ã€ŠThe Eidolon Saga - A LitRPG Space Operaã€‹


 Prologue: Where am I?

    Something buzzed at the edges of my awareness, a voice¡ªor was it text? Faint. Blurry. Like trying to read through fogged-up glasses.

    ---

    SYSTEM ALERT:

    Eidolon Core Not Found

    Connection to Precursor Nexus severed. Integration suspended.

    Primary functions unavailable:

    <ul>

    <li>Universal Status Access</li>

    <li>Psionic Amplification</li>

    <li>Precursor Artifact Synchronization</li>

    </ul>

    Recommendation: Locate an Eidolon Core to restore full functionality.

    ---

    My head throbbed, a sharp pang shooting through my temples. The buzzing wouldn¡¯t stop, the voice¡ªor text, or whatever it was¡ªcutting in and out like a broken speaker.

    ¡°What the hell¡­¡± My voice felt muffled, far away. Had I fallen asleep with the headset on again? Wouldn¡¯t be the first time. Maybe I¡¯d left the TV on, and this was some half-formed fever dream.

    I tried to shake it off, but the buzzing in my head clung stubbornly, vibrating just below the surface. The words dissolved into static, then silence¡ªlike a half-remembered dream slipping away before I could grab hold of it.

    My eyes snapped open to the hum of machinery. A low, steady thrum that seemed to vibrate through my bones, anchoring me in the moment.

    Metal ceiling above me. Strange.

    Not my bed.

    No flickering streetlights bleeding in through cheap blinds. No worn apartment walls. Just cold, polished metal, and a sterile, dim glow.

    I sat up, blinking into the darkness. Everything felt real. Too real. More real than my full dive VR rig could ever dream of, with chilled air, hushed silence, and¡­ a tang in the air. Something sharp. Metallic.

    Had I fallen asleep with the headset on again? Wouldn¡¯t be the first time. Waking up to that fried-brain, half-sick feeling, like slamming a half-bottle of cheap whiskey and sitting up too fast.

    But this¡ªthis was different.

    My head throbbed. My temples pulsed. Like a hangover that¡¯d gone and taken itself too seriously.

    ¡°Wait¡­ what the hell?¡±

    My voice echoed back at me, bouncing off the sleek, empty walls.

    Reflex kicked in. ¡°HUD on. Open menu. Status screen. Logout. Exit game.¡± I barked out the commands, one after the other. Silence. Nothing.

    Just me, standing in the middle of a ship I knew too well. But I shouldn¡¯t be here. I was supposed to be on the other side of this, sitting on my couch, pressing buttons¡ªnot here, not actually inside the damn thing.

    All right. If the HUD was down, maybe my class abilities still worked. Might as well test them out.

    I held out my hand, focusing. This wasn¡¯t just any class I¡¯d ¡°picked.¡± I¡¯d clawed my way through hours of grinding, completing obscure quests, unlocking something special. Limited. A class only a handful of players had.

    An Eidolon.

    Dark, elusive, and powerful. This class was all about the mind¡ªtelekinesis, telepathy, raw mental force. Psionics. Enough to make people bend to my will. And if they didn¡¯t want to listen? Well, I could wrap my mind around their skulls and break them. Simple.

    Even though it seems super overpowered, I couldn¡¯t spam the abilities too much or it would begin to hurt my health points.

    I focused on the metal can across the table. It wobbled. Lifted. Floated toward me like a loyal dog, until it settled into my hand.

    Cool metal against my fingers. Real. No, real-real.

    I¡¯m no longer just a man. A bored, tired, overworked man.

    I¡¯m a god.

    Well not really, not yet at least. I¡¯m human, just¡­ better.

    I lifted the can to my lips, took a sip. Smoky. Bitter. Smooth. Thermic-Kola. Supposed to be like coffee, but engineered to keep you wired through an asteroid field.

    The taste lingered, bitter and electric. And I smiled.

    I glanced down at my hand, same freckle on my knuckle. So, at least I looked like me¡ªnot my other alien character¡¯s avatar I¡¯d customized with red eyes and spikes. Wonder what my face looks like though.

    I stumbled over to the cabin window, catching my reflection.

    My face. Blue eyes, a little wild. Brown hair, messy and flat. Skin pale as the VR headset glow back home. No dark, intimidating look. No claws or alien spikes.

    Just me.

    White boy summer, I thought, smirking. Or maybe white boy¡­ space.

    Five minutes in, and I¡¯m already losing it.

    Somehow, I¡¯d gone from crashing after work to¡­ here. Inside the game. Playing out the life of Timus.

    Clever name, I know. Tim + us. Genius.

    Ha-ha-ha. Sigh¡­

    I looked out the window. Blackness, stars, and some big-ass rocks. Asteroid belt, I realized, stomach twisting. Not where I¡¯d left my ship in the game.

    I just stood there, staring into space. It was beautiful. And, yeah, not gonna lie, it made my stomachache. Anxiety? Fear?

    Silence wrapped around me, deep and unsettling. Until¡ªThis content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Commander,¡± a low, polished voice cut through, smooth as the ship¡¯s walls. ¡°You¡¯re awake.¡±

    I whipped around, staring at the hologram on the terminal. I knew that tone anywhere. ¡°Ares?¡±

    I frowned, letting the thought linger as Ares spoke again. His voice¡ªstill smooth, still sharp¡ªfelt wrong. In the game, Ares had been female. Now? Male.

    Maybe the personality matrix hasn¡¯t been changed yet?

    ¡°Yes, Commander.¡± Ares¡¯s voice was clipped and efficient. ¡°It¡¯s good to have you back. You¡¯ve been asleep for an extended duration. Engine functionality is nominal but shows minor degradation under sustained strain. Additionally¡­¡±

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°We are currently adrift in the Halvorr Asteroid Belt,¡± Ares stated, with just the faintest hint of something approximating smugness. ¡°Your last operation has attracted significant attention. Multiple pirate vessels are conducting localized scans for unregistered ships.¡±

    A brief pause. ¡°Cargo identified as Carnem Astrax. The contraband is classified as high-priority by sixteen governing star systems. Consequences of discovery include penalties ranging from execution to life imprisonment, forced labor, or, in some cases, punitive amputation. Suggest avoiding detection at all costs.¡±

    Crimson Dust. I blinked. Illegal as it got. Worth a fortune. Dangerous enough to keep you up at night.

    In real life, this would¡¯ve terrified me. But here? It was a thrill. No more underpaid work or the miserable nine-to-five grind. Right now, I had enough contraband to buy a planet, a ship, maybe even a crew.

    Wait. ¡°Where¡¯s the crew?¡± I asked.

    ¡°What crew?¡± Ares replied smoothly.

    Great. Deep space, low supplies, no crew. Just me and an AI with a sarcastic streak.

    I wasn¡¯t going to panic. Not my first rodeo¡ªeven if this time it felt so real.

    ¡°All right,¡± I said, trying to sound confident. ¡°Let¡¯s plot an escape, Ares. Pull up the nearest star systems.¡±

    The hatch hissed open, cold air spilling into my face as I stepped into the corridor. The recycled oxygen smelled faintly metallic, the hum of the ship¡¯s systems thrumming through the walls. My boots clicked against the deck¡ªsharp, hollow, alone. No crew, just me and the Valkyrion.

    The corridor was dark, save for faint running lights lining the floor. Status panels blinked in rhythmic patterns, their glow lighting the edges of black bulkheads. A low vibration rolled through my feet, the engines idling, waiting. A maintenance drone zipped by overhead, its soft whir fading fast.

    I pushed through another hatch into the command deck. Compact, efficient, deadly. A wraparound console filled the space, holograms flickering in perfect synchronization. The captain¡¯s chair sat in the middle, gleaming like it had never been used. I slid into it, the cold surface biting through the fabric of my sleeves.

    The ship hummed, low and eager, like a predator waiting for the hunt. My hands brushed the controls¡ªsmooth, responsive, ready to kill.

    ¡°Set the coordinates for the Kordis System,¡± I said, steady as I could.

    Ares¡¯s voice came through the speakers, smooth and smug. ¡°Ah, the Kordis System. Back to familiar territory, Commander. Very well. Preparing for jump.¡±

    The engine hum deepened, a growl that reverberated in my chest. Lights flickered, deck plates vibrating as power surged through the core. The air felt charged, thick with potential.

    ¡°Jumping in three, two¡ª¡±

    The stars stretched, bright streaks ripping across the viewport as the Valkyrion tore into the void. The drive roared like a storm, shaking everything before it fell into a soft, pulsing rhythm. The stars stopped streaking, replaced by a vast, empty expanse. Silence, save for the hum of the ship.

    ¡°Jump complete,¡± Ares announced. ¡°Welcome to the Kordis System. ETA to Planet Rykka-9: twelve hours.¡±

    I frowned, leaning forward in the captain¡¯s chair. ¡°Twelve hours? Why the hell are we so far out?¡±

    There was a brief pause before Ares answered, his tone somewhere between confusion and mockery. ¡°Commander, are you feeling alright? That¡¯s basic stellar navigation. We¡¯ve been doing this for years.¡±

    ¡°Humor me. Pretend I forgot.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± he said, dragging the word out like he was processing whether I¡¯d been replaced with an imposter, ¡°long-range jumps distort space-time. Dropping too close to a planetary mass¡ªlike Rykka-9¡ªcreates a detectable gravitational spike. Every sensor grid within the system would light up like it¡¯s Federation Day. That¡¯s how you end up on a dozen wanted lists before you¡¯ve even landed.¡±

    ¡°Right. So, outer system, come in slow, keep a low profile.¡±

    ¡°Precisely,¡± he said, her voice laced with exasperation. ¡°A lesson you learned over a decade ago, might I add.¡±

    ¡°Thanks for the reminder, Ares,¡± I said dryly. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll go refresh my memory on the rest of the ship while we crawl in.¡±

    Ares perked up, her tone turning playful. ¡°You¡¯re exploring? Shall I give you a guided tour? Perhaps show you all the places you¡¯ve ignored for weeks?¡±

    ¡°I think I can manage,¡± I muttered, standing and heading for the hatch. ¡°Start with food. I¡¯ll see the rest later.¡±

    ¡°The galley is where it always was,¡± he quipped. ¡°You¡¯ll be delighted to know it hasn¡¯t moved.¡±

    ¡°Appreciate it,¡± I said, stepping into the corridor.

    The soft click of my boots echoed in the silence. Weapon lockers lined the walls, their contents gleaming under faint strip lighting.

    Blasters. Plasma grenades. Reinforced armor.

    Top-tier gear¡ªthe kind you didn¡¯t find on civilian freighters.

    My hand hovered over a combat suit. Its polished plates caught the light, reflecting a version of me I barely recognized.

    This ship was more than I¡¯d imagined. Specter-class. Stealth corvette.

    Built for ghosts like me¡ªsilent, deadly, untraceable.

    Big enough to haul cargo. Small enough to slip through a blockade.

    And Ares? He ran everything. Drones for maintenance. Targeting systems for weapons. Auto-nav for when I wasn¡¯t in the chair.

    All I had to do was stay alive long enough to use it.

    I let out a slow breath and pushed on to the galley.

    The Nutrimatrix Mk IV sat sleek against the wall, its polished chrome interface waiting¡ªlike it hadn¡¯t just spent the last month gathering dust.

    I tapped through the menu.

    Protein stew. Synth meat with carb cubes.

    Everything looked equally bland. I picked something tolerable.

    With a faint click, a tray slid out, steam curling off a plate of pasta-like strands and a chunk of lab-grown protein. Perfectly portioned. Perfectly symmetrical.

    Perfectly soulless.

    An Italian chef would¡¯ve wept.

    I didn¡¯t care. It was fuel.

    Walking back to the bridge, I popped open a can of Thermic-Kola and took a swig.

    Sweet. Sharp. Just enough fizz to make you feel alive.

    Somehow, I knew this stuff would fuel my new life as a space fugitive.

    ¡°Shall I prepare a dossier for your reunion with Miss Astra Voss?¡± Ares chimed through the speakers.

    ¡°No,¡± I said, leaning forward. ¡°Give me my file.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re feeling nostalgic, Commander?¡±

    ¡°Just curious,¡± I said. The chair creaked under me. ¡°Indulge me.¡±

    ¡°Pulling records,¡± he said, his tone shifting into faux-military formality. ¡°Commander Timus Lucian Aurelius Corvus. Born: unknown. Date: unknown. Recovered as an orphan and raised by the Terran Republic Naval Command in Fort Hades. A classified facility.¡±

    ¡°Fort Hades,¡± I muttered, smirking. ¡°Of course it was.¡±

    Back in the game, it was just a choice¡ªpart of creating my character.

    I picked ¡®orphan¡¯ because it sounded cool. Edgy.

    Fort Hades was one of the options on the list. A lore-heavy footnote about the Republic¡¯s shadow projects. A secret base where the Terran Navy turned parentless nobodies into Specters¡ªtheir black-ops ghosts.

    Mysterious. Ruthless. Untouchable.

    ¡°Indeed.¡± His tone was dry as dust. ¡°You served as Commander of TRNC Specter Division T-88. Seventy-two successful missions logged. Specialties: sabotage, assassinations, intelligence recovery. Status: ghost. Designation: expendable.¡±

    ¡°Charming,¡± I said. ¡°And the rest?¡±

    ¡°Classified.¡±

    ¡°Figures.¡±

    He pressed on. ¡°Your departure? Also classified. Speculation: you absconded with this vessel following an... incident. One involving high-level TRNC assets and subsequent accusations of treason. Result: significant bounty, galaxy-wide manhunt.¡±

    ¡°Absconded?¡± I asked, grinning. ¡°Makes it sound like I stole you.¡±

    ¡°You did steal me.¡±

    ¡°I would prefer the term borrow.¡±

    ¡°Shall I continue?¡± The AI asked.

    ¡°By all means,¡± I said, letting my grin linger.

    ¡°You¡¯ve since developed a reputation,¡± he continued. ¡°Independent contractor. Unorthodox methods. Currently flagged as a threat by multiple sectors. Most notable: the Terran Republic and several independent cartels. Oh, and seven mercenary groups.¡±

    ¡°Seven,¡± I said, rubbing my jaw. ¡°Guess I¡¯m popular.¡±

    ¡°Hunted,¡± he corrected. ¡°Big difference.¡±

    I let out a short laugh, leaning back in the chair. ¡°Yeah, well, let me know if any of them catch up. Wake me when we¡¯re closer, Ares.¡±

    ¡°Understood, Commander.¡±

    I drained the can and set it down with a hollow clink.

    Maybe I was dreaming.

    Maybe none of this was real.

    But the hum of the Valkyrion said otherwise.

    And for the first time in years¡ª

    I felt free.

 Chapter 1: Rykka-9 - Part 1

    [= Establishing Planetary Link... =]

    Rykka-9

    Unregistered Trade Port, Outer Kordis System

    Standard Galactic Date: 2739, Cycle 03

    Local Time: 14:27 Port Standard

    [= Location Data Logged =]

    The ship shuddered as we hit Rykka-9¡¯s atmosphere, rattling so hard I thought it might shake me right out of my seat.

    Good thing I wore my seatbelt.

    In a car, that was more of a suggestion. Here? Without it, I¡¯d have been plastered to the cargo hold door by G-forces, with my guts doing a whole lot of sightseeing on their way there.

    Outside, thick, oily smog wrapped around us, swirling like ink in water.

    Through the haze, jagged mountains and strange, alien terrain broke through in brief flashes.

    ¡°All systems stable, Commander,¡± Ares said, his voice level, like this was just another day at the office.

    Easy for him to say.

    I gripped the armrests tighter as the readouts flickered with warnings¡ªheat levels spiking, pressure stabilizers struggling to keep up.

    The rattling only got worse. Each shudder felt like a punch to the gut.

    Outside, the view was nothing but thick clouds of alien dust, tinting the light a sickly shade of green.

    ¡°You sure about that?¡± I muttered, glancing at the console.

    This was the kind of turbulence that had atheists in jets suddenly finding religion.

    ¡°As certain as one can be while descending through Rykka-9¡¯s turbulent atmosphere,¡± he replied, a little too smoothly. ¡°Try not to panic.¡±

    ¡°Panic? Who¡¯s panicking?¡± My heart hammered anyway.

    The ship gave a final lurch, then broke through the last layer of swirling smog.

    I let out a breath I hadn¡¯t realized I¡¯d been holding.

    ¡°Welcome to Rykka-9, Commander,¡± Ares said, with a note of satisfaction. ¡°Prepare for landing procedures.¡±

    The rattling eased, but my grip on the controls didn¡¯t.

    Ahead, the planet¡¯s surface sprawled out in shades of gray and rust.

    And there it was¡ªDraxis Reach.

    A smog-choked city on the edge of nowhere, packed tight with ships of all shapes and sizes.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Mercenary rigs. Battered freighters. Cargo haulers with paint jobs that¡¯d seen better days.

    The whole dockyard looked like a junkyard for outlaw spaceships.

    I zeroed in on an open hangar¡ªif you could call it that. Looked more like a metal scrap heap someone had turned sideways.

    The landing zone was gritty. Uneven. Patches of oil-stained concrete and cracked tiles didn¡¯t inspire much confidence.

    ¡°This is the spot?¡± I muttered.

    ¡°According to planetary coordinates, yes. It appears functional,¡± Ares replied, sounding way too calm for what I was about to attempt.

    A brief pause. Then¡ª

    ¡°Though, if I may suggest, a professional pilot would have executed this maneuver with significantly less stress.¡±

    I smirked. ¡°Yeah, well, she¡¯s not here, is she?¡±

    ¡°No. And yet you insisted on taking manual control.¡±

    I gripped the controls tighter. ¡°Figured I¡¯d see how it feels doing it for real.¡±

    I took a deep breath.

    Guided the ship down.

    Squeezed into the narrow space between a spiky, mismatched alien freighter and what looked like the mercenary equivalent of a space RV¡ªwith all the firepower and none of the glamour.

    The landing gear groaned as we touched down.

    I released the controls, finally unclenching my hands.

    I exhaled slowly, letting the tension bleed out.

    Ares hummed. ¡°Your execution is¡­ acceptable.¡±

    ¡°Great review. Maybe next time I¡¯ll let you park.¡±

    ¡°I would recommend it.¡±

    I glanced out the window.

    Rows of heavily armed, mismatched craft lined the hangar, like a chaotic interstellar garage sale. My pristine ship looked out of place¡ªa shiny pearl tossed into a nest of scrap metal and blasters.

    ¡°Not exactly the Ritz,¡± I muttered, unbuckling my seatbelt.

    But hey, we were here.

    I barely had time to get out of my seat before a message blared across the console.

    ¡°Attention: Docked vessel 487-Delta. This is Rykka-9 Port Authority. An immediate cargo scan is required for landing verification.¡±

    My stomach dropped. The crimson dust was sitting in the hold, practically screaming ¡°scan me, please.¡±

    ¡°Ares,¡± I hissed, eyes wide. ¡°Tell me you have a way around this.¡±

    There was a brief, uncomfortable silence.

    ¡°Working on it, Commander,¡± Ares replied, his voice a little too calm for my liking.

    The console flashed red as the port authority began its scan. I could practically see them digging through every crate, every corner, right down to that cursed batch of dust. I gripped the seat, every nerve firing.

    ¡°Ares!¡± I hissed again, trying not to lose it completely.

    ¡°Rerouting signal frequencies now,¡± he replied, still infuriatingly calm. ¡°Cloaking as much of our cargo hold as possible. You might consider¡­ thinking pleasant thoughts.¡±

    The flashing slowed.

    Then¡ªgreen.

    ¡°Scan complete,¡± the port authority announced. ¡°Cargo cleared for entry.¡±

    I let out a shaky breath.

    ¡°You really cut that close,¡± I muttered.

    ¡°Everything is under control, Commander,¡± Ares replied, almost smug. ¡°Though perhaps next time, fewer illicit substances in the cargo might ease your nerves.¡±

    With the scan fiasco narrowly avoided, I took a steadying breath, unbuckled my seatbelt, and stood up. My legs felt like jelly, but I ignored it.

    ¡°Ares,¡± I said, pulling on my jacket. ¡°You¡¯re in charge while I¡¯m gone. Keep a low profile. I don¡¯t want any surprise inspections or¡­ random explosions.¡±

    I narrowed my eyes at the console. ¡°Think you can manage that?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best to avoid creating planetary disturbances, Commander. Though given recent events, I can¡¯t guarantee my actions won¡¯t draw a crowd.¡±

    I rolled my eyes. ¡°Just¡ªno alarms, no flashy lights. And for the love of all that¡¯s good, don¡¯t go advertising what we¡¯ve got in the cargo hold.¡±

    ¡°As you wish. I¡¯ll blend in with the local ambiance,¡± he replied, sounding positively amused.

    ¡°Good.¡± I adjusted my gear. ¡°I¡¯ll try to find Astra Voss. If she¡¯s not here, I¡¯ll track down her sister. Last I heard, she was working as an informant around here.¡±

    I hesitated, glancing back at the ship. ¡°And, Ares? Keep the ship ready for a quick exit. Just in case.¡±

    ¡°I never assumed otherwise,¡± Ares replied, voice as dry as ever.

    With one last look, I stepped out of the hangar and into the chaos of Draxis Reach.

 Chapter 1: Rykka-9 - Part 2

    The first thing that hit me was the smell.

    Sharp. Oily. Rotten.

    I shuddered, grimacing.

    I¡¯m gonna have to shower.

    Hell, I might need five.

    Neon ad signs buzzed and flickered overhead, throwing garish colors onto the street like some alien carnival.

    Vendors lined the sidewalks, shouting over each other as they hawked their wares from behind makeshift stalls cluttered with alien tech, weapons, and strange, wriggling creatures squirming in glass jars.

    One of the creatures twisted around, staring at me with way too many eyes.

    I sped up. I don¡¯t need to know what else is for sale around here.

    And the noise.

    Voices shouting in languages I didn¡¯t understand. Engines roaring. Something that sounded like heavy machinery grinding in the distance.

    Rykka-9 wasn¡¯t for the faint-hearted.

    I kept my head down, blending into the crowd as I cut through a narrow alley that opened into the Underlight District.

    If there was a darker corner of the galaxy, I hadn¡¯t seen it.

    Here, bounty hunters and smugglers mingled with information brokers and drifters, exchanging credits, secrets, and sometimes fists.

    Gritty. Grimy.

    Exactly where I needed to be.

    Eyes darted my way, sizing me up. Suspicion. Disgust.

    Aliens weren¡¯t shy about how they felt about humans.

    We were the interstellar cockroach. Annoying, stubborn, and popping up everywhere we didn¡¯t belong.

    But hey, cockroaches don¡¯t die easy.

    Say what you want about humans, we didn¡¯t exactly make friends out here, but we sure as hell made waves.

    The galaxy knew we were here.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    If they didn¡¯t like it? That was their problem.

    I ignored the looks. No sense inviting trouble just yet.

    I slipped past a towering alien with spikes running down its arms¡ªlooked like it could rip me in half with a casual swipe¡ªand past a stall selling jars of neon-green liquid labeled PURE VENOM.

    Good to know where to stock up.

    A flickering sign hung overhead, glowing in patchy, angry letters:

    NO CREDITS, NO QUESTIONS, NO MERCY.

    Welcome to the heart of Draxis Reach.

    If Astra was anywhere, it was here.

    I wound my way through the Underlight District, heading for a bar that had seen its fair share of shady deals and spilled blood¡ª

    The Black Nebula.

    Astra Voss¡¯s last known stomping ground.

    If she was still around, she¡¯d be here¡­ or at least someone who knew where she¡¯d gone.

    The place loomed ahead.

    A battered neon sign flickered over the entrance, half the letters dead, the rest sputtering like they were on their last leg.

    Typical Draxis charm.

    A hulking bouncer stood by the door, arms folded, looking about as friendly as a rockslide.

    His glare made it clear he wasn¡¯t in the mood for games.

    Human-sized or not, I could tell he wasn¡¯t impressed.

    ¡°Nice place you got here.¡± I nodded at the cracked walls and grime-streaked windows. ¡°Very¡­ welcoming.¡±

    He snorted.

    But a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

    Apparently, that was good enough.

    He stepped aside, and I slid past him into the darkness.

    Thick, smoky air. Dim lights casting long shadows.

    A crowd that looked like they¡¯d rather bite you than shake your hand.

    Every eye tracked me as I walked in, their stares heavy, sizing me up.

    Danger in every corner.

    My gaze shifted to a cluster of Xyrelians¡ªtall and lanky, with glassy skin that shimmered and shifted colors as they glanced around.

    Some glowed faint blue. Others wary yellow.

    Hard to tell if that meant curiosity, or if they were ready to throw me out the nearest airlock.

    Then there was the¡­ well, crocodile-looking fella.

    Spiked tail, plated armor, and eyes that locked onto me like he¡¯d just found his next meal.

    Could never remember the name of his species. Only that they weren¡¯t big on humans.

    I took in the bar full of scaled, spiked, and venomous-looking patrons.

    Seeing them in the flesh was different than pixels on a screen.

    I felt a mix of awe and, yeah, maybe a little fear.

    But I kept my head high scanning the crowd, trying to pick out Astra¡¯s face.

    Not that it was easy.

    Space bars had a way of looking like the universe¡¯s junk drawer.

    A collection of the scrappy, the shady, the ones nobody wanted cluttering up a more respectable planet.

    Kind of like an adventurers¡¯ guild in a game.

    Except instead of a lineup of cute girls with big smiles and bigger¡­ assets...

    I got suspicious aliens who might rob, kill, or eat me.

    Every now and then, though, there was a rare find.

    Like the barmaid weaving through the crowd.

    Tight outfit. Massive knockers. A sway in her step like she owned the place.

    Well, sometimes space had its perks, I thought, trying not to stare too obviously as she passed by.

    Then¡ª

    A strange feeling crept over me.

    Someone was watching.

    I glanced up.

    My gaze collided with a familiar pair of sharp, intense eyes across the room.

    Astra?

    She was half-hidden in the shadows, watching me with that unreadable expression that could mean about twenty different things¡ª

    Most of them probably not good.

    Or¡­ was it a setup?

    My gut twisted.

    The crowd shifted, obscuring her face.

    When I looked again, she was gone.

    I scanned the room.

    No sign of her.

    If it was Astra, she¡¯d know exactly how to disappear.

    And if it wasn¡¯t¡­

    I braced myself.

    Either way, I was about to find out.

 Chapter 2: Zara - Part 1

    [= Establishing Planetary Link... =]

    Draxis Reach

    Capital City, Rykka-9, Outer Kordis System

    Standard Galactic Date: 2739, Cycle 03

    Local Time: 15:43 Port Standard

    [= Location Data Logged =]

    The bar was dim, filled with swirling smoke and flickering neon lights that gave everything a strange, hazy glow.

    I spotted her again.

    This time, she was sitting alone in a shadowed booth, half-hidden.

    Astra?

    I stepped closer, my pulse quickening.

    But something felt off.

    Her hair was shorter. A scar ran along her jaw.

    Astra didn¡¯t have a scar.

    At least, not in the game.

    She looked up, catching me mid-stare.

    Her eyes narrowed, like I was some kind of weirdo.

    I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

    ¡°Astra?¡± I asked, squinting a little like her name might somehow materialize over her head.

    The woman raised an eyebrow, giving me a look halfway between amusement and annoyance. ¡°Close. Zara. Astra¡¯s sister.¡±

    ¡°Right. Astra mentioned a sister.¡± I gave her a once-over, then smirked. ¡°Though she conveniently left out the part where you¡¯re twins. Galaxy must¡¯ve done something wrong to curse us with the two of you.¡±

    Zara¡¯s eyes narrowed, sizing me up like I was a questionable deal. ¡°You¡¯re¡­?¡±

    ¡°Timus,¡± I said, staying neutral. ¡°Or Tim, if you¡¯re feeling particularly warm and fuzzy about it.¡±

    She didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°Nice place,¡± I said, gesturing vaguely at the dimly lit cantina. ¡°Come here often?¡±

    ¡°Not usually, but I imagine it¡¯s just your speed.¡±

    ¡°It has charm. Stale beer, sticky floors, recycled air thick enough to chew. I¡¯ve met some good friends in dives like this.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Her lips twitched¡ªjust barely¡ªbut her eyes stayed sharp, sizing me up like I was a suspicious blip on her radar.

    ¡°So, what do you want with Astra?¡±

    ¡°Astra¡¯s always been¡­ resourceful,¡± I said finally, careful with my words. ¡°Hard to find these days, though.¡±

    Last I¡¯d checked, she was part of my crew. So where was she now?

    Zara¡¯s brow lifted slightly, a flicker of interest lighting up her face.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t realize my sister had taken on a¡­ business partner.¡± She leaned forward, curiosity sharpening her tone. ¡°What kind of help are we talking about?¡±

    I met her gaze.

    ¡°Astra¡¯s always fit in with the underworld better than I ever could. Where I have a habit of making people do what I want, she convinced them they wanted to.¡± I shrugged, a faint grin tugging at my mouth. ¡°If I needed something moved or found, she handled it. Saved me time, money, and was a lot less¡­ bloody.¡±

    Her expression flickered.

    A brief glint of something I couldn¡¯t quite place.

    Surprise? Respect? Or maybe a warning¡ªto herself, or to me¡ªto keep a safe distance.

    ¡°And how exactly did you two meet?¡±

    ¡°Long story.¡± I waved it off with an easy smile. ¡°She was just in the right¡ªor wrong¡ªplace at the right time. Happens more often than you¡¯d think in this line of work.¡±

    Zara smirked, leaning back and crossing her arms.

    ¡°Wrong place, wrong time. Sounds about right.¡±

    Her gaze lingered on me, narrowing thoughtfully¡ªthen her tone shifted.

    Almost playful.

    ¡°Though I have to wonder¡­ who¡¯s prettier? Me or my sister?¡±

    I blinked.

    What.

    She arched an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this, waiting for me to step into her little trap.

    I flashed a grin, shrugging.

    ¡°You are, obviously. But if Astra asks me, I¡¯ll deny it and tell her she¡¯s the one who¡¯s got it all.¡±

    Zara chuckled, low and quiet.

    But the amusement didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes.

    Her gaze sharpened, locking onto mine.

    ¡°Funny. But I have to say, there¡¯s something about your eyes, Timus.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°They remind me of someone¡­ maybe a little too much.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°My eyes?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± She looked thoughtful, and for a second, a flicker of something darker crossed her expression. ¡°You know, there¡¯s a guy in the Black Nebula Cartel. Their leader, in fact. Goes by the name of Darien Kryze. Dangerous as they come. You¡¯ve got that same¡­ intensity.¡± Her lips curved into a small, unsettling smile. ¡°Hope for your sake it¡¯s just a coincidence.¡±

    Darien Kryz. Hmm...

    The name meant nothing to me.

    I forced a casual smile, shrugging.

    ¡°Guess I just have one of those faces.¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± she murmured, not quite buying it. ¡°Either that, or you¡¯re more interesting than you let on.¡±

    ¡°Depends who¡¯s asking.¡± I shot her a smirk, but there was a tension in the air now, a silent understanding that we were both sizing each other up.

    Zara leaned back, a hint of a smirk in her gaze. ¡°If you¡¯re looking for Astra, you¡¯re going to need a better answer than ¡®right place, wrong time.¡¯ She¡¯s gotten herself tangled in something that isn¡¯t going to end well. For anyone.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± I replied, meeting her eyes. ¡°I need her help. And¡­ I grew to like her over the course of our ¡®friendship.¡¯¡±

    She eyed me suspiciously,.

    I leaned in, lowering my voice. ¡°Look, Zara. I¡¯m carrying something I really need to get rid of. If I¡¯m caught with it, I¡¯m a dead man. So the sooner we get past this whole¡­¡± I gestured between us, ¡°distrustful sizing-each-other-up routine, the better.¡±

    A beat of silence.

    Then¡ª

    Zara let out a slow breath.

    Her expression shifted, softening, if only slightly.

    Her hand slid out from beneath the table, and a sleek, compact blaster came into view.

    She set it down on the table.

    A small, but unmistakable sign of trust.

    I let out a laugh. ¡°I knew that was there the whole time. Not that it would¡¯ve mattered. You couldn¡¯t pull that trigger even if you wanted to.¡±

    She scoffed.

    But there was the faintest flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± She leaned forward slightly. ¡°Prove it.¡±

 Chapter 2: Zara - Part 2

    I tilted my head toward the glass in front of Zara, flashing her an easy smile. ¡°Pick up the glass. Take a drink. Easy enough, right?¡±

    She raised an eyebrow.

    But she reached for the glass anyway.

    Her fingers wrapped around it¡ª

    And stopped.

    The glass wouldn¡¯t budge.

    Her grip tightened, knuckles whitening as she pulled.

    Nothing.

    It was as it was glued to the table.

    Her expression shifted.

    Irritation. Confusion. Then something sharper.

    Her gaze flickered between me and the unmoving glass.

    For the first time, the slightest hint of fear crept into her eyes.

    I kept my fingers resting on the table, smiling as I watched her wrestle with something that should have been effortless.

    Finally, she looked up at me, jaw clenched.

    Eyes wary.

    ¡°Nice try,¡± I said softly, not breaking eye contact. ¡°But like I said, you couldn¡¯t pull the trigger if I didn¡¯t want you to.¡±

    Zara¡¯s hand dropped from the glass.

    Her expression shifted as she finally took in what I¡¯d just done.

    She swallowed, glancing at the unmoved glass, then back at me¡ªsomething like recognition flickering in her eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ heard there were people capable of things like that,¡± she murmured, her voice lower now, almost reverent. ¡°But I¡¯ve never actually met one.¡±

    I leaned back, letting the hint of a smile tug at the corner of my mouth.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°Now you have.¡±

    She studied me for a moment longer, eyes wide, the sharp edges of her expression softening.

    She knew now¡ªif I wanted to, I could crush her.

    Or worse.

    But I didn¡¯t.

    And that small act of restraint seemed to be enough.

    A barmaid sauntered over, balancing a tray on one hip.

    Tall. Curvy.

    Her low-cut shirt did most of the talking.

    She gave me a long look, then glanced at Zara, probably sizing up whether I was trouble or a decent tip.

    ¡°Another round?¡± she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

    I nodded, pulling out a few physical credits¡ªmetallic chits that flashed faintly under the dim lights.

    Out here, digital credits wouldn¡¯t get you far.

    People preferred something they could feel in their hands.

    Untraceable.

    The kind of payment that wouldn¡¯t raise questions later.

    She gave the chits a quick, practiced glance, her thumb brushing over each one to check for the faint holographic stamp that marked them as genuine.

    Satisfied, she pocketed them with a small nod and a smirk, then disappeared into the smoky haze of the bar.

    Zara¡¯s eyes followed the exchange, a knowing look settling over her face. ¡°Good choice, I wouldn¡¯t trust this place¡¯s scanner either.¡±

    Zara watched her leave, then turned back to me, the last of her wariness replaced by something heavier. ¡°Look, Astra¡¯s not here.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s¡­ been taken.¡±

    ¡°Taken? By who?¡±

    Her face tightened.

    ¡°The Black Nebula Cartel.¡±

    She traced a finger along the rim of her empty glass, choosing her words carefully.

    ¡°They¡¯re a syndicate. One of the worst. Kidnapping, black-market deals, putting people to work on missions they don¡¯t come back from. If they want you, they¡¯ll find you.¡±

    She exhaled sharply. ¡°And they found her.¡±

    I gave a slow, curt nod.

    The Black Nebula Cartel was known galaxy-wide.

    I¡¯d had my own run-ins with them.

    None I wanted to experience in person.

    ¡°They¡¯ve got her working a mission,¡± Zara continued, her voice strained. ¡°Something she can¡¯t get out of alive.¡±

    I kept my expression steady. ¡°I see.¡±

    Zara¡¯s voice faltered.

    A flicker of hesitation broke through her guarded tone.

    ¡°Astra¡¯s always taken risks. Always thought she¡¯d come out on top. She never understood¡­ some things, you don¡¯t walk away from.¡±

    Her grip tightened on her glass.

    ¡°They think she was behind a major crimson dust heist.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not good.¡±

    My mind raced.

    Could this have something to do with the stuff I was hauling?

    Zara glanced away, just for a second.

    ¡°The cartel¡¯s keeping tabs on me. I¡¯d barely get close.¡±

    Her gaze flicked back, sharp and guarded.

    ¡°To be honest, I thought you were with them at first.¡±

    It clicked.

    ¡°So you¡¯re hoping I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    If this did have to do with the dust in my cargo hold, then I didn¡¯t have much of a choice.

    I¡¯d need to get involved whether Zara wanted me to or not.

    As we spoke, movement at the far side of the bar caught my eye.

    Two hulking figures locked their gaze on us.

    Both wearing the Black Nebula insignia¡ªa dark metal badge shaped like a fractured star encircled by a coiled serpent, its ruby eyes gleaming.

    I muttered under my breath.

    ¡°Uh¡­ I think we¡¯ve got company.¡±

    Zara glanced over her shoulder, her face twisting into a scowl.

    ¡°Cartel mercs. Damn it.¡±

    She cursed quietly, then looked back at me.

    ¡°We need to get out of here.¡±

 Chapter 2: Zara - Part 3

    Before we could move, the two mercs started making their way over, parting the crowd like an approaching storm.

    The first was scarred and spiked, his armor mismatched and dented. Like he¡¯d taken a few too many hits over the years.

    His partner¡ªa bulky, reptilian alien with a spiked tail and rows of armored plating¡ªgrinned.

    Baring a set of teeth that would make most predators look tame.

    The reptilian sneered as they approached. ¡°Human shouldn¡¯t be mixing in cartel business.¡±

    I held up my hands in mock surrender, keeping my tone light.

    ¡°I just got here.¡±

    He didn¡¯t look amused.

    His fingers curled into fists, claws tapping ominously against his armor.

    Right.

    So much for talking my way out of this one.

    Time to try something else.

    I locked my gaze on the reptilian merc, focusing hard.

    Reached out with my mind.

    You don¡¯t want trouble with me.

    You should walk away.

    The thought pressed out from me, weaving its way into his mind.

    His expression flickered.

    Confusion crossed his face as he looked from me to his partner, clearly trying to make sense of the thought I¡¯d planted.

    But it wasn¡¯t quite enough.

    He shook his head, the snarl creeping back onto his face.

    I muttered to myself.

    ¡°Guess I still need some practice.¡±

    Sigh.

    Fine.

    I raised my hand¡ª

    And let telekinesis do the talking.

    With a quick flick of my wrist, I sent the scarred merc flying clear across the bar.

    He crashed into a line of tables, sending drinks flying and a couple of patrons stumbling out of their seats.

    The reptilian merc looked back at his partner sprawled across the bar, shock registering just long enough for me to catch his eye again.

    ¡°Now,¡± I said, calm and firm, ¡°you still want to stick around?¡±

    Silence.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    Then he took a slow step back.

    I turned to Zara, who was watching me with a mix of awe and something closer to fear.

    ¡°Time to go,¡± I muttered, nodding toward the back exit.

    Killing cartel mercs would only draw more of them, and I wasn¡¯t in the mood for a full-scale hunt.

    She nodded, and we slipped out, leaving the wreckage¡ªand the mercs¡ªbehind us.

    The bar¡¯s back exit slammed shut behind us as we burst into the chaotic streets of Draxis Reach.

    Dark, winding alleyways stretched ahead, lit only by flickering neon and the occasional buzz of a street vendor.

    Zara kept pace, moving fast but glancing over her shoulder.

    ¡°So, this is your idea of ¡®keeping a low profile?¡¯¡± I muttered, ducking under a low-hanging sign. ¡°Sitting in a public place where the galaxy¡¯s trash gathers while you¡¯re ¡®hiding¡¯?¡±

    She shot me a glare. ¡°If you¡¯d handled those mercs better, maybe it would¡¯ve been. You just had to throw one across the room, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    She wasn¡¯t wrong¡­ I just wanted to see if I could do it.

    The shouting behind us reminded me we didn¡¯t have time to debate tactics.

    The mercs were closing in.

    And judging by the noise, they¡¯d brought backup.

    ¡°Split left,¡± I hissed, jerking my head toward a narrow passage between two buildings.

    We took a sharp turn, winding through twisting alleys lined with towering crates and metal scraps.

    The stench of something rancid filled the air, but I kept moving, Zara right on my heels.

    Behind us, voices barked orders.

    Ahead, two more cartel thugs cut off an escape route.

    Damn.

    This place was more of a maze than I remembered.

    I focused, reaching out with my mind to the stack of crates behind us.

    With a push¡ª

    They toppled over, crashing into the alleyway with a deafening roar.

    A cloud of dust and splinters shot up as the mercenaries skidded to a halt, shouting and scrambling to clear the path.

    It wouldn¡¯t buy us much time¡ª

    But every second counted.

    ¡°Smooth,¡± Zara muttered, glancing at the wreckage. ¡°A little less subtle than I¡¯d go for, but smooth.¡±

    I skidded to a stop, turning to face her, eyebrow raised. ¡°Oh, so you¡¯d rather handle them yourself?¡±

    She blinked, clearly thrown. ¡°Wait¡ªwhat?¡±

    I waited.

    Let the silence stretch.

    Watched her squirm a little as she struggled for a response.

    Finally, she huffed, looking away.

    ¡°Thought not,¡± I said, smirking. ¡°Shut your mouth and keep up.¡±

    I tapped into my wrist, connecting to Ares.

    ¡°Got a tail on us. Be ready to defend the ship¡ªor flee if it comes to that.¡±

    His voice came through, laced with his usual sarcasm.

    ¡°Commander, outmaneuvered by mercenaries again? I¡¯d almost say I¡¯m not surprised.¡±

    I rolled my eyes.

    ¡°Not you too, Ares. I don¡¯t have time to deal with two people bitching at me. Less commentary, more readiness.¡±

    There was a pause. Then, dry as ever¡ª

    ¡°Understood, Commander. Preparing the ship for either action¡ªthough, let¡¯s be honest, we both know which one you¡¯ll choose.¡±

    I muttered, ¡°Remind me to reprogram you when I get back to the ship.¡±

    Ares went quiet.

    ¡°Good boy.¡±

    ***

    We finally lost the mercs, ducking into the backstreets.

    Both of us caught our breath, adrenaline still buzzing in our veins.

    Zara shot me a serious look.

    ¡°If you¡¯re actually serious about helping¡­¡±

    ¡°I am.¡±

    She paused, weighing my words, then nodded.

    ¡°I was waiting at The Broken Star for a reason. A couple of my guys¡ªCade and Harlan¡ªwere supposed to meet me there hours ago. They never showed.¡±

    ¡°Okay¡­¡± I said slowly, unsure where this was going.

    She exhaled.

    ¡°Astra¡¯s being held on Kelthar-3.¡±

    I stiffened.

    ¡°Ares?¡±

    His voice came through my earpiece.

    ¡°Kelthar-3: a cartel-run mining planet known for its deadly working conditions and high mortality rates. Pleasant, as you might imagine.¡±

    ¡°Wonderful,¡± I muttered.

    Zara clenched her fists, her voice tight.

    ¡°The cartel¡¯s not just punishing her. They know she¡¯s useful. They¡¯re making her work for them, using her skills for¡­ something shady.¡±

    I frowned, half-thinking aloud.

    ¡°So this isn¡¯t just punishment¡­ They actually want something from her.¡±

    Zara nodded grimly.

    ¡°Exactly. Astra always had a knack for finding things¡ªinformation, people, places that don¡¯t want to be found. They¡¯re making her track down high-value targets for them. If she doesn¡¯t deliver¡ª They¡¯ll kill her.¡±

    My jaw clenched. A dark thought forming.

    ¡°But it¡¯s good they need her skills. If they want something from her, it might just keep her alive long enough to save her.¡±

    Zara¡¯s gaze flicked up, faint hope in her eyes.

    ¡°You think so?¡±

    I kept my voice steady.

    ¡°Look, as long as she¡¯s useful to them, she has value. That¡¯s time we can use. They¡¯re not going to risk losing her until she delivers what they want.¡±

    She hesitated, her expression conflicted.

    ¡°And if she delivers?¡±

    I met her gaze.

    ¡°We make sure she never gets to that point.¡±

 Chapter 3: Draxis Reach - Part 1

    [= Establishing Planetary Link... =]

    Draxis Reach

    Capital City, Rykka-9, Outer Kordis System

    Standard Galactic Date: 2739, Cycle 03

    Local Time: 20:24 Port Standard

    [= Location Data Logged =]

    The safehouse was a dump.

    Barely four walls, a flickering overhead light, and a couch that felt one spring away from snapping in half.

    I shifted, feeling it creak under me, like even this rundown place was tired of putting up with my weight.

    Zara had ordered some takeout from the only place that¡¯d dare deliver here.

    Greasy food. Flimsy containers.

    I knew I was going to regret it even before I started eating.

    But Zara didn¡¯t seem to mind.

    She sat next to me, close enough that our legs brushed whenever she moved.

    And yeah, she was hott.

    Not the kind of hot that¡¯s obvious, but the kind that sneaks up on you.

    Waits for you to say something stupid.

    I wasn¡¯t about to give her the satisfaction.

    Not now.

    If this was still the game, I¡¯d have some dialogue options to help me out.

    But alas¡ªthis is my reality now.

    I have to improvise everything.

    Which, honestly?

    Has been kinda fun so far.

    I leaned back, eyes fixed on the shadows the flickering light cast across the walls.

    A shiver crept down my spine.

    Probably because of the draft, though looking at this place, I wouldn¡¯t rule out a rat or two scurrying around.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Zara shifted beside me, her shoulder pressing against mine.

    I ignored it.

    She kept her gaze on the food, chewing quietly, expression distant.

    Lost in her own thoughts.

    Probably planning her next move.

    ¡°Ares,¡± I murmured, activating the comms embedded discreetly in my ear.

    ¡°Take the ship and stow the cargo somewhere out of sight.¡±

    A slight pause.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back for it once this mess with Astra is sorted.¡±

    A moment later, Ares¡¯s voice buzzed in my ear.

    ¡°Understood, Commander. I¡¯ll secure the crimson dust in a remote location and transmit coordinates only to you. Though I must say, the decision to abandon it for now is... unusual.¡±

    ¡°Just do it,¡± I muttered.

    A flicker of movement caught my eye.

    I glanced at Zara.

    She was watching me.

    Eyebrow raised.

    Then¡ªher expression darkened.

    Her eyes narrowed.

    Like she was piecing it together.

    ¡°Crimson dust?¡±

    Her voice had an edge sharp enough to cut through steel.

    ¡°You¡¯re hauling crimson dust?¡±

    She jabbed a finger at my chest, her glare nothing short of murderous.

    ¡°You¡¯re the reason Astra¡¯s in this mess?¡±

    Oops.

    ¡°And you¡¯re acting like you¡¯re doing me¡­ her¡­ a big favor?¡±

    I held up my hands, hoping to calm her down.

    ¡°Calm down.¡±

    Her eyes widened.

    Right. Wrong choice of words. I¡¯m on a roll here.

    She practically hissed, ¡°Calm down? You¡¯re sitting here with the stash of contraband that got my sister kidnapped, and you want me to calm down?¡±

    ¡°Look,¡± I said, lowering my voice, trying to stay reasonable, ¡°I don¡¯t even know if it¡¯s the same shipment, all right? For all I know, it could be something entirely different that got her snatched.¡±

    ¡°How convenient.¡±

    She crossed her arms, still glaring at me.

    ¡°Is your brain going because you keep using those freaky mind powers?¡±

    I let out a half-hearted laugh. ¡°Maybe it is. Hell, I don¡¯t know. One moment, I had my whole crew with me, and the next thing I know, I¡¯m alone on the ship with Ares¡¯s sarcastic ass as my only company.¡±

    Zara¡¯s gaze softened, just a bit.

    Like she was weighing my words.

    Trying to decide if I was lying, or if maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªI was actually telling the truth.

    The tension eased from her face.

    Replaced by something more¡­ curious.

    She studied me, head tilted.

    Like she was trying to peel back layers she hadn¡¯t noticed before.

    Then, after a moment, she murmured, almost to herself¡ª

    ¡°I think you might actually be telling the truth.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°I mean, you don¡¯t seem like a complete bastard.¡±

    A faint smirk touched her lips.

    The closest thing I¡¯d seen to a real smile since we met.

    ¡°Well, don¡¯t go spreading that around,¡± I replied, keeping my tone light. ¡°You¡¯ll ruin my reputation.¡±

    She huffed, rolling her eyes.

    But I could tell¡ªshe was fighting sleep.

    It¡¯d been a long night.

    Even with adrenaline still buzzing through my veins, exhaustion was starting to creep in.

    Zara must¡¯ve felt it too, because eventually, she let the quiet settle between us.

    The safehouse became a rare pocket of calm.

    A little bubble of silence in the chaos of Draxis Reach.

    In the cramped space, we both ended up slumped back on the lumpy couch, shoulder to shoulder.

    Her eyes grew heavier.

    And before I knew it, she¡¯d drifted off.

    Her head resting against me.

    I didn¡¯t move.

    Didn¡¯t want to break the peace.

    I closed my own eyes, letting the tension drain from my muscles, sinking into the worn cushions.

    ¡°Commander.¡±

    Ares¡¯s voice crackled through my comms earpiece.

    ¡°It¡¯s time. The ship is ready, coordinates secured, and I trust you¡¯ll be¡­ punctual.¡±

    I opened my eyes.

    Blinking the haze of sleep away.

    ¡°Got it,¡± I muttered softly, trying not to wake her.

    But Zara stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

    She blinked up at me, momentarily disoriented¡ª

    Then seemed to remember where she was.

    I met her gaze.

    ¡°We¡¯re moving,¡± I said, nodding toward the door.

 Chapter 3: Draxis Reach - Part 2

    The walk to the docks took fifteen minutes.

    Fifteen minutes through filthy, narrow alleys that stank of garbage, piss, and burnt grease.

    We pushed past locals wrapped up in their usual nightly bullshit¡ªvendors hawking questionable street food, workers bitching about their shifts, and some shady deal going down in a corner.

    Draxis Reach was a city of shadows and chrome. A dump with neon lights.

    Buildings crammed together like they were held up by spite.

    Signs flickered overhead, some half-dead, some buzzing like they were ready to explode.

    The pavement was cracked, soaked in oil, spilled booze, and God knows what else.

    Maps were useless here.

    You didn¡¯t navigate by streets. You navigated by what hadn¡¯t been torn down yet.

    A half-ripped holo-poster, a neon-lit shrine, the endless shouting spilling out of bars.

    We passed them one by one, moving like we belonged here.

    Or at least like we weren¡¯t worth stopping.

    We rounded the final corner, and there she was¡ª

    The Valkyrion.

    Sleek. Sharp.

    Way too clean for this shithole.

    She stuck out like a wolf in a pen full of sickly sheep, parked between battered freighters and rusted-out haulers that looked one bad takeoff away from breaking apart midair.

    Her dark hull caught the dim bay lights, gleaming like a knife ready to gut someone.

    Zara stopped, eyes widening as she took her in.

    ¡°So,¡± she said slowly, gaze never leaving the Valkyrion, ¡°where exactly does a guy like you come by a ship like that?¡±

    I let her question hang. Smirked. Let her take it in a little longer.

    ¡°Guess I got lucky.¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± she said, one eyebrow arched. ¡°I¡¯m serious. That¡¯s not some beat-up freighter you cobbled together in a junkyard. It¡¯s Terran Navy¡ªhigh-grade. The kind of ship you don¡¯t see outside military space, let alone flying solo. So, how does a merc like you end up with something like that?¡±

    I sighed, leaning back against the hull. ¡°Fine. You want the story? I used to be with the TRNC. A commander, actually.¡±

    She blinked.

    ¡°You? A Navy man?¡±

    ¡°Not the easiest thing to believe, I know.¡± I shrugged.

    ¡°Back then, I thought I was on the right side. Thought I was actually helping people.¡±

    Zara¡¯s expression shifted.

    Curiosity fading into something more guarded.

    ¡°And what changed?¡±

    ¡°There comes a point,¡± I said, keeping my voice even, ¡°where you realize the people giving the orders might be worse than the people you¡¯ve been hunting down.¡±

    Zara went quiet.

    The silence stretched.

    She was waiting.

    I could see the look in her eyes¡ªshe wanted the whole story.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    I wasn¡¯t about to lay it all out.

    Honestly? It was simpler than that.

    Yeah, sure, I¡¯d defied orders, gone rogue, stolen a ship.

    But in reality?

    The decisions I made were for a game character.

    I didn¡¯t care about morality.

    Being a merc, a pirate, a bounty hunter was just more fun.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just say¡­ I got tired of doing things their way,¡± I added, glancing past her. ¡°When they handed down orders to take out certain targets, I realized I was done.¡±

    ¡°Targets like Astra?¡± she asked, her voice softer now.

    I nodded.

    I¡¯d almost forgotten¡ªshe was the turning point.

    Pull the trigger, complete the mission, and stay Navy.

    Or¡ª

    Aid and abet a high-value fugitive, violate direct orders, and get slapped with a dishonorable discharge, a court-martial, and a lifetime bounty.

    Guess which one I picked.

    ¡°The Republic wanted her dead. Said she was a threat, digging into things they didn¡¯t want anyone knowing. They made it sound like she was just another enemy. But I met her. I saw the truth, and couldn¡¯t go through with it.¡±

    ¡°So, what?¡±

    She leaned forward.

    ¡°You just walked out? Stole a Republic-class ship and disappeared?¡±

    I flashed a grin.

    ¡°Pretty much.¡±

    I patted the hull.

    ¡°The Valkyrion¡ªthat¡¯s my ship. Top-tier Republic tech, fastest drives in the galaxy, hull tough enough to survive anything those bastards threw at me.¡±

    Zara¡¯s gaze lingered on me.

    The skepticism faded¡ª

    Replaced by something closer to respect.

    ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re not just some merc after all.¡±

    ¡°Glad you¡¯re finally catching on.¡±

    She shot me a look¡ªhalf intrigued, half exasperated¡ªbefore stepping in beside me as I led her up the ramp.

    The Valkyrion hummed beneath my feet as we stepped inside.

    The lights flickered to life.

    Zara¡¯s eyes roamed over the ship¡ª

    Pristine control panels. Sleek corridors. Weapons racked along the walls.

    ¡°Not exactly what you¡¯d expect from a ¡®merc,¡¯ huh?¡± I said, catching her gaze as it lingered on the advanced tech.

    ¡°Not exactly what you¡¯d expect from a ¡®merc,¡¯ huh?¡± I smirked.

    She muttered something under her breath.

    Before she could respond¡ª

    Ares¡¯s voice cut in, with a hint of urgency.

    ¡°Commander, we¡¯ve got incoming. Cartel-aligned forces, closing in from orbit.¡±

    I stopped, holding Zara¡¯s gaze for a split second.

    "Who?"

    ¡°The Void Serpents You might recall their interest in us back in the Halvorr Belt?¡±

    Ah, hell.

    "So they followed us here," I muttered, glancing at Zara.

    Her expression darkened. "Pirates? What, are they just everywhere now?"

    ¡°Pretty much,¡± I replied, making my way to the cockpit with Zara close behind. ¡°They were already eyeing us back in Halvorr. Guess they weren¡¯t satisfied with just a scan.¡±

    We reached the cockpit.

    Zara¡¯s gaze darted to the control displays, eyes narrowing as the incoming ships appeared on-screen.

    The Void Serpents were fast, converging on Draxis Reach like a pack of hungry wolves.

    Outside, the docks were already shifting. People were running for cover, slipping into their ships, hunkering down.

    A voice crackled through the city¡¯s speakers, sharp and unfriendly:

    "All flights grounded. No take-offs until further notice. Non-compliance will be dealt with as hostility."

    Zara¡¯s face paled. ¡°They¡¯re not playing around.¡±

    I gave her a wink, leaning back in the pilot¡¯s chair. ¡°Bad for them, then.¡±

    She didn¡¯t appreciate that. Her arms crossed tight as she stared at the display.

    "The Void Serpents¡­ aren¡¯t they the ones with ties to the Black Nebula?"

    I nodded, eyes on the display. ¡°They used to run slaves, drugs, anything of value for the cartel, but now they¡¯re practically a branch of it. They¡¯re ruthless and don¡¯t leave loose ends. If they think they¡¯ll find the dust here, they¡¯ll tear this port apart to get to it.¡±

    ¡°Commander,¡± Ares interjected, ¡°I¡¯m calculating potential outcomes. We may have a chance to break orbit undetected, though it will require precise timing.¡±

    Zara¡¯s eyebrow shot up. ¡°Precise timing? That doesn¡¯t exactly sound foolproof.¡±

    "It¡¯s not," I admitted. "But there¡¯s always a backup plan. We¡¯ve got a directional EMP. Hit it at the right moment, and it¡¯ll scramble anything electronic in its path¡ªcomms, sensors, tracking. Won¡¯t cover the whole port, but it¡¯ll buy us a window."

    ¡°A bold strategy, Commander.¡± Ares chimed in. ¡°Effective, though slightly risky. Proximity is essential; any further than a few hundred meters, and they¡¯ll only experience signal interference. But within range, their systems will scramble.¡±

    I adjusted the controls.

    ¡°So we wait until they¡¯re practically breathing down our necks. Once they¡¯re close enough to initiate boarding checks, we fire the EMP.¡±

    Zara tensed. "And if they catch on before that?"

    "Then we improvise," I replied, smirking. "One shot at this. Stay sharp."

    She nodded, gaze fixed on the displays.

    The Void Serpents kept closing in.

    The seconds felt heavy, like our window of escape was shrinking right in front of us.

    A new voice crackled through the ship¡¯s comms.

    "Unregistered vessel, this is Captain Jorek of the Void Serpents. Power down and prepare for boarding. Cooperate, and we may let you live."

    I sighed, pressing the comms button.

    "Hey, wanna hear a joke?"

    A beat of silence.

    "...Excuse me?"

    "You. Trying to rob me."

    A gravelly chuckle came through the speakers. "Har har. Funny man. Offer your cargo as tribute, or die."

    I leaned back, considering. "Tribute? Sure. How about half a granola bar and a button I found in my pocket?"

    Another silence.

    Finally¡ª

    "You think this is a game?" Jorek growled.

    "I mean, yeah. Kind of."

    Zara groaned, rubbing her temples. "I hate that I¡¯m relying on you right now."

    Jorek¡¯s voice turned sharper. "Last chance. Tribute, or we rip your ship apart."

    I muted the mic and looked at Ares.

    "Ares, how¡¯s that EMP looking?"

    "Charged and ready, Commander. Just waiting on your command."

    I grinned.

    "Good. Let¡¯s make them work for it."

 Chapter 4: The EMP Trigger - Part 1

    [= Establishing Planetary Link... =]

    Draxis Reach

    Capital City, Rykka-9, Outer Kordis System

    Standard Galactic Date: 2739, Cycle 03

    Local Time: 22:55 Port Standard

    [= Location Data Logged =]

    ¡°Ares, get us airborne¡­ now.¡±

    ¡°Initiating lift-off sequence. Commander, brace for rapid ascent.¡±

    The Valkyrion rumbled as the thrusters roared to life, launching us upward. The cityscape shrank fast beneath us, lights blurring into streaks.

    I felt the pull of G-forces, pressing me back, but I kept my eyes locked on the radar.

    Red dots. Closing in.

    System Alert: Incoming threats detected.

    "Three¡­ two¡­ one¡­¡±

    I hit the EMP trigger.

    feeling the Valkyrion jolt as the pulse rippled out.

    The ship jolted as the pulse rippled outward¡ª

    A split-second of eerie silence¡ª

    Then chaos.

    Alarms blared across the ship, the console flaring red.

    System Alert: Energy shield offline.

    Then Ares¡¯s voice crackled in my ear. ¡°Commander, energy shield is offline. Thirty seconds until restoration.¡±

    I looked up.

    The sky lit up with burning trails¡ª

    Pirate ships diving into the atmosphere, engines blazing, aiming straight for us.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    A shrill alarm blared¡ª

    "WARNING. INCOMING PROJECTILES."

    "WARNING. INCOMING PROJECTILES."

    "WARNING. INCOMING¡ª"

    Zara gripped her armrests like they were the only thing keeping her alive.

    "We''re dead. We''re dead!"

    I ignored her.

    "Ares, dodge what you can, I¡¯ll handle the rest."

    "Evasive maneuvers engaged. Hold on tight."

    The ship veered hard as Ares pulled every trick in the book.

    The hum of my Eidolon powers buzzed through me¡ªa controlled pulse thrumming in my bones.

    I reached out.

    Feeling the shape of every missile.

    The first missile? I flicked it off course.

    The second? Redirected straight into a nearby Serpent ship.

    That was a lucky accident.

    The third?

    Before I could react, the ship shook violently as Valkyrion¡¯s turrets lit up, auto-tracking systems locking onto incoming fighters.

    "Engaging combat mode," Ares reported, his voice smooth, unbothered. "Deploying countermeasures."

    Outside, the hull-mounted plasma turrets whirred, spitting blue-hot death into the swarm.

    One ship vaporized instantly. Another clipped its wing, spinning wildly before smashing into a third.

    But more were coming. Too many.

    Warning: Multiple hostiles inbound.

    I gritted my teeth. ¡°Ares, fire everything we¡¯ve got.¡±

    "Firing."

    Missile pods unloaded, streaks of red spiraling through the black sky.

    Four ships exploded on impact, fire and metal raining in every direction.

    Still more.

    Too many to dodge. Too many for the turrets to handle.

    I reached out¡ªfelt the third missile, the roar of its thrusters pushing it toward us.

    It was already locked on, fighting against me.

    I forced it to slow, struggling against the momentum. It pushed back, engines burning, but I dug in, wrenching it mid-air, then shoving it back down its own launch path.

    The pilot had a half-second to react.

    Too slow.

    BOOM.

    The explosion ripped through his ship, flames twisting in blues, greens, and reds as metal, fuel, and God-knows-what else ignited.

    Another blip disappeared off the radar.

    Darkness pulled at the edges of my vision, but I wasn¡¯t out yet.

    Ares¡¯s voice crackled through the comms. "Commander, all hostiles have broken pursuit. The remaining ships are returning to orbit. We are clear."

    I blinked, my grip still tight on the chair, like I had to keep myself anchored to reality. "Yeah? Well, tell them I had fun."

    Zara exhaled, finally relaxing her grip on the armrests. "I don¡¯t think they share the sentiment."

    She was still staring at me, still processing whatever the hell she just saw.

    I could barely process it myself.

    The ship hummed, systems stabilizing, the atmosphere inside feeling lighter now that the threat had passed. Ares ran diagnostics in the background, but I could tell the Valkyrion held up just fine.

    Better than me, anyway.

    I leaned back, rubbing my eyes. "Ares, set course for Kelthar-3. And wake me when we¡¯re close. I need to¡­ not exist for a bit."

    "Understood, Commander."

    The ship adjusted course, engines humming into a steady, controlled burn.

    I closed my eyes.

    The power, the fight, the rush¡ªit was all still buzzing under my skin. But exhaustion was winning now, dragging me under like gravity itself had it out for me.

    I barely registered Zara shifting in her seat.

    Barely caught the way she glanced at me¡ªnot just with shock, but with something else.

    Something unreadable.

    I didn¡¯t have the energy to figure it out.

    The hum of the ship blurred into the background.

    Then¡ª

    Blackness.

 Chapter 4: The EMP Trigger - Part 2

    I drifted back into awareness, groggy as hell, my body feeling like it had been used as a punching bag.

    Something cool pressed against my forehead, a relief against the dull throb behind my eyes. My mind was still foggy, but a scent drifted over me. Familiar. Comforting.

    I blinked, vision unfocused, a figure seated at the edge of my bed. The soft glow of the room cast shadows across her face.

    A weak smile tugged at my lips. "Astra?"

    Silence.

    I barely registered the words slipping out. "Thanks, Astra."

    Warmth. A steady hand resting on my shoulder. A presence I knew too well.

    I let out a shaky breath, reaching up, my fingers brushing hers. The touch sent a ripple through my chest. A memory I hadn¡¯t meant to dig up.

    A memory that didn¡¯t even seem like my own.

    I pulled her closer.

    She didn¡¯t resist.

    My hand settled over hers, the warmth grounding me, anchoring me to something I wasn¡¯t sure was real. Astra had always been the one to patch me up, keep me steady. Just like this.

    "I missed you," I murmured, half-conscious, my voice barely a whisper.

    A small pause. Then¡ª

    ¡°...It¡¯s not¡­.¡±

    The voice wasn¡¯t Astra¡¯s.

    It was hesitant, almost careful, but the hand stayed. The warmth stayed.

    Somewhere between dream and memory, I let my eyes close again.

    BZZZT.

    The speakers crackled.

    ¡°Finally awake, Commander?¡±

    The warmth yanked away.

    I blinked, the haze snapping as my vision cleared¡ª

    Not Astra.

    Zara.

    She was standing next to the bed, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, looking like she¡¯d just been caught doing something she couldn¡¯t explain.

    I opened my mouth¡ª

    "Zara¡ª"

    Her expression flashed with something... embarrassment? Frustration?¡ªbefore she straightened, crossing her arms.

    ¡°Commander, we¡¯ve sustained significant damage to the aft engine and thruster alignment. Current trajectory will not reach Kelthar-3 in this condition.¡±

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Groaning, I pushed myself up, every limb screaming in protest.

    ¡°Ugh. I feel like I got thrown through an airlock.¡±

    ¡°I was starting to wonder if you died,¡± Zara muttered, shifting awkwardly. ¡°You were out for hours.¡±

    I ran a hand down my face, trying to shake off the lingering static of sleep.

    ¡°Yeah, well, it¡¯s not every day I use my brain to crush spaceships.¡±

    Ares, chimed in. ¡°Perhaps next time, limit your exertion. You¡¯re not dead, but you are... compromised.¡±

    I squinted at the console. "Compromised? What, like emotionally?"

    ¡°No, Commander. Like an overclocked processor on the verge of a meltdown.¡±

    Zara snorted.

    I sighed. Even my ship was giving me shit.

    "Alright, fine." I stretched, groaning as my back popped like bubble wrap.

    KRK. Oof. That one felt important.

    "What¡¯s our next move?"

    Ares¡¯s tone turned robotic once more. ¡°We require repairs before proceeding to Kelthar-3. Would you like coordinates to the nearest viable station in the Helios Drift?¡±

    I rubbed my temple. More detours. More chances for someone to catch up and put a blaster round in my skull.

    I glanced at Zara.

    She was watching me, unreadable, until she huffed and checked a holo-watch on her wrist. A faint map projection flickered over the display.

    ¡°We should reroute to Hylan-7,¡± she said. ¡°Basic repairs, fewer cartel goons. It¡¯s safe enough.¡±

    "Hylan-7?" My eyebrow shot up. "We don¡¯t have enough credits to get full repairs there. Barely enough to keep the drinks coming."

    Her eyes narrowed. "And yet, we¡¯re somehow supposed to limp to Kelthar-3 on a ship that¡¯s falling apart?"

    ...Okay, fair point.

    Still, I wasn¡¯t about to crawl into some overpriced pit just for a quick tune-up.

    "Ares, what did you have in mind? Something cheap. Like, cheap cheap."

    "One possible solution: reconnect with your former crew mechanic, Nyx. She is currently stationed at Skov¡¯s End."

    Not a terrible idea. Nyx was great, Skov¡¯s End, not so much.

    A pause.

    "¡­Not precisely high-end, but known for reliable, if¡­ unconventional, repair services."

    Zara gave me a look.

    "Let me guess¡ªanother rogue?"

    I shrugged. ¡°Nyx has her talents. And labor for repairs would be free.¡±

    Ares¡¯s voice hummed with that familiar, dark amusement. ¡°Our esteemed former mechanic Nyx has a unique skill set. Probability of successful repairs and safe departure: sixty-five percent.¡±

    I snorted.

    "And the other thirty-five percent?"

    "You drift into open space until starvation or system failure claims you. Not optimal, but you requested options."

    Zara folded her arms, watching me with thinly veiled amusement.

    "Oh, how romantic," I said, deadpan. "We¡¯d die in each other¡¯s arms."

    She rolled her eyes. "You tell Astra about that, I¡¯ll kill you."

    "Noted."

    Honestly?

    If it was 50/50, I¡¯d still take the bet.

    Sixty-five percent? That¡¯s practically guaranteed.

    ¡°Good enough for me.¡± I gave Ares the nod. ¡°Set course for Skov¡¯s End. It¡¯s probably our only shot at getting the Valkyrion back online without having to sell a kidney.¡±

    Zara didn¡¯t argue this time, just gave me a curious look, arms still crossed.

    "Why¡¯s it called Skov¡¯s End, anyway?"

    I leaned back, hands tucked behind my head.

    "Long story. Some idiot named Skov made it his life¡¯s work to claim that asteroid. Promised riches, security, a fresh start. Then one day... poof."

    I snapped my fingers.

    "Vanished. No trace. Now every desperate bastard with a death wish sets up shop there, hoping they¡¯ll do better. They don¡¯t.¡±

    Zara raised an eyebrow. ¡°Sounds inviting.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s got charm.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Plus, the repairs will be cheap, so what¡¯s not to love?¡±

    BZZZT.

    Ares¡¯s voice cut in, a little too cheery for what he was saying. ¡°Commander, initiating warp to Skov¡¯s End sector. Estimated travel time: fourteen hours.¡±

    The Valkyrion jolted, the warp drive spooling up beneath us. Outside, the stars stretched, turning into long streaks of white and blue as space bent around us.

    A deep vibration rumbled through the ship, settling in my bones like standing too close to a subwoofer cranked to max.

    Not painful, not uncomfortable¡ªjust off. Like gravity forgot how to work right for half a second before snapping back into place.

    I let my head hit the pillow.

    Fourteen hours. Enough time to rest. Maybe.

    Zara sat across from me, arms folded, watching with that same mix of amusement and suspicion. Like she was still deciding whether I was an idiot or a genius.

    BZZZT.

    Ares again. "Preliminary scans show hostile presence around Skov¡¯s End."

    A pause.

    Then, way too casually¡ª"Please note: likelihood of engagement upon arrival is high."

    Zara¡¯s head snapped toward me. ¡°Still think this is better than Hylan-7?¡±

    I grinned, adjusting course.

    "Absolutely."

 Chapter 5: Skovéˆ¥æªš End - Part 1

    [= Docking Data Acquired... =]

    Skov¡¯s End Station

    Morvian Drift, Skov¡¯s End System, Freehold Space

    Standard Galactic Date: 2739, Cycle 03

    Station Cycle: 12:47 Freehold Standard

    Approach Time: 45 minutes to dock

    [= Connection Stable =]

    I felt it before I saw it. The subtle shift in gravity, the faint lurch of the ship as we dropped out of FTL.

    I blinked awake, rubbing my eyes. Something felt off.

    We weren¡¯t at Skov¡¯s End yet. Why the hell did we stop?

    ¡°Ares, did we just drop early, or did I miss the part where we¡¯re under attack again?¡±

    A slight pause. Then his voice came through. ¡°No hostiles detected. We are coasting to let the plasma cannons recharge¡ªjust in case.¡±

    I exhaled. Smart move. Didn¡¯t mean I liked surprises.

    I leaned back, flexing my hands, still shaking off the exhaustion from our last fight. "Since we¡¯re killing time, tell me something, Ares. How the hell did those pirates track us to Rykka-9?"

    A pause. A little longer this time.

    "Unknown. The Void Serpents had no direct access to our jump logs, and Valkyrion¡¯s stealth protocols remained active. Possibilities include: external surveillance, informants, or¡ª"

    A calculated pause.

    "¡ªa leak."

    I frowned. "A leak?"

    Zara looked up from where she was checking her sidearm. ¡°You think someone sold us out?¡±

    I stared at the ceiling, jaw tightening. Probably just some twat at the bar. It would make no sense for Zara to sell me out¡­ unless it was a trade me for her sister.

    Maybe.

    Ares, unprompted, continued. "Strangely, the Serpents arrived at Rykka-9 just a few hours after your meeting at The Broken Star. Unusual efficiency for a group known to operate on slow, chaotic intelligence. Would you like me to run probability analysis on potential sources of compromise?"

    My gaze flicked to Zara.

    She held my stare, her expression unreadable. But I caught the slight tightening of her grip on the gun, the way her shoulders tensed just enough to notice.

    "No," I said, leaning back. "Let''s not jump to conclusions yet."

    Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing.

    Then Zara exhaled sharply, shifting the topic. "So¡­ speaking of that little fireworks show back on Draxis Reach, how much firepower do we actually have left?"

    I ran a hand through my hair. "Plasma cannons are recharging, but it¡¯s slow. The ship prioritizes FTL and shields first. Until the core stabilizes, weapons only get what¡¯s left."

    She frowned. "And missiles?"

    "Gone." I shot her a wry grin. "Missiles don¡¯t grow back. We need to restock, and Nyx has an in with some suppliers. Should be able to get us a deal."

    Zara leaned back, skeptical. "And if we get jumped the second we land?"

    Ares chimed in, calm as ever. "Current plasma reserves allow for limited offensive fire. However, missile reserves are depleted, and kinetic ammunition is below combat-effective levels. Tactical assessment: prolonged engagements are not advised."

    Zara crossed her arms. "So we''re walking in with half a gun and no bullets."

    I shrugged. "Hey, don¡¯t underestimate half a gun."

    She rolled her eyes, but her grip on the armrest tightened.

    She didn¡¯t like this.

    Neither did I.

    ***

    We dropped out of warp once more with a lurch, the ship groaning as real space snapped back into focus. The blurred streaks of stars collapsed into pinpricks of light, and the familiar weight of normal gravity settled in, or at least, what felt like normal gravity.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    I still hadn¡¯t figured out how FTL actually worked here.

    Back in the game, it was simple: pick a destination, watch a cool jump animation, and boom, you were there. No delays, no drift, no weird adjustments. The ship didn¡¯t drop out early unless something scripted happened¡­ pirate ambush, random event, whatever.

    But here? It felt¡­ different. Like the ship had momentum, like we weren¡¯t just teleporting from one place to another. Were we actually traveling faster than light, or was it some kind of space-folding shortcut?

    I had no clue.

    Hell, I still wasn¡¯t sure if this was real life, or if I was trapped in some ultra-immersive version of the game with physics I didn¡¯t understand yet.

    I shook the thought away. Now wasn¡¯t the time to get existential.

    Ahead, Skov¡¯s End hung in the void, a jagged asteroid pocked with docking bays, its surface stitched together with mismatched plating and rusted scaffolding.

    I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes at the swarm of ships circling it like flies on a rotting carcass.

    Some were half-gutted freighters, barely held together with desperation and bad welding. Others were sleek and mean, gunmetal hulls catching the dim light.

    Pirates. Scavengers. Smugglers.

    Everyone here was looking to make a quick credit or slit a throat.

    I flipped the weapons system online.

    The interface hummed, targeting reticles flashing across the screen.

    ¡°Welcome to Skov¡¯s End,¡± I muttered. ¡°Hell¡¯s favorite parking lot.¡±

    Zara exhaled through her nose. ¡°Great. Real inviting.¡±

    I flicked the weapons system online. The interface hummed to life, scanning every ship within range.

    "Weapons are hot. Ares, lock onto anything that so much as twitches toward us."

    "Affirmative, already tracking multiple vessels exhibiting predatory behavior, Commander.¡±

    Figures.

    The ship¡¯s targeting system adjusted, tracking every ship that looked too interested. Even with low plasma reserves, the Valkyrion still packed enough firepower to make people think twice. That was the thing about high-end military ships¡ªeven half-dead, they could still put holes in people.

    Zara leaned against the console, arms crossed, scanning the ships ahead. "So, if this turns into a fight. Like a real one. What¡¯s the plan?"

    "If they fire first, we dump everything we¡¯ve got, drain the plasma capacitors, and jump."

    Her brow furrowed. "Wait, you can just¡­ dump plasma?"

    Ares cut in. "The plasma capacitors store energy until fired. If discharged all at once, the remaining charge will be depleted, requiring time to regenerate."

    "Translation: We¡¯ve got limited time to cause damage before fleeing," Zara muttered, clicking her tongue.

    I smirked. "I prefer ''tactical retreat.'' Sounds more professional."

    She gave me a look. "Right. And next you¡¯re gonna say we¡¯re ¡®strategically advancing in the opposite direction.¡¯"

    I pointed at her. "Now you¡¯re getting it."

    Zara rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, but I could see the corner of her mouth twitching.

    I leaned forward, eyes narrowing at the cluster of ships around Skov¡¯s End. Pirates, scavengers, mercs. Most were minding their own business, but at least one was probably debating if picking a fight with us was worth it.

    A transmission crackled over the comms.

    "Incoming transmission. The speaker requests to address the captain."

    I glanced at Zara, who shrugged, then opened the channel. ¡°Speaking.¡±

    There was a pause before a familiar, gruff voice filled the cockpit. ¡°Corvus, that you?¡±

    I blinked, recognition sparking. "Well, well¡­ if it isn¡¯t my old friend Callan. Didn¡¯t expect to find you orbiting this dump."

    The Valkyrion¡¯s proximity alert gave a quiet blip. Someone was scanning us. Not locking on, but definitely thinking about it.

    I smirked, leaning back. "By the way, if that''s your crew running a scan on my ship, tell ''em to buy me dinner first."

    Callan chuckled. "Yeah? Maybe if you had a prettier ship."

    "She¡¯s beautiful and you know it," I shot back.

    A chuckle came through, as rough as the engine of a half-dead cruiser. ¡°Life¡¯s full of surprises. Heard some crazy ship had entered our neighborhood with its weapons locked. Figured it was either you or some poor bastard with a death wish.¡±

    I leaned back, smirking. ¡°Well I think I fit both of those categories. So¡­ now, what¡¯s a washed-up bastard like you doing here?"

    ¡°Call it a¡­ business venture,¡± Callan replied, his tone carrying that usual hint of mystery. ¡°The kind of venture that involves keeping low, watching your back, and making a killing if you¡¯re lucky.¡±

    ¡°Right, the usual.¡± I let my gaze scan the ships in orbit. ¡°And here I was, just looking to get some repairs without having to blow anything up. Thought I¡¯d save my ammo.¡±

    Another laugh. "Yeah, sounds about right. So what brings you to my little corner of the void?"

    "Repairs. The kind that don¡¯t cost an arm and a kidney." I scanned the ships in orbit, half-expecting one to make a move. "Thought I¡¯d save my ammo."

    "Considering the loadout on that ship of yours, you could take on half the station. Makes people nervous, y¡¯know."

    "Then they should take a deep breath."

    Zara gave me a look. I ignored it.

    Callan¡¯s voice crackled back. "Alright, straight talk, why the hell are you out here? Not exactly vacation territory."

    ¡°Just looking for cheap repairs and then I¡¯ll be on my way to pick up a friend.¡±

    "Must be one hell of a friend if you''re waltzing into cartel turf."

    I kept my tone even. ¡°She is.¡±

    Zara¡¯s eyebrow twitched. Her mouth moved like she wanted to say something, but left the question hanging in the air.

    ¡°Nyx still kicking around this place?¡±

    "Yeah, she¡¯s here. Good luck keeping her still for more than two minutes, though. She¡¯s got this place running like her own damn playground. Check Bay 17."

    I felt a surge of relief.

    Didn¡¯t want to go looking for another needle in the galaxy-sized haystack. ¡°Thanks, Callan. I owe you a drink sometime.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, you do. And next time, try not to roll in with guns hot. You¡¯re spooking the locals.¡±

    I grinned, flipping switches to adjust course. ¡°Can¡¯t help it. Got one of those faces.¡±

    ¡°Stay sharp, Timus. And remember: If you need anything hit us up. We still owe you big.¡± The transmission cut, leaving the cockpit in silence.

    Zara looked at me, arms crossed, smirking. ¡°Friends in low places?¡±

    ¡°Another Republic deserter,¡± I said, shrugging. ¡°Low places are more useful than high ones. Stick with me, and you¡¯ll learn that.¡±

    She huffed, but didn¡¯t argue as I guided the Valkyrion toward Bay 17.

    Repairs, resupply, and then we were gone.

    At least, that was the plan.

    ¡°Commander,¡± Ares chimed in, tone just a little too smug, ¡°would you like me to handle the landing? I believe your manual approach is causing unnecessary drift. Precision, after all, is a skill.¡±

    I rolled my eyes. ¡°Yeah, yeah. You do it then, smartass.¡±

    "Ah, a wise delegation of responsibility. Engaging auto-docking sequence.¡±

    The ship immediately smoothed out, adjusting with near-perfect finesse as Ares took control.

    Show-off.

    Zara snorted. ¡°He¡¯s got you beat.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t encourage him¡­¡±

 Chapter 5: Skovéˆ¥æªš End - Part 2

    The Valkyrion touched down without so much as a tremor. No Nyx waiting for us, just some old guy in grease-stained overalls, barely glancing up from his datapad.

    I knocked against the metal railing to get his attention. ¡°Looking for Nyx.¡±

    He didn¡¯t even bother looking at me. ¡°She¡¯s at her apartment.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°Since when does she have an apartment?¡±

    Now he did look up, leveling me with an unimpressed stare. ¡°Since forever. Same one you went to last time.¡±

    I blinked. Last time?

    ¡°Have I?¡±

    The guy grunted, barely acknowledging me, which was answer enough.

    A weird half-memory pulled at my brain, but I had no idea if it was real or just something from the game.

    Luckily Ares, chimed in. ¡°I know the location, Commander. Marking it on your nav system.¡±

    So much for a quick in-and-out.

    ¡°Great,¡± I muttered, stretching my neck. ¡°Guess we¡¯re making a house call.¡±

    I checked my wrist console, a sleek black device wrapped around my forearm. A flick of my fingers, and a holographic map flickered to life, showing Nyx¡¯s location, coordinates, and the best route through Skov¡¯s End¡¯s haphazard mess of tunnels and platforms.

    One click, and the display minimized, blending seamlessly back into the band. The thing could track enemies, calculate gravity fields, and probably make toast if I asked nicely. Too bad it couldn¡¯t fix my damn ship.

    I glanced at Zara. ¡°You coming?¡±

    She smirked, arms crossed. ¡°I think you can manage a visit to your little girlfriend¡¯s place on your own.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not¡ª¡± I started, then stopped when I saw the way she raised an eyebrow. Yeah, no point.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± She waved me off. ¡°I¡¯ll see you when you get back. Or call me on this.¡±

    She held out her wrist. A quick tap, and our devices synced, a tiny icon flashing to show the link.

    ¡°Probably should¡¯ve done that earlier, don¡¯t you think?¡± she added.

    I smirked. ¡°You know, usually when a girl asks for my contact info, it¡¯s with less attitude and more flirting.¡±

    Zara rolled her eyes, unimpressed. ¡°Yeah? Must be nice being delusional.¡± She turned away, already done with my existence. ¡°Try not to embarrass yourself at your girlfriend¡¯s place.¡±

    I shook my head, checked my nav one more time, and set off toward Nyx¡¯s place.

    Skov¡¯s End was a madhouse.

    A tangled mess of buildings welded into the asteroid¡¯s rocky guts, some looking half-finished, others half-collapsed. Jagged stone and rusted metal blended together, giving the whole place a haphazard, duct-taped charm. It shouldn¡¯t have worked, this floating chunk of rock had no right to support life.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    And yet, it did.

    The outer layers of the asteroid were laced with pressurized plating and electromagnetic field generators, trapping enough atmosphere to keep people breathing, assuming you didn¡¯t step outside the safe zones. Gravity plating had been bolted into the infrastructure, keeping everything at a near-standard pull, though you could feel the occasional hiccup when you walked, a faint lightness before the field corrected itself.

    You could almost mistake it for a real city, assuming you ignored the lack of a sky, the absence of sunlight, and the way the air always felt just a little too stale, recycled one too many times. No open streets, no wind, just a maze of rusted corridors and neon-lit alleys, all crammed into the hollowed-out bones of an asteroid.

    I cut through the winding alleys, sidestepping a puddle of something that probably wasn¡¯t water. Under a rusted neon sign, a vendor was grilling something that smelled half-spicy, half-toxic.

    Probably questionable.

    But my stomach made the executive decision before my brain could stop it.

    ¡°Two,¡± I said, tossing him a few credits.

    The vendor grunted, handing over two greasy wraps that looked vaguely edible. No questions, no receipt, just how I liked my street food.

    I also snagged a six-pack of Thermic-Cola in route.

    Nyx loved the stuff.

    By the time I reached her place, the food¡¯s grease had already soaked through the paper. Classic.

    The door was exactly how I remembered it.

    Except¡­

    I didn¡¯t remember it.

    Not at first.

    Just earlier, when the guy at the docks mentioned it, I had no clue I¡¯d been here before. No memory of this place, of coming here, of anything.

    But now? I knew this door.

    The way the metal bent inward just slightly at the bottom-left corner. The streak of blackened soot near the keypad, like someone had tried to torch it open. The faint groove near the handle, a tiny scratch from a blade¡­ my blade.

    I frowned, fingers tightening around the food bag.

    The hell was going on?

    The memory wasn¡¯t just there, it felt normal, like it had always been rattling around in my brain. Like I¡¯d stood in this exact spot before, hit this buzzer, and waited for the door to¡ª

    The door slid open, and my brain short-circuited.

    I¡¯d known Nyx in the game, felt her presence, heard her voice like she was right there. Every tease, every taunt, every little movement, so real it might as well have been.

    But now?

    This wasn¡¯t code. This wasn¡¯t a simulation.

    This was her. Flesh and blood.

    Her scent hit next. Warm and sweet. Like a fresh cinnamon roll with vanilla icing. Not something that could be programmed.

    My pulse kicked up. She hadn¡¯t even said a word yet.

    She leaned against the doorframe, tail curling behind her, golden eyes flickering like molten metal. Slow smile. Lazy. Dangerous.

    ¡°Ah, le voil¨¤¡­¡± she purred, her accent warm and familiar, like she was half-mocking, half-seducing me. ¡°Look what zee cat dragged in.¡±

    Her arms stretched up in a way that was not necessary, a slow, deliberate motion that only made the whole situation worse. Or better.

    Her eyes, amber eyes locked onto mine with a sharp amusement that told me she already knew I was staring.

    As an Enferian, her skin was deep, smoldering red, like she¡¯d just stepped out of a fire. Smooth, unblemished, except for those intricate, dark markings that traced along her lower abdomen, sinuous, faintly glowing like embers still burning beneath the surface.

    She wasn¡¯t wearing much.

    Tiny black crop top, loose off one shoulder. Thin lace stockings hugging long, toned legs. A barely-there thong resting on her hips, teasing more than it covered.

    My first thought?

    Some horny modder had definitely added extra clothing options to the game.

    Not that I was against it.

    It took me a second to remember that words existed.

    And that I should probably use some.

    Her tail flicked, curling playfully as she tilted her head, one of her small, curved horns catching the light.

    She scoffed, placing a hand on her hip, eyes narrowing. "You stare at me like a starving man, but you say nothing?"

    I blinked, exhaling through my nose. ¡°Sorry, I was distracted.¡± I leaned against the doorframe, mirroring her stance, letting my gaze flick over her once more. "What¡¯s with the getup?"

    Her smirk deepened. "Lounging, mon cher. It is my day off." Her voice was light, teasing, but her eyes stayed sharp, watching me, measuring my reaction. ¡°I did not expect company¡­ especially not yours.¡±

    A slow grin tugged at my lips. ¡°You sure the old man down at the docks didn¡¯t ring ahead?¡±

    Nyx let out a sharp breath, stepping in closer, the warmth of her body rolling off her in waves.

    "I would never lie to you."

    She placed a hand on my chest slowly.

    ¡°I am your Nyx, non?¡±

    Her fingers fanned out over my jacket, smoothing it down, trailing over my shoulders before pressing into the fabric.

    She was waiting.

    Expecting something.

    My grin widened, tilting my head. ¡°Shall we continue this inside?¡±

 Chapter 5: Skovéˆ¥æªš End - Part 3

    As soon as the door was shut, Nyx plucked the food and drinks from my hands and with a satisfied little hum, she sauntered to the kitchen, setting everything down.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s one way to say, ¡®thank you.¡¯¡±

    Nyx paused, casting me a smirk over her shoulder.

    "Mmm. Merci, mon cher¡­ but why would I need to zank you?" She tapped a clawed finger to her lower lip, eyes gleaming. "After all¡­ you are mine, non?"

    Before I could fire back, she spun on her heel, closed the distance in two steps, and threw herself into my arms.

    And I mean full-body launch.

    I barely had time to brace before she wrapped herself around me. Arms over my shoulders, legs loosely locking around my waist, tail flicking behind her like a satisfied cat.

    Wow.

    Enferians ran hot,literally. Nyx felt like she¡¯d just stepped out of a damn sauna, her warm, smooth skin pressing against mine as she nestled close.

    "Mmm, mon cher¡­" she practically purred, voice dripping with satisfaction. "I ¡®ave missed zis¡­"

    I didn¡¯t even know what "this" was, but she was clearly enjoying herself.

    Meanwhile, I was in a dangerously compromised position, with a half-naked succubus girl wrapped around me while my brain tried to process the situation.Two thoughts formed immediately:

    One. This would¡¯ve been a cutscene in the game.

    Two. I needed a willpower stat because I was about to fail this saving throw.

    I cleared my throat. ¡°Nyx.¡±

    She hummed against my skin, her warm breath brushing my neck. ¡°Oui, mon cher~?¡±

    I sighed. ¡°You¡¯re gonna have to let go.¡±

    Nyx froze.

    Then, slowly, she pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, her brows drawing together. "Pardon?"

    ¡°I said you need to let go.¡±

    ¡°Are you dying?"

    I blinked. ¡°What?¡±

    Her grip tightened. "You are dying, non? You ¡®ave some ¡®orrible space disease you ¡®ave not told me about? You ¡®ave been poisoned? A terrible curse? An alien parasite is controlling your brain?!"

    "Nyx¡ª"

    "DO NOT LIE TO ME, TIMUS!" she gasped, gripping my face and tilting my head as if she were checking for signs of fever.

    "I''m not sick!"

    "Zen why are you turning me down?!"

    She looked genuinely distressed. Like I had shattered her entire understanding of the universe.

    I exhaled through my nose, prying her off me as gently as possible. "I''m just... tired. Long day. Pirates. Almost died. You know how it is."

    Nyx stared at me like I had just spoken an ancient, forgotten language.

    "You... are too tired? For me?"

    I hesitated. "Yes?"

    She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. "You ''ave never been too tired for me."

    "Well, there''s a first time for everything."

    She pressed a hand against my forehead. "You do not ''ave a fever... maybe a concussion? Brain damage?"

    I sighed. "Nyx, I promise you, I am fine."

    "Zen I do not believe you."

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    "Nyx¡ª"

    "Oui~?" she purred.

    "...Get off."

    "Non."

    I sighed, resigned to my fate. This was my fault. I should¡¯ve known what I was walking into.

    I tried again. ¡°I brought food. Are we eating, or is this a hostage situation?¡±

    She giggled, finally sliding off me with a smug little smirk, like she¡¯d won whatever game we were playing. Which she hadn¡¯t.

    I took a deep breath, regaining what little dignity I had left, then gestured to the table.

    "Sit. Eat. Then we can talk business."

    She gave a playful salute. "Oui, mon commandant~"

    Nyx practically pranced to the kitchen, humming to herself like the world¡¯s happiest, half-naked housewife. Her tail flicked with dangerous enthusiasm as she opened a cabinet, grabbed some plates, and started dishing up the food I¡¯d brought.

    I barely had time to sit down before she was already setting a plate in front of me, sliding a cold T-Cola next to it with a pleased little smile.

    "There," she purred, pressing up against my side, voice dripping with satisfaction. "Eat, mon cher. You must keep your strength up, non?"

    I nodded.

    "...You are different," she murmured, eyes narrowing.

    Nyx tapped her fingers against her lips, thinking. Then, suddenly, her eyes widened.

    "Ahhh," she grinned, looking smug as hell. "You ¡®ave another girl, don¡¯t you?"

    I nearly choked on my food. "Excuse me?"

    Nyx giggled, clearly enjoying this. "Oh, mon cher, do not lie~ You act¡­ ¡®ow do you say¡­ ¨¦strange. ¡®olding yourself back, acting all stiff, and now¡ªah! You are nervous! Avoiding my eyes, choking on your food~"

    I wiped my mouth, leveling her with a flat look. "I am not nervous."

    She gasped, hands to her chest, eyes sparkling. "Ahh~ Is it zat Astra girl? Ohoho, I saw zee way she looked at you."

    I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Nyx."

    She beamed, unbothered. "Ah, mon commandant, you wound me! You ¡®ave found a new woman, and now you do not want your precious Nyx any longer?"

    "...You seem way too okay with this possibility," I muttered.

    She shrugged, like it was obvious. "Of course. You are mine, but zat does not mean I cannot share~"

    I stared at her.

    Nyx giggled, pleased with herself, then leaned in close, her voice dropping into a sultry whisper against my ear.

    "So, mon cher~ if not a new girl¡­ why do you ¡®old back from me now?"

    I went still.

    Because saying ¡®you¡¯re a character from a game I played, and sleeping with you feels like breaking some weird fourth wall of existence¡¯ seemed like the kind of thing that would get me locked in a psych ward.

    But it wasn¡¯t just that.

    Part of me knew it would be wrong.

    Another part of me wanted to anyway.

    Instead, I stuffed a piece of food into my mouth and offered a response of profound intellectual merit.

    "Mmfh."

    Nyx sighed, rolling her eyes, but she still smiled, resting her chin against my shoulder.

    "Fine, fine. You will tell me when you are ready."

    I sighed. ¡°It¡¯s just. I¡¯m not sure I could explain it, and even if I could, I doubt you¡¯d believe me.¡±

    She let out a soft snort, crossing her arms. ¡°Ah, vraiment? You realize who you are speaking to, non? Try me.¡±

    I was not winning this battle.

    So I did what any leader would do.

    I changed the subject.

    "You actually been eating properly?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

    She paused mid-bite, then smiled sweetly. "I eat when I am ¡®ungry, mon cher."

    "Uh-huh." I took a sip of my drink. "That¡¯s not an answer."

    She shrugged, flicking her tail. "I ¡®ave been¡­ busy."

    "Busy doing what, exactly? You¡¯re still working as a mechanic?"

    Nyx grinned, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "But of course~ Someone ¡®as to keep ze ships from falling apart. And I make good money doing it."

    "You mean you scam desperate pilots who don¡¯t know their thruster coil from their fuel injector."

    "Ahh, mon commandant," she said, pressing a hand dramatically to her chest. "You wound me!"

    I snorted. Yeah. That¡¯s what I thought.

    She leaned in, watching me way too closely again. "And what about you, hmm? What ¡®as my dear Timus been doing while ¡®is poor Nyx was left all alone?"

    ¡°I was busy for a few weeks, but I¡¯m back now.¡±

    ¡°Months, actually,¡± she replied, leaning back against the couch, arms still crossed. ¡°Astra and zee others kept pinging me, asking if I ¡®eard from you. But you just went¡ª¡± she made a popping sound with her mouth¡ª¡°poof! M.I.A.¡±

    I hesitated, watching her expectant gaze.

    What was I doing in the game before all this? Had I actually left Nyx here at Skov¡¯s End? I¡¯d played obsessively between shifts, between sleep, but the galaxy was so massive I didn¡¯t have a clear answer.

    I spent forever unlocking clues to earn the Eidolon class.

    That much I knew.

    But the rest? It was hazy. Fragments, broken pieces that didn¡¯t fit together. I remembered digging through obscure lore, chasing hidden quests, solving cryptic riddles buried in forgotten ruins.

    And in the end, the final requirement hadn¡¯t been a battle, a relic, or some grand test of strength.

    It had been a choice.

    One I couldn¡¯t remember making.

    Maybe that¡¯s why I was here now.

    I glanced down at my hands.

    I had some of the powers Eidolon was supposed to have. But I still had no clue how to level up.

    Had I never finished the process?

    Or was I still paying the price?

    None of that would make sense to her.

    So, I made something up.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I was taking care of something,¡± I said, rubbing the back of my neck.

    Nyx didn¡¯t look convinced.

    ¡°Oh, really?¡± She leaned back against the couch, arms crossed, staring me down. ¡°And zis¡­ something was so important zat you could not even drop one little message for, what, ¡®alf a year?¡±

    Six months? Damn. I¡¯d been gone for longer than I thought.

    ¡°I was¡­ back on Earth.¡±

    It was the truth. Kind of.

    Nyx snorted. Hard. Then rolled her eyes so dramatically I was surprised she didn¡¯t sprain something.

    ¡°Terra?¡± She laughed, low and rich with disbelief. ¡°It¡¯s been a smoking pile of rubble for years, mon cher. Try again.¡±

    I smirked, shrugging. ¡°See? Told you it was hard to believe.¡±

    She tilted her head, lips pursed like I¡¯d personally insulted her intelligence.

    "Ahh, you are so infuriating sometimes," she huffed, taking another bite of food. "I wait for you, I take care of you, and yet you play so distant now¡ª"

    But luckily for me before she could throw something at me, the TV on the wall flickered to life.

 Chapter 6: Bellum Rex - Part 1

    [= Docking Data Acquired... =]

    Skov¡¯s End Station

    Morvian Drift, Skov¡¯s End System, Freehold Space

    Standard Galactic Date: 2739, Cycle 03

    Station Cycle: 14:22 Freehold Standard

    Approach Time: 45 minutes to dock

    Docking Status: Secure, Bay 17

    Atmospheric Conditions: Stable, Gravity & Life Support Nominal

    [= Connection Stable =]

    <h2>Zara¡¯s POV ¨C Digging into Timus''s past</h2>

    Zara stretched her legs out across the co-pilot¡¯s seat, arms folded behind her head. The Valkyrion¡¯s hum filled the silence, steady and even.

    Tim had left her alone.

    That was fine.

    She wasn¡¯t going to sit around twiddling her thumbs while he played house.

    She leaned forward, tapping the console. ¡°Hey. Ares.¡±

    A pause. Then, a smooth, synthetic voice filled the cockpit.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    She frowned. ¡°That¡¯s it? No dramatic ¡®how may I assist you, honored guest¡¯ speech?¡±

    ¡°Would you like a dramatic greeting?¡± Ares asked, deadpan.

    Zara smirked. ¡°Nah, I¡¯d rather you answer my question.¡±

    Silence.

    She sighed. ¡°You¡¯ve got access to Republic servers, right?¡±

    ¡°¡­I do not recall granting you clearance to my operational functions.¡±

    Zara rolled her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to mess with your whatever, I just want some info.¡±

    ¡°On?¡±

    She tapped her fingers against the console. ¡°Who do you think?¡±

    Ares sighed. A literal, robotic sigh.

    ¡°Commander Corvus¡¯s personal records are classified.¡±

    Zara leaned back. ¡°Figures.¡±

    She drummed her fingers again.

    ¡°You could give me something, though.¡±

    ¡°I could do many things,¡± Ares replied, tone dry. ¡°But the probability of me caring enough to do them is low.¡±

    Zara huffed, sitting up. ¡°Come on. Just the basic stuff. You don¡¯t have to tell me about whatever secret war crimes he did¡ª¡±

    ¡°Classified.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I get it,¡± she muttered. ¡°I just want to know who he was. You know, before the whole rebel thing.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°¡­Accessing public records.¡±

    Zara blinked.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Wait, really?¡±

    Ares hummed. ¡°I calculate an 84% probability that you will continue to ask until I comply. This is a shortcut to efficiency.¡±

    She smirked. ¡°Smart AI.¡±

    A flicker of light washed over the console. The holoscreen flared to life, displaying a Republic personnel file.

    Zara squinted, scanning the page.

    Commander Timus Lucian Aurelius Corvus - Republic Naval Records

    <ul>

    <li>Birthplace: Classified</li>

    <li>Status: AWOL / Warrant Issued for Desertion</li>

    <li>Former Rank: Commander, 5th Fleet Special Operations - T88</li>

    <li>Training: Centurion Academy, Republic Intelligence Warfare Division</li>

    <li>Known Campaigns: (Partial List Available)</li>

    <ul>

    <li>Battle of Talos Rift</li>

    <li>Yandros Offensive</li>

    <li>Siege of Kharvos Station</li>

    <li>Operation Revenant ¨C REDACTED</li>

    </ul>

    </ul>

    Her stomach twisted.

    She recognized some of those battles.

    Talos Rift. Yandros. Kharvos Station.

    Tim had been in those?

    She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple. ¡°Shit.¡±

    The screen shifted again.

    New document.

    She frowned. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±

    Ares remained silent.

    She read the title.

    Adoption & Early Training.

    Zara¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°Adoption?¡±

    The file expanded, revealing a name she actually recognized.

    Legatus Varro Marcellis ¨C Republic Senate & Naval Command

    (Currently in exile at an undisclosed location.)

    <ul>

    <li>High Strategos of the Centurion War Program</li>

    <li>Supreme Commander of Special Warfare Operations</li>

    <li>Architect of Republic War Doctrine</li>

    <li>Master of Fleet & Ground Warfare</li>

    <li>Adoptive Guardian of Timus Corvus</li>

    </ul>

    ¡°Varro Marcellis¡­¡± Zara spat, the name sent a pulse of white-hot anger through her.

    She sucked in a slow breath, trying to keep her voice steady. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t adopt anyone.¡±

    ¡°Clarify,¡± Ares responded.

    ¡°He wasn¡¯t some kind of savior,¡± she bit out. ¡°He was a butcher.¡±

    A pause. Then: ¡°Legatus Varro Marcellis led multiple large-scale Republic compliance operations¡ª¡±

    ¡°Compliance?¡± Zara snapped. ¡°Is that what you call it?¡±

    She pushed off the console, pacing now, chest tight.

    ¡°My parents were on Vesperia Prime,¡± she said, her voice low, tight, barely controlled. ¡°When the Republic came to ¡®liberate¡¯ them.¡±

    Ares flashed new files onto the screen.

    VESPERIA PRIME - REPUBLIC ARCHIVE

    <ul>

    <li>Status: Former colony world.</li>

    <li>Governance: Independent Freehold (prior to annexation).</li>

    <li>Republic Operation: Compliance Order V-17</li>

    <li>Mission Objective: Neutralize separatist resistance. Install Republic governance.</li>

    <li>Commanding Officer: Legatus Varro Marcellis</li>

    <li>Casualties: Estimated 60% civilian casualty rate.</li>

    </ul>

    Zara¡¯s breath hitched.

    Sixty percent.

    She already knew the numbers, but seeing them again¡ªstamped and approved by the Republic¡¯s cold bureaucratic machine, made her sick.

    She shook her head, fists clenched, breath unsteady.

    "I was just a kid. We both were." Her voice wavered, but she pushed through. "And I remember everything. Every name. Every scream. Every body that hit the ground."

    Her throat tightened, a lump forming that she couldn¡¯t swallow.

    "It¡¯s like a curse. A nightmare that doesn¡¯t end. I will never forget."

    Ares remained silent.

    Not because he was considering his words. Because he didn¡¯t need to.

    Zara exhaled sharply, shoving a hand through her hair, pacing like a caged animal.

    "The Republic called them separatists. Said they were too dangerous to be left alone." Her voice rose, shaking with frustration, grief, rage.

    She turned back toward the console, glaring at the holoscreen.

    "So they sent a monster to burn my home to the ground.¡±

    "Incorrect."

    Zara¡¯s breath hitched. "Excuse me?"

    Ares continued, tone as calm and detached as ever.

    "Legatus Marcellis did not burn your home to the ground."

    She blinked. "Then what the hell do you call it?!"

    Ares brought up a tactical assessment report.

    It played like a machine analyzing historical data.

    "Strategic Review: The Vesperia Prime Insurrection."

    The screen filled with military records, heat maps, orbital surveillance feeds.

    Ares continued, voice steady.

    "The Vesperian resistance was growing. If left unchecked, it would escalate into full-scale rebellion within five years. The Republic sent the Legatus, not to fight a war, but to ensure one never began."

    Zara¡¯s hands curled into fists.

    Ares wasn¡¯t finished.

    "Standard Republic doctrine dictates overwhelming force, shock and awe. Marcellis rejected this."

    A new set of files appeared. A list of names. Thousands of them.

    "He judged."

    Zara froze.

    Ares continued.

    "Those deemed irredeemable¡­ those who would never submit, never comply, were executed."

    Zara¡¯s breath shook.

    "The rest? The ones who surrendered?"

    Another set of names appeared, smaller but still significant.

    "Re-education. Forced labor. Debt servitude. The Republic allowed them to live, but not freely."

    She stared at the screen, chest tight as Ares delivered the final blow.

    "Your world was not burned. It was judged. The unworthy were purged. The rest were allowed to serve."

 Chapter 6: Bellum Rex - Part 2

    [= Transmission Acquired... =]

    Aventis Secundus ¨C Exile Stronghold

    Undisclosed Location, Restricted System

    Standard Galactic Date: 2739, Cycle 03

    Planetary Cycle: 18:47 Imperial Standard (Local Time Adjusted for Rotation)

    Environmental Status: Stable ¨C Fortified Atmosphere Maintained

    Security Status: High Alert ¨C No Unverified Exits or Entries

    Surveillance Integrity: Active ¨C 98.7% Operational (Classified Zones Exempt from Monitoring)

    Legatus Status: Confined ¨C Level Red Authorization Required for Contact

    Internal Communications: Restricted ¨C Only Approved Transmissions Permitted

    [= Connection Secured =]

    <h2>Legatus Varro Marcellis POV</h2>

    The winds howled against the fortified walls of the keep, rattling the iron shutters as the twin moons of Aventis Secundus cast a sickly glow across the cold, blackened landscape.

    A former jewel of the Republic, now little more than a backwater world, a forgotten place where they sent the men they feared but couldn¡¯t kill outright.

    Legatus Varro Marcellis sat at a heavy stone table, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm against its surface. The room was sparsely furnished, not a cell, but not a throne room either. A cage of their making, but one he had claimed as his own.

    His name was not spoken within the Senate, but his will was still written in its laws, its foundations, its doctrines.

    A heavy knock on the iron door.

    Varro did not turn. "Enter."

    The doors groaned open.

    Lucius Draconius.

    A Centurion of the Legio Invicta, the right hand of a kingdom that did not yet exist.

    He stepped forward, clad in polished, blackened armor, its insignia carefully stripped yet unmistakable to those who knew.

    The soldier snapped his fist to his chest in the old salute. ¡°My lord.¡±

    Varro did not look up. He had already foreseen the answer.

    "What news from the Senate?"

    The Centurion took another step forward, the candlelight casting his angular face into deep shadows.

    "They have signed the treaty, my lord. The Oris Union and the Terran Republic now share open borders, free trade, and non-aggression pacts. They call it a historic alliance."

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Varro exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening against the table.

    Then, he laughed. Soft. Hollow. Dangerous.

    "Of course they have. Yet another historic disgrace to mankind."

    Draconius nodded. "They celebrate it publicly as a new age of unity. Trade rights. Military cooperation."

    Varro¡¯s smirk didn¡¯t fade. ¡°A republic at peace.¡±

    "Tell me, Centurion, do you know what happened to Saguntum?"

    Draconius¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°They were loyal to Rome. Until the day came when they sided with Carthage, thinking they would treat them better.¡±

    Varro nodded. "And who opened their gates to Hannibal?"

    Draconius hesitated. ¡°Their own. The ones who feared Rome¡¯s wrath less than they feared Carthage¡¯s sword.¡±

    Varro exhaled, slow and cold. "Yes. The weak-willed. The envious. The kind of men who look at greatness and feel only resentment. They saw Hannibal at their walls and chose to sell their city rather than fight for it. And for what?"

    His fingers flexed against the table.

    "For promises. For rewards that never came. And when the Carthaginians had taken everything from them, what became of those noble traitors?"

    Draconius¡¯s voice was a whisper now. ¡°They were put to the sword with the rest.¡±

    Varro¡¯s smirk deepened, but there was no humor in it.

    "Saguntum was not the last, nor the first."

    He exhaled sharply, the words dripping with scorn.

    "Capua. Another jewel of Rome, another city that thought itself above its own kin. Their leaders saw Hannibal¡¯s victories, saw Rome bleed, and what did they do?"

    Draconius didn¡¯t need to answer.

    Varro slammed his fist against the table.

    "They turned their cloaks. Betrayed their brothers. Pledged loyalty to an outsider so that they might rule as kings in a world of slaves."

    "And what did Rome do?"

    Draconius exhaled. ¡°They erased them.¡±

    Varro¡¯s smirk returned. "Yes. The Senate had them flogged, stripped, and their cities turned to ash. Those who conspired were left to starve in the gutters of their own betrayal."

    He stood now, placing both hands on the table, leaning over Draconius like a blade poised to strike.

    "Tell me, Centurion, what do you see when you look at the Senate today?"

    Draconius didn¡¯t hesitate. "The same cowards. The same filth."

    Varro¡¯s voice turned razor-thin. "These weakling senators and their merchant lords are not naive. They are not ignorant. They know exactly what they are doing."

    His fist clenched.

    "They do not seek peace. They seek power. Not over the aliens, not over the our enemies, but over us, over their own kind. They are parasites¡­ weak men who could never build what we have, only profit from it. Profit from its destruction. They know that if Terra stood as it should¡ªan empire forged in strength, ruled by one hand, unyielding, absolute¡ªthey would have no place in it. No Senate to hide behind, no Republic to rot from within. Just order. Just the will of the strong. And the strong have no use for leeches."

    He exhaled, voice turning colder.

    "They are the ones unbarring the gates. They are the ones kneeling in the dark, holding out the keys to our conquerors."

    Draconius¡¯s hands curled into fists.

    Varro tilted his head, watching him.

    "You understand, don¡¯t you? They aren¡¯t just parasites, they are our greatest threat. There is no loyalty in their veins, no kinship in their hearts. They look at our people and see only beasts to be ruled."

    The words were final.

    A decree.

    "They are the enemy."

    Silence fell.

    Draconius exhaled. "What are your orders, my lord?"

    He leaned back, fingers tapping against the table in a slow, rhythmic motion.

    Varro leaned back, considering.

    "Begin the purges."

    A flicker of something passed over the Centurion¡¯s face. "Shall we be discreet?"

    Varro smirked.

    "Was Alexander ''discreet'' when he burned Persepolis?"

    Draconius lowered his head. "I will see them purged."

 Chapter 6: Bellum Rex - Part 3

    Back to Zara''s POV on the Valkyrion

    Zara inhaled deeply, attempting to steady her breathing. Her fists clenched until nails bit painfully into her palms. Rage wouldn''t help. Not here, not now. She had to focus.

    Her jaw tightened. ¡°And now you¡¯re telling me Tim¡ª¡± she practically spat the name ¡°¡ªwas raised by him?¡±

    ¡°Commander Corvus was selected at age seven,¡± Ares replied, emotionless. ¡°His records were personally supervised by Legatus Marcellis.¡±

    Zara let out a humorless laugh. ¡°That''s perfect. Raised by the man who murdered my family¡­ the man who is responsible for the deaths of millions.¡±

    ¡°Billions,¡± Ares corrected.

    She glared at the console, trying to shove down the fresh surge of anger. ¡°Did he know?¡±

    ¡°Unknown,¡± Ares said calmly. ¡°Commander Corvus¡¯s early memories remain fragmented. Psychological assessments prior to his defection indicate minimal emotional connection to pre-service events.¡±

    Zara frowned. ¡°Meaning?¡±

    ¡°He remembers almost nothing of his childhood.¡±

    Her stomach tightened painfully. ¡°You¡¯re saying he doesn¡¯t even know?¡±

    ¡°It is unlikely.¡±

    ¡°Commander Corvus retains minimal memories of his military service. This is not uncommon among high-risk operatives. Selective memory suppression is an intentional security measure designed to prevent classified intelligence from being compromised should the subject be captured, interrogated, or defect.¡±

    Zara¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°You¡¯re saying they erased his memories on purpose?¡±

    ¡°Correct. The process is known as cognitive partitioning, neural encryption designed to fragment and compartmentalize mission-critical knowledge. In many cases, this is done voluntarily. However, in Commander Corvus¡¯s case, the extent of memory suppression suggests external enforcement.¡±

    Zara crossed her arms, feeling the weight of that revelation settle over her. ¡°So, even if he wanted to remember, he couldn¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°Not without external stimuli capable of triggering memory reconstruction¡ªor deliberate intervention.¡±

    Her jaw tightened. ¡°And if his memories do start coming back?¡±

    Ares was silent for a moment. Then:

    ¡°Then he will no longer be the same man you know.¡±

    She crossed her arms tightly and waited a moment before asking her next question. "Then what does the current version of him think happened?"

    Ares paused briefly. Then, with unsettling detachment: "Would you like to see?"

    She hesitated.

    Ares, predictably, took silence as consent. "I believe it would clarify misconceptions. You suspect he shares Marcellis¡¯s nature. The version you know, does not."

    Zara scowled. "I never said that."

    "Your emotional response suggests otherwise."

    Before she could argue, new files flashed onto the screen.

    The Centurion War Program.

    She¡¯d heard of it.

    Everyone had.

    A Republic initiative designed to forge perfect soldiers before they were even old enough to enlist. The kind of program that no one admitted existed, but everyone whispered about when the Republic¡¯s ears weren¡¯t near.

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Ares opened a video file without further prompting.

    The footage was grainy, clinical.

    A small child stood in the center of a pit.

    His uniform was ragged, too big for him, sleeves rolled up past his thin forearms. Blonde hair unevenly hacked short, as if it had been done with a combat knife rather than scissors.

    He was seven maybe eight.

    Zara clenched her teeth so hard her jaw ached.

    The walls around him were metal, smooth, reflective, like the whole damn place had been built to be hosed down after whatever happened inside.

    Above him, a metallic voice crackled from unseen speakers.

    ¡°TRIAL # 317 FOR CANDIDATE001-09 COMMENCING. OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE.¡±

    One of the steel doors slammed open.

    And a man stepped inside.

    No uniform. No insignia. A prisoner, maybe. Some poor bastard with too many muscles and not enough brains. His face was hard, lined with old scars, his expression caught somewhere between cruel amusement and cautious confusion.

    ¡°Shit,¡± he muttered, glancing up at whatever camera was watching. ¡°Seriously? They sent me a kid?"

    Nobody answered.

    The kid didn¡¯t move.

    The voice returned.

    "ELIMINATE THE THREAT, THAT IS AN ORDER."

    The prisoner laughed, shaking his head as he stepped forward.

    "This is a joke," he muttered. "They want me to¡ª"

    A metallic clang rang out.

    Something clattered across the floor, scraping against steel.

    His eyes flicked down.

    A length of rusted rebar, jagged at the end.

    The prisoner smirked, shifting his weight. "Alright, kid. Go on. Pick it up. See if it helps."

    But the boy was already on the move, kicking the rebar up with the tip of his boot, catching it midair and driving it straight through the man¡¯s throat.

    The man¡¯s breath hitched, blood bubbling at his lips as his hands scrabbled uselessly at the metal impaling his neck.

    His body spasmed once.

    Twice.

    Then nothing.

    The kid watched him slump forward, lifeless. Not with relief, nor with pride, just emptiness.

    Then, slowly, he wiped his hands off on his too-big sleeves and made his way back to the center of the room.

    The doors hissed open, heavy locks disengaging in rhythmic sequence.

    Then the soldiers stormed in, rifles raised, sights trained on the small figure standing at the center of the steel chamber.

    The child in the middle didn''t move. Blood smeared across his pale face, the sleeves of his oversized uniform hanging loosely at his sides. Despite his small frame, not one soldier dared underestimate him.

    More soldiers filed in, pressing themselves against the walls until every corner was occupied. A silent perimeter of rifles and tense breathing, eyes wide and cautious, waited.

    Only then did he enter.

    Varro Marcellis walked calmly, deliberately, each step measured and assured. His uniform, dark and immaculate, Authority radiated off him like heat, compelling the soldiers to straighten instinctively, their backs stiffening with automatic respect.

    A soldier from the second rank stepped forward sharply, addressing the boy with forced authority. "Candidate 001-09. Kneel and acknowledge your master¡ªLegatus Varro Marcellis, High Strategos of the Republic."

    The boy remained silent, eyes locked forward, unblinking.

    The soldier''s jaw tightened, humiliation mixing with anger as he moved forward. He raised his hand sharply, preparing to strike the insolence from the child.

    It was the last mistake he''d ever make.

    Before the soldier''s hand could connect, his arm twisted violently backward with a snap and tore free from his shoulder. A shocked scream filled the air, blood spraying in a crimson arc as the man stumbled back, clutching at the place his arm used to be.

    Chaos erupted instantly.

    "Open fire¡ª"

    The command died in the soldier''s throat as his body snapped backward, his spine breaking with a wet crack. Another soldier rose into the air, his limbs wrenching apart in an explosion of blood and bone.

    Rifles burst into useless shards of metal, bodies broke, men fell screaming¡ªall without the child ever taking a single step.

    Varro watched impassively, eyes brightening, a cold smile spreading slowly across his lips. He did not flinch or recoil. He simply waited, observing the raw brutality unfolding before him.

    Within moments, the room fell silent again, bodies strewn across the floor like broken toys. Only Varro remained standing, untouched amid the carnage.

    The boy turned at last, eyes alight with fury, blood dripping from eyes like tears.

    Varro stepped closer, slow and unafraid, dropping to one knee. He gently took the child''s chin, tilting it upward.

    "My son," he whispered, voice filled with pride and reverence. "Finally, I''ve found you."

    The boy shuddered once, then collapsed into Varro''s waiting arms.

    Varro lifted him carefully, holding him close as one might cradle something precious¡ªsomething invaluable. He stared down at the unconscious child, his expression shifting into quiet triumph.

    "Bellum Rex," he said softly, almost lovingly.

    Watching the recording, Zara felt her blood run cold. Her throat tightened, words barely able to escape her lips.

    "Bellum Rex?"

    Ares answered, calm and detached. "The King of War."

    Zara clenched her fists until her nails bit painfully into her palms. "Tim?"

    "Correct," Ares replied simply.

    On-screen, Varro gazed down at the boy with something approaching reverence.

    "You will not fail me," he murmured. "You cannot fail."

    Zara turned away sharply. "Shut it off."

    The holo faded to silence.

    She took several steadying breaths, but the boy¡¯s cold, merciless eyes wouldn¡¯t leave her mind.

    Ares¡¯s voice was quiet but precise. ¡°Would you like additional records?¡±

    "No," she managed hoarsely.

    She pushed herself upright, raising a shaky hand to her face. How much of Tim was even left after a childhood like that?

 Chapter 6: Bellum Rex - Part 4

    Back in Nyx''s apartment - Skov''s End - Timus''s POV

    The Republic¡¯s eagle emblem filled the screen as overdramatic as ever. It faded, revealing a striking woman behind a glossy news desk.

    Blonde. Flawless. Dressed in a tailored crimson dress that was definitely pushing the limits of what was considered professional. Her smile gleamed with that polished, too-perfect charm that every Terran Republic propaganda face wore.

    Seraphina Solis.

    I nudged Nyx with my elbow, smirking. ¡°You know, if all news anchors looked like Seraphina, I might actually start watching the news more often.¡±

    Nyx went rigid. Slowly, very slowly, she turned to me, her eyes narrowing into slits.

    ¡°Oh, really?¡± she drawled, voice dangerously sweet. ¡°Maybe I should dye my ¡®air blonde and practice my smile until it is as robotic as ¡®ers, just for you?¡±

    I chuckled, raising my hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I¡¯m just saying, she¡¯s not bad to look at. Can you blame me?¡±

    Nyx rolled her eyes and shushed me as the broadcast began.

    "Tch. Idiot," she muttered, but she still leaned in, resting her chin on her palm as she turned her attention to the broadcast.

    ¡°Good evening, citizens of the Terran Republic,¡± Seraphina began, her voice honeyed yet authoritative. ¡°I¡¯m Seraphina Solis, here to bring you the latest updates from across the galaxy. Today, a historic agreement was reached between the Terran Republic and the Oris Union.¡±

    The holoscreen behind her flickered to a clip of dignitaries shaking hands, all smiles and ceremonial grandeur.

    ¡°The treaty, signed on Oris Prime, solidifies the alliance between the two factions by formalizing a policy of non-aggression in neutral zones and granting tax-free trade status at all Oris Union-controlled ports,¡± Seraphina continued, her gaze was steady, reassuring¡ªthe kind of gaze suggesting everything was perfectly controlled.

    I shot Nyx a glance. She scoffed under her breath, stabbing another piece of food.

    "Des idiots, tous¡­" she muttered darkly.

    The broadcast returned to Seraphina, whose expression softened slightly as she leaned toward the viewer, forging an artificial sense of intimacy. ¡°The Oris Union, often viewed as a mediator among galactic factions, expressed hope this agreement will foster stability and promote lasting peace. Additionally, the Republic will receive extended docking privileges and joint patrol rights in contested sectors. Relations with nearby alliances, such as the Xyrelian Concord and Rezar Consortium, remain cautiously optimistic.¡±

    She paused, eyes locked firmly on the viewer as if delivering a personal promise. ¡°We stand on the brink of a new era, guided by unity and trust toward a brighter future.¡±

    Nyx let out a bitter laugh, crossing her arms. ¡°¡®Peace,¡¯ hein? La paix. Mon cul.¡±

    ¡°Not buying it?¡±

    She gave me a sharp, knowing look. ¡°Oh, please. You know as well as I zat ze Oris Union loves playing diplomat while zeir ''shadow'' organization, ze Black Nebula, traffics drugs, weapons, humans, aliens¡­ it is all ze same.¡±

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    My brow furrowed. ¡°So they are running both sides¡­¡± I had my suspicions, but I''d never managed to confirm them in-game.

    Her eyes glinted sharply with the quiet anger she usually kept hidden. ¡°Bien s?r. Zey play ze perfect middleman, pocketing zeir ¡®official¡¯ trade creds in one hand while ze cartel slips intel to rebels and arms to insurgents in ze other. And ze Republic?¡± She laughed bitterly. ¡°Blind as ever, zey shake hands wiz zeir own executioner.¡±

    I sighed heavily. ¡°It''s not that simple. The Republic¡¯s government is huge. Those allowing it are probably bought¡ªmoney slaves to Oris thugs¡ªor blackmailed. The ones who signed this deal know exactly what''s happening and are just playing along.¡±

    Nyx raised an eyebrow, genuine surprise in her expression. ¡°You really think ze Republic is zat corrupt? Mon cher, even I did not think zey would sell out all of humanity.¡±

    I waved a hand, hoping to clear the tension. ¡°Enough of that. Let¡¯s eat¡­ whatever this is.¡±

    She rolled her eyes, giving me a look like I¡¯d just committed a culinary crime. ¡°Eet¡¯s Rykkan stew. Le meilleur¡ªonly zee best.¡±

    We dug in, the stew as spicy as it smelled, kicking back in front of her beat-up old holo-screen. It was playing some ridiculous show about androids trying their hand at bounty hunting. The translation was hilariously bad, and half the fun was Nyx¡¯s reaction, snickering and shaking her head at every line.

    ¡°Zee quality of zis show¡­ c¡¯est incroyable. I ¡®ave seen better dialogue in my dreams.¡±

    I chuckled, stealing a glance at her. ¡°So, speaking of disasters¡­ I need some repairs. Valkyrion got a little too close to some Serpent bastards.¡±

    She raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at her lips. ¡°Void Serpents, vraiment? You must ¡®ave come from Kordis, eh?¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am¡­ was looking for Astra on Rykka-9.¡±

    Nyx paused mid-bite, concern flickering across her face. ¡°Astra? I ¡®ave not ¡®eard from her in some time.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ there¡¯s a reason for that,¡± I admitted slowly. ¡°She¡¯s been kidnapped. Instead, I found her twin sister. Zara¡¯s with me now. We¡¯re heading to Kelthar-3 to get Astra out of the Black Nebula¡¯s claws.¡±

    Nyx shook her head, letting out a low, amused whistle. ¡°Mon dieu, Tim¡­ is there ever a time you are not in deep sheet?¡±

    I shrugged, giving her my best innocent grin. ¡°Hey, this one is probably¡­ mostly not my fault.¡±

    She snorted, rolling her eyes with a look that was part pity, part amusement. ¡°You ¡®accidentally¡¯ stroll onto one of zee sketchiest planets in zee galaxy, run into zee cartel, pick up that rogue¡¯s twin, and now you think, ¡®Why not? Let¡¯s just break into Kelthar-3 and pull Astra out from zee Black Nebula¡¯s claws.¡¯ C¡¯est incroyable.¡±

    ¡°That about sums it up.¡±

    Nyx feigned shock, dramatically placing a hand to her chest. ¡°Quelle surprise, Commandant! Zee galaxy would be so dull without your¡­ ¡®unique¡¯ brand of chaos.¡± Her expression softened into genuine worry. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re not, ¡®ow do you say¡­ in over your ¡®ead?¡±

    ¡°Not yet,¡± I replied. ¡°And with your help, maybe I won¡¯t be.¡±

    Her smirk melted into something warmer, her eyes twinkling. ¡°Fine, but you owe me¡ªfor zee repairs, and for dragging me into yet another mess.¡±

    ¡°Deal,¡± I said, holding out a fist.

    She bumped her knuckles gently against mine with a resigned sigh. ¡°Let¡¯s finish zis stew. Zen I¡¯ll see if I ¡®ave zee parts to patch your deathtrap.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Nicolette, ma ch¨¨re¡ª¡±

    Her hand twitched, eyes narrowing dangerously. ¡°I will slap you, mon cher.¡±

    I chuckled, holding up my hands in surrender. ¡°Fine, fine. But just a heads up. It might be awhile before you get your credits. I still need to offload some cargo before I can pay you.¡±

    She sighed dramatically, shaking her head. ¡°Ah, Commandant Tim¡ªtoujours sans sous. Always broke. What else is new?¡±

    ¡°I may not be rich or remotely sane¡ªbut at least I¡¯m consistent.¡± I raised my Thermic-Cola in mock salute.

    Nyx snorted, clinking her can against mine. ¡°Lucky for you, I do not mind cleaning up after you.¡±

    She scooted closer, looking up at me with warm eyes and a soft smile. Her tail curled comfortably around the cushion, and she leaned in, resting her head against my lap with a contented sigh.

    ¡°Mon cher,¡± she murmured softly, her voice tender and sincere. ¡°I am¡­ truly glad you¡¯re back. I was worried, you know?¡± There was genuine vulnerability in her tone, something rare and precious.

    I reached over, gently ruffling her silky black hair between her little horns. She tilted her head into my touch, eyes fluttering closed, a faint smile on her lips as a quiet hum of happiness escaped her.

    ¡°I missed you too, Nyx,¡± I said quietly. ¡°Thanks for worrying about me.¡±

    She slowly opened her eyes, sparkling with warmth. ¡°Of course. Zee galaxy might be big and full of trouble, but¡­ ¡®aving you ¡®ere, safe, zat¡¯s all zat matters.¡±

    Nyx kept her head on my lap, her tail wrapping a little tighter, as I gently continued to stroke her hair, enjoying this quiet moment before the chaos began.

 Chapter 7: Repairs, Rivalries, and Revelations - Part 1

    [= Docking Data Acquired... =]

    Skov¡¯s End

    Asteroid Colony, Freehold Space

    Standard Galactic Date: 2739, Cycle 03

    Station Cycle: 18:42

    [= Connection Stable =]

    The time glowed across my wrist display: 18:42. Not that it mattered here. Skov¡¯s End didn¡¯t pretend at day or night, just artificial lights pulsing through a permanent gloom.

    The walkways of Skov¡¯s End pulsed with life.

    Boots rattled across metal grates, voices echoing sharply through the halls.

    Voices bounced off walls, laughter bursting like sparks in the gloom.

    Everywhere I looked, there were faces. Shadows and faces, slipping in and out of the dim glow. Some eyes sharp with suspicion, others glazed with practiced indifference.

    The air was thick with smoke, dust¡­ maybe something worse. Filters struggled to keep it breathable, but the smell of burnt metal and grease clung to everything.

    Comfort wasn¡¯t the priority here. Survival was, barely wrapped in rusted steel and recycled oxygen.

    Skov¡¯s End sprawled chaotically through the belly of the asteroid, a city hewn directly from rock and metal. Cracks ran wild across the walls, hastily reinforced by metal beams and scaffolding that disappeared into the dark above.

    A tangled web of cables and pipes crisscrossed overhead like some giant spider¡¯s web, humming and rattling, carrying power deeper into forgotten tunnels.

    I moved slowly through the bustle, passing ramshackle stalls lining every inch of available space. Vendors barked offers in languages I couldn¡¯t begin to guess, pushing wares that defied reason¡ªfried skewers of mystery meat, engine parts blackened by fire, ancient-looking blasters cobbled together from scraps. Piles of half-broken electronics spilled into walkways, forcing me to weave around them.

    A vendor shouted from behind cages packed with shrieking little lizards, while opposite stood a towering, four-armed alien with leafy, dark skin and a mask carved from polished bone. He made silent deals with practiced hand gestures, wordlessly trading blasters for creds.

    I kept moving, eyes wide despite myself.

    A group of Va¡¯thari gathered close, their elongated limbs weaving gracefully as they hummed low-frequency chants. Their silvery-gray skin shimmered faintly beneath the flickering lights, large reflective eyes gazing inward, lost in their ritual. Delicate fingers traced intricate, glowing patterns through the air, each movement deliberate and synchronized, resonating with a rhythmic pulse that seemed to vibrate through the very air itself.

    It was beyond my understanding, but mesmerizing all the same.

    Around another corner, two squat, muscular Ta¡¯Keth faced off, their thick, scaly hides glinting in harsh artificial light, frilled heads flared aggressively. Their guttural voices hissed and clicked sharply as they haggled over a chunk of gleaming rock, tails twitching impatiently until one finally conceded with a grudging growl, clapping the victor roughly on the shoulder in respect.

    A deal well done.

    The further I walked, the more Skov¡¯s End felt like a place without rules, without boundaries.

    Ex-Republic soldiers wandered aimlessly, uniforms ragged, badges torn off, exchanging solemn nods. Mechanics sat hunched in tight groups, their tools and scattered parts spread across stained tarps.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Down another narrow passage, I emerged into a makeshift bar assembled from battered cargo crates. A skeletal alien barkeep silently filled metal cups with something thick and black, serving quiet patrons hunched over their drinks, lost in their own private worlds.

    I paused at the entrance, feeling both completely out of place and oddly drawn to join them.

    No one spoke.

    They just drank from rough metal cups filled with something thick and dark, like it was the last good thing left in the galaxy.

    Looks like a nice place to kill some time.

    I eased onto a battered crate, nodding to the skeletal bartender. He fixed me with an empty stare, dark sockets narrowing, then poured without a word. The drink slid over, thick as the engine oil, Nyx might use to grease the Valkyrion.

    I slipped onto a crate, giving the bartender a nod.

    He stared, those empty sockets narrowing, and poured me a cup without a word.

    The drink slid over, dark as engine oil, the smell... well, ¡°pungent¡± was being kind. Like some liquid Nyx would find useful to lube up the ship.

    I took a cautious sip.

    Thick. Burned all the way down.

    Made my teeth buzz, my head spin.

    Another sip.

    Then something shifted.

    Voices echoed, not from around me, but from inside my own head.

    ¡°This one¡¯s not like the others.¡±

    ¡°Strange aura... But human, no?¡±

    I froze mid-sip, glancing around.

    The patrons watched me now, eyes reflecting a faint luminescence, pale as distant starlight. Their gazes felt like cold needles prodding my thoughts.

    ¡°Can... hear us?¡±

    I shot back, thinking as loud as I could. ¡°Who the hell are you?¡±

    There was a ripple, like laughter but silent.

    ¡°He speaks!¡±

    ¡°Strange indeed. Humans never hear us.¡±

    ¡°What... is it?¡±

    I cleared my throat, trying to stay casual.

    ¡°You know,¡± I said aloud, raising my cup, ¡°if you''re going to whisper in my brain, at least buy me another round.¡±

    A low, gurgling laugh rippled through the group, and the bartender refilled my cup, giving me a small nod of acknowledgment.

    ¡°First human... to join us in thought.¡±

    ¡°Drink deeper¡­ and you shall see.¡±

    I shrugged. Why not?

    I drank deeper this time, feeling warmth spreading down my spine, through my arms, fingertips tingling with energy.

    And then¡ªsnap¡ªI was in.

    Submerged.

    Drowning in an overwhelming hurricane of voices, images, and memories swirling and colliding in my head.

    Images of battles, burning worlds, the endless void swallowing screams. Then blurred into visions of quiet days, waffles on a Sunday morning, and laughter echoing around a table in a brightly lit room. Everything tangled, jarring against each other, pulling me in opposite directions.

    A collective mind touched mine, vast yet splintered.

    The aliens were just as surprised as I was.

    ¡°Impossible... yet here he is.¡±

    One of them, a squat, hulking creature with scales like rusted iron, reached out with his mind, brushing against mine. Testing.

    I pushed back, a mental nudge, just enough to show I wasn¡¯t defenseless.

    He recoiled slightly, amused. ¡°Ah, this one¡¯s got teeth!¡±

    ¡°Perhaps not a human after all...¡±

    Eidolon, the word slipped unbidden into my head, and I tensed.

    The thought... wasn¡¯t mine.

    They watched, studying my reaction with that same quiet intensity. Their luminescent eyes narrowing slightly, waiting.

    I waved it off, taking another gulp, a little too eager, and tried to act natural.

    ¡°Where¡­ where are you from, strange one?¡± a different voice prodded gently.

    Images flickered again. Vivid flashes of Earth, familiar and mundane, replaced sharply by a dim, metallic cell. Soldiers in Terran Republic uniforms dragging me through sterile corridors, their faces hidden behind mirrored visors.

    My jaw clenched, heart racing. I didn''t know which was real.

    "Saw another human recently... look like this."

    His mental image hit me with a weird, almost photographic clarity. Golden hair. Dark blue eyes. Small frame, a bit too cute to be wandering around alone. She wore some kind of school uniform, blazer, skirt, long socks, probably Republic-issued.

    I knew her.

    Didn¡¯t I?

    Another one chimed in, grinning in that strange, toothy way their species managed.

    ¡°Think she lives on Halyra III. Republic Academy planet. She was asking too many questions."

    I raised an eyebrow. "You think that narrows it down? There are billions of humans out there. All over the place."

    The wiry alien shrugged, grin full of jagged teeth. "Just saying. If you run into her... might be worth a chat."

    "Yeah," I muttered, tossing back the last of my drink. "If you see her again, send her my way."

    They nodded, their thoughts drifting in a half-drunken haze, one by one giving me names that sounded more like half-spoken dreams than real identities.

    With a shaky wave, I turned toward the Valkyrion, but as I moved, something felt off.

    I looked back.

    They were still watching me. Still drinking. Still whispering.

    Dead men drinking.

    I quickened my pace, shaking off the cold crawling up my spine.

    The girl¡¯s face lingered in my mind.

    I¡¯d seen her before.

    But where?

    And why the hell were my memories all starting to bleed together?

 Chapter 7: Repairs, Rivalries, and Revelations - Part 2

    The Valkyrion loomed ahead, its boarding ramp half-lowered, lights casting a dull glow against the cold metal deck.

    I was two steps from the entrance when Zara stepped in front of me, arms crossed, blocking my way.

    ¡°Not now,¡± I muttered, trying to step around her.

    She didn¡¯t budge.

    ¡°The hell is this?¡± I gestured vaguely at her stance. ¡°You trying to look intimidating, or did someone forget to teach you how doors work?¡±

    ¡°Funny,¡± she said, voice dry as bone. ¡°But you''re not getting on this ship until you tell me the truth.¡±

    I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. "About what?"

    She scoffed. "Don''t play dumb. I know you were raised by Legatus Varro Marcellis. I know what he is. Ares showed me the holovids while you were carousing the asteroid. What I don¡¯t know¡­¡± Her eyes narrowed. ¡°¡­is if you¡¯re anything like him.¡±

    I met her gaze. "I don¡¯t remember, Zara."

    Her jaw tightened. "Bullshit."

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    "I''m serious," I said, taking a step closer. "I don¡¯t remember my childhood. Or him. Nothing before my military service. And lately..." I hesitated, feeling the words stick like tar in my throat. "Lately, I¡¯ve been getting... visions. Or memories. I don¡¯t know what to call them."

    Zara''s eyes narrowed, suspicion laced with something else. Something sharp.

    "Yeah? And do any of those visions have anything to do with what happened to my world?" she asked.

    I exhaled slowly. "What world?"

    She hesitated, then muttered, "Vesperia Prime."

    I exhaled slowly. "What year was it?"

    She didn''t answer right away, watching me, waiting for a trick.

    Finally, she muttered, "2721."

    I did the math in my head.

    "I would''ve been a child when your world burned, Zara. A kid. Barely old enough to tie my own boots." My voice turned harder. "Enough of this shit. I just drank liquid black ichor, communicated telepathically with what appeared to be undead aliens, and I¡¯m not in the mood for an interrogation."

    Her lip curled, and she stepped in, just enough to make the space between us feel too small.

    ¡°Oh, trying to run away?¡± she murmured. ¡°I saw what you were capable of... as a child.¡±

    ¡°Then you know better than to get in my way.¡±

    Her jaw clenched, eyes flashing with something between rage and hesitation.

    I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice.

    ¡°If you think some old holovids of me as a kid are enough to scare you¡­ imagine what I can do now.¡±

    Her breath hitched just for a second.

    Then I thought it, just like back at the bar.

    Move.

    Zara stiffened. Her fingers twitched, body tensing like she was trying to fight it and before she could stop herself, she stepped aside.

    ¡°Good girl.¡± I said walking past her, up the ramp, into the ship.

 Chapter 7: Repairs, Rivalries, and Revelations - Part 3

    Zara¡¯s third person POV

    Zara stood there, fists clenched, still reeling from what had just happened. The ship¡¯s ramp had sealed shut in her face, leaving her outside, fuming, heart hammering in her chest.

    She let out a breath through her teeth. That smug, arrogant bastard.

    "Good girl."

    Her nails dug into her palm. She was going to kill him. Or at least try.

    Then she heard a slow, deliberate clap.

    Zara turned sharply, already pissed off, and found herself staring at a woman lounging against a nearby crate.

    Tall. Confident. Dangerous.

    Horns. Tail. Gold eyes full of amusement.

    Zara had never seen a demon before, but she knew one when she saw one.

    The enferian smiled, sharp and lazy, arms folded, tail flicking behind her. ¡°Mon dieu, zat was¡­ magnifique. Really, I should ¡®ave brought popcorn.¡±

    Zara narrowed her eyes. ¡°Who the hell are you?¡±

    The enferian¡¯s smile widened. Too entertained. Too smug.

    ¡°Nyx.¡± She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. ¡°And you, ch¨¦rie, must be Zara.¡±

    Zara stiffened. How the hell did she know that?

    Nyx pushed off the crate, approaching like she had all the time in the world, hips swaying, movements too fluid, too confident. She tilted her head, looking Zara up and down in a way that felt both assessing and vaguely insulting.

    ¡°Ah¡­ yes, yes, I see it now.¡± Nyx tapped a clawed finger against her chin, pretending to think. ¡°Ze attitude. Ze tension. Ze burning desire to punch Tim in ze face.¡±

    She snapped her fingers, grinning.

    ¡°You must be ¡®is new problem.¡±

    Zara¡¯s eye twitched.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    Nyx sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. ¡°He picks zem so well. I swear, I cannot take ¡®im anywhere without ¡®im collecting dangerous women.¡±

    Zara was one second away from throwing hands.

    ¡°Look, lady, I don¡¯t know what your deal is, but I don¡¯t take kindly to people messing with me.¡±

    Nyx laughed. A soft, throaty, amused laugh like Zara had just told the best joke in the galaxy.

    ¡°Oh, ch¨¦rie,¡± Nyx purred, leaning in just slightly. ¡°Zat makes two of us.¡±

    Zara set her jaw, glaring. ¡°You working for him?¡±

    Nyx grinned like the question was hilarious.

    ¡°Non.¡± She shrugged. ¡°I am¡­ ¡®ow you say¡­ ze devoted, unshakable, irreplaceable light of ¡®is life.¡±

    Zara stared at her.

    ¡°What.¡±

    Nyx sighed wistfully. ¡°Oui, oui, eet¡¯s true. But alas, mon cher is very dense.¡± She made a tragic gesture toward the ship. ¡°Zis is my burden to bear.¡±

    Zara rubbed her temples.

    This was a joke. This whole damn station was cursed.

    She let out a slow breath. ¡°You know what? I¡¯m not dealing with this right now.¡± She turned, already walking away.

    ¡°Ah, but Zara,¡± Nyx called after her, amusement laced in every syllable.

    Zara stopped. Why? She had no idea.

    Nyx¡¯s voice dropped to something lower, almost thoughtful. ¡°Zat rage of yours¡­ eet will eat you alive if you let it.¡±

    Zara clenched her teeth.

    She wasn¡¯t wrong.

    Zara had every intention of walking away. Ignoring this entire mess.

    But instead, she found herself standing at the edge of the Valkyrion¡¯s hull, watching as Nyx started working on the ship like she owned it.

    ¡°Oi,¡± Zara muttered. ¡°What the hell are you even doing?¡±

    Nyx glanced up, gold eyes gleaming in the dim station light, a wrench twirling effortlessly between her fingers. ¡°Fixing mon cher¡¯s ship. What does eet look like?¡±

    Zara folded her arms. ¡°This thing flies just fine, just needed to refuel.¡±

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Nyx clicked her tongue, hopping onto the open maintenance panel with cat-like grace. ¡°Pffft. And zat is why you are a backwater mercenary and not an engineer.¡± She yanked a burnt-out coupling from its socket, wincing at the fried mess of wiring beneath it. ¡°Mon dieu¡­ look at zis! C¡¯est terrible. No wonder ze Valkyrion limps like an old man.¡±

    She turned, pointing the wrench at Zara like a schoolteacher scolding a delinquent. ¡°You. Fetch me a plasma torch.¡±

    Zara blinked. ¡°You think I work for you?¡±

    Nyx grinned. ¡°No, but you are standing around looking pretty with nozing to do. So~¡± She waved her hand dismissively. ¡°Be a dear and grab eet from zat crate, hm?¡±

    Zara gritted her teeth and against her better judgment, she found herself grabbing the damn tool and tossing it over.

    Nyx caught it effortlessly, shooting her a wink.

    Zara scowled. Why did everything about this woman piss her off?

    For a while, Zara just watched, arms crossed, suspicious.

    Nyx worked silently, tail flicking behind her, balancing perfectly even when she was half-dangling from the open panel. She hummed softly to herself, some tune Zara didn¡¯t recognize.

    Zara narrowed her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re a demon, right?¡±

    Nyx froze. Then, slow as ever, she turned her head with an expression of pure amusement.

    ¡°Ah?¡±

    Zara shrugged. ¡°You got horns. A tail. And that whole ¡®I¡¯m gonna eat your soul¡¯ aura.¡±

    Nyx laughed. Like Zara had just said the funniest thing in the galaxy.

    ¡°Ah, ch¨¦rie, zat is adorable.¡± She tapped her chin, grinning. ¡°Non, non, I am an Enferian. Not a demon. But I understand ze confusion.¡±

    Zara frowned. ¡°Same thing.¡±

    Nyx gasped in mock offense, pressing a hand dramatically to her chest. ¡°Quelle horreur! You wound me.¡±

    ¡°Cry about it,¡± Zara muttered.

    Nyx smirked, going back to twisting a bolt into place. ¡°Enferians are¡­ mm, how you say¡­ ¡®ze lucky ones.¡¯ Stronger zan humans, faster, more durable~¡± she grinned, fangs flashing. ¡°And, of course, devastatingly charming.¡±

    Zara scoffed. Yeah. Sure.

    Nyx continued, casually rewiring some circuit boards. ¡°Our homeworld, L''Enfer, is a world of fire and storms. Ze gravity is intense. Ze air is thick. We thrive where others would choke and die.¡±

    She smirked, tossing Zara a sidelong glance. ¡°And zat makes us very good at what we do.¡±

    Zara didn¡¯t like the way she said that.

    ¡°And what exactly is it that you do?¡± she asked.

    Nyx¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Oh, mon cher, zat is a long list.¡±

    Zara¡¯s eye twitched.

    It took Zara a second to realize something.

    ¡°Wait,¡± she muttered. ¡°Where the hell are you getting these replacement parts?¡±

    Nyx hummed. ¡°Oh, here and zere.¡±

    Zara frowned. ¡°The hell does that mean?¡±

    Nyx gestured vaguely to the other docking bays, where ships were parked side by side, crew members wandering off, completely unaware.

    Zara¡¯s stomach dropped.

    ¡°Oh, you are stealing.¡±

    Nyx¡¯s smile was all teeth.

    ¡°Non, non, mon ch¨¦rie,¡± she purred. ¡°I am borrowing. With no intent of returning.¡±

    Zara stared.

    ¡°You¡ª¡±

    Nyx plucked a fresh cooling rod from her bag, tossing it effortlessly to the side, where it landed in a pile of very obviously stolen ship components.

    Zara dragged a hand down her face.

    ¡°You¡¯re insane.¡±

    Nyx winked. ¡°Insanely efficient.¡±

    Zara shook her head. ¡°Tim know you do this?¡±

    Nyx¡¯s tail flicked. ¡°Oh, he knows.¡± She smirked. ¡°He does not ask questions.¡±

    Zara let out a dry laugh, half exasperated. ¡°Of course he doesn¡¯t.¡±

    She didn¡¯t know what was more infuriating, Nyx¡¯s absolute confidence, or the fact that she was actually making the ship better.

    It didn¡¯t make sense.

    Why was she so devoted to him?

    Nyx had skills. She could clearly take care of herself.

    So why follow Tim of all people?

    After a long silence, Zara muttered, ¡°Why do you follow him?¡±

    Nyx paused.

    For a moment, her usual playfulness dulled, her hands stilling over the open panel.

    Then she glanced over her shoulder, gold eyes flickering in the station¡¯s dim glow.

    ¡°Because he saved me,¡± she said simply.

    Zara blinked.

    And before she could push, before she could ask what that meant.

    Nyx grinned again, sharp and teasing. ¡°And also because ¡®e is very, very pretty.¡±

    Zara groaned.

    ¡°Forget I asked.¡±

    Nyx just laughed, and began to dig through a crate of stolen parts with a little too much enthusiasm. Her tail flicked lazily, her expression annoyingly smug.

    ¡°You always talk like that?¡±

    Nyx didn¡¯t even look up. ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°Like you¡¯re some overdramatic courtesan from an old holo-drama.¡±

    Nyx finally turned, raising an eyebrow, clearly amused. ¡°Ah. You mean my charming accent?¡± She leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a playful whisper. ¡°Does eet... distract you, ma ch¨¦rie?¡±

    Zara scowled. ¡°No, it makes you sound like a pompous asshole.¡±

    Nyx burst out laughing. ¡°Oh, mon dieu. You are delightful.¡±

    Zara just glared. ¡°Seriously, though. I doubt all Enferians sound like that.¡±

    Nyx¡¯s smirk softened just a little. ¡°Zat¡¯s because not all Enferians were raised like I was.¡±

    Zara caught the shift in tone. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Nyx shrugged, not looking up from her work. ¡°My people were¡­ how do you say? Acquired.¡± She smirked, torquing a bolt into place. ¡°Centuries ago, a Terran vessel arrived. Not your lovely, democratic, ever-so-benevolent Republic. Non, these ones had sharper teeth. L¨¦gion C¨¦leste. Imperialists.¡±

    Zara narrowed her eyes. ¡°Imperialists?¡±

    Nyx glanced at her, eyes glinting with amusement. ¡°Ze kind who looked at a world and thought, ¡®Ah, oui. Zis belongs to us now.¡¯¡± She gestured to herself. ¡°So, they renamed L¡¯Enfer to Tartarus, made my ancestors speak Terran Standard... but with their accent.¡±

    Zara crossed her arms. ¡°So you hate Terrans?¡±

    Nyx tilted her head, considering the question like it was a joke only she understood. ¡°Some Enferians do. Some spit at ze thought of calling a Terran an ally.¡± She flashed a pointed smile, razor-edged and unreadable. ¡°I do not.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Nyx¡¯s tail flicked. ¡°Because hate is boring.¡±

    Zara snorted. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±

    Nyx grinned wider. ¡°Oh, and because I am in love with one.¡±

    Zara let out a sharp breath. ¡°You¡¯re insane.¡±

    Nyx only smiled, tail flicking as she dug into another crate. A sharp whistle cut through the air.

    A small figure darted from the shadows, slipping up beside Nyx so fast Zara barely registered him. A kid, couldn¡¯t be older than nine, with sharp eyes and a mop of tangled, oil-streaked hair. He held up a rusted power cell like it was a damn trophy.

    Nyx crouched, examining it like a jeweler appraising a fine gem. ¡°Hmm¡­ not bad, mon petit.¡± She ruffled his hair, making him beam. ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡±

    The kid nodded, holding out a grimy hand.

    Nyx reached into her belt pouch, fished out something shiny, and flipped it to him. The boy caught it mid-air, examined it, then gave her a sly grin before bolting back into the maze of crates and scaffolding.

    Zara watched the whole exchange, brow furrowing. ¡°What the hell was that?¡±

    Nyx didn¡¯t look up. ¡°A trade.¡±

    ¡°For what?¡±

    Another tiny figure scurried up, this one a wiry girl, maybe twelve, gripping a coil of insulated wiring like it was treasure.

    Nyx took it with a pleased hum. ¡°Merci, ch¨¦rie.¡±

    The girl muttered something in a language Zara didn¡¯t recognize, then snatched a ration bar from Nyx¡¯s pouch and scampered off.

    Zara turned, watching as more of them appeared, little silhouettes darting through the hangar like phantoms, each one dropping off some stolen ship part, snatching up whatever payment Nyx gave them, and vanishing just as quickly.

    She crossed her arms. ¡°You¡¯ve got an army of thieves running parts for you?¡±

    Nyx grinned, setting a fusion regulator aside. ¡°Thieves? Non. Zey are entrepreneurs.¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±

    ¡°Besides,¡± Nyx added, glancing at Zara with a smirk. ¡°If I steal from someone, I do it myself.¡±

    ¡°You and Timus. You¡¯re more trouble than you¡¯re worth.¡±

    Nyx winked, tossing a spanner her way. ¡°Ah, but zat is what makes life interesting, non?¡±

 Chapter 7: Repairs, Rivalries, and Revelations - Part 4

    I gasped for air.

    But there was none to breathe.

    No ground beneath me. No stars above. Just an endless void stretching in every direction. Cold. Suffocating. Weightless.

    I looked down.

    Black veins pulsed beneath my skin, glowing like circuits, threading through me like I wasn¡¯t flesh and blood but something else entirely.

    Then, a voice.

    Not spoken. Not telepathic. Something older, transmitted straight into my soul.

    ¡°You were severed from the source. You were made incomplete.¡±

    I stiffened. My breath hitched, but the void swallowed the sound.

    A presence stirred ahead. A feminine figure.

    She emerged from the darkness like light bleeding into the abyss. Tall, impossibly elegant, her form shifting between real and unreal. Pale skin like moondust. Eyes like frozen stars. A flowing robe that shimmered between blue and silver, like the cosmos itself had been stitched into the fabric.

    She sang.

    A single word, soft and aching, cutting through the silence like the edge of a blade.

    ¡°Incomplete.¡±

    The void trembled. The veins in my arms burned.

    She reached out, and suddenly, I saw it.

    A monolith. Floating in the endless dark.

    Towering. Cold. Alive.

    Unreadable symbols pulsed across its surface, shifting, twisting, calling to me.

    Her gaze locked onto mine. A silent command.

    ¡°Find the Eidolon Core.¡±

    She tried to say more, her lips parting, the shape of a word forming. But something tore her back.

    A shadow erupted from the void behind her, shifting wrongly, too many limbs, too many eyes, its form flickering like it wasn¡¯t meant to exist in this reality.

    The woman¡¯s body arched violently, her veins blackening beneath her skin, pulsing, twisting into jagged, unnatural patterns.

    Then, a new voice.

    It whispered from inside her, stretching the syllables like it had just learned how to speak.

    "You will never be whole.¡±

    I fell.

    Fell.

    Fell¡ª

    I jolted awake, gasping.

    Sweat slicked my skin. My heart hammered against my ribs, my mind still tangled in the dream.

    My familiar room¡¯s dim interior came into focus.

    For a second, the dream lingered, heavy, real.

    I looked down at my arms.

    Nothing. No black veins. No circuits.

    Just my hands.

    Shaking.

    Then, Ares'' voice cut through the silence.

    ¡°Nightmare again, Commander?¡±

    I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, exhaling slowly. ¡°Shut it. Status report.¡±

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    A brief pause, then the AI¡¯s tone turned businesslike. "Zara and Nyx are outside, repairing the ship."

    I blinked. ¡°¡­Together?¡±

    "Affirmative. They appear to be... cooperating. For now."

    I let out a tired chuckle, massaging my temples. ¡°Huh. Guess miracles do happen.¡±

    "I wouldn¡¯t get your hopes up, Commander. My calculations predict a 47% chance of homicide."

    I smirked. ¡°That low?¡±

    "They are bonding over mutual disdain. Historically, this has led to property damage or organized crime in your crew."

    I frowned. ¡°That was one time.¡±

    "Incorrect. That was five times. Two incidents classified as felonies. One involving explosives."

    I groaned. ¡°Fantastic. Ares, the only AI in the galaxy programmed for sarcasm instead of actual assistance.¡±

    "Incorrect again. I am also programmed for ship diagnostics, tactical coordination, and lest we forget, preventing you from flushing yourself out of an airlock while drunk."

    I sighed, pushing myself upright. ¡°Damage report?¡±

    "Nyx is handling the primary repairs. Zara is assisting. Forcibly.¡±

    "Forcibly?"

    "Nyx has enlisted the local ¡®hangar rats¡¯ to retrieve supplies. Zara is now supervising.¡±

    I snorted. "So she¡¯s babysitting street thieves while Nyx cons her way through repairs? Yeah, sounds about right."

    "Affirmative. Currently, no signs of homicide. But I estimate a 63% chance of escalation if Nyx continues attempting to ¡®charm¡¯ Zara."

    I rubbed my face. ¡°You know, for an AI, you really enjoy watching me suffer.¡±

    "Incorrect. I merely observe and document your suffering. Enjoyment is optional."

    I collapsed back onto the cot. "You keep an eye on them. I¡¯m getting more sleep."

    "You are not going to supervise?"

    "Nah. If Zara tries to stab me, I¡¯d rather not see it coming."

    "And if Nyx attempts to take advantage of your... vulnerable state?"

    "You know what, lock the door. I¡¯m not in the mood for death or¡­ seduction."

    "Acknowledged. Door secured. Sleep tight, Commander. If you hear screaming, ignore it."

    "Ares."

    "Yes, Commander?"

    "Read me a bedtime story."

    "Processing¡­ I have selected a Terran classic. The Tragedy of Varkus the Unyielding: A Tale of Betrayal, Blood, and the Unforgiving Void."

    I sighed. "Ares, pick something that doesn¡¯t sound like it ends with mass executions."

    "Adjusting parameters¡­ Initiating Goodnight, Moonbase."

    I smirked, closing my eyes as Ares'' voice took on a deliberate, soothing monotone.

    "Goodnight, engines. Goodnight, thrusters. Goodnight, hull integrity, which currently sits at¡ª"

    I faked a loud snore.

    Ares stopped. "You are not actually asleep."

    I snored louder.

    A long pause. Then:

    "¡­Enjoy your rest, Commander. And may your dreams be marginally less unsettling than usual."

    ***

    Zara POV

    Nyx was halfway through fitting a stolen power cell into the Valkyrion¡¯s busted primary conduit when a deep, gravelly voice cut through the noise.

    ¡°Hey!¡±

    Zara barely flinched. She recognized that tone. Someone looking for a fight.

    A burly alien, skin like sand-worn stone, stomped toward her. One of his four thick hands clutched a jagged metal rod, probably used as a pry bar, but right now, it looked more like a weapon.

    ¡°You thieving bitch!¡±

    Zara arched an eyebrow, resting a hand on her hip. ¡°If you¡¯re about to say I stole something, you might want to check your sources.¡±

    Nyx, still crouched by the ship, didn¡¯t even glance up. Zara flicked her a sharp look.

    This is your mess.

    Nyx just smirked and adjusted a panel, fingers casually fitting the connectors in place.

    The alien didn¡¯t care for subtlety. He took another step forward, broad chest heaving. ¡°One of my crates is missing. Right after you and your ship-rat crew show up.¡± His gaze flicked to the Valkyrion. ¡°I don¡¯t need to be a genius to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Zat¡¯s fortunate,¡± Nyx cut in smoothly, finally standing. She stretched, tail curling lazily behind her. ¡°Because you are not.¡±

    His eyes snapped to her then swung.

    Or, at least, he tried.

    Before Zara could react, Nyx retaliated.

    Her tail lashed out.

    A flicker of movement, faster than should¡¯ve been possible.

    The alien jerked. His breath hitched.

    A thin line of red opened across his throat.

    For a half-second, his face twisted into confusion, his body still catching up to what had just happened.

    Then his legs buckled.

    His mouth opened, maybe a scream, maybe just air trying to escape through the mess Nyx had made of his windpipe. But before he could hit the ground, Nyx¡¯s tail curled around his ankle and yanked him backward.

    There was a quiet shunk as a floor panel slid open beneath him. Some hidden disposal chute Nyx had clearly used before.

    The body disappeared.

    The floor clicked shut.

    Gone.

    Zara slowly turned toward Nyx.

    Nyx grinned, flashing fanged teeth. ¡°Oh, what is zhat look for?¡± She tilted her head innocently, brushing off imaginary dust.

    Zara just blinked. Then, very slowly, she said, ¡°What. The fuck.¡±

    Nyx laughed, light and musical, like she¡¯d just dropped a glass of wine, not a corpse. ¡°Tch. Mon cher, if you let zhem push, zhey will take your whole ship.¡± She dusted off her hands. ¡°I ¡®ave standards.¡±

    Zara¡¯s jaw worked. ¡°You...¡± she pointed at the now very empty floor panel, then at Nyx. ¡°You just...¡±

    Nyx tapped her lip, tail curling playfully behind her. ¡°Hmmm? You want me to bring him back? I zhink zhat¡¯s impossible, no?¡±

    Zara rubbed her temples. ¡°You''re a¡ª¡±

    ¡°A treasure?¡± Nyx offered helpfully.

    ¡°A fucking menace.¡±

    Nyx winked.

    Then she clapped her hands together. ¡°Now, repairs are finished. Mostly.¡±

    Zara eyed her. ¡°What do you mean mostly?¡±

    Nyx sighed dramatically. ¡°We will not explode, if zhat¡¯s what you are asking.¡±

    ¡°That is not reassuring.¡±

    Nyx waved her off. ¡°It will be fine. If zhere is an issue, we will find out quickly.¡±

    Zara muttered something about wanting to throttle her, but Nyx was already sauntering toward the ship¡¯s boarding ramp.

    ¡°Come now, mon cher,¡± she called over her shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s go wake up our sleeping beauty.¡±

    Zara grimaced.

    She wasn¡¯t exactly excited about seeing him again. Not after their last conversation.

    And yet...

    She found herself following Nyx up the ramp, muttering, ¡°This is going to be a problem.¡±

 Chapter 7: Repairs, Rivalries, and Revelations - Part 5

    Zara outside with Nyx

    The hangar was still alive, buzzing with the typical noise of ships of grinding gears, hissing vents, and voices raised just enough to hint at violence. Zara crouched near the Valkyrion¡¯s undercarriage, wrench in hand, forcing herself to focus on the task instead of the fact that she was helping repair a ship she didn¡¯t fully trust. She didn¡¯t have to like the crew. She didn¡¯t even have to trust them. She just had to get Astra back. After that? She could walk away and never look back.

    Across from her, Nyx was elbow-deep in a half-cracked panel, humming some smug little tune like everything was unfolding exactly how she wanted. Her tail swayed lazily behind her, like she was painting the air.

    Then came the voice. Gravel-thick. Angry.

    ¡°Oi!¡±

    Zara recognized that tone. Someone looking for a fight.

    Big guy. Skin like cracked rock. Four arms. One holding a metal rod that probably had a name like The Persuader.

    ¡°You thieving bitch!¡± he barked, stomping toward her like he owned the place.

    Zara arched an eyebrow, resting a hand on her hip. ¡°If you¡¯re about to say I stole something, you might want to check your sources.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s my Phase-9 capacitor?¡± the alien barked.

    Zara gave her a look. This your mess?

    Nyx just smirked and adjusted a panel, fingers casually fitting the connectors in place.

    ¡°I had it stashed behind Bay Four, and now it¡¯s suddenly bolted onto that rusty bucket of yours.¡± His voice was a grated snarl, half spit, half ego.

    He pointed a thick, cracked finger at the Valkyrion, where Nyx was hunched beneath a side panel, frantically tightening bolts with the speed and guilt of a kid caught copying homework.

    She didn¡¯t look up. ¡°Zat¡¯s so strange,¡± she said, voice lilting, innocent as sin. ¡°You should report it to... someone who gives a shit, non?¡±

    Zara, squatting by the undercarriage, winced. Here we go.

    The guy¡¯s face flushed a deeper brown, like rust bubbling to the surface.

    ¡°You think I¡¯m stupid?¡± he growled. ¡°I saw one of your little ship-rats scurrying around. You think because you shake your ass and flash those teeth people won¡¯t notice when their gear goes missing?¡±

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Nyx finally stood, stretching her back like she¡¯d just finished a pleasant nap. ¡°Good. You ¡®ave eyes. I was starting to worry zat you were just all mouth.¡±

    He took a step closer, and his sneer curled wider.

    ¡°Let me guess,¡± he spat. ¡°This is that TRNC ship, right? The Valkyrion? Belongs to Commander Corvus himself?¡± He laughed, a mean, throaty sound. ¡°So it¡¯s true then. You really are his little bitch.¡±

    Nyx¡¯s smile didn¡¯t falter.

    He leaned in, stupidly emboldened. ¡°What¡¯s he got that you don¡¯t get better from your own kind, huh? You spread your legs for a mass murderer while your own people rot. I¡¯ve seen girls like you before¡­ just loyal dogs who wag their tails for the butcher¡¯s hand.¡±

    Zara stood halfway, unsure if she was about to witness a murder or be part of one.

    Nyx¡¯s eyes twitched, just once.

    Then she crossed the distance between them in an insant.

    She looked up at him sweetly, like she was about to whisper a secret.

    ¡°Zere is only one butcher ¡®ere,¡± she cooed, voice dipped in honey.

    Her tail slid up behind him opened a clean red smile across the alien¡¯s throat.

    His smug expression didn¡¯t even have time to fade before the light drained from his eyes. His knees buckled, and he toppled without grace or drama.

    Nyx caught him with one hand, eased him down like she was tucking a child into bed. Her tail looped around his ankle and dragged him backward to the same floor panel she¡¯d used before.

    It slid open with a hiss.

    The body dropped in.

    The panel closed.

    Gone.

    Zara stared at the empty floor panel. Then at Nyx.

    Then back at the panel.

    Nyx smiled, all teeth and mischief. She gave her gloves a theatrical flick, dusting off invisible debris like she hadn¡¯t just committed casual murder.

    ¡°Oh, do not look at me like zhat,¡± she said sweetly. ¡°He started it.¡±

    Zara blinked. ¡°You killed him.¡±

    Nyx tilted her head, mock-thoughtful. ¡°Mmm. I did.¡±

    ¡°You could¡¯ve de-escalated. He was just yelling.¡±

    Nyx finally looked at her, that smile fading just a hair. ¡°He insulted mon Commandant.¡±

    Zara frowned. ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°So,¡± Nyx said, voice like velvet, ¡°I do not let men with filthy mouths walk free after dragging his name through zhe dirt.¡±

    Zara stared. ¡°You slit his throat because he said something?¡±

    Nyx shrugged, acting like the whole thing had been mildly annoying. ¡°Words matter, ch¨¦rie. And besides¡­ now no one else will try to touch our ship. Problem solved.¡±

    ¡°Problem murdered,¡± Zara muttered.

    Mmm¡­ now zat would make a good holo-series. One season, twelve episodes, and a very dramatic final¨¦ involving a plasma torch and betrayal.¡±

    Zara rubbed her temples. ¡°You¡¯re completely insane.¡±

    ¡°Oui,¡± Nyx replied, eyes gleaming. ¡°Anyways, repairs are complete~¡±

    Zara narrowed her eyes. ¡°That fast?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Nyx said, waggling a finger, ¡°ze outside is complete. Mostly. I may ¡®ave had to bypass a few safeties and reroute power through an auxiliary coupling with a melted bracket, but¡­¡± she trailed off with a smile, like that explained everything.

    ¡°Translation?¡± Zara asked flatly.

    ¡°We should not explode.¡±

    ¡°Not exploding is your bar?¡±

    ¡°Low bars are easier to clear, non?¡±

    Zara muttered something very impolite under her breath.

    Nyx was already headed for the boarding ramp, her tail swishing behind her like she was on a runway instead of a half-legal asteroid dock. ¡°Come now, let¡¯s go wake our sleeping beauty.¡±

    Zara didn¡¯t move. ¡°Not exactly thrilled to see him.¡±

    Nyx glanced back with a little shrug. ¡°And yet¡­ here you are.¡±

    Zara scowled, but her boots moved anyway.

    She climbed the ramp behind Nyx, muttering, ¡°This is going to be a problem.¡±

    Nyx¡¯s laugh echoed down the corridor. ¡°Only if you fall for ¡®im.¡±

 Chapter 8: Iéˆ¥æª“ Not Wearing a Wig - Part 1

    [= Docking Data Acquired... =]

    Skov¡¯s End

    Asteroid Colony, Freehold Space

    Standard Galactic Date: 2739, Cycle 06

    Station Cycle: 14:21

    [= Connection Stable =]

    The Valkyrion¡¯s repairs were complete. Nyx had done her magic. After a few days of cutting, welding, and making sure every bolt and wire was just right, she¡¯d finally declared the Valkyrion was flight-ready.

    The three of us stood together on the ramp, staring at the ship.

    It felt heavy. The quiet weight you only get before a mission you might not come back from.

    Nyx broke the silence, looking at me with a grin. She held out a small device, sleek and matte black. A stealth beacon with her the usual extra flair and, knowing her, a few tricks she hadn¡¯t told me about.

    ¡°Ere,¡± she said, pressing it into my hand. ¡°Call it¡­ a parting gift.¡±

    Then, without asking, she slipped her arms around me and pulled me into a hug. It lingered longer than it needed to. Long enough to say more than her words ever would.

    ¡°Wait. You¡¯re not coming with us?¡± I asked.

    Nyx tilted her head, her golden eyes wide, voice soft. ¡°¡®Did you want me to, Commandant?¡±

    I felt heat crawl up my neck. ¡°Obviously. Who else is gonna keep the ship from falling apart?¡±

    Her smirk widened. ¡°I thought that¡¯s what Ares was for?¡±

    ¡°Ares may be almost sentient, but even he can¡¯t do the kind of repairs you can. He doesn¡¯t have a body. Go grab your stuff and let¡¯s get off this rock.¡±

    She gave me a mock-sigh, but there was a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. ¡°Fine. Walk with me to my place, then. I¡¯m not making two trips.¡±

    I snorted, nudging her shoulder. ¡°Still using me to carry your stuff? Classic.¡±

    She shot me a look, feigned innocence mixing with amusement. ¡°You? Used? I just worked on your ship for three days straight. For free.¡±

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, keep reminding me,¡± I muttered, trailing after her.

    Zara fell in step behind us, her mouth pressed in a thin line, but I didn¡¯t miss the way her gaze kept darting from me to Nyx, like she was weighing something in her mind.

    Nyx leaned in close, lowering her voice. ¡°I zink she¡¯s still jealous.¡±

    I chuckled, trying to keep my voice low. ¡°You¡¯re terrible at reading people. Pretty sure she just hates us.¡±

    Nyx just winked, tossing her hair over her shoulder. ¡°Per¡¯aps. But zhat only makes it more fun, non?¡±

    ***

    Orbiting Kelthar-3.

    The cold blue planet spun below us, swathed in thick, ominous clouds.

    Onboard the Valkyrion, the tension was high. Zara sat at the weapons console, checking power levels like they might change if she glared hard enough. Nyx lounged nearby, legs crossed, her expression unreadable, probably just waiting for me to say go.

    Ares broke the silence, voice crisp and clinical over the comms. ¡°Commander. I¡¯ve finished running the deep-scan overlays. The blacksite¡¯s primary defense grid is active, thermal dampening, encrypted surveillance, two orbital drones on a looping patrol pattern. Standard TRNC covert infrastructure.¡±

    I leaned over the console, studying the rotating holo-schematic Ares projected above the display. ¡°Entry points?¡±

    ¡°Limited. One surface access, likely for supply and personnel movement. Internal transport lift connects to the deeper facility levels. Perimeter defenses appear automated. No scheduled inbound traffic logged in the last six cycles.¡±

    ¡°And Yuki¡¯s last ping?¡±

    Ares paused. ¡°Ten days ago. Inside the facility perimeter. After that, radio silence.¡±

    If Yuki wasn¡¯t responding, either she was deep undercover¡­ or something had gone sideways.

    ¡°She could¡¯ve been made,¡± Zara said flatly.

    Nyx glanced at her, then back to me. ¡°Or she is still working from inside. Zese blacksites, very compartmentalized. Silence might be part of ze job.¡±

    ¡°Or it¡¯s the prelude to a body count,¡± I muttered.

    The map rotated slowly, highlighting weak points, power nodes, a secondary entrance too small for standard craft, and an unshielded maintenance bay deep along the canyon wall. Not ideal. But better than nothing.

    I exhaled and crossed my arms. ¡°We¡¯re not walking in through the front door. We need a workaround.¡±

    Zara tilted her head. ¡°Disguise?¡±

    Nyx perked up. ¡°Ooh, infiltration. You know I love a good costume.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not wearing a wig, Nyx.¡±

    She pouted.

    Zara shot me a look. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just pull on one of those old Republic uniforms you¡¯ve got laying around and stroll right in?¡±

    I scoffed, shaking my head. ¡°You think a Commander¡¯s uniform would get me into a blacksite? Those places aren¡¯t for dress blues, they¡¯re for¡­ well, spec ops. Intelligence types. Not officers in shiny pins.¡±

    Ares interjected again. ¡°One personnel file shows recent clearance transfers. A low-ranking logistics officer is scheduled for reassignment within the day. I may be able to overwrite biometric data and falsify entry credentials, if we intercept him en route.¡±

    I glanced at the display. ¡°That gives us a face and a reason to be there.¡±

    ¡°Correct,¡± Ares said. ¡°It also places you under less scrutiny, assuming you can act the part.¡±

    Zara snorted. ¡°Oh, he can fake being a cog in a machine. He did it for years.¡±

    I didn¡¯t argue.

    ¡°Then we¡¯ve got our in,¡± I said. ¡°Get me those credentials. Prep the infiltration gear. We hit the intercept window clean, we don¡¯t spook anyone. Once we¡¯re inside... we find Astra.¡±

 Chapter 8: Iéˆ¥æª“ Not Wearing a Wig - Part 2

    We drifted in low orbit above Kelthar-3, nestled in the shadow of a half-shattered asteroid belt. From up here, the planet looked cold, blue and distant, like a frozen rock left to rot at the edge of the galaxy. But that was the atmosphere lying to you. Standard optical refraction.

    Below? Swamps. Jungle. Rivers thick as veins. A wet, rotting mess tangled in green and mud.

    The plan was¡­ unconventional, to say the least.

    Originally, it was a simple data grab. Sneak in, pull the files, ghost out.

    But now? Now I was going to kidnap the guy. Or¡­ what¡¯s the word for kidnapping an adult? Adultnapping? Abducting? Whatever. I was going to nab him, take his place, and pray no one noticed the difference.

    Cleaner. Quieter. And if I moved fast enough, maybe even survivable.

    ¡°Ares, what¡¯s the transit window?¡±

    ¡°Shuttle M-17,¡± Ares replied. ¡°Leaving Varos Relay in twenty-seven minutes. Single passenger. Officer Nellan. Logistics. Low-clearance. No escort.¡±

    ¡°Destination?¡±

    ¡°Civilian drop at Kallis Mining Outpost. Eight clicks east of the blacksite. Standard protocol. They don¡¯t want the locals knowing what¡¯s out there.¡±

    ¡°Smart,¡± I muttered. ¡°Sneak ¡®em in through the back door.¡±

    Zara turned from the console. ¡°So we hit the shuttle?¡±

    ¡°We hit the shuttle.¡±

    ¡°Mid-flight?¡±

    I nodded.

    She didn¡¯t argue.

    ¡°Ares, give me control window.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have a ten-minute intercept window just before it hits atmo. Directional EMP will disable guidance without cooking the onboard AI. I¡¯ll handle the docking.¡±

    ¡°Good. We board, sedate him, lock him up.¡±

    ¡°His credentials?¡± Zara asked.

    Ares chimed back in. ¡°Already pulled. I¡¯ll spoof the biometrics. Face, gait, vitals, all matched to your profile.¡±

    ¡°Anything genetic?¡±

    ¡°Not at entry level. No blood, no DNA checks. It¡¯s just a door they don¡¯t want anyone knowing exists.¡±

    ¡°Queue the message. But don¡¯t send it until we¡¯ve got him off that shuttle and his systems are dead.¡±

    Ares responded, ¡°Understood. Message will be held until intercept confirmed and identity spoof is active.¡±

    ¡°Good. One voice. No echoes.¡±

    Zara leaned back in the chair, arms crossed. ¡°What do we do with him after?¡±

    ¡°Throw him in the brig,¡± I said. ¡°Keep him comfortable.¡±

    ¡°Comfortable?¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°He¡¯s not our problem unless he becomes one.¡±

    Ares spoke again. ¡°Shuttle¡¯s in pre-launch. We move in forty.¡±

    Nothing left to do but wait and waiting never sat right with me.

    I made my way down to engineering.

    Nyx was there, crouched by an open panel, elbow-deep in wiring, cursing softly in French. Her jacket was half-off, tank top clinging to skin slick with sweat and grease.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°You always fix things like you''re disarming a bomb?¡±

    She didn¡¯t look up. ¡°You always flirt like you''re already dead, mon ch¨¦ri?¡±

    I leaned against the bulkhead. ¡°That obvious?¡±

    Nyx wiped her hands on a rag, then stood and walked right up into my space. Too close. Her fingers brushed the front of my shirt like she was checking if I was real. Or maybe just reminding herself.

    ¡°You do not plan to die, yes?¡±

    I held her gaze. ¡°Not today.¡±

    She pressed her forehead to mine for a beat. No kiss. Just contact. Heat and static and everything unspoken.

    ¡°Commander,¡± Ares chirped through the overhead. ¡°Shuttle M-17 entering intercept range.¡±

    I pulled back. ¡°Time to go.¡±

    In the armory, I slipped into the breach suit, matte black, zero-profile, lined with lightweight ceramic plating. Breathable, flexible, and sealed for vacuum.

    Zara handed me the tranq rifle. Sleek, compact. Fires a condensed neuro-stun charge. Drops a man in seconds, no permanent damage¡­ unless you overcook it.

    ¡°Single shot should do it,¡± she said. ¡°Unless he¡¯s hopped up on stims.¡±

    ¡°Then I hit him twice.¡±

    ¡°Clean. No blood. We don¡¯t want his DNA anywhere.¡±

    ¡°Noted.¡±

    Nyx leaned in from the corner, eyeing me as I stripped out of my shirt.

    ¡°Oh l¨¤ l¨¤,¡± she murmured, voice thick with that lazy, teasing drawl. ¡°Turn around, mon Capitaine. Let me see all ze angles¡­¡±

    I sighed. ¡°Do you ever stop?¡±

    I sealed the suit, ran a quick systems check, and headed down the access corridor. Ares lit my path with soft-blue overheads, pulsing toward the breach port like a countdown.

    Nyx followed, trailing behind like a cat with too much curiosity.

    ¡°Shuttle is maintaining course,¡± Ares said in my ear. ¡°Adjusting vector for intercept. I¡¯ll ride just beneath their sensor ceiling, minimal profile, zero emissions.¡±

    ¡°Only if they''re awake and paranoid,¡± I muttered. ¡°Let¡¯s hope they¡¯re neither.¡±

    By the time I reached the hatch, I was locked in, helmet ready, rifle magnetized to my back, nerves steady.

    The lights shifted to amber as the chamber pressurized with a low drone, suit HUD syncing to the ship¡¯s external feed.

    Ares¡¯ voice came cool and clear through my comm.

    ¡°EMP primed. Directional burst in three¡­ two¡­ one.¡±

    The ship shuddered. Lights flickered. Ares handled the rest.

    ¡°Guidance disabled,¡± he said. ¡°Initiating forced dock. I have control of the shuttle''s onboard AI. Hatch override in progress¡­ now.¡±

    The corridor lights shifted green with a soft chime. The inner airlock cycled open, and I stepped into the breach tunnel, narrow, dim, the walls lined with reinforced mag-locks. I could feel the subtle vibration of the docking clamps latching onto the shuttle¡¯s hull like a predator sinking its claws into prey.

    The outer hatch hissed.

    Beyond it, the shuttle¡¯s interior lit up in sterile white. Compact, maybe fifteen meters nose to tail. Standard courier class, just enough room for four passengers and a pilot AI, though this run was solo. No frills. No comfort. Just rows of padded seats, a sealed cockpit door, and a faint hum from the gravity stabilizers.

    Officer Nellan was standing near the forward compartment, mid-stride, adjusting the strap on his utility bag. Late thirties, maybe early forties. Tired eyes, receding hairline, too clean to be field-experienced but too slouched to be fresh. Logistics grunt, through and through. He looked up at me in confusion, mouth parting like he might ask a question.

    I shot him mid-sentence.

    Fzzap.

    The stun charge hit center mass. His body spasmed once, then crumpled sideways between two seats, limbs tangled, bag slipping from his shoulder.

    ¡°Target sedated,¡± I said, stepping inside fully.

    I nudged Nellan with a boot to be sure. Yep, he was out cold.

    ¡°Confirmed,¡± Ares replied. ¡°You''ve got nine minutes until scheduled entry window. If you miss it, they¡¯ll flag the delay. Options get messy after that.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡± I slung the rifle and crouched.

    Nellan was heavier than he looked, dead weight in every sense of the phrase. I hoisted him under the arms, dragging him backward through the breach tunnel, feet scraping the deck. No time for grace.

    Back on the Valkyrion, I dumped him in the med bay¡¯s stasis chamber, slapped a sedative patch on his neck for good measure, and stripped him down. His uniform came off easily. Modular layers, magnetic seals, encrypted access band built into the wrist cuff.

    I kept the ID badge, boots, wristband. Everything else went in a containment bag. No evidence left behind.

    ¡°Vitals stable,¡± Ares said. ¡°Sleep mode engaged. He¡¯ll wake up confused, not dead. You¡¯re welcome.¡±

    I stripped off my breach suit, still sweating from the exertion, and pulled on the Republic officer gear. It felt thin. Exposed. Like dressing up in someone else¡¯s skin.

    Nyx appeared at the doorway, arms crossed. She tossed me a duffel. ¡°Backup loadout. I packed your armor, short rifle, and three toys. Just in case.¡±

    Zara followed behind, helmet clipped to her hip. ¡°You don¡¯t need to go in alone.¡±

    I zipped the duffel and slung it over my shoulder. ¡°I do.¡±

    Nyx stepped forward, eyes sharp now. ¡°You might need support¡ª¡°

    ¡°I said no.¡± Sharper than I meant it. The words snapped off like a knife.

    They both froze.

    I took a breath. Regret already creeping in around the edges. ¡°Look¡­ this isn¡¯t a two-gun op. It¡¯s infiltration. Clean. Quiet. If I get burned, I need you both out here to cover exfil. Understood?¡±

    Zara gave a tight nod, though her jaw clenched. Nyx looked like she wanted to argue, then didn¡¯t. She just stepped aside, lips pressed into a line.

    I moved fast, back through the corridor and into the shuttle again, duffel dropped behind the pilot console.

    ¡°Ares?¡± I asked, strapping in.

    ¡°AI override is locked. Flight path transmitted. You¡¯re on rails now, Officer Nellan.¡±

    I exhaled. My hands were steady, but only just.

    ¡°Then let¡¯s do this.¡±

 Chapter 8: Iéˆ¥æª“ Not Wearing a Wig - Part 3

    [= Transmission Acquired =]

    Aventis Secundus ¨C Exile Stronghold

    Location: Undisclosed | System: Restricted

    Galactic Date: 2739, Cycle 07

    Local Time: 18:47 Imperial Standard

    Legatus Status: Confined | Contact Authorization: Level Red

    [= Connection Secured =]

    The chamber felt colder than usual.

    Legatus Varro Marcellis sat unmoving, fingers steepled beneath his chin. Candlelight scarcely reached the far walls, leaving the room sunk deep in shadow.

    Across from him stood Magister Quintus Aurelian, Arch-Hermetic of the Legio Invicta¡ªa man who didn¡¯t trade in politics or battles, but flesh, will, and transformation.

    They were not alone.

    Between them, chained to the kneeling block, was Subject XIII.

    Well 13 something. They started the count over every thousand test subjects.

    Subject XIII. Once a soldier. Once a warrior. Once a man.

    Now something else entirely¡­ or he would be, if he survived.

    Aurelian eyed the Legatus carefully before speaking. ¡°My lord, this is the final application of the serum.¡±

    Varro¡¯s gaze flicked to the restrained figure. "I expect results. Proceed."

    From within his robes, Aurelian drew out a glass injector, its sleek surface lined with intricate circuitry. Inside, the serum pulsed with a sickly, impossible hue, neither red nor gold, but somehow both.

    Varro watched without blinking.

    The Magister knelt beside XIII, tipping the young man¡¯s head back. Breath came in short, shallow gasps; sweat beaded his skin. He¡¯d survived far more than most.

    But would he survive this?

    "Hold him."

    Two Invicta guards emerged, iron grips pinning the subject like a lamb to slaughter.

    Aurelian pressed the injector tight. One swift push, and the needle punched deep into XIII¡¯s skull.

    A hiss.

    The serum surged directly into his brainstem.

    For a moment. Nothing.

    Then everything happened at once.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The subject¡¯s body arched violently, muscles straining against their limits. His breath hitched. Pupils dilated, swallowing all color.

    His lips parted... and something else breathed through him.

    A sound that had no place in any sane world.

    It crawled up the walls, wormed into the shadows.

    The guards flinched.

    The Magister stepped back. His breath was measured, but Varro saw his fingers twitch.

    Then came the whispers.

    Layered voices, low and guttural, like an ancient chant without source.

    Thoughts without origin.

    A pulse rippled through the air, causing the shadows twisted unnaturally. The candle guttered low, though no wind stirred.

    And then, for a fraction of a second, something seemed to stare back from beyond the veil.

    A presence pressed against their minds, not speech, not sound, but knowledge no man should possess.

    The guards dropped their weapons. One stumbled back, gasping desperately for air. The other simply stood frozen, eyes wide.

    Subject XIII¡¯s head snapped upward, his eyes black voids, something writhing beneath their surface.

    "They are waking," XIII whispered, voice thick with mocking laughter.

    Aurelian froze. Varro¡¯s fingers tightened.

    Subject XIII grinned horribly, lips splitting at the corners, skin tearing his cheeks all the way to the ears.

    "They see you now."

    The guards scrambled back. One collapsed to his knees, trembling uncontrollably.

    The candlelight snuffed out completely and darkness fully swallowed the chamber.

    Then the silence broke.

    A raw, gut-wrenching scream sound tore through the darkness as XIII¡¯s body seized violently and his spine twisted unnaturally, ribs snapping outward like splintered wood.

    A ragged breath.

    Then silence again.

    Stillness.

    The candle flickered weakly back to life, barely illuminating the twisted ruin that had once been a man. Limbs hung limp, head lolled grotesquely to one side, mouth frozen in that too-wide grin.

    Aurelian exhaled slowly, smoothing wrinkles from his robes as if this were merely another failed calculation.

    Varro remained motionless.

    The Magister straightened, voice tight. "My lord," he said stiffly, "as you see, the serum succeeds physically, but the mind shatters every time."

    No reaction.

    Aurelian hesitated, then pressed on. "We¡¯ve tried thousands of candidates. Every single one collapses at the final threshold. They cannot endure it."

    Varro still didn¡¯t move.

    Finally, the Magister spoke words that had haunted his research for years.

    "Except for one."

    "He never heard the voices."

    "No."

    "He never broke."

    "No."

    Varro growled softly, leaning forward. "Then explain. Why can¡¯t you replicate what Dr. Kiros achieved?"

    Aurelian hesitated. That was the question.

    "Kiros kept detailed records until the final injection," he said carefully. "But that data is missing. Purged. We have only scattered reports of his results afterward. We don¡¯t know what Kiros did differently."

    Varro¡¯s jaw tightened. "If Kiros altered the process, we must reconstruct his methods."

    Aurelian sighed. "With respect, my lord, we''ve tried every known variation. Something crucial is missing."

    Varro¡¯s eyes narrowed. "Explain."

    "The mind, my lord," Aurelian said calmly, voice razor-sharp. "Perhaps the body can endure the transformation, but the mind must be shaped to accept it, or distracted. Turned off."

    "You believe it possible?"

    "Perhaps Kiros altered perception during the final administration."

    Varro leaned back, thoughtful. "How?"

    "We don¡¯t know," said Aurelian. "But we know his memories were altered soon after. The Republic claimed they were purging classified intelligence before his defection, but what if¡ª" He stopped himself.

    Varro¡¯s gaze locked onto him. "What if what, Magister?"

    "What if his mind was already altered before the process even finished?"

    Silence.

    Varro smiled thinly, like a wolf scenting blood.

    "They buried him in lies, believing they could erase him."

    Aurelian swallowed. "Yes, my lord."

    Varro tapped a finger against the table. One. Two. Three.

    "Then we must do what they did."

    Aurelian straightened.

    "If the body survives, but the mind fails," Varro murmured coldly, "then we reshape the mind first."

    His gaze drifted back to Subject XIII¡¯s still-twitching corpse.

    "Prepare a new subject. Begin with perception manipulation before the first injection."

    "And if we succeed, my lord?" asked Aurelian softly.

    Varro¡¯s thin smile widened slightly. "Then we stop making physically superior soldiers," he murmured softly, eyes gleaming coldly in the gloom. "And start forging gods."

 Chapter 8: Iéˆ¥æª“ Not Wearing a Wig - Part 4

    Ares disengaged the docking clamps.

    I felt the shuttle shudder, then jolt free from the Valkyrion¡¯s hull like a shell fired from a chamber.

    ¡°Initiating descent,¡± he said. ¡°Try not to puke, Commander.¡±

    The thrusters kicked in and the shuttle punched forward, gravity grabbing hold like a debt collector. Kelthar-3 filled the viewport, blue-gray clouds swirling like bruises over green rot and black water.

    I strapped in tight and braced.

    The upper atmosphere hit like a brick wall.

    The shuttle shook violently, metal creaking as if it resented being here. Heat warnings blinked on the side console. Alarms stayed mercifully silent¡­ for now.

    Flames streaked past the windows as friction peeled at the hull. The whole cabin vibrated, rattling like bolts were about to fly loose. My harness bit into my chest.

    ¡°This thing always ride like a drunk rhino?¡± I muttered.

    Ares didn¡¯t answer right away.

    Instead, his voice came back in a sharper tone. ¡°Intercepted burst transmission. Encrypted chatter from the blacksite, talking about a ''schedule anomaly'' and a ''security re-route.¡¯¡±

    My eyes narrowed. ¡°Talk to me, Ares.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve also got movement. Four heat signatures leaving the facility. On foot. Heading northeast, toward the Kallis settlement. Could be a recon team, could be... something else.¡±

    ¡°Friendly?¡±

    ¡°Doubtful. But maybe friendly to Officer Nellan.¡±

    Before I could respond, a high-pitched whine cut through the air, followed by Ares¡¯ voice, low and grim.

    ¡°Oh. Looks like we¡¯ve already been made.¡±

    ¡°What¡ª¡±

    The blast hit me mid-sentence.

    A thunderous crack, then metal screamed.

    Something tore through the shuttle¡¯s starboard side, shearing it like a soda can. A section of the wall peeled back into open sky. Atmosphere howled through the cabin, screaming like a banshee.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    My seat lurched sideways. The whole frame spun. Sparks sprayed across the dash. The right engine coughed, sputtered, and died.

    I was weightless for half a second, then slammed hard back into the harness.

    ¡°Brace for impact,¡± Ares said, his voice breaking up through static.

    The shuttle spun out of control, tumbling like dead weight toward the jungle below.

    Trees. Fire. Chaos.

    Then¡ª

    Black.

    ***

    I came to in a mess of twisted steel and scorched bulkhead, the stench of smoke and ozone thick in my lungs. Every inch of my body ached.

    The remains of the Republic shuttle lay scattered around me, broken compartments, shredded paneling, a hull breach big enough to fly a dropship through. Black smoke bled into the sky, swallowed by the choking mist of the Kelthar-3 jungle.

    I groaned and forced myself to sit up. Pain shot through my ribs. Blood trickled down the side of my face, warm and sticky. My head rang like I¡¯d headbutted a plasma coil.

    ¡°Commander,¡± Ares¡¯ voice buzzed in my ear. Glitchy, but alive. ¡°Crash survival odds were below ten percent. You continue to defy math.¡±

    ¡°Lucky me,¡± I muttered, coughing smoke. My hand came away red. Fantastic.

    Ares continued, calm as ever. ¡°The four heat signatures I tracked earlier have deviated. They¡¯re now moving northwest, toward a secondary relay point. Roughly one mile from your current location and closing.¡±

    ¡°Still no ID?¡±

    ¡°Negative,¡± Ares replied. ¡°But if they¡¯re affiliated with the same ghost division that tagged Astra¡¯s last location, I¡¯d advise extreme caution. You were supposed to arrive discreetly. Nellan wasn¡¯t scheduled to crash and burn.¡±

    I staggered to my feet, catching myself on the twisted frame of the door. Pain flared up my side, but I kept moving. My duffel, still miraculously intact, was wedged between two crushed seats. I dragged it free and cracked it open.

    Inside: my armor, folded tight. Sidearm. Compact rifle. A few extra mags. And a couple toys for bad days.

    This was shaping up to be one.

    ¡°The blacksite can wait,¡± I muttered, checking the chamber on the sidearm. ¡°If these bastards are walking out of a classified facility in the middle of nowhere, they might be my best lead.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Ares said. ¡°But a reminder: this location isn¡¯t random. One of Yuki¡¯s shadow projects was tied to Kelthar-3. Codename redacted, but the metadata lines up with Astra¡¯s last pinged coordinates. That¡¯s what brought us here.¡±

    ¡°Still doesn¡¯t explain why the cartel would sell her out.¡±

    ¡°Running scenario analysis. Top probabilities:

    Forty-two percent chance Astra became a liability. Knew too much, saw too much, got too ambitious.

    Thirty-one percent chance it was part of a trade, bodies for clearance, tech, or safe passage.

    Twelve percent chance they lost control of her and dumped her to cover it up.¡±

    ¡°And the rest?¡±

    ¡°Fifteen percent black swan event. Something even I can¡¯t account for yet. But based on trajectory, someone inside this facility requested her. And someone paid.¡±

    The empty duffel was dead weight now. So were Nellan¡¯s shredded uniform and ID badge. No sense leaving a paper trail, digital or otherwise.

    I dumped it all into the smoldering wreckage, watching fabric curl and blacken in the flames.

    ¡°So someone in the Republic was in bed with the cartel.¡±

    ¡°Possibly,¡± Ares replied. ¡°Or they¡¯re running the whole damn motel.¡±

    I exhaled through my nose. That sounded about right.

    Then I turned and disappeared into the brush, heading north, toward the jungle.

    Whatever Yuki¡¯s project was, whatever they¡¯d done to Astra... it started here.

    And I intended to finish it.

 Chapter 9: T-88 - Part 1

    [= Environmental Data Upload... =]

    [= Location Data Incomplete =]

    **Kelthar-3**

    Uncharted Jungle Region, Trelos Rift System

    **Standard Galactic Date**: 2739, Cycle 07

    **Local Time**: Approx. 12:45 Rift Standard

    [= Coordinates Unverified =]

    I was halfway to the tree line when Ares returned in my ear.

    ¡°Update. The squad I mentioned earlier has changed course for a third time. They¡¯re heading for your crash site now. ETA: three minutes. I suggest you disappear.¡±

    ¡°Well, that makes things easier.¡±

    ¡°Just a reminder, Commander, these aren¡¯t weekend militia. Underestimating them would be... unwise.¡±

    ¡°Think I can still play it off as if I¡¯m officer Nellan?¡±

    ¡°Probability of that: six percent and falling. Automated defenses flagged your ID during re-entry. Biometric conflict. The facility probably thinks Nellan is compromised. Or hostile.¡±

    I activated Nyx¡¯s repaired S.C.A.R.F. cloak and slipped into the jungle, dissolving into the foliage until I was just another shimmer among the green and gray.

    Kelthar-3¡¯s jungle was a steaming, miserable slab of mud and rot, choked by vines thick as cables and trees tall enough to blot out half the sky. It stank like fungus and sweat even through my visor.

    I climbed high, finding a vantage point in the gnarled branches above the crash site. Crouched, cloaked, and quiet. From my perch, I watched them move into the clearing.

    They swept the wreckage with discipline, rifles up, formation tight. Professional predators. Not some militia squad stumbling through the weeds¡ªno, these men moved. As one. Purposeful. Fluid.

    Something twisted in my gut.

    They felt familiar.

    Too familiar.

    My visor tracked their patterns, hand signals, glances, smooth transitions from cover to cover.

    A kill team. Not just any kill team.

    Mine?

    Zara¡¯s voice hissed in my ear. ¡°What are you doing? Take them down.¡±

    I didn¡¯t respond.

    Ares, quiet for once, finally said, ¡°You¡¯re hesitating.¡±

    ¡°Going dark,¡± I muttered. ¡°Maintain radio silence.¡±

    I cut comms and continued watching.

    I stayed hidden, cloaked in the tangled branches above, watching the squad below.

    Then a door cracked open in my mind, memories tumbling out. Mine, but somehow not.

    It was all coming back. Names. Voices. Movements. I remembered whose knee clicked in the cold. Who puked before ops. Who whispered a prayer into his gloves when he thought no one could hear. I remembered the smell of their gear, the sound of their laughter. I remembered training them. Leading them.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    And they had no idea I was ten feet above them, watching.

    They didn¡¯t see me and maybe that was for the best, because as much as I wanted to call out, to tell them I was alive, I knew the truth.

    If they were here¡­ it was because someone in the Republic wanted something very specific wiped off this planet. And knowing how they operated, if they caught sight of me skulking in the branches, it wouldn¡¯t be a friendly reunion.

    Through the canopy, I tracked them from above. Branch to branch. Watching like a ghost.

    One of them paused beneath me, just for a second. Tilted his head, scanned the trees. Lachlan. Couldn¡¯t mistake him. Still carried that oversized cannon he called a rifle. Looked like it belonged on a dropship.

    I remembered the glow from those synthetic eyes of his. Got them after some mining accident back on his colony. Signed up for the TRNC in exchange for the surgery and marched himself into hell with a grin. Never complained. Not once.

    I followed as they stalked toward their target, which ended up being some crude wooden fort squatting in a clearing like a rotten tumor. Spiked logs, rotted watchtowers, half a dozen green-skins lazing around like they hadn¡¯t pissed off the wrong government.

    Why send the best for this place?

    Lachlan put a round through the head of a goblin in the tower. Didn¡¯t even make a sound. One second the little bastard was blinking, the next his skull and half his torso exploded open like a rotten fruit.

    Further up, I spotted Ruiz, my old corpsman we called Doc. Super unique nickname.

    He had some green bastard pinned to the wall, silver blade to its throat, grinning like he was flirting.

    ¡°This is Freehold territory,¡± the goblin snapped. ¡°You have no jurisdiction!¡±

    Doc just smiled then slid the knife in. Slow. Clean. Goblin went limp.

    That was Doc for you. Charming as hell, deadlier than most riflemen. Med school dropout turned combat junkie. Back then, he could stitch you up or cut you open. Dealer¡¯s choice. Guess some habits didn¡¯t die.

    Kieran¡ªaka Scribbles¡ªmoved just behind him, sliding up to a half-busted alien terminal. I called him Scribbles for a reason. The guy took notes on everything. Quiet. Always watching.

    Two goblins spotted him. He didn¡¯t flinch.

    One took a shot to the head. The other one tried to scream. Didn¡¯t make it past the inhale before Doc dropped him.

    And there was Malik aka Ox, because he was built like¡­ well an ox and had a face like cracked pavement. If something broke, he fixed it. If someone bled, he patched them. And if something needed to explode, he was already reaching for the detonator before anyone asked.

    ¡°Perimeter¡¯s clear,¡± he called out. ¡°Unless you guys want to try knocking politely, but where¡¯s the fun in that?¡±

    Kieran smirked, toeing a corpse. ¡°Not even sure why they sent us. This was a one-man job.¡±

    Lachlan¡¯s voice came low. ¡°Don¡¯t get comfortable. Command flagged this op, said to watch for anomalies.¡±

    ¡°Anomalies?¡± Doc echoed, wiping his blade clean. ¡°Like what, radioactive goblins?¡±

    A pause. Then Lachlan again, voice cold. ¡°They think our old Commander might be out here.¡±

    My fingers tightened on the branch. They were talking about me.

    Ox laughed. ¡°What, him? You think he''d be dumb enough to walk into this? He¡¯s probably on a beach somewhere. Wife. Kids. Beer gut.¡±

    Doc snorted. ¡°Really? I bet he¡¯s out there somewhere starting another war. But I heard command¡¯s more worried about the other rogue psionic.¡±

    Another psionic?

    I should drop down and ask. Say hello.

    They wouldn¡¯t shoot their old CO¡­ would they?

    Ox¡¯s voice came through the comms again, this time more serious. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. We get the intel, we leave. That¡¯s the job.¡±

    ¡°And if we see him?¡± Kieran asked, too casually.

    Nobody answered right away. Then Lachlan, low and steady, said, ¡°We follow orders.¡±

    They hadn¡¯t changed.

    Ox gave a thumbs-up and started the walk back muttering something into the comms, something about getting it over with, and pressed the trigger.

    Charges blew.

    The wall vanished in a flash of light and splinters, debris raining down like hellfire. The interior lit up with smoke, sparks, chaos.

    Behind it sat the bomb.

    A big one.

    Military-grade. Terran. High-yield D9-Neutron. Enough juice to wipe out a city block, let alone this piss-stained outpost.

    ¡°Uh... anyone else seeing this?¡± Ox¡¯s voice crackled, not so cocky now.

    Kieran followed, tight. ¡°That¡¯s a D9.¡±

    Everything went still.

    Doc spoke, quiet and sharp. ¡°How the hell does a Terran nuke end up in a goblin shack?¡±

    That¡¯s when it clicked.

    They weren¡¯t here to clean house.

    They were the house.

    Kieran dropped to the floor, tools already out. ¡°It¡¯s live,¡± he said. ¡°The detonation trigger¡¯s wired to seismic sensors, our blast tripped it.¡±

    His fingers flew, hands moving faster than I¡¯d ever seen them. ¡°I can maybe¡ª¡±

    The countdown lit up on the device. Red. Blinking. Unstoppable.

    5¡­ 4¡­

    I was just far enough away to do nothing. Hell even if I was closer there was nothing I could¡¯ve done.

    3¡­

    Ox¡¯s voice crackled through the comm, barely a whisper.

    ¡°Guess we¡¯re going out with a bang, huh?¡±

    2¡­

    I wanted to yell. To say goodbye.

    But nothing came out.

    1¡­

    The world turned white.

    No sound. Just a wall of light swallowing everything, trees, dirt, the outpost, them.

    The blast wave hit me like God¡¯s backhand.

    Air gone. Balance gone. I was weightless, ripped through the canopy, limbs flailing, branches exploding around me.

    One thick limb caught me in the side, cracked in half on impact, then I slammed into the trunk behind it.

    Lights out.

 Chapter 9: T-88 - Part 2

    Orbit Above Kelthar-3

    Valkyrion ¨C Command Deck

    The stars hung quiet, cold, and unbothered. From up here, Kelthar-3 didn¡¯t look like much, just another world rotting on the edge of forgotten space.

    Inside the Valkyrion, the atmosphere was thinner than the air.

    Zara stood at the tactical station, arms folded, staring out the viewport like she could will the jungle below to give up its secrets.

    Nyx was pacing, her boots tapping softly on the deck, arms flailing now and then as she muttered to herself in a mix of French and frustration.

    ¡°She¡¯s been looping for twenty-three minutes,¡± Ares said flatly, his hologram flickering above the console in a pale blue hue. ¡°At this rate, she¡¯s going to wear a trench through the floor plating.¡±

    ¡°Maybe I should,¡± Nyx snapped, pausing mid-step. ¡°Maybe zen someone will notice our Commander is down zere playing ghost and not answering ¡®is comms.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s cloaked,¡± Zara said without looking over. ¡°You know that.¡±

    ¡°I know I don¡¯t like it,¡± Nyx muttered, plopping back into the co-pilot¡¯s seat and dragging her legs up under her. ¡°I should¡¯ve gone with him.¡±

    ¡°And trudge your way through the muck?¡± Zara offered, voice cool as ever. ¡°No thanks.¡±

    Nyx shot her a look, eyes glossy. ¡°He said, ¡®going dark.¡¯ Just like zat. ¡®Killing comms.¡¯¡± She sniffed, wiping at her nose. ¡°Who says zat to people who care about him?¡±

    Ares chimed in, voice as neutral as ever. ¡°You do. Twice a day. Usually with a kiss emoji and no explanation.¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Nyx muttered, but her voice cracked halfway through.

    She turned back toward the viewport, watching the slow churn of clouds over the jungle. Her voice dropped to a whisper. ¡°He always thinks he has to do it alone. Always.¡±

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Ares cleared his throat. Digitally, of course. ¡°While you wait, I¡¯ve tapped into Republic comm traffic. The news might distract you. Or, considering the content, horrify you. Either way, you¡¯ll stop pacing.¡±

    The holoscreen shimmered to life, filling the command deck with overlapping voices, jittery footage, and the too-polished faces of anchors trying to sound calm while the galaxy fell apart behind their eyes.

    ¡°High Councilor Ren Fahl found dead, official report cites cardiac arrest. Unofficial sources confirm plasma burns to the chest cavity¡­¡±

    ¡°Another assassination rocks the Senate chambers. Admiral Quellis, executed in his home. No suspects.¡±

    ¡°This marks the fifth high-ranking Republic figure to vanish in under three days¡­¡±

    Headlines scrolled across the top:

    ¡°WHISPERS OF A PURGE¡±

    ¡°VARRO¡¯S EXILES: ARE THEY CLEANING HOUSE?¡±

    ¡°FACTION WAR INCOMING?¡±

    Zara narrowed her eyes. ¡°Looks like the Republic¡¯s gutting itself.¡±

    ¡°Some of them were Varro¡¯s enemies,¡± Ares said, flicking through feeds. ¡°Others, his allies. It¡¯s not a purge. It¡¯s a reshuffle. Someone¡¯s cleaning the board before the next game.¡±

    Nyx stared blankly at the screen. ¡°And we¡¯re stuck in orbit, watching the galaxy burn from a front-row seat.¡±

    Zara glanced at her. ¡°Better than the blast radius.¡±

    Nyx didn¡¯t reply. Just wrapped her arms tighter around her legs.

    The holo flickered again.

    Ares¡¯ voice dropped half a register. ¡°Seismic shockwave detected. Surface flash event.¡±

    Zara¡¯s hands tightened on the edge of the console.

    Nyx blinked. ¡°Quoi¡­?¡±

    Outside, through the viewport, a brilliant flash lit the atmosphere below, sudden, violent, and unnatural.

    Kelthar-3 flared white.

    The explosion bloomed across the surface like a second sun. Silent from orbit, but absolute. A wave of light punched through the clouds, tearing through jungle like God carving his name into the dirt.

    Soft alarms began to trill through the ship.

    Ares¡¯ voice was a whisper now. ¡°D9-Neutron detonation confirmed. Epicenter matches Commander¡¯s last ping.¡±

    Nyx dropped her protein stick. It hit the deck with a soft tap.

    She bolted up, face pale. ¡°Non¡­ non. Ares, check again!¡±

    The screen view split. A crater came into focus, blackened earth, smoke rising. No movement.

    Nyx swallowed hard. Her hands trembled as she reached for the console, then pulled back.

    Zara stared at the screen, unmoving. Her voice came out like stone. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t go out like that.¡±

    Nyx turned, eyes wide. ¡°You don¡¯t know zat.¡±

    Zara didn¡¯t blink. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the footage. Training sims. Combat recordings from the war. He¡¯s not human¡­ not completely. There¡¯s a reason the Legatus called him the king of war.¡±

    That did it.

    Nyx shot to her feet, rage bubbling out through her clenched fists. ¡°Say one more thing like that,¡± she hissed, her voice cracking. ¡°I swear to God, I¡¯ll¡ª¡±

 Chapter 9: T-88 - Part 3

    I woke up in a mess of shredded leaves and scorched earth, smoke curling around me like it had a grudge. My chest felt like it had been stomped on by a grav-loader. Every breath came sharp and hot, like someone had lined my lungs with broken glass.

    I tried to move. Got maybe an inch off the ground and regretted it instantly. Something deep in my side twisted the wrong way, sharp and wet and wrong.

    My skin was tight. Burned. I could feel it along my arms, across my neck, crawling up one side of my face. I reached up, fingers trembling, and touched what used to be skin. It was raw and swollen, blistered in places, peeling in others.

    I knew before I felt the shape of it that my face wasn¡¯t the same anymore. I didn¡¯t need a mirror. The heat had taken its share and left me something worse in return.

    My cloak was dead. So was the visor. No HUD, no telemetry, no IFF tags or friendly blips in the dark. Just me and the taste of ash. I lay still for a moment, listening to the wind stir the trees, and the distant creak of something collapsing in the distance. Probably just another tree that couldn¡¯t stand any longer.

    Eventually, I dragged myself high enough to look.

    There was no fort.

    Just a crater.

    Black. Smoking. Wide enough to swallow everything that had been there minutes ago. The walls, the watchtowers, the Orak¡¯kan bodies. And them.

    My team.

    They were gone. All of them.

    I stared at the ruin and it came back all at once. Training days, deployment runs, tired jokes in foxholes, arguments over rations. All of it.

    And then the name dropped into my head like a stone.

    T-88.

    Sounds harmless. Something you''d find stamped on the back of an old repair droid. But it wasn¡¯t. It was our designation. A kill team. Black-class. Off the books. No medals, no burials. Just results.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    And now they were results too. A pile of vapor and burnt bones.

    I sank back onto the dirt, the heat of the blast still clinging to the ground beneath me. My throat burned. My skin throbbed. I could barely tell if the tears stinging my eyes were from grief or the smoke.

    It seems as though they¡¯d been sent in to die. Used. Like pawns.

    And if someone was clearing the board, sweeping out the old teams like dust under the rug, then the real question wasn¡¯t why now. It was why not sooner.

    How many more ¡°coincidences¡± before I stop pretending that¡¯s what they are?

    And I had to ask myself the one question I didn¡¯t want to answer.

    If T-88 was gone¡ª

    Where the hell was Yuki?

    ***

    Orbit Above Kelthar-3

    Valkyrion ¨C Command Deck

    ¡°Stand down,¡± Ares interrupted, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. ¡°Telemetry resuming. I¡¯m detecting movement.¡±

    Nyx froze, one step away from thrashing Zara, chest heaving.

    Zara lowered her hands, eyes still locked on Nyx. ¡°Movement?¡±

    ¡°Commander Corvus appears to have sustained elevated physical stress immediately following the detonation. Heart rate spike, adrenaline surge. There are injuries... but they appear to be non-lethal.¡±

    Nyx stumbled back a step, blinking hard. ¡°So he¡¯s¡­¡±

    ¡°Alive,¡± Ares confirmed. ¡°Conscious.

    Zara exhaled, slow and sharp, like she¡¯d been holding it since the blast.

    Nyx turned away, wiping at her eyes. ¡°Idiot,¡± she muttered. ¡°Stupid, reckless idiot¡­¡±

    Zara glanced over, one brow raised, her expression unreadable, but the look said it all. You¡¯re one to talk.

    ¡°Well, at least he''s still breathing. But what the hell is he doing down there?¡± Zara asked.

    Nyx tried for a smirk, but it barely held. ¡°Reckless, as always. Bet you anyzing he¡¯s down zere grinning zhrough the pain, like ¡®oh la la, look at me, I am invincible.¡¯¡±

    Ares paused. ¡°Recent data indicates Commander Corvus is experiencing severe pain. Smiling would be¡­ unlikely.¡±

    Nyx let out a brittle laugh, shaking her head. ¡°Oh, Ares. It¡¯s a figure of speech. It means he¡¯s too stubborn to show weakness.¡±

    There was a brief pause, the ship quiet around them.

    Then Ares spoke again, his voice distant as new telemetry came in. ¡°He¡¯s on the move. Heading northwest from the blast site towards the urban center designated ¡®New Vothar.¡¯¡±

    Zara¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Urban center? So cartel turf.¡±

    Nyx groaned, dragging her hands through her hair. ¡°Of course. Out of one fire and into anozer. He never takes a break, does he?¡±

    ¡°I will continue to monitor his condition,¡± Ares said. ¡°If necessary, I will prepare for rapid extraction.¡±

    Nyx gave a weak chuckle, worry still thick in her voice. ¡°Typical Tim. But if he comes back with another limp, I swear I¡¯ll smack him myself. You hear zat, Ares?¡±

    ¡°Affirmative,¡± Ares replied. ¡°I will log your threat for delivery upon his return.¡±

    ¡°Perfect.¡± Nyx¡¯s grin returned, faint but real. ¡°Now we wait for ¡®is grand reappearance. Probably singed, scowling, and acting like ¡®e owns ze whole damn galaxy.¡±

    Silence settled between them. Just the hum of the ship, and the stars beyond.

    After a moment, Ares spoke again, softer this time. ¡°Commander Corvus is resilient. He will return.¡±

    Nyx nodded slowly, curling tighter into the seat. ¡°He better. Or I will kill ¡®im myself.¡±

 Chapter 10: The Spire - Part 1

    [= Attempting Urban Link... =]

    [= Signal Unstable. No Network Access =]

    Kelthar-3: Sector 9 ¨C Outpost Crater

    Local Time: 17:32 Rift Standard

    I dragged myself through the wreckage, half-crawling, half-stumbling over splintered trunks and scorched earth. The jungle around me had been gutted, ripped apart by the blast. Trees shattered like matchsticks, branches blackened and curling with smoke, the ground cracked and smoldering under my boots. Every step was a fight. My legs barely worked. My ribs screamed with every breath. The air tasted like ash and blood.

    Then, through the shimmering heat and drifting dust, I saw movement. Blurred at first, like a shadow swimming through boiling water. A figure, steady and deliberate, walking toward the crater like he owned it. Not hurried. Not cautious. Just calm. Like he already knew what he¡¯d find.

    Another figure moved into view, tall, armored, precise. Sleek composite plating, matte-black and sharp at the joints, the kind of suit my men were wearing. He moved like he¡¯d done this a hundred times. Maybe a thousand. Each step was careful, balanced, deliberate. Not cautious. Controlled.

    For a moment, I thought it might be Yuki.

    But no, the person was too big. The frame was wrong. Shoulders broader, gait heavier. Definitely a man.

    He walked straight into the kill zone like it didn¡¯t bother him, boots crunching over ash and twisted metal. My pulse kicked hard against the bruises under my ribs as I watched him cross the edge of the crater. He didn¡¯t look around, didn¡¯t notice me half-buried in the wreckage just beyond the blast ring. He had no idea I was alive and watching.

    I kept still. Breathing shallow. Muscles coiled like wire. My hand hovered just above the scorched dirt.

    Then he touched the side of his helmet.

    I could barely hear it, but the helmet''s comms boosted the signal enough to carry across the open field.

    "Mission success," he reported, cold and clipped. "T-88 is neutralized. All assets eliminated.¡±

    I held my breath trying to catch every word.

    "Yeah... area¡¯s secure. Shuttle¡¯s cooked." The voice came steady through the smoke, bored even. "No biosign on the commander. If that was him, he got caught in the blast. No way anyone walked away from that."

    A pause.

    Too long.

    Whoever was on the other end wasn¡¯t convinced.

    The agent filled the silence, tone tightening just a notch. ¡°Probably a glitch. Maybe the ID tag registered during re-entry, then fried with the rest of the cockpit.¡±

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    My fingers curled deeper into the soot-caked dirt as I tried to calm my breathing.

    Another pause.

    Longer this time.

    The voice came back a little stiffer now, trying to sell the lie.

    ¡°I¡¯ll head back to the Spire in New Vothar, give my report in person. Yuki made sure everything went smooth on her end. No loose ends.¡±

    My breath caught mid-inhale.

    Yuki?

    He kept talking, unaware of the noose tightening around his neck.

    ¡°Using their little rogue friend was smart. Lured him in like a dog chasing a scent. We didn¡¯t even have to bait the hook, just let Republic chatter leak in the right places, let the idiot chase ghosts.¡±

    He chuckled. Not warm. Not amused.

    Just cruel.

    ¡°They even picked the shuttle. Slipped that useless officer on board, waited for the AI to sniff out the mismatch. Right on cue. Predictable as ever.¡±

    I felt my gut twist. My jaw clenched so tight I tasted blood.

    How the hell did I not see it?

    The perfect op. The easy in. The too-clean timing. I thought I was ahead of the game¡­ smart, cautious, untouchable.

    I was like a damn tourist walking into a meat grinder.

    He stood there for a second, ash falling in slow spirals around him.

    ¡°Understood. Tonight then. Over and out.¡±

    He disconnected. Brushed some ash from his vambrace like it was just another day in the office. Just another operation signed, sealed, and delivered.

    Played like a pawn.

    I thought of the thousand ways I could¡¯ve handled this better, but only one path forward now.

    I could feel it building, low and deep, a pressure behind my eyes. Not fear. Not panic. Rage. The kind that made your teeth ache and your vision narrow. The kind that coiled behind your ribs like it wanted out.

    My fingers reached for the SCARF unit out of instinct.

    Dead.

    Comms? Gone.

    Ares? Silent.

    Guess I¡¯ll have to handle it myself.

    The anger swelled, pushing past the pain, fueling something dark and primal. I felt a crackling in the air, a shift. My vision tunneled, everything narrowing on him, on this arrogant specter who thought he¡¯d just cleared house.

    I reached out, letting the anger sharpen, focusing it into something lethal, something I¡¯d barely begun to understand. I twisted that anger like I was wringing out a blade.

    The specter froze.

    Then his body jerked hard, head twisting sideways with a sound like wet rope snapping. The helmet popped free, bouncing at his feet before rolling into the crater. His body followed a second later hitting the dirt like a puppet with the strings cut, one boot twitching against the ash.

    Silence, thick and final.

    I stared at what was left. My hands shook. The burns across my skin hissed with every breath. The air reeked of ozone and ash.

    I didn¡¯t feel proud. Or strong. Or heroic.

    I felt hollow.

    Just¡­ empty.

    Their voices came first. Lachlan, laughing through cracked lips. Doc cursing at a medkit that wouldn¡¯t open. Kieran¡¯s muttered sarcasm. Malik calling shotgun on a gunship we never made it back to.

    Not dialogue. Not game code. Real. Solid. Heavy.

    I used to think they were NPCs. Scripts. Clever programming slapped over pixels and pretense. Just another quest log.

    But now? The way Malik grinned when he pulled the trigger. The way Kieran tilted his head just before asking something stupid. That wasn¡¯t code. That was memory. Mine.

    And this place¡­ this world wasn¡¯t supposed to feel like this.

    But it did.

    The memories, the missions, the battles, every face I¡¯d left behind, felt as genuine as anything I¡¯d ever known.

    I closed my eyes. Just for a second. Just to stop the room from spinning.

    Then I pushed the grief down, where I could reach for it later. When there was time.

    Now?

    Now was for Yuki.

    For Astra.

    For answers.

    And if I couldn¡¯t get those¡­

    Then I¡¯d settle for blood.

 Chapter 10: The Spire - Part 2

    I looked around, scanning the crater. No wreckage. No tracks. Just ash and twisted roots.

    No way this guy walked here.

    He had a ride. Dropcraft, maybe. Something quiet. Fast. Gone now, either recalled or cloaked nearby.

    I glanced down at the corpse again, sprawled like a marionette with the strings cut, one arm bent under him at an ugly angle. His helmet lay in the dirt, visor cracked, face frozen mid-smirk.

    I crouched beside him, the pain in my ribs flaring. ¡°I¡¯m a lucky ducky,¡± I muttered, wincing as I reached for his chest plate. ¡°I¡¯m gonna take these off your hands, bro.¡±

    The armor was familiar, exactly like my specter gear.

    Dark plating, matte finish, edges like shadows. Minimalist Terran design philosophy. No bright insignia, no flashy rank patches. Authority by presence, not color.

    A style I knew all too well.

    Not exactly like our old uniforms, but close enough. Whoever Valor had worked for, they¡¯d taken a page from the Terran Republic''s playbook.

    I unlatched the vambraces, fingers working on autopilot. The chest piece came free with a hiss. I ignored the heat radiating from the burn-scarred inner lining and started fitting it to my own body.

    Every piece clicked into place like it had been waiting for me.

    Breastplate. Greaves. Gauntlets. The neural mesh in the collar buzzed faintly as it synced with my ruined implants.

    The helmet stared up at me.

    I stared back.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Not the same make as mine, but close enough. Same bone-white interior. Same reinforced comms port at the jaw. Same cold hum at the base of the skull.

    I slid it on.

    The HUD tried to boot, flickered, then died. Fine. I didn¡¯t need a map to find my way anymore. Just a name.

    I rifled through his gear, fingers working fast despite the tremor. And then I found it, his comms device, cracked but still blinking. One message still pulsing on the screen.

    Bingo.

    An encrypted message on his comms device, the screen flashing with the name "Agent Valor." That must''ve been him, the poor bastard curled up at my feet.

    ¡°Agent Valor.¡±

    I looked down at the corpse.

    Poor bastard.

    For now, I¡¯d borrow his name.

    The message ended with a symbol, an intricate star with thirteen points, each one branching into smaller constellations. Beneath it, just one word, barely visible in the encrypted footer:

    Orion.

    I paused, fingers hovering over the device, that single word sending a strange shiver through me. Orion. Something about it gnawed at the back of my mind, like a half-remembered dream, but the connection wouldn¡¯t come.

    Nothing specific, nothing I could place. Just¡­ familiarity. Like d¨¦j¨¤ vu twisted into dread.

    I filed it away, sliding the console onto my wrist. For now, ¡°Orion¡± was just another piece of the puzzle.

    On Valor''s wrist console, I found a navigation system still intact, thank God, since mine had been blasted to bits. I keyed it on, setting a course for the nearest city: New Vothar. The Spire should be there if I heard him right, and with any luck, Yuki would be waiting.

    I patted myself down, checking the compartments, the seals. Shoulder, thigh, gauntlet. Then I found it¡ªtucked into the left wrist housing, recessed and shielded under a snap-cap.

    A small, smooth stud. No markings. Just one button.

    Of course.

    I pressed it.

    Somewhere deeper in the jungle, machinery stirred.

    A moment passed, then I heard it. A low, rising hum, soft at first, then growing. Leaves shuddered. Vines peeled apart. And like it had been waiting for the signal, the hoverbike rolled into view.

    Sleek. Black. Silent as a ghost.

    No lights. No roar. Just cold precision on antigravs, gliding through the trees like a predator that never needed to run.

    It stopped beside me with a patient whirr, engine cycling down into a barely audible purr.

    ¡°Of course you¡¯ve got a ride,¡± I muttered, flexing sore fingers as I stepped toward it.

    I looked back at the body in the crater. The one whose name I¡¯d borrowed. No ceremony. No words. Just a pile of meat.

    I swung onto the saddle. The console lit up. New Vothar glowed on the nav.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go meet this Orion prick,¡± I said, and opened the throttle.

 Chapter 10: The Spire - Part 3

    I finally reached the dusty outskirts of New Vothar, the city rising out of the landscape like an industrial monolith. Tall buildings glinted in the dimming light, towers cutting into the sky like they hated the stars. It was a place that looked... refined, almost polished, for somewhere known as a cartel hotspot. Either they were laundering blood money into aesthetics or hiding something even filthier beneath the shine.

    A checkpoint blocked the main road. Standard Terran setup. Military-grade barricades, sensor towers, and a crew of tired guards trying to look alert. One smoked a stimcig like it owed him rent, another leaned against the scanner terminal, boots kicked up, half-dozing.

    I coasted closer, head down, helmet visor opaque. The bike¡¯s engine rumbled low. One of the guards held up a hand, motioning me to stop. I did.

    ¡°Identification,¡± he barked.

    My fingers hovered near the plasma knife at my thigh. Just one twitch. That¡¯s all it¡¯d take.

    Red bled into the edge of my vision. I could end this. All of them.

    But then something cut through the fog¡ªjust a flicker. A memory.

    Not of war. Of her.

    Astra, laughing in the Valkyrion¡¯s rec room, beating my ass at some arcade fighter, flipping me the bird with a grin that could¡¯ve started or ended wars. It was stupid, and small, but it brought me back.

    I inhaled slowly. I needed information now. Heads could come later.

    I nodded to the guard and tapped the side of my helmet. ¡°Agent Valor,¡± I said, voice low and clipped. ¡°Returning from recon. Clearance is in your log.¡±

    The man frowned, turned to his terminal. I counted two seconds. Three. Then he blinked at the screen and straightened up.

    ¡°Y-yes sir. You¡¯re clear.¡±

    I throttled the bike and rolled through, their stares prickling the back of my neck.

    Once I was past the checkpoint, I veered off the main road into a stretch of abandoned construction scaffolds and dirt. Somewhere quiet enough to think.

    I slid off the bike and unlatched the data pad, fiddling with the cracked screen until it blinked to life.

    ENTER AUTH CODE:

    I didn¡¯t dare use mine. The moment I keyed in anything tied to my old sig, every blacksite satellite in orbit would ping my location and call it a target.

    They¡¯d know I was alive. Know I was moving.

    Not yet.

    Instead, I accessed the subdermal mesh embedded in the uniform¡ªI could feel the faint pulse of it against my spine. Whoever designed Valor¡¯s armor wove in a neural handshake system, meant to sync his biosignature to any field console within range. Useful.

    I tapped into that¡ªpiggybacked on his mesh, routed the signal manually.

    The screen blinked again.

    Confirm DNA match: Agent Kale Drayden

    Codename: VALOR

    Clearance: Sigma-Four ¨C 13th Sector

    ¡°Perfect,¡± I muttered.

    Ares would need to see this. But after what just happened¡ªthe shuttle, the kill team, the neutron bomb¡ªI wasn¡¯t calling him like everything was fine. Not yet.

    I dug into the menu, disabled the uplink to central command, and rerouted the signal through a blind relay I remembered from the early days of T-88 ops. One of the few safe channels that hadn¡¯t been blacklisted. I hoped.

    Then I spoke.

    ¡°Ares.¡±

    A moment¡¯s silence, then, ¡°Commander? It¡¯s good to have you back.¡±

    I kept my voice flat. ¡°Is it?¡±

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    A pause. Longer than usual. Ares recalibrating, or choosing his next sentence carefully.

    ¡°Your vitals disappeared for 143 seconds following detonation. The probability of your survival dropped to 0.6%. I am¡­ relieved to have been incorrect.¡±

    Relieved. Coming from him, that was basically an emotional breakdown.

    Before I could answer, two more voices crashed in like twin hurricanes on either side of the comm line.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    ¡°That blast, what the hell happened¡ª¡±

    ¡°Are you injured?¡±

    ¡°Tim, answer us!¡±

    ¡°Tim, you bastard, if you die dead I swear to God I¡¯ll bring you back and kill you again¡ª¡± Zara and Nyx, tangled in static, both talking over each other.

    ¡°Ladies,¡± I snapped. ¡°Enough.¡±

    Then I softened, just a touch. ¡°I¡¯m fine. More or less. Had a run-in with a neutron bomb and a betrayal or two. You know. Typical Tuesday.¡±

    Nyx exhaled like she¡¯d been holding her breath for hours. ¡°Merde¡­ I thought you were ash in a crater. I¡ª¡± she stopped, then snapped, ¡°You didn¡¯t even say goodbye!¡±

    ¡°I was a little busy getting nuked,¡± I said. ¡°And trying to figure out if our ship¡¯s AI is still compromised.¡±

    Ares answered, slow and calm. ¡°If you have reason to doubt me, Commander, I will submit to a full diagnostic. But time may be better spent preparing your cover identity. Republic response teams are en route to the blast site.¡±

    ¡°Exactly why I called.¡± I lifted my wrist. ¡°I¡¯m wearing a corpse. Agent Valor, Kale Drayden. Sigma-Four clearance. I want his credentials integrated into my profile. Right now.¡±

    Ares processed in the background, soft clicking and signal pings filtering through. ¡°Understood. Please verify the ID string.¡±

    I rattled it off. ¡°SSN: CR4-99VX-KALE-8813. Clearance code embedded in the console matches his armor¡¯s neural weave. Sync it, and reroute any outbound telemetry through blind channels. And as you know already no Republic pings, no beacon locks.¡±

    "Ares, DO NOT FUCK IT UP like you did last time. Or I might begin to think you¡¯re still working for the Republic and destroy you.¡±

    ¡°Understood commander.¡±

    ¡°Confirmed,¡± Ares replied. ¡°Credentials accepted. You are now operating under the identity of Agent Kale Drayden. Signal hardened. All systems synced under blackout protocols.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    Zara cut back in. ¡°You¡¯re not seriously walking into that city full of thugs wearing stolen armor, are you?¡±

    ¡°Zara,¡± I said. ¡°Do I ever do anything half-measured?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she replied immediately. ¡°Constantly. But you pretend it¡¯s clever.¡±

    Nyx muttered something in French, probably about how much she wanted to kill me and kiss me in equal measure.

    I sighed. ¡°Look, I need recon on New Vothar. Ares, feed me any regional scans, intercepted chatter, drone feeds. Everything you¡¯ve got. I want to know the layout, the players, the movement patterns. Especially anyone tied to Astra, if anyone¡¯s seen her, spoke her name etc...¡±

    Ares replied instantly. ¡°Uploading tactical overlay now. Cartel presence confirmed in the southern districts. Intel suggests heavy activity around a location labeled ¡®The Spire.¡¯ Public-facing as a corporate front. Rumors suggest deeper functions, like data operations, experimentation, trafficking.¡±

    Zara again. ¡°Sounds like Astra¡¯s kind of place.¡±

    Nyx happily agreed.

    ¡°Exactly,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s where I¡¯m headed. One more thing.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Commander?¡±

    I forwarded the encrypted image from Valor¡¯s device. ¡°Does ¡®Orion¡¯ mean anything to you? Thirteen-pointed star, each one branching into smaller constellations. Footer tagged with a single word: Orion.¡±

    There was a silence. Then the quiet tick of processing. Ares didn¡¯t rush.

    ¡°Symbol identified,¡± he finally said. ¡°It matches archival iconography associated with the 13th Sector¡ªcommonly referred to as Orion Reach. The region lies along the eastern fringe of the Terran Republic, named for its historical alignment with the Orion Nebula. It remains a hub for both military and trade operations. We are currently on its southern border.¡±

    ¡°Is it a place or a person?¡±

    ¡°Unknown,¡± Ares replied. ¡°The presence of a signature implies a sender. Locations do not sign messages. It is highly likely Orion refers to a codename or title, most likely belonging to a Republic asset.¡±

    ¡°Rank?¡±

    ¡°Undetermined. Records show dozens of Republic officers across intelligence, special projects, and command branches with ¡®Orion Reach¡¯ as their registered station. Several of them have restricted files, redacted assignments, or black project tags. Without deeper access, I cannot determine who among them¡ªif any¡ªuses the Orion signature.¡±

    ¡°And if it¡¯s not legit?¡±

    ¡°Then it¡¯s a false flag. Meant to draw attention to the Reach and away from whoever is actually behind this.¡±

    I nodded slowly to myself, eyes locked on the city skyline. ¡°Trillions of people and not a single damn name.¡±

    ¡°Correct,¡± Ares said. ¡°But if I had to guess? They¡¯re Terran. High-ranking. And extremely well-connected. This is not some street-level operation.¡±

    I exhaled through my nose. ¡°Do not contact me again unless I ping you first. If I die, leave orbit. Do not look back. Take Nyx and Zara back to Rykka-9 so they can sell the dust for cash.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡±

    I cut the comm and powered down the datapad, tucking it into one of the side pouches built onto the bike.

    Dust curled around the hoverbike¡¯s frame as I slowed near the edge of the bluff. Below me, New Vothar stretched wide and gleaming, like someone had taken a clean scalpel to a festering wound and built a city inside the scar. Tower clusters shimmered with sterile lighting. Neon ran down the spines of buildings like glowing arteries.

    The Spire stood tallest among them. Not jagged, not brutal. Built like a needle designed to draw blood without being noticed. Its windows pulsed with deep blue tinting, each one reflecting the pale sky like it was trying to mimic peace.

    At the top, a corporate sigil rotated in hardlight. Not just one, but an endless carousel of brands. Military contractors. Data firms. Energy syndicates. Some Terran, some alien. All clean enough to pass inspection. All dirty enough to keep this city running.

    Didn¡¯t look like a den of thieves.

    Which meant it was exactly that.

 Chapter 10: The Spire - Part 4

    The hoverbike vibrated beneath me as I threaded into the city¡¯s outer lanes. It didn¡¯t seem like they built Vothar for beauty, it was more like something out of a dystopian nightmare. Towers scraped the underbelly of the sky, half of them blinking with corporate logos, the other half covered in scorch marks or gang tags. The streets were packed with life and tension, no one seemed relaxed.

    A siren screamed overhead as two police skimmers roared past, anti-grav jets howling as they chased a burning convoy down a side street. One of the cars was already half-melted, spinning out, and the mercs in pursuit didn¡¯t bother waiting for it to stop before opening fire. The crowd barely flinched. People kept walking, stepping over casing rounds and shattered glass like it was just another Tuesday.

    I veered off the main drag and cut through an alley, passing vendors hawking hot tech and black-market implants out of armored kiosks. One stall had a sign that read, ¡°Fresh Neuropacks No Questions Asked.¡± Another advertised ¡°Real Meat.¡± Whatever that meant.

    When I pulled up near the base of the Spire, I killed the engine and sat still for a second, watching the people flow past me like I wasn¡¯t even there.

    The Spire was a monster up close. Steel, reinforced glass, and enough internal shielding to make a dreadnought blush. But that¡¯s fine, I wasn¡¯t planning to break in. I had everything I needed to straight through the front door.

    I cut the throttle and coasted, scanning for a place to ditch it.

    Big mistake.

    Every curb was crammed with vertical parking pylons, charging stations, cargo bots asleep at their posts. A two-seater cruiser tried to muscle into a spot not even a child could fit in. Somewhere behind me, a pedestrian screamed at a delivery drone that clipped his coat. A horn blared. Then another. Then twenty.

    I squeezed between a noodle cart and a wall of trash bins, earning a look from the vendor.

    ¡°Private lot,¡± he snapped, jabbing a finger at the ground. ¡°You park here, I break your spine.¡±

    I smiled under the helmet. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to try.¡±

    He took one look at my armor and turned back to his boiling vat. Smart man.

    I killed the engine, hopped off, and gave the bike a gentle pat. ¡°Stay, girl. Don¡¯t get stolen.¡±

    One last adjustment to the collar on Valor¡¯s armor, and I crossed the street toward the Spire.

    Head up, shoulders squared, I strode in like I owned the place. The Spire¡¯s lobby resembled the exterior, polished steel and sterile corporate lighting. Security was thick, mercs that looked more like operators, donned matte-black armor, all buzzcuts and cybernetic eyes. They clocked me fast. Some gave me that blank, tired look of men who¡¯d seen worse. Others stared a beat too long, eyes trailing over the burn scars that hadn¡¯t begun healing.

    They glanced my way, and I felt their eyes linger just a little too long on my face. Fresh burn wounds spread across my skin, raw and twisted from the blast not two hours ago. My limp hadn¡¯t faded. And I carried myself like a man who knew pain intimately.

    Some of them nodded, like they recognized something. Others turned away, too afraid to ask.

    I pulled Valor¡¯s ID from the chest pocket. AGENT VALOR. Simple, bold. Government font. No flourish. The kind of badge that got people out of your way.

    It worked. Mostly.

    One young guard didn¡¯t budge.

    He stared too long, eyes flicking from my badge to my face and back again. Suspicion bloomed, slow and steady. His hand hovered near his belt¡ªmaybe for a scanner, maybe for a weapon.

    I didn¡¯t give him the chance.

    Tried to touch his mind. Same way I had with Nyx. Same way I¡¯d spoken to the dead things on the asteroid.

    Nothing.

    A tremor ran through my arms as if heat was traveling under my skin towards my hands. I looked down and saw it, light flickering like static off a frayed wire, like my hands were bleeding energy.

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    My body must¡¯ve been too banged up to use it so easily. I closed my eyes and pushed harder.

    ¡°You¡¯ve seen this badge before.¡±

    The words slipped into his thoughts like smoke under a door.

    ¡°You¡¯ve cleared him before. You will again.¡±

    His face went slack. The doubt drained from his eyes, replaced by something hollow. He stepped aside, posture loose, compliant.

    Didn¡¯t even realize what he¡¯d done.

    Perfect.

    I passed him without another glance, sliding through the checkpoint as the rest of the security team parted around me, suddenly very interested in anything but me.

    One guard stepped forward as I approached the back of the lobby, clearing his throat. "The Warden will see you upstairs, sir." He gestured to the elevator at the end of the hall, a sleek, dark structure set apart from the other lifts, with what appeared to be reinforced doors and a faint red glow around the control panel. The ¡°VIP¡± treatment, no doubt.

    I gave him nothing but a nod and headed for the elevator. He swiped his card, but before I could enter two guards stepped in ahead of me, tall, armored, not a single flicker of emotion between them. I followed, and two more slipped in behind me before the doors closed with a quiet thunk.

    Boxed in. Fantastic.

    The lights dimmed to a dull blue, humming like they were holding their breath. A single floor indicator blinked overhead, slow and deliberate. No numbers. Just a soft pulse, like a heartbeat waiting to stop.

    Then the music kicked in.

    Some smooth corporate jazz¡ªsoulless, chipper, and offensively upbeat. The kind of tune that played in funeral homes run by psychopaths. I glanced between the four guards, deadpan and statuesque.

    ¡°Nice playlist,¡± I said. ¡°Really sets the mood.¡±

    No reaction. Not even a blink.

    Tough crowd.

    We rode in silence, the music chirping cheerfully. No one moved. No one breathed. I could feel the eyes on me, even if they didn¡¯t look directly. Like they were waiting for me to twitch.

    When the elevator finally chimed, signaling the top floor, the doors opened to a sprawling office. No decorations, no clutter. Just a massive window, stretching across the entire wall, offering a view of New Vothar¡¯s cityscape. The room was bathed in a cold, blue light from the neon glow outside, casting long, sharp shadows across the empty space.

    And there, in the darkest corner, he watched.

    I couldn¡¯t see his face, not yet. Just the outline of a figure seated behind an expansive desk. I stepped forward, feeling every pair of eyes from the guards boring into my back as I crossed the threshold. The silence was heavy, and I could feel his gaze tracing over me, assessing, calculating, as if he was testing me, waiting for the smallest misstep.

    Finally, he shifted, his face emerging from the shadows. He looked me over, his eyes narrowing as he took in the burns, the scars, the aftermath of the blast that nearly killed me. A hint of surprise flickered across his face, quickly masked by that cool, unreadable gaze.

    "Well," he drawled, his voice smooth and cold, His gaze trailed over my burned face, lingering just long enough to be insulting. "You¡¯ve been¡­ busy, I see."

    I forced a smirk, meeting his gaze without flinching.

    Orion studied me, his voice smooth and calculated. "Your reputation precedes you, Agent Valor. An easy job, I assume? Well¡­ minus the burns."

    "Occupational hazard," I replied letting out a short, humorless laugh. "The team¡¯s gone. They¡¯ll think I am, too. I took care of the tracker myself, so¡­ no chance of this little meeting making it back to anyone."

    His eyes gleamed as he smoothed the cuffs of his high-collared, military-style jacket. A sleek, gold-emblazoned emblem on his lapel caught the light: a star crossed with a sword, framed by an arc and halo. Not standard Republic issue. This was nobility. High command. Whoever Orion really was, he wasn¡¯t just a handler. He was powerful. And he was a traitor.

    He gave a slight nod, a trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Very good. Usually, I have to deal with imbeciles fumbling their way through my directives. But you... you''re different."

    I paused. A thousand questions clawed their way up, but one wouldn¡¯t let go.

    Yuki.

    If she was here. If Orion was involved, if she¡¯d been caught up in all this somehow¡­

    Or worse, what if she wasn¡¯t caught up at all?

    What if she helped plan it?

    Agent Valor might already be briefed on her status. Dead. Missing. Complicit.

    Hell, I barely knew her. This was all just a game once. My old squad didn¡¯t hesitate to put me in a blast zone. Why would she?

    Orion¡¯s eyes narrowed. "Valor? Something on your mind?"

    I blinked, snapping back to attention. "I misjudged the blast radius of the bomb. Stood a little too close. Rattled me more than I¡¯d like to admit."

    His lips quirked up in a faint smile, hands steepling as he leaned back, like he had all the time in the galaxy to waste on me. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine. I was just saying, it¡¯s rare to meet someone who knows how to keep quiet. Discretion is a dying art."

    He tapped a control on the desk. A subtle move, like brushing dust. ¡°You¡¯ll need that skill tonight. I¡¯m hosting a small gathering. An opportunity to meet some of my associates.¡±

    He paused, gaze cutting into me. ¡°Of course¡­ only if you¡¯re up for it.¡±

    I nodded once. ¡°Always, sir.¡±

    That amused him. He leaned back, voice smooth. ¡°Good. Dinner¡¯s at twenty-one hundred, in my private hall. I trust you¡¯ll find time to clean up¡ªmaybe find something to make yourself a little more¡­ presentable.¡±

    His eyes lingered on the fresh burns.

    ¡°Consider it done,¡± I said, jaw tight.

    He waved me off with a flick of his fingers. Dismissed like a courier.

    I turned, walking out under the weight of his gaze, each step heavy with the effort of keeping my posture straight.

    Only when the doors shut behind me did I feel it. the pressure crashing down like I¡¯d been holding my breath for minutes. And now I had a dinner to survive.

    With a room full of enemies.

 Chapter 10: The Spire - Part 5

    Aventis Secundus ¨C Exile Stronghold

    The storm outside was chewing at the stone again.

    Ice clung to their armor in jagged sheets as the outer gate sealed behind them, hissing shut with a final, echoing slam. The stone corridor ahead was dim, lit by dying wall sconces and lined with frost. Every step cracked against frozen tile.

    ¡°Still escorting us through the damn halls like visitors,¡± Centurion Lucius Draconius muttered, pulling off his helm, steam rising from his breath

    Magister Quintus Aurelian snorted, his hood soaked and rimmed with ice. ¡°Seventieth time, if I¡¯m counting right.¡±

    ¡°You are.¡±

    Two guards flanked them down the corridor, fully armored, weapons ready, eyes forward.

    Draconius didn¡¯t look at them. ¡°You¡¯d think they¡¯d let us come and go without the fanfare.¡±

    ¡°They know exactly who we are,¡± Aurelian replied. ¡°That¡¯s why they do it. Illusion of control. Theatrics for the Senate.¡± Draconius grunted, his hand brushing the hilt at his side.

    Aurelian gave him a sideways look. ¡°Heel Centurion¡­ the Legatus doesn¡¯t need any more trouble¡­ yet.¡±

    The guards said nothing, but one shifted slightly wary.

    At the end of the corridor, the great chamber doors creaked open, the warmth inside spilling out like breath from a dragon¡¯s mouth.

    The Legatus stood alone at the head of the war table, arms behind his back, eyes fixed on the holo-map projected above it, tracking red lines, dead zones, and the long list of systems already lost.

    ¡°You¡¯re late,¡± he said, voice flat.

    ¡°We¡¯re consistent,¡± Aurelian replied, stepping forward. ¡°Which is more than I can say for your data slingers in the capital.¡±

    Varro¡¯s fingers tapped the table once. ¡°I assume you didn¡¯t come here just to criticize the bureaucracy.¡±

    ¡°No, my lord.¡± Aurelian gave a nod to Draconius to continue.

    Centurion Draconius stepped forward. ¡°Twenty-seven eliminated so far this cycle. Fifteen were military, the rest Senate affiliates, financial backers, asset handlers.¡±

    Aurelian added, ¡°Three more were marked for elimination, but we weren¡¯t able to confirm their status immediately. Their bodies were too mangled for positive ID. We had to send tissue samples to an off-world lab.¡±

    Varro glanced up from the terminal. ¡°Courtesy of Blackhand I presume?¡±

    Draconius gave a small nod. ¡°Lanius Sanguinus logged them as eliminated. By the time our people reached the scene¡­ there wasn¡¯t much left to verify.¡±

    Varro turned back to the holomap. ¡°Good. And what of Orion? Has the traitor been located?¡±

    Draconius folded his arms. ¡°He¡¯s begun negotiating with off-world buyers. Alien factions. Selling what looks like fragments of Genesis. Not the full package since not even we have replicated that yet. Just old, gutted tech he pulled from dead projects. He¡¯s calling it proprietary.¡±

    Varro¡¯s tone was cold. ¡°And the fools are lining up.¡±

    Aurelian inclined his head. ¡°They don¡¯t know it¡¯s incomplete. They just know it¡¯s Republic.¡±

    ¡°And he has protection?¡± Varro asked.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Aurelian said. ¡°But one of our own is embedded at the meeting. If it turns hostile, termination is authorized.¡±

    ¡°The fool believes that if he sells the bones of Genesis to those monsters, one of them will place a crown upon his head. Let him play his hand. Let him reveal every piece of rot festering beneath his treachery. Then we shall burn it, root and stem.¡± Varro said waving a hand to continue.

    ¡°Keep him alive, then track everyone who attends this meeting.¡± He waved a hand. ¡°Now continue.¡±

    Aurelian stepped forward and placed a small stack of matte-black data shards on the table.

    ¡°While Orion peddles scraps,¡± he said, ¡°we found something real.¡±

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Varro¡¯s eyes locked on the shards.

    ¡°The Tevrani Waste,¡± Draconius added. ¡°Nivara¡¯s southern hemisphere. We sent a recovery team into the crater.¡±

    Varro didn¡¯t look away. ¡°Wasn¡¯t that just listed as a failed terraforming zone?¡±

    Aurelian nodded. ¡°Officially, yes. But the crater wasn¡¯t natural. And the facility buried underneath it... wasn¡¯t abandoned.¡±

    ¡°It seems your doctor had a hidden lab he never reported.¡±

    Varro¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    Draconius stepped forward. ¡°Kiros was doing more than following orders.¡±

    Aurelian continued, ¡°He may have been trying to keep Corvus stable¡­ or something else entirely. The logs suggest he was refining neural suppression protocols in secret. Focused heavily on memory. Rebuilding, redirecting, erasing.¡±

    He hesitated, then added, ¡°It appears the key isn¡¯t power or physiology. It¡¯s memory as previously discussed. But whether that¡¯s worth pursuing¡­ Or how we would even attempt to replicate Dr. Kiros¡¯s work, I¡¯m not certain.¡±

    Varro¡¯s voice was quiet. ¡°Why?¡±

    Aurelian didn¡¯t answer. Instead, he slotted one of the shards into the terminal. The display flickered to life, trailing corrupted code and shattered file strings. It whined, sputtered, then finally stabilized.

    NEURAL OBLITERATION PROTOCOLS ¨C TRNC INTERNAL LAB RECORDS

    AUTHOR: DR. VASSIAN KIROS

    SUBJECT 001-09 ¨C FINAL ADJUSTMENTS PENDING

    ¡°These are the original logs,¡± Aurelian said. ¡°Subject Zero¡¯s last recorded conditioning cycle. It was recent, just before he defected and started playing mercenary.¡±

    Varro leaned forward.

    Aurelian tapped through garbled data, piecing together what he could. Set after set of grainy, timestamped fragments scrolled across the display. Mostly just a bunch of half-corrupted logs, internal sensor data, partial biometric reads.

    Neural instability detected.

    Cognitive suppression degrading¡ªerratic emotional spikes recorded.

    Subject exhibiting involuntary psionic discharge at dangerous amplitude.

    Environmental collapse initiated. Subsurface integrity compromised.

    No emergency protocol issued. Containment... failed.

    Planetary axial drift detected. Atmospheric destabilization at 98%.

    All personnel: presumed dead.

    ¡°According to this, the subject was being prepped for final memory alignment. Kiros was refining something. Emotion suppression, full identity lockdown, maybe more. But the logs cut out mid-process.¡±

    Aurelian added, ¡°The lab is completely destroyed, fused into the ice. Whatever happened wasn¡¯t a mechanical failure, it appears to have originated from within, and every trace points to a psionic event.¡±

    Draconius stared at the feed. ¡°That can¡¯t be right, he was able to explode a planet?¡±

    Aurelian kept his eyes on the data. ¡°It wasn¡¯t an explosion. His psionic output synced with the planet¡¯s ley structure, using it like a conduit. The suppression failed when his emotional state spiked, and the surge destabilized everything. Crust collapsed, atmosphere ruptured, thermal balance shattered. It didn¡¯t freeze from cold, it froze because the planet couldn¡¯t function anymore.¡±

    Varro¡¯s gaze sharpened.

    ¡°He snapped and destroyed a world...¡±

    Aurelian nodded. ¡°The entire facility was wiped out leaving no survivors, no distress signal, nothing left but a crater.¡±

    Draconius pulled up a secondary feed. ¡°So this is why he disappeared. The last TRNC ping shows him leaving the sector without authorization.¡±

    Aurelian closed the display. ¡°He might not even remember the facility, the breach, hell maybe not even who we are.¡±

    Varro stood motionless for a long moment until finally speaking. ¡°Something inside him triggered the failure.¡±

    He turned away from the table, voice low.

    ¡°They wanted to turn my weapon against me. I should¡¯ve seen it sooner¡­ but you don¡¯t cage something like him forever and expect it to stay loyal.¡± He looked back at the map. ¡°And now he¡¯s loose. No past. No orders. Just instinct.¡±

    ¡°We should¡¯ve destroyed him when he was young.¡± Draconius said bluntly.

    Aurelian turned, frowning. ¡°Centurion...¡±

    Draconius lean over the table, voice cold and steady. ¡°That boy was never ours. Not really. He¡¯ll never forgive us for what we¡¯ve done. We buried his past, rewrote his mind, built him into a confused weapon. And now he¡¯s out there, off-leash. A threat we don¡¯t understand. What part of this isn¡¯t madness?¡±

    Aurelian opened his mouth, trying to de-escalate. ¡°Lucius, we followed the protocols.¡±

    ¡°Protocols?¡± Draconius snapped. ¡°You can¡¯t protocol whatever he did to cause that crater.¡±

    ¡°If that weapon was a boy, we should¡¯ve destroyed him. Not trained him. Not named him.¡±

    Varro finally moved, walking around the table, past the chairs, past the firelight, until he stood before the glowing projection. His black-gloved hand rose and extended, his index finger pointing to the south pole of Nivara.

    The crater.

    ¡°You¡¯ve killed more men than I can count, Centurion,¡± Varro said calmly, never looking away from the map. ¡°But you¡¯ve never changed the orbit of a planet with your mind.¡±

    He took a slow step forward, eyes narrowing on the scar across Nivara¡¯s southern hemisphere.

    ¡°When Corvus snapped¡­ we don¡¯t know what he remembered, or what he saw. But whatever it was, it broke the suppression and still¡­ the moment the suppression broke, he shattered the crust, collapsed the poles, and flash-froze a world. Not with weapons. Not with malice. Just with raw untamed power.¡±

    Another step, his voice lowered, cold as the crater itself.

    ¡°You speak of him like he¡¯s a mistake. But do not forget, I built him, Centurion. I gave the orders to Dr. Kiros to do whatever it took to keep him obedient. And even broken¡­ even blind¡­ he did in seconds what fleets haven¡¯t done in centuries.¡±

    ¡°He will return to me. He will remember what he is and what he was made for. He will see what¡¯s required for humanity to survive against the tide that¡¯s coming.¡±

    Varro¡¯s voice darkened, steady but full of venom.

    ¡°Alien filth creeping into every sector, every system, infecting our bloodlines, rewriting our laws, diluting everything we built. The Senate squabbles over protocol while xenos tear apart our borders. Our admirals trade honor for peace treaties. Our citizens rot in comfort, too blind to see the knife at their throat.¡±

    He turned from the map, eyes sharp as glass.

    ¡°But he¡¯ll see it. Corvus will understand. He was made for war, not diplomacy. For order, not compromise. And when he remembers the truth, he won¡¯t just fight for us¡ªhe¡¯ll rebuild what this galaxy was meant to be. Human dominated. Every alien vermin that¡¯s fed on our weakness will kneel¡­ or burn in the ash of their own worlds."

 Chapter 11: Velvet Rooms and Violent Thoughts - Part 1

    [= Establishing Urban Link... =]

    [= Location Data Initialized =]

    **New Vothar**

    Industrial Hub, Kelthar-3, Trelos Rift System

    **Standard Galactic Date**: 2739, Cycle 07

    **Local Time**: 20:47 Rift Standard

    [= City Access Verified =]

    <hr>

    I turned down the next hall and ducked into a lavatory. Though calling it that felt like an insult.

    It wasn¡¯t a bathroom, more like a cathedral to vanity.

    The floors were black marble, polished so clean I could see my reflection before I even reached the mirror. The sink wasn¡¯t metal or ceramic, it looked like sculpted obsidian, with a faucet carved to resemble some kind of swan or serpent, water pouring from its mouth in a perfect stream. The walls glowed faintly with soft ambient light, reacting to movement. No switches required.

    I didn¡¯t belong here.

    I was used to military-grade sinks stained with cleanser, half-broken dispensers, mirrors bolted on crooked. I¡¯d lived on starships where the showers rattled if you leaned too hard.  However that was before the Valkyrion. She wasn¡¯t luxury, but at least she didn¡¯t shake when you flushed.

    I leaned on the edge of the vanity, staring at the mirror. Hell of a word, "vanity." Named after the sin, I think. Fitting, really¡ªwhat better place to realize you no longer have a face?

    I turned the water on cold and let it run, still frozen there, watching the thing in the reflection. Finally, I cupped a handful and brought it up slow, dabbing gently. Barely more than a press.

    To my surprise, the water didn¡¯t hurt much. I¡¯d expected worse. Probably because most of the nerve endings were already cooked.

    Blood and soot came away in thin red streaks, swirling down the drain, but it did nothing to help. If anything, it made it worse by highlighting the raw places where skin had peeled back exposing angry red meat beneath the char.

    Blackened flesh warped and blistered across my cheekbones. The tip of my nose was gone, scorched to bone and cartilage. My lips were cracked but still mostly intact. Hair? What hadn¡¯t been torched was brittle and fused together like burnt nylon. When I touched it, it disintegrated, coming away in strands and ash. Both eyebrows were gone. My left ear was untouched, but the right looked melted, slouched against the side of my skull like wax sliding down a candle.

    Didn¡¯t even recognize myself. It was like staring at a stranger who¡¯d lost a war and lived.

    Then the mirror flickered.

    A low shimmer ran across the surface, subtle at first¡ªthen sharp, unmistakable. Ares¡¯ blue holographic face appeared behind the glass, like a ghost peering in from another layer of reality.

    I flinched back a step, breath catching.

    ¡°Apologies,¡± he said coolly, unfazed. ¡°I attempted to respect your directive not to initiate contact. However, given your current state, and the dinner invitation you just accepted, I believe the phrase is¡­ time-sensitive exception.¡±

    I scowled at him, bloody water still dripping from my jaw. ¡°Don¡¯t get clever with me, I¡¯m in no mood for your little computer games.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m aware,¡± he said, tone flat as ever. ¡°But you look¡­ objectively terrible.¡±

    ¡°Gee, thanks.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯d permit it, I could guide you through dermal regeneration protocols. A temporary restoration is achievable in with some of the items located within this building. It would return your appearance to within ninety percent of baseline until we get you back to the ship.¡±

    I wiped my hands off on a sterile towel and leaned forward again, staring at the ruin.

    ¡°No need,¡± I muttered. ¡°This helps. Masks the identity. Valor was supposed to be scarred anyway, wasn¡¯t he?¡±

    Ares hesitated, just a beat. ¡°Yes. Though¡­ perhaps not this thoroughly.¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯m overachieving,¡± I said, turning toward the door. ¡°Now shut up and stay out of my mirrors.¡±

    ¡°Commander!¡±

    I stopped at the door. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I did not appear solely to comment on your appearance.¡±

    I turned, brow twitching. ¡°Speak.¡±

    ¡°There is another reason I made contact.¡± The mirror flickered slightly, his face tilting. ¡°The guest list for tonight¡¯s dinner includes a certain Yuki Takahashi. She¡¯s currently listed under restricted access. Floor Forty-Seven.¡±

    That stopped me cold.

    ¡°Restricted?¡± I asked. ¡°As in a prisoner?¡±

    ¡°No, Commander. She is labeled as an associate, with diplomatic access scheduled to attend tonight¡¯s event.¡±

    I stared at the mirror, but not at him, through him. Like maybe I¡¯d catch a glimpse of her face behind the glass, tucked somewhere in that web of surveillance.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    An associate.

    The word left a bitter taste in my mouth.

    She wasn¡¯t locked up, Yuki was here, walking the halls, trading smiles, sitting down to dinner like it was just another mission. Either she was neck-deep in Orion¡¯s game, or already drowning in it.

    We¡¯d saved each other more times than I could count.

    But bonds fray.

    People change.

    And I hadn¡¯t seen her in a long time.

    I felt the old thoughts creeping in like smoke under a sealed door. The doubt, the anger, the sick twist in my gut that came from not knowing which version of her I¡¯d meet tonight.

    The one who had my back?

    Or the one holding the knife?

    Ares interrupted the spiral.

    ¡°Would you like me to intercept her movement, Commander?¡±

    I stared at the mirror, jaw tight. ¡°No, I¡¯ll handle it.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°Understood.¡±

    His image faded, the mirror falling silent again.

    I ran a hand down my face, stopping when fingers scraped across blistered skin and exposed cartilage. No expression left to hide behind. No mask to wear.

    I straightened, took a deep breath, and stepped back into the hallway.

    Faint ambient music drifted from hidden speakers. It wasn¡¯t there for comfort. The Republic had spent years testing soundscapes to influence behavior. They started with prisoners, moved on to diplomats, and eventually applied it to the general population. The right frequencies could lower your heart rate, dull your edge, and make you more compliant. But once you knew what they were trying to do, your mind stopped falling for it. The effect vanished.

    Ignoring the frequencies I continued to make my way down the corridor with no real destination in mind. If Agent Valor had a suite here, I¡¯d find it. And if I wandered somewhere I wasn¡¯t supposed to be, I figured someone would let me know.

    Apparently, this wing was reserved for the important people. Guards stood at even intervals along the walls, watching me pass but saying nothing. Whoever Valor was seemed to carry weight, enough to earn space, if not outright fear.

    The deeper I went, the more it felt like a hotel for the elite. Female staff in skin-tight uniforms floated past in pairs, carrying crystal bottles worth more than most people''s yearly income. Miralynth Spark, no doubt¡ªXyrelian royal swill turned luxury export. Once sacred, now poured into glasses for bored men with money and no conscience.

    Every few doors, I caught flashes of what lay inside. Private suites, mood-lit lounges, soft laughter. Humans and aliens sprawled on couches, draped in silk and sin, acting like war didn¡¯t exist past the walls.

    At least everyone gave me space. Eyes flicked to my ID, then away. No one wanted trouble with the man they thought I was.

    If they knew the truth¡ªthat I¡¯d ripped the real Valor¡¯s head off with a thought¡ªthey¡¯d probably give me more than space. They¡¯d run. Or kneel.

    At the end of the hallway, the space widened into a quiet corner lounge, glass walls on two sides offering a panoramic view of New Vothar¡¯s skyline. From up here, the city looked calm, but I knew better.

    I turned left, heading toward the what I figured to be the next wing¡ªonly to nearly collide with two figures rounding the corner.

    Both were tall, elegant. One woman with high cheekbones, dark eyes, and auburn hair pinned back in a tight coil. The other, a blue-skinned Xyrelian with silver eyes that shimmered faintly and matching facial markings like etched jewelry. Their uniforms were cut sharper than the others I¡¯d seen, dark, fitted, accented with shimmering metallic threads. Definitely not housekeeping. More like personal escorts for the rich and powerful.

    The human woman offered a shallow bow, graceful but mechanical. ¡°Sir. I am Ari. This is Siyasha.¡± Her voice was smooth, almost too calm. ¡°We are here to assist you with preparations for the evening.¡±

    She glanced toward the corridor behind me. ¡°It appears you¡¯ve forgotten the location of your suite.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes, the blast appears to have not only affected my equilibrium, but my my memory as well.¡±

    ¡°It is of no concern,¡± Ari replied. ¡°Our master has arranged for you to be¡­ attended to until dinner.¡±

    ¡°Attended to, huh?¡± I muttered, letting a grin tug at my cracked lips. ¡°That can mean a lot of things¡­ by all means lead the way.¡±

    Siyasha, the Xyrelian, gave a small nod and gestured for me to follow.

    They led me back the way I¡¯d come, retracing the same polished corridor past the suites I¡¯d glimpsed earlier. Those rooms had been built for indulgence. Laughter behind tinted glass, silk robes draped over furniture, bottles half-emptied on marble counters.

    This was not that.

    The door they stopped at didn¡¯t glow or pulse like the others. Ambient light didn¡¯t bleed through the frame, and there was no music or trace of perfume hanging in the air. It was just a silent, polished panel that slid open without a sound and revealed a space clearly meant for something else.

    This suite was still luxurious, but not so loud about it. The lighting was brighter than the others and a full in-suite med station stood in one corner, quiet and ready. Across from it, a rack of tailored clothing sat under display lighting.

    Siyasha gestured to the reclining chair beside the med station. ¡°Please, make yourself comfortable. You¡¯ve clearly had a difficult day.¡±

    Her silver eyes moved over the burns, and for a moment, she froze. The breath she drew caught just slightly. Her gaze lingered, in quiet disbelief. She blinked once, slowly, like it hurt to look at me.

    Her voice, when it came, was softer than before. ¡°Please¡­ sit. Let us help you.¡±

    I hesitated. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said, not moving. ¡°Really.¡±

    Ari the human, attempted to control the situation. ¡°You¡¯re covered in second and third-degree trauma.¡±

    ¡°I said I¡¯m fine.¡±

    Siyasha tilted her head, not buying it. ¡°With respect, sir, your current condition might undermine your credibility. First impressions are¡­ important.¡±

    Right. Agent Valor couldn¡¯t limp in looking like a walking corpse. But the whole reason I was here was because I didn¡¯t look like him. The burns were cover. If they healed me too well¡­

    My jaw tightened. I stepped forward slowly and sat down. ¡°Just enough to stop the bleeding. Nothing more.¡±

    The chair adjusted around me, silently reading my weight, my posture, my pain. A low hum kicked in overhead as three medical drones descended like vultures, sleek and soundless.

    A cold mist sprayed across my skin, tingling as it soaked into the burns and cuts. The drones began their work, weaving through the worst of the injuries with unsettling precision¡ªtiny needles dancing across open wounds, charred skin lifting away in neat layers while new cells formed beneath.

    ¡°These are rather extensive,¡± the Ari murmured, her eyes flicking across my face and arms. ¡°The attending physician on this floor authorized a full regenerative pass the moment your bioscan came online.¡±

    ¡°Cancel it,¡± I muttered.

    Siyashagave a small shake of her head. ¡°Impossible. The nanites are already in circulation. If we stop the process now, the damage will compound. Inflammation, tissue rejection... You¡¯d risk infection or worse.¡±

    ¡°Fine. Let it finish.¡± I said through gritted teeth.

    Of course. The machines had already decided what was best for me. I sank a little deeper into the chair, exhaling through my nose.

    ¡°I assume,¡± I said, voice flat, ¡°this whole thing¡¯s being recorded?¡±

    Siyasha offered a faint smile. ¡°Only for medical compliance. Nothing leaves the suite.¡±

    Sure. And I was the King of Miralynth.

    By the time the last drone lifted away, the pain had dulled. Not gone, but distant. The worst of the burns were smoothed over, the wounds closed, the worst of the ruin¡­ erased.

    I flexed my hands. No more torn skin. No open blisters.

    Then I looked at the mirror.

    Not perfect but damn close. My face was whole again. No more warped flesh or melted features. I looked like myself, minus a bit of color and a lot of sleep.

    Well¡­ fuck. If anyone at this dinner actually knew what he looked like, I¡¯d be in for more than just a warm welcome.

    I wiped my hands on the chair¡¯s armrest and stood. ¡°Appreciate the tune-up.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯ll allow it, sir, we¡¯ve drawn a bath to help you relax before dressing. The water¡¯s infused with healing compounds. It will help your skin¡­ recover.¡± Ari said, gesturing toward a side alcove where a wide sunken bath was already steaming.

    ¡°Let me guess. Orion insists I smell like something expensive before dinner?¡±

    ¡°Precisely,¡± she said with a pleasant smile. ¡°And he prefers his guests be well-presented. You¡¯ve¡­ clearly had a long day.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± I muttered. ¡°Just keep your hands where I can see them.¡±

    Neither of them laughed.

    Of course not.