《Seeds of Humanity: Partisan》


 Prologue: Elysium

    It was a bright and humid summer day on the outskirts of the Ithaca settlement, and no soul on Elysium could have anticipated the disaster about to befall it.


    Serviceman Jannik Novak continued his perimeter patrol as the settlement''s laborers performed their duties. He slashed with his machete, cutting away the thick jungle brush crawling its way up the defensive plascrete wall circling the small town. "Another enemy of the Terran Sovereignty slain..." Novak grumbled.


    "What the hell''s eating you?"


    Novak turned to his squadmate, Serviceman Grayson Moreau, and let out a low growl. As an Elysium native, Novak was no stranger to the dull colonial life, but even this was pushing the limit. Ithaca was an easy posting, a quiet settlement of less than a thousand that seldom saw anything beyond the occasional wild scalehound that came too close to the perimeter wall. But tedium is one of a soldier''s worst enemies. "I''m bored as hell," Novak replied, "and I''ve been stuck on this rock for far too long."


    "Would you give it a rest?" Moreau groaned. "We''re three months into our rotation, and you''re still complaining. You forget all the bullshit we had to deal with back in Athens?"


    "I''ve had to deal with this crap my whole damn life," Novak grumbled. "Say what you will about the capital, but at least it kept us busy. I''m about to lose my damn mind out here."


    Moreau rolled his eyes. "I don''t see what your problem is," he said. "We get our three hots and a cot, and all we have to do is walk around all day."


    "Whatever."


    The two servicemen continued their patrol in relative silence until they reached the central plaza of Ithaca, where they radioed in an all-clear to headquarters. With the patrol finished, they could take a break for a while before starting the whole thing over again. "Moreau, you hungry?" Novak asked.


    "Yeah, I could eat," he replied. "We off to see your ladyfriend again?"


    Novak grinned and nodded. "You like your food edible, don''t you?"


    They started toward the center of Ithaca, passing through the tight stacks of prefabricated housing blocks that comprised the town''s residential district. As they walked along, Novak glimpsed several flashes of light in the corner of his eye. He glared at Moreau, who was making odd gestures with his hand as he walked. Tiny sparks flashed and danced around his fingers with each motion before fading out of existence.


    "What the hell are you doing?" Novak asked.


    Moreau grinned sheepishly. "Exercising my mind," he replied. "Psychic abilities won''t get stronger if you don''t use them."


    Novak rolled his eyes. Espers seemed to be popping up left and right these days, especially in the Soldier Caste, where they were actively praised and encouraged to cultivate their gifts. Novak, however, had never been lucky enough to develop them despite it running in the family.


    "You''re just jealous because I''m better than you at something," Moreau teased.


    "Piss off."


    "Sorry, man," Moreau chuckled. "I know it''s a touchy subject for you."


    Novak shook his head. "I''ve got nothing against espers," he said. "Just tired of living in my old man''s shadow."


    Moreau nodded knowingly. "Yeah, I get it," he replied as they continued walking through the town''s narrow streets. "Hey, what about your girl?"


    "What about her?"


    "You two gonna get serious?" Moreau asked with a smirk. "You''ve been dating her since we got here. I mean, you''re practically married at this point."


    Novak rolled his eyes and shrugged. "I don''t know," he replied. I mean, I like her and all, but I''m not sure about settling down. The old man would probably disown me if I married out of caste anyway. I''m just happy to see where things go for now."


    They reached the central plaza, where a handful of markets and other businesses in the settlement had set up shop. Though the buildings had more flair to help draw in customers, they were still made up of the same prefabricated structures that dominated Ithaca''s architecture.


    The two servicemen continued through town until they reached their favorite eatery, Adler''s Deli. The small restaurant was run by a family of Elysium locals who had their hands in most of the colony''s food production, which meant that they didn''t have to rely on the typical lab-grown fare that was standard issue for Terran servicemen.


    As they stepped inside, a bell rang, and they were greeted by Naomi Adler, a tallish young woman with her blonde hair tied back into a messy bun. She beamed with delight at the sight of the two soldiers. "Hey, Jan," she greeted. "Hey, Gray."


    "Ms. Adler," Novak smiled back.


    "How are your patrols going?" Naomi asked him.


    "I''m not authorized to discuss our operations with civilians," Novak replied, doing his best to hold back a sarcastic grin.


    "That boring, huh?" Naomi chuckled. She looked over to Moreau. "Gray?"


    He shrugged. "It''s alright. Can''t complain."


    Novak glanced over to Moreau and rolled his eyes before returning to Naomi. "How about you? How''s your day going?"


    "Well, some lab tech was being a dick this morning," she replied as she leaned against the countertop. "He threw a fit because his breakfast sandwich wasn''t cooked right. I listened to him go off about how ''the science caste is doing important work for the colony'' for about twenty minutes before I could get him to shut up."


    "Sounds like a real asshole," Novak said. "You should''ve told him to fuck off."


    She shook her head. "I''m pretty sure they would have you and Gray arrest me for that," she replied with a smirk. "Higher caste, remember? I can''t talk back to them like you guys do."


    Novak frowned. "Right, sorry."


    Naomi waved her hand dismissively. "It''s fine. Just another day in paradise." She straightened herself and clasped her hands together. "So, what can I get you two?"


    "My usual," said Novak.


    Moreau contemplated for a while as he looked over the menu before finally deciding on his order. "I think I''ll go for the double-decker soyburger," he said. "Extra beef flavoring, please."


    Naomi leaned slowly over the counter, lowering her voice so that only the three of them could hear. "You guys wanna try some real meat?" she asked with a mischievous grin.


    Novak raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"


    "Got our first shipment today," she explained. "From the farms. None of that synthetic lab-grown crap you guys have been eating since you got here."


    Moreau''s eyes went wide. "Holy shit," he gasped. "You serious?"


    Naomi shushed him and put a finger to her lips. "Keep it quiet!" she hissed. "We''re supposed to do a proper inventory before we serve it. Mom would tan my hide if she heard about this. But... I think I can sneak some by for you two."


    Moreau gave her a mock salute. "Your secret is safe with me, ma''am."


    "Same here," said Novak. "Thanks, Naomi. You''re the best."


    "You know it, love." She smiled and blew Novak a kiss before disappearing into the kitchen to prepare their meals.


    Novak and Moreau took their usual seats at one of the tables in the deli''s dining area. The two servicemen sat in comfortable silence until an alert popped up in the AR display on their helmet visors. A small window appeared in Novak''s field of view, displaying his platoon leader''s face caked in a cold sweat. The fear in his eyes was apparent; something was very wrong.


    "Novak. Moreau," he finally spoke. "We''ve got a situation. Once the alarms start sounding, I need you two to help get Ithaca''s civilians to shelter. Do what you can to keep them calm."


    Novak frowned. "Dad, what the hell''s going on?" he asked. "This doesn''t feel like another drill."


    "Maintain decorum on official channels, Serviceman Novak. This is serious," he replied grimly. "We''re under attack. Once you''re done with the civilians, transport will bring you to FOB Argos. I''ll need you both ready to fight. Understood?"


    Moreau nodded nervously. "Yes, sir."


    "Yes, sir," Novak echoed.


    "Good to hear. Gunnery Chief Novak, out," he said before disappearing from the display.


    Within moments, the howl of klaxons blared throughout the settlement, and a worried Naomi came charging from the kitchen with a condiment-smeared knife still in hand. At first, she was annoyed at the prospect of another evacuation drill, but when she saw the look on Novak''s face, her expression turned to worry. "Jan?" she asked. "What''s going on?"If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "An emergency," he told her. "I don''t know the full details, but we need everyone in the shelter ASAP. That means you, too."


    Naomi nodded nervously. "Okay," she said, her voice wavering slightly. "Lead the way, Jan."


    Without another word, the trio went outside and headed for the square, where another group of soldiers stood beside the open hatch leading to Ithaca''s underground shelter. The soldiers were ushering confused civilians inside as they arrived, urging them to hurry up and get underground. The crowd moved slowly but orderly; most of them probably assumed this was another drill.


    The shelter itself was nothing impressive. As with many colonial projects, it had been built on a shoestring budget and was only helpful in protecting from meteor impacts or other debris falling from orbit. Chances were slim that it would hold up against any military-grade weaponry, but it was still better than nothing.


    Novak was anxious as he gestured for Naomi to head inside. "You should go," he told her. "See if you can find your family."


    "You''re not coming?" she asked worriedly.


    He shook his head. "We''re needed elsewhere," Novak explained. "Look, I''ll um... I''ll see you when this is all over, okay?"


    The girl offered a faint smile before embracing him. "We''ll make a date night out of it," she said. "Something fancy, maybe?"


    Novak let out a quiet chuckle. "As fancy as Ithaca will allow," he muttered. "But yeah, anything you want, Naomi."


    Naomi sighed. "Whatever is about to happen out there¡ªplease just come back in one piece, okay?" she said as she pulled away from him. "No extra holes or bits of metal either."


    He nodded without a word, and Naomi gave him their last kiss. She turned away and disappeared into the shelter with the rest of the civilians as Novak watched over them quietly. He would have said so much more had he known he would never see her again.


    Once everyone was underground, the soldiers closed the hatch and headed toward the edge of town where their transportation would be waiting. As they walked through Ithaca, Novak couldn''t help but notice how empty the streets were now. It was as if the whole settlement had been abandoned overnight; only the cacophony of sirens and flashing emergency lights proved that anyone still lived there.


    Soon, Ithaca''s warning sirens gave way to the roar of a heli-jet''s idling engines as it waited in an open field just outside town. The soldiers boarded the aircraft, which took off almost immediately once they buckled themselves in. Another window popped up in Novak''s AR display, this time showing the heli-jet''s pilot and gunner.


    "Good afternoon, Servicemen," the pilot began. "I''m Lieutenant Richter, and this is Gunnery Chief Bowman. We''ve been tasked with briefing you on the situation in transit. Relevant data will be sent to your displays as we go."


    Two images popped into view: one an array of satellite dishes, another a photo of several ship-sized heat signatures in orbit around Elysium. "This morning at 1000 hours local time, our communications center in Athens detected numerous heat signatures in orbit consistent with naval vessels. Several attempts were made to hail them, but there was no response."


    A map of the local area then replaced the previous images. FOB Sparta had a red X over it, as did the Delphi settlement. "At 1042 hours local time, we lost communications with FOB Sparta. At 1113 hours local time, Delphi went dark shortly after sending a distress call. The message indicated that we are being invaded by an unknown extraterrestrial force. All anti-ship batteries have been given standing orders to fire on anything not broadcasting the proper IFF codes."


    A red arrow appeared on the map just above FOB Argos. "Argos is one of our more heavily fortified bases of operations, equipped with several batteries of anti-ship railguns. Our forces at FOB Argos have reported engagements with enemy scouts and advancing ground forces. We''ll drop your group at the northern perimeter, where you''ll link up with Gunnery Chief Novak and the others already on site."


    A star map of the Terran Sovereignty''s territory was then displayed. A large red arrow pointed at the path between the Midgard System and the colony''s location in the Ursa System. "There''s a small fleet en route to cover our evacuation, but they won''t arrive for at least a day. The anti-ship batteries in Athens and Argos are the only thing protecting us right now, so we need to hold them for as long as possible. The colony''s heli-jet wing will make supply drops and provide air support where possible, but you''ll be mostly on your own on the ground. The citizens of the Sovereignty depend on you, Servicemen. Good luck down there."


    The flight from Ithaca to Argos was usually a short 30-minute jaunt via heli-jet, but after the harrowing briefing, it was the longest 30 minutes of Novak''s life. The cabin was silent save for the muffled roar of the heli-jet''s engines, and the uncertainty hanging in the air was so thick that one could have cut it with a knife. Just a small group of soldiers, double-checking and triple-checking their gear, unaware of what they were about to get themselves into. This was not a shootout with a gang of armed criminals or a pack of rabid animals; this was war.


    They were about five minutes out when Novak heard the distant roar of Argos''s anti-ship batteries firing non-stop. <The guns are still firing,> he assured himself. <That means they''re still holding out.>


    Several green orbs of energy zoomed past the aircraft''s exterior as it banked hard to the side. Lieutenant Richter''s voice crackled over the intercom. "Hot LZ! Hot LZ!" he shouted. "Prepare for immediate disembarkment!"


    The heli-jet rapidly dropped altitude as it approached the FOB, eventually hovering just above the ground before touching down with a thud. The rear hatch flew open with a hiss, and the soldiers quickly joined the chaos of the ongoing battle. Machine gun mounts on the northern perimeter belched lead at unseen enemies in ear-piercing bursts. Infantrymen on the wall fired their weapons from behind cover while a hail of green energy blasts pounded the wall and whizzed overhead.


    It took Novak a few moments to gain his bearings, but his father, the Gunnery Chief, was nearby, already bellowing orders at the fresh batch of reinforcements. "Everyone! Northern wall! Move! Move! Move!"


    With a quick nod, Novak shouldered his rifle and climbed the steps, ducking behind cover just as a blast of energy buzzed by his head. He took a few short breaths to steady himself, then popped out to get eyes on the attackers. A formation of nine-foot-tall humanoid forms clad in sleek, silvery armor slowly advanced through the jungle. Each carried a bulky, rifle-sized weapon that fired green energy bolts, each shot exploding with concussive force and scorching whatever they struck.


    Novak leaned out of cover, aimed center mass, and squeezed the trigger to fire off a burst from his assault rifle. His target recoiled, and sparks flew from its armor as it was hit, but the invader soon recovered and continued its advance. Novak ducked back into cover just as another bolt whizzed past his head. "Shit!" he cursed. "Negative damage, their armor''s too heavy!"


    The Gunnery Chief''s voice boomed over the headset in Novak''s helmet. "Pick a target and keep shooting!" he ordered. "Their armor''s tough, but it''s not unbreakable! Keep firing, and you''ll get through!"


    Novak popped out of cover and fired off several more bursts at the same target. The alien staggered backward this time, dropping its weapon as it collapsed onto the ground. The other soldiers on the wall followed suit, slowly picking off the invaders one by one, but their numbers seemed endless as they continued marching forward in near-perfect formation.


    A hail of molten metal peppered Novak''s armor as an energy blast chewed through the section of wall he was hiding behind. He threw himself prone and scrambled to fresh cover as another bolt sizzled through the air above him. A scream suddenly cut through the din of battle as one of his squadmates was struck by enemy fire. The blast had knocked him clean off the wall, and he was now clutching what remained of his right arm as a medic tended to his injuries.


    As more of his fellow soldiers were cut down, the stench of burnt flesh and ozone filled Novak''s nostrils while his ears began to ring from the ceaseless roar of gunfire. His heart raced as adrenaline coursed through his veins, but he pressed onward and kept firing, determined to survive this hellish ordeal.


    Another barrage of energy blasts grabbed Novak''s attention as they dissipated harmlessly against some invisible barricade. His father had joined him up on the wall and, with an outstretched hand, was projecting a barrier of kinetic force. The man was an esper¡ªlike Moreau¡ªbut capable of far more than shooting fireworks out of his fingertips."Get the hell off my planet!" he shouted, making a sweeping gesture with his hand.


    The Gunnery Chief''s wall of force transformed into an offensive blast that tore through the invaders'' formation. Some were launched through the air, while others were thrown to the ground and crushed beneath the sheer force of the attack. As the Gunnery Chief slipped back behind cover to catch his breath, Novak seized the opportunity to fire off several more bursts at the downed aliens, adding a few more tick marks to his kill count.


    However, as Novak took a moment to evaluate the battlefield, he spotted another formation of invaders emerging from the jungle. Their armor was even heavier, and each was armed with a shoulder-mounted energy cannon instead of the usual rifle. Before he could open fire on the new threat, a pair of hands pushed him to the ground. "Get down!"


    The whole world exploded around him as the heavy cannons tore through the wall and turned it into rubble. When he came to a few moments later, his back was against the ground, and the ringing in his ears drowned out everything around him. The blast had removed a section of his helmet, and most of his armor was cracked and torn. He could feel the sting of fresh lacerations and bruises covering his body, but he was still alive.


    Despite his injuries, he did his best to reassess the situation. The section of wall he had been standing on had been reduced to a gaping hold of molten metal and shattered plascrete, and the invaders were still bearing down on them. One machine gun nest was still firing away, but only a handful of his fellow soldiers remained. Novak glanced about, looking for his father''s guidance, but his heart sank when he found him.


    The Gunnery Chief''s body lay motionless on the ground nearby, devoid of any signs of life. Several pieces of steel rebar had pierced his chest, and horrific burns covered most of his exposed skin. He had managed to save his son''s life at the cost of his own.


    A flurry of energy bolts flew over Novak''s head, denying him any time to mourn. Something terrible awakened inside him, and what should have been crushing despair became an unstoppable rage that immediately boiled over. As he grabbed his father''s rifle and turned toward the invaders, a primal scream erupted from within.


    The invaders'' formation continued to advance through the breach in the wall, but the sight of the madman before them gave them a moment of pause. He emptied an entire magazine into one of them, then threw the empty weapon at another. As he reached for his pistol, the invaders opened fire, but each of their shots seemed to explode harmlessly as the air rippled around him.


    In the heat of battle, at the apex of desperation, Novak''s mind had finally awakened. It was as though he had torn the nozzle off of a firehose and aimed the ensuing deluge at his enemies. Blood gushed from his nose, and the inside of his skull felt like it was on fire, but none of that mattered. There were targets in front of him, and they all had to die.


    Novak reached a hand out toward one of them and clenched his fist, causing its armor to crumple inward as though crushed by an invisible vice grip. He then flung the alien through the air with a broad swipe. The creature crashed into another of its comrades, sending both sprawling onto the ground. Several invaders moved in to surround him to open fire, but the barrier surrounding him held fast against their barrage. Borrowing a play from his late father, he weaponized it, screaming as it exploded outward and decimated the invaders'' ranks.


    As more soldiers poured into the breach to reinforce their position, Novak unleashed his newfound powers on the invaders with reckless abandon. He hurled them through the air, crushed them beneath invisible forces, and tore them limb from limb with telekinetic blasts. The invaders were no match for his relentless fury, and as the Terran defenders began to regroup and reinforce their positions, the invaders were forced to retreat into the jungle.


    After a few final potshots from each side, the battle had finally quieted, along with the ringing in Novak''s ears, but with his mind now fully opened, the whole world was louder than anything he had ever known. Joy. Fear. Sorrow. Rage. Hope. Despair. It all came pouring in like never before. A legion of voices screamed over one another, every word like a jackhammer driving its way into Novak''s skull.


    He fell to the ground, screaming as the backlash from his psychic awakening overwhelmed him completely. Blood and tears streamed down his face, and his entire body throbbed in pain. It felt like he was being torn apart from the inside out, but he struggled to keep himself conscious as he crawled toward where his father lay dead. He reached for the man''s dog tags, pulled them off his lifeless corpse with trembling hands, and clutched them tightly in his grasp as the world around him faded into darkness.

 Chapter 1: The Market

    Celia stirred from her slumber, awakening to chirping birds and leaves rusting in the mountain breeze. Her eyes fluttered open, squinting against the sun''s light as it shone through the window of her modest quarters. As she rubbed the sleep out of her face, her mind managed to hold on to the last vestiges of her fleeting dream. "Another one," she grumbled, tossing back her blanket as she rose from bed.


    The girl stood barefoot before her mirror, adjusting her simple linen robe and brushing a stray wisp of dark hair from her forehead. These strange dreams were becoming increasingly vivid, but she seldom understood them. Vague scenes of men and women using advanced weaponry and mystical gifts to battle the Saviors danced through her thoughts as she dressed, but she had more tangible concerns to deal with today.


    It was not often that the monks of the Ryntai left the confines of their mountaintop monastery, but even they needed to trade for supplies on occasion. For this reason, Celia would journey down the mountain with eleven other apprentices to the city of Tylondale, where a renowned market flourished within its stone walls. Having spent the past decade living in the monastery, Celia relished any opportunity to see the outside world, as dangerous as it might be.


    Celia quickly made her way downstairs to the dining hall for a quick breakfast of hard bread and fruit juice before meeting the other monks outside the monastery. A crowd had gathered around a small horse-drawn wagon with the elderly Master Arrus behind the reins. The girl scanned the group for her two companions, Alistair and Elaine, and snuck up behind them.


    Alistair was a sandy-haired young man around Celia''s age who had been at the monastery for about five years. He was an apt learner and one of the more gifted students his age, but patience had never been one of his virtues. He and Celia had something of a friendly rivalry going, but they always looked out for each other when needed.


    Beside him stood Elaine, a red-haired young woman about a year younger than Celia who had been training at the monastery for about seven years. As an apprentice Ryntai, there was nothing remarkable about her; she was just an average student with average skills. But as a person, she was kind and caring, and she always seemed to know how to brighten someone else''s day. Celia considered her like a little sister, though she would never say that aloud.


    Neither of the two noticed Celia standing behind them by the time Master Arrus had finished addressing the students. "Alright, everyone," he spoke. "Once I sell the wine, I''ll dole out the silver so you can procure what is on your respective lists. Remember, stay alert, keep to yourselves, and do not draw the attention of the Saviors. Understood?"


    The apprentices replied with nods and grunts as Arrus handed each group of three a scroll. As he reached out to give the last one to Alistair, Celia deftly snatched it away, finally making her presence known to her companions. "Where the hell did you come from?" Alistair squawked.


    "I don''t know what you''re talking about," Celia replied, grinning sheepishly. "I''ve been here the whole time."


    Elaine gave a quiet chuckle, and Alistair rolled his eyes. "Whatever."


    "Celia!" a voice shouted from behind. "A word, please?"


    Celia let out a defeated sigh as she turned to see Headmaster Zan balancing himself on a quarterstaff, his dark robes billowing lightly in the breeze. The headmaster was a sturdily built man in his 50s with graying black hair pulled back and tied neatly at the base of his neck. A set of weary eyes watched the girl as she approached him, though they still shone warmly and kindly. "Don''t think for a moment that I missed you sneaking around, Ms. Moore," he scolded.


    The girl bowed her head. "My apologies, master," she replied meekly. "I overslept this morning."


    Zan looked at her knowingly and frowned. "That''s very unlike you," he said. You''ve been looking forward to this trip for weeks. Are your dreams still troubling you?"


    Celia nodded. "...they''re getting more intense."


    The old monk scratched his chin thoughtfully before reaching into his robes and producing a small pouch of silver. "I have a special task for you today," he told her. "Perhaps it will help take your mind off things. Would you pick up some new reading material from the bookstore in town? I''m about finished with the previous batch. I could use something new to keep me occupied."


    Celia''s sky-colored eyes lit up as she eagerly accepted the bag of coins. "Of course, master."


    "Enjoy the trip, Ms. Moore," Zan smiled. "And please be careful out there."


    The girl bowed and returned to the group of apprentices, who were almost ready to head out with the wagon. Master Arrus gathered everyone up, and soon, the monks were on the way down the road to Tylondale.


    The short, three-hour trek was uneventful and barely an inconvenience for a group of monks who spent most of their days conditioning themselves and training in martial arts. As they neared Tylondale''s outskirts, they approached a group of farmers taking advantage of a bend in the road where they hawked their wares from two carts laden with fresh produce. The monks paid no heed to the farmers, but they were obviously desperate. They lacked the proper permits to trade within the city, and if the Saviors caught them out here like this, there would be trouble for everyone involved.


    Tylondale was the second largest city in the Allegheny Archipelago, the largest being the port city of Cross, where the Saviors'' citadel towered over nearly everything. Much of the town was built along the base of Mount Fraya and surrounded by a thick stone wall that stood well over 20 feet tall. Atop the wall were the Saviors, nine-foot-tall faceless metal men, each armed with one of their highly advanced energy rifles. They were nothing new to Celia; she could sparsely remember a time when the Saviors were not a part of her life.


    A collective hush fell over the monks as the Saviors stopped their wagon at the city''s gates for inspection. Master Arrus quickly handed over their trade permits, and with minimal scrutiny, the Saviors gestured for them to continue. "Carry on, citizens," boomed the creature''s mechanical voice.


    Inside its walls, Tylondale was a bustling amalgamation of cultures and styles from all across the islands. Its main streets were wide enough for two carts to pass side by side, though many arrow paths and alleyways branched off and twisted between the packed buildings.


    By the time the monks had arrived, the market was already in full swing; dozens of merchants and vendors called out their wares with cries that filled the air. The wealthier merchants even had performers set up around their carts or tents, playing catchy tunes on musical instruments or performing acrobatic feats to draw in customers.


    Master Arrus led the group to their usual buyer for their wine: a wealthy tavern proprietor named Thorne. A heavyset man with long but graying red hair, Thorne owned many inns and taverns throughout the Allegheny Archipelago and was well-known among the mercantile community. He always dealt fairly, which earned him the trust of many, especially the monks of the Ryntai. Their dealings were soon settled, and Master Arrus handed out several pouches of silver crowns to the apprentices and sent them on their way before parking the wagon by the city gates.


    The apprentices went to work wandering through the market as they searched for the supplies on their lists: rope, bolts of linen, needles and thread, leather goods like gloves and boots, wooden training weapons, tools, spices, medicinal herbs, and so on and so forth. It seemed like a never-ending checklist, but with all the apprentices working together, they could quickly wrap their business up within a few hours.


    Celia meandered from stall to stall, her senses stimulated by everything Tylondale''s market offered. She took in the sights of merchants haggling with customers over prices while others sang praises of their wares'' quality. She listened to children playing in the streets while their parents bartered for fresh produce and other goods. She felt the warm breeze blowing through the air as it ruffled her hair. She smelled the aromas of exotic spices and freshly baked bread wafting from nearby food stalls. It was all so overwhelming, but she loved every moment of it.


    A mild collision with a merchant''s cart brought Celia back to reality as she stumbled backward and nearly tripped over herself. She found a portly jewelry merchant dressed in garish, brightly colored garb standing over her with an extended hand. "My apologies, young lady!" the merchant greeted her as he helped her to her feet. "You''re so lucky you found me because I have just what you''re looking for!"


    Celia''s eyes widened as the merchant held out a gold necklace in hand. "Oh. Um, can I help you, sir?" she asked.


    The merchant began rattling off his sales pitch, providing the girl with all manner of details about the necklace: its composition, age, cultural relevance, and a whole slew of information that sailed right over Celia''s head. "I bet this lovely work of art would look wonderful on you," he continued. "Would you like to try it on? We''re having a sale! It could be yours for a mere fifty crowns!"


    Celia stared back at the man in awkward silence until a hand belonging to Alistair gripped her shoulder. "Come on, Celia, we''re not here for trinkets," he scolded. Now stop acting like it''s your first time out in the world."


    She turned away from the merchant, who shifted his focus elsewhere as soon as he realized he was unlikely to make a sale to a group of robed monks. He soon spotted an elegantly dressed noblewoman moving through the crowd and grabbed her attention without another word to Celia. "Thank you, Alistair," she said with relief. "I don''t know what happened there."


    Elaine stepped out of the surrounding crowd and gave Alistair a light jab in his side with her elbow. "Don''t be so boorish," she teased. "Celia''s been cooped up in the monastery longer than any of us. Let her enjoy the sights."


    Alistair rolled his eyes as he rubbed his side. "The last time I was here, a couple of idiots tried to rob one of our people. Figured we were tourists or something," he explained. "It didn''t go well for the robbers, but the headmaster was breathing down everybody''s neck about it for a solid month. Kept saying we could have drawn the attention of the Saviors, and honestly, he''s right. So get your head out of the clouds."


    Elaine breathed a sigh of resignation. "I suppose you have a point," she conceded. "Well, what do we have left? We''ve got all the non-perishables, yeah?"


    "We need to hit the herbalist next," Alistair replied. "Medicinal herbs. Oh, and some fertilizer for the garden."


    "Gross," Elaine muttered. "Don''t put them in the same bag!"Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    "Obviously," Alistair sneered. "What about you, Celia? Didn''t the headmaster have a special request for you?"


    The girl nodded and pulled the bag of silver from her pack. "Right. He wants me to pick up some new reading material from that bookstore we both like. I''ll head there now if you two don''t mind."


    Alistair shrugged. "Fine by me," he said before turning to Elaine. "Does that work for you?"


    The redhead nodded. "Sounds good," she agreed. We''ll meet you back at the gates when we''re done, Celia. It shouldn''t take us more than an hour, right?"


    "Right then," Celia replied. "I''ll see you guys in about an hour."


    "Do try and avoid any more distractions," Alistair teased as he and Elaine disappeared into the crowd.


    Celia rolled her eyes at him before making her way through the market toward her destination. The one bookstore in town was off the beaten path, but Celia had visited many times. She would always try to make a trip whenever she was in Tylondale, regardless of whether or not she had the crowns to make a purchase.


    The sound of stomping boots caught Celia''s attention as a group of Saviors patrolled nearby, their weapons in hand and their silvery armor glistening in the sunlight. They were a constant reminder that humanity''s fate was no longer its own, not since the invasion ten years ago.


    Most humans knew very little about their otherworldly overlords. Some saw them as a blessing in disguise; under their totalitarian rule, the bloody wars between nation-states were a relic of the past, violent crime was almost non-existent, and the common folk were healthier than ever, all thanks to the Saviors'' easily accessible and highly-advanced medicine. Others saw them for what they were: conquerors who had invaded this world and subjugated its people through violence and destruction for reasons unknown.


    Celia was among the latter, as was her headmaster. Zan always emphasized the need for the Ryntai to stay as far from them as possible. Never make eye contact. Do not speak to them unless necessary. And never let them know that you are one of the Gifted. These rules were never to be broken, and Celia understood this fear better than most.


    "Is there a problem here, citizen?"


    Celia jumped at his words, and her heart raced as she realized too late that she must have been staring. She lowered her gaze and softly replied, "N¡ªno, sir."


    The nine-foot-tall faceless metal man towered over her as he nodded in approval. "Very well," he replied, his mechanical voice overpowering the bustle of the city. "Carry on, citizen."


    The girl held her breath as the Savior slowly marched out of sight, her mind filled with stories of the Saviors hauling people off to labor camps and Gifted children being plucked from their homes. She breathed a sigh of relief once they were out of sight, but she still felt a knot forming in her stomach. She had broken one of Zan''s rules; she had drawn the attention of a Savior.


    Celia shook her head to clear her thoughts and continued toward the bookstore tucked away in one of Tylondale''s many alleyways. The Owl''s Page, as it was called, was a quaint little shop with a cozy atmosphere, but ever since it had gotten a printing press installed, business was booming, and the store seemed like it was perpetually under construction.


    As the girl stepped through the doorway, a small bell rang, and she was hit with the scent of fresh ink and musty old tomes. An old man behind the counter peeked at her over the edge of a book and adjusted his glasses. "Ms. Moore, it''s been a while," he greeted warmly. "I was wondering when I would see you again."


    "I don''t know if that''s ever going to happen," Celia replied. "But it''s good to see you as well, Mr. Anders. I''m always happy to stop by."


    "I take it you and the headmaster enjoyed your previous purchases?" Mr. Anders asked.


    Celia nodded excitedly. "Oh, I just couldn''t put them down," she admitted. "Well, at least when I wasn''t training. You know how it goes in the monastery. Zan''s been enjoying them, too, I''m sure. I doubt he would have sent me to buy more otherwise." She paused momentarily to sweep her gaze across the store''s shelves. "So, anything new for me?"


    Mr. Anders stood up from behind the counter and glanced about, ensuring that Celia was his only visitor. "I don''t know if you''ve heard," he began, "but C.A. Richards, one of our local authors, is publishing an anthology of his works. There''s some unpublished material and some other scraps in there as well, so it''ll definitely be a treat. Now, officially, it''s still under review by the Saviors'' Ministry of Literature, so I can''t sell it yet, but..."


    Celia raised an eyebrow. "But?"


    The old man reached behind the counter and plopped a massive tome before the girl. "But... we can''t do anything about books that ''fall off the wagon,''" he explained, giving a sly wink. "If you catch my meaning."


    The girl shook her head. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no. I can''t put that risk on you," she protested, "especially not over some book."


    Mr. Anders gave a dismissive wave with his hand. "Really, it''s fine," he assured her. "C.A. Richards has never had any issues with the Ministry. Besides, it will be months before you make it here again, so please, take it."


    Celia held the pouch of crowns in one hand as the tome on the counter seemed to beckon her to pick it up. "Well, if you''re going to misplace this massive tome, I might as well misplace this sum of crowns," she said with a coy grin. It was a pleasure not doing business with you today, Mr. Anders."


    The girl began flipping through the book within moments of stepping outside the store, reading as she went back through the city and toward the gates where her companions would be waiting for her. She soon found herself absorbed in a story that told the tale of a group of fledgling adventurers as they explored the ruins of the Old World in search of riches and forgotten technology of a bygone age.


    Unfortunately, Celia''s attention to her surroundings was so focused on the words on the pages that she failed to notice the wall of a man who had placed himself in her path until she bumped into him. Celia was a fairly tallish young woman and stronger than most from her time at the monastery, but this man towered over her. "Oh, I¡ªuh, I''m sorry about that," she apologized. "Now, if you''ll excuse me..."


    "Your crowns, please," said the man, holding out a hand. "Payment for safe passage through the city."


    Celia eyed him strangely for a moment before she noticed the three other men approach from behind. Unlike the large man in front of her, these men were scrawny as scarecrows; they looked like they had not seen a decent meal in weeks, maybe longer. They wore ragged clothing and wielded makeshift weapons such as clubs and knives, but it was obvious that they would not have been any threat to anyone who could defend themselves properly. "Oh. Lovely," she muttered. "You''re robbing me."


    "Your crowns," the large man repeated, dispensing with any illusions of courtesy.


    "I don''t have any left," the girl shot back.


    The man rolled his eyes and gestured to one of his men. "I''m sure we can find something valuable in your pack."


    Celia whirled around just in time to see one of the men brandish a knife, but he was sluggish, untrained, and tired. Though Celia was none of these things, her attacker had the element of surprise on his side, and he managed a shallow cut across her cheek. Celia winced at the sting of pain but quickly regained her composure and retaliated. She lashed out with several quick hand strikes, and within moments, her attacker was left on the ground, gasping for air.


    Before the rest of them could react, she dropped her pack and leaped forward to continue her assault without hesitation. A knee strike to the solar plexus, followed by a powerful palm strike, sent her second attacker tumbling backward with empty lungs. The third came at her from the side but threw an easily avoided wild haymaker. A swift kick to the side of his knee caused him to drop, and a forearm strike to his neck put him on the ground with the others.


    Celia turned to face the large man who instigated this encounter, but he was more disappointed than afraid of the girl who had just decimated his lackeys. He crossed his arms and glared at her with a stony expression before shifting into a fighting stance. "I really wish you would have made this easy," he told her.


    Celia shrugged as she readied herself for another fight. "I''m sure you do."


    The man lunged forward, throwing a series of quick jabs and hooks toward Celia''s head and torso, but the girl easily dodged or deflected each one. To his credit, the girl could see that he had some semblance of formal training, but whatever it was paled compared to what the Ryntai were capable of. He was quick, but Celia was quicker still.


    A few moments later, Celia found an opening to strike back. She slipped in a few quick strikes to the man''s midsection, but he barely reacted. He grimaced and threw a wild hook that glanced off the side of her head. Celia staggered backward from the blow but regained her footing before he could press his advantage. The man then charged forward with another punch aimed at her face, but she ducked under it and countered with a flurry of solid punches to his side, followed by a kick to the back of his leg that finally staggered him.


    As the man fell to one knee, Celia delivered one swift, final blow to the back of his neck that sent him sprawling onto the ground unconscious. As he lay there motionless, she took a moment to catch her breath and reassess the situation. She felt a bit of pride swell within her as she realized how quickly she had dispatched these four men, but those feelings were soon dashed by the arrival of a Savior who had come to investigate the commotion. Celia froze in place as his mechanical voice reverberated through the alley. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded as he held his weapon ready. "Answer me!"


    "T¡ªthese men attacked me," she managed.


    The Savior''s metal face folded back with a series of clicks and whirrs, revealing a young, platinum-haired man whose pale green eyes seemed to glow in the shadows of the alleyway. He aimed his weapon at one of the thieves as they began to stir. "Stay where you are," he commanded. "Or I will end you."


    A few moments later, two more Saviors appeared in the alley and trained their weapons on Celia''s attackers, and the first on the scene approached the girl. "Are you alright?" he asked. "You''re bleeding."


    Gone was the familiar mechanical voice that Celia had come to expect from the Saviors, replaced instead by something almost human. She nodded slowly, reaching up to touch the cut on her cheek. "I... um... it''s not that bad, is it?" she spit out.


    "Let me dress that for you," said the unmasked Savior. "We can''t have it getting infected."


    The Savior reached for a small compartment on his belt and pulled out a square of fabric and a tiny metallic cylinder. Celia stood there dumbfounded as the man in the nine-foot-tall metal suit gently wiped the blood away. He pressed a button on the end of the cylinder, and it sprayed an unknown substance onto the wound. It stung for a few seconds before the pain was gone, and the bleeding had stopped. "There," he said with a grin. "Good as new, right?"


    Celia was still thrown. "I¡ªuh... thank you."


    The Savior glanced around the alleyway as his companions clapped the thieves in chains. "I caught the end of your scuffle with these idiots," he explained to the girl. "My apologies for scaring you, but I needed to ensure they stayed put until my backup arrived." He paused momentarily before lowering his weapon and holding a hand out to the girl. "Legionary Kanaka, by the way. Could I get your name, miss?"


    "C-Cecelia Moore," she replied nervously.


    "Would you mind telling me what happened before I arrived on the scene?"


    The girl contemplated for a moment. "Well... I was just on my way back from the bookstore when the large gentleman stepped in front of me and demanded that I hand over my silver," she told him. "Of course, I had just spent it all on a book, so I had nothing left. Then his three friends approached, one of them came at me with a knife, and then I decided to put the rest of them down as quickly as possible."


    Kanaka took another look at the scene, likely making a note of how beat up her attackers were. "You did all this by yourself?" he asked. "Unarmed?"


    Celia shrugged. "I assume they weren''t expecting a nineteen-year-old girl to fight back."


    "That''s an impressive feat," Kanaka complimented. "Where did you train?"


    "I''m an apprentice with the Ryntai," she replied.


    "Ah, you''re one of the folks from the monastery up the mountain," he said. "That explains the robes. You folks don''t get out here much, do you?"


    Celia shook her head. "Just the occasional supply run."


    Kanaka frowned slightly. "Well, that''s too bad."


    Celia raised an eyebrow, but before she could ask what he meant by that, one of the other Saviors interrupted. "Legionary Kanaka," the mechanical voice boomed. "Whenever you''re finished sampling the local flavor, we''ve got these dissidents to get to lockup. Wrap it up."


    Kanaka let out a sigh. "Duty calls," he said as he turned back toward Celia. "It was nice meeting you, Cecelia Moore. You''re free to go. Stay safe out there."


    Celia slowly picked up her things as her four attackers were dragged off in chains with surprising efficiency. She stood there for a minute, trying to make sense of the encounter with Legionary Kanaka. The girl had gone into it expecting to be carted off somewhere and thrown in a dungeon, but she walked away with only a light cut on her cheek that would likely be gone by tomorrow morning. <''Sampling the local flavor''?> she wondered. <What the hell?>


    She shook her head and returned toward the city gate in a daze, though this time, she avoided alleyways and suspicious-looking large men who might block her path. Eventually, she came upon Alistair, Elaine, and all the other apprentices loading the wagon with the various supplies they had picked up. Alistair was quick to notice that Celia seemed off. "Hey, Celia," he said. Is everything okay? You look a bit... addled."


    Celia slowly shook her head. "Honestly, not really, no," she told him. "Remember how you said you were worried I would get robbed if I didn''t keep my head out of the clouds? Well, have I got a story for you."

 Chapter 2: Advent Day

    "Humans of Renatus! We gather on this day, the tenth anniversary of our descent onto your world, not only to mourn and remember those who tragically gave their lives for the greater good but to recognize and celebrate humanity''s progress in its ascent toward true greatness. The road we have guided you along has not been without its perils. Yet you continue to endure and overcome. You have sweat, and you have bled, sacrificing so much to reach where you stand today. Your kind calls us your ''Saviors,'' but I say that we have merely shown you the path. I say you have saved yourselves! Thus, I implore you, humans of Renatus, while you honor those who fell, celebrate what their sacrifice, what your sacrifice, has helped to achieve!"


    Ishma Saul watched with piercing amber eyes as the audience below him erupted with cheers and applause. He stepped back from the podium on the stone balcony and looked on as the massive crowd slowly dispersed through the streets of Cross to partake in the day''s festivities. A young nrac woman standing beside him wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned against his shoulder, a small smile playing across her lips. "Well spoken, my love," she whispered into his ear. "As always."


    Lucrezia Valerian, his concubine, stood beside him, clad in an indigo-colored dress, smiling coyly as she played with her long platinum hair. Ishma turned his head slightly to brush his cheek against hers before returning his attention to the revelry far beneath them.


    Humans. Creatures to be both admired and feared. A dangerous but powerful tool in the right hands. House Saul''s hands.


    "You look lovely tonight, Lucrezia," Ishma told her. "Are you prepared for our celebrations this evening?"


    "Of course, your grace," she replied. "Although I must admit, I hoped for a more...private affair. Just the two of us, like the old days. These past few years have kept us busy, but we deserve a respite, do we not?"


    "I''ll make time for you later tonight, my love," Ishma replied. "I promise."


    They had met ages ago when Ishma was barely a grown man. His father had brought him to the local slave market in search of a companion, a common tradition of royal houses in the Nrac Imperium to ensure the continuance of the noble line. Lucrezia was up for auction, a spoil of war from when her noble house fell to one of its rivals. She had, of course, caused no small amount of trouble thanks to her telepathic abilities and had endured many harsh punishments in her failed attempts to escape.


    Ishma was smitten with her from the moment he saw her. Her captors presented her before a crowd bound in chains, broken and beaten, but she carried herself like a goddess, ever defiant and commanding power and presence that no mere slave ever could. And she fell for him utterly when his first act after ascending to the throne of House Saul was to destroy the fallen House Valerian''s old rivals. Of course, they could never marry for political reasons, but their love for one another was absolute.


    They walked hand in hand through the halls of Ishma''s citadel within the port city of Cross. The structure was an unusual mishmash of human construction and nrac technology, a shell of worked stone retrofitted with modern amenities such as heat, power, and running water.


    Ishma stopped abruptly as a commotion from below commanded his attention. He gazed out a nearby window, watching as a riot broke out in the streets below. There were dissidents every year protesting the rule of the nrac, the so-called Saviors of humanity. They would preach against the evils of the nrac occupation and beckon their fellow humans to take up arms and rebel. A team of Peacekeeper legionaries responded quickly and deployed less-lethal weaponry to disperse the rioters, neutralizing them before they could cause too much mayhem.


    Ishma let out a sigh as he watched the scene unfold. "I fear we will need more time before the humans truly accept us as their masters," he muttered. "Humanity is capable of incredible things given the right circumstances. But the conflict with the terrans taught me that they can also make for a terrifying enemy. Sometimes, I wonder if claiming this world was the right decision."


    Lucrezia wrapped her arm around his again and leaned in close, meeting his gaze with her gorgeous green eyes. "House Saul has always been a house of conquerors, my love," she replied softly, trying to calm him. "You stand at the helm of the mightiest military force in the entire galaxy. The humans should be grateful that you are offering them a chance to be a part of it. And even if they are not, we shall continue your work here. We will endure, as the humans have, even if it takes another decade. They will be yours to command, one way or another. Whatever the cost may be."


    Ishma smiled and brushed a hand against his concubine''s cheek before leaning in and giving her a gentle kiss. He pulled away, and her face reddened slightly as she gave an impish grin. "You always know just what to say," said Ishma, smiling. "Such faith in me... thank you."


    Lucrezia giggled and returned his smile with equal affection. "I''ve had a lot of practice," she said, tapping a finger to the side of her head. "Even if I can''t get into that head of yours."


    For all her telepathic abilities, Lucrezia had never been able to pierce Ishma''s formidable mental defenses. It was a welcome change after a lifetime of living in other people''s heads. The mystery of what was going through his mind was intoxicating; how he thought, how he felt, and where he came from were mysteries she would never truly unravel. Knowing that made him more interesting than anyone else she had ever met.


    Ishma knew this all too well. "But you love that about me," he told her. "Don''t you?"


    "Yes," she replied without hesitation. "I do love you."


    They stood together for several moments longer. In the distance, they could hear the music playing from many stages throughout the city center as the revelry started in earnest. Ishma looked to his concubine. "I suppose we should see to our guests," he said. "We''ve kept them waiting long enough."


    The pair continued down the hallway and entered one of the structure''s many elevators. With the press of a button, they made their way toward the top floor of the citadel. The Great Hall had the more traditional hallmarks of nrac engineering, as it resided far above where the hybrid construction style ended and the full nrac began. The room was a wide-open space with large windows taking up most of its walls, giving its occupants an impressive view of the city and surrounding land beneath them.


    Ishma and Lucrezia stepped forth from the elevator, and the three legates and their bodyguards sitting at the long table in the center of the room rose to their feet. The table''s wine glasses were filled, and plates of fresh finger foods were already served. "Apologies for my tardiness," said Ishma, addressing the room. "Please, everyone, be seated. This is a day of celebration. You may dispense with the usual formalities."


    The table''s attendees collectively nodded and returned to their seats. One among them remained standing. Centurion Salan, a middle-aged human among a table full of nrac, waited patiently beside the head of the table for Ishma to take his seat. Ishma gave the man a polite nod as he approached. "Centurion Salan."


    Salan had been with Ishma since the beginning of his time on Renatus. He was one of the first humans to surrender to the nrac, submit to their indoctrination process, and eventually serve as a member of House Saul''s military. Now, he acts as Ishma''s right-hand man, serving as a fine example of the heights even a human can rise to under the occupation.


    "Did the ceremony go well, your grace?" Salan asked, helping Ishma into his seat.


    "As well as it could have, I suppose," the nrac replied, thinking back to the rioting he had witnessed earlier. "And please, take a seat. We dine as equals today."


    As the centurion nodded and sat beside his master, an audible scoff came from the opposite end of the table. Ishma''s eyes narrowed on Legate Arlox Bahz, the acting ruler of the Boreal Isles far to the northeast. He was a herculean nrac who towered over everybody else, even seated. The pelts and furs of different creatures he had killed on hunts that adorned his form-fitting Nemesis suit only added to his already intimidating presence.


    "Is there a problem, Legate Bahz?" Ishma asked.


    Bahz chomped into a bread roll, smacking his lips as he chewed. "Nothing of note, your grace. I simply find it amusing that you would allow one of these lesser beings to sit among your kin," he said mockingly, crumbs spilling from his mouth as he spoke.


    Ishma looked at Salan and raised an eyebrow. "Speaking freely, is there anything you would like to say to that, Centurion?"


    Centurion Salan wiped his mouth with a napkin and held a calm composure. "This... lesser being, as you say," he began, "has fought long and hard to earn his place at the table. Unlike some of us, my station was not handed to me on a platter."


    Legate Bahz rose to his feet, pointing a menacing finger toward Salan. "You would dare?!" he bellowed. "I''ve killed better men for lesser slights!"


    Ishma raised a hand. "That''s enough, Legate," he cut in, his voice silencing the room.


    Bahz let out a quiet snarl before returning to his seat. A calm chuckle erupted from across the table. Legate Berelian Wren, acting ruler of the Broken Keys to the west, made little effort to hide how much Bahz''s frustration amused her. He would not risk crossing Ishma again.


    Wren was Bahz''s antithesis, a bantam but muted nrac woman with short silver hair covering half of her face. While Bahz proudly wore furs and other hunting trophies, Wren''s Nemesis suit was adorned with etchings and tally marks to track her kills in battle. Crude metal plates protected her vital areas, and she had several holsters containing plasma pistols, harmonic knives, and a host of other weaponry. It all looked like something she had assembled in a scrap yard.


    Off to the side sat Legate Orin Nikola, acting ruler of the Andean Archipelago to the south, his face a stale expression of mild annoyance. Despite the indigo-colored cloak draped over his standard-issue Nemesis suit, he was a remarkably average and unassuming white-haired nrac. He did his best to ignore the bickering around him and enjoy the food before him. "Your grace, what are these here?" he asked, pointing at one of the plates.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Ishma shrugged, but Centurion Salan answered. "I believe those are bacon-wrapped sausages, Legate."


    "They''re amazing," said Nikola, his mouth nearly filled. "What are they made from?"


    "Both types of meat come from pigs," Salan explained. "The past season was good for livestock, so we''ve had some abundance."


    Legate Nikola was perhaps more dumbfounded by this new information than he should have been. "Hold on, you''re telling me that you humans take meat, wrap it in the same kind of meat, cook it, and end up with this greasy, delicious masterpiece?" Nikola turned his attention to Bahz. "You know, Legate, with all due respect, I think you''ve got the wrong idea about these humans."


    "My thoughts exactly," Ishma chimed in.


    The celebratory feast continued for about another half hour or so before the hum and hiss of the elevator overtook everyone''s enjoyment of the food. The doors slid open, revealing an unexpected and uninvited guest, a lone nrac woman clad in the white uniform of the Emperor''s house. All eyes fell upon her as she stepped forth, and time stopped. "Ishma Saul!" the woman shouted.


    As his auxiliaries watched with horrified faces, Ishma gently wiped his face and rose to his feet to greet this visitor. "Tala Rauth," he calmly greeted with a flourish. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"


    Tala approached with purposeful steps. She was all business, clad in a freshly pressed uniform with her long silver hair tied back into a tight braid. "I am here on official business as a Praetor of the Emperor," she coldly announced. "Your actions toward humankind have violated numerous clauses outlined in the Human Preservation Treaty. Several other royal houses have lobbied complaints against you, and I am to launch a formal investigation at the Emperor''s behest."


    Ishma chuckled softly. "It''s good to see you too, Tala," he replied politely, but his voice dripped with venom. "So you''re one of the old man''s Praetors now?" He turned to face his entourage. "They grow up so fast, don''t they?"


    Tala growled under her breath. Despite her professional facade, seeing Ishma in person after so many years evoked complicated feelings she thought she had laid to rest long ago. Ishma Saul was everything a nrac should want in a companion: handsome, charismatic, and mighty in every sense of the word. And now, he was deliberately pushing her buttons. This was all a game to him, and it infuriated her.


    "I am not here for pleasantries," she snarled. "I am here to determine the future of House Saul, so I implore you to take this matter seriously."


    Ishma nodded and shot a glance toward Lucrezia. She sat with her arms crossed and was staring daggers at Tala. Tala felt the concubine''s gaze on her and returned it with equal intensity, but no words were exchanged. Tala was a direct servant of the Emperor now; a mere concubine would not dare speak to her out of turn.


    "Very well," said Ishma. "What would you ask of me?"


    "I must speak with you in private," Tala replied. "My personal shuttle is parked on the roof of this facility. We can begin the inquiry there."


    The guests at the table remained silent throughout the exchange. Nobody dared move or make a single sound while Tala and Ishma spoke. Even Centurion Salan kept quiet, although he watched intensely as the two nrac discussed something far more interesting than subpar wine or bacon-wrapped sausages.


    "Will we be taking care of this now?" Ishma asked.


    Tala glared at him. "Do I mean ''will I be taking you away from your feast?'' Yes," the Praetor replied. "Yes, I will. Come with me, please."


    Ishma nodded, then turned to his guests. "I''m not sure how long this will take, so you may continue to enjoy your meals without me," he told them. "I will return as soon as I am able."


    His guests breathed a collective sigh of relief before he and Tala stepped into the elevator. The doors shut behind them with a soft whoosh, and the lift began its ascent toward the roof. "So it''s ''Praetor Rauth'' now, is it?" Ishma asked. "Congratulations on the promotion, Tala. You''ve come a long way since your father offered me your hand. Was nobody else willing to take him up on the offer?"


    "Don''t start," Tala shot back."My father saw you for what you were: a venomous serpent. You''re too dangerous to sit on the Imperium''s throne."


    A smile formed along Ishma''s lips as he looked at the Praetor. "You really have changed," he said. "The old Tala never would have spoken to me like that."


    "The old Tala was just another conquest for House Saul," she snapped. "I thought I cared for you once, Ishma, but I know now that had we married, I would have known no love from you. Your precious concubine means too much."


    "Please," Ishma replied. He shook his head and laughed softly. "There''s more than enough of me to go around, my dear Praetor."


    Tala snorted in contempt and waved her hand dismissively at him. "It doesn''t matter anymore," she retorted. "And I would appreciate it if you would dispense with all this talk of the past. I am here to do a job that is complicated enough without reopening old wounds."


    Ishma sighed. "Very well, Praetor," he conceded. "Strictly business then."


    There was an audible ding as the elevator doors slid open, revealing a roof with several landing pads containing military aircraft and shuttles. Tala''s shuttle stood out like a sore thumb, as a Praetor''s shuttle should. House Saul''s military craft favored function over aesthetics; the Praetor''s shuttle was the opposite. It sat on a landing pad like a giant polished silver scarab, its armaments hidden within its silvery shell.


    The shuttle''s passenger doors slid open as the two approached, and they quickly stepped inside. The passenger compartment was furnished with leather seats and other amenities that made clear the ship was for diplomats and members of high society. Tala and Ishma took their seats and made themselves comfortable as the doors closed behind them.


    "Now, dearest Tala," Ishma began, "shall we get this horrible affair behind us?"


    Tala sighed and cleared her throat. "As I said earlier, your interactions with humans have violated the Human Preservation Treaty," she explained. "I must remind you that the Treaty prohibits any interactions between our species and humans, with the exception of passive observation. Your occupation of the world known as Renatus and the subsequent military actions against other human-controlled interests in the galaxy are flagrant violations of the Treaty. As a result, several of the great houses within the Imperium have lobbied formal complaints against House Saul and its holdings. As of yet, the Emperor has not decreed any punishments to be levied. However, I have been tasked with investigating your actions toward humanity, and the Emperor will use my report to determine how to handle the situation going forward."


    Ishma scratched his chin. "So I''m on the old man''s naughty list?" he asked condescendingly.


    "Dammit, Ishma, this is serious!" Tala shot back. "What the hell were you thinking? Occupying a pre-spaceflight human world? Waging a bloody war against the ones that could fight back? Do you have any idea how many lives, how many human lives you have snuffed out? The Treaty was in place for thousands of years. Thousands of years of letting humans develop along their own path, all for naught because you decided you were above it all. Have you heard what your rival houses are calling for? At best, they want you to forfeit your holdings in the Imperium. At worst, they''re calling for you to be tortured to death. Destroyed human lives aside, this could be a complete and utter disaster for you and anyone who has ever served under your banner. Do you understand?"


    Ishma let out a sigh. "You''re right. I apologize for making light of the situation. Please, continue."


    Tala took a moment to compose herself and return to the matter. "This conversation is a preliminary inquiry," she explained. "I am officially notifying you that I am beginning my investigation into your activities regarding the Treaty. I have a ship in orbit that will serve my needs; however, you will be required to provide accommodations for my stay here on the surface. You will also grant me full access to your systems and free reign to question anyone I see fit at any time. This includes you. You are additionally required to acquiesce to any other demands I might have. Finally, a warning. As a Praetor, I answer to the Emperor directly and carry his authority wherever I go. Any actions taken against me by you or your subordinates will be viewed as an action against the Emperor himself and punished accordingly. Do you understand?"


    Ishma nodded. "Of course," he replied. "I''ll have a room set aside for you in the citadel and get you credentials to access our systems. Was there anything else?"


    Tala sat back in her seat and shook her head slowly from side to side. "That''s all for now, but if I think of anything further, I won''t hesitate to bring it up."


    "Well, thank you for making this quick," said Ishma. "I do have a celebration to return to, which, actually, you should join us. It''d be a perfect opportunity for you to see what we''re really doing here."


    "I''m afraid I can''t attend your little soiree," Tala stated flatly. "I have a report to file. Now, please, leave me to my work."


    With a push of a button, the shuttle''s door opened, and Ishma quietly rose to his feet. He offered the Praetor one last smile before exiting the passenger compartment, then disappeared as the shuttle''s door closed behind him. Tala quickly stood up and moved to the shuttle''s cockpit, which lacked the high society atmosphere of the passenger compartment. The Praetor sighed as she plopped down in the pilot''s seat. <That was a lot harder than I thought it would be,> she thought. <But it had to be done.>


    She tapped several buttons on the console, and a large screen opened up in front of her as she opened a communications channel with her ship, the Cygnus. "Cygnus, this is Praetor Rauth," she spoke. "I need you to patch me through to the Emperor and encrypt this channel. Maximum security."


    "Right away, ma''am," a voice replied over the radio. "Establishing long-range comms."


    A few moments later, an elderly nrac man clad in his regal white raiments appeared on the screen. "Your majesty," said Tala. "Praetor Rauth reporting in. I have an update on the House Saul situation."


    The Emperor gave a solemn nod. "It''s good to hear from you. I assume you made contact with the Duke?"


    "Yes," Tala replied. "I informed him of the nature of this investigation and conducted our preliminary inquiry. He appears cooperative for now, though I suspect he will not remain that way long."


    "And the humans?"


    Tala shrugged. "I can''t say for certain one way or the other," she said. "He seems to be acting in accordance with Imperial Wartime Law and treats them as his spoils of war. This world is effectively yet another annexation to House Saul''s ever-expanding territory. My gut tells me it''s deeper than that, especially given this recent obsession with the humans."


    The Emperor furrowed his brow as he thought. "Hmm. Continue your inquiry and send your reports," he ordered. "If you come upon anything that suggests he may be planning to act against the Imperium directly, contact me as soon as possible."


    Tala cocked her head to the side. "Your majesty, what does that have to do with his Treaty violations?"


    "I... suspect that he may be plotting to use the humans as a weapon against us," the Emperor explained. "Especially after the terrans managed to repel him. He must see some hidden strength within them. Something our passive observations missed."


    "I''ll approach my investigations from that angle as well, then," said Tala.


    The Emperor nodded. "Excellent. Keep up the good work."


    Tala took in a deep breath. "If I may, Your Majesty," she said, "I have one concern I''d like to speak with you about before you sign off."


    The Emperor waited patiently while the Praetor took a moment to gather her thoughts. Even as one of his daughters, it was difficult for her to speak frankly with him. "While I honor your decision to send me completely, your Majesty," Tala began. "I do not feel I was the best choice for this assignment, given my history with Ishma."


    "Nonsense," said the Emperor, shaking his head. "Your history is precisely why I chose you for this. His familiarity with you will throw him off and cause him to lower his guard. He will grow complacent around you. You can use that to your advantage." The nrac smiled warmly at the young woman on the other end of the screen. "I am confident that everything will be fine. You are stronger than you think, Tala. Remember that."


    He was right. Tala was making excuses to avoid facing her past. House Saul may be the strongest in the Imperium, but House Rauth rules over it for many reasons beyond military might. "Thank you, Your Majesty," Tala said, holding back a proud smile.


    The Emperor nodded and terminated the connection shortly afterward. Static filled the screen briefly before it shut off and closed. Tala leaned back in the pilot''s seat and took a deep breath. "You heard the old man," she said to herself. "You can do this, Tala."

 Chapter 3: Firehawk

    It had been five years since the fall of Elysium, but even after a year of relative peace following the Nrac''s retreat, a soldier''s work is never done. Now holding the rank of Lieutenant, Jannik Novak stood aboard the bridge of the MSS FIrehawk as it decoupled from Orbital Defense Station TS-011 above New Terra to begin its deep-space reconnaissance mission.


    With the ship clear of the station and the capital world of the Terran Sovereignty rapidly shrinking behind them, Captain Carth Brennan was finally free to give Novak his full attention. "You''ll have to forgive the hastiness behind your team''s reassignment to my vessel, Lieutenant," he began. "You were a last-minute attachment that I had little say in, and we''ve been preoccupied with preparations for the voyage."


    "I understand, sir," Novak replied. "I''m no stranger to ''hurry up and wait.'' I figured we''d be getting tapped to deploy somewhere sooner or later, especially with the riots happening planetside. Just didn''t expect we''d be getting shot into deep space."


    The mission seemed simple enough; Novak and his team of Vindicators would serve as a security attachment to the Firehawk for the next few months while the ship and its crew worked toward completing their reconnaissance mission. But beyond that, Novak''s superiors had been tight-lipped about the FIrehawk''s objectives.


    "If things go according to plan, we shouldn''t need you, Lieutenant," said the captain. "I don''t know why somebody above my pay grade decided you needed to be here, and personally, I think it''s a complete waste to shelve a Vindicator team for an op like this. But orders are orders, and I''m not about to complain to the brass about having some of our best along for the ride."


    "With all due respect, sir, Vindicator units aren''t deployed lightly," said Novak. "Is there something I should know about this mission? Are we expecting any trouble?"


    Captain Brennan sighed and shook his head. "All I can tell you for certain is that we''re headed beyond the edge of known Sovereignty territory," he replied. "A star system untouched by humanity."


    Novak raised an eyebrow. "And we''re not sending in unmanned probes for that?"


    "The probes were already sent out," Captain Brennan explained. "But we lost contact with every single one of them before they could send back any useful data, which is why they''re sending us out next. We''ll make our way there, scope out the situation, and then return home to report our findings. At least, that''s the plan."


    Novak was starting to see why he was here. "Do we think this is where the Nrac might be holed up?" he asked.


    Captain Brennan shrugged. "That''s what we''re here to find out, Lieutenant," he replied. "Hopefully, it''s nothing so serious. But if it is... well, I''m sure I''ll be glad you and your team are here. Until then, you and your team can enjoy a little vacation aboard the Firehawk."


    A ''vacation'' sounded relaxing after the last few months Novak had spent training with his new team in VR aboard TS-011. But he knew better than to expect anything resembling rest and relaxation on this mission. "I think it''ll be a breath of fresh air for us either way, sir," Novak said with a smile. "We''ve been cooped up on TS-011 too long."


    Captain Brennan nodded. "Well, you''re welcome to make yourselves at home aboard the ship. Just don''t interfere with the crew''s duties while we''re underway. Firehawk''s a top-of-the-line vessel, but she gets fussy if we don''t take good care of her."


    "Aye, Captain," Novak nodded. "Do you have anything else for me?"


    "Actually, before you go, Lieutenant, my OIC of Security wanted to have a word with you," said Captain Brennan. "Lieutenant MacLeod. I believe he was stationed with you back on Elysium?"


    Novak gave the captain a nod. "I''ll see if I can track him down, sir."


    Captain Brennan dismissed Novak with a wave and took his seat at the command console on the bridge''s upper level. The lieutenant made his way through a set of sliding doors that led out into the Firehawk''s central corridor. It was bustling with crew members going about their daily routines, but a familiar face was already waiting for him.


    "Hey, Novak! It''s been a minute, huh?"


    The former Serviceman Joseph MacLeod now wore the rank insignia of Lieutenant on his uniform. Four years of war on the ground with the Nrac had weathered his fair skin, but he was almost just as Novak remembered him from Elysium. His red hair, though clean-cut, made him stand out, and he still carried himself with the confidence of a raw recruit ready to prove himself. Everything about him was loud, as always.


    "MacLeod," said Novak. "How''ve you been?"


    MacLeod pointed to his rank. "Still alive. Kicking ass, taking names. Moving up in the world," he replied with a grin. "Got transferred to this boat about a year into the war. Stuck around long enough that they bumped me up to head of security; can you believe that shit?"


    Novak chuckled under his breath. "Yeah, I can," he answered. "They threw medals at us every time we survived a battle. Honestly, I''d be disappointed if you weren''t someone''s boss by now. Congrats on the cushy position."


    "Oh, it''s hardly ''cushy,''" said MacLeod. "I''m still doing all the grunt work; I just get to tell the grunts what we''re doing now. And I yell at the rooks when they''re being stupid because when aren''t rooks being stupid? I feel like an old man in a 20-something''s body, yelling at these kids all the damn time. But enough about that. What have you been up to?"


    "Vindicator Corps. Team leader," Novak answered. "That''s probably about all I can tell you."


    "Right. The captain mentioned that. Buncha psychic commandos that don''t exist or whatever," MacLeod replied with a smirk. "The rumor mill says you''re not even allowed to discuss the selection process."


    Novak chuckled, recalling when he had been ''extracted'' from his barracks and brought out to the Vindicator Corps'' headquarters for evaluation. "I can tell you that they basically kidnap you and put you through the wringer to see if you have what it takes," he explained. "I was told that FOB Argos was the reason they snatched me up. My little ''outburst'' got the attention of some important people, apparently."


    MacLeod gave a grim laugh. "Worst day of our lives, and what do they do? Give us promotions and send us back into the thick of it."


    "That''s life in the Soldier Caste," Novak replied with a shrug.


    "Yeah, well, I''m glad we''re both still alive to bitch about it," MacLeod said. "Anyway, enough reminiscing. You''re heading off to get your team situated, yeah?"


    Novak nodded. "Yeah. They''re probably getting antsy by now."


    MacLeod reached into his pocket and tossed Novak a small plastic tube containing what looked like pills. "Before you go, take one of these, and make sure everyone on your team does the same."


    "What the hell are these?" Novak asked, eyeing the container. "Meds for space sickness or something?"


    "Biomonitors," MacLeod replied. "Brass started issuing them to ship crews pretty recently. You pop one, and any friendlies on your TacNET can monitor your vitals and track your location. They last a few weeks before your body processes them out."


    Novak raised an eyebrow. "Is that... safe?"


    "It''s as safe as anything else that''s General Issue," MacLeod shrugged. "If you get blown out through a hull breach or something, it''ll give a recovery team a chance to find you before you die of vacuum exposure. Maybe."Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Point taken," said Novak before swallowing one of the ''pills'' with a gulp of water from his canteen. "I''ll pass them along to the team."


    "Good man. Now go see to your people," MacLeod replied with a grin. "I''ve got shit to do."


    MacLeod quickly saluted Novak and disappeared into the crowd of crew members moving up and down the Firehawk''s central corridor. Having spent most of the war on the ground, Novak was always surprised to see how much of a commodity space was on a starship. The central corridor was barely three shoulder widths wide, with arrows painted on the floor to help guide foot traffic. It was difficult to imagine moving around the ship freely with a full combat load.


    As Novak approached the ship''s aft, he caught a heated argument from above him. He would have ignored it, but the familiar voice of Service Chief Eric Beckett, his team''s tech expert, grabbed his attention. Novak sighed and made his way up a set of stairs that led into the ship''s sensors and communications array.


    "Sir, I am telling you, there''s something off with the comms," Beckett protested. "I can''t put my finger on it, but something just feels... wrong."


    "And I am telling you, Chief, that I''ve run our prelaunch checks about a hundred times in the last week," argued Ensign Gardner, the Firehawk''s communication officer. "Everything is fine. Now, please return to your post and let me do my job."


    The two stopped arguing once they finally noticed Lieutenant Novak''s presence. "Bucket," he chimed in. "You giving the crew a hard time?"


    The skinny, brown-haired young man was quick to answer his team leader. "Sir, there''s something weird going on with the communications," he explained. "I wanted to go over everything again with the Ensign here."


    "With all due respect, Lieutenant," said Gardner, "I''ve been running through the prelaunch all week. What Chief Beckett is asking for is unnecessary."


    Beckett had found his way into the Vindicators largely thanks to his ability to interface with and control machinery. As a technomancer, he could even manipulate the unfamiliar technologies that the Nrac wielded, making him a highly sought-after asset during the war. Still, his power had its limits, and technomancers had a reputation for being rather eccentric, to say the least.


    "Sorry, Bucket, but I have to agree with the ensign on this one," Novak apologized. "I just talked to the captain, and he asked that we keep out of the crew''s business while we''re underway. I need you to stand down."


    "But, sir¡ª"


    Novak held up his hand. "Listen, this is their house," he said. "We''re the guests. We can''t come in here and start telling them how to run everything."


    Somewhat defeated, Beckett let out a sigh. "Understood, sir."


    After the argument settled, Novak returned to the main corridor and continued on his way. His next stop was the armory, where a brawny man with a deep complexion hovered over a workbench while the Firehawk''s quartermaster secured various supplies for the impending flux jump.


    Gunnery Chief Duncan Emerson, Novak''s second-in-command, was cleaning the team''s weapons for what was neither the first nor last time today. Novak stepped into the armory to greet him. "How''s my NCOIC holding up?" he asked.


    Emerson looked up and gave Novak a quick nod before returning to the task at hand. "Just keeping busy, sir," he replied. Truth be told, I''m not really a fan of deep-space travel. Weapons are green if we run into any trouble, though. How about you, sir?"


    Novak shrugged. "Sounds like we''re on vacation for a bit, but you never know."


    While the Vindicator Corps was typically reserved for espers who demonstrated extraordinary power, Emerson was one of those rare exceptions. Though he had not shown any observable psionic abilities, the unusually high number of close calls in his war record suggested that he might have some subconscious control over probability itself. Or, to put it simply, he was inhumanly lucky.


    Emerson finished cleaning his mag chaingun and was now in the process of reassembling the weapon. "One can only hope, sir," he remarked. "Because if we do run into trouble out here, we''re all on our own. Nearest help will be weeks away, if at all."


    "You always know how to cheer me up, Gunny," Novak said with a grim laugh.


    With his weapon fully assembled, Emerson performed a quick function check to ensure he had done everything to standard. "I do my best, sir."


    Novak approached the rack holding his team''s weapons and picked up his mag carbine. He quickly glanced through the holo-sight, aiming at a point on the back wall of the armory. "Have you seen Amari around anywhere?" he asked.


    Emerson shrugged. "Probably engineering," he said. "You know her. Likes to hide in the dark."


    "I''m about to get ambushed again, aren''t I?"


    "Probably."


    Departing the armory, Novak continued along the main corridor of the Firehawk until he reached the stairwell that led down to the engineering deck. The head engineer, Lieutenant Cranston, silently waved to Novak as he passed, but the greeting went largely unnoticed. Novak''s attention had shifted to the various mechanisms that helped the Firehawk defy physics and hurl itself through outer space.


    Novak found an odd comfort in watching the inner workings of something as complex as a military warship. Maybe it was the perfect coordination between hundreds of moving parts, all working toward a single goal; maybe he just liked seeing how things worked. Either way, Novak was always fascinated when he visited a ship''s engine room.


    He stopped momentarily, resting his weight against the guardrail overlooking the massive metal orb that was the Firehawk''s flux core. Though its inner workings were far beyond his understanding, Novak harbored a particular appreciation for the device that allowed a ship to travel faster than light, free of ill consequence, by shifting it into flux space.


    <I''ve got you this time.>


    A whisper in the back of Novak''s mind made his neck hair stand on end. He whirled around just in time to see a palm engulfed in crackling electricity shoot toward him. The masked woman launched from the darkness, but Novak deflected her strike. His heart pounding, he gripped her wrist tightly, but the familiar flash of a combat knife gave him pause.


    Years of martial training and honed reflexes took control as the knife hungered for his blood. His hands moved like lightning, and within moments, he had twisted the knife from his assailant''s grip and forced her to the ground. "Nice to see you too, Amari," Novak greeted.


    "Almost had you that time, sir," the woman replied.


    "Almost."


    Novak released his grip on Senior Service Chief Yasmin Amari and helped her to her feet. "You know you can''t surprise me at close range," he said, tapping a finger against his temple. "Not until you learn to keep your head clear."


    Amari pulled her mask down, revealing a frown. "Telepathy''s cheating."


    "Didn''t happen to forget we''re psi ops, did you?" he asked with a grin.


    She shot him an annoyed glance and rolled her eyes. <No, sir.>


    Novak winced and shook his head. "Don''t."


    "Sorry, sir," she apologized. "I keep forgetting you don''t like the ''loud'' thoughts."


    "It''s fine," Novak replied. "Just... tone it down a bit."


    Amari nodded. "Yes, sir."


    Novak returned to his perch against the guardrail. "It''s good to see you keeping sharp, at least," he said. "I know we haven''t had time to rest since they threw the new team together and pawned us off on the Firehawk, but how are you holding up?"


    Amari ran a hand through her short, chestnut hair before stepping forward and coming to rest at her CO''s side. "Speaking freely, sir? This whole op feels off. You don''t stick Vindicators on a ship unless you''re expecting trouble. What little intel we''ve been given suggests we shouldn''t expect trouble, but you know how I feel about that kind of intel."


    "Grain of salt?"


    She answered with a silent nod. Senior Service Chief Yasmin Amari was a psychomutation specialist, an esper able to manipulate biological functions in various ways. Amari often used her abilities to project weaponized bioelectricity and mend wounds, but punching holes in Nrac power armor and similar feats of inhuman physicality also fell within the scope of her power.


    Unlike the rest of the team, who began their careers as soldiers on the ground, Amari cut her teeth as a field agent for SCID, the Soldier Caste Intelligence Division. She caught the attention of the Vindicators when an unfortunate series of events left her stranded behind enemy lines and cut off from friendly forces. Thanks to her psionic abilities, she waged a one-woman guerilla war against the Nrac, surviving for several weeks until the area was finally reclaimed.


    "So, Lieutenant... how are you holding up?" Amari asked.


    "The quiet is nice," he answered. "Not as many voices find their way into my head with a crew this small."


    Amari glanced at him, an inquisitive look in her eyes. "With respect, sir, that''s not what I was asking about," she told him. "I understand the brass had to give you official orders to see the brain doc about your baggage."


    A frustrated sigh escaped the lieutenant. "Are we going through the team''s personnel files again, Amari?"


    Amari held a hand out before her, watching electricity as it arced between her fingers. "Old habits from the SCID days, sir. It''s surprising what my old clearance still has access to," she explained with a coy grin. "You still having the dreams?"


    "They come and go," he replied flatly. "And lately, it feels like I''m being watched. But I''ve been cleared for normal duty if you''re worried about that."


    "I''m not worried, sir. The same goes for the rest of the team."


    "Why bring it up?"


    Amari shrugged. "Just wanted to make sure we''re all on the same page, sir," she answered. "I know it''s none of my business, but I''d hate to see you fall apart because you don''t think you can ask for help."


    "You''re not on this team to be my damn shrink, Amari," Novak growled. "But... I appreciate the sentiment, I guess."


    An alarm blared as red light flooded the engineering deck, and an announcement came over the ship''s PA system. "Attention all personnel: shift to flux space will commence in two minutes. Standby for shift to flux space."


    Amari frowned. "That''s our cue to get buckled in somewhere," she remarked. "I''ve done a lot of space travel but never liked this part."


    "Nobody likes feeling their insides get scrambled," Novak smirked. "Think I puked my guts out for a solid ten minutes after my first jump."


    The pair chuckled before heading back through the engineering deck to find seats for the flux shift. The ship''s engineers had already secured themselves in the available seating, but luckily, there were a few seats set aside for stragglers. They took their seats and strapped themselves in just as the final countdown began.

 Chapter 4: The Man from the Sky

    Even two days after the trip to Tylondale, Celia was still trying to put the day''s events behind her. The teachings of the Ryntai professed that it was best not to dwell on the past, and the girl desired nothing more than to simply forget the ordeal with the thieves and the Saviors and continue with her training.


    Unfortunately, many of the other apprentices who traveled to the city that day had caught wind of the incident, and rumors tended to spread quickly among the monastery''s sparse population. These whispers would eventually reach the ears of Headmaster Zan, who was less than pleased to hear them.


    Blissfully unaware of the lecture she was about to receive, Celia trained in the monastery''s courtyard with the other apprentices. Master Troi called out the martial maneuvers of various forms while his students followed his commands as best they could. While they had been at it for hours, Celia remained as focused as ever.


    The training session concluded as the sun dipped closer to the horizon, and Master Troi dismissed the students with a wave of his hand. "That is enough for today," he announced. "You may return to your quarters."


    Celia bowed to Master Troi before departing toward the monastery with the rest of the class, but the headmaster was waiting patiently for her. "Cecelia," he spoke sternly. "A word, please."


    The girl felt a knot form in her throat. It was always ''Ms. Moore'' when Zan was cordial, but ''Cecelia'' usually meant it was serious. The headmaster did his best to mask his frustration, but Celia could see right through him, hanging her head low as she approached. "Of course, Headmaster," she answered quietly.


    "Walk with me," he said, gesturing for her to follow.


    The two made their way across the courtyard toward one of the monastery''s many gardens, where they could talk privately. Celia kept her head low while Zan silently led the way until they finally stopped at a bench overlooking a small pond. The headmaster sat down and gestured for the girl to join him.


    "I''m sure you know what this is about," Zan said once Celia took her seat. "I am a bit... concerned with some of the stories I have been hearing about the Tylondale trip. Stories many of the other apprentices are keen on sharing. I understand you had an encounter of some fashion."


    With a pained expression on her face, Celia nodded. "Yes, Headmaster."


    "Were you hurt?" Zan asked.


    The girl rubbed the still-healing knife wound along her cheek. "Nothing worth mentioning, Headmaster," she told him. "I''m okay."


    Zan frowned as he looked upon the girl''s face and noticed the cut for the first time. "That doesn''t look like nothing, Cecelia," he said. "You should have told me about this sooner."


    Celia shrugged. "It''s not that bad," she insisted. "It hasn''t interfered with my training."


    "That''s not what I''m talking about, Cecelia," Zan replied sternly. "You were hurt. You could have been killed, and you didn''t think to tell me?"


    "I''m sorry, Headmaster," the girl apologized. "I didn''t want you to worry. And... I wanted to avoid, well... this."


    Zan sighed and shook his head. "Do you understand why we seclude ourselves from the world?" he asked.


    Celia did not answer right away. The girl held an open hand in her lap, palm facing the sky, and concentrated. She and the headmaster watched as a small flame ignited in the air and danced about her palm. "Because most of us here are ''special,''" Celia muttered resentfully. "Gifted. Like me."


    She made a tight fist, extinguishing the flame just as quickly as she had called it into existence.


    "Not just because of what we are," Zan corrected. "But because of what the Saviors would do to us if we were discovered. Every day, they haul Gifted children from their families, children who are never seen again. But many seek shelter among the Ryntai in monasteries all over the world so that they might learn to control their gifts and stay hidden from the Saviors'' gaze. But this all falls apart if we draw attention to ourselves. The Saviors believe us to be little more than an enclave of ascetic martial artists; this is our only true defense against their tyranny."


    "I know!" Celia snapped. "I know their cruelty better than almost anyone here!" The girl paused to take in a deep breath and steady herself. "I never asked for this. I never asked to be special. To be stuck up on this mountain and isolated from the whole damned world!"


    Zan sighed. "I know these gifts feel like a curse sometimes, but we were given them for a reason," he said. "Even if that reason is difficult to see. I want more than anything for us Gifted to be able to choose our own paths, but as long as the Saviors rule, we must do everything we can to protect ourselves."


    Celia let out a deep breath as her anger faded away. "I tried to avoid that fight," she said. "I really did. Those damned thieves just wouldn''t let it go. Looked like they hadn''t eaten in days. They were just too desperate."


    "I am not angry with you, Cecelia," Zan said. "I¡ªI am sorry. This conversation is as much for me as it is for you. I should not have sent you to wander off on your own in the name of expanding our library. You could have been seriously hurt¡ªbecause of a damned book¡ªand I would never have forgiven myself."


    Celia looked up at the headmaster, her eyes wide with surprise. Zan was always so calm and collected that she rarely ever saw him get emotional over anything. "Headmaster..."


    "But I am glad you are safe," he continued. "You are old enough and more than capable of taking care of yourself, but I worry about you all the same. I do not want to see you come to harm, especially at the hands of the Saviors."


    Celia felt a tear in her eye and did her best to hold it back. "I''m sorry for worrying you, Headmaster."


    Zan offered the girl a warm smile as he touched her shoulder. "It''s alright," he said. Just promise that you will be more careful next time and tell me if something like this happens again."Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    "I will," Celia replied with a nod.


    The headmaster rose from his seat and gestured toward the monastery. "Go get some rest," he told her. "You''ve had a long day."


    "Thank you, Headmaster."


    The girl returned a smile and nodded before pulling herself to her feet. She strolled quickly across the courtyard toward the monastery and made her way to the dining hall within for a quick dinner before heading off to bed. By the time she arrived, most of the other monks had already finished their meals. Celia opted for some soup and bread, then sat in the corner near an open window overlooking the courtyard.


    As she munched on her bread and waited for her soup to cool off, a distant thunder echoed across the sky. Before long, the rain rolled in, and Celia was entranced by its sight and sounds. She slowly finished her food, listened to the rain fall upon the monastery''s roof, and watched it pour down from the darkening sky.


    The monastery''s halls were empty now, save for a handful of the instructions exchanging bits of knowledge and discussing lessons and training regimens for tomorrow. Celia quickly returned to her dormitory, lest she receive another lecture, only to be greeted by a gust of chilly, moist wind as she entered. She let out a grumble as she moved to close the window. "Must have left the damn thing open again," she muttered.


    Celia plopped down in her bed, taking a deep breath as she stretched out and pulled the covers over her body. Another day of the other routine behind her.


    * * *


    Just a few hours before dawn, a tremendous explosion rocked the monastery and nearly sent Celia toppling from her bed. She jumped to her feet and gazed out her window to see a column of fire and smoke illuminating the forest in the distance. "What in the world?"


    Celia threw on her robes and burst from her dormitory, only to be nearly trampled by a crowd of her fellow apprentices rushing toward the courtyard. The girl followed them through the monastery''s corridors until they spilled into the courtyard.


    Despite the heavy thunderstorm earlier in the night, the dark skies above the monastery were cloud-free, and the light of a full moon illuminated the surrounding forest. The thick column of smoke was easily visible against the backdrop of the moon and stars, casting an eerie shadow upon the monastery.


    Celia looked through the crowd for any of the masters, but they seemed absent. <One of them must know what''s happening,> she thought. <Where the hell are they?>


    With no one to guide the curious monks, Celia contemplated heading off into the woods herself but decided it was in her best interest not to test the limits of the headmaster''s patience again so soon. As she looked again through the crowd for anyone who might have answers, a loud commotion erupted from the forest''s edge.


    When she turned her attention to the noise, she saw a strange figure stumble from the woods and nearly topple over before catching himself on a nearby tree. He wore a strange suit of armor that was just as alien to her as the Saviors'', but a large piece of his helmet was broken off, revealing the left half of his face. As he blundered toward the monastery, Celia pushed her way through the crowd toward him.


    "Hey!" she called out. "Are you alright?"


    The man stopped dead in his tracks and leveled the rifle he was carrying at Celia. "Back!" he shouted. "Get back!"


    Celia froze in place as she looked down the barrel of what was clearly a high-tech firearm and met the maddened gaze of the man''s exposed eye. "I¡ªI''m not here to hurt you," she said, raising her hands. "I just want to help."


    After a tense few seconds, the man lowered his weapon and sighed in relief. The uneasy situation behind her, Celia looked him over more carefully. There was an odd familiarity about him; she had seen him somewhere before. <He looks like...> she thought. <No... it can''t be.>


    Celia''s heart pounded in her chest as she realized that the man standing before her was the very same who had haunted her dreams for months now. She stepped back, unsure of what to make of this revelation. "W¡ªwho are you? What are you doing here?"


    The stranger was taken aback. "What do you mean ''who am I?''" he replied.


    Before the girl could respond, her gaze shifted to the gaping wound in the side of the man''s head and the steady stream of red running down the side of his face. As if reading her mind, he wiped a hand across his exposed flesh and blinked at all of the blood that came with it. "Ah... shit," he muttered.


    Celia rushed forward to catch the man as he suddenly fell forward and collapsed, but she struggled to support him. "Help!" she called out, trying to get anyone''s attention. "Someone, please!"


    Master Troi emerged from the forest to answer her call and rushed to her aid. He helped Celia lower the man to the ground and checked him over for injuries. "What happened?" he asked.


    "I don''t know!" Celia answered. "He just stumbled out of the woods like this!"


    "We need to get him to the infirmary," Master Troi told her. "It looks like he''s already lost a lot of blood. Help me carry him."


    Celia nodded and helped Master Troi lift the man to his feet. He was heavier than he looked, most likely due to his armor; it made him look more like a leathery-skinned metallic monster than a man. They half-dragged and half-carried their mysterious visitor through the monastery toward the infirmary, which was thankfully empty at the moment.


    Master Troi laid the man on one of the infirmary beds and gently removed his helmet. Celia felt a knot form in her throat as she saw that he was indeed the same man who had been appearing in her dreams. He was young, likely in his early to mid-20s, with strong facial features, a fair complexion, and clean-cut dark hair. "Can you help him?" Celia asked nervously.


    "I will do what I can," Master Troi replied. "I''ll need some bandages. There should be some in the closet over there."


    Celia nodded before hurrying across the room and tearing through the storage cabinet to find several fresh bandages. She tossed them to Troi, and he quickly folded one up and pressed it tightly against the stranger''s bleeding head wound. "I''ll have to clean this before we suture it," Troi explained. "Fetch some water from the well."


    The girl nodded again and rushed toward the well near the monastery''s entrance. The crowd of monks that had gathered outside the infirmary cleared a path for Celia as she moved past them, and she quickly retrieved a bucketful of water before returning inside.


    Troi dipped a rag into the bucket, but as he moved to clean the man''s wound, a palm shot up and struck him in the chest, knocking him backward. The stranger climbed out of bed and scrambled across the floor toward the corner of the room, where he huddled with his back against the wall.


    Celia rushed to Troi''s side to help him up while keeping an eye on their patient. "Are you okay?" she asked.


    "I''m fine," Troi answered, rubbing his chest. "Just caught me off guard."


    The stranger looked around frantically before locking eyes with Master Troi. "Where am I?!" he demanded.


    "Please!" Celia shouted at him. "We''re just trying to help you!"


    A tense stare from the stranger met Celia''s gaze, his eyes a steely gray that seemed to pierce through her soul. Her entire body tensed up as she stood frozen under his scrutiny. "Lieutenant Jannik Novak," he finally muttered. "Zero-three-zero-eight-six-niner-five-niner-five."


    Master Troi approached Novak cautiously and knelt down in front of him. "You are safe here," he said calmly. "My name is Master Troi; this is my apprentice, Cecelia. We mean you no harm."


    Novak looked around the room again, then back toward Celia. He relaxed somewhat and let out a deep breath. "I¡ªI''m sorry," he muttered, lowering his head. "I didn''t realize you were... human..."


    Troi and Celia exchanged a puzzled glance before returning their attention to Novak. "What do you mean?" Troi asked.


    Before the stranger could answer, his strength gave out, and he faded back into unconsciousness. Troi moved in and caught him before he could slump onto the floor. "We really need to get that wound taken care of," he said, looking back at Celia. Help me get him back on the bed."


    Celia nodded and helped Master Troi lift Novak from the ground and return him to the infirmary bed. As Troi returned to work tending to the stranger''s injuries, Celia stood ready to help with whatever was needed to save this man''s life. He would not die tonight.

 Chapter 5: Interdiction

    The journey aboard the Firehawk had been a quiet couple of weeks, but as the vessel approached the end of its time in flux space, an air of unease settled over the ship and its crew. The Vindicators were among those who felt it most keenly; as most of them were espers, they could sense something was off long before the ship''s sensors detected anything amiss.


    As Novak stepped out of his quarters and into the Firehawk''s central corridor, he was greeted by a flurry of activity among the crew members rushing to their posts. He made his way toward the ship''s bridge to see if he could figure out what was going on. "Attention all hands," Captain Brennan''s voice announced over the PA system. "Proceed to your assigned stations for an emergency shift to normal space. I say again: proceed to your assigned stations for emergency shift to normal space."


    <What the hell is going on?> Novak thought as he made his way to the bridge.


    The Firehawk''s bridge was abuzz with activity as its crew prepared for whatever emergency they were about to encounter. Captain Brennan sat at the command console, barking orders to his subordinates, while Lieutenant MacLeod stood with his arms crossed as he watched various warnings flare across the ship''s monitors.


    Novak approached MacLeod and stood beside him. "What are we looking at?" he asked.


    "Looks like we''re approaching a gravity well," MacLeod replied. "And it''s fixing to pull us out of flux space ahead of schedule."


    "That doesn''t sound good," Novak remarked. "Is this normal?"


    MacLeod shrugged. "For charted territory, no," he replied. "But not uncommon for an exploration mission. Any strong enough well can pull a ship out of flux space. Stars, planets, asteroids. Hell, even other ships if they''re big enough. It''s why we usually aim for the edge of a star system."


    A violent jolt rocked the ship, and anyone who had been standing was thrown off their feet. Novak pulled himself to his feet and then helped MacLeod do the same. "Sir, the bubble''s about to pop!" shouted one of the crew members at the sensor station.


    "All hands, shift to normal space imminent!" announced Captain Brennan.


    Novak and MacLeod heeded the warning and strapped themselves into empty jump seats nearby. The captain looked back at them and nodded as he tightened his own restraints. "Here we go," he said with a grimace.


    Even the most frequent interstellar travelers could never quite get used to shifting in and out of flux space. Novak had heard it compared to having your insides scrambled with a fork, but that didn''t even begin to describe the sensation. It felt like your whole body was being torn apart, atom by atom, only to be put back together again moments later. The sensation was beyond agonizing, but it luckily only lasted for an instant.


    The Firehawk lurched and groaned as its flux core disengaged, and the ship reverted to normal space. Novak let out a sigh of relief once the pain finally subsided and unbuckled himself from his seat. He looked over to MacLeod, who seemed just as relieved as he was. "Navigation, figure out where the hell we ended up," the captain ordered. "Comms, get our scanners online. If there are bogeys out there, I want to know about them. Engineering, raise our shields and get the stealth drive running ASAP."


    Inter-ship communications buzzed with activity as the Firehawk''s crew scrambled to carry out their orders. The ship''s foreview screens displayed a large gray moon in front of them, its surface pocked with craters from meteor impacts, while a small blue marble of a world sat beyond its horizon.


    "Captain, Navigation here. We''re within the inner sector of the system, just outside 1 AU from the star. Third planet from the sun. Preliminary scans indicate at least 90% habitability. Something''s off in our nav data, though. We shouldn''t have dropped out of flux space this close to the star."


    "Comms here!" an exasperated voice chimed in. "We''ve got three bandits on approach! Scanners have ID''d them as nrac corvettes. Scorpio-class."


    "All hands to battle stations!" the captain ordered. "Engineering, divert reserve power to our aft shields. Navigation, get us a path to the system''s edge and prep for another jump. Helm, keep us as far away from the enemy as possible-evasive maneuvers as needed. Tactical, you are weapons-free but prioritize point defenses. Don''t let them close in on us."


    "Aye, sir."


    A detailed 3D holographic display appeared in the middle of the bridge as the ship''s battle lighting kicked on, bathing the bridge in a dull red. At the center was a representation of the Firehawk and its defenses, while three small images toward the edge of the projection represented their pursuers. As the Firehawk launched a salvo of long-range torpedoes at the incoming corvettes, a swarm of blips appeared on the display to track them. Novak watched as the blips closed in on their targets, then disappeared before they met their mark, presumably dispatched by the enemy vessels'' point defenses.


    Novak let out a nervous breath. "It''s not looking good for us, is it, sir?" he asked the captain.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Captain Brennan furrowed his brow. "If we''re careful and play our cards right, we should be able to handle three corvettes," he explained. "They''re fast attack ships with short-range plasma throwers and not enough torpedoes to out-shoot our point defenses. As long as we have the range advantage, we can keep them at bay until we can jump."


    The Firehawk launched another salvo of long-range torpedoes into space as it continued its course toward the edge of the system. The corvettes responded in kind, launching a volley of torpedoes that were quickly shot down by the Firehawk''s point defenses. As the skirmish continued to unfold, an air of tension filled the bridge that had everyone on edge. Even the battle-hardened Novak found himself squirming in his chair, unable to take his eyes off the holographic display.


    "Sir!" Another call from Communications. "A bubble just popped on top of us! We''ve got seven bandits in CQB range: six Ballista-class frigates and an Onager-class cruiser!"


    The bridge display adjusted to accommodate the new enemy contacts; a formation of seven ships appeared nearly on top of the Firehawk''s position. Before Captain Brennan could give an order, a metallic crack reverberated through the ship as it careened to the side, tossing a handful of unprepared crew members from their seats. "Shit!" the captain shouted. "Damage report!"


    "Direct hit through the med bay!" replied Engineering. "We''re venting O2, but damage control systems are isolating it. Shields at 26%. Another shot like that will cut us in half, sir."


    The captain slammed his fist against his console in frustration before collecting himself to reassess the situation. He knew that with their superior drives, the Nrac were capable of short skips through flux space, but there was no way they should have been able to land on top of them like this.


    "Uh, sir? They''re hailing us."


    The captain looked over at Communications and raised an eyebrow. "What?" he asked incredulously. "Patch them through to the bridge."


    "Aye, sir."


    A young, white-haired Nrac wearing an indigo-colored uniform appeared on the main screen at the front of the bridge. His humanlike appearance was a stark contrast to the typical power-armored soldiers that Novak had encountered throughout the war on the ground. The alien''s bright yellow eyes looked down upon the Firehawk''s bridge crew with disdain as he spoke. "Attention, Terran vessel," he announced. "This is Centurion Maxim of the House Saul Navy. You have entered restricted space without authorization and are hereby ordered to surrender your ship and prepare to be boarded."


    The entire bridge crew met his declaration with icy glares. "We were just leaving, Centurion," Captain Brennan replied. "Now, if you''ll kindly power down your weapons, we''ll be on our way."


    "You and your crew will answer for your transgressions," the Nrac replied. "Power down your weapon systems, or we will be forced to open fire."


    Captain Brennan let out a frustrated sigh before looking back at Communications. "Cut the line," he ordered.


    "Aye, sir."


    The image of the Nrac centurion disappeared from the main screen as Communications cut their communication feed. "Can we get a distress signal out?" the captain asked.


    "Negative, sir. They''re jamming long-range comms. We''re alone out here."


    Captain Brennan gave a solemn nod. "Everyone, it''s been an honor serving with you, but I am afraid our journey together ends here. I am issuing an evac order. All hands, load up on the shuttles and get down to the planet below. The Nrac have already staked their claim here, but that world is your only hope right now. Get down there, survive, and do whatever you can to make it back home. Our people need to know the Nrac are here."


    Novak looked over at the captain with concern in his eyes. "Sir?" he asked. "What about you?"


    Brennan unbuckled himself from his command chair and stood up straight before looking Novak in the eye. "I''m going to do everything I can from here to cover your escape," he answered. "If I''m lucky, I may even take a few of them with me."


    The lieutenant nodded. "Understood," he said, "but my team can help too. Does your ship have any EVA RIGs ready to go?"


    MacLeod gave Novak an odd look. "We do," he replied. "But what are you planning?"


    "If they''re going to board us, then we''ll board them right back," Novak answered. "My team will hit the cruiser and raise some hell. Maybe give your people a fighting chance to make it planetside."


    The captain laughed grimly. "They told me you Vindicators were crazy," he remarked. "I just didn''t realize how much."


    "Is that a ''yes'', sir?" Novak asked.


    Brennan nodded. "It''s a yes," he replied. "Lieutenant MacLeod, get Novak and his Vindicators set up with some EVA RIGs. Once they''re set, get everyone you can to the shuttles, and then get the hell out of here. I''ll keep your flight path as clear as I can."


    "Aye, sir," MacLeod nodded. He gestured for Novak to follow him off the bridge. "Come on, Lieutenant. Let''s go get you some toys."


    MacLeod and Novak departed the bridge among a mob of crew members and quickly made their way to the armory. Novak radioed his team to meet them there and immediately began suiting up in his combat hardsuit. The rest of his Vindicators arrived shortly after and began suiting up for battle.


    MacLeod grabbed one of the EVA RIGs from storage and inspected it before handing it over to Novak. Rapid Integration Gear, or RIGs, were powered modular exoskeletons that could be attached to armor to enhance strength and provide new functionality. This particular model was designed for zero-gravity operations; it included maneuvering thrusters, mag boots, and a magnetic grappling hook.


    "You know how to use this thing?" MacLeod asked as Novak slipped the RIG over his hardsuit.


    Novak nodded as he finished attaching the RIG to the hard points on his armor. "Not the first time I''ve taken a nrac cruiser from the outside," he replied with a grin.


    Emerson, Amari, and Beckett wasted no time getting suited up in their own EVA RIGs while MacLeod double-checked their connections. The Vindicators each secured their weapons and performed a few basic checks before stowing as much ammunition as their gear could reasonably hold.


    "Alright," Novak said, performing one last check on his helmet before turning to MacLeod. "We''re ready to go. Save as many of the crew as you can, MacLeod. We''ll meet you planetside if we can. If not, well... it''s been an honor."


    MacLeod gave Novak a firm nod and shook his hand. "You too, Novak," he replied. "But you damn well better make it down there alive."


    With that, MacLeod headed off to the shuttle bay to catch up with the Firehawk''s crew while Novak and his team made their way to the nearest airlock. "Captain," said Novak, radioing the bridge. "We are in position to initiate boarding maneuvers, over."


    "Roger that, Lieutenant," the captain replied. "Syncing your TacNet to the Firehawk''s telemetry now. Godspeed."

 Chapter 6: The Terran Menace

    Tala moved briskly through Ishma''s fortress, her stride filled with a calm urgency at the news of a Terran incursion. The doors to the command center hissed and slid open at her approach, but her presence went largely unnoticed as the room''s occupants were too engrossed in their work.


    The command center was abuzz with activity. Its walls were lined with various terminals displaying data and communication feeds from across the planet, while a holographic projector in the center of the room displayed tactical information regarding the battle going on above them.


    Ishma watched intently while his officers scurried about the room, relaying orders and coordinating efforts. "Centurion Maxim," said Ishma. "I need an update."


    A uniformed ship captain appeared in one of the displays: a young, white-haired nrac clad in the indigo colors of House Saul. "Right away, your Grace," the captain replied. "We detected a single Terran vessel drop out of flux space behind Renatus''s moon. We initially suspected a trap of some kind, as they were broadcasting their location on a normally unused frequency, so we sent a trio of corvettes to investigate."


    Ishma scratched his chin as he listened. "Interesting," he said. "Please, continue."


    "After the corvettes verified that the contact was, in fact, a Terran vessel, we ordered them to give chase and engage. Following that, I took a small detachment from our main flotilla and executed a flux skip maneuver to intercept. We damaged the vessel with a single shot from a plasrail, then ordered them to power down their weapons and prepare for boarding. I have a boarding party preparing as we speak. I will find out why the Terrans are here, your Grace."


    "Excellent work, Centurion," Ishma replied. "I would advise caution, however. The Terrans should not be underestimated."


    Maxim nodded. "Of course, your Grace."


    Ishma turned away for a moment, finally noticing Tala''s presence. "Ah, your Majesty," he greeted her. "I see you received my notification."


    "What''s going on here?" Tala demanded.


    "A Terran ship just dropped out of flux space behind this planet''s moon," Ishma explained. "My men are handling the situation, but I thought you might want to see them in action."


    Tala frowned and folded her arms across her chest. "What reason do they have to be here?" she asked.


    "I intend to find out just that," Ishma replied as he turned his attention back toward Maxim''s feed. "With any luck, we''ll have the answer to that question shortly."


    Tala nodded and hovered behind Ishma as she watched along. The bridge of Maxim''s ship was bustling with activity, though everyone seemed to be waiting with bated breath while the boarding party prepared to intercept the Terran vessel. Suddenly, the bridge''s lighting flickered, and Centurion Maxim looked toward one of the bridge technicians. "What the hell was that?" he asked.


    "Sir, we''re getting reports of a hull breach on the engineering deck."


    "What? Get them on comms," Maxim ordered.


    With a few quick commands on his console, the bridge tech gave the centurion a nod and opened a channel to engineering. "Engineering, what''s going on down there?" Maxim asked.


    "Sir!" A voice crackled through the speaker. "We''ve got intruders!" Panic, gunfire, and explosions could be heard in the background as the engineer frantically shouted. "They''re tearing us apart! Centurion, what do we¡ª"


    A sense of dread hung in the air as the channel went dead. "Someone get me eyes on the intruders!" Maxim ordered.


    The bridge crew scrambled about at their consoles as they searched through the ship''s surveillance systems to locate the enemy boarding party. Tracking them down proved easy, as they left an obvious path of destruction in their wake. The team of four moved through the ship''s corridors like a well-oiled machine, making short work of any opposition the crew could muster. They carved their way through the vessel, cutting down their foes with electromagnetic weapons and psionic powers, and gradually began taking control of the ship''s vital compartments and subsystems.


    Watching them from the feed on Renatus, Ishma recognized the deadly handiwork of the Terrans'' elite psionic commandoes. "Centurion, you''re dealing with a squad of Vindicators," Ishma warned. "There is a high probability that you will lose control of your ship if you do not deal with them immediately."


    "Vindicators, your Grace?" Maxim replied. "Are you certain?"


    "Absolutely. And I am all too familiar with their capabilities," Ishma continued. "You must stop them before they take control of your ship."


    Maxim nodded as he watched one of his crewmembers go down in a hail of bullets, then turned to face the rest of his bridge staff. "Whatever security forces we can spare, send them to meet the boarding party," he ordered. "I want those Terrans dead!"


    Ishma could already hear the fear in Centurion Maxim''s voice, and he had every right to be afraid. Time and time again, the Vindicators had been the scourge of his operations against the Terrans. They were not to be trifled with unless, of course, they could be met with overwhelming force and firepower¡ªtwo things Centurion Maxim did not have at his disposal.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    As the centurion dispatched his remaining security forces to intercept the Terrans, Tala watched with growing concern as the battle unfolded. The Terran team continued to cut through their opposition with ease; even against dedicated security personnel, they seemed unstoppable. Ishma noticed her uneasiness and offered some reassurance. "They''re quite the sight to behold, aren''t they?" he remarked.


    "Is this truly what the Terrans are capable of?" she asked.


    "Not all of them," Ishma said, "but the Vindicators are among their most formidable. What you see here, your Majesty, are the abilities of their strongest."


    Tala watched in awe as the Terran boarding team moved with precision and purpose, cutting down their enemies like they were crossing names off a list. "I... I think I am beginning to understand why you fear them so much," she said quietly.


    "What you have witnessed here is why they must be brought to heel," Ishma explained. "My war with them was not an act of aggression; it was a matter of survival¡ªfor both of our species."


    The boarding party continued to cut through Maxim''s security forces as they pushed further into the ship. They were not far from the bridge now. "Your Grace... I... I can''t stop them..." Maxim stammered over the comms. "What do I do?"


    Ishma let out a sigh of resignation. "You have lost your ship, Centurion," he replied. "If you wish to survive, I would advise scuttling your vessel and evacuating immediately. You may yet live to fight another day."


    Centurion Maxim swallowed hard. "It... it will be done, your Grace," he replied before turning his attention to the bridge crew. "Initiate a core meltdown sequence, then get to the escape pods."


    The bridge crew sprang into action, performing the necessary tasks to ensure the ship''s destruction. But before Centurion Maxim could initiate the countdown, an explosion breached the door to the bridge, and the four Vindicators stormed through the opening. Tala let out a quiet gasp as she watched the bridge explode into a hail of gunfire. Within seconds, the bridge''s crew, including Centurion Maxim, fell where they stood.


    Ishma clenched his fists at the sight of the carnage and released an exasperated sigh as he watched the Terrans move about the bridge. One of them approached the main console and pressed a hand against it. Electricity arced from the Terran''s hand to the console as he interfaced with its systems, and the feed began to flicker as the technomancer seized control.


    Meanwhile, another Terran noticed the camera and approached to examine it. His armor and helmet fully concealed his features, but somehow, Ishma could sense the smug expression on his face as the feed went dark.


    "Warn all ships in the AO that enemy forces have compromised the Patriarch of Autumn," Ishma ordered. "Order them to shoot it down."


    The holographic display in the center of the room became a flurry of activity as the now Terran-controlled Patriarch of Autumn began opening fire on the surrounding vessels with its point defenses. The ship''s plasma throwers lanced out at other nearby ships, scoring several direct hits against its frigate escorts before they adjusted course and returned fire. The Patriarch of Autumn''s shields flared brightly as they absorbed the barrage, but they quickly began to buckle under the combined assault.


    Amidst the chaos, the Terran vessel launched a pair of shuttles toward Renatus''s surface while its point defenses cleared a path for them through the Nrac fleet. The shuttles disappeared from the tactical display as they entered the planet''s atmosphere, leaving Ishma and Tala to ponder what this meant for the future of House Saul. "Your Grace," one of Ishma''s officers said. "What do we do?"


    Ishma contemplated his options carefully before responding. A surviving crew from a small Terran starship likely posed little threat on its own, but a squad of Vindicators could prove more than troublesome. Taking out the Patriarch of Autumn was his best shot at stopping them here and now. "Tell the fleet to focus fire on the Patriarch of Autumn," he ordered. "Target any escape pods that may have been launched. With any luck, we''ll at least remove the Vindicators from the equation."


    The officer nodded and relayed the orders to the rest of the fleet. The Nrac vessels launched salvo after salvo at the Patriarch of Autumn as it unloaded its weapons in kind. The ship''s shields finally gave way under the assault, and several direct hits breached the hull. The ship exploded into a ball of flames and debris, but not before launching every single escape pod it had available.


    As the surviving fleet turned its attention toward the swarm of pods, the Terran vessel moved to intercept. It rammed the lead frigate head-on and tore through its shields like paper before crashing into its hull and exploding in a brilliant flash of light. The struck frigate listed to one side before it was consumed in a ball of fire, damaging several of its allies with the resulting field of shrapnel.


    The remaining Nrac vessels scattered to avoid further collateral damage while Ishma watched with growing concern. Most of the pods had made it to Renatus''s atmosphere by now, and there was nothing he could do to stop them from landing safely on the planet''s surface. "Damn it all!" he growled. "Muster any available ground forces and organize search parties. We cannot allow the Terrans to gain a foothold here."


    "Yes, your Grace," one of Ishma''s officers replied as he relayed the orders.


    Ishma scowled as he turned his attention to Tala. "Your Majesty," he said, "I am sorry for this inconvenience. I assure you that I will do whatever is necessary to find these Terrans and neutralize them as swiftly as possible. I do hope you plan to add this turn of events to your reports."


    Tala nodded. She still seemed shaken by what had transpired before her eyes, but she did her best not to show it. "Of course," she replied. "This... this was quite enlightening. The Emperor should know the full capabilities of the Terrans."


    "Indeed," Ishma agreed. He turned back toward his officers and gestured toward the door. "Get moving! You have your orders."


    The officers scrambled out of the command center while Ishma contemplated the situation further. He knew that if the Terrans were allowed to linger on Renatus unchecked, they would undoubtedly cause trouble for House Saul''s operations here. "No," he said to himself. "I will not allow them to undo a decade of my work."


    Ishma turned his attention back to Tala and smiled at her. "Your Majesty," he said politely, "I regret that our meeting must come to an end, but I must see to this matter personally. I trust that everything is in order for your investigations."


    Tala nodded. "I have what I require," she replied. "Thank you for your hospitality."


    "Of course," Ishma said with a nod. "If there is anything else you require, please do not hesitate to ask."


    With that, Tala left the command center, leaving Ishma to oversee this new development alone.

 Chapter 7: Planetside

    Lieutenant MacLeod lay perfectly still, hiding among wild grass as a Nrac patrol lingered nearby. The Firehawk''s pair of shuttles had managed to make it down to the surface of Renatus without much trouble, thanks to both the efforts of the Vindicators and the final defiant actions of the ship''s late captain. However, a patrolling gunship had spotted them while they searched for a place to land and gave chase.


    Though the shuttles had managed to evade the gunship long enough to land in a clearing near some ruins, the gunship sent out a ground team to investigate their position. MacLeod and the rest of his surviving crew managed to hide before the Nrac patrol arrived, but they knew it was only a matter of time before they were found.


    MacLeod could hear one of their power-armored soldiers stomp through the grass nearby, and he gripped his mag rifle tightly as he prepared for what might come next. He looked over at the others hiding alongside him¡ªa dozen or so survivors from the Firehawk''s crew, and only half of them properly armed¡ªand gave them each a nod before returning his attention to the patrol.


    The familiar drone of a Nrac gunship''s anti-gravity engines from above made MacLeod''s hair stand on end, and when it opened fire, he knew it was over. But the Nrac patrol suddenly scattered as their gunship''s weapons turned against them. As a hail of plasma cut a few of them down, MacLeod came out of hiding and seized the opportunity. He picked a target and opened fire, then ordered the Firehawk''s crew to do the same. "Light ''em up!"


    The rest of the Nrac patrol quickly fell under the combined firepower of MacLeod and the rest of the crew, along with the support of the Nrac gunship he correctly assumed had been commandeered by the Vindicators. Once the last of the enemy soldiers fell, MacLeod raised his hand in the air and gestured for his crew to regroup. "Everyone alright?" he asked.


    "We''re good," said one of the survivors.


    The Nrac gunship circled around them before setting down nearby, the gravitational forces of its engines kicking up a cloud of dust as it landed. The hatch at the rear of the vessel opened, and a triumphant Emerson and Beckett stepped out with their weapons in hand. "Can you believe the shit these assholes just leave lying around?" Beckett joked as he gestured toward the gunship.


    MacLeod let out a chuckle. "I''m really glad you guys showed up when you did," he remarked. "Where''s the other half of your team?"


    Emerson shook his head. "MIA," he replied. "We all did our best to stay on your shuttles'' tails, but Novak and Amari broke off just before we hit atmo. We were hoping you could help us track them down. Do those little biomonitors of yours still work down here?"


    MacLeod nodded. "They might," he replied. "But I''m afraid they''re not going to do us much good if we''re stuck out here in the open." He gestured toward the nearby ruins. "We need to get to cover and regroup before we can start looking for our people."


    "Sounds like a plan, sir," Emerson agreed. "Lead the way."


    MacLeod gestured for the survivors to follow him, and Emerson and Beckett fell in behind them. The group made their way into the ruins, a decaying city of glass and concrete overgrown with vegetation. Whatever this place had been was long gone now, reclaimed by the wilderness that surrounded it. MacLeod led the team through the crumbling structures until they came across a large building that was relatively intact. It was far from ideal, but it was enough to offer some shelter from the elements¡ªand any Nrac forces that might be searching for them.


    The building appeared to have once been some factory or warehouse, but anything of value had been stripped clean long ago. Still, it provided more than enough cover to hide the stolen gunship and their shuttles. MacLeod had the FIrehawk''s crew set up makeshift defenses from whatever scrap was on hand and sent two teams out to retrieve the two shuttles. Meanwhile, Emerson and Beckett took the gunship out to scout the immediate area for any lingering patrols.


    While MacLeod waited for everyone to return, he decided to take advantage of the downtime by checking in on the biomonitors of those who were still missing. He pulled out his datapad and opened its tracking program, then keyed in Novak''s ident code. A few moments later, a small blip appeared at the edge of his display; Novak was alive, but the signal was weak. He was at least a couple hundred miles out from their position. "Damn," MacLeod muttered. "That''s gonna be a hike."


    As MacLeod continued to scan for more signals, he noticed that Amari''s biomonitor was nowhere to be found. He tried her code several times, but each time, it returned an error message indicating that she was either offline or out of range. Knowing her past with SCID, she may have been too paranoid to take the biomonitor pill in the first place. Whatever the case, searching for her without a signal was a lost cause.


    MacLeod sighed and put his datapad away before making the rounds to check on the rest of the survivors. Most of them were still shaken by what happened aboard the Firehawk, but they appeared to be holding it together well enough, all things considered. The crew members who had been tasked with retrieving the shuttles returned safely with both vessels in tow, and MacLeod ordered them to get some rest while the others began unloading supplies and scavenging what spare parts they could.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Among the mob was a familiar dark-haired medical corpsman organizing and tallying the medical supplies from the shuttle. Even as MacLeod approached, her face remained buried in her datapad, and she was utterly focused on her task. "''Chief Langley,'' was it?" MacLeod asked. "I''m glad you made it off that ship."


    Senior Service Chief Onora Langley looked up from her datapad to acknowledge MacLeod''s presence. "Thank you, sir," she replied. But I''m afraid I''m all that''s left from medical. I just happened to be in my quarters when the med bay got hit."


    MacLeod gave Langley a sympathetic nod. "I understand," he said. "We lost a lot of good people today."


    "We did," Langley agreed with a sigh. "May I speak freely, sir?"


    "Go ahead," MacLeod replied.


    Langley set down her datapad and folded her arms across her chest before looking MacLeod in the eye. "I don''t know how else to say this, sir, but morale is in the shitter right now," she said bluntly. "A lot of these people are just going through the motions. They''re scared and confused, and they have no idea what''s going on. And I can feel all of it."


    MacLeod raised an eyebrow. "You''re...?"


    "I''m an empath, sir," Langley confirmed. "I''m no Vindicator, but I can read emotions like a book. And right now? It''s not looking pretty."


    The lieutenant nodded. "I see," he said thoughtfully. "What do you suggest we do about it, Chief?"


    Langley shrugged. "I''m just a corpsman, sir," she replied. "But if I were in command here, I''d start by getting everyone together for a group debriefing and maybe some rations. Let them know what''s going on. Give them hope that this isn''t the end of the line."


    "That''s... actually great advice," MacLeod remarked. "Thank you, Chief."


    Langley gave him a nod and returned her focus to her datapad. "Just doing my job, sir," she said matter-of-factly.


    As MacLeod walked away from Langley, he contemplated what she had said. He knew it was essential to address the crew as soon as possible, but there really wasn''t much of a plan beyond survival right now. They were stranded on an alien world with no way to call for help and surrounded by enemies who would kill them or worse if they were caught. The odds were indeed not in their favor, but he had to do something¡ªanything¡ªto keep morale up and give these people some hope for the future.


    MacLeod gathered everyone together in the center of the building and stood atop a crate so that all could see and hear him. "Everyone!" he called out. "I know it''s been a tough day for all of us, and things are looking pretty grim, but I need you all to listen up. We''re still alive, and we still have a chance to get off this planet. But it''s not gonna be easy."


    The Firehawk''s crew listened intently as MacLeod continued. "Our ship is gone," he said somberly. "And with it, our only means of getting back home. But that doesn''t mean we''re out of options. We''ve got a Vindicator team on our side¡ªthe same team that hijacked a cruiser and a gunship. They''ve already pulled our asses out of the fire twice, and they''re out there right now trying to find a way to help us. So until then, we need to do whatever we can to survive."


    MacLeod paused for a moment to let his words sink in before continuing. "We have supplies, we have weapons, and we have shelter," he explained. "But most importantly, we have each other. We''re going to get through this together, and I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure we all get home alive."


    The crew members looked at one another with renewed hope and determination as MacLeod finished his speech. "Now, I know some of you are scared, and I know some of you are angry," he said. "But we need to hold it together if we want to make it through this. So take care of each other. Keep your heads up, your eyes open, and your weapons close. The path forward may not be clear, but we will find a way out of this mess together."


    MacLeod stepped down from the crate as his crew began to disperse and return to their tasks. He looked over toward Langley, who nodded and smiled before returning to her inventory check. As MacLeod walked away, he noticed Emerson and Beckett approaching from outside.


    "Nice speech, sir," Beckett remarked.


    "Thanks," MacLeod replied. "How''d your scouting run go?"


    "Didn''t see any more patrols. I think we lucked out," Emerson replied. "The bluebloods seem keen on avoiding this island. We''re probably safe here for the time being."


    MacLeod nodded. "Good," he said. "So, what''s our next move? Any ideas?"


    "You make any progress on tracking down Lieutenant Novak? Or Amari?" Beckett asked.


    MacLeod shook his head. "I''ve got Novak''s signal, but it''s weak," he explained. "He''s a couple hundred miles out from here. No dice on Amari. She''s either out of range or... well..."


    "Shit," Emerson cursed.


    "Yeah," MacLeod agreed with a nod before changing the subject. "Look, I honestly got nothing here. We have enough emergency rations for maybe a few weeks if we''re careful, but that''s about it."


    Emerson nodded and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose Beckett and I can try to find a safe path to Novak with the gunship," he suggested. "Maybe tracking him down will lead us to something useful?"


    MacLeod shrugged. "It''s all we''ve got right now," he said. "But what about Amari? We can''t just leave her out there on her own."


    "We don''t even know if she made it planetside," Beckett pointed out.


    "Yeah," Emerson agreed. "I hate to say it, but we should assume worst-case scenario unless we can confirm otherwise. We''d just waste time and effort looking for her right now."


    "Alright then," MacLeod sighed. "Get some rest. We''ll head out in the morning."


    "''We'', sir?" Beckett asked with a smirk. "You''re coming with us?"


    MacLeod nodded. "Look, I''m no Vindicator, but I''ve known Novak since before he was even an esper," he explained. "He''s my friend too, and I''m not about to sit here with my thumb up my ass while you two do all the work. Besides, having an officer along means you can just blame me when shit goes sideways, right?"


    Beckett chuckled as he patted MacLeod on the shoulder. "I like this guy," he said, turning to Emerson.


    "Me too," Emerson agreed with a grin as they both headed off toward the shuttles. "Sounds good, sir. Wouldn''t hurt to have another rifle on our side."


    MacLeod watched the pair depart before letting out a sigh of relief and heading off to find somewhere comfortable to sleep. The day''s events had left him utterly fatigued, and he knew that tomorrow would likely be even more exhausting.


    As he lay down in his sleeping bag and closed his eyes, he found himself wondering how everything had gone so wrong so quickly. The Nrac were practically on top of them the moment the Firehawk fell out of flux space; it couldn''t have merely been bad luck.


    The lieutenant let out another sigh and tried to forget such thoughts as he eventually drifted off to sleep.

 Chapter 8: Awakening

    Novak''s return to the land of the living was welcomed with the screeching greeting of a crow. He lay in bed, still in a daze, watching through the window as the black-feathered bird eyed him with cold indifference from the branch of a nearby tree. It cawed again before fluttering off into the morning sky, leaving him alone. He first thought nothing of the crow, then remembered he had crashed on another planet. It left him wondering how New Terra''s flora and fauna might have spread across the galaxy¡ªor if they''d been brought here by human colonists. But he quickly dismissed such thoughts and shifted his attention to more immediate concerns.


    As he sat up in bed, his head throbbed, and the events of the previous night came flashing back to him. The attack on the Firehawk, his team''s raid on the Nrac cruiser, the crash landing of his escape pod after narrowly escaping the battle, and an encounter with... humans? Novak rubbed his temples as he tried to recall what happened after the crash. He remembered seeing other humans, but they were not from the Firehawk. They were wearing primitive clothing, like something out of a history vid, and they spoke with strange accents. "They patched me up," he said to himself as the memories began to clear.


    Now that he was fully awake, Novak examined his surroundings more closely. Wooden construction, twenty beds, and three supply closets full of shoddy medical supplies told him this was some kind of low-tech infirmary. The room was lit by natural light from the window, but sconces were scattered about for candles as well. Despite the primitive nature of the facility, it seemed clean and well-maintained.


    Novak looked down at his body and saw that someone had dressed him in a simple linen tunic while he slept. His hardsuit had been removed entirely, though he noticed it sitting on a nearby table along with his weapons and equipment. He stood up from the bed and stretched his limbs before making his way over to inspect the pile of gear. Everything appeared intact, though it was all covered in dirt and dried blood. "Guess I owe someone a thank you," Novak muttered.


    The sound of footsteps approaching from outside drew Novak''s attention, and he instinctively reached for his mag carbine and brought it to his shoulder as he faced the door.


    <I hope he''s still hanging in there.>


    The errant thought caught Novak by surprise, but not nearly as much as when the door opened. A familiar bronze-skinned girl entered with a bucket of water in one hand and a mass of bandages in the other, both of which she immediately dropped when she noticed Novak standing there with his weapon ready. "Really!?" she shrieked. "Again!? I swear to the Maker..."


    Novak slung his weapon over his shoulder and raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry," he said. "I didn''t mean to scare you."


    The girl sighed and bent down to retrieve her supplies. "Well, you did," she replied curtly.


    He looked the girl over as she stood back up. She wore a plain linen robe, and her short dark hair was messily cut like she had done it herself with a knife, but she had a pretty face and striking sky-colored eyes. As far as Novak could tell, she was just as human as he was, but he wondered how she ended up on this planet with the rest of these people. This was supposed to be uncharted territory, untouched by humanity¡ªor so he''d been told.


    Novak watched as the girl placed the bucket of water and bandages on a nearby table before turning to face him. "So... you''re awake," she remarked. That''s good, but I need to change your bandages."


    Novak nodded as he sat down on the bed. The girl walked over to the table and retrieved a pair of scissors and some gauze before returning to his side. She cut away at the bandages wrapped around his chest and shoulder until they were loose enough for her to peel them away. "You were there last night," Novak said as she worked. "When I... fell."


    The girl nodded as she began cleaning his wound with a damp cloth. "I was," she replied. "You were pretty beat up when we found you. Looked like you had lost a lot of blood. We weren''t sure you would make it through the night."


    "I... uh... thanks," Novak said awkwardly. "For helping me, I mean."


    "Of course," the girl replied, reaching for a batch of fresh bandages. "Just do me a favor and quit pointing that weapon of yours at me every time we meet, okay?"


    Novak chuckled. "I''ll try my best," he promised.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    As the girl moved to apply the fresh bandages, she paused momentarily and shot Novak a curious glance. "Hmm. Your wounds are healing well," she remarked. "Incredibly well, actually. It almost looks like you didn''t even need the sutures."


    Novak shrugged. "I''ve always been pretty quick to get back on my feet, I guess."


    The girl nodded as she finished wrapping the fresh bandages and tied them off. "Well, Mr. Quick Healer, you should still take it easy for a few days," she instructed him. "Your body may heal fast, but that doesn''t mean it''s invincible."


    "Understood," he nodded.


    Novak watched as the girl collected her supplies and headed toward the door. "Wait," he called out after her. "I¡­ have questions."


    She stopped at the door and turned to face him. "Right, then. I''ll answer what I can," she said.


    "Who are you?" he asked. "And what is this place? Where even am I?"


    "You don''t remember? I suppose that''s understandable, given your injuries," she replied. "I''m Celia. Cecelia Moore. I''m an apprentice here."


    "I''m¡ª"


    "''Lieutenant Jannik Novak,'' right?" Celia interrupted him. "You shouted that at me a couple of times last night."


    Novak nodded sheepishly. "Right," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry about that."


    Celia shrugged. "It''s fine," she replied. "But to answer your other questions, this is the Ryntai Monastery on Condor Island. It''s where I live and train with the others."


    Novak stared back at her blankly. None of what she had told him made any sort of sense. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "That''s not what I meant," he explained. "I mean... how are there humans here? I was told this system was uncharted. There shouldn''t be a colony here."


    Celia raised an eyebrow. "I honestly have no idea what you''re saying," she replied incredulously. "But I''m pretty sure we''ve always been here."


    Novak shook his head in frustration. "Never mind," he sighed. "Forget I asked. It''s... complicated."


    Celia shrugged and turned toward the door once more. "Well, I need to get back to my training," she said. "You should rest for now. Headmaster Zan will want to speak with you now that you''re feeling better."


    "Uh¡­ one last thing before you go."


    The girl stopped and turned to face him, her eyebrow raised. "Yes?"


    Novak glanced about at the empty infirmary before letting out a sigh. "Was there anyone else with me?" he asked. "I¡­ got separated from my companions."


    Celia frowned. "Sorry, but no," she replied. "You were the only one we found last night."


    "Damn," Novak growled. "Well, thanks anyway."


    The girl nodded and quickly departed, closing the door behind her and leaving Novak alone with his thoughts. He sat on the edge of the bed for a few moments before heeding Celia''s advice and laying back down. He spent the next hour or so watching the sun crawl across the sky until the creak of the infirmary door heralded the arrival of the headmaster.


    Before the lieutenant stood a sturdily built man in his 50s with graying black hair. A gray set of eyes, a soldier''s eyes, watched Novak with an all too familiar wariness. "Hello there," he greeted. "Mr... Novak, was it?"


    "Lieutenant Novak," he corrected.


    "I am Headmaster Zan Petrov," he introduced himself. "How are your injuries treating you?"


    "Well enough for now," Novak replied. "Thank you."


    The headmaster leaned forward, propping himself up against the foot of Novak''s bed. "It seems that you will be staying within the walls of my monastery for the time being, Lieutenant Novak," he said. "We don''t normally entertain visitors here, but these are extenuating circumstances. You may remain until you fully recover, but I must also ask that you refrain from causing any trouble while you''re here."


    Novak gave a silent nod.


    Zan''s eyes met Novak''s as he continued speaking. "First and foremost, as headmaster here, my number one priority is the safety of my students and teachers," he explained. "It should go without saying, but if you do anything to jeopardize that safety, I will have you removed from this place. Is that clear?"


    "Of course."


    "Good," said Zan, forcing a smile. "Now, as I have already said, we do not typically entertain visitors. We don''t have much beyond what we need for our daily lives here, aside from a small collection of reading material, but you will have free access to the monastery, excluding private dormitories, of course. You may help yourself to whatever you need, but please be reasonable; we have little to spare."


    "Thank you," said Novak. "That''s very generous."


    "And one last thing," Zan added. "You may come to witness some... unusual happenings here that may or may not conform to your beliefs of how the world is supposed to work. Should you choose to ignore these happenings, and you should, I will choose to ignore that you fell from the sky in a metal coffin. Do we understand each other?"


    "We do," Novak nodded. "I''m not looking to cause any problems for you. I''ll get out of your hair once I''m all healed up."


    Zan smiled and nodded. "Good," he said. "I fear your arrival may draw undue attention here, but it is not our way to abandon someone in need. Still, it would be best if you did not linger any longer than needed, Lieutenant Novak."


    "Right," Novak sighed.


    "Well then, if there is nothing else, I must return to my duties," said Zan. "I''ll send someone to check on you and see to your needs, but please let us know if there are any issues."


    The headmaster gave a quick bow and slipped out the door just as suddenly as he had arrived. Novak watched him leave before turning his attention back toward the window. He stared out at the monastery''s courtyard below, where several students were practicing with wooden staves under the supervision of a teacher. The students moved about in unison, striking their targets with practiced precision while their instructor shouted commands as he moved among their formation.


    "Ah," Novak remarked. "So, it''s <that> kind of monastery."

 Chapter 9: The Hunt Begins

    Tala entered Ishma''s private conference room just as his legates dialed in from across the planet. Ishma was seated at the far side of a massive round table while his human steward, Centurion Salan, sat to his right with a data slate in hand. As the praetor approached, Salan looked up from his device and bowed his head to her.


    Ishma acknowledged her presence with a faint smile and gestured to an empty seat at the table. "Welcome, your Majesty," he greeted. "We will be starting momentarily."


    The praetor nodded and took her seat as holographic displays around the table flickered to life. Ghostly visages of each of Ishma''s legates appeared in their respective seats around the table one by one¡ªArlox Bahz from his impregnable fortress in the Boreal Isles, Berelian Wren from her cobbled-together citadel in the Broken Keys, and Orin Nikola from his extravagant palace in the Andean Archipelago. Each of them greeted Tala with a respectful bow before turning their attention back toward Ishma.


    "Let us get straight to business," Ishma began. "As you all know by now, we engaged a Terran ship near Renatus''s moon roughly twenty-four hours ago. The Terran ship was destroyed in the skirmish, but several of our own ships were damaged, including the loss of the cruiser, the Patriarch of Autumn. However, we believe a number of the Terrans have survived and made their way to the surface of Renatus. I have organized everyone I can spare to search Condor Island and the surrounding regions of the Allegheny Archipelago; I want each of you to do the same for your respective territories. There''s no telling for certain where the Terrans may have ended up."


    The legates exchanged worried glances with one another as they processed this news. "How did we lose a cruiser to one ship?" Legate Bahz asked after a brief silence had passed. "That''s... troubling."


    Ishma let out a frustrated grunt. "There was a team of Terran Vindicators aboard that ship," he explained. "They infiltrated the cruiser via a boarding action and took control of it before turning its guns on the rest of the fleet. It was... a terrible loss."


    "Vindicators? Here?" Legate Wren asked skeptically. "Are you certain?"


    "Without a doubt," Ishma replied with a nod. "Centurion Salan, would you mind showing them the security feed?"


    "Of course, sir."


    Salan tapped a command into his data slate, and another holographic display in the center of the table flashed to life with a low buzz. The events aboard the Patriarch of Autumn played out before them as the Terran team of four fought through the ship''s corridors, cutting down any resistance that stood in their way.


    Tala watched as one of the Vindicators¡ªtheir commander¡ªused his telekinetic abilities to effortlessly hurl a pair of soldiers across the hallway before they could even raise their weapons in defense. The Terrans'' power was terrifying to behold yet equally fascinating.


    Once the footage of the massacre ended, Ishma continued. "I suspect these Vindicators have made it to the surface alongside the Terran ship''s crew," he explained. "I already have our satellite network searching for any landing sites, but I want each of you involved in the search as well. You are to spare no expense scouring your lands for any sign of them. Is that understood?"


    The legates exchanged glances once more before nodding in agreement. "Of course, your Grace," Legate Nikola replied on behalf of the group. "We will do everything we can to help find these Terrans."Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    "Good," Ishma said with a nod. "Should any of you find them before I do, know that I would prefer them taken alive if possible. We have no idea what the Terrans are doing on this world, and I would like to find out."


    "You don''t think some silly humans managed to get out some kind of distress call, do you?" Legate Wren remarked half-jokingly. "Did the apes discover FTL communication after getting their little printing press up and running?"


    Centurion Salan shot her a questioning glance but said nothing. Ishma clenched his fists, struggling not to lose his composure in front of his subordinates. "Now is not the time for levity, Legate Wren," he replied tersely. "The Terrans are dangerous, especially the Vindicators. Capture them if you can, but do not hesitate to use lethal force if you must. Do whatever is necessary to ensure they do not gain a foothold here."


    Legate Bahz nodded in agreement. "I agree," he said. "We don''t need the humans here getting ideas. A proper rebellion is the last thing we need on Renatus right now."


    Salan shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the mention of a human rebellion but remained silent as he continued to take notes on his data slate. Ishma sighed and shook his head. He and Bahz seldom saw eye to eye when it came to the humans, but he was absolutely right about this. Even after ten years of occupation, there were still pockets of human resistance. Renatus was a powder keg waiting to blow; all it needed was the right spark.


    "Let''s hope it doesn''t come to that," Ishma replied. "Do whatever you must to contain the threat."


    Tala watched a wicked grin form on Legate Wren''s lips. She had always been eager to spill blood, especially when it came to humans, but now her duke had given her carte blanche to do so. "I will send out my best trackers, your Grace. But even if my people don''t find them, the marauders will," she said excitedly. "They won''t last long if they landed in the Broken Keys."


    "I will send out my own forces as well," Legate Nikola added. "But the Archipelago''s jungles are unforgiving. It will be difficult for anyone to survive there for long."


    Legate Bahz nodded in agreement with his fellow legates. "I will dispatch my own search parties at once," he declared. "The Boreal Isles are vast and treacherous, but if they are here, my soldiers will find them before long."


    "Excellent," Ishma replied. "Each of you has your orders. Now go and see to it that they are carried out."


    The legates gave Ishma a bow before their holographic displays winked out one by one, leaving the three of them alone in the room. He relaxed back into his seat and turned to face Tala. "If I may ask, your Majesty," he said with a smile. "What do you make of all this? The Terrans, I mean. Do you think they''re here to cause trouble?"


    Tala shrugged noncommittally. "Perhaps the Terrans'' arrival here is the consequence of your actions coming back to bite you," she replied bluntly. "You waged a war against them, and I suspect they are still... displeased. But... if you want my honest assessment, this feels like a scouting party at best. You''re dealing with a lone ship and a small group. Not an entire fleet and an invading army."


    Ishma nodded thoughtfully. "I am inclined to agree with your judgment, but the presence of the Vindicator team gives me pause," he said. "What is so important that they would risk four of their best?"


    "Perhaps it was a very important scouting party," Tala grinned. "In all seriousness, I think you can safely rule out any sort of coordinated invasion here¡ªfor now, at least."


    "That''s assuming they don''t slip through my grasp and report their findings back to their superiors," Ishma pointed out. "If they manage to get off this planet, I could face much bigger problems than just a handful of Terran Vindicators."


    "I suggest you hurry up and get to it, then," Tala remarked dryly. She stood from her seat and gave Ishma a bow before turning toward the door. "I have my own duties to see to. Good luck with your search, Duke Saul."


    Taladeparted without another word, leaving Ishma to contemplate his next move. There was little he could do now but wait for news from his subordinates, but he knew that time was of the essence. He needed to find these Terrans before they caused any more trouble on Renatus¡ªor worse yet, escaped his grasp completely.

 Chapter 10: A Dangerous Man

    In the three days since Novak had arrived at the monastery, Celia had never been less interested in her studies. It was apparent that many of the other Ryntai felt the same.


    After just one day of convalescing, their mysterious visitor was up and about, wandering the monastery by day and disappearing into the surrounding woods by night. Many saw the traveler''s behavior as highly suspicious, and although he did not bother anyone directly, even the instructors started to feed into the rumors about him.


    Sweat poured from Celia''s face as the hot sun beat down on her and her fellow apprentices. Today was their heavy conditioning day: four hours of running up and down the mountain, an hour''s break for lunch, two hours of strength training, and a final two hours of practicing martial arts with a spent and worn down body.


    It was nothing new to Celia, but today, her lack of focus was on full display. The rhythm of her breathing faltered, her steps lost their pace, and her usual near-perfect execution of each move was replaced with sloppy form and poor footwork.


    When the agonizing day of training finally met its end, Master Troi dismissed the formation of apprentices. Celia took a moment to wipe the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her tunic before heading off toward the monastery. Walking through the courtyard, she noticed Novak standing by one of the doorways, quietly observing the monks'' training regimen. <How long has he been watching us?> she wondered.


    Despite the clothing he had been loaned, Novak''s presence was difficult to miss. He carried himself in an unusual manner, like he was putting far too much effort into appearing relaxed, but beneath the facade, he was ready to spring into action at any moment. Celia wondered what kind of life Novak had lived to keep him on edge all the time.


    Their gaze met briefly as Celia approached, and he offered the faintest of smiles before his face returned to its usual stony demeanor. "Hello again," he greeted her.


    "Oh, hello," she replied, stepping out of the crowd to stop and chat with him. "How are you feeling today? Any better?"


    "I''m about back to full strength, I think," Novak replied with a shrug.


    Celia nodded. "That''s good to hear," she said before gesturing toward the training grounds. "So... what do you make of our humble monastery?"


    Novak looked around at the surrounding buildings and let out a soft chuckle. "It''s quiet," he remarked. "But I like it."


    Before the girl could respond, Alistair emerged from the crowd and pushed Celia aside as he stormed toward Novak. "You!" he shouted, jabbing a finger into his chest. "What do you think you''re doing?"


    A nonplussed Novak swatted Alistair''s finger away and eyed the young man strangely. "I was curious about your training regimen," he replied calmly. "Is that a problem?"


    Alistair scoffed. "Yeah, it is," he hissed. "We''re not here for your entertainment."


    Novak shrugged. "Well, it looked interesting." He eyed the rest of the apprentices, most of whom had now wandered off through the monastery. "It doesn''t look like you have much time to yourselves," he remarked. "Maybe go take a break instead of bothering me."


    Alistair''s eyes narrowed as he stared daggers at Novak, but Celia stepped between them. "Alistair, leave him be," she said firmly. "The man''s a guest here; you''ve no right to talk to him this way."


    The young man glared beyond her, his gaze firmly fixed on Novak. "Something is off about this guy," he snapped back. "It''s not safe for him to be here. Everybody can see it, but nobody wants to say anything. He shouldn''t have free reign of our home like this."


    "That sounds like something you should take up with your headmaster," Novak replied. "I have permission to be here."


    Celia rolled her eyes as she watched the argument unfolding before her. She had seen Alistair do this verbal dance routine many times before; he had something of a habit of goading his fellow students into sparring matches as a way to flaunt his superiority¡ªand he was good at it, too.


    While there certainly was a truth to what Alistair was saying, Celia knew his main goal was to get a rise out of Novak. Novak, of course, seemed perfectly content to let Alistair do all the talking while he stood there with an expressionless face and deflected his jabs.


    Alistair growled in frustration when Novak failed to immediately take the bait. He took a step back and folded his arms across his chest. "You''re not welcome here," he spat. "You should leave before you get us all killed. Or worse."


    Novak closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "Look, kid," he began. "I know exactly what you''re trying to do here. I''ve seen your people sparring with each other for sport, and it''s obvious that you want to test yourself against the big bad stranger to show off in front of everyone." He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. "That about right?"


    Alistair blinked. "Wha¡ª"


    "And normally, I''d relish the opportunity to knock someone out of their ivory tower," Novak continued, "but your headmaster warned against doing anything to jeopardize anyone''s safety. So, regrettably, I''ll have to pass."


    "Please," Alistair replied, giving an exaggerated laugh. "You can''t hurt me. I bet you can''t even hit me."


    Celia watched the slightest of smiles form along Novak''s lips. "Kid, I could break you in half," he shot back, his voice suddenly taking a hard edge. "You don''t want this."This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    "Come on¡ªyou''ve clearly recovered from your injuries by now," Alistair replied, flashing a wide smile. "Aren''t you bored of just wandering around? Why don''t we put an end to the mystery of who you are and test you against one of our best?"


    Novak looked down at Celia, who shrugged apologetically. "He''s not gonna let this go," she said quietly. "He''s like this with everyone."


    After a few moments of contemplation, Novak grinned and gave a nod. "Fine," he said. "If it gets you off my back, let''s do this."


    Celia watched as Novak followed Alistair out into the courtyard and took a position opposite him on the training field. Alistair wandered over to a rack full of wooden training weapons with a confident stride and began perusing the selection before him. He eventually settled on a pair of quarterstaves and tossed one toward Novak, who caught it deftly in his hand.


    "Do you even know how to use that?" Alistair asked mockingly.


    Novak flourished the staff and took a few swings through the air to test the weapon''s heft. "It''s a stick. How hard can it be?" he replied. He looked trained, but Celia could tell his movements were rusty. "So, how do we do this?"


    "First to four strikes," Alistair replied. "Avoid hits to the head, joints, and uh... sensitive regions."


    "Works for me."


    The two squared off in the courtyard''s center, each now with a quarterstaff readied. They flourished their weapons and began circling one another, occasionally prodding the other''s defenses for weaknesses. Alistair was relaxed and calm as he moved¡ªhe expected nothing less than a swift victory over his opponent. Novak, however, was tense and focused, his eyes locked on Alistair''s every movement as he searched for an opening to strike.


    Alistair shot forward, his staff spinning wildly as he pressed the attack. Novak was caught off guard but brushed away the incoming strikes, the clack of their weapons echoing through the courtyard with each parry. Novak swung back at the apprentice monk, but his defenses were solid, and a lunging attack ended with him laying face-first in the dirt with a staff pressed against his back. "One to zero," Alistair said smugly.


    Novak grunted as he hopped to his feet and readied his weapon without a word. Alistair gave his defenses another careful prodding but was momentarily stunned when Novak brushed his staff aside and attacked. He came in with a solid downward blow but let the weapon gently come to rest on the monk''s shoulder. "One to one," said Novak.


    They backed away and returned to carefully circling one another. Celia could see more caution in Alistair''s movements as his confidence faded, but Novak had that same tense calmness about him.


    Novak shifted his grip and changed his stance, now holding his staff like a spear. He advanced on Alistair, making several easily deflected thrusts as he burst forward. An overwhelmed Alistair retreated until his back was against the southern wall of the courtyard. Novak made his move, but it was too sloppy, and Alistair managed a counterattack. He deflected the blow and dropped his staff lightly atop Novak''s shoulder. "Too aggressive," Alistair remarked. "Two to one."


    The monk felt a light tap against the inside of his thigh and looked down to see Novak''s weapon firmly planted between his legs. "Why don''t we call that one a draw?" Novak asked with a smirk before backing away. "Two to two."


    There was a lull in the fight as the two returned to the courtyard''s center. Celia noticed several other students had emerged from the monastery to watch the match, but she could hardly blame their curiosity. Novak was an outsider¡ªa complete unknown¡ªand was obviously far more skilled than anyone expected. She knew Alistair wouldn''t be so easily beaten, though. He''d been training for years, and Novak was out of practice.


    Novak shot forward, and their weapons clashed again and again. He had thrown caution into the wind and was attacking more and more aggressively while Alistair did his best to hold out for an opening.


    His patience soon paid off, or so he thought, and the monk lunged with a heavy thrust of his staff. Novak was ready for him; he sidestepped the attack with little effort and the tip of his weapon stopped against Alistair''s midsection. "Two to three," said Novak. "You should be more careful, kid. I hear these sticks can be dangerous."


    Celia chuckled as she watched Alistair''s face turn red with anger. The two returned to their starting positions, but this time, Alistair attacked first. He charged in swinging, forcing Novak on the defensive. He managed to deflect the flurry of initial strikes but was too slow to stop what followed.


    A wet smack resounded through the courtyard as the weapon connected with the side of Novak''s head, and a collective hush fell over the spectating Ryntai. Novak''s staff rattled against the courtyard''s stone tiles as it slipped from his grasp, but he did not stay dazed for long. Celia stared in amazement, as did Alistair; a hit like that would have put anyone on the ground.


    Novak spit a glob of blood from his mouth and let out a low growl before he began stomping toward Alistair. His hands were empty, but his eyes were filled with rage. Alistair brought his staff to bear to defend himself, only for some unseen force to snap it in half as Novak made a sweeping gesture. The stranger''s hands moved with uncanny speed, and Alistair found himself pinned against the ground with Novak''s knee planted firmly on his chest. "We''re done here," Novak hissed. "Understand?"


    Alistair gave a nervous nod, and Novak rose to his feet. He glanced about, suddenly aware that the fight had gathered an audience, and his anger faded into unease. Novak stormed off toward one of the entrances to the monastery, but Celia blocked his path before he could leave. "What the hell was that?" she demanded.


    "Move," Novak ordered.


    The girl stood defiantly, arms crossed as she awaited an explanation. Novak looked to the rest of the monks, who watched him curiously, before returning his gaze to Celia. Though he was trying his best to hide it, Celia could see genuine fear creeping into the corners of his eyes.


    "Please," Novak repeated, his tone only slightly softer now. "Move."


    Celia stepped aside with a heavy sigh, and the stranger disappeared into the depths of the monastery. While the rest of the Ryntai began to disperse, Celia turned her attention to Alistair. She ran out and helped him to his feet before giving him a cursory check for injuries. He was unharmed for the most part but still shaken. "Alistair, are you alright?" she asked.


    "That man was ready to kill me," he muttered. "I could see it in his eyes. In the way he moved."


    Celia dusted off her companion and patted him on the back. "Well, I''m glad you''re okay," she said. "But you did kind of ask for it."


    "Yeah... I guess I did," Alistair conceded as he rubbed his sore shoulder. "It''s just... by the end of it, I could tell he was playing with me. And it pissed me off. I didn''t expect that last strike to land, but holy hell, I wish it hadn''t. He is dangerous, Celia. And Gifted too."


    The girl nodded. "I saw it, too," she agreed. "The way he took that hit and the way he broke your staff."


    Celia shook her head. Their visitor had finally opened up to them, in a sense, but all it gave them were more questions. <And I still haven''t asked him what the hell he''s doing in my dreams,> she reminded herself.


    "I think we should tell Master Zan about this," Alistair said after a moment of contemplation. "That guy''s trouble and the headmaster should know about it."


    Celia sighed and shook her head. She knew Alistair was right but couldn''t help but feel he was overreacting. "I don''t think that''s necessary," she replied. "He just needs some space right now. I''ll talk to him later and see if he''s calmed down."


    Alistair glared at Celia disapprovingly but relented with a shrug of his shoulders. "Look, I know you''re curious about him," he said, "but please be careful. We don''t know what he''s truly capable of."


    Celia smiled and shrugged. "Well, you know me," she said. "No promises."

 Chapter 11: A Beckoning Dreamer

    The sun sat low in the sky, and the cool mountain breeze made for a refreshing hike through the woods surrounding the monastery. Its isolated location on the mountain had proven to be a stroke of luck for Novak; it was far from any major population centers, making it unlikely that anyone would stumble upon his crash site¡ªor so he hoped. Still, he knew that the longer he stayed here, the more he gambled with the lives of the Ryntai¡ªthe Nrac would be, at best, unforgiving if they found him here.


    Despite being separated from the rest of his team and the Firehawk''s crew, Novak used his time here to begin reconnoitering the surrounding lands from a safe distance. He never had trouble finding a quiet spot while he did his work either; until the incident with Alistair earlier today, the monks had been content to let him come and go as he pleased.


    Tonight, Novak had taken an interest in the nearby city, called ''Tylondale'' by the monks, as it had much to tell him of this world he had found himself stranded on. Tylondale looked like something from the Old World''s Renaissance era; its architecture was primarily stone and wood, and its human denizens were clad in archaic garments made of cloths, silks, leathers, and furs.


    Of course, there was the obvious exception that Nrac technology was heavily integrated into the city''s infrastructure. In particular, generators, electric street lamps, and water pumps stood out, but Novak was confident that more was hidden beneath the surface.


    From what Novak could see, the city lacked any human-controlled government or law enforcement. The Nrac had taken it upon themselves to establish and maintain their own brand of order, just as any other occupying force would. He recognized their trademark plasma weapons and powered armor, albeit stripped-down versions better suited for peacekeeping operations than an actual battlefield. <That doesn''t make them any less dangerous,> Novak reminded himself.


    As the sun dipped toward the horizon, Novak sat down in the dirt near the edge of a cliff and pulled out his binoculars. He scanned the city below, taking a mental note of the various patrols and checkpoints set up along its streets, and kept an eye out for any VIPs or high-priority targets that might be worth striking at in a guerrilla raid.


    <Oh. There he is.>


    As Novak''s mind picked up the presence of someone approaching from down the trail, his hand moved for the sidearm stashed within his robes. He relaxed again once he met the gaze of Celia, who had invited herself to join him, offering a wave and an awkward smile as she approached. "Oh, it''s just you," Novak remarked. "What are you doing out here?"


    The girl shrugged. "I''m just out for a stroll," she replied. "I wanted to check on you, too. Make sure you weren''t planning on throwing any more people around."


    Novak grunted in response, his attention returning to his observations of the town. Celia glanced over the edge of the cliff, then turned her head to Novak, who continued to scan the city streets through his binoculars. "So, what do you think of Tylondale?" she asked. "It''s a nice little city, yeah?"


    Novak lowered his binoculars and turned his head toward the girl. "Look, I really don''t like small talk," he said curtly. "Just... ask me whatever it is you came here to ask. You helped save my life, so I suppose I at least owe you some answers."


    "There''s no need to be rude about it," Celia huffed as she took a seat beside him. "I wanted to check on you. You seemed a bit shaken after the fight, and that hit you took sounded pretty nasty."


    Novak rubbed the bruise on his cheek where he had been struck and tongued the fresh cut in his mouth. Everything still felt a bit tender, but he had reflexively absorbed most of the blow with his telekinetic abilities. "It wasn''t as bad as it looked," he deflected. "You''ve seen me survive worse, anyway."


    Celia flashed a toothy smile. "Well, you''re not wrong about that," she chuckled. "I am glad you''re okay."


    "Your boyfriend there is kind of a shit, though."


    "He''s not my boyfriend," Celia replied quickly. Her cheeks reddened slightly, and she turned her gaze to the ground. "Alistair''s just... well, Alistair. He''s always been a bit of an ass, but he''s one of the good ones when it matters."


    Novak nodded slowly and looked away, not entirely convinced that he believed her. "If you say so," he muttered.


    Celia sighed and shook her head before turning her attention back to the city below. "Where''d you learn to fight like that, anyway?" she asked. "Alistair is one of our best students, and you just... toyed with him the whole fight."


    A stiff breeze rustled the leaves of the surrounding trees, and Novak pulled his robe closer to shield himself from the evening chill. He wondered just how much he should actually reveal to this curious girl but decided that a little bit of the truth might not hurt. He knew these questions would continue as long as he lived under the monastery''s roof anyway.


    "I''m a soldier," Novak replied after a long silence between them. "Where I''m from, we''re separated into castes and trained from childhood to fulfill our assigned role in society. My old man was a soldier, so I was born into that caste."


    Celia leaned in closer with interest. "So your whole life is just... chosen for you?" she asked. "No freedom? No choice?"


    "There''s some leeway within our castes," Novak shrugged. "But for the most part, yeah. We''re bred for specific roles, and we''re expected to fulfill those roles."


    "That sounds horrible," Celia replied.


    "To an outsider, sure," Novak admitted. "But it''s the only life I''ve ever known, and as you''ve seen, I''m pretty damn good at it."


    Celia studied his face carefully before letting out a sigh and shaking her head. "I guess so," she agreed. "It''s just... it hits a little close to home. I''ve been cooped up in this monastery with the ever-present threat of the Saviors looming over my head for nearly a decade. I''m grateful to have a safe place to stay, of course, but sometimes... I wish I could go live my own life. Maybe see the world. The Ryntai used to go on pilgrimages, you know, but not anymore. We have to stay put. Keep a low profile. Lest our ''benevolent overlords'' come knocking."


    Novak raised an eyebrow at the mention of the ''Saviors''¡ªan odd title that the locals had taken to calling the Nrac here. "So these ''saviors,'' that''s what you call the folks down there in the metal suits, right?" he asked. "And you''ve said they''ve been here for ten years?"


    The girl responded with a sad nod. "Mmhmm. I was just a child when they arrived," she told him. "I remember watching them appear in the sky over Cross one day. The whole city just... stopped. Everyone thought they were beautiful until they started blasting the hell out of everything. Then their soldiers, the men in the metal suits, came down and demanded our submission; anyone who fought back or resisted was killed on sight. They''ve been our conquerors ever since."If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Novak offered a solemn nod. Celia''s description fit the Nrac''s usual tactic of bombing a population center to demoralize and then sending in their ground troops to mop up resistance and hold territory. "I... I''m sorry you had to go through that," he said. "For what it''s worth, I''ve been on the receiving end of it too."


    Celia shrugged. "It is what it is," she said, forcing a smile. "I''ve done my best to make peace with it. As much as I complain, I do have a good life here. Sometimes I just... I wish I could change things, you know?"


    "Yeah," Novak agreed.


    The pair sat quietly, watching the last rays of sunlight fade over the horizon as the city below them began to glow with artificial lights. Novak wondered how many people down there had lost loved ones to the Nrac much in the same way he had. How many of them still held out hope for liberation after ten years of occupation?


    The silence between them was broken when Celia suddenly spoke up once more. "Can I... can I talk to you about something really strange?"


    "What is it?" Novak asked, turning to face her.


    Celia shifted uncomfortably where she sat and chewed on her lip nervously. "I... I''ve been having these reoccurring dreams for the past several months," she began slowly. "Dreams about... you, I think."


    Novak blinked. "What."


    The girl gestured with her hands in a flustered manner. "It''s nothing improper!" she quickly clarified. "But I... I was hoping you could help me make sense of them?"


    With a slow breath, Novak nodded. "Alright," he replied cautiously. "Tell me about these dreams."


    Well..." Celia began hesitantly. "It starts with you and another soldier in some faraway place. You''re both wearing your armor and weapons, walking through a jungle, but you''re bored and unhappy. Then you go to meet a woman¡ªsomeone special to you, I think. But something happens, and you''re summoned to battle with the invading army of the Saviors."


    Novak clenched his fists as his heart began to race within his chest. Elysium. The worst day of his life. And this girl he had known for mere days had been dreaming about it.


    Celia continued on, oblivious to Novak''s growing discomfort. "You say goodbye to the woman, and then you pile into a flying machine with several other soldiers," she said. "You''re dropped onto the battlefield, and it''s utter chaos." The girl''s eyes began to fill with tears as she pressed on. "The Saviors are marching toward your defenses. You''re terrified, like everyone else, but you fight. People are dying around you, screaming in agony, but you fight. And just when everything seems hopeless, you¡ª"


    "Enough," Novak snapped. "That''s enough. Please."


    He stood up and paced back and forth, rubbing his face with one hand as he tried to collect himself. Celia watched him with growing concern. "Are you alright?" she asked gently. "I''m sorry. I¡ªI didn''t mean to upset you."


    "I''m okay," Novak replied tersely as he struggled to regain control of his breathing. "It''s nothing you did. It''s just... I''ve lived this. And some nights, I''m still living it."


    "So this is real? This happened to you?" Celia asked, her voice trembling as tears streamed down her face. "You went through this horrible, horrible thing, and I''ve been watching it happen to you over and over again for months?"


    Novak nodded slowly. "Yeah," he replied somberly. "That''s right."


    "By the Maker," she whispered. "I''m so sorry. I had no idea that there was anyone actually still trying to fight them. I thought everyone had given up. Why didn''t I know about this?"


    "We haven''t been fighting them on your planet," Novak explained. "I come from another world."


    The girl''s eyes widened in surprise. "Another world?" she echoed. "You know, that sounds completely ridiculous, but... I think it actually explains a lot about you."


    "Look, I know it sounds crazy," Novak admitted, "but the Nrac¡ªor Saviors, or whatever you call them¡ªthey invaded us about five years ago. They hit us just as hard as they hit you, but we gave them hell and were able to push them back."


    "You defeated them?" Celia asked in disbelief.


    "We forced a retreat," Novak corrected. "But now I''m thinking your world is where they ran back to. Maybe even used it as a staging ground for their attack."


    Celia furrowed her brows thoughtfully before shaking her head. "I... I''m not sure how to process all of this," she admitted. "It''s a lot to take in, and honestly, I''m not sure I even understand half of it. But it''s nice to know the Saviors aren''t invincible."


    Novak offered a faint smile. "No," he agreed. "Take away all that fancy tech of theirs, and they bleed just like we do. Well, their blood is blue, but still."


    "So, you''re actually from another world?" Celia inquired, still in awe of the revelation. "How''d you end up here, then?"


    "That''s a long, complicated story, and I really shouldn''t be telling you about it," Novak replied. "But the short version is that there was an accident, and I ended up stranded here. Now, I''m just trying to figure out a way back home."


    The girl nodded, her expression solemn. "I see," she said quietly. "I''m sorry that happened to you. Do you have a plan, at least?"


    Novak gave a noncommittal shrug. "Not really," he admitted, "but I need to find the rest of my team once I''m in shape to travel. I''ll figure it out from there."


    "So you''ll be leaving soon, then?"


    "As soon as I''m able," Novak answered. "Maybe another day or two."


    "Oh. Okay," Celia said, her tone wistful. "It''s been... interesting having you around, I think."


    "I''m sure," Novak chuckled. "Look, thank you for everything you''ve done for me. You really helped turn my luck around, and I''m not sure I can ever repay you."


    The girl contemplated for a moment as she raised a hand and began nervously massaging the back of her neck. "Well... there is something you could do for me before you leave."


    Novak raised an eyebrow and gave the girl an expectant look. "What''s that?"


    Celia hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "I''d like a sparring match with you," she replied. "You know, to see where I am in my own training and all that."


    "You want me to fight you?" Novak asked, incredulous. "Like with your pal Alistair there?"


    The girl nodded. "Yeah, something like that," she replied. "I mean, I promise I won''t get mad and try to break a staff over your face."


    Novak chuckled and shook his head. "I''m really not sure that''s a great idea," he said. "I''m probably on your headmaster''s shit list already."


    "I''m not worried. You know what you''re doing," Celia insisted. "Besides, I''m sure you''ll be gentle with me."


    A laugh escaped Novak''s lips before he could hold it back, and he shook his head again. "Are you sure you''re just asking for a fight?" he teased. "Because it sounds like you want something else."


    Celia''s face reddened as her eyes went wide with embarrassment. "What? No! I didn''t mean it like that!" she stammered out quickly. "I... want to see how I stack up against someone who really knows what they''re doing."


    "Okay, okay," Novak replied with a chuckle as he raised his hands defensively. "I''m just being an ass. But sure, I suppose I can make time for a quick sparring match."


    The girl offered an enthusiastic nod and grinned. "Tomorrow afternoon, then?" she asked. "I''m free from training and chores at about three."


    "Sure thing," Novak agreed. "I''ll swing by the training yard around then."


    "Great! I''m looking forward to it," Celia beamed. She then stood and brushed herself off before turning to leave. "I should probably be getting back now, though. It''s getting kind of late. Have a good night, Mr. Novak."


    "Just ''Jan'' is fine," he corrected her. "And you have a good night, too, Celia."


    Celia gave him one last smile and waved goodbye before turning and disappearing down the trail toward the monastery. Novak watched her go for a moment before returning his attention to the city below. He stared out over Tylondale as its streets began to fill with people returning home from work, and its taverns and inns came to life with activity.


    Novak sighed heavily as he contemplated what had happened between himself and the girl. Her dreams of him, while strange, could easily be some latent psychic ability of the girl that manifested as a type of dreamwalking or even some side effect of his own psychic awakening.


    What bothered him more than anything was that the people of this world had been living under the Nrac''s boot for a decade. Ten years of fear, oppression, and suffering. And the worst part was that there was little he could do to help them. He felt for these people and their plight, but as powerful as a Vindicator was, he was still only one man.


    His priority for now was returning home and reporting to his superiors about the Nrac presence here. With any luck, they''d send an invasion force to stamp out the threat before it could grow again and threaten the Sovereignty. <And I''ll come back and kick their asses myself,> he thought.


    The sun finally set below the horizon, and Novak rose to his feet. He brushed the dirt from his robes and began making his way back toward the monastery. Walking down the mountain trail, he wondered what tomorrow might bring¡ªand why he had agreed to spar with Celia. <I guess I''m just curious about her, too.>