《The Karadolex Galaxy Saga: Return from Exile (Space Opera)》


 Chapter 1

    Chapter 1


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Rhyus," he murmured.


    He lingered on the star before moving on to name the others nearby, a habit he''d picked up over the years. Only on this remote world could he stargaze without the glow of city lights dimming the view. The cool breeze grew stronger, stirring the trees, rustling the leaves, and biting more sharply at his skin.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    But this sound was different.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "This is where General Garen Rivers lives?"


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


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


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

 Chapter 2

    Chapter 2:


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Inside, Garen frowned.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Conus stood unnaturally still, his posture perfect.


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


    Silence stretched between them.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ¡°Yes, General,¡± Conus replied.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Conus blinked. ¡°No?¡±


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


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


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


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


    Both men froze.


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


    A heartbeat passed. Then another.


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


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


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


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


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


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


    A cry rang out. Corporal Dreen.


    Both men¡¯s eyes widened in recognition.


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


    Conus paled. We¡¯re under attack.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Both men remained perfectly still.


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

 Chapter 3

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


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


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


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


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


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


    ¡°Keys?¡± Conus echoed, surprised.


    ¡°Never mind,¡± Garen muttered.


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


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


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


    Their options were dwindling.


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


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


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


    Conus nodded. ¡°I do.¡±


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ¡°Understood, sir,¡±


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


    Conus nodded, ready to execute.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Together, Garen and Conus strafed the Vorcons, advancing with synchronized volleys. Trapped in the clearing with no adequate cover, the Vorcons found themselves under fire from two directions. Their personal shields flared, barely holding under the relentless assault, but holding for now. For a brief moment, the Vorcons appeared completely disoriented, caught off guard by the ambush.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


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


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


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


    ¡°Cover, now!¡± Garen barked.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ¡°Taylen!¡± he shouted.


    Conus nodded in acknowledgment.


    Fractal grenades¡ªperfect for disrupting energy shields.


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


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


    ¡°Move!¡± Garen shouted.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Garen shook his head at the state of it all.


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


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


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


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


    He looked at his home one last time.


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


    Smoke curled from the smoldering trees around the clearing.


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


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

 Chapter 4

    Chapter 4.


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


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


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


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


    Conus followed in silence.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ¡°Hunting.¡± Garen said.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ¡°Trellow.¡±


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


    He was still surprised they had survived the Vorcon attack. That Vorcon Bruiser had him¡ªif not for Garen, he¡¯d be lying in the ground with the rest of his team.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


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


    Has he always been like this?


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Garen replied.


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


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


    ¡°Just curious,¡± Conus admitted.


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


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


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


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


    Garen¡¯s thoughts drifted to Amar.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Cresnor, a planet within the Seven Worlds of Rhyus.


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


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


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


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


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


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

 Chapter 5

    <h3 align="left">Chapter 5


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ¡°There was,¡± Garen said.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Curiosity got the better of Conus. "What exactly do you do at Calio Landing? Did you build the shields?" he asked.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "And it pays well?" Conus asked.


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


    "What about the shield generator?" Conus inquired.


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Oh." Klamarez snapped back to the present.


    "Sorry, General," Conus quickly apologized.


    "General?" Klamarez tilted his head slightly.


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


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


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


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


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


    ¡°Smells great,¡± Garen remarked.


    Finally, mugs of steaming coffee were placed before them.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ¡°I understand,¡± Garen said calmly.


    Klamarez dropped back into his chair with a long exhale.


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


    Garen shot him a look that silenced any further questions.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Klamarez exhaled again, his mind slipping into deep contemplation.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Klamarez gave a confident nod.


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


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


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


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


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


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

 Chapter 6

    Chapter 6.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Klamarez shrugged. ¡°Lost that hand.¡±


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Klamarez moved around the room, gathering parts and packing a suitcase.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ¡°Yeah. Pretty lucky, right?¡±


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


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


    ¡°The entire bunker?¡± Conus asked.


    Klamarez nodded.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ¡°The Seeker?¡± Conus suggested.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ¡°Anything,¡± Garen replied.


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


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


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

 Chapter 7

    Chapter 7.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°.


    ¡°


    ¡°


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


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


    . Let me know the moment something changes.¡±


    ¡°


    It¡¯s surprising they work at all.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


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


    ¡°


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


    ¡° to the Trace display, monitoring their pursuers.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°I think... the IRD¡¯s fried.¡±


    ¡°


    ¡°Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


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


    ¡°


    ¡°


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


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


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


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


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


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°Which isn¡¯t much.


    ¡°


    Of course, it was him.


    ¡°


    ¡°


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


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


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


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°

 Chapter 8

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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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

 Chapter 9

    Chapter 9.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Klamarez snorted.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "She''s solid, Klamarez," Garen said, gesturing toward the unfinished panels and exposed wires. Modifications still waited to be completed.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Conus agreed.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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

 Chapter 10

    Chapter 10.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "They say he is ill."


    "He is?" Caul asked.


    "It¡¯s what I¡¯ve heard."


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Gahlenka," Caul began, drawing out the name. "Still..." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "I¡¯m surprised you¡¯d say that, knowing I correspond with the Emperor directly. I wonder how he¡¯d feel, hearing his Commodore from the Rheeavher thinks that way of him."You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Opportunities, Major Legate?" Rados echoed.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Caul responded with a faint smirk and a long hiss.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "My life is the Empire, Major Legate."


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "I will forge my legacy through my own actions, not through lineage," Caul said, as he deliberately sipped his wine.


    "I believe you will, Major Legate."


    "You have five offspring, don¡¯t you, Commodore Gahlenka?" Caul asked.


    "Yes, Major Legate. My two eldest will be tested in this coming war," Rados replied, his thoughts racing. I never discussed this with him before.


    "I wish them well. Should we have them assigned to the Rheeavher?" Caul asked.


    "They are pleased with their current assignments. They¡¯re focused on ground combat¡ªeager to gain experience," Rados replied, his tone growing slightly defensive.


    Caul let out a faint snicker. "A wise path," he said, calm as ever. Shifting the conversation away from Rados¡¯s offspring, he continued, "Still, I believe the gods play a part in legacy, alongside personal will. The will of the Vorcon is as important, or perhaps more so, than the will of the gods. I wonder if our Emperor¡¯s rise was guided by divine will¡ªconsidering all that transpired for him to seize power."


    "It was an unlikely occurrence," Rados admitted cautiously. "A twist of fate."


    Caul¡¯s tone grew colder as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "Gahlenka... your understanding of history disappoints me. Have you not studied our annals? The Empire thrives on such ''twists of fate,'' as you call them. The gods decreed their will ¡ªthe improbable made inevitable. Study our history more¡ªit¡¯s filled with such moments. It has a peculiar way of repeating itself."


    His smirk faded, his demeanor darkening. "Nor Kotoron¡¯s rise wasn¡¯t by chance. He didn¡¯t seek the throne; he was destined for it. His reign, though it may seem brief in the future, will be pivotal. These shifts in power¡ªthey¡¯re the work of the gods and those who are willing to shape the Empire in their image."


    "It¡¯s... remarkable to be thrust into a role one never sought."


    "Precisely," Caul said, savouring the discomfort in the air. "An emperor born of destiny," his voice trailing into a slow, drawn-out hiss. "Are you prepared, Gahlenka, for what¡¯s coming?" Caul¡¯s tone dropped, charged with intent.


    "I am ready to serve the Empire, Major Legate," Rados replied, forcing the words out, his voice still no louder than a harsh whisper.


    At Gahlenka¡¯s declaration, Caul hissed again, this time more approving than amused. His stare slid toward a dormant Kelkor blade resting on a nearby shelf. Rising from his desk, he moved toward it, his bone-like fingers activating the weapon. Raw energy crackled to life, filling the room with a steady hum¡ªa violent mixture of red and orange light.


    Caul began pacing, the low frequency of the weapon changing with each step. He moved behind Rados, who sat rigid in his chair, tension radiating from his still form. Caul held the blade dangerously close to Rados¡¯s head.


    "Where is your Kelkor blade, Gahlenka?" Caul¡¯s voice was casual, almost indifferent.


    Rados stiffened. "In my quarters, Major Legate." He could feel the raw energy pulsing near his head and dared not move.


    Caul lowered the blade, circling around to stand in front of Rados. His voice hardened. "Unarmed? On my ship?"


    "I¡¯ll carry it from now on," Rados said quickly.


    Silent, Caul kept his focus steady, unblinking.


    "Immediately," Rados added, his voice more resolute.


    Caul deactivated the blade and set it on his desk.


    "You may leave," Caul said evenly, none of the earlier tension lingering in his tone.


    A sense of relief came over Rados as he rose, his footsteps brisk as he left the chamber, the ache in his back fading in his rush to escape.


    Caul let out a soft snicker, amused for a brief moment.


    Then, reaching into a drawer, he pulled out a necklace. The pendant encased a jewel, swirling with various colors.


    "Vorkythos," he whispered, barely audible.


    "Vorkythos," he repeated, louder now, a hint of desperation slipping into his tone. But the jewel remained mute, offering no response.


    For a long moment, Caul stared at the pendant, waiting for something¡ªanything. When nothing came, he returned it to the drawer, frustration coiling within him. What do I need to do for it to speak?

 Chapter 11

    Near Planet Eteren, Eteren One Orbital Starbase


    Mottmor System, Venddral Raidezel Sector


    Date: Zeran 18, Year 4731


    "Maybe," Garen muttered, though his instincts told him otherwise. I don¡¯t like this.


    Klamarez, scanning the feeds with his usual focus, wrinkled his nose as an ad for an Eteren One buffet flashed across his display. "Nothing new on the Intrak Network," he said, ignoring the rumble in his stomach. Nutrient paste... great choice.


    ¡°


    Conus leaned forward, examining the signatures. ¡°The first is the ResilienceArbalest


    The Resilience


    The ArbalestResilience


    Garen glanced at Conus, noticing something off in his demeanor as he intently focused on his console. What aren¡¯t you telling me, Conus?


    ¡°


    ¡°


    Garen¡¯s eyes lingered on Conus for a moment before nodding at Klamarez to respond. Klamarez¡¯s ears twitched, and he leaned into the comm. ¡°This is the civilian vessel Seeker


    Conus frowned at Klamarez¡¯s casual tone. That¡¯s not how you address the RDF.


    Seeker, this is the RDF Resilience


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    Conus tilted his head, his thoughts racing. What else do they know?


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡° Why the show of force?


    ¡° How did they know?


    ¡°


    ¡°


    "I could blame someone else for this mess," Garen muttered, his thoughts drifting to Admiral Lavont. Another thought surfaced: What if Conus hadn¡¯t shown up? What if it had only been the Vorcons?


    ¡°


    Immediately after, the comms activated. ¡°Seeker


    Conus quickly took control of the communications. "This is Colonel Conus Taylen of the RSIA. I¡¯m transmitting my credentials now," he said, his tone steady. The crew waited for the RDF¡¯s response as Conus sent the authorization code to the Resilience


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


    ¡°


    ¡°


    Collapsed? The RSIA?¡± Garen drew a sharp breath. What happened while I was gone?


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    And now we¡¯re caught in the middle of it,¡± Garen muttered. ¡°I suppose my presence will be a nice surprise for them.¡± He briefly wondered, Were they monitoring Chiex before?


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    The ArbalestResilienceSeeker


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    Klamarez smirked, briefly baring the sharp tips of his fangs, mischief flickering in his eyes. But Garen, though amused, found the show of force excessive. What are they trying to prove?


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    They don¡¯t like the RDF here?¡± Garen asked as he navigated the Seeker


    ¡°


    ¡°


    Following the docking instructions, Garen guided the SeekerResilience


    The SeekerResilience


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    Conus made a slight face but shrugged it off. What are they so worried about?


    Klamarez opened a compartment, stowed their weapons, and sealed it. As the boarding ramp descended, they stepped onto the deck, where a squad of marines had just arrived. Faces hidden behind black helmets and clad in full tactical gear, the marines stood ready. The sergeant in charge barked an order through external speakers, his voice distorted but commanding.


    ¡°


    Garen calmly raised his hands, followed by Conus and Klamarez. Two marines stepped forward, efficiently patting them down, while others boarded the Seeker


    ¡°


    Klamarez glanced around, his thoughts dripping with sarcasm. Oh yeah, we look just like Vorcons.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    Of course, General. We¡¯ll get you settled in. I¡¯m sure General Maylone will make sure you¡¯re comfortable aboard the Resilience


    Admiration spread through the group, but Garen barely moved, a rigid discomfort settling over him under their watchful eyes. They looked at him like a legend, yet all he could think was, That¡¯s not who I am anymore. Not even close.


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    What¡¯s this guy¡¯s problem?


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    At the mention of Terra, a heaviness settled over Garen. Deep down he knew if Amar was with the RSIA, so was Terra. Leaving his home, battling Vorcons, facing Caul Malocktus, and now being back on an RDF ship¡ªall of it had already been overwhelming. But the thought of seeing Terra again stirred something deeper. Does she even want to see me?


    ¡°


    ¡°


    ¡°


    Nolvin led them briskly through the corridors of the ResilienceAs they walked, anticipation stirred within Garen¡ªhe hadn¡¯t been aboard a capital battlecruiser in years.


    They reached a lift and ascended to the command level. After navigating a few more corridors, they arrived at a door marked General Maylone¡¯s Office


    Floor-to-ceiling viewports provided a sweeping view of the surrounding space. The Resilience


    Welcome aboard the


    ¡°


    ¡°


    "I¡¯ll inform Admiral Lavont of your situation and ensure your safety," General Maylone said, though Garen sensed she intended to consult RDF Command first. "The RSIA has its own protocols, I understand that. But we¡¯re here to assist. We all serve the Seven Worlds of Rhyus¡ªwhether in the Rhyus Defense Fleet or the Rhyus Strategic Intelligence Agency. I¡¯ll have rooms arranged for you. Feel free to use the Resilience


    Outside, Sergeant Wallace and his squad stood ready to escort them to their quarters. Wallace led them through the corridors of the Resilience


    As Garen sat on the edge of his bed, the weight of the past and the uncertainty of what lay ahead filled his thoughts. He realized he had no idea what the current state of the Seven Worlds was.

 Chapter 12

    Chapter 12.


    The Cavaglatar Sector


    Date: Zeran 19, Year 4731


    Caul Malocktus stalked through the Rheeavher¡¯s corridors, his Kelkor blade at one side, Dissolver pistol at the other. His gray cloak trailed behind him, catching the subtle sway of each step. His gaze swept steadily over the crew, lingering just long enough for each member to feel his scrutiny, weighted with his unspoken demand for acknowledgment. Caul¡¯s expectation for respect was well-known¡ªan unstated rule among many commanders within the GVIF¡ªthough he took it a step further. Those who failed to meet his eyes or show deference risked a slight he would not soon forget.


    Two Vorcon Bruisers marched behind him, their heavy footsteps echoing through the corridors. Encased in armor fitted for their solid frames, they moved with low, labored breaths muffled beneath their helmets. Where the Bruisers wielded brute strength, Caul¡¯s form appeared slim and agile, exuding a fluidity their bulk could never match. Each Bruiser carried a Plasmord sword strapped to their back and cradled distortion rifles in their arms, awaiting any command Caul might give. Their obedience was unmatched.


    Caul found mild amusement in knowing that Garen Rivers had taken down two Bruisers on Chiex, along with four other Vorcon soldiers. Garen was godless¡ªdriven by will alone, yet he had survived. Caul knew victory was more than brute strength; it required skill, the ability to defy fate itself. Strength was essential, but intellect held the true power. He assumed Garen had been responsible for most of those deaths, and the thought pleased him¡ªGaren hadn¡¯t weakened; he remained a worthy foe.


    The corridor stretched ahead, long and wide. Crew members moved quickly, some engaged in their work, others in quiet conversation, but each offered respectful nods to their commander as he passed.


    Midway down, Centurion Kanvelak stood at attention, bracing himself for the Major Legate¡¯s approach¡ªan encounter he had both anticipated and dreaded. Caul¡¯s eyes darkened with disappointment, the red centers narrowing. Kanvelak lacked the potential that Velharith had shown. Without a word, Caul glided forward, his presence suffocating. The Bruisers halted, statuesque.


    ¡°Centurion Kanvelak,¡± Caul¡¯s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. ¡°I¡¯ve heard your recent performance has been... disappointing.¡± He drew out the words, each syllable laced with a quiet threat.


    Kanvelak hesitated. ¡°Commodore Gahlenka addressed the matter with me, Major Legate. The issues are fixed. I¡¯ve doubled my efforts.¡±


    A dark satisfaction stirred within Caul¡ªGahlenka was falling right into place. Well done, Commodore. Still, he doubted whether his second-in-command had conveyed the full message, but he appreciated the effort.


    Caul circled Kanvelak slowly, the clatter of his gear punctuating the silence. He saw the fear in Kanvelak¡¯s eyes, the struggle to stay composed. Pathetic. Weak. Velharith would have stood tall, ready to challenge me.


    ¡°Ensure you maintain those efforts,¡± Caul rasped, drawing out the last word in a hiss. His hand brushed the hilt of his Kelkor blade, ensuring Kanvelak noticed. ¡°Incompetence will not be tolerated.¡±


    Kanvelak nodded quickly. ¡°I will work to meet your standards.¡±


    ¡°With Velharith gone, there¡¯s an opportunity for more responsibility. There may come a time when I require your abilities.¡±


    Centurion Fal Velharith had shown promise before his death in the skirmish with Garen Rivers. Caul had intended to elevate him, perhaps even grant him more command. But Fal¡¯s death was a minor inconvenience. His Pneuma, along with the others, would be offered to the gods when Caul returned to Kor. There would be more offerings before they reached the Prime system.


    ¡°I would be honored.¡±


    ¡°Would you have succeeded where he failed?¡± Caul¡¯s voice rose slightly, drawing out Kanvelak¡¯s name with a lingering hiss.


    ¡°I would have killed the human.¡±


    Caul¡¯s expression remained impassive, though his eyes flickered with cold calculation. Fool.


    ¡°Good.¡± Caul stepped back and, with a nod, dismissed Kanvelak. He continued down the corridor, the Bruisers falling into step behind him. Kanvelak strode in the opposite direction. When will one of them find the courage to challenge me? That was what Caul sought, though he knew his reputation often prevented it. They fear me, he thought, yet courage could earn my respect.


    Reaching the stairwell, Caul began his descent, the spiraling steps taking him deeper into the ship. At the base, he crossed another corridor and approached a melee training room, one of several scattered throughout the vessel. He gestured for his guards to remain outside. They took their positions without a word, offering only a low grunt.


    The door slid downward into the floor at Caul¡¯s command, a faint tremor passing through as it locked into place.


    Inside, Nelve was immersed in training. She wielded her Kelkor blade, its edge crackling with a faint bluish-white plasma field that pulsed with each movement, accompanied by an unsettling frequency that shifted pitch. Opposite her stood a Stryder model Servitron, a combat-programmed artificial. Its shielded practice blade emitted a steady faded blue energy, designed to withstand the force of her strikes.


    The Stryder, built to match a Vorcon¡¯s physique and reach, mirrored Nelve¡¯s every move with mechanical efficiency. Its featureless, sensor-equipped face intercepted her aggressive blows. Her blade sliced through the air, each impact altering the frequency¡¯s unsettling tone. Every calculated strike was met with a precise counter; the Stryder absorbed each blow as though her efforts posed no threat.


    Caul observed from the corner of the room, scrutinizing her reflexes and decisions. Impressive. But is it enough? He needed more than skill; Nelve would have to be tested beyond technique. If stealth fails her, will she escape? Will she survive? Caul demanded more than obedience¡ªhe required agents capable of vanishing without a trace, leaving no evidence, no connections, and no fear of meeting the gods.


    ¡°Stryder, pause,¡± Caul commanded, his voice low. ¡°Initiate offensive protocol, level four.¡±


    A smirk crossed his face as Nelve braced herself, her breath coming in shallow bursts, her chest heaving. Father warned me: his silence is his only praise. She stepped back, widening the distance as the Stryder reset.


    The Stryder advanced, gears grinding as its movements grew more aggressive. Nelve¡¯s gaze darted to Caul; his sharp black teeth showed a glint of quiet amusement, igniting her determination. She raised her Kelkor blade, preparing for the onslaught¡ªwithout the use of shields, as Caul had forbidden them in her training sessions. There may come a time when shields fail; do not rely on them fully.


    The Stryder¡¯s assault came faster, heavier. Nelve¡¯s movements slowed under the relentless barrage. With each strike, her body grew sluggish until, finally, she dropped to one knee, the Stryder¡¯s blade hovering coldly above her, signaling her momentary defeat.


    ¡°You¡¯re holding up,¡± Caul remarked. ¡°But let¡¯s push you further. Increase attack level.¡±


    Nelve barely had time to recover as the Stryder¡¯s strikes intensified¡ªfaster, heavier, more precise. Exhaustion sank into her muscles, her blocks becoming weaker, more desperate. The ceaseless assault finally drove her back to her knees, then to the floor, the Servitron¡¯s power pressing down on her.


    ¡°Cease,¡± Caul ordered.


    The Stryder halted instantly. Gritting her teeth, Nelve hauled herself to her feet, clutching her blade tighter as pain flared through her. Caul approached, each step measured and purposeful.


    ¡°Inquisitor,¡± he said, his tone almost casual, ¡°you¡¯ve lasted longer than most.¡± A trace of approval across his face, vanishing as quickly as it came. ¡°Survival is not victory. Endurance alone is meaningless.¡± His voice darkened as he moved closer, his presence oppressive. ¡°I require sacrifice, strength, and the will to claim what others cannot.¡±


    Caul paused, his eyes narrowing as his words settled over her. After a moment, he turned to the console and reviewed its data. ¡°In a real battle, you would have managed only three kills.¡±


    Breath by breath, Nelve steadied herself, though her body shivered with fatigue. ¡°I¡¯ll keep pushing myself, Major Legate,¡± she replied. Every day, he ordered her into the training room for hours, pushing her to the brink. Her recent mission to Chiex had been her only reprieve from the relentless drills he demanded of her.


    ¡°Yes, you will,¡± Caul responded, his eyes narrowing. ¡°There will be tasks that push you beyond your limits. I expect you to succeed where others fail.¡± His gaze locked onto hers, holding her firmly. I was tested the same way.


    ¡°I will obey,¡± Nelve said.


    Caul¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°I expect more than compliance, Inquisitor.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± she answered, wondering how much more she could possibly give.


    ¡°Surviving this long against a Stryder should make facing ordinary enemies insignificant,¡± he said with a lingering hiss.


    ¡°I am ready for greater trials and missions,¡± Nelve vowed. But doubt crept in. Can I truly live up to his expectations? They seem impossible.


    Caul snickered. ¡°Are you truly prepared? You must claim your place... or lose it.¡±


    ¡°I will, Major Legate.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± He paused briefly. ¡°In the future, Ubar will lead a critical mission¡ªone that will involve both of you. You will assist him.¡±


    Nelve nodded solemnly. I¡¯d rather face it alone than with him. ¡°And the mission?¡± she asked before she could stop herself.


    Caul didn¡¯t seem fazed by her question. ¡°The specifics will depend on what intelligence Ubar gathers,¡± he explained, his voice carrying a hint of mystery. ¡°All my plans are flexible, Inquisitor. A true plan is incomplete by design¡ªit can shift at a moment¡¯s notice. I may send you off without warning.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    A realization struck Nelve. So, Ubar has been preparing... but for what? Following him felt like little reward, but perhaps it would build trust, she considered.


    Her thoughts were interrupted by Caul''s next command. ¡°Stryder, resume offensive stance, level nine. Arm yourself with the Scalar Falcata.¡±


    The Stryder retrieved the weapon. With the blade in hand, its movements quickened, each strike growing faster and more precise. Nelve barely had time to brace before the Stryder¡¯s blade came down, jolting her arm with the impact. She struggled to maintain her stance as each blow landed harder¡ªand harder.


    The Stryder¡¯s relentless assault pushed her to her limits. She fought back with everything she had, but the speed and complexity of its attacks left her little room to recover. At first, she held her ground, but eventually, it became too much.


    ¡°Stryder, halt. Training complete. Deactivate,¡± Caul commanded, his tone flat. ¡°Better than expected, but still not enough.¡±


    The Servitron complied, returning the weapon to the wall before disappearing behind a panel that slid shut, hiding its presence.


    Caul stepped forward, drawing his Kelkor blade and activating it in one fluid motion. He swung without warning. Nelve barely managed to parry, but his counters came too fast. With one sweeping movement, he knocked her legs out from under her, his blade hovering at her throat. After a pause, he deactivated the weapon and sheathed it.


    As Caul slid the blade back into its scabbard, he assumed a contemplative stance¡ªone arm behind his back, his right hand extended slightly. Nelve, regaining her footing, glanced up at him. He fights me without hesitation, even after all this training... I wonder how long I could last if this were serious. Doubt crept into her mind. Caul Malocktus¡¯s reputation as a warrior was well-earned.


    ¡°The Scalar Falcata,¡± Caul mused, letting the words linger. His gaze settled on Nelve, expectant.


    Realizing he was waiting, she responded. ¡°The weapon Garen Rivers used,¡± she said, catching her breath. ¡°He was proficient with it.¡±


    ¡°He was indeed¡ªa warrior through and through, and as cunning as ever. What did you think of his home? You saw it.¡±


    After all these years, it seemed impossible that Rivers could still be a threat, yet the bloodshed on Chiex left little room for doubt. She had seen the planet. ¡°Chiex is harsh¡ªcold. He had little technology to support him. It looked as though he lived off the land. His cabin was far from the Camerian Settlement.¡±


    Caul nodded, impressed. ¡°Yes,¡± he hissed. ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°Chiex seems like a place where survival is a constant battle. He could have gone anywhere, but he chose that planet; he chose that struggle,¡± Nelve added thoughtfully.


    Caul nodded in approval. ¡°Understanding humans is crucial,¡± he said. ¡°They possess remarkable resourcefulness. You may face them someday¡ªperhaps even him, the General.¡± Though that was far from Caul¡¯s plan; no, Caul would face Garen himself. Garen was his to fight, his to kill.


    ¡°I would like to test myself against him,¡± Nelve affirmed, though Rivers¡¯ reputation left her uncertain¡ªas uncertain as the thought of facing Caul in a real fight. She did not fear Garen as she feared Caul Malocktus.


    ¡°Good,¡± Caul said with a slight smirk, nodding once. It was the answer he had expected, though he already knew what the outcome would be.


    ¡°Your training for today is concluded.¡± Without further words, he turned and exited the room, leaving Nelve alone.


    ***


    The next day, Nelve resumed her training. The sharp clash of her Kelkor blade against the Stryder¡¯s practice weapon echoed through the room, plasma energy crackling along its edge as it struck the Stryder¡¯s shielded blade. Each hit surged with power.


    With a final blow to the Stryder¡¯s chest, she ended the session, panting for breath. Deactivating her blade, she ordered the Stryder to finish. It complied, returning its practice weapon to the wall before disappearing behind a concealed panel.


    The door slid open, and Nelve turned to see Major Legate Caul Malocktus enter, his pale white Vorcon face unreadable.


    Caul strode toward the training console, setting a wooden case on a small ledge as he reviewed the day¡¯s training statistics. Nelve remained at the center of the room, her deactivated Kelkor blade still in hand.


    Without looking up, he gave a slight nod. ¡°Your progress is commendable.¡± He left it at that.


    Still catching her breath, Nelve replied, ¡°Yes, Major Legate Malocktus.¡±


    Caul regarded her in silence for a moment. Then he lifted the wooden case. ¡°Inquisitor,¡± he hissed, ¡°put away your blade.¡±


    Nelve complied, hanging her Kelkor blade on the wall alongside the others. She returned to her position at the center of the room, where Caul now stood, unmoving.


    ¡°I¡¯ve brought something for you,¡± Caul said, unfastening the clasps. He lifted the lid to reveal a twelve-inch dagger, its blade curving to a fine point, almost claw-like. The handle, unlike standard Vorcon daggers, was designed as a push dagger¡ªfor a different style of combat.


    Nelve¡¯s eyes widened slightly. She had seen this type of blade before but couldn¡¯t recall where. The dagger had a power source with a small control panel built into the hilt, complete with buttons and a dial.


    ¡°This is no mere weapon,¡± Caul said, his voice low and reverent as he lifted the dagger from the case. ¡°It is a symbol of your commitment to the Brotherhood, should you accept. This blade will serve you, but only if you prove yourself worthy of wielding it¡ªa Katarath Dagger.¡±


    The Brotherhood? Nelve¡¯s face betrayed nothing, though her pulse quickened. ¡°It will be useful,¡± she replied, though the hidden intent behind the gift made her wary. What exactly am I supposed to do with it?


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Caul replied. ¡°Used incorrectly, it could mean your death.¡±


    He handed her the dagger, watching as she tested its weight. What is he really asking of me? Caul nodded, signaling for her to activate the weapon. She pressed the activation button, and the blade surged to life, raw and volatile. Sparks of pale blue and white energy flickered along the edge before it abruptly deactivated.


    Nelve shifted her grip, noting the precision of its balance as she punched forward experimentally.


    ¡°Is that how it¡¯s supposed to function?¡± she asked, turning the dagger over in her hand.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Caul confirmed. ¡°The energy can only be sustained briefly. If left on too long, the weapon destabilizes and destroys itself. It¡¯s designed for swift, precise strikes¡ªfor a killing blow. One second is all it needs when used properly.¡± He studied her for a moment. ¡°It also symbolizes my trust in you and your acceptance of further guidance.¡±


    ¡°I accept your teachings,¡± she said, though her heart pounded in her chest. Do I have a choice?


    Caul¡¯s eyes took on a deadly focus. ¡°You¡¯ve been a fine officer in the Grand Vorcon Imperial Force, a fine Inquisitor, but this is a pledge to embody the true virtues of our Empire¡ªthe virtues of our ancestors. You will help restore them and ensure our Empire does not fade into insignificance in the Karadolex Galaxy. Sacrifices must be made to secure our growth and prosperity. True dedication means communing with the gods as our ancestors did and standing among the Immortals of our history. Are you prepared for that?¡±


    Nelve¡¯s thoughts raced. ¡°I am. I will follow your command.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Caul said, his voice carrying a faint note of satisfaction. ¡°But you don¡¯t fully understand what¡¯s at stake. Not yet. What I¡¯m about to tell you isn¡¯t easily grasped.¡± His tone lowered. ¡°I am part of an ancient order¡ªthe Brotherhood of Velor,¡± he revealed, watching her closely. ¡°Have you heard of it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I have,¡± Nelve replied.


    To most Vorcons, it was a myth, a legend. Could it actually be real?


    ¡°The Brotherhood of Velor is shrouded in mystery,¡± Caul continued, his voice dropping lower. ¡°It has lingered over our Empire for centuries. I tell you, Inquisitor, the Brotherhood has always been as real as the Empire itself.¡± His tone became deliberate, each word weighted. ¡°You have a choice to make, and you must make it now. Continue your training with me and join the Brotherhood of Velor, or refuse and end your training. Once we reach the Empire, you will no longer be under my command. Accept only if you¡¯re fully committed¡ªif you¡¯re willing to put the good of the Empire above your own beliefs. If not, I will find another.¡±


    Join the Brotherhood¡­ or die here.


    Nelve hesitated, though the pause felt like an eternity. ¡°I will join,¡± she declared, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. She questioned whether this was what her father had intended for her¡ªan assassin¡¯s path, taking lives without honor or recognition. I can¡¯t afford to hesitate. Not now.


    ¡°There is a price for joining,¡± Caul said, his tone unwavering. ¡°And the toll cannot be delayed. An initiation of sorts.¡±


    ¡°I accept the price,¡± Nelve replied.


    Caul nodded, his eyes reflecting the weight of her decision. ¡°Many challenges lie ahead¡ªtrials that will reveal the true nature of the Brotherhood of Velor. I cannot yet tell you all,¡± he continued. ¡°This order worships Velor, a god long forgotten amid the noise of politics and war. He¡¯s called a forgotten Immortal, but he is a god. It¡¯s an insult to call him otherwise. Previous emperors decreed that Velor should no longer be revered. That decision has never sat well with some.¡± Caul stepped closer, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper. ¡°Velor¡¯s loyalty to the Emperor demanded sacrifice. The Brotherhood expects no less. Our strength lies in making impossible choices for the prosperity of the Vorcon Empire.¡±


    ¡°I am prepared to face the challenges,¡± Nelve said, standing taller.


    Caul¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°You are not prepared. You have no idea what¡¯s required,¡± he said, his tone cold and piercing. ¡°You must kill someone. Offer them to Velor.¡± His words hung in the air, weighted with finality.


    Nelve¡¯s mind racing back to her father¡¯s cryptic warnings. His words echoed: sacrifice is the foundation of power. But as she stood before Caul, she questioned whether this was the kind of sacrifice he had meant. Killing without honor or hesitation was one thing¡ªbut what would it make of her? She had killed before and had no qualms about taking life, but this felt different.


    ¡°There are those in the Empire who have outlived their usefulness and now serve only themselves,¡± Caul continued. ¡°The Brotherhood once played a much more active role. We never disappeared; we act when required. Now, with the Empire on the verge of a new war, we must ensure its strength. Failure is not an option. We cannot afford to lose another war.¡± His voice carried a sense of urgency.


    ¡°I would give everything for the Empire to grow stronger,¡± Nelve proclaimed. ¡°If my hands can help, then I will die with honor and the respect of the gods.¡±


    ¡°No less is expected.¡±


    ¡°I understand, Major Legate,¡± Nelve replied.


    ¡°I am taking you as my apprentice,¡± Caul declared sharply. ¡°Remember, the Brotherhood¡¯s secrets must never leave this room. In private, you will call me Master.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master,¡± she said, forcing the words past the knot tightening in her throat. Nelve¡¯s mind raced, caught between the weight of Caul¡¯s demands and the irreversible path she had chosen¡ªor perhaps been guided toward.


    Caul¡¯s eyes narrowed as he studied her face, searching for any sign of hesitation. ¡°Did your father prepare you for this?¡±


    ¡°He spoke of responsibilities, of difficult decisions that would fall on me,¡± Nelve replied.


    Caul nodded slowly, a sign of approval. ¡°Now, the question remains: for your first task, for your initiation, have you decided whom you will kill?¡± His voice lingered, each raspy syllable laced with a dark, expectant tone.


    Nelve¡¯s thoughts churned, and a question clawed at her mind¡ªwhom would she condemn?


    ¡°I¡¯ll need to consider it,¡± she said, her voice wavering despite her best effort to stay steady.


    ¡°Time is limited. Your initiation begins now,¡± Caul replied, his gaze fixed on her, watching for her reaction, for her understanding.


    Nelve¡¯s stomach tightened. ¡°Someone... here?¡± Her voice cracked as her mind spun. The dagger felt heavier in her grip. How do I choose who dies?


    ¡°Yes, someone on this ship,¡± Caul confirmed, his tone firm, unyielding. ¡°By tomorrow, someone must die by your hand, by the blade you now carry.¡±


    ¡°It will be done,¡± Nelve affirmed, though the task weighed on her like a leaden burden. Determination settled within her as she spoke. Hesitation would mean losing everything; one wrong move, and Caul himself might strike her down.


    ¡°I was once where you are now,¡± Caul continued, his tone softening. ¡°Tasked by the Brotherhood for the good of the Empire. That task left a mark¡ªa great deed, though I can never claim credit for it. You must do the same. Your deeds will remain between us, within the Brotherhood. Be assured, the gods will know.¡±


    He paused, letting his words sink in. ¡°Go to your quarters and rest. It may be a long night for you.¡± His voice dropped into a low rasp, ending in a drawn-out hiss.


    Without another word, Caul turned and exited, the door sliding shut behind him, leaving Nelve alone with the dagger.

 Chapter 13

    Chapter 13


    Garen awoke in his quarters on the Resilience to the familiar, long-forgotten beep of the Relay unit, drawing him from deep sleep. The sound repeated in a sequence of rising octaves¡ªa tone he¡¯d heard countless times during his years aboard the Riftkin as part of the Rhyus Defense Fleet: orders, emergency calls, dreaded alerts of an incoming Vorcon armada. But that was years ago. Memories surged through his mind, momentarily pulling him back to those days before fading as he fully woke, taking a moment to identify the sound.


    Blinking against the darkness, he noticed a small desk lamp casting just enough light to outline the room¡¯s details. I¡¯m on the Resilience, he reminded himself, slowly reorienting. The past few days¡ªthe escape from Chiex, the Vorcon encounter, docking on the Resilience¡ªall came rushing back. Realizing he¡¯d slept longer than expected, he found himself sprawled on top of the covers, still in his clothes. He¡¯d only meant to rest briefly.


    Sitting up, he swallowed against the dryness in his throat, nearly choking. The comm unit beeped again, sharper this time, insistently pulling him back to the present. He touched the switch, and light filled every corner of the room. He winced, eyes narrowing against the brightness, which was harsher than he¡¯d intended or wanted, then pressed the Relay unit, a green light signaling its activation.


    ¡°Rivers here,¡± he managed, clearing his throat.


    An impersonal voice came through, formal and direct. ¡°Good morning, General Rivers. General Maylone requests your presence in her office in an hour and invites you to join her for breakfast.¡± The voice sounded familiar¡ªlikely the same one that had addressed the Seeker the day before.


    Garen¡¯s hand hovered over the Relay as he processed the message. Breakfast with General Maylone? Was this unexpected courtesy¡ªor a carefully planned move? Shaking off the last remnants of sleep, he replied, ¡°I¡¯ll be there. Rivers out,¡± ending the connection with a touch more force than intended.


    Invitations like this weren¡¯t unusual among RDF commanders, but being on the receiving end felt different. The Resilience¡¯s insistence on docking the Seeker and extending his stay had struck him as excessive¡ªalmost aggressive. Yes, aggressive, he decided¡ªthough it had offered him a rare chance to rest since Chiex. Despite the formality of the invitation, the familiar atmosphere of the RDF ship, shaped by years of service, felt instinctively comforting. Still, a lingering thought hinted that the RDF might not be entirely pleased with his return. Yet, strangely enough, he felt... secure.


    Garen winced as his stiff joints protested with each movement. Rolling his shoulders, he worked out the tension built up from days spent on edge, unaccustomed to the constant sitting in the Seeker¡¯s cockpit. Before all this, he¡¯d been in constant motion, always on the move¡ªbecause he had to be. There hadn¡¯t been a choice. Motion had meant survival, keeping him occupied both physically and mentally.


    He pushed himself up and went to the refreshment unit, pouring a glass of water. The cool drink soothed his dry throat, though a pang of hunger reminded him he hadn¡¯t eaten much since early the previous day. Maybe breakfast isn¡¯t such a bad idea, he thought, though a strange, dreamlike feeling lingered. Am I really here, aboard the Resilience? For a moment, memory and reality blurred, but the details of his surroundings grounded him. Yes, he was indeed aboard the RDF battlecruiser. Much had happened in recent days, and he sensed there was more to come¡ªmore that was unexpected.


    The guest quarters were functional yet comfortable: a bed, refreshment station, compact lounge, computer station, and Hygiene Module¡ªeverything he needed, with nothing superfluous. Garen headed straight to the shower. The strong spray jolted him fully awake, though the water felt different¡ªlacking the natural purity of Chiex¡¯s mountain streams. There, the water had been clean, untouched, and unrecycled, a reminder of a life he was no longer living.


    After his shower, Garen dressed in the civilian clothes that he assumed the quartermaster had provided, perhaps at General Maylone¡¯s request. He doubted she wanted him looking the way he had been. Waiting for him was an outfit: dark trousers, a charcoal shirt, and a navy jacket. The clothes felt strange against his skin, so different from the rugged, patched garments he¡¯d grown used to. He rarely had the time to wear his better clothes. He slipped on a pair of new brown shoes, feeling an unexpected comfort.


    Catching his reflection, he ran a hand through his hair and over his graying beard. If I¡¯d planned to leave Chiex, I might have shaved, he thought, though the beard felt like a part of him now, grown out shortly after his exile began. Maybe just a slight trim.


    Garen stepped into the corridor, catching the distant murmur of crew conversations. The air on the Resilience was clean and controlled¡ªso unlike the rugged, earth-scented atmosphere of Chiex or the Seeker¡¯s own lived-in air, which held a distinct, indefinable quality. He¡¯d never dare mention it to Klamarez; he¡¯d likely tear it all apart. It worked, and that was the main thing. Here, on the Resilience, the reality of his departure felt sharper, like a return to a life he thought he¡¯d buried long ago. Yet now, here it was, unearthed once more¡ªlike a dream he half-expected to wake up from.


    Garen rounded a corner, coming face-to-face with Sergeant Wallace, who moved in the opposite direction.


    ¡°Morning, General Rivers,¡± Wallace said, dressed in full gear aside from his helmet and weapon.


    ¡°Good morning, Sergeant Wallace,¡± Garen replied.


    ¡°I trust the ship¡¯s treating you well?¡± Wallace asked, his steel-gray eyes holding a steady gaze.


    ¡°It¡¯s more than comfortable, thank you,¡± Garen answered, appreciating the courtesy. He hadn¡¯t seen much of the ship since falling asleep soon after arriving. Though curious to see more, he preferred to move on and depart soon.


    With a nod, they parted, each continuing in opposite directions. Conversations hushed to whispers as Garen walked down the corridor. He caught fragments: ¡°¡­ didn¡¯t expect Rivers back¡­¡± and ¡°¡­ thought he was dead¡­¡± A few crew members greeted him with quick nods, though most averted their gaze. Other snippets floated his way¡ª¡°... heard he went on an expedition to another galaxy¡­¡± and ¡°¡­ Vorcons? Are we headed for another war? ¡­ he¡¯s investigating the Origins? No way, you¡¯re making that up.¡±


    The gossip faded as he passed, silencing as though his presence alone quelled further speculation. Occasionally, a crew member paused to introduce themselves, shaking his hand and offering polite well wishes before returning to their duties. Some glanced at him with reserved doubt, quietly questioning his return.


    The attention felt strange; he appreciated the respect yet wished to avoid it.


    After navigating his way through the ship¡¯s corridors, Garen found himself standing outside General Maylone¡¯s office. He paused, collecting his thoughts. There was a time when meetings like this had been routine, but now it felt anything but. This isn¡¯t my place anymore, he thought. He felt like an outsider, as if he no longer belonged on any RDF ship. In truth, he didn¡¯t¡ªnot anymore. That time had long passed.


    His hand hovered over the chime panel. What¡¯s this all about? Curiosity, or pity? He recalled giving tours on the Riftkin to retired generals from a generation before his own. Is that what I am now?


    The door slid open, revealing Maylone¡¯s office. She rose from behind her desk and crossed the room to greet him, extending her hand. Their handshake was firm¡ªhis calloused, worn hands meeting her smooth ones as she offered a polite welcome.


    She led him through an inner door into a secluded dining area. The room, adorned with understated art and quiet luxury, centered around a large table surrounded by high-backed chairs and a floor-to-ceiling viewing port. Through it, the emerald planet of Eteren loomed in the near distance. Garen eased into one of the chairs, noting the pristine quality of everything¡ªso unlike the battered, front-line vessels he¡¯d known. The Riftkin had always felt like a machine of war, but the Resilience, though equally powerful, exuded a distinctly different atmosphere. This is a ship of comfort, he thought, feeling the contrast. He wondered how quickly that might change if another war broke out. I hope they don¡¯t find out.


    Maylone sat across from him, activating a relay on the table to summon refreshments.


    ¡°General Rivers, your arrival was unexpected. You were the last person I thought to find aboard that vessel when we detected its entry into the Mottmor system.¡± Though her smile was warm and polite, a spark of curiosity lingered behind it.


    Garen wondered if that was entirely true; he suspected they¡¯d known he was coming long before the Seeker arrived. They knew about the Vorcons¡ªhe was almost certain they¡¯d known he was on board, too.


    Maylone leaned back, her gaze a careful blend of interest and suspicion. ¡°It¡¯s been quite some time since anyone last saw you. Still, having you aboard the Resilience is a pleasure. Your contributions to the Seven Worlds are remembered.¡± Her focus didn¡¯t shift; her eyes stayed locked on him, an unreadable expression betraying a hint of contemplation, as though she were weighing unspoken truths.


    Garen nodded, sensing the depth of her words. ¡°Thank you, General Maylone. I have to admit, it¡¯s... disorienting. I¡¯d grown used to the idea of staying on Chiex.¡± The Resilience felt familiar in some ways¡ªRDF battlecruisers all had a shared atmosphere¡ªbut everything about it seemed altered. Different didn¡¯t quite capture it; it was as though his time with the RDF had almost never happened at all. Really, it was as if the RDF had moved on, evolving as he¡¯d known it would, yet seeing the changes up close after ten years revealed how much was different while hints of the past still lingered.


    ¡°I can only imagine,¡± Maylone replied, her tone neutral and expression composed.


    She poured herself a cup of coffee, and Garen followed suit, savoring the warmth as he took a sip. Her silent gaze held an undercurrent of questions.


    ¡°Thank you, General,¡± he said, his voice a mix of gratitude and weariness. ¡°I appreciate the hospitality.¡±


    Maylone¡¯s nod was slow, her eyes distant, her face calm and reflective, as if piecing something together. ¡°Your return¡­ has raised some interest,¡± she said, her gaze fixed on him, observing his every movement.


    The way she lingered on ¡°interest¡± made him uneasy. ¡°Interest?¡± he repeated, a crease forming in his brow. ¡°RDF Command? The Council of Seven?¡±


    ¡°I meant it more generally,¡± she replied, a note of caution threading her tone.


    Garen nodded, uncertain of her intent. ¡°I suppose not many expected me back.¡±


    Maylone¡¯s mouth curved in a faint smile. ¡°After all this time... no, I¡¯d say not.¡±


    Garen exhaled, his gaze drifting. ¡°Not exactly where I thought I¡¯d end up either. Not by choice. I didn¡¯t expect to be uprooted from my home like that.¡± He paused, recalling the Otay trees that had surrounded his home, last seen ablaze. He didn¡¯t yet know that Caul Malocktus had ensured its complete destruction.


    Maylone leaned in, her eyes sharpening with curiosity tempered by a hint of compassion. ¡°We¡¯re more than happy to provide a safe haven, General Rivers.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, General,¡± Garen replied, fully aware they were here for questioning, not refuge.


    Her tone shifted, taking on a guarded edge. ¡°Still, I must admit, I¡¯m curious about your journey back to the Seven Worlds. It¡¯s quite a distance. I was concerned about your safe arrival.¡±


    ¡°Safe arrival?¡± Garen echoed, a hint of confusion in his voice.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Your ship appears to have seen better days,¡± Maylone observed, her gaze sweeping over him with a scrutinizing look. ¡°Will it make it back in one piece?¡± Her tone was almost¡ªbut not quite¡ªmocking.


    Garen took a measured breath, accepting that the Seeker was, admittedly, a bit rough around the edges. ¡°The Seeker is more than capable. Klamarez is skilled. It¡¯s still under construction, but it¡¯ll hold. As you can imagine, there weren¡¯t many ships available on Chiex, and we didn¡¯t have much time. Still, given the circumstances, it held up well.¡±


    Maylone raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. ¡°Then it seems you were fortunate to escape all that,¡± she remarked, her voice soft but laced with intrigue.


    Garen nodded, though he knew that Caul Malocktus had merely let them go, toying with them. It didn¡¯t seem worth mentioning, but he sensed that Maylone was probing, subtly questioning how they had managed to escape without saying it outright. Conus had provided them with data, and they¡¯d had ample time to analyze it. Garen was certain they¡¯d reach their own conclusions soon enough.


    ¡°I admire your confidence in the Camerian, Klamarez,¡± Maylone continued. ¡°But I wish we had a ship to loan Colonel Taylen, just to be on the safe side. Unfortunately, our fleet is limited in this system. Hopefully, your friend can get his vessel fully operational.¡±


    ¡°The Seeker¡¯s functional, just needs some fine-tuning,¡± Garen replied with a slight shrug. ¡°Bit of a work in progress. Still, not bad for a maiden voyage.¡±


    Maylone¡¯s eyes widened with a mix of amusement and disbelief. ¡°Maiden voyage?¡± she echoed, eyebrows lifting. ¡°It¡¯s remarkable, then, that it¡¯s operational at all. And once it¡¯s fine-tuned, what then? I assume your stay here will be brief¡ªin the system, I mean?¡±


    ¡°Mottmor was just meant to be a stopover,¡± Garen replied, omitting details he wasn¡¯t ready to share¡ªlike the fact that Colonel Conus Taylen had concealed his affiliation with the RSIA, not the RDF. From what he¡¯d observed, suspicion ran deep among the crew here. General Maylone concealed her feelings well, but Colonel Nolvin had made his doubts clear. Eteren One was never meant to be more than a regrouping point, he thought. A place for safety, maybe a chance to inform the RDF about the Vorcons¡ªor so I¡¯d hoped. But Maylone didn¡¯t need to know all that. They already seemed more wary than they let on, and he wasn¡¯t about to overshare and fuel their suspicions.


    ¡°And after the stopover?¡± Maylone pressed.


    Garen¡¯s eyes flicked to the viewport, watching the steady movement of ships around Eteren One¡¯s starbase and the planet Eteren beyond. ¡°I plan to head to Rhyus.¡±


    Her expression softened, though her eyes held a wary curiosity, as if weighing what was left unsaid. ¡°Returning to Rhyus after all these years must hold some significance for you.¡±


    ¡°It does. Never thought I¡¯d be going back,¡± he replied.


    She gave him a look that hinted at doubt. ¡°The RSIA has taken a keen interest in you, from what we can gather. Do you have any idea what might have piqued their curiosity?¡±


    Garen kept his expression unreadable, sensing her careful probing. ¡®Not specifically, no. Maybe they want my perspective on something from my career. Hard to say. But really, your guess is as good as mine, General,¡¯ he replied, his tone guarded but open.


    As he mentioned the RSIA¡¯s interest, Maylone¡¯s smile lingered, her eyes narrowing briefly before settling back into their usual warmth.


    ¡°I see. With a career as extensive as yours, it could be any number of things.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m as curious as you are,¡± Garen replied, his tone deliberately vague.


    ¡°Your history with the Vorcons¡ªand their sudden reemergence¡ªmakes the RSIA¡¯s interest even more intriguing, however,¡± she remarked, her voice carefully neutral. Her gaze stayed sharp, studying him closely.


    ¡°Intriguing? What makes it so?¡± Garen asked.


    ¡°Just the timing, General Rivers. A coincidence, don¡¯t you think? Your history with the Vorcons...¡± She let the implication linger.


    ¡°My history with the Vorcons?¡± Garen echoed. ¡°You mean the history of the Vorcon Empire and the Seven Worlds of Rhyus?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Maylone replied smoothly. ¡°Though it¡¯s hard to deny that your career is intertwined with the Vorcon Empire.¡±


    Garen leaned back slightly. ¡°It was a long war,¡± he said, his voice flattening as memories surfaced. ¡°Twenty years of war takes its toll.¡±


    Maylone¡¯s gaze remained fixed, silently urging him to continue.


    ¡°I did what I had to do,¡± Garen went on, his tone resolute. ¡°We fought to keep the Seven Worlds safe, to protect other systems from conquest, to free them. That¡¯s not just my history, General Maylone¡ªthat¡¯s the history of the RDF, of the Seven Worlds. I was one part of it, like so many others who gave years to that war. I¡¯m sure you fought in it too, did your part.¡±


    ¡°I did indeed, General Rivers,¡± she replied, recalling a time long before she held her current rank. And I was glad when the peace treaty was declared¡ªunlike you, she thought.


    ¡°My contribution was no different than anyone¡¯s. We all had our roles to play,¡± Garen said, his tone final.


    Her gaze held firm. ¡°And yet, you lost your career standing by your beliefs. You faced the Council of Seven, advocating for continued conflict with the Vorcons. That¡¯s a significant sacrifice for one¡¯s principles; most of us were relieved to see the war end¡ªI know I was,¡± she remarked, a slight edge to her words. ¡°It¡¯s remarkable how your return aligns with theirs.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a matter of perspective,¡± Garen replied coolly. He was in no mood to revisit his stance on the peace treaty or the speech he¡¯d given before the Council of Seven all those years ago. He¡¯d made his point then and was past defending his position. ¡°And I didn¡¯t return by choice. The Vorcons saw to that. I¡¯d refused Colonel Taylen¡¯s offer to speak with the RSIA, but the Vorcon attack forced my hand.¡± What is she trying to imply? That I somehow brought the Vorcons back?


    Maylone absorbed his words thoughtfully. ¡°That is quite a chain of events.¡±


    ¡°I would agree,¡± Garen replied.


    ¡°Any regrets about how your career ended?¡± Maylone asked, her tone probing.


    Garen¡¯s expression remained steady. ¡°Perhaps I could have handled things differently, maybe taken another approach¡ªit¡¯s hard to say. But regret? No.¡±


    ¡°Even after all you lost?¡± she pressed.


    ¡°No regrets,¡± Garen replied without hesitation. Well¡­ perhaps a few.


    Maylone took another sip of coffee, her eyes fixed on him. ¡°Still, you can¡¯t deny that your return and the Vorcons¡¯ resurgence at the same time¡ªit¡¯s unlikely, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    Her pointed look prompted him to consider his words carefully. ¡°Unlikely, yes,¡± he replied, keeping his tone calm even as his thoughts raced. Why does she keep pressing that point? It felt as if RDF Command was more concerned about his return than the Vorcons¡¯. His sudden departure from Chiex, his presence on the Resilience, and the RSIA¡¯s involvement had surely unsettled more than a few on the Council of Seven. Do they think I¡¯m here to reignite the war¡ªor are they just looking for a reason to suspect it?


    He nearly smirked. What kind of power do they think I have?


    ¡°As for the Vorcons,¡± he said, his tone intentionally casual, ¡°I trust RDF Command is monitoring any developments.¡± He took a slow sip of his coffee, letting the silence settle before continuing. ¡°Since the incident at Chiex, have there been further Vorcon activities? Additional sightings?¡±


    ¡°Not that we¡¯re aware of,¡± Maylone replied. ¡°Rest assured, General Rivers, we remain vigilant. Our assessments suggest a low threat level for now, but if the Vorcons enter our territories, we¡¯re prepared to respond. Engaging them isn¡¯t something the RDF does lightly¡ªonly when absolutely necessary.¡± Her tone, formal and placating, felt as though it were meant for a civilian rather than a retired general of Garen¡¯s reputation.


    Garen leaned in a fraction, his gaze steady as it met hers. ¡°And the engagement on Chiex¡ªwould you consider that an escalation?¡±


    ¡°An engagement involving a retired RDF officer and a Camerian does not concern the RDF,¡± she replied with a calm that seemed immovable.


    ¡°But there were lives lost,¡± Garen countered. ¡°Colonel Taylen and I fought them, took down six Vorcons. The Vorcons destroyed a transport¡ªColonel Taylen lost his entire team.¡±


    ¡°Regardless, Colonel Taylen is part of the RSIA, not the RDF,¡± Maylone responded, as if the line had been rehearsed.


    I see, Garen thought. Is this her stance, or Command¡¯s? The RDF and RSIA had always functioned independently, but Maylone¡¯s words hinted at a complete severance. Just how deep is the divide now? he wondered. Deeper than I¡¯d imagined. Did the Council of Seven see it that way too?


    If this new Vorcon threat is real, then the RDF and RSIA should be working together more closely¡ªfor the good of the Seven Worlds.


    His thoughts shifted briefly to Amar Lavont, the current head of the RSIA. Under Lavont¡¯s direction, the agency¡¯s approach to intelligence and security had changed dramatically. Has he stirred things up this much? Enough to create a divide like this? There had to be more at play than Lavont¡¯s leadership alone. Conus had mentioned the RSIA¡¯s near collapse. What exactly had happened? Garen was beginning to realize he was far from seeing the full picture.


    Just then, an older woman and a young man entered, wheeling in a cart laden with fresh coffee and an array of food. Both wore crisp white uniforms, and soon the table overflowed with delicacies¡ªthe aroma of coffee mingling with the scent of baked goods and a full breakfast spread. Garen couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the excess.


    He nodded and thanked the servers warmly as they departed. Maylone watched him closely, her faint smile lingering, as if she were reading his thoughts.


    ¡°What about after your visit with the RSIA?¡± Maylone asked. ¡°Have you thought about returning to Rhyus? To live, I mean?¡±


    Garen shrugged slightly. ¡°I might end up back on Rhyus, or maybe even return to my homeworld. I haven¡¯t really decided,¡± he admitted. ¡°I¡¯m still adjusting to everything that¡¯s happened, keeping my options open.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re from Amoreron, aren¡¯t you?¡± Maylone¡¯s tone suggested she already knew the answer.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Garen replied with a faint smile. ¡°I might be overdue for a visit.¡±


    Maylone nodded slowly, her gaze intent as she studied his expression. ¡°Do you still have family there?¡±


    Garen paused, drifting into thought. ¡°Yes,¡± he said simply.


    ¡°Well, it might be nice to visit them,¡± Maylone said thoughtfully. ¡°Being away from the Seven Worlds for a decade is quite a stretch. You should know, many crew members were eager to meet General Garen Rivers. There was quite a buzz about you possibly joining us in the mess hall last night. They even reserved a seat for you.¡±


    Garen felt a wave of relief at having missed it. I¡¯m not ready for that, he thought, shying from the attention. Forcing a smile, he replied, ¡°I¡¯d intended to join, but honestly, I fell asleep. The last few days have been more eventful than I¡¯m used to.¡±


    ¡°Chiex must have had its challenges,¡± Maylone observed, letting her words settle as if inviting him to elaborate.


    ¡°More than enough,¡± Garen replied evenly. ¡°But it was necessary¡ªI needed the change.¡±


    Maylone leaned forward, adding to her plate, her interest sharpening. ¡°Tell me about Chiex. It¡¯s intriguing that you chose to live there, so far from the comforts of the Seven Worlds. What were the challenges like? How did you adapt?¡± Her tone was casual, but a probing edge undercut her words, as though she sought more than he was offering. Her gaze lingered, assessing him.


    Garen shifted slightly in his seat. ¡°Chiex was... simple, but survival wasn¡¯t,¡± he replied, recalling the mountain winds and the nights when even a fire barely held off the chill. He could almost feel those silent, endless nights again, the kind of cold a fire alone couldn¡¯t chase away. The cold season had been approaching when he left¡ªsomething he¡¯d prepared for. But now, it was no longer his concern.


    ¡°It was a necessary change,¡± he added distantly, briefly mentioning growing his own food, hunting, fishing, and exploring¡ªjust enough to satisfy her curiosity without delving too deeply.


    ¡°That¡¯s an admirable way to live, General Rivers. I can barely imagine it,¡± she remarked, her smile composed, though her sharp eyes missed nothing. He sensed the unspoken questions behind her carefully chosen words, coaxing him to reveal more.


    He decided to steer the conversation. ¡°This is a fine ship, the Resilience.¡±


    Maylone nodded, pride evident in her tone. ¡°I was fortunate to receive its command. Competition was stiff.¡± She mentioned taking over the Resilience, but soon shifted the topic back to the RSIA. ¡°You¡¯re aware Amar Lavont now heads the RSIA? Given your history with him, I imagine it might be useful. Have you spoken to him since you left for Chiex?¡±


    Garen¡¯s expression softened slightly, a quick smile escaping, faintly amused by her persistence. ¡°I haven¡¯t spoken to him since I left a decade ago.¡± He paused, the weight of past events lingering. ¡°Our last meeting left some things unresolved. My departure wasn¡¯t under the best of circumstances.¡±


    Maylone nodded, a flicker of understanding in her gaze. ¡°Difficult times often lead to difficult decisions,¡± she said. ¡°He must still hold respect for you, after all the years you served together.¡±


    Garen kept his expression neutral. ¡°Respect, yes,¡± he said quietly. Loyalty ran deep, layered with memories¡ªsome of Lavont warm, others¡­ less so.


    After they finished breakfast, Garen and Maylone returned to her office, where a large map display on the wall caught his eye. He lingered on the details of the Ottorins¡¯ situation within the Mottmor System.


    Their conversation flowed naturally to the Ottorins and the RDF¡¯s role in the region. Maylone explained the mutually beneficial mining agreement between the Ottorins and the RDF. ¡°The agreement allocates a fair percentage of profits to enhancing their agricultural efforts while reinforcing our supply lines,¡± she explained.


    Garen studied the star charts, his thoughts shifting to the complexities of the RDF¡¯s military presence in the area¡ªparticularly at Eteren One. He considered the potential impact of a withdrawal, skepticism clear in his expression. Would the RDF really consider vacating their positions here?


    ¡°I¡¯ve enjoyed our discussion, General Rivers, but I have a full morning ahead,¡± Maylone said, rising from her chair to signal the end of their meeting.


    ¡°Being in command of a capital battlecruiser keeps you busy,¡± Garen replied, rising. ¡°It¡¯s been a pleasure.¡±


    ¡°The pleasure was mine, General Rivers,¡± Maylone responded, her smile warm.


    As they parted, Garen noticed a synthetic entering Maylone¡¯s office just as he stepped out. What¡¯s she really after? he wondered, their conversation lingering heavily in his thoughts as he walked away.

 Chapter 14

    Chapter 14.


    The Cavaglatar Sector


    Date: Zeran 19, Year 4731


    As the heavy door of the training chamber sealed with a faint tremor, the room seemed to swallow all sound, intensifying the weight of the Katarath Dagger resting in its open case, its dark, double-edged, curved blade. The air pressed against her skin, muffling her breath as adrenaline surged and dread tightened its grip¡ªthe path before her was set, one she could not refuse.


    Caul¡¯s offer had felt surreal, unsettling, yet a strange acceptance had taken root within her. She would follow his guidance, stepping beyond her role as Inquisitor to become his apprentice.


    The "choice" Caul had given her¡ªto accept or decline¡ªhad been hollow. Refusal left no real alternative. Now, she saw it for what it was: an illusion, a test of her willingness to obey. Whether she had consciously chosen this was irrelevant; her destiny had been entwined with the Brotherhood¡¯s threads long before this moment. There was only one path¡ªaccept or face death.


    Part of her longed to resist, to find another way. But as silence closed in around her, the weight of what defiance would mean settled over her.


    Her feelings held no sway here, and any lingering doubts stilled. The consequences of refusal were clear, rooted in Caul¡¯s history and reputation. He was dangerous, more so than she fully understood. Though a small part of her doubted he would risk angering her father, a trusted ally of the Malocktus family, the thought offered little strength.


    Members of a group like this lived cautiously, guarding even the smallest details Caul disclosed, never offering information lightly, not without purpose. For the Brotherhood of Velor, survival demanded far more than combat skill; it required mastery of secrecy, shadows, and, when necessary, the power to instill fear.


    Caul had shared much but left even more unsaid, each silence sharpening her curiosity and filling her with questions. He had hinted at deeds done in the Brotherhood¡¯s name, legendary acts carried out in honor of the forgotten god Velor. Yet the Brotherhood¡¯s true history remained shrouded in secrecy. What little she knew consisted of whispers, exaggerated tales, perhaps outright fabrications. She wondered how many of these hidden deeds Caul himself had carried out in recent years or, at the very least, orchestrated. What legacy had his actions left on the Vorcon Empire? He implied their influence was extensive. How powerful was the Brotherhood of Velor at this point, truly? And who else might belong to it?


    Nelve guided a finger along the dagger¡¯s double-edged, curved blade, feeling its sharpness. Even without its energy field, the weapon would be deadly in skilled hands. Forged from Nyraite, a dark, obsidian-like mineral with a subtle crimson undertone that emerged only in direct light.


    She had always believed her path to honor lay within the Grand Vorcon Imperial Force. Rising through the GVIF ranks seemed her sole way to bring pride to her family and elevate their standing. Her reputation as an effective Inquisitor had already earned her respect, and she¡¯d envisioned herself climbing steadily, perhaps one day earning her own command and gaining influence within the Vorcon Empire.


    From an early age, her father had instilled in her a sense of duty, honor, and ambition, constantly reminding her that her success¡ªor failure¡ªreflected on the entire family. She feared disappointing him¡ªnot out of dread for his anger, but because of the cold detachment that followed his disappointment. Though her family still held a respected place in Vorcon society, their prominence had waned over time. Her Tahlor, her father, and Tahlai, her mother, had instilled in her a fierce commitment to developing her talents, as any good Vorcon parents would.


    But now, a new thought struck her: had her Tahlor been preparing her for this path all along? Was this journey¡ªtoward the Brotherhood of Velor¡ªthe one he had envisioned from the start? Had he quietly guided her ambition, steering her toward this fate? The realization settled over her with a cold certainty. Her course had been set long before, her path woven into something she could no longer resist. A chill ran through her as the awareness took hold: perhaps she had been moving toward this moment from the beginning.


    Her ambition to elevate her family¡¯s status had unwittingly led her here. Now, it seemed almost inevitable¡ªas though planned from the start.


    She had known of the Brotherhood; everyone in Vorcon society did, even if only through rumor. Tales of their deeds circulated, stories of mysterious deaths often attributed to the Brotherhood¡¯s hidden hand. For most Vorcons, the Brotherhood of Velor was a shadow in history, not a tangible threat.


    Rumors persisted, of course¡ªstories of unexplained disappearances or whispers of unseen forces subtly guiding events. Yet most dismissed these accounts as mere legends, relics of an ancient devotion to a forgotten god. For those who believed at all, the Brotherhood seemed little more than a fringe group of fanatics, isolated and with negligible influence.


    She herself had thought of them as just that¡ªa story, a piece of history. She had never imagined she would encounter the Brotherhood firsthand, much less be offered a place within it.


    She¡¯d always known her path to proving herself would be difficult, but this¡­ this was beyond anything she¡¯d foreseen. She had anticipated challenges, especially as a woman in the GVIF, where powerful female officers, though less common than their male counterparts, were not unheard of¡ªand were not treated differently.


    Could the Brotherhood become her means to gain influence and authority within the GVIF? Perhaps Caul had done exactly that¡ªrising to high status despite his low birth, a rare feat in the Empire. And now, Caul¡¯s ¡°gift¡± lay before her¡ªa trial, a key to the Brotherhood of Velor, a binding to its hidden power.


    But who truly led the Brotherhood? Could Caul Malocktus himself be at its helm?


    If the stories were true, the Brotherhood acted as the Empire¡¯s silent architects, intervening from the shadows whenever they perceived a threat, ¡°correcting¡± events that strayed from what they deemed the Empire¡¯s best interests. But who decided what was best? And if they wielded such influence, what true power did the Emperor hold? How far did the Brotherhood¡¯s reach and interference extend?


    Caul had spoken of the Brotherhood¡¯s resurgence, as if they had regained lost strength or influence. Yet it seemed they¡¯d never truly vanished¡ªthey had always existed in some form. Nelve could easily imagine a group like this fluctuating in power, fading almost to extinction only to rise again.


    Once her initiation was complete, what would come next? What will they ask of me? If taking a life was merely her entry, what else might they expect of her once fully within their ranks? More lives, each bearing greater weight and impact on the Vorcon Empire?


    Had others in her family been part of the Brotherhood? Perhaps her Tahlor? Even her Tahlai, once skilled and now so distant, might have been involved. Nelve recalled a scar she¡¯d glimpsed on her mother¡¯s neck¡ªa mark usually kept hidden. Cold and guarded, her Tahlai had always kept her secrets close. Could those secrets have been tied to the Brotherhood of Velor?


    A faint memory surfaced of her mother¡¯s long absence years ago, returning home changed, almost as if she¡¯d become someone else.


    These thoughts lingered as Nelve considered her next steps. She had promised her Tahlor to follow Caul¡¯s training and fulfill his commands, and she intended to honor that promise.


    Her rise to Inquisitor and assignment under Caul Malocktus had come almost too easily. It was no secret that, until recently, Caul had shared a close connection with the Emperor. Yet, over the past few months, his influence had waned¡ªa noticeable shift.


    When Nelve first came under his command, she¡¯d glimpsed private communications between Caul and the Emperor. Recently, however, those exchanges had ceased¡ªor so it seemed. Still, Caul¡¯s father retained a seat on the Emperor¡¯s council, a connection that surely lent Caul influence even now.


    With a steady hand, Nelve closed the case and secured her Kelkor blade, sliding it smoothly into its sheath.


    Outside the training room, she made her way back to her quarters. Each step through the ship¡¯s corridors felt different. Crew members nodded as she passed, but their acknowledgments seemed distant, muted by the whirl of her thoughts.


    She needed to kill one of them. But who? Her eyes swept over the crew, evaluating them as potential offerings. Should the sacrifice hold meaning¡ªa figure no one would miss? Or would she be expected to justify her choice? Caul had given no guidance¡ªonly the command to kill, with the Katarath Dagger now in her possession. The order was simple, yet it filled her with questions.


    In her quarters, Nelve secured the door, then removed her armor, arranging each piece on its stand. Stripping off her sweat-drenched under-armor, she felt her muscles finally loosen from hours of training, though her mind remained tightly wound with anticipation. Her pale, pure-white Vorcon skin glowed softly in the dim light. Why tonight? she wondered. She wanted¡ªneeded¡ªmore time. Would more time change anything?


    As a youngling, Nelve had known the comforts of her family¡¯s estate on Recos. Her family was wealthy¡ªstill was¡ªbut her position, distanced from direct inheritance, had always felt precarious, making her expendable to her Tahlor and, even more so, to her Tahlai. Cold and distant, her Tahlai had kept herself at arm¡¯s length. They had never been close since that one day everything changed. Nelve could barely remember life before, but it hadn¡¯t always been this way.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Early on, Nelve had understood that to matter, to make a real impact, she would have to distinguish herself. Excelling in combat became her chosen path; within the Empire, it was the surest way to gain notice. Yet her father saw her only as a tool. Her childhood had been brief, mostly spent away from home, immersed in rigorous training.


    Her father arranged for her to study under various Vorcon mentors, each sharpening her skills beyond combat, cultivating her intellect and strategy. She reminded herself to be grateful for this training.


    She recalled the grueling days spent training with Caul Malocktus and his father, Rox¡ªa brief but intense period that had left a lasting mark. She had seen Caul a few times afterward, though years often passed between encounters, until recently, when their paths finally converged once more. They had been among many temporary trainers in her youth, each with something distinct to teach her.


    Stepping into the shower, she activated the controls, letting a cascade of ice-cold water slice through her fatigue. The icy drops struck her skin like needles, jolting her into a heightened awareness. She breathed in the chill, letting it burn away the fog of doubt, piece by piece. The shock of the cold sharpened her senses, reviving her completely. She stood under the steady stream, allowing the chill to strip away her thoughts and tension, leaving her with clarity.


    After drying off, her gaze drifted to the dagger case resting on her bed. She opened it slowly, taking in the weapon inside. Its dark, curved blade ended in a lethal point, sharp as a predator¡¯s claw. She traced a finger along the handle¡ªa unique, horizontal grip designed for her fist to clench around, her knuckles pressing forward for a decisive, brutal thrust. Just above the grip, a slender dial and two small buttons embedded in the hilt caught her eye, perfectly positioned for her thumb to activate.


    When triggered, the dagger¡¯s hidden power unleashed, igniting a flicker of pale blue and white energy along the blade¡¯s edge¡ªraw and volatile, crafted for swift, lethal strikes.


    She slipped into a fresh, dark under-armor weave that hugged her lean, athletic frame. Beside it lay a new cloak and matching black outfit, tailored to fit seamlessly over her light armor. Caul must have provided it, she assumed. The ensemble included a sheath designed to rest horizontally along her back, perfectly suited for the dagger. She sheathed her weapons: her Kelkor blade and her new Katarath Dagger.


    Her father¡¯s words echoed in her mind: ¡°Always be prepared to strike from the shadows.¡± Those words, instilled since childhood, now resonated with sharpened significance. Have I been naive? Has my obedience left my mind closed? She paused, the weight of doubt pressing down on her. Now fully dressed, she was physically prepared, but her mind lingered on questions she couldn¡¯t ignore.


    Her long, bone-like Vorcon fingers gripped the dagger¡¯s hilt with surprising comfort, her Kelkor blade resting at her side. Determined not to prolong the inevitable, Nelve left her quarters. What she wanted mattered little; her commitment was to move forward. Part of her longed to complete this task¡ªnot only to prove her loyalty but to understand what acceptance into the Brotherhood might truly entail. What would it bring? What am I expected to become?


    Wandering through the ship without clear direction, she searched for something to anchor her purpose. She walked what felt like endless corridors, her steps aimless yet growing more resolute. Eventually, her path led her to the docking bay¡ªa vast space with high ceilings and rows of Predator-class fighters, interspersed with transport and utility vessels. Vorcon engineers and maintenance crews moved among the crafts, their voices a low chorus of raspy hisses echoing against the metallic walls. Most appeared to be idling; the Rheeavher¡¯s ships had seen little action since the encounter with the Seeker and not much before that.


    She strolled along the line of ships, pausing beside her own Predator-class fighter. Part of me longs to climb into the cockpit and just fly away¡­ Leaving the Vorcon Empire was rare for any Vorcon; even the dishonored and exiled clung to the hope of redemption, holding onto a slim chance of becoming needed or wanted again. Few had ever left to seek a different life. And yet, I know nothing else. I want nothing else but to secure my place. Still, she often wondered if even achieving that would bring her contentment.


    Her hand brushed along the hull of her ship. She knew that, upon their return to the Empire, her responsibilities would only multiply, with this very ship poised to play a central role in her missions.


    Her thoughts were interrupted by the approach of an older Vorcon crewman. His back, slightly hunched from years of service, marked him unmistakably as Routh, responsible for maintaining the fighters and utility craft¡ªa figure respected and known by all on the ship.


    ¡°Is everything fine, Inquisitor? Do you need assistance with your ship?¡± Routh asked respectfully, his voice low, raspy, and dry, ending with a gentle hiss.


    Nelve paused, meeting his gaze. His eyes, worn yet steady, reflected a life of unwavering service and quiet loyalty.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she replied softly. ¡°The velocity shift gear has shown a slight lag. I neglected to bring it to your attention sooner.¡± It was a minor issue, one she could have managed, but not entirely untrue; there was indeed a lag.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get to work on it immediately,¡± he responded without hesitation, eager to assist. Routh was well-known among the crew and took great pride in his work.


    ¡°I admire your dedication, Routh,¡± Nelve said.


    He nodded, a faint spark of satisfaction lighting his eyes. ¡°I do what I can, Inquisitor. Service is all I¡¯ve known.¡± His voice softened, the words drifting into the background as he began his work.


    Watching him, she felt a pang of uncertainty¡ªa hesitation about the task that loomed over her. Routh¡¯s dedication seemed to carry a strength she hadn¡¯t yet found within herself, a quiet contentment in his role that she envied.


    ¡°How do you find the latest Predator fighter model?¡± he asked, glancing up briefly before returning to his work, carefully opening panels and setting bolts aside.


    She paused. ¡°The improvements¡ªthey make a difference. I feel it in the ship¡¯s response.¡±


    A faint smirk crossed Routh¡¯s face. ¡°Good to hear, Inquisitor. I¡¯d worried they might not be as effective as promised. Guess I¡¯m just stuck in my old ways,¡± he added, drawing out the last word with a subtle hiss.


    ¡°You¡¯ve served the Empire well, Routh,¡± she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. ¡°I commend your loyalty.¡±


    ¡°We all serve the Empire in our own ways,¡± he replied.


    As he peered into an open panel, focused on his task, Nelve felt the weight of the dagger against her back, almost as if it pulsed¡ªa silent reminder, urging her to act.


    Routh continued, sharing fragments of his past as he adjusted components here and there, telling stories as though she¡¯d asked, though she hadn¡¯t. He recounted countless battles witnessed from the hangar bays of the many ships he¡¯d served on, his tenure as impressive as the tales he shared.


    After a while, she left the docking bay, leaving Routh to his work. ¡°I¡¯ll keep at it until she performs flawlessly, Inquisitor,¡± he assured her, already focused back on the ship. As she departed, she heard his low, raspy tone, muttering half to himself, half to the ship.


    Nelve¡¯s steps led her through sections of the vessel she hadn¡¯t visited in weeks. The Rheeavher was vast enough that entire areas could go unseen for days. As she moved through the quiet corridors, she kept her eyes open, scanning each crew member she passed, peering into workrooms, evaluating each as a potential offering. Yet, deep down, she knew¡ªthe best sacrifice, the one she could truly offer to Velor, was already clear.


    After what felt like endless wandering, she turned back toward the docking bay.


    Upon her return, she found the bay quieter than before. Only Routh remained, hunched over her ship, finishing up. She watched him descend a ladder, carefully putting away tools, closing panels, restoring the ship as he¡¯d found it. Her footsteps echoed faintly in the vast, hushed space as she approached.


    Without looking up, Routh spoke. ¡°You¡¯re light on your feet, Inquisitor.¡±


    She paused briefly, slightly startled, before replying, ¡°I¡¯ve learned to walk quietly.¡±


    Routh straightened and turned to face her. ¡°Inquisitor, your craft is ready. I hope it serves you well,¡± he said, a hint of pride in his voice, confident.


    ¡°I¡¯m eager to take it up again once we return to the Empire,¡± she responded.


    Routh nodded thoughtfully. ¡°I imagine you¡¯re ready to carry out an Inquisitor¡¯s duties once the war begins. You¡¯ll be busy¡ªthere are many who will have to answer to Inquisitor¡¯s justice.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she replied, her voice steady, though her gaze drifted.


    He paused, then added, ¡°I¡¯d enjoy your company in the Feasting Hall tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°For what reason?¡± Nelve¡¯s response was cautious.


    Routh shrugged. ¡°Just curious. I know little of you,¡± he said. ¡°An old Vorcon¡¯s curiosity, I suppose.¡±


    At the mention of her family¡¯s legacy, Nelve¡¯s expression softened slightly. ¡°Yes, I¡¯d like that,¡± she agreed.


    Routh nodded and began gathering his equipment, heading toward an enclosed storage room.


    Nelve followed in silence, her steps steady and contemplative as she observed his calm, measured pace, unhurried by the slight stoop in his frame. Her hand hovered near the dagger.


    Inside the storage room, Routh started arranging his tools, focusing on the ship¡¯s docking inventory displayed on a computer console. Her father¡¯s words echoed in her mind, calm yet unyielding: Hesitation is defeat.


    Her fingers brushed the dagger¡¯s hilt at her back. She inhaled slowly, steadying herself. In one swift, fluid motion, she drew the dagger, activating it as her arm extended. At the last second, she angled it downward, aiming precisely at the point between his neck and shoulder.


    The blade struck true, and the impact surprised even her. She felt its vibration down to her bones as energy pulsed along its edge, vaporizing Routh instantly. She stood still, staring in disbelief. No sound, no blood¡ªjust his empty uniform lying lifeless on the floor. She hadn¡¯t known exactly how the weapon would perform, but now she understood.


    Her hands trembled slightly as she knelt, gathering the clothes with methodical care. Moving to the disposal unit, she placed the uniform inside, watching as the machine whirred to life, erasing the last traces of Routh. It was done.


    She stepped out of the storage room slowly, each step weighted by what she¡¯d done. Yet beneath that weight, a strange calm began to settle¡ªher first trial was complete. If she was to succeed, this was only the beginning; more deaths would follow, and her emotions would have to be kept at bay.


    Ahead, two engineers, Brot and Noeth, approached, absorbed in casual conversation and oblivious to what had just transpired. As they drew near, Brot gave her a respectful nod.


    "Inquisitor, have you seen Routh?" he asked. "We heard he was finishing up some work on your ship."


    Nelve met his gaze, her voice steady, betraying nothing. "I was actually looking for him myself," she replied.


    ¡°Maybe he¡¯s in his quarters?¡± Noeth suggested, as they turned back to discussing it between themselves.


    Satisfied, the two continued on their way, still unaware. Nelve exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the path she had chosen. Where it would lead, only time would reveal. She had stepped into something unknown, hoping she possessed the strength to see it through.

 Chapter 15

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    Klamarez woke early¡ªa few hours of sleep were more than enough for his Camerian physiology. Meanwhile, Garen still rested in his own quarters, unaware of his upcoming meeting with General Maylone. Klamarez lay still for a moment, adjusting to the unfamiliar guest quarters aboard the RDF Resilience. Gradually, the dark room took shape around him, his Camerian eyes easily adapting to the low light.


    He sat up, switched on the lights, and stretched. The steady vibration of the engines thrummed beneath his feet, filling him with a comforting resonance. Feels like a well-tuned ship, he observed, especially given its size. His ears twitched, picking up the faint, nearly inaudible undertone. Though he hadn¡¯t spent much time on military vessels, he¡¯d expected something¡­ different, something less calming.


    RDF components were treasures to Klamarez¡ªeach one valued, purchased from dealers specializing in remnants of old conflicts between the Seven Worlds of Rhyus and the Vorcon Empire. Parts from that era had recently grown scarce, with battlefields picked clean in the decade since the war''s end, making each piece an even more prized addition to his projects. New components were considerably more expensive, and even harder to come by on Chiex.


    Vorcon tech, though valued for its utility, was notoriously difficult to integrate with other systems, often requiring frustrating amounts of extra effort. Klamarez could make it work when necessary, but it stayed low on his list of preferred components; few pieces of it made it into his projects. When it did work, though, it worked well. Unyielding, just like the Vorcons themselves.


    Camerian achievements in space travel were impressive, especially given their strength in adapting and enhancing existing technologies rather than inventing from scratch. Some might say that their relentless modifications¡ªcobbling together tech from various sources¡ªhad created something distinctly Camerian, a blend of parts from many places, uniquely working together. Generally peaceful and unambitious, Camerians pursued technology as a creative outlet¡ªa way to improve life, not to gain power.


    The Vorcon conquest of Calio had changed many Camerians, pushing some to abandon their pacifism¡ªa shift Klamarez had reluctantly felt within himself. Though peace remained at his core, survival demanded he adapt. Those dark days had left him no choice; he had to be strong, not only for himself but for others as well.


    Since arriving on the Resilience, he¡¯d been eager to explore¡ªnot just its rooms, but what lay within its systems. Would they notice if I took just a little peek? Started opening some panels? he wondered, temptation tugging at him. But he figured the ship¡¯s internal sensors would sound the alarm immediately. Better not, he decided, a grin softening his feline-like features as he pictured himself popping open panels and crawling through the ship¡¯s access shafts.


    Eager for the day to begin, Klamarez groomed his fur, carefully aligning the brown, white, and orange strands on his face. He donned his blue coveralls, checking his reflection to ensure his brown tool straps were secure. With his ears upright, he grinned in satisfaction.


    The previous night, after their arrival, Klamarez and Conus dined in the mess hall. Their presence drew some curious glances, but they were mostly left alone. It was hardly surprising¡ªa Camerian and an RSIA officer with advanced augments like Conus, arriving alongside the exiled General Garen Rivers, were bound to attract attention.


    Over several cups of coffee, Klamarez expressed interest in learning more about the ship, and Conus gladly shared what he knew of the Resilience and other Capital Battle Cruisers within the Rhyus Defense Fleet, talking well into the evening.


    Klamarez thoughts drifted to the Seeker. Parting with the ship felt unthinkable, especially after their journey from the Chiaxten System to the Mottmor System, crossing the Venddral Raidezel Sector. The idea of anyone else handling the controls or tampering with the parts he¡¯d modified felt wrong, like giving away a piece of himself. I need to get that debt settled.


    He had places he wanted to visit across the galaxy, and the Seeker would grant him that freedom. Think of the traders I could meet... the other Camerian communities I could visit. Still, he hoped Calio Landing would remain his home, as it had been for the past few years.


    Leaving his quarters, Klamarez made his way to the hangar bay where the Seeker was stored. A couple of guards watched him as he passed, but his confident stride left them with no reason to stop him. As he neared the ship, they nodded politely, greeting him with a courteous, ¡°Good day.¡±


    Klamarez activated the Seeker¡¯s entrance ramp. As he stepped inside, he began whistling a Camerian folk tune, the melody bringing back a song he hadn¡¯t thought of in ages. Softly, he recited the lyrics:


    ¡°I¡¯ve traveled the stars and always find my way home,


    Back home, to the place I never wanted to leave,


    My home of Calio.


    The stars never shine quite the same to me when Mircarain isn¡¯t looking down.


    The galaxy can¡¯t change the Camerian way; no matter what happens, we remain the same.


    My home of Calio.¡±


    His voice trailed off. Everything changed.


    He moved through the Seeker, inspecting each panel, wire, and connection, making notes to ensure the IRD wouldn¡¯t cause future problems. Though he trusted Conus¡¯s suggested reroute, he wanted to be thorough; the Seeker was new, still untested. One connection, in particular, caught his eye¡ªslightly frayed but holding.


    Instead of hastily dismantling anything, he preferred to make a list of what needed attention, ensuring no hidden damage had escaped notice during the last Vorcon assault. Turning on some music, he let the soft strains of Camerian folk melodies drift from a speaker inside the Seeker, the gentle sounds seeping into the hangar bay.


    Dictating notes into his PDA, he murmured to himself, ¡°I need to replace all the wiring, power couplings, and inductors in the midsection as soon as possible. They¡¯re fine for now, but a complete burnout is possible if I don¡¯t.¡± The Vorcon weapons fire hadn¡¯t disabled them, but power surges had caused some issues. I should have enough spare parts, but my stock isn¡¯t at a level I¡¯m comfortable with. If we encounter any unexpected issues, I might not have the necessary components to fix them on the fly, he noted, continuing his list.


    Lost in his work, Klamarez was startled by the sudden appearance of a human officer in the doorway. Chief Maintenance Technician Clyden Galre stood there¡ªa round figure with gray hair, a jovial expression, and a large mustache. He hurried over, casting a quick glance at the guards.


    ¡°Pardon me, sir, but do you have authorization to be working in this hangar bay and on this craft?¡± Clyden inquired politely over the music, consulting his PDA and glancing at the ship¡¯s registry. ¡°The Seeker, is it?¡±


    Realizing he might have breached protocol, Klamarez turned the music off on his PDA; it was connected to the Seeker¡¯s interior system. ¡°I apologize, sir. I didn¡¯t realize authorization was required. I should have checked first. I¡¯m not used to being on ships like this.¡±


    Clyden relaxed, extending his hand in a friendly gesture. ¡°Call me Clyden¡ªClyden Galre.¡±


    ¡°Klamarez,¡± he replied, shaking Clyden¡¯s hand.


    ¡°And your last name, Klamarez?¡±


    ¡°Camerians don¡¯t use last names, just Klamarez,¡± he explained. ¡°My uncle Marares used to call me Klam.¡±


    ¡°Would you prefer I call you Klam?¡±


    ¡°No, call me Klamarez,¡± he laughed, shaking his head.


    Clyden smiled. ¡°Understood, Klamarez. You shouldn¡¯t be in here unescorted. Colonel Nolvin wouldn¡¯t be pleased,¡± he added with a hint of concern. ¡°Nor would the ship¡¯s security chief, Lieutenant Colonel Jarnin.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t let it happen again Clyden.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s okay. So, what brings you here, Klamarez? You came with General Rivers and the augmented fellow?¡± Clyden¡¯s curiosity was clear.


    Klamarez launched into a long-winded explanation of how he¡¯d ended up on the Resilience, his words animated as he reenacted events since leaving Chiex. The two started talking as if they¡¯d been friends for years, their conversation naturally shifting to Klamarez¡¯s modifications and work on the Seeker.


    Clyden took a long look at the Seeker. ¡°Since I¡¯m escorting you, there¡¯s no harm in taking a closer look at your ship, is there? I¡¯ve always been fascinated by custom modifications. Working around Eteren One has been a real joy; you get to see lots of unique craft.¡±


    ¡°You get to work daily with some of the best tech in the galaxy,¡± Klamarez noted.


    ¡°That I do,¡± Clyden agreed, gesturing to the Seeker, ¡°but I rarely get the chance to experiment. Everything¡¯s by the book.¡±


    They ventured into the Seeker, with Klamarez leading the way. Inside, he opened various panels, revealing the intricate work beneath and the vast array of different tech, even pointing out some of his in-progress projects. Clyden found himself captivated by the design¡¯s complexity.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be damned,¡± Clyden said, examining the exposed components. ¡°This is some fine work, Klamarez. It¡¯s nice to see someone so dedicated to their craft. I¡¯m so used to the same old ships, day in and day out. Takes the joy out of it sometimes.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s this thing?¡± Clyden asked, gesturing to a compact unit on the wall.


    ¡°A nutrient paste dispenser,¡± Klamarez replied. ¡°Three flavors, all the nutrients you¡¯d need.¡±


    ¡°Is it any good?¡± Clyden asked, already grimacing.


    Klamarez smirked. ¡°Not at all. Want to try it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s quite alright. I had a delightful breakfast this morning, thank you,¡± Clyden replied with a chuckle.


    ¡°They have breakfast on this ship?¡± Klamarez asked, his eyes widening.


    Clyden unconsciously rubbed his belly. ¡°Three full meals a day, plus you can stop by anytime for a snack.¡±


    Klamarez took in the information, feeling a slight rumble in his own stomach. How do they get any work done here?


    They moved outside, where Klamarez pointed out the Seeker¡¯s dual Verta engines and a smaller third engine.


    ¡°That one¡¯s not operational yet,¡± Klamarez explained.


    ¡°What¡¯s its purpose?¡± Clyden asked, eyeing the smaller engine. ¡°Surely, two Verta engines are more than enough.¡±


    ¡°It probably is, Clyden. But I¡¯m trying to get a little more out of her. If we¡¯re being chased, that engine gives the Seeker something extra. As you can see, she¡¯s built more for evasion than combat.¡±


    They both glanced at the Seeker¡¯s two light energy turrets, and Clyden nodded in agreement, noting the ship¡¯s modest weapon complement.


    ¡°Evasion is always a good tactic,¡± he replied. ¡°Still, I might add a ventral turret on the bottom, assuming you¡¯ve got enough power. Plenty of space there for one.¡±


    ¡°Enough power? You did see my reactor, right?¡± Klamarez chuckled.


    ¡°I did, but I¡¯d need a bit more information,¡± Clyden replied thoughtfully. ¡°For now, I think you¡¯ve got enough power, but with all those empty slots... Looks like you¡¯re far from done. Still working on plans?¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Plans aren¡¯t my problem. It¡¯s time and parts,¡± Klamarez admitted. ¡°No more offensive weapons, though. I¡¯ve got a special, non-combat device planned.¡±


    Clyden nodded appreciatively. ¡°It¡¯s rare to find someone who cares so much about their ship. Most folks these days just see them as tools. Take Verta pilots, for instance¡ªthey have no attachment to their craft anymore. Back in the day, you wouldn¡¯t touch someone else¡¯s Verta Fighter. Now it¡¯s just another vessel¡ªif one handles funny, they grab a different one. One pilot didn¡¯t like his seat, so I assigned him a new Verta craft, and you know what happened? He ended up crashing into a passenger liner just outside Eteren One.¡±


    ¡°Your ship¡¯s your lifeline out there; a bond with it is important,¡± Klamarez said with a shrug.


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Clyden agreed.


    Klamarez offered a wry smile. ¡°I guess he was comfortable crashing through.¡±


    Clyden let out an awkward chuckle. ¡°I guess he was.¡±


    ¡°I hope he survived,¡± Klamarez added, his tone quickly softening.


    Clyden shook his head with a sigh. ¡°No, afraid not.¡±


    ¡°Oh... was it long ago?¡±


    ¡°Just last week.¡±


    Klamarez glanced sideways. ¡°I see,¡± he said, regretting the timing, ¡°...no proximity alerts?¡±


    Clyden sighed, shaking his head. ¡°Apparently, the alerts were ¡®faulty.¡¯¡± He quickly shifted topics. ¡°Anyway, if you need any help with parts or advice while you¡¯re in the system, just let me know.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s the best place for parts?¡± Klamarez asked, hopeful.


    ¡°Eteren One should have what you¡¯re looking for.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re headed there next¡ªor at least, that was the plan,¡± Klamarez replied, a hint of excitement in his voice as he looked forward to seeing the station.


    ¡°It¡¯s quite the place. Should have everything you¡¯ll need¡ªand maybe a few things you didn¡¯t know you wanted.¡±


    Their conversation soon drew the attention of Cel, a young maintenance technician fresh out of the academy. With her tool belt clinking softly, she approached, Hanging on every word as Klamarez and Clyden discussed modifications to the Seeker. Noticing her interest, Clyden invited her to join in, introducing her to Klamarez.


    ¡°You¡¯ve made some impressive modifications,¡± Cel remarked. ¡°What¡¯s Calio Landing like? And Chiex? I¡¯ve never met a Camerian before.¡±


    Klamarez smiled, thinking, Her first Camerian? I better leave a good impression, as he shared highlights about his home and the community¡¯s adaptability. Cel¡¯s curiosity grew, especially when he described life on Calio.


    "Calio Landing sounds peaceful. I hope the Vorcon leave Chiex alone," She said, her voice full of concern, referencing recent events.


    ¡°Lucky they didn¡¯t fire on the settlement from orbit. Vorcons are as cold as they come,¡± Clyden added, shaking his head.


    Klamarez nodded, a hint of pride on his face. ¡°Fortunately, I built a shield for the settlement.¡±


    ¡°A shield?¡± Cel¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°What kind of shield?¡±


    Klamarez launched into the technical aspects, detailing the protective system he¡¯d designed for Calio Landing. Cel and Clyden listened closely, asking questions about each component and its function.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re just full of talent, Klamarez,¡± Clyden said, clearly impressed.


    Cel nodded, sincerity in her voice. ¡°That¡¯s impressive.¡±


    Clyden grinned. ¡°We could use someone like you around here, but I think you¡¯d be bored before long.¡±


    Their conversation was interrupted by Senior Engineer Narm, who spoke in a light, playful tone. ¡°Clyden, I¡¯ve been waiting on that report log,¡± he reminded, though without much urgency.


    Clyden flushed slightly. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s ready, Chief. I¡¯ll submit it right now. Got a bit sidetracked¡ªyou know me,¡± he admitted sheepishly.


    Narm waved it off with a casual gesture, hardly fazed.


    As Clyden prepared to send the report via his PDA, he checked the time and chuckled. ¡°Would you look at that¡ªit¡¯s lunchtime already!¡± His stomach rumbled, and he gave his belly an exaggerated rub, emphasizing how quickly the morning had flown by.


    ¡°Klamarez, would you care to join us for lunch?¡± Clyden asked, giving him a warm look.


    Clyden, Cel, and Narm turned toward Klamarez with inviting smiles.


    ¡°I¡¯d love to,¡± Klamarez replied, his grin widening. For a Camerian, sharing a meal was a mark of respect.


    Clyden led the way, and the group walked together, engaging in light-hearted chatter.


    The mess hall¡¯s warmth softened the Resilience¡¯s otherwise sterile atmosphere. Savory, spiced scents filled the air, making Klamarez¡¯s nose twitch. Small tables dotted the space, with larger communal ones in the center and quieter booths along the edges for more private exchanges. Laughter and conversation filled the room, creating a lively atmosphere.


    Near the back, Colonel Nolvin sat alone, his posture rigid despite an attempt at appearing relaxed. His sharp, unwavering gaze flicked up as the group entered, settling on Klamarez with a probing intensity.


    The meal selection was through a virtual menu, and as they reached their place in line, the system efficiently served up their chosen dishes. Freshly prepared meals slid out on a conveyor, ready to eat. Clyden, well-versed in navigating the automated setup, guided Klamarez through the options, sharing his personal favorites. ¡°Eat as much as you want,¡± he advised, grinning as he pointed to a button. ¡°This one doubles the portion.¡± Klamarez watched as Clyden pressed the button on his own order, barely waiting for the text to fully appear on the screen.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I skipped breakfast. I never skip breakfast!¡± Klamarez admitted, genuinely surprised.


    ¡°Skipped breakfast?¡± Clyden replied, looking at him with exaggerated shock.


    ¡°You just committed a crime in Clyden¡¯s eyes,¡± Narm joked, grinning.


    They settled into a corner table, joining several maintenance and engineering staff already seated. Clyden introduced Klamarez to the crew, and soon, Klamarez found himself leading the conversation, recounting his days working on a trade ship.


    Identifying himself as more of a ¡°tinkerer¡± or ¡°improviser¡± than a formal engineer, Klamarez added with a shrug, ¡°No formal training.¡± But his stories of engineering feats, especially the shield he¡¯d built to protect Calio Landing, captivated the group.


    For most RDF crew members, scavenging for parts was a foreign concept, contrasting sharply with their ready access to components. Hearing about Klamarez¡¯s resourcefulness and the lengths he went to source parts left them feeling they had it easy. To them, engineering was just a job; for Klamarez, it was clearly a passion¡ªand they respected that.


    Amidst the lively mess hall atmosphere, Conus entered, immediately drawn to the animated conversation at Klamarez¡¯s table. Seeing Klamarez at ease, thoroughly enjoying himself and engaging the crew with his stories, brought a contented smile to Conus¡¯s face.


    Conus had wrapped up a demanding morning with Colonel Jarek Nolvin an hour prior. They¡¯d worked on a comprehensive report about Chiex, focusing on the Vorcon encounter. Nolvin seemed intent on probing into RSIA activities, but Conus kept to the Vorcon incident, steering clear of his mission¡¯s broader details. After much back-and-forth, he managed to inform the RSIA of the situation and was relieved to hear a team would be sent to retrieve his fallen crew. Even now, he could feel Nolvin¡¯s piercing gaze following him.


    Selecting his meal, Conus chose a small table a few seats away from Klamarez and the others. Eating quietly, he tuned his enhanced hearing to their conversation, watching how effortlessly Klamarez fit in with the crew. As the mess hall gradually emptied and crew members returned to their duties, Klamarez noticed Conus nearby.


    ¡°Conus, how long have you been here?¡± he asked, surprised.


    ¡°Just about twenty-two minutes,¡± Conus replied.


    ¡°You should have joined us,¡± Klamarez said warmly.


    Conus shrugged, accustomed to dining alone. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to intrude,¡± he replied.


    After a brief hesitation, Conus moved his tray to Klamarez¡¯s table. Their conversation soon deepened, shifting naturally to their experiences on trade ships.


    ¡°You really grew up on a trade freighter?¡± Klamarez asked, intrigued.


    ¡°Actually, a trade train freighter,¡± Conus clarified.


    Klamarez¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Really? You don¡¯t see those every day. How was it?¡± Trade trains were bulky ships with interconnected cargo containers, built for long trade routes.


    ¡°The ship was old, always breaking down,¡± Conus said. ¡°My father cursed it every time a repair interrupted our run, but¡­¡± he trailed off, his expression growing distant. ¡°I don¡¯t remember much more than that.¡±


    The nostalgia in Conus¡¯s eyes faded, briefly replaced by a wince as he reached for a memory that wouldn¡¯t fully surface. Klamarez noticed but let it pass, sensing the complexity of Conus¡¯s augmented memories.


    Klamarez¡¯s gaze softened as he wondered what Conus¡¯s augmentations might have preserved or altered in his memories. He held his questions, understanding that some things were best revealed in their own time.


    Garen entered the mess hall, grabbed a cup from a nearby dispenser, filled it with coffee, and took a sip as he spotted Conus and Klamarez nearby.


    Klamarez looked up with a smile as Garen approached. ¡°Was wondering where you¡¯d been,¡± he remarked.


    Garen nodded, settling into a seat beside them. ¡°I was caught up with General Maylone,¡± he replied, adding with a hint of weariness, ¡°What have the two of you been up to?¡±


    ¡°I had my hands full with Colonel Nolvin,¡± Conus said.


    ¡°That must have been fun,¡± Klamarez replied dryly.


    ¡°He was really pressing me for information,¡± Conus continued, frustration evident in his voice.


    ¡°About the incident at Chiex?¡± Garen asked, glancing between them.


    ¡°More about the RSIA,¡± Conus replied.


    Klamarez frowned. ¡°Human politics are more complicated than I¡¯d like.¡±


    Garen sighed, casting a wary glance around the room. ¡°Let¡¯s save this for later, away from prying ears.¡± He didn¡¯t see anything overtly suspicious, but caution remained etched in his expression.


    Conus and Klamarez nodded in agreement. After the probing conversation with Colonel Nolvin, Conus was more than willing to hold off discussing anything further. His perspective on their stay aboard the Resilience had shifted subtly.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s our next move?¡± Klamarez asked, eager to shift the subject.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been in touch with the RSIA,¡± Conus replied. ¡°They want us to proceed with our mission using the Seeker.¡±


    Garen nodded slowly. ¡°I thought they might send another ship, but if it¡¯s the Seeker, that works for me.¡± Leaning forward, his expression turned serious. ¡°I think it¡¯s best if we depart sooner rather than later.¡±


    ¡°I got that impression too,¡± Conus added, sharing a quick look with Garen.


    Garen nodded again, relieved that Conus was on the same page. ¡°Are you alright with this plan, Klamarez?¡± he asked. ¡°Taking us the rest of the way in the Seeker?¡±


    Klamarez nodded, though a hint of concern shadowed his expression. ¡°I am, but the Seeker needs a thorough look-over. I¡¯ll need some time. Those hits from the last engagement might¡¯ve caused more damage than we realize. Should we still go to Eteren One as planned?¡±


    Conus interjected, ¡°My contact at the RSIA also suggested we visit Eteren One for any necessary repairs.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Garen agreed.


    Klamarez¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Great idea.¡±


    Conus reassured him, ¡°The RSIA has allocated funds for your ship¡¯s repairs. It should cover any parts you need at the station.¡±


    Klamarez¡¯s eyes widened in surprise. ¡°They¡¯re providing funds for the repairs?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Conus confirmed.


    Standing up decisively, Klamarez exclaimed, ¡°Let¡¯s get those parts, then!¡±


    Garen chuckled at Klamarez¡¯s enthusiasm as they all stood and began to leave the mess hall.


    ¡°I should contact General Maylone and inform her of our plan to depart now,¡± Garen remarked.


    ¡°Protocol is indeed important on this ship,¡± Klamarez agreed with a nod.


    As they exited the mess hall, they unexpectedly encountered General Maylone herself.


    ¡°I was just about to contact you, General Maylone,¡± Garen said.


    ¡°Oh?¡± she replied, a hint of curiosity in her voice.


    ¡°I wanted to inform you that we plan to depart immediately,¡± Garen explained.


    ¡°Excellent timing,¡± General Maylone replied, her tone cool and slightly impatient. ¡°We¡¯re about to start sector patrols as a show of force against the Vorcons. It might be some time before we return.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for all your assistance, General Maylone. We¡¯re grateful. We¡¯ll gather our things and be on our way,¡± Garen assured her.


    General Maylone nodded. ¡°The maintenance crew in the hangar bay is ready for your departure.¡± Her polite demeanor held a subtle edge of urgency¡ªa clear indication she wanted them off the ship without delay.


    After brief farewells, the group returned to their quarters quickly, sensing the unspoken pressure to leave promptly. Once ready, they reconvened in the hangar bay, where the Seeker awaited them.


    Clyden, Cel, and Narm were there to see them off. Klamarez took a moment to introduce everyone, and Clyden offered one last piece of advice. ¡°I¡¯ve identified several vendors on Eteren One that sell components,¡± he said, shaking Klamarez¡¯s hand firmly.


    ¡°Thanks, Clyden,¡± Klamarez replied, genuinely appreciative.


    With final nods and goodbyes, they boarded the Seeker, each taking their stations. Garen moved to the pilot¡¯s seat, Conus took the TRACE station, and Klamarez ensured all systems were operational before securing the entrance hatch and seating himself at the communications console.


    The ship came to life, a steady, reassuring vibration coursing through the hull.


    ¡°All systems operational,¡± Klamarez announced, checking the readouts.


    ¡°Ready for departure,¡± Garen echoed, glancing at both Klamarez and Conus.


    As the Seeker¡¯s thrusters engaged, the ship lifted smoothly off the hangar floor. Garen guided it as the energy barrier activated and the hangar bay doors opened, transitioning the vessel from the hangar¡¯s controlled environment into the vast openness of space.


    The stars stretched out before them, and in the distance, Eteren One Star Base loomed against the darkness.


    The crew fell into a comfortable silence, each lost in thought as the Seeker slipped into the flow of nearby vessels, weaving among trade ships and RDF patrols en route to Eteren One. Behind them, the Resilience faded from view, along with the tensions of their recent stay. The airspace around the starbase filled with activity as they approached, docking beacons flickering, guiding them toward approach paths.

 Chapter 16

    Chapter 16


    The Cavaglatar Sector


    Date: Zeran 20, Year 4731


    Nelve entered the Rheeavher¡¯s feasting hall, her thoughts tangled with the initiation task that had sealed her place in the Brotherhood of Velor. Taking Routh¡¯s life had been easier than she expected, the act carried out without hesitation. Did Routh deserve to die by my hand? How many more lives will I have to take?


    After completing her task the previous night, she had slept soundly in her quarters and spent the following day training as usual. Yet, there was no sign of Major Legate Caul Malocktus. Normally, he appeared near the end of her sessions, observing in silence, critiquing, or rating her performance. But now, since completing her task, there had been nothing¡ªno summons, no word. She had expected him to call for her sooner; instead, time dragged on.


    The feasting hall stretched before her, expansive, with high, arched ceilings and tables arranged in disciplined symmetry, evoking the grandeur of the feasting halls on the Vorcon homeworlds. Communal dining held deep significance for the Vorcons¡ªingrained in their culture, it brought together all ranks, noble and lowborn alike, without the need for a special occasion. On vessels of the GVIF Armada, such halls fostered unity, but on the planets of the Vorcon Empire, these spaces were sharply divided by class: nobles dined with nobles, the lowborn with their own, and all others segregated in between.


    The mingling scents of roasted stok and spiced tark fruit hung heavily in the air, saturating the space. Overhead, the vaulted ceilings amplified every sound¡ªthe clink of tankards, the scrape of metal cutlery on plates, and the distinct rasp of laughter interwoven with the hissing consonants of Vorcon speech. Conversations flowed freely, while the soft strains of oterstraca music¡ªa symphony of strings, audible yet unobtrusive¡ªthreaded through the atmosphere.


    Dining was a stage for many, a place to display their wit. Discussions spanned the breadth of the Empire: political maneuvering, strategic discourse, reports of enemy movements, tales of victories and defeats, and whispers of intrigue both ancient and fresh. News traveled across these tables, blurring the lines between fact and rumor, each story sharpened or softened to suit the teller¡¯s motives. Here, verbal prowess was as vital as skill in combat.


    Icons of Vorcon gods adorned the walls. Among them, Varr, the God of Destruction, gripped a jagged weapon, his unyielding stare from the painted surface seeming to pass judgment on all who dared meet his gaze. Nearby, Eira, the Goddess of Consequences, stood encircled by twisting vines, her form both inviting and perilously beautiful¡ªan emblem of temptation and caution, alluring yet treacherous. Another wall depicted the sacred moon Hyvexa, with threads of light ascending from the Vorcon capital, Kor, as if carrying the souls of the departed to their eternal destination.


    At the forefront of the hall, on a raised platform, sat Major Legate Caul Malocktus, positioned like a lord surveying his domain. Yet Caul was far from nobility, as lowborn as they came. His vantage gave him a commanding view of the room, his personal weapons within arm''s reach while his guards¡ªthe Vorcon bruisers¡ªstood watchfully nearby.


    Nelve knew of Caul¡¯s tactical brilliance, honed during the war¡ªa reputation that had propelled him swiftly through the ranks of the GVIF. Her father held Caul in high regard, as did many others, though respect for one¡¯s skill and personal likability rarely aligned. Caul was both respected and disliked in equal measure, and the balance seemed to tip increasingly toward disdain. It was natural, she thought, for a man who amassed power to also gather powerful enemies.


    Lately, it seemed Caul never went anywhere without his guards. Is there something he¡¯s concerned about? she wondered. Nelve doubted she truly understood what drove him or what lingered in his mind. In some ways, he seemed straightforward: he had power, craved more, and was relentless in its pursuit. He was always plotting, always calculating¡ªconstantly searching for the next advantage.


    Yet the Brotherhood of Velor had revealed layers of Caul she hadn¡¯t anticipated, suggesting she¡¯d stepped into a world far more dangerous than she had known¡ªor could have imagined. It was a world she had little idea how to navigate. I¡¯ll have to learn quickly. She didn¡¯t doubt her combat skills, but this was different. She¡¯d been trained and prepared for many things, but this? She wasn¡¯t so sure.


    I don¡¯t want to die, but if I wake up tomorrow with a blade at my throat¡ªmoments before I¡¯m sacrificed myself¡ªthen so be it. Let the gods take me if that¡¯s to be my fate. If one takes life so easily, must they not also be at peace with losing their own in an instant? Was that the balance?


    As she slipped to her usual seat near the hall¡¯s edge, she could feel him watching. His unblinking, red eyes tracked her every movement, locking onto her.


    She took her seat, her expression carefully unreadable. As she did each night, Nelve settled in silently, detached. There was little choice: eat in the feasting hall, or go without.


    ¡°Eyes like that see everything,¡± an older officer rasped, his voice low enough to almost be swallowed by the sea of conversation. Nelve stiffened slightly but made no effort to acknowledge him, uncertain whether the words were directed at her.


    ¡°And what they don¡¯t see,¡± the officer continued, ¡°they¡¯ll make sure someone else does.¡±


    Nelve caught herself exhaling softly, realizing the officer was speaking to someone else. Whether he had meant Caul or another, the description fit all too well¡ªand it startled her. Embarrassment flickered within her, and she hoped it hadn¡¯t been noticed. A group of figures passed through the middle of the hall, between the rows of tables. Each figure measured approximately seven feet in height, their skin pale¡ªan off-white¡ªthat reflected the overhead light. They snickered at something one of them had said, their laughter echoing through the hall.


    Trained to observe, she lacked the skill and will for the daily debates. She absorbed the flow of information around her with detached focus, viewing it as knowledge to be stored and used when necessary.


    Yet tonight offered little of significance. The same themes repeated like echoes: calls for war, reflections on past battles, and speculations about the next conflict.


    Whispers of the Emperor¡¯s failing health surfaced intermittently, paired with doubts about the readiness of his heir to rule. The concern was widespread but cautiously voiced.


    The long tables showcased a lavish spread of traditional Vorcon dishes. At the center sat a large, steaming platter of stok¡ªa wild beast native to the rugged terrains of the moon Iylon. Its rich aroma, enhanced with zhar leaves, drifted through the hall, drawing appreciative glances.


    Bowls of pentil, a hearty grain, burst with tangy flavor from tark fruit juices. Surrounding the main dishes were an assortment of sides: skewers of zelint roots, harvested from the lush Navore fields and coated in vunilic paste¡ªa sticky delicacy made from neefar sap. Plates of crisp narleaf greens, lightly drizzled with anthe oil, added a vibrant touch. Large tankards of sweetened water, their surfaces beaded with condensation from the room¡¯s heat, completed the feast.


    The servers, members of the Varenthi species enslaved by the Vorcon Empire¡ªwhose home system remained occupied and subjugated¡ªmoved through the dining hall with slow, burdened grace. Security bracelets anchored to their ankles. Their dark gray skin, appearing almost armor-like. One server flinched as a soldier barked for more tark fruit, his tray shaking before he steadied it. Nelve observed the faint hesitation in their movements, wondering if it stemmed from fear¡ªor defiance.


    Their steps slow, their vibrantly colored eyes fixed downward, as if even the smallest misstep might provoke their Vorcon overseers.


    Celenthay, the Varenthi homeworld, had become a vital asset to the Vorcon Empire. Rich in resources like aporite, sustencium, and aniumite, it played a crucial role in fueling the Empire¡¯s supply chains. The Varenthi serving aboard ships like this had it comparatively easy; those relegated to the brutal mining operations faced far harsher fates.


    Now, a puppet regime governed the planet under tight Vorcon oversight, with the Runali enforcing compliance. These enforcers managed the logistical and administrative demands of occupation, freeing the Vorcon military to allocate fewer forces and focus on other strategic goals.


    As Nelve observed the Varenthi servers, a faint trace of pity stirred within her. Their endurance under such conditions was, in its way, admirable¡ªbut only to a point. True freedom would require them to fight for it, she thought. Yet they rarely did. Their hunched shoulders could just as easily be from years of grueling labor as from the crushing weight of broken spirits. If they won¡¯t fight for themselves, perhaps they deserve their fate.


    A memory clawed its way to the surface: a Varenthi slave, desperation burning in his eyes, plunging a dull utensil into the chest of a Guardian-ranked Vorcon officer. The Guardian¡¯s snicker¡ªa cruel, hollow sound¡ªcarried through the hall, joined by the laughter of onlookers. What followed was a grim spectacle of ridicule and taunts.


    Days later, the same Varenthi hung chained to a pillar, his body withering as life slowly drained away. The days stretched on, yet the sight did little to curb the appetite of the crowd, who dined with detached indifference to his suffering.


    When one has nothing left to lose, a strike to the chest of one¡¯s oppressor might feel worth it¡ªeven if it¡¯s the last act of a life enslaved.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Her attention shifted to Caul, seated at the raised platform. Officers approached him¡ªsome seeking guidance, others paying their respects. His demeanor was calm, he never needed to raise his voice or rush a single word. Authority radiated from every subtle gesture. One could not endure long on the Rheeavher without offering Caul the proper respects. Yet, the sharpest among them recognized that he admired subtle defiance as much as submission.


    As the meal began, Nelve ate in silence, finding solace in her solitude. Her thoughts drifted to her family¡¯s ambitions: power, respect, and the restoration of their name. These goals were as much theirs as hers, though they seemed to matter more to them. Still, their aspirations offered her a path to rise¡ªthough she had no idea what she¡¯d do with it if she succeeded. Isn¡¯t this what all Vorcons sought? Status, power, perhaps even immortality?


    Around her, more familiar faces filled the hall. Nelve recognized many but knew little about them beyond surface facts¡ªand she preferred it that way. The political maneuvering and exaggerated tales grated on her. Idle chatter is exhausting. Vorcon honesty is an elaborate act of self-deception. Her solitude was intentional, a means to preserve clarity and control.


    Her closest equivalent to a friend was Ubar, though he was as much a rival as an ally. Both served under Major Legate Caul as inquisitors, though Ubar had held the position a year and a half longer than she had. In that time, he seemed to have secured the Major Legate¡¯s trust.


    Is Ubar among the ranks of the Brotherhood of Velor? she wondered, imagining his sharp tongue cutting through the low murmur of the hall. He has to be involved. He was currently away on some mission.


    From a young age, her exceptional speed and agility had set her apart from her siblings. While her youngest brother was often praised for raw combat skill, her family valued more than just strength. Precision, evasion, and accuracy were equally prized¡ªand in these, Nelve excelled.


    Each sibling had been strategically placed in roles that leveraged their unique strengths for the family¡¯s benefit. Her oldest brother commanded on the battlefield for their house, preparing to lead it one day. Her second-eldest brother served as a guard to the emperor, a position of prestige, honor, and trust. Her eldest sister commanded a GVIF base, while her youngest brother was beginning his career within the GVIF.


    Three of her sisters had married into influential families, strengthening the family¡¯s position within the Empire¡¯s political sphere.


    Reflecting on these roles, Nelve acknowledged her unique position compared to the rest. Her siblings¡¯ paths were clear, but hers was destined to remain in the shadows. She was still an Inquisitor, yet she wondered if that role would now serve as little more than a front for her new position within the Brotherhood of Velor. The truth was, she had little idea how things would unfold from here.


    The gods will know. The words echoed in her mind¡ªCaul¡¯s words. Yet she questioned whether she truly believed in them. The gods had never spoken to her, never shown any sign of their presence. Many had claimed to hear their voices, to feel their guidance. Some made it their life¡¯s work to seek their favor, to please them.


    Will the gods hear me? See me? Will Velor, the Forgotten God speak to me?


    Casually, Nelve finished her meal and rose from the table. Others followed suit, while the Varenthi servers began clearing the remnants. The clatter of dishes mixed with the fading murmur of exiting conversations.


    Nelve moved through the gradually emptying hall and exited.


    Back in her quarters, she settled in, her tasks for the day complete. But the calm was shattered by the sharp buzz of her transceiver. Caul Malocktus¡¯s voice came through, clear and cold, unmistakable: ¡°Inquisitor, come to my chambers.¡± His tone was low, laced with a lingering hiss. He didn¡¯t wait for a response.


    Without hesitation, Nelve made her way to Caul¡¯s chambers, though tension coiled tightly in her chest.


    Her fingers hovered over the panel outside his door. Did I carry out the task as he would have wanted? She could almost feel his piercing red eyes burning through the barrier between them. Steeling herself, she activated the intercom outside Caul''s chambers.


    ¡°Enter,¡± Caul¡¯s voice low and drawn out.


    The heavy door slid downward, and Nelve stepped inside. Caul sat behind his desk, his focus fixed on a glowing photon map. He didn¡¯t immediately acknowledge her, his attention seemingly locked on the galaxy¡¯s outer edges displayed before him. Slates and ancient books¡ªsome not of Vorcon origin¡ªcluttered the desk. The moment his eyes met hers, his unblinking red gaze seized her.


    ¡°Inquisitor,¡± he began, his voice barely audible, stretched into a deliberate hiss. ¡°Sitttt.¡±


    Nelve obeyed, lowering herself into the seat across from him. Outwardly composed, though her nerves simmered beneath.


    Caul deactivated the map, plunging the room into darkness before the room¡¯s overhead lights activated.


    ¡°You have completed the task.¡± It was not a question.


    She nodded once, her voice steady. ¡°Yes, Master. It is done.¡±


    ¡°Where is your Katarath dagger?¡± Caul asked, his tone neutral, curious.


    Nelve hesitated, unsure of his intent. Was he planning to take it back? Slowly, she reached behind her, unsheathing the blade and holding it out to him.


    A slow smirk spread across his face. ¡°From now on, you must always carry it. I accept you into the Brotherhood of Velor. Know that it will not be official until we reach the Prine system, where you will be formally initiated. There is no turning back now. There is forward, or there is death. Loyalty is not a currency you spend once¡ªit¡¯s a debt, Nelve. And debts must be paid.¡±


    ¡°I understand, Master,¡± she replied, sheathing her dagger behind her back.


    A brief silence stretched between them as Caul leaned back in his chair. ¡°Tell me how you completed this task.¡±


    Nelve recounted the encounter with Routh. She described how she approached him, engaging him in casual conversation to lull his guard before striking with the Katarath dagger. She detailed the steps taken to ensure no trace remained.


    The ship¡¯s security had already begun its investigation, Caul had assured them they would uncover nothing.


    Caul listened, revealing neither approval nor displeasure. When she finished, he hissed softly, his tongue sliding across his razor-sharp teeth. ¡°Given your limited options, I feel you have done well. Well enough.¡±


    She has chosen wisely. Routh had been useful, but his effectiveness was gradually waning. Caul was satisfied that Routh¡¯s death had been given meaning.


    Nelve inclined her head slightly, accepting his verdict without comment.


    ¡°Routh¡­ why?¡± he asked.


    ¡°He served the Empire well,¡± Nelve replied evenly. ¡°I wanted to give his death meaning before old age turned him feeble.¡±


    He let the silence settle, his tone shifting to something faintly instructive. ¡°The Katarath dagger holds a device¡ªa Solvyth incorporated into its design¡ªwithin it, a Korvex Stone,¡± he said.


    Nelve¡¯s eyes widened slightly. ¡°A soul-catching stone?¡± she asked, her voice steady despite the intrigue curling within her thoughts.


    He left it at that, with no desire to discuss it further at the moment.


    ¡°There are others I would have preferred, but Routh was a worthy choice,¡± he said. ¡°You are now one of the Brotherhood of Velor. But remember this: entrance requires a single price; loyalty demands many.¡± His smirk faded into a cold, unyielding stare. ¡°There will be times when your allegiance to the Brotherhood seems dormant, when our role is quiet. But we serve when needed, when called.¡±


    He paused. ¡°Your only duty now is to train. This will not resemble your previous training¡ªit will be something far more.¡± Each word was punctuated by soft hisses. ¡°When we return to the Empire, events may shift quickly. Be prepared. We stand at the edge of a new age.¡± His voice dipped into something reverent. ¡°True power will return.¡±


    Caul¡¯s tone thickened. ¡°Power is not merely taken; it is wielded¡ªwith precision, with intent.¡± He paused, letting the silence draw taut between them. ¡°Do you understand, Inquisitor?¡±


    ¡°I will give all I have to the Brotherhood. To Velor,¡± she replied.


    ¡°There are times,¡± he began, ¡°when a bloodline must be purged. Look through the Empire¡¯s history, and you¡¯ll see patterns¡ªfamily members dying one after another.¡±


    Leaning back slightly, he continued, ¡°Study a family¡¯s state before and after these ¡®accidents,¡¯ and you¡¯ll always find someone further down the line¡ªsomeone willing to serve the Empire as they should. Resistance, no matter how stubborn, eventually buckles. Some may resist, but they comply to retain power. No Vorcon house is strong enough to defy the Empire indefinitely.¡±


    He let the words linger, an unspoken instruction for Nelve to consider.


    ¡°The Brotherhood exists to ensure the Empire remains unbroken, unchallenged. Strength is demanded at every level.¡± His expression softened, almost imperceptibly. ¡°You have the potential to become one of my most valuable agents. Your skills, your dedication... there is power within the Empire, waiting to be wielded.¡±


    ¡°We honor our history. Our gods remain unchanged after centuries, as does our reverence for true strength. Yet we have grown too reliant on technological power. In doing so, we have forsaken the ancient forces we once wielded.¡±


    Her mind wandered to the relics rumored to be hidden within the Emperor¡¯s palace. Is he speaking of the ancient weapons of the Empire?


    ¡°Once word spreads of what we are truly capable of¡ªof the destruction we can unleash¡ªthey will fear us,¡± Caul continued, his voice dipping into a raspy hiss. ¡°Right now, they see us as weakened, defeated, retreating to our own borders, abandoning hard-won gains.¡± He paused, his eyes darkening. ¡°Do you know what led to our failure?¡±


    ¡°We tried to hold on to too much territory, too soon. We made too many enemies. Our Emperor wouldn¡¯t listen.¡± Her voice carried the echoes of her father¡¯s bitter remarks during countless conversations at the table on Recos.


    ¡°He grew deaf to all voices but the one in his own head. That might have been tolerable if his vision wasn¡¯t so shortsighted. It was not a fitting end for what had once been a promising reign. The war might still be raging had we been wiser¡ªhad we not clung so desperately to worlds that offered us nothing.¡±


    He leaned forward. ¡°When the time is right, you will meet the leader of the Brotherhood of Velor. You¡¯ll see the full scope of our order and come to understand the true depth of our purpose.¡±


    A shiver of anticipation ran through Nelve. ¡°I look forward to that day.¡±


    ¡°It approaches quickly. For now, focus your mind. Know that I will provide you knowledge; I will guide you. I reward loyalty and usefulness well¡ªqualities which will be tested further.¡±


    With that, Caul dismissed her, his attention snapping back to his work, reactivating the photon map.


    As Nelve stepped out of his chambers and made her way back to her quarters, her thoughts drifted to the seemingly endless voyage back to the Vorcon Empire. What is Caul waiting for? she wondered. He seems to be delaying our return for some reason.

 Chapter 17

    Chapter 17


    The Seeker


    Approaching Eteren One Orbital Starbase


    Mottmor System, Venddral Raidezel Sector


    Date: Zeran 19, Year 4731


    The Seeker advanced in the queue toward Eteren One, an orbital space station encircled by vessels of all shapes and sizes. Trade ships docked mid-space to exchange goods, while smaller cargo vessels ferried and tugged long, rectangular containers toward the station. RDF fighter squads wove through the congestion in tight formations of five, while larger RDF vessels held their positions farther out. Below it all, the emerald-green planet of Eteren spread wide, its moons faintly visible against the backdrop.


    Garen, seated at the helm, his eyes following a cargo shuttle as it weaved toward Eteren One, disappearing behind larger ships before reemerging. ¡°The divide between the RDF and RSIA is worse than I thought,¡± he said. When Conus mentioned there were issues, Garen hadn¡¯t expected things to be this fractured. ¡°General Maylone was... suspicious.¡±


    ¡°Suspicious of you?¡± Klamarez asked, his ears twitching. ¡°She seemed pleasant enough to me, though I didn¡¯t exactly get a breakfast invitation from her. Now, Colonel Nolvin...¡± Klamarez grimaced, his tone making his opinion clear.


    Conus recalled his meeting with Colonel Nolvin, the memory of the man¡¯s sharp, narrowing eyes resurfacing. They had lingered on his augments, heavy with disdain.


    Garen nudged the ship forward in the queue with a quick burst from the velocity engines. ¡°I think they were told to treat us like threats,¡± he said.


    ¡°From Command?¡± Conus asked. Garen nodded. Conus tilted his head, skeptical. ¡°Cautious, maybe. But threats?¡±


    ¡°We were under guard the whole time,¡± Garen replied. ¡°Every time I stepped out of my quarters, Sergeant Wallace just happened to be there.¡± He let the statement hang, inviting Conus to draw his own conclusions.


    Conus reflected on his experiences. Security had always been present¡ªcloser than necessary. ¡°Now that you mention it, I noticed that too,¡± he admitted, replaying the moments in his mind like reviewing an old clip.


    Garen¡¯s attention remained fixed on the Seeker¡¯s controls as he guided the ship toward Eteren One. He kept it aligned within the row of illuminated docking beacons that clearly outlined the approach path for incoming vessels.


    Klamarez recalled slipping into the hangar bay without proper clearance¡ªa blatant violation of security protocols aboard the Resilience. He chose not to mention it, realizing that if he hadn¡¯t encountered the friendly maintenance crew, the situation could have unfolded very differently.


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s nothing,¡± Garen said, though his tone suggested otherwise. He kept his focus locked on the forward screen. ¡°Still, let¡¯s stay alert on the station. The RDF¡¯s still here, and their suspicion might carry over to Eteren One too.¡±


    After a pause, he glanced back toward Conus. ¡°So, what¡¯s got the RDF so concerned?¡±


    Conus leaned back, choosing his words carefully. ¡°RDF Command isn¡¯t happy with how Admiral Lavont has been running the RSIA. As you know, General Rivers, it used to focus almost entirely on intelligence gathering and providing intel to the RDF. But under Lavont, things have changed drastically. He¡¯s expanded operations, increased the number of agents, and even built a small fleet solely for the RSIA. The agency is more effective than ever, but the RDF doesn¡¯t like being kept in the dark. They believe Lavont only shares intel that suits his agenda, and they¡¯re not thrilled that the RSIA has essentially become its own force compared to its previous role.¡±


    Garen groaned. ¡°Sounds like a mess,¡± he muttered, picturing Lavont¡ªcomposed, methodical, once a trusted friend. Now distant, caught in the center of a growing divide. After all Amar¡¯s service, they turn against him? He turned over what Conus had revealed, the pieces falling into place. Garen could see why the RDF might not be thrilled, though it still left him uneasy. But this wasn¡¯t all Amar¡¯s doing; he could only have done it with the Council¡¯s approval.


    ¡°Don¡¯t the RDF and RSIA both serve the Seven Worlds of Rhyus?¡± Klamarez asked, trying to understand the issue. ¡°They¡¯re under the same government, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but it¡¯s complicated,¡± Conus replied.


    ¡°Sounds more than complicated,¡± Garen said dryly.


    ¡°It comes down to access,¡± Conus explained. ¡°The RDF wants the same access to RSIA intel they used to have, but that¡¯s changed. There¡¯s a power struggle over control. Things have gotten tense between Lavont and RDF Command.¡±


    ¡°Why now?¡± Garen asked. ¡°What changed to cause this?¡±


    ¡°It started with the intel leaks,¡± Conus said. ¡°They forced the RSIA to tighten protocols and raise clearance levels, but the damage was done. Their security was breached. They needed someone new to stabilize things. That¡¯s why Lavont was brought in. He rebuilt trust, got results, but his methods rubbed the RDF the wrong way.¡± Conus hesitated, his tone sharpening. ¡°Efficient¡ªmaybe too efficient for them.¡±


    ¡°Intel leaks?¡± Garen¡¯s voice hardened. ¡°The RSIA was created to supply intel to the RDF, not lock them out. It wasn¡¯t supposed to become a fighting force.¡±


    ¡°They weren¡¯t just leaks,¡± Conus said grimly. ¡°Critical information went missing¡ªmissions were compromised. The Seven Worlds¡¯ security was at risk. The RSIA was infiltrated completely. That¡¯s when Helix emerged.¡±


    The word hung in the air, heavy and unsettling.


    ¡°Helix?¡± Garen asked, bracing himself. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    Conus lowered his voice, as if the name itself carried danger. ¡°A faction made up of former RSIA and RDF officers who broke away. But it¡¯s more than that¡ªprivate sector operatives, shady investors, even ex-government officials.¡± He paused, choosing his next words carefully. ¡°Some of them... former Council of Seven members. It¡¯s a sprawling network, pulling from every sector.¡±


    Garen stiffened. ¡°That¡¯s quite the group. Former Council members? How is that even possible?¡±


    Conus hesitated. ¡°Some believe in Helix¡¯s ideals¡ªor maybe they¡¯re just against the ideals of the Seven Worlds. They want change. And... some of them were your supporters during the war,¡± he said evenly, his features composed. ¡°Back when you opposed the peace treaty.¡±


    ¡°And now they¡¯re working against the Seven Worlds?¡± he asked, struggling to piece it together.


    ¡°In a way, yes,¡± Conus clarified, his tone sharpening. ¡°Helix wants control. Complete control of the Seven Worlds. To shape it how they believe it should be shaped.¡±


    ¡°So, the RSIA is fighting Helix? Is that why they¡¯ve grown so much?¡± Garen asked.


    ¡°Yes, but it¡¯s not a direct fight,¡± Conus admitted. ¡°They¡¯re counteracting Helix¡¯s methods more than confronting them outright.¡±


    ¡°That hardly sounds effective,¡± Garen said, skepticism creeping into his voice.


    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± Conus replied bluntly. ¡°Helix has their hands in everything¡ªpolitics, research, even military contracts.¡±


    Garen¡¯s expression remained unreadable, but his mind churned as he pieced together the implications. ¡°How big is this group?¡± he asked quietly.


    ¡°We¡¯re still figuring it out,¡± Conus said grimly. ¡°Helix is everywhere. Banned medical research, weaponized psychological operations, destabilized regions¡ªthey¡¯ve infiltrated the RDF, RSIA, even the government. Their methods are ruthless: propaganda, blackmail, disinformation.¡±


    He paused, his tone darkening. ¡°But they¡¯re not one entity. Helix is a network¡ªloose alliances, shifting loyalties.¡±


    Conus and Garen exchanged a look, the weight of the revelation hanging heavy between them.


    ¡°At the center, though,¡± Conus continued, ¡°there¡¯s a core group pulling the strings. Their rise was gradual, stretching back years¡ªlong before anyone started calling them Helix.¡±


    Garen exhaled heavily, turning his gaze back to the forward screen. ¡°I don¡¯t want to deal with this,¡± he muttered.


    Yet even as the words left his mouth, Garen knew the truth: there was no avoiding it. He¡¯d stepped into something far bigger than he¡¯d anticipated.


    A heavy silence filled the cockpit as the Seeker edged closer to Eteren One. Garen replayed his recent interactions with General Maylone, her words now loaded with implication. The way she¡¯d spoken suggested that Chiex had been nothing more than a convenient cover story¡ªas if his ten years there were fabricated. But they weren¡¯t. Every harsh, isolated moment had been real, and yet now even that seemed to be under suspicion.


    It all pointed to the RDF¡¯s growing paranoia. They weren¡¯t just fighting a war of information¡ªthey were losing it. Instead of accusing the RSIA of dishonesty, they should have been working with them to counter Helix, to prepare for the threat of the Vorcon Empire. What the Seven Worlds needed now was unity, not division.


    Conus¡¯s explanation confirmed what Garen had already suspected: the RSIA¡ªand Amar Lavont¡ªhad no choice but to tighten security. Lavont wasn¡¯t keeping secrets for power¡¯s sake; he was safeguarding the Seven Worlds of Rhyus¡ªthe very worlds that both the RSIA and RDF were sworn to protect. The distrust between the two organizations was misplaced¡ªfueled by fear, not facts.


    The past ten years felt even more burdensome. Had I unknowingly given support¡ªor worse, inspired¡ªa movement I wanted no part of? The thought stung.


    Still, Garen reminded himself that he didn¡¯t know the full story yet. This movement likely had roots far beyond anything he¡¯d done. Even so, the possibility left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn¡¯t like how it made him feel¡ªpowerless, culpable.


    A light blinked on the communications console, followed by a quick beep. Klamarez input a command, bringing up the message. ¡°Docking clearance granted for Bay N-7,¡± he announced, a small grin flashing briefly.


    Garen adjusted the controls, steering the Seeker out of the queue and toward their designated docking bay. Coordinates displayed on the helm guided their approach to Eteren One. A distance marker on the screen ticked down steadily, with proximity alerts chiming at regular intervals.


    Docking Bay N-7 came into view, its alphanumeric markers etched clearly into the station¡¯s reinforced plating. As they neared, the bay doors parted smoothly, gears and mechanisms producing deliberate clinks as they slid open.


    With careful adjustments to the thrusters, Garen guided the Seeker into the bay. The landing gear extended, and with a muted clunk that briefly echoed through the hangar, the ship settled into position.


    Klamarez moved to the rear of the ship, flipping a series of switches. The steady vibration of the Seeker¡¯s systems faded, leaving it in a powered-down state.


    Garen rose from his seat, stretching his arms. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be here longer than a day,¡± he said, casting a glance toward Klamarez. ¡°Think that¡¯s enough time for you to give the Seeker a proper look-over?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be enough,¡± Klamarez replied confidently. ¡°This thing is going to purr.¡± Mentally, he was already cataloging the adjustments he¡¯d need to make¡ªfine-tuning the backup regulator¡¯s current flow and replacing components strained by the Vorcon weapons fire.


    ¡°I can help,¡± Conus offered, standing up from his station. ¡°Just tell me what you need.¡±


    Klamarez flashed a quick, appreciative smile. ¡°Thanks, but I can handle it. I¡¯ll let you know if I run into trouble, though.¡± He glanced at his console. ¡°I need to restock supplies too. It¡¯s a long way to Rhyus, and I¡¯d rather not be out there without spare parts.¡±


    He handed his PDA to Conus, who scrolled through the displayed list. ¡°That¡¯s quite a list,¡± Conus remarked.


    ¡°You never know what you might need,¡± Klamarez said with a shrug. After a moment, his tone shifted. ¡°I¡¯ve got a few ideas I¡¯d like your input on. Nothing urgent, but your insight could be useful.¡±


    Conus¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Absolutely, Klamarez. I¡¯m more than happy to have a look.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Klamarez replied. After a pause, he added, ¡°And about those funds... I¡¯ll need that transfer you mentioned.¡±


    Conus retrieved his PDA, stepping closer. ¡°Sure. Show me your transfer code.¡±


    Klamarez extended his device, displaying the code. Conus scanned it with his PDA. As the transaction finalized with a faint beep, the amount¡ªthirteen thousand standards¡ªflashed on Klamarez¡¯s screen. His breath caught. Thirteen thousand!?


    ¡°Is that enough?¡± Conus asked, his tone neutral.


    Keep it together, Klamarez, he told himself. Out loud, he replied smoothly, ¡°Oh, yes, more than enough.¡± Sliding the device back into his belt, his thoughts raced. This could cover repairs and then some... maybe even upgrades. His account now held thirteen thousand six hundred forty-eight standard credits, to be exact.


    Before disembarking, Klamarez moved to a storage locker at the rear of the ship. He retrieved two small devices: short-range communication RemLinks, simpler than the one attached to his chest. Handing one to each of his companions, he explained, ¡°Keep these on you at all times. We¡¯ll stay connected, and we can locate each other if there¡¯s any trouble.¡±


    ¡°Trouble?¡± Garen asked, clipping the device to his belt.


    ¡°You never know,¡± Klamarez replied with a shrug.


    Conus chimed in, his voice cautious. ¡°The RDF might have a presence here, but the station¡ªand the surrounding area¡ªisn¡¯t fully under their jurisdiction. The Mottmor Trade Union governs it. The RDF handles most of the station¡¯s security, runs its technical systems, provides maintenance, and oversees general administration. However, decisions about charges or enforcement ultimately rest with the Trade Union as part of their agreement. Technically, they¡¯re guests.¡±


    ¡°Which means the law here is a mess,¡± Garen surmised. Sounds like the fleet was eager to get a foothold here.


    ¡°Crime¡¯s low on the station itself,¡± Conus clarified, ¡°but the legal framework across the system is chaotic. They¡¯re more focused on maintaining peace than enforcing strict laws.¡±


    Garen nodded thoughtfully. ¡°I see. This system had its share of crime last I heard, but that was years ago.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s about the same as far as i know,¡± Klamarez remarked dryly. ¡°I doubt even the RDF could fix that.¡±


    Conus added, ¡°I¡¯d agree with that. Take YDN, for example¡ªthat moon¡¯s a mess. Infamous for its high crime rate, lots of organized crime. Definitely not somewhere you want to be.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Klamarez shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve heard some wild stories about that place. Someone once told me they had their hat stolen there. A hat. Who steals a hat?¡±


    The absurdity of the anecdote drew a brief laugh from Garen.


    Inspecting the RemLink Klamarez had handed them, Conus tilted the device in his hands. ¡°Is this an Omega-7?¡± he asked, though he already knew the answer.


    Klamarez¡¯s grin widened as he held up the device, clearly eager to elaborate. ¡°It is¡ªthe best model of RemLink ever made. And this one¡¯s modified: Extended range, and extra encryption. You never know who might be listening in.¡±


    Conus turned the device over in his hands. ¡°Can I interface this with my PDA?¡±


    Klamarez shook his head. ¡°No, they¡¯re not compatible. It runs on a very strict frequency.¡±


    Klamarez initiated the ship¡¯s exit sequence. The hatch slid open with a low shudder, revealing the hangar bay beyond¡ªa spacious area large enough to comfortably house the Seeker, with plenty of room for maneuvering or repairs.


    Conus took the lead, activating the hangar bay¡¯s main door to access the station¡¯s corridors. Docking Section N greeted them: a long, utilitarian passage stretching in both directions. The surroundings were sparse¡ªjust the occasional crate or cargo container scattered along the walls. In the distance, a maintenance worker focused on a computer console. Floor lights traced a clear path toward the station¡¯s main security gate. Following the illuminated route, they reached a lift. Inside, Conus selected the level for security.


    When the lift doors opened, the trio stepped into a security checkpoint. Ahead, a small line of travelers waited for clearance to enter the merchant sector of Eteren One.


    Weapons had to be surrendered¡ªthough theirs were already secured aboard the Seeker. Identity verification came next, conducted under the watchful eyes of RDF Marines and Ottorin security officers. Energy turrets were discreetly embedded in the walls and ceiling.


    The Ottorins, natives of Eteren, were distinguished by their elongated ears, earth-toned eyes, and terracotta skin. They handled the scanning and verification process. RDF Marines, in full tactical gear and carrying weapons at the ready, stood nearby.


    Garen stepped forward, pressing his hand to the scanner. The device quickly detected the dermal implant embedded beneath his skin, projecting his image onto a nearby monitor and granting clearance. The process was seamless. He passed through the checkpoint without issue, and Conus followed moments later, his own clearance just as smooth.


    Klamarez, lacking a dermal implant, presented his credentials on his PDA. An Ottorin officer meticulously examined the records, scanning for inconsistencies. After a moment of scrutiny, she asked a few routine questions. Speaking Interling Basic with a thick accent, she slightly slowed the exchange, but the process remained efficient. Satisfied, the officer nodded and granted clearance.


    With their identities verified, the trio passed through the checkpoint. Nearby, a secondary line of travelers waited for additional scrutiny¡ªlikely flagged for inconsistencies or further questioning.


    As they continued, Conus suddenly stiffened. A sharp, searing pain radiated through the side of his skull, where organic tissue met the synthetic framework of his augmentations. His hand flew instinctively to his right temple, as if pressing it might drive the pain away. The sensation was brief but intense, like a pinpoint strike deep within. Just as abruptly as it came, it faded, leaving behind a dull ache¡ªnot unfamiliar to him.


    Conus darted a glance toward his companions, searching for any sign they¡¯d noticed. If they had, they gave none, continuing ahead without pause. Grimacing, he fell back into step behind them. This wasn¡¯t the first time¡ªit had happened before on Chiex. Headaches were a known side effect of his augments, usually dull and lingering. But this? This was sharper, more intrusive. And for a moment, he thought he felt¡­ something else. A flicker at the edge of his mind¡ªa ghost of a memory, fragmented and elusive. Yet just as he reached for it, any hint of recognition slipped away.


    Stepping onto the promenade, they were greeted by a space alive with energy, with beings from every corner of the known galaxy. Walkways filled with activity¡ªindividuals browsing storefronts, weaving through the steady flow of foot traffic, or pausing to exchange words in a chorus of languages.


    The crowd included the nine native species of the Mottmor system. Among them were the deep blue-skinned Nsalron; the iridescent Netraxians, their skin catching and reflecting light; and the insectoid Kirlu from Quillwren, their chitinous limbs clicking softly as they moved. Other Mottmor natives blended seamlessly among them.


    Scattered throughout were humans from the Seven Worlds, some in RDF uniforms, others dressed casually. Visitors from star systems near and far mingled with the locals.


    RDF Marines stood at intervals that appeared random but were anything but, their presence alone maintaining order. Nearby, Eteren One Security personnel, in lighter armor and representing a mix of Mottmor species, patrolled calmly. On a raised platform, an unarmed security Synthetic observed the promenade, its advanced sensors quietly scanning for anomalies. Occasionally, its calm, mechanized voice exchanged updates with other security units.


    Elsewhere, a service Synthetic managed an intricate map display, its tone a gentle programmed warmth. It offered directions and assistance to anyone who approached.


    The promenade was vast and multi-leveled, its open design stretching several floors upward. Observation windows offered views of the traffic around the space station and the emerald planet Eteren. Storefronts, taverns, eateries, and kiosks lined both the main floor and upper levels, interconnected by crisscrossing glass walkways.


    Vendors displayed an astonishing array of goods: practical tools, stylish attire, protective gear, weapons, salvage parts, and interstellar maps. Aromas from food stalls merged into an enticing blend, pulling passersby toward stalls offering everything from rare spices to exotic delicacies. Rare books and advanced gadgets were showcased alongside medical supply stores offering both traditional remedies and cutting-edge innovations. For the curious, foreign pets from distant systems.


    Holographic displays projected vivid advertisements into the open space above. Glass lifts glided smoothly between levels.


    Travel agencies flashed alluring ads, promising adventures among the stars¡ªdistant worlds and daring expeditions just a booking away. Nearby, psychic service providers beckoned with cryptic promises of insight, while long lines formed at recruitment centers, where eager applicants hoped to secure positions aboard trade ships, security teams, or exploration crews. Spaceship dealerships operated next to lively taverns, where melodies from live musicians spilled out into the promenade, mingling with the steady flow of conversation. Groups of onlookers gathered around performers, some drawn by the music.


    Garen, Conus, and Klamarez instinctively stepped aside, allowing the steady stream of denizens to flow past.


    Garen paused. It had been years since he¡¯d seen anything like this. This station seems like a remarkable achievement, he thought, looking to the intermingling of species from the Mottmor system. Does it truly unite them? He couldn¡¯t judge yet, but based on what he¡¯d observed, Eteren One felt like the central hub of the entire star system. Perhaps this is a good thing, he considered. Yet the irony wasn¡¯t lost on him¡ªwhile the RDF was suspicious of him, he found himself equally wary of their motives and long-term plans in the Mottmor system.


    He reminded himself that forming a complete opinion would take time. Returning to the broader galaxy after years of isolation, Garen knew he had to stay open-minded, relying on the instincts that had served him well. It takes time to see beyond the first layer, he reflected. And something of this scale surely has many.


    Klamarez, who had ventured beyond Chiex on rare occasions but never as far as Eteren One, found himself mesmerized by the station¡¯s offerings. None of his previous trips compared to what Eteren had to offer. The sheer variety filled him with an eagerness he hadn¡¯t felt in years.


    For Conus, visiting the station marked a personal milestone. His drive to explore the galaxy had been a key reason for joining the RDF, fulfilling a childhood dream of witnessing the universe¡¯s farthest reaches. Growing up aboard his father¡¯s trade ship had exposed him to countless sights, though many were now faded, fragmented memories. Here, every new experience felt like saving a fresh file in his mind.


    Garen¡¯s gaze shifted to the merchant stalls and kiosks scattered along the promenade. ¡°Since I¡¯m here, I might as well update my gear,¡± he said, scrutinizing his current outfit. If I need to fight, I¡¯ll want better protection.


    Conus nodded in agreement, his attention briefly drawn to the activity around them.


    Klamarez, however, was already distracted. ¡°I¡¯ve got to start those repairs and hunt down the parts. Who knows what treasures I¡¯ll find here,¡± he said, his voice brimming with excitement. Without waiting for a response, he disappeared into the crowd, his eyes glued to the map on his PDA.


    Garen and Conus exchanged glances, mildly amused by Klamarez¡¯s abrupt departure. Moments later, they spotted him weaving back through the throng, still focused on his PDA. He veered off course, heading in the wrong direction. Grinning sheepishly, Klamarez passed them again, this time heading the right way.


    ¡°Well, I guess I¡¯m off to explore the station¡ªunless you need assistance, General,¡± Conus said, his tone light but polite.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, Colonel. Where are you headed?¡± Garen asked.


    ¡°There¡¯s a viewing port on one of the upper levels with a fantastic view of Eteren. Who knows when I¡¯ll get another chance to see it?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t want to pass that up,¡± Garen replied, arching an eyebrow. Of all the things here, that¡¯s what catches his attention?


    Conus ventured off, leaving Garen to his own thoughts.


    As Garen surveyed his surroundings, he began considering his priorities. He needed something specific¡ªpractical casual wear and tactical gear capable of handling any scenario. Starting down the promenade, he navigated the steady flow of beings, mindful of the motion in every direction. With so many species intermingling, he paid extra attention to his steps. Don¡¯t want to step on anyone.


    His path eventually led him to the Tailoring Couture Emporium, its storefront softly illuminated beneath elegant signage bearing the subtitle Custom Tactical Gear. Looks expensive, Garen thought, noting the elaborate displays visible through the glass.


    Luxury had never appealed to him during his RDF service. Over the years, he¡¯d quietly amassed considerable savings, funds that had remained largely untouched during his time on Chiex. Living off the land had kept expenses minimal, and his isolation had left little room¡ªor reason¡ªfor spending. Even before Chiex, wealth had never been a priority.


    He paused, a memory surfacing¡ªa vague recollection of an investment he¡¯d made in his final years of service. At the time, it had been more about helping a family member in need than securing personal gain. He hadn¡¯t thought much about it since, but now, standing here, he wondered if that investment had matured into something more substantial.


    The store¡¯s exterior drew him back, the outfits in the window catching his eye¡ªpractical tactical gear that aligned perfectly with what he had in mind. The standard designs were impressive, but the promise of customization truly intrigued him. This might be exactly what I need, he thought, stepping closer to the glass for a better look.


    He hadn¡¯t previously associated Uxian craftsmanship with tactical gear, but the displays made it clear the store specialized in high-quality, versatile equipment. Many of the outfits were tailored for human figures, though designs for other species were prominently displayed as well. RDF field uniforms had served him well in the past, but now he needed something different¡ªsomething uniquely his own.


    Garen stepped inside. Tactical outfits were displayed on mannequins throughout the room, a balance between utility and style. At the center of the store, computer stations paired with circular platforms clearly indicated the process: customers could select and customize their gear.


    Approaching one of the terminals, Garen selected his language from the displayed options. The interface prompted him to step onto the adjacent platform, where a cascade of scanning lights enveloped him, recording his measurements.


    When he stepped off, a full-color, 3D holographic projection of himself appeared, slowly rotating. Garen stared at it for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. What happened to you? he thought, scrutinizing the image. The longer hair, the beard, the streaks of gray¡ªit all struck him differently, laid bare in sharp, artificial detail. I look twenty years older than I should.


    The computer screen sprang to life, presenting an array of customizable features. Each adjustment Garen made was instantly reflected on the holographic projection, letting him see the results in real time.


    He spent considerable time designing the outfit to his specifications. The ensemble would be multi-layered, beginning with an underlayer of armor weave engineered to absorb and distribute energy upon impact.


    For the lower half, he chose black tactical pants reinforced with protective fibers, featuring ample pockets for gadgets and tools. He paired them with a lightweight leather belt designed for durability under strain.


    For his torso, Garen selected a gray shirt crafted from the same protective fibers as the pants. The centerpiece of the ensemble was a black jacket with a minimalist aesthetic, equipped with specialized compartments for his PDA, communication device, and other essentials.


    In the accessories section, Garen added a holster for his right hip and a sheath for a larger melee weapon positioned on his back. A smaller sheath on his left hip completed the setup.


    He also opted for a forearm-mounted shield, a model of the FSPS (Forearm Shield Projection System), designed to emit adaptive energy shields. These shields projected shapes based on the system¡¯s design, capable of deflecting melee strikes or blocking incoming weapons fire. To complement the FSPS, Garen selected a personal ABF (Adaptive Barrier Field) unit¡ªa full-body energy-defense system. When activated, it generated a dynamic barrier that adapted to various threats, absorbing significant damage before needing a recharge.


    Both systems could sustain only a finite amount of damage before needing to recharge, requiring careful, strategic use in high-risk situations.


    As Garen finalized his selections, movement in the corner of the room caught his eye. Three identical female Uxians entered, their steps perfectly synchronized. Standing around five and a half feet tall, they embodied a balance of delicacy and strength. Their hairless skin seemed to possess a subtle sheen, and their deep green eyes carried a welcoming warmth.


    For a moment, Garen found himself captivated as their harmonious voices greeted him in unison. ¡°Welcome. We are pleased you have found what you are looking for,¡±


    Garen voiced his concern about the time required to prepare the outfit. The triplets responded with reassuring smiles. ¡°We assure you, sir, your new outfit will be ready by morning at the latest,¡± they said warmly.


    Relieved, Garen confirmed his intent to pay immediately, retrieving his PDA. For a moment, the final cost caught him off guard, inflated by the station¡¯s steep taxes.


    ¡°Sixteen thousand credits?¡± he muttered.


    ¡°We only offer quality,¡± they replied, their confidence unwavering.


    Garen quickly rationalized the expense. That¡¯s steep, even for custom work. But it¡¯s worth the price, especially if it keeps me alive, he thought. Despite his success against the Vorcon soldiers on Chiex, Garen had no illusions about his readiness for future confrontations. I was lucky on Chiex. The transaction was completed without further comment. After taking his contact information, the Uxians retreated to a room beyond sight, leaving Garen to his thoughts.


    The realization that his recall had been orchestrated by the RSIA, not the RDF, still stung. Is this how the RDF sees me now? After all he had given to the Seven Worlds, surely that still counted for something. Yet their treatment suggested otherwise.


    It was clear this was entirely Amar Lavont¡¯s doing. From what Conus had shared, Lavont¡¯s transition to the RSIA had complicated his reputation. Garen couldn¡¯t ignore the symmetry between Lavont¡¯s struggles and his own past conflicts¡ªthe shifting alliances, the weight of distrust. The parallel nagged at him, dredging up old frustrations he thought he¡¯d long buried.


    With his next priority clear¡ªsecuring accommodations¡ªGaren set out to find lodging. Eteren One offered a variety of options, ranging from modest quarters to opulent suites. Opting for comfort over frugality, he chose a higher-tier option. A middle-aged woman in casual attire handled the booking. Once the reservations were finalized, Garen used his RemLink to notify his companions of the arrangements. After forwarding the access codes to Klamarez and Conus, he found himself wandering the station¡¯s merchant center once more.


    As he moved through the promenade, his attention was drawn to a barber shop nestled between a pawn shop and a recruitment center. Groups of job seekers gathered around the recruitment center, their conversations focused on wages and opportunities. Many seemed down on their luck, their weary postures hinting at desperation.


    At first, Garen nearly overlooked the storefront labeled The Silver Shear, but his gaze eventually settled on it. The shop featured a single barber chair and one solitary operator. The salons scattered across Eteren One reminded him of how far he¡¯d drifted from the disciplined image he once upheld. His overgrown beard and unkempt hair spoke of a decade in isolation. With a faint sigh, Garen stepped into the barber shop.


    The barber, Eron, a Bolvatan with a professional yet warm demeanor, greeted him with an easy smile. ¡°Please, take a seat,¡± he said in a soothing tone.


    Garen settled into the chair, his eyes briefly scanning the understated surroundings. Eron studied his hair thoughtfully. ¡°You have remarkable hair, sir,¡± he said, flicking his own thick, vibrant locks. ¡°I could give you a style that truly stands out.¡±


    Garen chuckled awkwardly. ¡°I appreciate the offer, but I¡¯m looking for something simple. Short on the hair, keep the beard but clean it up,¡± he said.


    Eron nodded knowingly, giving Garen¡¯s hair and beard one final appraising look. ¡°Of course,¡± he replied. He suggested a few subtle adjustments to complement Garen¡¯s features before beginning his work. The subtle sound of the trimmers whispered through the room.


    A map on the wall caught Garen¡¯s attention, depicting Delchar Rennar, a peaceful system renowned for its diplomatic ties and thriving trade agreements. He recalled the Bolvatans¡¯ pivotal role as peacemakers, particularly in its role in brokering the treaty between the Seven Worlds of Rhyus and the Vorcon Empire.


    ¡°Have you ever visited?¡± Eron asked, glancing at the map that had drawn Garen¡¯s focus.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Garen replied. ¡°A couple of weeks on Atha, including a few nights in Sentha.¡±


    ¡°Business or pleasure?¡± Eron inquired.


    ¡°Pleasure¡ªa vacation,¡± Garen said simply, though the memory of who he¡¯d shared that trip with lingered quietly in his mind.


    As Eron finished, Garen caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. The man staring back at him resembled his younger self, except for the now neatly shaped beard. Satisfied, Garen tipped Eron generously and thanked him before stepping back into the corridors.


    Pausing at a viewport, he watched a squadron of Verta fighters streak across in tight formation.


    Unbeknownst to him, a figure lingered at the edge of the promenade. The man, clean-shaven and draped in a weathered coat, bore tattoos that crept across his neck and every patch of exposed skin except his face. His sharp eyes locked onto Garen, recognition flashing within them. Though his posture seemed casual, the focused intensity of his gaze betrayed a calculated intent.


    Pretending to browse the wares of a nearby vendor, the man¡¯s eyes never left Garen. The brim of a hat shaded part of his face, but his piercing stare was unmistakable. His neutral expression gave little away.


    As Garen turned slightly, glancing toward the merchant sector, the man tilted his head just enough to avoid drawing attention, keeping Garen firmly in his peripheral vision.


    ¡°It¡¯s been years, General,¡± the man muttered under his breath, his voice low.


    Garen disappeared into the crowd, but the figure remained, watching. His posture stayed casual, though a faint smirk formed.

 Chapter 18

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    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


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 Chapter 19

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    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

 Chapter 20

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    ¡°We find empty realms . . . where no one longer lives.


    We traveled so far . . . seen so many ruins,


    Searching the path . . . to the origins, . . . where it all began.¡±


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    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


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 Chapter 21

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    Eteren One Orbital Starbase


    Mottmor System, Venddral Raidezel Sector


    Date: Zeran 19, Year 4731


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    Recently promoted


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    Eteren One Orbital Starbase


    Mottmor System, Venddral Raidezel Sector


    Date: Zeran 20, Year 4731


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    ¡°He¡¯s overplaying his hand. If they get caught with weapons, they¡¯ll be banned from the station.


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 Chapter 22

    Chapter 22


    Eteren One Orbital Starbase


    Mottmor System, Venddral Raidezel Sector


    Date: Zeran 20, Year 4731


    In docking bay N-7, the Seeker rested, anchored on its three-pronged landing gear, its patchwork hull a welcome sight. The clang of their boots echoed as the trio ascended the entrance hatch and disappeared into the ship''s interior, hoping they had seen the last of Kaelar and his crew.


    Garen settled into the helm and activated the console. Controls blinked to life, display screens lighting up his face as the operating systems booted, progress bars sliding across each screen.


    A soft breath escaped him, relief creeping in as he sank into the comforting fit of the worn seat.


    Conus sat at his station as the system powered on, hesitated briefly, then stabilized. Deciding to dig into it further if it happened again¡ªbut for now, it seemed fine. The system appeared functional, and the priority was clear¡ªleaving the station quickly. The last thing they needed was Klamarez distracted.


    At the rear of the ship, Klamarez conducted a quick inspection of the engineering section. Nearby, a scattered collection of newly acquired parts from Eteren One awaited sorting¡ªa task high on his priority list. He figured the journey to the Rhyus system would give him time to at least separate the parts into some type of system.


    Satisfied for the moment, he activated the ship¡¯s primary power. The Capture Reactor pulsed as it came to life, sending a gentle vibration through the deck. Power levels climbed steadily, lights flickered on across the ship, and a sequence of sounds echoed as the systems initialized, one by one. Everything appeared operational.


    While the Seeker was, in many ways, a new ship, its appearance told a different story. Klamarez had begun work on it years earlier, shortly after arriving on Chiex. Pieced together from technology spanning every corner of the Karadolex Galaxy. Inside, open housing units remained exposed, awaiting additional parts. Loose wires dangled, ready to be connected.


    As Klamarez sealed the ship¡¯s hatch, it slid closed in a seamless motion before locking into place. His next stop was the communications station, where he entered a sequence into the console and leaned toward the microphone.


    ¡°Hello, E.T.D.A., requesting departure access,¡± he said, his attention half-focused on something else flashing across his screen.


    ¡°Please provide designated bay,¡± came the clipped, synthetic response over the ship¡¯s speakers.


    Klamarez flinched, startled by the prompt reply. ¡°Right, Docking bay N-7,¡± he said, recovering quickly.


    A brief pause followed before the reply came, ¡°Docking bay N-7, departure access granted. We hope you have enjoyed your stay at Eteren One Orbital. Thank you for your business. We hope to see you again in the future. Stay safe!¡±


    ¡°You too.¡¯ Klamarez winced, then shrugged at his own awkwardness, a quiet laugh escaping him.


    ¡°This is an automated response. Docking bay N-7, departure access granted,¡± the system repeated in its monotone. Klamarez quickly cut the line before it could loop again.


    The heavy hangar doors groaned open, interlinking bars rolling as they slid apart. An energy barrier stretched across the docking bay¡¯s threshold as the doors fully retracted.


    The Seeker rumbled as its thrusters engaged, steady vibrations rippling through the deck plates. Garen nudged the controls, smoothly lifting the ship off the deck. The thrusters held steady, propelling the vessel forward. It drifted through the hangar¡¯s energy barrier, the field briefly enveloping the ship before sealing behind it. Now free, the Seeker glided into open space.


    The emerald planet Eteren emerged, its vast grasslands broken by deep blue oceans. Along the coastlines, streaks of green blended into the turquoise shallows, where sea and land intertwined. Beyond the planet, Eteren¡¯s moons stood out against the darkness, and further still, the star-filled void of space stretched endlessly beyond.


    Traffic around Eteren One was dense, with outgoing vessels creating a bottleneck that slowed their departure. Freighters lumbered ahead while smaller shuttles darted between them. Garen activated the Velocity sublight engines, keeping their output low as the Seeker followed the station¡¯s beacon path¡ªa trail of guiding lights designed to impose order. The landing gear retracted with a faint thud.


    The Seeker¡¯s patched silver hull continued forward, its dark orange stripe marking its path. After waiting their turn in the exit lane, they finally broke free. The area remained busy, ships crisscrossing in orderly patterns as they entered and exited the traffic lanes.


    The Seeker slipped beneath a long, narrow passenger liner. Several shuttles detached from the larger vessel, aligning with the station¡¯s approach lanes. Once clear of the congestion, Garen gradually increased power to the sublight engines. The Verta engines fired in synchronized bursts, propelling the Seeker forward.


    At the communications station, Klamarez leaned back, his eyes on one of the auxiliary screens displaying a full readout of the ship¡¯s power levels. His boots firmly planted on the deck, he monitored the subtle vibrations underfoot¡ªa habit any seasoned engineer would recognize.


    Satisfied, he turned his attention to the open comm channels, where the faint chatter of routine flight reports and cargo exchanges settled softly in the cockpit¡¯s background.


    ¡°I¡¯ll feel better once we¡¯re out of this system,¡± Klamarez said, eager to leave their run-in with the Vanicktus Syndicate behind them.


    ¡°You and me both,¡± Garen replied, his tone heavy with fatigue. ¡°Nothing but trouble here. If I ever make it back to Chiex, I¡¯ll steer clear of this system on the way. Or at least, I¡¯ll be better prepared.¡±


    Klamarez offered a faint smile. ¡°You¡¯ve still got a home there, i think you will make it back once this is over with.¡± he said.


    Garen regretted he had brought it up at all, not wanting to explain further.


    It didn¡¯t go unnoticed by Klamarez. He knew Garen well enough to see when something was weighing on him.


    While Garen had mostly kept to himself on Chiex, he wasn¡¯t entirely a stranger to Calio Landing. Whether he admitted it or not, he had become part of that community¡ªthough his unfortunate circumstances now made it impossible for him to return, not without the risk of putting others in danger.


    Calio landing was one of many colonies that had become a second chance for Camerians¡ªa place to rebuild, a fragile hope for the continuation of their culture. Klamarez took pride in what it had grown into.


    ¡°Did something else happen?¡± Klamarez asked.


    ¡°I did have a home there, Klamarez,¡± Garen said softly, his tone plain and honest¡ªnot meant to dramatize, just to state the truth. ¡°Not anymore.¡± Resignation colored his voice, mirroring the distant look in his eyes as they lingered on the stars. The Seeker moved steadily through the Mottmor system.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Klamarez asked, turning his attention from his console.


    Conus looked up as well, the comment catching his attention. Ever since he¡¯d shown up on Chiex, nothing had gone right for any of them. It wasn¡¯t his fault¡ªhe knew that¡ªbut the guilt came anyway. Am I bad luck?


    Garen hesitated. Since the RIAB visit, he¡¯d shared most of what Lieutenant Colonel Syla and Major Hanth had revealed, recounting only what he thought Klamarez and Conus needed to know or what was important at the time.


    ¡°My cabin. The Vorcons destroyed it. Completely,¡± he said at last, his voice calm, absent of any emotion.


    "Klamarez¡¯s ears twitched slightly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Garen,¡± he said quietly. He opened his mouth to say more but paused, unsure of what words might be appropriate."


    ¡°It was just a cabin,¡± Garen replied, dismissing the significance. But no one aboard the Seeker believed him¡ªnot even Garen himself.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, General.¡± Conus hesitated, glancing at Garen before continuing. ¡°The RIAB... they told you this?¡±


    Conus, perhaps more than anyone, understood the weight of such a loss. He knew too well what it was like to lose everything¡ªeven if his memories of what he¡¯d lost were fragmented and incomplete.


    ¡°Thanks, Colonel,¡± Garen said. It wasn¡¯t about the possessions¡ªthough he¡¯d miss a few books. It was the finality. Once this was over, where would he go? What would he do? Settling back down on Rhyus wasn¡¯t an option; of that, he was certain. ¡°Yes, they told me.¡±


    Garen gave Conus a brief recap of what the RIAB had told him about his cabin. Conus¡¯s concern showed plainly on his face, but there was little he could do about it now. The RIAB¡¯s involvement here was troubling¡ªwell beyond their jurisdiction. Conus knew he would need to bring this to General Anteia and Admiral Lavont¡¯s attention once they reached Rhyus.


    For now, Conus pushed the troubling thoughts aside. The RIAB¡¯s actions would be investigated when the time was right. Instead, he focused on the task at hand.


    ¡°You increased engine efficiency, Klamarez?¡± his attention shifting briefly toward him.


    Klamarez shrugged lightly. ¡°A little bit.¡±


    Conus¡¯s augmented eye adjusted, refocusing as it scanned the data streaming across the console. Lines of text scrolled rapidly, the calculations aligning perfectly with his own. ¡°91.1 to 92.5 percent? That¡¯s more than marginal.¡±


    ¡°Impressive,¡± Garen said, glancing back briefly from the helm. ¡°We need every edge we can get. I¡¯d rather avoid a fight if possible. If I¡¯m using those turrets, we¡¯re in big trouble.¡±


    The Seeker¡¯s light turrets were no match for shielded targets, making evasion their best option.


    To Garen, ships were never just machines¡ªthey carried memories. They were companions. His first Verta fighter still lingered in his mind. The sting of watching it scrapped. Back in the early days of the war, Garen had been unstoppable in his Verta craft¡ªor at least, it had felt that way. He¡¯d refused to fly anything else, even when it desperately needed repairs.


    His first full command, the frigate Warpstar, had been an assignment he¡¯d initially resisted. Garen¡¯s career had begun aboard the capital battlecruiser Riftkin, where he worked his way up to executive officer. When his promotion to General finally came, he¡¯d hoped to inherit command of the Riftkin itself from Amar Lavont, who was General at the time.


    Over time, however, the Warpstar grew on him. When the time came to hand over its command, the loss lingered far longer than he anticipated. Moving on had only been made easier by gaining command of the Riftkin in return.


    But the Riftkin¡ªthat loss cut the deepest. Even now, it still stung.


    Garen leaned back slightly in his chair. For a moment, he wondered what might have happened if he¡¯d bought a ship of his own when he retired from the RDF. Instead of choosing the quiet, remote life he had, maybe he could have run cargo or just explored the galaxy, instead of staying in one place for so long.


    He caught sight of an unfamiliar indicator that flashed occasionally. ¡°I just noticed another button activated here.¡± He turned toward Klamarez. ¡°You got the third engine online?¡±


    Klamarez grinned, his sharp fangs flashing as though he¡¯d been waiting for Garen to notice. ¡°It¡¯s designed for short bursts,¡± he said. ¡°When we need just a little extra boost.¡±


    The Seeker¡¯s primary engines¡ªsalvaged Verta fighter models¡ªhad undergone significant overhauls. Far from intact when Klamarez acquired them, they¡¯d cost him more than he¡¯d wanted to spend, even in their battered condition. Assembling them had required patience and a slow accumulation of parts¡ªfar from the standard blueprint for a Verta engine. To top it off, he¡¯d added a third: an Omprel racing engine, a smaller unit positioned between the two Verta engines. Designed for bursts of speed rather than sustained use.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°If the numbers are right¡ªwell, if the computer¡¯s numbers are right,¡± he corrected, ¡°The Seeker can hit 92.8 for a short burst,¡± Klamarez said, holding up his PDA.


    Conus, already running his own simulations, glanced up. Numbers scrolled rapidly across one of his auxiliary screens as his augmented eye blinked faintly, cross-referencing calculations. ¡°That doesn¡¯t look right to me,¡± he said, turning toward Klamarez.


    Klamarez¡¯s grin faltered slightly. ¡°No?¡± he asked, his tone cautious, as if bracing for bad news.


    ¡°Looks more like 93.0 Cap to me,¡± Conus replied confidently. ¡°And with a few adjustments, I think you could push it even higher.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Klamarez¡¯s grin returned, broader this time. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t mind being wrong sometimes. How much higher are we talking?¡±


    ¡°Maybe 0.4 percent,¡± Conus murmured, his eyes glued to the data. ¡°Not certain¡ªtoo many factors¡ªbut it¡¯s worth exploring.¡±


    ¡°Point four? Really?¡± Klamarez said, glancing back at the ship¡¯s engineering section just behind them, as if admiring it.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been busy,¡± Garen cast a quick glance over his shoulder before refocusing on the helm, with a faint smile.


    Klamarez had made good use of their time on Eteren One, replacing parts and fine-tuning systems. Among his accomplishments was activating the experimental Rift Redirector.


    Garen increased the ship¡¯s velocity, carving a swift path through the Mottmor system. Their immediate objective was clear: reach the system¡¯s boundary, open a rift, and begin the journey to Rhyus¡ªa route that demanded navigating a sequence of interdimensional rifts to reach their final destination.


    ¡°Klamarez, power up the IRD,¡± Garen commanded. ¡°We¡¯ll be in safe distance soon.¡±


    Klamarez nodded and activated the Interdimensional Rift Drive. He double-checked the readings as the power levels began a steady climb. Despite trusting the IRD¡¯s functionality, the memory of the burnout incident above Chiex kept him cautious. He went over the data one last time. ¡°It should be ready in just a moment, Garen.¡±


    ¡°Colonel, any contacts?¡± Garen asked.


    "TRACE is clear," Conus reported but then hesitated. "Wait. Something¡¯s here... faint. This doesn¡¯t look right." He adjusted the scan, his frown deepening. ¡°There¡¯s definitely something nearby.¡±


    ¡°Something?¡± Garen¡¯s tone sharpened, his focus narrowing, his grip tighter. ¡°I¡¯d like more details than that.¡±


    Conus had a puzzled look, his irritation creeping into his voice as he continued working. ¡°What¡¯s with this thing? We¡¯re being pursued. It¡¯s a crude cloak¡ªI wouldn¡¯t even call it that. More like a signal deflector.¡± Tilting his head slightly, he added, ¡°We should have picked this up. There¡¯s an issue with the Seeker¡¯s long-range sensor array. Klamarez, we¡¯re going to need to refine it.¡±


    ¡°It should be working fine,¡± Klamarez replied, pulling out his PDA and scrolling through his notes.


    Garen cut in before Klamarez could respond further. ¡°We¡¯ll deal with that later. Focus. What can you tell me? What are we looking at?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m running some scans,¡± Conus said, trying to get more information.


    ¡°Anything on the RearFeed by chance?¡± Garen asked doubtful.


    Conus toggled additional views while simultaneously trying to refine the TRACE array. Pinpointing ships on external camera feeds without solid sensor data was tedious¡ªnearly impossible depending on the distance. His scan finally completed, offering just enough data for a vague idea.


    ¡°No luck on the RearFeed, but I¡¯ve completed an additional scan. Looks like it¡¯s a small assault cruiser, if I had to guess,¡± he said after a moment.


    ¡°The Vanicktus Syndicate,¡± Klamarez said darkly, his eyes fixed on the rear camera feed, which showed nothing but open space. Though the screen was empty, he stared at it intently, as if willing something to materialize.


    ¡°I¡¯d bet on that,¡± Garen said.


    ¡°They probably have ships lying in wait all over the system,¡± Conus added.


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have let this happen,¡± Klamarez spoke softly, his voice heavy with guilt.


    Garen shot him a sharp look over his shoulder. ¡°I need you focused, Klamarez. We might need that new system.¡± Following it up with a quick smile.


    Snapping out of his thoughts, Klamarez nodded sharply. ¡°Right!¡±


    ¡°What are we looking at for weapons, Conus? What are they packing?¡± Garen asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m unable to determine that yet General,¡± Conus replied, shaking his head.


    ¡°You said the main shields are operational?¡± Garen pressed.


    ¡°Yes, Garen,¡± Klamarez confirmed.


    ¡°Bring them online.¡±


    ¡°Shields online, full power¡± Klamarez replied firmly.


    ¡°Any new information, Colonel? Anything might help,¡± Garen asked, his tone even but tense.


    ¡°I might be able to get more data once they get closer,¡± Conus replied. ¡°I can¡¯t get a clear reading. I¡¯ll need to re calibrate the array. My options are limited.¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± Klamarez interjected abruptly, jumping out of his seat, crossing the short distance between stations. He knelt beside the TRACE console, prying open the computer housing near the floor and pulling out two circuit boards.


    ¡°Klamarez! TRACE is down!¡± Conus¡¯s voice rose through the cabin. He threw up his hands. ¡°Why now?!¡±


    ¡°I just remembered¡ªI meant to replace the main processor. It¡¯s faulty, along with one of the secondary calculation chips,¡± Klamarez replied, his tone annoyingly calm given the situation. ¡°I found upgrades on Eteren.¡± His nonchalant delivery, as though there were no pressing urgency, grated on Conus but carried an odd calming effect¡ªalmost enough to make the absurdity of it amusing, causing Conus to relax just a little.


    ¡°You think this is the best time for that, Klamarez?¡± Garen shot back. ¡°At least before, we knew something was out there. Now we¡¯re flying blind.¡±


    ¡°You can still see what¡¯s in front of you,¡± Klamarez said with a shrug.


    ¡°Klamarez,¡± Garen muttered, his tone heavy with warning.


    ¡°Trust me. Besides, if anything gets too close, the main proximity sensors will pick it up,¡± Klamarez replied.


    ¡°All right,¡± Garen said, focused on the urgency of the moment.


    Klamarez moved to a crate near the rear of the cabin, rummaging through the replacement components.


    ¡°This is tech from everywhere,¡± Conus remarked, leaning over the open panel, looking in and marveling at the mishmash of parts. ¡°I¡¯m surprised it works at all.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a compliment,¡± Klamarez said, tossing parts aside as he searched. At last, he pulled out the necessary replacements and returned to Conus¡¯s station. Kneeling, he snapped the new chips into place. Sealing the housing, he stood and flashed Conus a wide grin, the tips of his fangs peeking out.


    ¡°Done,¡± he declared. ¡°Well? Fire it back up!¡±


    Conus slid into his seat and initiated the reboot sequence. The system sluggishly powered on, the TRACE display flickering before stabilizing and flaring to full brightness. ¡°They¡¯re nearly on top of us!" He snapped. "Almost in weapons range!¡±


    With the TRACE system restored, the contact resolved on the display and rear camera feed, now pinpointed¡ªa small assault cruiser, just as Conus had suspected. Its angular design emerged clearly on one of the forward screens.


    ¡°YND-class,¡± Conus identified. A common ship model used by the Loquar and the Vanicktus Syndicate. ¡°Crew of four to six. Built for system-only operations¡ªno IRD, but high velocity. Their weapons are online.¡± He cross-referenced the data on the Seeker¡¯s system, searching for any relevant details about the craft.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound too bad,¡± Klamarez remarked, though his ears twitched nervously.


    ¡°They¡¯ve got an Olsirek Blaast!¡± Conus warned, as he worked to run another scan. ¡°And they¡¯re almost in range!¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t like that,¡± Klamarez admitted. His ears flopped.


    The Olsirek Blaast wasn¡¯t designed for destruction but disruption. A weapon capable of disabling a ship¡¯s critical systems without causing lasting physical damage, it left vessels adrift and vulnerable to boarding or salvage.


    ¡°That¡¯s a small ship for a weapon like that,¡± Garen said, his tone contemplative.


    ¡°I¡¯d bet their installation wouldn¡¯t meet my standards,¡± Klamarez replied, shaking his head dismissively.


    "I think that ship¡¯s sole purpose is to disable other vessels," Conus suggested.


    Garen¡¯s gaze shifted to the button for the third engine, its presence daring him to act. ¡°Klamarez, that third engine¡ªare you sure it¡¯s ready?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Klamarez answered, his eyes wide. ¡°Field test time!¡±


    Garen¡¯s finger hovered over the activation switch for a moment. What¡¯s the worst that could happen? he thought. With a sharp exhale, he slammed it down.


    The Seeker jolted as the third engine roared to life, rattling the deckplates. The sudden burst of speed widened the gap between them and their pursuer, the trailing ship shrinking on the rear feed. Moments later, the third engine powered down, leaving the Seeker to settle back to its standard velocity on the two main engines.


    Garen¡¯s eyes caught on the recharge bar displayed for the third engine. ¡°Looks like it needs time to recharge.¡±


    ¡°Garen, didn¡¯t you listen to me? Short bursts only,¡± Klamarez chided, a mix of exasperation and amusement in his tone.


    ¡°We¡¯ve bought some time,¡± Conus interjected, his focus fixed on the TRACE display. ¡°But they¡¯ll be back in weapons range soon. We need to open a rift fast. It¡¯s going to be close¡ªreal close.¡±


    ¡°The last thing I want is to take a hit while entering a rift,¡± Garen said.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what other choice we have, General,¡± Conus replied.


    ¡°The Rift Redirector!¡± Klamarez suddenly exclaimed. ¡°It¡¯ll work.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± Garen asked, throwing a sharp glance over his shoulder.


    ¡°Sure enough!¡± Klamarez replied, his confidence unshaken.


    ¡°Colonel?¡± Garen turned to Conus, seeking his input.


    Conus hesitated, before finally nodding. ¡°I think we should trust Klamarez.¡±


    Klamarez could barely stay still with excitement.


    ¡°Alright, Klamarez. Get it ready,¡± Garen commanded.


    ¡°It just needs to finish charging¡ªalmost there,¡± Klamarez said, his eyes fixed on the Redirector¡¯s charge indicator as it inched toward completion.


    Conus¡¯s attention snapped back to the sensors. ¡°Another ship of the same make just appeared on long-range sensors,¡± he reported. ¡°It¡¯s got a utility craft with it¡ªprobably something to haul us in.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Garen muttered under his breath.


    ¡°Were running out of time,¡± Conus warned, as he tracked the advancing cruiser.


    ¡°Just a moment¡ªit¡¯s almost ready,¡± Klamarez said, his eyes glued to the charging bar.


    ¡°Any closer, and their Olsirek Blaast will be in range,¡± Conus cautioned sharply.


    ¡°Come on, come on,¡± Garen muttered under his breath.


    ¡°Now!¡± Klamarez shouted.


    Garen didn¡¯t hesitate. He threw the Seeker into a sharp spin, pivoting the ship to face the trailing cruiser. At the same instant, the enemy fired their Olsirek Blaast, seeming to send the ship backward as it fired¡ªa massive pulse of energy streaking toward them in a wave.


    The Seeker¡¯s forward deflection array activated. From the domed section at the ship¡¯s nose, a spherical drone shot forward, crackling with power. Its emitters projected a lattice of blue energy outward, the net expanding rapidly to intercept the Olsirek Blaast. The impact was absorbed entirely, sparks erupting as the drone¡¯s surface darkened. Its energy field rippled under the strain before dimming and falling lifeless, its purpose fulfilled.


    ¡°They¡¯re recharging their Olsirek Blaast,¡± Conus reported. ¡°We¡¯ve got a few moments before they can fire again.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all we need,¡± Garen replied.


    The assault cruiser came into sharper view¡ªa wedge-like frame reinforced with overlapping armor plates. Two curved, fin-like structures jutted from its sides, each housing a heavy turret array. Beneath its ventral surface, the oversized Olsirek Blaast weapon sat, seeming both out of place and imposing at the same time.


    Bolts of energy erupted from the cruiser¡¯s heavy turrets, streaking toward the Seeker in volleys. The shields flared under the barrage, absorbing wave after wave of firepower.


    Garen moved with the ship, weaving the Seeker through the onslaught in a desperate attempt to minimize the impact. His hands moved instinctively, the ship reacting flawlessly.


    ¡°The shields are holding!¡± Conus called out.


    Garen¡¯s eyes stayed locked on the displays. ¡°Brace yourselves,¡± he ordered, his voice steady as he angled the Seeker closer to the cruiser.


    As the distance closed, Klamarez activated the Rift Redirector. A swirling vortex of unstable energy erupted just ahead and slightly to the Seeker¡¯s port side, directly in the enemy ship¡¯s path. The rift tore into space with violent force, its edges pulsating with fractured light. The swirling energy churned unpredictably.


    The enemy vessel, locked into its trajectory, had no time to adjust. It barreled headlong into the Interdimensional Rift, which swallowed it in a torrent of unstable energy. The rift pulsed violently before snapping shut, leaving behind nothing but empty space.


    ¡°Klamarez! It worked!¡± Conus exclaimed with disbelief.


    Garen swung the Seeker back around, locking onto the dormant drone now drifting nearby. The ship¡¯s magnetic retrieval system latched onto the device, pulling it securely back to the hull where it had come from.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± Garen said, casting a glance over his shoulder. ¡°Klamarez, where¡¯s that rift lead?¡±


    Klamarez shrugged, his expression unreadable. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not entirely sure.¡±


    Garen barked a sharp laugh, shaking his head.


    He throttled the engines and activated the ship''s Interdimensional Rift Drive (IRD), which synchronized with the Navcon to plot a safe path, propelling the ship toward the forming rift.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get out of this system,¡± Garen declared.


    With a final burst of speed, the Seeker surged forward toward the rift, beginning its Journey to the Rhyus System.

 Chapter 23

    Chapter 23


    GVIF Rheeavher


    Ceryorka System, Cavaglatar Sector


    Date: Zeran 23, Year 4731


    Seated in his chambers aboard the Rheeavher, Caul Malocktus''s eyes lingered on the ancient Vorcon artifacts lining the shelves, their surfaces etched with runes whispering of old power, now silenced. Beside them, weathered tomes and brittle-edged scrolls sat neatly, their frayed pages carrying the faint scent of aged parchment. Many of the artifacts lay broken¡ªshattered blades and incomplete remnants of weapons once revered.


    A sharp buzz interrupted Caul¡¯s thoughts, accompanied by a brief flash of light on his desk control panel. His skeletal fingers pressed a button, releasing the door. It slid downward into the floor with a heavy mechanical clink, revealing the fully armed figure of Thar Golvosran, the Rheeavher¡¯s third officer, standing at attention and waiting for permission to enter.


    "Enter," Caul hissed, his voice low and drawn out.


    Thar stepped inside as the door rolled upward with a light thud. His black eyes, flecked with brown in the centre, swept the chamber before narrowing on a shattered blade resting on a cloth, its hilt intact. The fragments lay carefully arranged, gaps marking the missing sections. Why preserve such pieces? his expression seemed to ask. He understood the value of ancient weapons; the hall at his family estate had many, but those were intact and pristine. His gaze shifted to the melee weapons mounted on the chamber walls¡ªCaul¡¯s personal collection. A display far more impressive, in his estimation.


    Caul pointed to the seat opposite him. "Sit, Primus," he directed.


    Thar lowered himself into the chair, his body tense, as if bracing for something. "I am honored to have been invited to your chambers, Major Legate Malocktus," he said, his tone formal yet cautious. Aboard the Rheeavher, being summoned to Caul¡¯s chambers was a dreadful prospect. None wished to hear Caul¡¯s voice echo through the ship, summoning them to his office.


    Caul¡¯s silence carried more weight than anything he could have said aloud. The red centers of his eyes locked onto Thar. At last, he spoke, his voice low and rasping. "Tell me, Primus," he said, "how do you find the training regimen aboard the Rheeavher?"


    Thar straightened. "Rigorous, Major Legate Malocktus. Exactly as one would expect under your command. The crew is being prepared well for any scenario we might encounter."


    "Challenging, I hope?" Caul said bluntly. "Training isn¡¯t meant for success¡ªit¡¯s meant to expose weakness."


    "Some have found the training too rigorous, it seems," Thar said carefully. "But they continue to push themselves. Commodore Gahlenka has seen to it."


    Caul allowed the barest hint of a smirk, a shadow of amusement. "I expect the Golvosran family prepared you adequately for such training." He watched Thar, watching for the inevitable flicker of pride. Among nobles, it was always there¡ªthat unshakable belief that bloodlines bred strength and superiority.


    "Naturally," Thar replied, almost dismissive. "It is our way of life, as with any great family in the Vorcon Empire."


    Caul let out a long, deliberate hiss. "The Golvosran family has always been competent warriors," he said. Competent, but nothing exceptional¡ªcertainly not on the level they imagine themselves to be. Thar was far from the first Golvosran Caul had known.


    Thar inclined his head, appearing to take the comment as a compliment, though he fully understood its intent. He had been well-briefed on navigating Caul Malocktus¡ªobedience alone was never enough. "Indeed, Major Legate. My instructors were among the finest in the Empire. My brother Ston has twice claimed victory in the tournaments, and my father, Lort Golvosran, is hailed as a hero for his valor in the war against the Seven Worlds. I could list many great deeds of my long-honored family," he added with a measured pause, "but I would prefer not to boast."


    His words came easily, polished and smooth, as if reciting something rehearsed, bolstering his family name against an unspoken critique. Caul, however, was certain Thar had heard these words so often that he would repeat them without thought.


    "Remarkable feats. You are honored," Caul said, dipping his head in a slow, half-mocking bow.


    Lort Golvosran, a hero? Some might say so, but all would agree he was merely a competent warrior. The Golvosrans worked tirelessly to keep his name relevant. He rests on his deeds, even though strength still remains within him. Give it time¡ªhis name will fade to dust, and no one will remember what little he did. He will not become immortal. Caul recalled the look on Lort¡¯s face the last time he had seen him.


    The nobility were notorious for their feasts, endlessly praising the deeds of their kin, embellishing past successes while resting comfortably on them.


    Caul found quiet amusement in remembering how disappointed Lort had been upon learning of his son Thar¡¯s assignment to Caul¡¯s command.


    Golvosran¡¯s family held significant lands on the planet Tayex, their influence extending across the Vorcon Empire. Their contributions to the Grand Vorcon Imperial Force were among the highest, as far as Caul knew.


    They are a powerful family¡ªthat much, no one could deny. Their resources are deep, their lands vast, and their contributions to the GVIF impressive.


    "Tell me, what have you done to add to the Golvosran name?" Caul asked, a smirk forming on his face.


    Thar hesitated, struggling to formulate a response. The comment had caught him off guard.


    Before he could speak, Caul rose from his chair. "Walk with me, Primus," he ordered, turning toward the door and leaving the room before Thar could even stand.


    Thar quickly rose and followed, his hurried steps echoing against the cold metal floor as he fell in line behind Caul. The Vorcon Bruisers, who had remained stationed in the corridor outside Caul¡¯s chambers¡ªhis personal guards¡ªjoined them, their heavy footsteps punctuated by the occasional grunt.


    As they moved through the corridors of the Rheeavher, Caul¡¯s tone shifted, becoming almost conversational. "Tell me, Primus, I am curious. Do you believe your noble training has given you an advantage? Especially over those of lower status? The Common Vorcon."


    Thar responded with an arrogant smirk, dismissing the question. "When we are part of the Grand Vorcon Imperial Force, nobility or otherwise matters not. We are all the same here," he replied confidently, though the words rang hollow even to himself.


    "This is very true, Primus," Caul said after a pause. "Still, answer my question¡ªdo you believe your noble training has given you an advantage?"


    Thar answered without hesitation this time. "I believe it has, Major Legate. I¡¯ve been trained in combat by some of the best. My training was designed to prepare me for leadership and the responsibilities that come with commanding others."


    Caul let out an irritated hiss. "Leadership isn¡¯t a birthright, Primus. It¡¯s forged through training, intelligence, wisdom, and time. Earned through experience and action. A skill to be sharpened, though not always teachable. The strong can be molded into leaders. The weak cannot." His red eyes locked onto Thar. "Tell me, do you believe your training has prepared you for what lies ahead? This war... I¡¯m eager to see how it will test you. After all, it will be your first."


    "If it comes to war," Thar said cautiously, though a hint of ambition crept into his tone. "I am eager to gain experience through any upcoming conflict¡ªperhaps to make a name for myself, as you did, Major Legate Malocktus."


    Caul¡¯s head turned slowly toward Thar, ignoring the flattery. "If it comes to war?" he repeated, letting the words linger.


    "We are likely to have a new Emperor soon, Major Legate," Thar said, stumbling briefly before regaining his confidence. "The Emperor¡¯s heir may decide against another war. Perhaps Ryn Kotoron has a different vision for the Vorcon Empire."


    "It always comes to war, Primus," Caul replied flatly.


    "Perhaps not the war we expect. Who knows what the gods have in store for us," Thar said. You may find yourself lacking any influence when Ryn Kotoron takes the throne.


    "You know the Emperor¡¯s heir well, do you not?" Caul asked, his tone pressing, each word crafted to draw out more.


    "We completed our Kelkor trials together," Thar answered, emphasizing the honor. It was a rare privilege to undertake such a trial alongside the next in the line of succession.


    "And you still correspond with one another?" Caul asked, his tone less a question.


    Thar¡¯s mind stalled. The messages were supposed to be encrypted, but had he underestimated Caul¡¯s reach? The thought unsettled him, though he masked it quickly.


    "Yes, Ryn Kotoron and I correspond often," he said carefully.


    The Golvosran family were staunch loyalists, like many Vorcon families¡ªpledged first to the Emperor and only secondarily to the Empire itself. They were faithful and unwavering in their service to the previous Emperor, Tor Kortoron, and it seemed they would remain steadfast when Ryn Kotoron ascended to the throne. For now, however, Nor Kotoron remained Emperor of the Vorcon Empire.


    Would they serve any Emperor? Caul wondered.


    When they reached the training room, the sharp, raw crack of clashing energy blades greeted them. Strike. Pause. Reverberation. Every collision resonated, filling the air with sound.


    Inside, Inquisitor Nelve Rellocha was locked in an intense practice session with the Stryder Servatron.


    Caul paused just inside the entrance, Thar now beside him. His focus stayed on Nelve¡¯s every movement. Her strikes were precise, her practice Kelkor blade slicing through the air. The white-grey protective barrier field surrounding the blade pulsed with each movement, its tone shifting subtly upon impact. Each clash against the Servatron¡¯s weapon sent sharp, unsettling vibrations through the room. Each blow rang out, weaving a dissonant pattern of strikes and parries.


    "Impressive, isn¡¯t it?" Caul remarked, his voice low and almost to himself, tracking each strike. "Nelve has trained under my command for some time now and previously with others of the Malocktus family. Her abilities are formidable, despite her... non-noble training. Would you agree?"


    Thar inclined his head. "Her skill is plain to see, Major Legate. The Inquisitor is highly skilled; only a fool would deny that," His response was careful, every word considered before spoken. After a pause, he added cautiously, "Though... she is of noble birth, is she not?" Non-noble training?


    "She is of noble lineage," Caul acknowledged, though this was common knowledge. "Much of her instruction has come from non-noble mentors. The Rellocha family, tied closely to mine, has sought training alongside us for generations."


    "I understand, Major Legate," Thar said, absorbing the information, though his curiosity lingered. "It is a shame," he added after a brief pause. "The Rellocha family has a long history in the Empire. Many houses have faced downturns. Perhaps they will one day regain their status." They are noble in name only.


    "They are a resilient family," Caul replied, his voice steady. And, hopefully, loyal allies. While Caul had no reason to suspect otherwise, he found solace in the Rellocha family¡¯s history. Their goals aligned with his, as did those of his father, Rox. It was an alliance forged over a long history¡ªfaded at times, almost lost, but now as strong as ever.


    "They are highly respected," Thar agreed, his focus returning to the duel between Nelve and the Stryder.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Nelve shifted her stance, intercepting each of the Stryder¡¯s blows with movements so fluid they appeared effortless.


    "Tell me, Primus," Caul continued. "what do you make of her performance? Perhaps you could critique it."


    Thar hesitated briefly before answering. "Her form is adequate, Major Legate, though her footwork could be more refined. She relies too heavily on precision and misses opportunities for strikes."


    "Interesting observations," Caul said, his voice a low rasp, each word drawn out with a faint hiss. "How do you believe you would fare against the Inquisitor, Primus?"


    Thar blinked, amusement flickering briefly across his face before fading. "Major Legate, I do believe it would be of little contest. She is skilled, yes, though¡ª"


    "You use the Klyron form?" Caul interrupted.


    Thar paused, his confidence momentarily shaken. "I do," he replied evenly.


    The Klyron form was a common style, heavily favoring the Kelkor blade¡¯s design. While effective, it rendered combatants less adaptable to other long-blade melee weapons if they relied on it exclusively.


    "Have you ever practiced the Nrva form?" Caul asked.


    Thar momentarily unsure if Caul was serious. "No one uses the Nrva," he said. "That form is ancient¡ªnot designed for energy weapons, Major Legate. It was used by the ancients and forgotten by the modern era," he added, as if instructing Caul.


    Caul¡¯s eyes locked onto Thar.


    Realizing he might have overstepped¡ªor even insulted¡ªthe Major Legate, Thar tensed. To his surprise, a slow smirk spread across Caul¡¯s face.


    "Used by the Immortals," Caul corrected, his tone laced with quiet disdain. "What other forms do you use, Thar? The Alyth? The Lokh?"


    "That¡¯s correct," Thar replied, regaining his composure.


    "Those forms provide a solid foundation," Caul said. "Against humans, for example, they are highly effective. Against other Vorcons with elite training, however, they are often predictable, I find."


    "It¡¯s the fighter as much as the form," Thar countered with mild defensiveness.


    "There is some wisdom in that," Caul acknowledged.


    With a subtle shift in his tone, Caul continued, "Will you practice against the Inquisitor, Primus?" The demand woven into his question was unmistakable. "The Inquisitor has been testing herself against Stryders, but she needs an organic challenge. Perhaps you could teach her something¡ªor, at the very least, vary her training."


    Thar inclined his head, intrigued. "If that is your wish," he said. After a brief pause, he added, "What forms does the Inquisitor use?"


    "The Nrva, among others," Caul replied simply.


    Thar hesitated. The idea of Caul joking struck him as absurd, but for a moment, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder. Caul, however, wasn¡¯t one for idle gestures. His words were careful and deliberate, his humor¡ªwhen it surfaced¡ªcrafted to provoke, to draw reactions, to reveal.


    "Practice with her," Caul ordered.


    Thar glanced at Nelve, who had deactivated the Stryder and now stood silently, observing. She was slightly winded from the extended exchange but held herself tall, her breathing slowing as she regained control.


    Caul gestured for Thar to place his Kelkor blade on the wall and retrieve a practice blade. These blades, coated in protective energy shielding, were designed to prevent serious injury while still delivering the weight and impact of each strike. Though intended for training, a blow with enough force could still inflict significant pain.


    Thar joined Nelve in the center of the training room. They began to circle each other, silent but for the faint scuff of boots on the floor.


    At the sidelines, Caul watched with an unblinking stare, his hands clasped neatly behind him.


    Thar opened with a series of quick strikes, his blade moving fluidly and with strength. His strategy was clear as he advanced, combining quick, deceptive strikes with feints to test the limits of her defenses. Nelve met each strike with a seamless blend of offense and defense, her blade intercepting his. The sharp clash of energy fields echoed through the room.


    Thar pressed harder, his strikes gaining speed and power as he attempted to push her back. Nelve noted the gaps in his movements¡ªa fraction of a second too long between each attack. His training was thorough but rigid, favoring power over adaptability. Though it was clear he had received extensive instruction, his actual combat experience seemed limited.


    Each motion Nelve performed reflected the discipline of years spent honing her skills against opponents whose actions were far from predictable. Nelve¡¯s eyes tracked Thar¡¯s every step, noting his reliance on broad, forceful strikes. She adjusted her stance, waiting for the next predictable arc of his blade. Her footwork was nimble, her blade weaving effortlessly to deflect his increasingly forceful attacks.


    Thar faltered, his strikes growing desperate as Nelve pressed her advantage. Each of her sharp strikes hit its mark, further unraveling his composure.


    She saw the opening and seized it. Pivoting sharply, she slid past his downward strike. With a quick twist of her wrist, her blade darted forward, forcing him to block. The maneuver left him scrambling, his stance faltering.


    Thar staggered slightly but recovered quickly, launching another flurry of strikes. This time, Nelve met him head-on. Their blades collided with a force that sent vibrations up both their arms.


    She was relentless now, her attacks growing more aggressive with each passing moment. Thar tried to counter, but his timing faltered, and Nelve slipped past his guard with a decisive blow. Her practice blade struck his shoulder with a blunt impact, forcing him back. He staggered, his breath hitching as he struggled to regain his balance, realizing that without the protective shielding, she would have slain him with the blow.


    "Again," Caul ordered.


    Thar hesitated for only a fraction of a second before stepping forward to attack. His strikes were swift and aggressive, a textbook display of Klyron form. He moved with renewed vigor, his blade arcing toward Nelve. She anticipated his movement, her blade meeting his mid-swing and deflecting it with a sharp twist of her wrist. Before he could recover, she countered with a decisive strike that sent his weapon clattering to the floor.


    "Again," Caul commanded.


    Thar straightened, steadying his breath as he retrieved his weapon. He refused to let his frustration show, keeping his expression calm, almost amused¡ªbut the calm was forced, and a hint of hidden embarrassment lingered.


    He lunged again, his blade moving with renewed purpose, his attacks fluid and deliberate. But Nelve matched him, her movements measured and unyielding. Within moments, her blade found its mark again, the edge pressing against his side, signaling another defeat.


    The process repeated. Outwardly, Thar maintained his composure, but as the rounds dragged on, Nelve¡¯s relentless precision began to take its toll. Her strikes grew sharper, each one exploiting his mounting mistakes as though she had figured him out, predicting his movements before they occurred.


    Thar¡¯s form wavered, his movements betraying the strain. His swings, once fluid, became rigid under the weight of growing fatigue. Nelve remained calm and focused, her breathing controlled. Her blade moved with purpose, parrying Thar¡¯s increasingly frantic attacks and countering each one.


    Finally, Caul raised a hand, signaling the end.


    Golvosran stood panting, his chest heaving. He gripped the hilt of his practice blade tightly but forced himself to straighten. With a slight lift of his chin, he tried to convey that the defeats were insignificant, though he struggled to mask his frustration.


    Caul¡¯s expression remained unreadable, his thoughts already shifting to matters beyond the training room.


    Nelve, though fatigued, stood tall and composed, her blade deactivated and held loosely at her side. She spared Thar a glance and gave him a nod¡ªa gesture of respect, which he returned.


    Caul approached Thar. "Well done, Primus," he said. Without waiting for a reply, he added, "You are dismissed."


    Thar nodded stiffly. "Major Legate Malocktus." He turned, exchanged the practice weapon for his own, and left the training room.


    Caul took a moment to review the training room¡¯s computer logs, scanning the results from Nelve¡¯s session. After a brief review, he said nothing about them.


    Caul turned to Nelve. "Follow me."


    Nelve nodded sharply. "Yes, Master." Her mind wandered, questioning the meaning behind the exercise. Surely, Caul hadn¡¯t brought the Primus here simply for her to defeat him. There had to be more to this.


    Caul left the training room with Nelve following close behind, the Bruisers¡¯ heavy footsteps echoing in unison through the Rheeavher¡¯s corridors.


    They reached his chambers, where Caul moved to sit behind the desk at the center of the room. He poured himself a glass of dark, thick, almost paste-like wine, cradling it in his hand.


    Inquisitor Nelve Rellocha took a seat across from him.


    "Would you care for some wine, Inquisitor?" Caul offered, his tone uncharacteristically cordial.


    It was a rare gesture, she thought. "No, not at the moment, Major Legate," she replied.


    Caul took a slow sip of the wine, savoring the taste before setting the glass down. "Do you know why Velor was forgotten, Inquisitor?" he asked abruptly, as though continuing a conversation already in progress.


    Nelve had been tasked with reading about Velor¡ªhis deeds, his fate. "His actions were seen as too dangerous for the Empire''s stability," she ventured cautiously. "They feared he would inspire others to follow in his footsteps¡ªto assassinate emperors deemed too weak, to assassinate lords too weak, to remove anyone with power who didn¡¯t serve the Vorcon Empire. Many fought to bury his name, his deeds, to forget him entirely. Velor sacrificed everything¡ªhis power, his name, his very existence¡ªfor the greater good of the Vorcon Empire. Yet he was dismissed, forgotten, as if his sacrifice meant nothing, even though it was selfless."


    Caul nodded softly, his approval evident in the slight narrowing of his eyes. "It goes beyond that," he said, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. "We honor Velor. We carry out his work. He believed all should have access to the gods¡ªthat they belonged to all Vorcons. Long ago, the voices of the gods¡ªthe gods who once spoke freely to anyone¡ªwere silenced."


    Nelve hesitated, uncertainty threading through her words. "Silenced?"


    "The shamans," Caul continued, his tone dropping lower, "don¡¯t speak to the gods. They speak for the gods. They¡¯ve twisted the conduits, hoarding the knowledge for themselves. Once, the gods gave us power and wisdom. Now, we¡¯ve allowed the shamans to decide who is worthy of that connection. Do you see the theft, Inquisitor? The power stolen from us all?"


    "Would we be more powerful if we returned to those ways?" Nelve asked cautiously.


    "If we allowed our Emperor to speak directly to the gods," Caul said. "The strength the Empire would gain would see us reclaim systems¡ªreclaim power we lost long ago. Imagine it, Inquisitor¡ªa leader truly guided by the divine. Further still, imagine a population with access to the gods. They would choose those they deem worthy."


    He paused, letting his words settle like a challenge. "What do you know of the Hyvex Stones?"


    Conduits Velor had once used to speak with the gods, setting him on the path from mortal to god.


    "The Hyvex Stones are... conduits," she began tentatively. "They connect us to the gods, allowing the shamans to interpret their will."


    "Conduits, yes," Caul said, his tone sharp with contempt. "But the shamans control the conduits. You must understand¡ªtrue power isn¡¯t in possessing knowledge. It¡¯s in controlling who can access it. That is the key to ruling, to controlling the populace. Not to say the shamans have any real power," his words dripped with disdain, "but they abuse and steal from us with what they withhold. They should be held accountable. They should be removed."


    He leaned back, cradling his glass and taking a sip of wine. "Even then, only certain shamans are permitted to handle or interact with the Hyvex Stones. Our gods have been reduced to mere ceremony. And our ancient weapons of great power? They are displayed, not wielded. Our potential lies just beyond reach, buried under layers of restraint."


    Nelve nodded as she absorbed his words. The fervor in Caul¡¯s voice made her question the path ahead.


    Caul¡¯s voice turned colder, sharper, his restrained anger threading through each word. "The name of Velor echoes throughout the Empire, though few grasp its truth. His deeds transcended mortality, elevating him to godhood. Velor isn¡¯t merely remembered¡ªhe is revered by those who understand his sacrifice. That is why the Brotherhood continues his work. One day, we will find the conduit to speak with him¡ªand with the gods themselves."


    He leaned forward. "The Brotherhood of Velor understands this. We¡¯ve seen the Empire¡¯s history twisted, the truth buried under deceit. But we will restore Velor to his rightful place. His power is not gone¡ªmerely suppressed. And when the time comes, I will speak to the gods myself. I will stand before them, and They will acknowledge my presence, as they must. They will look me in the eyes."


    A shiver ran down Nelve¡¯s spine. There was a conviction in Caul that bordered on the unsettling, a forceful certainty. He spoke of the gods and ancient legends as if they were undeniable truths, his belief unshakable. Her own faith, though strong, felt fragile in comparison¡ªthis was something else entirely. He¡¯s a true believer.


    In that moment, she understood how dangerous he truly was. His belief was so absolute, it made the gods themselves feel less distant, as though he might summon them through willpower alone. His ambition knew no bounds, and he would likely stop at nothing to achieve it.


    Caul¡¯s gaze fixed on her, as if reading her thoughts, as though they were written on her face. "Do you doubt the gods, Inquisitor? Do you think your fate is your own?"


    Her response was slow. "I believe in the gods, Major Legate. Though I have never spoken to them, and they have never spoken to me. Though I do believe my fate is in their hands."


    "They are the forces that guide us, and sometimes, they demand sacrifices we might not be prepared to make. We must listen to them, even when they don¡¯t speak." His voice dropped, the words almost a whisper, drawn out with a long hiss. "You will learn, Inquisitor, to trust this."


    The Transceiver uplink on Caul¡¯s desk emitted a tone. He pressed a button, and the voice of Commodore Gahlenka filled the room.


    "Major Legate," Gahlenka said, "I have located a target, as you requested."


    Caul let out a faint snicker. "Commodore. Begin preparations," he replied, ending the transmission without further acknowledgment.


    Turning back to Nelve, he commanded, "Prepare your fighter craft."


    Nelve stood before the words could fully register, adrenaline surging through her veins. "Yes, Major Legate."


    She paused for a moment, her mind racing, before leaving the room and heading toward the hangar. What is this all about?

 Chapter 24

    Chapter 24


    GVIF Rheeavher


    Ceryorka System, Cavaglatar Sector


    Date: Zeran 23, Year 4731


    The Rheeavher crept forward, its prow cutting through starlight. Jagged protrusions marked its long slender midsection, while its engines flared pale blue-white at the rear.


    Ahead lay Fernes, a muted sphere of green and gray surrounded by an asteroid field. Its lone moon hovered nearby, its surface streaked with murky shades of deep blue. Nestled in the precarious Ceryorka System, Fernes belonged to the Elycron species¡¯ territory, though it remained an undeveloped world. The Elycron homeworld lay elsewhere within the star system. Pirates and raiders roamed unchecked, exploiting the absence of order. Only a handful of worlds offered even a semblance of security, making unprotected travel a perilous gamble.


    Major Legate Caul Malocktus stepped onto the bridge, his Bruiser bodyguards taking position by the arched entrance, stationed near the supporting pillars. Elsewhere on the bridge, armed soldiers stood stiffly, holding their positions¡ªarmored and with weapons gripped firmly.


    Above, the vaulted ceiling bore etched depictions of Vorcon gods.


    Caul¡¯s cloak swept across the floor, his mere presence tightening and silencing any unnecessary motion or sound. The crew¡¯s eyes locked on their stations, movements mechanical, as though a glance might summon his ire. The sound of Caul¡¯s slow, rasping breaths was the only disturbance as he approached the ship¡¯s second-in-command.


    ¡°Commodore Gahlenka,¡± Caul rasped, his voice dragging over the name as though savoring each syllable. ¡°State the situation.¡±


    Commodore Gahlenka kept his focus forward, suppressing the frustration that threatened to crack his calm. He held it for a second before shifting his full attention to Caul. Rados Gahlenka felt things always went smoother when the Major Legate stayed confined to his chambers or roamed the ship¡¯s halls in search of other distractions. On any other vessel, Gahlenka would have commanded outright with his rank of Commodore. Here, aboard the Rheeavher, his authority was diminished¡ªa commander in name, yet forever under the force of Caul¡¯s authority.


    ¡°Major Legate, we are in position. The outpost is within range,¡± Gahlenka said. Pointless distractions, Gahlenka thought bitterly, his eyes briefly flicking to the elevated command chair at the center of the bridge. First Chiex, now this. Why involve the Grand Vorcon Imperial Force?


    The Commodore occupied a secondary command seat, less prominent and overshadowed by the Major Legate¡¯s throne-like chair.


    Behind them, the tactical map table displayed the Rheeavher¡¯s position relative to Fernes and the concealed pirate base, its display adjusting constantly with incoming data.


    Caul studied the tactical readouts from the monitors above the table, which provided additional data. From what he could gather, the outpost had been fortified enough to repel minor skirmishes and local forces.


    But a Vorcon assault was another matter entirely. It was unlikely these pirates had anticipated such a strike. Why would they? Their presence held no strategic value, no real threat to the Vorcon Empire. They existed merely as a convenience, a stop along the way¡ªan opportunity for annihilation that Caul Malocktus deemed necessary to impart a greater lesson.


    ¡°Commodore Gahlenka.¡± Caul¡¯s voice lingered on the name. ¡°The source of this intel?¡±


    The Commodore straightened with effort, rising from his chair to move closer to Caul. As he braced himself against the console, pain flared in his joints and back, sharper than usual. He refused to let it dictate his posture. Despite his efforts, the strain was etched on his face. Fighting the urge to hunch or wince, he held himself with as much composure as he could muster.


    ¡°Reports from scout ships, cross-referenced with GVIF intel,¡± Gahlenka replied. ¡°The intel is current, Major Legate Malocktus.¡±


    The Vorcons, while focused on rebuilding over the last decade, had maintained an expansive network of scout ships throughout the galaxy. Supplemented by data from syndicates and informants, their intelligence remained accurate and reliable.


    Caul nodded slowly, accepting the report. He understood the effort it had taken Gahlenka to sift through the data and identify this target¡ªone far removed from the high-priority targets the GVIF typically concerned themselves with. Though he didn¡¯t voice it, the Commodore¡¯s diligence and efforts satisfied him. With Caul, silence often carried the weight of praise.


    Reaching for the transceiver clipped to his belt, Caul activated the device. ¡°Inquisitor,¡± he called, his voice a cold whisper.


    ¡°Yesssss, Major Legate,¡± came the reply, expectant. Nelve Rellocha¡¯s voice carried through the channel, her tone serpentine.


    ¡°Inquisitor Rellocha,¡± Caul said. ¡°A target has been identified. Take command of three wings of Standard Fighters. Leave nothing behind.¡±


    ¡°As you command, Major Legate,¡± Nelve responded immediately.


    Ending the communication, Caul allowed himself a faint smirk. Nelve was holding on¡ªfor now. Her performance intrigued him, but the trial ahead would reveal her true worth. Her melee combat showed exceptional promise, though she fell short of the best warriors Caul had encountered.


    Failure was a tool. The death of an agent, if the task demanded it, was acceptable¡ªas long as the mission succeeded.


    It was a lesson Nelve had yet to fully grasp¡ªa truth he would ensure she learned. She needed to believe in the cause, not merely obey it, to become truly effective.


    Acceptance over anger. Anger over fear. Fear instilled in others.


    The future held many possibilities. Caul knew his wasn¡¯t the only ambition lurking in the Empire. Others schemed, hungry for power, each with their own aspirations and visions. He would have to remain vigilant, patient, and ready to adapt, aware that even his meticulous plans could only account for so much. Presuming himself infallible would be the arrogance of a fool¡ªa mistake Caul refused to make.


    Over the years, he had trained many, each with a specific purpose, though not all had proven worthy. Some failed to meet his expectations; others had betrayed his trust. Loyalty¡ªunquestioning, unbreakable loyalty¡ªwas what he demanded above all else. And it remained the rarest trait of all. Many could be loyal, but only to a point.


    ***


    Inside the main hangar bay of the Rheeavher, Inquisitor Nelve Rellocha sat in the cockpit of her Predator-class fighter, a heavily armed and armored assault craft. The bay was lined with dozens of ships, their pilots seated and preparing for launch. Maintenance crews, having completed their checks, stepped aside as the final preparations were completed.


    The Transceiver Uplink Array Console illuminated as Nelve activated it.


    ¡°Wing leaders, report in,¡± she commanded, her voice carrying a rasp and faint hiss.


    ¡°Tarnoveth wing ready,¡± the commander¡¯s voice low and slithering.


    ¡°Kyronthis wing ready,¡± echoed the second commander.


    ¡°Drekaroth wing ready,¡± added the third, his voice rasping, rough and broken.


    One by one, the leaders of the three Predator-class fighter wings confirmed their readiness. Each wing comprised five ships, with Nelve¡¯s own craft bringing the total to sixteen. She would lead all three wings into battle.


    He won¡¯t break me. I¡¯ll die first if I have to. The thought tightened in her mind. Maybe that¡¯s exactly what he wants. A cold realization followed: the trials ahead would demand strength she could scarcely comprehend.


    That morning, Nelve had trained extensively with the Stryder Servatron before facing Primus Thar Golvosran. Caul¡¯s faint smirk during her matches with Thar lingered in her memory. Despite winning several rounds, the experience had left her drained after an already grueling training session earlier. The exhaustion lingered, her only reprieve a brief moment in Caul¡¯s office before taking her seat in the cockpit of her fighter craft.


    Normally, at this time of day, she would unwind, meditate, and refocus before studying the texts Caul had given her. Whatever Caul had planned, was a test of some sort, this much she felt was certain.


    The Brotherhood of Velor, steeped in the legend of Velor¡¯s sacrifice, was forgotten by most¡ªdismissed as myth or ignored, as though acknowledgment might grant it power. Yet there were those who feared it, who knew it to be real and dangerous. For them, the name Velor provoked dread, hanging over those with much to lose.


    It struck her with sudden clarity: a part of her had died the day she was assigned to the Rheeavher, placed fully under Caul Malocktus¡¯s command. Was my fate ever truly mine? Many believed the gods controlled every Vorcon¡¯s destiny, but she was beginning to feel as though only one held sway over hers.


    The more time she spent in his orbit, the clearer his nature became. Caul¡¯s depths were far greater than she could fully fathom; he revealed only what he wanted others to see.


    At Caul¡¯s age and birth status, commanding an armada was considered unjust, unfit, and unearned. Whispers about Caul Malocktus abounded¡ªrumors, theories, and infamy. Yet when the next war began, Caul Malocktus would command a sizeable armada, with the Rheeavher serving as its flagship and Major Legate Malocktus at its helm.


    Yet, to Nelve, one truth was certain: this power was not enough for him. What would be enough? She wondered. At what point would his ambition be satisfied? The Malocktus family had earned themselves quite a reputation, their house well known and recognized. In recent years, they had become more influential than some noble houses of the Vorcon Empire. But even that seemed insufficient for Caul. What was enough?


    ¡°Launch now,¡± she ordered.


    The wing leaders relayed her command.


    The Predator-class fighters lifted off in unison, sixteen in total. Thrusters ignited, propelling the ships upward and forward. The hangar doors slid open, revealing the energy barrier beyond. One by one, the fighters passed through, their hulls briefly enveloped by the energy field before emerging into the expanse of space.


    The wings formed up behind Nelve as they pulled away from the Rheeavher. Each wing of five craft moved in tight formation, with Nelve¡¯s fighter at the head, commanding the entire strike force. The Rheeavher¡¯s imposing form diminished behind them as the fighters gained distance, engines firing pale blue-white exhaust. Nelve led the wings onward, their trajectory locked on the asteroid belt. The pirate outpost, hidden within the debris, registered as a marker on her Ra-Dar.


    As they approached the planet, the asteroid field started sparsely but grew denser as they ventured deeper, the gaps between debris narrowing. The Predator-class fighters wove through the maze of rock and ice, holding their formation. Nelve¡¯s Ra-Dar pinged¡ªa cluster of ships and defense turrets hidden within the field. Signals on her screen confirmed the proximity of other craft. The pirate outpost was near.


    The pirates had clearly detected the Vorcon presence before arrival. Stealth, however, had never been the intention.


    Resistance came swiftly. Pirate fighter craft¡ªa disorganized mix of models¡ªlaunched from hidden positions among the asteroids. Some darted nimbly between rocks, while others lumbered forward, their heavy weapons compensating for a lack of speed. Most were single-pilot vessels, though a few carried additional crew to man rear-facing or side turrets.


    Nelve assessed the unfolding situation.


    ¡°Open fire,¡± she commanded.


    Dark blue energy streaked across the battlefield, threaded with violet arcs. The pirate ships retaliated with erratic blasts of orange, acidic green, and pale yellow, their shots scattering uneven ripples.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    The Predator-class ships responded in synchronized volleys, their disciplined assault overwhelming the pirates¡¯ scattered defenses. Nelve counted over twenty enemy ships on her Ra-Dar as additional turret platforms, built into asteroids with stabilizing thrusters, poured fire from multiple directions.


    ¡°Tarnoveth Wing, focus on the defense platforms! Kyronthis Wing, engage the heavier ships¡ªtarget their engines!¡± Nelve ordered. ¡°Drekaroth Wing, stay with me. Target and eliminate.¡±


    The Predator-class wings advanced, taking up their assigned roles.


    Nelve led her wing deeper into the asteroid field, weaving deftly between tumbling rocks and streaks of enemy fire. The pirate formation disintegrated under the precise Vorcon strikes. Shields absorbed the brunt of the pirates¡¯ scattered attacks, while superior firepower tore through their disorganized ranks. The pirates¡¯ mix of light and heavy weapons proved useless against the Predator-class fighters¡¯ coordinated strikes and advanced shields.


    Two pirate ships broke formation, veering between asteroids in their frantic attempt to flee. Nelve¡¯s wing responded instantly. A coordinated missile volley from Drekaroth Wing slammed into the first ship. Its shields flared briefly before collapsing, and the vessel exploded in a violent eruption of flame and debris. The second ship, attempting to retreat, fell to Nelve¡¯s direct assault. Her energy barrage struck its engines, leaving them sputtering and lifeless. The ship swerved uncontrollably into a nearby asteroid, detonating on impact.


    The pirates unleashed a desperate barrage, their weapons firing without pause, but the Predator-class fighters absorbed the onslaught. Each impact rippled across the shield barriers, scattering bursts of energy into the surrounding field. Minimal damage registered on the Vorcon ships, their design built for prolonged skirmishes.


    Outmatched, the pirates retreated deeper into the asteroid field, relying on its jagged terrain for cover and adopting hit-and-run tactics. They darted erratically, leveraging the debris for fleeting moments of reprieve.


    Nelve¡¯s confidence held firm. Their numbers mean nothing.


    The battle approached the pirate base¡ªa mining outpost built into a large asteroid. Stabilizing thrusters held the structure in place, though it offered no offensive capabilities.


    A single pirate fighter, larger and better equipped than the others, broke through their formation. Heavy cannons fired from its forward hull, while a rear-facing turret unleashed suppressive fire. The barrage caused significant damage to several Vorcon craft before Nelve¡¯s wing split to intercept.


    One fighter drew the pirate craft¡¯s fire, maneuvering to keep its attention, while the rest flanked it from both sides.


    Timing her assault perfectly, Nelve unleashed a concentrated barrage, targeting the pirate ship¡¯s engines. A missile found its target, jolting the vessel violently. Systems failed, and a final explosion tore the hull apart.


    ***


    Caul Malocktus stood on the bridge of the Rheeavher, gazing out the observation window. Beyond the thick glass, streaks of energy lit the distance as the battle continued, flashes punctuating the darkness.


    For now, he kept the war galleon out of range. He wanted the pirates to believe they had a chance¡ªto push back with every ounce of desperation. If I move the Rheeavher in closer, they¡¯ll scatter. This needs to be a... battle.


    Only in adversity could Nelve¡¯s worth be revealed. Velor¡¯s teachings surfaced in Caul¡¯s mind: True strength emerges only when forged in suffering. To cast off the chains of mortality, one must embrace the shadow of death. Only then can one grasp the essence of life itself¡ªa life that extends beyond the realm we understand.


    ¡°Should I begin moving the Rheeavher closer, Major Legate?¡± Gahlenka asked, breaking the quiet. His tone carried a hint of caution, though the suggestion seemed practical enough. Why risk losing fighters unnecessarily? Even this rubble could get lucky enough to inflict damage.


    Caul turned slowly, his rasping voice calm, almost conversational. ¡°Commodore, maintain our position. No interference unless I request otherwise.¡±


    The calm tone left no room for debate.


    Commodore Gahlenka nodded, though the order sat uneasily with him. Caul¡¯s demeanor was more unsettling than the instruction itself. The pirates were insignificant, after all. Yet withholding the Rheeavher¡¯s might made no tactical sense. For once, could he tell me what his plan is? Gahlenka thought, swallowing his frustration.


    The battle unfolded just as expected: the pirates were being torn apart in a systematic assault. Nelve¡¯s leadership was evident, though it was not a leader he required.


    Through the observation window, Caul watched faint trails of light breaking the darkness within the asteroid field surrounding Fernes. A smirk stretched across his pale features, his bone-white skin exuding an icy coldness.


    ***


    The Vorcon wings maintained their formation, but unexpected pirate reinforcements briefly pushed them to the brink. Nelve pushed her Predator-class fighter to its limits, executing evasive rolls, feigned retreats, and sudden reversals. Yet the pirates pressed their advantage. Several defense platforms had been destroyed, but others continued firing, their barrages.


    Her fighter shuddered as a golden bolt struck, her shields flaring before absorbing most of the impact. Warning lights flickered across her console, and sparks shot from the control panel as system integrity faltered.


    ¡°Shields at fifty percent,¡± the computer droned in its unfeeling monotone.


    Nelve growled in frustration, gripping the controls tighter. She surged forward.


    The pirates fought with mounting desperation, relying on their dwindling numbers in a vain attempt to gain the upper hand. Their ships darted in and out of the asteroid field, using the terrain for cover and pushing their engines to dangerous extremes. One smaller fighter, unable to correct its trajectory in time, collided with an asteroid and erupted in a fiery burst.


    Her wing tightened its formation, weaving through the asteroid field as platforms rained fire around them. Their precision strikes hit hard, cutting through the pirates and igniting a surge of confidence within her. They sliced through the pirate lines, and the reinforcements that had briefly shifted the balance fell one by one, restoring the advantage her forces held before the pirates'' counterattack.


    Victory seemed imminent¡ªuntil Caul¡¯s voice cut through the Transceiver uplink.


    ¡°Inquisitor Rellocha,¡± he hissed. ¡°Order Tarnoveth Wing and Kyronthis Wing to retreat. Immediately.¡±


    Nelve froze, her mind racing. Retreat? Now? The pirates are scattering, their defenses collapsing. She only needed time to complete her objective.


    ¡°Major Legate?¡± she managed, keeping her voice steady despite the confusion.


    ¡°Now, Inquisitor,¡± Caul ordered, his hiss slicing through the channel. He offered no explanation.


    Nelve hesitated, her thoughts spinning, doubt and anger warring within her. Is this what he intended all along?


    ¡°Tarnoveth Wing and Kyronthis Wing, fall back to the Rheeavher. Now,¡± she commanded, her voice firm, even as doubt stirred within her.


    The squad leaders relayed her orders, though traces of confusion were evident. The retreating wings peeled away from the battle, their ten Predator-class fighters regrouping as they headed toward the Rheeavher. The pirates, recognizing their intent to withdraw, refrained from pursuit.


    This left Nelve and the five fighters of Drekaroth Wing suddenly outnumbered. The pirate ships, sensing the shift, turned their focus on Nelve¡¯s squad. Their attacks were swift and brutal, emboldened by newfound confidence.


    ¡°Stay close! Use the asteroids for cover!¡± Nelve spoke into the uplink, her voice cutting through.


    The balance had tipped, and her wing was now on the defensive. Outnumbered and under siege, they fought to hold their ground.


    The pirates¡¯ destruction had felt inevitable moments ago, yet now survival had become her sole focus.


    Nelve dodged another blast. If I¡¯m to become an effective agent of the Brotherhood of Velor, I must embrace the possibility of death. This is the Brotherhood¡¯s way.


    Her wing darted behind asteroids, evading the pirates¡¯. The battle devolved into a struggle for survival. Nelve¡¯s remaining fighters tightened their formation, weaving through the asteroid field in a desperate attempt to evade the pirate ships and the defense turrets embedded within the rocks. The pirates pressed their advantage.


    The pirates concentrated their fire, attempting to overwhelm the Predator-class fighters¡¯ shields. The Ra-Dar flashed with proximity alerts. Other screens showed shield levels dropping across the board.


    ¡°Keep moving! Our shields will hold!¡± Nelve commanded. Yet the truth on her display was undeniable¡ªher wing teetered on the brink. The relentless attacks intensified as the pirates sensed the Vorcon shields weakening. There were too many ships, too much incoming fire to hold for long.


    Nelve¡¯s focus locked onto a narrow opening between two massive asteroids. Streaks of dark blue energy threaded with crackling violet arcs sliced through the space around her. The two massive rocks ahead teetered on the brink of collision.


    ¡°Follow!¡± she commanded.


    Her fighters darted into the narrow corridor just as the asteroids behind them collided, scattering debris. Some pirate ships peeled away, while others pushed forward, determined to continue the chase. Emerging on the far side, Nelve tightened their formation, bracing for the counterattack.


    Nelve¡¯s squad executed sharp turns and unleashed a sudden, coordinated barrage. The pirates, caught off guard, were trapped in a devastating crossfire of energy weapons and missile fire. Ships that had moments ago seemed overwhelming threats now burst apart in fiery explosions.


    The victory was short-lived. While the pirates had suffered heavy losses, their sheer numbers began to overwhelm Nelve¡¯s battered and outnumbered wing. Each strike pushed her squad closer to its limit. Their shields, nearly depleted, couldn¡¯t withstand the sustained assault. There was too much incoming fire to evade it all, their shields only capable of absorbing so much.


    ¡°Hold formation and push forward!¡± Nelve ordered, leading her squad behind a larger asteroid for cover as the pirates closed in. Just as they regrouped, a separate group of enemy fighters intercepted them, leaving the Vorcon craft caught in the middle, surrounded by pirate ships on both ends.


    Nelve¡¯s fighter shuddered violently as a missile struck. The blast rocked her ship, and warning lights flared across her console. Though the physical damage to the hull was minimal, the missile had been designed to disrupt systems.


    Alarms blared as her control systems grew sluggish and unresponsive.


    ¡°Critical systems failing,¡± the computer droned.


    Smoke stung her eyes, curling from the damaged panels as sparks erupted. Nelve steadied her breath, forcing herself to focus against the chaos. A quick glance at her display confirmed the reality¡ªher ship was crippled. Systems were failing one after another, and the pirates pressed their relentless attack. It was only a matter of time before her fighter was destroyed and her with it.


    Out of the corner of her eye, Nelve caught sight of another of her fighters struck by enemy fire. The ship spun aimlessly, adrift, before a final barrage tore through its hull, obliterating it in a fiery explosion.


    I will not give up. Her thoughts churned as her fighter drifted, vulnerable and exposed.


    Communications were down, isolating her completely.


    The teachings of Velor came to her. His sacrifice¡ªthe ultimate martyrdom for the Vorcon Empire¡ªhad become the foundation of the Brotherhood of Velor. He had faced death willingly, knowing it served a higher purpose. But there¡¯s nothing noble in this. My death here would be forgotten. It would mean nothing.


    Her hands tightened on the unresponsive controls. Am I nothing more than a sacrifice?


    Her fighter drifted, powerless, one strike away from destruction. Just as the killing blow seemed inevitable, a burst of energy cut through¡ªraw and unrefined, yet unmistakably Vorcon. More followed in rapid succession. Reinforcements surged into the field of battle, energy weapons blazing and missiles streaking.


    The two retreating wings had returned, now bolstered with additional fighters, their firepower overwhelming. The Vorcon ships ripped through the pirate fleet, shredding their ranks and breaking their formations. Fighter craft and the station¡¯s weapon platforms were obliterated, the tide of battle turning decisively in the Vorcons¡¯ favor.


    Nelve sat motionless in her seat, watching as the reinforcements obliterated the last of the pirates. The enemy ranks, caught off guard, crumbled under the assault. Ships disintegrated, debris scattering across the asteroid field. Little remained of their mismatched hulls.


    It was over in moments.


    Tilting her head, Nelve caught sight of a retrieval craft approaching¡ªa wide, stubby vessel built specifically to haul damaged fighters back for repairs. For a brief moment, she felt relief at the sight, But the anger and frustration returned, stronger than before. My rescue shouldn¡¯t be necessary.


    The retrieval craft extended a retractable arm, clamping onto her damaged fighter. The jolt shook Nelve within the cockpit, further fueling her irritation. Slowly, the retrieval craft began towing the crippled fighter back toward the Rheeavher, navigating carefully through the asteroid field.


    Approaching the Rheeavher, Nelve¡¯s fighter was pulled through the protective energy barrier that separated the hangar bay from the vacuum of space. As the craft settled into the docking bay, aided by the retrieval craft, it touched down hard.


    She unstrapped herself from the pilot¡¯s seat and shoved the cockpit open. Stumbling out, Nelve¡¯s legs trembled, but she quickly adjusted and masked her face with calm.


    A medical Servatron approached, scanning her while a Vorcon medical officer observed. After completing its scan, the Servatron turned to the officer and intoned mechanically, ¡°No injuries.¡±


    The medical officer glanced at Nelve. ¡°Any concerns, Inquisitor?¡±


    She shook her head numbly, barely registering his words. Satisfied, the officer moved on, the Servatron following to assess another pilot.


    The blare of crews surrounded her, other craft landing within the bay. Maintenance teams and pilots discussed their ships¡ªmost of which had returned undamaged.


    Nelve pulled out her transceiver. ¡°Major Legate Malocktus,¡± she said.


    A voice answered¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t Caul¡¯s. It was one of the ship¡¯s officers.


    ¡°Inquisitor Rellocha, the Major Legate is currently unavailable,¡± the officer said.


    ¡°Unavailable?¡± Nelve repeated, her tone sharp. ¡°Where is he?¡±


    ¡°The Major Legate is headed to the pirate base,¡± the officer replied.


    Why would he go there? Her gaze drifted to her battered fighter, its hull scorched and dented, trying to make sense of it.

 Chapter 25

    Chapter 25


    GVIF Rheeavher


    Ceryorka System, Cavaglatar Sector


    Date: Zeran 23, Year 4731


    Major Legate Caul Malocktus sat at the helm of the Breacher, a compact and agile craft built for a singular purpose: infiltration at critical points with small attack squads.


    Two wings of Predator-class fighters escorted the Breacher, providing cover.


    The hull shuddered as Caul steered sharply through the narrow, shifting passages of the asteroid field. Among them, shattered hulls from destroyed ships and debris from defense platforms drifted aimlessly.


    The battle, if it could even be called that, had ended swiftly. The pirate force lay in ruins, their fighters and defenses obliterated.


    Caul found it almost amusing that anyone might mistake the pirates'' annihilation for justice, though many would consider it just that.


    He maneuvered the Breacher beneath an asteroid, gliding under its uneven surface. Ahead, the pirate base emerged¡ªa solid structure carved into the largest asteroid within the field. Its thrusters sputtered, barely holding the facility in position.


    Once a thriving mining outpost extracting minerals from the surrounding field, it had long since ceased serving that function. Over the years, the abandoned facility had been repurposed by a group of pirates, serving as a staging ground for raids and attacks across the Ceryorka System.


    Gas plumes escaped from cracks on the asteroid¡¯s surface. Dormant drone bays sat idle, and claw-like arms protruded out, seized up from years of disuse.


    The Predator-class fighters spread out and opened fire, unleashing dark blue lances of energy at the base. Each blast struck the facility¡¯s shields, sending crackling violet arcs surging across the barrier. With every impact, the shield wavered.


    Inside, the remaining pirate forces were cut off and surrounded. Their leader rallied the last of his crew, preparing for a desperate final stand.


    Another volley from the fighters rocked the shields, sending waves of distortion across their surface. The energy matrix faltered, and a flash erupted as the shield buckled and collapsed beneath the concentrated firepower.


    ¡°Shields are down, Major Legate,¡± Commodore Gahlenka¡¯s dry, rasping voice came over the uplink transceiver.


    ¡°I¡¯m boarding the station, Commodore Gahlenka. Stand by and maintain position,¡± Caul replied, drawing out Gahlenka¡¯s name.


    The Breacher adjusted its angle, veering toward a section of the base protruding from the asteroid. Caul cut the engines and used the thrusters to align the vessel with the structure before initiating the docking sequence.


    Four mechanical arms extended several feet from the ship¡¯s hatch, their magnetized tips locking onto the base¡¯s exterior before drilling into it. Vibrations rippled through the craft¡¯s cabin as the connection secured, anchoring the Breacher firmly in place.


    A section of the Breacher extended outward, encasing the area and forming a pressurized, sealed connection between the ship and the base.


    Caul rose from the single-occupant cockpit, his dark gray cloak sweeping over his light armor, black and trimmed in silver, as he strode toward the hatch. Behind him, the Bruisers stood, their towering and bulky frames dominating the confined rear section of the ship.


    These Vorcon subspecies, known as Bruisers, lacked the ability to speak the fully articulated language of their kin. Despite this limitation, they understood the common Vorcon tongue perfectly, though they could not replicate its sounds. Instead, the Bruisers communicated through guttural grunts¡ªsharp, clipped exchanges in a dialect unique to their kind, varying subtly depending on their origins.


    Beyond the craft¡¯s hatch, now firmly connected to the base¡¯s hull, the automatic cutting mechanism engaged. A shrill whine filled the cabin as precision lasers carved through the base¡¯s exterior.


    Moments later, the whine ceased. The Breacher¡¯s hatch clattered as it retracted into the ship¡¯s deck.


    The breach revealed itself¡ªa notched square with molten edges radiating heat. Circuits sparked, and exposed wiring dangled from the opening.


    Caul stepped through, his red-centered eyes narrowing as he surveyed the dark interior. Entering a corridor, he was greeted by flickering, intermittent lights throughout.


    Activating his Nethros Guard, its barrier field rippled faintly around him.


    He pressed on, venturing deeper into the base.


    Behind him, the two Bruisers followed, unsheathing their Plasmord Swords. The weapons came to life with a low, throbbing tone as the Bruisers activated their own Nethros Guards.


    As they continued, the hallway stretched into shadow, its far end obscured. Crates lined the passage, tangled wires and loose parts strewn across the floor. Broken doors sagged in their frames, with lights fluttering overhead. A half-open elevator shaft gaped, its platform suspended between floors.


    Caul advanced unhurried. The Bruisers followed, their heavy footfalls thudding through the corridor. Low, muffled breaths escaped from beneath their helmets, their rifles slung over their broad shoulders.


    From his belt, Caul retrieved his navigation node¡ªa small, handheld device designed to scan interior layouts. Crude but effective, it displayed a rough map of the structure. He studied the display, focusing on the paths ahead. External scans performed upon his arrival had confirmed this as the base¡¯s main command operations level, though the installation spanned multiple tiers. The device¡¯s limited resolution offered only a general idea of the layout.


    Caul selected his route. His right hand hovered near the hilt of his KelKor blade. His Dissolver Pistol rested holstered on his left hip, while his Katarath Dagger, strapped horizontally across his lower back, remained hidden beneath his cloak.


    He proceeded down the corridor, navigating several turns. Locked doors, defunct equipment, and scattered obstacles blocked his path, which the Bruisers cleared.


    At the corridor¡¯s end, the path split into two. Caul paused, consulting his navigation node again, recalculating his route.


    ¡°Hold this position,¡± he ordered.


    The Bruisers grunted in acknowledgment, stepping into defensive stances.


    Caul continued alone.


    As he moved further down the corridor, the lights steadied, but the air thickened. Something is near.


    The atmosphere shifted abruptly. Panels snapped open in the floor, and turrets swiveled toward him.


    A high-pitched Oscillation filled the corridor as the turrets charged, rising steadily in intensity.


    Caul activated his Quarthen Brace, projecting a barrier taller than himself and wide enough to shield his entire forward frame with his forearm. Energy blasts struck the barrier in rapid succession, each impact rippling across its surface.


    The Quarthen Brace pulsed, its energy reserves draining under the focused assault. Proceeding, Caul drew his KelKor blade and ignited it. An energy field enveloped the blade, crackling with an unsettling frequency that grated on the senses. The Varokh horn pommel pressed firmly into his palm as he adjusted his grip.


    The nearest turret adjusted its aim as Caul moved. Pivoting sharply, he dodged the incoming blasts before lunging forward. His KelKor blade descended in a decisive arc, the forward energy barrier shielding him as he struck. The plasma edge sliced cleanly through the turret¡¯s barrel, leaving a faint trail of smoke.


    One by one, the turrets collapsed, each strike reducing the mechanisms to smoldering ruins. A stray shot occasionally slipped past the Quarthen Brace, but his Nethros Guard barrier field absorbed the hits, shielding him from harm.


    As the final turret fired, Caul¡¯s shield absorbed the barrage. He advanced and, with a single strike, destroyed it.


    The final blast drained the Quarthen Brace, leaving it inert as it began its recharge cycle. His full-body Nethros Guard had also absorbed more damage than expected, intercepting stray shots that had bypassed the forward shield. Though it still retained power, Caul powered it down, initiating the automatic recharge process for both systems, opting to fully restore them.


    With both barriers inactive, Caul pressed forward.


    Continuing down the corridor, he approached a heavy door marred by faint scorch marks. Scanning it with his node, the display identified it as the command center entrance.


    Caul pressed the controls to the door, but the mechanism remained unresponsive. He leaned in, inspecting the panel briefly before retrieving his transceiver.


    ¡°Shanal zha¡¯kral!¡± he commanded.


    Moments later, the heavy footfalls of the Bruisers echoed down the corridor. They arrived swiftly, awaiting Caul¡¯s next order.


    Caul thrust his KelKor blade deep into the control panel. Sparks erupted, deactivating the controls. He pointed the blade¡¯s edge toward three key points along the door¡¯s seam where the locking mechanisms were housed.


    ¡°Valan nar!¡± Caul commanded, directing the Bruisers.


    One of the Bruisers deactivated and sheathed his Plasmord Sword before retrieving a pouch from his belt. Pulling out bars of adhesive material, he pounded them firmly into the indicated points along the door¡¯s seam.


    With the adhesive in place, Caul ignited each bar with a quick touch of his KelKor blade¡¯s tip. The blade¡¯s energy activated the material, which heated before erupting in controlled bursts seconds later, weakening the locks.


    The Bruisers unclipped circular silver pads with handles from their belts. Magnetizing the pads to opposite sides of the door, they gripped the handles firmly and pulled in opposite directions. With a sharp screech of bending steel, the door groaned open, revealing the chamber beyond.


    Caul stepped inside.


    The command center was a circular space, its walls lined with consoles and connected to adjoining rooms. Patches of asteroid rock made up some sections of the walls.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    A sudden roar erupted as pirates poured into the chamber from all sides, emerging from various rooms with weapons drawn. Caul quickly counted seventeen¡ªa mixed group of alien species, they took positions around the room, their focus locked on him.


    Among them were the Elycron, beings with tarnished bronze skin. Ember-like orange eyes burned within hollowed cheeks as they brandished Null Blades¡ªlong, narrow, curved weapons designed to disrupt energy fields.


    The Lycoris were slender and sinewy, their ashen skin marred by deep, craggy scars. They carried Coil Rifles, the weapons faintly crackling with energy and emitting a low static, ready to discharge.


    The Nythari, compact and muscular, had rugged, stone-textured skin. Their armor bore carved insignias from a force they had once served¡ªand later abandoned. Some wielded Sion Shibra Scythes, volatile arcs of energy simmering with heat along the blades¡¯ edges. Others carried Burst Disposer Rifles, mid-range energy weapons designed for precise, controlled bursts.


    Drevanth figures advanced with weathered stone skin. They wielded Entropy Cannons, bulky two-handed weapons that were clumsy yet destructive.


    The Thalyss, their light yellow skin marked by thick, bioluminescent veins glowing beneath the surface, gripped Breach Axes.


    At the front stood their leader, his helmet visor emitting a narrow, bright light. His powered combat suit groaned audibly with each step, giving no indication of who was inside. Its bulk emphasized raw strength over agility. In his hands, he carried an Overcharge revolver¡ªa slow-firing energy weapon that fired in bursts¡ªand a Cleaver, a melee weapon most effective when wielded with the strength the suit provided.


    The pirates spread out, their weapons fixed on Caul. Through the helmet of his combat suit, the leader barked orders, his voice crisp yet distorted.


    ¡°Surround him!¡± the leader yelled, his command filling the room.


    ¡°Where are the rest of them?¡± another called out.


    They moved to further encircle Caul.


    Caul¡¯s primary Nethros Guard barrier field remained in recharge, its energy nearing full restoration. He activated the forearm-mounted Quarthen Brace, which had not fully recharged but would continue to replenish unless it sustained damage, projecting a rectangular energy barrier in front of him, providing vital cover.


    In his right hand, Caul held his KelKor Blade, the energy field enveloping the blade and vibrating with a raw, unsettling frequency.


    The pirates held their positions, weapons tracking Caul¡¯s every move, though none were ready to engage him yet, waiting for their leader¡¯s command.


    The pirate leader stepped forward, his voice amplified. ¡°Vorcon?¡± Nidrak said, surprised, his head turning to glance at the rest of his crew.


    Seeing Caul before him, calm and unflinching, sent a cold wave of dread through Nidrak. His crew exchanged uneasy glances.


    The Vorcon Empire had no reason to target their operation. This wasn¡¯t the type of incursion the Empire typically concerned itself with, and as far as Nidrak knew, the Vorcons had remained behind their borders for the last decade. Yet, here one stood. His thoughts raced, running through different scenarios as he clung to a fragile hope for escape.


    Caul greeted them with a faint smirk.


    ¡°Who the hell are you?¡± Nidrak demanded.


    ¡°Major Legate Caul Malocktus of the Grand Vorcon Imperial Force,¡± he replied, scrutinizing each member of the group equally, his gaze lingering on each of them for a moment.


    ¡°I¡¯m Nidrak. We represent the Ascendants of Wail,¡± the leader said, his tone edged with defiance.


    ¡°It matters not,¡± Caul replied flatly.


    ¡°Did the locals hire you?¡± Nidrak growled, his voice tight with confusion as he tried to make sense of the Vorcons¡¯ presence.


    ¡°Locals?" Caul snickered with a deep rasp. "You fool."


    ¡°Figured I¡¯d ask, since you blasted my fighters and defenses to scrap,¡± Nidrak said, glancing around the room, searching for something¡ªanything¡ªthat might shift the odds. He realized that even if the rest of his crew returned from their raids, the Vorcons would destroy them. Still, their arrival might create a distraction, buying him a chance to escape.


    He had sent out a distress call to his other ships in the area, but his second-in-command had yet to respond. It was unlike him, though Nidrak wondered what he himself would do if he had received such a message.


    ¡°It¡¯s simply a matter of misfortune for you,¡± Caul said dismissively.


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Nidrak repeated, casting a glance at his crew. None looked eager to fight the lone Vorcon standing before them, fully aware of what lay beyond the base.


    Caul nodded slowly, his shield still raised. ¡°Tav¡¯roth,¡± he said, the words activating his transceiver. ¡°Zharan ve Feyran,¡± he hissed.


    At Caul¡¯s command, the Bruisers took positions on either side of the door, peering into the chamber while using the doorway as cover. Their Disruption Rifles unleashed rapid, suppressive bursts of energy fire, scattering the pirates in all directions.


    Some pirates attempted to return fire at the Bruisers, but the relentless barrage forced them to scramble for cover, their shields absorbing the damage and leaving them disorganized. Caul seized the opportunity, launching a direct attack on the group as they attempted to reposition from the initial weapons fire, unaware of what else might lie beyond the door.


    Caul¡¯s Nethros Guard barrier field had now fully recharged. Activating it, he layered his defenses, the protective barrier enveloping him fully once more, complementing his forward shield.


    One of the Elycron charged at Caul, their Null Blade sparking and crackling with energy as they swung. The Bruisers maintained suppressive fire, keeping the rest of the pirates from fully swarming Caul.


    Caul moved quickly. Raising his forearm-mounted shield, he absorbed the Elycron¡¯s blow before sidestepping and bringing his KelKor Blade down in a vicious arc. The weapon sliced through the Elycron, carving deep into its torso and overloading its barrier field in one swing. The being staggered and collapsed.


    Spinning, Caul caught the approach of another Elycron from behind and deflected its strike.


    The Bruisers exchanged fire with pirates, dividing their focus.


    The remaining two Elycron moved to engage Caul, shouting cries for their fallen comrade. Caul met their assault head-on. His KelKor Blade cut through their defenses, each strike fatal. Their barriers failed to withstand the power of Caul¡¯s weapon, each unable to match his skill with a blade.


    A Lycoris opened fire, its Coil Rifle unleashing electromagnetic projectiles streaking toward Caul. His forward shield absorbed the impacts, dispersing the kinetic energy across its surface. One of the Bruisers redirected its fire toward the Lycoris, forcing the attacker into cover and easing the pressure on Caul.


    Caul pressed the attack, his KelKor Blade cutting through his opponents. He struck down a Lycoris, severing its weapon from its grip and carving a deep gash across its torso.


    The remaining Lycoris attempted to retreat. Caul closed the distance, his blade a blur of energy, impaling him from behind.


    The Nythari advanced next, their Sion Shibra Scythes crackling with disruptive energy at every swing. Behind them, the Drevanth fired their Entropy Hand Cannons, each slug designed to destabilize materials on impact. The Thalyss followed, their Piercers aimed to phase through Caul¡¯s defenses.


    But Caul was ready.


    His KelKor Blade intercepted strikes and deflected blows, though the Nythari managed to land a few hits. As the Drevanth raised their Entropy Cannons, Caul angled his shield to absorb the slugs. Shots that missed carved deep gouges into the walls, leaving marks across the structure.


    The Bruisers maintained suppressive fire, keeping the pirates off-balance. One by one, they fell to Caul¡¯s strikes.


    The final Elycron crumbled beneath his blade. The last Lycoris, stood powerless once Caul closed the distance, his blade cutting through with brutal finality.


    The Nythari, Drevanth, and Thalyss fell in turn, Caul¡¯s Blade finding its mark.


    Silence descended over the command center as the last pirate collapsed, lifeless bodies scattered across the room.


    Caul glanced at the Bruisers, signaling them to leave. They lowered their weapons and began making their way back to the Breacher.


    Only the pirate leader and Caul remained.


    He stood amidst the carnage, the grinding of his combat suit breaking the quiet as he surveyed the devastation. A low growl rumbled from his throat¡ªa mix of anger and desperation, amplified through his suit¡¯s speakers.


    Leveling his Overcharge revolver, the leader fired bursts of energy, each shot followed by a pause as the weapon recharged. The orbs carried immense force, and while the revolver¡¯s slow cycle left gaps, its destructive power compensated.


    The energy blasts hammered Caul¡¯s forward shield, fracturing it until it gave way. Undeterred, Caul closed the gap. The leader fired again, but Caul moved, dodging just in time.


    Caul slashed with his KelKor Blade, the strike severing the leader¡¯s grip and sending the Overcharge revolver skidding across the floor. Nidrak snarled, his frustration boiling over.


    Gripping the Cleaver tightly, Nidrak activated the weapon, its blade surging with energy. Enhanced by his combat suit¡¯s strength, he swung wide, sweeping through the air, the heavy weapon slicing toward Caul and forcing him to step back to evade.


    Caul met the strike head-on with his KelKor Blade. Sparks erupted as their weapons locked, energy fields clashing.


    Caul angled his KelKor Blade upward, striking the leader¡¯s visor on his helmet. The plasma edge burned brightly on contact, leaving cracks spiderwebbing across the surface. Momentarily stunned, the leader faltered, his vision blurred as his eyes struggled to adjust, the impact momentarily overloading his visual senses.


    Caul targeted a vulnerable joint in the armor at the leg. The Blade tore through the plating, striking the joint and limiting the suit¡¯s movement.


    Roaring in frustration, the leader swung again, bringing the Cleaver down with force. The blade struck the floor, fracturing it and sending a tremor through the room. Caul narrowly avoided the blow, sidestepping at the last moment. The impact shook the floor, momentarily throwing Caul off balance.


    As Caul staggered, the pirate lunged forward, driving his armored fist into Caul¡¯s ribs. The impact sent Caul skidding across the floor, his boots scraped against the surface as he fell, rolling upright to regain his stance.


    The pirate leader advanced, the grinding of his combat suit growing louder with each heavy step. The damaged right leg lagged behind, its movements labored. Raising his plated fist, the leader attempted another strike, but his arm slammed into a nearby wall instead, leaving a crater.


    Ripping his arm free, the leader turned back toward Caul.


    Caul was already moving, targeting the weakened segments of the pirate¡¯s armor, he delivered precise strikes that further compromised the suit¡¯s integrity.


    Nidrak swung the Cleaver hard, the force of the motion creating a sharp whistle as it cut through the air. Caul ducked low, slipping beneath the swing and retaliating with a swift upward slash. The KelKor Blade tore through the cracked visor, sending shards flying in all directions, revealing the scarred, soot-black face of a Phon beneath. Narrow eyes, burning with hate, locked onto Caul.


    The leader roared, his swings growing wild and desperate. The Cleaver¡¯s blade left scorching trails as it struck walls and consoles, triggering bursts of sparks across the chamber. Caul evaded each attack, the pirate unable to match his speed.


    The combat suit groaned with each failed strike, leaving the leader increasingly unbalanced. In a final act of desperation, he raised the Cleaver high and brought it crashing down. The blade struck the floor with a deafening clang, breaking in two in the process. Its energy flickered before extinguishing entirely. Nidrak threw the hilt aside.


    Caul staggered as the vibrations from the strike rippled through the floor. The pirate lunged as best he could with his lessened mobility, his armored fist arcing toward Caul¡¯s head. Caul twisted to evade, but the blow clipped his shoulder, sending him reeling as his barrier flared under the strain, forcing him to roll to the side.


    In the process, Nidrak stumbled and fell forward, his suit responding sluggishly and causing him to drop to a knee. Struggling to regain control, he noticed his weapon¡ªa short distance away but just out of reach. Desperately, the pirate stretched for the Overcharge revolver, his movements frantic as he tried to grab it unsuccessfully.


    Caul dove forward, driving his KelKor Blade into an exposed section of the suit¡¯s back. Sensing it, Nidrak tried to stand. The pirate staggered, managing to rise, but his movements slowed as the plasma edge sank deep. Sparks erupted, and the suit¡¯s systems faltered, rendering him immobile.


    Caul moved around to the front of him and raised his KelKor Blade, leveling it at the pirate¡¯s exposed throat. With his suit completely powered down, Nidrak was stuck in place, trapped within its confines.


    ¡°Wait! Take everything¡ªmy credits, my ship! Just... don¡¯t kill me. Please!¡± the leader¡¯s voice cracked with desperation. ¡°Let me walk away,¡± he stammered.


    ¡°You have nothing worth taking,¡± Caul said coldly


    For a brief moment, the leader¡¯s gaze wavered, caught between despair and defiance. Then, with a final surge of will, he snarled. ¡°Fuck you, Vorcon,¡± the leader spat.


    Caul didn¡¯t hesitate. He drove the KelKor Blade forward, the plasma edge piercing through the leader¡¯s neck, the energy causing his body to jolt within the suit. The Phon stiffened, his body trembling briefly before falling lifeless within the powered-down armor.


    Deactivating his KelKor Blade, Caul stood before the fallen leader for a moment. Without a word, he turned and strode away, leaving behind only silence and ruin.

 Chapter 26

    Chapter 26


    GVIF Rheeavher


    Ceryorka System, Cavaglatar Sector


    Date: Zeran 23, Year 4731


    Nelve left the docking bay of the Rheeavher, her pace almost a march as she moved through its corridors. Passing a console, a surge of anger gripped her¡ªa sharp urge to unsheathe her KelKor Blade and drive it into the screen, to release a primal scream.


    The thought didn¡¯t stop there. She imagined herself destroying everything and everyone in sight, letting her frustration consume her.


    The screen reflected her raw anger, the sight jolting her out of her rage. Her breathing slowed as she wrestled with the fury threatening to overtake her, forcing it back into submission. Anger was a powerful force, but true strength lay in leashing it. She had worked too hard to project unbreakable discipline to let it falter now.


    Her new affiliation with the Brotherhood of Velor left her questioning herself. What had it made her? Did her actions bring honor¡ªhonor to what? The Empire? Or did they merely tarnish her name? Did the group truly act as they claimed, serving the Empire¡¯s interests, or were their intentions self-serving? She hoped to uncover their true nature and decide for herself where their values lay once they returned to the Vorcon Empire.


    The Brotherhood claimed to act for the betterment¡ªthe greater good¡ªof the Vorcon Empire. Yet nothing she had done so far felt honorable. Nothing had felt as though it truly contributed to the greater good of the Empire.


    She couldn¡¯t let Caul see how deeply he affected her. That was a vulnerability she wouldn¡¯t allow him to exploit¡ªor anyone else.


    Still, the events within the asteroid field clung to her mind, refusing to fade.


    Caul had designed her trial to push her to the very brink of death, sending her into the asteroid field and forcing her to confront it on his terms. Destroying the pirates themselves would prove nothing, achieve nothing, and teach nothing but a false sense of accomplishment.


    She had succeeded¡ªshe had done exactly what Caul had asked of her and experienced it precisely as he had designed. She had learned the lesson he wanted her to learn, in the way he wanted her to learn it. Yet the realization brought her no comfort, no solace, no sense of progression¡ªeach lesson exposing weaknesses she hadn¡¯t known existed.


    In the end, the pirate forces were destroyed. She had watched helplessly, powerless to intervene. Her death could have come at any moment, one stray hit obliterating her craft. Her survival felt like a cruel toss of fate¡ªperhaps the will of the gods, or worse, the calculated design of Caul Malocktus.


    If Caul intended to rely on her for his ambitions and integrate her into the Brotherhood, he would ensure she was capable. She had to succeed. Her abilities and usefulness reflected not only on herself but also on Caul.


    Failure meant death¡ªa final, unmarked end in the annals of the Brotherhood.


    For those who faltered, there were no second chances. They were discarded, forgotten. Their demise was marked as nothing more than an unfortunate consequence of their inadequacy.


    In the texts Caul had shared with her, there were many lessons from the Brotherhood¡¯s history. Whether they were factual or merely intended to teach a point was unclear, though they were lessons all the same. Masters of the Brotherhood put their apprentices through countless trials, apprentices with great promise often falling, unable to survive the challenges.


    It seemed like such a waste of potential¡ªso many apprentices placed into what felt like impossible scenarios.


    It was not merely the Brotherhood¡¯s way; it was the way of the Vorcon Empire. Mysterious deaths and quiet disappearances were an accepted part of life in the Prine Star System, home to the Vorcon Empire. Many found their names struck from records, their memories erased from existence. Their deeds, no matter how significant, became mere footnotes in whispered rumors¡ªif those with power or influence deemed it necessary.


    Such events were common, with rumors quickly snuffed out by the endless churn of scandals, intrigues, and ambitions that consumed the Vorcon populace. One had to be careful whom they made enemies of, how far they pushed their ambitions, and what power they sought to claim.


    The Empire¡¯s justice system was subjective and situational. Lords governed their territories¡ªlands within the Empire¡ªbound by the Emperor¡¯s laws but granted significant autonomy in matters they deemed personally important. Justice was flexible¡ªharsh when necessary, nonexistent when convenient.


    Official investigations were rare. Personal retribution, however, was relentless, driven as much by emotion as by fact.


    To wrong a family in the Vorcon Empire rarely drew the attention of the GVIF or local security forces; instead, it invited deeply personal vengeance from the aggrieved. Revenge was more than a tradition¡ªit was ingrained in the culture, an unwritten law, a way of life.


    Sometimes disputes were settled in justice halls, depending on the issue¡ªbut more often, they were resolved in the shadows, where blood, not verdicts, determined the outcome. While the Brotherhood of Velor lurked in these shadows, they were far from the only ones who operated beyond public view.


    Families were torn apart, vendettas ending in quiet, calculated murders. Legacies were extinguished without ceremony, deaths erupting into blood feuds that stretched for years.


    She had learned caution from these lessons. A single misstep, crossing the wrong person, could cost more than one¡¯s life¡ªit could extinguish an entire legacy or leave one constantly defending it.


    When it came to the Imperial Family, the Kotoron family, the consequences were even graver. Any harm to the Imperial Family had long been established as a crime that went beyond death. An entire family could be eradicated¡ªkilled, vanished, and erased from history.


    To wrong the Imperial Family in some cases meant extinction. This precedent was widely understood, though it was rarely invoked as few would dare such an audacious move.


    The most well-known exception occurred with Velor, who killed the then-Emperor. Yet, rather than facing condemnation, Velor¡¯s actions were celebrated as a necessary sacrifice that saved the Empire from ruin. For a brief time, it even became an annual celebration, hailed as an act that had saved the Empire from ruin.


    The sentiment was clear: the Empire came first. It existed above any single Emperor. The title of Emperor was meant to serve the Empire, just as the Empire served its ruler¡ªproviding wars to lead, lands to conquer, and dominions to rule to keep the Vorcon Empire strong and dominant.


    Over time, however, the celebration of Velor¡¯s act was outlawed. His name became forbidden, unspoken. To worship him was to shame the Emperor.


    And yet, the Brotherhood of Velor endured. Their loyalty was not to any individual ruler but to the Empire itself. Their allegiance was never to the throne but to what they believed would serve the Empire¡¯s greater good.


    Throughout their existence, there were times when they had nearly disappeared, their presence reduced to myth. Their numbers dwindled from hundreds to a handful, the result of a self-induced purge within their own order.


    When the Brotherhood deemed an Emperor¡¯s reign to be weakening the Empire, they acted. Sometimes only a few members were required to achieve their goals. They steered events to align with what they believed would please the forgotten god Velor and the other gods worshipped by the Vorcon Empire. Velor himself had done the same in life, guiding the Empire until his death and eventual rise to divinity.


    Still, not all deaths in the Empire were veiled in shadow. Some were bold, public, and purposeful.


    A fight between two Vorcons on the streets of Kor, for example, might escalate to a fatal conclusion. Such violence, once ended, was final. No courts intervened, no officers of law, no further judgments were passed. It simply ended, an unspoken understanding that honor had been settled.


    This was the world Nelve navigated¡ªa realm of unyielding power dynamics, quiet revenge, and ruthless trials.


    Caul¡¯s use for Nelve meant he would test her. He would push her limits.


    If she failed, the consequences would be hers alone to bear.


    But Nelve questioned whether the time for tests would ever end. How much more did she need to prove?


    All she had endured and yet to endure was all for her family, at times, she wondered why she even cared about the Rellocha name.


    Her life had been spent serving her family more than being part of it. Every achievement was another step toward restoring their diminished status, as she had been told.


    Yet Nelve had never fully understood why her tahlor, her father, felt that way. They were still nobility, still held lands within the Vorcon Empire. Her tahlor served on the Emperor¡¯s council. Their family was better off than many.


    Much relies on you. He had often said.


    It was a constant pressure. She was determined to serve him, to make him proud, to honor her family, to fulfill the purpose he had intended for her.


    It had been his main topic of conversation for as long as she could remember¡ªhow their family had once held great influence. Influence that had been lost long before he became lord of their house.


    Despite their improved wealth and military strength in recent years, they still struggled to earn the respect they once commanded within the Empire. Even her father¡¯s seat on the Emperor¡¯s council, a position of power and proximity to the throne, had not been enough to restore their standing in full in the minds of many.


    She was part of some grand plan¡ªher father¡¯s vision for the family¡¯s resurgence. A plan that involved the Malocktus family. Though whatever plans they had, she often wondered who would benefit the most?


    Caul had other Inquisitors under his command and countless acquaintances, some he employed. She often wondered how she truly fit into his designs. How many apprentices does he have? How much control does he hold within the Brotherhood of Velor?


    Her family¡¯s expectations had placed her on a narrow path, one she could not waver from.


    Yet she lacked guidance. Following orders¡ªshe could do that¡ªbut managing what came after current events left her uncertain.


    If I could speak directly to the gods, would they guide me? Would they doom me? Would they mock me? Am I a fool to believe they would even acknowledge me?


    Her feelings about Caul Malocktus shifted by the day, fluctuating between resentment and reluctant respect. But one thing never changed¡ªher fear of him.


    Caul had a way of peeling back her defenses, exposing vulnerabilities she hadn¡¯t realized existed. It was his gift and her curse¡ªa force that inspired both loyalty and fear. Under his gaze, Nelve felt both indispensable and disposable, a paradox she could not quite resolve.Stolen novel; please report.


    Caul¡¯s faith in the gods transcended the hollow rituals practiced by most Vorcons. For many, faith had devolved into mere ceremonial tradition, empty and detached from genuine belief.


    Still, to insult the gods was a grave offense, as was denying their existence entirely. Yet few truly honored them anymore¡ªnot devoutly. The reverence of old had diminished long ago, leaving behind gestures and empty rites. Their names were spoken out of habit, without belief, without thought, by most.


    She couldn¡¯t ignore the admiration she felt for Caul¡¯s unwavering faith. There were moments when she envied his conviction, his unshakable belief in something greater. He made the gods feel like something she could reach out and touch.


    Caul¡¯s devotion was absolute. Faith so devout, she had learned, was dangerous¡ªit made him dangerous.


    The door to her quarters slid downward with a sharp whoosh as she stepped inside, locking it behind her.


    The room was dark, save for a dim, faded light beside the bed.


    Nelve closed her eyes for a moment, feeling relief to be in her quarters, away from prying eyes. Her breaths were shallow and uneven, haunted by the day¡¯s images. Here, at least, she didn¡¯t have to worry about how anyone might look upon her.


    A faint prickle ran up the back of her neck, sharpening her senses. Something felt wrong¡ªan unnatural stillness that made her skin crawl. She froze, her breathing slowing as her eyes scanned the space.


    Two figures emerged from the shadows.


    Brot and Noeth, members of the ship¡¯s maintenance crew, stood armed with Dissolver sidearms. Their weapons were visible¡ªand pointed directly at her.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Nelve demanded, her voice low as her hand moved instinctively toward her KelKor Blade. She halted when Brot and Noeth motioned to their active weapons.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move, Inquisitor,¡± Noeth said.


    ¡°Take your hand away,¡± Brot rasped, his voice harsher and urgent.


    Brot activated the lights, flooding the room with harsh brightness.


    ¡°Step away from the door, Inquisitor,¡± Brot ordered.


    ¡°Do it,¡± he demanded, his voice dulling with hesitation.


    Nelve moved as instructed, stepping to the far side of the room. Her focus shifted between them, marking angles and distances. Brot¡¯s stiff stance held confidence, while Noeth¡¯s grip showed doubt.


    Brot moved and leaned against the wall by the door, arms crossed, though the Dissolver in his hand remained pointed at her. His gaunt face was shadowed, his sharp features hardened by suspicion. Noeth, broader but more hesitant, shifted uneasily near the desk, his weapon still aimed.


    ¡°What are you doing in here?¡± she demanded, her voice rasping. ¡°Lower your weapons and get out of my quarters, now.¡±


    Brot raised the Dissolver, his bone-like fingers clenching the grip. "We need to talk, Inquisitor."


    ¡°Then talk, and get out,¡± Nelve snapped.


    ¡°About Routh,¡± Brot added.


    Nelve¡¯s stomach tightened, but her face betrayed nothing. It had been Brot and Noeth searching for Routh the day he was killed¡ªthe day she sacrificed him. The day her trial and initiation into the Brotherhood had begun.


    She could clearly recall the day when she sacrificed him. It was not an act she took pride in¡ªfar from it. But it had been necessary; someone had to die by her hand, and he had been the most fitting choice.


    ¡°What about him?¡± she replied.


    Noeth blurted out, ¡°He went missing,¡± his voice rising. It was now common knowledge aboard the ship. ¡°We know you had something to do with it. The last person to see him was you.¡±


    ¡°I have heard,¡± she replied coldly. ¡°I am an Inquisitor. Let¡¯s not forget.¡±


    ¡°Tell us what you know,¡± Brot demanded, his harsh tone rising.


    ¡°I know no more than you do,¡± she said.


    ¡°You were the last to see him,¡± Brot pressed.


    ¡°He fixed my fighter craft. I had not seen him after that,¡± she replied.


    ¡°We know that. We spoke with you, don¡¯t you remember?¡± Brot snapped.


    ¡°I do,¡± Nelve said evenly.


    ¡°Just tell us what you know,¡± Noeth added.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already told you,¡± Nelve replied, her voice rising slightly.


    ¡°You won¡¯t escape our justice,¡± Brot growled.


    ¡°You know what will happen if this does not end now,¡± Nelve said, her voice rising more.


    ¡°We understand the consequences,¡± Noeth said, though his voice shook slightly.


    ¡°We know them,¡± Brot repeated, his tone firm. ¡°But we can¡¯t let the matter go¡ªnot for Routh. Maybe you don¡¯t understand, but we served under him for years. Learned from him.¡±


    ¡°Then I understand your feelings,¡± Nelve replied. ¡°Still, there is little I can do. Being the last to see him means nothing. I am growing tired of this; my patience has come to an end.¡±


    Nelve began to seethe. ¡°Leave now, and you just might live. Major Legate Malocktus will not forgive this course of action when I inform him.¡±


    The restraint it took not to unsheathe her Kelkor Blade was wearing thin. Her elongated fingers hovered near the hilt. With two weapons trained on her, she knew a single misstep would cost her.


    If only I were wearing my barrier field. A mistake I won¡¯t make again.


    If she had been shielded, she would have needed only seconds¡ªseconds to end this. But her equipment remained in her locker.


    She didn¡¯t know Brot and Noeth well enough to predict their every move, but she could sense they were unsettled, ready to fight, ready to kill if it came to that. They wouldn¡¯t have taken such actions if they weren¡¯t ready to.


    Then, a realization dawned on her: Caul had forbidden her from wearing a barrier field during her melee training. He didn¡¯t want her to rely on it, ensuring she learned to adapt and survive without its protection.


    Brot and Noeth exchanged a sharp look. Something about the comment she had made and the way Nelve looked at them caused concern. Doubt passed between them, as if each had come to their own realization, sensing something they could not say for certain¡ªdoubt.


    ¡°You think we¡¯ve been misled, Brot?¡± Noeth asked. ¡°I¡¯m not so sure about this.¡±


    Brot let out a long, hissing sigh. ¡°Perhaps,¡± he said before turning his eyes back to Nelve. ¡°We can¡¯t back down now. It¡¯s in motion.¡±


    ¡°We should talk this out more,¡± Noeth said, his voice hesitant. ¡°You know he would do this. You know it.¡±


    ¡°Stop,¡± Brot snapped, his full focus on Noeth.


    ¡°But Brot, I think we should¡ª¡± Noeth began.


    ¡°Noeth,¡± Brot interrupted, his tone sharp and final. The single word silenced Noeth, who hesitated before reluctantly backing down.


    Brot refocused on Nelve, his weapon steady. ¡°Unsheathe your KelKor Blade and throw it on the floor. Now.¡±


    Nelve moved slowly, her eyes locked on Brot. She reached for her blade, unsheathed it, and tossed it. The weapon clanged loudly against the floor.


    ¡°I¡¯ve told you already¡ªI don¡¯t know what happened to him,¡± she said.


    ¡°We don¡¯t believe you,¡± Brot snapped. ¡°Commodore Gahlenka says he likely fell into the incineration unit.¡±


    Noeth¡¯s voice dropped. ¡°The incineration unit¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not that clumsy,¡± Brot hissed. ¡°We don¡¯t believe it.¡±


    ¡°Brot,¡± Noeth interjected cautiously.


    ¡°We have to,¡± Brot insisted.


    Brot lunged at Nelve, his rasping hiss filling the room, raw with frustration. Tossing aside his weapon, his hands reached for her shoulders, shoving her backward with force. Her back slammed into the locker as he grabbed her and slammed her into it repeatedly. Pain exploded through her skull as her head struck the metal, tearing a gash along its ridges. Blood trickled from the wound, warm against her cold skin.


    Before she could react, he yanked her forward and slammed her to the ground.


    The impact left her dazed, pain spreading through the back of her head. Brot was on her in an instant, pinning her down. Stunned, Nelve¡¯s instincts flared. Her knee shot upward, connecting with his ribs, a sharp crack silencing his grunt as he staggered back, clutching his side.


    She shoved him off, sending him stumbling to the side.


    ¡°Stop it!¡± Noeth shouted, his voice cracking as the situation spiraled out of control. He knew this wouldn¡¯t end well¡ªno matter the outcome. The Dissolver in his hands wavered as he struggled to keep his focus, considering firing it but holding back.


    ¡°He¡¯s playing us for fools,¡± Noeth said. ¡°We should talk more first, confirm what we suspect.¡±


    ¡°Stop talking, Noeth,¡± Brot snapped. ¡°Routh deserved better.¡±


    Still on the floor, Brot swung a fist at Nelve, striking her in the head. His closed hand slammed into her face.


    Nelve was still stunned from the blow to her head as Brot pinned her down again. One hand clamped around her neck, his grip tightening. Her fingers scrambled behind her until they found the hilt of the Katarath Dagger.


    In one motion, she drew the blade and drove it upward into Brot¡¯s chest. The blade sank deep.


    His breath hitched, his eyes wide with shock. Nelve activated the dagger, and Brot disintegrated before her. No trace of his existence remained¡ªjust the fragile echo of his final breath, fading like mist.


    The room fell silent, save for Nelve¡¯s ragged breathing.


    Noeth stood frozen, locked in place for a moment. Then, with a burst of energy, he charged, picking up where Brot had left off.


    The Katarath Dagger slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor as Nelve, still stunned from the blows to her head, fought to recover. Noeth¡¯s sidearm fell from his hand, landing just out of reach.


    Pinning her beneath him, Noeth bore down with his weight as she struggled to break free. He struck her face with brutal force, his fists pounding her skull repeatedly.


    Nelve tried to fight back, but Noeth was strong. Her head swam, her focus slipping with every blow. His hands clamped around her throat. Nelve clawed at his arms, her nails digging into his skin as her vision blurred. She choked, her body arching as she fought desperately to escape.


    Anger burned through Noeth, his grip refusing to loosen.


    Her fingers scraped against the floor, desperate to find the blade. Finally, they closed around the hilt of the Katarath Dagger.


    With a final surge of strength, Nelve twisted her body, swinging her arm upward and driving the blade into Noeth¡¯s side.


    He let out a choked gasp, his grip loosening as the strength drained from his body. Blood spilled over her hands as Noeth slumped forward. For a heartbeat, his pleading eyes met hers, searching for something unspoken. Then, they dulled, the spark of life fading away. His weight pressed against her briefly before collapsing to the side, lifeless.


    Nelve activated the dagger still embedded in him. Noeth disintegrated, his body vanishing in a pulse of energy, leaving only the blood smeared across her hands and the floor.


    She lay on the floor, gasping for air, her throat raw and aching, her head pounding. Her vision remained fuzzy as her gaze drifted to the two sidearms left behind.


    Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet, her body trembling.


    The air reeked of blood, sharp and metallic, thick and suffocating. For a moment, all was still¡ªsave for the pounding of her heart. Nelve¡¯s hand tightened around the Katarath Dagger, its hilt warm and slick with blood.


    Her breaths came faster now, her chest rising and falling in uneven bursts.


    Her hold on the dagger almost faltered, the slick blood making it hard to maintain her grip. For a moment, she considered letting it fall, as if surrendering the blade might somehow free her from the burden it carried. But her fingers tightened instead, anchoring her to the only truth she could grasp: survival.


    The pressure of the hilt brought her focus back. The thought settled. I¡¯ve survived another trial.

 Chapter 27

    Chapter 27


    Eteren One Orbital Starbase


    Mottmor System, Venddral Raidezel Sector


    Date: Zeran 22, Year 4731


    On Eteren One, the Stellar Nexus Tavern pulsed with the energy of countless species, beings, and stories. A frequent stop for many passing through the Mottmor system, it thrummed with a mix of languages, laughter, and clinking drinks. Many patrons talked in exaggerated tones and laughed in bursts, while the gambling section was packed with those trying their luck.


    Rorgal Fornis thrived on the crowd¡¯s energy, his booming laugh cutting through the tavern. Chewing on a toothpick and idly spinning it between his fingers, he glanced out at the packed bar, briefly reflecting on how it always seemed to stay busy. He remembered the doubters who had laughed when he announced his plan to open a tavern in the Mottmor system.


    Rorgal called out, "You know why Krylans don¡¯t play poker?"


    A series of shrugs rippled around the bar and a few knowing looks.


    "Because they keep mistaking the chips for snacks and eating the pot!"


    The punchline earned a mix of groans and chuckles, owed more to Rorgal¡¯s delivery than the joke itself¡ªexactly the reaction he seemed to enjoy most. He laughed louder than anyone else, and for many, it wasn¡¯t the first time they had heard it.


    The Krylan at the bar let out a guttural laugh that drew startled glances from nearby patrons, then casually bit into their glass, crunching it as they chewed with the satisfaction of someone who relished unnerving onlookers.


    "You see," Rorgal said, pointing at the Krylan with exaggerated amusement before handing them a new drink and glass.


    A few awkward laughs and uneasy glances followed from those who had witnessed the act.


    Next to Rorgal, the Synthetic Cipher aided in serving customers, adding his own unique style of conversation, occasionally interrupted by glitches in his voice processing. He asked a customer, his words crackling with static, "What... what will it a be be?" Refilling a bowl with peanuts, spilling some.


    "Your artificial needs work," said a big, burly Human patron at the bar, looking direct to Rorgal¡ªa traveler passing through the system in command of a small passenger ship, making his first stop at Eteren One.


    Cipher¡¯s head snapped toward the man, static crackling through his voice. "T-t-talk to me, sir. No one touches my circuits¡ªn-no! Trust me, you w-wouldn¡¯t want me touching yours!" His stuttered laugh broke awkwardly, the glitch in his voice modulator drawing a round of chuckles from the bar.


    A sound emitted from the stage, where a Netraxian five-piece band, Aphlon Nights, was tuning their instruments in preparation for their performance. The sight drew a smile to Rorgal¡¯s face, pleased to have secured the group for the night¡¯s entertainment, hopeful they were worth their booking fee. Many bands traveled through the system, making their rounds to different bars and venues in the region.


    Within the bar, Kaelar sat alone in a booth, sipping Selter Whiskey as he tuned out the noise around him. The familiar setting of the tavern offered him a brief escape from the Syndicate¡¯s troubles, which felt entirely his own¡ªtroubles that had made him the topic of conversation for many within the group.


    Kaelar had spent the day enduring his boss¡¯s tirade, taking the blame for the loss of a Syndicate ship. It had taken all of Kaelar¡¯s restraint not to react in anger. While he couldn¡¯t deny he had made mistakes and accepted the blame, he didn¡¯t agree it was entirely his fault. Still, arguing the point seemed useless.


    His encounter with the Human, Camerian, and Augment had started simply enough. The Camerian leaving the station with his debt still unpaid had seemed like a minor issue. What followed, however, had caused significant trouble. Kaelar had assured his boss that their ship wouldn¡¯t make it out of the system¡ªthat they would have a ship to sell. Instead, the Seeker had left without a scratch, the debt unpaid, and, worse, it had destroyed one of the Syndicate¡¯s ships without leaving a trace. The incident had made it look as though Kaelar had completely underestimated the risk the Seeker posed, resulting in the Syndicate¡¯s loss.


    As he savored his drink, Kaelar¡¯s sharp vision swept over the room, taking in the lively movements and voices of delegates from the ZoulKanar System, their animated gestures blending with the melodic tones of three Uxians nearby. A pair of Seleths conversed, their gestures occasionally punctuated by input from a single insectoid Kirlu.


    In a corner, a group of Nsalron discussed their latest research¡ªsomething that went entirely over Kaelar¡¯s head.


    Kaelar finished his drink and signaled for a refill. An Ottorin waitress delivered it promptly. He watched her scurry to another table before turning back to his drink.


    Unnoticed by Kaelar, a Human male slipped through the crowd and approached his booth. Reaching the table, he set down a drink identical to Kaelar¡¯s and slid into the seat across from him.


    Kaelar¡¯s surprise quickly flared into anger at the audacity of the uninvited guest, though his irritation softened briefly, remaining evident on his face. He was accustomed to speaking with strangers, but there was a protocol to follow¡ªno one was expected to approach him out of nowhere. That wasn¡¯t how he operated. This wasn¡¯t how the Syndicate operated.


    The man¡¯s unwavering eyes hinted at danger. Bold tattoos traced his neck and arms. A fitted device on his left forearm stood out, its exact nature unclear. His short, buzz-cut hair and stubble framed a jawline marked by a lone uneven scar, disrupting the hair growth around it. He sat confidently across from Kaelar, eyeing him, his demeanor exuding anything but fear.


    Nrek took in the sight of Kaelar, sizing up his strength. He knew full well that Loquars could be tough and fast¡ªa challenging fight if it came to that.


    Kaelar wondered what this was all about. Perhaps he wanted the Syndicate¡¯s services¡ªa loan, a hit, or even just company for the evening. Still, there were protocols to follow.


    ¡°What makes you think you can sit here without an invitation?¡± Kaelar¡¯s low voice carried a sharp edge, his irritation barely concealed. "State your business."


    The man remained silent, his unflinching gaze holding Kaelar¡¯s. Kaelar noted two empty holsters under his arms.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s best you calm yourself,¡± Nrek said, his voice firm and cold as he took a sip from his drink.


    Kaelar sipped his drink, his fur darkening the angles of his face as he stared at Nrek. Not one to be intimidated, though cautious, he casually hit a button on the StatCom buried in his wrist fur. The movement didn¡¯t go unnoticed by the man across from him, but it didn¡¯t seem to bother or concern him.


    Go ahead and call for help.


    Kaelar¡¯s mind began to wander. Was he a Vanicktus Syndicate operative from a different sect? The Syndicate was vast, its influence spread across the galaxy with varying levels of presence in different areas. Someone always seemed to be pushing into someone else¡¯s territory. Or perhaps this was a rival Syndicate making their move.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Kaelar asked simply.


    ¡°Nrek,¡± the man replied.


    ¡°Looking for something? You¡¯re breaking protocol. If you need our services, there¡¯s a process to follow,¡± Kaelar said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need anything the Vanicktus Syndicate has to offer, Kaelar,¡± Nrek said calmly.


    Kaelar studied Nrek¡¯s expression, searching for any hint of recognition. Unable to piece it together, Kaelar suspected someone must have recommended him.


    ¡°Then what?¡± Kaelar asked.


    ¡°I have some questions,¡± Nrek replied, taking another sip of his drink.


    ¡°Questions?¡± Kaelar echoed. He leaned back slightly, holding off any action until he discovered what this was all about. ¡°Go ahead. Just so you know, information will cost you as much as anything else.¡±


    ¡°You had a recent encounter with a group that passed through here,¡± Nrek said.


    ¡°I might have,¡± Kaelar replied. ¡°I¡¯ve had many encounters with those passing through here. Care to be more specific?¡±


    ¡°A Human, a Camerian, and an Augment,¡± Nrek clarified.


    Kaelar processed the information. What does he want with them? he wondered.


    ¡°It sounds familiar, but I¡¯m not sure. What¡¯s it worth to you?¡± Kaelar asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s worth more to you to stay out of it,¡± Nrek said coldly.


    ¡°Stay out of it?¡± Kaelar leaned forward, his tone hardening. ¡°The Camerian owes us a lot of credits. I don¡¯t tolerate interference.¡± he warned.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care about the Camerian. Kill him for all I care. I¡¯m not concerned about him. But Garen Rivers is, so that makes me concerned. For now, leave all of them alone. Most importantly, I suggest you leave Garen Rivers alone.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°Garen Rivers?¡± Kaelar was taken aback. ¡°The old war general?¡± He thought back to his encounter just two days prior. Recalling Garen¡¯s defiance.


    Nrek nodded to confirm, though his expression barely shifted. Still, there was something¡ªcontempt, or perhaps recognition¡ªon his face before his neutral mask returned. A part of him found it amusing that the Loquar was completely underestimating Garen. The General is more dangerous than you realize.


    ¡°He got involved in my business. He interfered with me collecting a debt owed to us,¡± Kaelar said.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter to me,¡± Nrek replied firmly. ¡°Call off your hit on him."


    "Why does it matter to you?" Kaelar asked


    "I know the old General well. He won¡¯t stand by and let you do anything¡ªnot without putting himself in danger.¡±


    "Then he should stay out of business that doesn¡¯t concern him." Said Kaelar


    Kaelar focused on Nrek for a moment. The man moved with the assurance of someone accustomed to dangerous work. But how did he know? Mercenary? His appearance certainly fit the style. ¡°His friend owes us a lot of money, and he interfered with that. He cost us credits, I¡¯m sure you can appreciate that.¡± Kaelar retorted.


    Nrek¡¯s hand stopped just short of his glass, the wild notion of breaking it over Kaelar¡¯s head sparking in his mind. He let the thought drift away¡ªEteren One demanded subtler solutions.


    ¡°You don¡¯t tell the Syndicate what to do. That¡¯s your warning,¡± Kaelar shot back.


    ¡°Your group doesn¡¯t hold any real power¡ªonly over the desperate,¡± Nrek said slowly. ¡°Listen to me, Kaelar. We don¡¯t want to come after your group, but we will if we have to. And I¡¯m telling you, you don¡¯t want that to happen. We¡¯ll gut every member in the Mottmor system.¡± Without effort.


    ¡°Who do you represent?¡± Kaelar asked, narrowing his eyes, trying to piece it together.


    ¡°Something far worse than your pitiful little Syndicate,¡± Nrek replied, his voice laced with disdain. ¡°We don¡¯t want to waste our time with the Vanicktus. Though if we do, it will be quick. Do not interfere with our interests. Thant Ry Muolos would annihilate every one of you in this system just to avoid crossing us.


    The possibility of who Nrek worked for ran through Kaelar¡¯s mind. At the same time, he couldn¡¯t allow just anyone to come in and threaten him or the Syndicate. What did he know of Thant Ry Muolos?


    Nrek motioned around the bar, indicating for Kaelar to look.


    Kaelar scanned the room until he spotted Mira. He¡¯d called her for backup the moment Nrek appeared, but Idara and Talon were nowhere to be found. That¡¯s not like them, he thought. His eyes locked on Mira again, noting an unusual concern etched across her features.


    At that moment, three figures approached Mira. They were just part of the crowd¡ªuntil they weren¡¯t. Mira¡¯s breath caught as their cold stares found her, unflinching, the chill of their intent clawing up her spine. Their casual pace gradually closed the distance, making it clear they were headed straight for her.


    Their distinct appearances drew passing glances, though none dared linger. On Eteren One, the unusual was routine.


    The first was a Human female. Her short, white hair framed a face devoid of warmth, as though years of ruthless efficiency had stripped away any trace of emotion.


    Beside her, a tall, imposing man. His pale skin revealed faint veins where organic tissue met augmented plating. His eyes were hidden behind augmented goggles, permanently affixed to his face, and segmented plating covered his neck.


    A matte-black synthetic trailed behind, its blank face and fluid movement unsettlingly inhuman.


    Kaelar immediately recognized the synthetic model, having encountered something similar before. It was far from common, though he couldn¡¯t quite recall where he had seen it.


    The three surrounded Mira, their presence cutting off every possible escape. She stayed calm, fighting to keep her breathing steady, though their eyes seemed to pierce right through her efforts. Occasional glances lingered on them from a few observant patrons, followed by brief whispers to their companions or subtle motions toward Mira, discussing it in hushed tones without drawing attention to themselves.


    Kaelar, observing their interaction, noted no change in Nrek¡¯s expression. Instead, Nrek¡¯s focus remained on Kaelar¡¯s face. For a moment, Nrek seemed to experience some discomfort, his jaw tightening briefly. At the same time, a faint light flickered from the device on his forearm, pulsing once before fading. Just as quickly as it began, the discomfort vanished, and his expression returned to its impenetrable calm, now appearing even more focused.


    Kaelar¡¯s gaze shifted between Nrek and those surrounding Mira, still wondering why Idara and Talon had not yet arrived at the bar.


    ¡°If you want me to drop this, pay the debt for them. Though it¡¯s far from simple as that,¡± Kaelar said, as he leaned forward. ¡°We lost a ship because of them.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not my problem,¡± Nrek replied coldly.


    Nrek finished his drink and rose slowly, his unreadable expression lingering on Kaelar for a moment longer as he stood, looking down at him. ¡°Consider this your only warning, Kaelar. Ignore it, and you won¡¯t see the next one coming. You don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re dealing with.¡± With that, Nrek turned and made his way toward the exit.


    His companions kept their focus on Mira, moving slightly closer. The female stepped almost directly into Mira¡¯s space, making no attempt to hide her augmented arms. Mira¡¯s family had hailed from the Seven Worlds, and she recognized the look and function of augmentations from there¡ªtypically designed to restore quality of life rather than enhance strength. Augments from other systems often appeared raw and less refined, but the ones before her were unlike either. These augmentations were something else entirely.


    Instinctively, Mira stepped backward, finding herself uncomfortably close to the male companion, whose entire upper and lower jaw were fully augmented.


    What have you gotten us into Kaelar?


    The synthetic of the group remained motionless, silently observing. For a brief moment, they watched her, their intent unreadable. Then, one by one, they turned and followed Nrek, who had already exited the bar. Each left at a casual pace, disappearing around the corner.


    Kaelar watched as Nrek and his companions disappeared out the door, tension still coiled in his chest. Professionals. Few would dare to make a stand against the Syndicate like this. They were either reckless or had the means to back it up, and he didn¡¯t sense they were stupid.


    He didn¡¯t like the position they had put him in but was more concerned for Mira, thankful that she now seemed safe.


    Draining the last of his drink, he noted Mira, now free from them, approaching and throwing herself into the seat across from him, her expression a mix of concern and relief.


    The Ottorin waitress promptly brought Kaelar a fresh drink before moving on to serve another table.


    Kaelar¡¯s fist slammed into the table, the sharp sound startling nearby patrons. His frustration boiled over¡ªa culmination of the past couple of days¡¯ failures and Nrek¡¯s implied threats. He was at his limit. Days of mounting frustration had left him in a foul mood. He had come to the bar to relax, not to deal with this, and it only added to his irritation.


    Do they think I¡¯m weak? His position as the Vanicktus Syndicate¡¯s enforcer on Eteren One depended not just on his authority within the Syndicate, but on the fear his name invoked. Public defiance could easily alter that perception. Strength wasn¡¯t just important¡ªit was everything. His power hinged on fear¡ªhis name alone had to inspire it.


    Eteren One was different from most postings. The RDF¡¯s security measures were tight, making it nearly impossible to operate openly without drawing their attention. Often, it meant working with restraint. Only in the station¡¯s low sub-levels could they escape the watchful eyes of the security scanners, and even there, every move had to be made carefully.


    ¡°Hey, easy on my table! It didn¡¯t do anything to you!¡± Rorgal Fornis shouted from behind the bar, waving his toothpick at Kaelar, his tone half-serious. Without waiting for a response, he quickly moved on to serving a drink and continuing his conversation with a couple of recently arrived off-duty RDF officers at the bar.


    Kaelar waved him off, shooting him a look.


    ¡°Who was that?¡± Mira asked.


    ¡°Someone named Nrek,¡± Kaelar replied, recounting the encounter to her, including what had been said and his concerns about Garen Rivers specifically. He found it curious that Nrek¡¯s main focus seemed to be the old war general. ¡°Did they give you any indication of who they might be?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No.¡± Mira said. ¡°Who¡¯s he working for? And why does he care?¡±


    Kaelar didn¡¯t respond immediately. His focus turned inward for a moment. ¡°You said that augmented officer, Taylen, was part of some RDF Special Forces. Do you think they¡¯re related to that?¡±


    ¡°The RSIA,¡± Mira corrected. ¡°Maybe, but I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s interesting,¡± Kaelar said.


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± Mira asked.


    ¡°They¡¯re heavily augmented. All Human,¡± Kaelar noted.


    ¡°That is curious,¡± Mira agreed, realizing how obvious it was and how stunned the entire encounter had left her.


    ¡°I sent notifications to all three of you. Why are you the only one here?¡± Kaelar asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Kaelar,¡± Mira replied, glancing at her remlink just as a message came through. ¡°Wait¡ªTalon and Idara were engaged as well, but they¡¯re free now and on their way here.¡±


    ¡°They stopped them from coming here? Who could stop Idara?¡± Kaelar¡¯s tone carried an edge of disbelief, his mind already working through the possibilities.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to ask her in person. She¡¯s not much for texts,¡± Mira replied.


    ¡°You need to find out who they are,¡± Kaelar said simply.


    ¡°I will,¡± Mira assured him.


    ¡°And contact your friend in security. I want to know if they¡¯ve left the station, what they¡¯re flying¡ªanything we can uncover,¡± he said.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to want payment,¡± Mira said.


    ¡°Just do it,¡± Kaelar said sharply. ¡°We might need some backup. Sounds like we¡¯re outnumbered.¡±


    ¡°I think we should proceed carefully until we find out who they are first,¡± Mira suggested.


    Kaelar took a moment to process her words. ¡°You might be right,¡± he admitted as he stood from the table. He looked at Mira and added, ¡°Come on.¡±


    She followed him as they exited the bar. ¡°Tell Idara and Talon to meet us at my quarters instead. I need you to get to work right away.¡±


    Mira unclipped her remlink from her belt, quickly composing a text message to Idara and Talon.


    As they turned the corner, Rorgal Fornis¡¯s voice echoed behind them as he stepped onto the stage. ¡°For your listening pleasure, Aphlon Nights!¡± His words followed them into the corridor of the merchant center of the station.


    Walking through the promenade, Kaelar couldn¡¯t shake Nrek¡¯s parting words. The threat lingered in his mind, demanding immediate action. They needed to determine who Nrek and his companions were, who they worked for, and why they were so concerned about Garen Rivers. He also dreaded the thought of reporting the encounter to Valter Drivaktar, the Mottmor System Lord. But first, he needed information.

 Chapter 28

    Chapter 28


    Eteren One Orbital Starbase


    Mottmor System, Venddral Raidezel Sector


    Date: Zeran 24, Year 4731


    The promenade¡¯s merchant center on Eteren One thrived with sound, motion, and the constant flow of traffic. Merchants called out from their stalls, while others trusted their wares to draw attention. Some establishments brimmed with patrons, while others struggled to attract even a single visitor, with most landing somewhere in between. Shoppers haggled over rare artifacts or essential supplies, while others wandered aimlessly.


    Some paused at viewing ports, admiring the emerald planet Eteren and the traffic near the station. Customers navigated the dense foot traffic, some hurrying to catch their transports as others emerged from security checkpoints.


    At one stall, a compact, broad-shouldered Valzenkel buyer hesitated, their expressive eyes narrowing skeptically as they examined an intricately crafted trinket. It¡¯s beautiful, yes, but worth that price? Ridiculous.


    The Sabon merchant, indigo-skinned and four-armed, leaned closer with a grin, raising the trinket. I¡¯ve got them hooked, they thought.


    ¡°A masterpiece from Nbula,¡± the merchant declared, their voice smooth and confident as their arms gestured animatedly. The Valzenkel hesitated, weighing the trinket¡¯s worth against their credits. They shifted slightly, testing if walking away might lower the price. The Valzenkel wanted something special for their significant other, but the cost had made them hesitate.


    Nearby, a Bolvatan eagerly pitched an all-inclusive trip package to a pair of Uxians, who seemed captivated by his enthusiastic descriptions of the attractions in his home star system. Further along, a Redtrislu glided across the floor, leaving a faint trail of its mucus. A utility Synthetic followed closely behind, diligently cleaning the residue.


    A distracted Netraxian stepped into the sticky trail, glaring at their shoe as the goo clung stubbornly, nearly trapping their foot. A string of muttered curses escaped as they begrudgingly pried their foot free. Why does this always happen to me?


    Spanning multiple levels, the promenade was packed with visitors from countless worlds. Voices in a dozen dialects clashed and merged, a range of pitches and octaves as varied as the beings who spoke them. Overhead, glass lifts moved between levels, ferrying residents and visitors to different levels.


    RDF Marines patrolled the walkways, their rifles held casually at the ready. One Marine scanned the promenade, their attention caught by a disagreement brewing between two patrons outside a distant tavern. Their partner, less concerned, stifled a yawn. ¡°This shift can¡¯t end soon enough,¡± they grumbled.


    On an elevated platform, a security Synthetic stood watch, its sensors sweeping the promenade, prepared to report anything out of the ordinary.


    Kaelar wove through the merchant center, his face set in irritation. His black fur bristled as his narrow, predatory eyes swept over anyone who ventured too close. Most gave the displeased Loquar a wide berth. A passing merchant wisely took a step back, thinking to themselves, That Loquar looks ready for a fight.


    He left the promenade, turning into a utility corridor, where the noise faded but never entirely disappeared. At a service lift, Kaelar swiped his card and stepped into the lift, descending to the cargo area where merchants stored surplus goods. Scattered employees moved through the bay, their glances sliding off Kaelar without interest.


    Towering stacks of crates and sealed storage chambers surrounded him. Kaelar strode forward, his thoughts consumed by his recent encounter with Nrek and the unsettling warnings that came with it.


    He had dismissed countless hollow threats in his line of work, but Nrek¡¯s words struck differently. Their demeanor exuded a seriousness Kaelar couldn¡¯t ignore. He didn¡¯t fear them, but they concerned him in ways few others ever had. Perhaps fear might even be warranted.


    Whether it was the cold certainty in Nrek¡¯s voice or the piercing intensity of his eyes, Kaelar recognized a formidable adversary. Growing up on the streets of YND, one quickly learned to read others¡ªor risk falling victim to them.


    What unsettled him most was Mira¡¯s uncharacteristic failure to uncover anything about Nrek or his companions. Mira, still in her quarters, hadn¡¯t given up and tirelessly worked to uncover something. Even her closest contacts in station security had offered nothing but apologies.


    Nrek and his companions'' ability to arrive and leave without a trace was a feat only the most resourceful¡ªor dangerous¡ªcould accomplish. Kaelar thought it impossible¡ªsomething many within the Syndicate had attempted and failed to achieve. At the very least, Nrek¡¯s group possessed resources beyond the reach of the Vanicktus Syndicate.


    Eteren One was the Syndicate¡¯s domain, as was the Mottmor system, and no outside group could encroach unchecked. While the Vanicktus Syndicate held ground in many systems, Mottmor was one where their presence was firmly entrenched.


    Unable to gather answers himself, Kaelar turned to the Vanicktus system lord for counsel. Any countermove against Nrek required a full understanding of the implications. But how could they counter a threat when they didn¡¯t even know where Nrek¡¯s group had gone¡ªor if they had even left the station? The sting of being caught off guard lingered. If Kaelar couldn¡¯t unearth the information, perhaps his boss could.


    Still, he doubted how seriously Valter would take the matter, especially with the sting of their recent losses still fresh. Yet the risk of inaction was far larger than the risk of bringing it up. Valter had access to far more resources than Kaelar did. If anyone could uncover the truth, it was him¡ªor so Kaelar hoped.


    The maze of crates shifted like a living entity, closing in with each turn. The towering stacks of containers formed narrow, shadowed pathways that guided him deeper, until he finally reached a secluded chamber.


    The door clicked open. Kaelar stepped inside, and it shut behind him, sealing the cramped space filled with crates.


    A familiar voice resonated through the speaker embedded in the wall, instantly recognizable to Kaelar. ¡°What do you want?¡± it demanded.


    Kaelar¡¯s gaze fixed on the camera lens protruding from the wall. ¡°I¡¯m here to see Valter. He¡¯s expecting me. Open up,¡± he said.


    ¡°Name?¡± came the reply after a pause, the tone laced with satisfaction at Kaelar¡¯s frustration.


    Kaelar¡¯s voice dropped to a growl. "Don¡¯t waste my time, Grev. You know exactly who I am." His claws flexed against his palm.


    ¡°Password.¡±


    "There¡¯s never been a password. Let. Me. In," Kaelar spoke, his voice dipping into a quiet, threatening tone.


    A series of mechanical clicks signaled the locks disengaging. The door split into four sections, retracting in opposite directions. Kaelar stepped through, leaving the cramped storage chamber for a space bathed in soft, ambient lighting.


    Melodic techno music pulsed softly in the background, encouraging private conversations. Kaelar moved through the expansive lounge, its tables scattered with patrons.


    It was a place where unspoken deals were struck, facilitated by the Vanicktus Syndicate, far removed from RDF and Trade Union regulations. Non-registered, unknown, it was a place where power shifted in whispers and alliances formed in secrecy¡ªthe station¡¯s rules simply didn¡¯t apply.


    Low murmurs of conversation filled the room. Business opportunities surfaced as negotiations unfolded, leading to forged alliances, struck deals, and exchanged threats. Some discussions ended with shared smiles, while others left one party sitting in uneasy silence.


    Kaelar¡¯s focus settled on a secured room guarded by a Loquar and a Krylan standing rigidly near the farthest wall, their shock daggers sheathed and particle rupture pistols secured at their hips. Energy stun rifles rested in their arms. A woman with a calm yet commanding demeanor guided select patrons past them into the private, secured rooms.


    Kaelar moved through the lounge, observing the Nsalron diplomats nearby, their deep blue luminescent skin visible beneath the folds of their attire, engaged in a subdued exchange with a human ambassador. Despite being outnumbered, the human pair¡ªa composed man and woman¡ªmaintained a serene confidence, in sharp contrast to the Nsalrons'' occasional glances, unsure how to react. The humans seemed firmly in control of the proceedings.


    Across the room, a lively discussion unfolded at a table where two Uxians shared restrained laughter with a Kirlu, its insectoid frame shifting with each gesture. Nearby, an Ottorin woman cloaked in elegant fabrics sipped her drink.


    Her role was pivotal¡ªshielding her people from the underworld¡¯s influence while deftly navigating its intricate ties to ensure their prominence in the Union remained unchallenged. For the Ottorin, alliances or at least an understanding with entities like the Vanicktus Syndicate were a necessary evil. She took a slow sip from her glass, her expression unreadable.


    The Ottorin, representing the Eteren Agricultural Consortium, wielded influence in the Mottmor Trade Union through a strong alliance with the Seven Worlds, though it also made them a target.


    Kaelar¡¯s path led him unerringly to a familiar table, the preferred haunt of the Mottmor System¡¯s lord whenever he visited Eteren One. Despite Kaelar¡¯s position as Enforcer of Eteren One, this establishment was a place he could only enter by invitation.


    In the lounge¡¯s farthest reaches, Valter Drivaktar sat in his customary spot, clothed in a finely tailored suit that emphasized his commanding presence. His luminescent Nsalron skin stood out even in the dim shadows of the corner. As Kaelar approached, Valter¡¯s attention settled firmly on him. Taking a deep puff on his stogie, Valter exhaled a thick plume of smoke, the scent lingering in the air between them.


    ¡°Kaelar,¡± Valter¡¯s voice carried an undercurrent of reprimand. ¡°Here we are again.¡± His eyes lingered on Kaelar, studying him intently, a flicker of both anticipation and disapproval in his expression. Then, with a softened tone edged with disappointment, he added, ¡°I thought we had an understanding. I told you I didn¡¯t want to see you for a few days. You¡¯d better have good news.¡±


    Kaelar paused briefly, collecting his thoughts before locking eyes with Valter. Valter had allowed this meeting at Kaelar¡¯s insistence. ¡°Valter, forgive my misstep, but we¡¯re facing an urgent situation that demands immediate attention, as I¡¯ve already informed you,¡± he said. ¡°I appreciate the invitation and the opportunity to further discuss the matter,¡± he said respectfully.


    Valter¡¯s expression shifted, the hardness in his demeanor softening as he gestured toward a nearby chair. Kaelar understood the motion as permission to sit. As he did, Valter¡¯s voice turned grave. ¡°Yes, though I wouldn¡¯t say I invited you. You requested to come here,¡± he said flatly.


    The narrowing of Valter¡¯s eyes and the deliberate exhale of smoke between them made his displeasure unmistakable. Kaelar caught the shift in Valter¡¯s eyes, the exhaled smoke hanging between them like a warning. Before Kaelar could respond, Valter continued.


    ¡°Do you think you¡¯re irreplaceable, Kaelar?¡± Valter¡¯s voice sank. The question hung in his voice, not loud but impossibly dense, dragging the moment down with it. He focused on Kaelar, the stillness between them lengthening.


    Kaelar had not expected such a response, leaving him second-guessing himself. ¡°Valter.¡± The name carried a mix of plea and defense. ¡°My instincts told me I needed to speak with you directly.¡±


    Valter leaned back, his expression unreadable. ¡°Very well then,¡± he said finally, his tone sharp with curiosity. ¡°Tell me again, what has you so concerned?¡±


    Kaelar recounted the incident with Nrek, initially dismissed as minor by Valter. But when Nrek¡¯s ties to Garen, Conus, and Klamarez surfaced, it rekindled an unhealed wound within the Syndicate. The anger in Valter¡¯s eyes was a reminder of the lost ship at their hands, a loss he seemed to care more about than the unpaid debt. The loss of the ship would reduce their ability to disable ships, cutting into their future profits.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°Kaelar, this is the alarming matter? I¡¯m not so sure,¡± Valter said, disbelief lacing his tone.


    ¡°He has threatened the Syndicate,¡± Kaelar replied firmly. ¡°Says he belongs to another organization.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to determine that yet. He arrived and left without a trace. There should be records of his presence, but Mira has found nothing¡ªnot a single sign of him, his crew, or his ship. It¡¯s as if they were never here. No ordinary individual can achieve that level of access. We¡¯re dealing with professionals¡ªa threat.¡±


    Valter absorbed Kaelar¡¯s words, his expression giving away little before he gave a small, deliberate nod. ¡°I appreciate your commitment, Kaelar. However, bringing this matter directly to me oversteps the boundaries of our hierarchy and forces me to reevaluate your future utility. Do you truly believe I would involve you with Thant under such circumstances? There was a time I was eager to consider it, but now¡­ I¡¯m not so sure. Understand this¡ªany attempt to bypass me or undermine the chain of command would ensure one¡¯s presence here is¡­ dismissed.¡±


    Valter¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°This isn¡¯t just any group, Kaelar. The Syndicate¡¯s influence in Mottmor grows every day¡ªalong with new risks. I have plans for the future, and only those with unwavering loyalty will have a place in it.¡± He nodded past Kaelar and waved someone over. ¡°You want to be a Warden one day? Then I need obedience.¡±


    Kaelar stiffened as Crial Veen¡¯s towering figure approached from behind. The Warden of Eteren had been silently listening to the exchange.


    ¡°Kaelar,¡± Crial said, his tone tinged with ire as he took the seat Valter had indicated. Valter acknowledged him with a subtle nod. ¡°My patience for this level of disregard has its limits. Consider yourself fortunate that Valter has consistently chosen to shield you. But let me make this clear¡ªI respect the chain of command, a principle you seem to misunderstand.¡±


    Crial¡¯s eyes shifted between Valter and Kaelar. ¡°Disrespect it again, and you won¡¯t find Valter intervening on your behalf.¡±


    Valter offered Crial a knowing smile. ¡°Indeed, Crial. Kaelar¡¯s transgressions have been many, and should he cross you so blatantly again, I shall not stand in the way.¡±


    Letting out a long sigh, Kaelar turned to Crial. ¡°I had no intention of insulting you. I apologize for my error.¡±


    "You apologize?" Crial¡¯s scoff carried a cutting edge. "Do you really think I care about your excuses?" He paused, moving his head sided to side in irritation. "No, this latest insult has cost you something." He let the words hang in the air for a moment before delivering the final blow. "You¡¯re no longer my enforcer for this station."


    Kaelar¡¯s eyes widened in shock before he stammered, ¡°Crial, I will follow protocol.¡±


    Valter remained silent, watching the exchange with a neutral expression, showing no inclination to challenge Crial¡¯s decision. The decision had been made.


    ¡°You know what the funny thing is, Kaelar?¡± Crial asked, leaning forward.


    Kaelar shrugged, unsure of what was coming next, as Crial leaned closer.


    ¡°If you had brought this to my attention, I would have been grateful,¡± Crial said. ¡°Instead, I had to learn about it on my own.¡±


    ¡°How did you learn about it?¡± Kaelar asked, looking to Valter. Valter dismissed the question with a wave, his expression unreadable. He had told Crial¡ªbut Crial had already known.


    ¡°Mira is good, but she¡¯s not as good as me,¡± Crial said with a smirk. ¡°I saw what she was looking into. Plus, your comms are far from secure. Consider it a lesson in security.¡±


    Kaelar¡¯s shoulders sagged as the realization hit. He felt suddenly foolish. ¡°You already knew everything,¡± he said quietly.


    ¡°I was waiting to see what you would do,¡± Crial replied. ¡°And you made the wrong choice.¡±


    "Crial informed me before you did,¡± Valter added. ¡°This Nrek you encountered isn¡¯t just anyone from a rival organization¡ªat least, he doesn¡¯t appear to be.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been looking into him myself,¡± Crial interjected. ¡°I haven¡¯t found out who he is or who he¡¯s working for, but I¡¯ve eliminated some possibilities. What¡¯s left is¡­ interesting, to say the least. You were right to be concerned. If not for the fact he managed to bypass incoming and outgoing ship records, I might have let it go. But their ability to do that has caught my interest.¡±


    Valter leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Since you¡¯re so concerned about this individual and his group, you¡¯ll be leaving the station. Speak with some of our other contacts and find out what you can.¡±


    "If this Nrek and his group pose a risk to us, I want to know about it," Crial said firmly. "No one interferes with our business and walks away unchallenged."


    Kaelar¡¯s situation was clear¡ªeither obey or lose everything he had built within the Syndicate. Joining the Syndicate at a young age had saved him, and he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that without it, he would have been stuck on the streets with nothing to his name and no future to call his own. Despite his frustration, he felt confident that if he followed orders, he could reclaim his position as Enforcer. It was only a matter of time.


    "Where am I going?" Kaelar asked, his voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath the surface.


    "The Midicos system," Crial replied. "Our affiliates there have some information on this figure. They might be able to uncover more or point you in the right direction. It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯s a start." Crial¡¯s grin widened. "Don¡¯t worry; we¡¯ll manage just fine here without you."


    Kaelar¡¯s expression hardened. "I am not refusing the order, but can¡¯t this information be transmitted?"


    "He refuses to send it long range," Crial said.


    "He might make you earn the information," Valter added, a trace of amusement in his voice.


    Earn it? Kaelar hesitated. "My team?"


    Crial¡¯s grin turned almost sinister. "I¡¯d like to keep Mira around. There are a few things I¡¯d like to teach her."


    Valter shook his head, noticing the tension in Kaelar¡¯s posture and the displeasure written across his face.


    Crial laughed, waving dismissively. "Fine, take them all."


    Kaelar stood, his expression carefully neutral.


    Crial reached into his pocket and handed Kaelar a data drive. "Mira will need this. It contains all the information about your contact in the Midicos system."


    Kaelar tucked it into an inside pocket.


    "I take someone interfering with our business as a serious insult," Valter said, his tone calm. "Find out who they are so that when we collect on that Camerian debt and take out that old war general, we¡¯ll know who might retaliate."


    ¡°Understood,¡± Kaelar replied. ¡°I¡¯ll make this right.¡±


    "See that you do." said Crial


    Valter gave a slight nod, his smirk barely perceptible. Crial¡¯s stony gaze, however, remained unyielding. Valter motioned for Kaelar to depart. As Kaelar turned to leave, Crial¡¯s voice broke the silence.


    ¡°Grev is your replacement,¡± Crial announced, watching for Kaelar¡¯s reaction.


    Kaelar stopped and turned slowly. "Grev?"


    "Grev," Crial repeated.


    "Very well," Kaelar said.


    Kaelar headed for the exit, the encounter replaying in his mind. He needed to leave, to cool down¡ªgetting angry here would only make matters worse for him. But before he could step through the door, a Loquar with gray fur moved into his path, blocking his way.


    ¡°Hello, brother,¡± the gray-furred Loquar said, his voice lighter than Kaelar¡¯s and accompanied by an unnaturally wide grin and wide eyes.


    ¡°Grev,¡± Kaelar acknowledged.


    ¡°I hear you¡¯re off on an adventure. Be sure to bring me something back, brother,¡± Grev said, his tone mocking.


    Kaelar¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°We¡¯ve never been brothers, Grev. The only thing I¡¯d bring you back is a lesson I could give you here and now.¡± He stepped forward, fist clenched.


    Unmoved, Grev responded, ¡°That would hurt our father¡¯s feelings¡­ brother,¡± Grev said.


    Kaelar exhaled slowly, his fist relaxing. ¡°You know I won¡¯t hit you in front of Valter.¡± Grev was fully aware¡ªthat was the only time he dared to be brave against Kaelar, unless he had backup with him. ¡°But when I get back, I¡¯ll want my position back.¡±


    Grev¡¯s grin stretched wide. If you make it back. ¡°It¡¯s my position now.¡±


    ¡°You were handed this position because I¡¯m being punished, not because you earned it,¡± Kaelar shot back. ¡°You¡¯ll be back working the door soon enough. I doubt you¡¯ll do anything worthy of keeping the role. Enjoy it while you can.¡±


    Grev¡¯s grin faltered. ¡°Things will be different when you return. The Midicos system isn¡¯t like here. The Envara have their own ways.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m done talking to you,¡± Kaelar said coldly, stepping around him.


    ¡°Grev! Get over here,¡± Valter called, his voice cutting through the room.


    ¡°Father wants to speak with me,¡± Grev said quietly to Kaelar before raising his voice. ¡°Let me get us some drinks,¡± he added, heading toward Valter and Crial.


    Kaelar didn¡¯t linger. The lounge yielded to the rigid structure of the cargo bay, his mind racing with unresolved questions. As he made his way toward the lift back to the market district, he replayed Grev¡¯s words in his mind.


    He and Grev had never been brothers. Yet they¡¯d shared the same grim circumstances as children. Valter had taken them in, given them work, and shaped their futures. Not all had survived, and not all had remained with the Syndicate. Valter had been more of a father than anyone else, though Kaelar knew he wasn¡¯t a father in the true sense of the word. Still, without Valter¡¯s intervention, Kaelar couldn¡¯t imagine where he might have ended up.


    As he weaved through the dense crowds of Eteren One, his mission occupied every corner of his mind. The Midicos system was an unknown to him¡ªa place he had no desire to visit but now had no choice but to face.


    It was in the midst of this contemplation that Kaelar¡¯s path was abruptly blocked by Sheriff Quent and her companion, Deputy Vrenjol.


    ¡°Sheriff Quent,¡± Kaelar said, his tone clipped, betraying his annoyance at the interruption. She was tall, an Ottorin with terracotta skin, a polished badge, and loosely tied verdant hair.


    Kaelar spared a glance at the compact Sabon beside her, Deputy Vrenjol, someone he was unfamiliar with. Newly hired to assist Sheriff Quent in investigative matters involving the Mottmor Trade Union, Eteren One served as their base of operations, with the Mottmor system falling under their jurisdiction. The deputy had cerulean skin and a wild mop of electric blonde hair, his four arms fumbling awkwardly with a tablet.


    ¡°Kaelar,¡± Sheriff Quent began, carrying the quiet confidence of someone who preferred information over conflict. ¡°We need to clarify something about your ship.¡±


    A spark of anger broke through Kaelar¡¯s blank stare, but he quickly regained control. ¡°If this is about the docking protocols, I¡¯ve followed them. The matter should be settled,¡± he stated firmly.


    Deputy Vrenjol adjusted his device, his pupils narrowing as he scanned the screen. After a moment, he presented the tablet. ¡°Actually, you have corrected the issue,¡± the Sabon said, ¡°but there are still outstanding docking fines.¡±


    ¡°Docking fines,¡± Kaelar repeated, his expression hardened like stone.


    ¡°Yes, the regulations are clear, and¡ª¡± Sheriff Quent began, but Kaelar cut her off sharply.


    "I have no time for this. Just send the details, and I¡¯ll pay," Kaelar snapped.


    Sheriff Quent blinked, surprised by his abrupt compliance. She had expected resistance. ¡°It¡¯s standard procedure to address these matters in person, after so much time has passed,¡± she said. ¡°Thank you¡ªwe would appreciate your cooperation.¡±


    Kaelar¡¯s expression remained unmoved. ¡°Just send me the fine,¡± Kaelar said flatly, dismissing the conversation.


    Deputy Vrenjol offered an awkward smile. Kaelar said nothing further, stepping forward, forcing them to move aside as he passed through between them.


    As the crowd swallowed Kaelar, Sheriff Quent and Deputy Vrenjol exchanged a wary glance.


    ¡°We should¡¯ve just clamped his ship. What an attitude. What a jerk,¡± Deputy Vrenjol said, shaking his head as he fussed with the tablet.


    ¡°Attitude¡¯s expected. He works for you-know-who,¡± Sheriff Quent replied, lowering her voice and raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°Who?¡± he asked, narrowing his eyes uncertainly.


    Sheriff Quent leaned in closer, her tone dropping further. ¡°You know who,¡± she repeated meaningfully, her deep green eyes narrowing.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Deputy Vrenjol said, stumped, shifting awkwardly as his unruly hair fell over his eyes.


    Sheriff Quent cast a wary glance around before whispering, ¡°The Vanicktus Syndicate.¡±


    Deputy Vrenjol¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°What? I thought he worked in shipping.¡±


    ¡°He does,¡± Sheriff Quent said dryly, her gaze following Kaelar¡¯s retreating figure. ¡°But only on file.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Deputy Vrenjol replied, nodding slowly as the realization dawned. ¡°There¡¯s a lot to learn about how things really work here.¡±


    "He¡¯s the least of our worries on this station," said Sheriff Quent.


    They watched Kaelar¡¯s figure as he navigated the busy market districts and disappeared from view, his thoughts already far beyond the trivial encounter.

 Chapter 29

    Chapter 29


    The Seeker


    The Rhyus System, Karbay Nolan Sector


    Date: Zeran 27, Year 4731


    The Seeker continued its voyage, traversing an interdimensional rift as it pressed onward toward the Rhyus System.


    Garen leaned back in the pilot¡¯s chair, letting the ship¡¯s autopilot guide them through the rift. Indicators blinked, soft electronic tones from the ship¡¯s systems breaking the stillness of the cockpit.


    At the rear of the ship, Klamarez sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by components he had acquired at Eteren One. Carefully, he sorted through them, separating those he intended to integrate in the near future, having already put some to use¡ªor at least set them aside to further complete his projects. You can never have enough parts. I should¡¯ve gotten more, he thought, his frustration muted by his satisfaction with what he¡¯d managed to bring aboard.


    Though he hadn¡¯t gotten everything he wanted from Junk and Gems, the additions to his collection were more than enough to keep him busy for a while. If the opportunity arose, he might have considered returning¡ªbut with the Vanicktus Syndicate lingering at Eteren One, the risk was too high. For all he knew, a bounty had already been placed on his head, making every port a potential trap.


    The rift redirector had saved him and the Seeker during their escape from the Syndicate ship in the Mottmor System, but its malfunction had unintended consequences. The device had worked¡ªbut not as intended. It was meant to give the Seeker space, not cause harm.


    Conus analyzed the Seeker¡¯s readings, but with limited data and little time, he couldn¡¯t determine exactly what had happened to the Syndicate ship, though he had a strong suspicion. The redirector, meant to safely relocate ships through interdimensional rifts¡ªshifting a pursuing vessel just far enough to allow the Seeker to escape¡ªhad instead left the Syndicate ship stranded between dimensions, or so it seemed. Escaping such a fate required knowledge few crews possessed.


    Klamarez released a slow breath, his ears twitching as he reflected on how repaying his debt had shifted from a simple task to the graver burden of being held responsible for the loss of a Syndicate ship. Even if he repaid what he owed, it might not be enough. The loss of their ship had likely made it personal. If the Syndicate wanted a warning to others, he might become their perfect example.


    The Rhyus mission was nearly over, yet instead of relief, a quiet apprehension settled over Klamarez. He had no idea what his future held¡ªwhere he would go, what he would do, or how he would navigate the path ahead. Everything felt far more complicated than it had been just days ago.


    Klamarez did his best to focus on sorting his parts, trying not to dwell on the problems he couldn¡¯t currently control, as there was no point in stressing over what was out of his hands.


    Meanwhile, Conus sat preoccupied with his own thoughts. Since leaving Eteren One, his mind had been fixated on a single name: Nomadiccus¡ªhis father¡¯s trade ship. He couldn¡¯t decide if it was a real memory or something his mind had fabricated.


    He couldn¡¯t shake the thought that his memories¡ªthe fragments he clung to¡ªmight not be real. Could I have imagined it? Whenever he searched too deeply, pain was the only response, sharp and relentless, as if his mind recoiled from the attempt. Was it real, or just a trick of my mind?


    It wasn¡¯t the sharp invasive pain from Eteren One or the searing spike on Chiex. Those had felt different¡ªalmost targeted. This pain was constant, familiar¡ªmanageable, until it wasn¡¯t.


    Conus knew better than to push himself, resisting the urge to dig into memories that refused to surface. His past existed in fragments¡ªunreachable, always just beyond his grasp. Vague recollections lingered, pieces of what once was. Whether real, altered by time, or imagined entirely, he couldn¡¯t say with confidence.


    It was a cruel contrast to the perfect clarity he had gained after the accident; every moment since then was burned into his memory, yet much of his life before remained a mystery¡ªknown only in scattered impressions, half-remembered names, and elusive images that never quite fit together in his mind.


    His childhood, his family¡ªlost in the haze. No matter how hard he tried to remember, it was always the same.


    The past taunted him, a whisper in his mind, only to vanish the moment he reached for it, leaving nothing but pain in its place.


    But the revelation about Nomadiccus made it impossible to ignore the urge to dig deeper. The name clung to his thoughts, pressing him to uncover what had been buried¡ªor lost entirely. As soon as he had the chance, he would search for more. If he could hold onto the name, perhaps it would lead him to something greater¡ªsomething real.


    Are there records to find? he wondered.


    Though it would have to wait. For now, his goal was simple¡ªget Garen to Rhyus. And that task was nearly complete. He had to focus. By focus, he meant finding something to occupy his attention¡ªanything but searching his own mind.


    In an effort to distract himself, Conus turned to the historical archives stored on his handheld PDA, reviewing detailed accounts of the Vorcon War¡ªevents he had read more than once. It had become a ritual, a way to keep himself from wandering the locked corridors of his own mind.


    One particular mission had always stood out¡ªan early account of General Garen Rivers during his command of the Warpstar, an assault frigate in the Rhyus Defense Fleet (RDF). While Garen¡¯s legacy was largely tied to his years aboard the capital battlecruiser Riftkin, it was his time commanding the Warpstar that truly proved his ability to lead, eventually earning him command of the Riftkin itself.


    RDF officers, upon reaching the rank of General, were often required to command various types of craft before being entrusted with a capital battlecruiser.


    It demonstrated to many that his talents extended beyond melee combat and his skill behind the cockpit of a Verta fighter. He was more than just a warrior¡ªhe was a leader, a strategist. Those closest to him knew it, but this mission, like many others, left no doubt in anyone¡¯s mind.


    Garen proved himself time and again, and this battle was yet another example of his growing reputation in the RDF fleet.


    The report detailed an engagement between the RDF and the Grand Vorcon Imperial Force (GVIF), a battle where both sides had deployed a large fleet. The Vorcons held the upper hand¡ªsome of their warships had longer-range firepower than anything the RDF fleet could match. With the ability to strike from great distances, the Vorcon warships kept RDF vessels at bay, forcing them to withstand heavy bombardment without a clear path to retaliate.


    Garen, commanding the Warpstar, devised a strategy to counter this advantage and presented his plan to the admiral in command of the RDF fleet. He deployed a squadron of rapid assault craft¡ªsmall, highly maneuverable ships designed to evade enemy fire and operate close to enemy lines. Each carried strike pods, creating the illusion of a large-scale RDF boarding operation.


    The Vorcons, seeing what appeared to be an imminent boarding assault, shifted their focus. They redirected resources to defend their long-range ships, momentarily weakening their offensive line.


    With the Vorcons reacting defensively, Garen moved to the next phase of his plan. He advised that the RDF fleet be split into smaller, mobile task forces, making them harder to target and forcing the Vorcons to divide their firepower across multiple directions. A second wave of rapid assault craft was then deployed, again carrying strike pods to maintain the deception and keep the Vorcons focused on the wrong threat.


    The first and second waves of strike pods were bluffs¡ªempty, meant only to draw fire and further disrupt enemy coordination. After multiple feints, Garen launched the real strike. A select few strike pods contained elite RDF operatives, while additional empty pods kept up the deception.


    The operatives successfully infiltrated the Vorcon flagship and several other key warships within the fleet. They planted explosives deep within the engine rooms, then evacuated just before detonation. The resulting explosions crippled the Vorcon flagship and severely damaged multiple vessels, fracturing their formation.


    The loss of their flagship and heavy damage to multiple vessels sent the Vorcon fleet spiraling into disorder.


    The RDF saw their opening and attacked from multiple angles, overwhelming the Vorcons.


    Garen¡¯s plan had worked. His deception and battlefield awareness had turned a one-sided fight into a decisive RDF engagement, proving his ability to think ahead, adapt, and outmaneuver a superior force¡ªleading to an RDF victory.


    Conus glanced up from his PDA, almost unable to believe this was the same man he had just read about. It felt surreal¡ªhere was a man whose exploits had become the stuff of legends, now sitting just a few feet away. Yet, beneath Garen¡¯s composed exterior, Conus sensed a guardedness, as if the General was deliberately keeping everyone at arm¡¯s length.


    "General," Conus asked hesitantly, finding himself asking the question before he even realized it, "do you miss the fleet?"


    Garen smiled faintly, his eyes fixed on the forward display, watching the feed of the rift¡¯s swirling depths. The white streaks stretched and twisted, forming an ever-shifting tunnel that rippled with unseen currents. Light pulsed within, erratic and uneven. It extended beyond sight, an endless corridor of distortion.


    Of course, he missed the fleet. He missed that time in his life. But being in the fleet now¡ªdid he miss that? No. That time had long passed, replaced by thoughts of what might have been.


    "Sometimes, I miss being part of something bigger," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. His hand drifted to his beard, stroking it absently. "But I never wanted to fight a war. Yet, that¡¯s what my career became." He looked back to the console. ¡°Peaceful days in the fleet... that¡¯s all I ever wanted. But I never got them.¡±


    He paused, his expression growing distant. "Chiex¡ªthat was peace," he muttered. "Unanswered mysteries... ones I should¡¯ve explored further," he added, his voice trailing off. Garen had expected more time¡ªso much more.


    For an instant, he was back in the forests of Chiex, the quiet broken by the calls of unseen creatures and the rush of running streams. Simpler, he thought. But it had never been what he imagined. None of it had brought the peace he sought.


    Snapping back to the present, he took a quick glance at Conus. ¡°It¡¯s hard to imagine you¡¯ve had a mostly peaceful career in the RDF.¡±


    ¡°The war ended not long after I graduated from the academy,¡± Conus replied, recalling his early days in the fleet, never having seen the front lines. ¡°A lot of peacekeeping, providing aid... a different time.¡±


    Klamarez, who had been listening quietly from the rear of the ship, let out a scoff. ¡°Providing aid?¡±


    Garen glanced toward Klamarez, already knowing what was coming.


    "The RDF often lends aid to other worlds," Conus¡¯s words were level. To him, it was a fact.


    ¡°Only when it suits them,¡± Klamarez replied sharply.


    ¡°Suit them?¡± Conus echoed, frowning. ¡°You¡¯ve always had strong feelings about the RDF, Klamarez.¡± His tone was casual, though curiosity seeped through.


    It was not the first time since their journey began that Klamarez had indicated his strong feelings about the RDF.


    ¡°Care to share what¡¯s really on your mind?¡± More than anything, he wanted to understand. The Seven Worlds had helped the Camerians... hadn¡¯t they? Hadn¡¯t they? he wondered.


    Klamarez set down the component he¡¯d been inspecting.


    "I¡¯ll always be grateful to the RDF for driving the Vorcons out. Things could¡¯ve been worse¡ªfar worse."


    That was hard to imagine, but it was true.


    His voice, usually warm, now carried a chill, the tension replacing his usual calm.


    "But after they left... that was a different story. Calio was a mess¡ªstarving, looting, murder, and things I don¡¯t even want to think about. Our people begged the Council of Seven for the RDF to stay longer, to step in and restore order. They refused. They said their job was done. It was far from done."


    He paused, his green eyes narrowing as those days came rushing back. ¡°They brought us aid, sure. But you know what happened to that aid? It was taken by thugs. Gangs of them. The RDF didn¡¯t stay to enforce anything¡ªthey left us to fend for ourselves.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The RDF prided itself on aiding struggling worlds, but their records never detailed what happened once their ships departed. The reality left behind was never recorded¡ªafter all, the RDF wouldn¡¯t paint itself in a negative light.


    The galaxy was filled with those lying in wait, ready to exploit the vulnerable and desperate, patiently waiting for the RDF to depart¡ªstriking the moment opportunity presented itself. Calio was overrun by desperate Camerians and raiders from other worlds who seized the opportunity left in the wake of the Vorcon defeat and the human withdrawal. The planet needed time to stabilize before it could stand on its own again.


    Klamarez¡¯s voice caught slightly, his eyes narrowing as memories surfaced.


    ''When I look back... the worst things happened when the Vorcon Empire occupied my homeworld. But the worst things I¡¯ve ever done... I did after they left. Violence. So much violence... things I¡¯ll never forget,'' he said, closing his eyes.


    For a moment, nothing existed except his words.


    Garen¡¯s eyes remained fixed on the console, but his hands gripped the armrests of his chair tightly, his knuckles pale. He didn¡¯t speak¡ªhe just listened. He had voiced those concerns at the time, but Calio was no longer a priority¡ªfor the RDF, for the Council of Seven. The enemy had been defeated, and as far as the Council and RDF Command were concerned, their job on Calio was done.


    The Rhyus Defense Fleet was supposed to be more than just a war fleet.


    Conus sat quietly, the raw emotion in Klamarez¡¯s words sharpening a reality he had only understood in the abstract before. He could see where Klamarez was coming from, but still found it hard to view the RDF and the Seven Worlds as being in the wrong. They had helped the Camerians¡ªhelped many worlds.


    Klamarez fell silent, his expression dark as he relived those painful memories.


    ¡°War has a way of consuming everything,¡± Garen¡¯s voice was quiet, carrying a trace of bitterness. ¡°It defines you, shapes you into something that¡¯s hard to let go of long after the battles are over.¡±


    "I only know what happened on Calio," said Klamarez.


    "What happened on Calio was more than enough for anyone to endure," Garen replied. "That¡¯s enough for anyone."


    Klamarez didn¡¯t say anything but nodded slowly.


    Conus thought it over, listening to both Klamarez and Garen reflect on how deeply their pasts had affected them.


    He hadn¡¯t expected Garen¡¯s words to hit so hard, but they did. It struck him how much the man before him had sacrificed¡ªnot just on the battlefield, but in the years spent fighting wars he never wanted, missing out on the peace he had always longed for. And in the end, he had lost his career because he stood up for what he believed.


    Conus knew the Vorcon conquest of Calio had been brutal, but listening to Klamarez speak and seeing the look in his eyes, he realized he didn¡¯t fully understand. Whatever Klamarez had witnessed, whatever he had endured¡ªit was far worse than Conus had ever imagined.


    An alert echoed through the ship. They had reached the territory just outside the Rhyus System, skirting the dimensional inhibitor field¡ªa defense mechanism that prevented ships from opening rifts directly inside the system. This barrier forced all incoming vessels to emerge at the system¡¯s periphery, requiring them to cover the remaining distance under sublight speeds.


    At the heart of the security network stood a star base that functioned as both a command nexus and the core of the dimensional inhibitor. The star base was crucial to maintaining the integrity of the inhibitor field. Supporting this hub were auxiliary stations dispersed across the system, working in concert to amplify the field¡¯s effectiveness. However, the system¡¯s intricate design had a critical vulnerability: if the central star base were to fall, the outlying stations would be unable to sustain the field on their own, leaving the Rhyus System dangerously exposed to interdimensional incursions.


    This defensive architecture gave the Seven Worlds of Rhyus a critical strategic edge, acting as a buffer that provided crucial time to rally defenses against potential invasions. It kept their star system secure, or at the very least, prevented enemy ships from launching surprise attacks on their planets, giving the RDF the time needed to respond.


    The Seeker surged from the rift, its frame shuddering as the stabilizers kicked in. The interdimensional rift drive created an opening, forcing the ship back into normal space.


    Klamarez glanced at the console and made the necessary adjustments. The shields dipped briefly before stabilizing, catching his attention.


    "Still working out the kinks," he said, shrugging as he monitored the energy output.


    He had noticed the same fluctuation each time the ship emerged from a rift. Maybe it was nothing¡ªjust a quirk of the system.


    Still, it was worth watching.


    Now that he had experienced the Seeker in flight, he looked forward to the opportunity to spend more time refining his ship.


    "You really got me wondering if this thing will hold together," Garen said, though his tone carried no real concern.


    ¡°Is everything okay?¡± Conus asked, noticing the brief concern on Klamarez¡¯s face.


    Klamarez took an extra moment, looking at his screen to verify. "All good, wondering why exiting a rift is putting such a strain on the shields."


    "If the ship¡¯s shield frequency isn¡¯t properly tuned to counteract the shift between dimensions, it could momentarily destabilize when we re-enter real space. The shields are probably absorbing excess dimensional feedback," Conus offered as a suggestion.


    Klamarez¡¯s face lit up. "Of course!" he said, immediately making notes on his PDA.


    With the Seeker now out of the rift, Garen retook helm control, guiding the ship further into the Rhyus system.


    Garen smiled back at the Camerian. ¡°The Seeker is a fine ship, Klamarez,¡± he said, appreciative.


    Klamarez nodded. "Thanks, Garen."


    "You should be proud of what you¡¯ve built," said Conus. "I hope to one day see the finished result."


    Klamarez nodded absently, his mind drifting to his uncertain¡ªand perhaps dangerous¡ªfuture.


    He reached into his pocket, fingers curling around a small, carved stone¡ªa memento from Calio. Its cool surface steadied his restless thoughts as he traced the initials etched into it.


    The stone wasn¡¯t just a keepsake. It was a Camerian tradition, a piece of home. A reminder not only of what he had lost, but of who he had lost.


    Conus glanced at the TRACE display. "We¡¯ve just entered the Rhyus system."


    ¡°Looks like we made it, Garen,¡± Klamarez remarked.


    ¡°We¡¯re not there yet,¡± Garen replied.


    "Don¡¯t be so grim, Garen," Klamarez teased.


    ¡°I¡¯m not being grim,¡± Garen said. ¡°I¡¯m being cautious. We¡¯ve had far from a smooth journey so far. Any other enemies you haven¡¯t told me about?¡± Garen shot Klamarez a quick smile, glancing back at him.


    Klamarez snorted.


    "We won¡¯t have any problems in the Rhyus System," Conus said, confident.


    After everything that had happened in the past few days, Garen wasn¡¯t so sure.


    Klamarez grunted as he rose, stowing away the components he had been tinkering with before returning to his post at the communications station. His eyes moved over the Seeker¡¯s interior, noting every detail. Though the ship still bore exposed panels and open spaces begging for more equipment, he smiled faintly, his fangs just visible. So much work to do, he thought, eager to get started.


    As the Seeker ventured deeper into the Rhyus System, an eclectic array of spacecraft appeared on the TRACE. Shuttles, freighters, and commercial vessels dotted the space around them.


    A Rhyus Cruise ship drew Klamarez¡¯s attention. Its communications channel filled with advertisements and announcements: promises of galactic adventures, luxury accommodations, and exclusive travel deals. Klamarez chuckled quietly to himself. That kind of extravagance felt like a distant dream, but it was amusing to imagine.


    Then there was the RDF¡ªthe omnipresent fleet patrolling the system with an array of ships dedicated to scanning, monitoring, and, if necessary, boarding vessels to ensure security. The Rhyus System was never without the watchful eyes of the RDF. Their presence was constant, their ships a mix of designs, enforcing order.


    The Rhyus System, with its seven planets and eighteen moons, was often called the galaxy¡¯s most populous¡ªa claim hotly debated. It was hard to know for certain.


    The system was packed with starbases serving a wide range of purposes: from RDF strongholds to trade hubs, observation stations, commercial outposts, and mining operations.


    Conus found himself drawn to the display on the Seeker¡¯s TRACE system. "A Noth trade ship¡ªrare sight in this system," he remarked.


    "The Noth?¡± Klamarez¡¯s ears twitched with curiosity. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of them, sure¡ªbut never seen one myself. Only ever mentioned in passing.¡± He paused, thinking. ¡°They¡¯re from the¡ª" A moment of hesitation. "The Yaleris System?¡± he said uncertainly.


    "Close," Conus replied, glancing over at him. "They¡¯re from the Lymigo System."


    The two star systems were in the same sector, relatively close in proximity¡ªat least on a galactic scale.


    "Ah... Lymigo," said Klamarez, wrinkling his nose. "Never been there myself. Was close more than once¡ªwell, close enough."


    Klamarez noticed an incoming message on his communications console. ''Garen, we¡¯ve got landing coordinates from Rhyus HQ.'' He transferred the data over.


    Garen glanced at Conus, his expression faintly amused. "Seems they¡¯ve been keeping a close eye on us. I¡¯ve been away a long time, but I can still find my way to command¡ªassuming it¡¯s in the same place."


    Conus, slightly amused, said, "It is, General."


    Klamarez glanced at the Seeker¡¯s communications console, scanning the Rhyus System¡¯s myriad frequencies. Cycling through various channels before settling briefly on a news broadcast.


    "The emergence of the Grand Vorcon Imperial Force has been deemed an isolated incident," the broadcaster announced. "There is no evidence of an immediate threat, and reports suggesting otherwise appear to be overblown. The Rhyus Defense Fleet has ensured there is no danger to the Rhyus System. The Council of Seven has opened diplomatic channels with the Vorcon Empire."


    Klamarez didn¡¯t linger on the channel, quickly moving through the frequencies.


    Garen and Conus exchanged a glance and shook their heads at the report, neither convinced by the attempt to downplay the situation.


    The cabin filled with the strains of a melody. Klamarez changed the channel, but when Garen said, ''Keep that on, I haven¡¯t heard this in forever,'' he switched it back.


    The music enveloped the cabin.


    Klamarez made a face, his ears twitching slightly as the song''s distorted string sounds filled the Seeker.


    Garen began to sing along, his deep voice resonating in the confined space:


    "I¡¯m not your god, though I¡¯m your creator.


    You fail to bow, we¡¯ll displace you.


    You think you¡¯re strong, but you¡¯re just mistaken.


    I forged your path, now your soul is shaken."


    As the song launched into a long solo, Klamarez reached over and turned the volume down slightly, giving Garen a pointed look. ¡°What are they called?¡±


    ¡°Eyes of the Falcon,¡± Garen replied, pausing to mime an air guitar with surprising enthusiasm. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to get some of their music while we¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°Eyes of the Falcon,¡± Klamarez repeated, his ears twitching slightly. ¡°Well, it¡¯s a different sound, for sure.¡±


    Conus was lost in his own thoughts. Memories of Cresnor rose in his mind. It had been a full year since he¡¯d last set foot on the planet, despite spending considerable time in the Rhyus system recently. Cresnor had once been a sanctuary after the loss of his parents¡ªa place where he had found stability and comfort with his grandparents. But now, that connection felt severed. His grandparents were gone, and their old home belonged to someone else.


    The last time he had visited, he¡¯d hoped to find closure, but all he found was an empty echo of what Cresnor had once meant to him. That visit had only solidified his decision to move forward¡ªthere was nothing left for him there, no reason to return. The realization was painful, but it felt necessary. Now, his path led him elsewhere, even if the destination remained uncertain. Still, a part of him hoped to find a clue¡ªsomething that could lead to answers, or at least the right questions to begin his search.


    The planet Rhyus came into view on the forward display, a swirling marble of blues and greens. Twin orbiting starbases stood on opposite ends of the capital world, surrounded by constant activity. The space around the planet was alive, motion never ceasing¡ªnothing stood still.


    Freighters, shuttles, patrol craft, and various other vessels, each carrying a story of its own, littered the area.


    The starbases enforced strict protocols governing all incoming ships, monitoring and communicating with each vessel. Every ship was required to register and receive clearance before approaching the surface.


    "We¡¯ve just received another message," Klamarez announced, glancing at his console. ¡°It looks like we¡¯ve been granted clearance to bypass system registration.¡±


    ¡°Looks like Admiral Lavont wants to expedite our arrival,¡± Conus remarked. ¡°That¡¯s lucky for you, Klamarez.¡±


    "Why¡¯s that?" Klamarez asked.


    ¡°Otherwise, we¡¯d have to stop at the base and get you registered first. The protocols are strict. They¡¯ll probably issue you a temporary visa once we land.¡±


    Garen nodded, shifting his focus from the viewscreen to the landing coordinates displayed on his console.


    ¡°So, the RSIA offices are at RDF Command?¡± Garen asked.


    ¡°Admiral Lavont has an office there,¡± Conus replied. ¡°But the RSIA¡¯s main location isn¡¯t on Rhyus. He usually meets non-RSIA assets at RDF Command, but that won¡¯t be the case for much longer. The RSIA floor has been reassigned to the Rhyus Internal Affairs Bureau. The move will become official within the next couple of Synods.¡±


    ¡°Relocating where?¡± Garen asked, his expression tightening.


    "The main RSIA base is on Morelus," Conus explained. "They¡¯ve been there for a while, but having offices on Rhyus has been convenient. The Morelus base has strict security protocols. They''re securing a permanent facility for future operations on Rhyus, separate from RDF Command. RSIA Command is¡ªand will remain¡ªon the moon Morelus."


    Garen stared at the console, unreadable as ever. This information confirmed just how much the RSIA had grown. It had become a powerful force, and his former mentor was in charge. It also further highlighted the division between the RDF and the RSIA.


    Only those who knew him well might have caught the tension in his posture.


    After so many years, the prospect of meeting Amar again left Garen with a swirl of mixed emotions¡ªnostalgia, bitterness, and a cautious curiosity.


    His thoughts turned to the likely purpose of the meeting. Countering the Vorcon threat seemed the obvious reason, but Garen couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that there might be more to it. He considered the possibilities, not denying that he knew the Vorcons well, but this could not be as simple as that. No matter what was coming, one thing was certain¡ªthis meeting would be anything but simple.


    The thought of seeing Lavont again unsettled him. Would the anger return¡ªthe same anger from all those years ago?


    And then, there was Terra. She would be there. He could already see her face.

 Chapter 30

    Chapter 30


    Rhyus


    The Rhyus System, Karbay Nolan Sector


    Date: Zeran 27, Year 4731


    The Seeker shuddered as it pierced Rhyus¡¯s atmosphere, its frame trembling from the descent. Dark blue exhaust, streaked with violet, trailed from its dual Verta Fighter Craft engines as it surged forward. Its silver hull, marked by an orange stripe, stood out against the black of space, which, as the Seeker continued its descent, thinned to a dusky blue. The stars faded as the planet¡¯s upper atmosphere swallowed them.


    Below, the city stretched out¡ªa vast, sprawling metropolis covering an entire continent, a massive landmass surrounded by ocean.


    Garen let out a slow breath. He¡¯d never expected to see this city again¡ªnever intended to.


    Rhyus wasn¡¯t his home anymore, though truthfully, it never was. The last place he had called home was his cabin, buried in Chiex¡¯s cold forests. That, too, had been taken from him.


    Klamarez, wide-eyed, took in the sight of Rhyus City for the first time. He had spent years traveling across the galaxy while working on trade ships, but in all his travels, he had never seen anything quite like Rhyus.


    Conus barely glanced at the view, his focus shifting between the TRACE display and the other screens, monitoring the ships around them and scanning incoming data. His augmented eye refocused, absorbing and sorting through data streams in an instant. He had seen this sight many times before¡ªhaving been on Rhyus just days ago, before setting out to bring Garen back.


    Around them, vessels followed designated traffic lanes as the Seeker merged into a lane descending. As the Seeker continued its descent, Rhyus City sprawled beneath them, unmatched by any other population center on the planet.


    As they went lower, Rhyus City¡¯s skyline of towering skyscrapers was dominated by the Arcology, a structure that stood taller, broader, and plunged deeper into the earth than any other. It was a world unto itself, in some ways a city within a city, where residents rarely needed to leave, surrounded by everything they could possibly require. Its mirrored surface reflected the sky.


    Among the skyscrapers were the headquarters of countless corporations. These corporate giants fueled the economy of the Seven Worlds and shaped its politics and technology¡ªmany with a reach well beyond the Rhyus System.


    As the Seeker banked into another designated traffic lane, a monolithic circular structure came into view¡ªthe Parliament Building of the Seven Worlds of Rhyus. Surrounded by a wide, verdant expanse of grass and monuments, its towering dome rose high above the ground.


    The Seeker descended toward the RDF command complex. The cityscape gave way to a fortified buffer zone. The sprawling, multi-level structure dominated the landscape, its high-rise towers branching from a central core like a fortress. Watchtowers, turrets, and surveillance systems tracked every movement, ensuring tight security. A secure perimeter enclosed the complex, reinforced by patrols and land-to-air energy turrets stationed atop towering pillars.


    Within the security area was a visitor accommodation complex. Beside the main structure, a spacious courtyard led to a multi-tiered parking area for land-based vehicles. A long, extended landing zone provided space for shuttles and other spacefaring craft.


    As the Seeker neared, RDF command granted further clearance, guiding it to its designated landing pad. Garen maneuvered the ship toward the expansive platform, large enough to accommodate military vessels, shuttles, and transport craft. A shuttle lifted off as they approached, while a passenger ship touched down nearby, releasing a group of officers who quickly disappeared into waiting vehicles.


    Garen guided the Seeker down. The landing gear extended, locking into place as the stabilizers engaged.


    A shared, unspoken thought settled over the crew. What came next? For Conus, the mission had been clear: bring Garen to Rhyus. Klamarez¡¯s task had been to ferry both Garen and Conus safely here, his ship the vessel of their arrival. But for Garen, the biggest question remained¡ªwhat was this all about?


    As the Seeker¡¯s engines whined into silence, his pulse quickened. The stillness amplified every doubt.


    Rising from their seats, Garen, Klamarez, and Conus exchanged a silent acknowledgment. They had made it.


    At the rear of the ship, Klamarez shut down the systems. The Seeker¡¯s displays dimmed one by one, fading to black.


    "Thank you, old friend." Garen met Klamarez¡¯s eyes. "Building a ship from scratch and flying it all the way here¡ªfew could have pulled that off."


    Klamarez, momentarily caught off guard by the praise, nodded. "Thank you, Garen. I have to admit, this wasn¡¯t what I had in mind when I started building her. Still, I¡¯m glad it all worked out¡ªit was quite the little adventure we had. Got plenty of stories to tell."


    His mind briefly drifted to the Vanicktus Syndicate. His issues with them were far from over¡ªif anything, they might have just begun.


    Conus extended his hand, a quiet mechanical shift beneath the movement of his augmented right arm. ¡°Thank you, Klamarez. I couldn¡¯t have completed my mission without your help.¡±


    It struck Garen for a moment¡ªhe was the mission. Conus had been sent to retrieve him, to bring him back for a meeting with Admiral Lavont.


    "Hey, Conus, go over those plans before I head out, would you? Might save me a lot of trouble¡ªand some time. The Seeker got us here, but she still needs plenty of work," Klamarez said to Conus, forcing a grin. The thought of leaving¡ªof traveling alone¡ªsat uneasily with him. He hadn''t realized how much he¡¯d enjoyed the journey, or their company, until now.


    "I¡¯ve already made some notes and suggestions," Conus replied, internally calculating how much time Klamarez would need to implement them. He was eager to present them but had intended to wait until their journey concluded, perhaps as a farewell gift.


    They were more refinements than anything¡ªways to improve efficiency around the Camerians'' unique approach to system design, with their distinct use of technology, offering both advantages and challenges.


    Klamarez flashed a grin, his fangs showing slightly. He was eager to hear Conus¡¯s insights, but for now, it would have to wait as they prepared to exit the Seeker.


    The Seeker¡¯s hatch lifted, lowering the steps to the ground. The trio stepped onto the landing pad, the crisp air of Rhyus greeting them. The noise of the RDF command area blended with the distant roar of the city beyond. A wheeled land vehicle had arrived just after they landed. The land vehicle¡¯s reinforced, boxy frame sat atop rugged wheels, built for stability on any terrain. Painted in a combination of dark red, black, and metallic gray, its unmarked exterior bore only an identification number.


    The door of the land vehicle swung open, and for a moment, Garen¡¯s breath caught. Days ago, this reunion had been unimaginable, but recent events had changed everything. He tensed, rubbing the side of his neck before forcing himself to relax as the figure stepped out. There, standing before him, was someone he hadn¡¯t seen in years.


    Amar Lavont, his presence as commanding as ever. A welcoming smile crossed his face as the trio approached, bridging the distance between them. Another officer remained at the vehicle¡¯s controls.


    Conus had seen that smile before¡ªcarefully crafted, meant to reassure¡ªbut this time, it wasn¡¯t just professionalism. There was something else beneath it. Something unsaid.


    It reminded him of how Amar had interacted with General Terra Anteia, someone he had worked with for years. Terra had begun serving under Amar around the same time as Garen.


    Amar Lavont had a slender, fit frame and short white hair. A distinctive ring adorned his hand.


    He was the same man Garen remembered¡ªolder, perhaps wiser, marked by the strain of years in command.


    As they drew closer, memories surged within Garen. The last time they had seen each other, a decade ago, their parting had been anything but amicable. Harsh, cutting words still echoed in his mind. Some he wished he could take back; others he still believed even now. But could a single bitter encounter truly define the years they had fought side by side?


    For a moment, the years faded. The victories, the losses, the exact moment their trust had shattered¡ªit all surged back.


    Once, this man had been his mentor, his closest ally. His friend.


    Now? He was something else entirely.


    Amar had gained much from their time together¡ªstatus, recognition, influence. But it would be unfair to say he had built his career on Garen alone. He hadn¡¯t. Amar Lavont was respected long before the war began, his strategic mind and leadership earning him a solid reputation well before Garen had even joined the RDF. And after Garen left, Amar''s career had only continued to grow.


    Yet, as the years passed, so had the distance between them. The divide, once just a crack, had widened into something far greater.


    Amar had never believed Garen would stay away for long. At first, he thought it was only a matter of time. The RDF had defined him¡ªhadn¡¯t it? But exile had changed Garen. Slowly, he had shed that part of himself, reshaped by the silence of years spent alone.


    Both men had changed. Both had moved on.


    And now, here they were, face to face again. Time had sharpened some edges while dulling others. This meeting was an opportunity¡ªperhaps their last¡ªto mend what had been broken.


    Garen looked at Amar, but anger wasn¡¯t there. Regret was. A dull, lingering guilt. And something else¡ªan ache, maybe. Not longing. Not trust. But something just as heavy.


    ¡°Garen,¡± Amar said, his voice calm, but with a vulnerability that caught Garen off guard. His posture was controlled, but his weight shifted ever so slightly¡ªuncertain, hesitant.


    His fingers twitched at his side. He wasn¡¯t sure how Garen would react¡ªif he was still bitter from their last encounter.


    ¡°Amar. It¡¯s been a long time,¡± Garen said.


    ¡°Too long,¡± Amar replied, his eyes reflecting a mixture of regret and hope. ¡°We have much to discuss.¡±


    ¡°Yes, we do,¡± Garen agreed.


    Amar turned to Conus, who immediately extended his hand for a handshake.


    ¡°Well done, Colonel Taylen,¡± Amar commended.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a complete success,¡± Conus replied, his voice heavy with the loss of their ship, crew, and two marines.


    Amar nodded, his expression somber. ¡°Indeed, it wasn¡¯t. But you¡¯re safe, and the mission was completed despite the adversities. We¡¯ll discuss it further, Colonel,¡± Amar said, his voice firm but weary.


    ¡°Yes, Admiral Lavont,¡± Conus said.


    Amar then turned to Klamarez. ¡°Your help won¡¯t be forgotten, Klamarez.¡±


    "I was happy to help out Garen and Conus," Klamarez said briefly, thinking back to how reluctant he had been to get involved. Yet now, he had no regrets about helping them.


    Things might have been worse if he hadn¡¯t¡ªnot for him, but for those on Chiex, for those in Calio Landing.


    "Garen is lucky to have such a friend," Amar said, then added, "You¡¯ll be compensated for your efforts.¡±


    "Thank you," Klamarez responded, still stunned. Conus had already paid him well for the repairs¡ªmore than he had expected. But more? He wasn¡¯t about to question that kind of generosity. He had no reason to refuse, and besides, Camerians considered it rude to turn down an offered gift.


    Then, turning back to Garen, Amar repeated, ¡°It¡¯s good to see you, Garen. It really is,¡± his voice carrying both relief and earnestness.


    ¡°And you, Amar,¡± Garen replied.


    Amar wasted no time, his demeanor serious, underscored by urgency.


    "Garen, I need your help," Amar said, his voice tightening as if weighing how much to say. His fingers brushed against the ring on his hand¡ªan unconscious tell Garen recognized from years past. Amar had done the same before battle briefings, before sending soldiers into fights they might not return from.


    "We¡¯re at a juncture where trust is our most scarce resource." He hesitated, His expression wavered, betraying a rare moment of doubt. "I wouldn¡¯t ask this if it weren¡¯t critical. You need to hear me out."


    Amar¡¯s words carried weight, heavy with meaning and expectation. Old scars resurfaced, sharp as ever. Their shared past¡ªthe battles fought side by side, the betrayal that had never fully healed¡ªpulled at him.


    Whatever came of this, Garen knew there was no going back to the way things were. Too much time had passed. He had it in him to forgive¡ªhad done so long before now¡ªbut forgetting? That was another matter. Trust, the kind he had once given freely, would never be offered up again. Not like he had in those years before.


    And besides, Amar was the head of the RSIA now. Keeping secrets was his business. Garen realized he would do well to keep that in mind.


    After a long, tense moment, Garen gave a slow, thoughtful nod, absently stroking the streaks of gray in his beard¡ªa habit he had picked up from long nights on his porch on Chiex, lost in thought.


    From a distance, Amar almost did a double take. The beard was unfamiliar¡ªGaren had never worn one before. It changed him, making him look older, rougher, as if the years away had reshaped more than just his life. But up close, there was no mistaking it¡ªit was still Garen.


    "I will listen, Amar," Garen said. The words felt like both a promise and a limit. He wasn¡¯t ready to cross that line. Not yet. Across from him, Amar exhaled¡ªjust a fraction too slow, as if he had braced himself for a refusal. "That¡¯s what I can offer right now," Garen added.


    "That¡¯s all I¡¯m asking for, Garen," Amar responded. But as he spoke, a shadow crossed his face, hinting at a deeper worry¡ªa fear that even Garen might refuse, leaving him with no one else he could have full confidence in.


    Amar led them to the land vehicle, where their conversation turned casual.


    For Garen and Amar, the deeper conversations would have to wait. Perhaps there was too much to say. Or maybe, after all these years, words no longer mattered. They had each reached their own understanding long ago, with time allowing anger and disappointment to settle¡ªenough, at least, to consider the other¡¯s point of view.


    On their journey to Rhyus, Garen had expected anger to overtake him, yet it never came. Forgiveness never came¡ªonly acceptance.


    As they rode, a sudden memory seized him: standing before the Council of Seven, speaking out, alone. His voice echoed in his mind, followed by the cold, crushing silence that had followed. Only whispers. Hushed tones.


    In that memory, among the thousands in attendance, Amar had stood out in the crowd, his gaze locked onto Garen. The look in his eyes had been unmistakable¡ªdisapproval.


    Returning to Rhyus, Garen felt as if he were stepping into a trap of his own making. If he was to survive whatever this was, Garen realized his feelings toward the past would have to serve as a lesson. His emotions wouldn¡¯t aid him here¡ªonly his instincts would, as he watched this unfold, as he played his part in what was to come.


    As they approached RDF Command and stepped off the transport, a security officer¡¯s eyes lingered on Garen a moment too long before shifting to Amar, who stood nearby as they entered the facility.


    With the growing divide between the RDF and RSIA, Garen couldn¡¯t help but think of Admiral Morgath Koss, the RDF¡¯s Admiral of the Fleet. If the situation was as strained as it seemed, Garen assumed that, based on past encounters, Koss would take the conflict between the two factions seriously. He was a good ally to have¡ªand a dangerous enemy to make.


    Trust was fragile¡ªGaren knew that all too well. He had seen alliances crumble and friendships dissolve in the face of ambition and fear. Had Morgath Koss caused the division? Had Amar? Had both played a part in it?


    Yet, despite everything, Garen still knew Amar. Years could change a man¡¯s methods, but not his core. But it would take more than a brief conversation to be sure.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    They entered the RDF complex.


    Marines stood at attention, Tactical Fusion Rifles at the ready, flanked by two combat synthetics. An RDF officer, a woman with a sharp gaze, checked them in.


    Klamarez, as a non-citizen, had to secure a temporary visa¡ªa process typically reserved for new arrivals at one of Rhyus¡¯s orbiting starbases. His stay was legal but limited. For now, he was a temporary guest.


    With clearance obtained, Amar led them through the facility¡¯s corridors.


    In an atrium, displays highlighted military achievements and diplomatic successes¡ªmodels of ships, records of notable missions, and a monument honoring those lost during the Vorcon War.


    They entered a lift, ascending to a higher floor. Upon exiting, they encountered another layer of security, marked by the insignia of the Rhyus Security Intelligence Agency (RSIA). The atmosphere shifted¡ªthe corridors were quieter, with signs of the offices being packed up. A reduction in personnel was evident. They passed through another checkpoint before reaching Amar Lavont¡¯s office.


    Stepping inside, Garen took in the room. A large window offered a panoramic view of the surrounding area. Signs of packing up were present.


    Amar had arranged for coffee and a meal. Garen sensed that whatever Amar had to discuss would come in due time. For now, the moment allowed them to decompress from their journey.


    Once they had eaten and settled in, Amar shifted the conversation. "Let¡¯s begin," he said, signaling the start of the debriefing.


    Seated comfortably, the trio began their debriefing. The conversation, recorded as part of standard procedure, unfolded in detail¡ªfrom their initial meeting to their present reunion in Amar''s office. Amar listened intently, with astonishment and understanding, and surprise, especially when Caul Malocktus was mentioned. He had faced Caul in battle many times, but between Garen and Caul, it was far more personal.


    Their discussion wove through the events¡ªChiex, the escape, the encounter with Caul, the Resilience crew¡¯s attitude, the Syndicate on Eteren One, and the RIAB.


    "I can''t ignore the lengths Caul Malocktus has gone to taunt you," Amar said, his tone concerned.


    "Seems to me Caul Malocktus just wanted to show off his new ship and command," Klamarez quipped, lightening the mood.


    Amar laughed lightly. Knowing Caul Malocktus, that assessment was accurate.


    "You might be right, Klamarez," said Amar. "Garen and Caul go way back."


    He said it as if Garen and Caul were old friends¡ªbut they were far from that.


    Garen exhaled a short, dry chuckle. "That''s one way of putting it. We have quite the history. A lot of encounters never made the reports."


    This caught Conus''s attention. There was more history between them?


    Garen noticed Conus¡¯s expression. "Got a few stories I could tell you, Colonel," he said.


    "I would enjoy that, sir," Conus replied.


    ¡°Caul being a Major Legate wields him considerable power,¡± Amar noted.


    "He came close to capture many times," Conus added, thinking about what he did know of Caul Malocktus.


    "In the end, he always managed to elude it," Amar said, frustration creeping into his voice.


    "Our paths will cross again. It¡¯s inevitable. Facing him is something I can¡¯t escape¡ªCaul seems determined to make sure of that," Garen said.


    Amar nodded. "Given his persistence, it''s clear your home on Chiex is no longer safe."


    "They destroyed my home," Garen said, his voice empty of emotion. He had built that cabin with his own hands. Now, nothing remained but ashes. Another part of his life, lost to him.


    Amar took in that information but was not surprised. When it came to Vorcons, little surprised him. "I''m sorry, Garen. Sorry for the loss of your home, for bringing you back to this," Amar said.


    "I''m here, Amar. But let''s not say I''m back," Garen replied.


    Amar was reminded that he still had to convince Garen to help him, though he was now confident he could. Garen¡¯s home was gone. He had come to Rhyus, hoping that personal ties would sway him. Amar felt that, no matter how small, some part of Garen was open to returning.


    Still, as Amar studied Garen, he saw the changes time had carved into his features. Garen carried a new guardedness¡ªmore than before. A coldness. The man was more rugged, the weight of time etched into him. The streaks of gray in his beard only made him look older.


    Amar shook his head in frustration¡ªnot at Garen¡¯s comment, but at the RIAB. "The RIAB interfering in RSIA affairs is frustrating," though he wasn¡¯t about to go into more detail about them.


    He continued, shifting the subject to focus on Chiex "We have assets monitoring Chiex, keeping an eye out for any further signs of the Vorcons. The RDF is staying out of it for now; the Council wants to sweep it under the rug. Intel on the Vorcon Empire isn¡¯t what I¡¯d like it to be. Getting an asset there is almost impossible."


    Klamarez nodded, finding some comfort in Amar''s words. At least Chiex was being watched.


    "It seemed like a show of force to me," Conus interjected. "A way to display one of their new vessels."


    "I would agree with that, Colonel. A twofold approach¡ªone to showcase their new vessel and another for Caul to toy with you, Garen."


    It was what Garen had already assumed. "Is that how command is interpreting it?" he asked, seeking clarity.


    "For the moment, yes. As far as we''re aware," Amar replied.


    "The RDF and RSIA¡ªhow bad is it?" Garen asked, wanting to hear it from Amar himself.


    "It¡¯s a long, complicated story, Garen. It¡¯s a strained relationship. Much of it is my fault," Amar admitted. "But the security of the Seven Worlds is what matters most. Everything I do is with that in mind."


    "What else do you know, Amar? What are the Vorcons up to?" Garen pressed.


    "Not as much as I¡¯d like, and right now, I can¡¯t tell you everything," Amar said. "I can tell you this¡ªthe Rulnali supply lines are busier than ever."


    "That says a lot," Garen said.


    The Rulnali, allies of the Vorcons, played a crucial role in the last conflict, maintaining their supply lines. Though they avoided direct combat, their support let the Vorcons concentrate solely on war, expanding their reach.


    Amar turned his attention to Klamarez.


    "Thank you again for your assistance," Amar said sincerely. "Your contributions have been invaluable, and I assure you, they are recognized."


    "You''re welcome, Mr. Lavont," said Klamarez.


    Amar then outlined the plans for their stay. "I''ve arranged accommodations within the RDF complex for the three of you. I assure you, they¡¯re comfortable suites. Make sure to take advantage of what it has to offer."


    Conus was a little surprised; it was not somewhere he had been assigned to stay before.


    "Conus, you''ll be briefed on new orders soon. Until then, rest up. Consider this a well-deserved break," Amar advised.


    "Understood, Admiral," Conus acknowledged with a formal salute.


    Turning to Klamarez, Amar said, "I hope you enjoy your stay. Use the amenities at your disposal."


    "Much appreciated, sir," Klamarez replied, smiling, his fangs showing just slightly.


    "Now, if you''ll excuse us," he gestured toward the door, signaling that it was time for Conus and Klamarez to depart. "Garen and I have some matters to discuss privately."


    Conus and Klamarez made their exit, closing the door quietly behind them.


    Amar walked over to his desk, retrieving a bottle of Amoreon whisky and two glasses. Garen noticed immediately.


    "Amoreon whisky," Garen remarked, a touch of nostalgia in his voice. "I¡¯ve almost forgotten its taste. On Chiex, it was Camerian rye for me."


    "Really?" Amar said, intrigued. "I''ve never tried that."


    Garen offered a wry smile. "It¡¯s decent. I would¡¯ve brought some if I hadn¡¯t left in such a rush."


    Amar filled the glasses and handed one to Garen before settling into his seat.


    "What are you doing getting mixed up with the Vanicktus Syndicate?" Amar asked, breaking the moment¡ªnot fully serious, but the concern was there.


    Garen explained Klamarez¡¯s situation further.


    Amar nodded. "That¡¯s unfortunate. We keep an eye on them¡ªthe Vanicktus."


    "Really? So, what¡¯s got them in your sights?" Garen asked, his curiosity piqued.


    "It¡¯s their dealings with the Vorcons that concern us," Amar revealed.


    "Dealings with the Vorcons?" Garen asked, taking another sip.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call them partners¡ªnothing like that¡ªbut the Vorcons have used their services for intel."


    "Interesting. Not something I would have predicted. Though I must admit, I¡¯m out of the loop regarding their current emperor. He came to power after I left."


    "He¡¯s elusive. Our attempts to infiltrate the Vorcon government have been unsuccessful," Amar admitted.


    "Infiltrate the Vorcon Empire?" Garen was surprised.


    "We have a Rulnali operative in place," Amar disclosed.


    "And?" Garen leaned forward, intrigued.


    "She has connections, but getting high-level intel is difficult," Amar said gravely.


    "A Rulnali taking such a risk is unexpected," Garen commented.


    Despite being allies, the Rulnali weren¡¯t truly free in Vorcon cities. Their alliance was based on mutual benefit, not friendship. Many believed the Rulnali feared the Vorcon Empire would seize their homeworld if they didn¡¯t comply¡ªforcing them to manage territories and supply lines. They were prisoners of the Vorcon Empire in their own way.


    "There¡¯s some dissent within their ranks, but nothing substantial. Nothing we can exploit. If a new war breaks out, that restlessness will disappear, along with any dissent," Amar added.


    Their conversation inevitably turned to Garen''s departure from service, a chapter full of unresolved feelings. Recognizing the need to address it, Amar broached the topic carefully.


    "Garen, our past is complicated. I''ve always hoped we would have the opportunity to move past that," Amar said.


    "I know, Amar. As have I. I¡¯m grateful for your guidance over the years," Garen said.


    "Serving alongside you has always been an honor," Amar responded, his voice carrying respect. "Your courage to stand by your beliefs is something I¡¯ve always admired. I¡¯ve always understood where you were coming from."


    The comment struck a response in Garen, but he remained calm. "If you had truly understood my stance, you might have spoken up. I¡¯m not blaming you¡ªit¡¯s just how I see it. Many believed we needed to strategically immobilize the Vorcons to prevent future conflict. But at the time, silence prevailed¡ªdriven by fears of career repercussions. I was labeled a warmonger, alienated in a way I hadn¡¯t expected. The fleet was all I knew," Garen reflected.


    His words weren¡¯t accusatory; instead, they were an unburdening he had carried for years.


    "I understand, Garen. I really do," Amar replied, his tone filled with empathy. "I¡¯ve never agreed with your treatment."


    Amar had fought against it, though not publicly.


    "I¡¯ve moved on from all that," Garen admitted. "I won¡¯t lie, and it¡¯s likely no surprise¡ªI was none too pleased when Conus showed up at my cabin. I¡¯ve left my days as a general behind."


    "Ten years is a long time," Amar acknowledged.


    "Had it not been for the Vorcon attack, I wouldn¡¯t have returned¡ªnot here," Garen confessed.


    Amar nodded, his eyes softening as he valued Garen¡¯s honesty, believing what he was saying.


    "Garen, we¡¯re at a pivotal moment. I¡¯m unsure if the RDF is psychologically prepared for another conflict. The fleet is strong, but I¡¯m not sure they¡¯re willing to be aggressive. I hope we can avoid it altogether," he said. "You were right about the risks¡ªwhat you said all those years ago was never wrong¡ªbut the situation was complex. I believed in your cause, Garen. Convincing the Council, though, was another matter. They saw the war as over, the threat diminished¡ªcontent to let the Vorcon Empire retreat. We needed to focus on the decision they had made, not continue debating whether it was the right choice or not."


    "It¡¯s all in the past," Garen acknowledged, appreciating Amar¡¯s perspective. He didn¡¯t fully agree with it, but he had no desire to discuss it further.


    "What¡¯s happening, Amar?" Garen asked.


    "There have been years of peace. The Vorcons seemed content to stay behind their borders, though activity within their system has increased. They¡¯ve recently ceased convening with our ambassadors, and their armada has grown."


    Amar¡¯s expression hardened.


    "The situation has escalated," he said, his voice quieter now. "Recent intelligence suggests the Vorcons are developing a biological weapon."


    Garen stiffened, his mind racing. That had never been their way¡ªit wasn¡¯t how they fought. The Vorcons relied on direct combat, on brute force. This? This was something else. Something worse.


    "That¡¯s not their style. Are you certain?" Garen asked, doubtful.


    Amar exhaled. "Not entirely."


    "This is a departure from their usual strategy. It doesn¡¯t align with their known methods. What more do you know?" Garen asked.


    "The intel suggests they¡¯re either developing it, close to completion, or have already deployed it," Amar explained.


    Garen found this unsettling. The Vorcons had never resorted to biological warfare before. It seemed out of character, yet considering their relentless pursuit of power, it wasn¡¯t unthinkable. Still, doubts lingered about the intel¡¯s reliability.


    "Of all the scenarios I envisioned, this wasn¡¯t one of them," Garen admitted, "How certain are you?"


    Amar nodded gravely. "The intel is credible enough to concern us, but we lack concrete evidence for decisive action. The Council of Seven is briefed¡ªthey demand more solid proof before escalating. We¡¯re in a delicate position, needing to ascertain their intentions without showing our hand. This is where the RSIA comes in, not the RDF. We need precision, not force."


    Garen understood the implication. His prowess in overt warfare didn¡¯t naturally translate to espionage.


    "I¡¯m not sure I like where this is heading," he admitted.


    Amar¡¯s response carried reluctant acceptance. "Neither did I envision my path leading here. My career goal was to further secure the Seven Worlds, fortify our defenses, and retire with honor. Yet, circumstances have thrust me into shadow operations and political maneuvering. Navigating the political landscape is as challenging as any battlefield."


    "It sounds complicated," Garen remarked, sensing Amar''s predicament.


    "We need concrete evidence."


    "I take it that evidence won¡¯t come easy?" Garen said.


    "Indeed. But I¡¯ve assembled a team capable of managing these challenges," Amar said, taking a long look at Garen. "The team is mostly assembled," he added, his expression carrying the unspoken message¡ªsaying it without saying it.


    "Is this why you asked me here?" Garen asked, bracing for Amar''s proposal.


    Amar laid out the operation. "You¡¯re to command a stealth ship. The mission has two main objectives. Our secret surveillance outpost near the Prine System has gone silent. Your task is to reestablish contact or uncover the cause of its silence."


    Garen was intrigued. "This was your operation?" he asked, referring to the surveillance post.


    Amar nodded. "Yes."


    "That was a wise decision," said Garen.


    Amar gave Garen a faint smile. Garen had suggested it to him in one of their last conversations before he had left the Seven Worlds.


    "I don¡¯t think I have much to offer here," said Garen.


    "You¡¯re the ideal candidate to lead the investigation." Amar continued, "We also pinpointed the potential location of the Vorcons¡¯ biological lab. The second objective is to covertly assess and, if necessary, dismantle the facility."


    Garen paused a moment thinking of the task ahead. "I have questions, but first, I need to understand your offer," Garen asserted.


    "The mission would restore you to your previous rank. When assembling this mission, you were my first choice," Amar replied.


    Garen considered this. "While the offer is tempting, I can¡¯t commit to returning as a general."


    Amar was surprised. "Are you declining the mission?"


    "No. I¡¯m rejecting the reinstatement, not the mission."


    "Garen?"


    "Treat me as a contractor. I¡¯ll undertake this mission without any long-term commitments," Garen clarified.


    "Garen, the Council will not agree," Amar said.


    "Tell them after I¡¯m gone," Garen said, his smile forming just as it always had¡ªthe one Amar knew too well, the one that meant he was about to push the limits of what command would tolerate. His past successes had once shielded him from real consequences.


    But that was a different time, a different era. In the eyes of those now in power, Garen was far from that man. In truth, few wanted him back¡ªand certainly not the Council of Seven. They had approved his return, though none were convinced it was needed or necessary.


    For Amar, it was almost surreal¡ªlike stepping back in time.


    Amar couldn¡¯t help but let out a laugh. The old Garen was looking at him again, the man who had served under him for years. The Garen he knew was still there. It was good to see. For a brief moment, it felt like it hadn¡¯t been ten years¡ªhadn''t been so long since they had felt like old friends, since Garen had resigned and walked away from the Rhyus Defense Fleet.


    Though in reality, Garen had been forced out in many ways.


    Amar recognized the need for flexibility. "Unconventional as it is, your involvement is critical. We¡¯ll proceed as you outlined."


    "Good," Garen said.


    "Not so good for me," Amar replied with a half-smile. The matter would leave him with a mess to clean up¡ªhe might have to convince the Council after the fact.


    "What¡¯s the crew size?" Garen asked.


    "We¡¯re looking at forty personnel¡ªmarines, engineers, a demolition unit. Most are in place; I¡¯m finalizing special ops marines. Conus is on my list," Amar detailed.


    Garen saw an opportunity. "I¡¯d like Klamarez on board too. His involvement has already put him at risk, especially with the Vanicktus Syndicate. Plus, he¡¯s an exceptional engineer. His expertise will benefit the team. Treat him as a contractor too."


    Amar considered this. "Alright, Klamarez will join the team. Your confidence in him convinces me."


    In reality, he wasn¡¯t about to jeopardize Garen taking the mission just to deny Klamarez a place in it. The mission had what he considered the ideal commander. Amar needed to get the mission underway and sensed Garen wasn¡¯t going to agree unless the Camerian was involved.


    "He might end up schooling our engineering crew," Garen half-joked.


    "Get some rest tonight," Amar said. "Tomorrow, I¡¯ll provide a full briefing. There¡¯s a lot to go over."


    Amar¡¯s thoughts were already moving to the next phase.


    Garen nodded. "So, what about Helix?"


    "Helix," Amar sighed, not expecting Garen to bring them up. "My move to the RSIA was because of them."


    "They warrant that much concern?" Garen asked.


    "Yes. There¡¯s a lot for you to know and learn," Amar said. "To say this mission was solely based on the Vorcons would..." He trailed off. "There is much to discuss, Garen."


    Garen nodded, his mind clouded with exhaustion. "I¡¯ll take your advice. Sounds like tomorrow¡¯s going to be a long day." He downed the rest of his drink.


    "It¡¯s good to have you back, Garen," Amar said, his voice lighter than before.


    ¡°I hope I don¡¯t regret agreeing to this in the morning,¡± Garen said.


    "You might," Amar replied.


    Both men stood. Amar extended his hand. Garen clasped it¡ªfirm, steady, heavy with everything left unsaid.


    They released their grip, and Garen turned to leave the room.

 Chapter 31

    Chapter 31


    Rhyus


    The Rhyus System, Karbay Nolan Sector


    Date: Zeran 28, Year 4731


    Restless in bed, Garen struggled to process being back on Rhyus. Despite his exhaustion, sleep refused to come.


    He knew little about the upcoming mission¡ªonly that it involved taking a stealth ship into Vorcon territory. But he wasn¡¯t sure he still had it in him.


    Amar Lavont had faith in him, but Garen wasn¡¯t sure he deserved to lead.


    Could he still lead a crew? His days of command were long behind him. Leadership had once been instinctual, but like any skill, it dulled from disuse. If he couldn¡¯t inspire confidence, the mission was doomed before it even began.


    For a decade on Chiex, Garen had gone long stretches without speaking to anyone but himself. His interactions were rare¡ªlimited to the occasional visit with Klamarez and even less frequent trips to Calio Landing. Solitude had defined his exile.


    When Garen was stripped of command of the RDF capital battlecruiser Riftkin, he had been reassigned¡ªconfined to an office within RDF headquarters. The assignment was a slow erosion, wearing away at his will. His time on Rhyus, after losing the Riftkin, spiraled into bitterness and regret.


    He hadn¡¯t been his best self then. His regrets about how he had treated others had long since faded¡ªit was easy when he no longer had to see them. Maybe Amar deserved some of it, though not all of it. But Terra? She had never deserved his anger, nor the cold distance that followed.


    If I could take one thing back, he thought, she didn¡¯t deserve my bitterness.


    Rhyus was lavish, yet to Garen, it felt empty. It had everything¡ªexcept meaning. Surrounded by its opulence, he felt nothing. It was hollow, unable to fill the emptiness within.


    Losing the Riftkin had stripped him of his identity. His new role was nothing more than an empty title.


    His life had always been unpredictable, one crisis after another. Then the days blurred¡ªidentical, suffocating, inescapable.


    The RDF wanted him gone¡ªdoing everything but dismissing him outright. They let him disappear into obscurity, making it clear there was no future for him.


    Garen never forgot how they had treated him after he spoke out against the peace treaty with the Vorcons. They dragged his name through the mud, painting him as a war-hungry, battle-crazed officer who had spent too much time on the front lines. Broadcasts mocked him, turning his name into easy fodder for late-night jabs and roundtable sneers. News cycles tore apart his downfall while talk shows reduced his legacy to a punchline. His years of service were erased overnight¡ªanother casualty of a war that had gone on too long, his disgrace framed as just one more reason to finally bring it to an end.


    Even after he fell silent, the Council of Seven continued discrediting him. They ruled him unfit to command a battlecruiser, a decision RDF Command enforced without hesitation.


    Once a celebrated strategist and warrior, Garen found his insights ignored, his contributions reduced to little more than a formality. He had become an insignificant cog in the very machine he had once driven forward. Everything around him felt muted, distant.


    Evenings on his patio, high above the city, were his only escape¡ªa drink in hand, music playing. For a time, it was all he had to look forward to, but it never brought enjoyment, only distraction.


    He would sit there, staring into the night, watching the endless traffic. Ships came and went in an endless cycle. The city never quieted, never stopped. You could push it to the background, but once you left, only then did you realize just how loud it had been.


    He kept revisiting the choices that led him here, replaying the events again and again. Yet, not once did he regret what he said or did.


    What else could I have done?


    He always spoke his mind during his RDF career¡ªwhether Command, or even Amar Lavont, agreed with him or not. He had always believed he could speak out, at least be heard.


    Under the open sky, he could almost forget what he had become¡ªan RDF general with no command and no voice.


    But those moments couldn¡¯t shield him from reality.


    Nothing could.


    Looking back, Garen could barely fathom how he had lasted as long as he did.


    When the time came to resign from the RDF and leave the Seven Worlds behind, he did so with a heavy heart. In hindsight, he knew he should have refused the demotion and walked away immediately. Instead, he lingered¡ªa decision that caused more harm to those close to him, and to himself, before his eventual departure.


    Not once did he regret leaving the RDF and moving to Chiex.


    During his time at the RDF Officer Academy, Garen had been determined to rise through the ranks. His piloting skills had been exceptional¡ªenough to catch the attention of Amar Lavont. After his graduation ceremony, Amar had taken a moment to speak with him, telling Garen that he would serve under his command. Handpicked by Amar, Garen joined the Riftkin, and years later, he would even earn its command.


    Garen¡¯s career had never been about fame. Medals and accolades had come with time, and while he acknowledged them, they marked achievements, not purpose. His real fulfillment had come from leading the Riftkin¡ªfrom the challenges that shaped him, from proving he was more than just a capable warrior wielding his Scalar Falcata, and from the long climb to that command. Losing it had left him hollow.


    Commanding a capital battlecruiser had been his career goal¡ªnot just for the position itself, but for what he could accomplish with it. That was how he had intended to leave his mark on the RDF.


    He had planned his exit from the Riftkin on his own terms. He never aspired to be an admiral, never had any interest in climbing higher. General¡ªthat was far enough.


    The war should¡¯ve ended with the Vorcons¡¯ unconditional surrender.


    But it hadn¡¯t. If it had, Garen would have been ready to move forward, ready to take on something new. He had intended to position himself where he could continue to aid the RDF and the Seven Worlds in a different capacity.


    That opportunity never came.


    He wanted peace more than anyone realized. A lasting peace. One that might have given meaning to the long, brutal conflict the RDF fought.


    Sleep had become a rare comfort since leaving Chiex. Tonight was no different. His body was heavy, but his thoughts refused to still. He let his eyes close, breathing slow, waiting for rest to take him.


    And then¡ªhe was there again.


    The memory overtook him, pulling him into the past. The moment felt as real now as it had then.


    The Parliament Building of the Seven Worlds, rising from the heart of Rhyus City, dominated the skyline. From the transport, Garen watched it grow closer, his thoughts fixed on the speech he was prepared to give.


    Inside, the Main Council Chamber stretched into a vast semicircular space, its high ceiling and walls adorned with flags and banners representing the regions of the Seven Worlds. Every corner was illuminated, ensuring nothing remained hidden in the grand hall.


    At the center, against the back wall, on an elevated dais, sat the Council of Seven¡ªoften referred to as the High Council. Each of the seven members represented one of the major planets within the Rhyus System.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Surrounding them were tiered seats for the Secondary Council members, arranged in a semicircular formation that rose above the central floor. The Secondary Council represented regions across the Seven Worlds, including the seven planets and eighteen moons within the system. Elected Governors controlled these regions, and today, many of them were present. Each represented region had its own booth, all equipped with computer consoles.


    High up in the chamber, a section was designated for invited guests. The assembly was filled with generals, admirals, members of the media, high-ranking officials from across the Seven Worlds, and those of extreme wealth and status.


    They had all gathered here to witness a watershed moment.


    The chamber¡¯s central floor was open and spacious, while all other attendees looked down from an elevated height. Off to the sides, administrative desks were occupied by record keepers, logging every word. At the center sat the Speaker, the elected official who directed the proceedings. Chosen by members of both councils, the Speaker ensured that all voices were heard.


    The day''s agenda focused on the fragile ceasefire with the Vorcon Empire¡ªa truce precariously poised to become a permanent peace treaty. The war had slowed considerably over the last couple of years, shifting from aggressive offensives to defensive holds. Now, the assembly sought to evaluate the repercussions and chart the path forward.


    Each council member who spoke voiced their support for lasting peace. To many, the war already felt like a thing of the past. And perhaps for some, there had never really been a war¡ªnot in a way that touched their lives. The battles had been fought in distant star systems, leaving the Rhyus system untouched.


    The weeks-old ceasefire had the potential to become a lasting peace. Ambassadors from both sides had been meeting daily, joined by third-party mediators. But what was being agreed upon behind closed doors remained known only to the highest-ranking officials. The last few years of the war had dwindled to small skirmishes. Large-scale battles had nearly ceased.


    It was beginning to look like peace. The newly elected Council of Seven¡ªwho had built their campaigns on promises of making that peace permanent¡ªwere eager to see it finalized. Ending the long war was their goal, and they had summoned officials from every corner of the Seven Worlds to the capital planet, Rhyus, inviting many to speak at the event and discuss the new era of peace they were working toward¡ªan event that held the attention of the entire star system.


    Garen had requested to speak at the event, which had already stretched on for the entire afternoon¡ªhours of speeches, ceremonies, and presentations, all celebrating the promise of peace.


    Throughout the day, members of the Council of Seven, along with various secondary councilors, governors, and RDF admirals, took turns delivering speeches, all praising the benefits of the proposed peace treaty and the future they envisioned. The tone was celebratory, with frequent applause interrupting the proceedings. It was a day of celebration.


    The treaty was all but official¡ªalready prepared and set to be unveiled as a surprise conclusion by the Council of Seven.


    Given Garen¡¯s service record, his request to speak had been granted. To those in attendance, it seemed only natural¡ªGeneral Rivers had spent his entire career at war. Surely, he simply wanted to celebrate the peace.


    The event was being broadcast live across the Seven Worlds¡ªa common practice for many council meetings in the Parliament Building. The discussion on the war drew an unusually large viewership, introducing Garen Rivers to many for the first time.


    While his heroic deeds were well known within RDF circles, the general populace had remained largely indifferent to individual contributions to the war. To them, the RDF was a collective force, not a sum of its parts¡ªan idea Garen fully agreed with. He had never considered himself a hero, despite what others claimed. Only the First Admiral and Admiral of the Fleet were widely recognized by the public, given their roles in delivering war updates.


    Garen hadn''t anticipated that his speech from that day would be replayed endlessly, becoming a focal point of public discourse. Across the Seven Worlds, it was revisited and debated over and over. No matter the accuracy of his words or the truths they revealed, the people of the Seven Worlds yearned for a new era of peace. It was what they wanted, and it was what the newly elected Council of Seven had promised them.


    Weary of war and its endless casualty reports, they did not share Garen¡¯s perspective. They had not seen what he had seen. They did not know what he knew. Garen had spent his entire career fighting the Vorcons, studying their tactics, understanding their relentless ambition. His deep knowledge of their history made his warnings unpopular among a public eager to put the war behind them.


    Garen had suspected he was already too late, but he had to try.


    Perhaps, by voicing his concerns, he could inspire others who shared his views but were hesitant to challenge the overwhelming consensus. Despite knowing his perspective diverged from the prevailing sentiment, he felt compelled to speak. He wasn¡¯t looking at the present¡ªhe was looking to the future, to what he believed would be another war.


    This so-called permanent peace would only give the Vorcon Empire time to rebuild. The Vorcons didn¡¯t want peace; they wanted time¡ªto rebuild, to regain their strength, to prepare. Garen believed they would see a treaty as a defeat, one they would one day do everything in their power to rectify, as they had before.


    The Speaker acknowledged Garen as he stood. ¡°The floor is now open to General Garen Rivers, commander of the Capital Battlecruiser Riftkin.¡±


    From the back of the room, Garen strode toward the center, his footsteps echoing in the hush that fell over the chamber.


    He wore his RDF dress uniform, its fabric decorated with medals that marked his service.


    His gaze swept across the chamber, taking in the faces watching him¡ªsome allies, some adversaries, most too distant to identify.


    He knew he was both doing the right thing and making a mistake at the same time.


    With a commanding voice, Garen Rivers addressed the assembly.


    "Members of the High Council, Secondary Council, esteemed colleagues¡ªtoday, we stand on the precipice of achieving the peace we have all yearned for and tirelessly worked toward. However, endorsing this agreement under its current terms, I believe, is a mistake.


    "Let me be clear¡ªmy reservations are not with the cessation of hostilities itself but with the conditions of this peace."


    He paused, letting his words settle over the assembly.


    "This treaty leaves the Vorcon Empire¡¯s military intact. We¡¯re not ending a war¡ªwe¡¯re giving them time to rebuild. We¡¯re handing them the tools for their next strike. Not tomorrow, not next year¡ªbut someday, they will strike again. And when they do, we will be the ones who let it happen."


    A murmur of dissent rippled through the chamber, but beneath it simmered something sharper¡ªindignation.


    A councilor stiffened, his expression tightening. Another shot his colleague a sharp look, irritation clear between them. This was meant to be a day of celebration¡ªa triumphant declaration of peace, a statement of control by the newly elected Council. They had shaped this moment, orchestrated every detail, and now Garen was unraveling it.


    Several council members tensed, barely restraining their anger, their hands twitching as if itching to cut him off. Beneath their composed exteriors, they were seething, their frustration simmering just beneath the surface.


    They did their best to suppress any outward display of annoyance, but inwardly, they were already deciding how to silence him.


    Garen pressed on, his voice cutting through, heedless of the silent fury building around him.


    "They will not see this peace as a bridge to cooperation but as an opportunity for rearmament. The Vorcons don¡¯t make peace. They don¡¯t compromise. They don¡¯t stop. This treaty? It¡¯s just a pause button. Their strategy¡ªwhether it takes decades or longer¡ªwill be to bide their time, rebuild their strength, and wait. My stance is not driven by a desire for endless conflict but by a commitment to securing a lasting peace¡ªone that safeguards not only our generation but those that follow.


    "I have seen too much death, too much destruction, too much sacrifice. We cannot let the efforts of the RDF be in vain. We must envision a future where the people of the Seven Worlds do not suffer what we have endured."


    His words sent quiet whispers through the assembly. Garen wasn¡¯t arguing against peace¡ªhe was advocating for vigilance, for foresight. He was challenging the council to consider the long-term consequences of their decision.


    His eyes moved across the chamber.


    "Sign this treaty, and we aren¡¯t securing peace¡ªwe¡¯re setting the stage for another war. We are giving the Vorcons a chance to regroup, to present a renewed threat. I cannot, in good conscience, support a path that may lead us straight back into the conflict we fought so hard to end. Our involvement in this war was never an obligation¡ªbut it was the right thing to do. Now, we must see it through, to ensure true and lasting stability."


    Garen paused, his voice softening.


    "And what of the star systems still under Vorcon control? The species they enslaved before we ever stepped in? Are we really about to sign a treaty that tells them: ''You¡¯re on your own''?"


    His voice hardened.


    "We gave them hope when we stood against the Vorcon Empire. And now what? We abandon them? We leave them to despair?"


    Another pause¡ªlonger this time.


    ¡°Look at the Nalore,¡± he continued. ¡°The Larocol¡ªan entire species, gone. Wiped out by the Vorcon Empire. And now we make peace with them? There are still those who need our help, who may face the same fate. Do we turn our backs on them too?¡±


    His declaration stirred the chamber, transforming it into a theater of animated discussion. Murmurs spread, voices rising in debate, the concerns he raised resonated with many.


    Garen paused, scanning the room, listening to the whispered discussions that filled the chamber. He caught glimpses of both agreement and reluctance among the assembly, his gaze settling on the Council of Seven as they exchanged glances. Yet, despite the stir his words had caused, the overwhelming desire to end the war outweighed any strategic concern about leaving the Vorcons armed.


    No matter how compelling his warnings, it wouldn¡¯t be enough. The treaty would be ratified. The decision had been made.


    ¡°If we move forward with this treaty,¡± he said, ¡°we must do so knowing the risks."


    With that, Garen turned and stepped away. His words had been spoken. Whether they listened or not¡ªhe had spoken his mind, he had warned them of what was to come.


    Garen¡¯s eyes shot open. He sat up fast, breath sharp, body tense¡ªready to spring from the bed. His heart pounded, sweat clinging to his skin. He exhaled, rubbing his face. The past slipped away. Reality returned. He struggled through his confusion as he awoke, realizing he was back on Rhyus.

 Chapter 32

    Chapter 32


    Rhyus City


    The Rhyus System, Karbay Nolan Sector


    Date: Zeran 29, Year 4731


    Garen drifted between wakefulness and shallow sleep. By morning, he abandoned the effort altogether, preparing for a long day of pre-mission briefings with Admiral Amar Lavont.


    Amar had confirmed the briefing would be held at Garen¡¯s suite but hadn¡¯t specified a time, only advising that he would contact Garen well before his arrival.


    Garen rose early, showered, and cleaned up. As he sipped his coffee, the quiet brought little comfort. The longer he waited, the more questions ran through his mind. Worse, he kept replaying everything, reliving choices that had led him here, things he had felt were long behind him.


    He had sworn never to return to the RDF¡ªnever to set foot on this planet again. Not out of spite, but principle. And yet, here he was. For years, he had clung to that vow, though deep down, he had always known it was fragile.


    While he had not reclaimed his former rank as General, he would serve as an acting commander¡ªgranted its authority, but without any long-term commitment. The fact that he had accepted the temporary role with the RSIA¡ªnot the RDF, where he had built his career¡ªmade the decision a little easier to accept.


    The RSIA and RDF were distinct, but whether their differences truly mattered remained to be seen.


    It was obvious that Amar¡¯s position of power within the RSIA had earned him significant influence. Yet, for this mission to be approved, Garen couldn¡¯t help but wonder what role the Council of Seven played in it.


    Were they influencing things behind the scenes?


    To Garen, it seemed obvious that, at least in some capacity, they had a hand in the mission. His instincts warned caution, yet an urge to move ahead nagged at him¡ªone he could barely explain.


    With everything that had happened, he wouldn¡¯t call it coincidence.


    He approached the window, looking out over the sprawling metropolis. It was still early morning, the sun now fully risen. The city stretched endlessly¡ªa vast urban expanse that felt both familiar and foreign after so much time away.


    Garen watched the steady flow of traffic¡ªwheeled and hovering vehicles moving in and out of shifting lanes, some built to transition between both.


    Traffic wove through layered thoroughfares, threading between towering structures. Trains carved through the city, linking districts, while buses crawled the lower streets and shuttles soared above. Above it all, ships lined the sky, threading through designated lanes of the multi-level city of Rhyus.


    Garen wasn¡¯t sure if he longed for the solitude of his cabin¡ªthe distant sounds of the stream, the rustling of the trees, the cries of untamed nature¡ªor if he had simply grown too accustomed to isolation. He exhaled, but the city breathed louder, filling every space it could find¡ªits noise a constant pressure, forcing him to adjust.


    Within the suite, a display screen covered one wall, its panels shifting between news and entertainment feeds, customizable to expand or rearrange as needed. One broadcast from Rhyus caught Garen¡¯s attention. He turned up the volume, tuning into a report on a recent diplomatic initiative between the Seven Worlds and a faction from the nearby Olastis System.


    From what he could gather, a task force was being sent under the banner of peacekeeping. The broadcast depicted peaceful demonstrations unfolding across the Seven Worlds, led by those who preferred the Seven Worlds stay out of the conflict.


    Garen, drawn into the report, stood before the screen, his thoughts shifting to the deeper complexities behind the unrest. While the protests were loud, they came from a small but outspoken fraction of the population.


    The newscasters detailed the growing wave of demonstrations¡ªmany citizens had no desire to get involved in the conflict, not even in a so-called peacekeeping capacity.


    Public figures and analysts debated the treaty¡¯s risks. The Olastis System¡ªresource-rich and war-torn¡ªhad long been a battlefield, plagued by raids and territorial disputes. Critics warned that aligning with the Rytann Accord¡ªone of the system¡¯s dominant factions¡ªcould entangle the Seven Worlds in ongoing disputes, potentially making them a direct target.


    Some pointed to the RDF¡¯s intervention in the Kasnirn Conflict¡ªa mission meant to stabilize the region but which instead fractured governance, emboldened warlords, and deepened distrust toward the Seven Worlds. Would this alliance lead to another such miscalculation, involving itself in matters some believed it had no business in?


    A correspondent took center stage, her tone urgent as she reported.


    "This treaty is a disaster waiting to happen," she warned, her voice cutting through the chants of "No more war! No more war!" rising from the crowd behind her. There was widespread concern about various rebel groups in the region¡ªfactions skilled in guerrilla warfare¡ªraising fears that the Seven Worlds could be drawn into something far more dangerous than they anticipated.


    The screen shifted to a panel of analysts debating the treaty¡¯s implications.


    Yarin Velix, a seasoned political analyst, spoke first. "The Rytann Accord has a long history of resource-driven conflicts with neighboring factions, including the Mendaran Collective and the Tazkhan Confederation. This treaty could pull the Seven Worlds into a series of smaller wars, each with the potential to spiral out of control."


    Halos Lrek, a military strategist, countered, ¡°The RDF needs to maintain a strong presence in the Karbay Nolan sector. We can''t allow instability to fester. If we don¡¯t act decisively, we¡¯ll be dealing with a much bigger problem later. It¡¯s the RDF¡¯s job and duty to maintain security in this sector.¡±


    Alara Quinith, a political commentator, added, ¡°We have to consider the broader consequences. The Tazkhan Confederation has already issued warnings about RDF involvement. This treaty could be seen as a provocation, leading to conflicts that could have been avoided.¡±


    ¡°While there are concerns regarding these groups, to suggest they pose any real threat to the Rhyus Defense Fleet is exaggerated,¡± Halos Lrek responded.


    The debate continued, each argument layered with both logic and uncertainty. Some feared the treaty would only inflame tensions in an already volatile region, while others believed RDF intervention could stabilize the sector before the situation worsened.


    Garen watched as the discussion unfolded, the footage shifting between cities across the Seven Worlds where small peaceful demonstrations were being held by those opposed to the conflict.


    The people of The Rhyus System, still scarred by the war with the Vorcon Empire, had little appetite for another conflict, regardless of scale. Yet, it seemed to be a pattern¡ªthe Seven Worlds continually involving themselves in surrounding conflicts, viewing themselves as peacekeepers. Their presence in the Mottmor System was just another example of their extended reach.


    I wonder what¡¯s really going on out in that system, Garen thought.


    The news moved on. The Vorcon threat lingered, but what had happened on Chiex was already fading¡ªvague, insignificant. Buried beneath the steady churn of new events, it was barely acknowledged, forgotten before most had even noticed.


    Aboard the Seeker, they had caught a brief mention of it on their way to Rhyus¡ªan audio broadcast that surfaced for a moment, then vanished, lost in the endless stream of news updates. By the time they arrived, it was as if it had never happened.


    In a corner of the expansive living area, a pair of antique steel swords hung on the wall¡ªrelics of another era, long before energy melee weapons, long before the humans of the Rhyus System took to space. Garen¡¯s eyes lingered on them. They reminded him of the last time he had held his Scalar Falcata, a weapon that, in its own way, had also been lost to time.


    He could still feel its weight, the balance in his grip as he had faced down enemies who believed in their cause as much as he had once believed in his own.


    Once, these weapons had shaped wars. Now, like the ideals he had fought for, they were relics of the past.


    Artwork of the Seven Worlds lined the walls, and a bookshelf sat beside a table stacked with books and a tablet.


    At the center of the space, a dining table and kitchen occupied a well-organized area, while beyond the kitchen, a lounge presented itself¡ªa cozy arrangement of soft chairs and comfortable seating.


    The upcoming mission stood at the forefront of everything, its outcome potentially shaping the fate of the Seven Worlds. Heading into Vorcon territory¡ªhow could it not? While Garen understood the mission¡¯s broad objectives, he awaited the full briefing, hoping it would finally illuminate the finer details.


    Brief doubts surfaced, but experience had taught him¡ªleadership was never about acting alone. His command of the capital battlecruiser Riftkin had proven that his strength lay not just in trusting his team but in knowing how to use them. Strategy had always been his greatest weapon¡ªseeing the larger picture, anticipating moves before they happened, and adapting in real-time. He wasn¡¯t just a leader; he was a tactician, a strategist who had turned the tide of battle more than once with decisions made in seconds. And now, he would need to do it again.


    Garen approached the wall-mounted communication panel and summoned Conus and Klamarez to his quarters. Given their proximity on the same floor, it wasn¡¯t long before they arrived.


    As the door silently slid open, Conus stepped in first, followed closely by Klamarez, who immediately took in the unfamiliar surroundings with wide-eyed curiosity. Each room in the complex was different.


    "General Rivers," Conus greeted with a nod.


    Garen nodded in return, with a warm but tired smile. ¡°Colonel Taylen.¡± Then, turning to Klamarez, he asked, ¡°And Klamarez, how are you finding Rhyus? Does it meet your expectations?¡±


    Klamarez¡¯s ears twitched, his posture straightening as he launched into an animated response.


    ¡°It¡¯s been an endless adventure. They really live in excess here. Are all the Seven Worlds like this? Some people live on the streets, yet even they look comfortable!¡±


    His thoughts trailed to Calio for a moment¡ªthe state of his homeworld the last time he had seen it¡ªbefore he pulled himself back to the conversation.


    ¡°Nearly got lost. Twice. Wandered into a market packed with old tech¡ªand way too many scented candles. Why so many? My senses couldn¡¯t take it.¡±


    Klamarez looked up, wrinkling his nose as if he could still smell them. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his nose with a loud snort.


    ¡°And then they got mad when I started blowing them out." He shrugged. "And¡ªwell, they didn¡¯t appreciate that.¡±


    Garen nodded along, suppressing a smile at the thought, then added looking to Conus, ¡°Camerians dislike strong scents.¡±


    ¡°Reminds me of the time I visited Tenkey Station.¡± Klamarez paused, then continued, ¡°Met some¡­ interesting people today.¡± One guy on the pathway was ranting about the origins through a loudspeaker¡ªuntil two very large men politely ¡®escorted¡¯ him elsewhere. Quite the show.¡±


    A grin spread across his face. ¡°But most importantly¡ªI found some fantastic things I can¡¯t wait to take apart.¡±


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Garen ran the side of his neck for a moment. ¡°Sounds like not much has changed.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe people are still preaching about the origins. We¡¯re beyond that,¡± Conus said, tilting his head slightly. The stories were interesting, but he never understood why so many still preached them as if they were fact. They were just that¡ªstories, nothing more.


    ¡°Some take it too far, turning it into something it was never meant to be,¡± Garen replied. ¡°But if you actually read the texts, there are some intriguing insights. They raise questions, but offer no real answers.¡±


    Conus¡¯s augmented eye shifted slightly. ¡°You believe that, sir?¡±


    Garen smiled. ¡°No, not really. But, like many things in the galaxy, interpretation is key. And besides, I enjoy a good story.¡±


    He smiled briefly, looking as if he was about to say more¡ªthen stopped.


    Conus nodded, understanding his meaning.


    There were many texts about the origins¡ªGaren had read plenty over the years, collecting them whenever he could. He had his own theories on the matter. That thought made him realize some of his collected texts were still in storage, left behind along with other remnants of his past on Rhyus¡ªthings he could look into once the mission was complete.


    Klamarez glanced around again, his eyes landing on a fish tank nestled in one corner of the room. He narrowed them slightly as he watched the fish move.


    ¡°So what happened at Tenkey Station?¡± Conus asked.


    ¡°What?¡± Klamarez replied, still distracted by the fish.


    ¡°You said it reminded you of Tenkey Station,¡± Conus repeated.


    Garen was about to interrupt and address why he had called them to his suite, but Klamarez spoke first.


    ¡°I was stopping at the station for some supplies. I was working on the Primor at the time, doing trade runs. There was this merchant selling these strong fragrances¡ªones to spray on yourself. It was overpoweringly strong. I mean, if you need to cover yourself in that much fragrance, maybe it¡¯s something else you need.¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°Well, I started sneezing and¡­¡± Klamarez glanced up at the light in the room, let out a loud sneeze, and shook his head. ¡°I sneezed for half a day.¡±


    Conus inhaled slowly, grateful his sense of smell wasn¡¯t augmented. In fact, it was rather dull in comparison. Catching himself, he subtly tested his own scent perception.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got something to run by you both,¡± Garen said, finally getting their attention.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s going on?¡± Klamarez asked.


    Garen motioned toward the stately table at the center of the room, signaling for Conus and Klamarez to take their seats. As they complied, a sense of seriousness settled over them as they noticed the shift in Garen¡¯s demeanor.


    The words felt heavier than he expected, as if speaking them would make this mission¡ªand everything it meant¡ªmore real.


    Garen¡¯s expression hardened. He revealed what little he knew about their upcoming mission.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been given command of a stealth ship,¡± Garen stated.


    ¡°A stealth ship?¡± Klamarez¡¯s ears twitched with interest, his smile widening as his fangs appeared.


    The Preyon? Conus wondered to himself


    "This mission requires us to navigate into Vorcon territory,¡± Garen added.


    Conus and Klamarez exchanged glances.


    ¡°Us?¡± Conus asked. He knew the RSIA had been planning a major operation, but us¡ªdid that mean he was part of it?


    ¡°You¡¯re part of the mission, Colonel,¡± Garen confirmed.


    Klamarez listened, feeling a little lost in it all. He had assumed us meant Garen and Conus. Still, he found it odd that he was there for the reveal. It sounded like a top-secret mission¡ªwhat business did he have being included?


    Conus took in the revelation. It didn¡¯t entirely catch him off guard¡ªhe had sensed something significant brewing, a major operation in the works. Maybe he had even mistakenly overheard something about it. Still, this was not quite what he had anticipated.


    Garen shifted his focus to Conus. ¡°Colonel Taylen, I need an Executive Officer. I¡¯m offering you the position. The choice is yours.¡±


    Conus paused for a moment before the words truly registered. He replayed them in his mind, his augmented memory ensuring he had heard correctly. What felt like a long pause to him was only a few seconds.


    Finally, he spoke. ¡°General Rivers, it would be an honor to serve as your Executive Officer.¡±


    No one in the RDF would have given him this chance. He had learned that the hard way. Augments were tolerated, used, but rarely trusted with command. He had joined the RSIA because he knew the RDF would never let him rise beyond a certain point¡ªhe had already peaked in the RDF before transferring.


    And now, one of the most recognized RDF generals had just offered him the position of executive officer¡ªan opportunity he had never believed possible.


    "Whatever aid I can provide, you have it General Rivers."


    "Congratulations, Conus," Klamarez said, baring his fangs in a grin and giving a quick wink.


    Garen turned to Klamarez. "Klamarez, I need someone in engineering with your skill set. Conus locks in my command structure, but I need that same confidence in our ship. This mission isn¡¯t straightforward¡ªit¡¯s going to take more than standard procedures. Would you consider joining us?"


    Excitement flashed across Klamarez¡¯s face before hesitation settled in. ¡°I¡¯ve always been more of an improviser than a formal engineer, Garen¡ªa tinkerer. My methods aren¡¯t exactly what you¡¯d find in the RDF¡¯s engineering manual¡­ or, uh¡ªwait, no, the RSIA¡¯s.¡±


    He paused, his ears twitching slightly as he caught himself mixing up the military organizations. ¡°Even keeping them straight is a job on its own.¡±


    Waving it off, he got back on point. ¡°Sounds like a lot of rules and guidelines to follow. Not sure I¡¯m cut out for it. I have my own way of doing things¡ªyou know that.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s exactly why I need you,¡± Garen said. ¡°We¡¯re heading into situations where conventional methods won¡¯t work. You think differently, solve problems on the fly¡ªthat¡¯s exactly the kind of advantage we need. I wouldn¡¯t ask if I didn¡¯t have full confidence in you.¡±


    Klamarez hesitated as he weighed the offer. The prospect of working on cutting-edge technology, of tearing into systems unlike anything he had encountered, was undeniably tempting. Yet, it came with risks.


    The Vorcons weren¡¯t just another faction¡ªthey were relentless, and stepping into their space felt like willingly walking into the jaws of a beast. He had lived through the damage they could inflict, seen it firsthand, and bore everlasting scars from it.


    Garen was about to press further when Klamarez exhaled sharply, shaking his head. ¡°I thought my days of reckless decisions were behind me,¡± he said. His eyes moved between Garen and Conus. ¡°But if I can make a difference, I¡¯m in.¡±


    "Chief Tinkerer," Conus said.


    Klamarez let out a laugh.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see if I can make that official,¡± Garen said with a quick smile.


    Garen felt a sense of relief¡ªhe had Conus and Klamarez with him. Realizing it was selfish, he still couldn¡¯t help but feel reassured that he wasn¡¯t heading into this alone. Their presence brought him some comfort.


    A grin spread across Klamarez¡¯s face, his fangs just visible. ¡°So, when do we get to see this ship?¡±


    "I have to admit, I haven¡¯t reviewed its specifications myself. You both have as much information as I do," Garen replied.


    ¡°Oh, that only adds to the anticipation,¡± Klamarez remarked.


    ¡°The fleet has been commissioning several specialized covert ships for the RSIA,¡± Conus added. ¡°Considering the significance of our mission, I would speculate it will be one of the new craft yet to be officially commissioned¡ªleading me to believe it will be one of the prototype stealth vessels. The specifications have been highly guarded. I may have mistakenly overheard something about the ship. I¡¯m looking forward to seeing what they¡¯ve built."


    ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to seeing it as well,¡± Garen admitted. ¡°What have you heard, Colonel?¡±


    ¡°General, I don¡¯t mean to overhear things not intended for me, but sometimes my augmented hearing picks up conversations,¡± Conus said, making a face as he realized how it sounded. ¡°It¡¯s best I say nothing.¡±


    ¡°I see. I¡¯ll keep that in mind, Colonel,¡± Garen replied with a not-too-serious smile.


    ¡°Our schedule for tomorrow is unclear, so it¡¯s probably best to get as much rest as we can today. Plus, the Admiral is coming here later to further discuss the mission.¡±


    ¡°He is?¡± Conus asked, surprised. That¡¯s unlike him.


    ¡°That¡¯s what he said,¡± Garen confirmed.


    ¡°I could use some rest,¡± Conus said, barely stifling a yawn. He had spent the night trying to focus on anything that kept his mind from wandering. Now that the mission was set, he had already decided¡ªwhen this was over, he¡¯d request time off to look deeper into his past. It would be well-earned.


    "I plan to explore the Rhyus Intrak Network further," Klamarez declared. ¡°The wealth of information it holds is simply fascinating¡ªjust waiting to be explored.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to explore Rhyus itself any further?¡± Conus asked.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve had all the exploring I can handle for today. This city gets confusing fast,¡± Klamarez admitted.


    ¡°That''s for the best. You don¡¯t want to end up in the wrong part of the city,¡± Garen warned. ¡°Crime is still very much a thing here.¡±


    ¡°Crime? Here?¡± Klamarez asked, his ears tilting slightly. ¡°I thought the Seven Worlds were supposed to be a paradise.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a big city,¡± Conus replied, offering it as the only explanation needed.


    "I¡¯ll keep you both informed," Garen said, watching as Conus and Klamarez turned for the door. As they stepped out, Conus began explaining the Rhyus Intrak Network, his voice fading into the hallway.


    "Be cautious¡ª not everything you find is legitimate," Conus advised as the door slid shut. Their muffled conversation lingered briefly before fading completely.


    With the apartment silent once more, Garen picked up the tablet provided and settled into the lounge area, casually sifting through its contents. He browsed through titles related to the history of the Seven Worlds, tracing their evolution from the United Seven Worlds, as they had once been called before the seven planets unified under a single government.


    His attention was drawn to a book titled A New Era of Peace. Speaking the title aloud, he realized it detailed the events surrounding his public opposition to the Council of Seven¡ªnot as its central focus, but as a recurring thread woven throughout its text. The book primarily chronicled the Council¡¯s dedication to peace and its ongoing efforts to maintain stability across the Seven Worlds.


    To his surprise, the author was Eldara Harrow, a Vontar High Council member¡ªone of the very individuals present when he had spoken out against the treaty. As he read, Garen noted that the book did not cast him in an overtly negative light. Instead, it acknowledged his concerns as legitimate, even if considered short-sighted. More importantly, it did not frame him as a warmonger but as someone who had spoken out of genuine concern for the security of the Seven Worlds.


    He recalled that Eldara Harrow had not been as openly critical of him as others had. Her priority had always been peace above all else. This perspective piqued Garen¡¯s interest, offering insight into her worldview and aspirations for the future of the Seven Worlds. What had begun as a historical account gradually unfolded into something more personal¡ªa reflection on the Seven Worlds'' place in the galaxy, their responsibilities, and the challenges they faced moving forward.


    As he read, a chime interrupted his thoughts, signaling someone at the door. Setting the tablet aside, Garen stood, half-expecting Klamarez to have returned with some new discovery to share.


    However, when the door slid open, it was not Klamarez standing before him.


    For a moment, recognition clashed with disbelief. He had expected their paths to cross eventually¡ªher role in the RSIA made that inevitable¡ªbut not this soon. He wasn¡¯t ready.


    Before him stood a woman in an RSIA uniform. Her brunette hair, neatly tied back, framed a face etched into his past. As her lips curved into a small smile, the years collapsed between them, and something long buried stirred within him.


    She clutched a bag, standing at his threshold as if she had never been gone.


    The years had been kind to her¡ªtoo kind. Time had not dulled the radiance he remembered.


    In that instant, Garen knew¡ªhis return to Rhyus had always been inevitable. This moment, this reunion, made it all worth it.


    ¡°Garen.¡± Her voice pierced the silence, carrying the weight of familiarity and time. A pause, just long enough to take in his face¡ªolder, wearier.


    ¡°Terra.¡± His response came quietly, yet his voice carried the multitude of emotions her presence stirred. She caught it¡ªthe slight shift in his stance. Not hesitation, but restraint.


    For a brief moment, he felt the ground shift beneath his feet.

 Chapter 33

    Chapter 33


    Morelus (Moon Orbiting Rhyus)


    The Rhyus System, Karbay Nolan Sector


    Date: Crys 19, Year 4731


    Months before Garen ever set foot on Rhyus, back when he still believed his life would remain on Chiex, Amar Lavont sat in the RSIA¡¯s main base on Morelus, leaning back in his chair. His fingers brushed his chin¡ªa habit that surfaced whenever he weighed multiple outcomes.


    His blue eyes were unfocused, distant yet sharp, lost in thought.


    Across from him, O-One sat perfectly still, his scanning line adjusting slightly¡ªthe only sign he was processing beyond his words.


    "General Anteia will arrive in forty seconds."


    O-One¡¯s voice was crisp and controlled, too perfect to be human. Though he had learned to mimic natural speech, the hollow neutrality in his voice betrayed his synthetic nature.


    "Why are you telling me this, O-One?" Amar asked, breaking from his concentration.


    "You seemed deep in thought, sir. I assumed a reminder would be beneficial."


    "Indeed. Always looking out for me, O-One," Amar said, exhaling. "I¡¯m sure you know I¡¯m sending you on the operation."


    "That was my expectation, sir."


    "I¡¯ll be relying on you, O-One. There¡¯s too much at risk. I trust others for different reasons, but with you, there¡¯s no question. I trust you completely."


    There was a time when Amar would have said the same about Garen. He always found a way to get results¡ªthough never in the expected way.


    O-One, at least, was predictable¡ªthough not infallible. Disloyalty was impossible for him, and failure was nearly the same. Of course, O-One had been programmed to behave that way.


    "Human variables remain a factor. I will ensure the mission adheres to its projected outcome." O-One¡¯s visual scanning line narrowed slightly, its dim white glow shifting in no steady pattern.


    "I know you will, O-One."


    "Thank you, sir," he replied through his speaker grille.


    The door chimed. Amar activated a command on his desk, signaling for the one on the other side to enter.


    Terra Anteia stepped inside, her attention shifting between them. For a heartbeat, frustration crossed her face¡ªan automatic reaction to being pulled from her work¡ªbut it faded just as quickly. She braced herself, expecting orders she wouldn¡¯t like.


    He admired her fire, except when it burned in his direction.


    "Admiral Lavont. O-One," she greeted.


    Her tone was carefully neutral, "I hope the two of you have a good reason for pulling me away. I¡¯m in the middle of my report on the Tazkhan Confederation."


    "Have a seat, General," Amar said, motioning to the chair beside O-One.


    O-One¡¯s presence wasn¡¯t surprising. The synthetic was a common fixture in Amar¡¯s office, often working directly under the admiral.


    "It is a good reason, General. Have your assets reported in?" Amar asked.


    "They¡¯re a little behind schedule, but I¡¯m confident they¡¯ll report in soon. Things are escalating as predicted," Terra replied.


    "Is their withdrawal still on schedule?" O-One asked.


    "Yes," Terra confirmed.


    "Good. Seeing as things are wrapping up in the Olastis System, I¡¯m assigning you to focus on another operation," Amar said.


    "Wrapping up? It¡¯s only beginning to escalate," Terra countered.


    "I''m reassigning the operation. Soon, Olastis won¡¯t be your concern," Amar stated. "The RSIA is scaling back operations¡ªwe¡¯ll maintain a presence, but we¡¯ve done all we can. If it worsens, the RDF will step in."


    "I was hoping we could prevent that," Terra admitted, folding her arms.


    She had learned long ago that challenging Amar Lavont strategically was rarely fruitful¡ªhe always played the long game, considering multiple alternatives. Yet, she also knew he valued her input.


    At least by maintaining a minimal presence, they retained the opportunity to ramp up operations in the system again if needed.


    "It was always the most likely outcome," O-One said.


    Terra didn¡¯t disagree¡ªhe was right. However, she had hoped to make a positive impact on the system. But it had become too divided, with too many factions vying for power and control.


    "So, what operation am I being reassigned to?" she asked.


    "The Vorcons," Amar said.


    "Admiral?"


    Amar nodded.


    "Is this regarding the intel I received?" Her words came out like a half-formed thought.


    "Yes." Amar¡¯s tone was firm.


    Terra took a moment to collect herself, chewing on the inside of her lip¡ªan old habit she barely noticed when bracing against frustration.


    She hadn¡¯t even wanted to pass along the intel when she first received it. She had wanted to forget about it.


    "That intel..." Terra hesitated, arms crossing tighter. "Not one detail has been verified. Until I see proof, I won¡¯t trust it. And neither should you. Launching a full-scale response over this is reckless."


    She caught herself, lowering her voice. Amar waited, letting her finish.


    "I¡¯d rather finish my work in Olastis first. Pulling me off now doesn¡¯t sit right¡ªI need to see it through. We¡¯re making progress."


    "I understand, General," Amar said, though he knew removing her from an operation she had spent years on would not sit well.


    "We have new evidence regarding Vorcon activities," O-One added. "And, General Anteia, this mission would give us a chance to repair the Prine listening post."


    O-One removed a data drive from his uniform and handed it to Terra. She took it, turning it over in her hands, wondering exactly what its contents were.


    "Where did this intel come from?" she asked. It fit in her hand, yet it felt as though it took up more space than it should.


    "A Rulnali operative," Amar replied.


    "Vekth?" Terra asked.


    Amar nodded.


    Vekth had risked much, sneaking out intel on the Vorcon Empire when she could. She was an interesting case¡ªstill working the supply lines for the Vorcons. The intel she provided was rare, infrequent, but always accurate.


    "We¡¯re positive Vekth sent this?"


    "It has been verified¡ªdelivered directly to one of our agents at Port Narris," O-One clarified.


    "I see." Terra accepted that, but a part of her still wished it were untrue.


    "The threat is real. We must act¡ªand I need you to oversee this, General Anteia," Amar stated.


    Her hesitation was subtle, but Amar caught it. Terra had spent enough time fighting the Vorcons¡ªshe was more than content to leave that chapter behind.


    "I need to review the new intel, but I''m still not convinced about the initial intel I received months ago, Admiral," she said, still eyeing the data drive O-One had given her.


    "Analysis of the drive will provide necessary clarity, General," O-One stated.


    "We need to be cautious when it comes to the Vorcons," Terra continued. "We should monitor them, but our focus belongs elsewhere¡ªon real, immediate threats. Plenty would love to see us at war with the Vorcons again, some would go to great lengths to make it happen." The thought sent a ripple through her body, a memory turned physical.


    "I agree," Amar said. "However, the RSIA must maintain focus on several avenues at once. That¡¯s why I need you to oversee the operation."


    "Admiral..." she started. A rebuttal burned in her throat, but she forced it down.


    "Do you remember O-One¡¯s initial suggestion?" Amar asked.


    Terra turned to O-One, then back to Amar. The synthetic remained perfectly still.


    "We¡¯re going to send a ship in?"


    "Yes, General," Amar confirmed. "You know as well as I do that this can¡¯t be ignored. If we hesitate, we risk everything in the Rhyus System."


    Terra sat there for a moment, knowing there was no fighting this, Amar had made up his mind. She wasn¡¯t going to refuse his order, but she didn¡¯t like it.


    This would be no easy mission. The mission itself didn¡¯t bother her, Amar¡¯s urgency did. She wasn¡¯t convinced the Vorcons were a pressing threat. Maybe her perspective would change after reviewing the new intel, but she still believed she would be more valuable elsewhere.


    "Very well. Once my operatives are back and I complete my report, I¡¯ll hand over the Olastis System op. In the meantime, I¡¯ll get started on mission planning."


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "That is acceptable," Amar said.


    "I am to be assigned to you for the operation, General Anteia," O-One said, turning at the waist toward her.


    "Good. I¡¯ll need your help, O-One," she said with a half-smile at the synthetic. More often than not, O-One worked directly with Amar, assisting him. His reassignment to her command for this mission only reinforced how much importance Amar was placing on it.


    "Ready to assist, General," O-One replied before turning to Amar. "I will ensure that my temporary replacement, O-One-Five, will act according to your preferences in my absence." His words were factual, devoid of reassurance.


    "Appreciate it, O-One," Amar said.


    Terra shifted forward slightly. "Do we have a ship for this type of mission? I¡¯m not sure I feel confident in any of our current vessels being able to handle this."


    "The Preyon," O-One stated.


    "The Preyon is still under construction," Terra pointed out.


    "I¡¯ve ordered all focus to be on its completion," Amar said.


    "The Preyon will be complete within four synods," O-One added.


    Terra had received the initial intel and had reluctantly presented it to Amar. The intel was detailed, but they had been unable to verify it.


    Recently, outside interference had increased, making misinformation more common. Several assets had been compromised¡ªsome had disappeared, while others no longer seemed interested in working for the RSIA¡ªmaking verification more difficult, especially when it came to filtering out false leads.


    If the intel on the Vorcon bio lab was accurate, it was a serious matter¡ªone she couldn¡¯t ignore.


    Despite her caution, Terra was already considering personnel for the mission, though she still wanted to review the latest intel herself, hoping to find a reason to prove it inaccurate. Regardless, she had new orders to follow¡ªand she would act as ordered.


    But knowing O-One, he had already spent considerable time analyzing it.


    "Major Rena Cyra for Cybersecurity Officer," she said.


    O-One pulled out his PDA and made a note. "We will need to transfer Major Cyra."


    "Other than currently assigned COs, General Anteia you can select personnel from other operations. Though, as always, some may not appreciate you pulling their people," Amar said. "However, I will make it known that your new operation is the RSIA¡¯s top priority moving forward¡ªnext to the Helix Operation, of course. All of Major Kard¡¯s personnel are off-limits. If you need any of his people, you¡¯ll have to discuss it with him."


    Terra considered who was working under the Helix Operation. "I¡¯ll see if he¡¯ll give up Lieutenant Oswin. We¡¯re going to need a good pilot," she said.


    "That¡¯s your call, General," Amar responded.


    "Lieutenant Oswin is an exceptional pilot. I will need to remind him to tone down his overconfidence," said O-One.


    They discussed and went over a number of names as potential candidates to fill out the crew, narrowing the list down.


    "I¡¯m going to put in for some of the other positions. I''ll have to send out a few transmissions," Terra noted, already planning her next steps.


    "You have some time before they are assembled. The majority of your team will have no knowledge of this mission until just days before departing," Amar replied.


    "Understood. Though I¡¯d like to settle on the mission commander as soon as possible," Terra said. "I¡¯m thinking either General Remi or General Oldavin."


    Amar and O-One didn¡¯t respond, causing Terra to glance between them. She studied them both for a moment.


    "You already have someone in mind, don¡¯t you?" she asked. Her expression hardened slightly. "I hope you¡¯re not considering General Dantel."


    "This is no ordinary mission, General Anteia," Amar said.


    "We need an exceptional commander¡ªsomeone with experience regarding the Vorcons," O-One added.


    Terra considered the options. None of the candidates they had discussed possessed significant experience with the Vorcons. She looked to Amar, narrowing her eyes slightly.


    What are you up to, Admiral?


    His silence stretched a second too long. Terra shifted in her seat, reading him as she always did. A name entered her mind, just for a moment. When it came to Vorcons, a certain name would always cross her thoughts¡ªthere was no way it couldn¡¯t. But that couldn¡¯t be what he was going to say. There was no way. It wasn¡¯t possible.


    Amar exhaled, taking his time, unsure how to proceed. He chose his words with care before speaking. He had considered every alternative, but there was only one choice. And he knew¡ªas soon as he set the mission in motion¡ªthat there had always been only one choice.


    "I''ve considered every alternative carefully," Amar said, his voice quiet but decisive. He paused for a moment before continuing.


    "This wasn¡¯t an easy choice."


    Terra watched him closely. Amar never stalled like this¡ªhe usually came right out with it.


    "Amar?" Saying his name caught her off guard for a moment.


    "I think the best commander for this mission is Garen Rivers," Amar said.


    Terra¡¯s mind flashed involuntarily to their final meeting¡ªthe cold distance in Garen''s eyes as he turned away. He hadn¡¯t simply walked away from the RDF or the Seven Worlds; he''d walked away from her, abandoning everything.


    In that moment, he had made it seem easy, as if it hadn¡¯t hurt. But he had done it just the same.


    Terra let out a sharp laugh¡ªnot from humor, but disbelief. Of all the names Amar could have said, his?


    She composed herself quickly, though inside, turmoil remained. "Admiral, has O-One been teaching you humor?"


    O-One turned at the waist toward her.


    "My humor has increased by¡ª"


    Amar cut off O-One with a motion of his hand. "I¡¯m being serious, General."


    "Why?" Terra¡¯s eyes narrowed. "How?"


    Amar met her eyes.


    "Do you even know where he is?" she asked.


    "I¡¯ve always known where he was," Amar said.


    "You have?" As soon as she said it, it seemed obvious. Of course, Amar would.


    "He¡¯s maintained contact with a select few since he left. Infrequent communications. Chief Koick, for example."


    Terra thought of Chief Koick¡ªhow he, Garen, and the others used to play cards in the Riftkin¡¯s storage room, despite there being designated card rooms. It wasn¡¯t surprising that Garen would keep in touch with him.


    "He wouldn¡¯t have told you about Garen," she said.


    "No, he didn¡¯t," Amar confirmed.


    Garen hadn¡¯t exactly hidden where he was; he just never announced it. There were others he was close with, people he would reach out to sometimes.


    "Admiral¡­ you were spying on him?" Terra asked.


    "I periodically had different operatives check in on him¡ªfrom a distance. I never interfered in his life," Amar stated.


    Terra did not approve.


    "Still, you can¡¯t be serious about having him command this mission. He won¡¯t agree to that. It¡¯s been too long. He¡¯s had to move on from that possibility by now¡ªmoved on from it long ago. He said he would never come back. It¡¯s been years. He meant it when he said it. This feels like a waste of time to ask him. It¡¯s unfair of us to ask him. It¡¯s insulting."


    "Do you reject the idea because of your past relationship with General Rivers?" O-One asked. There was no malice in the question¡ªjust data, processed and stated as fact.


    Terra¡¯s head snapped turned toward him. "That¡¯s none of your business, O-One."


    "I apologize," O-One said. "I also believe an in-service general would be better suited for this mission. However, Admiral Lavont feels General Rivers is the best choice. We must proceed with that."


    "We need this mission to succeed. What happens if it fails? We need someone who can stay calm and react¡ªsomeone who knows the Vorcons well. That¡¯s Garen," Amar said.


    "Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s unfair to drag him back into this?" Terra asked. "He seems to have found peace wherever he is."


    "It will be his choice to make."


    "He¡¯s on Chiex, living near a Camerian settlement," O-One added.


    "Chiex?" Terra took a moment, trying to recall the planet. "I know Garen made friends with a Camerian after the Liberation of Calio."


    Terra found it odd to imagine Garen living on some remote world with Camerians. She had often wondered where he had gone but never pursued that knowledge. He was gone. He had left the Seven Worlds, and she was confident he was living out his life the best way he knew how after everything that had happened.


    It didn¡¯t really matter where he had gone. His departure had hurt for a long time, but she had moved on. She missed him in many ways¡ªmissed who and what he was¡ªbut that was a long time ago. Their lives together had been shaped, surrounded by war, and maybe it was na?ve to ever think things would have worked out once the war ended.


    They had met during their days at the academy and had served together on the Riftkin at the start of the war under Lavont¡¯s command. Terra had never doubted that their love for one another was real¡ªshe had cared about him deeply¡ªbut war had defined their relationship just as much as anything else.


    "There is no way the Council agreed to this¡ªto Garen commanding, did they?" Terra asked.


    "I will present the latest intel to them tomorrow," Amar said. "They have yet to approve Garen as commander¡ªor even the mission itself. But we will proceed regardless, General Anteia."


    He had anticipated their concerns, countered every argument before they could make it. The Council was predictable¡ªrisk, optics, political fallout. But predictability didn¡¯t guarantee certainty. They could still hesitate, still delay, still be swayed by unseen forces, by shifting currents beyond his reach.


    She had no idea how he planned to get the Council to agree. They wanted to avoid another conflict with the Vorcon Empire at all costs.


    But getting them to agree to Garen¡¯s return? That seemed just as unlikely¡ªif not more so.


    Perhaps the severity of the mission would force them to consider Garen¡¯s potential as the ideal commander¡ªbecause that¡¯s exactly how Amar would present it.


    "You really think they¡¯ll approve this?" Terra asked, still struggling to believe Amar would even present it. The same seven councilors had been in power since the day Garen spoke out.


    She didn¡¯t need to say the rest. Amar had already considered it from every angle, but that didn¡¯t mean the Council wouldn¡¯t make it difficult.


    "Yes. It will take some convincing, but I believe they will agree. They are very invested in this mission, in the intel, and they have agreed that you need to lead the operation. I¡¯m not going to run the RSIA forever, Terra. If you want to lead it one day, you need to be able to handle the Council of Seven. They¡¯ve been impressed with your work," Amar said.


    "I''ll be heading to Rhyus tomorrow alone to discuss Garen as the mission¡¯s commander, but when it comes to fully presenting this mission to them, you will attend and will be expected to speak with them."


    Many things within the RSIA¡¯s scope remained internal to the organization, but when it came to the Vorcons, the Council demanded full and frequent updates. Their interest also extended to Helix.


    Only now did Terra realize that leading this mission meant facing the Council of Seven directly. Though, if she wanted to advance within the RSIA, she needed to learn to speak with them.


    "When do you expect Garen to return?" Terra asked.


    "When the mission is close to being launched, we¡¯ll send someone to Chiex and ask him to return," Amar said.


    "That¡¯s it? You think that will work?" Terra¡¯s skepticism deepened. "You know Garen¡ªhe doesn¡¯t do what¡¯s expected. If he¡¯s spent a decade avoiding us, what makes you think he¡¯ll come running back?"


    "He lives alone, in the wilderness. Isolated."


    "And you think he¡¯s been waiting for this?"


    "I think he¡¯s been waiting for something." Amar replied softly.


    Maybe he was assuming too much. But he wouldn¡¯t let Terra¡ªor anyone¡ªsee his doubt. He spoke like a man who believed every word. But did he? Had Garen truly been waiting, or was it just his own hope speaking?


    "It won¡¯t be that easy."


    She wasn¡¯t convinced. If anything, she was certain it wouldn¡¯t be. Terra thought Garen would be anything but grateful.


    Amar knew Garen well, but he seemed to overestimate his attachment to the fleet¡ªassuming too much. A part of it was that Amar hoped for a chance to make things right between them. But he truly believed Garen was their best hope for the mission¡¯s success, and that was what mattered most to him.


    "We also need to determine who we¡¯re sending to bring him back. I was considering Colonel Taylen," Amar said.


    "I¡¯m not sure we can trust Colonel Taylen with this," Terra said.


    "He¡¯s a very capable officer," O-One stated.


    "I think Garen would take a liking to him," Amar said.


    It wasn¡¯t that she didn¡¯t trust Colonel Taylen¡ªshe did. She thought highly of him, but his past was complicated. "Colonel Taylen it is." She agreed. "You know I¡¯m not sure about this, Admiral¡ªabout any of it. But I¡¯ll move ahead. I¡¯ll get this operation underway. And if we can¡¯t get Garen to come back, then I¡¯ll find another commander for the mission," Terra said.


    "If Garen refuses, choosing the mission¡¯s commander will be your responsibility." Amar inclined his head slightly.


    To Amar, there was no doubt¡ªGaren would return. In his mind, the matter was already decided. The mission would go ahead; Garen would command it.

 Chapter 34

    Chapter 34


    Rhyus


    The Rhyus System, Karbay Nolan Sector


    Date: Zeran 29, Year 4731


    Garen and Terra stood in the doorway of Garen¡¯s suite, neither speaking, their eyes locked on one another.


    Their last meeting had changed everything. Memories frayed like old fabric, but the wounds they left behind never fully healed. Now, standing face to face, they saw a reflection of the past¡ªfamiliar, yet distant, like a stranger they once knew.


    Hearing each other¡¯s name spoken grounded them in the moment.


    Time had been kind to Terra¡ªits only mark was the silver streaks threading through her hair. Her presence unsettled Garen. His guard had been up since leaving Chiex, even more so upon arriving on Rhyus, and now her unexpected arrival threatened to breach it.


    Yes, she had aged. Time had touched her¡ªit was noticeable to Garen¡ªbut instead of fading, her beauty had only grown.


    "It¡¯s been quite some time, General Rivers," she said, her voice carrying the trace of an old joke between them, almost hypnotic as she dragged out the words, shifting her tone as she spoke.


    "Looks like only one of us is a General now," Garen replied.


    "I guess that¡¯s true," she said.


    The slight accent from her homeworld, Fyamore, had lessened over the years, but it slipped through now, just a hint of it. The sound reminded Garen of when they first met, how thick her accent had been back then. Over the years, her accent had faded, shaped by time in the fleet, its traces now barely noticeable beneath the polished speech of Rhyus¡¯s capital.


    His thoughts drifted between past and present. He had never liked when Terra called him ¡®General¡¯¡ªbut she always did when teasing him, a reminder of the day he was promoted, the first time she had used the title.


    He had asked her to keep the title for formal settings¡ªnever in private. She used it anyway.


    Garen exhaled, then offered her a warm smile. "Figured I¡¯d run into you eventually¡ªbut not this soon."


    He had expected their paths to cross¡ªbut not here, not now. Conus had mentioned her on the Resilience, not directly to Garen, but he had learned she was with the RSIA. He had prepared for this moment, though a part of him had hoped to avoid it. Because he didn¡¯t want to face the guilt he felt.


    At the same time, when Garen learned that Amar Lavont was at the helm of the RSIA, he should have known Terra wouldn¡¯t be far behind. He had suspected it¡ªknown it was likely.


    They had both started under Lavont, but while Garen walked away, Terra stayed, continuing her work under him for years after he resigned from the RDF.


    Her smile deepened. "Really?" She had once known him better than anyone¡ªperhaps she still did.


    "No," he admitted, a hint of warmth in his gravelly voice. He stepped aside, welcoming her in.


    Terra placed her bag carefully on the glass table, noting the changes in Garen. His eyes were the same, but the years had reshaped him. Older, yes¡ªbut still strong.


    "Can I offer you something to drink?" Garen asked, glancing around, unsure of what was available.


    "Sure. What are my options?"


    Garen entered the kitchen and opened a cupboard, finding it stocked with an assortment of alcoholic beverages.


    "I should have looked in here sooner," he muttered to himself.


    "What would you like? Brandy, whiskey, or¡­ whatever this is?" he said, holding up an unfamiliar bottle, unable to recognize the language on the label.


    "A glass of Elberia Brandy would be lovely," she said.


    "Of course."


    His mouth twitched, memories surfacing of their visit to Amoreon, in the Province of Eldas. He had introduced her to that particular brandy on that trip.


    As he rummaged through the beverages, the Elberia Brandy stood out¡ªtoo conveniently. Garen couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that this was arranged.


    He called out, "So, you¡¯re RSIA now? Didn¡¯t take Amar long to pull you in, I take it. Seems we all moved on from the RDF. Though I guess it¡¯s not much of a career change for an intelligence officer."


    "It¡¯s quite a bit different actually."


    The RSIA¡¯s purpose had changed and evolved significantly since Garen¡¯s days in the RDF. It now did much more than gather intelligence¡ªit protected, safeguarded, and stabilized the Seven Worlds of Rhyus in ways the RDF could not. Their reach extended far, their focus not just on security, but on stability¡ªstability that stretched well beyond the Seven Worlds of Rhyus.


    "Well¡­ congratulations. Different in a good way?" he asked.


    "I¡¯m happy with the move."


    "That¡¯s good, then." Finding two glasses on an open shelf, he set them down. "The admiral isn¡¯t coming, I take it?"


    Terra let out a laugh and shook her head. "Oh, I see. I guess you really were surprised to see me. Amar didn¡¯t mention I¡¯d be stopping by, did he?" she called out from the adjacent room.


    Garen uncorked the bottle, grabbed two glasses, and poured the brandy. "No, he didn¡¯t mention that. He only said he¡¯d be stopping by." Knowing Amar, neither should be surprised. He didn¡¯t do it for amusement¡ªhe needed them to get this reunion over with. He needed them ready and focused.


    Garen reentered the room and handed her a glass. "So, what happens tomorrow?"


    Terra¡¯s tone sharpened. "We leave for Morelus."


    Garen sat down, taking a slow sip of his drink. Everything was happening faster than he could process. "I guess we¡¯re not wasting any time. So much for a warm welcome."


    "We don¡¯t have any time to waste. This mission should have started weeks ago."


    "Weeks ago?" Garen muttered. "Weeks ago, returning here wasn¡¯t something I would¡¯ve thought possible. Wasn¡¯t in my plans. There was supposed to be another commander?" he asked, frowning slightly.


    "No," she said. "A lot of things got in the way. The mission was almost canceled."


    "Canceled?"


    Her eyes locked onto his. "The Council of Seven."


    "I should¡¯ve known," he muttered, but the realization only left him with more questions.


    Terra swirled her drink. "Got any ice, Garen?"


    Garen blinked, pausing mid-sip. "Ice?"


    She lifted her glass, expectant.


    He let out an awkward laugh. "Right."


    "I guess you really were living out in the wilderness," she teased.


    "You get used to it."


    "Maybe you did, but I don¡¯t think I could."


    Garen went to the kitchen, retrieved a pair of small crystalline ice chunks from the cooling unit, and returned. He dropped one into each glass. The moment the ice touched the liquid, a subtle reaction began, an instant cooling process designed to rapidly bring the drink to the perfect temperature. A faint mist curled above the surface as the thermal exchange completed within seconds. Satisfied, he took his seat again.


    He let out a slow breath. He didn¡¯t think words could make anything right, but he had to say them.


    The moment he knew their reunion was a possibility, he had been going over what he would say to her. There was so much he wanted to say¡ªso much he felt needed to be said. But no matter how many times he tried to piece it together, it felt impossible to fully express, to convey what he really felt.


    "I owe you an apology."


    The words landed awkwardly, heavier than he expected. At the same time, it felt good to say them, though they fell short of everything in his mind.


    But he didn¡¯t want her to think he was trying to brush it over¡ªdidn¡¯t want it to seem like just words meant to smooth things over and move on.


    It would have to be a start. He hoped it would be.


    Terra¡¯s expression softened. "You don¡¯t." She hesitated. "Garen, that''s in the past. We''ve both moved on. There was a time when it hurt¡ªbut that was long ago. I''m sorry it came to that, that leaving felt like your only choice. "


    She had forgiven him long ago¡ªwhat she could, at least. The rest, she accepted. But the sting of his departure still lingered, buried deep. She wasn¡¯t about to let it surface. Some wounds weren¡¯t worth reopening.


    Because if she thought about it, Garen had choices. He could have taken a leave, let things pass. There was much he could have done. The Council of Seven had publicly discredited his name, but not all had turned against him. Many still believed in him, respected him. He had options¡ªif he had sought them.


    Regardless, she had accepted long ago that he had chosen to leave it all behind.


    "Still..." His voice trailed off.


    "I don¡¯t blame you, okay? I get it. I came to understand your point of view a long time ago. I can only imagine how it all made you feel. I don¡¯t need an apology, and I don¡¯t want one. I know you, Garen¡ªat least, I did."


    "You still do."


    "Then if I still do, I know you¡¯ve felt bad about it for a long time. But I¡¯m not here for an apology," she said.


    "All right . . . It has been a long time," he said, studying her. "How have you been?"


    "I''ve been well. Busy." She took a sip. "And it seems retirement has been kind to you. Though I''m not sure what to make of this look," she said


    Garen raised a brow. "What look?"


    "This beard¡ªI don¡¯t know. I never thought I¡¯d see the day you let it grow out."


    "It helped me fit in with the Camerians," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.


    "I''m sure you blended right in," she laughed.


    A brief pause settled between them, neither entirely sure what to say.


    "Returning under these circumstances... do you feel a sense of vindication?" she asked.


    Garen mulled over her question. Vindication? That wasn¡¯t the right word. He had never sought vindication¡ªjust the truth. what he thought was right. He thought for a moment. Not sure how to answer.


    "Here we are, about to travel into Vorcon territory," she added.


    "You know it doesn¡¯t," he finally replied. There was no satisfaction in being right. Am I right? He still wasn¡¯t sure what he was stepping into¡ªnot exactly.


    "When I left Chiex, I might have said yes. Maybe. It looked like war was starting again. But now that I''m here, I¡¯m not so sure, Terra. Are we facing war? My instincts carried me through battle¡ªI understand war. Unfortunately, that¡¯s what I was good at. But now¡­ I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening. It doesn¡¯t feel the same. Maybe my instincts have dulled."


    "Maybe not, Garen. If we¡¯re being realistic, the evidence of the Vorcons preparing for war is still speculative. And the suspicion surrounding a biological weapon remains just that¡ªa suspicion. Nothing is definitive."


    "I thought we had intel on this," he said.


    "We do. But this mission is as much about proving the existence of a bio-weapon as anything else. Our intel is clear, but not enough to declare it an act of war. If this is real, we need proof."


    Garen tensed, struck by a feeling he couldn¡¯t explain. "Do you believe in this mission, Terra? Are we doing the right thing here?"


    "Yes. We need to act. We need to determine their intent." she said.


    Garen studied her closely. She believed in the mission¡ªat least, she told herself she did. But he knew her too well. Something about it gave her pause.


    "What are the odds of the Vorcons launching a full-scale assault?" he asked.


    "Right now, I¡¯d say minimal. Any indication we have suggests they¡¯re building their fleets, maintaining their power and strength. But no intel suggests they¡¯re gearing up for immediate war¡ªonly that they¡¯re rebuilding. We estimate they¡¯ve been at considerable strength for some time now."


    "Which is to be expected," he said. "They always rebuild."


    "The Vorcon Empire is approaching a critical time. A change in leadership is likely," she continued. "Things could shift quickly."


    "Help me understand their plans, or at least what the RSIA is concerned about," Garen said. "If they intend to use this bio-weapon anytime soon, they¡¯d likely follow up with a full military assault immediately after. They would want to take advantage of the situation."


    "That would align with their way of thinking," she suggested.


    "Though¡­ using such a weapon would be a major shift in their strategy. It would be a first in their history. They¡¯ve decimated populations before¡ªthrough force and enslavement, never biological weapons," said Garen.


    "That is true, it would be a first. Yet Caul Malocktus¡¯ aggression on Chiex might suggest they¡¯re gearing up to demonstrate their capabilities," she suggested


    "You know how Caul is¡ªhis motives are never clear. He could have been acting alone, not on behalf of the Vorcon Empire."


    "It is possible, Caul¡¯s influence within the Grand Vorcon Imperial Force may have diminished recently. the next in line holds Caul Malocktus in far less regard than the current Emperor i have learned."


    Garen nodded, contemplating. "Caul¡¯s actions could be a ruse¡ªto provoke, mislead."


    "The situation within the Vorcon Empire is difficult to fully grasp. There¡¯s much we don¡¯t know¡ªnothing is certain," Terra said. "This could be his attempt to escalate things before there¡¯s a change in power."


    "Sounds like something Caul might do, but it feels like we¡¯re making a lot of assumptions," Garen admitted. "Who knows what he¡¯s up to? He came to Chiex to taunt me, for one, but to say that was all he wanted to accomplish... "


    "He spared you. Why do you think he did that? "


    "So we will meet again."


    "One last fight between the two of you? He went through all of that, to see you come back here?"


    "He¡¯s all about his legacy," Garen said. "He wants to fight me again. It sounds better if we face each other directly on even footing. He wants to kill me¡ªbut he wants it to mean something. I¡¯m a loose end to him, a foe that¡¯s bested him more than once."


    Terra exhaled. "I think he¡¯ll regret letting you go."


    "Maybe," Garen muttered. "He seeks a conclusive victory over me."


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    "Scalar Falcata versus Kelkor Blade," Terra said imagining the battle, one she had seen before.


    "That¡¯s what he prefers," Garen said. "It¡¯s what he wants."


    "What do you prefer?"


    "I¡¯d prefer not to face him again. I have nothing to prove¡ªespecially not to him."


    "No, you don¡¯t," she agreed.


    "Caul Malocktus chases immortality, consumed by his ambitions. My time in the galaxy is limited¡ªlike everyone else¡¯s¡ªit will come and go, as will his. But the power of his faith, his belief in his gods, makes him look beyond that. Perhaps, in the end, time will pass him by, leaving him forgotten, like so many before him. Many have accomplished great things, yet their names have faded. But Caul wants more. He wants to stand alongside the Vorcon Immortals. He wants his name to endure¡ªcarved into history, echoing long beyond his time."


    "There¡¯s nothing he wouldn¡¯t do to achieve that status," she said.


    "Could he be behind the weapon?" Garen asked.


    As he said it, he found it hard to believe¡ªnot that Caul was incapable of such a thing.


    "It¡¯s not known. Though nothing indicates he is," Terra said.


    "The thing is, there are a lot of Caul Malocktuses in the Vorcon Empire¡ªmany who wish to live as legends well beyond their time. He¡¯s just one of many."


    Garen leaned back, considering that Caul had managed to rise to the rank of Major Legate¡ªa rare feat for someone of his status. From what Garen knew, that kind of ascent wasn¡¯t common. If that rise in power was now threatened, Caul might be even more dangerous.


    In a shifting empire, figures like Caul could either climb higher¡ªor be swept aside.


    "I might be a little behind on current events within the Vorcon Empire. The new Emperor¡¯s intentions may differ. What¡¯s known about him?" Garen asked, seeking at least some insight.


    "He¡¯s been emperor since you left the Seven Worlds. He¡¯s far from new," Terra said.


    Garen let out a dry laugh. "Right. Well, he¡¯s new to me, I guess."


    "The Emperor has dedicated his reign to recovering from the losses of the last war. Gaining insight into his agenda has been challenging. He¡¯s not young, and he¡¯s in the twilight years of his life. And, as I¡¯ve said, it appears he¡¯s recently fallen ill," Terra shared.


    Garen reflected on this. "Perhaps he sees this as his opportunity to secure a lasting legacy. Though, if he¡¯s managed to rebuild their Armada, he could just as well be remembered for that. Unleashing such a weapon on the Seven Worlds might not be their way, but it would ensure he¡¯s remembered¡ªif nothing else. Still, i''m not sure."


    "If it¡¯s true, we have no choice but to neutralize the weapon," Terra said.


    "Does it stop a war? Or maybe we fail, and we start one? Maybe we start one either way."


    "Let¡¯s hope it doesn¡¯t come to that," she said, her voice lowering.


    They enjoyed their drinks in contemplative silence, each lost in thought for a moment.


    "How long have you been with the RSIA?" Garen asked, breaking the quiet.


    "For the last four years. Amar wanted me on board as soon as he assumed control, but I chose to wait¡ªlet the initial upheaval settle. I didn¡¯t want the stress then, it wouldn¡¯t have been good for me, though the job certainly comes with it," Terra explained.


    "Stress? You love stress," Garen teased, trying to lighten the mood. He could see the tension in her.


    "I do not," she replied with a mocking smile. But even as she said it, she knew it wasn¡¯t entirely true. She thrived on challenges.


    "Involved in strategic analysis, then?"


    Smiling, she affirmed, "Yes, among a few other areas. I''m a department head. My main focus now is keeping an eye on the Vorcons."


    "I could imagine getting useful intel on the Vorcons would be a challenge"


    "Their distrust of outsiders makes getting any informants in place nearly impossible."


    "Spying for the Vorcons would be instant death if they were discovered. I''d say the list of volunteers short."


    "You¡¯d be surprised. There have been the odd Vorcon willing to pass along information¡ªbut never anything that would harm the Empire as a whole. It¡¯s always about undermining rivals, never true betrayal. But each add their little pieces. It¡¯s something¡ªbetter than nothing. And they never pass intel to us directly¡ªonly through the Rulnali."


    Garen let out a bewildered sharp dry laugh. "You trust any Rulnali?"


    "Most just want to get paid, but we do have some that pass along information willingly," Terra said.


    "Then someone else is paying them, trying to misguide you." Garen replied.


    "Believe me, I¡¯ve considered that¡ªalways consider that," Terra said. "But one particular Rulnali informant has proven to be reliable."


    "I¡¯d be careful with that trust."


    "I always am."


    "Sounds stressful. I¡¯ve got a lot to learn about what I¡¯ve missed since I¡¯ve been gone. I¡¯m sure they¡¯re the same as always¡ªI just need to learn about the players involved," he said.


    "I¡¯ll ensure you have detailed reports to go over for the journey. I¡¯ll give you all I can¡ªget you up to speed on the current events in the Vorcon Empire, at least what we know."


    "If I¡¯m supposed to be this ¡®effective commander¡¯ you need, I could use all the intel I can get. And speaking of intel¡ªwhat¡¯s the deal with this Helix group?"


    Terra took a moment before responding. "They¡¯re dangerous, Garen. Very dangerous," she replied, her tone serious. She could have said more, told him everything she knew about them¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t relevant to their mission. Garen¡¯s security clearance was limited.


    Getting the feeling she didn¡¯t have much to say about them at the moment, he moved on.


    "And the Rhyus Internal Affairs Bureau?" Garen asked.


    "They¡¯re not in the conversation," Terra said.


    "Two agents were waiting for me in my quarters on Eteren One."


    She laughed. "They¡¯re in over their heads. They don¡¯t have the resources. I actually feel for them." She waved a hand dismissively. "Don¡¯t worry about them. I think you deserve a look at the ship you¡¯ll be commanding."


    Terra pulled a tablet from her bag and brought up some files, projecting an image above the table.


    The ship, much smaller than anything Garen had previously commanded, was outfitted with advanced stealth technology, making it undetectable to enemy sensors, at least they hoped.


    It lacked the familiar comforts of larger RDF vessels, focusing solely on stealth and operational efficiency.


    The weaponry and defensive capabilities immediately caught Garen¡¯s attention. It had the capacity to deploy substantial firepower, carried a finite number of warheads. The balance between its offensive capabilities and high-tech stealth features raised a question in his mind¡ªwhat exactly was this ship built for?


    From what he could gather, it was an exceptional vessel, capable of both stealth and destruction¡ªbut not both at the same time. To excel in either, one had to be deactivated for the ship to function as efficiently as intended.


    He scrutinized the optagraphical blueprints hovering above the table. It dawned on him that commanding this vessel would require a departure from his accustomed strategies. The mission¡¯s success would rely less on brute force and more on precision and adaptability.


    But if stealth failed, the ship could still give them a fighting chance.


    Everything would depend on assembling a team that was not just skilled, but exceptionally cohesive. He had no doubt Terra had selected the right people. But still, doubt lingered¡ªabout the mission, about himself, about everything.


    "Terra, you¡¯re certain I¡¯m the best option for this?"


    She wasn¡¯t certain at all. She had tried to convince Amar Lavont that an active general would be better suited¡ªthat Garen had been retired too long, that he deserved the peace he had sought, that it was unfair to ask him to return.


    "The unique demands of this mission might call for rapid, decisive action against an adversary you understand better than anyone."


    "Maybe that¡¯s true, but that wasn¡¯t really an answer."


    She made a face, half a smile. "We don¡¯t just need a commander for the ship. There¡¯s a ground operation upon arrival. we need a well rounded leader."


    "We¡¯re going on foot?"


    "Once you land on the moon, you¡¯ll need to lead a team of marines to the lab site."


    "Understood," Garen replied, though his voice lost a bit of its usual confidence. He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that he was in over his head. Trekking through a foreign Vorcon landscape wouldn¡¯t be the problem¡ªif he could navigate Chiex the way he had, he could handle any terrain.


    But ground combat¡­ it had been too long.


    Then, images of the Vorcon assault on his home flashed through his mind. He had nearly forgotten the incident.


    How could I forget that? It had only been days ago.


    He had acted then, fought as if no time had passed¡ªthen told himself that Caul Malocktus had sent his worst troops, trying to downplay his own success.


    Terra caught the look in his eyes. "Tomorrow¡¯s briefing, with the entire crew present, will clarify everything."


    Garen¡¯s apprehension began to give way to anticipation at the prospect of meeting the crew. Noticing their empty glasses, he stood to refill them, embracing the shift in mood. He needed something to distract him from the thoughts swirling in his head.


    From the adjacent room, Terra¡¯s voice carried, "I¡¯m eager to catch up on the last ten years of your life. I can hardly picture you living secluded in the woods."


    She was genuinely curious, but she also wanted to see if the man she had known was still in there somewhere. So far it felt like the Garen she knew was still there.


    Returning with the refreshed drinks, Garen smiled "I¡¯ve actually taken up gardening."


    Terra let out an unexpected burst of laughter, recalling a past mishap. "Remember the plant I gave you for the Riftkin? I thought a piece of your homeworld might brighten your quarters¡ªonly to find it had died when I returned."


    Garen let out a quick dry laugh at the resurfaced memory. "Ah, yes. I do remember."


    He hadn¡¯t thought about that in years.


    "Gardening? I can hardly believe it. "


    Their conversation meandered through Garen¡¯s experiences on Chiex. Terra was captivated by the contrast between the man she once knew and the life he had built. It seemed he had found the challenge and solitude he needed to recover from his departure from the RDF.


    His stories of building a home, embracing the wilderness, and searching ruins painted a picture of a demanding yet fulfilling existence.


    Terra, while pursuing her own ambitions at the time, couldn¡¯t help but admire his resilience¡ªand the peace he had found on Chiex. He had not gone there to live out an exile and just dwell on his mistakes. He had gone there and pushed himself. How could that life had not changed him? It would take more then a conversation to fully know for sure.


    Garen found himself hesitating at the edge of inquiries that ventured too deeply into Terra¡¯s personal life. It wasn¡¯t that he lacked curiosity¡ªwhether she had found someone new, whether children had become a part of her life¡ªbut rather that he wasn¡¯t sure he was ready to confront such realities.


    He wanted her happiness above all. But embracing the details of her life now? That was another matter. It was selfish he knew.


    "I must admit, Amar and I had a little bet on when you¡¯d bring up the Riftkin," Terra said, her tone light. "Surprisingly, you¡¯ve not mentioned her at all."


    "Maybe part of me dreads the answer," he confessed, humor masking the sincerity beneath. "Can¡¯t bear the thought of her under a less... capable command now?"


    He knew it was irrational, but the idea of someone else at the helm of his beloved ship still stung.


    Terra¡¯s laughter, warm and knowing, resonated in the space. "To you, the Riftkin was more than just a ship."


    "She was," Garen admitted, a faint smile crossing his face. A pause settled between them before curiosity overcame him. "What happened to her, in the end?"


    He wasn¡¯t sure if he wanted to know, but he had to ask.


    "The Riftkin went in for a full refit three years ago," Terra said.


    Garen leaned back, dragging a hand down his beard. "Refit?" He shook his head, rolling the word over in his mind before setting down his glass. "What did they do to her?"


    But even as he said it, he knew the truth. Everything aged, eventually. Still, the thought of seeing his old ship altered unsettled him. They never just repaired ships¡ªthey changed them until they weren¡¯t the same anymore.


    If he was honest with himself, the Riftkin had taken a beating, and if not for the war, it might have been retired long before. The fact that she was still in service in any capacity was surprising.


    "You and the Riftkin were quite the match¡ªyou pushed her far beyond what Lavont ever managed. It¡¯s a wonder she held together. I recall a few instances when you really tested her limits."


    "Yes, she was something" Garen admitted, a glint of nostalgia in his eyes.


    "What are their plans for her now? You said three years ago? I don¡¯t understand."


    "I''m not sure of the Riftkin¡¯s exact status¡ªthere are a lot of older ships there. many you would recognize. She was transferred to the Figma Shipyards, caught up in a broader initiative to repurpose aging vessels. The current proposal suggests retrofitting her for system patrol duties, though she¡¯s stuck in a backlog of ships awaiting repairs. The RDF is trying to stretch its presence as much as possible."


    She could see the disappointment in Garen¡¯s eyes.


    "Relegating her to patrol duties hardly seems a fitting encore for such a distinguished ship," he said, trying to mask his feelings. "Better than being scrapped, I suppose." But what would be a fitting end for such a ship he wondered


    Terra nodded. "I¡¯d love for us to visit her if time allowed," she mused.


    "Perhaps it¡¯s better to leave her in our memories for now." Still, intrigued by the possibility, Garen asked, "Could that be arranged?"


    "Yes. After the mission, I¡¯ll take you there myself if you¡¯d like."


    "I would. I¡¯ll hold you to that."


    "I wouldn¡¯t mind seeing her myself."


    The Riftkin having been a home to both of them for years.


    "So, you requested to add your Camerian friend to the crew."


    "Package deal i''m afraid."


    "How confident are you in Klamarez¡¯s capabilities?" She trusted Garen¡¯s judgment, but she needed to be sure that everyone on the team was up to the task.


    "Very confident."


    "That¡¯s all you¡¯ve got to convince me?"


    "Did you see his ship?"


    "Haven¡¯t had the chance yet. Is it impressive?"


    "He built it himself. That¡¯s impressive in itself."


    "I¡¯ll have to take your word for it, then." Amar had mentioned Garen had arrived in some piece of junk, but she wasn¡¯t about to tell Garen that.


    "He¡¯ll be fine. I wouldn¡¯t have asked him to come if he couldn¡¯t help."


    "Nothing to do with his debt to the Vanicktus Syndicate?"


    "I wouldn¡¯t say nothing, but I am confident he can be a help."


    "Very well, General Rivers," she said, her tone turning more serious. "Your decision to not accept your reinstatement..."


    Garen shrugged. "I can¡¯t be bound to anything right now."


    "Hopefully, this mission will provide some clarity for you," Terra said, her voice carrying a note of optimism. She hoped he would find his way.


    "I¡¯m sure it will one way or another." Garen said. "I''ve appointed Conus Taylen as my first officer." He leaned back slightly.


    "Really?" It was news to her. "Amar anticipated you would see Conus¡¯s potential," she remarked.


    She found herself about to speak in depth about Conus but stopped herself¡ªworried about saying the wrong thing, revealing too much.


    Garen realizing Amar¡¯s subtle orchestration. Of course. "I understand now. Conus has been key in familiarizing me with the latest developments since my return."


    "In a different context, Conus could have already been an executive officer¡ªif not for prevailing biases," Terra added. She knew how much Conus had struggled.


    Garen¡¯s curiosity deepened. "His augments have caused him a lot of issues?"


    "There¡¯s a reluctance within the RDF to fully embrace leaders with advanced augments at a level like Conus¡¯s. Well Conus is more advanced then most. It hasn¡¯t changed since you left¡ªmaybe it¡¯s even gotten worse."


    "I see."


    "He¡¯s an outstanding officer, with a high level of expertise. Amar has kept an eye on him since his days in the academy."


    "Kept an eye on him?" Garen asked, his curiosity sharpening.


    Terra hesitated briefly. "He¡¯s just seen promise in him."


    "I¡¯ll be joining the mission as well," she said, watching his reaction.


    "You are?" Garen asked, taken aback. He hadn¡¯t expected her to be directly involved, but it made sense.


    "This mission is critical. My participation is necessary," Terra clarified. She wasn¡¯t sure how he would react, but she knew she needed to be there. it had not been the initial plan but as she began putting the mission together she realized her place was on the ship.


    "Keeping tabs on me?" Garen jested, lightening the mood. He was relieved¡ªbut also a little nervous about working so closely with her again.


    "Garen," Terra said, her tone a mix of reprimand and familiarity.


    Garen met her gaze, sincerity cutting through his usual guardedness. "It¡¯ll be good to work closely again, Terra."


    "This mission was on my radar, irrespective of your involvement," she asserted. "Knowing you''re in command is reassuring."


    She was glad to have him by her side¡ªbut she also knew this mission could change everything.


    "But, as I just said, since we¡¯ll be undertaking this mission together, there will be ample time to catch up. Tomorrow¡¯s a big day."


    She finished her drink and stood.


    She wasn¡¯t sure if she was ready for what tomorrow would bring, but there was no turning back now.


    "Seeing you again, Terra... it¡¯s been nice," Garen said, his voice softening. Nice?


    "Well, it¡¯s been nice seeing you too, Garen," Terra replied, a faint smile.


    As he escorted her to the door, they were about to bid each other goodnight when something in the hallway caught their attention.


    "Ah, you''ve brought my delivery!"


    Garen recognized the voice immediately, muttering, "Klamarez."


    Terra, now standing just outside the suite, glanced down the corridor. A young delivery person, flanked by two RDF security guards, stood at the doorway to Klamarez¡¯s suite.


    Klamarez¡¯s voice filled the hall. "Is the seafood fresh? And where exactly was it caught?"


    The delivery person, slightly bewildered by the interrogation, hesitated before responding. "Um, I¡¯m just the courier, sir. I can¡¯t really say for sure, but I believe it¡¯s fresh... they wouldn¡¯t send it otherwise."


    "Ah, that¡¯s reassuring. On Calio, seafood was a delicacy, but we always had to be mindful of overfishing. Everything changed when the Vorcons arrived¡ªled to desperation, overharvesting." A hint of melancholy crept into Klamarez¡¯s voice. "You catch three, you¡¯d better put two and a half back."


    The delivery person shifted uncomfortably. "Uh... right. Look, I really must be on my way. I have other deliveries, and I¡¯m not exactly equipped to discuss fishing practices."


    "Understood, my apologies for detaining you." A brief pause. "Negative review it is."


    As the delivery person and the guards departed down the hallway, Terra turned to Garen. "Is that your Camerian friend?"


    "Yes, that¡¯s Klamarez," Garen confirmed with a smile¡ªone touched with slight embarrassment.


    "Get some rest, Garen." Returning the smile, Terra bid him farewell. "Good night, Garen."


    "Good night, Terra," he replied, closing the door behind her.

 Chapter 35

    Chapter 35


    RDF accommodation complex, Rhyus


    The Rhyus System, Karbay Nolan Sector


    Date: Zeran 30, Year 4731


    Garen pulled on the collar of his shirt, the fabric damp sweat. The mirror offered no illusions¡ªjust a face caught between who he was and who he used to be. The lines had deepened, the eyes heavier. He didn¡¯t linger. He already knew what he¡¯d see.


    He rubbed at his beard. Still not quite right. Being back on Rhyus made it feel out of place¡ªlike it didn¡¯t belong. But after a moment¡¯s thought, it wasn¡¯t the beard.


    It was him. He was the one who didn¡¯t belong.


    The workout had helped. Enough to shake off the stiffness. His knees ached¡ªthey always ached these days¡ªbut the movement brought his muscles back to life, made them feel like they still belonged to him. Rest never helped¡ªno matter how much they complained.


    He needed to stay active¡ªit gave him something the waiting never could: focus. And he needed it now more than ever.


    After a long shower, he returned to the suite. The clothes he¡¯d ordered sat folded neatly on the chair. He dressed slowly.


    The room was silent.


    He listened, closing his eyes for a moment.


    In the distance, faint beyond the walls, he could hear the city¡ªships arriving and departing, the low surge of traffic lanes shifting overhead.


    But he missed the sounds of home¡ªthe rhythm of the forest, the stream, the quiet that brought him peace.


    On Chiex, silence had depth.


    Here, there was no true silence, no true peace¡ªjust background noise that did little to comfort.


    A city filled with memories he¡¯d rather forget.


    His eyes snapped open. He looked around the room.


    What am I doing here?


    He poured himself another cup of coffee and activated the room¡¯s display. News, commentary, and political chatter cycled past, but he absorbed none of it. It was all too much.


    He shut it off, staring into his coffee.


    A soft ping broke through the quiet.


    He glanced at the comm panel.


    MESSAGE ¡ª AMAR LAVONT:


    Report to RDF Headquarters rear entrance. Departure imminent. General Anteia will meet you there.


    Garen exhaled through his nose. "Not wasting any time, Amar."


    He opened his REM Link and added the two contacts for a three-way video transmission. Both answered within seconds, already awake and expecting him.


    "Ready to get started?" he asked.


    "Ready to depart, General," Conus replied. He¡¯d already been up, waiting for Garen to contact him.


    "Been awake for hours. Had the most wonderful breakfast¡ªyou should have seen it. I think I ate enough for three," Said Klamarez.


    "That¡¯s surprising, Klamarez," Garen replied. He looked like he wanted to smile¡ªbut wasn¡¯t ready to show his hand.


    "Really?"


    "You¡¯re cutting back. Usually, you eat for five," he said with a full smile.


    Klamarez laughed. "I should¡¯ve known."


    "I¡¯ll meet you both downstairs," Garen said.


    "Understood, General. I¡¯ll see you in the lobby."


    ¡°Be there in a moment Garen." Said Klamarez


    Conus was already waiting when Garen stepped into the lobby, standing straight-backed, his posture rigid.


    Garen joined him, and moments later Klamarez wandered in, scanning the space with casual interest. The lobby was spacious. Murmurs drifted through the space¡ªconstant and calm¡ªas the gentle aroma of brewing coffee mingled with something spiced and savory drifting from the dining hall.


    Guards stood at the entrance, their eyes following movements as pale morning light spilled across polished floors and plush seating areas.


    Klamarez¡¯s nose twitched as he caught a familiar scent. He glanced toward the dining area, lips tightening.


    "Don¡¯t tempt me," he said in a whisper, rubbing his stomach. Maybe I should grab some for later... no, no, no. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll have plenty of food at this RSIA base. Humans always have food.


    Garen caught the way Klamarez¡¯s nose was practically following an invisible scent trail.


    "Still hungry, Klamarez?" Garen asked.


    "I¡¯m stuffed," Klamarez replied.


    "I can hear your stomach growling," Conus said flatly.


    "Don¡¯t be listening in there," Klamarez said, quickly covering his stomach with both hands, as if that might block the sound from reaching Conus¡¯s augmented hearing. Conus hesitated, momentarily unsure if he''d overstepped¡ªuntil Klamarez flashed a playful grin, the tips of his fangs showing.


    Conus had always struggled with friendly banter¡ªfeeling like he always came across awkward, never quite landing the way he intended.


    Garen let out a quick, dry laugh. "Come on."


    He led them into the crisp morning air. The courtyard was already active¡ªGlidercraft drifted past, hovering a couple of feet above the ground.


    One touched down near them, and a group of officers climbed inside the enclosed craft, which would transport them to RDF Command HQ.


    Wheeled vehicles rolled up with no roof and rows of seating available to take personnel to the entrance of RDF HQ or around to the landing pads on the far side. Some officers moved with purpose, walking through designated pedestrian lanes.


    Garen¡¯s eyes swept the perimeter. The automated turrets atop the fence shifted subtly. The courtyard was heavily guarded¡ªsmaller turrets scanned the ground while others covered the air.


    The RDF Headquarters stood in the distance. Garen took note of the section where he believed his old office had once been. His time there¡ªbrief as it was¡ªhad left a mark, though now it barely seemed to matter.


    Beyond the outer wall, Rhyus City was alive, a city that never stopped.


    Conus tilted his head slightly¡ªhis augmented hearing catching distant chatter, tuning it out as best he could.


    They made it to the security checkpoint inside RDF HQ.


    Conus and Klamarez passed through without issue, but when the officer scanned Garen¡¯s ID, his face pinched ever so slightly as he read the name. The screen in front of him blinked and flashed.


    "Is there a problem?" Garen asked, his voice gravelly.


    "Just a moment, Mr. Rivers," the officer said, his tone firm. He leaned in and spoke in low tones with his superior after waving them over.


    The silence stretched a little too long.


    Conus watched and listened, quietly observing the encounter.


    Beside him, Klamarez¡¯s ears twitched¡ªuncertain what the issue was.


    Garen rested his hands on the counter, seeming unbothered outwardly. They¡¯d been here just yesterday¡ªwithout a single problem.


    Then the screen cleared. The officer straightened. ¡°You''re all clear, sir. Apologies for the delay.¡±


    Another officer turned toward his colleague. ¡°He¡¯s a retired general. Proper etiquette says to still call him General.¡±


    "Sorry, General Rivers."


    Garen gave a small wave. "All fine with me. Have a good day."


    They moved through the building in silence, following a long corridor that cut through to the other side. Hallways branched left and right¡ªdoors closed, personnel passing without notice.


    "What was that all about?" Klamarez asked.


    "Just a system malfunction," Garen said with a shrug. "Or something else," he muttered.


    "The RDF flagged you. Tracking your movements," Conus said quietly.


    "Like I said. Something else."


    "You caught that?" Klamarez asked, his ears twitching upright.


    He sees everything. Hears everything. Are telepathic augments a thing?


    He glanced at Conus¡ªwho was already looking at him¡ªand thought of the filthiest joke he could muster, watching closely for a reaction.


    Nothing.


    Ahh... nothing.


    "Reflection of the terminal in his eyes," Conus answered, his voice even, but not relaxed.


    "Remind me not to play cards against you," Klamarez said with a smile, the tips of his fangs peeking out. "I''d end up owing you everything¡ªeven my tools."


    Conus tilted his head to the side and blurted out, "Your tools would be safe. I prefer things organized."


    He kept a serious look on his face before slowly allowing a smile to form.


    Klamarez laughed. "I¡¯m actually fairly organized¡ªfor a Camerian."


    Conus remembered not being allowed to play cards during his days at the academy. He had never attempted to since. Most wouldn¡¯t allow augments in card games¡ªespecially when credits were on the line.


    Still, Conus was beginning to feel fortunate he¡¯d accepted the assignment. A lot of bad had happened¡ªhe¡¯d lost his crew¡ªbut meeting Klamarez felt like something good.


    He was starting to think of the Camerian as someone he could consider a friend¡ªor at least hoped Klamarez felt the same.


    Friendship, he thought, was fragile¡ªespecially when new. Perhaps this mission could turn it into something lasting. And maybe even General Rivers. If not a friend, then perhaps a mentor.


    Either way, he¡¯d have the chance to get to know them both better over the course of the mission.


    They stepped out into the open again, emerging onto the landing pad.


    General Terra Anteia was already waiting for them, looking into her PDA before she noticed their approach.


    "Morning General Anteia," Said Conus


    "Morning, gentlemen. General Rivers," she said with a quick smile to Garen. "Colonel Taylen. Klamarez," she added, nodding to each of them.


    Garen returned the gesture. ¡°Morning, General Anteia. Been waiting long?¡±


    The breeze caught a strand of her hair, and the scent hit him before her voice did. She deserved better than I gave her. He didn¡¯t let his eyes linger.


    "No, but longer than I expected,¡± she said.


    ¡°You always liked pushing meeting times."


    "To be honest with you," Garen said, "I need to get used to keeping time again."


    "Didn¡¯t tell time on Chiex?¡± she asked, half-teasing.


    "I got used to Camerian timekeeping," Garen said, just as Klamarez perked up.


    "Camerians don¡¯t keep time in the traditional sense¡ªmorning, midday, night. ¡®I¡¯ll see you later in the morning.¡¯ That sort of thing. The real problem is, no one agrees when ¡®later¡¯ is¡ªor when morning ends and midday begins." Klamarez gladly explained.


    "I didn¡¯t know that," Terra replied, genuinely curious. "I¡¯m not sure I could function like that¡ªor how an entire society could."


    ¡°They don¡¯t have time for it,¡± Garen added in a dry tone with little effort, not expecting the joke to land as he said it.


    Terra groaned. Klamarez laughed. Conus gave a polite smile.


    "I see your humor hasn¡¯t improved," Terra said, laughing despite herself.


    "Did you think spending years alone in a forest would make me funnier?" Garen asked.


    "I suppose not."


    "There are actually a lot of interesting ways of telling time across the galaxy," Conus began, launching into a rundown of cultural systems used by different species.


    Klamarez, intrigued, immediately started firing off questions, and the two fell into a quiet back-and-forth behind them.


    Garen stepped a little closer to Terra.


    "When are we getting underway?" he asked.


    "Just waiting on a few others from the crew," she replied. "Your pilot, chief engineer, and communications officer," she added. "I¡¯ve picked them myself, Garen."


    "So if they¡¯re not up to par, I know who to blame."


    "I¡¯ve assembled quite the team. I¡¯m proud of it. Getting the crew I felt I needed wasn¡¯t easy," Terra said. She had called in several favors¡ªand now owed several more¡ªfor the shifting of some personnel.


    As if on cue, a new figure approached.


    Veeda Soren stepped onto the platform. Terra turned to greet her, then introduced her to the others.


    "This is Veeda Soren, our senior engineering officer."


    Terra observed her for a moment¡ªconfident posture, yet relaxed. She carried herself with calm, let nothing shake her, but cared deeply for those she worked with.


    Veeda had been her first choice¡ªnot just for her technical brilliance, but because she handled pressure like she was born for missions where discovery meant death.


    Veeda¡¯s uniform, dark navy-blue fabric, stretched with movement, reinforced at the shoulders and elbows. Over it, she wore a lightweight vest lined with tools and devices. Slim cargo trousers completed the look.


    "Veeda, this is General Garen Rivers, our mission commander," Terra began. "Colonel Conus Taylen, our executive officer¡ªand Klamarez, part of our engineering crew."


    Veeda examined them all, noting each face. She had never known of any Camerians in the RSIA.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Conus she recognized immediately.


    Then her eyes settled on Garen.


    She crossed the space between them and held out her hand.


    "Pleasure to meet you, General Rivers," she said.


    Garen shook her hand with a firm grip, though his expression remained reserved. "Good to meet you, Veeda. Looking forward to working together."


    Conus stepped forward next, extending his hand. "Glad to have you with us." They knew of one another casually, but not well¡ªthis was their first mission working together.


    Then Veeda turned toward Klamarez. She quickly took in the Camerian¡¯s distinctive features¡ªthe fine layer of fur, pointed ears that subtly twitched at every sound, and the confident smile that revealed a hint of sharp fangs¡ªbefore he spoke.


    He stepped up, flashing a grin. ¡°Looking forward to working with you in engineering,¡± he said, clearly enjoying the moment.


    Veeda raised a brow at his casual confidence. ¡°Nice to meet you, Klamarez. So... how long have you been with the RSIA?¡±


    "First time, actually. Technically, I¡¯m not with the RSIA," Klamarez said, grin widening.


    "You¡¯re not?" she asked, surprised.


    "Nope," he said, cheerful as ever.


    "What¡¯s your training?"


    "I¡¯m just an amateur¡ªa bit of a tinkerer,¡± he said with a casual shrug. "But I¡¯ve worked on countless crafts over the years. I guess that would be my training.¡±


    Her surprise was obvious¡ªbut so was the curiosity. ¡°Just an amateur... tinkerer,¡± she repeated, a bit of skepticism slipping into her tone. She glanced briefly at Terra, trying to read reassurance from her expression. Veeda wasn''t trying to be rude, but something about Klamarez''s casual confidence and vague credentials felt out of place. She had hints about the mission, far from the full picture. Having someone with no formal training on a mission this sensitive felt off.


    Klamarez responded with a happy nod, seemingly oblivious to her hesitation.


    If Terra trusts him... then it is what it is. Still, she made a mental note to keep a discreet eye on him¡ªjust in case.


    Terra, meanwhile, eyed Garen¡¯s attire.


    "We need to get you into uniform, General."


    And shave that beard. She kept the thought to herself.


    Garen faintly smiled, the expression reserved, almost hidden. ¡°I brought my own.¡±


    She realized then¡ªhe was serious. She knew he wouldn¡¯t return to the old uniform¡ªnot in the way she hoped.


    "I made a purchase," Garen said.


    Terra raised an eyebrow. "I see. Very well. I¡¯ll have to see what this new ¡®uniform¡¯ of yours looks like."


    "Might need an extra hand, so I picked up a few upgrades to suit my more... seasoned age. Some extra protection."


    "It doesn¡¯t hurt to be careful," Terra replied. "But don¡¯t forget you took down six Vorcons¡ªtwo bruisers just days ago."


    "We did that," Garen said, motioning to Conus.


    This caught Veeda¡¯s attention. She looked at the two of them, wondering if it was true¡ªbut she knew Terra wouldn¡¯t make something like that up.


    "I wasn¡¯t in the picture yet," said Klamarez, offering a nod and a smile, trying to make it clear why he hadn¡¯t been involved in the fighting.


    It caught Veeda off guard. She found herself smiling in return, unsure what to make of Klamarez.


    "You sprang into action after ten years of gardening and took out Vorcons. Just like that."


    "Ten years of gardening," Garen echoed with a quiet, amused laugh.


    He kept busy on that remote world¡ªgardening was part of it, yes, but only a small part.


    He suspected Terra would think him crazy if she ever learned why he¡¯d truly chosen Chiex.


    They waited. Two more crew members were expected.


    "The others should be here soon. Once they¡¯re here, we can head out," Terra said, glancing down at her chrono.


    Rayvo Oswin entered with a casual swagger, eyes flashing with assured confidence. He offered a cocky salute to Terra.


    "General Anteia," Rayvo called out, his grin hovering at the edge of playful irreverence.


    "Hope you haven''t changed your mind about trusting me with the helm," he said, a familiar cocky grin appearing as he cracked his knuckles, a racing habit he never quite left behind.


    "There¡¯s still time to change my mind." Terra gave him a look of mild disapproval, but it softened as Rayvo returned a confident smile.


    He¡¯s lucky he¡¯s a skilled pilot.


    Terra had used Rayvo as often as she could when she needed someone reliable at the helm. He was one of the best the RSIA had¡ªmaybe the best. When it came to piloting, he was focused and locked in. Despite his attitude, he took the job seriously¡ªsomething this mission would absolutely require.


    She introduced him as the ship¡¯s pilot and navigator. Rayvo exchanged warm handshakes with each of them.


    When he shook Conus¡¯s hand, he took in the sight of the Colonel¡¯s augmentations but didn¡¯t linger. Rayvo had heard plenty about Taylen¡¯s enhancements, but seeing them up close¡ªhe could barely tell where flesh ended and tech began.


    Jeson Kaius¡ªJes¡ªjoined just behind, their newly appointed communications officer. Her greeting was light and polite.


    As she reached Conus, her eyes paused briefly on the augmentations as Rayvo had. Jes wondered, just for a moment, if they ever caused him pain¡ªbut pushed the thought aside. Everyone in the RSIA knew who Conus Taylen was. Being the only augment in the agency made sure of that.


    A Camerian? she wondered, as she met Klamarez.


    And then her eyes found Garen¡ªand her expression shifted.


    I know you.


    She¡¯d heard the stories. Knew the name. Garen Rivers wasn¡¯t someone you expected to meet¡ªlet alone serve under. If they¡¯d pulled him out of retirement, then this mission wasn¡¯t routine.


    Holy Goontee, she thought. Her pulse quickened slightly. She''d studied his tactics, memorized his maneuvers, even admired him. But standing here now, seeing the man whose name had practically become a forbidden whisper¡ªshe wasn''t sure if she felt awe or anxiety. She quickly tightened her expression into controlled neutrality, grateful her initial surprise hadn''t slipped beyond the briefest glance. Admiration was acceptable¡ªbut on this mission, discipline mattered more. She straightened slightly, deliberately shifting her attention to the ship in the distance, grounding herself back into the present task.


    With everyone now assembled, Terra turned to the group.


    "A GliderCraft is coming to transport us," she said.


    "That''s Garen Rivers," Jes said quietly, a note of awe in her voice.


    "Yes," Veeda replied, her expression shifting as the realization settled. "They said that."


    Rayvo blinked, finally connecting the name. "That¡¯s Garen Rivers? The one who opposed the peace treaty?"


    "No. I mean¡ªyes, he is. But it¡¯s not that simple."


    "Well, from what I¡¯ve heard, he was a badass during the war. Got my respect. Doesn¡¯t bother me¡ªI don¡¯t care about politics. You can¡¯t believe half of it anyway. I care more about what he did during the war."


    "Wish I could turn it off like that," Jes said.


    "It¡¯s not hard," Rayvo replied.


    "That¡¯s why his name sounded familiar," Veeda said with a nod, indifferent.


    They had all worked under Amar Lavont¡ªhe was a war hero too. So was General Anteia. She had known a few others as well.


    As she thought about it, maybe General Rivers¡¯ feats were more impressive than most. He¡¯d spent more time on the front lines than nearly anyone. Yet to Veeda, it barely registered.


    Jes leaned in slightly. ¡°The Academy may have erased his name from our lessons, but his strategies and tactics are still studied. Core curriculum, even now.¡±


    "Seriously?" Veeda asked, clearly intrigued.


    "It depended on the instructor," Jes said. ¡°Some highlighted his contributions. Others barely mentioned him at all.¡±


    "Was he the pilot leading the Vantilgar mission?" Rayvo asked.


    "Yes!" Jes confirmed, her excitement rising.


    Rayvo exhaled slowly. ¡°We¡¯re in the presence of a legend.¡± Then he added, after a glance toward Terra, ¡°Well¡ªtwo legends.¡± Neither responded.


    Jes adjusted her collar, the reality of it all settling in. "This feels overwhelming."


    "Just stay focused," Veeda said calmly, motioning for them to follow.


    "What¡¯s this mission all about? Where we headed?" Rayvo asked, turning his attention to Veeda.


    "Why you asking me? I don¡¯t know," she replied, though her tone held suspicion.


    "Isn¡¯t it obvious?" Jes said.


    Rayvo and Veeda both turned to her.


    "What do you know?" Rayvo asked.


    "They brought back Garen Rivers. Why else would they bring him back?"


    "Vorcons?" he asked.


    Jes simply nodded.


    Rayvo took the news seriously before doing his best to shrug it off.


    Veeda shot them both a stern look. "We have a briefing. Let¡¯s go. Stop gossiping."


    She walked on ahead while Rayvo and Jes exchanged a look.


    A GliderCraft approached across the landing pad, slowing to a halt nearby. The driver, an RDF NCO, stepped down with a welcoming expression.


    "General Anteia," he greeted warmly. "It¡¯s been too long."


    Terra returned the smile. "Emryn. How have you been? How¡¯s your family?"


    "All well, thank you. My eldest¡¯s enrolling in the academy next term," Emryn said proudly.


    "That¡¯s wonderful news," she replied, her voice genuine.


    The GliderCraft had an open-top design, built for fast boarding. They climbed aboard. The GliderCraft accelerated smoothly down the runway, heading toward their assigned vessels.


    As they neared the Seeker, another RSIA transport came into view. Its pilot and co-pilot¡ªone male, one female¡ªstood outside, deep in quiet conversation. Both were clearly seasoned. They were ready. The transport was waiting to escort Terra and her assembled crew to the Rhyus Moon.


    Terra exchanged a brief look with Garen before leading the group toward the transport. Inside, the pilot and co-pilot performed a quick but thorough check of the systems¡ªstandard procedure, but still essential.


    Meanwhile, Garen, Conus, and Klamarez boarded the Seeker. Klamarez immediately turned to the ship¡¯s systems, already powering up and running checks. He linked with the RSIA transport and confirmed their coordinates and approach path.


    "Conus, would you like to take the helm this time?" Garen asked.


    Without hesitation, Conus moved to the pilot¡¯s station. ¡°Thank you, General. Yes, I would. Who knows what the future holds¡ªthis might be my only chance to operate the Seeker.¡±


    "It¡¯s hard to imagine after. I can barely imagine now," said Garen.


    While the Seeker had a very standard layout, Klamarez had definitely added some uniqueness to the helm¡¯s design. It had taken Garen a moment to adjust, but it wasn¡¯t hard to get used to. During the trip, Conus had taken note, watching closely as Garen operated the Seeker¡ªespecially during ascent, landing, and docking. He already felt like he had a solid understanding of how to fly it. Still, it varied greatly from standard Seven Worlds fleet designs. The ship contained tech from all over.


    How does he figure it all out? he thought, glancing toward Klamarez.


    Garen gave a nod from his station. Klamarez checked all systems one last time, confirming everything was ready.


    With pre-flight complete, the transport lifted off from Rhyus.


    The Seeker rose behind, gliding upward on engaged thrusters. As they ascended above the landing pad, the landing gear retracted, and the ship fell into position behind the RSIA transport, sliding smoothly into the designated sky lanes above the city.


    It banked gently, aligning and merging precisely into the crowded flow¡ªlanes not physically marked, but clearly displayed on his forward console.


    As Conus guided the Seeker, he internally noted the ship''s exceptional responsiveness. It handled smoothly and felt balanced. There were minor adjustments needed¡ªsmall refinements here and there¡ªbut overall, Klamarez had clearly done impressive work.


    They climbed in formation, soaring above the sprawling urban skyline until the planet¡¯s curvature took hold and the atmosphere began to thin.


    Through the main viewscreen, they glanced back¡ªRhyus already shrinking behind them.


    Ahead, the Rhyus Defense Station came into view¡ªmassive, active, its traffic lanes crowded with ships awaiting clearance. Hundreds of vessels lined the queue.


    The Seeker kept pace, trailing behind the RSIA transport as they drifted farther from the capital.


    Conus watched the transport on a forward display, tracking distance, speed, and trajectory.


    Nearing Morelus, their route carried them past RDF outposts and patrol vessels. The moon was ahead. A smaller star base orbited above it, serving as a final checkpoint for arrivals requiring clearance.


    The transport neared the station, sending credentials from both itself and the Seeker to the clearance station before beginning their descent.


    The surface of Morelus came into focus¡ªa patchwork of settlements and terrain. Where Rhyus had been dense and towering, Morelus was spread wide: civilian enclaves, industrial zones, ocean crossings, and vast agricultural regions¡ªmuch of it open and unoccupied.


    Their path cut across a broad sea, the reflection of their ships rippling across the water. Ahead, a mountain broke through the clouds.


    Near the summit, a cluster of structures and communications arrays crowned the peak. Further down, built directly into the mountain¡¯s side, stretched the base itself¡ªits dark steel and architecture carved into the rock, rising above the ocean far below.


    Large hangar bay doors lined the mountain face, seamlessly integrated into the structure. As the Seeker and the RSIA transport approached, control relayed precise docking instructions. Conus confirmed the nav coordinates flashing across his screen.


    The Seeker was directed toward one of the sealed bays. Nearby, another set of hangar doors parted, allowing the RSIA transport through.


    The hangar doors opened wide, swallowing both ships into the mountain. Inside, floodlights bathed the hangar in stark illumination, the deep shadows of equipment and docked vessels creating an atmosphere both welcoming and ominous. Garen felt a familiar tightness in his chest. His pulse quickened slightly as a metallic clang echoed somewhere deeper inside the hangar¡ªan everyday sound, yet now ominously amplified by his heightened senses.


    The mission suddenly felt all too real.


    Inside, the Seeker touched down. Once powered down, the crew stepped out into the shuttle bay¡ªan expansive area capable of housing multiple ships of its class. Around them, vessels of varying designs rested in place, some under repair, others ready for launch.


    The transport that had carried Terra made its descent into the next bay over, completing its return to the docking zone it had departed from.


    Garen, Conus, and Klamarez were met by security the moment they stepped off the Seeker. Four officers stood waiting in standard RSIA uniforms, their sidearms holstered, their posture formal but not rigid.


    The check-in process was routine¡ªat least for Garen and Conus. Klamarez, however, had to present the digital ID card he''d been issued back at RDF Headquarters.


    One of the security officers, his tone friendly, offered a suggestion. ¡°If you''d prefer, we can register you for a dermal implant. It would make re-entry into the Seven Worlds much easier.¡±


    Klamarez glanced at Garen, unsure.


    Garen shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s up to you. But it could simplify things for you.¡±


    Conus added, ¡°You¡¯d have unrestricted access across the Seven Worlds. You can visit on your return¡ªno more clearance holdups.¡±


    Klamarez gave it a moment, then nodded. ¡°Sure, then. I¡¯ll get the dermal implant. Sounds handy.¡±


    He didn¡¯t say it aloud, but the thought came quick: The Syndicate¡¯s grip is weaker in the Seven Worlds. I could always hide out here if I had to.


    The lead officer turned to his subordinate. ¡°Take Mr. Klamarez and get him registered and implanted.¡±


    "Yes, sir."


    Klamarez eagerly followed the younger officer, questions spilling out before they¡¯d even left the shuttle bay.


    "So how do these implants work exactly? Couldn¡¯t someone just modify one? So, do you calibrate these implants individually, or is it standardized? Can you choose where it''s implanted? Oh! And how does it handle power distribution¡ªdoes it need recharging?"


    The officer didn¡¯t seem bothered. ¡°Any attempt to alter one would make it unreadable. The data gets corrupted. The implants use quantum encryption¡ªany unauthorized tampering scrambles the embedded matrix. Essentially, it becomes useless without proper reauthorization. You¡¯d need an authorized scanner to reset the encryption¡ªotherwise, it won¡¯t work at all.¡±


    Klamarez absorbed every word, considering all the ways the system might be misused¡ªnot with bad intentions, just... possibilities. The conversation continued as they exited, Klamarez already halfway into a new line of questions.


    Back at the bay, Conus looked over at Garen.


    "I¡¯m glad he¡¯s with us, sir. I wouldn¡¯t have felt right leaving him behind. I wouldn¡¯t want the Syndicate to get their hands on him."


    Garen nodded, a heaviness settling in his chest. "Me neither, Conus. But let¡¯s not pretend this is a safe place for him. It isn¡¯t."


    He paused, eyes following the direction Klamarez had gone.


    "I need to help him get out of this mess when we¡¯re done,¡± Garen said quietly. ¡°Out of the Vanicktus business. It¡¯s not a way to live."


    Conus didn¡¯t answer. He didn¡¯t need to.


    "It might take some convincing," Garen added, knowing full well how deep Syndicate ties could run. Though he was under no illusion it would be easy¡ªit could get messy, fast.


    "Anyway, that¡¯s something I need to worry about later. We¡¯ve got work ahead of us, Conus. I¡¯m curious to see how this ship actually handles masking. Signal dampening, trace suppression¡ªhow it really functions.¡±


    "It¡¯s a prototype," Conus added. "At least, that¡¯s what they¡¯re saying."


    Conus could recall several RSIA ships¡ªcapable stealth vessels among them. But none seemed fitting for a mission like this. He assumed it had to be one of the new vessels¡ªunless they had heavily enhanced one of the older ones.


    "Who told you that?" Garen asked.


    "I accidentally overhear things sometimes," Conus said.


    Garen gave a half-smile. "Keep your ears open while we¡¯re here. You never know what else you might catch. The higher-ups always leave out the important intel."


    "On purpose?" Conus wondered.


    "It¡¯s like this," Garen said. ¡°The job is the job. And sometimes, being a general means following orders without ever seeing the full picture. They don¡¯t want you thinking or feeling one way or another. You get what you¡¯re given. That¡¯s the version they want you to believe. You act based on that. You command your crew based on that¡ªand it keeps going. Didn¡¯t ask why back then¡ªjust thought how. How to get it done. No time for doubt. No room for questions."


    He remembered countless missions where blind obedience had cost more than any victory could justify. It was a part of leadership he had never made peace with¡ªand probably never would.


    "You think they intentionally left you out of important details?" Conus asked.


    Garen gave a short, humorless laugh. "Yes."


    He left it at that. For now.


    Conus processed the response. If you can¡¯t trust the chain of command, then why even serve?


    "Let¡¯s hope this ship does its job so we can do ours," Garen said.


    Stealth ships weren¡¯t new¡ªbut they were always evolving. But perfection was impossible. Even the best stealth systems left a trace¡ªfor those who knew where to look. The trick wasn¡¯t being invisible¡ªit was not being noticed.


    As stealth tech improved, so did detection tech. And then it came down to who was running the ship.


    Within the Seven Worlds fleet, the RSIA now controlled most stealth-class vessels. The RDF focused on strength and force. The RSIA had invested heavily since Garen¡¯s time¡ªexpanded their reach, built their own small fleet, recruited aggressively. They were growing fast¡ªand not everyone in the RDF was thrilled about it.


    Garen could see it clearly now. With every new encounter, the divide became harder to ignore.


    Before long, Amar Lavont greeted them in the docking bay.


    "Welcome, gentlemen. General Rivers, Colonel Taylen."


    His posture was sharp, his voice calm, composed¡ªbut it commanded their attention.


    If Amar had doubts, he buried them beneath the same ironclad certainty that had steadied others for decades.


    What they didn¡¯t know was that Amar had a lot on his mind. The RSIA was now involved in many areas¡ªtoo many, some might say. There was much he needed to keep on top of, and this mission was just one of many.


    This threat was one of many.


    The mission was a risk¡ªbut one Amar had already accepted.


    Garen could easily recall that Amar always had the ability to deliver the worst or best news with the same steady demeanor.


    And just for a moment, it felt like the last ten years hadn¡¯t occurred¡ªthat he was here, serving under Amar, just like he had years ago.


    He laid out the schedule: senior officers would meet in Briefing Room B within a couple of hours.


    "In the meantime, I¡¯d like to introduce the two of you to the Preyon," Amar said. "Follow me."


    "The Preyon?" Garen muttered. "That¡¯s gonna have to grow on me."


    Conus was eager to see the ship¡ªto take on his first mission as executive officer. He hoped it would help earn him a command of one of the RSIA craft down the line.


    This was his chance to prove he was ready for command.


    Garen couldn¡¯t place it, but something shifted inside him as they walked toward the hangar.


    Once they launched, there¡¯d be no turning back. No reinforcements. No room for doubt.


    The mission was already dangerous. But beneath it, something else was forming¡ªbigger, unseen, waiting. And it wasn¡¯t just the Vorcons.


    Focus, he told himself. Stay sharp.