-pong ball in there. She pushed the bundle across the dry stone floor to him, and he broke off a few leaves. He hesitated, brought them up to his nose for a cautious sniff, and wrinkled his face a little. The smell reminded him of a visit to the men¡¯s room at a dive bar on Limbo. "I hope it tastes better than it smells," he said, laying the dried leaves on his tongue before pushing them between his back teeth and tentatively chewing. He squinted, forcing himself to keep chewing, and Mirela burst out laughing. "Tastes awful." "Yeah, for now," she said, "but after a while, you won¡¯t be able to get enough of it." "I¡¯m not so sure." He mumbled around the leaves, propping himself up on his elbows in the sand as he gazed out into the quiet darkness. "Lex?" "Yeah?" "Did you swallow the leaves?" He looked at her. She poked him in the side, laughing again. "You¡¯re not supposed to swallow them. You¡¯re supposed to spit them out." This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. He turned his gaze back toward the endless expanse of the land. "What¡¯s your full name, anyway?" he asked. "Ma¡¯vena," she said. "Mirela Ma¡¯vena." Lex nodded. "Mirela Ma¡¯vena," he whispered. His breath puffed out into the freezing night air. He tore off a few more leaves, chewed on them, and pushed them to the side of his mouth, storing them in his cheek like she had. "How do you feel now?" she asked. "Like a king," he said. "I¡¯m starting to get why everyone¡¯s always chewing this stuff. It makes you feel pretty good." "Maybe it¡¯s not the leaves. Maybe you¡¯re just happy. Here with me." He was quiet for a while, thinking she might be right. Then he looked at her, chewing, studying her. "I never asked where you¡¯re from." "That¡¯s true." "So, where are you from?" She pulled her arm out from under the thick blanket and pointed into the distance. "See that shimmering city over there, on the edge of the canyon?" He pushed his new glasses (really just an old, bent frame with lenses that were barely intact and somewhat adjusted to his prescription) up the bridge of his nose with his thumb and gazed at the flickering lights in the night sky, like still stars. The distant city perched on the steep canyon edge was shrouded in mystery. "You¡¯re from there?" he asked. "Yes." "So you can see your home every day." "I can. And every day, I imagine my parents and my siblings soon dying. We haven¡¯t just been abandoned by the world government, they''re actively helping destroy this continent, piece by piece. The government is corrupt and controlled by corporations like Thandros and Snackbite, both of which have been hurting our people for decades. And now, they''ve declared war on us. When it¡¯s over, they¡¯ll leave us in ruins. That¡¯s why people chew the leaves. They want to forget how hopeless their future is." He didn¡¯t dare say anything, and she fell silent for another reason. After a while, she spat out the chewed leaves. He followed her gaze out into the night, into the quiet. "I¡¯m afraid of the war," she said suddenly. "The World Union has taken Sekuur, Reluunh, and now Sheel''val too. And they¡¯ve seized many nearby villages. Their armies are just a hundred miles away." "I know." "Sometimes, when everyone¡¯s asleep, you can hear the rumbling of the bombs. It sounds like thunder, like a heavy storm rolling in, but you know it¡¯s not." She shook her head and stared again at her distant hometown. "Every night, when I see my home, I can¡¯t help but imagine how they¡¯ll march in there soon." In her dark eyes, the stars above them reflected, glimmering. "So why did you come to Rykuunh?" he asked. "You¡¯re asking me why? You think everything has to have a reason?" "That¡¯s what I¡¯ve come to believe," he said. "Yeah, everything has a reason.¡± And as he said that, his mind drifted to Veela. The girl from Vega Prime had only ever wanted him to bring the Black Orb to Luvanda. The unknown material that was worth more than the lives of millions of innocent people. Getting that thing to the other continent and into the hands of the Crimson Dawn faction... that had been Veela¡¯s most important mission. She had been willing to let him die for it, just like Earl Tardino and the others were willing to leave him to die on the ST SAMSON in the asteroid field. "I actually wanted to stay home." She traced meaningless patterns in the dust with her finger. She glanced thoughtfully again at the distant city on the canyon. "But my father wanted me to join the rebels." "He forced you?" "It¡¯s not like that," she said. "This is the right path for me. I know it. I feel it. Like you, I believe everything happens for a reason. My father wanted me to learn the world¡¯s language. Why, I wonder? Did he know back then that one day you and I would meet?" She leaned back, propping herself up on her arms. The blanket slipped from her shoulders, and a slight goosebump pattern appeared on the fine lines of her neck. But the cold didn¡¯t seem to bother her at all. "Your father must know what¡¯s best for you," he said ironically. But she nodded. Either she hadn¡¯t noticed the criticism hidden between his words, or she had chosen to ignore it. "Papa always told me that one day I¡¯d understand why I had to study for so many hours. He¡¯s a wise man, and I¡¯ve never doubted his words." Mirela looked at the boy, the cold desert wind playing with her curly hair. "Have you ever met someone who seems to understand so much more about life than you do? More than anyone else, I mean. Someone connected to the mysteries of the universe, who can¡¯t tell you everything, but knows more than they let on. Someone you trust completely." The boy thought of the hermit from the exile and his words. Inevitably, his thoughts turned again to the Black Orb and the fateful destiny it had brought upon the old man and now, too, on his own life. But the person he trusted blindly had been someone else entirely. "Well, I¡¯ve told you about my life on Limbo," he said later that night, "but I never told you how I ended up on Cetos Five or here in Luvanda. Wanna hear it?" "Are you kidding? I¡¯ve wanted to know since the first time we met." He followed the shimmering band of the Milky Way from one side of the slope to the other. It was time to explain that he was responsible for the war, he thought. It took him a while to work up the courage. "So, there was this strange material the old man gave me when I was in exile," he said, and then told her the whole story from beginning to end, occasionally checking her face for signs of boredom or fatigue. He wasn¡¯t a great storyteller, but she listened intently, and her interest in his life seemed genuine. "I almost died again," he said when he got to the part about the rebel attack on the camp. "They would¡¯ve killed me on the spot if they hadn¡¯t seen the butterfly amulet in my hand." He shook his head, kicking a rock with the toe of his boot. It rolled away, wrapped in a cloud of dust lit by the glow of the Milky Way, and disappeared into the abyss. "And when the commander pried the Black Orb out of the butterfly amulet, I suddenly realized that the material the whole world had been searching for had been with me all along." A moment of silence spread between them. Just as the cold of the desert nights froze their bodies, his words sent a chill through the girl¡¯s soul. She seemed to have finally understood what he was telling her. And why. "Are you saying that the thing everyone is after, the thing Thandro¡¯s been hunting, is really just a tiny black pearl?" "Seems like it," the boy replied. "And this little thing... the reason TC and the world government are raging through our country, you brought it here?" For a while, the boy said nothing. But worse than the silence was the weight of the girl¡¯s gaze on his soul, a look demanding an answer. It pressed down on his chest like a heavy stone. "I didn¡¯t even know I was carrying it. Crimson Dawn gave me the amulet as a good luck charm. I had no idea the pearl inside was what TC was after." He tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow as he glanced over at the rebel. "Do you think I¡¯m guilty? Do you believe the war in this land started because of me?" Mirela studied him. "I think what happened was meant to happen," she said. "You were just playing a part. Whether you¡¯re guilty or not doesn¡¯t really matter." She leaned her head against his shoulder. The wind carried the faint scent of her slightly oily hair, and he nestled into it, as if resting his head on a soft pillow. A satellite blinked as it glided across the open sky. "What does ''loa'' mean, anyway?" he asked after a while. "It means something like ''let¡¯s go.'' Why?" "No reason." He thought for a moment. "What about ''may''? When I got to Segosa, I met this old lady at a food stand. She kept saying ''may, may, may'' to me and held a hot bag of rice against my leg." The girl smirked. "You should¡¯ve bought the rice." "That¡¯s what I thought, too," he said. "And what¡¯s the word for idiot in your language?" "Lex." "Very funny." She laughed but eventually told him the word, and he tried to repeat it. What came out of his mouth sounded like "ou-you-kazzy," but he¡¯d gotten it completely wrong. "Ou-yo-jazzy," he said then, and at first, only Mirela laughed, but soon he couldn¡¯t hold back either, and their voices echoed together into the wide, open night. FORTY-THREE: The Calm Before the Storm After his training, he was assigned a job in the city. From then on, he was responsible for overseeing the comings and goings of vehicles on the big bridge. It was a monotonous, mind-numbing job that quickly turned into routine. With his first paycheck, he moved out of the living container into a house on the outskirts of town, which he shared with ten other rebels, one of whom was a high-ranking member. They were young men, mostly in their twenties and thirties, most of them born here in Rykuunh, some from other cities in the Ognons District, but no one besides Lex had ever set foot on the other continent. Right after his late shift, he picked up Mirela for breakfast. The sun hadn¡¯t risen yet, but dawn was breaking, with sluggish clouds above them and the last pale stars fading. They took a seat at a small table outside a caf¨¦ that had just opened. They sat there for a long time, enjoying the first rays of Tau Ceti, ordering black coffee and eating biscuits made from homegrown oats. Lex got the sense that Rykuunh was a microcosm, able to exist entirely on its own. Everywhere he looked, uniformed rebels were patrolling, controlling traffic or dealing with disputes between citizens. "We care deeply about the people. And the people who live here love us," Mirela said. She was wearing a loosely knit wool sweater, her slightly messy hair pulled back and tamed by a thick knit cap. The morning sunlight made her brown eyes sparkle, revealing a mysterious depth, as if, at the core of her iris, the essence of innocence was hidden, only to be uncovered by the sunlight. Lex took a sip of his coffee; in the icy cold of the early morning, the cup steamed like a chimney. "It¡¯s nice here," he said. "Actually, it¡¯s really nice. More peaceful than in Vega Prime." "Did you ever think, after everything you went through in the jungle, that you¡¯d have a time like this, so beautiful and peaceful?" "No," he said. "But I wish it would last longer. We both know this is just the calm before the storm. Beyond the highlands, the cities are already burning." She looked up from her coffee. "Is it worth it, Miri?" "What do you mean?" "The Black Orb, whatever it is. Is it really worth so much that the rebels are willing to let the TC burn their cities to the ground for it? Aren¡¯t the innocent people who die because of this reason enough to end the war and give the TC what¡¯s rightfully theirs?" "You¡¯re asking me why Algernon Beaulac doesn¡¯t just hand the dark pearl back to the corporation?" "Exactly. Then the war would be over, and no one else would have to suffer." "The war would end, yes, but the oppression would continue, just as it has ever since the colonization of Cetos Five. The Crimson Dawn sees this discovery as the turning point in their history. They see the Black Orb as the chance to free the world from the corporations¡¯ grip. You¡¯re asking me if this cause justifies the suffering of those who lose their lives, their families, their loved ones? Millions of people for billions?" Just as she raised her cup to her lips, she paused. Through the fleeting steam, she looked at him. "I can¡¯t answer that. I¡¯m just glad I don¡¯t have to make that decision." He grabbed the coffee cup by the handle and gently set it down. He thought about her answer for a while. "I¡¯d like to make that decision," he said finally. "I¡¯d give them that little piece of crap back in a heartbeat." ***** The old wooden chair wobbled as the boy balanced his weight on its back two legs. His feet were crossed on the desk, his dusty boots resting on a copy of the clearance slip from the last transporter that had passed through four days ago. The document still needed to be filed, but there was no rush. Ever since the war had ravaged the nearby regions, supplies rarely made it to the city. It was as if the world government had already wiped out the neighboring towns, as if they no longer existed. And maybe that was true. He tried to focus on reading again. On one of the dusty e-readers, the only one on the shelf that still had a bit of battery left, he¡¯d found a book by an old writer named George Orwell, who wrote about a future that was now seven hundred years in the past. It was the only book in his language. And yet, he couldn¡¯t really understand it. The reader rested on his lap, held loosely in one tired hand; with the other, he lazily waved away a fly buzzing around his face. Had they really brought these useless pests from Earth, just to clone them here in the New World? He rubbed his eyes through his closed lids, pinching away the gritty sleep from the corners. Sweat trickled down his temples. He tried again. Reading wasn''t his strength. Focusing on a story was hard. A bird appeared out of nowhere and perched on the windowsill. When he glanced up, it looked like the bird was pecking something off the sole of his boot, though in reality, it was about a foot away, sitting on the edge of the open window. A massive cargo airship drifted in front of the sun, casting the checkpoint into shadow, like an eclipse. The boy tilted his foot, and the bird flew away. It was always airships, he thought, never clouds. There didn¡¯t seem to be any clouds in this part of the world. The zeppelin filled a large part of the sky, just having left its platform and slowly heading toward the Great Sea. Against the sun, it was just a silhouette, a blinding bright outline. Lex leaned forward, squinting at something he could now see, something that stood out against the bright midday blue, like a flock of dark birds of prey, except these were too still, too orderly to be alive. At that moment, the old latrine door creaked open across from the checkpoint hut, and his shift partner stepped into the shadow of the airship. He glanced over at the boy as he tightened his belt. He¡¯d only taken three or four steps when, behind him, the zeppelin burst into flames. Explosions shook the ground all around, and moments later, contrails of rockets streaked through the once peaceful midday sky. In the next ten seconds, Lex saw four airships plummet from the sky like burning stones. Still in the air, their aluminum skeletons were exposed as the ignited hydrogen consumed their thin outer walls like fire devouring the head of a match. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Then the eerie wail of air raid sirens echoed across Rykuunh. Lex jumped from his chair, bolting out of the hut, shouting something to the man. Toward the city center, where the large military base stood, a munitions depot exploded. An immense shower of sparks shot miles into the sky. Four or five seconds later, the deafening boom followed. It was literally ear-splitting. It took a moment before Lex could hear the sirens again, the screams of people. Then he saw the upper floors of the towering city building were on fire. In the next instant, a missile hit behind him. Debris struck him, and in the sheer terror of the moment, he had no idea how badly he¡¯d been injured. He instinctively looked back, saw that where he had just been working was now nothing but a roaring inferno. The checkpoint hut had been wiped from existence. Like so much else would soon be. Had his shift partner made it? No time to think about that. The access bridge collapsed. Lex was convinced they were going to destroy the entire city. Everything, just to find the Black Orb, the one no one knew anything about. What it was, what it meant, or what it symbolized. ***** The Rebels at his Station had always suspected that sooner or later the corporations would manage to sneak a disguised convoy of military personnel past the scanners at the bridgehead, a trojan horse. But in reality, the attack came from the skies. From a mothership fifty miles away, which hovered like a floating mountain in the distance, barely visible against the clear sky and only noticeable with a second glance above the canyon, the World Union sent an armada of remote-controlled drones toward the city. He had never seen combat drones in the air before, let alone so many at once. Tau Ceti glinted between their black metal bodies. Despite the anti-aircraft defenses, the sky beyond the defensive perimeter was still dotted with the black messengers of death. Under the barrage of rebel fire, they advanced toward the city. For the resistance, it was a hopeless battle where the greatest victory was minimizing their losses. In morbid fascination, Lex watched the missiles leave behind contrails in the sky, lingering long after in the destruction they caused and the death they brought to the people. He could hear explosions near and far, feeling the tremors they sent through the ground. Black smoke darkened the Rykuunh skyline. Over the radio, he heard that a missile had destroyed the northeastern elevator. The entire attack aimed to sever the city¡¯s supply routes in one fell swoop, cutting it off from the outside world. Lex saw people jumping from the burning city tower, plummeting to their deaths. Massive fires raged out of the shattered windows, war sirens continued their eerie wailing throughout the city, and the dust from the destroyed buildings coated the streets, leaving a dry, bitter taste on his tongue. Locals fled in streams, but no one knew where to go. On the rocky plateau, they were trapped. The access routes and elevators¡ªall destroyed. A terrible feeling washed over him. He hoped it was just a feeling. He was leaving a trail of blood behind him, but he still couldn¡¯t tell where the debris had hit him. He felt nothing, nothing but fear and a sense of impending doom. Between the buildings, the scorching heat from the firestorms raging in the upper levels was building. Smoke clouded his vision, and hot ash filled the air, making each breath a struggle. Near the market, several missiles had hit nearby houses. The shockwaves from the explosions had completely ravaged the market stalls. Lex made his way through the chaos, stepping over the bodies of merchants and buyers who had been caught off guard by the attack. Only the west side of the old general store was still standing. Debris piled into mountains where, an hour ago, the peaceful jingle of the beaded curtain had swayed in the breeze. The flat roof had collapsed. Smoke billowed into the sky. He couldn¡¯t get closer than twenty meters to the ruin. In the firelight, he saw the blind woman¡¯s body on the ground, crushed by rubble as she tried to escape the destruction. "Miri," the boy called out, his voice cracking. Around him, all he could hear was the roar of the fires, consuming the oxygen from the air, and he thought if the wind shifted, the searing hot smoke would incinerate him on the spot. The marketplace was torn apart by the force of an explosion. Even though Lex had taken shelter about a hundred meters away behind a building, the blast wave still shattered the windows around him. The explosion was so loud that for the next hour, all he could hear was a monotonous ringing in his ears. The panic-stricken crowd around him was silent to him, even though the faces of the locals screamed with anguish and fury in unison. Someone grabbed the boy and pulled him into a doorway. They hid in a basement building and waited there for an entire day until the devastating rumble above them finally stopped. It all felt like a waking dream, time slipping by in strange, arbitrary patterns. When he woke up after a short sleep, the first thing he noticed was the bandage wrapped around his chest and the uncomfortable pressure in his back. He found his dirty, torn shirt lying beside him on the makeshift bed of laundry and a few cushions and pulled it on. In the room where they were hiding, water dripped from the ceiling. The air stank of sweat and human waste. Of food, feces, and urine. The dim light of a weak bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered over the terrified faces of the crowd. Now that the defenses, supply routes, and the city center were destroyed, it wouldn¡¯t be long before the World Union sent their soldiers into the city to search for the Black Orb. The boy had no intention of waiting for that moment. He pulled himself together, walked through the oppressive silence, and made his way up the steps, passing many of the exhausted locals who had fallen asleep. He had no idea what time it was. When he stepped outside, a shattered world lay before him. A gloomy twilight hung over the sky, and the boy couldn¡¯t tell if it was dawn or nearing nightfall. Ash blanketed the entire city. Dead bodies in the streets, children who had lost their parents, and parents gathering the remains of their children. These were the sights he took in as he made his way toward the outskirts of the city. The cause of all this destruction and misery had always been a corrupt government ruled by credits, and credits belonged to the large corporations, corporations like Thandros. ***** Against the twilight-cast desert sky, he saw the silhouette of a girl standing at the edge of the plateau. Motionless before the canyon. The approaching darkness flickered faintly, like a broken lightbulb behind a linen curtain. Each flicker signaled another missile strike in the distant city. Each explosion added to the suffering, fueling death and destruction. Lex approached the dark figure, the sorrowful shadow of a girl without hope. He walked up to Mirela, placing a hand on her shoulder, but she didn¡¯t react at all. "I¡¯ve been searching for you like crazy," he said. "If you hadn¡¯t been here, I wouldn¡¯t have known where else to look." In her dark eyes, the burning city reflected. The gunfights, the explosions. Two shimmering rivers of tears traced their way down her cheeks, gathering at her chin before falling to the bone-dry sand at her feet. He looked at her, then at the catastrophe unfolding in the distance. "All of this for a little black pearl," she whispered after a while. "You asked me once if it was worth it. It¡¯s not, Lex. It¡¯s not. I¡¯m sure of that now." "Miri, I thought you were dead," he said. She shook her head, but the motion wasn¡¯t meant as an answer. In that moment, she existed only in her own fear. She probably hadn¡¯t even heard him. "This pearl, whatever it is, has brought nothing but misery to us," she said. "It ignites greed in people. It brings out the worst, the darkest parts of their souls." Lex sat down on the large boulder nearby, where they had last sat a week ago, when the world wasn¡¯t right, but at least their own had still been peaceful. "My parents are there, my sisters, and I can see them, I know where their house is, and I know that I can¡¯t help them." "We¡¯ll get our revenge," he said, and she fell silent. For a while, she stared at the war raging in the distance, almost soundless. Only the faint rumble of the explosions, a sinister, dull roar carried by the icy desert wind, could be heard if you listened closely. FORTY-FOUR: Ghosts of the Past Arif finished his late briefing and stepped down from the makeshift podium, cobbled together from pallets and crates. As soon as he did, conversations among the rebels picked up. "Did you understand him?" Miri asked. "Only a few words," the boy replied. "He said that the World Union has agreed to a truce starting at midnight." "Why?" "To create refugee corridors, so civilians can leave Rykuunh before the enemy soldiers march in. In two hours, several heavy-duty airships will fly over the city and take as many people as possible, so they can escape Rykuunh and find safety elsewhere. In three days, the world government will send troops into the city." "They gave us a date?" "Why not? It''s no secret that the World Union wants the Black Orb. And it''s no secret that the rebels won¡¯t give it up. In three days, they¡¯ll bomb the city until not a single building is left standing. They¡¯ll kill anyone who stands in their way." "They¡¯ll search the research facility first. They¡¯ll find that damned thing there before any more blood gets spilled. Right?" Mirela remained silent, a silence that sent a shiver of fear down his spine. "They still have the pearl here, don¡¯t they? Tell me the damn thing''s still here." "They smuggled it out, Lex." "No. Then the killing will keep going," he said. "Until there¡¯s nowhere left to hide the Black Orb." Leaning forward on the bench, he watched a group of rebels standing in a long line. At the front, an officer sat handing out papers to those waiting. Men and women, young and old, signed them and handed them back to the officer. Miri had stood up and seemed ready to join the crowd of rebels filing out of the briefing room. They walked silently side by side through a basement passageway to a storage room, a large warehouse where they had already begun stockpiling essentials for the population over the past few months. Trying to say something that would break the silence between them, he asked, "What were those people signing up for back there?" "For more bloodshed," she said, as people pushed past her from both sides. "For more stupidity. More atrocities." "Can you be a little more specific?" "The rebels want revenge. They¡¯re thirsting for it, blind with rage. That¡¯s why they¡¯re looking for volunteers to blend in with the refugees and travel across the Great Sea to the other continent. They wanna go to Vega Prime, to the heart of the world government, and carry out attacks against the corporations. They want revenge for the war that the puppet government here started. They say they¡¯re doing it for the victims. But in truth, they¡¯re just doing it to satisfy their bloodlust." The boy stopped, as if he had walked into an invisible wall. "When are they leaving?" was all he asked. "That was the final call just now. As far as I know, the rebels are setting off in less than an hour. The first airships will fly over the city at midnight. Lex? What¡¯s wrong with you?" "Nothing," he said. "I was just thinking about what would¡¯ve happened if I hadn¡¯t asked you about it." "What do you mean?" Rebels streamed past him, and one bumped his shoulder, making him step aside. "We¡¯re going back to sign up," he said. "Then we¡¯ll get out of here before we get killed in this war." "What are you talking about, Lex? You told me yourself that you¡¯re happy here. We can¡¯t abandon these people. My family lives here. This is my home. We have to protect it." "The war won¡¯t leave much of your home," he said, more harshly than he meant. But it was the truth. "Maybe your family¡¯s already fled. You¡¯re definitely not going to see them again if you stay here. Because in three days, you¡¯ll be dead." He knew he should have said more. That there was a goodbye hanging between them. But he didn¡¯t know what. All he could think about was how every second he stood here made it less likely he¡¯d ever return to Vega Prime. "I¡¯m sorry." That was all he said before he left. ***** The briefing room had emptied out by now. What remained were the smells of sweat, stale cigarette smoke, and cheap aftershave. The document he held in both hands was worn and crumpled, so he had to smooth it out on the edge of the table. He had no idea what it said. Or why there needed to be a contract to carry out an attack on another continent. "Can I have your pen?" The officer looked at him. "The pen. To write." He mimicked scribbling in the air. The man in uniform patted his breast pocket, pulled out a pen, and handed it to the boy. With a firm belief in destiny, Lex signed his name and asked where they were supposed to meet. He had learned the word "where." But just as the rebel officer unfolded an old city map on the table, Arif suddenly appeared, snatched the signed paper from his hand, and tore it up right in front of him. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "What the hell are you doing?" For a moment, he stared in disbelief at the two halves of the paper in his hands, looking as though he was feverishly trying to figure out how to undo it. The dark-skinned rebel let the paper strips fall to the floor and put a hand on his shoulder. It was a firm grip, not a friendly gesture. When he tried to push him toward the exit, Lex slapped his hand off. "I¡¯m going with them," he said, pointing at the unfolded map. "At midnight, I¡¯m out of here." Arif seemed to consider his decision. But in reality, he was just hesitating before, in one swift motion, he unclasped the holster on his thigh, pulled out his handgun, and pressed the barrel against the boy¡¯s chest. He cocked the hammer. It clicked. "Loa," he said. "You come with me." ***** In a back room, Algernon Beaulac stood motionless in the shimmering dust. The evening sun slanted through the small basement window, casting his shadow right up to Lex¡¯s feet. As he took a drag from the cigarette between his fingers, the tip glowed in the darkness. It was so quiet that the boy could hear the faint crackling as the paper and the tobacco inside burned. Beaulac tapped the cigarette with his finger two or three times, knocking the ash onto the floor. "There¡¯s bad news," he said. Behind him, directly beneath the window, a prisoner knelt with a dusty flour sack over his head. "Things have come to light that make you look bad." "Things?" the boy asked. "Truths," Beaulac said. His heart raced in his chest. Lex knew a lot had happened in the jungle¡ªthings he couldn¡¯t tell the rebels. "These truths didn¡¯t sit well with us. They make it hard for us to trust you. Did you ever take part in the atrocities committed by the corporate thugs?" The boy remained silent. What do they know? he wondered. He glanced at the shadowy outline of the kneeling man beneath the window. "Not even once?" In the darkness, the glowing cigarette tip fell to the ground, sparking as it landed on the dusty floorboards. The commander stomped out the glowing butt with the toe of his boot, looked up, and said, "You were in Aalgongonok when a few corporate rats raped a woman and killed her husband. You took her baby." "I tried to save it," he said into the heavy silence, which pressed down on everything in the room, as though the back room were on a distant planet with multiple times the normal gravity. Under the weight of his guilt, in the face of his fear, even breathing became difficult. He looked into the shadowed face of the commander, searching for any sign of leniency. But his expression remained unchanged. "I wanted to save the baby, and I risked getting shot by Vasker to do it. I know I¡¯m no hero. But I didn¡¯t want to die, either. I put the baby in a basket and sent it downstream because Vasker was about to throw it in the water." Algernon Beaulac crouched down, picked up the cigarette butt, and dropped it into an old coffee cup filled with crushed filters. Then he switched on a dim light. The faint glow illuminated a thin woman with streaks of gray in her hair and olive-colored skin. She was dressed in a red robe, holding a boy, barely more than a baby, clad only in a cloth diaper and an old, oversized shirt. "Fishermen found the basket barely a mile downstream. They were on their boat when they heard the baby crying. Word spread quickly. By the next day, they were reunited." "Tell her I¡¯m sorry," the boy said. Ignoring his request, the commander continued, "Getting her baby back made her as happy as you can imagine. But she never forgot what was done to her. Or who did it. She swore revenge. Three weeks ago, she fled the jungle. She braved the war in the cities just to come to us. We promised her we would find those responsible." "And now you¡¯re going to kill me?" "That¡¯s not up to me," the commander said. "It¡¯s up to her. We serve our people. Even though you helped us, I wouldn¡¯t hesitate to kill you if that¡¯s her wish." Then she spoke for the first time. Her voice was broken and soft, a choked whisper. Even if she had spoken in the common tongue, he wouldn¡¯t have understood her. Her face showed no emotion. He looked back and forth between the settler and the rebel commander. Suddenly, the commander drew a pistol from the holster strapped to his thigh and cocked it. "She says she¡¯s grateful you saved her child from the thugs." Even though the words should have reassured him, the commander¡¯s body language and actions told a different story. The cocked pistol in his hand left no room for comfort. If anything, it promised more trouble. "Imagine you had acted differently back then. Imagine you hadn¡¯t saved her baby, and had just stood by while the other rat threw it into the river. Your journey would end here and now. But instead, you¡¯re being given a chance to prove yourself to us." The boy hesitated. "What do you mean?" The commander turned toward the window, where the prisoner still knelt. For a while, Lex had completely forgotten about him, but now he was more present than ever, worse still: Lex already knew who he was, even before the commander pulled the flour sack off his head. The redhead was bruised and beaten black and blue. Weeks of torture had snuffed out the fire in his eyes, like a damp blanket smothering flames. His gaze was vacant, as if his spirit had left his body a long time ago, and now his heart beat on without a mind, his breathing mechanical and steady. "She wants to believe you hate the corporate thugs as much as we do," Beaulac said. "That you didn¡¯t want any part of this. But she also wants proof." He held the pistol by the barrel and handed it to the boy, grip first. "You have to let him go," the boy said. "Take the gun." "That¡¯s Ron," he said. "He didn¡¯t want any of this either. He hates the TC as much as I do. That¡¯s why they sent him to the jungle. Because he was a thorn in their side. You have to let him go. He could be one of us." The redhead didn¡¯t even look at him, but he had to have noticed him, had to have recognized his voice. "Take it." "I don¡¯t want to." "You don¡¯t have a choice. Loa." Sweat beaded on the young rebel commander¡¯s forehead. He wiped it away with his shirt sleeve. Even he was feeling the strain of the last few minutes. The boy lowered his gaze to the gun. He stared at it as though it wasn¡¯t just the destruction of a single person, but of all life on the planet. After a long pause, he took it and placed his finger on the trigger. It felt unnaturally heavy in his hand. He raised his head, looking at the commander, then at Ron. He made no move to fight or plead for mercy. His hand trembled violently. "What are you waiting for? Just shoot him already." "I won¡¯t do it," he said, glancing at the settler. She had taken her hand off her child¡¯s ear, who was sleeping peacefully in her arms. "I¡¯m not doing it," he said. "I¡¯m one of you. I want to fight for people¡¯s freedom. But I won¡¯t kill someone who was once good at heart, who can¡¯t defend himself." Beaulac stood motionless next to the boy. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his mustache as if he were feverishly thinking through the solution to a riddle. The back room remained silent for a while longer. The commander and the settler exchanged glances. She spoke a single word. Moments later, a gunshot rang out. Ron¡¯s face didn¡¯t change at all in the moment of death. He didn¡¯t even fall¡ªhis body, through some insignificant accident, kept its balance in a slumped posture, his chin resting on his chest, and dark fountains of blood gushed from both nostrils. The barrel of the pistol still smoked. Beaulac handed the borrowed weapon back to his aide. The scraping sound of a chair on the wooden floor echoed in the room. The settler stood up, and the little boy in her arms cried. Before she left, she paused, taking in the image of the dead man as if she wanted to capture the moment of her satisfaction and take it home with her. Without saying a word, she finally left the room. FORTY-FIVE: Held by Hope He panted, feeling like he couldn¡¯t go on, but he had to keep running. His heart thundered, his lungs burned. The monstrous, glowing shape floated above him, filling his entire view, blocking out the desert sky. Massive signal lights lined its sides, casting wide shadows over the barren plains. They shone just enough light for him to avoid tripping over the scattered rocks¡ªand missing his one chance to escape. A long plume of dust spiraled behind him as he ran. He reached for the rope ladder dragging across the desert floor. So close he could almost touch it. He lunged, missed. Summoning every last ounce of strength, he took one final leap, clutching the ladder¡¯s lowest rung mid-air. With both hands clinging tight, the ladder dragged him through the dust. Moments later, the airship soared past the canyon, and the ladder yanked him over the cliff¡¯s edge. Now, his survival depended entirely on the strength of his hands. He glanced down into the depths, his legs dangling above the moonlit land, the dry riverbed snaking through the valley hundreds of feet below. With every bit of his strength, he pulled himself up, quickly grasping a higher rung with one hand, then the other. He planted both feet on the ladder¡¯s lowest rung, bracing against the icy wind whipping across his face as he climbed. The whistling, roaring wind was so loud he couldn¡¯t hear the shouts from above, from the open hatch where they called his name. The next morning, he rose early, eating his meager breakfast while standing. His gaze drifted out the small porthole, chewing as he thought. They had flown over the wasteland that night. Now, as dawn broke, he saw the bombed-out ruins of an unnamed city below. He watched the morning sun rise over the mountains; the valley beneath them was still steeped in cold shadows. He avoided looking at the other refugees, but once, just once, he glanced and saw their sad, frightened faces. None of them knew he was the one responsible for the war. But he did. He set the greasy paper on a small standing table, licking his fingers, wiping his hands on his pants, then made his way past the other refugees. But it didn¡¯t matter where he hid on the airship until they landed; the suffering he¡¯d caused was everywhere. And no matter where he went next, the weight of his guilt would follow him. The next day, the airship landed on schedule in a vast field near a desert city, hundreds of miles north of Rykuunh, which had so far escaped the war¡¯s destruction. The boy joined a convoy that set off across the desert. They were a group of over a hundred young men and women, rebels from across the district, crammed into rusty old jeeps, crossing the Ba''kaar Plain, a never-ending stretch of dunes and dust, a desert region where Tau Ceti seemed to gather all its strength to scorch the land and snuff out life. But in reality, the Ba''kaar Plain was just a small part of the Great Desert, and the only one where life could cling on, even if just barely. The plain stretched northward from the equator, spanning thousands of miles across the continent. Past a certain point, the heat was so intense that things simply caught fire. No one had ever set foot in that blazing land, and only blurred satellite images proved that the desertscape was nothing but rock, volcanoes, and red sand. In the Ba''kaar Plain, the air was heavy as lead. Through the half-open side window drifted the oily smell from the swollen tar roads as they drove through abandoned villages toward Ronkondaar, a coastal city built of stone houses, locked in constant warfare with the World Union due to its proximity to major oil platforms. Once a thriving metropolis of over three million people, Ronkondaar, just like Rykuunh, had been bombed to ruins, with the last people streaming out in droves. Using fake passports that marked them as legitimate citizens, the rebels merged with the fleeing masses, scattering onto a dozen ships, a ragtag fleet of old container vessels and battered fishing boats, loaded with barrels of oil for the long journey across the Great Sea. ***** Still breathless from the mad dash from the marketplace to the coast, the boy crouched in the shadow of a towering winch at the bow of the cargo ship. A salty sea breeze swept over the deck, and he watched wisps of fluffy cumulus clouds drift across the blue sky. The heat was stifling. The refugees shielded themselves from the sun¡¯s glare by draping towels or sea-soaked rags over their heads. Around him echoed the sounds of children crying, hungry babies wailing, and mothers softly sobbing. He heard friends chatting and laughing, mixed with the nervous excitement of people gathering all around him. The ship¡¯s bow was dotted with countless stories, each one born out of hardship and injustice, now setting off into the unknown. These people had no idea what their destination would bring. They only held onto the hope of safety, freedom, peace. Just like the pioneers on the generation starship, he thought. Or like himself once, back on Limbo. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto his hands, clasped together as if in prayer. The heat was intense; still breathless, thirsty, he looked down at his dusty, battered sneakers. "Where do you even get a drink of water around here?" he muttered, wiping his sweaty forehead with his arm. He hadn¡¯t expected an answer. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. "I¡¯ve got half a liter left," a girl¡¯s voice said. He raised his head, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. She stood beside him, holding a dented water bottle. "Miri?" he said. The rebel girl walked past him, threading her way through the crowd. What was she doing here? She stopped by a little boy sitting alone on a stair step, skinny and wrapped in rags, his knees pulled up to his chest as he cried quietly. Mirela sat down next to him and handed him the water. Her gesture wouldn¡¯t erase all the world¡¯s cruelty, Lex thought. But it was a start. A start to show the world there was still hope. Slender columns of smoke rose straight up over the buildings into the windless sky. The bombed-out city of Ronkondaar faded in the distance until its crumbling ruins blended into a single, hazy silhouette, a solemn monument under the summer sky to all the things humans could do, both terrible and enduring. Lex had searched for Mirela until dusk. She stood near the railing on the upper deck at the back of the freighter, where the propellers churned the sea and left a long trail of white foam in their wake. The fiery red sun of Tau Ceti touched the horizon, its reflection glittering on the waves. "Miri?" he called. "Miri, you came with us?" "Papa used to say that one day I¡¯d reach a point where everything would make sense," she replied. "He was right. Now I understand why he wanted me to learn the global language. It was meant for me to leave home one day and explore the other continent." He hesitated. "This ship, Lex... it¡¯s going to be our whole world for a while. Will you help me make it right?" He looked at her. "Make it right? What do you mean by that?" In the weeks that followed, a fellowship of uninjured survivors from the war formed, all committed to helping those in need on the ship, whether by sharing food, blankets, shelter, or simply offering comfort through words or presence. Mirela Ma''vena led this alliance of kindness, though she was convinced that a group standing for humanity didn¡¯t need hierarchy, much less a leader. The helpers believed that their strength lay in unity, that with weeks of effort and sacrifice, they could free the ship from despair and suffering. But the wounds of the people ran deeper, and the sorrow was greater than they had first realized. So, their mission lasted as long as the ocean crossing itself, a hundred and six days... The ships had taken long detours across the sea to avoid the patrol boats of the World Union. One evening on deck, where their sleeping mats were spread out, an elderly woman told the girl that the government had sworn, under pressure from massive protests by the citizens of Vega Prime, never to sink another refugee ship. But reality, as it so often did, looked different. As long as the people of Vega Prime didn¡¯t know about it, the government could do whatever it wanted out on the ocean. Corporations wielded their power under the World Union¡¯s name; the government was merely their mouthpiece, and Blake Powers their puppet. Mirela translated the woman¡¯s words for the boy, but he only replied that she didn¡¯t need to tell him things he already knew. Mirela wanted to fight against the suffering, and for a moment, he believed he wanted to stand by her side. But it was mostly in the quiet of the evenings, wrapped in his sleeping bag on the lower deck, that he remembered he had fled only for Veela from Rykuunh, for a girl he¡¯d spent just a few days with and hadn¡¯t seen in years. A girl who had sent him away and lied to him. In his mind, parts of her face had already started to fade, just as many moments they¡¯d shared were slipping away, and the feelings attached to those memories dimmed. Still, he believed his purpose could only be fulfilled with her. ***** One evening, they sat alone on one of the lifeboats hanging off the side railing, as far away from the other refugees as possible in such a tight space. Behind them, the stairs led down to the mess hall, which, back when the freighter still sailed for the long-bankrupt WorldPort Corporation, had served a handful of sailors for entertainment and meals. "In three days, we¡¯ll reach Vega Prime." The boy nodded, looking up. Cold sea air, a salty breeze, new moon. The darkest night of all. Where were the stars in the open sky? "I still can¡¯t believe I¡¯m almost home." He didn¡¯t say it lightly; his time in Luvanda had felt like an unending nightmare, and he had come to believe the only way out was death, which had felt like a daily possibility in the jungle. "Will we stick together?" "We will." Their clothes were rough and smelled of stale sweat, of many different people¡¯s lives. But it didn¡¯t bother them. They were used to it. The girl from Luvanda lay in his arms, though he wasn¡¯t sure how that had happened. Her hand rested on his stomach, and even under the thick wool blanket, she was still cold. His head was full of thoughts, so much he wished he could ignore right now. From far off, the salty wind carried the sound of waves breaking at the bow. On the upper deck, voices murmured, unable to find sleep. "I like you a lot," she said. "I like you too, Miri." "Have you ever felt this way for anyone else?" He hesitated, mouth opening, the first word catching in his throat. Finally, he started again and said, "I think I know where this is going." "I want to ask you something." "Or something like that." "Should I?" "I''m not sure." "We¡¯ve known each other for two years. I need to know where I stand." "I''m a good friend," he said, "like a brother." "I already have siblings. I want someone by my side who..." "I don¡¯t know how to say it, Miri, but¡­" She tightened her grip on his coarse sweater as if she wanted to hold onto him forever. Then she let go and sat up. He looked at her. The dim light above the hatch was their only nearby source of light. In that semi-darkness, he could just make out the shape of her high cheekbones, the light leaving a silken glow on her skin. Her large, honest brown eyes. What he thought and nearly said was true: she was beautiful. "She lives in Vega Prime," he said. "She¡¯s the reason I want to go back." It took him a while to look back into Mirela¡¯s eyes, and when he did, he noticed something had changed in the way she looked at him. And he knew in that instant that whatever had faded from her gaze wouldn¡¯t return. "Destiny," she whispered so softly that he could hardly hear her words over the icy wind. "I thought it was you." FORTY-SIX: Crossroads Only when the coastline of Vega Prime came into view could the people on the cargo ship finally feel certain that the world government wouldn¡¯t sink them at sea. They had reached their destination, but the reality that awaited was the opposite of all their hopes, the boy thought as he looked toward the harbor. He glanced sideways at Mirela, wondering if she felt the same. She gripped the railing tightly with both hands, gazing in silence at the foreign land they were approaching, steadily, at a few knots. Unstoppably. As if the sight filled her with an indescribable dread. There was no going back now. No returning to her home. She watched what lay ahead on the vast peninsula off the coast of Vega Prime. Taking it all in. Trying to accept it. A carpet of poverty covered the entire peninsula. The young sun rose in the east, casting the shadows of enormous industrial plants and smoking steelworks over thousands of slum shacks and makeshift tent camps. Entire neighborhoods were shrouded in the shadow of the factories, as if still trapped in night. For the inhabitants, time moved differently. Day and night were dictated by the towering industrial complexes above them, a symbol of how production ruled over their lives. Yet even the massive factories shrank into insignificance next to the monstrous steel wall, looming like a distant mountain range in the hazy morning light: a colossal barrier separating the refugee district from the rest of Vega Prime. Airways passed through the wall, and higher up, it disappeared into the low-hanging clouds, allowing the smog to rain down over the world of misery below. The sea breeze blew across the deck, whipping the boy¡¯s long hair into his face. The wind reeked of garbage, rot, and the acrid stench of burning plastic. Squinting, he searched Mirela¡¯s face for traces of feelings he couldn¡¯t find in himself when he thought about the future. "What do you think awaits us there?" he asked. Mirela¡¯s gaze was fixed on the horizon. She gave a joyless laugh. "We gave the people on this ship a glimpse of hope," she said. "We poured all our energy into making them feel better. But it was all for nothing." He leaned over the railing, staring at the churning water for a while. The sea surrounding the megalopolis was dark, and a shimmering film of oil spread across its wave-creased surface. The settlers had once filled the oceans and rivers of the New World with fish. Here, they floated belly-up in lifeless clusters on the water. ***** All those seeking refuge who had once lived outside the world government¡¯s jurisdiction were placed in crude shelters; many lived under tarps. Over six million people crammed onto the peninsula known as Adenaaru, a place that both accepted and excluded all refugees. Only after years of rigorous identity checks could people hope to be recognized as citizens of Vega Prime. Until then, they were left with the lowest of tasks. Adenaaru was a vast, isolated prison, cut off from the outside world with no access to the infonet. Lex met people who had lived here for over twenty years because no one could verify who they were or whether they posed a threat. Adenaaru was a smog-filled center of anger and despair, rage at having escaped lives filled with death, poverty, suffering, and violence, only to end up in a new one filled with insignificance and filth, again with violence and suffering, with poverty made even worse by the lack of family and home. Some were willing to ruin another life for a scrap more of their own comfort. Some did it for their families; others lashed out, eager to destroy because their world had been broken for as long as they could remember. Those who had fled war and violence lived here in even greater fear than back home, as if this were their destiny, as if mercy was never meant for them. On his way home from work in a canning factory, Lex took a detour through an alley flanked by towering stacks of container homes. Thick bundles of electric cables hung across the narrow spaces, and some residents had hung their rags over the wires to dry. The stench of the sewers rose from beneath manhole covers. Between two dumpsters, he noticed the urine-stinking corpse of a homeless man. Every night on his way home, he had seen the man crouched in that corner, slowly decaying among the trash. No one paid him any attention, as though he were just another fixture of the neighborhood, a familiar landmark in this dark part of town. The corpse lay there for several more weeks until, one day, the overflowing dumpsters were finally emptied, and the body was gone, too. Lex had no doubt they had loaded him with the trash into the garbage truck. ***** One evening, as he tried to call Mirela out for their weekly drinking bash at a nearby dive, a man held a knife to his throat, stole his week¡¯s meager earnings, and demanded his boots. Refugees were paid partly in coins like back on Limbo and partly in whatever goods they needed most. For three weeks, Lex worked with scraps of cloth wrapped around his feet until he finally received a pair of worn-out sneakers. After work, he got into a fight over Mirela with a worker from a distillery. When the man hit the ground, three of his friends jumped Lex, knocking out two of his teeth, breaking his nose and four ribs. Half-dead, they threw him out into the street, where a passing group of stranded souls, by chance kindhearted, carried him to a makeshift military infirmary. One early morning, Mirela came to visit him. She brought a bar of chocolate, which he couldn¡¯t chew, so he slid a piece between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, letting it melt. "You risked your life just because that guy called me a¡­" She paused, still too proud to say anything harsh, even in this dump. "You didn¡¯t deserve that," he replied. "I wasn¡¯t even there." "Still," he said, "you didn¡¯t deserve it." ***** He was discharged from the infirmary long before he was fully healed. His nose set crooked, his jaw swollen from the missing teeth, his bandaged chest aching with every breath; yet he worked fifteen hours or more daily at the canning factory. In a white paper coverall and hairnet, he stood in line with other refugees at the conveyor belt, trimming lab-grown muscle tissue from sheep. Sometimes clusters of bristly hair or odd animal teeth would grow unexpectedly from the in-vitro meat, and he had to slice them off. He placed three pieces of lab meat into each can, which high-precision machines drenched in oil and sealed shut. On the lid of the final product was a drawing of a smiling, blissful sheep with the label: Brave New Lamb Licensed by SnackBite Inc. ***** This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Mirela and Lex arranged their single day off each month to fall on a Wednesday. It was late afternoon, the last sunny day before a major storm front, a harbinger of the long autumn rainy season, moved in. They¡¯d been walking along the ochre-colored part of the Cordwell River for a while now, tainted with mercury from the nearby chemical industry in Adenaaru. Adenaaru was the only district bordering the massive landfill to the east of the city. The dump kept growing, already twice the size of Ataris, the largest district in Vega Prime. The only aircraft crossing over Adenaaru were enormous waste freighters, which opened their bellies to dump thousands of tons of household and electronic waste onto the towering mountains of trash; day by day, they grew. One such garbage freighter flew overhead as they sat down on a step near a withering riverbank and shared a thermos of water. "In a week, I¡¯ll get the decision about my residency permit," Miri said. "You got a good feeling about it?" She nodded. "I think so," she said. "Since I can speak your language, I¡¯ve got an advantage." "So can I. But they still haven¡¯t told me when I can get out of here." From here, he had a clear view of the waste incineration plants. The mile-high plumes of smoke looked like small, smoldering fires against the blue sky from a distance. Despite the distance, the sickly, rancid stench of rotting food and garbage reached them, thickening the air across the entire peninsula. They were silent for a while, until Mirela said, "I¡¯ve been thinking for weeks about what I want to say to you. I¡¯ve had the words ready for days. But now that the moment¡¯s here, I don¡¯t know where to start." "If it¡¯s about us again, then..." "It isn¡¯t. Not directly, anyway. It¡¯s more about us as an organization." "The Crimson Dawn?" "Yes," she said. "When we were sitting on the cliffs back in Rykuunh... you told me that you believed everything that happens has a purpose. I still think you were right." "And... what am I supposed to take from that?" She looked at him. "My whole life, I thought I belonged with the rebels. As a kid, I swore loyalty to the Crimson Dawn. But I don¡¯t belong with them. I realized that on the ship." He studied her face, wondering what might have changed her mind. He¡¯d always thought she was the most loyal member of the DFLL. "Just two days ago, there was an attack on the¡­" she searched for the right word. "On the administration office," he finished. "Yes. Nine people were killed." "But the Crimson Dawn attacked the TC, not people who had nothing to do with it. Not like the World Union did in Ronkondaar or Rykuunh, all across the Ognons District. Just dropping bombs on innocent people, on people who weren¡¯t rebels, just locals living their lives." "On civilians," Mirela said. "But still. You worked most of your life for the TC. Imagine if people like you were in that office... people who wanted no part of it." "There probably weren¡¯t," he said. "How can you be so sure? You told me about your friend, the one your commander executed right in front of you. What was his name?" The boy hesitated. "Ron," he said, "and he wasn¡¯t my friend." "You told me he was just like you. That he wanted no part of this." The river washed trash up onto the banks. He saw refugees rinsing their clothes in the muddy, toxic water, saw all the world¡¯s misery concentrated in this tiny spot. It wasn¡¯t only people from Luvanda in the refugee district; there were also those from the districts bordering Vega Prime, where the TC had declared war on the locals¡ªor, as the corporation put it, had ''liberated'' them from the oppression of the resistance. "And what are you going to do now?" he asked. "When I get out of Adenaaru, I¡¯m going to pick up exactly where I left off on the ship. I¡¯ll do what you¡¯ve always told me... I¡¯ll follow my purpose and help people." Lex watched the dirty river water churning for a while. Then he looked up at Mirela. "You want to leave the rebels? Then leave them. You won¡¯t get an opportunity like this again." Thoughtfully, he traced the scar on his right hand. In Luvanda, the DFLL had cut the tracking chip out from under his skin. It made him stateless, just as free as Mirela. The thought occurred to him: they could both build a life outside of all this violence, away from the war between corporations and the resistance, a life in freedom. Wasn¡¯t that what he¡¯d always wanted? She looked into the distance, shaking her head slightly. "Lex," she began, "in Luvanda, they tried to turn you into a killer. They wanted you to shoot your friend, Ron." The boy said nothing, lowering his gaze. "I want you to know it wasn¡¯t your fault. What happened to him there¡­ Bealauc and Arif left you no choice. Tell me, Lex, are those the good guys? Do they sound like it to you?" For a long time, he stared down at the dirty ground at his feet, scuffing at a tear on the stone with his boot, leaving a dark mark. "I¡¯d rather talk about something else," he muttered. "I understand that all too well," Mirela said. "The ghosts of the past are the nightmares of our present. I know that feeling. I know it all too well. You¡¯ve always done the right thing, Lex. Even when you had no choice, you always made the right decisions. Neither the TC nor the Crimson Dawn could change who you are. But for how much longer? How long can you stay strong? I¡¯m begging you, Lex, let¡¯s escape this conflict between the corporations and the rebels. This is our last chance." "It¡¯s too late, Miri." The low afternoon sun cast a golden light across their faces. Lex squinted into the sunlight, studying his friend, sitting close enough beside him that their shoulders touched. "You couldn¡¯t have known what devastation the Black Orb would bring to the people," she said. "The war in Luvanda... it¡¯s not your fault. You were used, Lex. Your whole life, people have used you." He looked at her, then down at the ground, saying nothing. "Your past is one more reason to come with me. Whoever that girl is, the one you¡¯re holding onto, the one you want to see again at any cost... you shouldn¡¯t. It¡¯s the wrong decision. You should choose this path with me. Your heart beats in time with mine." The boy looked out over the sea, where, in the distance, the pale-blue waste mountains of the megacity loomed. "Don¡¯t you think so?" she asked. But he couldn¡¯t give her an answer. He couldn¡¯t go with her. "You were my purpose," she said. "You were part of it, a chapter on the path I had to take to find the truth. When we were on the ship, helping people... I knew that¡¯s what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Helping others is my calling. I want to save people, not add more pain and violence to the world through war." For a long time, they did nothing but stare toward the distant plumes of smoke. The enormous waste mountains lined the horizon. In the distance, a fleet of new refugee ships appeared as silhouettes. "I want to leave the rebels and live a free life, and I¡¯m asking you one last time, Lex, isn¡¯t that what you want too? Freedom, I mean." "Yes," he finally said. "But where you stand now... I was standing there myself a few years ago. And now I know that freedom, justice, and peace are things you have to fight for." She nodded, but it was the kind of nod that showed she¡¯d expected this answer, not that she agreed with him. She didn¡¯t, and he knew it. "You¡¯re making a huge mistake." "I have to do this, Miri." She studied him closely. "You don¡¯t have to. You want to." "Yeah." "Will you betray me?" "I won¡¯t betray anyone." Lex rubbed his nose. "Least of all you." Mirela was silent for a while. At first, he thought he saw something like relief on her face, but what would have brought her that? Because he wouldn¡¯t betray her? If it was relief, it was soon overshadowed by something dark that came over her expression as she turned away from the afternoon sun, gazing out over the murky ocean. A damp sheen covered her brown eyes. Then, suddenly, he realized he¡¯d been mistaken; it wasn¡¯t relief at all. It was certainty. ***** The night before her release, they went together to a bar that, by closing time, was empty except for the two of them. Lex emptied his third glass while she was still nursing her first. Outside, the rain fell almost sideways, lashing against the buildings in violent gusts, streaming down the windows. From one of them, the boy watched the empty street. The storm blew trash from an overflowing dumpster, scattering it across his line of sight. He took one last, long gulp when she suddenly asked, "Have you ever thought that maybe everything you believe is right might actually be wrong?" He looked at her and lowered his glass. He had no idea how to answer. The next morning, he walked with her to the high-security gates of Adenaaru. Armed guards surrounded the large gates, and mercenaries manned guns on the elevated watchpoints, with armored vehicles stationed on the ground to ensure the refugees wouldn¡¯t dare to riot or attempt an escape from the district without permission. Some distance from the checkpoint, they stopped. She hugged him tightly, and he felt her tear-streaked face against his cheek. He only told her to take care of herself, though he wished he could say so much more. She promised and added a quick goodbye that had probably taken more out of her than anything else in the world. It was just a feeling, but as he watched her walk toward the exit, he couldn¡¯t shake the belief that she¡¯d turn back and look at him one last time. But she didn¡¯t. They never saw each other again. FORTY-SEVEN: The Neon Veil Lex had to stay in Adenaaru for another six months before he finally received permission to leave the refugee district. The appointed doctor examined his forged passport, flipping it over to read the information on the back. "How do you pronounce your name?" he asked. "Leeru Rey¡¯a," the boy replied. "Just like it¡¯s written." The gray-haired doctor looked at the paper, nodded, and placed it on the desk next to the keyboard. Then he sat down and entered the data into the computer. The small room had no windows. It reminded the boy a bit of the quarters on the ST SAMSON: cold metal walls, neon lights, and a grated floor under which ventilation pipes, water lines, and cables ran. The only personal touch was a family photo projected into the air next to the monitor. "So, how come you speak our language, despite being from so far away?" the doctor asked. The boy thought for a moment. "My father wanted me to learn the global language, sir. Said it would be useful someday. Had something to do with destiny," he said, thinking that the best lies were those that carried a grain of truth. "But you don¡¯t look like one of them," the doctor said. "One of them, sir?" "The natives of Luvanda." "Not all look alike." "Oh, but they do." The doctor typed something into the computer, causing a small red floor light to illuminate a glass vial filled with a clear liquid. When the light went off, he pulled a packaged syringe from a drawer and slid over to the vial, which sat among an array of high-tech equipment. Unwrapping the syringe, he drew up the liquid. The boy watched, a sense of unease creeping in. "What are you doing?" "Giving you your new ID chip," the doctor replied. "Looks like just a liquid to me." "That¡¯s right. The chip¡¯s in there. I just programmed your data onto the biochip. They¡¯re so small now you can¡¯t even see them with the naked eye. The older models were too easy to remove, and that caused us a lot of issues. Identity theft and trafficking, to name a few. Worse still, plenty of criminals have had their chips removed so they could disappear¡ªto set themselves up with a new identity illegally. Just like some of those Crimson Dawn rats, for instance." The boy clenched his jaw. "This way, though, the biochip is untraceable. Thanks to the liquid, it can move freely to different spots under the skin. It can¡¯t even be detected by scanners. If you wanted to get it out, you¡¯d have to lose the entire hand¡ªand few are willing to do that voluntarily." The doctor smiled. A moment later, he rose from his small office chair, approached Lex with the syringe, and asked whether he was right- or left-handed. "Right," Lex lied, holding out his left hand, which had never had a chip under its skin. "I need your right arm anyway," the doctor said. "Then why¡¯d you even ask?" "Because if you¡¯d been a lefty, it would¡¯ve given you a slight advantage. And that would¡¯ve made me happy." "What kind of advantage, sir?" "Your strong hand wouldn¡¯t be in pain, just your weaker one. And by the way, you don¡¯t need to call me ''sir.''" "Old habits, sir." "So, one last thing for the record: you might feel some pain in your right hand today, maybe tomorrow. That¡¯s normal; millions of other citizens of Vega Prime have gone through it." His voice grew softer toward the end. He held up Lex¡¯s hand and inspected it more closely. "Interesting scar you¡¯ve got there, son." He traced the old wound, a pale ridge of skin about two centimeters long running across the back of his hand. "That¡¯s exactly where they used to implant the old ID chips." The doctor looked up, scrutinizing the boy. This time, Lex had no answer. No lie came to mind that the doctor would still believe. It was as if his well of inventiveness had run dry for the day. "Tell me, how old are you, boy?" "Twenty-five. Says so on my pass.2 "On yours, or someone else¡¯s?" "Mine, sir." "All right. Once you¡¯re out there, you¡¯re on your own, you know that?" "Yes, sir, I do." "Uh-huh," the gray-haired man muttered. "What are you planning to do once you¡¯re out?" "Find work," he replied. The doctor tossed the syringe into the waste bin, sat back down, and rested his hands on his knees. With tightly pressed lips, he studied the boy. "Look, it¡¯s none of my business who you are or what kind of past you¡¯ve made for yourself, but let me give you some advice now that you¡¯re free: no one here trusts people from the other continent. Neither the citizens of Vega Prime nor the government. You refugees are under constant watch. The World Union keeps close tabs on you. They¡¯re afraid you¡¯re the ones most likely to join the terrorist network of Crimson Dawn. Don¡¯t even think about it." The boy looked at him, and though his eyes betrayed his fear, he merely shrugged, as if none of it concerned him. "Like I said, I¡¯m just gonna find myself a job. An honest job." The tunnel cutting through Adenaaru¡¯s massive refugee wall stretched over two miles long. At the end, no light awaited him. When he stepped out a hundred meters above ground, a drift of snow met him; the bustling megalopolis was pitch dark, save for the artificial sea of lights. Fresh snow lay in soft, untouched mounds on the railing of a bridge he was crossing. It was bitterly cold. Below, chunks of ice floated along the sluggish river. He found a dimly lit corner, and the first thing he did was send a quick message to the girl. An email, where he didn¡¯t use his real name but made it clear enough who the sender was. Only seconds later, a reply appeared: Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Delivery Status Notification (Failed) This is an automatically generated message about the delivery status. Delivery to the following recipient failed. [email protected] ***** In the heart of Ataris, the dark megastructures of the world¡¯s largest corporations stood facing each other like titans from ancient myths, conspiring together, scheming over how best to secure dominion over the world. The colossal black tower Lex was looking up at belonged to the pharmaceutical giant ROEMER. A never-ending loop of holographic advertisements rose along the building¡¯s exterior. The company logo rotated in holographic script on a skybridge connecting two of the colossal towers. Millions of tiny windows illuminated the steel facade. Across from this giant loomed the sprawling, irregular headquarters of the Thandros Corporation, reaching up into the floodlit winter sky. There had been an attack there a few months back. Light from the top floors cast a glow on the low-hanging clouds, drifting just above the tallest stories. SnackBite Inc.¡¯s headquarters projected oversized ads on the electrochromic window glass. Behind them, the corporate rats hid in their offices, hundreds of floors, thousands of employees. FutureDynamics, Bio-Technica, and Aero Corp. stood over the plaza like ancient guardians, a plaza Lex was now cleaning of civilization¡¯s trash. Meanwhile, the raging snowstorm seemed intent on ridding the planet of civilization itself. The voices of the advertising loudspeakers barely made it through the fierce howling of the wind. People pulled their hoods down tightly over their faces, clutched their collars high, and hunched forward as they battled their way through the storm. Piles of fresh snow covered the railings and blanketed the unheated decorative planters, where shrubs and plants stood locked in winter stasis. Steam drifted from a manhole beside the boy as he swept a half-eaten noodle box and its spilled contents onto his dustpan and tossed it all into the garbage bin on his cart. It was a full moon¡ªor would have been. Between the skyscraper canyon of Starship Technology and Orion A/S, a small sliver of the moon peeked through the snow-laden clouds. All around him, he heard the honking of cars, echoing announcements, police sirens wailing, ads blaring, people arguing, chatting, meeting, and forgetting one another. Ice and snow blanketed the world around him, yet life marched on, undeterred. He hadn¡¯t known it could get so cold in the megalopolis. That the winters could be so harsh. Pushing his cleaning cart along the walkway inside the imposing Corporate Ring, he rolled over scattered road salt and across a glowing floor grate. Beneath it, a powerful projector hummed, casting an oversized image of the corporation¡¯s CEO into the air: Zara Thandros, sole ruler over the plaza, over the planet, over all life. Her massive hologram created the only no-fly zone in the otherwise constant flow of gliders. Snow gusted down from the elevated walkways, which twisted like branching bridges around the government building. The great tower bore a holographic inscription¡ªWORLD UNION¡ªwrapped around its slender middle. Somewhere deep inside that building, the puppet Blake Powers sat, dancing to the will of the corporations. Crowds of homeless people gathered beneath the underpasses, building makeshift shelters among the trash piles, seeking protection from the snowstorm and any food they could find. But here on the glass walkways, winding around the black government tower over multiple floors, Lex only saw well-dressed people. They looked at him as if he didn¡¯t belong, as if he should be sweeping under the bridge, not on it. No one made a mess here; he was the only mess. It was nearly midnight, and the plaza was busier than ever. The trash that Lex and his district cleaning crew had picked up was already back in triplicate. Heavy bollards lined the western bridge access to the government complex, meant to prevent terrorist attacks involving trucks or other vehicles. Lex squeezed past one of the bollards and a group of corporate stooges blocking the way as he headed toward the entrance. Inlaid into the bridge platform was a square glass panel, offering a view of the highway below. Snow and ice clung to the glass, but closer to the entrance, the overhang of the corporate building kept the surface clear. The building itself was a monument, a towering black structure shaped almost like a deltoid, tapering at the top like the point of a blade. With gloved hands gripping his broom handle, Lex leaned on it, gazing through the frosted glass at the labyrinthine network of highways below. Cars streaked past beneath him like streams of light, an unending flow, new cars, new drivers, each on a different path, each leading a different life. How many people could there be in Vega Prime? Noticing the way some of the corporate rats around him were staring, he resumed his work, not wanting them to file a complaint against him. He swept a bit of fresh snow off the glass floor. Just then, a water bucket crashed down at his feet, denting the glass with a crack. The spilled water froze instantly. He heard someone cursing from above. He looked up to see a platform slowly descending, the motors humming. Through the swirling snow, he couldn¡¯t make out what was going on until the last moment. A window cleaner stood on the platform, dressed in a black uniform with the WU logo on his chest. He had shaggy hair, standing there like a government janitor, just like Lex. They stared at each other. "Mind handing me that bucket back?" the man asked. "Then I won¡¯t have to climb down. And while you¡¯re at it, you could refill it for me. There¡¯s a faucet back there." Lex studied the young man with the wild mane of hair. Green eyes, deep and clear as a lake, almost unscarred yet somehow older or wiser than his years might suggest. "I know you," Lex murmured, his consonants slurred, almost as if he were drunk. But it was just the cold, numbing his face. "You¡¯re¡­" "Doesn¡¯t matter who I am," CR replied. "No one here cares about that. All they care about is clean windows. Their damn windows. And if you care to look up" ¡ª he tilted his own head back, gazing at the millions of illuminated windows on the government complex¡ª "you¡¯ll see I¡¯ve still got plenty of work to do. So, if you wouldn¡¯t mind¡­" Lex braced himself on his broom, crouching down to grab the rusty handle on the bucket. He held it out to CR, but the window cleaner didn¡¯t take it. His eyes narrowed. He looked at Lex thoughtfully, as though lost in deep contemplation. Lex thought CR might recognize him at last, but all he said was, "You¡¯re like him. A floor scrubber. You¡¯re like Cal Rook, a drudge. Only instead of working in a grimy factory, you¡¯re cleaning the steps of the powerful." "Like Cal Rook?" "You¡¯ve got those hopeless eyes, no doubt about it. Cal nearly got crushed by a falling drone once. You almost got hit by a bucket. It¡¯s fate, drudge. Are you him? His successor? What¡¯s your name?" "Pretty sure I told you a few times already. Name¡¯s Lex. We used to work together. The glider factory. The food stand." CR paused a moment, but there was nothing there in his memory. All of it wiped clean. "And so the story changes in the blink of an eye," he finally said. "Just a second ago, I was cursing my clumsiness. Now, I see it as fate. What happened to you, drudge?" In a brief rundown, Lex told him about the last few years, hoping CR might remember him. As he spoke, he rested his hands on the broom, and when he finished, he laid his chin on his crossed hands, his gaze drifting off into the distance. The surrounding corporate goons were visibly annoyed. They despised low-level workers, but even more, they hated those who dared to take breaks instead of slaving away. An unauthorized break was like defiance against the system, against the established hierarchy¡ªit put everyone at risk. It was the spark they feared, the one that could ignite a blaze. But in the presence of the tall guy with the black mane, Lex didn¡¯t care about their scowls. "You wouldn¡¯t happen to know how to get in contact with the Crimson Dawn, would you?" CR glanced around quickly¡ªa reflex that drew more attention than it helped. The corporate bigwigs were standing far enough away to hear nothing. CR swung his long legs over the platform¡¯s edge, took a step toward Lex, and laid a firm hand on his shoulder. "I think I can help you with that, drudge." CR unzipped a pocket on his black coverall and pulled out a pouch filled with small, gold-shimmering pills, Vanta-B. "If I help you, you¡¯ll be ready to return the favor, right?" FORTY-EIGHT: The Government People Down the main street he walked along, industrial snow swept by in icy gusts. It felt like oil against his skin, blackened with soot. Snow clouds mixed with the harsh smoke from factory chimneys. In winter, everything the industry pumped into the atmosphere came down on the workers. It was 9:39 PM, and only seven degrees below freezing. Mild temperatures for Vega Prime¡¯s winter. He looked away from his PDA and across the street. At this hour, only the homeless were around. On the other side, facing the Cordwell River¡ªjust as polluted as the clouds above¡ªa group huddled around burning barrels provided by the Keldaraan district administration, meant to keep the lowest-ranking workers from freezing to death in winter. Next to a fenced-off construction zone, where the road had been torn up for sewer repairs, was a shabby building with dark windows. In front of the entrance, a man in a trench coat smoked beneath the flickering number 13c. Shadowed by the faint overhead light, Lex could only make out the man¡¯s silhouette and the occasional glint of his glasses, giving the impression that he was watching him while he took steady drags of his cigarette. The boy lingered on the other side of the street, surrounded by piles of rubble and trash bags. The wet asphalt reflected the lights of nearby shops. The letters E and M of a neon sign above a general store had fallen off, scattered in a mess of broken glass near the entrance. Lex entered the fully automated 24-hour shop, entered the drink code he¡¯d been instructed to choose, paid with the last of the credits on his PDA, and then stepped back onto the street with a bottle of water in hand. The smoking silhouette still stood in the doorway of the building. Lex crossed the street, approached the mysterious man carefully, and asked, "Is this 27b?" He took a swig from the water bottle, making sure to extend his pinky finger. It was the secret signal of the rebels, something he¡¯d learned to use back in Rykuunh. It symbolized raising up the smallest members of society. The man lit a new cigarette, its glowing tip reflecting in his data glasses. Up close, Lex could see how gaunt he was beneath the long trench coat. The man blew smoke in the boy¡¯s direction, then scratched a spot on his bald head with his own pinky finger. "Come on. Don¡¯t ask questions until we¡¯re in the car." Once they left Keldaraan on the expressway, the air coming in through the car¡¯s vents smelled noticeably fresher. In the rearview mirror, the massive dark cloud of pollution drifted over the receding district. Only the snow kept falling. The cloud cover spread eastward across the entire city. At one hundred twenty-five miles an hour, they sped through the blur of lights, past other cars, heading back toward Ataris. His contact lit a cigarette, shielding the flame with his hand. The cigarette case lay in his lap. He put away the lighter and offered one to Lex. "Go ahead, take one." Lex shook his head. "Quit ages ago," he said, eyeing the mysterious smoker next to him. "Are you the one I was messaging on the infonet?" "No, that¡¯s not me. But you¡¯ll meet the one you were talking to soon enough." "A she?" The man shrugged. "A she, a he¡ªdepends on how you look at it. With her, it¡¯s all a matter of perspective. But let¡¯s go with she. She runs our organization. That¡¯s who we¡¯re headed to now." The boy looked out the windshield. Was he talking about Veela? The shimmering lights of the district flew past. After a moment, he turned down the fresh air vent. "It¡¯d be a lot faster if we took the Hyperloop station. It¡¯s not far from here." The man wrinkled his nose, as if he¡¯d smelled something foul. "Would be faster," he said, "but there are more security checks. And if they pull us over, I¡¯ve got an unregistered automatic under the seat. No offense, kid, but why do you smell so bad?" "No secret," he said. "Spent a few months on a refugee ship. Then over a year in Adenaaru, and after that I got a job as a street sweeper. This stink¡¯s never coming off me, no matter how much I wash." The smoker¡¯s expression turned thoughtful in the silence. "Did you just say you¡¯re from Adenaaru?" he asked. "Yep, from the giant refugee district on the peninsula. Why do you ask?" The smoker didn¡¯t answer. Instead, he asked Lex to open the glove compartment, gesturing toward the closed panel. Lex did, finding a bunch of injector devices scattered around like discarded parts in a junkyard. Stimulants glimmered in the glass cartridges, casting a colorful shadow play on the inside of the compartment. "Hand me that stim, will you?" he asked, pointing again at the glove box. Lex hesitated, picking up an injector with a glowing purple liquid inside. "This one?" he asked. The smoker glanced briefly at the device in Lex¡¯s hand, then quickly turned back to the road. "No, that one¡¯s for reflexes," he said. "I just want to stay awake, not blast through rush hour. Give me the neon green one, that¡¯s the one I meant." Lex took out the injector loaded with the neon green cocktail, eyeing it curiously. "I don¡¯t see a needle." "That¡¯s because there isn¡¯t one," the smoker replied, taking the jet injector blindly from his hand. "It shoots the stim under your skin with high pressure. Here, I¡¯ll show you." Suddenly, Lex felt the device pressed against his neck. The cold metal against the side of his Adam¡¯s apple. Before he could react, the smoker had pressed the trigger. A hissing sound filled the car, like a gas canister releasing all at once. The boy¡¯s head spun. He felt his heart pounding fast in his chest. His vision started to blur, and all the sounds around him seemed to drift miles away. Even the smoker¡¯s voice. "Sorry, I lied to you. This one wasn¡¯t to keep you awake¡ªit¡¯s to put you to sleep for a while. Because where we¡¯re headed now, you¡¯re not going to like it. Not one bit. So, sleep tight, kid." Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Lex heard his goodnight wishes just before he slumped forward, unconscious in his seatbelt. The smoker clicked his tongue, watching the road through the windshield as he shook his head slowly. "You nearly drove us all right into the deep end, kid." ***** Darkness. Where was he? Silence. He opened his eyes. What kind of place was this? Tiled walls. The smell of blood. He could barely move his head. Was he paralyzed? He was paralyzed. A distant light. That exhaustion. The darkness. The next time he opened his eyes, hours had passed, and this time, he managed to move his body, though it hurt immensely. He was leaning back in a chair. Across the room was the driver, the mysterious smoker. There was someone else, too, someone he didn¡¯t know. Sitting at a computer, dressed in a grimy surgical gown. He paid no attention to him. Lex took a deep breath of stale air. The cigarette smoke lingered, thick enough that he could almost taste it¡ªstale and heavy as lead. The sharp smell of antiseptics. He slid off the chair, unsteady on his feet. "What did you do to me?" The doctor¡ªif that¡¯s what he was¡ªdidn¡¯t seem in any hurry to answer. Lex was so weak that he quickly had to sit back down. He was dizzy, his whole body hurt, especially his right hand. "Why am I here?" he asked. "You already know. You should feel it." "Feel it? Feel what¡ª" "Anything hurt?" "My whole body." "We may have overdosed the anesthetic a bit, which caused you to have some cramps in your sleep. But what hurts the most?" Lex focused inward. His right hand throbbed. Something was off. It moved as he wanted it to, but it didn¡¯t look like his own. The skin seemed artificial, nothing like his pale complexion. He touched it. Cold. Cold synthetic material, not skin. "The prosthetic isn¡¯t much of a beauty, I¡¯ll admit," said the underground doctor, still focused intently on the monitor in front of him, as if searching for the one in a million zeroes. "The main thing is that it responds to your thoughts. Looks aren¡¯t everything, after all." Lex looked from the doctor to the smoker. "You cut off my freaking hand and replaced it with a damn prosthetic?" "It¡¯s better than it looks." "Really," said the smoker. "The prettiest things aren¡¯t exactly known for being the most reliable." "I¡ª" Lex tried to collect himself. He opened the artificial hand, then closed it again. It responded to his command. He tried again, thinking he could detect a slight delay between his intention and the action. He compared its response time to his other hand. His left¡ªhis real hand¡ªseemed a little quicker. Or did it? He wasn¡¯t sure. He opened both hands in unison, then closed them again. There was no difference. It all worked just like his real hand, except it wasn¡¯t real. "Why on earth did you do this? My hand was fine; you didn¡¯t need to¡ª" "Not us, you," the smoker interrupted, his tone so sharp that Lex fell silent immediately. "You almost killed us all and destroyed our mission. I nearly led you straight to our hideout. You would have led them right to us." "Them?" "They¡¯ve been watching you ever since you left Adenaaru. I had no idea you were from there. We thought the TC had sent you back. We thought you¡¯d gained Zara Thandros¡¯s trust. That was the plan." The boy looked tensely at his artificial hand, breathing heavily. His mind raced, piecing things together. Then the truth dawned on him. "You had to remove the ID chip," he said. "Finally." "Taking your hand was just the logical consequence of the fact that you came from Adenaaru. They implant all foreigners with bio-trackers there, to keep them under control. We didn¡¯t have another option." Lex ran his fingers over the cold synthetic material, tighter than real skin, more elastic, a little like rubber. He rubbed the artificial thumb and fingers together, feeling the pressure at the fingertips. But it felt different, a little numb. Absentmindedly, he flexed the mechanical fingers in small waves. "And while we were at it, removing your hand, we made one more small upgrade." Lex looked up at the underground doctor. "You¡¯re now equipped with a brain implant, just behind your ear, where the tracker used to be. It acts as a cyber-interface, allowing you to access Crimson Dawn tech that you¡¯ll need to take on our most powerful enemies. Ever wondered what¡¯s up with the level-ups? This isn¡¯t a game, kid. The higher your rank, the higher your level, the better tech you¡¯re authorized to use, and the more skills you¡¯ll unlock. What level are you currently?" Perplexed, the boy reached behind his ear, feeling the cold metal fused into his skull. A foreign object. What was it doing to him? He activated his PDA and checked his character card. He was now [Level 29]. He needed 7,835 XP to reach the next level-up. He still held the rank of [Knight of the Dawn], with a series of new achievements unlocked from his time in Luvanda, the journey across the sea, and from the refugee district on the edge of Vega Prime. "We¡¯ve unlocked everything; now you just need to get upgraded at the base. Got all that, Moonchild? What, are you just going to sit there and sulk forever? Better get up and do what¡¯s right." When Lex looked up, the smoker was already at the door. Lex met his gaze, dark and brooding, thinking about what they had taken from him. Weighing it against what they had given him. It wasn¡¯t much. Just one thing. But it was enough to change everything. "I want to see her again," he said. "I wanna see Veela." ***** The speedometer needle climbed to one hundred fifty miles an hour. Just before dawn, they reached the Ataris district. They crossed a bridge, passing the base of the Thandros Tower, and got out in a crowded neighborhood by a marketplace lit by artificial lights. Up above, it might as well have been broad daylight¡ªthe skyscrapers crowded together like ancient giants in Luvanda¡¯s densest jungle, blocking any sunlight from reaching the residents below. Only a few snowflakes drifted down to the lower levels of the city. The storm raging over the megacity was undetectable here. The smoker wove through the crowd, and Lex struggled to keep up. Piled trash bags, packed to the brim, formed mounds in one corner beneath an underpass, where the sickly-sweet stench of rot filled the air. "What is this place?" "The banking district." "Doesn¡¯t exactly smell like money here." "That¡¯s because the bankers live up in the towers and dump their crap down here." Lex followed the man through a throng of people, as diverse as it was packed, with every age and wealth level mixing together. They passed a long row of grimy public toilets and food stands with TV screens playing Vega Prime¡¯s 24-hour propaganda news, only interrupted by corporate ads. The smell of food momentarily replaced the stench of trash, and citizens in threadbare winter coats walked past, illuminated by the glow of advertisements. The ads flashed so brightly across the lower windows of the skyscrapers that looking up was like staring into the sun. In the chaotic crowd, he saw TC mercenaries, poor shopkeepers smoking outside their stores, beggars, prostitutes, and injured veterans, as well as members of the upper class hurrying through, sidestepping those who had time to loiter with mechanical precision. He wasn¡¯t sure if these people were still awake, awake again, or just never slept at all. The smoker, who¡¯d posed as his driver until now, turned into a modest market alley, where the damp air carried the scent of exotic spices and warm food. He led the way down a narrow staircase to a dimly lit back alley cluttered with black garbage bags, where the rear doors of various shops opened out. Stopping at a metal door, he pressed the buzzer and showed his face to the camera. A moment later, the door buzzed, and it opened. The gaunt smoker in the long trench coat gestured for Lex to go first. Lex hesitated. Then he stepped inside. FORTY-NINE: Cr猫me de la cr猫me The rebel hideout in Ataris¡¯s banking district was a single office space, around sixty square meters, with metal walls, fake plants, ventilation ducts, and a row of thick mirrored windows that looked out over the marketplace and the milling crowd below. Among a few other resistance fighters who were reading newspapers or keeping themselves awake with coffee, Lex spotted someone who seemed both unfamiliar and strangely familiar. A face like one from a long-forgotten dream. Earl Tardino sat back in a worn office chair, his legs crossed on the table. With an open folder in his lap and a pen in his hand, he stared intently at a large monitor, as if analyzing critical data. At first, Lex couldn¡¯t believe it was really the spaceship technician from the ST SAMSON sitting there in the corner. "Earl!" he called out. Tardino looked up from the monitor, and the other rebels immediately stopped what they were doing at the sound of Lex¡¯s voice. None of them knew him personally, but one by one, they rose from their seats, paused their coffee breaks or card games, and began clapping, the applause of each person building into a loud ovation that echoed through the Crimson Dawn¡¯s hideout. Lex was taken aback by the attention, feeling a wave of discomfort rising within him; all these men and women seemed to know of his deeds in Luvanda, though he himself felt almost like an outsider to them. "You look different from the last time we met," Tardino remarked. "Yeah, it¡¯s been a rough few years." "Years can do a lot to a person," he replied, looking Lex over from head to toe, taking in his worn-down appearance. The sneakers were completely beat-up; the right sole was already peeling away, exposing a socked toe. Even the sock had a hole where his toenail had worn through. His pants were stiff with grime. In the oversized winter jacket, he looked far too thin, his face gaunt, his long hair tied back in a greasy ponytail. The glasses were taped at the hinges, the lenses scratched. He smelled as though he¡¯d crawled out of a dumpster, which only added to his miserable appearance. It was as if hardship itself had tried its hand as an artist, creating in Lex a portrait of hard times and a testament to the limits of human endurance. "But I¡¯m still the same person I was back then," he said. "Your eyes tell me something different. I see you still wear the old welder¡¯s goggles." The boy looked the former spaceship technician squarely in the eyes, fingering the scratched-up goggles hanging from a frayed elastic strap around his neck. "Yeah," he said. "Don¡¯t plan on ever taking them off." Tardino nudged a pendulum on his desk with his pen, watching it sway back and forth for a moment. Then, he said, there was no point in dwelling on one¡¯s life path, since neither the past could be undone nor the future foreseen. "And what¡¯s that supposed to mean for me?" "Veela told me a lot about you back then. You talked to her about your friends on the prison moon who were rebels too¡ªMorisa and¡­" "¡­Tayus. The goggles belonged to him." "Yes, Tayus. You told her you were applying to be a spaceship technician, just like you planned on the SAMSON. But that was never going to happen. It never could. Do you know why?" Lex looked at him thoughtfully, then shook his head. "You could never become a spaceship technician, because you¡¯ve been one of us all along. You just ran from that realization for a long time. But not anymore. I can see that in your eyes. If Veela was right about one thing," he continued, "it¡¯s that you can¡¯t steer your own fate. Sometimes, though, fate leads you through many harsh trials so that you can discover who you are, what purpose you were meant for. And once you understand that, you find fulfillment in dedicating yourself to that task. Every other effort would just be a detour, wasted time, lost effort, squandered potential. Do you understand, more or less, what I¡¯m saying?" Lex didn¡¯t answer. He thought Tardino¡¯s words sounded almost exactly like those of the hermit in exile. Nothing happens by chance. Then he noticed a framed portrait on the wall behind the spaceship technician, large enough to suggest that the man in the picture was someone important, someone the resistance revered¡ªor perhaps just someone Earl Tardino looked up to. Lex took a step past him, standing before the large portrait, which was adorned with an ornate gold frame. But it showed a man who seemed the least likely to care about precious metals. The ragged figure looked as disheveled as Lex himself, his eyes sharp but his expression wooden, jaded, and a little bewildered, as if he wasn¡¯t sure why anyone was taking a photo of him. After looking at it for a while, the odd snapshot almost seemed like a police mugshot for a criminal record. "Who¡¯s that?" Tardino stepped up beside him, crossing his arms and studying the picture, not as if he needed to remember who it was, but more as if he was reminiscing about the things the man had done, the deeds that defined who he was and how people would remember him. "That¡¯s the anti-hero we all want to be. He¡¯s the savior of the poor, though he was once the poorest worker of them all. That is¡­" "¡­Cal Rook?" "Yes," Tardino said with a nod. "That¡¯s Cal Rook. He gave the world¡¯s poorest what they¡¯d never been allowed to have: hope. He had nothing but his own life, which he dedicated to fighting the world¡¯s injustices." "His name is linked to a popular drug in Vega Prime." "Vanta-B, yes. He invented it." "What happened to him?" "Nobody knows." Lex stared at the picture, thinking. "You happen to know someone with the initials C and R? Wild black hair, tall and lean? He once sold me a Vanta-B. And he told me how to get in touch with you. I keep running into him." "Keep running into him, you say?" "Yes. What does it mean?" "I don¡¯t know," Tardino replied, though it sounded like a lie, or as if he was holding back part of the truth. He glanced at the framed portrait one more time, then returned to his chair and nudged the Newton¡¯s cradle on his desk¡ªnot that it was necessary, as it hadn¡¯t lost any of its momentum. "What did you learn in Luvanda, Lex?" "That the world doesn¡¯t care about you. That¡¯s what I learned. All that matters is doing what¡¯s right and paying the price for it." Tardino nodded. "Maybe you don¡¯t want to hear it, but that¡¯s exactly what Veela wanted to teach you. That¡¯s why she wanted you to go to Luvanda. You needed to see how the gears of the world interlock. To truly become one of us, you had to let go of your dreams and illusions. I was just like you once," he said, "and I had to learn the same lessons when I was your age. Veela did too. We each had to, in our own way, but they were the same lessons. Before I joined Crimson Dawn, I was full of illusions myself. Not anymore. Now I know exactly what I¡¯m fighting for¡ªand what I¡¯m fighting against." He leaned back, looking at the boy with something almost like fatherly pride. "Were you trained with a weapon in Luvanda?" Lex nodded. Tardino pursed his lips, casting his gaze around the hideout before he spoke again. "What you see here is the calm before the storm. We¡¯re taking one last chance to enjoy a simple life before we make history." He stood and stepped over to a filing cabinet beside a tower of stacked chairs. From one of the drawers, he took out a small device about the size of a hand, which on closer look was a portable holo-projector. Grabbing another chair, he returned to his spot, placed the device on the desk, and offered Lex the chair. As he took a seat next to the technician, Lex noticed a newspaper clipping lying on the desk. It was from around the time he¡¯d left the continent to head for Luvanda. The headline reported that Wolf Glider Inc., the company he¡¯d once worked for, had gone completely bankrupt after a stock crash. He couldn¡¯t quickly figure out what had caused the plunge in stock prices¡ªhe didn¡¯t really know what stocks were anyway. He only found it strange that his former employer had gone under, even though the massive glider factory in Keldaraan had once churned out the most popular models at assembly-line speed. How could a company so huge just vanish like that? "Even before you knew who Veela was, she was already stealing secret information from the TC," Tardino said. Lex tore his gaze from the old news clipping and looked up at him. "What kind of information?" "What do you think?" He shrugged. "Hopefully something that hurts the company." Tardino laughed. "Hurts the company?" he said. "When Veela risks her life to get her hands on sensitive information, she tends to think a little bigger than just harming a corporation. Did she ever tell you her ultimate goal? She dreamed of freeing the people on the prison moons. Your people." Tardino pressed a button, turning on the projector, and pushed it toward the boy. A hologram of a well-dressed woman appeared, looking him over with an open gaze. She was about the size of his hand. Brown eyes, shoulder-length hair worn loose. She had frameless glasses, a black pantsuit, and fine shoes with a low heel. The first thing he noticed was her posture, which wavered unsteadily between dignified and stiff, as if she were still getting used to her own body. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. "It¡¯s good to see you again, Lex Marrow," she said. Lex recoiled from the projector, frozen in place. That voice, he thought. It was unmistakably the voice of the spaceship AI. "Eerie, is that you? You¡¯re¡­ alive?" "Yes, I am," said the hologram before him, adding, "It¡¯s good to see who you¡¯ve become. And as I can see, you¡¯re now a bit more like me¡ªpart machine, and probably much more than you ever imagined." The boy looked down at his artificial hand, clenching it into a fist. He suddenly thought about how far he was from the person he¡¯d imagined himself to be back on the SAMSON, the person he¡¯d always wanted to become. "We often wondered what might have happened to you. After you set off for Luvanda, we heard nothing, and we thought we might never hear from you again. Can you imagine how relieved I was when you reached out a few days ago?" Lex hesitated. "I was messaging you in the Deepnet? CR gave me your address?" "I now manage the entire organization on Cetos V." The boy glanced at Tardino, who confirmed the AI¡¯s words with a firm nod. For Lex, he¡¯d already experienced too much to be surprised now that an artificial intelligence was running Crimson Dawn. "Lex Marrow, you smuggled invaluable resources into Luvanda. You gave the people there hope, a chance for a future." "I started a war," he replied. The ex-technician turned off the device, and the hologram dissolved into thin air. "I wasn¡¯t done yet¡­" Tardino patted Lex on the shoulder, signaling him to follow, and they walked over to the tinted window. Leaning forward, the spaceship technician looked upward, pressing a finger against the glass. "If you look all the way to the end of the street canyon, you¡¯ll see a glowing hologram in the sky. It¡¯s just blocked by air traffic, but in a moment you¡¯ll be able to read what it says." Lex eagerly pushed his glasses back up his nose. "Just wait a moment." He squinted, focusing hard. "Can you read what it says?" Still peering into the distance, Lex slowly nodded. "It says TCC," he said, finally pulling his gaze away from the tiny hologram far off. "I once looked at that tower through a telescope," he added. "The first day I got to Vega Prime." "That¡¯s the TC¡¯s communications hub," Tardino explained. "Vega Prime¡¯s famous broadcast tower. You can¡¯t miss it. It¡¯s the tallest structure in this whole mega-city, if you don¡¯t count the space elevator. Even taller than the Thandros Tower. And from here, it¡¯s only a few kilometers away." Lex nodded. "So, why are you showing me this?" "Because from up there, they broadcast the First News, day after day, hour by hour. Every piece of news hits every single screen across all of Vega Prime, live. From there, they control the Infonet too. They decide which information makes it online and which doesn¡¯t. No one can just publish whatever they want. The only thing the people of Vega Prime can do is send each other messages, which are constantly monitored by government programs. Freedom of speech? Not in this glittering megacity. But we absolutely need it if we¡¯re going to bring the truth about what¡¯s happening on your homeworld to the public. More than that¡ªwe need a wide reach." The boy hesitated. "We¡¯re planning to¡­ take over the broadcast tower?" he asked, skeptical. "If we do that, we can upload the data Veela got for us directly into the central system and broadcast it to the whole world. No one will be able to look away from the TC¡¯s crimes anymore. There will be uprisings among the people. The World Union will have to fear civil war. The prisoner-workers will finally be free if the corporation loses its power." Lex studied him thoughtfully, trying to pinpoint the most important question among the flood of thoughts racing through his mind. In the end, he wondered if he¡¯d even get an answer if he asked it. "If the TC is forced by public pressure to repeal the law on inherited debt and abandon the prison colonies on the Kronos moons," Tardino continued, "then humanity will regain a huge part of its freedom. And the most despicable and ruthless corporation in the New World will finally lose a substantial portion of its power." Lex pondered this. For a while, he gazed out of the snow-covered window, watching the vendors in front of their shops, observing the people passing by, soaking in the bustling activity. Were they really on the brink of such a major change? Was it truly possible to free the people on the prison moons, his own folk? "But that broadcast tower must be pretty well-guarded," he said. "Yea, it¡¯s more like a fortress. I¡¯ll be honest with you: many of us won¡¯t make it through this mission. But some will. The TC still hasn¡¯t grasped just how many of us there really are. They underestimate their enemy, and that¡¯s what will bring them down in the end. We¡¯ll unite every last one of our forces for the biggest operation in our history. We¡¯ll stage diversion tactics in other areas, set up street barricades to cut off their reinforcements, and launch a full-on assault on the tower from all directions. Ground and air." "Air?" Tardino returned to his desk, signaling for Lex to come over. Lex followed and sat down beside him, listening intently like a school kid waiting for his grades. "We stole some of the fastest gliders from the decommissioned Wolf Glider factory and reprogrammed them so we can fly them freely." The boy chewed his lower lip, looking deeply pensive. "Then what are we waiting for?" At that moment, the projector flickered on by itself. E.E.R.I.E. appeared before him once more and said, "The data to be uploaded to the infonet or broadcast on television is subject to strict control. Only a handful of government officers in the upper echelons of the corporation decide what can and cannot be published. The authorization process is conducted via a hand scanner in the office level of the broadcast tower, where the First News employees work." "You¡¯re not planning on kidnapping one of these officers, are you?" Lex asked. "That wouldn¡¯t work," Tardino replied. "As far as we know, there are very few of them. If one of them went missing, they¡¯d simply erase his biometric data from the system, making him completely useless to us. And our plan would immediately be blown. They¡¯d tighten security at the TCC, and our mission would be over." E.E.R.I.E. rejoined, "The server storing the biometric data of these decision-makers is located in a highly secure facility far from the TCC. We¡ª" Tardino shot the AI a sharp look. "Six months ago, we planted Veela there undercover as an employee so she could upload our biometric prints into the central server. This gives us the authorization we need to leak the classified documents from within the broadcast tower." "Six months ago?" Lex asked, his heartbeat quickening by the second. "And did she make it?" "We don¡¯t know." The uneasy feeling gripped him and wouldn¡¯t let go. "Why don¡¯t you know?" "Because Veela never returned from her mission." He stood up from his chair. "That was six months ago," he said, his pulse pounding, his face as angry as he felt inside. "Why hasn¡¯t anyone gone looking for her?" "We don¡¯t need to look for her, because we know roughly where she is. But to get there, we need a lot of¡­ resources. And we had to gather them first." He looked up at the boy standing over him and gave him a glance as if to say, Sit back down. But Lex remained standing. "I¡¯ll be leaving the day after tomorrow," Tardino said, "and I¡¯ll find out why she hasn¡¯t returned." "I''ll go." "You¡¯re almost a head shorter than I am. We had to make special gear for the mission, and it¡¯s tailored to me." Lex clenched his jaw, fists tight, not blinking once. "Then it¡¯ll just be a little big on me," he said. "It¡¯s not a space suit or anything, is it?" "No, but," the technician paused for a moment, "I know how you feel about her. If you go, I¡¯m afraid your feelings for her could jeopardize the whole mission. I think it¡¯s better if I handle this." "I¡¯m going," Lex said. "I¡¯m going to save her, just like she saved me. Just thinking about her is what kept me going in Luvanda. Her face is what guided me out of the jungle. She gave me hope when I was sealing cans for Snackbite in the refugee sector. Every day from morning until night. I would¡¯ve jumped from one of those container towers if I hadn¡¯t believed I¡¯d see her again. Don¡¯t you think you owe me this, after everything I¡¯ve done for you? After everything I¡¯ve been through because of you? She means a lot more to me than she does to you. I¡¯ll bring her back." Tardino didn¡¯t seem particularly pleased with his determination, yet he also didn¡¯t seem inclined to deny his request. Could he finally get something from the Crimson Dawn that he actually wanted? "Listen, Lex," Tardino said. "The people there mustn¡¯t know who we are. Who Veela really is. Before she left, we agreed on a code. If she¡¯s still alive and you find her, you can only ask her one question. Got that? You can¡¯t say a single word beyond that. Just the one question. Do you understand? Can you do that?" "Tell me the question." "Is Jax worth his price?" "Is Jax worth his price?" "Exactly. You absolutely can¡¯t say anything else. Don¡¯t strike up a conversation or try to rehash the past with her. Can you manage that?" "What¡¯s that even supposed to mean¡ªif Jax is worth his price?" "If Veela says yes, it means she¡¯s completed her mission and everything¡¯s fine. If she says, ¡®Hopefully,¡¯ then we¡¯ll know we still need to wait a little longer. But if she says no, we¡¯ll know she¡¯s in trouble. Just that one question, Lex. Can you handle it?" "And if she says no?" "Then you come back, and we¡¯ll figure out how to bring her back from there. Got it?" "Promise. I¡¯ll say only that," Lex said, though he hardly understood anymore. The whole situation was spiraling beyond his grasp. To make matters worse, E.E.R.I.E. added, "And whatever you do, Lex Marrow, under no circumstances should you smile." "Not smile? Why not?" "Because where you¡¯re going, your teeth will give you away. And if they see through you, if they find out you¡¯re not one of them, they¡¯ll do their best to lock you away forever. And if we lose you, then everything we¡¯ve ever fought for will have been in vain." Tardino quickly shut off the holoprojector. "So be it. You¡¯re the one who¡¯ll be searching for Veela. You¡¯ll need to accept the mission on your PDA, though, so we know who¡¯s handling it. Plus, the posted reward will transfer over to you." "My reward? I don¡¯t want a reward, I... just want to know that she''s alright." "Of course, noble knight. Now activate the holo on your PDA." Lex raised his bent arm to chest level, as if checking the time, while the holo¡ªvisible only to him¡ªflickered at eye level. Under the Missions tab, he saw the quest log, which was still empty. Suddenly, a new mission popped up, shared by Earl Tardino:
(!) A FRIEND IN NEED: VEELA (LEADER OF CRIMSON DAWN) Find Veela and discover why she hasn¡¯t returned from her mission.
  • Disguise yourself as a high-society citizen (0/1)
  • Use the Orbital Lift and confront Veela (0/1)
  • Return to the Rebel Hideout without blowing your cover (0/1)
DESCRIPTION Soldiers of the Crimson Dawn! Veela¡¯s unexpected disappearance is a grave concern. The success of our organization depends greatly on her return. We need a courageous hero, one who can not only look death in the eye but can also keep his composure while mingling in high society (yikes!). If you find Veela, ask her the secret question (given separately for security purposes) and bring any new information back to the Crimson Dawn headquarters. And do not get caught! REWARD XP: 4,275 350 Credits [Night Rider¡¯s Leather Jacket]
Lex tapped on the blue-framed item, opening the stats of this leather jacket.
Night Rider¡¯s Leather Jacket Rarity: Rare +225 Armor +12 Agility +9 Stamina +4 Strength Effects:
  • Nanofabric Protection: Reduces damage from projectiles and blade attacks.
  • Reinforced Design: Hardened elbow guards and shoulder pads for impact resilience.
  • Vital Monitoring: Tracks vital signs in real-time, triggering a Reflex Boost Stim when activated (2-minute cooldown).
  • Bloodflow Optimization: Pilot-grade air compression enhances circulation in high-risk situations.
Feel like a true outlaw, even without a motorcycle license!
Lex looked through the holographic quest text at Tardino, his expression questioning. "The Orbital Lift? What the hell is Veela doing in the orbit of Cetos V?" Tardino chuckled, sounding a bit mocking. "You¡¯ll be traveling to great heights to mingle with the elite. You have no idea how high up the cr¨¨me de la cr¨¨me of our society truly are. Quite literally, Lex." FIFTY: The Heights of Betrayal Nothing the Crimson Dawn had ever told him made any sense right away. Yet, with each step he took through the darkness they kept him stumbling in, he always ended up at a place where ¨C at least in hindsight ¨C their intentions suddenly became clear. He was counting on that happening again now as the shuttle doors slid open and he stepped onto the street in front of the entrance to the space elevator. His dress shoes, made of synthetic leather, sank into the fresh snow. His long wool scarf whipped in the gusting storm winds. He reached up to check his hair, freshly trimmed and combed back, not a strand out of place, every piece glued stiffly in place. He wore a pair of stylish designer glasses and a tailored black silk suit, though it was two sizes too large for him. His account held 150,000 credits¡ªyet no one had told him why he suddenly had a small fortune. It had to have something to do with the fact that they¡¯d dressed him up to look like someone entirely different. Like he belonged to the board of some powerful global corporation, he thought. Considering that the space elevator was linked to the city¡¯s expressway network, located right in the heart of Ataris¡¯ massive skyscraper jungle, the place felt suspiciously quiet. As if the citizens of Vega Prime had no reason to be here. Or perhaps a good reason to stay away. The space elevator was guarded by two security guards, though Lex hesitated to even call them men. They were more like machines. Just looking at them triggered a flight response he had to tamp down as he took a tentative step forward. He heard the shuttle lift off behind him, rejoining the flow of air traffic. He could hear the rhythmic pounding of hydraulic legs, metal on asphalt, metal grinding asphalt. The movements of the security cyborgs were quick and jerky, at once nimble and awkward. Their cybernetic eyes had already scanned him. "Good day," he said. Heavy armor plating protected the artificial joints and tubing protruding from their bodies. Their skulls, encased within their massive frames, looked more like leftover relics from evolution, outdated, almost irrelevant. Technology had replaced the last remnant of humanity: scanners instead of eyes, a glowing brain-computer interface at the temple, dozens of forehead sensors for enhanced perception, an air-filter implant at the throat, strange line patterns over the skin where subdermal plating reinforced their cheekbones and jawlines. "Leru Rey¡¯a, twenty-five years old, origin: Ronkondaar, Luvanda," one of them stated. "Not a resident, and no one on DENOVA-2 is expecting you." His voice echoed metallically, synthetic, as if even his vocal cords had been replaced with machinery. "I know no one¡¯s expecting me," Lex replied. "I¡¯m still going up." He glanced past the two guards to the immense elevator shaft. The delicate metal structure rose behind the barricades, narrowing to a slender line that stretched far above the skyscrapers and vanished into the gray snow clouds. "A temporary access permit is granted only once in a lifetime. Cost: one hundred thousand credits." "One hundred thousand?" "Stay limit is twenty-four hours and may not be exceeded. The residents prefer to remain among themselves." The one thing that didn¡¯t surprise him was the TC logo stamped across their titanium chest plates. It signified not belonging, but ownership. These two cybernetic enforcers were property of the Thandros Corporation, not individuals, but useful machines. Their sheer strength probably replaced an entire security force. "Then I¡¯ll take a permit," he said, his throat feeling scratchy, dry as dust. He wondered if Veela was truly up there. More likely, he suspected, the Crimson Dawn was playing him again, pulling him into another setup. His PDA suddenly buzzed to life, and the holo prompted him to confirm the credit transfer. He confirmed. "Please provide the registration number for your prosthetic hand," said the guard at the terminal. Lex couldn¡¯t tell if they were clones or twins. He could imagine how striking they must have once looked: finely chiseled features, symmetrical eyes, a straight nose, and well-defined brows. Thick black hair swept into a high pompadour with shaved sides, small ears close to the head. "What¡¯s the registration number for?" he asked hesitantly. "To confirm that your prosthetic isn¡¯t an illegal combat augmentation. Weapons of any kind are strictly prohibited on DENOVA-2." Feeling a sinking unease, Lex searched his PDA for the fake prosthetic license, opened the file with the hacked registration code, and held up the holo for them to scan, arm extended. His hand trembled so badly he could barely keep it steady, hoping they wouldn¡¯t notice and that it wouldn¡¯t cause trouble. The massive, two-and-a-half-meter cyborg before him nodded. "You may proceed," it said, stepping aside to let him through. With each pounding step, he could feel the ground shudder under his feet. His chest rose and fell beneath his starched silk shirt. He struggled to keep his breathing steady. "No weapon scan?" he asked shortly. "Already complete." His lungs demanded more and more oxygen, as though he were sprinting instead of walking. He may have moved a little too quickly as he stepped into the open space elevator cabin, then turned back to face the metal guards. Their fixed gaze drilled into him, and he felt as though their cyborg eyes were equipped to read his very thoughts. Maybe they sensed the deception at the last second. But it was too late¡ªthe elevator doors closed, and the lift began its long journey into the unknown. ****** Winter lay thick over the sprawling megalopolis. Between the snow-laden clouds, he saw the white-capped rooftops of skyscrapers and the swaying searchlights in the snowstorm. The city lights shimmered through the cloud cover, a mix of pure white, industrial gray smog, and the faint reflections of advertisements on and between the buildings. As the lone passenger in the glass cabin, Lex kept his gaze fixed on the Thandros Tower, which pierced the heavy cloud cover and loomed over him like a shadow he couldn¡¯t shake as he ascended. The last time he¡¯d been this high above the world, he¡¯d been huddled in an escape pod, sweating in terror. His knees felt nearly as weak as they had then, though this time, it was the thought of finally seeing her again that made them feel so unsteady. Thirty miles above Vega Prime, the space elevator rose through the stratosphere. Beneath the cloud cover, Vega Prime was now just a gray urban patch amid vast white expanses. Lex could see the immense ocean below. From up here, he could glimpse the other continent, Luvanda. From such great heights, the world seemed suddenly small and simple. It was anything but.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. The planet¡¯s gravity held the air molecules tightly, and soon the atmosphere appeared as a faint blue haze over the planet¡¯s curved edge. The blue shimmer pressed down by an all-encompassing black. As the lift continued its ascent, it looked as if the small sun, Tau Ceti, was rising over the planet. The evening sun lit up the clouds and landmasses of Cetos V, casting a hazy glow through the tinted glass of the elevator cabin, spilling a milky sheen over his skin. The tiny sun shone so brightly that not a single star was visible in the surrounding darkness. Just empty space, endless void. A voice came over the cabin¡¯s speakers, announcing that he would reach the orbital habitat in five minutes. He raised his eyebrows, realizing he¡¯d been so absorbed by the view that he hadn¡¯t thought to look upward: above the glass cabin ceiling, in the vast blackness, loomed DENOVA-2, a massive construct in the middle of space. The ring-shaped structure turned slowly on its axis, with a long central body pierced by golden solar wings, shimmering like the cosmic jets of a quasar. Perhaps it was designed that way, or perhaps it was a repeated pattern with no meaning at all. Lex stood firmly planted on the cabin floor, his head tilted back, and he forgot to close his mouth. ****** The space elevator had been gliding through the dark interior of the orbital habitat for quite a while, surfacing at last in a gleaming foyer, like a buoy breaking through water. The glass cabin doors slid open, and Lex stepped inside, taking in the vast, opulent entrance hall. Behind him, a group of elegantly dressed men and women entered the second lift. Among them, he spotted Chip Quinten, one of the two greedy brothers who ran SnackBite Incorporated. Lex had seen those smug faces on TV a dozen times¡ªtheir skin overly taut from facelifts, lips plumped, high cheekbone implants, synthetic chins, and even altered eye colors¡ªbut here in reality, Chip Quinten¡¯s presence ignited a much deeper anger. Lex couldn¡¯t help thinking of what SnackBite had done to the people of Luvanda, how they¡¯d made him toil in Adenaaru, how they profited from people¡¯s poverty. "Excuse me." The voice came from behind, and Lex turned, realizing he was blocking the entrance. He stepped aside, letting an elderly woman in an extravagant, high-end outfit walk past. On second glance, she looked not just old but ancient. She didn¡¯t thank him, seeming rather to expect an apology. The light glinted off her jewelry as it caught the reflection of the grand pendant lamp overhead. Each metal plate was gilded with gold leaf, casting a warm and soft light that softened the age of some of the people here. The foyer had towering, sky-high walls, as tall as those in the cavern in exile, he thought. He felt like being inside a vast mountain cave. Tiny and small. But it seemed he was the only one on the station feeling that way. His footsteps echoed across the cold marble floor. The lighting wasn¡¯t dark, exactly, but dim enough to rejuvenate an old witch and soften a hardened face. Maybe it could even conceal a corrupt soul, masquerading as something noble. Lex glanced at the company lounging on luxurious armchairs scattered throughout the foyer¡ªthe world¡¯s elite exchanging pleasantries. He recognized Per Olofsson, the former head of Wolf Glider Inc., bankrupted not long ago. Hao Long from Future Dynamics sat opposite him, placing her champagne flute on a side table made of violet amethyst, covering her mouth delicately as she giggled at his witty comment. "Sir? Sir, aren¡¯t you listening?" Lex stopped in his tracks, realizing that the receptionist behind the sleek sideboard had been waving him over. "You must check in before you¡¯re allowed to leave the lobby," she said. It was hard to guess her age. She held herself with perfect posture, her skin smooth and flawless, her friendly features betraying no sign of hardship¡ªnothing at all, in fact. She wore the uniform of the DENOVA-2 staff, her hair pulled back in a neat bun like the other women¡¯s. "You¡¯ve arrived at quite an inconvenient time, sir," she continued. With swift gestures, she navigated the holo-computer, taking in the information on each screen in an instant. Her movements matched her speech and her appearance: everything about this woman seemed perfect. "I¡¯m very sorry, sir, but we have only two rooms left for tonight: the luxury suite in Sector E-F-3-7-2, with a 180-degree panoramic view, whirlpool, wall aquarium, and private bar on a glass-enclosed starlit balcony. Or a standard room in Sector L-F-A-8-7-8 at the end of Corpus Dei, which has only a bed, a wardrobe, and a small window with a view of the Milky Way¡¯s center." "I¡¯m just here to see someone," Lex replied. "I¡¯m not planning to stay." "If I were you, I¡¯d take the luxury suite, dreamer. The bed doesn¡¯t creak like in the standard room." Another attendant, seated on an office chair, flicked boredly through an e-magazine on the counter, not even bothering to look up as she spoke. Unlike the woman in front of him, she lacked the polished, chiseled look: an oversized nose, a receding chin. Lex liked her unfinished appearance as much as her irreverent manner. In a world of appearances, honesty was worth more than any precious metal. "Sir, I''m very sorry, but you''ll have to take a room, whether you intend to stay the night or not." Lex¡¯s gaze drifted over the marbled tabletop as his mind traveled to a point in the future where the reunion and reconciliation with Veela were already behind him, and the two of them were together, sharing a bed. But which one? He still had fifty thousand credits left. That had to be more than enough for the luxury suite, he thought, deciding on it. "Very well, sir," the woman replied. "That will be five hundred thousand credits." Lex furrowed his brow. "I mean, I¡¯m not trying to buy the room. It¡¯s just for a night." "That is the rate per night, sir." The attendant cast him a look that could have been pensive¡ªor calculating. She held his gaze just long enough for him to feel uncomfortable. "I¡¯ve changed my mind," he muttered. "I¡¯ll take the standard room." "Of course, sir. The standard room is on special today, which is why we¡¯re seeing so many visitors. Today only, it¡¯s forty-nine thousand credits." He paid and received a digital key on his PDA, showing the apartment number and section. Tapping his artificial fingernail rhythmically against the table, he said, "Like I said, I¡¯m here to see someone, but I¡¯m not sure where she is. Could you help me out?" "I''m very sorry, sir, but we''re not permitted to provide information about residents or visitors on DENOVA-2 to third parties." "Maybe she¡¯s not a resident," said the girl, setting down her e-magazine, leaning back in her chair, and sizing him up. "Highly unlikely," replied the efficient attendant. "Statistically, almost all visitors prepare in advance, meaning the gentleman in front of us should know that all essential information about DENOVA-2 personnel is available on our infonet page, including appointment bookings. I know I¡¯m advised not to express everything in percentages, but in this case, it''s prudent to reinforce my point: ninety-nine point seven percent of visitors prepare for their trip¡ªbased on user preferences and dwell time on our infonet site." "No offense, Michelle, but you can pull up all the data you want. A look into his eyes is enough to tell me he has no idea where he really is. He''s only here because he¡¯s hoping to see someone. Someone who means a lot to him." Her gaze lingered on Lex, and then she turned back to her colleague with a smile. "That''s called empathy, Michelle, a pretty useful tool for reading situations. But I guess empathy is outside your toolkit." The attendant remained silent, her posture impeccably straight. It was hard to tell if the words stung or if she was just processing the metaphor, working to decode it and reach its meaning. "I''m pretty sure she works here," Lex said. "Her name¡¯s Veela." The younger receptionist looked at him over her glasses, and a jolt of panic struck him. I shouldn¡¯t have said her name, he thought, feeling his face tense as if in pain. His heart pounded, his throat tightened, blocking his breath, and cold sweat prickled down his back. "Veela is indeed an employee on DENOVA-2," the attendant finally said. "Not just any employee," the girl interjected. "She¡¯s far more popular than we are. A little star on the habitat station, you could say. Or a prized possession to some, a trophy to others. Either way, she''s always booked up." Lex glanced over at her without moving his head, still feeling like a block of granite, now carved with a thousand questions. He could breathe again, though shallowly and quickly. "I¡¯m sorry, sir, but booking an employee is an exclusive right of the residents. You don¡¯t have the privilege of meeting Veela or otherwise occupying her time." Lex blinked nervously. Slowly, his body relaxed; he rolled his shoulders and arms, dropped his gaze¡ªand noticed he¡¯d scratched faint grooves into the tabletop with his artificial nails. "So, where does she work, then?" he asked. There didn¡¯t seem to be any regulation prohibiting visitors from knowing the whereabouts of an employee. Instead, the efficient attendant seemed to be calculating the potential consequences of actually giving him an answer. "At Delilah''s Tears," the other attendant offered. "It¡¯s the most popular restaurant on the station. Though it''ll take you ages to walk there on foot. It''s all the way at the far end of the Corpus Dei." Lex nodded in thanks and checked his PDA as he left. One thousand credits remained. That would be enough to live for two months in Keldaraan, but what would it get him at that high-end restaurant? With luck, maybe an appetizer. With even more luck, a few seconds of Veela''s precious time. What had she become? FIFTY-ONE: The Changing World Before him stretched an immense, tubular hall that seemed to extend endlessly into the distance¡ªthe Corpus Dei. The corridor narrowed as it reached the vanishing point miles ahead, shrinking into infinity. Just above him, gliders zipped between docking points, ferrying people to their destinations. Beyond the panoramic windows, the moon Chiron hovered so close it seemed within reach. The shimmering colony lights on its shadowed side reflected off the station''s exterior. The colossal residential ring rotated in space at a deliberate, almost imperceptible pace. A thousand illuminated windows flickered like stars. Lex had never imagined there could be so many wealthy people in the New World. They all lived here. People for whom an exclusive city district was no longer sufficient. Walls weren¡¯t high enough; the gap between themselves and the rest of the world too small. Their wealth had lifted them above it all¡ªabove humanity, above the planet. Behind the glass, the crimson PT MOSES perched like a waiting spider on the docking module. The passenger transporter was about thirty or thirty-five meters long, with a wingspan nearly as wide. Its reverse-swept wings gave it a distinctive silhouette¡ªunlike anything Lex had seen before. Passengers would enter the docking module and step into a pressurized cabin, which would be raised on hydraulic arms and locked into place against the ship¡¯s frame. For now, the space tourists waited impatiently in front of the closed airlock. Lex¡¯s breath fogged the window as he stared out. Residents of DENOVA-2 glanced at him as they passed, their expressions curious, as though wondering when their frigid world of business had begun to attract dreamy stargazers. He took a step back from the glass, and in that instant, collided with the shoulder of a tall man. Dark skin. A brooding gaze. Acne scars. The man wore a captain¡¯s uniform¡ªdifferent from the last time Lex had seen him. The boy froze, rooted to the walkway as though Captain Adair¡¯s touch had turned him to ice. The dark-skinned captain didn¡¯t need to speak; his low growl was enough as he brushed past. Thick lips parted to reveal stark white teeth. His mood seemed even fouler than it had been aboard the ST SAMSON. Either Adair was in too much of a hurry to tear Lex¡¯s head off on the spot, or he didn¡¯t recognize the convict boy who had been responsible for the loss of his ship. Lex craned his neck, his gaze trailing after the man as he joined a group of passengers impatiently waiting at Airlock Nine. "Sir, may I help you? You look as though you''re unsure which way to go." A staff member stood at Lex¡¯s side, impeccably dressed in a tailored uniform, his posture straight, and his smile professional. "What¡¯s Captain Adair doing here on the station?" Lex asked. The blond man didn¡¯t need long to find the captain in question. Folding his arms behind his back, the attendant stood solidly, his athletic frame as unyielding as a statue. "Captain Adair joined our space tourism division three years, five months, and four days ago, after his freighter was destroyed in an asteroid field accident. Most of his crew perished. Since then, he¡¯s been running twice-daily trips to the moon colony for the station¡¯s residents. A round trip¡ªjust a few hours." "To the colony on Chiron?" Lex asked, glancing out the panoramic window. "What¡¯s there to see?" "The most visited sites are the waste incineration facilities," the staff member replied. "Following that are the hydrogen farms, which remain more popular than the massive crater mines where colonists extract metals and other valuable resources like helium-3, used to fuel the large fusion reactors on Cetos V. Would you like to learn more about the work on Chiron, sir?" "Quite the opposite," Lex said. "Sounds like a pretty grim place." "It is," the blond man admitted. "Not much to admire there except hard work." "Exactly. That¡¯s why the residents of DENOVA-2 go¡ªto see what hard work looks like." Lex touched the gap in his upper teeth between two molars. Was that a joke, or just a dry observation? "Beyond that," the staff member continued, "it¡¯s like an exhilarating safari for them." "A safari?" Lex echoed. The blond man with piercing blue eyes offered a warm smile. "A dangerous adventure, sir. A way to bring a little excitement into the dull routine of life. People travel to gain insight into the world and themselves. They must have their own experiences. Sure, they can gather knowledge from books or the infonet, but they need tangible, sensory impressions to truly understand life. I often wonder¡ªis that humanity¡¯s greatest gift, or its biggest weakness? What do you think, sir?" The boy didn¡¯t reply. He squinted as if against a blinding sun, his gaze drifting thoughtfully toward the captain. "Can I help you find your way, sir?" the blonde attendant pressed. "I¡¯d be surprised if you couldn¡¯t," the boy muttered. "I¡¯m looking for Delilah¡¯s Tears." The attendant tilted his head slightly to one side, a gesture meant to convey understanding and approachability. "I¡¯m terribly sorry, sir, but you¡¯re in the wrong section. Take shuttle G-Seven on the opposite side, Platform D, departing in thirteen minutes. Alternatively, you could ride the PT MOSES to the next central hub, which is just a two-minute walk from Delilah¡¯s Tears. That route would save you four minutes and thirty-three seconds¡ªmy apologies, nearly four and a half minutes." The boy raised an eyebrow, his gaze sliding slowly from the attendant to Captain Adair, who was herding the curious space tourists along the walkway like a mother duck leading her ducklings. A particularly grumpy mother duck, Lex thought, before muttering, "I¡¯d rather arrive four minutes later than lose my head in the process."This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. The blonde attendant smiled politely, then laughed¡ªa carefully calculated response. He didn¡¯t quite understand the joke, but he recognized just in time that it was a joke. Laughing at the residents¡¯ humor was part of his job on DENOVA-2. ***** The enormous double doors swung open, and Lex stepped into a cascade of overlapping conversations, punctuated by the clink of silverware, faint piano music, sporadic bursts of laughter, and an occasional cough. The elite gathered in small groups across the circular space, where panoramic views of the stars made the outer tables the most coveted spots. Gold adorned everything¡ªthe walls, the towering floor vases, even the gleaming solar panels outside the station reflected sunlight in a similar golden hue, casting warm light into the restaurant. A row of tall candle pillars flanked the plush carpet as the boy walked toward the reception. When offered a table, he declined, stating he¡¯d find his own. His eyes scanned the room. Elliot Coombs, head of Bio-Technica, dined with Leah Haley of Aero Corp. at table seven. Annabelle Wheeler appeared engrossed in a date with her holographic tablet¡ªlikely too preoccupied salvaging the reputation of ROEMER Pharmaceuticals after the recent pill scandal to join the other corporate titans. Lex noted the glances cast his way as he strolled past the elegantly set tables. The expressions on the faces of the guests were almost uniform. He didn¡¯t need to be a mind reader to understand their thoughts. They eyed him with suspicion, barely veiled hostility, as though he didn¡¯t belong¡ªdespite wearing their clothes, despite affording the privilege of being here. He felt like a spy, an intruder whose cover had been blown. But what gave him away? "Excuse me, sir," a waiter murmured. Lex stepped aside as the diligent server maneuvered past him, balancing plates for a nearby table. Yet the boy didn¡¯t move on. It was as though he had hit an invisible wall. What he saw froze him in place, fear creeping up his spine. Quickly, he slid onto an empty bench, shuffling to the farthest corner as if to melt into the shadows. Annabelle Wheeler glanced up, parking her half-smoked cigarette in a luminous crystal ashtray. She studied the boy through the haze of her cigarette smoke, her expression openly irritable at the interruption. The table was reserved¡ªfor her, and her alone. Lex avoided her gaze, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He had far bigger concerns at the moment. His eyes remained locked on Zara Thandros, seated one table over with Chester D. King and Blake Powers. The former was the chairman of the Starship Technology Corporation, a name Tardino had mentioned aboard the ST SAMSON. The latter was none other than the puppet president of the World Union. A cadre of bodyguards occupied the nearby tables, nursing drinks but ordering no food. Lex crouched low behind the tall artificial bamboo plants that served as dividers between the tables. Zara Thandros didn¡¯t look a day older, he thought. She leaned back in her chair, dabbing her lips with a silk napkin. Her gaze drifted idly to the panoramic window, where Tau Ceti was dipping behind Cetos V, vanishing into the blackness of space. The delicate blue haze of the planet¡¯s atmosphere shimmered along the curvature that stretched across the massive glass panes. What would she do if she spotted him? He didn¡¯t want to find out. Didn¡¯t even want to think about it. He shrank behind the electronic menu, holding it up like a shield in both hands. "Welcome to Delilah¡¯s Tears. May I take your order?" He glanced up at the waitress. She stood before him in a tailored uniform, her hair loose and styled, her eyes carefully lined with makeup. She looked older than before¡ªbut more than that, she seemed like someone else entirely. He said nothing. For a moment, he considered standing up, turning around, and taking the next lift straight back to Cetos V. Under the chandelier¡¯s light, her skin glowed pale, her cheeks faintly shimmering. He didn¡¯t even notice he was biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. "Excuse me? Are you ready to order?" Lex pressed the back of his head against the cool window glass. High above him, the crimson glow of the red nova spread across the blackness of space¡ªa milky smear sixty parsecs away in the constellation Cygnus, the remnants of a colossal, cataclysmic stellar collision. Veela stood right next to him, yet she felt farther away than the red nova itself. The girl smiled, a practiced, professional warmth. Lex felt dizzy. "Veela. Is this some kind of joke?" he asked. She held her tablet tightly, emerald-green eyes meeting his with a firm, almost analytical gaze. Then, suddenly, she tilted her head and grinned at him. "Oh, it¡¯s you," she said. "I didn¡¯t recognize you at all. It¡¯s been so long. How have you been?" She didn¡¯t really ask the question¡ªshe said it, a hollow pleasantry that demanded no answer. Her tone was cheerful, her voice light and carefree. Everything about her felt off, like joy and her very essence were natural enemies, two forces that couldn¡¯t coexist. "That¡¯s it?" he said. "How I¡¯ve been? That¡¯s your first question after all these years?" Annabelle Wheeler cleared her throat, audibly annoyed. Veela seemed to consider his question¡ªor pretended to. Then she shrugged, a playful, innocent gesture. In that moment, Lex thought to himself that the person in front of him was a stranger. He even began to wonder if someone had tampered with her mind, erased her true self. It was possible, he thought. These days, anything was possible. On her uniform, subtly woven into the fabric, was the TC corporate logo. There was so much he wanted to say, but no words would come. The unrelenting weight of the moment strangled his voice. "I¡¯ll come back later when you¡¯re ready to order," she said, her tone neutral but polished. Lex didn¡¯t know what he was doing as he slid out of the booth, stood, and followed her. His breaths came quick and shallow, but he had already taken the first step, and there was no going back now. Not that he even knew where back was. To the beginning? Back to Limbo? Morisa flickered through his mind. Then Miri. Then Tayus. He didn¡¯t miss them, exactly¡ªhe felt like he needed them. All of them. Now more than ever. The pianist on the central podium played the next piece, his fingers dancing across the keys. Lex swore the music grew louder, the notes echoing in his chest. He felt as though Cetos V had suddenly begun spinning faster beneath him. The last time he¡¯d felt fear like this was during the rebel assault on the corporate base in Luvanda. But he couldn¡¯t remember a moment in his life when he¡¯d been this angry. "You like it here, don¡¯t you?" he said, his voice trembling with fury. "My God, you¡¯ve found happiness up here. You¡¯re planning to stay, aren¡¯t you? Meanwhile, everyone else has been worried sick for weeks. They think something terrible happened to you. And here you are, living it up." Veela didn¡¯t answer. "When we ate together on the UNION," he began, his voice sharp and unrelenting, "you couldn¡¯t stand it anymore. You said the people there were too uptight, too... smug. Vain. Arrogant. Full of themselves. You said they acted like they were above everyone else. Above us. That they turned a blind eye to problems, only caring about their own little worlds. Do you remember that?" He paused, giving her a chance to respond. But she didn¡¯t. She kept glancing nervously over her shoulder as if she were running¡ªnot just from him, but from the truth. Maybe that¡¯s exactly what she was doing. "And now," he pressed on, his words like blades, "you serve those same people. No, wait. It¡¯s worse. You¡¯re serving people even lower than that¡ªthe corporate elite. Rats you used to blame for all the misery on Cetos V." "I¡¯ve changed," she said defensively, her tone sharp as she spun around to face him. "Over the years, my perspective on people has shifted. Back then, I had it all wrong." Her voice rose as she snapped, "And now, just shut your mouth and get out." FIFTY-TWO: End of the Line Lex should have just walked away. But blind rage drives people to foolishness, and so he made a mistake. And he knew it. He just didn¡¯t care. As he wove his way through the maze of tables toward the bar, where Veela was loading a tray with futuristic cocktails, Zara Thandros rose from her seat and started in his direction. There was no doubt¡ªher eyes were locked on him. He turned his back on the most powerful woman in the system, planting both arms firmly on the counter. He looked at Veela as though she were the greatest enigma in the universe¡ªthe kind of mystery that rendered all others meaningless. What lay beyond the event horizon of a black hole? Was there life among the stars? How would it all end? Dark energy, dark matter, the Fermi Paradox, the Pioneer anomaly, the great cosmic web¡ªall those questions seemed trivial compared to the puzzle standing before him. "I don¡¯t know how you made it here, but I think I can guess why," she said softly. "I¡¯m sorry. Do you want something to drink?" Her gaze met his, and every time she looked at him like that, there was something disturbingly empty in her expression. It wasn¡¯t feigned. It was real, and that made it even more unsettling. Lex threw a quick glance over his shoulder. Zara Thandros was gone. Her seat was still empty. Where had she vanished to? Veela slid a small projector across the glass counter and pressed the power button with her thumb. A hologram shimmered into view, displaying the bar¡¯s drink menu in midair. For a long moment, Lex stared through the flickering projection at the girl¡ªthe woman¡ªthe mystery before him. BLUE MOON HOUR SUNSPOT SHOT ¨C 750 CR. JAVELINE ¨C 850 CR. JAX ¨C 1,000 CR. CRYSTAL FOREST ¨C 1,200 CR. RED STAR DUST ¨C 1,400 CR. EARTH WINE ¨C 250,000 CR. He switched off the projector and pushed it aside. "Are you serious?" he asked, his tone sharp. Veela didn¡¯t answer. The bartender shot them a disapproving look. He was dressed in a pristine white suit with a black bow tie, immaculate like most of the staff on DENOVA-2. His features were striking¡ªhigh cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, symmetrical almond eyes, and a full head of jet-black hair that shone under the neon lights. He was intently focused on crafting a vivid green cocktail, meticulously picking herbs from a mahogany bowl. The way he plucked the leaves from their stems was almost reverent, as if the act itself were a form of meditation. He added a single blue mountain flower to the mix, followed by a measured splash of clear liquor¡ªwhether by instinct or habit was unclear. With care, he crushed the ingredients with a pestle, then poured boiling water from a gleaming golden kettle, steeping the mixture like tea. The elegant ritual, however, failed to entertain the wealthy woman seated across from him. Resting her chin on her manicured hand, she looked thoroughly bored. Her silvery, luminescent gown spilled over the barstool where she perched, legs crossed. A bejeweled pump dangled loosely from her foot as she yawned dramatically, despite the attention of three young station attendants vying for her favor. Still, she demanded her share of amusement from the bartender. On her command, he swiftly placed a polished glass before her, snatched up a tin shaker, and spun a bottle of liquor into the air behind his back. The bottle¡¯s neck landed perfectly in his fingers, the same hand already gripping the shaker. Liquor flowed smoothly into the tin as the woman clapped her hands in delight. The bartender let the frosted bottle drop. The woman leaned over the counter, watching as he caught it on the tip of his shoe. With a deft motion, he kicked it upward, spinning, and it landed back in its place among the other chilled bottles beneath the bar. At the same time, he twirled a long bar spoon through his fingers, creating a small gust that sent a napkin fluttering through the air. It floated gracefully down, landing precisely in front of the woman, just above her dazzlingly low neckline. In one fluid movement, he shifted to the opposite end of the bar, added liqueurs and other ingredients to the shaker, and made the ice rattle like a musical instrument as he shook the mix with flair. In a sharp arc, he poured the contents into the waiting glass, ice cubes and liquid soaring gracefully before landing with pinpoint accuracy. Only a single drop spilled over the rim. Without missing a beat, the bartender grabbed a small cloth napkin, flicking it like a frisbee toward the spill. It landed neatly on the bar in front of the woman, overlapping the first napkin, forming a perfect square. He placed the finished drink atop it with a flourish, then whisked away the damp cloth, crumpling it in his hand as he apologized. "This trick never quite works perfectly," he remarked with a slight smile, setting the glass on the now-dry napkin. The other, now useless, disappeared into the trash. Veela¡¯s voice cut through the moment. "So, have you figured out what you want to drink yet?" The boy¡¯s thoughts were still caught up in the bartender¡¯s choreography¡ªhow he¡¯d defied gravity, calculated the napkin¡¯s trajectory. Lex turned to Veela. The small spotlights above the bar illuminated her green eyes, highlighting the infinite depth within them. The incomprehensible. The mystery. He still felt the anger burning inside him, but it was mixed with something much bigger. Love, twisted into fear of losing her, which in turn spiraled into an existential crisis. "You lied to me," he said. "You¡¯ve done nothing but lie since the day we met. That amulet you gave me back then¡­" "Not here, Lex." "Why didn¡¯t you tell me what I was carrying around with me?" "Shut up, damn it." The bartender gave them a pointed look. A moment later, he excused himself from the rich woman and stepped toward a terminal. "I brought war to Luvanda," Lex whispered. "You¡¯re not just ruining my life¡ªyou¡¯re ruining your own if you keep talking." "And you think I care about that anymore?" He looked at her. Of course, she said nothing. Instead, she picked up an empty glass, reached into the ice bin with a sleek steel tongs, and plucked out a glowing ice sphere, letting it drop into the glass with a soft clink.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. "Every day I feel guilty," he said. "Do you think I¡¯ve had a single peaceful night since I came back from Luvanda? The war, the suffering, the destruction¡ªall because I brought that cursed thing there. Was it worth it, Veela? Tell me." She took a fine bottle filled with amber liquid¡ªunlabeled¡ªand poured it over the ice. The sphere cracked as the liquor enveloped it. Lex watched the level rise in the glass. It felt like an eternity. "As far as I¡¯m concerned," he continued, "I have a very clear opinion: it wasn¡¯t worth it. We never should¡¯ve handed the Bl¡ª¡± "That¡¯ll be one thousand credits," she interrupted quickly. "But don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s worth every single one." She placed the cocktail on a coaster, and as she did, she deftly slipped a card underneath it. Lex scanned the drink with his PDA, watching as the last of his money drained away for a measly drink. A Jax. Worth every credit, apparently. "Does that mean¡­" "Take the card," she whispered as she stepped out from behind the bar. Without looking back, she brushed past him. He lifted the glass and discreetly covered the card with his hand, slipping it into the inner pocket of his jacket. But he had the sinking feeling the bartender had noticed from the terminal. Lex half-turned to see where Veela had gone. She was wrapped in the arms of a slimy corporate rat. Not just any rat. Zak Quinten, the slimier of the two SnackBite brothers. She stood on her toes, batting her lashes at him. He wore an elegant tuxedo, adjusting his custom horn-rimmed designer glasses on the bridge of his nose. Then he kissed her. On the lips. And she kissed him back. After what felt like a lifetime, she murmured, "I just need to clock out. Then we can leave." Zak didn¡¯t want to let her go. He kissed her neck, slid his large hands to her hips, and pressed her against him. The glass shattered in Lex¡¯s hand. The cheap sensors in his prosthetic couldn¡¯t register the sensation of wetness. To him, the liquid on his synthetic skin felt like a faint pressure, something barely there. Veela pulled away from Zak¡¯s embrace and returned to the bar. She leaned over the counter to clock out with the bartender. Then, she turned back to Lex. His hand trembled with rage. His entire body was shaking. "He loves me," she whispered. "Do you know what that means?" He had no idea what she was trying to say. Just as he was about to follow her, the bartender grabbed his forearm, his grip so strong it sent pain shooting up his arm and caused blood to pool in his hand. The man could¡¯ve broken his wrist effortlessly. "You¡¯ll need to pay for the crystal glass you destroyed, sir," the bartender said flatly. "You¡¯re just a visitor here. The glass costs two hundred and thirty credits. You must settle the bill immediately." Lex used his prosthetic hand to grip the bartender¡¯s arm, pushing it away with a force that clearly surprised him¡ªa force equal to his own. The bartender let go. Lex slid off the barstool, watching as the tall, smug corporate parasite draped an arm around Veela¡¯s shoulders. Veela leaned into him, and together they strolled out of the foyer. Lex followed them. She clung to the man like a trophy, while he was her anchor to a better life¡ªor was it the other way around? The boy saw the world through a veil of tears, always on the verge of spilling over. A single thought, a word, a feeling, even a sound could trigger them. Don¡¯t imagine anything now. Don¡¯t think. Don''t. Around him, the guests continued their conversations. A woman¡¯s lavish gown spilled across the narrow pathway between the tables. As he hurried to catch up to Veela, he stepped over the expensive fabric without a second thought. But suddenly, a waitress blocked his way. She balanced a large serving tray over her head, its surface resembling the marble floors of the habitat station, though it was likely just epoxy resin¡ªpure aesthetics. Otherwise, how could her delicate arm bear the weight so effortlessly? The cleared dishes atop it remained perfectly still, as though glued in place. "Sir, we¡¯ve noticed your emotional state, and it¡¯s causing us concern," she began. "You¡¯re releasing a significant amount of stress hormones. You¡¯re even trembling. Based on your behavior, we deduce that you desire the lady who just left the restaurant with a resident. Unfortunately, I must inform you that visitors are strictly prohibited from utilizing the services of DENOVA-2¡¯s staff. This privilege is reserved exclusively for residents." The boy shot her a glare, equal parts anger and confusion. "What services?" "On DENOVA-2, our employees also provide residents with physical companionship. It¡¯s part of our premium service and core business model. Resident satisfaction is our highest priority. The woman you were pursuing is one of our most popular employees." The boy shoved the waitress aside. The tray slammed into the marble-like floor, leaving a dent. Porcelain shattered into a thousand pieces. The pianist turned his head sharply toward the commotion, cutting off his flawless symphony. The conversations at the tables ceased as if a switch had been flipped. "Sir," the receptionist called out into the tense silence, "we must insist that you pay for the damages and leave the station immediately. DENOVA-2 is a secure environment where no disturbances are tolerated." This place was full of problems, the boy thought, starting with the residents and ending with the staff. He bolted past the reception desk. Just as he did, a security officer rounded the corner and grabbed his sleeve. Lex twisted free by slipping out of his jacket and took off running. Outside the restaurant, he skidded to a halt so abruptly that his dress shoes squealed against the smooth floor. A squad of security personnel surrounded him. He glanced over his shoulder. More armed guards emerged from the restaurant. A dead end. Over their angry heads, he saw Veela stepping onto a docking platform, boarding a sleek glider. The corporate scumbag let her go first, offering her his hand like a perfect gentleman. If he didn¡¯t stop them now, Lex thought, Veela would sleep with that bastard tonight. The circle of guards closed in, their presence pressing like walls. His heart pounded in his chest, but the danger didn¡¯t even register. His mind tunneled on one vision¡ªan inevitable future. A suite. An elegant, luxurious bed. Two bodies moving in rhythm beneath silken sheets. One of them Veela. The other, not him. It couldn¡¯t end like this. Lex lunged at the guards, smashing through the circle. Hands grabbed at him¡ªone caught his tie, nearly choking him. Another seized his shirt, tearing the fabric as he wrestled free. His sleeve hung in tatters as he sprinted toward Veela and Zak Quinten. He was only meters away when the glider lifted off, gliding past him. The slimy corporate executive noticed nothing, entirely engrossed in Veela. Lex cast a glance over his shoulder. The guards were gaining. He sprinted to the last unoccupied glider, only to find a well-dressed couple climbing aboard. The man was hoisting a suitcase into the rear compartment, and the elegantly dressed woman had just placed a stockinged leg onto the glider¡¯s floor when Lex yanked her back by the arm. Her heel slipped off. She screamed. The wide-brimmed hat she wore flew from her head, spinning over the railing and spiraling into the lower levels of the station. The woman herself fell to the floor with an undignified thud, her dress hiking up as she landed. Her heavily made-up face was a mask of shock. "Sorry," Lex muttered, leaping onto the hovering glider, which swayed slightly under his weight. His eyes darted to the holo-console, scanning the options: casino, spa (whatever that was), shopping mall, caf¨¦, cinema, art gallery, observation deck, lobby¡­ He should have wondered why the couple wasn¡¯t putting up a fight. Why the guards hadn¡¯t caught him yet. But all he cared about was finding Veela. Just as he was about to select the outer residential ring, where the station¡¯s living quarters were located, a polished hand slid into his field of vision. It tapped the console and chose instead the security station on DENOVA-2. His breath caught. Lex looked up, his heart pounding. Zara Thandros leaned over the glider, staring into his face. Her eyes gleamed with an amused smile. She wore a blouse buttoned to her throat and a skirt, which she adjusted before swinging a leg into the glider and settling into the empty seat beside him. "The little dreamer came so far, only to lose his way. Now, he¡¯ll go back to where he came from: back to captivity, back to his roots. Isn¡¯t that right, you treacherous little rat? You were born a convict, and you¡¯ll die as one." FIFTY-THREE: Such a Loudmouth Lex glanced over his shoulder, down into the chasm below. The shuttle hovered ten, maybe fifteen meters above the ground. He considered jumping¡ªthen crawling, if he had to, to the space elevator. At best, he¡¯d break both legs. "I had your ID checked earlier," Zara Thandros said. "Leru Rey¡¯a? What a joke of a name. You¡¯re Lex Marrow. The convict boy from Limbo Two. I¡¯d recognize your stupid face anywhere." The boy remained silent. The shuttle was on course for DENOVA-2¡¯s police station, estimated arrival: two minutes. That was all the time he had to come up with an escape plan. But planning wasn¡¯t exactly his strength. His plans always seemed to go wrong. "Do you know what happens to terrorists up here?" Thandros asked. He didn¡¯t answer. He felt her move closer. Her breath brushed his skin; her perfume filled his nostrils. The fine hairs on his arms stood on end. "Rats like you," she continued, "we dispose of with the trash. We send them into the cold void of space, where the vacuum makes the tears in their eyes boil. Where it foams the blood in their veins and bursts the air in their lungs." She leaned forward until her face crept into the edge of his vision. He stared straight ahead, his mind racing. Should he take her hostage when they reached the security station? His dry tongue darted across cracked lips as he considered how to pull it off. The only dangerous thing about him was the dormant strength in his prosthetic. Could he use it as a weapon? "What¡¯s wrong, Lex Marrow?" she teased. "For such a loudmouth, you¡¯re awfully quiet. I¡¯d expect you to have a lot to say to me. Not only did you make it back from Luvanda¡ªa miracle in itself¡ªbut somehow you¡¯ve come back rich. Impressive. It¡¯s almost as if you¡¯re trying to win my trust, to impress me." Lex shifted uneasily in the soft leather seat. "But there¡¯s still one thing I don¡¯t understand," Thandros said. "What¡¯s that?" "No offense, kid, but the brightest mind of the New World clearly doesn¡¯t rest on your shoulders. And you don¡¯t have the guts to make it out here. So where did all that money come from? Honest work?" Lex clenched his jaw. Below, residents passed by, formless figures, formless objects, a shapeless world blurred by his unfocused gaze. His only clarity was within: the question of what to say to her to buy himself a chance. "From the Crimson Dawn," he said. Silence followed. A suffocating pause that electrified the air between them. He knew, instinctively, that no answer could have shocked Zara Thandros more than this one. But she recovered quickly. "How many of you are up here?" she asked coldly. There was ice in her voice, but he thought he detected a trace of bitterness too. "Are you planning to take innocent people down with you on DENOVA-2, just because you¡¯re unhappy with your own lives?" "My visit has nothing to do with the Crimson Dawn," Lex said.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Zara Thandros pursed her lips. He caught the movement from the corner of his eye. She didn¡¯t need to voice the question on her mind; he already knew what it was. "They owed me a favor," he said. "That¡¯s why they gave me the money. I wanted to come here. But the reason I¡¯m here? That¡¯s personal." "Sure it is," she said, her tone amused. "Well, far be it from me to pry. A secret¡¯s a secret. But would you be so kind as to explain how you managed to get the rats of the Crimson Dawn to owe you a favor?" He nodded. "Because I brought the Black Orb to Luvanda for them. The magical pearl I found in exile." Another pause. Another silence. But this one struck like the impact of an asteroid¡ªa devastating, soundless blow. For a fraction of a second, Zara Thandros froze. "I could tell you how much suffering the war brought to the people of that continent," Lex said, "and how guilty I feel because of it. But I doubt you¡¯d care." "I should kill you myself, you little shit." "I didn¡¯t know," he said quickly. "If that¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking¡ªI didn¡¯t have a clue. I didn¡¯t know it was for the Crimson Dawn. I didn¡¯t even know I was carrying the Black Orb when I went to Luvanda. They hid it in a charm they gave me. So, it¡¯s your fault that the rebels in Luvanda now have the Black Orb. You forced me to travel there when I wanted to stay here. Without your order to leave, the Black Orb would never have left Vega Prime. Maybe it would even be back in your hands by now." Zara Thandros let out a sharp laugh. Her features softened almost instantly, and a glint of malicious amusement returned to her icy blue eyes. Eyes that, with a single glance, could freeze the world solid. Lex had never seen her look so delighted. "You were their unwitting courier?" she asked. "The Crimson Dawn¡¯s puppet?" The smile that followed, the laughter bubbling from her lips¡ªit was real. There was a pure, unfiltered joy in her voice, a satisfaction at the thought of the boy being used in his na?vet¨¦. That even those Thandros considered the lowest scum of the universe had managed to manipulate him, deceive him, betray him. On the glider¡¯s console, she entered a sequence of numbers, altering the shuttle¡¯s course. "Shall I?" she asked, hovering her manicured finger over the button labeled Space Elevator. The boy couldn¡¯t find the words to respond. He had no idea what she was planning. The warm breeze from the glider¡¯s vents stirred his sticky, matted hair, carrying a faint lavender scent. It wasn¡¯t like the air on Cetos V¡ªthe mix of gases here on DENOVA-2 felt manufactured, like air blown through a heated fan in a stifling room. "Should I believe him and let him go? I really don¡¯t know what would be better for the little wretch. The world out there will eat you alive, if it hasn¡¯t already. Wouldn¡¯t it be kinder to end your life here, today? I could spare you so much suffering." The boy met her gaze. Her icy blue eyes sent winter shivering through him again. His tongue brushed against a molar that had been aching for days. He clenched his teeth slowly, firmly, swallowing hard. A moment later, Zara Thandros pressed the button. The glider broke off its route to the security hub, just half a mile ahead, and instead veered sharply toward the next stop. Lex could already see the foyer below. The bored girl who had been slumped behind the sideboard, chin resting sleepily in her palm, was suddenly gone. In her place stood the ever-perfect employee, upright as always, calmly addressing a group of residents. Her hands were placed parallel on the desk, her posture flawless. "As for the Crimson Dawn," Thandros said, "I believe you. I¡¯m convinced you¡¯re far too stupid to lie." She studied him with serene detachment as the glider descended toward the platform. Only as it neared the ground did the collision of negative gravitation and the artificial gravity field create rippling air currents under the glider. The vibrations emitted a high-pitched sound, like the twang of a taut rubber band. "I¡¯ll cover the damages you caused on DENOVA-2 out of my own pocket," she said. "No one will stop you from returning to Cetos Five." The boy leapt from the glider before it even touched down. His boots hit the ground with a resounding thud, far louder than the hovering drone of the glider. "Don¡¯t think for a second I¡¯ll thank you for this." "I don¡¯t expect your thanks," Thandros replied. "It would be entirely inappropriate. Because, as I said, I¡¯m not doing you any favors. You¡¯ll stumble into far worse misery before your life is over. And every time you fall, I want you to think of me. You¡¯re living a life that was never meant for you, convict boy. That¡¯s your punishment¡ªthe one intended for the offspring of scum and filth. You don¡¯t scare me. You¡¯re no one I need to fear. You¡¯re just a dim-witted little boy trapped in a man¡¯s body. A tragic figure. A loudmouth who keeps running headlong into dead ends. And you¡¯ll suffer so much more because you keep blindly stumbling through the future." "I¡¯m not blind," he said. "No, worse than that," she replied with a smirk. "You think you can see." FIFTY-FOUR: A Fragile Dawn He sat before a cheap laminate table, staring at the frost clinging to the edges of the windowpane. Milky, dim light seeped in from the towering buildings outside, casting shadows across the room. His feet were crossed on the table. His breath formed small clouds of mist. He wore a thick winter coat to fend off the biting cold. The heater technically worked, but there was no money to run it. It was still before dawn when the buzzer at the container door suddenly rang. The thin metal sheet groaned and jolted aside, and Earl Tardino stood there with a worn folder clutched in both hands. He didn¡¯t say a word as he stepped through the gap Lex had left open. He flicked the light switch on the wall and sat down on an empty metal chair under the window. "Did you meet her?" he asked. His once-long hair was now shaved down to mere millimeters. The overhead light gleamed off his scalp. He was clean-shaven and strikingly thin. "She was working up there. In the restaurant," the boy replied. The former spacecraft technician fixed him with his pale blue eyes. The last of his breath¡¯s mist faded in the cold air. For a moment, he held his breath. "And what did she say?" "She made me a Jax and said it was worth the credits." Lex took a few steps toward the worn-out desk chair, its upholstery frayed and torn. He spun it to face him and sat down. Tardino nodded gravely. "Then it means she¡¯s fulfilled her assignment. But why did she stay up there?" "That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been wondering too." The boy grabbed the empty cup from last night by its handle, studying the dried coffee grounds at the bottom. The chair creaked as he shifted. "She was involved with some corporate rat up there," he said. Zak Quinten." For a long moment, they stared at each other without blinking. Tardino seemed unsure how to react. Then he leaned back against the container wall, folding his arms over the old folder in his lap. "She must have a plan," he said aloud. "She sees an opportunity to bring down the SnackBite corporation too." Lex looked up from the coffee cup. "And you think that makes it better?" His companion glared at him, baring his teeth. In an instant, his expression shifted from thoughtful to a twisted grimace. "What kind of crap are you spouting, kid?" "When I saw her in that restaurant again," the boy began, "I realized how she really feels about me. Maybe I already knew before, but it was only then that I admitted it to myself." He paused, thinking, his face contorted in pain. He shook his head as if trying to dispel his dark thoughts. "I could never be with anyone else," he said quietly.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. "Holy shit." "I just couldn¡¯t," he repeated. "Because of her. Because of how I feel about her. And if she felt the same way, she wouldn¡¯t have done it either." "She did what she hated most in the world for you, for the Crimson Dawn, for your people," Tardino said. "She integrated herself into that slimy upper world¡ªthe world of lies and appearances, built on the suffering of others. She did all that for the ultimate goal: to make the world a better place in the end. For her, everything she¡¯s doing on Denova II is a means to an end. An evil she has to endure to reach her goal." "Yeah. She puts her mission above me," Lex said. "She always has. Even when she sent me to Luvanda. The mission¡ªthe Crimson Dawn¡ªwas always more important to her. I get that now." In the silence that followed, he avoided Tardino¡¯s gaze, staring instead through the small window at the snowy megalopolis outside. The city was lit by advertisements, everything gray and grim, ruled by the corporations. The people. The world. Everything lived by their rules. "Did anything else happen while you were up there? Anything worth mentioning?" Tardino asked. "She gave me a chip card." "Then hand it over. It¡¯s meant for me." "I can¡¯t," Lex replied. "The card was in my jacket. The one the guard took when he tried to grab me." Tardino furrowed his brow. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the folder and folding his hands as if in prayer. "That card probably held the explanation for why Veela hasn¡¯t come back to us yet. What she¡¯s planning with Zak Quinten." He fell silent, deep in thought. "What did you do up there?" Lex didn¡¯t respond. It felt like an eternity before Tardino rose from his seat and placed the folder on the desk. He walked past him to the metal door, opening it with the press of a button, and paused there. Outside, the day was beginning to break. Tardino¡¯s figure faded into a shadowy outline against the steel-gray light and the shimmering corporate advertisements. Snow fell over the bleak expanse of container homes, and the sounds of the city drifted in¡ªthe hum of traffic, the murmur of conversations among the residents of the slums. "There¡¯s no reason for us to wait any longer," Tardino said. "We¡¯ve achieved what we set out to do. The only question left is whether you¡¯re with us. If you¡¯re disappointed in us, then¡ª" "I¡¯m in," the boy said, his gaze fixed on the motionless silhouette in the doorway for a long moment. "Good," Tardino replied. "Then read everything in the folder carefully. It contains our plans, the tactical principles¡ªeverything you need to know for the mission. And get some rest. You¡¯ve been through a lot. In three days, we move out." The silhouette stepped out into the snow and cold. The door slid shut behind him automatically, and suddenly, the room was unbearably silent again. Lex remained in the battered office chair for a long time. The past weeks had been relentless. He had cleared four city blocks of the detritus of civilization, traded his right hand for an artificial one, and, just hours ago, narrowly escaped a habitat station in orbit. He hadn¡¯t slept all night. He should have been utterly exhausted. But he was wide awake. Eventually, he lay down on the bed and stared up at the metal ceiling, closing his eyes¡ªonly for them to snap open again, as if against his will. Sleep was miles away. FIFTY-FIVE: Saviors of the World What the equatorial belt was to the globe, the Cordwell River was to Ataris: it divided the district into North and South. They crossed the great river on a bridge, the sole access road to the grounds where the towering broadcast antenna stood. Illuminated metal walls enclosed a sprawling area covering several miles. Massive protective barriers, their scale rivaling the city¡¯s skyscrapers, appeared almost minuscule in the shadow of the immense tower. The tower¡¯s belly disappeared into a cloud cover aglow with city lights. Lex stared at the colossal structure through the frosted windshield of a transporter for a while longer, then lowered his gaze to his datapad. The live feed, transmitted by a media-savvy real estate tycoon from a neighboring skyscraper to the rebels, made the area behind the walls look more like a covert military base than a simple broadcasting station meant to supply Vega Prime and its citizens with independent news. "You won¡¯t get any wiser just by staring at it longer," said Tardino. "I¡¯m just trying to be prepared." "You¡¯re only driving yourself crazy." "I¡¯m running through all possible scenarios in my head." "You¡¯re trying to predict the future. But life doesn¡¯t let itself be prepared for. Life hates giving away its secrets. I¡¯d even go as far as saying that, in the end, the only thing that ever happens is what no one expects." Lex pressed his lips together, set the datapad on the dashboard, and looked outside. The windshield turned into a kaleidoscope of vibrant, shifting colors. The wipers swung back and forth at full speed, but they were no match for the blizzard. Signal lights flashed along the arrow-shaped road markers pointing the way to the broadcast tower. "Can¡¯t you turn that racket down? It¡¯s driving me nuts." A group of painters had converted the outdated heavy trucks into modern delivery vehicles for a logistics company that delivered supplies to the broadcast tower every other Thursday at the same time. The sides of the cargo hold displayed the company¡¯s commercial, playing on a loop; its cheerful, blaring music¡ªa hymn to global logistics¡ªpenetrated the cab despite the closed windows. "Not a chance," Tardino replied, reducing speed by five miles an hour. "We can¡¯t afford anything that would blow our cover. The element of surprise is our only advantage. Besides, the music¡¯s not half bad." The checkpoint, illuminated by floodlights, came into view, the long straightaway now flanked by TC security forces. The guards scrutinized the approaching trucks with intense focus. "What are those weapons?" Lex asked. "Did you see them? That goon¡¯s got one¡ªso does the guy next to him. Those aren¡¯t normal rifles." He glanced at Tardino, who was staring intently through the windshield, his tongue flicking nervously across his lips. "This is TC¡¯s top unit," Tardino said. "Their mercenaries don¡¯t use old-fashioned projectiles like us. They¡¯re armed with energy weapons. Expensive to get, but way more precise¡ªand deadly¡ªthan regular ammo. If you get even the slightest chance to snag one of those beauties, do us all a favor and grab it. A plasma weapon would tip the odds in our favor. Got it?" "Got it." Lex swallowed hard, but the lump in his throat refused to budge. He suddenly wanted to turn back, undo the last few weeks, leave the rebels behind. Fear spoke through him, a survival instinct urging him to flee. His fingers fidgeted nervously with the designer glasses perched on his nose¡ªa stylish, expensive pair provided by the rebels just before he¡¯d left for DENOVA-2. "Don¡¯t lose your nerve, man. We¡¯re all scared. But we focus on the mission. Just like Veela did." Lex glanced at Tardino. "I¡ª" "The panic¡¯s written all over your face. You need to calm down. It¡¯s not TC who shapes the future... it¡¯s us." Through the pouring rain, the checkpoint emerged, a diffuse and glaring beacon. On the external monitor feed, Lex spotted a guardhouse by the massive entrance gate. A metallic sliding door hissed open, and two armed mercenaries stepped out, their gleaming full-body armor reflecting the harsh glare of spotlights. One of them raised a hand, signaling for them to stop. "Here we go, buddy. Don¡¯t look so grim. Slap on a smile or something. Just look like you belong so they¡¯ll let us through." Lex tried. He wiped the sweat from his brow and tightened his grip on the pistol hidden in his lap beneath an oversized carbon-fiber sweater. Meanwhile, Tardino slowed the transporter to a crawl, down to ten miles an hour, then five... before coming to a stop just short of the guards. Their armor gleamed in the high beams as they stepped into the snow-laden light, walking around the vehicle. The falling snowflakes highlighted the grid structure of the force field beyond the checkpoint, a barrier encompassing the entire gate, large enough to admit a full-length cargo truck. One guard rapped on the driver¡¯s side metal door. "We don¡¯t shoot unless we¡¯re shot at first," Tardino whispered. "No firing until then, got it?" Lex loosened his grip, lifting his finger off the trigger. "I¡ª" "Got it?" The mercenary rapped on the window again, harder this time, his impatience clear. "Yes, understood." "Quiet now." Tardino rolled down the window. Snowflakes swirled in at an angle as he offered a friendly smile. "Good day, gentlemen. We¡¯re here with supplies¡ªright on the dot." "You¡¯re a bit early." Tardino shook his head with a confident grin. "Right on the dot," he repeated. "We received word the delivery was delayed due to a roadblock. You shouldn¡¯t be here yet." "Well, we make the impossible possible for our clients," Tardino quipped with a grin so self-assured it might have been the company¡¯s slogan. "Your ID and access pass." The voice that cut through the rain sounded synthetic, filtered through a voice modulator built into the mercenary¡¯s integrated helmet. Lex turned his head robotically toward the other side, stiff with fear. He stared directly at the threat. Another corporate guard stood outside the frost-covered window, rigid and unyielding against the storm, his laser weapon at the ready. Behind the golden, mirrored visor, it was impossible to discern any expression. For a fleeting moment, Lex had the wild notion that the mercenaries were androids. But the reality of human presence under the armor became undeniable as Tardino reached into a cloth bag, retrieved a grenade, armed it, and let it drop out the window. Lex¡¯s eyes widened in shock. He heard the guard curse and leap aside, but it was already too late. Silent as death, the grenade discharged, and every piece of electronics within several dozen meters died. The monitor went black, the dashboard displays went dark, and even the headlights flickered out. Tardino floored the accelerator, and the truck jolted forward with a rattling roar, the convoy rolling into the tunnel. "Why didn¡¯t they shoot at us?" Lex asked. "Same reason the force field¡¯s down and we¡¯re driving blind through this godforsaken tunnel," Tardino shouted. "That was an EMP grenade. Knocks out all electronics. Priceless, those things¡ªif you could even buy them." "Where¡¯d you get it?" "Told you... the Crimson Dawn has eyes everywhere. Even inside TC¡¯s highest ranks, we¡¯ve got people ready to fight the root of all evil." The blinding light at the end of the tunnel rushed toward them. On the other side of the protective wall, they emerged onto the broadcast tower grounds. At that very moment, Tardino grabbed Lex by the back of his neck and shoved him toward the floor mat. "Down!" he yelled. The moment they breached the grounds, the windows around them shattered in a storm of glass. Bullets tore through the air, thudding dully against the truck¡¯s metal shell. The monitor flickered back to life as if by magic. What Lex saw froze the breath in his chest: they were speeding directly toward the massive concrete base of the broadcast tower. Why wasn¡¯t Tardino slowing down? Why was he still accelerating?Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. "You¡¯re gonna get us killed! Brake!" Lex shouted. But it was too late. The truck collided with the concrete wall under the enemy¡¯s relentless barrage. The deafening crunch of shattering glass and screeching metal roared around them. The impact felt like falling twenty meters straight onto asphalt. Lex hung forward in his seatbelt, dazed. Tardino unlatched his buckle and slammed a button on the dashboard, opening the cargo bay¡ªleaving the rebels inside exposed to enemy fire. "Wait," Lex called. "We have to let the others out first." A deafening boom rattled the truck. "What the hell was that?" "One of their plasma cannons," Tardino growled. "They¡¯re burning peepholes through the cargo bay." "Then let¡¯s get out of here before we¡¯re toast!" Lex shouted. Bullets rained on the transporter like hail on a tin roof. Tardino nodded. A silent signal that it was time to escape the death trap. Lex slammed the release mechanism, and the gullwing door swung open. Without hesitation, he leapt down, Tardino following close behind. A fire smoldered beneath the crumpled hood, eating its way through the truck from below and licking up the blazing front tires. Thick, black smoke coiled around them as they set foot on the grounds under a relentless hail of gunfire. Lex immediately pulled his sweater over his nose, gasping more than breathing. His eyes burned as if thin needles were pricking them, but despite the pain, he forced them to stay open¡ªhe couldn¡¯t afford to lose sight of his leader in the chaos. Tardino blurred into a shadowy, shapeless figure in the dense smoke. "Wait!" Lex shouted. Melted plastic, burning paint, and smoking engine oil combined into a noxious miasma, a frayed veil of poison that scorched their lungs. Desperately searching, Lex caught sight of Tardino¡¯s silhouette and bolted after him. Gunfire and screams erupted all around. He found cover in a stairwell niche, and moments later, Tardino crouched beside him, shoulder to shoulder, both struggling to stay focused amidst the madness. "Where do we go now? Damn it!" Lex¡¯s voice cracked. He shouted the same question again, directly into Tardino¡¯s ear, but there was no response. Tardino¡¯s face was pale, his eyes wide with fear. He peered over the contorted bodies of fallen comrades toward the western wall, where one of their trucks emerged from the tunnel, fully engulfed in flames¡ªit didn¡¯t even make it onto the tower grounds. Mercenaries scurried back and forth through the broad beams of floodlights that flickered to life across the plaza. The remaining rebels were pinned down, trapped in a brutal crossfire but fighting back fiercely against the overwhelming enemy forces. "Look at this," Tardino shouted. "We¡¯re dropping like damn flies. Two minutes in, and we¡¯re already on the defensive, half our people gone!" Bright bands of focused energy crisscrossed the battlefield, leaving nothing but molten metal and charred flesh in their wake. The laser weapons'' destructive trails hung briefly in the snowy air like glowing contrails. "We¡¯re dying for nothing if we don¡¯t get up those damned stairs soon," Lex yelled. "Good point." Tardino called for the surviving members of squads one and two to regroup, but it was useless. The rebels were huddled behind and beneath the trucks, inside fenced-off generator compartments, behind crates, makeshift barricades, and oversized weapon lockers¡ªall trapped in the enemy¡¯s deadly crossfire. "Hope you did your homework," Tardino said. "What?" "The tactical basics. Did you learn them?" Lex nodded frantically. "Good. Then why aren¡¯t you using them?" Tardino opened fire, aiming roughly at the mercenaries pinning down squad seven at the rear of the convoy. Lex¡¯s thoughts raced, recalling the maneuver... fire and movement, a tactic designed to¡ª "You know, this would be a hell of a lot easier if you¡¯d lend me a hand," Tardino snapped, shoving Lex in the ribs. "Are you deaf? Stop overthinking and start giving our people some cover!" Lex took a deep breath, raising his pistol. Even through the storm, spotting the glowing high-tech armor of the TC soldiers was child¡¯s play. But before he could fire a single shot, Tardino nudged him again. "They¡¯re coming," Tardino shouted. "Look up!" Against the dark gray, storm-torn sky, a formation of about a dozen gliders blinked into view. "Our air support," Tardino yelled, grinning like a madman. Lex stared at the gliders, eyes wide with disbelief, as a handful of gasping resistance fighters emerged from the smoke and ran toward their position. Almost absentmindedly, Lex pushed his glasses back up his nose. "Aren¡¯t they moving way too fast?" he asked, his voice trailing off. Then he froze, unable to believe his eyes. The gliders streaked toward the broadcast tower at breakneck speed. "What the hell are they doing?" The gliders disappeared into the all-encompassing cloud cover. A moment later, the roar of staggered explosions thundered from above. The gliders must have slammed into the upper floors of the tower¡¯s main structure at full speed. Within seconds, shards of shattered windows rained down on the battlefield, confirming Lex¡¯s worst fears. It wasn¡¯t just his imagination¡ªit had really happened. He crossed his arms over his head as the hail of glass shards rained down. "What a load of crap," he muttered. "Whose genius idea was this plan?" "Mine," Tardino said, switching on the laser sight of his weapon. "And I don¡¯t think it¡¯s all that bad." Lex tried to get a bead on a mercenary sprinting toward a flat-roofed, garage-like building on the western side of the base. Only after a second glance did he realize the soldier was manning a massive turret inside. He watched as the gun''s barrels began to spin. Moments later, a barrage of projectiles tore chunks out of the tower wall, sending debris flying into his face and stray bullets screaming past his ears. Reflexively, he ducked and scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve to clear the dust. His hands trembled uncontrollably. "Almost lost your head there," Tardino called out with a laugh. "Yeah, thanks for pointing that out," Lex gasped, adrenaline coursing through him. "What the hell is that thing?" "A six-barreled Gatling gun. Quite the lovely surprise," Tardino shouted over the deafening gunfire. "Didn¡¯t I tell you? You can¡¯t prepare for everything life throws at you." "What now?" "There¡¯s only one option: take that gunner out, or everything we¡¯ve fought for is lost. Veela¡¯s dream of freeing the prison moons will die here." Tardino grabbed Lex¡¯s arm and pressed a grenade into his hand. "You know what this is, right?" "Yeah, I know. But I¡¯ve got no clue what to do with it." "You circle around the tower while I draw his fire. When you¡¯re in range, you toss that thing right into his hut. Got it?" "Why me?" Lex weighed the cold, palm-sized grenade in his hand, desperately trying to think of another way. "Pull yourself together and listen," Tardino said. "When you pull the pin, count to three¡ªno more, no less¡ªbefore you throw it. Understand?" "And then?" "It¡¯ll release an electromagnetic pulse that¡¯ll shut down the turret for a while. That¡¯ll give us the window we need to get up the stairs to the tower." Lex stared at the grenade in his hand, deep in thought. "Think about why Veela risked her life," Tardino said. "To free the prisoners on the Kronos moons. Your people. Don¡¯t you want to be part of that?" He paused, as though hoping for a response, then yanked Lex by the collar of his sweater and shoved him toward the turret¡¯s line of fire. Lex had no choice but to run¡ªand he did. Keeping low, he crept along the tower¡¯s facade. Against his better judgment, he glanced back. Tardino crouched at the base of the stairs, back to the wall, blindly firing his submachine gun over his head in the turret¡¯s direction. Lex saw the crumbling steps, the thick cloud of concrete dust enveloping the technician, then turned back toward his path. He dove onto the rain-slicked asphalt, crawling under the riddled wreckage of a truck before emerging on the other side to continue around the tower. He must have covered nearly three hundred meters when he pressed himself against the masonry, panting heavily. His legs felt ready to give out under the crushing weight of his fear. All around him, people fired at one another. The New World. What had humanity learned in six hundred years? The turret¡¯s roar was deafening. Lex fought the urge to collapse in terror. Only twenty, maybe twenty-five meters separated him from his target¡ªand the gunner hadn¡¯t noticed him. The mercenary was completely focused on tearing apart Tardino¡¯s cover, relentless in his efforts to expose the rebel. A voice rang out in Lex¡¯s head, sounding eerily like his own. You should have listened to Miri. She was right. Every war, every fight, only bred new chaos and suffering. Lex flinched, trying to shake the rogue thought from his mind. He stepped sideways, yanking the pin from the EMP grenade as he moved. Aiming with his free hand, he counted down: three, two, one¡ªand hurled the grenade in a high arc. It landed in a rain-soaked puddle and rolled to a stop at the mercenary¡¯s feet. The man didn¡¯t seem to notice it. Lex braced himself for the EMP to shut down the turret, but instead, a massive explosion erupted, obliterating the garage-like structure. Black smoke billowed upward, rising higher and higher above the collapsed roof. Lex stood frozen, caught in the crossfire as if trapped in a nightmare. His mouth hung open, his wide eyes glittering with shock. He couldn¡¯t believe what he¡¯d just witnessed. "That was a goddamned grenade. A real fucking grenade," he shouted. ****** With the few remaining rebels, they charged the broadcast tower. The stairs, sprawling and ominous, resembled the ascent to the temple of some dark god. The face of the tower loomed above them, grim and imposing, constructed of concrete and anthracite-colored steel. Each lightning strike illuminated its slick, metallic surface in a blinding glare. Lex paused at the side of the massive metal gate. Only eleven of the original hundred-plus rebels had made it up the stairs. Tardino fumbled for a fresh magazine from one of the countless pockets in his tactical vest, glancing toward the group and giving a quick nod. Without looking at his weapon, he let the spent magazine drop and slid the new one into the chamber with an audible click. "Why the hell are the lights off in there?" one of the rebels near the gate asked, peering through the narrow crack in the door. The technician moved forward, pressing his back protectively against the steel door. He shrugged off his backpack, unzipped it, and handed out a few flares to the group. He tugged the ignition cord on one, and the spark-spitting flare lit up as he tossed it into the dark corridor ahead. Only then did Lex realize how the fear of the last few minutes had twisted his stomach into knots. An uncontrollable nausea churned within him¡ªexcitement, mortal terror, and the sickening stench of blood saturating the damp air. He spread his legs for balance, braced his hands on his knees, and vomited up what little remained of his half-digested breakfast¡ªhis last meal. The others had stormed inside without him. Behind him, the mercenaries broke through their defenses on the tower grounds, advancing ever closer. From beyond the massive double doors came the sound of boots clattering on a glass floor, machine gunfire, and screams. Lex wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He stared into the flickering hallway and listened to the chaos. Suddenly, everything fell eerily silent. No more fighting. No more screaming. No more gunfire. Only the occasional sound of agonized groans echoed faintly from within. FIFTY-SIX: A World Rewritten Footsteps echoed on the glass floor. Lex moved through the dense smoke, the cramped metal walls around him flickering in the reddish light of the flares. He peered through the door to the next room and saw the aftermath of the rebels¡¯ attack. In the dim, flickering light lay three mercenaries and about a dozen corporate employees, sprawled lifeless on the floor. On the second floor, a woman¡¯s body hung limp over the railing, her arms dangling loosely in the air. Tardino shuffled through scattered bullet casings and took his place behind a control panel, flanked by folded-out glass displays. In the center of the console, a holographic projector cast a cross-section of the tower into the air. Rooms at the top of the structure glowed red, indicating the chaos the rebel glider team was unleashing. The technician¡¯s fingers danced across the virtual keyboard. Moments later, the room¡¯s lights flickered on, and the ventilation system roared to life, sucking the acrid smoke of the flares out of the air. "I can¡¯t unlock the elevator doors from here," he said. "We¡¯ll need an access card." He turned, scanning the lifeless bodies scattered across the room. One employee was still alive, clutching his stomach as dark blood seeped between his fingers. Tardino limped toward the man. As he crouched beside him, he asked, "Who has the access card for the elevators?" The employee raised his eyes, locking them with Tardino¡¯s. "Why¡­ why should I help you?" he groaned. "Because you still have a chance to turn your life around, even at the very end." "I¡¯ve¡­ spent my whole life doing the right thing," the employee said. Almost black blood pooled between his teeth, staining his once-brilliant white smile. The shot had pierced his stomach, leaving him coughing up blood and bile after every word. "For over twenty years, I¡¯ve fought for the rights of the stranded in Adenaaru." He paused, struggling to breathe. "I¡¯ve fought¡­ for the integration of the refugees. Unlike you¡­ I care about people. Men, women, and children who¡­ flee from your violence." Tardino regarded the man with pity, though not for his wounds. ¡°Who has the access card?¡± he asked again. "Not everything is black and white," the man said through gritted teeth, his voice strained with pain. "But you can¡¯t see that." Suddenly, his body slumped. His head rolled to the side, his chin resting against his chest, before he toppled forward, lifeless. Tardino rose from his crouch and addressed the group. "We¡¯re running out of time. Search their pockets. Someone must have the access card." It took Lex a moment to tear his gaze away from the fallen man. A dead flare rolled past him, kicked aside by another rebel. With reluctant hands, Lex searched the pockets of another corporate employee¡ªa man in his sixties, gray-streaked hair, clean-shaven, his angular face frozen in a lifeless stare. In the inner pocket of the man¡¯s corporate uniform, Lex found a wallet. He flipped it open, his eyes catching on a family photo tucked behind the clear sleeve. He only glanced at it briefly, but it was long enough for the smiling faces to sear themselves into his memory. The image of the man holding his wife and daughter burned like a corporate brand in his mind. No one would ever smile again. Not the man, not his wife, not his daughter. Lex pulled a gold-colored card bearing the TC logo from the wallet and held it up for Tardino to see. "This the one?" he asked. Tardino limped toward him, already squinting at what Lex held. "You¡¯re our man, Lex," he said. "Anyone could¡¯ve found it." "But you did. You¡¯re our good luck charm. You¡¯re a hero. Now hand it over." Lex said nothing, though he doubted heroes were supposed to feel as hollow as he did in that moment. ****** The glass elevator ascended the tower¡¯s exterior, gliding steadily upward. As Lex gazed out over the rooftops of skyscrapers, Vega Prime¡¯s brilliantly illuminated network of streets spread out beneath him. The elevator had climbed to five hundred meters. Below, multiple convoys approached the tower grounds from different directions. "How much time do we have left?" asked an injured rebel, her voice strained. "None at all," Tardino replied. "Their air support could greet us in the skies any moment. As soon as we¡¯re at the top, we¡¯ll cut the cables holding the elevator. At the very least, that¡¯ll stop the mercenaries below from following us." Just then, debris began raining down onto the elevator roof. Lex looked up. Through the rain-streaked glass, he saw them¡ªwomen in short skirts and men in tailored suits, falling one after another from the tower¡¯s windows. Steel wire nooses around their necks snapped them back with sickening force, breaking their necks instantly. About ten meters below the floor they had fallen from, the corporate employees hung suspended in midair. Their arms and legs dangled lifelessly, their bodies swayed back and forth in the storm like hellish pendulums. "What is this? What the hell is this?" Jake whispered, unaware that he had spoken aloud. "It¡¯s called revenge by spectacle," Tardino answered. "Remember when they executed our people on the marketplace in front of live cameras? Hemold, Tangaroa, Flint, and the others. Any moment now, First News camera drones will swarm the tower. Then the world will see that we don¡¯t forget our family. That we won¡¯t let TC¡¯s crimes go unanswered." The elevator doors opened one floor below the observation platform, on the 338th level, home to First News¡¯s broadcasting station. Its frosted glass facade bore the news company¡¯s oversized logo, flanked by two towering palm trees. Chaos raged behind the glass, visible even through the milky panes¡ªthe Crimson Dawn had left their mark. Lex stepped forward just as the elevator¡¯s suspension cables, under relentless gunfire, snapped. Sparks erupted as the high-speed lift plummeted down the shaft. The explosive crash echoed upward, reaching Lex just as he arrived at the broadcasting station¡¯s doors. Behind them, a shadow moved faintly. Moments later, the door slid open. Before him lay another battlefield. Several gliders had managed to crash-land on the level, their impact leaving a path of destruction through the office space. Smoke billowed from damaged engines, seeping through shattered windows, and corpses of news anchors lay crushed beneath the wreckage. Some rebels dangled lifelessly in their harnesses, victims of the failed maneuver. Lex stepped over the body of a blonde news anchor who bore an uncanny resemblance to Ginger North. Could it be her? Was this her inglorious end? He walked past the skeletal remains of once-elegant desks, their edges lined with glass shards. Many computers remained intact, their screens playing various advertisements that were gradually interrupted by live feeds from reporters stationed outside the tower grounds. Rebels were tying up editors in the broadcasting station. Tardino typed into a console: "Hello, world! This is the Crimson Dawn." His hand hovered over the scanner, visibly trembling. "Here comes the moment of truth," he muttered. "Was Jax really worth it? Did Veela actually upload my biometric data to the central server? If not, we¡¯re screwed." Lex couldn¡¯t recall ever seeing the ship technician so unnerved. A bead of sweat traced a line down Tardino¡¯s forehead before he finally pressed his hand to the scanner. The device flashed green. Confirmation. The message was sent. A collective sigh of relief swept through the room. For now, they controlled the infonet, the television, the world. Lex wandered past Tardino, stepping through the open-plan office. Outside, ropes tied to desk legs or heating pipes swayed eerily beyond the lower window frames. Rain splattered inside. Lex grabbed onto the jagged aluminum frame of a shattered window, bracing himself as he edged closer. His left boot hovered just over the abyss. He looked down at the dangling bodies of the hanged employees. The entire tower grounds were visible from here, and reinforcements from TC were already swarming the site. Armored vehicles spilled out troops, who appeared as little more than dots from this height.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "Get the hell away from the windows!" Tardino barked, grabbing Lex by the jacket and yanking him back from the snipers¡¯ line of sight. "TC combat drones are incoming," reported a rebel. "Understood." Tardino still held Lex¡¯s collar as he maneuvered them both through the room. "I need something to wake me up," he muttered, grabbing a cup from a coffee dispenser. The machine spat out a brew laced with SnackBite Inc.¡¯s powdered milk. He clasped the steaming plastic cup and blew away the rising vapor. "Listen up. I hate repeating myself, and I never give compliments twice," Tardino began. "You found the unknown matter, the Black Orb, the whole world was searching for. You smuggled it off the moon and into Luvanda. You went through hell to deliver it to our brothers and sisters. Thanks to you, for the first time in history, the continent has a real chance at independence from TC. You¡¯ve gone from a meaningless convict to our most vital asset. I¡¯m sorry we couldn¡¯t always be honest with you. And I¡¯m especially sorry Veela had to lie to you. But we needed to be certain we could trust you." Lex stared at him, serious and intent. "What do you need me to do?" "Climb the stairs to the observation platform," Tardino said. "Stand there and show yourself to the world. Let them see you. We¡¯ll handle the rest from here." He sipped his coffee. "Now go," he added. "Go and set the boulder in motion. Let it crash through the gates of lies and open the door to truth. Go and take the step needed to free your people on the prison moons. We¡¯re counting on you." ****** Steel stairs spiraled upward from the office level, leading to the observation platform nearly two miles above the ground. Up here, Lex wasn¡¯t just close to the storm¡ªhe was in the heart of it. Lightning streaked through the dense gray mist above, source-less and erratic, cracking like whips across the sky. As he reached the top landing, the wind sliced through him, icy and relentless, tugging at the hem of his jacket. He squinted against the gusts, halting on the last step. He wasn¡¯t alone on the storm-wrapped platform. He spotted a young woman standing at the far end of the platform. She clung to the railing, bracing herself against the storm. He could only see her from behind. She leaned slightly over the edge, gazing into the golden, mist-shrouded abyss below. Her hood fluttered wildly in the rushing currents of the cloud cover. He thought he recognized her silhouette. But that was impossible. He had to be mistaken. She turned toward him before he could fully approach. Perhaps she¡¯d heard his footsteps crunching through the snow, or perhaps it was something deeper, louder¡ªhis thoughts, the erratic beat of his heart. "Veela?" He wanted to say something more. Instead, his mouth hung open, rain dripping from his bottom lip. This is impossible. But she¡¯s standing right in front of me. "Fate, Lex. It¡¯s brought us together again. We¡¯re here to finish our story." He hadn¡¯t heard her voice in so long. Her real voice. Its soft tone, its rhythm¡ªhe had almost forgotten them. Now it all came rushing back. She seemed to be waiting, expecting him to say something, anything. But he could only stare. "Fate, Lex. Do you remember the prophecy? The boy from the moon and the girl from the city¡ªtogether, they¡¯ll free the people from their oppression." He wanted to speak. Sleet dampened his face, dripping from his lower lip, while his breath fogged in front of him, shrouding the figure who now consumed his every thought, his every action, his world. The girl who had stood before him on DENOVA-2 had been someone else entirely. Now, she was the Veela he had known. At least, he wanted to believe that. "I¡¯m here," she said. "I¡¯m with you again, Lex. And this time, no one can tear us apart." He hesitated, taking a single step toward her but no further. An invisible barrier seemed to separate them, making the distance between them far greater than it truly was. "Do you remember our last day together, before you left for Luvanda?" she asked. He looked at her, then nodded. "I told you we¡¯d both be different people after all this time. Wasn¡¯t I right?" He swallowed, considering her words. His gaze drifted out into the snow-laden night, blurred and distant. "You could¡¯ve just told me you were with the rebels. It wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve changed anything." "It would¡¯ve changed the whole world," she replied. "A single sentence can be so powerful it rewrites history. And this would¡¯ve been one of those. If you¡¯d known from the start who I was, you never would¡¯ve delivered the Black Orb to the rebels in Rykuunh. You never would¡¯ve seen me again. And you wouldn¡¯t have become one of us out of your own conviction¡ªonly for me." "So that¡¯s what this was all about? The whole thing was just a test?" "We had to know if fate was on our side. Whether it¡¯s our destiny to free the prisoners on the moons, or if we¡¯ve been chasing a purpose that will lead us all to ruin." Her damp, wavy hair spilled from beneath her hood, cropped to her shoulders. Her large, sorrowful eyes mirrored the same sadness he¡¯d always known in her. Somehow, it calmed him to see her like this. The carefree, jubilant girl from DENOVA-2 had terrified him. So much. "We have a goal," she said. "One we can only achieve with your help." "Releasing the data," he replied. "Do you know what those secret records contain?¡± "Earl said they could free the prisoners on the moons." "They¡¯re not just data, Lex. They¡¯re memories. Your memories." "Mine? What does that mean?" He glanced at her outstretched hand, where snowflakes landed and melted. Slowly, hesitantly, he placed his hand in hers. It was their first touch in years, and it left him breathless. He didn¡¯t move. "Thanks to their control of the infonet and their propaganda, people still believe TC is a force for good in Luvanda. They have no idea what the corporation¡¯s true face looks like. You¡¯re one of the few who escaped the nightmare of the prison moons, and the only one who made it back from Luvanda to Vega Prime." He stared at her, uncertain, his eyes tracing her pale, beautiful face. He said nothing, and she didn¡¯t seem to expect him to. Releasing his hand, she continued: "Hemold made you sign a non-disclosure agreement. It was the condition for leaving the moon. Did you abide by it?" "I..." he hesitated. "Not exactly." "Who did you tell?" "You, of course. And a friend in Luvanda." "Anyone else?" "Just you guys." "Think carefully, Lex. Who else did you tell?" He did as she asked, searching his memory for the answer. His eyes narrowed in concentration before widening in sudden realization. "I told Eerie," he said. "Yes. You told her everything about Limbo Two, night after night. Every memory you could recall. You told her your whole life story." He nodded. "Tardino has Eerie¡¯s recordings from those nights on the SAMSON. While we stand here, he¡¯s uploading them. Any moment now, they¡¯ll be available on the infonet for everyone in Vega Prime to see. People need to see your face, Lex. They need to know who you¡¯ve become.¡± "Who I¡¯ve become?" "Years ago," she continued, "you were on television, interviewed by Ginger North about your homeworld. That clip proves you¡¯re truly from Limbo Two. It was obvious even then that you had to lie about the conditions there. Eerie¡¯s recordings of your memories confirm it. When people see which side you¡¯re fighting for, you¡¯ll win their hearts. And that¡¯s the key to freeing the slaves on the prison moons. The citizens of Vega Prime are our only hope." Veela stepped forward, pausing after a few steps to turn back to him. "First News camera drones will be here any moment, circling the tower. People need to see your face, Lex. They need to see the boy who stands against the most powerful woman in the system. And when they see you, they¡¯ll find the courage to do the same." ****** The seed of hope grows from the ashes of broken dreams. Would they ever make it out of here alive? And even if they did¡ªwhere was home now? There was no safe place left for them, not anymore. Not with the First News drones circling them like mechanical vultures. The whole world now knew what Zara Thandros had always feared: Lex Marrow was part of the Crimson Dawn. The beams of the searchlights cut through the falling snow, illuminating the two rebels, two pale, ghostly figures on the stage of a play whose ending was more uncertain than ever. Below, the city appeared as a miniature landscape cloaked in clouds, its life momentarily stilled. Citizens across the sprawling megacity of Vega Prime¡ªat home, at work, in the streets¡ªstared at the screens. Even on the massive zeppelins circling the skyline, the faces of Lex and Veela were broadcast for all to see. Lex glanced at Veela, her face bathed in the cold glow of the drone lights. He wanted to kiss her. But under the gaze of the cameras, the gesture felt too sentimental. He was now the face of the Crimson Dawn¡ªstrength and determination personified. Veela reached for his hand. "Whatever happens to us," she said, "just try to live in this moment. The happiness you feel right now... it wouldn¡¯t last forever anyway. But right now, it¡¯s alive, vibrant, and beautiful precisely because it¡¯s fleeting." "I don¡¯t want to lose you again," he said. "You won¡¯t. Wherever we go, we¡¯ll go together." "Do you think we can even get out of here?" ¡°We have to. Some of the gliders still work. But the odds aren¡¯t in our favor. Getting to a place where we¡¯ll be safe is just another impossibility we¡¯ll have to make real." "Being with you somewhere safe... that feels like a dream too good to be true." "The world isn¡¯t what we see in it," Veela said. "It¡¯s what we make of it. Let¡¯s fight for the future we dream of." She turned her face into the rain, gazing directly into the drone lights. From this height, the city stretched endlessly, a cold expanse of concrete and artificial light. The skyscrapers loomed like monstrous steel creatures, their glass facades reflecting a world built on profit and propaganda. Everywhere, massive screens adorned buildings and airships. Where moments ago Lex had seen his own image alongside Veela¡¯s, he now watched a new broadcast: his story. The footage shifted to him aboard the ST SAMSON, recounting the horrors of his life. He spoke of the enslaved workers on Limbo, of his mother, who¡¯d been lost to a mining accident when he was twelve, and of Tayus, who¡¯d been sent on a suicide mission by TC under the guise of the FLD. He told E.E.R.I.E. of the twelve wasted years he spent hauling ore sacks just to survive. Of the beatings, the starvation, and the constant, crushing propaganda¡ªthat redemption could only come through hard labor, and that death was the only escape. The citizens of Vega Prime, pulled from their daily routines, glimpsed a reality they¡¯d never imagined. Not the full truth, but enough to pierce the veil. Another curtain fell, revealing the stories of enslaved men, women, and children on Limbo II, a world they¡¯d never known but that had always existed. Standing on the platform, holding Veela¡¯s hand, Lex felt as though his entire life had led to this moment. This was the culmination of his existence. And yet, it didn¡¯t feel like his victory alone. "You¡¯ve reached level 30, Lex. You¡¯ve grown from a young dreamer into a man, the new face of the Crimson Dawn. But this is only the first step. There are countless adventures still ahead of us. The true mission, freeing the slaves from the Kronos moons, will be our next great goal. And in the end, we will bring the Thandros Corporation to its knees. But until then, we¡¯ll need a lot more experience... and gear. Lex, we¡¯re going to do this together. This is our legacy." Veela tightened her grip on his hand. In that moment, he knew, it was their shared struggle, their shared triumph. Together, they had risen above their oppressors. And though freedom meant far more than standing here, soaked, trembling, wounded, with little hope of escape, they remained unbroken.
THE END... for now.