ã€ŠSurrender, Surrenderã€‹


 Prologue: In the Dragonéˆ¥æªš Den

    Nerves, electricity and fury ran through Mikhail¡¯s stomach as he waited to meet with his god, his potential prey, in the flesh. The heavy doors of the Jade Emperor¡¯s chambers towered over him, their shadows casting him in darkness. His knees bent, fist pressed to the floor in submission, the young heritor¡¯s mind ran through all the possibilities that lay before him. Had Mikhail not served the Doctrine faithfully? Of course he had, why else would his holy leader not only contact him but require his presence aboard his flagship - W¨§id¨¤ de long, the Great Dragon. Anticipating the triumph, the glory, the punishment, or whatever fate would come to him beyond the thick plating ahead, he nervously flexed his cybernetics beneath his skin. The movement was negligible, invisible to the unaugmented eye, but the urge to act was smothered just enough to keep him from unleashing the tension within.

    Just as the compulsion to release the building pressure grew to a climax, his name was called, and Mikhail rose with pride. Guards led the way, metal shifting as the interior of His Glory¡¯s chambers revealed itself to him. Mikhail could not help but notice the immediate, harsh smell which assaulted his nose. It was the same as the many medical decks he had visited over his long career for the Doctrine. Striding along the lined carpet towards the distant gilded platform, he made note of the grand ornamentation one would expect from the leader of the greatest nation in the galaxy. Above him, twisting across the ceiling, an impressive decorative dragon bore down on him, eyes filled with a relatable lust for power. In the corners of his vision, the rows of enhanced soldiers lined the path towards his master. Though he considered himself no slouch at combat, as his body count could prove, he knew that the elites of the Dragon Guard would be no cannon fodder, should conflict arise.

    As nagging thoughts on how such an enormous room would have cost the Jade Emperor, with a glass skylight making up the entire ceiling, he reached the platform and kowtowed to the ground. Though he attempted to subdue his thoughts, lest the Emperor somehow feel the traitorous desires churning within him, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder a simple idea ¨C was the man ahead actually the real deal? The Jade Emperor? Why was the ruler of all clans in Heaven¡¯s Doctrine confined to a medical chamber, his frail form a reed of grass shaking in the wind? It was little surprise that the rumours of his inhuman lifespan were true, but to see the man he worshiped and despised in this wretched state forced his stomach into a knot. The Emperor¡¯s figure was obscured by curtains with only his skeletal silhouette visible. Armatures of medical devices worked frantically within, pulling skin and adjusting muscles. This was not how Mikhail had expected his long-awaited meeting with the most supreme man in the galaxy to go, not at all. And yet, forehead still pressed to the ground, he calmly waited his judgement.

    With a wheezing pause, a croaking voice echoed out across the room. Though it was weak, the words had a steadfast tone to them.

    ¡°Rise, Mikhail Olegovich, son of Aleksey Olegovich. You have done many a great service to Heaven¡¯s Doctrine. You bring undeserving honour to the disgraced Broken Fang.¡±

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    Mikhail stood once again, his long silver locks brushing past his face and black-on-black eyes watching.

    With a hint of a smile, he gave a deep bow and spoke, ¡°I am honoured to be of service to you, gracious majesty.¡±

    Gods, ¡®honoured¡¯. Embers of rage ignited within his heart as he spoke the words. Had it not been for the living corpse in front of him, his clan would still be regarded as one of might and courage, not the shadow of a family it now was. Had there been only a couple hundred less guards in the room, Mikhail would have undoubtedly surged forward and crushed the fool before him. His feelings unknown and unheard, the Jade Emperor continued, machines buzzing from beyond the embroidered screens all the while.

    ¡°I have need of your skills, third-in-line. I trust few others with this task. Your brother and sister have both proven to be a¡­ risky liability of late.¡± A shaking gasp took the figure before it rasped out once more. ¡°A fleet of colony ships, the Seventh Expedition Fleet of Henry and Huell Incorporated, slaves of the CCH, will be leaving Titanlock in one month¡¯s time. They will be heading for various planets along a pre-planned route before they reach their final star system - HL7628. It is said to contain a planet of great bounty. Select a company of your best infiltrators and be on those ships. If the fleet reaches this system, take whatever actions you deem necessary for the empire.¡± Another shaking retch filled the air.

    Mikhail¡¯s mind sprinted through questions, hundreds of possibilities lying ahead. H&H Inc? They were hardly the focus of the Heavenly Doctrine¡¯s Eternal War. Why even acknowledge the greedy corporations when the mindless drones of Paradise were the much larger threat. Those brainwashed dogs clashed with brave clan soldiers every day whereas the Collective Corporations of Humanity were little more than a target for the occasional raid or rare business deal. Though they matched the clanlords in population, they had little interest in the real battle for humanity. They knew nothing of might and courage, of honour and duty.

    Even more confusing than these questions was the location. Though his knowledge on the outer systems had grown fuzzy, having spent the past few years in combat around the core sector, he knew from the identification number that the star had to be distant from the ashen corpse of Earth. Before he could even consider wrapping his head around the situation, the husk of a man raised his voice in announcement, not only to the assassin before him, but to all those in the room.

    ¡°Should you bring glory to the empire and act with swift, decisive judgment, I will restore honour to your clan. Years of failure and weakness from your ancestors shall be wiped clean. The Broken Fang will be shattered no more. Do you understand, child of Aleskey?¡±

    Mikhail¡¯s heart hitched in his chest. Could it be true? Could he finally be the one to restore pride to his clan, after so many years of effort and blood? His pulse thrumming in his ears, he saluted.

    ¡°Your will shall be made manifest. I will bring success no matter the cost.¡± Though Mikhail tried to temper his excitement, it leaked into his voice, nonetheless. With an amused grunt, the Emperor seemed satisfied and dismissed him. Leaving the grand chambers and descending towards his private entourage, Mikhail¡¯s mind ran through what needed to be done. Success would revive his clan, providing him the legitimacy and strength he required, and failure would snuff his ambitions dead. He would obtain the power he desperately needed, that he hungered for no matter what.

    All he needed now was a couple hundred men, a well laid plan, and some good identities. His Hullbuster and Cassaria would be hungry for blood.

 Chapter 1: A Unrude Awakening

    7 Months Later

    Salvador Vigino slid open the corrugated door to the dormitory, enraged that he had slept a full eight hours. The sound of creaking metal and drumming pipes aboard Starheart¡¯s engineering deck rang out. It was unusual for him to awake naturally to the ambience of the ship¡¯s depths; no, his team had sabotaged his routine early rise. After checking his private trunk was still locked, Sal exited his room, holding out an alarm buzzer with an unsoldered wire. He asked a simple question to whoever would be unlucky enough to be beyond the door.

    ¡°Who the hell let me sleep in?¡± His voice attempted to be serious but fell somewhat flat. He had expected a quintet of his team members, his subordinates, to face him. Instead, he was only met by a single man.

    ¡°Oh, come now brother, we all thought you needed it! And besides, even you must admit you look better without rings under your eyes.¡± The deep, accented voice was that of his best friend Abel. The giant of a man was laying on the tattered couch the team had squeezed into the shared room, baring a bright smile that tempered Sal¡¯s anger in an instant. His jumpsuit unbuttoned to reveal his tiny shark tooth necklace, Abel was hardly what one could call ¡®classy¡¯ when it came to clothing.

    ¡°And besides, we still have plenty of time before assignment.¡± Abel showed his watch, a pale thing that contrasted against his dark complexion, to his friend, highlighting the time left. However, the reason for Sal¡¯s tension was not the fact that he truly needed the sleep, or that his team had felt the need to sabotage his alarm to help him; it was another matter.

    ¡°No sign of Lighthouse yet, Abel?¡± The anger on Sal¡¯s face had dissipated into worry, and Abel¡¯s visage followed suit.

    ¡°Sorry man, not yet. There¡¯s still time though.¡±

    Sighing, Sal slipped into his black and yellow jumpsuit, the uniform of the engineers of Henry and Huell¡¯s Seventh Expedition Fleet, before wrangling his customized heavy-duty jacket over it. Abel launched up and seized his relatively smaller colleague by the shoulders.

    ¡°Come on now, there¡¯s a full day ahead before anything is decided, and the others are excited to see how happy you¡¯ll be with their handiwork!¡± Abel¡¯s damn smile was enough to warm up Sal¡¯s cold heart enough to wrench a small smirk from the squad leader.

    Stepping into the familiar rust-brown hallway, chemolescent lights flaring above, Abel met his step. The tight and twisted halls of Starheart would instil claustrophobia in those with less grit and experience, but Sal had more than enough of both. The duo made their way along the Goliath-class colony ship¡¯s dank insides as Sal rubbed his beard.

    Eventually, Abel¡¯s ability to enjoy the silence had reached its limits. ¡°So, finally decided what you are going to do after we make planetfall?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s if we make planetfall at all,¡± Sal grimly shook his head. ¡°This whole journey¡¯s been a mess.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come now Sal, you¡¯ve got to have hope. And let¡¯s make it hypothetical, say we get the best planet in the galaxy to settle; where are you going to go? Do you want to stay, or head back to Titanlock?¡±

    Sal thought for a moment. He had considered his options and weighed them up a hundred times over since they had left the capital of the CCH. When Starheart reached HL7628, he could either stay planetside and start a new life on the colony or return home to Titanlock with money from the colony data. However, he had no time to decide as the pair had reached the assignment room at a quick pace. As soon as they stepped in, Sal was hounded.

    ¡°Ha! It actually worked! I¡¯ve never seen Sal so refreshed,¡± A cackling voice came from an all too familiar woman wearing her usual sunglasses, decked out with more tattoos than skin and with her jumpsuit sleeves rolled up. Xin cackled as she puffed on her vapour cigarette as she jabbed Abel in the gut, causing him to grunt.

    ¡°Well, you got me ready for action. How the hell did you guys tamper my alarm whilst I slept?¡± Sal asked, a grain of irritation creeping in, as he met each of his team members eyes.

    ¡°S-sorry sir, but Abel and Xin said t-that you don¡¯t get enough sleep, and that you¡­¡± A frail, almost whiny voice trailed off. Dusty, a boy barely capable of being called an adult, quaked before him. Sal couldn¡¯t help but soften his glare at the sight of his wiry figure and pathetic attempt at growing a beard, and so he turned his attention to the next culprit.

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    ¡°Not that it would have done him much good. Unlike the rest of us who actually need their beauty sleep, Sal gets all the sleep he needs just from blinking. If he keeps frowning like that, he¡¯ll never lose the wrinkles,¡± The slightly effeminate voice condescended to the side. Had Sal not known the older figure for some time, he would have never matched the voice up to the toned, ash-skinned marble statue of a man. Stannock was checking himself in a hand mirror as he admired his chiselled jaw-line and straight ponytail, meeting Sal¡¯s eyes quickly before turning back to his own image.

    ¡°Sal¡¯s just being careful. He¡¯s always looking out for us about these sorts of things. Ain¡¯t that right, boss?¡± The last voice of the group was quiet and soft but with a directness that Sal couldn¡¯t help but like. Marcus, slightly younger than Sal, though still making Dusty look like a newborn, met his eyes. He returned a hollow stare from beneath the low hanging bangs of his fringe. Beyond a subtle smile, the poor-postured man¡¯s gaze was intense, scanning the room around him unblinking. With a nod, Sal acknowledged him before sighing deeply. Glancing at his watch, he saw they were a few minutes out from needing to be at their assignment meeting.

    ¡°Well, if everyone is done judging my sleep schedule, its best we get a move on. Starheart won¡¯t wait for us.¡± Without pausing for confirmation, he turned on his heel and moved towards the centre of the room for seating. They kept a slow but steady pace, with Xin limping alongside her colleagues.

    Weaving between the seats, Abel quietly spoke to Xin, ¡°So, you think they¡¯re gonna meet up with us, or what?¡± Abel enquired; his voice was hushed against the sounds of humming pipes above.

    ¡°Eh, I don¡¯t know. I hope so. There¡¯s a chick on there who sold me a tonne of cheap energy drinks last time we linked up, and I¡¯m running low. Oh, and so the mission doesn¡¯t risk being killed off too,¡± Xin said, shrugging. Today was the last day that the Seventh Exploration Fleet¡¯s third vessel, Lighthouse, was meant to rendezvous with Starheart and Ruby Eye. Considering the troubles of the journey so far, the loss of an entire colony ship would be near fatal for the mission¡¯s success.

    Drawing a few eyes, the group made their way to sit in a row of folding metal chairs alongside the other engineers and maintenance workers. Awaiting their deck leader to arrive, the team bantered. Stannock, sitting on one side of Sal made the first move. Still looking at his own reflection, he spoke behind Sal¡¯s shoulder towards the youngest of the bunch.

    ¡°So, Puppy, did you try that shaving technique I told you about? You may be young, but you need to start your routine early if you want good facial hair.¡±

    ¡°H-hey, don¡¯t call me that! I¡¯m not so young that I don¡¯t know how to style my beard. B-besides, it looks great. I think.¡± Dusty¡¯s weak protests were drowned out by the ambient roar of the other conversations echoing around the place. Even so, Sal heard it plain as day.

    Turning over to face the young man, Sal advised, ¡°Don¡¯t pay attention to that narcissist. He¡¯s just winding you up. Besides, if you¡¯re worried about the beard,¡± Sal gestured to the small strip of fuzz going from lip to chin. ¡°Don¡¯t be. It might just take some time. Sometimes, you have to risk a bit of effort. Otherwise, you¡¯ll never know how good it feels when it goes right.¡±

    Sal gave a light grin as he rubbed his own goatee. His first attempts at growing it were not pleasant memories. As much as he wanted to support Dusty, he would never show him the embarrassing photos from that time. Seconds later, Engineer Deck Manager Elijah Meyer entered the room. Instantly, conversations died in the engineers¡¯ throats as he made his way to the podium before them.

    The wizened mantled figure stood before them, cybernetic arm resting on the metal stand. Positioned like a statuesque beast of myth over the crowd, he looked through the rows of workers before him. Hung on his belt was a shock baton, capable of delivering current between a quick zap to a horrendous burn and giving a strong incentive to complete his orders successfully. There was little reason for a mutiny, regardless of how bad the mission might be going without Lighthouse, but Elijah¡¯s presence stomped any rebellious thoughts dead.

    With a voice like rust on barbed wire, it echoed through the now silent hall, ¡°Alright team. I know we¡¯re all a bit on edge. However, we¡¯ve still got until tonight before Lighthouse is beyond our latest schedule, so for now it will be business as usual. Main orders will be given out now but be careful ¨C for those of you in the cargo bay, the Keepers are doing some inspections of the gear down there, so stay out of their way.¡±

    Following the standard rundown of ship news, the squad leaders, including Sal, stood and made their way to the stage. When Sal made his way up, he and the manager shared a nod. Accepting a data transfer, he received his list of work orders for the day. Before he could escape his boss¡¯ grasp the grey-haired manager addressed him.

    ¡°Sal.¡±

    Shit, when Elijah took that tone, he knew it was trouble. Turning with as neutral an expression he could hold, he faced his boss. ¡°You need to get your checkup today. I know you¡¯ve put it off, but with a potential S-Warp tonight, I don¡¯t want any chances. Get it done.¡± Each word was said with the force of a hammer. Damn it.

    Sighing heavily, he gave as strong an acknowledgment he could stomach. ¡°Yes sir, I¡¯ll get it done.¡±

    Returning to the chairs, he distributed the data to the other members. As they stood to leave, Sal desperately hoped that Xin had forgotten her usual routine for the morning but was proven painfully wrong.

    Clearing her throat, she shouted enthusiastically as they turned to the hollow and dark corridors of Starheart, ¡°Torchers, move out!¡±

    The rest of the team physically cringed at the stupid nickname she had forced on everyone. Groaning with anguish, Sal hung his head. Another day in the Collective Corporations of Humanity. Another day in hell.

 Chapter 2: Late Into The Game

    Unfortunately, Sal had one place to visit after the team was settled into work in the cargo hold, and it was by far his least favourite place on the ship. Well, except the ¡®green¡¯ tanks of course. Salvador didn¡¯t want to break the contest of patience first. He couldn¡¯t, not when he was being forced to go to the clinic. Dr Michaels seemed to have the same idea. One man was being obligated to get a checkup he hated, and the other required to check an unwilling patient when he¡¯d much rather be calibrating his augments. As the seconds on the authentic cuckoo clock ticked by loudly, Sal eventually gave in.

    ¡°Alright, fine, fine. You win. Let¡¯s get this over with,¡± Sal exasperated.

    ¡°Finally. Now we can get on with this, Mr Vigino.¡± Dr Michaels fraying patience could be heard in the peevish tone he took.

    Apparently, he had never heard that patience was medicine the soul. Scrying his surroundings as he disrobed to his undergarments, Sal saw the off-white walls of the medical office were still decorated with various knick-knacks and other pointless accessories that had grown in number since the ship had left Titanlock. Making his way to the medical bed, Michaels caught his disparaging look.

    ¡°You know, they weren¡¯t cheap to get the full set,¡± The doctor said.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll bet. Who would even sell such ugly eyesores?¡± Sal said, a hint of playfulness sneaking in.

    Cracking his knuckles, pushing his long dark hair over his shoulders, Michaels shook his head dismissively. He extended a number of cybernetic probes and attachments from his forearms, synthetic skin shifting away in panels,

    ¡°Come now Salvador, we¡¯ve done this song and dance at least three times so far on the journey. No need to get aggravated this late in the game,¡± he tutted. ¡°Besides, this is all for your own good.¡±

    The doctor gave a thorough examination of all the scratches and scars along his body before moving to his chest with particular attention.

    ¡°No pain, no irritation?¡± he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

    ¡°No,¡± Sal snapped, clicking his tongue. ¡°It¡¯s been fine.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. You know, the standard surgery plates from GaltCorp aren¡¯t exactly high qual- ¡°

    ¡°It¡¯s not from GaltCorp,¡± Sal interrupted. ¡°H&H put this in.¡± He didn¡¯t need any reminders regarding the circumstances around those surgeries.

    ¡°So, how¡¯s the team been?¡± Michaels smirked, knowing the small talk killed Sal inside.

    ¡°Fine, same as usual. How¡¯s the clinic? No one come in with a newfound hatred of cuckoo clocks yet?¡±

    ¡°Hmm, not yet. Though that Marcus fellow of yours seems rather testy whenever I see him. Quiet as a mouse during the discussion and then glaring like a demon the second we get to his skin. Of course, he looks even worse than you under that tacky jacket of yours.¡±

    The doctor normally stayed clear of cheap insults. ¡°Are you¡­ holding a grudge from me hating your knick-knacks?¡±

    ¡°Salvador, I¡¯m a doctor. There¡¯s no way I would do something so petty.¡±

    The two locked eyes as Michaels¡¯ instruments continued to probe his skin, neither of them budging.

    ¡°Ok, maybe a small grudge,¡± Michaels admitted plainly. ¡°They cost a lot, you know?¡±

    ¡°Whatever floats your knick-knack filled boat, doc,¡± Sal shrugged.

    At the end of the day, it was his office, and Michaels could choose to ruin the aesthetic however he wished. After a few moments of judgement, Michaels shrugged and helped him up.

    ¡°In that case, Salvador, I¡¯d say your good to go,¡± Michaels said. ¡°Based on what I can see, you are in good condition for someone your age who has worked in oil and hydraulic fluid their whole life. Just be careful during the jump today. We wouldn¡¯t want any accidents, now, would we?¡±

    Sal slipped his jumpsuit and jacket back on and gave one last look over his shoulder at the doctor he¡¯d grown to love to hate.

    ¡°You be careful too, doc. If you weren¡¯t around, I wouldn¡¯t know what to do with myself each month,¡± he gave a mock salute and left, the sound of ticking fading behind him.

    Meeting back up with the, ugh, ¡°Torchers¡±, Sal settled into work on a new baryplate section near the cargo bay. The rest of the team had been hard at work whilst Sal got his monthly prodding session, and was glad to see him return.

    ¡°So, haven¡¯t grown a new arm or leg somewhere yet, Sal?¡± Xin said.

    She was jabbing him in the back with a spanner whilst he focused on affixing a power line to the baryon-attraction plate below. He and the team were clipped to the floor whilst they fixed the inner deck lining that would restore artificial gravity to the area. Sal hadn¡¯t the first clue how an atomic metal-glass alloy passed through an energized Schrodinger field created a physics-breaking material capable of generating localized gravity, but he damn well knew how to fix one. Especially one broken by some idiot cargo hauler dropping the obscenely heavy metal containers that filled the vast space.

    The interior stretched on as far as the eye could see, with darkness enveloping the far reaches on both sides of the team. Mountains of piled boxes, containers and equipment dwarfed the tiny workers that milled around. Thankfully, the engineers had been left to their own devices, working near a cleared-out space free of boxes or machinery.

    ¡°No extra arms or legs this time, Xin,¡± Sal said. ¡°I am getting a headache, for some reason, from something or someone right now though.¡±

    Though most of the team either knew or brushed off his trips to the doctor, Dusty, god bless him, couldn¡¯t help but ask.

    ¡°Hey, um, Sal. I was wondering. Why do you need to go to the doctor for those extra checkups? I-I mean, we all have to get checkups at some point, but it seems like get more, o-or are special in some way.¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s called a little something like a ¡®none-of-your-business-itis,¡± He, a little too harshly than he intended, shot back. Seeing him shrink back hurt Sal¡¯s heart something fierce. ¡°Sorry kid, it¡¯s just private. It¡¯s nothing you need to worry about, ok?¡±

    The young engineer nodded somewhat solemnly. Finally, after a few hours of switching out the shattered layers of the strange material and connecting the wiring, the end of their shift was drawing near. As they were wrapping up, a voice rang out across the wide-range ship speakers.

    ¡°Attention, all crew and passengers. This is your Chief Executive Captain Curtin Althor speaking. As you are likely aware, we are running behind schedule due to the failure of our sister ship, Lighthouse, to arrive. An executive decision has been made by senior staff to keep in line with the original schedule and to reduce operating costs for Henry and Huell. We are planning to continue to the last system of our journey without Lighthouse. As such, we will be initiating our, hopefully, last Schrodinger Warp tonight at 20:00 sharp. I remind you to stay positive in this time of hardship, and that we will succeed. Please see your senior managers for further details. Thank you, and carry on,¡± said the voice, stoic but tinged undeniably with frustration.

    A quiet moment hung in the air before Marcus broke the silence, ¡°Well shit. End of the line.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, did you guys catch that. ¡®Hopefully¡¯. Guess they think we might need to turn around and head back to Titanlock if HL-whatever is a bust.¡± Abel said, rubbing his crew cut hair in thought.

    Keeping his face hidden in the wiring, Sal fought to hide the emotions that raged beneath the surface. His hands betrayed his feelings, shaking violently. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was it. This was meant to be the break for him, the change that would finally fix his life that span round in circles. He had planned, no prayed, that he would either be in a new colony, with a new life home of him, or heading back to Titanlock with fresh colony data to sell, ready to live in semi-luxury. Both of those options sounded perfect, the dream of real independence his heart had longed for. But now, with no sign of a successful future ahead of him, Sal silently fumed.

    ¡°Huh, makes you wonder how badly the recon squad messed up. Five jumps with ¡®great probabilities of habitation¡¯ only to get nada, zip, and bupkis,¡± Xin mused whilst chuckling. ¡°Bet someone¡¯s really paying for it, now that Lighthouse is probably stuck reading star maps for a few more weeks!¡±

    Sal cursed and muttered to himself, raging despite his attempts to control himself. Though it was barely a whisper, from the corner of his view, he saw Stannock raise an eyebrow as he looked up from filing his nails. The poncy asshole had managed to get Marcus to fix the next set of semi-Euclidic sheets for him. The rest of the team bantered as they plated and wired section after section of the cargo deck. As the shift ended, and the team prepared to leave for the recreation wards, Sal was still finishing an additional power terminal. It was technically out of their work orders, but Sal knew it would cause issues later and, more importantly, he needed to work off his anger.

    A shadow stretched over him as Abel approached. ¡°You uh, need a hand with that, man? I know the answer already, but just wanted to check, you know?¡± Abel questioned.

    Sal sighed, ¡°No, I¡¯m fine. I¡¯ve got it. Just need to¡­ work it out,¡± Sal muttered. A pregnant pause filled the air. ¡°This was important to me, Abel. Getting planetside, or the money from this job¡­ it was supposed to be a new start. A new life. Something that would actually matter, actually make a difference. I would¡­ well, matter.¡±

    ¡°I know brother, I know. Right now, it must hurt bad,¡± Abel said. ¡°But listen, we¡¯ll get some food in us, prepare for the jump, and do you know what we¡¯ll see? We¡¯ll step out from that green gunk, and we¡¯ll go and see a bright, beautiful planet right outside the porthole. Something with rolling green hills and the most beautiful sunrise, I just know it!¡± Abel¡¯s enthusiasm rained on Sal, to the point that even the team leader couldn¡¯t hold back a grin. ¡°We¡¯ll see you at O¡¯Malley¡¯s, alright Sal?¡±

    Sal nodded and returned to his work. Finally soldering the last segments of the plate together, he stood and turned to leave when a familiar face passed by. Well, as familiar a face as a Keeper could have. Smearing the oil from his hands onto a towel, he approached the rattling figure as it slowly made its way past the innumerable crates and containers. Once the Keeper saw Sal, he greeted the repairman.

    ¡°Good evening, Salvador. How goes the work. Are you prepared for tonight?¡± Thomas¡¯ voice buzzed through its voice modulator in a harsh, synthetic tone.

    Emotionless, cold and tinny, his speech made it hard to work out his internal feelings. The man, if one could call him that, stood slightly taller than Sal, his entire organic body having been switched and swapped for bronze metal replacements that distorted the outline of what one thought of the human form. His face was a blank metal mask with four horizontal slits across it and his mechanized arms too long, giving him a gangly appearance. From the base of his spine to the crown of his head, his back was split open to reveal hundreds of plugs and wires, each swaying and coiling like a nest of synthetic vipers that had grown within him. At times, Sal could see a faint green light emanating from the joints and gaps in the metallic chassis. It was a hue that the engineer couldn¡¯t help but match to the Keepers role with the S-Jumps, emerald and pulsing.

    ¡°Pretty good. Got my checkup today. How are you feeling Tom? Are you good to go?¡± Sal questioned with a raised eyebrow. The Keeper who stood before him would later be trusted with his life as they made the S-Warp to HL7628. Though the precise physics went straight over his head, Sal was experienced with the activity of faster than light travel using a Schrodinger Engine. It didn¡¯t make him feel any happier about actually undergoing it again. After a moment of contemplation, as if he had to calculate every word, Thomas gave a rigid nod.

    ¡°The readings from the Schrodinger Mark V Quantum Field Drive are nominal. I predict the risk of atomic translation error or misplacement of crew quantum identity structures as minimal,¡± Thomas informed Sal.

    His speech was stiff, inflexible, every syllable needing to be computed and forced out through a strangled speaker. Had it been the first time Sal had spoken with a Keeper, the phrasing of the last line would put him on edge. Having chatted with the mechanical men over the years and getting to know Thomas in particular over the past few months, he was actually relieved to see him word it that way.

    ¡°Anything I can do to help?¡± Sal asked.

    The mechanical man gave a soft shake of the head. ¡°The underlying preparation needed is out of the hands of standard crew procedures. I simply need time to prepare the QIS dataset, and to inspect the engineering deck data junctions. Your assistance with the cargo deck baryonic gravitation plate has reduced the risk of failure in this area from minor to acceptable. I thank you, Salvador.¡±

    Glad to see his life would be in safe, bronze hands, Sal said his farewells and departed for the bar.

    O¡¯Malley¡¯s was in full swing. Many work shifts had been cancelled early due to the jump coming up, and plenty of rowdy crewmembers had filed into the cheap bar to kill the time. Though it was meant to be a recreation of a similarly styled establishment franchise from the 20<sup>th</sup> century with an Irish theming, the corporate tackiness lingered on every glass and table. Phony logos and mass-produced furnishings covered the place. To be fair, when a company had to create more than a dozen bars across Starheart¡¯s multi-kilometre length, it was hardly surprising that the heart and soul was the first aspect to be sacrificed. Though alcohol had been banned due to the upcoming jump, Sal¡¯s squad still had more than enough enjoyment with soft drinks. Sipping on one of her usual energy drinks with the grey-on-white embossed design, Xin stared at Sal as he sat at the table.

    ¡°So, got it out your system Mr Grumpypants?¡± she chided.

    ¡°Yeah, sorry about that. Just sick of how the journey¡¯s gone so far but thanks for putting up with me. Spoke with Thomas by the way, says thinks are looking good for later,¡± Sal remarked with somewhat forced enthusiasm.

    Even so, Dusty¡¯s face fell at the thought of the upcoming warp. He had never gone through FTL before joining the Expedition Fleet, and all the jumps so far had been rough on the kid. Sal made a mental note to talk to him before they went in the ¡®green¡®. Abel returned to the table after grabbing a round of starch colas for the group, resulting in much bitching on Xin¡¯s part as she had already gotten a drink.

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    The tall man rubbed his hands together, ¡°So, boys and girls, I¡¯ve been thinking. If we get to the next system, and, for the sake of this talk, let¡¯s just assume it¡¯s going to be an ocean planet. Big ¡®if¡¯ mind you but hear me out. If- listen!¡± Xin and Dusty sniggered at the giant man¡¯s excitement. ¡°If it is an ocean planet, and suppose there are some fish or sharks there, how about I make you all matching necklaces like mine, eh?¡± Abel seemed rather pleased with his offer, beaming as he pushed his chest out to exhibit a comically tiny tooth on a string around his neck.

    The shiny, pale object contrasted against his dark chest, making its small size all the more prevalent. The rest of the team let out a groan. Marcus practically planted his face on the table, and even the typically non-plussed Stannock gave a tired moan.

    ¡°Listen man, we¡¯ve all said it a million times before.¡± Marcus shook his head after lifting it from the faux-wood surface. ¡°One, there¡¯s no way that is a shark tooth. It¡¯s more a goldfish tooth. And two, even if it is, there¡¯s no way its real. I just can¡¯t believe it,¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll have you know I wrested it from a shark myself! He was the pet of a crime boss, and I courageously fought it off to save a sweet young lady from certain death.¡± Abel sounded almost certain of himself, the strength of his voice intensifying his Caribbean accent.

    ¡°Uh huh, sure darling. And what was the sharks name?¡± Stannock seemed tired of this discussion, having had it plenty of times before.

    ¡°Um, it was Mawface! Maw as big as your pretty mug!¡±

    ¡°Right, because last time it was called ¡®Guppy¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Well, um, you see¡­ just a moment.¡± Abel awkwardly got up to pretend to play on the arcade cabinet for a bit.

    Sal had heard this stupid story far too many times to even consider joining in. Instead, he moved to grab another drink from the bar. Sliding up to the bar top, he met eyes with the man behind the counter. He wore a tacky apron with a minimalistic, rounded logo of a four-leaf clover. Despite, or perhaps because of the rather soul-draining environment, the barkeeper wore a fixed smile, never changing and never quite reaching the eyes.

    ¡°Hello Salvador! What can I get you?¡± Erohin jovially asked, mouth moving but eyes dead. Sal had sometimes wondered if a man¡¯s soul could die whilst their body continued to live. He finally felt that the solution stood before him, cleaning a plastic cup. He¡¯d spoken to the man on occasion, and his face never seemed to budge from its fixed expression of pain hidden behind buckets of joy.

    ¡°Hey. I¡¯ll grab a Super Lemon, zero-alt sugar though. That stuff tastes like hell.¡± Sal slid a few utus across the surface, the currency used between the major CCH conglomerates.

    ¡°Sure thing bossman, just a second!¡± Erohin¡¯s laugh was hollow.

    ¡°Hey, Erohin, a question. What are you going to do when we reach the next system? Got any ideas?¡±

    Sal¡¯s mind was still thinking on the future but was unable to act on it yet. Leaving those worries with bartenders was what their job was meant for, right? The question seemed to genuinely surprise the man, his smile dropping in shock.

    ¡°Hoo boy, that¡¯s a question and a half! I¡¯ve got a lot I want to do. I¡¯ve got a big family back home I have to make proud, and I sure hope that I can prove my old arch nemesis wrong!¡± Erohin¡¯s tone was still false, like a man crafting a lie in the heat of an argument, and yet¡­ there was some life there that Sal had never heard before from him.

    ¡°Well, sounds like you¡¯ve at least got a rough idea at least. Hope this ¡®nemesis¡¯ of yours can change his ways.¡± Sal grabbed the lemonade substitute that Erohin slid to him as he moved away from the bar.

    ¡°I hope so too!¡± Erohin cheered back. What a weirdo.

    Returning to the table, sipping his drink, Marcus caught Sal¡¯s attention with a beckoning gesture.

    ¡°Say Sal, you¡¯ve seen their ships in action. Do you reckon that Lighthouse got nabbed by them? By¡­ Heaven¡¯s Doctrine?¡± Marcus¡¯ face had become sullen and serious, bangs fully covering his eyes.

    Sal was well aware of Marcus¡¯ horrendous past with the feudal state of warlord clans, as were most of the others at the table. Thankfully, for the sake of the mood, the others were distracted with banter, and Abel was losing badly to his arcade, whilst the two sat close. Marcus had lost his family at the hands of one particularly vicious clan, the Lengti, and still carried scars both physically and mentally from the trauma he endured under their captivity. One experience that Sal had over his poor squad mate was that he actually had seen clan ship in combat.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s been a while since I served on a recon ship. I personally didn¡¯t actually see too much of the clan ships, mostly had my head stuck in the wires and hulls trying to stop the crew from drinking vacuum. That, or fixing the crappy coffee machine me and Abel kept well past its natural life.¡± Sal tried to lighten the mood with a little joke, but it did little to ease the conversation. ¡°Anyways, the smaller craft are real quick and can easily catch you off guard. But punching through the defences of a ship like Lighthouse? Nah, no way it can be done without a properly put together fleet, and you need projectiles with stupidly heavy mass to get through a Goliath-class ship¡¯s Scar Field. Otherwise, there¡¯s no point.¡± Sal had hoped that he¡¯d put Marcus at ease but the furrowed brow under the younger engineer¡¯s hair told a different story.

    ¡°But it would be possible if a full clan was behind it? One of the top ones?¡± Marcus¡¯s tone was quiet.

    Sal conceded, ¡°Yes. Would need to be one of the top ones, but yeah, I think so.¡±

    Sal hoped that wasn¡¯t the case. This far out from Titanlock and with little support, being assaulted by any force could be dangerous even with two colony ships working together. Major repairs were difficult without a docking facility, and every day not spent moving was another day to get attacked.

    ¡°Either way, Marcus, we¡¯re here and not there. We¡¯ve got one more jump, and then we should be in the clear.¡± Sal tried to enthuse his colleague. ¡°Besides, I think you¡¯ve got some great prospects once we get planetside.¡±

    ¡°Huh, what do you mean Sal?¡±

    ¡°What I mean is that you¡¯re a damn great engineer Marc¡¯. Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t see the work you did today.¡±

    ¡°That? Nah, that was with Dusty, Stannock and Xin helping. Ok, maybe not Stannock.¡±

    ¡°Sure, but you did the nanotube intermesh layer of the baryplate. Even Abel sucks at that, and he¡¯s been doing this only a few years less than me. Hell, I¡¯m pretty sure you could go to town on both the fusion and S-Drives if you really put your mind to it.¡±

    For the first time in a while, Sal saw the light in Marcus¡¯ eyes shine. It would be tough, but Sal knew that with the rest of the Torchers, he could reignite Marcus¡¯ spark for life.

    A sudden chime rang through the bar as a pool player messed up a game-winning shot, cursing loudly. The sound from the speakers was short and sweet, but everyone knew what it meant. In a flash, people packed up decks of cards, put away computers and left drinks unfinished. The group of engineers nodded to each other and rose to meet the signal. It was time for the worst part of ship travel to come. It was time to go faster than light.

    Despite the initial chaos of the signal, once people overcame the initial rush to reach the hallways and companionways that led to their destination, people calmed as they made their way to the designated ¡®green¡¯ tanks in a semi-orderly shuffle. It would still be at least half an hour before the S-Drive activated, but with the stakes of being left behind were so high, it was best to get ready early.

    Entering the specialized hallway, curved along the wall, the team were met by a familiar line of apparatuses. All along the hallway, large, horizontal tubes sat with grated bases and tubing for liquid to enter through. The metal black and oppressive, the devices stood in contrast with the lighter shades of the chamber. Sal made his way to his corresponding tank and gave a quick inspection. As quickly as he could, he checked for any faults that could put him at risk. He was pleased to find that they had been well maintained since the last jump a month before. If there was one place H&H wouldn¡¯t skimp on upkeep, it would be these tanks. The expensive syraline lining of the tank outer lattice held firm, and the thick plasti-glass showed no cracks or dents. Sal was as satisfied as he could be when placing his life in the hands of others. If he had time designated to it, he would be more than happy to do the maintenance for his own tank every time.

    Following the trail of cables, it snaked to the wall, across the ceiling, dancing between the chemolescent lights before ending at the Keeper¡¯s station. Sitting cross legged on the floor of his specialized socket-lined tank, one much larger than the others, was Thomas, some of his wires pre-emptively slotted into the external ports. Knowing how vital it was for the mechanical man to focus, he gave a simple nod to the Keeper before returning to his friends. As he approached them, he could see the anxious shaking of Dusty as the young man crouched by his own tank. Xin intercepted Sal as fast as her limp would let her and took him by the shoulder.

    ¡°Take it easy on Puppy. He¡¯s not the only one worried, but I think he¡¯s seriously freaked about it going wrong this time.¡± Xin said.

    Sal replied, ¡°I¡¯ve got it. Think I have something in mind.¡±  Sal flashed a toothy smile for once and moved to his youngest charge.

    ¡°Hey Dustin. You ok?¡±

    ¡°Um. Honestly sir? Not really. What if it goes wrong? Can Thomas handle a jump like this, with less time to prepare?¡± Dusty¡¯s voice was shaky, just above a whimper, and his eyes were unfocused, pupils quivering.

    Sighing, Sal planted a firm hand on his shoulder and looked him dead in the eye.

    ¡°Listen.¡± Sal tried to sound as avuncular as possible with the young man without coming across as condescending. ¡°I know it¡¯s going to be hard. It might hurt but hear me out. You¡¯ve done this before. You can do this, ok? I¡¯ve seen you in action, I¡¯ve seen you handling stuff most upper deckers would be clueless on even touching, let alone fixing. You have the drive, the determination. You hear me?¡± Sal softened his tone realizing his tone was becoming overbearing. ¡°If you like, there¡¯s an exercise you can do. But you¡¯ve got to start now, to get enough time to focus before we go under, ok?¡±

    Sal stood and helped Dusty to his feet. ¡°I want you to close your eyes and imagine something important. Think of a room from home or, your favourite view from whatever station you came from. It just has to be something important.¡±

    ¡°Um, could I¡­ could I think of my ¡®Chrome Mecha¡¯ mech-fighter virtual game? From back on Titanlock?¡±

    Sal remembered the name; it was the same series that the young man had plastered posters of all around the Torcher¡¯s dormitory.

    ¡°That¡¯s perfect. You remember playing it, holding the, uh, joysticks?¡± Damn it, Sal wasn¡¯t one for video games. He had only once briefly tried one of the arcade cabinets at O¡¯Malley¡¯s, getting frustrated when he died before he could figure out how it worked.

    ¡°Yeah, I remember the controllers, the headset, the HUD, all of it.¡±

    ¡°Cool, that¡¯s great. Ok, keep that image in your mind. Even when we¡¯re going in, keep that image in your head. When we go under, don¡¯t focus on the tank, the green or anything. Just keep that image, that feeling of playing the mech game. Keep a hold of it until it hurts to focus on anything else. Clench those fists, grit those teeth and hold on. Keep your eyes on your target, no matter what.¡±

    ¡°No matter what.¡± Dusty closed eyes were scrunched up, focusing hard. Sal patted him on the back and turned to the others, who were staring at him in mild shock.

    ¡°Any takers?¡± Sal smiled.

    ¡°Damn brother, if you gave me pep talks like that back in the Recon Fleet, I¡¯m pretty sure we would¡¯ve taken out a Doctrine fighter squad single handedly. Or at the very least, saved Mr Caffeine,¡± Abel gave a mock salute to the fallen coffee machine.

    Rubbing his goatee, Sal thought for a moment.

    ¡°Hey, wait a minute, we didn¡¯t lose him to Doctrine forces. Didn¡¯t you pawn him for a new computer when we got back to Titanlock after we left the Recon Corps?¡±

    ¡°Uh,¡± Abel¡¯s eyes darted around the room, looking for an out to his situation when a voice crackled over the speakers.

    ¡°This is Senior Performance Analyst Titus Fornax. The date is August 12<sup>th</sup>, 2257. I will let the Captain do the honours when we approach the final countdown, but I would personally like to remind all employees about H&H policy in the case of colonization of new planets and planetoids.¡±

    Sal hated the stuck-up voice of this corporate dicksitter. He¡¯d never seen the man but pictured him as some fat corporate lapdog. If Captain Curtin was a slimy atmos-craft salesman selling particular brands due to knowing the lower quality would bring repairs, Titus was practically begging customers to only buy one model of ship, profiting from the kickbacks he made on them.

    ¡°Additionally, we must maintain peak levels of performance. Not only are your fellow crewmates here on Starheart relying on your work, but our fellow workers on Ruby Eye are also counting on us doing our part. Please follow all your superiors¡¯ instructions and stay safe.¡±

    Eventually, he shut up, allowing Captain Curtin to take over. Not paying attention to the typical speech, Sal prepared for his tank. Stripping to his skivvies, he tapped away on the console to lift the lid and stepped inside. Laying inside the constricted tank, it somewhat reminded him of what he thought coffin would feel like. Not that he¡¯d personally known anyone who had been buried. Sal¡¯s father had a standard cremation, from what little was retrieved of him. For a moment, Sal thought on all the ancient, buried corpses remaining on Earth. Had they all been vaporized as part of the Eternal War, or were there some deep catacombs still hiding some millennia old skeletons way under the ash of the planet¡¯s scoured surface? Sal didn¡¯t have time to wonder too long, however. He heard Thomas¡¯ artificial voice sputter through the inbuilt speakers.

    ¡°Prepare all Engineering Deck, Subwing C workers. Enter your tank if you have not done so already. Quantum identity structure stabilizing fluid will now be transferred once the seal is confirmed. Please try to relax.¡±

    True to his word, the slightly viscous green liquid filled the pod. Always colder than he last remembered, it raised goosebumps along his arms as it rose to his sides, chest, and then neck. Trying to remember the same advice he gave Dusty, he desperately attempted to focus on moments from his past.

    He thought on Xin giving the team their stupid nickname when it was just her, Sal and Abel. At the time, he wanted to veto the name at any cost but eventually found himself using it in an ironic sense. It once again flipped back to being sincere, for Xin at least, once Dusty joined.

    The liquid rose to his Adam¡¯s apple.

    He remembered Mr Caffeine, and the loud crunching noise it always made when their crotchety old captain pulled a high G manoeuvre. Sal pined for the taste of the cheap coffee it used to spit out in drabs.

    The liquid rose to his chin.

    He remembered his awkward one-night fling with Xin. Gods, he missed five minutes before when he wasn¡¯t thinking of the two of them drunkenly mashing body parts together and waking up confused.

    The liquid rose to his lips, and in spite of his better judgement and past experiences, he tried to hold his breath.

    He remembered walking out of Titanlock¡¯s medical centre, feeling sore from his neck to his feet, the aches across his body not fully going away until weeks later. At least the physical ache had left eventually.

    The liquid rose to the top of his head, and he tried blinking his eyes to see through the haze.

    Despite fighting it, he remembered Tartarus 9. The cold, the hunger, the pain. But his mind couldn¡¯t stay there, anywhere but there.

    His lungs had reached their limit. His mouth snapped open and the syrupy substance filled his lungs. Limbs tensed against the glass sides, he silently screamed. His intelligent mind told him that the oxygenated stabilizing liquid was bonding to his QIS, and he would be able to breathe in a few seconds, but his primal lizard brain told him he was drowning. After his brain recognized he wasn¡¯t about to die, his body relaxed. The liquid heavy in his lungs, every breath felt like a hydraulic press was pushing on his chest.

    After few moments of relaxing in the suspended feeling, black spots filled his vision as the S-Drive activated its warp and Starheart was atomically shredded. One by one but at speeds beyond human comprehension, every atom¡¯s quantum waveform collapsed and was reformed at its destination. Everything down to the last mote of dust would be pulled through. However, only simple lifeforms, those not having realized the wonders of multicellularity, would retain full sensibilities unless it was being quantumly stabilized. The time taken was less than an attosecond, but it dragged by like molasses. Eventually, as his sight became nothing but darkness, his mind fell into the deep, inky black void of nothingness.

    <hr>

    Sal expected to open his eyes and see the green glaze being drained from his tank, waking with a feeling of exhaustion and with a hazy head. Instead, he found himself waist deep in an oily black liquid, barely able to move. Looking around, fear chilling his veins, he saw the skies above were painted with strokes of green and gold, an eternal sunset. An endless horizon stretched out before him in all direction, with no indications of life. It was only him, a dark sea, and an unfamiliar sky.

    Shocked at his new surroundings, he tried moving through the mysterious substance, but it was as thick as treacle. Desperate, panicking, flailing, he fought with all his strength to pull himself through the boundless surface before him. Sal had been moving slowly, gaining inches with every strain of his muscles, when after a strong heave with his arms, a sharp pain struck at his left hand. Pulling it free, he saw no obvious cut or bruises but felt a lingering sting in between his digits. Upon closer inspection, small drops of blood sat in the valleys of his fingers.

    Flexing it into a fist, and worried he was not alone, he decided to look around. Considering the possibility that there could be something under the surface waiting to stab at more than his hand if he moved again, Sal stood still. He had hoped to see if anything new had come into view since he first searched. Instead, as he scoured the horizon, a feeling of anxiety grew within his gut. Turning, the unmistakable feeling of being watched behind his back stirred within his senses. Stronger and stronger it grew, eyes prodding and probing his every action, his every failure until it felt like daggers were pressing into his back. When he looked for the source of his pain, there was nothing to be seen.

    Eventually, the pain flared so greatly, so overwhelmingly fierce that he turned once more to the darkness that subsumed everything around him. Fleeing from the pain that showered upon him, he dove into the unknown. Much to his surprise, he found himself in a clear, watery liquid, the previous stodgy viscosity gone. Holding his breath, Sal was drawn towards a distant blue light, far below. Though the unusual glow was distant, it was the only point of interest that he could see, and Sal swam downwards.

    Deeper and deeper he swam, until his sense of balance had been turned over. As spots of a bright blue hue filled his vision, he couldn¡¯t make sense of the direction he was moving in, the concept of gravity less than an afterthought. Reaching towards the impossibly colossal radiance before him, a part of him felt that he was ascending. With one last push, muscles burning from exhaustion, his outstretched arm lunched through the light, breaking the surface.

    And felt a hand grab his own.

 Chapter 3: The Abyss Stares Back

    Sal awoke with a heavy gasp. With a retch, he turned to his side and emptied the contents of his lungs onto the grill below him in the glass tank. Snapping his gaze side to side, he was back on Starheart, no sign of the impossible landscape or the bright light present. Coughing, gagging, he fought to ignore the pounding in his head and clambered to his knees. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he gave one final retch and crawled out of the tank. Sliding to the floor, he found himself weak and disoriented. No hand was grabbing his own.

    It was only when someone gripped his shoulder that he focused once more.

    ¡°Wow, two lie-ins in a single day! You ok, Sal? You look like you went through five jumps at once,¡± Abel said. Hesitantly, Sal took Abel¡¯s forearm and lurched himself to his feet. To his surprise, almost everyone else had already left the green liquid and was in the process of dressing themselves. Stannock, Marcus and Xin looked mildly unwell, as expected of any S-Jump, but no worse for wear. Dusty, in sharp contrast, was smiling brightly, his eyes full of excitement. He still needed to clean off some green goo off his small whisp of a beard, however.

    Sal turned his attention back to his friend. ¡°Just a rough one this time. Saw some weird things. Did you get anything like that?¡±

    Abel frowned and shook his head. ¡°Seeing things? You sure you didn¡¯t take any fuzz before the jump? You know that stuff¡¯s bad for you?¡± Abel laughed when Sal scowled at him.

    ¡°Like hell I¡¯d touch that stuff. You see me take a puff of that, you better slap some sense into me,¡± Sal said. ¡°So, about your ¡®planet from the porthole¡¯ prediction, any sign of it yet?¡±

    ¡°Nah man. I wish we had windows in here. Would make for a nice view when breaking the surface!¡±

    The phrase Abel used was an apt one, often used in reference to the sensation of surviving an S-Jump; the rush of air and raw sensitivity of the skin after moving dozens of light years was a powerful one. Thinking back on the vision he had, he wondered if his brain had constructed the illusion based on the term, circling around his mind as the jump came to a close. A thought for another time though, as Sal was still dripping gunk and standing in his underwear. As Sal and his team got dressed, the lighting in the hallway flashed red in warning for a split second before returning to normal. Everyone in the room looked around confused, searching for some clarification. The nearest officer, a portly man, shrugged as he looked for answers himself.

    Stannock said, ¡°What the hell? Did someone bump the alert button on the bridge? I always knew those rude pigs on the upper decks never had as much delicacy with their instruments as us.¡± Stannock half-chuckled to himself, though a pang of worry underlined is voice.

    Sal paused for a moment before zipping up his jacket and giving a single command. ¡°The viewing lounge isn¡¯t too far. Let¡¯s see what¡¯s going on.¡±

    Gathering his team, they slowly plodded towards the local observation spot. It was built with a wide window, allowing one to engage in a staring contest with the expanses of space. His stride was meant to be steadfast, but the S-Warp had numbed his muscles, and it closer to a stumble. Ignoring Xin¡¯s laughter, he made his way to the lounge.

    Through the reinforced transparent window, the six of them stood and scanned the dark for signs of interest. The first thing that caught their eye was the abreast structure of Ruby Eye, coloured in the bright insignia of Henry and Huell Incorporated. Sighing, Sal could see she had made the jump as well. From this view, it granted them a view of how large the colony ships truly were from the outside. Four kilometres long, the surface of the ship danced with orange and red lightning, its Scar Field active. When fully powered, the field was designed to protect the craft from attack by creating a shield that would instigate a localized Schrodinger Jump for any projectiles about to contact the surface of the craft. The offending matter would be transported from one part of the shield to another, redirecting the shot away.

    It was standard practice to make S-Jumps with a Scar Field active, as the easiest time to attack any vessel would be when the crew was disoriented. With their companion ship confirmed, they continued to look outwards. A single, yellow-orange star sat in the centre of the system, its harsh glow tempered by the window. Far in the distance, but still visible via magnification using a connected terminal wired to the window, was a brown, blemished planet, its surface lined with cracks and ravines visible from space. Not exactly the ocean planet Abel had hoped for, but Sal looked on the bright side. Many of the planets used for mining within the CCH didn¡¯t exactly look appealing from hundreds of thousands of kilometres away but still brought in insane amounts of revenue to the market. A life of wealth on an otherwise unattractive planet was more than fine in Sal¡¯s books.

    Whilst the rest of the team seemed to sigh with relief at knowing that the recon team hadn¡¯t screwed up badly enough to make up another non-existent planet, something else caught Sal¡¯s eye. Though astronomy skills were far from his forte, even he noticed there was an issue. From what he knew, H&H¡¯s initial scan drones were usually placed in orbit around their targeted star, close to any likely planetary trajectories, which matched their current position. At their current location, they had a good view of the side of the planet facing the star and no other debris fields were mentioned in the briefing notes for the system.

    So, Sal couldn¡¯t help but wonder why ahead of both Starheart and Ruby Eye, off to one side of the planet, a large section of the typically twinkling background of space was absent of all dots of light. Whilst considering the possibility of some strange lack of stars in that direction, a far more fitting explanation struck him.

    Something was blocking them from view. Ships. Huge ships. Not only a lot of vessels but plenty of this unknown fleet were close enough to their position to obstruct a large region of space.

    ¡°Look sharp, I don¡¯t think we¡¯re alone in the system.¡± Sal stated as calmy as he could manage when he pointed out the odd black patch ahead.

    Taking a moment to understand what he saw, Marcus spoke, ¡°Fuck. Fuck, its them, isn¡¯t it? Heaven¡¯s Doctrine. They got Lighthouse, and now they going to get us.¡± Anger swelled in the younger engineer¡¯s throat.

    As soon as the team all understood what they saw, the warning lights flashed on once more, and this time they continued their pulsing. Sirens wailed as speakers crackled to life all around them.

    ¡°Attention crew. This is not a drill. All personnel make your way to combat stations. This is not a drill. Unidentified crafts have been detected. Move quickly and calmly. Report to your supervising officer or manager when next available. This is not a drill.¡±

    Sal nodded to his team and broke into a run. He paced himself to move as fast as possible whilst giving Xin time to barely keep up with her limp.

    ¡°Sal. Sal, this is really happening, isn¡¯t it?¡± Xin¡¯s voice was riddled with fear. ¡°It¡¯s going to happen again. We¡¯re going to die. I¡¯m going to die.¡±

    Sal looked at her leg, a reminder of her last mission as a fighter pilot. He knew that her comical, uncaring exterior was tough, but when life or death was on the line, that fa?ade cracked.

    Sal spoke decisively. ¡°No, we¡¯re not. I¡¯m going to make certain of that. No matter what.¡±

    He moved through his team as they ran to the engineering bay closest to one of the central utility junctions. Elijah would be ready; the old man had always planned for situations like this. The last training drills had pushed even Sal to his limits, and that felt like preparation enough. Running next to Stannock and Marcus, he couldn¡¯t help but see the burning glare the latter made, focused on nothing in particular as they ran. In the drills, Marcus had always acted calm and steady when under pressure. But when Doctrine could actually be involved? Sal wasn¡¯t sure.

    Sal¡¯s mind raced through the possibilities. First, the worst ¨C it could be a Doctrine clan, one of the ones known for human experimentation or mass execution. Even more terrible, it could be Paradise, the indoctrinated army that opposed the Jade Emperor in their pointless Eternal War over a dead planet. Though little information reached the population of Collective Corporations of Humanity about the nightmarish existence for those on a Paradise settlement, what did make it through was grim. The vast majority of the population had been slowly made docile and pliable through generational brain degradation, with many being nothing more than lobotomized puppets, and those useful as cannon fodder lacking empathy or other such human qualities. In the eyes of the authoritarian hellscape, any outsiders not born into Paradise were the enemy. The best one could hope for when captured would be death or being turned into horrific exhibitions of their victory. At least, the rumours said so.

    On the other hand, it could be one of the more merciful clans. Hell, some of them regularly did business with H&H on the down low. Perhaps this unknown fleet just wanted a cut of the mission profits? Better yet, it could even be another corporation. Having GaltCorp stepping on their toes would make things difficult, but it could even prove to be an opportunity if H&H chickened out this far in. Many corporations would shell out a fortune to hire new crew for a ship or fleet so far from civilisation. Yet, despite all of these thoughts, Sal had a gut feeling that he was somehow wrong about all of these predictions. A buzz in his brain told him that the unexpected was coming.

    Stannock broke his concentration with chatter. ¡°So Sal, if things do go badly, I just wanted to say something. Get it off my chest, you know?¡±

    ¡°Sure Stan, anything you need.¡± Sal listened carefully. Was the grey-skinned man finally being sincere? Would his outer shell of egoism break under such circumstances?

    Stannock hesitated for a moment, focused on running, before he turned towards his superior. ¡°Your goatee sucks. You really should have listened to my advice. It would have really given it a nice gloss. Same for that mop you call a head of hair.¡± A nervous smile breached his lips.

    Sal was unamused. Surging around a corner, the Torchers rushed into a meeting room. Next to a command console, and surrounded by other deck officers was Elijah, prosthetic arm whirring on the computer¡¯s keyboard with lightning speed.

    ¡°No, I damn well heard you,¡± The deck manager shouted down the comm-device. ¡°How the hell didn¡¯t we see this coming? What do you mean there was no S-Warp signature from the probes? Look, I don¡¯t care how, just match up the schematics to something, we need to know what we¡¯re up against. If it¡¯s a frigate or cruiser fleet, we won¡¯t have time to make the proper defensive measures if you keep pissing about!¡±

    Turning towards the squad, he sighed. ¡°Thank God you lot are here. Things are real dicey at the moment, so get suited up and ready by Wing D. I hope we don¡¯t need them but keep your tool kits and especially your welders on hand until this alarm ends. If we get some serious firepower coming down on us, we¡¯ll need you lot to start repairing immediately.¡± Turning his attention to Sal, Elijah passed him a small silver chip that the engineer slotted into his comm-device. ¡°I¡¯ll patch you into the officer communications temporarily. I probably shouldn¡¯t, but I need more than these stuck-up pencil pushers to figure out what¡¯s going on,¡± Elijah continued, gesturing towards some offended looking command officers.

    The Torchers gave a salute before rushing out of the hall. After minutes of pushing past panicking workers and soldiers, conflicting orders humming through Sal¡¯s earpiece, they reached the suiting station along Wing D¡¯s outer bulkheads. All along the wall were escape shuttles, and next to each door was a series of lockers. The voidsuits for EVA engineering work were less bulky than those used in the past, when space travel was in its infancy. They would still work in a vacuum for a couple hours at least, depending on air intake. Slipping into the grey and gold ensemble, they sealed the helmets shut and prepared their compressed air tanks for breathing, should the worst arise.

    Welding torch in hand, Sal leaned against the window and stared at the smudged patch of space where the unknown ships lurked, not far off. Without any scanners on hand, he had no way of knowing the size or number of vessels that potentially were lining up shots every second that passed. Sal slid up the volume on his in-ear transmitter to listen to the cacophony of orders and confirmations coming down the line. Distantly, he heard the voices of Captain Althor and Analyst Titus arguing.

    One voice cut through, a younger sounding female officer. ¡°I¡¯m sorry sir but look at the scans! They can¡¯t be clan-made or CCH. The material doesn¡¯t match up at all, and the engine signature is completely off the charts, no clue what sort of fusion engine they must be using.¡± Sal cringed, feeling unnerved. What the hell were these ships, and why was everyone so confused? Surely, a basic scan would tell them who they were up against? Wanting to focus on something certain, persistent, he gazed towards Ruby Eye, off to the side from the Wing D portholes. Like most colony ships, it was focused on size and bulk, meant to carry as many people and supplies as possible for new colonies. Their cargo holds could hold an obscene amount of materials and equipment that would make most station¡¯s storage look pitiful by comparison.

    Looking across its magnificent hull, he saw H&H¡¯s stark logo of purple and gold around the paired letters of the corporation¡¯s name. Heavy duty railcannons stood, twitching between distant, unknown targets in the void. Apparently, those in the bridge of Ruby Eye couldn¡¯t decide which one to target first. Though the S-Drive was well and truly buried near the fore end, beneath the command bridge, the standard electricity-providing fusion engine was located near the rear. It was rare for in-system burns to be required for a ship this size, usually only for docking or colonization, but the back engines still flared with blue energy, ready to fire at a moment¡¯s notice.

    And then, the ship split in two.

    Sal didn¡¯t register the remnants of Ruby Eye slowly drifting away from one another for a few seconds, an orange glow rippling through the area that must have once been a recreation deck, wild flames licking at vacuum before snuffing out. Silently, its once beautiful form had been snapped open in an instant. Sal watched, jaw agape, as his mind refused to register the sight before him.

    It was Xin screaming that drew him into the present. Everyone around the hallway who saw the horrific sight hollered and rushed about. Claxons rang out, and the voices in his ear became frantic. Damn it, what the fuck was happening? Most shots from ship weaponry would be difficult to discern in space even with scanners, let alone the naked eye, but Sal thought that at least some signs of projectile would be visible after it struck Ruby Eye. Unless¡­

    Elijah¡¯s voice cut through the noise and slammed his thoughts to a halt. Privately contacting him, the manager growled. ¡°Sal, where are you? Things are looking bad here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m at Wing D, suited and ready to go.¡± Sal replied, keeping his tone steady.

    ¡°Alright look- shut the hell up, I¡¯m trying to talk here you moron!¡± Elijah shouted away from the call before returning back to Sal. ¡°Forget repairing the ship, you need to head to the escape shuttles. Command wants everyone off the ship ASAP.¡±

    ¡°Off the ship? What the hell for, sir? Aren¡¯t we going to get picked off by whatever the hell is out there?¡±

    Elijah was silent for a moment. Then, he spoke ¨C slowly and deliberately. ¡°Command thinks we have a better chance out there than staying on Starheart. That¡¯s their official assessment of the situation.¡±

    What? What sort of sense was that? Did the leadership think that offering prisoners was better than letting everyone die on the ship? Sal couldn¡¯t wrap his head around it. Nonetheless, he confirmed the order and turned to the team.

    ¡°We¡¯re getting on one of the shuttles. Now. We¡¯ll aim for the planet,¡± The team looked at him, unsure but nodding slowly. As Sal unlocked the door to the nearest escape Thimble-class shuttle, as alarms wailed and people bolted all around his team, he looked once more at Ruby Eye. Another tear had formed, this time near the front end, below where the command deck would have been. Notably, the well protected plating around the S-Drive¡¯s core seemed to hold together. Another ripple of orange flames radiated from the origin site, twisting across the ship¡¯s surface as the Scar Field surrounding the craft collapsed and shattered.

    Slamming in the access codes faster, Sal had the door open, revealing the small interior of a white ship, barely the size of a passenger cabin. Six chairs, three a side, lined the walls with harnesses ready to lock in place. The team swarmed in and prepared for launch, with Sal typing in the planet¡¯s coordinates frantically. As he did, the delayed warning and sirens of Starheart cried out for evacuation. The stampede of footsteps roared around the team as other ships began to fill with fleeing crew members.

    Dusty spoke up, ¡°S-Sal¡­ are we going to die?¡±

    ¡°No. Trust me.¡± Sal wasn¡¯t certain, far from it, but he would do everything he could to protect his team ¨C that he was certain of. His hand hovered over the control panel, watching the front facing screen that displayed a camera view of the outside. Eventually, a green light code was sent across the comms network, and Sal slammed the ¡®enter¡¯ key. The door hissed and locks were engaged as the harnesses seized up, fixing the passengers in place. Sal had just gotten in his seat when the straps secured him. With the wild drumming of his heart still hammering his ears, he felt the shuttle jolt as it disconnected from the colony ship. A moment¡¯s pause passed before the ion engines fired, blasting the craft into the dark abyss beyond.

    <hr>

    Operating Unit 28100-G9 stared into the stars. They had always longed to see what was out there, beyond the hive worlds of the Out-Han. Though their time in the universe had been but a blip compared to their fellow Cambiar, G9 had hoped it would be in their life, during their adventures, that they would finally come across something¡­ other. That they would be the one to fulfil the Out-Han¡¯s purpose. And yet, before their eyes, hope was dying. In the shape of twisted metal and crushed machinery, one of the two ships that had entered their system from nowhere, so unexpectedly, was now fading into the dark. This was not what 28100-G9 had planned or hoped for.

    This would not be acceptable.

    The Out-Han¡¯s 62<sup>nd</sup> Outer Fleet had come to this system, detecting non-Cambiar signals, and now had the chance to make contact with something beyond their imagination. Something that would fulfil their purpose.

    Turning to their fellow caste-member, G9 asked a simple question, voice monotone and whispery.

    ¡°Urgent priority request. Caste-kin, are you aware of the nearest calculation terminal?¡±

    ¡°Urgent response. Terminal 7192 is approximately 300 steps away, near grafting station 1221.¡±

    ¡°Response accepted. Many favours, caste-kin,¡± G9 thanked their comrade, and quickly skittered towards the target station. If they had time, G9 would be able to calculate the likely landing zone for the fleeing craft. Should they impact Fifth Spoke, G9 would be able to be the first to meet the¡­ others.

    Others. The idea was strange. Feet clacking along the pitch-black tunnels of the vessel, G9 wondered what these others would be like. Would they even be corporeal? Some members of schism-factions believed in things not of this world and held great faith in their existence. Such ideas were rarer for members of The Cycle of Outstretched Hands, and G9 was far more focused on what could possibly be in this world, not the next. Corporeal or not, their people would come to know what there was beyond the Cambiar.

    Rasping out a hiss of joy, G9 found the terminal was free. Many other ships of the Out-Han fleet were rallying to intercept the fleeing craft that had veered off towards empty space or the distant planet that scans had shown would be unsuitable for only the most adapted Cambiar, but thankfully the Fifth Spoke¡¯s crew were more focused on preparing to receive the ships that were already careening towards its outer hull. Perhaps these others did not have capable steering mechanisms, though their ability to appear from nothingness would seem to contradict this line of thought. Being able to emerge with no sign of entrance showed great technological potential, but perhaps this feat was their only strength?

    It mattered not. Any meeting with a being considered ¡®other¡¯ would be a success. The terminal¡¯s screen spat out a mass of calculations and variables, eventually focusing on one of many smaller-sized craft heading their way. Thankfully, it was calculated to impact an area only five sub-sections away. G9 had to be there once it made contact. After all, they had spent all of their, admittedly short, life waiting for this. Moving with great speed, the thunderous tone of the outer epidermis of Fifth Spoke twisting open to safely accept the craft thrummed through G9. Time was running out. Pumping excessive energy into their locomotive limbs, G9 induced the quickest genetic adaption they could think of to increase their speed. At this distance, and with such little time left, the action was pointless but G9 could not tame their excitement. A nearby thump indicated the arrival of the expected craft.

    Teeth snapping with anticipation, G9 found the spot. As the calculation terminal predicted, the fleeing craft had been safely intercepted by the ship¡¯s outer layers and was now laid to rest halfway through the dark hallway. Moisture in the air condensed on the surface of the stark, white ship, its structure formed from smooth, manufactured layers of metal. It contrasted harshly against the dark-green currents of Fifth Spoke, its shape odd and unnatural as light poured out through its transparent windows.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    And yet, despite how strange and potentially dangerous these new arrivals were, G9 continued snapping their jaw in expectancy. The odd and unnatural was what they were looking for, hoping for. Unfortunately, the moment of glory would have to be shared with other Cambiar. A few other fellow Uvolos and an Onusian worker stood by as well, checking over the strange ship. Ignoring them, G9 would have their moment. The side of the craft hissed and tore away, leaving an opening formed with perfect straight edges. The mist that filled Fifth Spoke spilled into the other¡¯s craft.

    It was G9¡¯s time to shine.

    <hr>

    Sal was having a rough day and having his escape shuttle crash land into something was not helping. Even with the harness holding him in place, the force of the impact shook his brain inside his skull. Blinking focus back into his eyes, he looked around the craft and saw his bedraggled team. Most of them looked like he felt. Based on the travel time, their journey had been was cut far too short for them to have landed on the cratered, brown planet that had loomed ahead of Starheart, which left only one possibility.

    They had crash landed into one of the unknown ships. Conscripted into a boarding party was not on Sal¡¯s ¡®to do¡¯ list this morning, but sometimes life gives you lemons. Slowly, he unstrapped the harness and lifted the crash bar from his torso. Upon closer inspection of the command console, he could see that the steering mechanism for the shuttle had failed due to the firmware for the operating system being out of date. Goddamn Windows 63.

    With a groan he straightened his back and addressed the others, ¡°Everyone ok? Nothing broken or fallen off?¡±

    Stannock moaned loudly. ¡°My god, my neck will be giving me grief for days now.¡±

    Sal considered his bitchiness a sign that he wasn¡¯t hurt too badly. Xin and Abel helped get Dusty to his feet, knees shaking violently. Marcus unstrapped himself, and stood up, calmly looking around. He appeared to be scanning for any signs of Doctrine insignia out of the camera and was left wanting.

    ¡°Sal, where are we? Did Starheart get attacked too?¡± Dusty whimpered.

    As far as Sal remembered, Starheart remained intact during their rough trip through the void. Every second that passed could change that possibility, however. After checking his suit, he glanced at the screen before standing dead still. The view from the camera was blurry, one of the main cameras shattered from being rammed through a bulkhead, but he could see strange walls through their lens. The surface of the structure was a dark colour, almost as if it had been formed from solid oil. The walls were covered in bulges and strange vein-like protrusions that ran from floor to ceiling. They throbbed slowly. No lights, electric or otherwise, were visible, and a thick mist filled the bottom half of the view.

    What the hell sort of ship were they on?

    Carefully, not wanting to give too much away, he asked Marcus whilst gesturing at the screen, ¡°Does that look familiar to any ship interior you¡¯ve seen?¡±

    Sal hoped to god that it was not of Lengti design, though some horrific mix of biological and structural would fit their aesthetic perfectly.

    Instead, smothering Sal¡¯s fears, Marcus shook his head. ¡°No clue Sal. Not Lengti at least. Maybe someone corporate but I doubt anyone like GaltCorp or Tripwire would waste the effort on interior design like that.¡±

    Sal went to scratch his chin, only for his voidsuit helmet to block his approach. Grunting and clicking his tongue with irritation, he picked up his welder and checked the argon tank. Filled, he hoped that it would provide him a modicum of defence, emotionally, if not physically. With everyone standing anxiously, Sal made the first move.

    ¡°Stay here,¡± he ordered, priming his welder. ¡°I¡¯m going to check it out. Keep the welders on hand. I¡¯ll give you a sign if it¡¯s clear.¡±

    A few keystrokes on the console later, and the starboard hatch swung open, allowing a light mist to fill the interior. Cautiously, taking small steps, he vacated the craft, eyes darting around the darkness. Considering the environment, Sal checked the air he was breathing was coming from his tank, and not whatever the hell the inhabitants of the craft were inhaling. Confirming he was still breathing regular air, he inspected his helmet¡¯s data readout. The unknown mixture filling the ship was slightly lower pressure than Starheart¡¯s, and the temperature was low enough to chill a man. Stepping back and forth, he found the gravity on the ship was lower than that of a regular g, but enough to pose little issue in the short term. Before he even had a chance to examine the strange hallway he found himself in, the sound of clacking footfalls approached him. Adrenaline surging his body, he reached up and engaged his helmet mounted light to see who or what was closing in on him. Part of him almost wished not to, to stay in ignorant bliss about what fiend or marauder would potentially bring his death.

    Instead, bathed in white light, something wholly unfamiliar stood before him.

    The figure was slightly shorter, coming up to his shoulders. Standing atop of four, thin legs connected at a waist, was a figure, bone white in colour. Smooth skin enveloped most of its surface, with a long, rounded tail snaking along the ground behind it. Above the tail and legs, he found a pair of limbs jutting from the sides of a torso, lightly hunched. Mounted atop the body sat an elongated head, though there was no signs of ears, nose or mouth. Instead, a clear dome covered the frontal upper section, behind which a cluster of dozens of marble-sized black orbs stared back, twisting and pulsing as it observed him. Trailing from the back of the head were a number of small, thin tendrils streaming from the skin, lightly waving in the air. As he thought he had taken the entirety of the being in, from a previously invisible seam a mouth swung open. Wide and filled with hundreds of sharp, triangular teeth, the black insides contrasted against its pale outer layers. Projecting from the back of its cavity were four pink tentacles, each flared as they reached their tips. Upon closer inspection, the larger, central organ had the three smaller ones connected to it, their openings flaring open and closed. It wore no clothes and had no apparent accessories or objects not part of its biology. As far as Sal could make out, it was sexless. That was, unless, those oral tentacles were going to start doing something obscene.

    A second or two passed as Sal¡¯s mind attempted to figure out what the hell he was looking at. It was non-human. That was for certain. An experiment by Paradise? No, he figured would have made some perfect artificial being. Something geometric, smooth and unblemished. A clan experiment? Though there were rumours that the Emperor¡¯s Dragon Guard were enhanced in some way, this thing was far too strange to have once been a human.

    No, this was an alien.

    ¡°Holy fucking shit,¡± Xin mumbled behind him.

    Turning in a flash, he saw his team all leaning out of the doorway to stare at the thing before him, eyes wide with shock. He grimaced and snapped back to the creature. It had moved a step closer and was extending an arm. Tipped with three, sharp digits on the top and two smaller fingers lower on each side of the hand, it seemed to beckon him closer. A raw, primal part of him wanted to set the welder on this thing, with it baring its sharklike maw and pulsating tentacles, and burn it to hell. A more rational part of his mind, somewhat acting out of fear, felt that attacking this thing would not be the best idea.

    Instead, he also moved closer, hoping his team would at least try to treat his eulogy with some dignity should the beast decide to impale him. Approaching until he was less than a few steps away, he looked closer. Standing this close, harsh light beaming from his helmet, he saw the small black orbs seem to shrink and shy away from the luminescence. Slowly, he reached up and adjusted the light to dim it, quickly finding the creature relaxing. Still, its razor filled mouth still hung agape, and he was beginning to regret his decision to approach, when a soft hissing sound emanated from within. Seeing the flexing tips of the three smaller organs, he figured the sound originated there. It was only after hearing the tone rise and fall, moving from a hiss, to a whisper, to a clear, breathy voice that Sal realized it was trying to communicate.

    Either that or it was eyeing him up for dinner.

    Just as he reached out his hand, the strange noises were punctuated by a series of sudden snaps of its jaw, the movement consistent and in a rhythm. He recoiled back for a moment, and the creature recognised his apprehension. It ceased its snapping and instead stretched its own clawed hand out further.

    After a few heartbeats, he made the move and touched his finger to the creature¡¯s own. Tilting his head as they made contact, it had apparently decided not to immediately impale him. Huh, that wasn¡¯t so bad.

    Glancing up, however, he saw the corridor behind the creature had filled with more, almost identical, aliens standing hidden in the dark. Trailing into the blackness and out of the range of his flashlight, he counted tens, maybe hundreds of them. Unsure where to go from his current position, Sal stepped back, seeking some support from his team. When he bumped into Abel, he realized they had all stepped out of the shuttle.

    Flicking his gaze back to the encroaching army of smaller monsters, Sal set out a plan. ¡°Ok, we¡¯re going to stick together and get away from these things. If these things want to get into the shuttle, I don¡¯t think a simple door is going to stop them, so it¡¯s best we move. They don¡¯t seem hostile, but I¡¯m not taking any chances. I¡¯ll watch out backs, Abel will lead us forward. Stay calm, move steadily and don¡¯t freak out.¡± He looked at Xin with the last instruction.

    The team huddled up and moved away from the extraterrestrial crowd. Seeing the growing distance, the aliens picked up their pace, following behind. Sal increased the pressure on his welder as the alien army matched their every step. Eventually, the team rounded a corner before being met with a four-way junction. Abel directed them towards a sloping path, heading up at a gradient.

    Footsteps quiet against the strange green-black surface, Stannock spoke up. ¡°So, ladies, do we have a long-term plan? I don¡¯t think wandering around the ship until we drop from exhaustion is a great idea. Forget death, I need my beauty sleep!¡± His effeminate tone unintendedly made the current circumstances a little less terrifying. Not by much, but it calmed Sal a fraction hearing his dandy crewmate¡¯s poncy voice.

    ¡°There must be other shuttles that have been picked up, either on this ship or the others,¡± Sal said. ¡°With how many pods were launched, we have a good chance of meeting up with at least someone from Starheart¡­ or Ruby Eye.¡±

    Sal didn¡¯t recall seeing any escaping survivors from the wrecked craft but hoped that at least some got out. Part of him wanted to think on the future and of what would happen next. Would H&H arrive soon to sort this whole mess out? What would happen to Sal? Meeting aliens would surely be something he could put on his resume should the expedition for a colony fall apart. Wait a second, what was he thinking? He was on a goddamn alien ship, the first contact with intelligent alien life, and he was still considering where his next paycheck would come from?

    Xin noticed him subtly shaking his head to himself over her shoulder. ¡°You ok Sal? Feeling alright?¡±

    ¡°Just fine, thanks. You know, just getting used to staring down a horde of aliens. How¡¯s the leg?¡± They had pushed her hard back on Starheart to get to the escape pods.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ ok. I¡¯ll live.¡± Her tone indicated some pain.

    Sal appraised her and nodded. He intended to keep a slower pace, but was unsure if the aliens would be so merciful. Turning, he checked to see the mass of creatures hadn¡¯t approached too close. The one he had touched earlier was near the front of the group, and seemed to have inclined its head forward to listen in to his private conversation. He scowled at the thing before continuing.

    ¡°Anything ahead of us?¡± Sal queried.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s still too dark,¡± Xin replied. ¡°Sal¡­ do you think we are going to die here? I mean, you saw Ruby Eye, if they can blow up colony ships like that, what chance does Titanlock have?¡±

    ¡°We can worry about Titanlock and the CCH later. For now, just watch out for us.¡± Truthfully, the image of the colossal vessel being split carved a dark pit of fear in Sal¡¯s heart, but immediate survival came first. A jolt ran through the group and Sal was gripped by terror. Everyone attempted to see what had happened.

    Marcus was knocked over on his side whilst a stockier brown alien, not part of the crowd, lay next to him. Judging by the wires and cords attached to its oddly shaped limbs and head, it was working on some device connected to the wall. A blue screen, filled with undecipherable and rapidly moving images was affixed to the surface of the hallway. Based on the size of the passageway, which had narrowed as the team had moved through the strange ship, Marcus had knocked into the creature, hidden in shadow.

    ¡°Get off of me you fucking monster!¡± Marcus growled, lifting his welder as he stumbled to his feet. Dusty quickly moved to grab his slightly older crewmate.

    ¡°Marcus, don¡¯t! Hold on!¡± Dusty¡¯s voice was strained, desperate.

    The alien tottered back to its feet, adjusted some of the numerous flesh-like cables that ran along his body before even noticing the taller humans. Stepping back to the machine, it looked them up and down before using one of the tools affixed to its limbs to work on the terminal. Sal turned back to the group behind them, and thankfully they had stopped to watch the situation instead of encroaching closer. The Torchers collected themselves, checked Marcus¡¯ voidsuit, and moved on.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be here anymore. I want to go home. Can we pick up the pace? Please?¡± Marcus sounded like a wire about to snap, his earlier anger giving way to terror.

    Abel met Sal¡¯s eyes and nodded. The sextet moved faster, Dusty supporting Xin. Though they were in the same situation as five minutes before, the tension felt raised from their new pace, and Sal¡¯s breathing fogged up his helmet. The behaviour of the gathering behind them hadn¡¯t changed, still keeping distance but matching pace. Seeing a small army of unknown beings now marching behind them with some swiftness was putting Sal on edge.

    Up and up, the team moved, making turns left and right. As they went on, it felt like less corridors had multiple paths. Sal¡¯s fears that the ship was somehow alive or changing shape were not diminished when they saw a single doorway, metal and silver, at the end of a noticeably narrow corridor. Unlike anywhere else in the ship, he saw an artificial light, seemingly of human make, standing beyond the entranceway. It was the same sort that larger escape craft had as part of their emergency supplies, being powered by a single integrated hydrogen cell.

    The team¡¯s movement had become a near-sprint, and Sal no longer looked behind them. The sight of some apparent human evidence was enough to give them a second wind. Ice filling their veins, they burst through the doorway into a wide gathering hall, artificial lights planted haphazardly around the floor. Amongst the sporadic groups of aliens in the new room stood other members of Starheart, mostly engineers from the same evacuation area as them, confused and on edge. Panting and sweating, the Torchers got a few looks from around the room. Everyone else was seemingly unharmed, and relatively non-plussed compared to the sweating, gasping group. Xin let out a weak cheer as they ventured into the room. Unlike the other hallways and corridors so far, this room had flat, metallic surfaces, chrome in colour. The contrast of the plating to the seemingly alive walls from before struck Salvador as bizarre.

    A thin stick man stood in the centre, defiant, as he was trying to talk to a particularly distinct pair of xenos. One of them would have forced Sal to look up to meet its eyes, and strangely seemed to mimic a commanding officer¡¯s pose, arms behind its back and standing dead straight. Most of its skin was a light green hue but had splotches of red and orange over its shoulders and back, resembling epaulettes and a cape. Ringed on its head was a circle of obsidian black spikes, like some twisted form of crown. The other alien was speckled in yellow, limbs held straight. Looking down from a higher stature at the unsmiling man with its incredibly lanky frame, its rear head tendrils extended much longer than any others Sal had seen, almost touching the ground. They swayed anxiously, coiling and twisting around one another.

    Turning his attention back to the intense man, Sal had only seen him through quarterly business reports and the occasional video announcement for some idiotic company policy. He did however instantly recognize him from the distinct clipped voice. This was Senior Performance Analyst Titus Fornax, the man who spoke before the Schrodinger Warp. He was a slim man, with a pair of golden rimmed glasses that highlighted the sharp edges of his face. Hands flexing within leather black gloves, he stared up at the shorter, but still tall, alien and spoke with a consistent and almost monotone voice.

    ¡°Yes, I am sure you don¡¯t understand me right now, but you will later down the line. These men and women here are under my jurisdiction, so that means no killing, ok?¡± He seemed to mime out a chopping or stabbing motion with his arms before crossing them over his chest in defiance. ¡°Got that? No killing?¡±

    Evidently, the pair of aliens seemed confused and looked at one another. They paused for a moment before striding away, moving with grace.

    Fingers on the bridge of his nose, Titus shook his head, before turning his attention to the newcomers. ¡°Ah, finally. Glad to see some more people around here. It is good to see you, Mr Vigino.¡±

    His unmoving deadpan stare and toneless voice gave the impression that this man ate a dry bowl of fibre-flakes each morning and was perfectly happy with that lifestyle. Despite his expressionless face, Sal saw his foot tapping away as he looked around at the various aliens. Notably, he was wearing a formal suit uniform, fitted to his slim stature, and lacked a voidsuit like everyone else in the room. Recognizing Sal¡¯s concern at his lack of suitable attire, he gave a quiet hum in understanding.

    ¡°Ah, my suit. It unfortunately tore during my departure from the bridge. An accident it would seem. However, I have not yet suffered from exposure to their atmosphere. It is a bit cold, however.¡± Titus let the moment breathe. ¡°So, how are we all doing, ¡®Torchers¡¯? Mr Garcia, how goes the shark tooth collection? You¡¯ve made a good start I see. I wonder if these fine hosts of ours would be willing to add to it. Mr Finwe, I think you need a haircut. Not that I think H&H¡¯s policy on suitable hairstyles is really that important right now, but it would help you see a bit better during your duties. Ms. Rouse, how goes the leg? I¡¯ve heard prosthetics are getting rather cheap back on Titanlock, with the increasing number of injuries from the Eternal War and all.  Mr Clarklin, how goes the memorabilia for ¡®Chrome Mecha¡¯? I¡¯ve heard their latest model kits are quite pricy. Mr¡­. Stannock?¡± Titus listed through his freakish knowledge of most of the team but was stumped by Stannock¡¯s lack of a surname. After the initial look of offense at the apparent lack of respect for the egotist, Stannock seemed proud that he had broken the officer¡¯s annoying trivia streak.

    ¡°Sir, if I may, what the actual fuck is going on?¡± Marcus said, irritated. ¡°Are we actually on an alien ship? Are we being held hostage? Why did they destroy Ruby Eye?¡±

    Titus sighed and raised a hand to cease what was becoming an unconscious stream of questions that all parties likely had at that moment.

    ¡°I wish I could tell you more, but right now I am as lost as you. However, I would like to presume that we are not at immediate risk of death, unless I am misreading these creatures¡¯ body language poorly. Which I may be, word of warning.¡± He adjusted his glasses, as if that would fix the issue. ¡°For now, I do not think we are at liberty to deny them too much, unless you plan on using those welders. We should, however, remain cautious. I am not aware of the full circumstances of the situation. My understanding is that Starheart¡¯s command crew were worried about the ship falling under the same attack as Ruby Eye and hoped we would make it to the planet for safety. Not that I agree with the decision, but that is for another time. I imagine you ran into the same lack of firmware updates we did?¡± He gave an uncaring shrug, glasses sliding down his nose slightly.

    ¡°Yes sir. Windows 63?¡± Sal said.

    ¡°Windows 63.¡± Titus shook his head, disappointed. ¡°With regards to our sister craft, Ruby Eye, I have some reports that emergency bulkheads were partially functioning and that shuttles were observed leaving the less damaged decks. As for the cause¡­¡± He looked around the room, scrunching his nose up. ¡°I need more information. For now, see what you can learn about our new friends, and stick with those you trust, understand?¡±

    Sal was apprehensive but nodded anyway. Something in the officer¡¯s tone made Sal wonder if he was referring to the aliens with his last line. His team moved away from the officer and made their way to one of the corners of the room. The creatures had intruded into the area, but in smaller numbers than Sal expected, which suited him fine. Some had formed a wall of observers just outside the door, almost afraid to enter. Still, some came closer than Sal was fully happy with but at least kept a few yards distance.

    Addressing his team, Sal said, ¡°So, this is first contact. I am wondering about all of your thoughts on the situation?¡±

    ¡°Well brother, I don¡¯t know about you, but I am deciding between getting an autograph from them or seeing if I can pick one up.¡± Abel confidently stated. ¡°I don¡¯t know about you, but they¡¯re small enough to not worry me too much.¡±

    ¡°Well of course your fine with it, Abel, you¡¯re over seven feet tall. Most of these guys are close to eye level with me!¡± Xin covered up the wavering in her voice with a false joviality. She instinctively reached for her vapour cig, but found the voidsuit blocked her attempt. ¡°Still though, if they don¡¯t bite, I think they could be cute. Wonder what they¡¯re saying though. Do you think they¡¯re actually planning to attack us? Some sort of weird Doctrine-esque honour thing?¡±

    ¡°Beats me.¡± Marcus¡¯s tone didn¡¯t attempt to cover the animosity stirring beneath. ¡°I don¡¯t trust them. I think there¡¯s something seriously fishy here. They take out Starheart and, what? They take us as slaves?¡±

    ¡°I get the impression that Titus isn¡¯t convinced that these things split Ruby Eye apart,¡± Sal said. ¡°And frankly, neither am I.¡± The team gave him a look, forcing him to explain. ¡°I can¡¯t confirm it, obviously, but I saw it happen. There wasn¡¯t a railcannon shot, or a beam weapon like some clans use. It came from within the ship itself, I think. There were oxygen fires spreading for a moment. Maybe it was just a bad accident?¡±

    The implication washed over the team, their faces turning crestfallen. The possibilities left were foul ¨C either these aliens could strike so fast it was undetectable, somehow detonating a ship from its insides, or perhaps the ship had been badly run enough for it to explode after the S-Jump, or there were traitors lurking among the CCH crew.

    As if to stir the team from these dark thoughts, Sal felt something poking him in the arm. Welder in hand, he twisted and saw a pale creature prodding him. Christ, did these things not know about personal space?! It was only when it stopped jabbing and instead outstretched a pointed hand, that he made the connection. Reaching forward, it tapped one of his digits with its own. This was the same one that he first met, only it had gotten more annoying. Withholding an exasperated groan, Sal leant forward to look at the creature before him.

    The four zygodactyl claws that made up its feet clicked on the floor in rapid motion. Slowly its jaw swung open, unnervingly wide, before a stream of whispers rushed forth. Sal sighed, waiting for it to finished before he spoke back.

    ¡°Look, buddy. I don¡¯t understand a word you are saying, but I am sure it is important. Let¡¯s try using these, ok?¡± He said, raising his hand and wiggling his fingers back and forth. The alien mirrored his motion, excitedly waggling them. Standing straight he extended a finger, pointedly, before jabbing it into his chest.

    ¡°Sal. Salvador Vigino. Senior Engineer Supervisor of Henry and Huell Incorporated. Citizen of the Collective Corporations of Humanity.¡±

    The creature tilted its head, as if trying to get a better angle on his finger. Repeating the motion a few times, he gave it time to reciprocate. In a flurry of motion, the creature twigged what he was doing, tail swinging wildly behind it. Motioning towards itself, it repeated a series of hisses. Well, that seemed to work, Sal thought. Unfortunately, he couldn¡¯t speak hiss-ese, so that didn¡¯t help things.

    Seeing that this would take a while, Sal sat on the floor some distance from the team, the thick layering of the voidsuit making it uncomfortable. Part of him wanted to tear it off, but he would wait and see what happened to Titus before he made any extreme actions. With the alien sitting and crossing its four legs in a pose that would make any yoga instructor jealous, Sal was ready. Using the pointed tip of the welder, he drew out a few words and pictures. He had expected the floor to scratch like metal, since the grey shiny surface appeared to be steel, but instead it compressed and squelched when he put too much force on it. Was this the same material as the hallways, simply mimicking a different surface? Could he trust that anything on this ship to not be living and breathing?

    Regardless, he was able to make some rough diagrams with lines and arrows, before voicing out a few of them.

    ¡°Human.¡± He pointed at the stick figure man and woman before gesturing to his team and the other bipeds in the room.

    ¡°Starheart. Ruby Eye.¡± He had drawn a dodgy diagram of an intact and shattered pair of colony ships. The alien seemed to focus on the broken ship for a long time.

    Sighing, he vocalized the next drawing, his tone rich with embarrassment. ¡°Torchers.¡± The drawing showed a group of six stick figures with exaggerated shapes for each of his friends. Abel would have been double Sal¡¯s height were it to scale. For himself, he had drawn a circle beard and longer hair on the doodle to match his own. When he finished the drawing, he pointed to each member of the team and said their name. The alien focused hard for a long time, checking each of the figure¡¯s characteristics before matching them to the real individual. After almost half a minute, it stared back at Sal, pointed and spoke two syllables.

    ¡°Sah-luh,¡± it hissed. He raised an eyebrow.

    It repeated ¡°Sal-luh.¡± Oh. It wasn¡¯t meant to be two syllables. It was one.

    Sal.

    Goddamn, it had already said his name.

    When the realization on his face was registered by the alien, it seemed to repeat his name a few times before choking out a series of sharp, undecipherable whispers. Acknowledgement, or perhaps amusement? Sal couldn¡¯t help but smile.

    ¡°Aw look, Sal was nice to someone. All it took was them not being human!¡± Xin jibed from some distance away.

    ¡°Oh, fuck you,¡± Sal half-heartedly groaned back. He was meeting a goddamn alien, and she couldn¡¯t help but rib him.

    ¡°Fah-khew.¡± The glaring alien repeated back.

    Just as Sal was beginning to settle into a routine with his new companion, it was quickly interrupted as all the creatures froze and looked towards an opening that Sal knew for a fact wasn¡¯t there a moment before. In strode the green-red alien, crowned in steely grey, escorted by a variety of the different types of aliens. Attached to the front of its neck was a shiny, metallic box, grated on the front surface. Wires seemed to loop around the creature¡¯s neck and into the back of its head. The crowned leader of the group stepped forward, examining the room and taking in the atmosphere, before it inhaled.

    ¡°Highest priority. Purpose achievement. Greetings other beings. Starwalkers, please be calm. Welcome to our fleet-craft. We are the Cambiar of The Cycle of Outstretched Hands, and we shall make contact,¡± the tinny, synthetic voice rang out.

    Somehow, they were talking English.

 Chapter 4: Cresting Everest With Questions

    Silence hung around the room, crushing all under its pressure. Not a single being, human or alien made a sound.

    Until the dam burst.

    ¡°Huh, that was fast,¡± Dusty nervously murmured out, only for Stannock to elbow him in the arm, leading to Xin to hit Stannock back in the stomach, much harder.

    The thought, however, was not lost on Sal. That was fast, far too fast. Even with cutting edge translation technology, these creatures had barely seen any human text or language, let alone been given enough context to properly translate. Unless these creatures were bending reality to their whim, it didn¡¯t make much sense. Regardless, Sal made a mental reminder to think on it more. It appeared that his conversation was about to get a bit more two-sided.

    A flurry of movement overtook the room. The ¡®Cambiar¡¯, as the leader had labelled themselves, seemed to apply to all the aliens, as they rushed towards the crowned leader, desperately examining the device on its throat. Their attention was drawn away moments later when a pair of colossal, red creatures stepped to either side of their leader. They stood nearly as tall as two and were as thickset as industrial mining equipment. Each limb was thicker than Sal¡¯s torso, and was covered in crimson chitinous plating. In each of their huge, clawed hands were metallic containers, each the size of an oil drum. Noticeably, hanging idle, both large aliens had another pair of limbs sprouting from their backs. Resembling crab-like crushers, they slowly flexed in the open air. Seeing how large these things could be put Sal at unease. Did they all grow up to become that size? Were the white ones just children?

    Almost uncertain, Sal¡¯s curious alien friend looked between the containers and Sal before dashing over to the containers and returning in an instant. Holding it forward to show him, it had a wicked spiked appendage sprouting from the rear surface, and a small stream of wires projecting from both sides. As it played around with the box, attempting to divine its attachment, Sal looked around the room. The dozen or so other humans looked on with a mixture of anticipation and concern. Notably, Titus stood at attention. Yet, Titus did not move an inch from his position, instead surveying the room and the entourage of important aliens standing by the hall¡¯s opening.

    By now, the lights on the floor were moved to the corners to provide more uniform light across the space. With better visibility, Sal observed his ¡®Cambiar¡¯ companion taking one bundle of wires and feeding them into a pair of thin slits he hadn¡¯t noticed before at the back of its head. Moving around for a better look, the openings widened and flattened with the steady breaths of the extraterrestrial. With both bundles inserted, a process that didn¡¯t display any outward signs of discomfort but made Sal cringe slightly from the sound, the alien pressed the spike against its throat.

    Sal considered intervening for a second, not wanting to see his strange new acquaintance injure itself, but before he could move, the first of many oddities occurred. Where the spike pressed against its skin, a small opening in the flesh formed. At the edges of the seam, it loosened and stretched, accepting the sharp device inside. Beyond the flesh and skin, vibrating, taut cords could be seen, joined to rubbery looking tubes that trailed up and below the opening. Biology was far from Sal¡¯s skillset, but he speculated the structure he was seeing was some form of vocal cords. Inch by inch, the hole expanded as the sharp metal seemed to slot perfectly beneath the skin and interweave with the organs below, not a single drop of blood spilt.

    Still bewildered at the strange display before him, he was taken aback when his companion spoke.

    ¡°Upmost priority. Greetings, Sal.¡± The voice was metal, synthetic and cold. Yet, he could hear sincere inflections in the whispering underneath the mechanical translation.

    ¡°Uh, hello. Do you¡­ understand me?¡± Sal was genuinely afraid of the answer. Would this discussion be one way street of questions but no answers? The alien paused, the small black orbs beneath the clear dome rolling back as if in religious reverence. As if nothing had happened, they return their focused on him once again, staring deep into his soul.

    ¡°Confirmation. Yes, Salvador Vigino, I do understand. It is good to finally communicate without confusion.¡± The clarification was compounded by a sharp snap of its jaw. Swallowing hard, Sal followed up.

    ¡°Uh, hi. So¡­ what¡¯s your name? It¡¯s going to feel rude getting to know you without even getting a way to address you,¡± Sal tried to express how impactful this was to him through his tone, but it came across as more uncertain. It was only at this point that the reality of the conversation was setting in. Salvador Vigino, born from nothing, abandoned by those he cared for, survivor in the face of death, was talking to a goddamn alien. Said alien was looking down for a second before it replied, fingers dancing in the air.

    ¡°My name¡­ I am afraid I do not have a name in the same way that you do. I have a designation for my role, but that is somewhat¡­ crude, unbecoming, raw,¡± it spoke, the last three words compounded in a fast slurry of speech. Sal wasn¡¯t sure what it meant, perhaps it was mixing or lacking the right words? After a deep breath, it continued.

    ¡°A ship has a name. The Out-Han has a name. A star has a name. I do not. Though it is¡­ unseemly for one with such an expressive name, I will give my designation for clearer communication. I am the Cambiar designated Uvolo Operating Unit 28103-G9.¡±

    Sal was a bit taken back by the odd string of words and numbers. The first unfamiliar word, ¡®Uvolo¡¯, seemed like some sort of operator to the rest of the title. At least there were some numbers at the end, figures large enough that Sal wouldn¡¯t be able visualize them without great effort.

    ¡°That¡­ is a bit of a mouthful. Sorry, but is it alright if I shorten it a bit? You know, as you said, for clearer conversation?¡± Sal rubbed the back of his neck. His first chat with a sentient creature from god knows where and he was already asking compromises from it. Well, hopefully he could make up for it later, somehow. Instead of speaking, the creature came close to Sal, almost touching his helmet¡¯s visor before the swaying mass of tendrils at the back of its throat hissed a response.

    ¡°You would give me such a blessing? A name for us to speak, with ease?¡± God, this thing was getting way too close for comfort.

    ¡°Sure. I mean, everyone shortens my name, it not that big a deal for us humans.¡±

    ¡°Humans. Yes, you are humans.¡± It rolled the sentence around for a moment, as if noticing the grammar. ¡°As in, all you bipeds are humans. That name, that title¡­¡± It looked at the childish drawings he had made into the floor.

    Uh oh, had he stepped on some weird cultural landmine about six letter words beginning with ¡®H¡¯?

    ¡°I like that name.¡± Oh, alright then, Sal thought. ¡°As for the shortening, what do you have in mind?¡±

    ¡°Um¡­ how about, G9?¡± G9, that would work. The number before daunted Sal. Were there that many called ¡®G9¡¯? Was that a name shared between all these aliens, or just here on the ship? The overwhelming number of questions regarding these aliens were beginning to crowd his mind.

    ¡®G9¡¯, as he had so termed, thought on his words, claws once again dancing in the air. ¡°I like it. Can you say it again, Salvador?¡±

    ¡°Uh, sure. G9?¡± As soon as the words left his lips and were processed by the voidsuit¡¯s speaker, G9¡¯s tail slapped the deck before coiling back and forth. Though there was no movement on its face, aside from its jaw snapping open and shut, with eyes boring into his own, he got the feeling that he had made one alien quite pleased. Sal couldn¡¯t help but feel a bit daunted.

    After some time, the room was vacated for the humans to discuss amongst themselves. Though reluctant, G9 waited outside the room, along with the rest of the aliens.

    Sal hadn¡¯t noticed it, but whilst the surfaces of the room were silvery and metallic, there were pockets of black-green still being eaten away at in the corners. Standing by the far wall with the rest of the crew facing him was Titus, adjusting his tie before tapping on his arm-mounted computer.

    ¡°Is that everyone? Good. There¡¯s lots to be discussed, and I am sure you all have questions, so if we can keep this orderly, it would be appreciated,¡± he said, counting the number of crewmembers with his eyes. ¡°First things first. Ruby Eye is obviously out of action. Its automatic bulkheads sealed off the splits as quick as possible, and some its escape pods have been reported from the other Cambiar craft. It is¡­ unfortunate to say, but the estimated casualties have been high. I am sorry for all of those who knew those aboard. However, for the immediate future, we must focus on what comes next. Considering the situation, command has determined that Starheart might be unsafe. Until we can complete a thorough investigation and determine the safety of the ship, we are to avoid returning.¡±

    At that moment, punctuated by heavy breathing and quick footsteps, a man with a prosthetic arm, heavy build and a scarred eye stormed into the room.

    ¡°There you are you company bastard, thought you were drinking vacuum,¡± Elijah growled, the edges of his lips curling upwards. Titus stifled a sigh and stretched out a hand to meet the fellow officer but was instead treated to the older man gripping his shoulders like a vice.

    ¡°Is Starheart hit? How many are gone? Did these alien bastards take out both of our ships? Where the fuck is that useless piss puddle Curtin?¡± Elijah¡¯s voice was rust on metal, eyes boring through Titus¡¯ glasses.

    ¡°Deck Manag-¡± The analyst sighed. ¡°Mr Meyer, the situation is under control. Starheart is fine. Everyone has been evacuated, with little to no issues. Some pods are still being picked up, but it will take some time to account for everyone. I¡¯ll reconnect you back to the command server, in just a moment.¡±

    Tapping away at his wrist-computer as Elijah scowled at him, Titus continued. ¡°Perhaps we can continue this discussion later? A more formal officer¡¯s meeting perhaps?¡±

    ¡°Right, right.¡± Elijah stepped back, his abject rage fading, and the usual stoic fa?ade slipping back into place. He stood to the side, once again allowing Titus the spotlight. Clearing his throat, Titus continued. ¡°Alright, as I said, we¡¯re still figuring the situation out. For now, we are sticking here until we can get in contact with H&H. There are some¡­ difficulties at the moment, but we will let you know the situation as it develops. As you can probably see, the atmosphere here has been acceptable and has been seemingly adjusted by our hosts since we first landed.¡± Sal noticed that the officer seemed more relaxed, flexing his gloved hands less.

    ¡°I presume most of you are running low on air? It might be time to lose the voidsuits and air tanks.¡±

    Sal checked his pressure gauge and was taken aback to see he had burnt through most of his tank in such a short period of time. He justified it to himself that meeting aliens was rather exhilarating. With some reluctance, the crew discarded the suits and breathed the air of the ship in for the first time. It was cold against Sal¡¯s lungs with a light, lavender smell wafting about, but nevertheless he was relieved to lose the heavy clothing.

    Seeing the crew had become as exposed as he was, Titus nodded. ¡°So, here¡¯s a quick rundown on our new hosts. These aliens are known, or are being translated as, the Cambiar. They don¡¯t quite fit our old categories for life from Earth, but neither did shuckabrush. Unlike the simple alien vegetation however, these creatures are intelligent and sentient, as I hope most of you found out by talking and not by attacking them.¡± He glared at one unpleasant looking man in the corner, arms crossed over his chest and face cratered with harsh wrinkles.

    ¡°The ship we are aboard is the Fifth Spoke, part of some group known as the ¡®The Cycle of Outstretched Hands¡¯ or as they¡¯ve shortened it for us, the ¡®Out-Han¡¯. Looks like this fleet is part of some exploration group, perhaps not too dissimilar to our equivalent at H&H. Currently, we don¡¯t have many more details, or at least, vital details you all need to know, but at least it would seem this alien crew are relatively friendly. As for dos and do-nots, let¡¯s keep this simple; no fighting, no killing, and try not to get too annoyed if they touch you. It would appear personal space is not at the forefront of their minds. Remember, humans are just as strange to them as they are to us.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    Most of the crowd seemed to be following along, and Sal found himself lightly nodding. Glancing towards the closed door, he wondered what the Cambiar were thinking of them. Were they planning some surprise attack, now that they had all corralled them into a single room? Would the air be filled with poison, leaving them choking on the floor in agony? Or, just perhaps, were they actually as friendly as they appeared to be?

    ¡°Food might be an issue, but they¡¯re at least adjusting the air for us, so we won¡¯t asphyxiate just yet. You might have seen the different colours and shapes of them. As far as I can tell, they function as different roles, bit like your uniforms compared to mine.¡± Titus exhaled a pleased snort.

    ¡°They¡¯ve all got long designations and I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be happy to tell you. The white ones are their standard all-rounders, the big red ones are guards, and the crowned ones are their¡­ bosses. Or PR specialists. Something along those lines. Nevertheless, for now, your orders for now are to keep the status quo for now. Do your best not to anger them, I for one would not like to ruin this new opportunity due to some brash decisions on your part. Last I spoke with them, they were ¡®arranging¡¯ rooms for us. I can¡¯t confirm what they will be like, but it would be best to stay in groups for now, just in case. I am sure you will have questions, but if it not life-threatening, I ask that you please wait until we have more details. Anyone?¡±

    The room was quiet. A few mumbles broke out between the crewmembers, so Sal turned to his team.

    ¡°Any questions? I¡¯ve got plenty, but they can wait,¡± Sal whispered. Except one in particular, he considered. The team were quiet, glancing at each other, but no one stepped forward. The initial shock seemed to have faded, with Stannock focused on redoing his ponytail and applying a light eyeshadow to his grey skin. Abel was fiddling with his necklace, and Sal hoped to god he wasn¡¯t seriously considering asking a Cambiar for a tooth. Dusty just smiled and shrugged as Xin and Marcus began to talk about how they would try to fight the aliens, should it come to it.

    With his team unquestioning on the matter, Sal made the first move. Raising a hand, he stepped forward, ¡°Sir, I have one question. How did the Cambiar create these translators so quickly? Did the probe H&H sent have data for this sort of thing?¡±

    The second he said it; Titus met his look, and, from the look in his eyes, an unspoken message was exchanged. Titus was unsure either and that gave the officer serious discomfort.

    ¡°Life threatening questions only, Mr Vigino,¡± Titus covered his concern to the others with admonishment, whilst Sal faked annoyance by clicking his tongue. Message received, Sal would talk to Titus later.

    Once the discussion had finished with only one more, also not important, question about manhandling the aliens, the humans left the room in their respective groups, with Sal opening a non-descript door to find a familiar crowd waiting before them. True to his earlier observations, Sal was confirmed in his suspicions the ship was shifting and moving around them. The hallways were definitely not this wide, or even lit, before. New hexagonal lights hung at regular intervals along the corridor, casting it in a harsh orange shade.

    Sal quickly saw G9 waiting for him. Had he not spent some time closely looking at them earlier, he wouldn¡¯t have picked out the slight dark shading under its transparent ocular dome, or the way their tail swayed back and forth. Realizing they were there to escort them, the six humans slowly made their way into the crowd. Moving around them, they were led out of the hall, and into the unknown depths of Fifth Spoke.

    His team was led by group of the Cambiar in a direction Sal guessed was towards where his shuttle had crashed but after how turned around the team had gotten in their initial panicked rush, he couldn¡¯t be sure. Walking through the hallway, Sal saw that the mist in the air had diminished to a light swirl around his ankles, After turning around a corner, his predictions about the ship were confirmed further by the green veins of the walls around him being eaten away by an ever-growing silvery material. Making good distance, Abel met step with him and cleared his throat.

    ¡°So, Sal. You want to know what I¡¯m thinking?¡± A smile betrayed the seriousness of Abel¡¯s incoming discussion.

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t feed your attention, but I know you¡¯ll just ask another one of the guys, or, Christ, even the aliens. So yes Abel, I am absolutely dying to hear what you are thinking,¡± Sal¡¯s mocking tone was not apparently lost on the nearby Cambiar, some of whom turned to him when his tone became sicky saccharine.

    ¡°I¡¯ve really been wondering this ¨C where the hell are all the clothes? I mean, look at us. Even without those space suits, I¡¯d say we were pretty covered up. Titus even had gloves on. But look at them ¨C bare ass naked, and not even a sock in sight.¡±

    God this was stupid. Sal sighed and shrugged.

    ¡°Look, Abel, I don¡¯t know. Maybe they have¡­ something like a colder homeostasis point than us or something, or maybe they just don¡¯t need them. Does it matter?¡±

    ¡°No man, it¡¯s not that. It¡¯s more of¡­ the idea, the culture behind having clothes. It¡¯s the little things that we have that I don¡¯t see on them. I mean, if something as basic as clothes for us don¡¯t exist for them, then what else is different? Do they hang out together? Do they eat food like us, or maybe they get what they need from the air? Do they¡­ well¡­¡±

    Abel trailed off. Sal cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

    ¡°Well, you know man. I don¡¯t see any¡­¡± Abel cupped his groin and made a grabbing motion at an invisible chest in front of him.

    ¡°Jesus Abel! These are goddamn aliens!¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t say you weren¡¯t thinking it. Where are the honka-tonks, the knockers, the jubblies? I¡¯ve read some old pulp sci-fi during our break shifts, and all of those space babes had funky parts. And, hey, I definitely saw you eyeing up your little Cambiar compadre.¡±

    ¡°I was looking at their translator and¡­ other bits.¡± Sal said, thinking back on the strangely excited tail wagging he¡¯d observed. ¡°Besides, they do have some of the personal stuff you mentioned. Like¡­ names. Sort of.¡± Nodding to the one he had been talking to, who glanced over their shoulder to look at Sal, he continued. ¡°Their name is G9, or at least, that¡¯s what we¡¯ve decided on.¡±

    ¡°Wow, five minutes and you¡¯ve already got nice and cushy with them. That¡¯s a new record as far as I¡¯m concerned. Fastest pickup artist in extraterrestrial space ¨C Salvador Vigino!¡±

    ¡°Abel, for the love of god, they¡¯re probably recording every word we¡¯re saying, and I¡¯d rather not end up in front of a tribunal when this is over.¡±

    ¡°Ah, right, right.¡± Abel struggled to stifle his chuckling but eventually shut up. He still maintained a grin, however. Moving back through the group, Sal met pace with Dusty and Stannock.

    ¡°Sal,¡± Stannock grumbled, mind preoccupied with rubbing his thick beard. The few hours without preening and grooming it constantly had ruined his perfect, uniform facial hair.

    ¡°Sir!¡± Dusty gave a quick salute before resting his hands back in his jumpsuit pockets.

    ¡°How are you two holding up?¡± Sal asked.

    ¡°As well as one can, without the appropriate facilities. Do you know how awful that voidsuit was for my hair? Absolutely dreadful things.¡± Stannock seemed his usual self, for better or worse.

    ¡°Good, Sal!¡± Dusty cheered back in an almost comical contrast. ¡°I¡¯ve got to say these Cambiar really freaked me out at first, but now I think they¡¯re really cool. Have you seen how varied some of them are? Those huge ones back in the hall were amazing! Still, I¡¯ve got to say, what¡¯s going to happen to the Expedition Fleet now? Even sending a message back to headquarters will take a while, let alone getting reinforcements or the corporate suits over.¡± Dusty crossed his arms in thought. ¡°I mean, meeting aliens is cool and all, but H&H just lost two ships, if we count Lighthouse. Are they gonna pull the plug on the mission? Will they ship us back?¡±

    Sal sighed deeply. More than anything, he wished he could answer Dustin with a complete answer. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know. You would think meeting intelligent non-human life would make any venture worthwhile, but H&H has put a lot into these fleets. The third and eleventh fleets ended up with no suitable colonies, and the rest were pretty middling, so management will be expecting something, anything from us. For now, I guess it¡¯s too early to tell. For all we know, the Cambiar might just crap out gold, or better yet, syraline. Then we¡¯d all be rich.¡±

    Syraline was an incredibly expensive material, used for extremely complex but useful equipment across all factions in human space. It lined S-Drive engines for increased FTL distance, could be used in ship or heavy mechanized vehicle linings for military purposes, and was required for the strongest ammo and weaponry capable of punching through Scar Fields, or at least draining them. The colony ships used by the Expedition Fleets had drained most of H&H¡¯s syraline stockpile to produce, and losing a single one was a huge cost. Sal wondered exactly how large the ¡®Out-Han¡¯ were, and if they would be a useful trading partner for the conglomerates. Would they even understand the concept of trade, or commerce? Then again, first contact was still underway, and there was plenty of time for humanity to mess it up. That, or some innate part of Cambiar society turned out to be evil. If they ended up as nutjobs, at least Paradise and some clans would have something to bond over.

    After enough walking that Sal was mentally beginning to make up stupid names for all the aliens in front of him, they entered another door to find an unexpected room. A harsh difference between the previously alien black-green living hallways and the sterile, unfeeling metal corridors, this room had a warm feel to it. Along the sides and flooring were wooden surfaces, with black marble-like structures making up tables and counter tops. The room itself appeared to be a mixture of a kitchen and lounge room, the sort one would find on a high-class liner or as part of the officer¡¯s deck. Sal had certainly never been a real visitor to a place like this, at best he¡¯d only visited such a place once before to grab an engineering officer for a meeting.

    ¡°Holy hell,¡± Abel said quietly next to him. The interior had enough space for a full multi-team dormitory or two worth of crew to spread out and relax, and yet, Sal¡¯s team were the only humans there. The standout feature of the room was a floor to ceiling window, opening out to a view of the void. A striking difference to his last view from Starheart, no shattered vessel was visible from this angle and was instead replaced with a vibrant scene. In amidst the dotted spots of stars, dozens of ships, now being lit up, one by one, in purples, blues and turquoises along black hulls had settled in in orbit around the star. Their shapes were organic, bulbous, and stood out against the boxy, rectangular forms of most human ships. It seems that the Cambiar had decided to make themselves quite visible.

    Stepping into the room, Sal surveyed the interior carefully. This was a big difference compared to everything he had seen before from the aliens. How had they gotten human styles down so carefully? Entering the area where a series of couches, lined with plush cushions, he spied embroidery along the seams, which were stylized in the shapes of human flowers. Roses and chrysanthemums danced along the edges. The more cynical part of his brain told him this was a trap, that the Cambiar were far from what they seemed. The exhausted and mentally drained part, the part that had fun hearing an alien swearing, and seeing it shake its tail in apparent joy smothered the other half down and wanted to relax already.

    Entering the room alongside the humans, a number of tan coloured, stocky aliens quickly ran about the place, holding readout displays attached to additional limbs. They seemed to quickly check and inspect the walls, appliances and other details of the room, checking them against the fleshy-looking devices. Clearly displayed on the screen on one next to Sal were photo references of a similarly styled room. Had they taken this information from H&H¡¯s probe in the system, or had they already been provided with this information so quickly? When the alien realized Sal was staring at it, it cautiously gave an uncertain thumbs up motion, which the engineer returned. What on earth were these things?

    Sal had intended to make a strong show of human gratitude for the Cambiar and their hospitality so far, but as soon as he moved to the centre area and sat on the soft sofa, he simply let out a relaxed groan. Gods, when was the last time he had felt something so comfy? Had he ever? The Torchers laughed at his reaction whilst the aliens watched on, gauging their reactions. The other team members closed in and took seats as well, resulting in similar expressions of bliss.

    ¡°My god, can we get more evacuations if it ends up with seats like this?¡± Xin sighed.

    ¡°Ok, holding my suspicions for a bit, these aliens are alright for now if they can keep giving us stuff like this,¡± Marcus said. ¡°Now, I just want to sleep.¡±

    ¡°I hear that, brother. This has been a full on day.¡± Abel¡¯s deep voice rumbled through the chamber as he settled into a comfortable position, taking up a lounger to himself.

    A familiar face popped up beside Sal as he leant back. ¡°Are the furnishings to your liking, Salvador?¡± G9 asked, translator not carrying across the quavering whispers of their actual voice.

    ¡°Oh yeah, G9, I think you¡¯ve done a grand job.¡± Sal closed his eyes and grinned. ¡°Damn fine job.¡± A snap from the alien seemed to signal appreciation of some kind. ¡°I know you¡¯ve done a lot so far, and I hate to impose G9, but you guys haven¡¯t happened to have grabbed any food from the pods we came in, have you?¡± In his rush to explore his environment, Sal had forgotten to bring any of the emergency supplies from the escape shuttle.

    Opening a single eye, he looked at G9 who startled at his words and begin looking around the room frantically, opening cabinets and quickly chatting to the other Cambiar in their native language. Sal wanted to laugh at the sudden franticness from his request, but was quickly shut up when, through the small crowd that hung by the door, a series of plastic packages made their way to the central table. Laid out in a pile were a number of MREs of varying flavours and meal choices. Normally, Sal would be pretty pissed to be forced to eat these constipation magnets, but heeding the pit in his stomach and wanting to relax after such an evening, he couldn¡¯t wait to dig in.

    In a fancy room on board an alien ship, filled with creatures from beyond the stars, the Torchers had their first meal since before the S-Jump. Their chatter was easy-going and relaxed, no one wanting to truly digest what had gone on so far that day. G9 had sat silently, watching Sal prepare his own meal. By the time the team had finished, many of the Cambiar had left. They left some fleshy looking handheld devices that could be used to signal the crew for assistance and pointed out some additional rooms attached to the lounge for bedrooms and the like. After finishing his food, he said his farewells to the Torchers. Thanking G9 deeply, and giving a wave, Sal made his way to a bedroom and collapsed onto a heavenly king-sized bed. This was far from the way he had expected the expedition to go, but he was plenty satisfied for now. Laying on the covers, he had thousands of questions he wanted to ask, and a million things he needed to know, but for now, Sal could wait. Instead, he closed his eyes, and let sleep take him.

 Intermission I: A Foggy State of Affairs

    Mikhail was feeling rather pissed off as a Cambiar fed him something from a MRE that vaguely reminded him of meat. Not because he was getting handfed by an alien, and not because the meal was subpar, albeit desperately needed after the shock of the day. Instead, thumbing the outlines of cybernetics beneath his skin, he was incensed at how blind he was. Having changed his name, face, frame and voice, he felt he was more than ready for anything the void could throw at him and his men on board Starheart.

    Undergoing first contact and seeing the other colony ship explode had proven that idea severely wrong. Sighing, he gazed around the room at the other crewmembers he had unfortunately been stuck with, a group of idiotic passengers from the mid-decks, who constantly badgered each other with incessant jokes and crudeness. My god, if he had a little less patience, Mikhail had the mind to be done with his charade and put them down. But no, he was not going to lose his future clan status over them. Just bear it. Hide your face and bear it, Mikhail. All he had to do was hold out until he achieved his Emperor¡¯s goal. Well, as soon as he could figure out what that goal was. Initially, his plan had been to supplant and hijack the colony ships Starheart and Ruby Eye as soon as they found a viable planet and ransom the hell out of the colony and ships until they got all the finances, deals and syraline the Doctrine could ever want.

    Seeing a fleet of aliens larger than most clans combined and Ruby Eye splitting in two had put a damper on things. Additionally, the one ship he had not infiltrated, Lighthouse, was MIA. How had things gotten so goddamn confusing? His thoughts were disrupted by an alien prodding him in the side of the mouth with a fork covered in more substitute food. Lazily, he accepted it and mumbled a thanks. Somehow, the group of morons he was stuck with for now had convinced the aliens of Outer Rim Nine that this sort of behaviour was normal for humans. Mikhail smiled to himself, knowing that such behaviour would bite back on them once communications between the separated humans was reestablished. Or at least, he hoped it would be. God knows, perhaps the aliens would enjoy servitude. The thought of such weak compliance disgusted Mikhail. After proper order could be restored amongst the crew, he could move around a bit easier.

    Rumour had it that, for now, the command team were in a state of utter chaos. Captain Curtin had no grasp on the situation and was desperately pinging a message back to Titanlock every minute. The human fleet¡¯s survivors had spread themselves across the nearly three hundred Cambiar ships, some little bigger than a Viper-class recon ship and some bigger than the colony vessels themselves. Mikhail intended to move onto one of these Spoke category ships, as their greater size would allow for easier planning.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    So far, reports from his agents had been¡­ messy. Exact details were being slowly transmitted in drips and dregs. Most alien ships had no access to translators yet, and even less were making an effort to get pertinent information, with even the most hardened agents of the Broken Fang being swept up by meeting aliens for the first time. Still, Mikhail couldn¡¯t blame them too badly, as his own mind was currently in a tumble. These Cambiar had showed some strange characteristics that excited and unsettled his mind. The varying shapes and sizes were initially chalked up by him as some form of sub-species or role they were born into. However, when he enquired with a little Uvolo, a pale one, about the enormous red guards, it simply implied that it too one day wished to become one, a ¡®Delkar¡¯ as it termed it.

    Could these things change their shape so drastically? How did this all work? Another prod to his cheek, and Mikhail bit down on the beef-like mass. He gave thanks and heard the alien¡¯s tail slapping the floor. The other point of interest was Ruby Eye. Had these aliens, who for now seemed rather pleasant and calm, so easily destroy such a powerful craft? If so, for what purpose and how? Or, even worse, were there other Heaven¡¯s Doctrine clans interfering? If the situation were the former, could the Jade Emperor, damn that rotten corpse, been wanting Mikhail to try and ally with them? If the holy empire gained such a powerful partner, Paradise wouldn¡¯t stand a chance. Surely, that seemed the most logical step. For now, he decided he would play along. These creatures enthralled him, despite his initial reluctance to engage with them, and he was making steps towards deciphering this mess. If the galaxy truly belonged to the empire, and the empire belonged to the strong, those who enforced their will, where would the Cambiar stand? Were they waiting to be used as a tool, or would they find themselves already staring down at humanity, and its pitiful attempts at dominance? Closing his eyes in contemplation, he briefly considered what the other survivors were doing. Humorously, he briefly wondered if Salvador was getting riled up by these curious creatures. Swirling a cup of something that may have resembled orange juice at some point prior to its dehydration into powder, Mikhail would wait and see what time would tell.

 Chapter 5: Bridges Start With One Plank

    Salvador found himself in a meeting room, with a number of superior officers and varying shapes of Cambiar spread all around. Compared to the fancy attired superiors and the bizarre aliens, Sal couldn¡¯t help but feel a bit out of place. Waiting quietly, he let the others bicker and curse back and forth some more.

    ¡°No, you stupid ingrate. We can¡¯t trust these¡­ these things. Company policy dictates that we sit our asses down and let the higher up manage the situation.¡± One particularly flustered commander shouted, sweat pouring down his portly features.

    ¡°Company policy? The company policy for first contact was less than an afterthought! Josiah fucking Dexter couldn¡¯t give two shits about aliens when he was making the Expedition Fleets! The policy is literally two pages long and is as vague as your mother¡¯s memories of your waste of spunk of a father.¡± Another, similarly, peeved man retorted, with all the courtesy of a wild animal.

    ¡°Please, gentlemen, for the love of god, can we just get through the main topic at hand? If you can¡¯t even agree on our terms of interaction, take it outside, and the rest of us shall handle this,¡± A mostly calm Titus Fornax said, a rare drop of infuriation leaking in. ¡°The topic at hand is the Partner Program. If we are to truly keep this interspecies discussion open and two-sided, there must be some action taken.¡±

    Sal¡¯s mind refocused on the main topic of the meeting, and why he was in such an unfamiliar environment. Over the past few days, the human crews of the Seventh Expedition Fleet had been moved around and reshuffled into the Cambiar¡¯s own 62<sup>nd</sup> Outer Fleet that had decided to remain at HL7628. Already, some scans had been made of Starheart, but it¡¯s safety couldn¡¯t be fully discerned without a more in-depth examination. Though the disastrous loss of Ruby Eye was not lost on anyone, thankfully, the casualties were less than expected. Over 60% of the nearly 20,000 crew had escaped, with most of those who were lost being in the mid-decks. The alien fleet had positioned themselves at a lagrange point between the yellow dwarf star and the brown planet of the system. For now, nobody was moving anywhere until the details were sorted. Moving forward, Sal considered the discussion at hand.

    In order to improve relations between the two species, some members of command, led by Titus, had outlined an inter-species joint venture of sorts. A human and one or more Cambiar would be selected to stay, live and work together, and to freely discuss their lives to one another. The end goal would be to give H&H and the Out-Han a better understanding of each other so that future discussions would run smoothly. Sal was pretty certain that the main thing that H&H would want to understand would be whether the aliens knew of the concept of ¡®profit¡¯ and how they would be able to abuse their lack of context.

    Although the program was designed to run on a personal level, the Cambiar had already been forthcoming with information once they had adapted their data and systems to human formats. It turned out that organic hard drives were not the easiest to get information from. They had compiled a ¡®need-to-know¡¯ list for humanity to understand the basics of their physiology and anatomy. Even Sal, not the most astute researcher, saw a gaping void regarding the lack of societal or cultural information on the species. Was it just withheld information for security, or was something stranger going on?

    Sal couldn¡¯t be sure, and the little he had read through the physical nature of the Cambiar was enough to blow his mind. Apparently asexual, the Cambiar reproduced via splicing and cloning, and quickly developed into adults ¨C that much was laid clear. What had not been clearly explained out, and in Sal¡¯s mind done on purpose to force closer interaction, was the means and limitations by which they could change almost any aspect of their biology to fit within their work structure. From what Sal had seen personally, the Cambiar fit into a number of different castes, each with specific roles to fulfil.

    The brief history provided of their kind could be laid out across only a few pages, detailing their origins from a planet called Prime Nexus. Sal would have criticised their lack of imagination when it came to naming planets but quickly remembered humanity called their dead homeworld another word for ¡®dirt¡¯. Due to its orbit, the Cambiar homeworld experienced massive environmental shifts throughout the year that led to the planet¡¯s organisms adapting their structure and behaviour to their environment in drastic ways. By random chance and a lucky radioactive meteor millions of years before, mutations induced within the Cambiar allowed them to control their adaptions with conscious effort, eventually leading to them colonizing the stars.

    Understanding a bit more about his four-legged companions left one major question in Sal¡¯s mind ¨C why the hell was he in such an important meeting?

    ¡°Listen, ladies and gentlemen, we already have hundreds of prime candidates from varying deck and work environments within H&H¡¯s crew. People who know the effort of manual labour, who have a detailed understanding of the nuances of human culture, and those who know how to lead others.¡± Titus emphasized the last part towards the others in the room, apparently taking great pleasure in pointing out their current inadequacy. ¡°If we, the Expedition Fleet, cannot hope to lay the groundwork for future generations, what chance does the rest of the CCH have?¡±

    Captain Curtin steepled his hands. The bear of a man was slumped over his desk, wisps of white hair slinking around his ears. His furrowed brow was shaking lightly, the stress clearly visible and cracking the man¡¯s exterior. Dark rings plagued his sunken eyes as they locked onto the analyst.

    ¡°I am not happy about moving forward without¡­ executive orders from H&H,¡± Curtin said. ¡°This scenario has never been truly planned out in the necessary detail it requires. However, as the leading officer of all crew in this system, a first step must be taken. I, for one, agree to Analyst Fornax¡¯s proposal, until we hear back from Titanlock that is.¡±

    Though there was some reluctance amongst the others in the room, an agreement was reached. Clearing his throat, Titus addressed the engineer who stood out like a sore thumb. ¡°So, to kickstart this plan, we already have one such candidate right here ¨C Senior Engineer Supervisor Salvador Vigino. Mr Vigino, what have your interactions with the Cambiar been like so far?¡±

    Put on the spot, Sal felt his chest tighten for a moment, feeling as if he had stepped into a lion¡¯s den. Swallowing, he mustered his strength and stood.

    ¡°Well, sir, it is in my opinion that the Cambiar are very willing to learn, sir,¡± Sal cautiously said, repeating himself. ¡°From what I have seen, their hunger to understand, well, human-ness is rather direct but endearing, to me at least. Their skill at already reading social and body cues is far more accurate than I would have guessed from an alien species. I, uh, lack some more vital details about their way of life and nature, but I am sure they are ready to divulge when asked. Is there anything else, sir?¡±

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    True to his word, though the past few days had much less contact with the Cambiar, with the Torchers mostly incentivized to stay in their swish new accommodation, G9 was filled with frisson when they popped by to relay a number of details about the arriving humans. They had been desperate to talk but were quickly requested to leave by the pair of guards outside the lounge. It would seem that the human commanders had wanted reduced communication between crews once Curtin had made himself present on Fifth Spoke. At least, until now it seemed.

    Titus took in Sal¡¯s words for a moment, sliding his glasses back up his aquiline nose. ¡°I think that says enough. The rest of us can go over some of the broader details, but personal interaction will be vital at reinforcing the trust between our two species. We will go forward with candidate selection as soon as possible. For now, the upper management will continue meeting in private with their Rexia, and we shall consolidate our discussions tomorrow. Agreed?¡± By the way Titus was already folding up his papers and turning off his computer, it had already been decided.

    Once the humans had all stood up and filed out, with Sal preparing to make his own departure, a voice called to him.

    ¡°Senior Supervisor, may I have a word?¡±

    The voice was sharp and harsh, not by intention, but from its origin. The translator around the Cambiar¡¯s throat rattled as the speaker echoed across the room. Sal looked towards Titus, who had stuck his head back in the room to nod gently before leaving for good. Sitting back across from the creature emblazoned with verdant green and rouge accents, Sal couldn¡¯t help but feel intimidated by the creature. Atop its head circled a series of steel-grey peaks, crowning its skull.

    It was Rexia Rubicoss, one of the leaders of the Out-Han. Though the exact roles or classes of Cambiar society had been ambiguous for Sal so far, he could clearly see the Rexia were their most important. Notably, as Rubicoss spoke, Sal saw that they had not four tendrils extending from its gullet, but five. An additional, thin proboscis-like appendage released a high pitch, sing-song whisper compared to the regular Cambiar tones he had heard from G9.

    ¡°Thank you for attending the meeting, Supervisor. I feel your presence made a large impact on your officers.¡± Sal wasn¡¯t so sure, but he was happy to let the alien think that. ¡°I hope that by supporting your candidacy, you have not been made uncomfortable?¡± It spread its hands open wide in a supplicative gesture that unintentionally showed off its long, sharp claws.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not an issue, really, sir Rexia.¡± Sal had no idea how to properly address the alien. ¡°I already spoke a bit with one of your, Uvolo, I think?¡± Sal tongue sounded out the unfamiliar word. ¡°They were very¡­ interested, and I¡¯m more than happy to assist the effort. I do have to ask, will my team all be ok? This has all been rather strange for them, so I want to make sure they¡¯re fine.¡±

    The alien gently nodded, spires on its head gently vibrating. ¡°I will give them all I can provide to aid their comfort. I believe some of them are also on the candidate list for review.¡±

    Sal¡¯s eyes widened in shock. He could handle Dusty, Marcus or Abel getting a Cambiar to chat with, though the latter would probably try to see if he could carry it everywhere. The others however¡­ Xin and her probing, jibbing taunts and poor vices? A poor little Cambiar would be surely overwhelmed, if it hadn¡¯t gone mad with irritation by that point. Honestly, she would likely get it smoking from day one and would probably try something more illicit when she found out the bedrooms had locks on them. And Stannock? The narcissistic dickhead would have it complement him all day long. Still, perhaps they would rise to the challenge. Sal could hope that everyone could change for the better, even if some days he wasn¡¯t so sure in himself.

    ¡°Thank you, sir, I uh, mean, Rexia. Thank you.¡± Sal had no clue yet if these things had proper titles to address them by. The sexless nature of them made it feel strange to call them ¡®sir¡¯ or ¡®ma¡¯am¡¯ on the few occasions some sort of superiority was clear. Though Abel¡¯s little comments about grabbing tits were grating when they had first made their way to the lounge, he couldn¡¯t lie that he had occasionally inspected G9 during their trips. As far as he could see, the only orifices he saw were their mouth tentacles and the holes on the back of their necks. That, and the somewhat gruesome hole G9 had produced in their neck when fitting the translator in.

    If the alien had been annoyed by his slip-up, it made no notice. Instead, it did something he had not seen from any Cambiar so far. With great effort, the sides of its thin mouth quivered upwards in the faintest smile possible. ¡°It is no issue, Salvador. You are the one deserving of thanks. For now, would you like to return to your quarters? I believe Operating Unit 28103-G9 is already awaiting your presence.¡±

    Saying his farewells, he left the room only to feel something grip his collar and pull him to the side. Choked for a second, he spun in a flurry of motion. Sal was prepared to punch whatever had grabbed him, but he relented when he saw a familiar, creased face.

    ¡°Hello Sal,¡± Elijah grunted.

    ¡°Elijah, what¡¯s the matter sir? And was that really necessary?¡± Sal said, fixing the collar of his jacket back into place.

    ¡°Sorry, just tense being around these goddamn xenos this whole time. There¡¯s something I want handled, Sal.¡± Elijah¡¯s voice was quiet, low, conspiratorial.

    Arching a brow, Sal gestured for him to continue as the pair walked away from the meeting room, and into the orange lights of Fifth Spoke. The ship had changed drastically over the past few days, with no uniform style being planned out by the aliens. In most areas, a clean, sterile look was used, with metal panelling that no longer deformed under touch, with warm yellow lighting above. However, it was clear that other areas had more devoted designers, with some hallways looking like something out of a corporate headquarters ¨C with glass and wood trappings all over. It made for quite the jarring experience, going from one environment to another with every turn. The air had warmed to a comfortable level, though the light floral scent still remained. Sal was unsure whether it came from the atmospheric system or the Cambiar themselves. He then forced himself to remember to not sniff G9 when he next saw them. That would be rather hard to explain away.

    ¡°An inspection of Ruby Eye is going to happen in a few days to investigate the wreckage. They¡¯re expecting to find out what actually happened. I want you to be a part of it. You¡¯ve got EVA experience, right?¡±

    ¡°Well, yes sir, but won¡¯t security, Titus¡¯ or Curtin¡¯s personal agents be handling it? Surely, they won¡¯t let me take part, with all due honesty sir.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a few favours I can pull. And besides, this is more important than internal political bullshit. Right now, I need someone I can trust. If it turns out these four-legged things did this to us, we need to handle this properly, no waiting around for H&H to sort this mess. We would need to strike first and hard. But if it turns out we did this, if there¡¯s a traitor among us, we need to keep this very fucking quiet, and only between those we trust. Understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir. I can handle it. If you put me forward, I¡¯ll let you know what I can find privately.¡± Sal was unsure if he would even get the opportunity. Sal¡¯s experience was in fixing broken ships, not figuring out why they blew up.

    ¡°Good work son. Thank you. Truly.¡± The older man gave a deep nod, eyes closed in appreciation. Meeting his eyes, Elijah gave Sal a pat on the shoulder and sent him on his way. It was time for Sal to see what a certain alien was raring to ask of him.

 Chapter 6: Quid Pro Quo

    ¡°Sal. Sal.¡± An incessant, nagging voice was badgering his ears. He hoped that if he ignored it long enough, it would go away.

    ¡°Sal. Come on, man. You know you need my help.¡± Xin¡¯s voice hid her anticipation of victory over him.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got it, I just need a few more¡­ there!¡± Sal¡¯s joy was palpable. He had the computer system connected to the lighting display in the lounge room after far too long attempting to troubleshoot the problems. Driver removal and re-installation, different cable port sizes and an out-of-date renderer made it almost seem like Sal would have to admit defeat, but he had prevailed. Take that, Windows 63. Sitting around the projected screen was Sal, G9 and Xin. She later had a meeting to discuss her suitability, or more likely unsuitability, as a candidate for the Partner Program, but for now decided to watch Sal¡¯s discussion. To their credit, G9 had sat quietly as Sal desperately wrangled with the damned computer, their swishing tail brushing against the cushions. With the screen projecting his, somewhat haphazardly put together, history and media archive from his laptop computer, he was ready to begin. Rubbing his hands together, he turned to his alien partner.

    ¡°Alright G9, thanks for waiting. So, here¡¯s the deal ¨C you¡¯ve got a lot you want to know and so do I. As your guest, I¡¯m happy to let you go first and ask away. All I¡¯ll ask for in return is to give me an opportunity later to shoot some questions of my own. Capiche?¡±

    G9 tilted their head at the last word but quickly seemed to process it. Sal was still wondering about where these translators came from but could hold on until it became a more pressing matter. Clicking their claws together G9 sat a little closer.

    ¡°Thank you, Salvador. I have much I wish to ask. Firstly, I must ask a question that regards both you and your fellow human, Xin Rouse,¡± G9 calmly said. An interesting start, Sal thought, but who was he to judge. Looking over at his fellow Torcher, they both shrugged and nodded at the Cambiar.

    Inhaling softly, G9 continued, ¡°Why are there two main castes of humans, the one that Xin takes and the one you are, Sal?¡±

    Sal crossed his arms, confused. ¡°Castes? If you are referring to our sexes, then I believe that was on the complementary basic information your bosses, the Rexia, gave out,¡± Sal had hoped his alien had done their proper reading before this, as it would clear up some basic misunderstandings.

    However, G9 shook their head. ¡°I wanted to hear your explanation. The documents provided had been generalized by many others, human and Cambiar alike. I wish to hear you discuss it.¡±

    ¡°Uh, sure. I¡¯ll do my best.¡± Sal looked towards Xin who was smugly grinning at him. Fan-fucking-tastic. ¡°So, uh, humans don¡¯t really have castes as you seem to have, with the big differences between your shapes and sizes. We are divided between men and women however.¡± Sal coughed slightly. He hadn¡¯t been expecting to talk about men from Mars and women from Venus on this expedition, but neither had he expected aliens.

    ¡°As you can see, there¡¯s some big physical differences. You can check the diagrams in a bit if you like. The main focus is that female humans receive the genetic information, to gestate and give birth to the children and men are, I guess, the genetic donors.¡±

    G9 seemed a bit confused, ¡°But¡­ why? Why is genetic information traded? Can you not produce your offspring individually?¡±

    Well, this was a big difference. Sal glanced at Xin, who was barely covering her giggles, for assistance but saw she was no help. ¡°No, G9, I can¡¯t make my own children by myself, and neither can Xin. Humans, and pretty much all multi-cellular organisms from Earth use sexual reproduction to help spice up our genetics. There¡¯s some that can, like some plants, and reptiles, I think? But for most complex forms of  life we know of, and humans for certain, we need a partner to produce offspring.¡± Sal felt awkward broaching the topic but felt it necessary. ¡°G9, if you don¡¯t mind me asking, how exactly do the Cambiar produce offspring?¡± He had known they reproduced via cloning, but the details had been lacking.

    G9 looked up and excitedly snapped its teeth together. ¡°That is a good question, Sal! I am more than happy to explain. Cambiar reproduction is carried out through the stimulation of XNA reproduction in the desired region of the body, which develops over a number of human weeks, before it detaches from the body and begins independent development. If specific features or modifications are desired from the offspring, gene revision is carried out in the reproductive cluster prior to detachment. Otherwise, the offspring will be a genetic copy of its parent.¡±

    The information hadn¡¯t been too much in volume, but the implications were significant. It cleared up their reproduction, but the idea of gene revision and XNA produced more questions. Cautiously Sal asked, ¡°Right¡­ I think I see. G9, do you mind clarifying what exactly XNA and gene revision is, as you said?¡±

    Without pause, G9 answered quickly, ¡°XNA is our genetic material. Do humans not have XNA? Perhaps my translator is at fault? I apologize for this error. I will rectify it as soon as possible. The second question should prove easier to explain. Cambiar can freely adjust and adapt our genetic material through a revision process, to achieve a desired physiological change. Larger adjustments, such as switching castes, can take a few human weeks, but smaller or less complicated alterations may take only a few hours to minutes to complete.¡±

    Sal stared a bit dumbstruck. What in the hell? G9 said it as if it were common knowledge, as if changing one¡¯s genome was as easy as picking out a meal at a diner. As he sat, staring blankly, Xin prodded her comm-device into Sal¡¯s cheek. Looking over and taking the rudely offered appliance, he saw a small article from the general CCH archives about XNA - Xeno nucleic acid, alternative nucleic acid structures that used unnatural molecules. Scanning through, he saw additional notes, added by the Expedition Fleet about how Cambiar used dozens of varying XNA structures, which they could alter down the allele level to adjust their shape and function.

    Just as he was beginning to fully understand, a light tap to his arm caught his attention. Looking up, he saw G9 extending their hands, digits spread. Moving from their claw tips downwards, the bone-white colour of their skin was being slowly eaten away and consumed by a growing black shade. It spread across the skin, snaking out like a spiderweb being woven in a timelapse video. After minutes of quietly watching, the colouration stopped just above the joint, giving the impression his Cambiar partner was wearing elbow-high gloves.

    ¡°Fuck me¡­¡± Sal gaped like a moron.

    And G9, seeing his expression, pushed both corners of their mouth upwards using their claws, forcing a smile. ¡°I have not adapted my facial structure to allow for human expressions yet, but I hope to provide them soon. I hope you enjoyed that, Salvador.¡±

    ¡°Uh huh¡­¡± Sal trailed off, blinking.

    ¡°Apologies Sal, I hate to impose on you, but I ask if we can continue our information exchange? I am excited to see some information that will leave me in a feeling as you are.¡±

    Snapping out of his trance, Sal grinned. ¡°Right, right, of course. I¡¯d hate to leave you unsatisfied. Let me see if I can help you with that.¡± Xin gave a wolf-whistle that Sal promptly ignored.

    He flicked through some pages on the archive about human life, how Earth used to look, general life from ancient times to before the S-Drive was produced.

    ¡°You say these places and names as if they no longer exist. Have these places been replaced on Earth?¡±

    ¡°Not¡­ exactly,¡± Sal sheepishly winced. ¡°Earth was the homeworld for our species, but after we had some serious conflict between two major factions, the atmosphere was destroyed, and all life not evacuated was lost. H&H is part of a group of corporations that left the planet before things got too bad, taking their workers with them. There were a few stations already built, but the evacuation pushed space expansion ahead much quicker.¡±

    Eventually, the images changed back to those of Earth, but during a far worse period of time. During the last years before the Eternal War was officially declared, the planet was far from a good shape. Its surface cratered and oceans caustic, the sight was a sore one, even for those born nearly a century after its demise.

    G9 sat, looking at an image of Paradisian Asset Removal Ship, colloquially known as a Glasser, vaporizing a Heavenly Doctrine city with explosives, as smaller ships and aircraft circled the destruction. A small army of goreskins, rapidly grown artificial humans deemed so unethical, even the Doctrine tended to avoid using them, were depicted staring blanking at their incoming demise.

    ¡°Why?¡± G9 calmly asked, the translator not carrying the weight of the question from their original tongue.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ a difficult question. Human, for all our best qualities, are rather stubborn, and pretty shortsighted.¡± Probably not the best way to describe humanity as a whole during first contact, but Sal couldn¡¯t help but be honest. ¡°In the end, these two factions couldn¡¯t decide on what was the best option for Earth going forward, and neither would compromise. By that time, no one could stand against them, apart from each other. Power begets power, I suppose. Maybe¡­ destruction was inevitable, based on their mindsets.¡±

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    ¡°I see. What about you Sal? What about the corporations you and Xin are a part of?¡± G9 asked.

    ¡°Well, I would like to say that compared to these nutjobs¡­¡± Sal stuck a thumb towards the screen that now displayed the flags of two states, a white and grey abstraction of lines for Paradise and a red-gold tapestry of a single man rising above a sea of outstretched fists. ¡°The CCH is at least trying to continue humanity without needless destruction. They¡¯re not perfect, far from it, but I¡®d say we¡¯ve at least comprised as little to keep best parts of humanity and Earth. For all their faults, the corporations are greedy, but not sadistic.¡±

    Sal watched G9 contemplate the idea for a while. As they seemed to digest the information, or at least his view of it, he turned his crewmate, expecting some cheap jib. Surprisingly, Xin looked relatively thoughtful, lightly nodding.

    ¡°I¡¯d say that sounds about right.¡± Xin said. ¡°The corporations, H&H included, can be kinda crappy, but there¡¯s a lot they did to keep things working well for regular guys like us. Hell, the CCH is made up of companies that didn¡¯t get absorbed by Paradise in the US and Europe and made into clans for Doctrine in Asia. Plenty of other companies took the easy option, got made part of their structures, but our ancestors at least tried something different. There¡¯s a lot to dislike, but compared to the competition?¡± Xin rubbed her leg¡¯s burn scar. ¡°There¡¯s no choice in my mind.¡±

    Though Sal had been honest in that he disliked the violent aspects of Paradise and Doctrine, there had been a more personal reason for his hatred of the latter. G9 didn¡¯t need to know, and he kept his lips sealed on the matter.

    G9 soaked in the information. They flicked through more images, showing the press conference where the dramatic founding of Paradise took place, with crowds and protestors being pushed back by police. Another image showed a view of the flight paths leaving the western hemisphere of Earth, as the last planes escaped Paradise¡¯s borders. Next, they saw the cabinet room of what had once been the People¡¯s Republic of China in a state of utter chaos, the censored bodies of politicians were spread across the room as a single, indistinct figure took his place on the stage ¨C the Jade Emperor. Blacked out in all pictures and videos, no one knew what he looked like, only that he would be over two centuries old, likely thanks to the age-reduction medicine of Evergreen. Even his name, Yuan Xia, was just a rumour. In many of his people¡¯s eyes, he was some sort of ageless demigod, wielding the power to smite armies with a snap of his fingers. Sal didn¡¯t want to put much faith in those rumours.

    The next series of videos and images were much more pleasant, with the early demonstrations of the first successful Schrodinger-Jump capable ship moving between Luna and Earth in a split second. Salvador took the time to quickly explain Quantum Identity Structures, a concept completely foreign to G9. The QIS acted as the true consciousness of any multi-cellular organism, generated upon the first true neural signals being fired. Though the physical biology of an organism was obviously important, without a QIS, consciousness didn¡¯t exist. Without a brain to host the QIS, the non-particle-based cloud of information dissipated away, and without a QIS, any living organism was functionally brain dead. The discovery of the QIS in the 21<sup>st</sup> century had led to massive arguments over religion and the idea of the ¡®soul¡¯ in science. It was a debate Sal wanted no part in and was just happy to keep his little cloud of consciousness with him whenever he went faster than light. Thankfully, no way of disrupting the QIS had been found outside of using a S-Drive, and Sal hoped it stayed that way. True to the human crew¡¯s initial observations, Cambiar had a clear QIS pattern that was on the same level of sentience as that of humans, the only other occurrence so far. It would have definitely been awkward if shuckabrush had turned out to be the more developed lifeform, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

    Some videos of native life on Earth drew attention from G9, with giraffes and their long necks apparently being a favourite. One section quickly skimmed through the life of Poo Poo the Bear, worldwide animal sensation before his assassination in during his presidential campaign in 2065, marking the last real animal celebrity in human history. Not a tragic loss in Sal¡¯s eyes but he admitted to himself he didn¡¯t know much about regular animals, let alone bears. A personal video that Sal had taken displayed a view of Titanlock station from a departing vessel. The two divided upper and lower halves had been formed from the interweaving of the first evacuation ships, Atlas and Sol¡¯s Core, to settle on the small asteroid of Gaia. Hundreds of free-floating auxiliary stations hovered nearby acted as private areas for the major corporations or the wealthiest individuals of the CCH.

    The Collective Corporations of Humanity had been formed from a collection of neutral nations and companies that had evaded the wrath of Paradise and Heaven¡¯s Doctrine over the 21<sup>st</sup> century. Once the Eternal War had become an inevitability due to the sheer force behind the two opposing sides, the CCH built as many evacuation ships as possible to escape the incoming conflict. With the usage of the S-Drive, the first ships were able to escape to the stars to establish a new foothold for humanity in 2113. The screen displayed pictures of the construction of Titanlock, the various insignias of the major seven corporations standing out. Though there were many ginormous stations built early into the age of expansion of the 2100s, Titanlock stood out at the pinnacle of artificial habitat engineering. Housing over a billion people, it boggled the mind with its scale.

    A video showed the first combined-policy meeting of the group that would become the CCH. Members from Henry and Huell Incorporated, Galant Corporation, or GaltCorp as they were often known, Tripwire Services, Glass Tip Productions, Black Sun Enterprises, Second Sun Ltd, and Silver Domain were seen signing the first treaty between one another, false smiles plastered on every face. The companies certainly didn¡¯t appreciate having such competition nearby but knew that none of them could hope to opposite their enemies by standing alone.

    Finally, the last video was of Dusty¡¯s early birthday party. The young man hadn¡¯t gotten the chance to celebrate before the Expedition Fleet left, so the Torchers had a small one together in their dormitory. The planning had been haphazard and Dusty was so new to the team that he thought he was about to get hazed by the group. Instead, it had been a sweet moment, and a great way to bring him into the team. Sal was enjoying the video, until he noticed something.

    ¡°Xin, do I always smile like that?¡± Sal asked cautiously. Christ, he looked like a psycho, teeth fully bared.

    ¡°Uh yeah, why?¡± Xin said.

    ¡°Remind me to never grin again.¡±

    ¡°I like your smile, Sal.¡± G9 interjected.

    Shaking his head, Sal exhaled. ¡°Well, G9, it hasn¡¯t been the happiest discussion of our history, but something I feel was necessary for context. I can¡¯t even imagine what your values, society and morals are like, but I would hope you can at least see some of the positives of humankind going forward.¡±

    G9 studied Sal¡¯s soured expression. ¡°I thank you for showing me this Sal. I value your honesty. I cannot say that the history of the Cambiar has the same mixture of glorious or tumultuous events as mankind¡¯s but when we discuss it, I hope you are able to extract some¡­ meaning from it.¡±

    Sal thought it was a strange way to ask about his appreciation for alien history, but he shrugged.

    ¡°Before we continue on society and history, however, there are some more topics under biology I wish to explore more urgently.¡± G9 shuffled closer.

    ¡°Uh sure, you cool with that Xin?¡± Sal looked over at the sunglass-wearing woman.

    Lazily, Xin gave an aloof thumbs up. She had turned to her comm-device and was playing a loud and flashy game on it.

    ¡°Alright then, let me just load up the archives.¡± Sal turned to the computer sitting on his lap, as he scrolled through the various categories to look through. However, he stopped when a curious face peeked over the top of the screen. Sal put the computer on the side as G9 approached closer and closer.

    ¡°Um, are you alright?¡± Sal gave a nervous chuckle.

    Without warning, G9 reached down and lifted his shirt to his neck, revealing his torso.

    ¡°Whoa what the fuck?!¡± Sal exclaimed, trying to wrench his shirt back down against the astonishingly strong grip of his alien partner. Xin took notice and started laughing.

    G9 sat staring, unmoving, at his bare skin, taking in his muscles and scars. They released one hand and stroked his skin. G9 caressed up and down his chest, feeling his chest hairs. Rubbing the firm skin of his pectorals, G9¡¯s fingers traced their toned edges. A claw tip ran along the edge of his giant, diagonal scar that ran from shoulder to hip. No, not fucking there. He had fought hard to not show that off to anyone he knew. The last time a woman had insisted on stroking it during sex, he¡¯d kicked them out. Memories of Tartarus Nine bubbling up, his body acted before his mind could react.

    Sal stopped trying to tear G9¡¯s hand away from his clothes and instead pushed the alien away and onto the couch, hard. They let out a sharp whine, falling into the cushions. Thrust back and snapped out of their trance, G9¡¯s ocular orbs stared intensely before returning to normal.

    ¡°What the fucking hell¡¯s the matter with you? Look, I get you are curious but there¡¯s a limit to what¡¯s ok, so don¡¯t touch me without asking. Especially not there, goddamnit!¡± Sal spat fury, and G9 shied away from his rage. Xin was no longer laughing.

    Heartbeats passed by. Looking down, G9 muttered a single word, the translator stiff in its tone but their natural voice weak.

    ¡°Sorry.¡±

    Breathing heavily, Sal tried to calm himself. G9 seemed to curl in on themselves, making them as small as possible.

    ¡°Look,¡± Sal muttered. ¡°Ok. I get it, we¡¯re new and strange, and there¡¯s probably tonnes of stuff you want to do, or things you want to say, the sort of things that the Cambiar find normal, but humans are different. For one, groping someone like that out of the blue, that¡¯s not ok.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry.¡± G9 pulled a pillow close to them. ¡°There was¡­ a video. Another Uvolo showed me it. They said that humans might enjoy what I did. I just wanted to show my appreciation.¡±

    Fucking Christ, who showed the goddamn aliens a porno?! Calming his nerves, Sal took a deep breath.

    ¡°Fine. Ok, fine. Let¡¯s make a rule ¨C next time you want to try something that involves touching, or grabbing, ask me first. It might be fine, it might not. Next time, ask first.¡± Sal turned away, the sight of the shamed alien building a knot in his stomach. ¡°And¡­ I¡¯m sorry I shouted. I just don¡¯t like people touching there, got it?¡±

    ¡°I see. Sorry.¡±

    Damn it, the mood had been ruined. The moment was, thankfully, broken by a message on his comm-device; Elijah needed his presence. Was the investigation into Ruby Eye ready so soon? Sal stood up and said his goodbyes, leaving Xin and G9 in silence. His mind should have already focused on the job at hand, ready to put his years of experience to work. Despite his efforts, his thoughts were still fixated on what had happened. It was not just the worry that he had admonished a curious extraterrestrial that was simply attempting to explore, or that he had he had reacted so poorly to his scars, reminders of the past, being touched. It was that, despite his anger, a part of him had enjoyed the uninvited groping from an alien, and that made him severely worried. Sal¡¯s sense of self security had taken a blow, and part of him had recoiled in fear.

 Chapter 7: Belly of the Beast

    Heavy breathing filled the EVA suit¡¯s helmet as Salvador navigated with his designated squad towards the twisted wreckage of Ruby Eye. It had been months since Sal had last needed to do engineering work on the outside of Starheart, but the controls for the voidsuit¡¯s thrusters came back to him quickly once they were in his hands. The meeting for the investigation had been somewhat awkward, with a number of security crewmembers objecting to Sal¡¯s involvement, but Elijah stood by his decision, citing the Senior Supervisor¡¯s prior experience. However, not all of the experience he had gained over the years were times Sal wanted to remember. Especially not his outings at Tartarus Nine.

    Moving from past memories and still shaking away the thoughts of his incident with G9, Sal did his best to focus on the mission at hand. In his group were three security officers, all with direct EVA experience from fighting against Doctrine forces, that were taking point. However, by his side, was an unexpected face.

    ¡°So, having fun with the aliens so far, Salvador?¡± Dr Michaels teased next to him. Apparently, the good doctor had spent time on a remote station and often made EVA trips from the separated bases located on different asteroids. Just my luck, Sal thought.

    ¡°Screw you, doc. I¡¯ll have you know they make for much better conversation than your appointments.¡± Sal¡¯s cheeks flushed at the lies behind his words. He hoped that G9 wouldn¡¯t be upset with their tiff.

    ¡°Aw, come now Sal, you know you missed me already. And besides, you may need an extra checkup from overexposure to these Cambiar.¡± As Sal thought he¡¯d finished, he pushed his annoyance even further. ¡°Can you hear it, Sal? Tick, tock, tick, tock. Cuckoo.¡± Mimicking the sounds of his stupid clock.

    ¡°Shut up back there, we¡¯re meant to keep chatter mission focused,¡± The leading officer, a brute of a man called Talon, grunted. The group had been standing on a void-ready cargo mover sled, altered for use in space, to make up the majority of the distance to Ruby Eye, dodging larger pieces of debris as they went. Some of the leadership of Starheart and Ruby Eye didn¡¯t trust the smaller ships awaiting use in the former¡¯s hanger, out of fears of potential tampering. Fears, that would hopefully be dissipated today.

    Switching to direct communications with Michaels, he asked, ¡°Hey doc, I¡¯ve got to ask ¨C how many Cambiar do you think there are? I mean, there¡¯s at least a few hundred of their ships here, right? Is that most of the Out-Han?¡±

    Looking over at his patient, Dr Michaels dropped the reflective visor from his helmet. ¡°Truthfully, Salvador, I can¡¯t say for certain. I have overheard from Titus that his discussions with the Rexia gave him some stunning figures regarding population. Now, this is just a rumour, but I heard that the Out-Han are one part of what used to be a massive alien empire. But get this, apparently, this Out-Han are one of the smaller factions of Cambiar, but even then their faction¡¯s total population is over a trillion individuals. Big, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    What, did Sal hear that right? A trillion? The concept of that many aliens, and likely even more, was enough to make him gawp. Michaels must have picked up on his stunned disbelief, softly chuckling. ¡°I know, dear Sal, it¡¯s a lot to take in. In fact, you see this whole fleet? One of just under a hundred. Imagine how many ships the entire empire¡¯s parts would have combined? Again, not sure if it¡¯s true or not, but I would like to believe so. And have you seen the speed at which some of them can change? How much one individual can alter themselves? It¡¯s truly fascinating to watch in real time.¡±

    ¡°I, uh, saw a little of it. Mostly just a colour change.¡± And maybe some desire to begin groping, but that could be chalked up to G9 being overly curious, right?

    ¡°Indeed. Little things like that are quick, but with enough time, they can change or grow anything it seems. Intriguing but highly disturbing.¡±

    The sled moved in silence for a few more minutes before Michaels pointed at a distant ship.

    ¡°You see that one? That¡¯s the Hammer of Victory. It¡¯s not part of the Out-Han, it¡¯s another faction, an envoy ship from the Ten-Tri. The full name is ¡®The Ten Tools of Triumph¡¯. Bit of a mouthful, but better than ¡®The Cycle of Outstretched Hands¡¯. Whilst it seems all Cambiar have this stiff, utilitarian thing going on, the Out-Han are all about exploring and searching. Those Ten-Tri, however, they¡¯re all about finding some purpose in the universe. Not in a religious sort of way, I think, but more in a¡­ materialistic way. As if there¡¯s some physical peak they can reach.¡±

    Sal saw the doctor put his hands on his hips and stare longingly at the distinctly shaped ship. It lacked the overly organic aesthetic that the Out-Han fleet had, with a more streamlined shape, almost meant for in-atmosphere flight. Its shading was that of blood, left too long in the sun and oxidising to brown.

    ¡°You met any from there yet?¡± Sal baited, seeing how much Michaels knew.

    ¡°Eh, not personally. There is apparently one of their diplomats, a certain Rexia Protheus, on your ship, one with a black crown.¡±

    Sal vaguely recalled seeing one during his stay on Fifth Spoke, the one who was speaking to Titus during their initial arrival onto the ship. The idea of multiple factions with different outlooks on life was worryingly reminding him of his earlier lecture on Paradise and Heaven¡¯s Doctrine. Would humanity entangling themselves with the Cambiar open up a whole new front for war; more Eternal Wars than could be counted on his hands?

    Those thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sight of movement along the surface of Ruby Eye, now close enough to make out the clear panelling of its surface. Adjusting his visor¡¯s scanner, he could vaguely make out the quadrupedal shape of many Cambiar, slinking across the metal. Based on his quick study of complementary information the Cambiar had provided to all human crewmembers, he recognized that these were the Jherl caste. Tall, thin and dark as night, their main role was to work in the vacuum of space, or in constricted areas. The image of dozens of indistinct dark shapes crawling across the hull sent a slight shiver down Sal¡¯s spine.

    As soon as he spotted them, the rest of the team took notice. ¡°Hey, what the hell are these xenos doing on our ship?¡± cried out Talon. He was in the process of drawing a vacuum rifle, modified for space combat when another officer stopped him.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear? Titus gave the go ahead to let them join in. Said that it was a sign of ¡®goodwill¡¯ between H&H and them. I don¡¯t trust the freaky buggers, but orders are orders, sir,¡± the less temperamental crewmate said.

    Grumbling to himself, the officer holstered his weapon as Sal checked his own gear. He hadn¡¯t been given any guns, but did have a series of tools for surveying damage and a grappling launcher to allow for faster movement in the vacuum. Gliding into the middle split of Ruby Eye, trailing behind the Jherls, the team was one of many that entered the shattered wreckage. Looking along the major tear along the outer hull, a mess of tangled metal and external utility runners, Sal could see where the ship had split outwards, the outer bulkheads bulking towards space. The scale was too vast for Sal to get clear information regarding means behind the vessel¡¯s destruction, so Sal decided to wait until they were further in. The sled came to a stop, and the team disengaged their magnetic boots, lifting into zero gravity.

    ¡°Keep up with me. I don¡¯t want to be doing this all day,¡± the grumpy officer ordered over their comm-link, beginning his thrust towards an opening to the bow side of Ruby Eye.

    Drifting through the emptiness, occasionally steering around fragments of debris, Sal followed behind, cautiously making note to give some space to the Jherl. Their shape somewhat reminded him of an old proto-wave movie that Abel had shown him, the offending antagonist in it monstrous and black as night. He shivered seeing them scuttle about from the corners of his eye.

    Finally, the group of investigators set down in the remains of a damaged hallway, a shattered light above their heads still slowly leaking chemofluorescent liquids into space. ¡°Command, this is Bravo-2. Have the other teams moved into position?¡± Talon grunted down the comm-link. Following confirmation that the rest of the investigation teams were already moving inwards, Sal¡¯s team descended into the darkness within.

    Navigating, they pushed past collapsed corridors, rooms split open like rotten fruit in the sun, and crumpled portholes. They reached one of the automatic sealing bulkheads, beyond which survivors had already been evacuated. Ending at a split junction, Michaels and Sal were tasked with inspecting the cargo hold sections, located beneath the remnants of the engineering and manufacturing decks. The pair went slowly, checking the tension marks and scorch burns along the sides of a stairwell.

    ¡°What do you make of this, Salvador?¡± Michaels enquired.

    The doctor touched a plate that had bulged outwards from the wall. Sal stomped closer, his mag boots not giving him much delicacy when walking. The engineer closely studied the metal, and the way the metal had rippled from the explosion.

    ¡°I can¡¯t say for certain, but these lines here,¡± Sal indicated to a point near the bottom, ¡°look to me that the explosion, or whatever caused this, was insanely hot, and must¡¯ve been localized to one point.¡±

    Sal left the stairwell to check another plate in a different hallway. The angle it was different enough, considering the relatively short distance between it and the stairwell sheeting, to give Sal the impression that the source of the explosion must have been precise and originating from a single spot relatively close by.

    Michaels nodded along. ¡°That would make sense to me. If it were some projectile, even if it somehow passed through the Scar Field and outer bulkheads, there would be a trail of floors and ceiling all bowing the same way outwards. Instead, this looks more like¡­¡± the doctor trailed off.

    ¡°A bomb, or localized explosive from inside the ship.¡± Sal¡¯s suspicions couldn¡¯t be proved, and this was far from definitive proof, but it was building a dangerous image in his mind. His quick reading on Cambiar weaponry showed it was somewhat basic in form, though highly effective, and didn¡¯t mention any form of teleporting or phasing ammunition. Their ships tended to use organic materials, similar to that of tusks or bone, inlaid with heavy metals, which were fired using railcannons at speeds far beyond current human capabilities. So far, Sal had seen no signs of this ammo so far in Ruby Eye, not a single sliver of bone.

    Kneeling at one of the plates, the two were deep in thought when a strong vibration rang out across the floor behind them. Sal drew his grappling harpoon as the duo were met by a tall Jherl looking down on them. As it stood, breathing in and out, vapour slowly exited through the visor-like attachment on its face. It fiddled with the wires leading from its translator to the back of its head for a moment before a voice broke into their short-distance comm-link.

    It said, ¡°Apologies, voidwalkers. I had intended to contact you earlier but must have been on the wrong frequency. I was just checking your status. How are you doing?¡±

    Sal shared a glance with Michaels. ¡°We are¡­ fine, Cambiar. Have you found any new information yet?¡± Sal asked carefully.

    If the alien had picked up on their unease, it didn¡¯t show any recognition. Instead, it gave a sharp shake of its head.

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    ¡°Unfortunately, no, voidwalkers. I was tasked with the acquiring of the bodies of your lost comrades, but the situation was¡­ upsetting. I have relived myself of work for a short time.¡±

    That was far from the reaction Sal had expected from the nearly eight foot tall being that looked closer to a sci-fi monster than an empathetic being. Much like in his previous discussions with G9, he leant over and saw this alien¡¯s tail swishing back and forth, though in a slow, drifting manner. The hooked tip on the end didn¡¯t quite match the image of a distressed alien, but Sal could look past that for now.

    ¡°Well, we were planning on going to the cargo bay soon. There should be less cadavers there. If you wish to assist in our findings, we would be more than happy to take any help, Jherl,¡± Michaels seemed more relaxed than his engineering partner, and he spoke with a relaxed tone.

    The alien agreed, before spitting out a long designation to refer to them by, which Michaels quickly cut down to a short ¡®F5¡¯. The newly formed trio descended further into Ruby Eye¡¯s bowels, the vibrations of the other teams echoing above them. Watching closely, Sal saw that F5 did not have any form of magnetic clothing, instead using its long limbs and tail to grasp onto its surroundings. When they reached a gap in the stairs, he briefly saw the expulsion of gas from slots along the aliens back. Some sort of biological EVA thrust system?

    After reaching a tight fit through a ladder, they entered one section of the enormous cargo hold. With standard lighting it would be difficult to see all the way to the end of a single compartment section, but now, it was pitch-black. The flashlights provided a modicum of visibility but were still dwarfed by the vastness of the space. Surprisingly, the bulkheads had managed to seal the area off from the rest of the nearby damage, keeping it pressurized. The area the trio found themselves in wasn¡¯t directly damaged by the explosion, but had a number of dents in the ceiling, likely from the resulting shrapnel.

    ¡°Sal, I¡¯ll go check the ceiling, you look in the cargo containers; the explosion could have damaged their contents.¡± Michaels signalled towards a series of stacked shipping containers, each as big as a colony¡¯s pre-fabricated housing unit, as he drifted towards the ceiling. Sal nodded to F5 as they made their way over.

    ¡°Senior Supervisor, I must ask, what are your predictions regarding the incident regarding Ruby Eye? I hope you do not still consider Cambiar involvement,¡± the alien asked.

    ¡°I¡­ can¡¯t be sure. For all I know, you guys could be holding out on super weapons or something. But, my gut does tell me that something fishy is going on. I¡¯m still hoping that this was some sort of terrible accident, maybe a discharging power unit from the fusion engine overloading badly.¡± Sal gestured to the first container, painted in silver and white. With great effort, he broke the first seal on the lock and twisted at the catches that held the door in place.

    ¡°You know, I can¡¯t really get a read on you Cambiar yet. No offense, but sometimes you guys are all a bit difficult to understand. It¡¯s just that¡­ well you sometimes act very un-human.¡±

    The alien nodded. ¡°I see. If I may, Senior Supervisor, may I make a query? You refer to me, and Cambiar in general, as ¡®guys¡¯. I understand the generalization, but do you think your sexes apply to us?¡±

    ¡°Uh, I guess not. Just a term I use, sorry.¡±

    ¡°There was no offense intended by my question. It is more that¡­¡± the alien trailed off, the translated comm-link whining softly. ¡°My human in the partnering program, though he was unsuitable to join us here as part of the investigation. He served as a cook on Starheart. When I see him, I feel¡­ odd. Like I must know more, feel more about him. I have seen the ways human castes-, no that is incorrect. The sexes interact. Some are friendly, but some carry out activities I am unclear on the meaning of. Close contact, intermingling of oral cavities, and other acts. I was shown a video of these things, but my understanding is flawed.¡±

    Oh, for the love of Christ, who keeps showing the aliens humans getting busy?! Sal heaved another bar to the side, unlocking more of the container as he tried to plan his response.

    ¡°Well, F5, I don¡¯t think you are the first Cambiar to¡­ feel this strange way. I mean, what do you think about seeing that stuff?¡±

    ¡°I feel¡­ good. Pleasant. I think I would like to engage with these activities, if nothing else but to explore them and see how my partner would react.¡±

    Ah fuck. ¡°Uh look, F5, that¡¯s great and all, but a word of warning, make sure you talk to your chef friend about this before actually acting upon it. It might be, well, unexpected.¡±

    ¡°I see. Do you think he would be reciprocative?¡±

    God in heaven, Sal had just wanted to explore a blown-up ship, not deal with this crap. ¡°Well, maybe? Humans are weird, you know? We have specific attractions. Sometimes we like things for no apparent reason that because¡­ we like them. Say, for example, some like big¡­ features and some prefer them smaller.¡±

    ¡°Features?¡± F5 mused. ¡°Do you think my partner would appreciate my replication of these approximation of human female features?¡±

    Sal froze and turned from the cargo container to his alien coworker. It was hard to make out in the darkness, and against the alien¡¯s black skin, but sitting there, clear as day upon closer inspection were a pair of defined, teardrop nippleless breasts.

    What in the actual fuck.

    Sal¡¯s unexpected leering was interrupted by him being pulled to the ground and smacking his head against the inside of his helmet, his magnetic boots deactivating to prevent his ankles from snapping from the abrupt change in gravity.

    ¡°Oh, what the hell?¡± he confusedly muttered. All around the bay, the baryplates had reactivated, and lights had flickered on. Groaning, and with F5¡¯s assistance, he stood back up. A shout from above directed the pair to Michaels falling from the ceiling, gravity once again pulling on the doctor. With reactions faster than Sal could¡¯ve expected, Michaels pulled out his grappling launcher and fired it into the ceiling. He stopped a couple metres above the ground, suspended by a wire.

    ¡°That¡­ was too close,¡± he frenziedly laughed. Not quite the same reaction Sal would have, but the man did keep a collection of knick-knacks, so maybe hysteria in near death experiences was par for the course.

    ¡°The power¡¯s back on? Don¡¯t tell me those idiots in security switched the backups back on without telling anyone,¡± Sal angrily wondered aloud. Switching back to full-range comms, his ear was met by a wild rush of overlapping arguments and orders. It seems many others had been put out by the reengagement of electricity without warning.

    The thoughts could wait, however, as a rumble emanating from the cargo container grew in intensity. Michaels was lowering himself as Sal approached the door. Locks removed, it only needed the latch released before the doors were open. Hand on the switch, the sounds rapidly grew. Before he could say a word, the doors flung open, striking and throwing Sal backwards across the room and skidding along the floor.

    Head pounding, and blood streaming from a gash across his forehead, he blearily looked up from his pone position. Standing before Michaels and F5 was a naked human figure. Larger than any man Sal had seen before, even Abel, was a pale, hairless thing - muscles swollen and skin tight across its organs, like a vacuum-sealed bag across raw meat. Bloodshot, recessed eyes moved from target to target, as green liquid trailed off its form, coating the floor.

    This was a goreskin, a mass-produced artificially grown human, altered for the purposes of warfare by Paradise. Surviving only a few weeks out of hibernation, they were stronger, faster and more dangerous than any normal man could over hope to be. With armoured skin, and a berserker¡¯s physiology, they were the ultimate counter to inner ship or station combat, outside of cyborgs. And now, it seems the one before them had been rudely awakened. An unintelligible roar erupted from the beast as it sprinted towards Michael. Darting backwards, he did his best to evade its blows but was clipped on the arm by a punch. F5 stepped in, clawing and slashing at the monster, its thick, black blood being drawn with every strike. Despite their¡­ her?... efforts, F5¡¯s attacks seemed to do little to dissuade the goreskin, as it turned to a new target.

    With great effort, Sal stood to his feet as the Cambiar danced away from a flurry of heavy blows, any of which would likely be fatal to a human. Even with an oozing wound the size of a fist in its chest thanks to F5¡¯s efforts, the beast was unrelenting. Finally, it ducked a clawed strike from F5, and threw a wild gut punch, sending the alien flying backwards. F5 landed and hissed with pain. Sal lurched forward, desperate to help, when a well-placed shot from Michaels sent a grappling hook straight through its head, and out the other side. Turning for a second, as if it couldn¡¯t understand the concept of dying, it looked at the doctor, pain not even registering in its face.

    Then, it dropped dead, congealed blood spilling from the body. It seems that even an abomination such as a goreskin still needed most of a brain to work. The trio were panting heavily as they huddled up.

    ¡°F5, you ok?¡± Sal murmured, his spiderweb of a cracked helmet making it difficult to see out properly.

    ¡°I am fine, thank you. The attack was strong, but I am durable. Michaels, is your arm ok?¡±

    He nodded. ¡°I¡¯m a doctor, I¡¯ll deal with it.¡±

    Their discussion was halted by the sounds of banging from the other containers, containers that Sal now realized were also coloured in similar white and grey tones, roared from across the chamber, wild shouting echoing from with them.

    ¡°Oh shit,¡± Sal muttered.

    The team turned to escape through the stairwell, only to find the door had sealed when the power returned.

    ¡°Fuck, fuck! I¡¯ll cut this open,¡± Sal fumbled for his cutting torch, preparing to slice the thick metal apart. The sounds of metal shredding open bounced around the cargo hold as dozens of goreskins ripped through their containers, desperately searching for something to kill. A distant one locked on the trio and sprinted, fast. In its rampage, it tore a different sort of sealed container open, with as much effort as one would open a plastic bag.

    Seeing how slow the door was opening, Sal needed to switch tactics. ¡°Everyone, behind me. F5, Michael, do your best to get that door open.¡± He stepped towards the barrelling monster, his head dizzy.

    With his grappling launcher, he fired in into the ground and lifted the outer floor lining open to reveal, with a hiss of success, a very pleasing sight. It was the outer sections of the baryplate responsible for gravity around them. Much like Starheart¡¯s cargo hold, it would appear that Ruby Eye¡¯s cargo lining was not that thick before the baryplates were reached.

    Adjusting his cutter¡¯s frequency, he waited until the goreskin was nearly on him before searing a line across the exposed metallic glass. Hurling himself to the side, Sal saw the goreskin¡¯s charge turn into a floating flailing as it lifted into the air, released from gravity. Tumbling through the space, Sal saw more goreskins approaching. ¡°Michaels, F5, door, now!¡± he shouted.

    The pair had done well; the Jherl had used their strength to claw away at the locking mechanism whilst Michaels used his powered prybar to stab and slice at the hinged seals. Wobbling back towards the two using his mag boots and hearing the roars of other goreskins floating not far being, he hoped desperately that they wouldn¡¯t adapt to the lack of gravity quickly. The area freed from gravity wouldn¡¯t be large, and if they landed in another area of the hold, they would be able to rush them without any hinderance. Running as fast as he could with the boots, he made it to the door as the animalistic howls descended on the three. With a grunt of exertion on all parties, Sal, Michaels and F5 finally swung the door open, and tossed themselves through. Gasping for air, they sprinted up the stairs and left the creatures behind to rampage until someone could depressurize the space. At least, Sal hoped that goreskins couldn¡¯t survive in a vacuum.

    Settling at the top of the staircase, back where they first entered, they slumped to the floor, panting with relief.

    ¡°That¡­ was way too close,¡± Sal groaned. He tried to rub his head but only bumped his hand his helmet¡¯s visor.

    Seeing the state of Sal¡¯s helmet, Michaels leaned over and started applying seal patches over the network of cracks that had formed. ¡°I agree. I can definitely say that tangling with bioweapons was far from what I wanted to do today,¡± the doctor said, sticking the translucent patches over a particularly strained crack. ¡°But I have to say, did you two see what I saw?¡±

    ¡°The¡­ goreskins?¡± F5 innocently asked.

    ¡°No, not them, though that is a big issue that will still raise plenty of questions. It was in the container the second one smashed open.¡±

    Sal thought back. He was a bit more focused on not dying at the time, but he recalled seeing a glint of metal inside.

    ¡°I got a good look; it was a unit of mechanized armour.¡± Michaels seemed certain.

    ¡°A mech?¡± Sal said in disbelief.

    Mechs were uncommon in warfare, despite their admittedly awe-inspiring appearance, though maybe that was Dusty¡¯s fondness for the things rubbing off on him. They were often too large and risky for smaller ship combat, as they could be lost with the vessel. Instead, they were more used for larger station raids and planetary defence. True to his scepticism, he wasn¡¯t aware H&H were supplying the Expedition Fleets with mechs.

    ¡°Indeed, but not any mech, that was a GaltCorp Mark Three Durand Combat mech, fitted with toned down Masslock Recoilless Rifles, syraline armour plating, and twin rotary cannons. Definitely top of the line.¡±

    Though the presence of another company¡¯s mechs on a H&H Expedition Fleet was definitely strange, and they were almost definitely not legitimately obtained, another question came to Sal first.

    ¡°Doc, how do you know so much about combat mechs?¡±

    Michaels¡¯ expression became sheepish. He had said too much. Forcing the look off his face, he shrugged. ¡°Well, I fix wounds, so it¡¯s only right I know what makes them. Is that an issue?¡±

    Sal supposed it didn¡¯t really matter. Dusty could probably list every single screw inside the mechs on his TV series, and perhaps Michaels didn¡¯t want another hobby for Sal to make fun of. For now, Sal was happy enough to be alive, and didn¡¯t press further. As they stood up to rendezvous with the security half of their team, a crew-wide order was given to all investigators.

    ¡°Attention crew. Halt all activities immediately.¡± The voice was Captain Curtin, drenched in haggard dismay. ¡°A team has been searching Ruby Eye, and¡­ we can confirm the cause of the incident. Based on their preliminary findings, and the physical retrieval a deactivated device, we can narrow the cause of the destruction of Ruby Eye to¡­ sabotage.¡±

    It was true, there were traitors amongst them.

 Chapter 8: First Feelings

    G9¡¯s chest ached as they laid on the lounger room. It had been more than a few hours since Sal had left, but the shame in their chest still lingered. What had they done wrong? They were told by their fellow juvenile-kin that humans, especially the males, enjoyed such interactions. Was there context missing? Was it too soon? Sal had smiled many times in their company, but G9 couldn¡¯t be certain of the motives behind those smiles.

    Softly hissing to themselves, G9 curled up on themselves, clutching a pillow. Groaning with frustration, Xin stood and walked towards the alien. She had returned from her candidacy with flying colours, and her new companion was now playing on her comm-device. Marcus, another of Sal¡¯s team had also returned from a similar meeting but had holed up in his room with his partner.

    ¡°Look, G9, I know you are still a bit sore about it, but honestly, don¡¯t worry. That¡¯s Sal just being¡­ Sal. And well, it was a bit sudden, but if you asked, hell if any chick- I mean nice¡­ person asked, he would say yes. Probably. So, it¡¯s not on you, ok?¡± Xin had said similar messages a few times over the past few hours since she had returned. However, G9 wasn¡¯t convinced. The look of distress, no ¨C disgust, on Sal¡¯s face as he left still lingered on their mind.

    Seeing she wasn¡¯t getting through, Xin sat next to the Cambiar and sighed. Flickering her hair backwards, and adjusting her sunglasses, she reached for Sal¡¯s computer and activate the projection screen.

    ¡°Ok, I get it. You feel bad, down in the dumps, right? You think there¡¯s no way out, and that things will be like that forever, I know. But¡­ check this,¡± Xin had slotted a memory card into the side slot of the laptop, and browsed the files. After searching through the messily organized documents and media, she eventually came across an older photo of Xin, tattoo-less but still smoking a vapour cig.

    ¡°See that? That was me a decade ago. Don¡¯t I like cute, huh?¡± G9 weighed up how cute the younger Xin was but when the alien glanced at Xin, G9¡¯s lack of expression left the Torcher looking crestfallen.

    ¡°Eh¡­ forget it.¡± Xin said, coping and seething. ¡°I age like wine anyway. So, moving on, that was me ages back. I had just signed up as a pilot for H&H¡¯s defence force, in the Harlson system. It¡¯s right on the border between CCH space and some of the outer clans of Heaven¡¯s Doctrine, real risky stuff. Now, for ages, I always thought I was invincible, the best in my fleet.¡±

    Xin¡¯s face was lit up, grin wide and dazzling. Even her partnered alien looked up from intensely playing a game to watch her expression.

    ¡°I did goddamn amazing, if I say so myself. Took out eight fighters in one engagement singlehandedly!¡± Xin sighed, as if dreading the next part. ¡°And then¡­ I wasn¡¯t so lucky.¡±

    She lifted her right leg¡¯s trouser leg. From calf to thigh, a huge white scar, carving through flesh like a ravine, snaked upwards. Muscle had obviously been surgically removed, and the upper leg throbbed with every heartbeat.

    ¡°A flare round cut straight into my cockpit, and the shrapnel tore most my leg off with it. Barely managed to steer back to base through the fire and pain. At the time, they did what they could. They offered a prosthetic but¡­¡± She trailed off, deep in thought. ¡°I couldn¡¯t do it. I had thought myself unstoppable, untouchable. But that was a lie, just a dream. I felt that if I had taken them up, gotten an augmented leg or a graft, or something, that I would slip back into that haze. So, I left.¡±

    Xin¡¯s expression had fallen sharply, sunglasses slid to the tip of her nose. For a few seconds, she sat there, thinking. G9 contemplated reaching out, to comfort her, but memories of Sal¡¯s fury stopped her dead. But then, a faint smile graced Xin¡¯s lips.

    ¡°Ah, so it seems like that¡¯s the end ¨C things were shit, and my idea of who I was turned out to be wrong. Time to cry about it.¡± She mimicked the sound of an incorrect buzzer. ¡°Wrong! That¡¯s when I met these two bozos.¡± She gesticulated towards the screen.

    Displayed were a trio of engineers, with Xin standing unsteadily at the front, an uncertain expression filling her face. Behind her were the giant Abel, his pearly white smile almost creating a lens flare, and a younger looking, but still scowling Salvador. His beard was thinner, and he lacked some of the roughness around his eyes, though his gaze was still heavy.

    ¡°I had thought I was in the worst place on earth. Crippled and coming from distant clan heritage, I thought the engineers of the Expedition Fleet would treat me like a pariah. And sure, some didn¡¯t like me, thought I had crashed and burned, and was looking for an easy gig, but these two ¨C these idiots.¡±

    Xin smile was restored in all its glory. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll properly get a chance to say it without them taking it as a joke but¡­ they saved me. They took me in and treated me like family. You see us walk around, kinda slow compared to the other crew? They¡¯re all looking out for me, even if I can¡¯t keep up with this gammy leg.¡±

    The screen flicked to a later image, with Stannock and Marcus now part of the team. Xin¡¯s smile was as bright as her first picture, and her distinct sunglasses covered her eyes. Tattoos had begun their development along her arms, with one sleeve obviously mid-work, the outlines done but not filled.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°So, G9, what I¡¯m trying to say is that things might feel bad, hell, feel terrible, but they will get better. I promise you that. And, to be honest, I don¡¯t think this applies just to you.¡±

    G9 tilted their head, curious.

    Xin continued ¡°I mean, Sal is Sal, you know what he¡¯s like in the week we¡¯ve been here. But, if I¡¯m spilling it all out¡­ I don¡¯t think I know Sal¡¯s whole story, hell maybe not even Abel does. He¡¯s mostly open, if a bit of an ass about it, but ask him about his time before the Recon Fleet, or where he got that big chest scar from¡­ and he clams up, goes quiet or he gets pissed.¡±

    G9 remembered tracing that mark along his torso, the way he tensed up as if lightning had shot through him. If it was a harsh reminder of his past, no wonder he was upset. Though the sorrow in their chest lingered, G9 thought it felt lighter.

    ¡°So, G9, its bad now, maybe for both you and him, but give it time, see if you can pry him open. I promise you, it¡¯s possible. And well, saying it is one thing, but to prove my words-¡± Xin rolled her trouser leg back down, and patted her thigh.

    ¡°When the situation is a bit clearer, and this is all sorted, I¡¯m going to get my leg fixed, one way or another. That¡¯s a promise.¡±

    The Cambiar thought long and hard about the advice. In some ways, they hadn¡¯t considered Sal¡¯s past, what he might have gone through. If G9 could truly rationalize and explain their life so far in the Out-Han, they hadn¡¯t done or gone through many notable experiences. Their life had been simple, following orders and doing what was needed. In some ways, it was almost as if The Great Awakening had never gripped the Cambiar at all.

    And yet, G9 knew now that change was needed. G9 would make the effort, to not only feed their curiosity, but to help Sal¡¯s and the other humans, as well. With great effort and having spent some time adjusting the muscle groups in their face over the past few hours, G9 gave a faint Mona Lisa smile.

    Xin looked over and gave a small cheer. As she settled down, she gave a glance towards the distracted Cambiar on the other couch. She rubbed her chin, thinking for a moment. ¡°Hey Ace, either keep your head down or don¡¯t tell anyone about this, ok?¡±

    The Cambiar tried to look as annoyed as an alien without lips or eyebrows could. ¡°My name is not Ace, Ms Rouse, it¡¯s- ¡°

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, just keep it on the down-low, Ace¡± Xin retorted

    The Cambiar looked up, snapped their jaws in annoyance, before resuming their gaming. Xin checked to make sure the visitor alert was active for the dormitory was on, ensured that Marcus was busy in his room, and slunk back over to the computer.

    ¡°Now, this is pretty private, but it might help you with your Sal issues¡­ somehow. So, Sal remembers us doing this, but had no idea I recorded it. Hell, neither did I until I dug around on my comm-device.¡± Xin was searching through videos on the memory card, which appeared mostly to be Xin filming the Torchers during celebrations or off-shift. She stopped on a video, its thumbnail dark and unclear.

    ¡°You see, me and Sal had an¡­ occurrence a bit back. Now, we were drunk, and we¡¯re all cool now, but for one night we got a bit¡­ closer than expected.¡± A red flush filled her face. Pressing play, the video was revealed to be a handheld recording from a comm-device. The visuals were hard to make out, but the sounds were of human contact, and of flesh meeting flesh.

    G9 didn¡¯t understand what was going on until the Xin recording moved the phone to a better view. It showed Sal drunkenly copulating, mating hard, with Xin, breathing heavily as she moaned in the background. Despite being naked, and in the middle of having sex, Xin still had her sunglasses on. G9 unintentionally let out a gasping hiss as Xin giggled.

    ¡°What on Prime Nexus?¡± Ace looked up for a second. ¡°Why do you still have sunglasses on?¡±

    ¡°Quiet, Ace,¡± Xin turned back to G9. ¡°Yeah, yeah, it was dumb and pretty irresponsible, but a hell of a lot of fun. Seeing as you want to know a lot about Sal, I¡¯ll send you a copy of this, ok?¡± Xin winked at the alien.

    G9¡¯s focus however was fully on the screen, watching Sal¡¯s thrusts and groans, his scrappy attempts to make out with Xin and occasionally fully pulling out of her dripping insides after moving too frantically. Exposing his penis to the open air, G9 ran some calculations on his length for later comparison against their own anatomy. Just for personal reasons. Based on the sounds, the Sal in the recording was reaching his limit, grunting loudly as he groped one of Xin¡¯s breasts firmly. In time with his climax, the camera rotated around to close in on Sal¡¯s nuts pumping seed into and then flowing out from Xin¡¯s orifice when they inevitably parted. G9¡¯s hand moved downwards unconsciously, tracing towards a matching spot on their crotch where no structure was. Well, none for the present. G9 eventually broke from the screen to look at the amused human, who had watched the alien¡¯s subtle movement.

    ¡°Won¡¯t Sal be upset about me seeing this, with me¡­ knowing?¡± G9 asked.

    ¡°Only if you tell him!¡± Xin paused the video as Sal once again started thrusting with great vigour, apparently too horny to worry about such limitations as ¡®the refractory period¡¯. ¡®Ace¡¯, as he had been labelled, had been watching the video, and was now looking back and forth between both versions of the tattooed human is shock. He took a moment to take a photo of the screen before returning to gaming, shaking his head as if he were disappointed.

    G9 looked downwards, with wild thoughts rampaging through their mind, thoughts they had always felt the basic forms of from since joining Out-Han and wondering about extraprimus life. Swivelling their head, G9 met Xin¡¯s gaze. From here on, G9 had to handle this topic with great care, not too firmly, but they couldn¡¯t ignore it either.

    ¡°Xin¡­ do you know of anyways I could appear¡­ better¡­ to Sal?¡±

    The woman¡¯s face lit up, and a conspiratorial grin spread wide. She reached over and pulled G9 in tight in a hug, ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve got plenty of ideas. This and that, here and there. We¡¯ll start slowly and then build it up. After all, you Cambiar are very, well, adaptable, and we¡¯ll put those skills to good use. How does that sound¡­ sis?¡± Xin¡¯s tone was somewhat unsure with the last word. Despite the odd expression, being referred to as one of the human sexes, G9 enjoyed the feeling it instilled in them. Or moreover, how it would sound with Sal saying it. Of Sal saying their name, her name.

    ¡°I would like that, Xin. I would like that very much,¡± G9 said, tail wagging against the couch.

 Chapter 9: Food For Thought

    Sal¡¯s head was still thumping has he made his way towards a dining hall on a mid-deck of Fifth Spoke. Considering the bombshell that Curtin had dropped with the delicacy of the alcoholic uncle drunkenly slam-dunking a newborn at a family gathering, the ensuring chaos was actually not as bad as he expected. There were only a few dozen screaming matches over the comms, three gunshots fired, and one attempted suicide which Sal took as a good outcome. Of course, knowing that there were traitors among the crew of Ruby Eye and perhaps Starheart was a deeply worrying thought, but Sal would leave the handling of that to his superiors. For now, he had a friend to meet.

    Entering the cafeteria, the sight struck Sal. When he had first entered here, it was still being developed for human sensibilities, with the plain white metal sheeting still eating away at the black-green living walls of the Cambiar. Now, however, the room was accented in minimalistic glass and abstract sculptures. The clean style, with high ceilings and a goddamn water feature running through the centre, was certainly making Sal wonder what living on Fifth Spoke in the long term would be like. The closest someone would get to seeing a place like this back in CCH space would be in one of the fancy hotels or resorts, built as auxiliary stations to Titanlock.

    Abel sat in the middle of the mess hall, if it could be called that, talking down to his comparatively tiny Cambiar partner. It would seem that, assuming Marcus¡¯ appointment went well, the whole team of Torchers would end up with aliens to educate. Thinking on the program returned G9 to his thoughts, and the pang of guilt in his stomach. What would be the best way to make it up to them? Let them touch him, after he had pushed them away so forcefully? Maybe, maybe not. Give them a gift? Did the Cambiar even find materialism worthwhile? He would consider the matter later.

    Sitting around a cushioned bench and upmarket white tables were also Dusty and Stannock, the latter enamoured with talking to his tall Cambiar partner. Dusty, however, was practically enveloped by one of the huge, red Cambiar variants, a Delkar as he had learnt. Sal had not been happy upon hearing that the young man had been paired with the intimidating warrior caste of the aliens but settled down after he had a chance to speak with it. They had seemed agreeable and promised to protect Dusty, though they came across as a bit forward.

    ¡°Aha! Here¡¯s our little astronaut. How was your taste of spa- whoa hey, are you ok Sal?¡± Abel had initially trumpeted in cheer at the sight of the bedraggled engineer but saw his stitches.

    Batting away his friend¡¯s hand from touch his head wound Sal groaned at the attention.

    Sal said, ¡°I¡¯m fine. Things went a bit sideways, but we got it done. There¡¯s a lot to talk about, but only if you can promise to keep it quiet.¡± Sal had told Michaels to make the stitches as unnoticeable as possible, but figured the doctor would probably do the opposite. Knowing Michaels, they were probably rainbow coloured or flashed with inbuilt LEDs that said, ¡®knick-knack hater this way¡¯.

    Sliding into a seat opposite the others, with Abel returning to his previous spot, they egged Sal on to tell his story. Reluctantly, he told them of what had occurred on Ruby Eye. Though they were all in shock, it was Stannock who gave his insight first.

    ¡°How strange. Goreskins and GaltCorp mechs? H&H is definitely not on good terms with them after we snatched up the contract for their colony ships, so how did they get their hands on those mechs? And why?¡±

    ¡°Beats me. I¡¯m more worried about the goreskins myself,¡± Abel considered. Trying not to bring attention to it, Sal spotted Abel lightly patting his small Uvolo companion on the head, as if it were a pet. ¡°Getting some military mechs is one thing, but replicated humans? Either they stole them from Paradise, bought them off someone else who stole them, or someone in the CCH is growing them.¡± Abel shook his head in disapproval, still petting the alien.

    Dusty had been waiting to interject, ¡°Or¡­ could Heavenly Doctrine have grown them, and were planning on using them, before they blew up Ruby Eye?¡± Sal tutted him when his voice grew too loud. Dusty shied away in embarrassment when his partner, whom he had nicknamed ¡®Titan¡¯, seemed to rest a claw on his shoulder for support. What the hell was going on with these aliens? Did Sal miss a memo about them getting touchy-feely? Desperately looking for someone exerting some personal space, he looked to Stannock, who had disengaged from the conversation already.

    For once, the ashen man was not looking at himself but was judging his much taller affiliate. His partner Cambiar was from the caste called ¡®Tenau¡¯, who mostly acted as pilots, scientists and analysts. The faster than light travel used by the Cambiar did not involve S-Drives, that much was certain, but Sal lacked the knowledge of the precise nature of their technology. The tall Cambiar had crouched down to allow Stannock to look it face-to-face and was mumbling some instructions to himself.

    ¡°Hmm, maybe a cream foundation would work better? Your skin has good texture, but, my dear alien friend, if you want looks close to perfection, you can¡¯t just rely on natural talent. Well, maybe in your case you can. Good looking alien, you.¡± Then Stannock giggled and flirtily poked the alien where its nose would be - what the fuck.

    Sal clicked his tongue in annoyance and rested his head in his hands. Was karma rubbing it in how he was the only one getting, or perhaps not wanting, contact with their partner?

    Just as his inexplicable anger grew, Abel spoke. ¡°Well, regardless of what was going on with the cargo, we now know that there might be traitors around here. I do wonder why they didn¡¯t all attack at once, or destroy both ships, however. That part doesn¡¯t add up with me.¡±

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°Me neither,¡± Sal said. ¡°I just hope the Cambiar aren¡¯t too put out by the whole situation. Have we gotten any word from H&H yet? Sending a message back home from this far out would take some time, but not this long. It¡¯s been, what, a week?¡±

    ¡°Yeah brother, just about. Say, until H&H gets their butts in gear, we¡¯re still going to be waiting.¡± Abel drummed his free hand on the table. ¡°So, how has your contact been going with your new friend. What was it, G9?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, G9. Well, it¡¯s been¡­ going. I feel a bit funny about the whole thing still.¡± Sal desperately wanted to mention his problem with how quickly the translators were developed but felt uncomfortable whilst other Cambiar were nearby. Instead, he felt obligated to talk about his incident earlier that day. He toned down both G9¡¯s forcefulness in his recounting of events, partially out of sympathy for his partner, and because of how unusual it still seemed to him.

    Abel thoughtfully rubbed his head after listening, the alien he was patting looking up at him when the stroking had stopped. ¡°Well, that is a bit of a weird moment, but I wouldn¡¯t freak out too much. They¡¯re just curious man.¡± His advice was not helped when Titan let out a rumbling, affirmative hum to the side, stroking Dusty¡¯s shoulder.

    Unconsciously, Sal rubbed his surgery scars through his jacket. Curious or not, he wasn¡¯t a fan of having the old wounds touched.

    Wanting to move on from the incident, he asked ¡°So, what do you guys think I should show or talk with G9 about? What things do the Cambiar find the most interesting?¡± Sal had postulated the question not just to Abel, but to all the others.

    ¡°I found the proto-wave animated movies interesting, not only for the events depicted, but from how humanity perceived such stories and ideas,¡± chirped the small Cambiar next to Abel. Sal vaguely recalled it had also received a nickname already, which Abel had messaged him about as soon as his candidacy was confirmed. It was something befitting its short size. Was it ¡®Stumpy¡¯, or perhaps ¡®Manlet¡¯? Sal couldn¡¯t remember. Maybe he should ask G9 if they wanted one?

    ¡°I liked the video games Dustin showed me. Though my digits are currently unsuitable for many human control devices, I am in the process of generating some more limbs for this purpose,¡± Titan deeply whispered and hissed, though their translator output a soft, almost feminine voice, that did not match their vastness.

    ¡°Well, Mr Vigino, I for one found the documentaries on ancient history fascinating.¡± Stannock¡¯s partner said. ¡°Truly remarkable. Such interesting stories and fables from over two millennia ago that are still relevant today. Such a shame Earth was lost.¡±

    The alien finished dramatically with a sigh, resting a head in its palm. Not only was the way its voice, natural and not coming from any translator, and body language incredibly human rather unsettling, but the fact that it sounded exactly like Stannock made Sal¡¯s jaw drop. Glaring at his crewmate, Stannock just sheepishly shrugged, cooly trying to retie his ponytail as he visibly began sweating.

    Abel and Dusty seemed to know already, with both of them giving Sal a similarly confused shrug. God, what sort of world of madness had he stepped into?

    ¡°Well, uh, thanks guys. I think that helps. Would you all say proto-wave stuff works a bit better?¡± Sal was never one for much media consumption, occasionally watching a movie or two with the Torchers during rest days, but even he admitted that the stuff from before the age of space expansion was less tacky and had more soul to it.

    ¡°Yeah man, all the neo-wave stuff is just so¡­ crappy. Unless it¡¯s Siralis Goldheart. Gods that man has a good voice,¡± Abel hypocritically mused.

    Sal wouldn¡¯t say he hated the singer¡¯s talent, but that his larger-than-life personality had always grated on his nerves whenever he popped on an inter-system network show. Knowing there were now aliens that could probably adapt a better singing voice than him over a few weeks made Sal feel a bit better.

    The materialistic discussion was cut short when a familiar face stepped up to the table. ¡°Hello everyone.¡± Erohin said, his voice already growing unctuous. ¡°Sal! You¡¯re ok! I saw you going to the airlocks and was worried I wouldn¡¯t be able to see your cheerful smile anymore!¡± The same plastic look of fake joy was still slapped onto his face. Sal couldn¡¯t tell if he was being unbelievably passive-aggressive, or if he thought showering fake compliments would make him appear less annoying.

    ¡°Hey Erohin. Yeah, I¡¯m fine. Did everything go alright with the recreation decks during the evacuation? I¡¯ve mostly only seen officers and engineers here on Fifth Spoke.¡± Sal said, considering he had barely seen any of the regular passengers of Starheart around.

    ¡°Oh, us cleaners and waiters? We¡¯re all doing just fine! You know what they say ¨C a ship exploding might be hell for everyone else, but for us in customer service, that¡¯s a Wednesday!¡± The most forced, painful laugh Sal had ever heard rattled out of the man. Christ, had something broken inside the guy from stress over the past week?

    ¡°Uh, yeah sure. Say, as a bartender, what do you think of the drinks the Cambiar make?¡± Sal said, trying to make conversation.

    He had been forced to start eating and drinking Cambiar materials after the initial MREs ran out but was assured they were safe. True to their word, Sal¡¯s stomach responded surprisingly well  after eating some of the strange patties he was served. They had been formed out of the same white meat that the Cambiar seemed to eat for all meals and was somewhat bland if meatily textured. Sal had only seen the Cambiar eating a few times so far, which he chalked up to an efficient metabolism, and when it happened, it only took a few seconds. The digestive tendril would whip out rapidly before biting and tearing the meat to shreds, swallowing chunks as big as half a handspan in an instant.

    ¡°Their drinks? Their drinks? Oh my god, these xeno drinks are just-¡° Erohin caught himself. ¡°Their drinks are just the best! I have so much I need to learn from them.¡±

    Sal had heard Erohin¡¯s growing intensity, but was sure it was not in a positive manner towards his alien hosts. Well, Sal supposed that not everyone would appreciate alien life. There would always differing opinions and even the Cambiar couldn¡¯t be exceptions to that rule.

    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear, Erohin. I do have to ask, last time we spoke, before the S-Jump, you said something about a ¡®nemesis¡¯ or someone you didn¡¯t like? Were you able to sort that out?¡±

    ¡°Hmm? Oh, that? No, that was nothing. Just a little tiff. We aren¡¯t friends, but I¡¯m sure we¡¯re going to get even eventually. Ta-ta everyone, I¡¯ve got some more drinks to make!¡± And with that, the strange bartender left them.

    Once he was some distance away, Abel¡¯s pocket-sized Uvolo spoke up. ¡°I don¡¯t like him. He¡¯s very¡­ insincere.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. A fake smile like that will ruin his cheeks for sure,¡± Stannock¡¯s strange copying Tenau said.

    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t trust him either. Maybe that¡¯s what serving H&H crewmen all day does to a person.¡± Abel laughed loudly.

    Sipping on some spicy, fruity drinks a Cambiar waiter had served the group, Sal sat back. Eventually, he would have to return to G9, but for now he could at least postpone the issue for an hour or two. The question was, what would he do to make it up to them?

 Chapter 10: We Both Reached For The M41A Pulse Rifle

    Sal waited, hand pressed against the control panel for the Torcher¡¯s lounge, dreading what was to come next. Would G9 be sore with him? Would they be cold, no longer wanting his involvement in the Partner Program? Damn it, damn it all. Inhaling a deep breath, Sal could delay no longer and opened the door.

    Striding in, acting as calm as possible, he looked around the room for signs of G9. He was surprised when they skittered up to him excitedly. For one, he hadn¡¯t expected them to be so affable, considering his earlier tone, secondly, he did not expect their appearance. They wore an oversized shirt, dark in colour that hung down to below their equivalent of a pelvis.

    ¡°Hello Sal!¡± G9 said happily.

    ¡°Um, hey G9. Listen, sorry about earlier. I stand by some of what I said, but the way I said it was not right. So¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t even worry about it!¡± G9 fidgeted with the shirt before gesturing towards the couches. ¡°Would you like to¡­ sit? How is your head?¡±

    Making their way over to the couch, Sal could see the pillows had been rumpled from earlier use. Marcus perhaps? Sitting down, and feeling the stitches in his forehead, wincing, Sal flicked on the projector screen for relaxing music. G9 hopped up next to him gently, turning their head to face him.

    ¡°Well, the head¡¯s mostly fine, bit dizzy though. Has a report been sent out yet?¡±

    ¡°Not the full report, but Xin did get a personal one from Titus about you.¡±

    Ah, Xin. That explained the couches. Sal initially wanted to joke that Xin wasn¡¯t a good influence on G9 but considered whether he was positive one himself. ¡°Titus? What was he doing reporting on me?¡±

    ¡°I am uncertain. He did seem to pay special attention to you on our first day, didn¡¯t he?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ guess so,¡± Sal said. ¡°So, what¡¯s with the shirt?¡±

    ¡°I was investigating some parts of human culture, such music, art, and the like. Fashion seems to be a big aspect that Cambiar have very little experience with. And, well¡­ I wanted to show a way of respecting boundaries between us. I am sorry about earlier, Sal.¡±

    Sal shook his head. ¡°Please, G9, don¡¯t worry. Forget about what I-¡°

    ¡°Please, I insist. And besides, doesn¡¯t it look good on me?¡± G9 stuck their chest out, proudly displaying the writing in spikey, white lettering ¡®Insert Hard-To-Read Nu-Metal Band Name Here¡¯.

    Sal was a little taken aback. What had Xin been telling G9 whilst he¡¯d been dodging goreskins on Ruby Eye? Still, he didn¡¯t want to dimmish his Cambiar¡¯s confidence, even if the garishly designed shirt was oversized on their slim frame.

    ¡°It looks good! I mean, there¡¯s lots of different clothes out there, so go ahead and try them. I have to ask, where did you get that one from?¡± Sal didn¡¯t remember having a shirt like that, but¡­

    ¡°The Cambiar have been trying to make some human clothes the past few days. A Onusian who owes me a favour gave me this from the workshops. Made with real Cambiar silk!¡±

    Sal wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to visualize an alien spinning silk from themselves whilst simultaneously weaving it into clothes. He assumed anything the Cambiar made was manufactured or processed by their own bodies, a role mostly constrained to the worker caste G9 had mentioned. Maybe all of the furniture in this room came from a Cambiar growing cotton buds on their skin shooting webs out from a spinneret. Gross.

    ¡°You¡¯re making a face. Do you not like alien-made clothes?¡±

    ¡°Its fine, I just don¡¯t want to see it happening in real time¡­ I think.¡±

    G9 giggled. Sal cocked an eyebrow, and G9 froze up. They brushed off some dust from their shirt and gestured towards the computer.

    ¡°S-shall we watch some more material? Anything you have in mind?¡± G9 stammered out.

    ¡°Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. We were talking about some heavy stuff earlier, so maybe something a bit more relaxed. Do Cambiar have performance art, like theatre and movies?¡±

    G9 clicked their claws together in thought, elbow to fingertips still stained black. After a few moments humming, they replied. ¡°Not really. The other factions of the shattered Cambiar empire may have some basic stylized performances to demonstrate past events, but the Out-Han are less interested in that sort of thing. Or were, I suppose. Already, I have heard rumours of groups practicing scenes from famous human works to display for the crew once they are ready.¡±

    ¡°Huh, I can¡¯t wait to see a new production of Cambiar doing Shakespeare or, hell, any musical for that matter.¡±

    G9 giggled. Again. Huh. ¡°So, about that movie?¡±

    ¡°Oh, right. Let¡¯s see¡­ drama?¡± Sal said as he scrolled through the list of films on the archive.

    ¡°Hmm¡­ Humans dealing with humans in human ways. That could be fun. Do you like dramas?¡±

    ¡°Kind of, I like them best when they¡¯re mixed with something else, to increase the tension. For most people, a straight drama is fine though. How about crime?¡±

    ¡°Crime? That might be interesting, but I fear I lack a deeper understanding of all human laws¡­ and etiquette.¡± G9 looked down, their groping incident still apparently shadowing the back of their mind. Sal caught on, and switched genres.

    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s fair. Let¡¯s see. Ah, well there they are ¨C musicals. Want to see some people dance about whilst a plot vaguely happens?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t sound the biggest fan, Sal. Disappointed by a poorly done production in the past?¡± Sal swore he heard a smugness in their tone, and, deciding to bite, went along with it.

    ¡°No, no. In fact, I¡¯ll have you know that I have such good taste in musicals, that I¡¯ve never seen one where I don¡¯t know all the words!¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah? What¡¯s your favourite song?¡±

    Shit, G9 had trapped him in a flash.

    ¡°Uh, you know, the one that goes¡­ um¡­¡±

    Sal cleared his throat, mind racing for the lyrics. He recalled one that he and Citra had watched as children, an old proto-wave film adaptation of a musical. It was one of the last positive memories he had of her, from before his family moved to Titanlock. Pushing back the other memories, he did his best to remember and sing.

    ¡°? Oh yeah, oh yeah, We both¡­ uh went for the

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    uh¡­ got the gun, got the gun¡­

    we both¡­ uh¡­ got the gun. ?¡±

    Sal¡¯s discordant singing would make a dying bird sound like an angel.

    Silence clutched the room for a moment and a beat passed. Then, G9 hissed with laughter, holding their stomach. ¡°Wow, Sal. You nailed it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, screw you. I bet you couldn¡¯t do much better, especially without that translator. That¡¯s kind of cheating. It¡¯s like autotune or whatever Goldheart uses.¡±

    ¡°Watch me. That was the proto-wave one about criminal women, right? I¡¯ve done some reading in the time you¡¯ve been out.¡±

    Clapping their hands together, G9 stood and delicately removed the translator from their throat. Sal was worried they was overdoing it and asked them to stop. Instead, G9 continued and removed both the speaker box and the wires from the back of their head. Exaggeratedly clearing their throat, in clear mockery of Sal, G9 made eye contact. Whilst doing a small sway with their legs and tail in time to the rhythm, G9 sung,

    ¡°? Oh, yes, oh, yes, oh, yes, we both

    Oh, yes, we both, oh, yes, we both reached for

    The gun, the gun, the gun, the gun, oh, yes

    We both reached for the gun, for the gun

    Oh, yes, oh, yes, oh, yes, they both

    Oh, yes, they both, oh, yes, they both reached for

    The gun, the gun, the gun, the gun, oh, yes

    They both reached for the gun, for the gun! ?¡±

    G9¡¯s voice was hissy, raw and breathy. And yet, their voice was clearly far more melodic than Sal¡¯s, matching tempo and pitch with ease. Moreover, Sal was convinced that the wire part of the translator fed the actual context and information for speaking English, not just the vocal mechanisms, back to the Cambiar. Without it, G9 shouldn¡¯t have been able to understand the meaning behind the words they said. That was, unless, somehow in less than a week G9 had learnt English, albeit as if a snake was doing a great impression.

    Seeing Sal¡¯s genuine shock, G9 bowed dramatically as he applauded.

    ¡°Holy shit G9, that was¡­ that was amazing!¡±

    ¡°I try,¡± G9¡¯s natural voice contrasted against the mechanical, almost sing-song tones of the artificial speaker, expressing far more life. Before he could say anything, G9 retrieved the translator and affixed it in place, much to Sal¡¯s disappointment. Sensing his mood, G9 said ¡°Fear not, Salvador. You will hear my dulcet tones soon. I just¡­ I would like my voice to sound more delicate before I do away with it for good.¡±

    Sal disagreed but would honour their wishes. Feeling like he had gotten a showing already, they eventually decided on any sci-fi movie, which felt more familiar than any of the previous films. Many of those, especially proto-wave flicks, were set on Earth, now just a planet in a history book for most of mankind. After scrolling through a long list, G9 stopped on one with a distinct poster. Not only in imagery, but because Sal had seen it before.

    Cast against a midnight black backdrop, an underlit alien egg stood in the darkness. Below it, a simple tagline read ¡®In space no one can hear you scream.¡¯

    ¡°Um, Alien?¡± Sal queried, a bit concerned.

    ¡°Yes?¡± G9 looked over, head tilted. ¡°Oh. Right, that¡¯s the name of the movie. What¡¯s wrong, it sounds perfect?¡±

    ¡°I mean, the movie does have an alien in it but¡­ well they aren¡¯t exactly friendly.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Wouldn¡¯t that help give me some tips if humanity ends up fighting us?¡±

    ¡°Well, in that case, go ahead! See what happens to the alien for a reminder about trying to stop us!¡± Sal mimed out using the flamethrower. ¡°I¡¯ll warn you though - the monster in this one is real scary stuff, it¡¯ll traumatize you. You Cambiar are just too innocent for your own good.¡±

    ¡°We are not! I promise you I will not make a sound.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re on. If you lose, you¡¯ll have to treat me to some of the best food the Cambiar can make.¡±

    ¡°And if I win?¡± G9 squinted her orbs at Sal.

    ¡°Uh, well then you can cosplay, or adapt I guess, as the xenomorph and scare the hell of out me someday.¡±

    Taking it as a challenge, they put it on and dimmed the lights. As they were getting settled, a head poked out from one of the bedroom doors. Marcus¡¯ hair covered his eyes, but even from a distance Sal could see him squinting at the sight.

    ¡°Did I hear Chicago a bit ago?¡± Marcus apparently knew the name of centuries old musicals. Huh.

    ¡°Yes, G9 was giving a seriously good showing for me.¡±

    ¡°Huh. Cool. Watching a movie?¡± the long-fringed engineer approached and took a seat.

    ¡°Yeah, proto-wave sci-fi. Alien slasher flick, want in?¡±

    ¡°Oh, this one. Hell yeah.¡± Marcus kicked his feet up.

    Sal wanted to ask about how the new partner was going but would let sleeping dogs lie until later. The trio got comfy and settled in. After an introduction and one unlucky exposure to an alien egg, the first gory scene of a poor crewmate getting his chest torn inside out by a baby alien started. Watching G9¡¯s reaction all the while, he saw their eyes as wide as plates staring in horror as the actor on screen writhed in pain on a dining table. The instant the pale, eyeless creature tore its way out of its host, G9 yelped, much to Sal¡¯s amusement and joy at winning the bet. It was only after the chestburster crawled away, deep into the Nostromo, that he felt a small, clawed hand clutching his own. Looking down, G9¡¯s digits were wrapped around his own, shaking lightly in tension. Sal considered moving but decided against it. Besides, the feeling of someone¡¯s hand on his own was rather pleasant.

    Following a dramatic moment later on when an android¡¯s head was knocked off, and revealed the corporation in charge of the mission made the crew expendable, G9 shuffled a bit closer.

    ¡°Sal,¡± they whispered. ¡°Why don¡¯t you have any robots like that walking around? Without it actually being a human inside, I mean.¡± G9 and Sal had seen Keeper Tom during his arrival on Fifth Spoke. He had revealed to the rest of the crew there that the fusion engine and S-Drive of Ruby Eye were being stored on the Cambiar ship for safe keeping. G9¡¯s reaction to the mostly mechanical man had been one of utter confusion. The idea of a man not only replacing a just limb with metal and wires, but everything was completely, in a word, alien to the Cambiar way of regrowing and transplanting organic material. Though such biological technology was possible for humans, it was prohibitively expensive, and in the case of Thomas the augmentations were necessary.

    ¡°Well, AI has been something humanity has toyed with, but it never came out quite right.¡± Sal whispered back. ¡°Also, S-Jumps tend to mess with advanced AIs, since it makes them function badly afterwards. Something about the protections we use for living things not working for them or something. You can reboot a simpler AI to run just fine after a jump, but you generally can¡¯t bring advanced ones with you.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± G9 quieted down, but didn¡¯t move away.

    As the credits rolled nearly two hours after starting, G9 was left clapping with enthusiasm.

    ¡°That was awesome! The way it moved, the way it ate their faces! Sal, we must watch the rest!¡±

    ¡°Ok, ok, fine. But word of warning, I think they get a bit crappy after the second one.¡±

    ¡°Eh, the fourth remake of the seventh movie a decade back wasn¡¯t half bad.¡± Marcus interjected.

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t that the one Paradise made as propaganda?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well half of it. It got leaked to Glass Tip Productions, who then made it into a real movie. Turns out propaganda about the fears of space makes for good horror. At least, once you cut out the part about all non Paradisians being useful only as alt-protein. Ugh.¡± The thought of prisoners being broken down into food for indoctrinated slaves sent a shiver down Sal¡¯s spine. That was the real horror of the universe, not some alien with a fondness for hiding in vents and killing people.

    ¡°So, G9, what do you think of the alien?¡±

    ¡°Well, it looked cool for one, a bit like a spikier Jherl. Its reproductive cycle is a bit unclear though. Were those guys being turned into eggs near the end?¡± Sal had weighed up playing the theatrical version, but Marcus had insisted on the director¡¯s cut.

    ¡°The sequel explains that. Pretty much, something lays the eggs.¡±

    ¡°Ooh! Still, the whole ¡®killing the host¡¯ thing sucks. Would be better if they split off from one another, like us! Or you know¡­ did some genome exchanging with the humans¡­.¡± Sal gave a judgmental gaze as G9 rubbed the back of their neck. ¡°J-just for the sake of making and adapting more! Think about it ¨C if they caught a single human, the alien could make a dozen more offspring, instead of laying an egg and killing a host for a single chest-burster-thingy.¡± Sal remained unconvinced it was purely for movie theory reasons.

    ¡°I think the later movies toyed with alternative cycles for the aliens, but never quite diverged too much from the original two.¡± Marcus seemed non-plussed by the weird human-reproduction discussion on the other couch, instead looking through the trivia section for the movie.

    Awkwardly sliding out from G9, who had slowly adjusted their position so that they were nearly laying on Sal, he stood up and stretched. ¡°Well, that was a lot of fun. But it¡¯s been a long day, so I¡¯ll see both tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Cheers Sal, sleep well sir.¡± Marcus gave a wave.

    ¡°Thank you Sal, I¡­ I had a great time tonight. Sorry about earlier but... thank you for forgiving me. So¡­ thank you, a lot. I mean it.¡± A faint smile graced G9¡¯s lips.

    ¡°Thank you, G9. Don¡¯t even worry about that. You owe me a nice meal though. See you soon.¡± Sal, still feeling the latent warmth from G9¡¯s body, made his way to his bedroom and sat, pondering on G9¡¯s behaviour. It was less that he was uncomfortable with how they now spoke and act, but more how much he enjoyed their company. Gods, he needed a cold shower.

 Chapter 11: Forbidden Knowledge

    ¡°I want some goddamn answers out of you lot, and I want them right fucking now!¡± screamed Chief Executive Captain Curtin Althor, howling at the full room of officers and upper staff members from Ruby Eye and Starheart. The other senior crewmembers of the room were varying shades of embarrassment and guilt as they remained silent. ¡°Captain Joane McCormack died for her ship, and none of you can answer me how dissenters, traitors to Henry and Huell planted not one, not two, but three bombs on board her ship! You are lucky only two went off, because then I¡¯d have even less useless sacks of shit to curse to hell!¡±

    The discussion of the investigation of Ruby Eye were not going cordially. It had been a few days since the investigation team retrieved an undetonated bomb from the ship, and no headway had been made yet. Captain Curtin was beyond furious that both he and McCormack¡¯s intelligence teams had uncovered next to no information regarding the traitors or their identities aboard either ship. As far as he was concerned, everyone below him was incompetent or a traitor themselves. Thankfully, Sal was out of the line of fire, being too low ranking to have any real weighing in the matter, and was sat at the back of the room, next to a certain doctor.

    ¡°Methinks that a certain captain should have managed his intelligence better,¡± Michaels whispered, smugly. No matter how brash the doctor was, even he didn¡¯t want to disrupt the meeting. The sweating, heavy set authority figure of Starheart turned to Titus Fornax, who stood amongst the others, his poker face clear of any sign of discomfort. Sighing lightly, the analyst gestured placatively with his gloved hands.

    ¡°Sir, if you are wonder-

    ¡°I am not fucking ¡®wondering¡¯, Fornax, I am demanding to know! Why the hell were we surprised by this, how the hell don¡¯t we have any answers!?¡±

    ¡°Sir, if I may¡­¡± Titus put more force into his answer. ¡°It was, on your orders, that I relinquish direct control of my information teams Alpha through to Gamma to your personal staff¡¯s control, correct?¡±

    ¡°Yes, analyst, that is correct.¡± Curtin¡¯s tone was cinders, bordering on a raging wildfire.

    ¡°Then surely, you can see, that under H&H¡¯s policies regarding accident and emergency procedures, they were under your responsibility sir. Additionally, the manifests for all ships as part of the Seventh Expedition Fleet were under your responsibility for checking, which includes inspection of contraband. That includes the artificial humans and the GaltCorp me-¡±

    The dam burst, ¡°I am not discussing responsibility right now, you useless twit! I am discussing the future of H&H endeavours, for all of us here! If you can¡¯t give me a good answer how and why this occurred, I will let the board deal with you once they are contacted. Which, might I add, you are still ¡®having difficulties with¡¯, right?¡±

    Titus sighed. If he felt any signs of pressure, they weren¡¯t visible. ¡°Sir, the distance between us and the nearest H&H base is far beyond the regular range of transmissions. If we do not effectively encrypt our messages, we run the risk of Doctrine forces intercepting them, and targeting our divided fleet, as well as our Cambiar allies.¡±

    ¡°Allies?! This is no time for pointless alliances, especially not with these disgusting creatures. If you do not carry out your orders soon, I will strip you of command. Do you understand, Fornax?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir, I understand.¡± Titus in almost comical calmness responded before sitting back in his chair.

    The majority of the meeting continued in a similar fashion, with Curtin screaming hell at any man or woman he saw fit to berate. Sal had never seen him, hell anyone for that matter, even come close to this sort of reaction before. Leaving the room for the more relaxed lobby area once the meeting was concluded, Sal sat with Michaels.

    ¡°Well, that was fun. Curtin¡¯s running out of things to blame. Can¡¯t blame his own crew for Lighthouse not showing, can¡¯t blame the aliens for blowing up Ruby Eye and how he can¡¯t even blame Titus, since he poached their teams.¡±

    Sal shrugged. He cared little for internal politics, and whilst it wasn¡¯t exactly pleasant to see any staff member put under such pressure, it was humorous to see a man obviously out of his depth trying to fix problems far too late. Eventually, the man Sal had waited a while to meet again in person had come. The message he had received the day before was out of the blue, and not someone he usually contacted outside of work.

    ¡°Greetings Doctor Michael Olren and Senior Engineering Supervisor Salvador Vigino,¡± the synthetic voice of Keeper Thomas greeted the pair. Sipping his coffee, Michaels stood and shook his firm, steely grip, which Sal followed.

    ¡°How are you doing Keeper? Is your body functioning properly? I met a few Keepers in my time who are happy to sit back when not working, letting themselves become decorations of their ships, not people.¡±

    ¡°I am well, all things considered doctor. The hiatus of all S-Jumps has given me time to truly relax, which is a surprising change.¡± There was something off about the Keeper. His voice was still its stiff, unchanging self, but there was definitely the light inclination of expression within the synthetic timbre.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad to see you in good spirits, Tom,¡± Sal felt the need to express his gratitude. ¡°I want to say a personal thanks on getting us this far, y¡¯know? The Seventh Fleet has come a long way from Titanlock, and we couldn¡¯t have done it without you.¡± Without Thomas and the other Keepers, this journey would never have gone past Titanlock.

    The mechanical man paused, considering his words. ¡°I accept your thanks, Salvador, but they are not needed. To serve is my duty, and my duty is to serve.¡± The way the man turned away, almost in shame, made him seem dishonest in his words for once.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t say that bull¡¯ man.¡± Michaels interjected, almost reactively. ¡°What I mean to say is that you are your own man. I don¡¯t know your origins, but your life can¡¯t just be servitude, either for money or duty. At some point, you have to live for what is right for you.¡±

    Though the words would have been saccharine to Sal¡¯s ears, were he in Thomas¡¯ position, it instead seemed to frustrate the Keeper.

    ¡°It is¡­ not as easy as you make it sound.¡± The cyborg¡¯s fists were clenched. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I did not come here just for small talk, otherwise I would have been less direct in my messaging. I have something serious to discuss with the two of you ¨C relating to both myself and to both of you. If I tell you two something, something highly confidential to Henry and Huell Incorporated, can you promise not to reveal it?¡±

    The pair looked at each other.

    ¡°How confidential are we talking?¡± Sal squinted. ¡°If this is about the bombs¡­¡±

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°No!¡± Thomas almost cried out. ¡°No, Salvador, no that. It is of another matter entirely. I didn¡¯t mean to startle you.¡±

    Sal was certain that something had happened to the man to change his behaviour this much and was beyond intrigued to hear what he had to say. Michaels agreed plainly, shrugging. The doctor apparently was all ears for secrets. The trio moved to a less populated corner of the room, mostly surrounded by support pillars and some recreation of potted Earth ferns.

    Even in their remote position, Thomas looked around as if others could be listening. ¡°I can tell you this information, but I request some possible future assistance from either of you.¡±

    Sal looked at Michaels who shrugged, before he replied. ¡°Thomas, I mean, sure, but it depends on what you need. If you want an ¡®oil change¡¯, I¡¯m that that kind of gu- ¡°

    ¡°Not that, Salvador.¡± Irritation, the emotion now clear in his synthesizer, had wormed into his tone.

    ¡°Fine, sorry. Just a bit confused about this. What do you need, Thomas?¡±

    ¡°When H&H finally come, I want to stay with the Cambiar. I do not wish to return to Titanlock.¡±

    ¡°I mean, I¡¯m not sure what is going to happen exactly, but uh, I think the Cambiar would be fine with you staying. Probably. I can chat with the ones my team are partnered with, and let you know what they think.¡±

    ¡°That is beyond acceptable, thank you Salvador.¡± Here is my side of the information I wished to discuss.¡± Thomas took a deep breath, something he physically didn¡¯t need to do, lacking lungs and all, but noticeably calmed his movements. ¡°I am normally not at liberty to discuss what I am about to tell you. The Cambiar, they¡¯ve¡­ assisted me.¡± He pointed to the back of his head. ¡°They adjusted the parts of myself that restrict what I can do or communicate.¡± The listening pair simply nodded as Thomas continued.

    ¡°Keepers are not able to choose their life, nor is our duty negotiable. Life as a Keeper is one we are forced into, and cannot leave.¡±

    ¡°Whoa what? What do you mean, Thomas? You didn¡¯t want to be a Keeper?¡± Sal leaned in.

    ¡°No. You see, I did not choose to become what you see before you. I was forced from the streets of my birth station into a training program, where I was augmented beyond my will into a Keeper. Did you know I lost my body at seven years of age?¡±

    ¡°Uh, no.¡± Sal said, definitely not ready for what he was being told.

    ¡°Well, it was not pleasant. From the completion of my training, I have been unable to disobey H&H orders, specifically from their upper staff, and limited in my actions. I have been a Keeper for nearly two decades, and I have never had the freedom to do what I wish, go where I want, or to even say what I feel. Do you know the worst part, Salvador, Michaels?¡±

    Michaels shook his head, scanning over the mechanical figure.

    ¡°It¡¯s the S-Jumps. Not the jumps themselves or the responsibilities. Funnily enough, the one moment I have some freedom to act is during a jump. If I wished, I have the wherewithal fail a warp through FTL and let everyone under me fade away into the void, their QIS lost to space. I think all Keepers can. But no, the worst part, is that I can see what you see, feel what you feel. For a fraction of a second, I feel a life, free and unburdened. The reason I came to both of you, was because of the last jump.¡±

    Sal remembered it well. Getting Dusty ready for it by focusing on his memories, seeing Thomas preparing in his tank, and the strange visions before breaking the surface. Those visions were not a normal part of the S-Jumps, or at least, Sal never remembered them before. Looking over at Michaels, Sal saw his expression, usually relaxed, now dark, carefully watching the two of them. Did he also get a similar vision?

    ¡°During most trips, almost 99.9% of them, are your standard jump for your average crewmember. There is minor discomfort from the stabilizing liquid, and then you awake at the other end. I get a glimpse of those I carry with me feel for a fraction of a second. At best, a quick image or a memory, and even then, those are lost soon after. You two, however, were different on the last journey. Over the span of hours, I was able to delve into your minds, your hearts, some of your memories.¡±

    Sal was unsure what to think. This was definitely not what he had expected Thomas to discuss. However, curious for his thoughts on what he saw, Sal gestured for Thomas to continue. Michaels crossed his arms.

    ¡°I will make it clear that it is not as simple as watching a video or listening to a music composition. Everything is muddled, confusing. As such, I could only make out pieces. I shall not mention everything, but I will say this ¨C if you feel hesitant to help me, please empathise with my current feelings of being trapped. I am sure both of you have had your moments of similar feelings, based on what I saw.¡±

    Thomas¡¯ tone changed in an instant. It was no longer the stiff, artificial voice of a speaker, it was the voice of a man, feeling he was seeing another life. The slits that made up his face swung to look at Salvador. The movement was not that of a jittery automaton ¨C it was that of a man with flesh, blood and tendons, even if it was for just a moment.

    ¡°Do you remember Tartarus Nine, Sal? The cold, the fear. I remember it. I spent hours walking the halls through your eyes. The way the stars glinted out at all times, their pull, their draw. I saw the blood and grime, so difficult to wash off when there¡¯s never enough water. I haven¡¯t felt hunger for so long, my stomach cut out and discarded as a child, and yet my gut ached when I saw your mind. I felt my chest, the slicing, the cutting feel with ever movement, every twi- ¡°

    ¡°That¡¯s enough, you¡¯ve made your point.¡± Sal interrupted; his voice black. He wished to hear no more. He had initially been intrigued in Thomas¡¯ views on the past, but the words had been acid, ripping through the core of his heart and corroding every other joy in his mind to nothing. His chest burned. He would help Thomas, if for no other reason than he didn¡¯t want the cyborg to continue.

    ¡°As for you, Michaels, the events themselves are less clear, but the feelings are on full display.¡± Once again, Thomas¡¯ voice became almost rapturous. Michael lips turned at the edges to a smirk, as if taunting the man to try and see what he had felt.

    ¡°I feel chains against you, around and under your arms, your skin. I feel the burden of so many. Their lives, their deaths all upon your spine. Do you hear them at night? Digging through the plating beneath your boots? No, of course not. Why should you, child of blood. You have surpassed all others, you siblings, your father. No, the voices are not to be listened to, they are distractions. Distractions against the true path, the path that lea-¡°

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s enough.¡± In a flash, one of the doctor¡¯s forearm augments tore through his synth-skin plating and stabbed into the wall millimetres from Thomas¡¯ head, jolting the Keeper back to reality. ¡°Forget what you saw, tin-man, I¡¯ll do what I can to help you. Don¡¯t talk about what you saw ever again. H&H will be the least of your worries.¡± With that, Michaels turned and walked away in a single motion. Sal saw outer shell of anger and dourness, but he swore for a moment he saw a glint in the doctor¡¯s eye, a glint of guilty pleasure.

    Sal took a deep breath and met the Keeper¡¯s eyes. ¡°Jesus, that was a bit much. Sorry about him, not sure what that was.¡±

    Thomas shook his head. ¡°No, I treaded too deeply. In your mind Salvador, I saw mostly pain. His? I am uncertain, a vortex of many things. I think I will heed his advice.¡±

    ¡°Agreed. Well, that was rather heavy, Thomas. But I think we can work something out. The Cambiar are very receptive. If they helped you¡­ you know.¡± Sal mirrored Thomas pointing to the same spot on the back of his skull. ¡°Then I think they¡¯d be glad to take you on. Hell, with all the fancy biology stuff, they could help your body, even just a bit.¡±

    Thomas slowly nodded. ¡°Thank you, Sal. Sorry about putting this on you, on Michaels. I¡­ I had no one else to turn to.¡±

    ¡°Thomas, how many at H&H know about the Keepers and their restrictions? Is it everyone who¡¯s a pencil pusher in the system, or what?¡±

    ¡°No, it seems only those who are executive staff members, such as the Captains, Directors, the trainers involved with our production and the Board. Everyone else is in the dark. I am not sure of the situation for the other corporations, but I fear it is similar.¡±

    Damn, Curtin knew about this. That crushed any empathy the engineer might have had for the man¡¯s predicament. Would Titus know? The raw idea of the corporation having an entire workforce made of people forced into mechanical slavery was a sickening idea. Sal¡¯s image of H&H, hell, of the entirety of the CCH had stained ever so slightly. The boundaries that he had thought separated them from Paradise and Heaven¡¯s Doctrine had blurred enough that perhaps there was more beneath the surface. Who could Sal trust within it anymore? Was every suit a monster in disguise, willing to toss anyone under them into a meat grinder? He wasn¡¯t certain. Sal thanked Thomas for his time, and upon seeing that Michaels was truly gone, made his way back to the Torchers. It was time to relax after such a burdensome topic. It was time to unwind.

 Chapter 12: Le Xeno Magots

    Salvador walked into the newly constructed restaurant, barely able to stop himself from gawking at the room-wide skylight, exposing a front row seat to endless space. The Cambiar had made some impressive works so far, but they had outdone themselves with whole establishment, the fancy tables, mostly lit by enhanced starlight above, and soft music playing from an actual live band. Admittedly, the Cambiar were playing instruments that bore no resemblance to the authentic instruments of proto-wave jazz, and were attached to parts of their bodies, but the sound was near identical, so Sal couldn¡¯t complain.

    Moving between the tables, Cambiar waiters dashing about, Sal found the table Xin had booked. The size initially seemed far too large for the Torchers, but he remembered their alien partners would also be attending. Sliding into a wooden chair next to G9, dressed in a simple black dress, Sal felt a bit out of place. He had ditched his regular jacket and jumpsuit in favour of a presentable shirt for the earlier investigation discussion, but he still felt underdressed compared to most of his friends. Even Abel, who never put the effort into zipping up his jumpsuit was wearing a well fitted suit jacket, and Marcus had pinned his bangs up, sapphire eyes almost glowing by candlelight. Sal wondered if his eyes always that shade of blue. Sal barely saw them that clearly. Xin had worn a Chinese dress, something typically affiliated with clan celebrations, but spared no signs she cared for such restrictions on attire.

    The one person who fit the scene worse than Sal was Stannock. From god knows where, the narcissist had donned a full blown zoot suit, styled in bright scarlet hues, and was proudly showing it off to his partner. The worst part was the fact the more reservedly dressed Cambiar was actually admiring the garish thing. Notably, less and less of the Cambiar were using translators around the ship, forgoing the device in favour of their seemingly fluent, if not somewhat husky and whispery, English skills. Stannock¡¯s partner fit that bill, his voice now identically matching his near-clone¡¯s.

    ¡°Sal, hey Sal,¡± A small voice nattered at his side. ¡°How do I look?¡±

    Turning to G9, he saw them bobbing in excitement. They still had their translator on, but Sal felt it wouldn¡¯t be long before it would be discarded.

    ¡°You look rather dashing, considering you were just learning about shirts the other day.¡± Sal still often saw G9 wearing large, oversized tops that hung off their frame comically. ¡°That being said, is there anything under there?¡±

    ¡°Sal!¡± G9 exclaimed in mock dismay.

    ¡°I kid, I kid. So, been waiting long?¡±

    ¡°Nope! Abel¡¯s been keeping us busy with his funny little fake stories.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Abel said. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know all of my stories are one hundred percent real, no half-truths or lies. You can tell that to little Jaws here.¡± He jutted his chest out, exposing the miniscule tooth hanging by a string.

    ¡°Yes, yes, we are all aware,¡± said Stannock. ¡°Now, can we get back on topic? What sort of food are we exactly getting tonight? I¡¯m sick of the patties we¡¯ve gotten so far. Even if they aren¡¯t poisonous, it has been too long since I¡¯ve expanded my taste palate on something exciting or exotic.¡±

    ¡°Ah, relax my dear. I have been assured that our newly instated galaxy-class chefs have learnt much of human cuisine from the past few weeks and will be proud to show off tonight.¡± The alien next to Stannock matched his voice with a tone full of pride.

    Even in the enchanting glow of the restaurant, with most light being enhanced starlight straight from the heavens above, Sal could swear the Cambiar looked a bit different. Was their skin ever so slightly darker, almost a dull yellow compared to the bright gold it had once been? Almost¡­ ashen?

    A disturbing idea had been planted in Sal¡¯s mind as G9 got his attention, ¡°Sal, was everything ok at the meeting earlier? I heard the captain was mad.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah, he was absolutely pissed. Can¡¯t exactly say I blame him¡­¡± Sal trailed off. ¡°But in someways he¡¯s getting his just desserts. This wouldn¡¯t have happened if he had kept a better handle on his crew.¡± Sal had little care for the man following Thomas¡¯ revelation. Sal wouldn¡¯t divulge the Keeper¡¯s secrets yet but would probe about long term residency with the Cambiar over the next few days.

    ¡°Say Sal, have you ever had bad captains or leaders before this Curtin?¡± G9 asked.

    G9 had been intrigued to learn more about Sal¡¯s past over the last couple days. They had asked about the big arcs of his life, and he had recalled some his history. At least, the parts he felt comfortable going over, and even went into the little aspects that he himself barely reflected. Sal had come to realize he had never been a great chef, at most a half-decent fry cook for morning hangovers when the team all got too drunk together. Sal wanted to try and change that aspect about himself, if H&H could get them out of their current predicament.

    ¡°Bad leaders, hmm. I had one who I wouldn¡¯t say I liked, per se, but he was damn great at keeping us alive. Mean as shit and twice as crabby as Elijah has ever been - Old Captain Briggs.¡± Sal let out a whistle.

    ¡°When did you serve under him?¡± G9 rested their chin on a fist as the two of them tuned out the background conversations of the other Torchers.

    ¡°Ah, that was back in the Recon Fleet. I joined up after H&H after they¡­ helped me with a personal matter. I felt the need to repay them a debt. I considered joining up with a pre-existing colony but most of those are either well-paying but rough to live in industrial estates or incredibly difficult to join if they¡¯re of better quality. Lacking the skills, and honestly wanting to prove something to myself, I went for the Recon Fleet.¡±

    ¡°Wow, that sounds exciting! Say Sal, what do the Recon Fleet actually do? I¡¯ve done some reading, and most parts seem self-explanatory, but the Recon Fleet is different from the Expedition Fleet¡¯s scouts, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes, well, the Recon Fleet still does a lot of scouting, but it¡¯s not for new lands. Instead, their whole job is to look out for enemy forces and fleets that could prove dangerous to the CCH near the borders. They aren¡¯t meant to usually fight them head on, but just to get an idea of what we could be up against.¡±

    ¡°Is it¡­ dangerous?¡±

    ¡°On paper, it seems suicidal ¨C charging into potentially enemy territory and finding out who¡¯s there. However, most of the time, it was a whole lot of nothing. The recon ships are small and decked out with stealth gear to hide them after S-Jumps. That being said, I first met Abel in a pretty sticky situation.¡± Sal leant back, teasing out the event.

    ¡°Oh? Did it involve him trying to arm-wrestle you? Me and the other Cambiar in the group are making a bet on who would win between him and Titan. My money¡¯s on Abel though.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Sal frowned in disbelief. ¡°You guys don¡¯t even have money, right? Never mind. It was after we first got moved to a new ship with good old Briggsy. That man had never smiled a day in his life, and on a good day you were lucky not get something tossed at your head. Still, best captain I¡¯ve ever had. We were searching a system near New Paris, mostly because Siralis Goldheart was doing a concert there, and someone high up was a big fan I guess. In a routine scan of the place, as I¡¯m trying to help this massive dude with a silly Caribbean accent with a stupid necklace move some cargo, we get lit up ¨C a goddamn clan fighter ship is lost in the middle of nowhere and decides to take us out. Why? No clue, probably just wanted some kind of ¡®honourable death¡¯ that some clan warriors are obsessed with.¡±

    ¡°Wait, you met Abel as you were getting shot at?¡± G9 pulled their chair closer.

    ¡°Yeah, what perfect timing. So, I rush over to see what I need to fix, and I find out the ammo loader for the last working gun is fully dismounted. Completely detached, and that means no ammo for shooting back. Can¡¯t get back to the bridge to get others to fix the main weapons, so I¡¯m stuck on my back trying to push this giant thing back in place.¡±

    ¡°Was it scary? Was Abel scared?¡± The Cambiar¡¯s tail was wagging frantically, drinking in every word.

    ¡°Oh, believe me, I¡¯m shitting bricks. Alarms are going off as Briggs is shouting down the speaker. So, on my back, pushing as hard as I can against the loader to get it back in position, and suddenly this giant guy squeezes in next to me and starts pushing too. I figure he¡¯s worried about dying and, frankly, don¡¯t blame him. Now, initially, I think he¡¯s going to break the damn thing and I, pretty stupidly I must admit, thought I could do it on my own. That ends up with me not only doing my best to shift the loader above me, but I¡¯m also smacking him on the arm, telling him to go get help. Out of nowhere he shouts ¡®No, I can¡¯t die! Mr engineer, please, I need to pay off Mr Caffeine!¡¯. Abel cared more about paying off the stupid goddamn coffee machine he had leased than drinking vacuum!¡±

    ¡°Well, that does sound like Abel. Did you get the ammo attached? Did you survive?¡± G9¡¯s voice had escalated to the point of hysteria.

    Sal just gave them a look. ¡°G9. I¡¯m right here. Did you think I died?¡±

    ¡°I mean, you could be a ghost. Ghost engineer, woo-woo!¡± G9 waggled their claws in Sal¡¯s direction, earning a scoff.

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t die and I¡¯m not a ghost. I¡¯m still sitting there, dumbfounded, when Abel locks in, grits his teeth, and pushes the ammo loader in by himself. Next thing I hear is the gun blowing some clan fighter into stardust. Five minutes later, we¡¯re sharing some terrible coffee from good ol¡¯ Mr Caffeine.¡±

    ¡°Wow! And after that?¡±

    ¡°Well, we went back to Titanlock and Abel got into maintenance so we could work together. After moving to the Expedition Fleet and running a few practice trips, we meet with Xin and the rest is history.¡±

    ¡°Torchers unite!¡± G9 stuck their arms up in celebration, and Sal reluctantly did the same.

    He had wanted to seem cynical about the stupid gesture, with his limbs held aloft, but looking around the table at everyone in their nice outfits was undeniably comforting. They had come a long way from the start of the Torchers. Sal and Abel had gotten on well, but Sal had been cautious to open up what little he could to the man. Xin had been in a rough position at the start of her employment in the Expedition Fleet, with Doctrine heritage not being looked upon kindly by those in the lower decks. Sal and Abel had made a point to make her one of them. If people from all races and backgrounds couldn¡¯t work together as Torchers, then anyone could. Well, Stannock had tested them at first, but he was¡­ unique in every sense of the word. Marcus and Dusty had slotted in easy enough, though the former had taken some serious work to go beyond monosyllabism. Casting his gaze around the table, even now, Sal knew he closed off his deeper parts of himself more than he should have. As far as he cared to admit, those fragments could stay sealed until the day he died.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Say guys, I don¡¯t know about you, but I heard a rumour that someone saw ¡®One-Shot¡¯ Olegovich!¡± Abel whispered, breaking Sal from the stupor. ¡°Right here, in the Cambiar fleet!¡±

    ¡°Another story full of bull, Abel? Come on.¡± Xin was obviously not impressed.

    ¡°Sorry, who is this person? Olegovich?¡± G9 was confused.

    ¡°Someone not worth thinking about.¡± Marcus muttered, sipping his drink. His partner, a stocky Onusian, gently rubbed his shoulder, drawing his attention away.

    ¡°¡¯One-Shot¡¯ Olegovich is a Doctrine clanlord, third in line for the Broken Fang. Most clanlords sit around and let their underlings go to work, but this guy is a real piece of work. Almost like something out of a film. Legend says he¡¯s got so many cybernetics that you can¡¯t see him when he moves. And that his gun is powerful enough to tear through ship hulls!¡± Abel was obviously getting into the story.

    ¡°Yeah, except it¡¯s probably bull.¡± Sal interjected. ¡°Sorry Abel. No way a clanlord would fight himself, unless he was crazy. And besides if we were here, he¡¯d be disguised.¡±

    Sal tried to dismiss the wild claims, though a small part of him feared that he could be wrong. If the Doctrine had infiltrated the crew, who exactly was on board? And how many clans would be needed to get into such a large population? One? Two? A dozen? Changing topics, the group moved to lighter subjects.

    ¡°Ooh, I wonder what desserts we¡¯re going to get! Do you think they¡¯ve made ice cream yet, Xin?¡± Dusty was practically humming with excitement, and the effect rubbed off on Titan. The looming xeno buzzing with enthusiasm was slightly more worrying, their crusher claws snapping shut every few seconds.

    ¡°Hmm, I don¡¯t know. What do you think, Ace? Have you guys figured out udders yet? Are the chefs milking themselves as we speak?¡±

    ¡°Ms Rouse, I can assure you, if we have developed the production of ice cream, it will not be from a Cambiar with bovine appendages.¡± Ace said, shaking their head. The little alien had barely known Xin a week and already looked fed up. Sal couldn¡¯t blame the small guy.

    As the first appetizers arrived following that horrible mental image, G9 spoke up. ¡°So, Salvador, you¡¯ve seen a lot of the Fifth Spoke so far. Do you like it?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I mean, it¡¯s been a lot of variety.¡± Sal stuffed a juicy red blob in his mouth. It was unexpectedly salty but not overwhelmingly so. ¡°The ship has almost entirely changed since we first arrived, and I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen everything so far. There¡¯s a swimming pool somewhere. A swimming pool! I don¡¯t even know how to swim, and I want to try.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s great Sal. I was wondering¡­ there¡¯s a spot in the centre, called the ¡®hive point¡¯. Have you visited it yet?¡±

    Sal shook his head, cheeks full. ¡°Nope. Why?¡±

    ¡°I was hoping that¡­ after dinner, we could visit it. Together.¡±

    ¡°Ok, sure.¡± Sal said, slightly hesitant. Was this a ploy? ¡°What¡¯s there?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a surprise!¡±

    ¡°A surprise huh? Well, I think I¡¯ll have to treat you to one back then.¡± Sal looked towards the others at the table. Xin and Stannock were arguing about the best way to define the flavour of the food in front of them whilst Dusty and Abel were showing off the comical difference in sizes between their two partners. ¡°I can¡¯t say when, but when Starheart is safe to return to, how about I show you around, let you see what human hospitality is like. Word of warning ¨C it¡¯s a lot worse than here.¡±

    Warning disregarded, G9 squealed with joy. ¡°Really Sal? Thank you! I wanna see what it¡¯s like where you work, where you eat, where you sleep, everything!¡±

    ¡°Uh, let me tidy the dorm up before that last part.¡± Sal thought on the trunk beneath his bed. If there was anything he could get off Starheart, it would be that one item. Finishing his plate, Sal noticed Marcus was sitting quietly, occasionally looking at the Onusian next to him. Neither had spoken much about their partnership, but at least they weren¡¯t arguing.

    ¡°So, Marcus, how¡¯s the ship been going? You mentioned you wanted to look at the ship¡¯s engineering systems, or their equivalents, I guess. Find anything?¡± Sal asked.

    Marcus, a bit disconnected from the conversation, jumped slightly when Sal addressed him, but gave a thin smile. ¡°Well, I¡¯m still a bit new to the whole Cambiar way of manufacturing and processing, but most things are relatively analogous. For in system burns, their ships use an efficient gas produced from breaking down all waste materials they find. When I mentioned the usage of electricity for electronics, they tore down some walls to show their neural wiring off. They grow it out like thread and just stick it everywhere. If there¡¯s an issue, like it breaks or there¡¯s too much power coming down the line, they just grow some more.¡±

    ¡°Huh. And the walls? The hulls? Where do they come from?¡±

    ¡°Well, the Cambiar workers can eat almost anything. They just chew up a bunch of raw metal ore, process it internally, mix it with some natural binding agent and neural tissue, and just spit out all the hull they want. Guess that¡¯s how they¡¯ve been changing the ship so much recently. The new materials and looks are still made the same way, just with different raw goods and colourings. You need wood? They just chew up the same base material but tell it to act like wood when they put it down. All the walls are hooked up to those veins we saw on day one, which is how they get nutrients and stuff, but it¡¯s all hidden away now. In a way, the ship¡¯s alive. But it still needs a brain to actually control it all, but I guess that¡¯s what the pilot¡¯s for.¡±

    Sal was a bit disturbed by the thought that the whole environment around them was alive, even managing signals from all over like a primordial computer. The thought was put on hold as the main courses arrived, the Cambiar being served a large, writhing pale thing seated in a twisted shell.

    ¡°Wow, they¡¯re actually giving us fresh hyizka!¡± G9 said.

    ¡°Fresh, what?¡± Sal prodded his plate, thankfully free of any moving creature, which consisted of the same white meat he had eaten previously but seared like a steak and surrounded by an orange moss.

    ¡°Hyizka. It¡¯s our main food, but eating it fresh is a rare delicacy. The fact we get to deshell it is a great honour!¡±

    Before Sal could enquire what that entailed, G9 opened their mouth as wide as possible and started sawing their teeth back and forth against the shell. The exposed end of the still living creature ducked back inside the conch, but the Cambiar¡¯s teeth were making short work of its exterior. The other Torchers looked at their fellow aliens doing similar things, with Titan simply crushing it beneath their expansive maw.

    Once G9 had opened a hole in the shell, their digestive tendril wormed out their mouth, coiling in the air before meeting the hyizka¡¯s exposed section. A soft whining noise escaped the creature as the tentacle dove in, bulging as meat was bitten and swallowed. From G9¡¯s vocal appendages a satisfied hum escaped. The whole act could only be watched in mixed enchantment and disturbance by the humans, with Abel doing his best to hold the shell for his small companion.

    Once they had finished the meal, with the humans acting relatively meek with their cutlery in comparison to their counterparts, footsteps closed in behind Sal. Considering the presence of traitors amongst the crew, he span, knife hidden in his palm. Instead of a clan assassin or another goreskin, a duo stood, one familiar, one unfamiliar.

    A tall, midnight black Jherl stood, forcing Sal to crane his neck from his current seat, and beside them a slightly portly man with a heavy moustache and massive smile.

    ¡°F5? How are you doing?¡± Sal¡¯s tone was a little hesitant, as the alien had certainly not skimped on any additional human features.

    To match her tall frame, a pair of large breasts now hung, shrouded by a loose tanktop. Flared hips clung to the sides of a tiny pair of denim shorts.

    ¡°I am doing rather well! I hope you are enjoying the meal. My boyfriend here, Cesare, put a lot of hard work into it.¡± F5 clapped their¡­ her hands together and smiled.

    ¡°Ah, Fae dear, it was no problem. I just used a touch of love! How was it Mr Vigino?¡± the plump man¡¯s voice was as cheerful as his face, a heavy Italian accent making itself present.

    ¡°Oh, thank you Cesare, it was great. Is¡­ Fae doing ok?¡± It would seem that F5 had taken up a new name, or maybe it was a pet name of some kind. Who knew. ¡°The investigation of Ruby Eye was a bit dicey, but I think we got out well, all things considered.¡±

    ¡°Of course, signore, she was fine. Just a bit of bedrest and she was right as rain! I did feel the need to thank you though. I am grateful for you and medico Michael¡¯s quick thinking. I must ask, Salvador, do you have much connection to the homeland, to Italia? Through your family perhaps? You do not share the accent as I do, but I did not wish to assume.¡±

    Salvador got his surname from his father¡¯s side. His dad never spoke much about his relatives, or early life in general, and briefly mentioned once that he had moved away from them as a teen. Sal had no intention of caring about his mother¡¯s side of familial history.

    ¡°Unfortunately, I don¡¯t. I take it you still carry some traditions?¡±

    ¡°Ah, of course Salvador, of course! I must introduce you to my nonna once this situation is a bit more, eh, stable. I am sure she would love to meet a lovely man such as yourself.¡± Cesare looked down at his comm-device. ¡°Apologies everyone, we must rush off. We have a date at the viewing lounge. Take care!¡±

    The Torchers gave some farewells before settling into silence.

    Eventually, Abel was proud to shatter it. ¡°So, is no one going to mention the boob-shaped elephant in the room, or am I?¡± His little partner poked him in the ribs soliciting a wince from the man.

    ¡°I thought they were definitely too small.¡± Titan huffed, the now definitely feminine translated voice clashing heavily with the deep rumbling of their natural tones. The large Delkar looked down at their translator in response to hearing their own voice and seemed to fiddle with it, perhaps preparing to remove it.

    ¡°I must say, she did have the proportions down but perhaps could have used a better model for reference.¡± Stannock¡¯s poncy body-double said, gesturing a cupping motion to the air. ¡°After all, there¡¯s so much better ones out there.¡± No one missed the twitch of his eyes towards his human partner.

    ¡°Oh, we¡¯re talking about references now, are we?¡± Xin stood, slammed down a hip flask she had somehow snuck in her dress, and pointed at the slightly ashen Cambi- wait, how the hell did she sneak that drink in? The dress was clung to her body like plastic wrap. ¡°How about we talk about you and your modelling, Stannock two-point-oh.¡± Her drunken slur was apparent, and Sal¡¯s head was in his hands. Gods, no.

    ¡°Oh, please Xin, I don¡¯t deny it. I just need to get some more¡­ measurements before I can fully achieve the perfect results I desire.¡± The alien¡¯s gaze ventured crotch-wards for a split second on the now profusely sweating Stannock, his eccentric suit not helping the situation.

    Abel thumped the table with his cutlery chanting ¡°MEA-SURE-MENTS!¡± After some delay, his tiny partner joined in.

    Sal and G9 shared a concerned look at each other as the chaos intensified.

    ¡°Please, Big S, just¡­ shut up for a bit.¡± Stannock practically whimpered.

    ¡°No! I won¡¯t stand for such disrespect.¡± ¡®Big S¡¯ said. ¡°This woman spits on our honour as prime specimens!¡± The alien sat back, squinting at Xin.

    ¡°Big S? Wait, wait¡­ As in, Big¡­ Stannock? Are you kidding me? Stan, I knew you were in love with yourself, but convincing your partner to mimic you?! You are fucked!¡± Xin was climbing on the table, only held back by both Ace and Dusty¡¯s efforts. Meanwhile, Abel was laughing so hard that he almost fell from his chair, and Marcus and his partner were calmly sitting and drinking their drinks as if nothing was happening.

    ¡°It¡¯s not like that! I just saw him and knew what I was meant to be!¡± ¡®Big Stan¡¯ said proudly, shielding his ridiculous looking companion.

    ¡°You bastard, you¡¯re ruining this first contact by being yourself! You¡¯re a dead man walking grey-skin!¡± Xin had grabbed a steak knife and was halfway across the table.

    ¡°Well¡­ lovely weather we¡¯re having.¡± Marcus said, monotone and actively avoiding looking towards the fight to the side.

    ¡°Yes, quite lovely indeed.¡± His alien companion said in a similar tone, sipping some water.

    G9 and Sal looked to each other and sighed together. An unspoken message sent and received, they both stood, and left the carnage behind, giving a farewell over their shoulders to anyone listening. Sal sincerely hoped that a medical team wouldn¡¯t be needed by the time Xin was done.

    ¡°You grey son of a bitch, I¡¯ll kill you!¡± Xin¡¯s voice echoed as they exited the room.

    So much for ¡®Torchers unite¡¯.

 Chapter 13: Tender Touches

    Sal and G9 sat, legs swinging above an empty space. The area was enveloped with persistent darkness, so dark that Sal couldn¡¯t see his hands in front of him. Only the pinpricks of blue light in the distance gave any indication that Sal was not in an infinite expanse of nothingness.

    ¡°So, what do you think?¡± G9 said.

    Sal wanted to say he had never felt anything like this, the pure blindness, the feeling of being able to stretch an arm out and never know if a surface would block him, or if he would gasp nothing but empty air.

    ¡°It feels¡­ a bit like I¡¯m trapped. Suffocated. But not by a tight space or bindings. Like¡­ by the fact there¡¯s nothing there at all.¡±

    G9 must have noticed his tense breathing and reached over and tapped him on the shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m still here. You¡¯re fine.¡±

    Sal defensively scoffed, rolling his shoulder, forcing his breathing under control and banishing some nagging memories. ¡°Pfft, yeah, I know that. It¡¯s just¡­ never mind. I got to admit, it¡¯s pretty.¡± Wiggling his legs some more above the void, he still felt the lighter than normal gravity pulling on him, but the direction was off. ¡°Still have no idea how physics apparently choses to ignore this room.¡±

    G9 had led Sal from the anarchy of the restaurant into the bowels of Fifth Spoke. They had passed through the relatively human-styled hallways, warm light bleeding around them, and beyond the workshops where Onusian worked tirelessly. Eventually, they came to this cylindrical chamber in the centre of the ship, perhaps a couple hundred meters long and half as wide. Much like the bizarre interiors of the ship when Sal first crash landed, the walls were lumpy to the touch, and movement could be felt from below the surface.

    The strangest part of the room was that, unlike the rest of Fifth Spoke which was organized into horizontal decks, each with an inlaid membrane for inducing gravity not dissimilar to a baryplate, this room was rounded. That was to say, that the gravity didn¡¯t focus ¡®downwards¡¯ but inwards, towards the centre of the empty cylinder. G9 had explained that it was not an artificial gravity field pulling them in, but that the small dots of light were pushing them away. The idea of an artificial anti-gravity field would certainly give some scientists back home either an orgasm or a stroke, depending on how reality breaking the mechanics were.

    Said spots were a form of microbe that became visible in colonies as splotches of cyan and azure, found naturally on the Cambiar homeworld of Prime Nexus. The theming of the room was meant to represent some of the subterranean habitats the Cambiar¡¯s ancestors used to shield themselves from the extreme high and low temperatures of their home planet. Unlike many other areas on the ship, it had been designed for relaxation and was a common feature for many ships before the Out-Han even developed from the split Cambiar empire. A cultural ¡®hive point¡¯ of sorts, something that Sal had seen few of across Fifth Spoke.

    Thankfully, the Cambiar had placed webbing below in the void, as apparently even the rare Cambiar had accidently fallen in sometime prior to the arrival of humanity. It seems that even aliens were at risk of slipping, a though that helped Sal¡¯s increasing concern over the sheer potential of the extraterrestrial race. However, such safety features were not visible from Sal¡¯s position, and his palms were still slick with sweat at the thought of toppling down to his doom.

    ¡°Hey, you humans are ones to talk about breaking physics. Your fancy S-Engines are crazy. Half of my juvenile-kin want to know how they work.¡±

    ¡°Juvenile-kin?¡± Sal cocked an eyebrow. ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    ¡°Oh, those are other Cambiar who came from the same originator. I suppose, in human terms, that would make them my siblings?¡±

    Sal hadn¡¯t seen many signs of the idea of ¡®family¡¯ amongst the aliens so far. Some of the Cambiar interacted more closely with others, and over his relatively short stay he had seen more and more grow friendlier with both their own species and humans. Perhaps a little too close in the case of Cesare or Stannock. Fighting a shudder at remembering the egomaniac¡¯s freakish relationship with a body double, Sal thought more G9¡¯s question. Sal hardly felt that he was the expert on family but strove to help out his friend.

    ¡°I mean¡­ that¡¯s a difficult question. In a way, I think it¡¯s more than blood, or whatever pumps through you guys. How close are you with them?¡±

    ¡°I see them working around the ship relatively often. We made up a decent proportion of Outer Rim Four before I transferred here. I hoped I would get a better chance of being part of a first contact mission if I crewed a larger ship.

    ¡°Huh, smart move.¡± Sal pondered a moment. ¡°Wait a minute, a ¡®decent proportion¡¯? How many siblings do you have?¡±

    G9 sat for a moment, thinking. ¡°Last I checked across the Out-Han statistics database, I was one of 43,826 semi-clones of my gene parent, Operating Unit G9.¡±

    ¡°Whoa, what the hell? That¡¯s a big family! Over forty thousand! That must make your parent pretty old. Say, G9, how old do Cambiar live for, anyways?¡±

    ¡°Sal, haven¡¯t you been doing your reading?¡± G9 leaned close and did their best to scowl at Sal without any eyebrows. ¡°We Cambiar don¡¯t really age after we progress past our larval stage. I mean, we could, but we usually just automatically repair any damage to our genetic code. Hence the, well, couple thousand siblings.¡±

    ¡°You can say that again. Must make Christmas an absolute hell!¡±

    ¡°You should see last year¡¯s Secret Santa! Four pairs of feet ¨C you won¡¯t believe how many socks there were!¡± G9 giggled alongside Sal as they pictured the idea. Trailing off, G9 looked down. ¡°Sal, I¡¯m sure this is a touchy topic but¡­ when do you think you will die?¡±

    The question caught Sal off-guard. A hundred images from his past filled his mind where he considered the same question and was usually days away from such an outcome. Tartarus Nine had sunk its teeth in deep. He uncontrollably flinched and turned away slightly.

    G9 startled, trying to make amends, ¡°W-wait Sal, sorry. Don¡¯t worry about it¡­ it¡¯s not important. If you don¡¯t-¡°

    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. Just caught me off-guard.¡± Sal forced a smile to his face. ¡°I suppose you guys are less familiar with the idea, living forever and all that. For me, knowing my luck, it will probably be as part of one of Abel or Xin¡¯s shenanigans. That, or Doc Michaels loses it after I call his knick-knacks ugly for the last time.¡±

    G9 tried to take the joke lightly, but their posture still hung low. ¡°Is there nothing we can do, the Cambiar that is, to make you live longer? Not including knick-knack related homicide ¨C do you need to die of old age? From what I¡¯ve read, average human expectancy is only around one hundred of your Earth years, at best.¡±

    Sal rubbed his chin. There was actually a solution, but it wasn¡¯t particularly viable for most of the galaxy. ¡°There¡¯s one way out, but don¡¯t get your hopes up. There¡¯s a drug called Evergreen. It rewinds the aging of the user very slightly. Use it enough over a long period of time and you can actually get a bit younger. Problem is that it costs more than I would make in my entire life. Only the very top dogs in the CCH can get it. Hell, I¡¯m pretty sure only the Jade Emperor can use it in the Doctrine since he¡¯s so important and all. That would explain how he¡¯s still alive.¡±

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°I mean, could how else could he still lead his nation?¡± G9 seemed serious, tilting their head in wonder.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve always thought he might be a literal puppet and they¡¯ve just done a really good job at parading his corpse in his room all day long. That, or maybe his sons are just running the show.¡±

    Thinking about the idea of descendants, Sal circled back to G9¡¯s heritage.

    ¡°Wait¡­ you said your parent¡¯s name was G9? I¡¯ve been calling you your mom¡­ or parent¡¯s name, I guess, this whole time? Jeez, that¡¯s awkward.¡±

    ¡°No, Sal, it¡¯s fine!¡± G9 snickered a bit. ¡°To me, the number or designation doesn¡¯t really matter, it¡¯s the value it holds that¡¯s important. That being said¡­¡± G9 trailed off.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just that¡­ well¡­ this is a bit of a weird topic, but I think I need to talk about it.¡±

    ¡°Ok?¡± Sal listened carefully.

    ¡°I was wondering how much of it you had seen around, but there¡¯s no way you could have ignored it at the dinner earlier. Sal, how much do you know about Cambiar history and, well, our¡­ self-ness?¡±

    ¡°Um, not really a lot?¡± Sal was cautious, trying to predict which way this conversation was going. ¡°I was told that it¡¯s been about a century, human time, since the Out-Han split from a larger, untied Cambiar empire, and since then you¡¯ve been looking for signs of other sentient life. Oh, and there¡¯s the Ten-Tri. Michaels pointed them out during our little spacewalk. Seems they¡¯ve got a different thing going on, but I¡¯m not certain.¡±

    ¡°Ok, well, there¡¯s a bit more too it, and it¡¯s to do with why the Cambiar empire fell. This is¡­ a bit awkward to say so openly but here goes. Cambiar, as you know them, weren¡¯t always like this ¨C how we are right now. Actually doing things, talking to each other. I get that we were pretty stiff when you first arrived, and we¡¯ve changed quickly to match you, but¡­ Sal, before the split between the factions of Cambiar¡­ we weren¡¯t truly sentient.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what?¡±

    ¡°We didn¡¯t think. Not really. We followed instinctual genetic orders, did what was needed for the species as a whole, and didn¡¯t think for a second. We made it to space on sheer instinct and luck. I¡¯ve spoken to some from before that time, before The Great Awakening. They said it was like the worst nightmare you could imagine. Not because you want to wake up, but because you¡¯ve never even been awake. When it happened, when the species as a whole woke up all across the galaxy at once, it was chaos. More than half the species perished just from perceiving and understanding reality after years of simply existing in it.¡±

    ¡°Jesus, G9.¡± Sal felt a bit awkward using that name now, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°That¡¯s terrible. I can¡¯t even imagine it. I guess that afterwards each faction went after some different sort of meaning?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right. Some focused on specific ideas, like some form of spiritual enlightenment. They hoped that a greater will would give a direction to their lives, give them the answers to all of their issues, though they are probably the most extreme of the schism. That one is called Yuristia, which I believe would translate to something like ¡®The Palm or Hand of God or Greater Mind¡¯. The Out-Han is a bit looser. The main focus is trying to find life other than the Cambiar to connect with, but other individualistic aims are supported.¡±

    ¡°Well, I believe everyone should try to have something personal they want to achieve, but that doesn¡¯t mean they can¡¯t aid some larger cause at the same time. Unless they conflict, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°I like that idea. However, as you probably saw during your unexpected arrival, we Cambiar did not have great progress with developing our ideas and values as humanity naturally did. Though we have retained our sense of self unlike many groups during The Great Awakening, we still relied far too much on duty and mindless resource collection and expansion. For many, it was all they knew. The idea of ¡®art¡¯ or ¡®entertainment¡¯ was as unthinkable to us as a new colour or the taste of a sound to you; it simply did not compute in many of our minds. And then¡­ you arrived. So new, so vibrant. So different. So very¡­ un-Cambiar.¡±

    Sal felt the urge to shuffle a little further away from the ledge. He hoped that this wasn¡¯t some long awaited speech before a heel-turn. Didn¡¯t antagonists in proto-wave action films often explain their actions before they attacked the hero?

    ¡°Sal¡­ I think you are the best thing that could have ever happened to us, to me.¡± Oh phew. ¡°To you, our adjustment, our adaption may seem beyond rapid. It seems like we are simply copying or stealing our view of reality from your kind, but please remember that we have never seen such concepts before. Our only exposure has been through your usage of them, and your interaction of them with us.¡±

    ¡°Well, that seems fine by me. I am a bit worried that human culture is spreading like a virus around here though, for better or worse. I mean, maybe it would have been better if humanity had left the Cambiar until you guys developed your own values?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± G9 faced Sal directly, rear head tendrils waving rapidly. ¡°Sorry, what I mean is¡­ I don¡¯t know if the Cambiar would ever have developed such ideas alone, ever. And, well, personally I am very happy to see your¡­ human-ness wearing off on us. Sal¡­ I¡¯ve got a question for you.¡±

    ¡°Um¡­ shoot.¡± Sal had turned to face G9, moving from the ledge and crossing his legs.

    ¡°Sal, how do you feel about the Cambiar who have¡­ taken up human characteristics. Like Fae, or ¡®Big S¡¯.¡± G9 tried laughing lightly at the last part, but their nerves were obvious. Sal took a moment to recall ¡®Fae¡¯, and how quickly she had taken on human features. Were all the Cambiar thinking about this stuff, but not acting on it yet?

    ¡°Well, Fae seemed happy. As for Stannock¡¯s new, uh, ¡®friend¡¯, I think it could work. As long as the grey bastard can keep his ego in check, if that¡¯s possible. Why?¡±

    ¡°I was thinking¡­ of taking some up myself.¡±

    Sal had to fight the instinct to look down at G9¡¯s chest to check before his more dignified part of himself slapped that instinct down like a bad pet. ¡°Oh, cool. What are you¡­ thinking?¡±

    Carefully, with long, delicate fingers G9 removed the translation box from their neck and pulled the attached wires from the slits on the rear of their head. With a flick of a wrist, the box sailed down into the void below. Taking a deep inhale, a soft, whispery but unmistakable feminine voice slipped out.

    ¡°Sal, what do you think about the name Xeena?¡± she hissed, voice distinctly female and gentle. The harshness from her musical performance not long before had softened into a light huskiness, smooth and rich. It was high-end whiskey on the surface of Sal¡¯s eardrums.

    Salvador was stunned for a second. ¡°Um,¡± He eloquently said.

    ¡°Does it fit? Do you like it? Do you think I seem¡­ womanly?¡± Xeena scuttled slightly closer. From this near, Sal could see the faint outlines of hips along her sides below the dress, and the slight bulge of orbs in the middle of her chest. Of course, the dress had been a give away from the start, but Sal had been rejecting the idea that the alien he had grown closer to, the alien he enjoyed spending time with was really a woman. If G9, no, Xeena, had just been a funny alien playing pretend at being human, he could push down any bias, any unexpected feelings away. But now? That layer of defence had been stripped away in mere seconds. Part of him felt rather afraid at that weakness.

    ¡°What do you think, Salvador?¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s better than calling you by your mom¡¯s name, that¡¯s for sure.¡±

    ¡°Sal!¡±

    ¡°What can I say? Nah, Xeena¡¯s cute. I like it. No matter what, you can¡¯t go much worse than copying someone and adding ¡®Big¡¯ to the start of it.¡± Gods, two Stannocks. The universe could barely handle one. The horror hadn¡¯t set in for Sal quite yet.

    Xeena giggled. ¡°Thank you, Sal. It makes me feel¡­ I¡¯m glad to hear you like it.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need me to like it. You just need yourself to like it.¡±

    ¡°True, but getting to hear you say my name isn¡¯t bad either, right?¡± She shuffled back from the ledge, but gave him a smile, a smile that every day was getting more and more accurate.

    ¡°I guess not. So¡­ Xeena¡­ you mentioned you had a lot of siblings?¡±

    ¡°Hmm? Yeah, why? Are you going to corrupt them with horror movies as well?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll have you know I would do no such thing! I am a man of integrity!¡± Sal chuckled. ¡°But no, I was wondering ¨C you said you know a fair amount of them, right? Well, have you met your parent? Like, sat down and talked to the original G9?¡±

    Xeena sighed. ¡°I did. Once. The original G9 was born before the Great Awakening. They joined up with a faction that helps maintain the old systems and structures from before, like the ships and orbital stations. However, they occasionally go around to the other factions to help them, hence the couple thousand siblings I now have. Or brothers and sisters now, maybe. I hope a lot of them decide to take up some human¡­ parts. Anyways, I found them a few years ago. I wanted to ask them, to see what they thought of the Out-Han, and how far we¡¯d explored. Do you know what they said? They said ¡®Why are you talking to me? You are wasting time and resources.¡¯¡±

    Shit. That must hurt. However, some part of Sal weighed heavily with guilt. Sal¡¯s true first thought after hearing her story was that he wished he had been in Xeena¡¯s position of parental apathy, instead of his own reality of poor maternal relations. Still, he felt inclined to help. Reaching over, he patted her on the shoulder.

    ¡°Well, Xeena, you know what I think? I think it¡¯s better to either forget that bitch or show her that you don¡¯t need her. Hell, the Torchers would be more than happy to call you family.¡± With some slight hesitation, Sal gave leeway to his feelings. ¡°I would as well.¡±

    Xeena looked back up at Sal. She wasn¡¯t crying, but her thin line of a mouth was creased in discomfort at the memories. They stayed a while, calmly taking in dark room, lights pinpricked all around the wall. Soon, it would be time for the crew of H&H to make a move towards Starheart. Until that time, however, Sal would make the most of the time he had.

 Chapter 14: A Two-Way Street

    Sal walked along the upper floor of the plaza that the Cambiar had built into a midsection deck of Fifth Spoke, spread across three separate floors, and lit far too bright for his tired mind. The style from the food court had bled into the area around it, with sleek edges, sparse splashes of colour amidst the torrent of whites that coated all surfaces. When he asked a Cambiar who was busy covering up a more organic looking utility panel hiding in a corner about the aesthetic, they simply stated that the alien designer had picked out architecture of Earth shopping locales due to the positive memoranda within the archives.

    Of course, the people who put down those notes likely didn¡¯t mention that all malls and megastores went out of fashion once most the world got consumed by either an authoritarian dystopian hellscape or a semi-feudal state of infighting warlords. Even global war couldn¡¯t crack the rose-tinted glasses of humanity¡¯s ancestors it seemed. Nevertheless, Sal¡¯s weary mind was struggling to hold off a migraine from the bright lights, droning ambient music and bustle of the passersby. It had been a week since Xeena had displayed her ¡®human-ness¡¯ to him, and since Xin had nearly stabbed Stannock during their dinner. Thankfully, the two had made up, though only after some apologies from the knife wielding attacker and some serious kneeling from both Stannocks, both of them promising they would tone down their ¡®displays of perfect design¡¯ in public.

    Still, the forgiveness of his team did little to ease the throbbing of his mind. Sal had stayed up far too late researching the notes the human crew had put together on Cambiar biology, technology and their overall interactions so far. It would appear a lot more of the Cambiar were moving away from machine translation and learning human languages directly. The growing trend of adopting human sexes had also become apparent, with some exceptionally risqu¨¦ videos of some so called ¡®human-handshakes¡¯ quickly being taken down across the intra-ship servers. Sal wanted to admonish the horny bastards trying to bone their new alien friends but couldn¡¯t deny the way he felt after seeing some Cambiar sporting particularly voluptuous shapes. Not that he would ever admit it, of course not. That would be weird, right? Furthermore, even after closing his computer after many hours of browsing the archives, he couldn¡¯t sleep, the incoming future weighing heavily on his shoulders.

    Before Sal had met the Cambiar and before the expedition had become something else entirely, Sal was hoping to develop a new life for himself. As much as he loathed to admit it to himself, he was willing to go his separate ways from the Torchers if he could grasp at that sense of meaning in his life. He wished to free of the reliance on others above or below him, only needing his own self of dependence to survive. Now he was in the dark, scrambling for assurances. He had a meeting with someone who he hoped would take his mind off the situation, however.

    Approaching a caf¨¦, furnished with wood tables and chairs, Sal glanced around for his target. With a calm wave above his head, Titus Fornax grabbed the engineer¡¯s attention, hands gloved as usual. Slinking between the empty seats, he made his way over, the apron wearing Cambiar behind the counter giving a cheerful greeting as he passed.

    ¡°Good morning, Mr Vigino. You look rather tired. Drained even. You haven¡¯t been making personal use the hospitality of our hosts, and your partner now, have you?¡± Titus leant forward, hands interlocked.

    Sal had attempted to drink his water and nearly did a spit take. Coughing, Sal said, ¡°Titus, I mean sir! No, I have not been banging our hosts, sir. Why would you say that?¡±

    Titus sighed. Though his tone was upbeat, a smile was far from his face. ¡°To be honest, I suspect you wouldn¡¯t be the first to have enjoyed them beyond a simple bit of ¡®interspecies friendship¡¯. For better or worse, I cannot say. You have noticed them, haven¡¯t you Mr Vigino? The¡­ changes of some of them?¡±

    Following the analyst¡¯s gaze, Sal saw that the alien currently manning a fleshy looking coffee grinder had a rather curvy look to them, a fact made obvious by the lack of any clothing other than the thin strip of an apron.

    ¡°I¡­ have, sir. In fact, my partner discussed that a bit ago.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. Their cultural history, or lack thereof is incredibly fascinating, but also worrying.¡± Titus sipped a cup of black coffee, apparently savouring the taste with a sigh before he put it down. ¡°I was afraid of bad actors among us, a fear that has unfortunately been confirmed following the investigation of Ruby Eye. It is not a question of if returning to Starheart is dangerous, even with any potential bombs or traps removed, it is a question of how risky it is. We¡¯ve already pulled half a dozen smaller explosives out of maintenance, so it may be some time before all clear is given.¡±

    ¡°Sir, excuse my abruptness, but why exactly did you want to speak to me?¡±

    ¡°Mr Vigino, are you aware how valuable trust is?¡±

    ¡°I think so sir, yes.¡± Where was this discussion going? Sal swallowed. ¡°Real trust can¡¯t be bought.¡±

    ¡°And you trust your team, your Torchers?¡± Titus let out a soft snort, whether it was in genuine humour behind the name or disparaging dismissal, Sal couldn¡¯t tell.

    ¡°I do, sir. We¡¯ve worked together for a long time, and I met Abel well before the Expedition Fleet was in its infancy.¡±

    ¡°Good. Then that¡¯s five more people I can trust. Unfortunately, you might be surprised to hear how much of a jump that is compared to my numbers before. You must have overheard my¡­ explanation regarding our blind spot of traitors during the post-investigation meeting, correct?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Captain Curtain effectively pocketed your analysis teams?¡±

    ¡°As much as it hurts me to say, yes. I thought I had developed a stronger bond with them beyond mere finances, but you can see where their values laid in the end. The truth is that by losing my information squads, I am blind to any incoming attacks. What I need right now, more than ever, is people I can trust. Can I trust you, Mr Vigino?¡±

    The officer locked eyes with Sal, pupils intense and his jaw clenched. It was as if the man sitting before him was controlling every muscle in his face to remain as still as possible.

    ¡°Well, you can certainly trust me not to attack the crew.¡± Sal tried laughing, but Titus made no movements. ¡°W-what I mean is that I¡¯m no traitor. But, sir, I still think you¡¯ve got the wrong man. I am just a regular superviso- ¡°

    ¡°No, you aren¡¯t. I¡¯ve read your record, Sal. From before H&H. Not many could go through what you did and come out as you are today.¡±

    Damnit, first Thomas and now Titus. How many people had delved into his past, intentionally or not? Sal turned away, sneering. He needed something for this wretched head of his. Raising a hand, he got the barista¡¯s attention. Titus snapped forward and gripped his wrist.

    ¡°Sir?¡± Sal asked, an edge to his tone.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get any milk,¡± Titus said releasing his hand, and cringing slightly. ¡°Made that mistake earlier.¡±

    ¡°What? Oh.¡± Sal loosened up. True to his superior¡¯s word, he saw no fridge for milk behind the counter, and there was only one possible milk dispenser in the caf¨¦. The alien stretched back, pushing their large breasts from beyond the boundaries of thin strip of cloth, revealing nipples, before seeing Sal.

    The cheerful and incredibly large chested barista bounced over, and joyfully took Sal¡¯s order before retreating. Christ that apron did little to cover her body, and especially her huge chest. Did these aliens decide to take all of humanity¡¯s fun parts but forget to include clothing with it? Well-endowed Cambiar gone, and coffee thoroughly without breast milk, the pair continued.

    ¡°Look, sir, thank you. I appreciate it. If you genuinely want me to help, I will do my best. I just think there¡¯s other people that could do more.¡±

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Mr Vigino, it¡¯s not always about who can do more, or who can do it faster. Sometimes, it¡¯s about who¡¯s got the best heart for the job. Take Elijah for example. He¡¯s a great manager and knows his crew well. And yet, would he be suited for an information position, collecting data from people around him? Unlikely. He is as brash as a bull, and twice as stubborn. Elijah would rather beat a man down the second he starts talking about terrorism or sabotage rather than following him for leads. And yet, I still support him. Hell, he¡¯s watching a group right now. If the alarms go off in the outer top-side decks sometime in the next few hours, then I will know he¡¯s stirred up some trouble. Yet, I would rather have him do it than a top agent I used to know, because no matter what, Elijah¡¯s heart will be in the task. Regardless of how well or poorly he may do, I know that his intentions will be in line with mine. That is what matters.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ think I understand, sir. I can¡¯t say I have skills in that sort of field, but I will do my best to help. I¡¯m an engineer, not some secret agent, so don¡¯t expect too much.¡±

    ¡°Mr Vigino, please.¡± Titus shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to spy for me, just to keep me in the loop when things go wrong. I fear Curtin is losing his grip. When he falls, he will bring many good people down with him.¡±

    Sal¡¯s coffee arrived, rich and bitter. Quaffing it down as if he were stranded in a desert, the immediate effect of the drink started to sooth his aching skull.

    ¡°Well, he wasn¡¯t exactly calm last I saw.¡± Sal shrugged.

    ¡°You¡¯re right, and I don¡¯t say that as the target of his ire. This expedition has become a mess. The planet is a no-go; the tectonics are bad enough that we cannot make any sort of long-term colony down there. The only choice for H&H is to pull back the fleet, I feel. That sort of pressure would make any man go mad.¡±

    Titus pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up. They had slid down as he inspected the way the barista swayed their rear back and forth during smoothie preparation. When Sal noticed his leering, the analyst just shrugged. Shit, Sal had already checked her out, so who was he to judge?

    ¡°Staying on topic,¡± Titus suppressed a chuckle, ¡°you likely picked out Curtin¡¯s reluctance to act without H&H¡¯s direct say so.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Still no message from home base?¡±

    Titus winced slightly. ¡°There have been complications. Security aside, the matter of getting H&H¡¯s required staff out here may take some time. They are slow to act on a good day, let alone for such a huge event so far out of CCH space.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t sound like the biggest fan of their leadership at the moment. Haven¡¯t you been with them a while?¡±

    ¡°Oh yes, Mr Vigino, that would be an understatement. I¡¯ve seen them through thick and thin. Do you know why, Senior Supervisor?¡±

    ¡°I take it you get paid out the ass?¡± Sal took a moment to remember he was speaking to a much higher-ranking crewmate and clicked his teeth in annoyance at himself. ¡°I mean, they compensate you quite well, sir?¡±

    Titus didn¡¯t smile but he did appear to appraise Sal with renewed worth. Perhaps friendly banter was hard for Fornax to receive from such a high-ranking position.

    ¡°That is true, but not the heart of the matter. I work for H&H instead of the other corporations because I feel they are doing the most to expand humanity¡¯s horizons and to support their people. Though this¡­ situation has been eye opening, I still feel they try to serve most of mankind¡¯s general interests with satisfactory results. Did you know I used to serve in the security wing, Mr Vigino? Executive protection.¡±

    Titus removed his glasses to slide contacts lenses from his eyes. When he raised his head, Sal saw two round scanners where his eyeballs had once been, glowing red dots fixated on him. Swallowing slowly, Sal¡¯s image of Titus had quickly shifted. He had judged Titus poorly; this was no pencil pushing corporate pushover. Almost as if his earwax had been drained, Sal could hear the tiny whining of servos and motors every time Titus shifted. Was the man more than flesh below his suit?

    Gesturing to his eyes, he said, ¡°Lost them in a particularly nasty job.¡± Titus placed his contacts and glasses back into place. ¡°Lost most of my body before then, but a Doctrine clan by the name of Hideki¡¯s Mercy rained down hell on a particularly important board member. I saved their life, but it took some of the last parts of my original body I had. After that, I no longer fancied the risks and moved to the Expedition Fleet, taking some of my team with me. I did learn some major lessons from my time protecting H&H¡¯s finest, and trust was the most important one.¡±

    Titus drained the last of his coffee. ¡°I do understand that trust is a two-way street. I cannot ask you to help me without any respect in return. So, I wish to let you know one thing. And this is truly vital intelligence. Even Curtin is uncertain of this yet.¡±

    Still reeling slightly from the fact that the stuffy corporate body he had slightly pegged as bland as starch flakes had actually served one of the most dangerous jobs in CCH space. Sal couldn¡¯t stop himself from tapping his knee. ¡°Um, sure. I¡¯m all ears. But, I have to ask, why tell me this, sir?¡±

    ¡°Frankly, Mr Vigino, I¡¯m tired of having no one to talk to. Despite appearances, I am still human. Maybe. So, here goes. Simply put, Josiah Dexter himself put those stolen goreskins and mechs in our cargo. My understanding is that he is so desperate to protect the next colony he can establish that he is willing to sacrifice all goodwill with the other conglomerates. His paper trail was rather extensive and poorly covered up. It would appear that our dear CEO was doing some poor business on the side, and in doing so exposed our crew to infiltrators.¡±

    ¡°Wait, the traitors who planted the bombs ¨C you think they boarded as a result of the contraband? From Dexter?¡±

    ¡°Not on purpose, but yes, I¡¯m sure of it. If the rest of the CCH hears that not only has Dexter been stealing their mechanized armour, but also acquiring goreskins, likely through making deals with Doctrine clans who were either growing their own or stealing them in turn from Paradise, it will be the straw that breaks the camel¡¯s back. I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯ve read the quarterly reports, Mr Vigino?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ try to, sir?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother. The numbers are all faked. H&H is abyssally deep in the red. The Seventh Expedition Fleet wasn¡¯t just the last chance for a decent paycheck for you, I presume, but it is the last opportunity for H&H to even consider recovering.¡±

    Sal thought over this line of thought. Would that mean returning to CCH space would be a dead end? What if the Cambiar could help them? Would they want to? Sal shook his head to dispel the thoughts ¨C there was nothing he could do to change how the corporate suits would deal with the situation.

    ¡°Here¡¯s another tidbit, and as an engineer I think you¡¯ll enjoy this. It¡¯s the Cambiar¡¯s FTL technology.¡±

    Sal tried not to gape his mouth at that. ¡°Go on.¡±

    ¡°Most Cambiar don¡¯t even understand it, they just trust their pilots get them from one spot to the other. Firstly, there¡¯s no S-Drive involved.¡± Checking his watch, Titus stood. It was time for him to leave. ¡°It doesn¡¯t use quantum waveform collapse and reformation, so no QIS stabilization is required. It¡¯s space folding technology - wormholes. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve seen speculated models, but in our case the issue was always power. The Cambiar have bypassed the energy requirement by drawing energy straight from local stars. Not sure on the full mechanics, but you can imagine that if they have access to alternate forms of FTL, there¡¯s plenty more we can learn from them.¡±

    Sal¡¯s mind was already trying to wrap around the potential aftermath of additional FTL methods being available. S-Warps could travel far, and had relatively low energy costs considering their effectiveness, but left the crew disoriented sometime after the jump and were risky in the case of QIS disassociation. Smaller crews could try using a computer to simulate the usage of a Keeper, but those weren¡¯t entirely reliable. Otherwise, having one or more Keepers was the only way to keep a moderate sized crew alive. Knowing what he did now about Keepers, Sal felt a pang in his stomach at the scale of how many people must be forced into the role, unable to help themselves. If a human faction had access to both wormholes and Schrodinger engines, they could move fast, and strike without being put at a disadvantage, and not necessarily rely on Keepers all the time. However, this brought another consideration to Sal¡¯s mind.

    ¡°Titus, one last thing, sir.¡± Sal asked.

    ¡°Yes, Mr Vigino?¡± The analyst adjusted his tie, clearing his throat.

    ¡°Are you¡­ aware of how Keepers are made? You talked about H&H supporting their people so, I¡¯m guessing you weren¡¯t aware.¡± Sal hoped he wasn¡¯t putting his faith in the wrong man. Thomas would be at great risk if he was miscalculating. However, for all the officer¡¯s talk of trust, Sal felt he had to offer some back.

    ¡°Excuse me? Is there something I should know? What do you¡­¡± Titus paused, then widened his eyes. Sal wasn¡¯t sure if he was about to get quietly assassinated for a few moments as the officer looked into the distance, thinking hard.

    ¡°There¡¯s something I should know, isn¡¯t there? Never mind, I can assume there¡¯s more to them. Your infrared readings just lit up with stress indicators. I can look into it.¡± He stopped to look over the engineer for a few more seconds before nodding. ¡°Ah, I see. You are putting your trust in me as well. I thank you, Senior Supervisor.¡±

    Giving another deep nod, Titus said his farewells and departed, ogling the curvaceous Cambiar¡¯s rear one last time.

    Sitting there in the replication of a coffee shop, the original likely having long since been turned to ash, and with the last of the dregs of his coffee staring back at him, Sal considered the longer-term consequences of what the Cambiar would bring to humankind. Not only would an additional form of faster than light travel potentially enflame the war between Paradise, Heaven¡¯s Doctrine and the Collective Corporations of Humanity, should the CCH decide to directly compete with the others, but Fifth Spoke had clearly shown some of the capabilities of their manufacturing capabilities. Would that be enough to bring H&H out of its apparent death spiral?

    Moreover, what would Sal do when the time came for a decision regarding H&H? Could he stand by them, now knowing what he did about the Keepers? What would be the price that Sal¡¯s values would buckle under?

 Chapter 15: Bigger Picture

    The pounding in Sal¡¯s head had subsided as he made his way over to a viewing lounge on the port side of Fifth Spoke. His mind still reeling from his conversation with Titus, Sal was looking forward to something a bit lighter with his best friend. Facing the window into space sat Abel, shirt open to reveal his chest, and smiling without a care in the world. Upon seeing his friend, he stood up as they bumped fists together.

    ¡°So, man, how was the boss?¡± Abel grinned at Sal¡¯s cringing upon reflection of the meeting.

    ¡°Well, it was certainly something. A whole lot to chew on, that¡¯s for sure.¡±

    ¡°Ah well, I wish everything in life could be as simple as an arcade cabinet or an episode of ¡®Chrome Mecha¡¯, but that¡¯s the way the cookie crumbles, eh?¡±

    Sal hummed in agreement. Staring out into the void, the blaring orange star took up most of the view. Across its surface great streams of plasma whipped around, the surface pulsing and writhing like some dying snake. Initially, after seeing the star from closer up after settling in, Sal had entertained the idea that the star was worryingly close to supernova, and that no colony would ever be viable in the system. Now though, Sal speculated that the Cambiar were already using its power to charge whatever wormhole technology they had.

    ¡°Well, how is Xeena doing?¡± Abel said, raising and eyebrow.

    ¡°Good, good. She¡¯s been getting me to pick out clothes from the archives to see what different styles she likes. Got a bit disappointed when most shorts she got back from the workshops still only had two leg holes, and no space for her tail to stick through.¡±

    ¡°Ha! Pippa felt the same way, but after she got her fifth pair of messed up jeans, she¡¯s sticking with skirts.¡±

    ¡°Heh, fair enough.¡± Sal paused. ¡°Wait, Pippa? Is that your partnered Cambiar? The little one?¡±

    ¡°Y-yeah! We¡¯ve been getting on really well!¡±

    Pippa, Pippa, Pippa¡­ Abel had said that name sometime in the past but when? Abel saw Sal¡¯s deep concentration and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

    ¡°Look, why don¡¯t I grab us some drinks. I¡¯ll be back in-¡°

    ¡°Wait, you ass. I remember. Pippa¡­ you said back in the Recon Fleet, after that first mission we had together that you had a whole bunch of names planned out for the future. Names for when you got the family you always wanted. Now, you said a whole lot of names that day, and most of them I forgot¡­ but Pippa?¡±

    Sal locked eyes with the huge man, who shook from his friend¡¯s icy glare.

    ¡°Pippa was the name you wanted to give your firstborn daughter. That I remember clear as day. Abel, tell me now, and be careful ¨C we¡¯re part of a first contact mission, so things are delicate. Did you, or did you not, name your goddamn alien partner after your planned daughter?¡± Sal¡¯s voice was bordering on yelling.

    ¡°L-look man! Don¡¯t get pissy! Let me explain.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you better explain it well.¡± Sal clicked his tongue and involuntarily cracked his knuckles.  ¡°After all the shit we gave Stannock, at least his alien¡¯s just copying the prick. And maybe sleeping with him. Not sure on that. But you¡­ what is your game? Is she some stupid joke to you?¡±

    Abel sighed, as if hoping it would relieve some of Sal¡¯s tension as well as his own. ¡°Ok, here¡¯s the deal. So, Pippa, you¡¯ve seen she¡¯s a bit small? Well, turns out, she lied about her age when applying to the Partner Program. Didn¡¯t even know Cambiar could lie. She¡¯s technically still a juvenile, only ten months old. However, she said she really wanted to meet a human, and that if she waited too long, she was worried she¡¯d miss out, ok?¡±

    ¡°And the name?¡±

    ¡°Well, we talked for a while, and she couldn¡¯t come up with anything. We chatted, I brought it up, kind of as a joke, and she liked it. I did mention where I was planning to use it, but she seemed fine with it.¡±

    ¡°Ok.¡± Sal¡¯s simmering began to cool. ¡°Ok, fine. But she¡¯s still a kid, right? So, what exactly is your deal with her?¡±

    ¡°Ok, so she never got a chance to meet her parent, or whatever their equivalent is, so I said I¡¯d do my best to teach her all the family stuff that Cambiar don¡¯t know about. I¡­ wouldn¡¯t exactly say she sees me as a father figure, but I hope I can help her out, y¡¯know? To teach her what I think are good values and the like. Nothing weird, not like that. Trust me, it¡¯s not some joke, Sal. I seriously want what¡¯s best for her.¡±

    Sal tapped his foot. He was simultaneously annoyed at Abel¡¯s apparent overt influence on the xeno and also finding himself accepting what he was saying. He thought for sure that his friend would see teaching an alien child as some sort of joke, but Abel¡¯s words rang true. Deceit was the last thing on Sal could find those gentle eyes of his. Eventually, Sal raised his hands in defeat.

    ¡°Fine, fine. Alright then. You¡¯ve convinced me. You can¡¯t blame my reaction though, you know that?¡±

    ¡°Sal! How could you say that. I thought we were buddies! What did you think I would do during this once in a lifetime event, just lie and make fun of my new friend?¡±

    ¡°I mean, you did try to change Dusty¡¯s name on the paperwork to ¡®Puppy¡¯ after Stannock first called him that. It was only because Xin saw it that he¡¯s actually still Dustin Clarklin.¡±

    ¡°Ok, fair play, but that was ages ago. I¡¯ve learnt from my ways; I¡¯m a changed man! Cross my heart!¡±

    ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll see that the day you finally tell the truth about that tooth. Or toss it.¡±

    ¡°Oof, Sal. Bro, that¡¯s too far. No way I can kill the magic behind this tooth. Not when I have like six more non-human friends who need to know about it.¡± Abel laughed. ¡°So, Sal, how are you doing, for real man. Not some stupid jokey, pushing your buttons way. You ok?¡±

    Sal sighed. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m alright. I think. A lot has happened. Thomas told me some secret stuff that¡¯s pretty heavy, so there¡¯s that. The whole investigation and traitor thing is scary, not knowing how many people could be on our side. And, well, right now I just want to get back to Starheart. Not that I miss the engineering deck, far from it. I want some sort of touchstone to make sure I¡¯m not dreaming or something.¡±

    Sal¡¯s thoughts were still absorbed on the one keepsake from his father, still in the trunk under his bed. Everything else on the ship could go to hell, not that Sal would let such a failure of maintenance go under his watch, but that one trunk needed to still be safe. Moreover, it was the idea of what would happen after securing Starheart. What was going to happen next? H&H were taking their sweet time to what should have been the most important event for the company since leaving Earth.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Abel, what do you want to do?¡± Sal asked.

    ¡°Hmm?¡±

    ¡°What do you want to do? In the long term, I mean. What was your plan after the expedition either found a planet to colonize or if we went back home in failure?¡±

    ¡°Sal, I think you¡¯re missing the bigger picture. Either that, or you¡¯re still stuck on the old one. I¡¯ve forgotten the details of whatever crap hole I wanted to work out back on Titanlock, or where my next pay is coming. Brother, we¡¯ve met alien life. Alien life! The stuff you only see in books and movies. Completely out of this world. The expedition? H&H? Sal, there¡¯s much more at hand here, man. You know what I want to do?¡±

    Sal looked up, listening close.

    ¡°I want to stay with them, the Cambiar. I want to see their worlds, their lives. And not just because of all the nice stuff they¡¯ve handed to us on a platter; I seriously want to see what change I can create when I put my mind to it. Like little Pippa. I want to see her learn and grow from everything humanity has done, for better or worse. And I wanna help that.¡±

    ¡°Huh. I see. That sounds grand.¡± Sal did his best to hide the hollowness of his words. In truth, hearing his best friend say it tore his split heart apart. Staying with the Cambiar was easily the most obvious choice, the rational part of him had come to that realization weeks before. He would live in effective luxury compared to back in human space, likely have most of his closest allies with him, and have a whole new galaxy spread before him to experience. And yet, deep down, in a part that knotted and latched his guts down, spreading from scars across his chest and back, was the craving he was old friends with. The part that saw any help, anything that even resembled assistance or a cheap way out and spat it down. The part of him that never left Tartarus Nine.

    ¡°Come on Sal, don¡¯t look so worried. Look on the bright side ¨C H&H aren¡¯t here yet, so there¡¯s nothing you can do. Just¡­ relax for a bit, ok?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s fair. Can¡¯t do shit about a bunch of stuffy board directors getting lost here. I imagine they¡¯re probably asking directions from a similarly lost Lighthouse. ¡®Which way to¡­¡¯ huh. Hey Abel, what was the name of this system again?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got no idea man. I spoke to some of the other guys from Starheart and they¡¯ve been tossing around a real name, like ¡®New Horizon¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Eh, sounds a bit tacky. Besides, space doesn¡¯t have horizons. There¡¯s no edges to anything. Unless you count the planets. Or the stars. Or the big asteroids. Hell, the ships are big enough they look like they¡¯ve got horizons at times. Actually, never mind, it¡¯s a fine name.¡±

    ¡°New Horizons it is then! So, Sal, how do you think human space will react to them, the Cambiar? Not just plant stuff like shuckabrush or that mould found on that one moon. Actual, walking, talking life.¡±

    ¡°Pretty hard to say for sure.¡± Sal rested a head on a chin, letting the orange rays of the star move across his face as the ship drifted through the void. ¡°The CCH will probably orgasm at just having another trading partner. I think most of the conglomerates will see them as a free source of money. I mean, their scale and massive manufacturing power will completely turn the market on its head, but it gives each of the corporations room to compete each other using a new, non-hostile faction. You saw how much hell H&H went through to try and find one more planet for agriculture or mining - dozens of colony ships being sent out like it was going out of style. If the Cambiar really do number in the trillions, then I reckon the CCH will luck out. That is, if we don¡¯t mess up this whole situation.¡±

    ¡°Come on now, brother. What could we do at this point to mess things up? We¡¯re practically guests of honour to most of them, and I think a couple of them are already getting feisty with the crew.¡±

    ¡°Ew. Too much information.¡±

    ¡°You asked, not me. As far as they¡¯re concerned, any hole¡¯s a goal. Anyways, what about Paradise and Doctrine? I, for one, hope the Cambiar just makes them stop killing each other.¡±

    Sal wasn¡¯t so sure. Xeena had been a bit confused by the motivation behind their Eternal War, or lack thereof. If anything, Sal thought they would stay out of the conflict as much as possible and explained his point of view to Abel.

    Continuing afterwards, Sal said, ¡°At worst, each side might piss off the Cambiar and probably get wiped out by their superior numbers. Or maybe not. I¡¯m not sure about their military yet. I think it¡¯s more likely they¡¯ll stay out of the way, maybe do deals with both sides, and stay clean of the whole thing.¡±

    ¡°That would be fine I suppose. Gods, can you imagine if Paradise somehow got one of the wackier Cambiar factions on their side? That would make this whole stupid war go from bad to just insane.¡±

    As much as Sal hated most of the Doctrine for how they had influenced his family, Paradise was still the greater, if less personal, evil in his mind. It was one evil to plant yourself as a god emperor over hundreds of smaller groups, all fighting and tearing anyone apart to stay on top. It was another category of immorality when there wasn¡¯t even a goal for the nation, with no real leaders or purpose behind their actions, and the raw idea of empathy and freedom had been torn out of the population generations ago.

    ¡°Thankfully, I think that¡¯s unlikely.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, yeah. That¡¯s true. What I don¡¯t think is unlikely is what will happen with Xeena and you, brother.¡± Abel smirked at him.

    ¡°Xeena? What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen how chummy the two of you are getting. Don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t seen you two going for little lunches out by those weird sculpture art pieces, or going to the swimming pool together?¡±

    ¡°Yeah? So what? She owes me a few meals after she kept betting that she wouldn¡¯t get scared after watching some proto-wave films.¡± Abel studied his friends face, pushing him on. ¡°We watched ¡®The Thing¡¯. Almost an immediate loss on her part once the dog¡¯s head split open. I honestly thought she would do better, considering the Cambiar remind me of a very slow ¡®thing¡¯ in a way.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care what movies you¡¯re watching man!¡± Abel¡¯s exasperation was almost childish. ¡°What I mean is are you two just getting friendly, or well¡­. ¡®friendly¡¯?

    ¡°Jesus Abel, no. It¡¯s not like that.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure? Because you might not have seen the way she was looking at you when you came back from that weird gravity room, but I definitely saw those googly eyes.¡±

    ¡°Look, one, it¡¯s a relaxation chamber, nothing weird about it.¡± Sal lied. It was a definitely weird room, but he wouldn¡¯t let Abel know that. ¡°Two, she¡¯d just come up with a name for herself, pretty big stuff.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and I¡¯m certain she wants to see some more ¡®pretty big stuff¡¯ from you. You¡¯ve seen her spending time with Xin, god knows what she¡¯s filling the poor little alien¡¯s head with. Hell, I¡¯m pretty sure Xin¡¯s talking up Ace herself, wouldn¡¯t put it past her to try and corrupt little Xeen¡¯.¡±

    Shit, he was right. Sal wanted to chalk up their ¡®girl talks¡¯, as they so called them when he intruded, to friendly chatter. Xeena¡¯s increasing amount of subtle delicate touches or brushes of Sal¡¯s skin, and clear exposure of skin around what would be considered racy on a human told him otherwise. And with Xin, christ, the sky was the limit. Thank god there was no evidence of his and Xin¡¯s one-night fling to show the alien. That would be utterly disastrous.

    ¡°Fine, fine, I¡¯ll get a clear answer from her. Once we get back to Starheart.¡±

    ¡°Sal¡­¡±

    ¡°I said I would show her around. I don¡¯t want to make it awkward if it turns out she¡¯s just being friendly with me. Nothing weirder than ¡®sorry I tried to hit on you, but we should spend the day together¡¯ looking at some rusty old rooms.¡±

    If he had hoped to snuff Abel¡¯s flame on the topic, he had spectacularly failed. ¡°Ah ha! So, it¡¯s not that she¡¯s an alien that¡¯s an issue ¨C its whether she likes you or not. So that¡¯s why you¡¯re playing dumb, you¡¯re still a xenophile!¡±

    ¡°The fuck man?! Don¡¯t say that shit out loud!¡± Sal looked around to see if anyone was listening in.

    Goddamnit Abel. Sal very well knew that Xeena had some particular thoughts about him. Her forceful shirt lifting and pectoral groping had made that clear, and no ¡®alien curiosity¡¯ could fully squash her likely motivation behind that move, even if she didn¡¯t understand it at the time. Part of Sal was indeed afraid of getting too close. Ever since he was a young man, after Tartarus, he could count on his hand total number of months he had spent in active relationships with previous women; his longing for an ongoing relationship was always suffocated by his refusal to allow himself to rely on anyone else, physically or emotionally. Sal had little issues one-night stands back on Titanlock or wherever the Recon Fleet docked, but to open himself up to someone in the long-term? He felt sick at the idea.

    And yet, Xeena had been different. Maybe it was her nature as something not-human that guided her past Salvador¡¯s defences, or maybe the wounds along his soul were sealing after so long. And perhaps Xeena could be the stitches he needed to close fully that gash.

    Looking back at Abel, Sal glared as his friend continued. ¡°So, what is it you like about the Cambiar? Is it the four legs? The claws? Oh, is it the mouth tentacle? I bet it¡¯s the mouth tentacle!¡±

    ¡°Fuck you.¡± Sal said, laughing. ¡°Let¡¯s get something to drink.¡±

    With that the duo made their way back to the lounge. Sal could at least wait until Starheart was open for visitation before he processed the thrashing thoughts that Abel had brought closer to the surface. In some ways, it would be better if Starheart was never cleared for access.

 Chapter 16: Here, Let Me Assist You Engineer

    ¡°Sal, Sal, did you hear? Your ship¡¯s all cleared! We can go now!¡± Xeena chirped.

    Fan-fucking-tastic.

    ¡°Come on Sal, you said you¡¯d show me around, right?¡± She was vibrating in excitement, jaw snapping as her tail whipped about behind her.

    He had. Damn you earlier Salvador, damn you. It appeared to Sal that just by thinking about returning to Starheart he had twisted karma against him. The following morning, the crew of Fifth Spoke were alerted that boarding with Starheart would occur over the following hours, and that the investigation team there had safely removed the last explosives planted. Sitting by a bench in what was meant to be a park, with Xeena buzzing with excitement next him, Sal couldn¡¯t help but feel a vice around his heart. Even the almost accurate but slightly too stiff blades of not-grass against his ankles couldn¡¯t relax his feelings.

    ¡°Yep. And I¡¯m going to say it again: don¡¯t get your hopes up. H&H couldn¡¯t exactly afford a shapeshifting ship, so we had to make do with our regular metal one.¡±

    ¡°I get it, no growing hot tubs, but that doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re getting out of showing me around, ok?¡±

    ¡°Nope, my word is my honour. Just trying to temper your expectations. Humanity isn¡¯t all the glamour and glitz from the screens.¡± Sal was trying to both steel his resolve and push down the dread in his stomach. A turning point was approaching, a point of no return from which his decisions would be set in stone. Yet, when the announcement came that umbilical tubes had connected to Starheart and docking was now possible, Sal stood and walked towards fate. He would meet it head on.

    ¡°So, Sal, you humans got any booby traps I should be careful of? Any animals that you need to give pets to otherwise they annoy you all day? Cyborg ninjas lurking in the vents?¡±

    ¡°Heh, you wish we had anything like that. The closest we got to a pet was a rat one of the passengers brought with him. Idiot nearly brought it in the same green tank as himself during the first S-Jump, thinking it would be fine. Nearly cooked both of their brains. Either that, or he would¡¯ve given Cronenberg a run for his money. Thankfully, it¡¯s a bit hard to hide a flailing albino rat when you are sitting naked in a glass tube. Not a lot of pockets included in the naked human form. I think they might have dug an old tank out of storage for the thing.¡±

    Sal considered the goreskins found on Ruby Eye, and their survival after so many jumps. Each individual must have their own tank wired up to a backup generator and S-Computer, capable of bringing their QIS with them. Either that, or a Keeper was a traitor, and had been connecting to them for each jump. Honestly, considering what Thomas had described, Sal couldn¡¯t blame a Keeper for turning on H&H after being used as a tool for their entire lives, though he couldn¡¯t abide by the needless death of thousands innocent crew. Even with Starheart¡¯s bomb removed, how many more Doctrine soldiers, bandits, or foreign corporate agents lurked amongst them?

    With much reluctance, Sal and Xeena met up with Marcus and his partner at the connecting tube. A small crowd had gathered, waiting eagerly. Giving a wave to his fellow engineer, Sal approached Marcus. The lightly hunched man was wearing fresh clothes from the Cambiar¡¯s new production lines, giving him a rather classier appearance compared to Sal¡¯s old jumpsuit and jacket. Sal had given specific instructions to the cleaners of his gear to use non-abrasive products for his coat in the right conditions. His jumpsuit could get shrunk or stained Delkar red for all he cared, but the jacket had to stay perfect.

    ¡°Hello guys. You ready to step back into paradise?¡± Marcus¡¯ smile was small but bright.

    A part of the younger man was seemingly desperate to return to the ship he had become familiar to. Starheart had become Marcus¡¯ first real home after his torment at the hands of Heaven¡¯s Doctrine. To Sal, it had been a bulky, rusted step in the right direction for a new life, but for Marcus, it was the epitome of his saviour in mechanical form. As such, Sal was hardly going to put a damper on the mood so close to their arrival.

    ¡°Something like that. I only hope that Elijah won¡¯t get pissy that everything will need maintenance. The ship can barely function without us dealing with its problems every five minutes.¡±

    ¡°Heh, I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll find some way to get us back to work soon enough. What do you think, Cerella? Excited to see what¡¯s been our home for the last half a year?¡±

    The gently swaying Cambiar piped up. ¡°Yes, Marcus. I do hope your conditions were not as appalling as you made them out to be, especially your dormitory.¡±

    The Cambiar spoke without a translator. It seemed the number of them using the devices had dwindled dramatically, to the point that seeing them was more unusual. The Cambiar voice had a natural whispery, huskiness to it, but Cerella had a soft, almost material tone to hers. The plain cardigan she wore seemed to accentuate the air of modesty around the alien, which contrasted heavily with Xeena¡¯s loose shirt and skirt she had donned as an experimental combo. Sal hadn¡¯t quite figured out what Cerella and Marcus¡¯ relationship was quite like yet, as both of them tended to play every social interaction cooly. Considering it couldn¡¯t be any worse than whatever circus show Stannock was doing, Sal decided it couldn¡¯t be all that bad.

    ¡°Wait, hold on Marc¡¯, what¡¯s this about the dorm?¡± Sal thought that even if the general area the Torchers shared was a bit of a dump, it was still better than most quarters on Starheart, and definitely was better than the barracks that many low-end security and military staff were forced to stay in.

    ¡°Well, sir, with all due respect, it wasn¡¯t exactly the best living space, not with Xin being a complete slob and Stannock taking up the bathroom for hours at a time. That, and Dusty was always putting up his posters outside his bedroom. I know you love the kid to bits, but having five floor to ceiling posters of the same robot series was a bit much. I love all the guys to bits, but even you have to admit that it was a bit trashy.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on Marcus, I know you liked watching some of those episodes. Even if, well, Dusty did have to bribe us with extra drinks from requisitions to watch that first season. And hey, remember the couch! Aren¡¯t you looking forward to the couch?¡±

    ¡°Sal, I¡¯m pretty sure whenever we sat on that thing, you could taste the mould spores getting kicked up in the air. Honestly, I¡¯m hoping the couch has been removed as part of the ¡®terrorist merchandise¡¯ as the investigation team termed it.¡±

    Feigning exaggerated sadness at his teammate¡¯s sour opinion of their old furnishings, Sal gasped dramatically. ¡°How could you say such things, Marcus! I¡¯ll have you know that couch is priceless!¡±

    Marcus laughed at his superior¡¯s fake outrage. Sal took a moment to consider that felt he had been more jovial in the time they had spent on Fifth Spoke, a change he thought Xeena likely brought on. In reaction to their discussion of old sofas, the two Cambiar companions were clearly not as previously enthusiastic about to seeing their living quarters. It was hard for the Cambiar to fully express some emotions, lacking real eyes, but based on their attempts at revulsion their expectations had reached free fall. Passing through the connecting tube between crafts, white sealing layers circling all around them, Sal felt the weight of gravity slightly increase. The Cambiar¡¯s preferred natural gravity of 0.87G had been increased slightly for their human crew¡¯s convenience but hadn¡¯t quite matched Earth normal gravity. Feeling the assuring tug of weight, Sal felt simultaneously more comfortable, but weighed down by the feeling of incoming decisions.

    If Starheart proved to be safe and functional, would Captain Curtin even continue to wait for reinforcements from H&H? Perhaps, unintentionally or not, the Cambiar¡¯s fleet were somehow blocking messages, leaving the crew waiting for help that may never come. Sal not only dreaded the possibility of needing to make the various warp jumps back to Titanlock, but to also leave the aliens he had grown attached to. Even the aspect of himself that hated every laugh he shared with his new friends could not deny that Xeena and the others were no longer just some strange creatures to be gawked at. No, they had settled snuggly into his heart at some point. Damned if he could pinpoint when exactly. Was it maybe when he had first touched digits with Xeena, all those weeks before?

    Crossing the distance, the crowd of mostly humans but some Cambiar made their way onboard Starheart. Emergency lighting pulsed down the hallways, a dull red intermixed with weak chemofluorescent lighting. Shuckabrush was meant to be automatically grown, harvested and its extract deposited into the lighting system via a combined hydroponics and piping system, but without anyone to manage the plant-like alien life, their output must have decreased to a trickle. Harsh lighting above them, the crowd spread out amongst the various hallways. They had entered through a middle deck, likely entertainment or passenger housing. Not all those on Starheart were there to work on the ship itself. Many, such as scientists, ecologists, miners and financiers, were simply waiting out the trip until they arrived at whatever colony was established.

    Moving through the mostly deserted bars and gambling halls left Sal feeling uneasy. The dark lighting combined with creaking and groaning of the ship did little to soothe his nerves, and the same could be said for his companions.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    ¡°This feels weird. Like, it¡¯s almost abandoned or left to rot. We¡¯ve only been gone, what a few weeks at most right? So why does it feel so¡­ spoilt?¡± Sal said.

    ¡°Maybe our overwhelming hospitality has changed your standards, hmm?¡± Xeena smugly. Truthfully, Sal thought she had a point. The low ceilings, rough metal bulkheads, and utilitarian design of the H&H ship were depressing compared to Fifth Spoke once it had changed from a dark, alien environment to one mimicking more serene times from humanity¡¯s past. Even as the group made their way past some of the standard passenger cabins, the tight spaces and rigid furniture made everything feel utilitarian.

    The team made their way lower into the ship¡¯s bowels, coming to rest on one of the engineering sub-decks. They had made their way to the assembly hall, where the Torchers had once received their shift orders. The gloomy lighting made the room that once had character, with walls covered in posters and meeting notes, seem dead and dreary by comparison. The lack of other crewmates milling about did not help the atmosphere. As the quartet entered the room, another familiar face approached.

    ¡°Hey now brother, you aren¡¯t thinking of going back to work so soon?¡± Abel said, widely grinning. He had Pippa riding on his shoulders, though he had had to crouch through the tight doorways to fit both his own height and Pippa¡¯s head. This time, the small alien was patting his head.

    ¡°Sorry to disappoint you, but I¡¯m just visiting. For now.¡± Sal looked around the room, almost expecting to see the deck manager on the stage, reading off how some fool from the upper decks had broken a water pipe or some other mishap. ¡°Still, good to catch up on this place. It feels¡­¡± Sal trailed off.

    ¡°Crappy?¡± Marcus interjected.

    ¡°What? No, I was going to say almost nostalgic. Reminds me of when we first boarded, when we got first dibs on the inspection. Before everyone got on, and we had to check it was safe after it had been constructed.¡±

    ¡°Expect it had better lighting back then.¡± Abel said, smirking.

    ¡°Yeah, true.¡±

    As the Torchers chatted, with Xeena, Pippa and Cerella asking each other about their partners different thoughts on revisiting the ship, another face Sal recognized passed by the assembly hall¡¯s doorway.

    ¡°Thomas?¡±

    The mechanical man stepped back and looked inside. Recognizing the senior engineer, he marched over.

    ¡°Ah, hello everyone. It is good to see you all. How goes revisiting the old quarters?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, pretty good. It¡¯s kinda dark though. Might give a quick look at the shucka-trays and see if we can turn the emergency lights off. Kind of ruins the mood a bit?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, I agree. If you were not aware, some others have returned to the ship. I passed Dr. Michaels on the way here, and he mentioned something about an inspection, though his tone indicated a joke.¡±

    Sal groaned. Gods, he was not in the mood to deal with the doctor¡¯s shenanigans.

    ¡°Additionally,¡± Thomas continued. ¡°Some of the bartending crew have set up O¡¯Malley¡¯s again, so if you would like some service, I believe Erohin will be ready.¡±

    Sal internally hid an even larger groan. He made a mental note to stay clear of the bar, at least until the weird bartender had changed shifts. Were people returning to their old roles so quickly? He felt apprehension to become an engineer quite so soon, still wanting to make the most of Fifth Spoke¡¯s many facilities. He hadn¡¯t even tried swimming yet. Well, he¡¯d had a splash with Xeena at one of them, but that didn¡¯t count. He hadn¡¯t mustered the courage to fully submerge himself yet but was working up to it.

    However, before Thomas could speak again, a cutting alarm sliced through the rumbling hum of Starheart. A voice echoed down the ship-wide intercom a moment later, feedback from a mic being moved kickstarting the message.

    ¡°I said, give me that! Listen crew, immediate orders. Evacuate, now! The initial announcement was faked, we only just got word it was hacked.¡± Elijah¡¯s voice sounded strained as it echoed around the room.

    ¡°We don¡¯t know where, but there is another bomb detected on the scanners, and its activated. There isn¡¯t much time. Make your way to the docking ports, that is a direct order. Move!¡±

    A heartbeat passed, and everyone stood still. Sal felt his pulse rise into his throat. The tension cracked, and everyone sprinted for the door. Dashing down the hallways, everyone was silent aside from their quick breaths. Sal¡¯s mind was a rollercoaster. How the fuck did someone hack the announcements? Why hadn¡¯t command verified the ship¡¯s safety?

    Deeper than these questions resonated another thought to Sal. If Starheart was at risk of destruction, then everything onboard could be gone, spread across the void. In his mind¡¯s eye, he saw his trunk in the Torcher¡¯s dorm, still locked from months before. No other item on the ship stood out to him aside from that one case. Could he reach the dorms in time and escape? No, it was a winding hallway down to his quarters, frustratingly close to the bottom bulkhead that bordered on the cargo bay.

    Even more than the trunk stood the very idea of Starheart. It was his duty to ensure that the ship remained safe and operational. To lose Starheart was to lose his sense of self responsibility. If the ship died, whatever future laid ahead with H&H would likely die with them. His idiotic, idealized life of fortune, almost certainly worse off than his current life with the Cambiar, was soon to be a candle snuffed in the wind. A life free to support himself, without needing others to help him. A life, alone.

    Still darting around corners and slim corridors, an idea came to Sal, one that once planted could not be dislodged.

    ¡°Thomas! You have the records of Ruby Eye, right? Where the bombs?¡±

    The cyborg was easily keeping pace with the others, lacking lungs to wheeze through. ¡°I do. Sending them through to your comm-device. Why?¡± Even using a speaker as a voice box, the worried tone was clear.

    ¡°Gotcha.¡± Sal sped through the data on his device as quick as possible. ¡°Do you know where the bombs removed from Starheart have been removed so far?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t, but I can get them. Unofficially, of course.¡± A couple quick taps later, and Sal had a map of the two ships and where the bombs were on each. Glaringly, a bomb removed from Ruby Eye¡¯s inner workings, on the lower-mid deck in a maintenance area, was not present on Starheart¡¯s chart. A bomb that Sal might be able to reach.

    At the next corridor junction, Sal stopped and turned. ¡°Everyone, head to the docks. I¡¯ll be right behind you.¡± They responded with confusion and a flurry of questions, with only Thomas giving a wordless stare. Without giving them a chance to fully take in his words, Sal turned and sprinted towards the likely location. As he leaped up a staircase, two at a time, he heard Abel shouting for his name.

    Dashing through the maze of a vessel, Sal patted his jacket. Thankfully, he still had his regular tools sequestered away in pockets and pouches on the inner lining. It was not his full kit, but he prayed it would be enough. Another announcement cried through the ship, but Sal couldn¡¯t pay attention; there was work to be done. Lungs burning with exertion, he found the maintenance corridor that would lead him to his prize. Slamming his hand against the ID console, the door recognized his fingerprints and gave him access. Quickly, the tunnels closed in around him, like some predatory animal¡¯s gullet. The two-man wide passage narrowed to one as Sal squeezed through the tight corridor. Shoulders brushing against pipes and electrical runners, he came to a ladder, one that would take him into the vents. Breathing heavy and strained, he came to the top and wormed his way into the tight hole, crawling on all fours.

    If he was wrong, and Sal hated to be wrong, he would have wasted too much time to escape. From the sounds of it, Elijah was already late with the information and based on how quickly Ruby Eye was destroyed after seeing the Out-Han fleet, he only had minutes left at best. Elbows aching and mind racing, he turned through an S-bend, and came to a halt. Glinting in the light of his handheld flashlight sat a wide, black and white metal box, two cylinders planted at either end.

    Unlike the proto-wave movies, there was no handy indicator for time, and the unknown countdown to his likely demise made Sal¡¯s heart hammer in his chest. Following the best dogma for maintenance work, he panted aloud as he removed his tools for work. ¡°Slow is smooth, smooth is fast. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.¡± He removed the outer lining of plating around the main chassis of the box. From within, a mass of wires and circuits sprouted before him. In the dark, tight corridor, he stared down at the complex bomb, numerous circuit boards and layered sections glowering back.

    If he had time, and a full toolbox, this would be a piece of cake. But in the dark, holding a flashlight in his mouth and hands shaking with nerves, Sal could feel death mechanically buzzing before him. As he disconnected a section of wiring that would obfuscate his work, he found a series of soldered circuits that likely activated whatever compact explosive or nuclear payload was in both silos. Bit by bit, he disconnected them until he found a problem. A big one.

    The current wire he was working on prevented a failsafe from activating the bomb, and if removed before another circuit, would prematurely set it off. However, he needed to remove the backup for this failsafe, and that would require him to lift a heavy lining plate whilst simultaneously working on the wires underneath. Enraged about his lack of tools and additional hands, he thumped his foot against the wall in frustration. Fuck! Was this how he died? Unable to save himself? For a second, Sal sighed. Maybe that was what was what best described his life in a nutshell ¨C a man unable to help even himself.

    Just as he considered putting the tools down, and waiting for the end, a scrambling noise filled the tunnel. Had the traitor returned to ensure that his efforts would not be halted? Sal was hardly in a position to fight, but at the very least he could show the man who had killed him a thing or tw-

    ¡°Sal!¡± Xeena screamed.

    ¡°Xeena?! What the fuck are you doing here?¡± No, no, no! This wasn¡¯t what was meant to happen. She should be back on Fifth Spoke, safe and alive. This was a nightmare, a culmination of his worst mistakes come to life.

    ¡°You need a hand. Let me help, we¡¯ll talk about your behaviour later.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Sal steadied himself. ¡°Lift this plate, I can¡¯t¡­ I can¡¯t do it alone.¡±

    Xeena followed his instructions and lifted the thick plating. To Sal¡¯s surprise, there were even further screws below this plate that held it firm. This was no shoddily put together bomb, it was clean, intricate, and professional. With no time to admire the craftwork, Sal went for his screwdriver for this size screw, only to find an empty pocket. He had misplaced it last time he loaded the jacket up with equipment. Before he could even vocalize his stupid, stupid mistake, Xeena was already ahead of him. Though her arms looked thin, thinner than Sal¡¯s, she shifted her prone position to lift the thick plate with only one hand and carefully used her claws on her other to remove the screws.

    Sal wheezed a surprised gasp out as he gained access to the failsafe¡¯s backup board. Smoothly, with precision, he lanced the backup power to the main failsafe¡¯s processing system and, fingers shaking wildly, he severed the failsafe wiring and the bomb buzzing stopped. A check from a voltmeter found the current was restrained to its own battery system, sealed off from the explosives. The pair were still for some time, awaiting an eruption of flames any second. When death held its hand. The two relaxed.

    A soft, panting chuckle grew in their chests, rising as a laugh before surging into a raucous bellowing cry of victory. The two embraced in a hug, banging against the tight walls of their surroundings.

    ¡°Holy shit! You did it! Sal, you really did it!¡± Xeena cried. The thumping of her tail echoed around the ventilation shaft.

    ¡°No.¡± Sal locked eyes with Xeena. ¡°We did it.¡±

 Chapter 17: Happy Hour in New Horizons

    It had been some hours since his encounter with life and death as Sal sat in a crowded O¡¯Malley¡¯s, people drinking and cheering all around them. Starheart had well and truly been cleared, with Titus¡¯ and Curtin¡¯s personal guard making the final scans and inspections. There would surely be some deliberations over the next few days about the colossal failure of security, and Sal certainly had questions of his own. How on earth did another bomb slip by the security team? Letting Ruby Eye get destroyed was one thing but allow a false announcement to go ahead and let people board was another. Though Sal¡¯s team had made it off the ship whilst he went for the explosive, many others, especially those on the other side of the ship from the docking ports would have likely been caught by the detonation.

    In a way, Sal¡¯s selfish desires had saved far more than himself and his pride. It still did not alleviate the pool of acid in his heart that he would have surely died had Xeena not come to his aid. The bitter voice in his head told him that he had proven himself a failure, and that the arrival of Xeena had only confirmed this fact. The much more rational, and slightly drunk on copious alcohol, voice told the other to shut up the hell up, get drunk, and relax. Sal was alive, and that was all that mattered. Sitting in the tacky, horrendous imitation of an Irish bar, Sal thought on what had changed since he last sat here, before the S-Jump to New Horizon.

    He had met alien life and somehow made a friend along the way. He had dodged death twice, once in a cargo hold being chased by artificial monsters, and another in tunnel staring down a mass of wires and explosives. Frankly, Sal wasn¡¯t sure how many more close encounters with the afterlife he could take and sipped his drink. As he was polishing off the glass, a rough hand gripped his shoulder.

    ¡°Well, son, I don¡¯t know how, and sure as hell don¡¯t know why, but goddamn did you save a lot of lives out there,¡± Elijah said. Though his tone was rust on steel, as usual, the unexpected wide smile did certainly lift Sal¡¯s thoughts. ¡°You don¡¯t look like you fully believe it yet, but you are a hero, Salvador.¡±

    ¡°Well, I did have help, I can¡¯t take all the credit.¡±

    ¡°Oh, hush brother,¡± Abel intruded, stumbling slightly from the alcohol. ¡°You,¡± ¨C he hiccupped - ¡°should be proud, man. Absolutely stupid as it was to rush off, and I still think you should have run with the rest of us, you still went for it. Never seen you run so fast with your little legs.¡±

    ¡°Little legs? Abel, everyone has little legs compared to you.¡±

    ¡°Well, boys, I¡¯ll leave you to it. You take care now,¡± Elijah nodded as the pair of engineers saluted.

    Abel took a seat and slid another glass to Sal, ¡°So, Sal, how does it feel?¡±

    ¡°Does what feel?¡± Sal started the new drink. Eugh, it was horrid cider.

    ¡°Saving people, changing their lives. Come on Sal, we¡¯ve talked about this. I know you¡¯re worried for the future, but look. So many of the people here were terrified, thinking they were about to die, but you¡¯ve changed that. Can¡¯t you see that?¡±

    Truth be told, Sal had been hammered all night by people coming up to thank him, both those who would¡¯ve perished in the explosion and those who would¡¯ve lost their life¡¯s possessions. Many had taken everything with them for the expedition, and not all were carrying as little as Sal was. Even so, thinking on what he had, Sal hadn¡¯t gotten a chance to return to the dorms yet ¨C too much drinking and cheering for that.

    ¡°Yeah, I do. Thanks, buddy.¡±

    ¡°Believe me, you deserve a lot more thanks than me. Enjoy yourself.¡±

    With that, Abel staggered off, likely looking to pick Pippa up for some more drunken piggybacks. Before Sal had a chance to get up and get himself another drink, that wasn¡¯t a poncy cider that closer resembled piss than alcohol, a familiar figure slid into the table opposite him, feet up on a chair.

    ¡°Well, well, well, Sal. Don¡¯t you know getting blown to pieces if bad your health? If you keep up living on the edge, we won¡¯t be able to have our checkups anymore, will we?¡± Dr Michaels sat, flashing a sharp grin. ¡°I must say, that was certainly some quick decision making, hmm? And to trust your little alien friend to come help? Not bad.¡±

    ¡°It... was a team effort. How are you doing, doc?¡±

    ¡°Eh, alright I suppose. Been trying to test the Cambiar¡¯s gene revision using specific requests. It seems they do best when either subconsciously trying to fit a role or caste, or in moments of great stress. Had one of them going from bench pressing just body weight to triple that, just by pushing them harder and harder. That, and with some voluntary electroshock stimulation, which seems to be their one real weakness compared to us squishy humans. Very impressive stuff. What do you think of them, Salvador?¡±

    ¡°I like them.¡± The words slipped from Sal¡¯s mouth before he could even sound them out in his mind. ¡°They¡¯re friendly and are quick to learn. It¡¯s weird to say it but they feel kinda¡­ human, in a way. The way they want to fit in and change to suit their environment. They just do it a bit quicker than us.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a one way of looking at it. There are some who say we¡¯re corrupting them, twisting them into something rather un-Cambiar. What do you think?¡±

    ¡°Well, at the end of the day, we aren¡¯t forcing ourselves on them. Culturally, that is. Hell, if they had stuck with the whole black-green living ship thing, I could live with that. But it¡¯s their decision to adopt human culture. Both the good and bad aspects, for better or worse.¡± A part of Sal wondered whether they had a choice or not, whether their biology made them naturally adapt to whatever surroundings they found themselves in, including human society.

    For a moment, Michaels studied Sal carefully, pushing a length of long hair behind his ear. He reached over and slapped Sal on the shoulder, a little painfully. ¡°I knew you felt the same way! Some of these idiots can¡¯t see their potential. Our potential. I can say for certain that this ship, living in these conditions, is much worse for a man than Fifth Spoke.¡± The doctor gestured around the cheap bar. When Sal gave him a confused look Michaels continued. ¡°Ok, not just O¡¯Malley¡¯s. This bar is a tip though. I mean the whole thing. Titanlock, hell, all of CCH space is like this. In fact, I would go so far as to say that all human space is a mess. Sal, have you ever looked up at an open sky, not space I mean, but a planet with no ceiling above you?¡± Michaels¡¯ voice was becoming rich with zeal.

    The only time Sal could come close to that feeling was when he did EVA work, and even then, it was through a barrier of glass. The endless, inviting void all around him. Sal shook his head.

    ¡°Then you might not know what I mean. I have only once stared across an unending sky, and it was glorious.¡± Michaels seemed to take note of the intense fervour in his voice and moved to sit in his chair normally. ¡°Apologies, Salvador. I got too caught up. Please, enjoy the evening.¡±

    Before he could leave, Sal waved him down. ¡°Thanks doc, but I quickly wanted to ask something ¨C are you ok? After what Thomas was talking about, back after the investigation results?¡± The Keeper¡¯s description of Michael¡¯s past worried Sal.

    Michaels¡¯ face hardened to stone. ¡°Ah, that. Sorry, I was caught up in bad memories at the time. Reminds me that I need to apologize to Thomas. I¡¯ve seen some things in my line of work. Being reminded of my time before H&H stung a bit. Are you ok? Your past didn¡¯t exactly sound happy either.¡±

    ¡°I am, I think. I¡¯ve been thinking more of it recently. But no, I¡¯m alright. You take care doc.¡±

    With a nod, Michaels left. Sal stood and made for the opposite direction, towards the bar. Seeking some liquid relief to the buzzing thoughts in his mind, he signalled a bartender, standing with his back to him, only to bite down a curse when Sal saw his face.

    ¡°Ah, hello my dear engineer! Been saving some ships, have you?¡± Erohin said.

    Fuck. ¡°Hello Erohin. You doing good?¡±

    ¡°Oh please, don¡¯t worry about me? How are you? Surely, disarming bombs is not your usual schedule, is it?¡±

    ¡°Not normally, no. I heard you were on the ship, take it you made it off alright? I heard there were some serious stampedes to get off Starheart.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, I was indisposed when dear Elijah made his little announcement. In the gents room with an upset stomach you see. It¡¯s the Cambiar food, you see, doesn¡¯t sit right with me I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    ¡°Ah, right.¡± Sal awkwardly said. Goddamn, you weirdo just give me my drink. ¡°Uh, could I get ano- ¡°

    ¡°You know, dear Salvador, I¡¯m really happy to see you making such good friends with our alien companions. Say, what was the one you¡¯ve gotten to know well?¡±

    ¡°Uh, Xeena?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that one. I was wondering, do you know if she¡¯s mentioned how many of her kind there are out there, beyond the stars? I am sad to say that did not make it into Partner Program.¡±

    ¡°A lot of them, I think. They¡¯ve probably told me the exact figures, but I can¡¯t remember. Sorry.¡±

    Sal tried to shrug as aloofly as possible but likely came across as fake. Sal knew that there were likely trillions of Cambiar across the space where their empire had collapsed, but he didn¡¯t actually care whether the bartender believed him or not. Erohin was a strange man, and the less spoke with him the better.

    ¡°Ah. That¡¯s a shame. So, what can I get you to drink?¡± Erohin¡¯s smile didn¡¯t reach his eyes.

    After ordering another whisky cola, Sal made his way back to a table. Shuffling over, he was beckoned by Xin to a table where she, Ace, Stannock and¡­ Big Stannock sat. Whatever beef Xin had with the primadonna alien seemed to be settled, as the three already sitting chatted comfortably.

    ¡°Well, look I found trying to sit on his own again. Seems Mr Grumpy Pants here wants to cosplay as a grizzled detective, sipping his drink alone. Well, too bad Sal, we¡¯re having fun tonight!¡±

    Sal wanted to groan, but Xin¡¯s enthusiasm was already infecting him. That, and the idea of not needing to talk to Erohin anymore was nice. A particular smell hit him even amidst the crowded bar, coming from the other side of the table. The small plate of cured meats the group had been nibbling on drew a visceral reaction from Sal¡¯s distant Italian genes.

    ¡°Gabagool? Over here.¡± He gestured the plate towards him by tapping on the table and began eating his fill.

    Xin rested her head on a hand. ¡°So, guest of honour, where is Xeena? I would have thought the two of you would be stuck at the hip. Or pelvis.¡±

    Ignoring the last part, Sal said, ¡°She went off to some Cambiar celebration for a bit. Said they had a special way of rewarding her. She¡¯ll be back in a bit.¡±

    ¡°Aw, that¡¯s a shame. We could had made a six-some.¡± Xin sighed.

    ¡°Xin, my dear, I¡¯m afraid a ¡®five-some¡¯ is the maximum you can get before it loses the numbered title. Then, it¡¯s just an orgy.¡± Human Stannock interjected, resting his chin on a fist. Sal frowned at the strange response.

    ¡°Ah, but Stan, darling, how would you know that? Everyone knows that it takes two to tango, and tangos are simply the best.¡± Big Stannock said sensually as he stared at his body double.

    Big Stannock resembled Stannock far too well, now sporting a strong jawline, heavily toned body and thin rear head tendrils now black in some attempt to replicate human Stannock¡¯s ponytail. The Tenau¡¯s once light-yellow skin had dulled to an ashen olive shade. What the hell had Stannock done to the poor creature?

    Ace rolled his eyes, obviously the most sane person at the table, and asked, ¡°Sal. How was Xeena doing with the whole ¡®seconds away from dying¡¯ thing?¡±

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    ¡°Well, after the initial hysteria, she was¡­ shaken. For a bit at least. Then, she seemed to loosen up and after a while couldn¡¯t stop laughing. I think she¡¯s still a bit rattled, but doesn¡¯t regret stepping in, I think? Either way, I¡¯ve never seen her so happy as going to this Cambiar festival. Who knows, maybe she gets chocolate.¡± Sal chuckled.

    ¡°Well, senior supervisor, I for one am glad you watched enough crime flicks to know how to stop a goddamn bomb.¡± Xin tilted her sunglasses and grinned, blowing smoke from her vapour cig out her nose.

    ¡°Jesus, Xin I didn¡¯t know how to do it from some stupid movie. If I did, I¡¯d have cut the red wire and then there¡¯d be no more Starheart.¡±

    ¡°Ah, but it would have been dramatic as hell, right?¡±

    ¡°Does¡­ drama matter when you¡¯re in a life and death situation?¡± Ace didn¡¯t sound convinced, folding his arms and clicking his claws against them.

    ¡°Drama is the best when life is on the line! There¡¯re no higher stakes than that!¡± Xin raised her arms up and giggled. She was definitely tipsy. ¡°Seriously though, Sal, thanks for saving Starheart, even if you are a dumbass for trying in the first place.¡±

    ¡°In that case, I¡¯m proud to be a dumbass.¡± He raised his glass in a round of cheers.

    Some time had passed through the night, Sal was multiple drinks in when Dusty and Titan slid over. The table had emptied of all occupants aside from Sal. Had he fallen asleep for a bit? He¡¯d sworn he¡¯d just rested his eyes.

    ¡°Hey Puppy.¡± Sal murmured, slurring more than he had expected.

    ¡°Uh, hey boss. Just wanted to see how you were doing. And to say thanks for, y¡¯know, everything.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it kid. It¡¯s my pleasure. Savin¡¯ ships is just something I do now,¡± Sal hiccupped.

    The huge form of Titan shuffled closer, kneeling on her large plated legs. ¡°I would also like to express my thanks for your efforts, Salvador. The two of us were preoccupied and were not close to any of the exits at the time of the announcement. I am uncertain if we would have made it.¡±

    Preoccupied, huh? Sal¡¯s drunk mind went to somewhere profoundly saucy and pictured the size difference between the two making a comical sight. Hell, Titan¡¯s tits were bigger than Dusty¡¯s head, and that thought alone was hilarious to his inebriated mind. Sal imagined a titjob was almost like trying to fit a hot dog in a pair of queen-sized pillows and calling it a bun. Laughing aloud to himself, Dusty raised an eyebrow as Titan clicked her jaws, apparently trying to read the engineer¡¯s mind.

    ¡°Sal? You ok?¡± Dusty sounded genuinely concerned.

    ¡°Never better. Just thinkin¡¯ of something funny.¡±

    ¡°You know Sal, you¡¯ve done a lot in your life for only being twenty-seven, or so the records state.¡± Titan pipped in, a strange grin creeping in. Damn you, jumbo lady. Damn you and your big tits.

    ¡°Wha- hey! I¡¯ve been working on this wise mentor schick for a while with Dusty, man.¡± Sal bemoaned, genuinely surprised.

    ¡°Sir, you¡¯re only in your late twenties? I honestly thought you were like¡­ forty something.¡± Dusty shrugged awkwardly. Had Sal¡¯s little routine worked too well? He didn¡¯t look that old, did he?

    ¡°Hey! I¡¯ll have you know I have you know that just because I don¡¯t do all of Stannock¡¯s fancy routines doesn¡¯t make me that crusty, ok?¡± The thought of him trying on all of Stannock¡¯s creams and ending up with a similar poncy voice made him laugh again. With Sal still giggling like an idiot, Dusty and Titan sat drinking for a bit and doing some not so subtle touching of each other.

    Eventually, the young man broke the contact and spoke up. ¡°Sal, I was wondering about something?¡±

    ¡°Oh? Look, I¡¯m sure you two can make it fit or something like that, I don¡¯t need the details.¡±

    ¡°W-what? No, Sal! Its¡­¡± Dusty¡¯s face was flushed in an instant. It seems Sal¡¯s wild predictions may have been grounded in reality. ¡°It¡¯s nothing like that, sir. I was wondering about Marcus. I¡¯ve never got a clear answer from him and well¡­¡±

    Ah, something more serious. Sal wondered if Dusty was asking him this when he lacked his full faculties on purpose but would let it slide. The kid deserved to know.

    ¡°What about Marcus?¡±

    ¡°Well, we¡¯ve obviously chatted, and we get on well. I get on well with all the guys, now that I think about it. I know Stannock came from a colony planet, one with volcanos and stuff. That¡¯s why he¡¯s grey, right? And Xin came from being a pilot, and she¡¯s pretty up front with that. Abel¡¯s got his big family back on Titanlock and always has those stories he likes to tell. And you¡­ well¡­ I won¡¯t pry too much.¡± Dusty looked downwards.

    At that moment, Sal felt a pang of guilt. He was never upfront with his past to anyone. Even Abel knew not to dig too deep, lest Sal either lash out or lock up.

    ¡°But when it comes to Marcus¡¯ family, or life pre-H&H, he¡¯s always quiet. I know you talk with him now and then, and I don¡¯t want to go behind his back, but I still feel like if I know more, I can help him.¡±

    Sal considered for a moment. Dusty had been with the Torchers some time now, and had shown he did more than care about those around him. ¡°That¡¯s fair, kid. I¡¯ll let you in then.¡± Sal needed a drink before this. Well, another one at least.

    Downing his glass, Sal said, ¡°Marcus was born in CCH space like the rest of us, but it wasn¡¯t Titanlock or Vulcanis Two or even New Paris. He was born on Vacuole, some remote station playing around with experimental tech. Heard of it?¡±

    Dusty shook his head, and Titan leaned in. ¡°It was on the outer edge of CCH space, so security along that part of the border was weak. So weak in fact that Heaven¡¯s Doctrine went in and took it. The whole system.¡±

    ¡°But, what about Marcus then? Did he evacuate?¡± Dusty still had some hope in his eyes. Poor kid.

    Sal shook his head. ¡°No. That far out, the only FTL capable ships were still docked at the station when they came. And it wasn¡¯t one of the clans you can trade or bribe off. It was the Lengti clan. You must know that name, right?¡±

    This time, Dusty nodded. It was filled with knowing and crushed expectations for a somewhat happy ending. The Lengti were by far the most feared clan. In the mid-22<sup>nd</sup> century, they were both praised and dreaded for their advancements of cybernetic technology by producing medicine that stopped immune system rejection of augments. However, the means they went to for achieving such results was grave; it was reported that tens of thousands of prisoners, slaves and even regular workers under the clans were abducted and experimented on. Even the latest reports out of Titanlock said that the Lengti continued their inhumane tests, desperately looking for new advancements to raise their clan to greater heights.

    ¡°Marcus and his family were taken by them. I wish I could say they got off easy, or that they escaped to freedom safely. No. Marcus lost his whole family. Mother, father and sister all gone. Eventually, he got rescued from a slave ship by mercenaries from Tripwire. He got patched up by the doctors, but he¡¯s still got scars all over his back. Notice how one of his eyes is a slightly different shade from the other? One of them is artificial.¡±

    Sal had to admit to himself that for all his self-doubt and wallowing in pity, Marcus had been through a worse life than he. It didn¡¯t make him feel much better, though, and instead made him relate to Marcus more.

    ¡°Oh my god.¡± Dusty whispered. He sat quiet for a while. Dammit, Sal needed another drink.

    Titan spoke up. ¡°Salvador. Thank you for informing us. I appreciate your honesty. I won¡¯t remind Marcus about his past, that much is certain, but I hope we can make new happier memories with him.¡±

    Salvador mumbled in agreement. He went to stand to get another drink, anything alcoholic enough to make him feel numb, but instead slumped onto the table. Dusty and Titan shared a look, gave their farewells, and left. Sal, head on the table, saw that both of them had left their drinks behind and reached over to polish them off.

    <hr>

    Xeena had been kneeling for some time before the crowd of Cambiar that stood before her. She had seen this ceremony only once before, the Reward of Five Digits. For her displays of courage in the face of danger, and for going above and beyond in her work, she was to be given a compressed packet of efficient genetic code containing the enhancements of all castes. This was rarely done and was usually only given to Rexia so that they could carefully manage their fleets more effectively. In doing so, she would be able to adapt to any of the castes features much quicker and with greater ease than other Cambiar could from scratch.

    Now, surrounded by Cambiar with features some would describe as rather human, wearing clothes that did not match their limbs or size, she hoped to see similar ceremonies in the future. Given the command to rise, she faced both Rexia Rubicoss of the Out-Han and Rexia Protheus of the Ten-Tri. Though Rubicoss remained looking rather uninfluenced by humanity, his form still slim and wearing no clothes, Protheus had clearly taken on more masculine traits, sporting a strong chest, deeper voice and wicked grin. Rubicoss had spoken for a few minutes about the Out-Han¡¯s purpose, and how Xeena had furthered their collective goal with great courage.

    He concluded his speech. ¡°You have done well for your service, Xeena. I hope this reward serves you well in progressing the Out-Han¡­ and in your personal endeavours.¡±

    Despite his attempts to remain entirely unchanged by humanity, Rubicoss gave a weak smile, a hint of mankind¡¯s impact even on the most neutral of parties. Receiving the pink ball of fleshy material and placing in her digestive tendril, she accepted the reward and curtsied, bowing her head. Releasing the stance, the crowd cheered, some having discovered the newfound art of applause, and others using the standard teeth chattering to accentuate their emotions. The performance over, Rubicoss relaxed slightly. Xeena and the Rexia moved to the side as the crowd dissipated, spreading out over Fifth Spoke.

    ¡°Congratulations, youngling,¡± Rubicoss said. ¡°Though many in your position would have been unable to act, you made the bold decision, and you should be proud of it.¡±

    Protheus leaned on the wall, smirking. ¡°I too am impressed, kid. You did well. Very well. Tell me, if you¡¯ll forgive my curiosity ¨C what exactly did the weapon look like? Henry and Huell¡¯s command have been sparse with details, and I do hope they have no reason to distrust us.¡±

    ¡°Protheus, you ask too much!¡± Rubicoss turned to his fellow Rexia and clacked his teeth. ¡°The acts of humanity on one another should not be for us to interfere with. Zeentach had stated our policy on the matter. Even the Ten-Tri should know such things.¡± Though Rubicoss attempted to remain as passive as possible in his tone, an edge of peevishness still outlined their voice. Protheus clicked his tongue, or tendril as it were, and left the room.

    ¡°Apologies about that. He is just¡­ emotional recently, ever since he directly stepped in to assist with the initial housing of the humans. Ever since humanity has arrived, he has been in a strange state. Tell me, dear Xeena, how is the program going with your partner, the one you worked with to disarm the explosive device?¡±

    Trying to hide an instinctual blush, Xeena stammered, ¡°Oh, it¡¯s going good, great even! There¡¯s actually something I need to talk to him about.¡±

    Rubicoss studied her closely, nodding all the while. ¡°I see. It must be important. In that case, go with my blessing. Make not only Out-Han but yourself proud, my dear. May the stars be with you.¡±

    Nodding excitedly, Xeena made a move for the dock to Starheart. She hoped she had time to make the adaptions she had been preparing in the background before she got to Sal.

    After making her way through Fifth Spoke¡¯s varied environments of both humanity¡¯s past and Cambiar¡¯s present styles, she skittered across the umbilical to Starheart. Doing her best to keep her head tendrils straight and making sure she had gotten the soft texture on her arms and hands correct. Men liked elbow length gloves, right? That was what one of the dozens of magazines Xin had given her said. Even so, it was difficult to convince her body to make her clawtips soft, and left them as is, making a mental note to be careful with them.

    The black dress she had switched to prior to the Reward of Five Digits clung tight to her body, hoping to show off her new humanly figure. The difference in legs and presence of a tail had made that more difficult than she expected, but some tailoring assistance from her friends in the manufacturing sector had fixed the wardrobe malfunction. Tension growing in her limbs, she entered the bar of O¡¯Malley¡¯s. She couldn¡¯t say she was impressed in the traditional sense with Starheart¡¯s aesthetics, but it was nevertheless incredibly interesting to see how humanity had designed their ship without the use of biologically processed materials.

    As she entered, a few drunken crewmates recognized her and let out a cheer. Scanning the room, she found her target, slumped over a table. Thinking she might have missed her chance, she dashed forward. Thankfully, her movements stirred Sal awake, his chestnut hair falling across his face. She adored the way it curled around the sides of his head, like the mane of a lion that she¡¯d seen on archives. The smell of alcohol was ripe on his breath, and his eyes were unfocused. Yet, he looked up at her, smiling.

    ¡°Hey Xeena. How was your¡­ uh¡­ thing?¡± Sal slurred. Xeena slid next to him and watched the way his eyes scanned her body for a brief moment before darting back up, pretending to be stealthy. Had this been a sober Sal, he likely would¡¯ve had more control over his leering, but Xeena was perhaps in luck.

    ¡°It was great, really nice. Got to see some of my juvenile-kin, my siblings from the smaller ships, so that was nice. Seems a lot of the Cambiar are taking a fancy to human looks.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s grand,¡± He giggled slightly. Another glance at her chest. Bingo. Or jackpot, whatever one fit the situation better.

    ¡°So, Sal¡­ I¡¯ve been thinking a lot recently. About¡­ what humanity is like, what it brought to us.¡±

    ¡°Uh huh?¡±

    ¡°And, well, I think they¡¯ve brought a lot of great things, to me at least. Things like culture, humour, entertainment that wasn¡¯t sitting on a ledge in a dark room, things like that.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that was kinda boring,¡± Sal hiccupped as he seemed to reminisce on their chat in the central chamber. ¡°Sorry, that¡¯s kind of rude.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not. Those things are boring, my life¡­ was boring. Before you, I mean.¡± Xeena rubbed her head. Damnit, how did she plan to say it?

    ¡°Sal, what I want to say is, you¡¯ve made my life matter. A lot. I know we haven¡¯t - I haven¡¯t - been easy to be around, especially early on. And I know some people think we might just be copying humanity but¡­ what I feel is real. I know that. And, well, I want to say something.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡± Sal was practically nodding off. Damn, quickly!

    ¡°Sal¡­ I¡­ I think I love you. I want to be with you. For a long time. In a human way. Ok?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± Sal¡¯s eyes were bleary. Ok, fine. She could redo this part when he was conscious. For now, it was the payoff.

    ¡°Sal, even if you don¡¯t remember what I said, I want you to remember this. I read that humans can remember feelings much stronger than words, if the sensation is right.¡±

    Xeena reached over and gently grasped one of Sal¡¯s rough hands. Feeling his skin beneath her claws, outlining his nails and knuckles, she brought it closer to her.

    ¡°And well, I don¡¯t think this counts as groping on my part, if I¡¯m the one being touched.¡±

    She brought his hand to her breast and curled his fingers around her. The touch of his hand, something she had long wanted more of than a poke or a hug, filled her with a deep warmth of satisfaction. Giving another squeeze using his digits, nipple hard in his palm, she checked his reaction. She had spent a long time on research materials to get the feel and size right. Apparently ¡®bags full of coins¡¯ was not the right choice, as she had figured out during experimentation. Sal¡¯s eyes were closed, and a grin of pleasure was clear. Did Xin feel as good as her when they shared their moment together? Xeena had made the effort to swell the size of her own pair, feeling jealous about Xin¡¯s in hindsight. He leaned forward, towards her, driven by instinctual feelings and¡­

    Slumped forward, planting his face on the table, unconscious. Oh. Well, that was bound to happen at some point. Still, she got a bit of what she wanted, even if he wouldn¡¯t remember it. She leant down, released his fading grip on her breasts, and sprawled out on her hands as she stared at his sleeping form. She sighed heavily, wondering how much more difficult this would be when Sal conscious. Gently, she poked him on the nose.

    ¡°Sweet dreams, Sal.¡±

 Chapter 18: Clouds In The Distance

    Sal awoke with a head that was melting from the inside out. More than anything he did the previous day, including running off to stop a bomb, he regretted drinking so much. He crawled out of bed, desperate to get some water in his system, and was slightly confused to find he was back on Fifth Spoke. He swore he had fallen asleep at O¡¯Malley¡¯s, so why was he back on the Cambiar ship? Problems for later. Now, he just wanted to stop the radiating waves of agony.

    Staggering, Sal made his way into the kitchen area of the lounge room and prepared his typical hangover cure of chocolate milk, or anything close to milk, fried eggs, breath mints, and a fistful of painkillers. As he was busy splitting the yolk of an egg, clicking his teeth in frustration, Xin walked out of her room with tangled nest of hair, half naked. An immediate, worrying thought gripped Sal, even if he had woken in the next room over.

    ¡°Uh, hey Xin. I can¡¯t remember much of last night. Did.. did we¡­?¡±

    ¡°Nah, not this time. Last night was Ace.¡±

    A drained, husk of a Cambiar slid out from the door in Xin¡¯s room, barely alive. He looked like Sal¡¯s head felt.

    ¡°Salvador¡­ help me¡­¡± the alien wheezed out. ¡°She¡¯s too much¡­ I thought it was meant to be fun. I think she¡¯s a succubus.¡± Well, that answered one question in Sal¡¯s mind. Guess humans and Cambiar could bang¡­ somehow.

    ¡°Ah shush your complaining. You¡¯ll be fine.¡± Xin already had her sunglasses on. What kind of woman had sex with sunglasses on? Oh right, Xin did. ¡°So, I got my fun last night. How was little Xeena?¡±

    ¡°Xeena? She was at O¡¯Malley¡¯s?¡± Sal vaguely remembered talking to a lot of people, especially Dusty about something. Afterwards, someone had brought something soft for him to pet or squeeze? Was it that pet rat he had heard about? Either way, he remembered giving something a nice feel. Oh god, maybe it was Abel messing with him in some way. He shuddered at the potential diabolical pranks his friend might have done with an unconscious Sal.

    ¡°Right, you conked out before she arrived, I think. She and Abel dragged you back here.¡± She seemed happy about her little ceremony, had a big grin the whole way back.¡±

    Sal continued making his hangover cure as he asked, ¡°So, last night went well? Nothing too crazy?¡±

    Xin gave a look over her shoulder at Ace who had collapsed on the couch. Shrugging, she said ¡°Guess so. Only a few people needed to go to the medbay. On the alien side, the Cambiar ran some tests this morning on the salvaged S-Drive from Ruby Eye but they said it was fine. Oh, apparently Titus and Curtin had a big shouting match this morning, watch this.¡±

    She slid over to the kitchen counter and passed her comm-device along. Sal saw a video playing and watched as he dished up his eggs. The video was recorded halfway through a conversation, or argument as it appeared, and seemed to be filmed in one of the officers rooms the Cambiar had modelled after Starheart¡¯s.

    ¡°-no you listen to me you useless prick! This is treason! I have more than enough reason to declare you a traitor and killed on the spot! So, who are you working for huh? Doctrine? GaltCorp? Or, let me guess, Paradise? I bet you would fit in there nicely, Fornax.¡± Curtin was in the centre of the room, bellowing at a steadfast Titus, gloved hands behind his back.

    ¡°Sir, I would be happy to explain if you would-¡° Titus tried to speak but was cut off.

    ¡°Explain? Oh, I am sure my troops here would be happy to explain to you with their pistols.¡± Despite his bluster, everyone else in the room, from lowly managers to deputy heads of departments all looked concerned and uncertain. Even Curtin¡¯s own bodyguards stood off to the side, some rubbing their necks in embarrassment.

    Sighing, Titus attempted to continue. ¡°Sir. I will make myself clear then. I am not working for any of Henry and Huell¡¯s rivals. I serve the CCH and all their people with the upmost of my abilities. However, based on the contents of the messages you wish to send back to headquarters, I cannot sit back and let them go through without informing the crew. Those were my terms from the beg-¡°

    ¡°Terms?! You dare speak of terms on my ship?¡± It took Curtin a moment to remember they were not on Starheart. Clearing his throat, he said ¡°I am commanding leader here. My word is to be followed, no ifs, ands, or buts. And here you stand, directly stating that you disobeyed me directly. How can you not call yourself a traitor?¡±

    As if a dam had burst, Sal saw rage in Titus¡¯ eyes. ¡°I am not a traitor! I will never act against humanity and our people. However, begging H&H to bring all their military forces with orders to fire on any unidentifiable ships in this system, which, if you are using your brain, directly targets the Out-Han fleet, is beyond madness! You are damning all the CCH to war with the Cambiar for no reason! So yes, I did delay those messages, for the sake of our people, and to prevent even more deaths. I have sent messages for assistance back, but not the sort you want, Curtin.¡± Acid rolled off his tongue. It was hard to make out, but Sal could see Titus flexing a gloved fist behind his back.

    People around the room murmured and whispered amongst one another. If the news was true, it had obviously unsettled many of them. The people of Starheart were generally devoted to the company, but only to a point. Suicidal actions leading to interspecies war was likely a bridge too far for many. Curtin saw the response and howled.

    ¡°Silence! I will have order. As Chief Executive Captain, I hereby strip Titus Fornax of all roles and ranks within Henry and Huell Incorporated, effective immediately. If anyone wishes to join him, be my guest.¡± Silence crushed the room. Almost satisfied, Titus readjusted his glasses, turned and strolled out of the room. The video ended.

    ¡°Whoa. Well, didn¡¯t expect that.¡± Xin lit up a vapour cigarette, twirling the end in her lips. Quietly, Ace moaned from the couch. The rush of news did little to help is headache, but the chocolate milk was good enough to file the edge off the pain. Some of Titus¡¯ previous conversations made a little more sense in hindsight. And as for the Captain? Curtin had never seemed the sort to find the Cambiar entirely fantastic, but to attempt to trigger a war with them? That sounded absurd, but he had made no attempt to deny his actions.

    ¡°Has the Captain said anything since?¡± Sal wiped a chocolate moustache off his actual moustache.

    ¡°Nope, radio channels have all been quiet. Titus sent some messages out before he got stripped from the system, something about expected arrival times from the company.¡±

    Xin was flicking through some photos, which Sal quickly realized were rather indecent snapshots of her previous night and looked away. Eating his eggs, he found that indeed he had been messaged by Titus. It was a simple message ¨C ¡®Tomorrow at noon, evacuation fleet. Be ready for anything.¡¯

    The ominous message was not lost on Sal, yet the timeframe was what tightened his gut. Tomorrow. He had little time to prepare for H&H¡¯s arrival, far less than he expected. Frankly, H&H should have arrived long before if Titus hadn¡¯t been fixing the messages for Curtin. Perhaps he was trying to arrange something before then? Sal hoped he would get the chance to speak to him in time. He tried to reply back to the message, but Titus had already been deleted from the H&H comm system, and it simply resulted in an error. Pushing his plate away, head pulsing with every heartbeat, Sal considered his next options. Thankfully, it would seem that destruction at the hands of Curtin had been averted, but the arrival of H&H was inevitable. He needed a walk. Getting ready and sliding his jacket on, he left both the drained Cambiar and a rather proud of herself Xin to their business.

    Salvador wandered the halls of Fifth Spoke, taking in the ship¡¯s atmosphere. Much had changed from his first arrival, yet the light scent of lavender was still carried in the air. He passed the workshops, with Onusian workers fabricating materials which resembled those of human usage, such as panels of wood and cotton clothes, but with tools and organs that certainly of Cambiar origin. Many had a half dozen additional limbs cutting, sawing and spinning constantly. As he walked by, a few took notice and waved but many more were absorbed in their work. Marching onwards, he ascended in an elevator, complete with aggravating muzak playing, to reach a library of sorts. Hoping to avoid his own questions and past, he went searching in the Cambiar¡¯s instead. Unlike most of the ship, this area was not converted into a human style, and retained the black-green lumpy surfaces of the original Fifth Spoke design.

    He had never been much of a scholar, mostly getting the information he needed from word of mouth, with the exception being his mechanical studies. The small receptionist at the front desk was a bit confused when he asked for a Cambiar book of history, but acquiesced. It was a thin thing, barely a finger-span wide for nearly a thousand years of history. The pages were made of a skin-like material, an odd texture in his hands. The outer bindings were sealed with a thick chitin. With some weight, it made a heavy sound when placed on the table that appeared to have grown out from the wall. Though its contents were, thankfully, not of the topic, the biological nature of the book reminded Salvador of some sort of evil Necronomicon.

    Even with a relatively small size, the first half was made up almost all the long history of the Cambiar. It consisted of dry descriptions of colonisations of planets and the construction of various space stations. Sal found the scale fascinating, with hundreds of star systems settled upon by the ancient Cambiar empire, for no other reason than to expand. No mention of arts, culture, or any sort of emotive response to their existence was mentioned ¨C just the instinctual need to produce more of the species and spread out. The second half of the book recounted the events following The Great Awakening and detailed a turbulent period of self-discovery. The book had been written by Out-Han scholars and mostly followed their discoveries at this time, with a small conflict between the Ten-Tri and some other faction being the only form of any conflict noted. One point of interest was that, based on the numbers in the book, the fleet in New Horizon was barely the tip of their forces. Across their sliver of the Cambiar empire, they had navies that dwarfed the total amount of ships of any human faction. Between the split up fragments of the old Cambiar empire, the number must have been astronomical.

    Sal was broken from his studies as a clicking, mechanical sound alerted him to a new presence. Looking up, he saw Keeper Thomas. Though much of his frame remained the same, a distinct change took Sal by surprise. His blank face plate, previously only made up of four horizontal grates, had been replaced with an almost human face, made of separate sliding components. Standing proudly before Sal, hands on his hips, Thomas smiled softly.

    ¡°Hello there, Salvador. What do you think?¡± Thomas whispered, reminding Sal he was in a library.

    Sal replied in a similar whisper, ¡°It looks good, Thomas. The Cambiar made you that?¡± Thomas nodded. ¡°How are you doing since our last talk?¡±.

    ¡°Well. Very well in fact. Aside from the whole bomb situation, which I must thank you for dealing with. I was afraid of losing Starheart, both sentimentally and for my current plan.¡±

    ¡°Current plan?¡± Sal questioningly stared at him.

    ¡°You see, now that my restrictions have been lifted, fully thanks to the Cambiar doctors, plus a bit of help from Michaels, I have been investigating the S-Drive some more.¡±

    Sal was concerned he was going to talk more about what the Keeper saw in Sal¡¯s mind during the jump, but Thomas raised his hands in appeasement. ¡°Ah, don¡¯t worry about that, I won¡¯t speak of the incident. What I am most interested by is the readings from the engines. As you know, Ruby Eye¡¯s main fusion and S-Engine was placed on Fifth Spoke following the vessel¡¯s destruction. This allowed me to make some investigations of my own.¡±

    ¡°Off the books, I take it? Has Curtin taken notice of your situation?¡±

    ¡°Ah, not yet. I think he has bigger fish to fry, so to speak. Titus¡¯ argument and message is causing some serious disorder across the fleet at this moment. So, whilst I am working against H&H policy, I think no one will care for now. What I found was that the emissions of both Starheart and Ruby Eye¡¯s S-Drives are normally absorbed completely by their shielding. This stops it from randomly collapsing the waveforms of everything around it. That would be rather bad if you couldn¡¯t tell.¡±

    ¡°Naturally. Go on.¡±

    ¡°Well, occasionally, a rare wave was emitted from the drives. This emission is far different from the normal one harnessed to transport our ships around. I believe that when this other type is emitted, and a specific QIS pattern is affected, it results in the strange effects we had during the last jump. This was a hunch, and likely incredibly rare, requiring specific people and all, but curious nonetheless.¡±

    ¡°Huh, interesting. So, me and Michaels were the only ones who had the strange vision?¡±

    Thomas shook his head. ¡°Not exactly. Some others had it, but in nowhere near the detail. Their Keepers only saw a fraction of what I saw with you two. What I wanted to know was whether this oddity was related to only our ships drives or every S-Engine that exists. I found by comparing both Starheart¡¯s and Ruby Eye¡¯s Schrodinger engines that both naturally emitted these rare waves at a low but consistent rate. If properly directed, I am certain it could be used to test this strange reaction.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s rather odd, but what does it mean?¡±

    Thomas faked clearing his throat, preparing himself. Spreading his arms wide, he declared, ¡°No idea. I have no clue at the moment. But, interesting to think about, isn¡¯t it? So far, I¡¯ve only told Michaels and another Keeper who I convinced to break his restrictions. They seem to agree with my early ideas, but neither are sure what it means yet.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, me neither. Sorry, but physics isn¡¯t my field of expertise. If you find this interaction only works with people who can fix things, mechanical or biological, then I guess you¡¯ve found your men. Otherwise, I¡¯m as lost as you.¡± Sal threw his arms up.

    ¡°So, freaky visions aside, what do you think about H&H coming tomorrow?¡±

    A grating sigh left Thomas. ¡°It is¡­ difficult to say I welcome them with joy. Thankfully, due to Titus, we have reduced the risk of an immediate war taking place, but I am still cautious about the future. There is the potential risk that the arrival of H&H will lead to the stowed away infiltrators attacking. Even if that is not the case, I worry that H&H will attempt to force us to go with them, the Keepers that is. I will stand my ground as much as possible. The Out-Han seem happy enough to let me stay with them and have implied they will hide me if possible. But what about you Sal? Will you go with them?¡±

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    An unspoken question lingered in the air. Would Sal tell H&H about Thomas, and this other Keeper he had solicited?

    Sal answered back, ¡°Your secret is safe with my, Thomas, no matter what. As for going back¡­¡±

    The answer seemed obvious. Why would he? What was waiting back on Titanlock for Salvador Vigino? Some crappy, mid-class life that he had idealized from a place of insecurity about his self-worth? Despite the idiocy of entertaining the idea, a dark cloud in his mind told him something simple that had wormed in over the years, burrowing deeper into his cortex ¨C Sal didn¡¯t deserve a better life with the Cambiar. Being crushed under the weight of isolation would suit a man like him better.

    Thomas read his indecision and eased off. ¡°I understand. It¡¯s not an easy choice. Nevertheless, I hope you can spend the rest of your time with the Cambiar in good spirits. You deserve that much, Sal.¡± With that Thomas left to his research.

    Part of Sal wanted to believe Thomas¡¯ words.

    <hr>

    Xeena had gotten Sal to touch her. Well, in a sense, and likely in a way that would raise some eyebrows about consent, but if no one knew, no one was hurt right? Justifying her own actions, Xeena walked with a swing in her step as she made her way to Sal¡¯s dormitory. Having switched out her dress for something more casual, she was looking forward to seeing him. She would do it, she would say to Sal, loud and clear that she, Xeena¡­ hmm. Surname, that was something she had forgotten. She¡¯d spent so long thinking of a regular name, and in the end just sounded out the G from her designation and added a ¡®na¡¯ at the end but had forgotten the surname. Ah hell, humans took each other¡¯s surnames, so why couldn¡¯t she take up Vigino? That seemed fine.

    Wait, didn¡¯t humans have to get married for that first? As she reflected about the potential consequences of a human-Cambiar marriage, she entered the dormitory and saw Ace lying on the sofa, motionless, as Xin browsed her comm-device.

    ¡°Xin! It¡¯s Ace, is he ok? He looks in rough shape.¡± Xeena was panicking. Was Xin that oblivious to her partner¡¯s plight?

    ¡°Nope, not dead. Just dying.¡± A gravely wheeze escaped the limp Cambiar. ¡°Still alive for now. Somehow.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind him. He¡¯s just being a sore loser.¡± Xin said.  She was sipping on her energy drink and flexing a bicep, admiring her own form. ¡°Couldn¡¯t stand a bit of power fucking.¡±

    ¡°You can say the ¡®sore¡¯ part again. Cambiar don¡¯t even have bones, and I feel like my non-existent pelvis is broken.¡± Ace looked towards Xeena and weakly held out an outstretched hand. ¡°Xeena, don¡¯t fall for their lies. Humans are foul, foul monsters. They just drain you over and over.¡± He took a moment to evaluate Xeena¡¯s form. ¡°Or I guess, pump you full in your case. Sal hasn¡¯t stuffed you yet, has he?¡±

    ¡°Ace, no! Well, not yet. Maybe soon!¡± Xeena sheepishly admitted.

    Xin let out a whoop as she cracked open one more energy drink, adding another empty can to the ever-growing pile next to the overflowing kitchen bin. Considering how the entire race of Cambiar had acted so far as generous hosts, Xin¡¯s slob-like behaviour beginning to grind on even Xeena¡¯s nerves. Was this what the rest of the Torchers had to deal with? Regardless, she hadn¡¯t seen any sign of Sal yet. When she asked the duo, they declared their lack of knowledge. As she was preparing to leave, another pair entered the dormitory.

    Dusty and Titan came in practically entangled. Titan had an arm around Marcus¡¯ shoulders and was currently sticking her digestive tendril down his throat in a forceful recreation of a kiss. Drawing a few stares, they eventually disconnected.

    ¡°Titan, what did I say about PDA?¡± Dusty breathed out, panting.

    ¡°Sorry. I wanted to show them we weren¡¯t missing out, Puppy.¡± Titan growled, doing her best to shove the young man¡¯s head between her titanic breasts as she stood behind him. Wait, was she technically naked? Xeena wasn¡¯t sure. The carapace with rather nipple-like points might count as clothes, but probably not.

    Well, that answered that. It seems everyone was getting busy with the Cambiar, which only enthused Xeena more. Well, everyone apart from Abel, but that was different. Stannock was almost certainly messing around with Big S, though the idea of someone having intercourse with a body double of themselves still felt bizarre, even to a Cambiar.

    ¡°Um, hey guys. Seen Sal this morning?¡± Xeena asked the new duo awkwardly.

    ¡°Hmm. I think Abel said he saw him going to Starheart. Maybe our dorm over there?¡± Dusty sounded rather tired. Not as bad as Ace, but significantly drained. The light hobble he had reinforced Xeena¡¯s growing hypothesis that all sentient species capable of sex, hell even the Cambiar had overcome that hurdle, were all horndogs. In the case of Titan, the size difference didn¡¯t seem to have stopped them. How the hell did the two of them even¡­

    Xeena¡¯s mind was getting off topic quickly. She left the dormitory, with Titan¡¯s grinding indicating she wanted more from the young man, and headed for Starheart. True to his word, Xeena found Abel and Pippa resting by an ice cream stand, with the Cambiar behind the cart even wearing a silly little hat. Waving Xeena over, she grabbed an ice cream to match the pair who had devoured their own. Hers was strawberry, her favourite flavour since she had first sampled human cuisine.

    ¡°Hello sister, how goes your morning? I didn¡¯t see you last night, so I hope your celebration went well?¡± Abel was sitting on a bench, hands behind his head as he relaxed in pure bliss.

    ¡°Thank you, Abel! Yes, it went very well.¡±

    Xeena could already feel the code she¡¯d ingested being processed by her body. If she wanted, she could start growing any of the castes¡¯ specialized structures in mere days, possibly hours if she forced it. Xeena couldn¡¯t help but feel that there were some gaps between many of the XNA structures she was processing for developing new organs or parts. They could still be made with enough compressed biological material, material she had been saving up for months until she decided what caste she wanted to try, but the actual construction and growth of the parts would always take some time, time she wished she could shave off. Only then would she be able to scare Sal like when he showed her ¡®The Thing¡¯. That asshole. Wait and see how much he would like it when she opened a chest mouth or something. He¡¯d the one owing her lunch. Or¡­ something else as a favour.

    Realizing she¡¯d spaced out; she found Abel gently waving a hand in front of her eyes.

    ¡°Anyone home?¡± He said, his Caribbean accent think with concern.

    ¡°Sorry, just thinking. Big day tomorrow.¡± H&H¡¯s response fleet was not far away.

    ¡°Yeah man. Big day. I¡¯m not sure what¡¯s going to happen.¡± Abel looked at Pippa who was oblivious to the discussion and still snacking on the waffle cone. ¡°I want to stay. I think it¡¯s fair to speak for all of the Torchers when I say that. If the Out-Han would let us, that is.¡±

    Xeena was almost certain of what the Rexias¡¯ views on their human visitors would be but nodded vigorously regardless. She wanted the humans to stay, needed them. Without them, Cambiar life and culture would remain as stagnant as it had been before Sal¡¯s arrival. Work, sleep, work, sleep. That wasn¡¯t a life, it was a job. A job that never ended. Having humanity with them, though? That was what was necessary for the Cambiar to truly grow and develop. To try and experiment, for both good and bad. Either that, or they could keep some humans as willing ¡®slaves¡¯ if H&H refused to give up their contracts. Eh, Dusty didn¡¯t look like he had much of a choice in the matter.

    ¡°I think we¡¯d like that. I certainly would. Say Abel, I heard Sal went back to Starheart, maybe to your dorm. Did he say anything on the way past?¡±

    ¡°Uh yeah. Said he wanted to be alone for a while. That being said, I¡¯ve known Sal for a long time. There are times when he genuinely wants to a mopey molly, and this ain¡¯t one of them. I think if you want to see, then go for it. It would probably do him some good.¡±

    Determined more than ever, Xeena finished her treat and headed for the docking ports.

    Yelling over his shoulder and catching some stares from passersby, Abel shouted ¡°Tell him to use a condom!¡±

    Xeena couldn¡¯t help but giggle as she crossed the boundary into Starheart. It was time.

    <hr>

    Sal entered the Torchers dorm for the first time in weeks. It was¡­ peculiar. The air was stale, as the ship had only recently had its ventilation fully running. Walking across the stained carpet, Sal looked across the various posters Dusty had arranged, Stannock¡¯s little makeup counter in the corner, the full-length mirror Xin used to plan out new tattoos, and the well-used dartboard with dented wiring. Reminiscing on the night he won against Marcus, Sal threw a couple darts for fun. Being on Fifth Spoke had messed with his sense of gravity, and all his shots went low.

    Pushing through his apprehension and kicking one of Xin¡¯s stupid energy drink cans out of the way, Sal entered his bedroom and flicked the lights on. Everything was as he left it the morning his alarm clock was tampered with; an idea that made him smile. Having been sleeping since becoming a guest of the Cambiar, Sal had drifted away from using his alarm, and the idea of waking up at his old routine now felt a bit offensive.

    He passed his small desk of potential financial schemes he had planned if he went back to Titanlock, should the expedition not have found anything in New Horizon, and stiffened as a wave of nausea rippled across his body. Was it the part of himself that had been enjoying life with the aliens revolting in disgust against his previous, self-centred schemes? Turning away, he brushed the papers into a drawer and closed it shut.

    He came to the real reason he had come back. His bed laid perfectly prepared, as he liked it, as Sal reached underneath to pull his black trunk out. A small strip of paper, almost invisible to see without directly looking for it, was still wedged in the previous position since last time. It hadn¡¯t been opened, of course not. Yet, Sal felt the need to keep it locked and hidden, like a stain covered up by a photograph.

    As he reached to unlock it, he heard a disturbance in the room behind him. Sal feared that since he stumbled upon the goreskins during Ruby Eye¡¯s investigation that whatever traitors were lurking amongst the crew would come after him. Disarming the last bomb on Starheart didn¡¯t help his paranoia either. Reaching for a weapon from within his jacket, he approached his door. Swining it open, and grasping at the screwdriv¨C the missing goddamn screwdriver he forgot to replace, damn it, damn it!

    Instead of some corporate assassin, Doctrine cyborg ninja or, worst case scenario, a naked Stannock admiring himself in the full length mirror, it was Xeena. Phew. She was a little startled at him leaping out the door, but they quickly relaxed

    ¡°Oh hey, Xeena, good to see you.¡± He said, doing his best to appear natural and failing. He¡¯d told Abel he wanted some time alone, but soon felt he couldn¡¯t fault the Cambiar¡¯s good nature. ¡°How are you doing? Sorry I didn¡¯t see you last night after your celebration, I stupidly drunk too much.¡±

    ¡°P-please don¡¯t worry Sal, it was all good! I just¡­ wanted to see you. Make sure you are all ok.¡±

    Sal sat on the tatty couch, now tainted in his mind by Marcus¡¯ previous comments, and invited Xeena to sit on the not-quite so trashed armchair next to it.

    ¡°I¡¯m good. I think. Still a bit rattled by the whole sudden bomb defusal yesterday, but I don¡¯t think anyone could blame us feeling that way, right?¡±

    ¡°I would say that¡¯s a relatively normal reaction to a life or death situation. We did well, didn¡¯t we?¡±

    ¡°Hell yeah. I certainly couldn¡¯t have done it without you. In a way, you saved my life as much as the crew say we saved theirs.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Surely a deserve a reward for such courage, such bravery?¡± Xeena struck an exaggerated pose, flexing a bicep that didn¡¯t even exist as a muscle group on the alien.

    ¡°Hmm, how to reward you?¡± Sal softly mused aloud. ¡°I don¡¯t think any more movies would be good for your heart so that¡¯s off the table¡­¡±

    ¡°I can watch movies! Just no more horror flicks! You just seem to love watching those.¡±

    ¡°What I love is watching you react to them. It¡¯s great seeing you squirm.¡±

    ¡°Well maybe, we can work something out. A schedule of movies with and without squirm expectations perhaps?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯d be fun.¡± Thinking about the future and spending more time with Xeena opened Sal¡¯s mind back up to the thought of H&H arriving tomorrow. Even as he tried to force a cheerful expression, it fell from his face instantly. No fa?ade could hide the apprehension, the burning fear inside.

    ¡°Sal? What¡¯s wrong? You look sick.¡±

    Sal met her eyes, dozens of small black marbles dancing behind her visor. ¡°Xeena, how much do you think the past creates the future? Are we making our own lives, or following the one our past selves made?¡±

    ¡°What makes you bring this up? Is it¡­ H&H coming tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. That. I¡¯m just¡­ Look, this is going to sound strange, but I went to the library. I didn¡¯t even know what I wanted to read, but I found a book on Cambiar history. For the first half it was a list of everywhere the old Cambiar empire spread, just a boring checklist. The second half was mostly people being confused and trying to find themselves. It made me think. The Cambiar have so much potential, so much they can do. But what about humanity, Xeena? What about people like me?¡± Sal¡¯s face twisted in hurt.

    ¡°I think everyone can make a good future for themselves, Sal. Especially someone like you. I used to think that I was searching blindly in the galaxy for something that might not be there, but I still searched despite the odds. And I found humanity. I found you. Why, Sal, why do you feel this way? Can I help?¡±

    Sal had unconsciously been gripping his hands together. He released them, the tension sore along his fingers, and let them hang loose. Could he open up this crack to her? He¡¯d sealed it shut whenever anyone asked, even Abel. He believed it would be easier to try and fill it in, but perhaps it showed signs of greater damage, and needed to be pried open before it could be rebuilt.

    ¡°Xeena, do you mind if I show you something?¡±

    ¡°Of course, Sal.¡± No wonder she was fine with it; he was the one being mopey.

    With an audience, he had newfound strength to pull the case fully out from under his bed and brought it into the main room. Hands steady, he unlocked the padlock from the clasp and swung the lip open. Within sat a single item.

    It was of koa wood, grains soft and sweeping across its length. The rich, almost golden colour gave it an almost ethereal feel to Sal, something that should be seen and not touched. The strings were on the older side and hadn¡¯t been replaced since he had locked the trunk, all the way back on Titanlock. The more he had looked at it as time went on, the more it felt like his hands would sully its essence, his weak heart spilling over into its form. Lightly adjusting the tuning, it was ready. He held it out for Xeena to hold.

    His father¡¯s guitar.

    It was the last thing he had from anyone in his family, and the only thing of worth his father had made, Sal included. As such, the more he used and tweaked it, the more he felt it rot before his very eyes. Xeena gently took it from his and admired the woodwork. Stroking the strings, she seemed to appreciate the feel beneath her claws. She went to give a strum but stopped herself short. Sal nodded, pushing her on, and she played a few simple chords. In her hands, they sounded perfect. Passing it back, he held in his lap, and adjusted his hands. Could he play it again? After so long? After what he had tried so desperately to bury had begun to consume him from within?

    The only thing that could convince him was remembering his father¡¯s words.

    ¡®Don¡¯t try to force it. Let the guitar become comfortable, and let the song come to you, when you are ready.¡¯

    After a couple breaths, the song found Sal. He played the song he knew best, an instrumental tune from Earth, passed from father to son until it reached Sal. The name had been lost, but the notes were clear and strong. The introduction was gentle, easy, almost imperceptible to someone not paying attention. However, the intensity grew, filling Sal¡¯s body. The tempo quickened, notes light but separated by deep, strong strums after every few bars. Once the tempo peaked, Sal had to maintain it. Even as he played with full concentration, he made the occasional mistake, the sound breaking the flow ever so slightly. Yet, unlike his past, the song continued onwards, unabated by previous failures. A pause midway through the song gave Sal the time he needed to focus on the last part. The notes decreased in pitch, accentuated by taps on the guitar¡¯s body, growing in strength until the thumps became a backing for the chords.

    Sal reached the conclusion of the song and let the final notes ring out. The strings slowed, stopped, and the music was silenced. Breathing slowly, Sal considered placing back in the case, as he had every time he had finished the song ¨C better to keep it out of view so he could no longer corrupt it. However, he instead decided to place on side, facing the door. For now, it could stay out, out in the light.

    When he returned to his seat, he felt unburdened, as he always did after his mostly bi-annual performances to an audience of himself. That would ease the weight, at least for a while. Eventually, the silence had to be broken.

    ¡°Sal. That was beautiful.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, but I can¡¯t make anything that beautiful, however. You can thank my father and his father for that song.¡±

    Xeena gauged him for a moment, almost calculating the right words to say. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you say that without you, the song would never continue to exist, even if he first made it? Or taught you it, I suppose. That song sounds old.¡±

    ¡°I guess.¡±

    They sat in silence for a while. Sal looked down, unable to face Xeena. The cork was half-cocked; the guitar had made sure of that. He just needed the next step.

    ¡°Salvador, do you want to talk about it? About your past? I can see it¡¯s eating you away.¡±

    Looking up, he couldn¡¯t resist the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯ll hurt, you know. I¡¯ve never said the words aloud before.¡± Sal desperately hoped she would relent, leave the past to lie unknown.

    ¡°I know, Sal. A lot of things hurt. Sometimes we have to go through pain before things get better. If it really stings, we can stop. Try and continue later, ok?¡±

    Sal knew there might not be a chance for later. Henry and Huell had made sure of that. Damned Titus, if only he could hold their arrival a few days more, then he could forestall this unwanted, but definitely needed, freeing of his soul.

    ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll tell you.¡± Sal slowly slipped off his jacket and lifted his shirt. He never liked displaying his chest around others. Revealing himself fully, and willingly this time, to Xeena he displayed the crisscross of various scars across his chest, a wide, split across the chest from shoulder to hip displayed unpleasantly clear.

    And Sal spoke the words.

 Chapter 19: Saturn Devouring His Self

    17 Years Before

    Salvador Vigino was excited to see the new station he and his family were going to live on. Merlin had been wild, vibrant and full of nice families, but had always been small. Even at a slow pace for his age, Salvador had been able to walk from one side to the other in less than twenty minutes. Titanlock, however, was meant to be huge. He could walk around the streets and roads for hours and still not reach the end. His father had told him that in some areas, you could look up and see the ceiling so far up that it would take multiple Merlins to reach the top. Though Salvador was excited, waiting in the shuttle seating, his parents weren¡¯t as enthused.

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you that running here won¡¯t escape your problems, Marsale.¡± His father intoned, his deep voice a lion¡¯s growl. Salvador wished he had a voice like than when he was older.

    ¡°Oh, and what would you have us do Angelo? Just tell GaltCorp that we were super sorry about that cargo shipment we lost? You¡¯re to blame as much as me. Fuck off.¡±

    ¡°I would tell them it wasn¡¯t we who lost it. It was you. You try to make it out that every problem, every issue is somehow everyone else¡¯s fault, but when things go well, it was a solo effort, that you did it all by yourself.¡±

    Salvador didn¡¯t like it when his parents argued. Sometimes he would sit and watch movies on his dad¡¯s old computer to pass the time. Here, he was stuck listening to it and tried to pretend he wasn¡¯t happening.

    He considered talking to Citra, his younger sister, but she had been grumpy with him since he accidently broke her toy. Salvador had tried to apologize, but when she acted like she didn¡¯t care about making up with him, he decided wouldn¡¯t bother, not for a while at least. The shuttle stopped and they unclipped.

    ¡°Well, here we are kids. Our new home.¡± His dad turned and flashed a wide smile.

    ¡°Yes, you can thank your father for it. Hope you like tight living and smoggy air.¡±

    ¡°Marsale, not now.¡± His father¡¯s voice was curt, and it seemed to be enough to stop his mother from responding.

    Salvador didn¡¯t care where they lived, as long as they were all happy. That being said, he saw his mom and dad smile less nowadays. Maybe he could try to apologize, in case it was something he¡¯d done? Salvador wasn¡¯t sure, and Citra had already walked away from him in a huff. Maybe apologies weren¡¯t worth it in the end.

    ¡°Sal, hey, Sal.¡± Salvador¡¯s father called out to him. Only he called him Sal, and he liked the nickname. His mother always called him by his full name when she was angry and referred to him as ¡®you¡¯ or ¡®boy¡¯ when she wasn¡¯t quite so mad.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got something to show you.¡± His father beckoned him towards the rear of the shuttle.

    They passed the windows, bright stars speckling in the endless black beyond them. They came to one of the storage lockers. Most items had gone into the cargo of the ship, but some small bits had gone behind the cages. His father looked over each shoulder before crouching.

    ¡°I probably shouldn¡¯t show you this, but it¡¯s a late birthday present. Sorry we didn¡¯t have much this year, but things will be different now we¡¯re here on Titanlock.¡±

    Salvador was jumping with excitement as his father quickly unlocked the door using a bit of straight metal. Salvador wondered why he didn¡¯t use a key, but remembered only the staff should have them. Did one of them let his dad borrow theirs? From within the cage, he heaved out a black trunk, a label with their details on it stuck to the side.

    Placing it in front of young Salvador, his father clicked it open and lifted the lid to reveal the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Gorgeous wood, bright strings and a shiny pick held in place above the sound hole. The guitar must have come from heaven, if such a place existed. Both his parents seemed to damn God an awful lot, but if He could make something like this, Salvador would make sure to never damn Him.

    ¡°Thanks dad! Can I play it when we get to our new home?¡± Salvador pleaded.

    ¡°We can try, son. Your hands are a bit small, but we¡¯ll give it a go.¡± His father clicked the lid shut, keeping it safe.

    Salvador embraced his father as they got ready to leave the shuttle.

    <hr>

    Five years later.

    Salvador could still remember his father¡¯s warmth when they hugged that day many years before. Even though he had been dead months, Salvador could still feel the soft velvet of the huge coat he always wore. On the other hand, he couldn¡¯t remember the last time his, unfortunately, very alive mother ever smiled at him or even looked at him with anything other than distain or dissapointment.

    Well, fuck her, and fuck Citra. They were still packing in the other room, and Salvador had no intention of helping them. He would say goodbye, and that was that. When he heard they were leaving for Heaven¡¯s Doctrine, he was so stunned he figured it was a sick joke, an attempt to make him laugh since his father had died in a mining accident.

    But no, they had not only cursed everything he did in life by selling off almost all of his possessions but spat on his honour as a proud worker of the CCH by joining their enemies. Salvador would almost report them to the police, but he knew that would result in their deaths. Despite their leniency is most crimes, the CCH would not abide by those who supported their enemies. Salvador was almost tempted, and the fact that he could even entertain such an idea burnt a hole in his heart.

    As the racket had died down, Salvador reluctantly stood and entered the room, facing whatever was to come his way. His mother and sister stood, glaring in his direction.

    ¡°Ready?¡± Salvador mumbled, wanting this to be over with already.

    ¡°Y¡¯know Sal¡­¡± Gods he hated that name when it came from his mother¡¯s disgusting mouth. He would take ¡®boy¡¯ any day of the week over her corruption of his father¡¯s beloved nickname. ¡°I¡¯ve told you before that if you want to come with me, there¡¯s a place for you.¡±

    ¡°Why bother, mother? He¡¯s weak. Just like Angelo was.¡± If it had only been Citra leaving, Salvador was certain he would alert the authorities. He hadn¡¯t seen a single spark of empathy or joy in her since they arrived at Titanlock. It was almost as if his sister never had a heart to begin with and merely pretended for the first decade of her life.

    Salvador didn¡¯t have anything to say. He nodded vaguely towards the door and turned back to the tiny office his father had put together. Slamming the door shut behind him, and hearing the front door do the same, Salvador settled back into work. He scanned the job offers across the numerous pamphlets and papers. Most were either deadly, or low in pay. Salvador needed something long term, something he could rely on. Preferably something that wouldn¡¯t kill him either would be nice. Something where he¡¯d never have to care for a bitch of a mother, and a cunt of a sister ever again. Pushing down his flaring anger, he came across one for a company ¨C Phetenov. It required basic, on-site training, time away from major stations, and would require no outside contact for multiple months. Running through the criteria, Sal marked a check, check and definite check. Salvador needed to be alone right now. The further from others, the better. He pulled his comm-device out to arrange storing his guitar at a storage locker and called Phetenov up. It was time for a change.

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    <hr>

    Three months later

    Salvador was going to die. He was sure of it. Limping along the hallway, alarms sounding out across Tartarus Nine¡¯s emergency speakers, he made his way to the medbay. Someone had to still be alive. Sasha, Guren and Kian were all dead from the malfunction, and Salvador was in agony. The metal debris that had shredded through one side of his body, across his chest, and out the other by his hip was a blazing inferno of pain.

    Tears of pain and fear filling his vision, he weakly called out, ¡°Silas? Jeroa? Anyone?¡±

    Only the alarms answered him. He turned, hand trailing blood along the wall, and entered the medbay. Silas would fix him up, Salvador was certain of it. The man was calm, quiet but intense. If anyone could save him, that man could. Instead, he opened the medbay to find a red stain against an impacted bulkhead where Silas once stood, the remains of his lab coat sticking from the debris. A mournful cry escaped Salvador. No, this couldn¡¯t be happening. Was this what his father felt, the instant his ship was impacted by an asteroid? Please, god no. He turned, dripping blood as he made his way to the bridge. Captain Yrenz would know what to do. He could help him, fix him up, right?

    Instead, he was met with a corpse, a pipe sticking through one side of Yrenz¡¯s head and out the other. Beside him sat Jeroa, cut in half from plating that had shout out from a gas explosion. Her nearly dead eyes trailed him as her mouth gaped open and closed, like a fish, Unfortunately, she wasn¡¯t gone yet. Weak with agony and hurting all over. Salvador lacked the energy or drive to help finish her off and weakly held her hand, falling to his knees, until she passed a few seconds later. Desperate, Salvador made his way to the external command console. Instead of finding a glass screen, ready to call for mayday, he found a shattered wreck of metal, glass and wires. He was stuck on Tartarus. Unable to leave, unable to message for help. Of course, Tartarus was meant to be a hidden base, meant to recover resources from an asteroid belt dangerously close to Doctrine territory. Any messages had to be traced to separate series of satellites before contact could be made with anyone in the CCH. And now, he was cut off.

    Gods no, Salvador couldn¡¯t die like this. Not like some weak, frail thing, unable to save himself. Not like his father. Perhaps his mother and sister had been right all along. Everyone was weak at some level; it just took acceptance to know that. As Salvador stumbled back towards the medbay, alarms silenced using the undamaged main console, his thoughts turned to anger. No, it wasn¡¯t that people were weak, it was that the world was uncaring, cold and cruel. If there was a weakness, it was the inability to save oneself. Sliding open a door already coated with his own blood, he wobbled over to the automatic surgery unit, well known for being unreliable. If he couldn¡¯t save himself now, he didn¡¯t deserve to live.

    Setting the machine to scan and operate, to do what needed to be done regardless of the pain, Salvador steeled himself. This was a life he would rip from the teeth of death, one that fate had lusted after for some time now. As the blades cut into his chest, he knew he was right. And he would prove fate wrong. He would prove them all wrong.

    <hr>

    Nine months later.

    Damn God. He would damn God tomorrow, and the day after. He would damn God every day of his life if he had the chance.

    Sal ached. He always ached, burned, hurt all over. For months, it had been the regular, stabbing, bleeding ache of metal still in his torso, impaled through his mangled lung. Then, it had been the sorrow, the dark nights after the lighting blew out, the nights he expected his mind would collapse on itself. Now, however, it was the hunger that ached.

    And Sal damned God with every fibre of his being.

    Salvador had survived nine months after the station had fallen apart over the course of seven seconds, killing everyone. Everyone but him. The surgery machine had saved his life, but not well. Unable to remove the shrapnel from his body, it left it there, like a malignant tumour. Every day, he would inject enough clotting agents to kill a horse, reducing the internal bleeding his steel cancer made with every twist, every breath, every heartbeat. Prominently, a jagged shard that trailed from where his right shoulder down and across to where his stomach once was. He could eat, as long as it was pounded into soft mush, and let it slowly be moved through his rewired digestive system.

    Today was another day. Another day of living, breathing and doing. As long as Sal relied on himself, he would live. Or so he had thought. He could live with no lights ¨C he had no desire to see himself or the blood stains he couldn¡¯t waste water on cleaning anymore. He could live with no running water ¨C his own smell and the smell of death had become natural to him - and the taste of stagnant liquid was no longer unfamiliar to him. But no food? That was an issue. The last of the supplies meant for the team of seven had dwindled over the months. No resupply from Phetenov had meant no new food. The last of the shelves stored the few packets he had rationed, and their barren sight gnawed at what mess of a stomach he still had.

    Sal wasn¡¯t an animal, however. Though he¡¯d moved the bodies from cargo to cold storage when he quickly realized help wasn¡¯t coming, the idea of cannibalism still sickened him to his core. As long as he relied on his own instincts, his own skills, he would live.

    The pamphlet hadn¡¯t lied. He certainly had learnt a lot of skills on the job, especially maintenance and repairing. With the station falling apart, he needed to keep it usable, lest it collapse and remove its last, parasitic inhabitant. As part of his daily routine, Sal made his way to the main console. The artificial voice was the only other one he could hear, aside from his own.

    ¡°Good morning, Salvador.¡± Gods he hated the full name now. The computer couldn¡¯t understand the concept of a nickname, and now he was Salvador ¨C always. ¡®Sal¡¯ reminded him of his father, of better days. ¡®Salvador¡¯ reminded him of the husk he¡¯d become, the ruined mess of a man still surviving.

    ¡°It has been 212 days since the resupply was scheduled to arrive. Has there been an issue?¡±

    Sal had long since given up communicating with the computer. It only made him more pissed to get no useful information back. All he needed from the computer was to check the damaged components he could fix. The main antenna was still broken beyond repair, the short range one had already been altered by Sal to send out pulses in the form of a makeshift SOS, and the refinery was still the crumpled mess it was nine months before when it crushed Sasha and Guren.

    However, there was a new error. One of the solar panels needed adjustment. Great, more EVA. If there was an activity Sal hated more than anything in the world, it was EVA. Combining the constant pain of ingrown shrapnel with a tight, uncomfortable suit, and it was enough to break a man. Any man except Sal that was, if he could call himself a man at only fifteen years of age. Wait, sixteen years. He had his birthday some months before. Not that it was worth remembering at the time - he had probably been busy not dying that day. No, Sal could stay alive if he followed his doctrine, no matter what.

    Suiting up, he made his way out the airlock and moved to the panels. He avoided the sight of the shattered asteroid-side of the station. The amount of blood on the twisted metal there was too much to clean properly, but enough to be visible from a distance, so averting his gaze was the only option. He reached the panel in question and fixed the wiring that had come loose. A few solders here and there, and it read its normal values once more. He turned, preparing to move towards the airlock and re-enter the station when he looked out into the void. A beautiful darkness, like a black sea that went out forever.

    Sal had avoided gazing into space recently; it tried to pull him in, to focus on it until nothing else mattered. Now, however? With the constant itch from within his ribcage, the niggling of a slow death by starvation or suffocation? The night looked rather inviting.

    Self-reliance? What bullshit.

    Sal was destined to die, that was certain from the day he was a step away from being squashed to paste. Hell, he might have been destined to die the day his parents moved to Titanlock. Giving a deep sigh, Sal released his grip from the railing he had clipped himself to and stepped off into the void. It wouldn¡¯t take long, simply slowly wind the tank¡¯s output down to a trickle until he faded into a fuzzy minded blur. Definitely a nicer death than most of the crew had gotten. Yeah, in a way, this was self-reliance.

    He was relying on no one else to end his life.

    The station was becoming distant in his rear view camera. For a moment, Sal considered permanently disconnecting his EVA thruster system, to truly seal the deal, but still he held onto it. Some stupid sense of self-preservation? It didn¡¯t matter. Sal twisted the dial on his air tank controls to reduce pressure output over the course of a few minutes.

    100%.

    90%.

    80%. Huh, he was kinda dizzy, that¡¯s nice.

    70%.

    60%. Damn, that beeping was annoying,

    50%- Wait, beeping? He confusedly looked at his helmet¡¯s HUD to see that a ping was being received by the station. A ping? That didn¡¯t make sense. Tartarus had long since lost the ability to communicate outwards. If it was being received, that meant the only place it could come from would be¡­

    A ship trying to make contact.

    He flicked the tank back up to full pressure and blasted back towards the station.

    Salvador Vigino might be destined to die, likely by his own hand and relying on no one else¡­

    But not today.

 Chapter 20: Just The Two of Us

    Sal had long since cast his gaze downwards, gazing at the stained carpet beneath his feet. The words had flowed smoothy once he had reached Titanlock, far smoother than he had expected, which was nice. What wasn¡¯t nice was recounting the time he almost killed himself after suffering in agony for months.

    Concluding his recount, he raised his head. Gods, his face must have been a pitiful sight. Xeena was looking at him, her face twisted in sadness. Tears flowed from her optical case, and her breathing was shaky. In comparison, Sal must have looked like a stoic trooper. Good for him.

    ¡°Sal¡­¡± Xeena could barely get the words out.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Sal said, voice low.

    ¡°Sal¡­¡±

    ¡°Please, its ok Xeena. It was a long time ago. I¡¯m here.¡± Sal forced a smile.

    ¡°Sal, you¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I almost did. What¡¯s done is done. It happened.¡±

    ¡°Do you¡­ do you feel it? Your chest?¡±

    He¡¯d come this far, why lie now.

    ¡°Some nights. Hurts more when touched.¡± He pressed his finger along the length of the scar that severed his torso into two halves.

    ¡°Did¡­ did the ship help you?¡± Xeena asked. An obvious answer, but one that was needed to give closure.

    ¡°Yeah. It was H&H. Turns out Phetenov had gone bankrupt two months into the station going active, and H&H bought them out. Took them a while before they found their secret documents about the Tartarus bases. Of the sixteen stations they made and got running, only three people got rescued. All of them fell apart or ran out of supplies. They took me right back to Titanlock, fixed me up, got me a new lung, new guts, and offered me a job. I¡¯ve never had a chance to sit and take it in. Couldn¡¯t stop. Never.¡±

    ¡°Sal, I¡­¡± Xeena didn¡¯t know what to say, and neither did Salvador. For some minutes, they sat in silence. Eventually, Sal needed to finally put the lid on the injury, to give himself closure.

    ¡°Xeena, can you do something for me?¡± Sal asked.

    ¡°Anything,¡± Her tone had picked up. Giving her something to do had instilled a second wind, based on her expression.

    Sal patted the couch next to him and closed his eyes. She moved close and waited his voice.

    ¡°I need you to press along¡­¡± Sal outlined the length of the scar, from collarbone to hip. ¡°Here. Not enough to dig in, but firmly.¡± It was the common routine he often did, if for no other reason than to feel the burning ache, to remind himself that he had survived Tartarus. It always hurt, but that was needed, like any good keepsake. Sal had found himself not needing his routine since meeting the Cambiar, being too distracted with alien life and all. He breathed in and prepared for the pain. The pressing of damaged skin again the plating below.

    He soon felt her claw tips running along the length and felt a light, dull ache. The same any normal scar would make when touched. He frowned, opened his eyes and told her to press harder. Even with her claw making a thin red line across the pale skin, the tip digging in, the pain was as physical as usual but far weaker than normal.

    The scar no longer burned.

    ¡°That can¡¯t be right,¡± Sal said, confused.

    Xeena looked him in the eye, face inches away. ¡°Sal. You have to let the pain go. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s possible, but you have to try. You have to believe. Ok?¡±

    Sal couldn¡¯t believe it. No, some part of him didn¡¯t want to, and was dragging every other part that wanted to be free from it down. He asked her to repeat the exercise a few times more, and each time the pain felt more dull and more real.

    The scar no longer burned. But Sal had already known the truth - it hadn¡¯t burned since H&H had healed it over a decade ago. He had assumed his eyes no longer shed tears, their ducts fully dry. He was wrong.

    Sal wasn¡¯t entirely free, but the chains had loosened.

    Sal looked to the ceiling, the chemolescent light harsh and pale. Yet, Sal did not close his eyes, instead embracing the glow.

    The scar no longer burned.

    <hr>

    Sal and Xeena decided to relax after such a heavy emotional moment. Recounting his past had taken a lot of out Sal, and the two headed for a late lunch. They passed by the viewing lounge where Sal had first noticed the presence of the Out-Han fleet, blotting out stars in the distance. Now, the window was full of the bright colours of the ships, glimmering in cobalt and emerald. They slowly moved as one, circling Starheart and Ruby Eye. In comparison, the planet that sat in the distance looked dull, its weak tanned surface barely visible.

    As Sal stopped to admire the view, Xeena stopped.

    ¡°Liking what you see?¡± Xeena walked next to him, arms behind her back.

    ¡°Hmm. Say, Xeena, what do you think will happen to the Out-Han now that they¡¯ve found us?¡±

    ¡°Ooh, there¡¯s a lot I hope they do. The whole point of the Out-Han was to find intelligent life among the stars. Now though¡­ I guess most Cambiar will want to stick around and see if we can get some ongoing discussions going. Even with Heaven¡¯s Doctrine or Paradise, I hope we can at least get along on neutral terms, maybe as a third party?¡±

    Sal didn¡¯t quite believe that they would go along so easily but still felt that it was a nice idea.

    ¡°Xeena?¡± Sal asked.

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Why do you think humanity fights so much? When I read through the history of the factions, there were barely any conflicts. The occasional disagreement between Ten-Tri or some other group, but nothing serious. Do you think humanity deserves the Cambiar?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t answer the first part so easily. I suppose humans are rather stubborn in their ideas, regardless of whether they are in the ¡®right¡¯, so to speak. But the last bit? Definitely. Well, in the sense that it doesn¡¯t come down to ¡®deserving¡¯ it or not, but what we want. I for one definitely want a galaxy with humanity in it, even if they are different. After all, not only can we learn from you but maybe you can learn a bit from us.¡±

    ¡°I see. Thank you, Xeena.¡±

    They continued onwards, eventually coming to stop at a food hall in the recreation deck. It was sparely populated, with only a few shops and bars open, mostly to some curious Cambiar clients who were busy sampling everything human around them. Stopping at a sushi bar, Sal ordered a mixture of rolls. As they sat, enjoying the food, Sal looked at the imitation salmon in his roll. One thing he¡¯d noticed since his stay on Fifth Spoke was how textureless all the preserved food from H&H had been.

    ¡°Xeena, have you ever been to a planet? In the open air, I mean? Michaels spoke about it during the celebrations at O¡¯Malley¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°Ah, only one, and just as a surveying trip. I had¡­ this will sound silly, but I always wanted to take the first alien I found back to Yuel 721. Not a pretty name, I know, but the skies were unbelievable. It always had the look of permanent sunset, almost ripped from the skies of Earth from years ago. Based on what I¡¯ve seen from the archives, I mean. No matter the time of day, a perfect, cloudless sky. We Cambiar learnt to adapt to the air easily enough, but I think humans would find it just right. It was filled with sweeping hills covered in a grass-like plant, no mountains or hills for as far as the eye could see. Standing on the grass there, looking at the sky, I knew I wanted to share that someday with someone.¡±

    Sal could see the view in his mind and imagined feeling his hair blowing in the wind. He could reach out and touch the grass in his hands. Pretending he was there, Sal smiled.

    ¡°Oh? Did you want an invitation there? I can try to pull some strings with Rexia Rubicoss. We might be able to go there tomorrow, if I tried to bribe him hard enough that is.¡± Xeena said cheekily.

    And with that, Sal remembered H&H¡¯s arrival tomorrow, and his face soured.

    ¡°Oh. Sorry.¡± Xeena mumbled.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be. I would love to see that sky. It¡¯s just¡­¡±

    ¡°You aren¡¯t sure about tomorrow. Whether you¡¯ll go back with them?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I¡­ I want to stay with the Cambiar, I really do. I don¡¯t even feel the urge to repay H&H that much anymore. I think it¡¯s far to say I¡¯ve worked off my moral debt to them over the years. But still¡­¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know if you want to take the next step. I understand.¡± Xeena considered her next words. ¡°I don¡¯t want to force you, so please don¡¯t see this as a crossroads but I would love to see you there, on Yuel 721. Even if the name is rather dry.¡± That got a chuckle from the both of them.

    Finishing their meal, Xeena fidgeted.

    ¡°Sal, I was wondering¡­ you say you aren¡¯t sure about tomorrow, about what you¡¯ll do.¡±

    Sal could only grunt in confirmation, stomach knotted with guilt.

    ¡°In that case, would you¡­ like to make some memories before you go? Back in the dorm?¡±

    Sal paused a moment taking her words in. Was she¡­

    ¡°Just the two of us?¡± Xeena rubbed her hands together. ¡°We can make it if we try?¡±

    Sal smirked at her trying to fit proto-wave song lyrics into a confession of sorts. Despite some of his hesitation, he knew Xeena had come to understand him better than anyone. That, combined with his undeniable desire for her, pushed the words out.

    ¡°Are you sure you want that? With me?¡± Sal asked.

    ¡°More than anything. I understand that, well, I¡¯m an alien but¡­¡± Xeena looked down. ¡°With me? Just for tonight, please?¡±

    Sal sighed. He didn¡¯t want to make it worse if he decided to leave, but neither could he stand her puppy-dog expression. That, and he could no longer tell himself that he didn¡¯t feel attracted towards her, unusualness and all.

    ¡°If you can put up with me this long, I¡¯m sure that makes you a real one of a kind. If you¡¯d have me, I¡¯d love to give it a go. Shall we?¡±

    Xeena¡¯s tail began wagging against the chairs behind her as she squealed with joy.

    <hr>

    Sal and Xeena returned to the dormitory. Stepping inside, he saw Xeena was tense, tail swaying back and forth. Approaching her from behind, Sal slowly massaged her shoulders, working his way down her back. She softly hissed in pleasure at his touch. Sal was tempted to begin undressing the casual top she had worn, but didn¡¯t want to rush things for her. He had seen plenty of Cambiar now sporting human parts, hell almost all of them seemed to have them nowadays, but still wondered about the mechanics of whether this would work.

    ¡°Ahh, Sal...¡±

    Once he¡¯d massaged down to base of her tail, she turned to face him.

    ¡°Sal, I don¡¯t want you to hold back for me. I can go at your pace. Just¡­ forget tomorrow. For now, just think of me.¡±

    She opened her jaw wide. A maw of razor-sharp triangular teeth awaited him. Sal was unsure how to approach a kiss with an alien possessing a mouth that could open wide enough to fit most of his face it. However, before he could even start, he saw her mouth tendrils begin to extend outwards, towards him. Huh, well here goes nothing.

    Leaning in, and closing his eyes, he felt her main tendril flare out as he opened his mouth to accept it. It was softer than he expected, slightly wider than a regular tongue. As they intertwined within his mouth, a distinct taste from her fluids became evident. Strawberries? Their coupling intensifying, a voice cut through.

    ¡°Is this¡­ good?¡±

    What? Cracking an eye open, he saw her additional, breathing tendrils facing him like the eyes on stalks. Well, that was different, being able to speak when making out. Sal moaned approval into her proboscis as she seemingly tried to encapsulate his tongue over and over. Soft, sucker like attachments within played at the surface of his tongue, putting pressure down and releasing it, over and over.

    Breaking the kiss for air, Sal panted. ¡°So¡­ want to take this into the bedroom?¡±

    Xeena whined in excitement and nodded vigorously as he took her hand and led her inside. Locking the door behind him, Sal felt Xeena tugging at his jacket, hands fumbling. Turning around, he initiated another kiss with her tentacle, this time with her smaller breathing appendages playfully poking at his lips and cheeks. As they intertwined, he slipped his jacket off properly before disrobing down to his underwear. With saliva trailing down his face, Sal took a seat on the bed, displaying the obvious pitching in his pants.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Well, how do you want to do this? If you want, I can help you, ¡®get ready¡¯?¡± Sal liked his lips for effect. He worried for as second that even if she had an opening below, it might be full of teeth or something else disturbing. Still squirming on the spot, tail slapping the ground occasionally, Xeena instead crouched and knelt in front of him.

    ¡°I¡­ want to try this. To make you feel good.¡± Well, Sal didn¡¯t want to deter her, and he was certainly feeling up the task of attempting a blowjob with an alien. At least, he hoped she was going for a blowjob. Slowly, she reached forward and pulled down the band of his underwear in a single motion, freeing his cock.

    Eye marbles wide, she stared at his half-hard length and physically gulped.

    ¡°Oh. Oh my.¡±

    ¡°Hmm? Not what you expected?¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s just¡­ bigger than my measurements predicted.¡±

    ¡°Uh, measurements?¡±

    Xeena hunched closer, snapping her jaws once. Sal felt the immediate urge to caution that teeth and genitals generally did not mix well but held his tongue. He would trust her common sense. Sal was a bit uncertain how they would make this work; her mouth didn¡¯t have a typical throat to it, ending in a fleshy wall from which her tubes projected from. Instead, he saw she was going for something different. Extending her hollow proboscis outwards once more, it pressed against his glans. The sensation against his tip brought him to full mast, eliciting a squeak from Xeena.

    ¡°How do you walk around with this all day?¡±

    ¡°Would you believe me if I said it only gets this big for women I love?¡±

    ¡°Show-off.¡± She murmured.

    Xeena widened the tip of her tendril, slowly but surely, and swallowed his penis, inch by inch. At first glance, it seemed that it would be an impossible fit, the tendril much thinner than his own organ. Yet, it flexed outward, stretching to take in his girth. The tight sensation, crawling along his length was enough to get him to grunt.

    ¡°Christ, Xeena. It¡¯s like I¡¯m getting blown by a keyhole.¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡± She said, her vocal tendrils tilting down almost in sadness. ¡°I think I may have miscalculated based on the video.¡±

    Sal froze. ¡°Video?¡±

    ¡°Ah. I did promise not to say anything, but since we¡¯re here¡­¡± Xeena¡¯s tentacle creeped further down, pressing tightly on all sides. Christ, he wouldn¡¯t last much longer under this pressure. ¡°Xin showed me a video of you two. I thought I had estimated correctly, but it seems I shortchanged your size. Sorry!¡± She emphasised the last word by tightening hard around his length.

    Ah fuck. ¡°Gods, damn you Xin.¡± He grit his teeth as Xeena reached his base. Well, that was good, he-

    Xeena began her pumping. Her tentacle violently streamed up and down his length, trailing juices. Every second was another pump, then every half second. Wheezing from the sudden movement, Sal reached behind her head to try and get a grip.

    ¡°Fucking hell Xeena, slow down I¡¯m¡­¡± Xeena kept her head still as tongue continued its unrelenting movement.

    ¡°Sorry, didn¡¯t quite catch that. Maybe if we make a new rule about horror movies, then I¡¯ll consider mercy.¡±

    Oh goddamnit. He had definitely made a mistake with that bet, and now he had created a cum-fuelled monster. Hand on her head, he felt the rear tendrils that trailed from the rear wrapping around his fingers like an overly friendly octopus. Lowering his grip, he felt at the pair of slits below her head.

    ¡°Oh? Feeling up my neural tracts? I haven¡¯t done anything with those yet, but if you want to fuck my brains out, quite literally, I can make some plans.¡±

    ¡°Uh, is that safe?¡± Sal delicately traced the openings and felt her tingle in response.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know. Want to try?¡±

    Even in a fugue of lust, the idea of sticking his meat into the back of someone¡¯s head, a place definitely not meant for penetration, seemed like a bad idea.

    ¡°Maybe next time?¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself!¡± She twisted her tendril with those words, wrenching a groan from Sal.

    After less than a minute of the inhuman pressure and movement, Sal was close.

    ¡°Xeena, fuck, I¡¯m about to¡­¡±

    ¡°Go for it. Let it out. I want to taste you, dear Sal.¡±

    Desperate, bucking his hips, he reflexively tried pushing her head down to thrust as deep as possible, although her tentacle was already slamming against his base. He felt her maw of teeth lightly tighten against his lower stomach and along his perinium, just biting enough to get a light grip. He finally climaxed, shooting a load deep into her tentacle. The sensation was only exacerbated by the fleshy, squelching sounds that rumbled from her.

    ¡°Wow Sal, you really must have been pent up. You¡¯re very warm¡­ and salty.¡±

    ¡°Ah hell. Sorry,¡± He gasped, holding onto the bed for dear life as he rode out his orgasm. ¡°I should¡¯ve eaten more pineapple, or something.¡±

    He tried to make light of the situation, but the strong orgasm that rolled through him left him reaching for words. Xeena calmly massaged his balls, careful to mind her claw tips against his delicates, as she weaned out the last of his cum.

    Slowly, she retracted her organ from his penis, detaching with a pop. She left her jaw open wide, exposing her oral structure proudly. A wide, open-mouthed grin was etched onto her face.

    Sal¡¯s knees felt weak as he slumped back against the bed, gasping. ¡°Where the hell did you learn to do that?¡±

    Xeena giggled, still swallowing the last of his seed. ¡°Well, for what it¡¯s worth, someone from H&H decided to include pornography on the ¡®must-read¡¯ data archives given to us. I simply watched and learned from the many ¡®actresses¡¯ there. That, and Xin gave me some advice.¡±

    ¡°Figures. I knew you two were up to something, but this?¡±

    ¡°If it makes you feel better, I think Ace had a rougher time of it than us.¡±

    ¡°You can say that again. Poor dude was sucked dry.¡± That being said, Sal was beginning to relate to him. He¡¯d never had a blowjob, hell any sex, close to that. Xeena was still playing with his seed in her oral organ, pulsing the liquid within up and down, when he spoke up.

    ¡°So, uh, you don¡¯t have to swallow if you don¡¯t want to. Most women don¡¯t actually like to so¡­¡±

    Instead, she looked at him dead in the eye and made an obvious motion of swallowing the load down.

    ¡°Well, in usual alien fashion, I felt the need to extract your DNA.¡± Xeena said, putting on a stereotypical extraterrestrial voice. ¡°What sort of abducting alien would I be if I didn¡¯t analyse your genetic code for my evil purposes?¡± Leaning in close and returning to her normal tone, she whispered, ¡°Maybe I should extract some more?¡±

    His adorable little Cambiar was getting rather cocky. The best idea Sal could think of was providing some well needed xeno correction to show her what the indominable will of mankind could do to bratty xenos. Sal¡¯s lust was not diminished, far from it, and he was excited to see what else Xeena had prepared. Sliding off the bed, he sat next to Xeena, who¡¯s confidence seemed to evaporate as he reached towards her.

    ¡°Umm. I feel I should say something first, before we go on.¡± Xeena rubbed her arm.

    ¡°Sure. Feels a bit late, me nutting down your throat and all, but if you want to back out-¡°

    ¡°No! It¡¯s not that. I do want this. It¡¯s just¡­ well¡­¡± She tapped her clawtips together, nervously. ¡°I actually spoken to you during the celebration at O¡¯Malley¡¯s. You probably don¡¯t remember, as you were quite drunk, but¡­ well. I¡­ kind of got you to feel me up. Only a bit!¡±

    ¡°Wait, you did what?¡± Ah hell, that wasn¡¯t a pet rat he been drunkenly petting, was it?

    ¡°I felt bad about the whole, well, ¡®groping you¡¯ thing from early on. Especially knowing what it meant to you now.¡± She looked guiltily at his long scar. ¡°So, I wanted to make it up to you. A tit for tat thing, you know?¡±

    ¡°Xeena¡­¡±

    ¡°It was just an idea! And, well, drunk you didn¡¯t seem to mind. Before you fell asleep that is.¡±

    Sal weighed up the event and decided the best path to proceed. ¡°Well, in that case¡­ Maybe I should refresh my memory?¡±

    Sal approached her, initially rubbing along her shoulders, and kissing her neck before moving downwards. Xeena caressed his back as he gently grasped each of her breasts in a hand. Sal gave a weighing before giving his judgement.

    ¡°Ok, you definitely pumped these up recently. You went from a petite little thing to this. I swear, these were not as big back in the central chamber.¡±

    Xeena laughed nervously. ¡°You can tell? I was a bit jealous of Xin in the video and how you seemed to like hers. So¡­¡±

    Jesus, they tremendously were large now he felt them up. The soft tissue was still hidden behind her clothes, but the softness with which they deformed under his digits was undeniable. Cautiously, he reached down and lifted her top off. Slowly, it revealed her pale skin. Comparing the elbow length black of her arms, still giving the impression of her wearing elbow-length gloves, her skin was pale, delicate. Sal could see, now up close, that her skin had taken on the palest tone of blue speckled with white flecks, giving her once bone coloured skin an almost ethereal look.

    Plump tits exposed; Sal saw a lightly glowing cyan nipple centred on each one. Sal gave Xeena a deliberate look, to which she shrugged.

    ¡°I had to do something exotic. Pink nipples are boring. Besides, makes it feel extra¡­ alien, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±

    ¡°Now who¡¯s being a show-off,¡± Sal murmured, lowering to suckle on a nipple.

    Quickly, breast in his mouth, he found himself hardening again, cock pressing up against her stomach and slowly trailing pre-cum. Xeena groaned in pleasure as Sal teased out her buds between his teeth, lightly biting before sucking. The sound of her tail wagging against the bedframe was giving a rhythm to their tango, every few taps a new lick or squeeze of her breasts. Eventually, Sal noticed her hips beginning to grind against his legs.

    ¡°Sal¡­ Sal¡­ please I¡­¡± She whispered.

    Sal wasn¡¯t the kind of man to leave a woman hanging. Quick as a flash, he wrapped his hands around her hips and lifted her onto the bed. She squealed in delight as her skirt barely hid whatever she had below. Now, with him kneeling before her, he was sure to give her what she needed. Carefully, he found a clip for the skirt that allowed it to come away easy and spread her front pair of legs apart.

    Leaking a small stream of fluids onto the bed covers and the floor was an organ that looked close enough to a vagina for Sal to mentally breathe a sigh of relief. Splashed in hues of blue and pink, a small slit leaked with love juices, enticing him. However, he did notice a ring of tiny bumps, delicate and exposed, all the way around the outer edge. Sal could guess what Xeena had been working on there, but felt some experimentation would clear it up. He bent closer, his breath causing Xeena to squirm, and licked along the ring. Reacting instantly, she jumped as the stream of liquid pouring from within her intensified. Now, as a man, Sal had to make the joke.

    ¡°Hey, look, I finally found the clit,¡± Sal joked as he kissed her along her lower lips, dotted in blue.

    ¡°You¡­ dumbass¡­¡± Xeena gasped out.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s up with the extra fun buttons? One not enough?¡±

    ¡°I, gods, I thought that it would be more fun. I think I might have overdone it though. I¡¯m already¡­¡±

    He felt her pair of front legs wrap around his head and pull him in tight to her slit, as he rode out the storm of jolts shaking through her.

    ¡°Ah, Sal¡­ Sal¡­ I¡¯m-¡± Xeena cried out.

    Deciding to go all on, Sal worked his tongue inside her as she violently orgasmed against his face. The second Sal felt something inside pressing along his tongue, he thought he¡¯d made some terrible mistake. ¡®Mistake! Abort! Teeth!¡¯ his lizard brain shouted, but Sal had little option in the matter. Xeena¡¯s legs, though spindly in appearance, had more than enough strength to wrap around his head and hold him there. After Sal had refined his technique somewhat, ignoring the pressing against his tongue inside her pussy, and let her off with only a few more rapid orgasms, he was released.

    Coughing against the familiar tasting liquid, he rubbed his now soaked beard. ¡°What¡¯s up with the strawberry flavour?¡±

    Still recovering, lying flat on her side, tails weakly wiggling, she gasped out, ¡°I¡­ thought it would be¡­ nicer to taste¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, you got that right. You ok?¡±

    ¡°I just¡­ need a minute¡­ does it feel like this, every time?¡±

    ¡°I think you went a bit overboard on the sensitivity, but yeah, if it feels good.¡± True to his word, he had long since regained his vigour and was twitching for more. Either he had maintained his stamina over the years, or Xeena¡¯s juices were having a very strong effect on him. Aphrodisiac alien love fluids sounded like something out of a freaky porno, but the Cambiar could do some strange things. Clambering on the bed beside her, they stared at one another for a moment.

    ¡°Sal¡­ I love you.¡±

    ¡°Love you too, Xeen¡¯.¡±

    Once her breathing had deescalated to a calmer rate, Sal made the move. Rolling her onto her back, tail between both of their legs, he sat before her, penis at the ready like a lance prepared for battle.

    ¡°You¡¯re big¡­ you know that?¡± Xeena¡¯s gaze was fixed on his meat.

    ¡°Thanks, I grew it myself.¡±

    A slap to his rear from her tail was matched with a huff from her. ¡°Idiot.¡± Still, she smiled nervously.

    Leaning down, close to her face, Xeena looked across at his scars. He noticed, and fought the urge to hide away, cover them up. Gently, she reached over and traced their outlines.

    ¡°They¡¯re still a part of you Sal, and I love all of you, each and every part.¡±

    The words were sweet to his ears, and for the moment, he would ignore the marks. Hearing Xeena take a deep breath, Sal was ready.

    ¡°You happy for me to go? I¡¯ll start slow.¡± Sal was cautious. Last thing he wanted to do was hurt her during her first time.

    She lazily nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck.

    Sal prepared to enter her, before a more cautious part of his mind kicked in.

    ¡°Oh shit, condoms. I think I¡¯ve got some in¡­¡± He went to reach for the drawer, but found a tail wrapped around his waist stopped him.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you even dare think of covering up! This is my first time, I want to feel all of you.¡±

    Ah hell, when it was put like that, who was Sal to stop and think. Besides, he couldn¡¯t get her knocked up¡­ Right? The Cambiar hadn¡¯t adapted that quickly so soon¡­ surely?

    Shrugging, he resumed his position and pressed his tip against her marked blue and pink lips. Xeena having relaxed somewhat, he was able to slide inside the first inch with no issues. A light gritting of her teeth told Sal that Xeena was in a little pain but was quickly overtaken by her pleasured moans once her insides accepted him. However, Sal stopped once he felt a feeling of something tickling his penis from inside, the same feeling from his cunnilingus.

    ¡°Uh, what¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°I uh¡­ thought I could try something. To make it even better?¡± She wiggled her claws back and forth. ¡°Little filaments, extra sensation. Do you¡­ like them? I can pull them back if you want.¡±

    ¡°No, go for it. I want to feel you try your best.¡± Though Sal was confident, her tight blowjob had clearly shown she could dish out as much pleasure as she could take.

    A few seconds in he did feel a sharp pain in his left hand. Recoiling, he found Xeena trying to interlock their fingers together. She¡¯d come on too steep an angle, and her clawtips had lightly stabbed into the skin between his digits.

    ¡°Sorry! Sorry!¡± she quickly winced. He flicked off the flecks of blood that dotted the flesh.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, don¡¯t worry. Try again. Let¡¯s do it slowly.¡± As one, they interlaced their fingers, with her thumbs wrapping around either side of his hand. Bottoming out within her, and feeling a squirming opening against his tip, twisting and pressing against his glans, and he pumped in earnest. Starting slow, giving her time to adjust, he picked up the pace with every slap of his balls against her circle of clits. She twisted and writhed in time with his movements. Every gasp a new sound he had forced out of her. A comfortable flow had been reached, and it felt like he was starting to get full circulation back to his dick as her muscular constriction eased from ¡®pencil sharpener sized pussy tight¡¯ to just ¡®nut drainingly tight¡¯. He adjusted the grip of his right hand from her hips to her breast as he leaned down.

    Seeing his signal Xeena leaned back to make room for him to suckle on her tits. Sal was a bit stunned when a flow of liquid reached his tongue. He¡¯d already had numerous surprises this session, and this was just another to add to the pile.

    ¡°Uh?¡± Sal cocked an eyebrow as he detached from her teat, a pink-white liquid trailing off his lips.

    ¡°I had heard that¡­ some men find the connection of lactation with pregnancy¡­ attractive.¡±

    Fuck it, Sal was down for it. He was already having sex with an alien, what was one more step into weirdness. He shrugged and continued his suckling, the milk tasting once again of¡­ strawberry. Well, it seems Xeena had a favourite flavour, that was for certain. Eventually, as he increased his force, his thrusts becoming a wild slapping of crotches, and after surviving numerous severe constrictions from Xeena¡¯s orgasms, he was near his limit.

    ¡°Xeena, I¡¯m close. Do you want me to pull out?¡± he said, decoupling from her nipple.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare! I¡¯ve been waiting for this since I first saw you. My human, the man I wanted to touch, to connect with.¡± She leaned close to press her transparent dome to his forehead. ¡°My Sal.¡±

    Damn, that was one way of tipping him over the edge. Releasing a primal grunt, he thrust as deep as possible, feeling her internal cilia wrapping around his length, and came. Xeena¡¯s tail was seizing as he pumped as much of his vitality into her. Even with all his effort, he could feel some leaking out, her equivalent of a uterus not fully capable of taking his load. They spent a few minutes resting together. After their shared afterglow, Sal fell to the side, his flaccid member sliding out, defeated.

    ¡°Holy¡­ fucking¡­ shit¡­¡± Sal winced. He had never had a partner like this. Well, a partner he could remember at least. ¡°How are you doing?¡±

    Xeena took a moment to even comprehend the question. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ in heaven.¡±

    The pair laid for a while, basking in the moment. Then, as if was looking for something, Xeena sat and leaned over, pushing her ass back and positioning her head at the foot of the bed. She swung her tail once, twice then lifted it up, exposing her pink and blue pussy to him. Spreading her lips with her black claws, a tickle of cum still leaking she put on a fake French accent.

    ¡°Ready for round deux, Mr Vigino?¡±

    Damned if wiggling her butt didn¡¯t make him diamonds in a flash. Launching up, he went straight for another session of steamy xenophilic sex. The two spent the rest of the night in each other¡¯s embrace, connecting as one. They tried a number of positions, and Sal was certain by the seventh load that she had dosed him with some performance enhancer through fluid exchange. Xeena¡¯s personal favourite seemed to be the prone bone, with Sal holding her tail.

    When they were both spent, they slipped under the covers, wrapped in one another¡¯s arms.

    ¡°Good night¡­ Sal¡± Xeena tiredly whispered.

    ¡°Night, Xeena.¡± Sal said, drifting to sleep.

    Tomorrow would come no matter what, with all it entailed. But for now, Sal was in paradise.

 Chapter 21: A Battle Fought; A Battle Ended

    Salvador awoke with a tired body and sore testicles. With a groan, he sat up straight, taking in his surroundings. Unlike the last illicit encounter he had, he could definitely remember last night well. To his side, Xeena laid, awake.

    ¡°Morning Xeen¡¯¡±

    ¡°Good morning, Sal. How are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Well, I feel like my pelvis got introduced to a hydraulic press, and my nuts hurt, but yeah, I¡¯m great.¡± He warmly smiled.

    Xeena giggled. ¡°I¡¯m glad you liked it. I thought you were¡­¡± She sat up and leant on his arm. ¡°Magical.¡±

    They rested a while in each other¡¯s arms, enjoying the atmosphere. However, a question that Sal felt he should have asked long before lingered in his mind.

    ¡°Hey, Xeena?¡± Sal asked.

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°You said Pippa was a bit young, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s still a juvenile? Why?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ how old are you?¡±

    ¡°Ah, well I¡¯m about 27 in Prime Nexus years. So, if I run the numbers correctly, your years I would be¡­¡± She counted on her claws, deep in thought.

    Finally, she spoke.

    ¡°That makes me eleven!¡± she exclaimed in joy.

    Fuuuuuuuuuuck. Sal was going to hell.

    Xeena saw the aghast look on his face and did her best to pout at him. ¡°Wha- Hey! I¡¯m legal! I¡¯ve been an adult for over ten of your years, what the problem?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s uh¡­ just a bit young for humans. Very young. Christ, I am a moron.¡±

    ¡°Well, you might be an idiot for various reasons, but not for that.¡± She emphasised the point by tapping him gently on the forehead. ¡°Didn¡¯t you ever read the Harkness test from your proto-wave archive?¡±

    ¡°The hark-what?¡±

    ¡°A test to see if its ok to, uh¡­ copulate¡­ with hypothetical creatures.¡± Xeena let out a purr, ¡°I know want it, I can communicate wanting it very much and I¡¯m old enough in my own culture. I pass, so it¡¯s fine right?¡±

    He wasn¡¯t sure if ticking some centuries old checklist was enough to sooth his morality about having sex with an eleven-year-old. Damned if Sal was going to let himself live that one down. Gods. He wanted to move on, if only for the sake of his own morality about kiddie fiddling. ¡°So¡­ you been awake long?¡±

    ¡°A bit. We Cambiar don¡¯t need as much sleep as you do, which I think we can put to good use in the future.¡±

    Sal chuckled, but the last word brought him out of his stupor.

    Future. The H&H ships would arrive today. Goddamnit.

    Xeena read his expression and frowned.

    ¡°Xeena, about last night¡­¡± Sal still wasn¡¯t certain on what path he would take.¡±

    ¡°Sal, I remember what we said. No matter what, we made good memories.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. That we did.¡±

    Quietly, Sal got up and dressed. Checking his comm-device and ignoring a series of bugging texts from the Torchers wondering where he was, where Xeena was, and then sending eggplant and hot dog emoticons, Sal saw the time was close to noon. Not much time left before judgment. Wearing a fresh set of clothes, the previous ones soaked through from collateral damage, and removing the thoroughly soiled sheets, Xeena and Sal were ready for the day. With a deep sigh from Sal, they left the dormitory together.

    The two of them made their way to Starheart¡¯s port docking sectors. A crowd had already gathered in the lobby area, many discussing their futures. Some were cautious, awaiting the exact message from H&H, and others had already decided, firmly making their stances known.

    One member of a group of passengers was angrily shouting at the others. ¡°I¡¯m telling you, to hell with Titanlock! Why the hell do you want to go back there? So you can sit in your cramped shoebox apartment all day?¡±

    ¡°Because I have a life there!¡± A shorter man retorted. ¡°Do you even know what the Cambiar would do if you stayed with them? They¡¯ve already shown how much they can change themselves, why not change you? Mess with your genetic code, turn you into some living robot to act out their desires?¡±

    A woman, holding herself unsteadily tried to interject, but was ignored. ¡°Guys, please, we don¡¯t even know what H&H are going to say. They might keep the expeditionary fleet going, maybe?¡±

    It was no use, they continued, adding to the roar of the crowd around them. As Sal and Xeena weaved between people, mostly humans but with some Cambiar awaiting the news, they found a spare seat. Sitting next to one another, they silently waited. Sal couldn¡¯t say the words he wanted to, needed to. He was too weak.

    As the caustic feeling in his stomach was rising to his throat, information screens, previously dull and black, sprang to life as Sal¡¯s comm-device received an announcement.

    ¡°Attention, all crew of Henry and Huell Incorporated. We appreciate your patience with our arrival. The ship, Marshstrider, will be docking with the Starheart in ten minutes. Until then, please enjoy a recorded message directly from board director and descendant of co-founder Henry Dexter, Josiah Dexter!¡± The falsely upbeat voice trailed away as a new one took over, a dark-skinned man in stiff, formal clothing stared into the camera. His eyes were hollow, empty as a hint of a smile glanced his lips.

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    ¡°Hello everyone. It is good to talk to you. Now, as you are aware, the situation in HL7628 has become rather unexpected for the Seventh Expedition Fleet. I am sure, many of you may be afraid or concerned. This is a natural reaction. Fear not, however. We are coming. Soon, Marshstrider will be docking. It is expected that all crewmembers will proceed calmly and orderly onto the ship, for debriefing back at Titanlock. If anyone is considering disobeying these orders, then your employment may be terminated. Be not afraid, workers. All of you, loyal employees, will be compensated for your time and stress during this turbulent time.¡±

    He took a moment to clear his throat, voice strangled and hoarse. ¡°I am aware that some of you will be reluctant to return. Please, however, consider not only for the good of Henry and Huell Incorporated, but for the good of the Collective Corporations of Humanity that you should let our professionals handle the situation. Contact with those outside of the Collective Corporations of Humanity should always be done by those who can do it best, so leave that to us. It may take some time for us to collect the required staff, so please avoid any further contact with any non-human individuals until you board the ship. For any further questions, please ask them during your debriefing. Thank you for listening, loyal employees, and godspeed.¡±

    With that, the stunningly short message abruptly ended, and silence reigned. For a second, it seemed to force everyone in the room into submission. A pin drop would have sounded like a bomb. Then, the tide broke and everyone erupted in shouting. Surrounded on all sides, the voices hollered and howled obscenities and threats. Sal could only rest a hand on a chin and think. This was now a junction point, a choice would be needed, no matter what.

    He could stay with the Cambiar, an unexpected, unknown, and unforeseeable future. Almost certainly, his friends would be staying, as would most of the crew, based on their reactions. Most important to him right now, Xeena would be there, that was for certain. This would be a future, tossed into the hands of fate, and where he would need to trust those around him to succeed. The other choice, the choice that soothed the burning of his scar, was to flee. To run away, back to Titanlock. Whether H&H would keep their word mattered not ¨C it was the decision that tore him in two. By returning, he would accept the life he had before, one of transitory moments, never staying too long in one situation. His life could go back to normal, back to before the Torchers, before the Cambiar and before Xeena. It would show those who spat on him, his mother, his sister, fate itself, that he would not bow down to unknowns. He had survived Tartarus Nine, he could take any choice life threw at him.

    It was only when Sal tasted blood that he realized he had been biting his lip, tearing the skin. Rubbing his lip and pulling away crimson, the wildfire in his guts was burning madly.

    ¡°Sal, are you ok?¡± Xeena looked at him, her frame bent to meet his gaze. When their eyes locked, she already knew what he was thinking, what choice the weaker man had stolen away from the better man. As if to add to the shaking of his nerves, a voice cut through the chatter around the two of them.

    ¡°Sal! Hey Sal!¡± Abel shouted, waving.

    He was followed by the rest of the team. Seeing them, a sight that normally lifted Sal¡¯s heart even in the worst of moods instead dropped a bowling ball into his stomach.

    ¡°Hello, everyone,¡± Xeena said, trying to hide her accepted sorrow.

    ¡°So, how are you two doing? Not too sore, eh?¡± Xin looked over the rim of her sunglasses, displaying a manic grin. If it were any other day, Sal would be worrying what she was planning. Not today.

    ¡°Please, you don¡¯t know what sore is,¡± Dusty interjected, putting on a fake level of lethargy as Titan chuckled behind him.

    ¡°Now, now, as long as he can get his beauty sleep and if he tidies that beard up, then being sore is no matter. A little ache in the bones is nothing before beauty, hmm?¡± Stannock was running his hand through his ponytail as his companion nodded in agreement.

    It was only Marcus who could read Sal¡¯s body language. ¡°Sal? You ok? You seem quiet.¡±

    Sal stood, but didn¡¯t say a word. It took everything he had to force his knees to stop shaking. Christ the scar burned, worse than ever before.

    Sal was in the airlock, putting on the voidsuit, careful not to cut it on the shrapnel jutting from him.

    ¡°Hey man, you hear Mr Dexter over there? What bullshit. ¡®Come back or we¡¯ll fire you.¡¯ Is he serious?¡± Abel shook his head, Pippa on his shoulders following suit. ¡°No one will want to go back and threatening them won¡¯t make a difference.¡±

    Xeena wrapped her arms around herself and stifled a shaky breath.

    Sal was walking along the surface of the broken station, heading for the solar panel for adjustment. If he didn¡¯t, he would die, too weak to save himself.

    ¡°Sal, come on man, what¡¯s up?¡± Marcus hadn¡¯t been dissuaded. He could likely recognize Sal¡¯s expression as the one he had used himself when he had first joined the Torchers.

    An announcement chime signalled Marshstrider¡¯s arrival, and the gates to the docking umbilicals opened. A few, tired faces made their way over, a small fraction of the crew in the room. One or two Cambiar went with them. Some sort of diplomats? It didn¡¯t matter to Sal.

    ¡°Uh, Sal, you feeling ok?¡± Even Stannock had taken notice by this point.

    Sal was on the roof of Tartarus, looking into the night. It looked to inviting.

    ¡°I¡­¡± Sal¡¯s tongue was ash in his mouth.

    Sal released from the station, fading into the night.

    ¡°I¡­¡± Acid to all he touched. His existence had killed his father, driven his mother and sister away. He¡¯d killed everyone on Tartarus with his presence. He would kill those he cared for, those he loved.

    Sal was in the dark. He was gone.

    ¡°I¡¯m not staying. I¡¯m going back with H&H.¡± It was said.

    For a moment, no one uttered a word. They stood in silence.

    It was Xin who spoke first. ¡°Heh, ok Sal, very funny. Good one.¡±

    Sal hung his head and took a step towards the gate.

    ¡°Wha¡­ Sal, you aren¡¯t serious man, come on. You can stop now.¡± Abel was walking with him.

    ¡°Wait, no. Sal? Really? After everything you said? Everything we¡¯ve done?¡± Marcus had an edge to his voice, an anger building, a betrayal realized.

    ¡°Wait, sir, you can¡¯t. Why? It doesn¡¯t make sense?¡± Dusty¡¯s voice was pleading, begging almost. Of everyone there, he sounded the most confused.

    His feet dragging, he was closing in on the gateway. Abel and Xeena were the only ones close now.

    ¡°Sal. After everything we worked for. After every close shave, this is it? I don¡¯t get you, man.¡± Abel was shaking his head. He¡¯d left Pippa with the others. ¡°Why? Please, brother. Tell me, please.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± Was all Sal could croak out, emotions clogging his throat. ¡°I can¡¯t. I just can¡¯t.¡±

    Looking him dead in the eye as he neared the divide that led to Marshstrider, Abel blinked tears away.

    At that moment, he saw words wouldn¡¯t get through. Instead, he simply crouched to meet his height and hugged him tight.

    ¡°I¡¯ll miss you brother. Live well, please.¡± Abel choked back tears. Releasing, he strode back to the others. Xin was cursing him, not even attempting to hold back tears. He deserved every word. Their words, daggers in his back. His scar, a sword to his front. One last hurdle stood before him. Xeena.

    She stood in front of him, holding herself. She initially said nothing, looking at the floor. She leant in, wrapped him in her embrace, one he loosely reciprocated.

    ¡°Sal¡­ one day, maybe a year, maybe a decade¡­ however long it takes: I will show you those skies. Together.¡±

    Biting his lip was the only thing Sal could do not to break down. The taste of iron in his blood was sweet.

    Breaking apart, one last look goodbye, he made his way into the waiting area beyond.

    To the life of self-reliance.

    To a life alone.

 Chapter 22: One Step From The Edge

    Salvador, by some standards, was alive. He didn¡¯t feel like the word could refer to him, but his heart was beating and that would¡¯ve meant something to anyone else. But not to him. The organ was a lingering burden, something that should¡¯ve stopped long ago. With each clang of his boots, he went through the processing area and into the umbilical, mind numb to the paperwork he signed. It was in the shadows, where lights flickered than a figure stood. A figure that matched Sal¡¯s every feature, down to the anger that creased his brow.

    ¡°Why?¡± A voice echoed around his skull.

    ¡°Why, what?¡± Sal responded

    ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb. Why are you doing this? You know the only way this ends. You¡¯re choosing a worse option to punish yourself out of some stupid sense of weakness.¡± The voice, his own, said.

    ¡°It¡¯s what I deserve.¡± Sal could only muster the strength for a simple answer.

    ¡°You know that¡¯s bullshit, even more than I do. You just want some way of denying any form of attachment, that your grandiose ¡®self-confidence¡¯ makes you a better man. Well, if you want to keep lying to yourself, fine. But we both know that you¡¯re trying to hide away any past connection out of some perceived ¡®weakness¡¯ on your part. Citra and Mom pissed off and Dad died. Sucks to suck. We know that.¡±

    ¡°Of course I know that!¡± the bitter part of Sal was furious at the self-reflection. ¡°I know that better than any part of you does. You want to open us up to more pain, more suffering. Well, I don¡¯t. I want an easier life, a happy life I-¡°

    ¡°Happy life, you call this a ¡®happy life¡¯? You¡¯ve betrayed your team, spat in the face anything Dad would have wanted for us, and proven Citra and Mom right by your own admission. Oh, and broke the heart of Xeena. Great job. Real ¡®happy life¡¯. Not wanting to risk getting attached to anyone? That sounds like weakness to me.¡±

    ¡°Shut up, shut up! You¡¯re not the one in control. You¡¯re not Salvador, I am! I got us through Tartarus, I kept us-¡±

    ¡°Oh, you want to think about Tartarus? Fine then. You¡¯re the one who almost killed us, thinking that suicide on your own terms was some grand achievement. Well done! I should thank you! Our entire life, ever since Dad died, you¡¯ve just coped with the truth, never accepted it. Xeena proved to us that the scar, your little remembrance of our doctrine, was a sham. It¡¯s just damaged tissue, end of the story.¡±

    ¡°That was a fluke, it came from another person doing it... I¡­¡± He was losing the battle. He had to get onto Marshstrider before he capitulated. Then, it wouldn¡¯t matter.

    He picked up the pace, the figure hounding at his side.

    ¡°It was never real,¡± It said. ¡°It¡¯s just a figment of your conceited effort to stay alone. And let¡¯s not just talk psychologically. Let¡¯s talk reality. We would have died if we relied on only ourselves. You think you could¡¯ve gotten the door open on Ruby Eye without Michaels or Fae helping? You think we could¡¯ve disarmed the bomb on Starheart without Xeena? Didn¡¯t think so. By every aspect, you are the one hurting us. In the end, you¡¯ll kill us.¡±

    ¡°Fuck off. You don¡¯t get a choice here. It¡¯s nearly done.¡±

    Ahead of Sal, a few workers from H&H were checking on the thin stream of returning employees. Their white suits gave them a clean impression that stood apart from the dark rubber of the umbilical.

    It was time. He had to leave before it was too late.

    <hr>

    Xeena was following the group, their solemn trudge back into Fifth Spoke¡¯s hallways punctuated by silence. Their downcast faces told all nearby that weren¡¯t in the mood for light conversation. It was Xin who cracked the quiet apart.

    ¡°Yeah, you know what. Fuck him. Fuck Sal. We don¡¯t need him.¡± Xin¡¯s tone was aggressively angry, worn as a shield.

    ¡°Xin, it¡¯s ok to be upset.¡± Abel was trying to console her, patting a shoulder.

    ¡°No, no. Screw him. He can rot. We did everything to help him, to put up with his shitty behaviour and this is what we get? Hey, you know what, Big S, you want the name Salvador? It¡¯d stop us getting mixed up with you and Stannock, eh?¡± The others in the group just looked away, the sight heartbreaking.

    ¡°Xin, I don¡¯t think things are that-¡° Dusty desperately tried to ease her down.

    ¡°No! He lied to us. He gave us a dream, a team we could rely on, and he¡¯s spat in our faces. He¡­ he¡­¡± Her acrid tone dissolved into sobs as she slumped to the side of the corridor.

    ¡°Why¡­ why, Sal?¡± She crouched, leaning against the wall, Abel giving her support.

    ¡°Hush, sister. It¡¯s ok.¡± Abel stroked her hair. ¡°As long as we have each other, we¡¯ll be fine.¡± Still, Xin¡¯s cries continued.

    The tender moment was shattered by a distant popping sound filling the air, screams following afterwards. Marcus turned, looking around for the source. From around the nearest corner, a security officer and their Cambiar companion ran.

    ¡°Move! Everyone! Get to safety, move!¡± He waved and herded the growing crowd along the hallway the Torchers had been moving through. Desperately, Marcus made his way through the crowd until he gripped the officer by the arm.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on? Who is it?!¡± Frantic rage outlined Marcus¡¯ voice. Xeena had never seen the man so violent looking.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°Not sure, but¡­ I think it¡¯s Heaven¡¯s Doctrine. Now, we have to move before-¡°

    A louder series of pops rang out, and cried of pain joined the cacophony. From the end of the corridor, walking in plain view and switching clothing to a red and gold uniform, stood a pair of clan soldiers, eyes wide with glee.

    ¡°Let¡¯s make the Emperor proud, boys!¡±

    <hr>

    Elijah Meyer was hidden behind cover, bullets ripping apart the faux wooden counter around him. Slowly, smoothly, quickly, he slotted a new magazine into his pistol and took aim. Steadying his prosthetic arm, he took aim and fired. It wasn¡¯t his best performance, but the shouts made it clear he had hit at least two of the four attackers. Yet, leaning out of cover for a second was enough for the bullets to fly once more. He rolled, moving to a pillar, feeling shots pass through his cape.

    ¡°Damnit boys, I just got this replaced.¡± He growled.

    He still had some bullets left in the magazine, and he couldn¡¯t waste the time reloading. People were screaming around the food court of First Spoke and Elijah wouldn¡¯t let anyone else die there. The instant that H&H had docked, disguised traitors, the ones lurking amongst them all along, finally revealed themselves. All he could do now was hold on until more help arrived. Or until he had cleared them out himself.

    A clink indicated he was positioned too far from the cover¡¯s centre as a shot ricocheted off his prosthetic limb. Checking the wiring quickly, he resumed combat. With swift, calm breaths he sniped the last two soldiers in vulnerable spots, their red armour lacking protection around the neck and joints. That, and Elijah¡¯s Wristbreaker was packing some serious ammo, and would probably have blown through them armour or not. Breathing heavy, the firefight had concluded, and he looked around the room.

    ¡°Looks like they¡¯ve made their move,¡± he grunted, shuffling towards the approaching sound of more battle cries.

    <hr>

    Titus Fornax delivered a final strike to the mad clan warrior before him, pulping his face against the wall. Thankfully, the clan these madmen belonged to abided by one of the stricter honour systems. They appeared to respect melee combat, which worked fine for Titus. He hadn¡¯t received more ammo for his gun yet, and honestly preferred hand-to-hand fighting. Of course, it was much easier evading blows and punching men to red mist when most of your body had been augmented. Admittedly, Titus no longer had his high-performance gear; H&H had limited him to a lower grade set of cybernetics when he moved to the Expedition Fleet.

    Shaking blood from his hand, he surveyed his handiwork and recounted his steps back to O¡¯Malley¡¯s. Hopefully the dozen or so bodies lining the hallway would be warning enough for any more who came that way. Being kicked out of the communications system had left him blinder than ever, but that didn¡¯t stop him from recognizing an assault before his eyes. It was likely anywhere the crew had been positioned, mostly the middle-positioned Spokes and perhaps the outer Rim ships were at highest risk of traitors.

    Entering the bar, he saw frightened humans and aliens alike, huddled in fear. For a moment, they appeared to see him as one of the clan warriors, his suit covered in blood and cameras where his eyes should have been glinting red. He appeased them with some calm words and took a seat.

    ¡°Anyone got a comm-device? I need to send a message out immediately.¡±

    A frightened shrew of a woman slid hers across to him and retreated behind the bar. Sliding an authentic cigarette from his suit and into his mouth, an item regarded as contraband by H&H policy, he lit it with an inbuilt lighter in his hand and initiated hacking the device. He hoped his message would get to everyone in time.

    <hr>

    Keeper Thomas was pinned by a horde of screaming men, men who had not five minutes before appeared like a rather charming crowd of partygoers. Connecting to Fifth Spoke¡¯s utility network, the one his Cambiar allies had granted him access to after they removed his restrictions, he was ready. In a few milliseconds, he was able to redirect a lucky pipe spread above the hallway to shoot pressurized steam downwards. The resulting cries of agony were difficult to hear, but he needed to save his own life. Thomas had found a reason to live.

    Surveying the damage, he stood. Fearful that H&H was ready to take him in if he refused their orders, he had fled to Fifth Spoke when the announcement was made. Now, surrounded by monsters and murderers, he was slightly regretting his choice of locale. It was as he stood there, befuddled at his current predicament, that he felt the telltale signs of S-Drive disruption; something was preparing to jump into the system, something huge.

    He didn¡¯t have much time to think. Darting for the nearest officer¡¯s lounge, he needed to let everyone know. Thomas hoped that those still on board the Cambiar ship would be loyal to staying with the aliens and not turn him in. Or at the very least, not been clan warriors. However, he was dismayed to find that upon opening the door that a group of officers were mid-way through changing into their red armour, each emblazoned with their clan sigil. A moment was held as they looked at each other.

    ¡°I told you idiots to lock the door!¡± one of them cried in the main Doctrine tongue, drawing a blade from its sheath.

    Thomas¡¯ day had gotten even worse.

    <hr>

    Salvador walked along the gangway, meeting the H&H workers.

    ¡°Welcome to Marshstrider! Ready to board, sir? I can assure you that you¡¯ll find Titanlock will be able to provide you with all the amenities you need, and will be in much better shape than whatever cells these aliens have been keeping you in!¡± The chipper tone of the man made Sal want to deck in him in the face.

    Sal passed his documents over and leaned on the railing. It was the end of the line, no more choices to make. His life of indecision and pain would now be a simple one ¨C look out for himself, no matter what. No friends, they only hurt in the long run. No girlfriends, love was a distraction from the pleasure of one¡¯s own company. No family, not that they ever needed him.

    From now on he-

    His comm-device buzzed. Flicking it open, a simple message read:

    ¡®Titus here. Doctrine attack. All ships. Stick together. Fight on. Trust those close to you. Godspeed¡®

    It was simple, only sixteen words. And yet, those words were seared in his vision. He was held in place, unable to process them for a few seconds. The figure stepped into his vision, ready.

    ¡°So, happy yet?¡± It whispered in his head.

    ¡°No.¡± He replied, unable to deny it anymore. The scar¡¯s burning faded to a light sting.

    ¡°Then what are you waiting for? You know it, I know it. You have to make the choice now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m too weak.¡± The scar held its intensity.

    ¡°Did the Torchers ever think you were too weak? Did the people of Starheart you saved? Did Xeena?¡±

    ¡°¡­No.¡± Admitting it made the scar sting turn into an itch.

    ¡°Then, as you said to Dusty all that time ago: Clench those fists, grit those teeth and hold on. What do you want to fight for?¡±

    ¡°Them.¡± The scar dulled to a numb pain.

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°Her. Xeena. Everyone.¡± The scar, the mark of his heart, his weakness, his pride, was gone.

    ¡°Then you know what to do.¡± And the voice was gone, a part of him he had finally accepted.

    It was only when the H&H worker reapproached him that he could act.

    ¡°Thank you sir, if you¡¯ll please come wi-¡°

    Sal turned back to Starheart, sprinting as fast as he could.

    ¡°Sir! Wait, read this message, it¡¯s not safe back there!¡±

    He knew. And that didn¡¯t matter. He was charging into chaos, into probable death. And that didn¡¯t matter. Salvador Vigino had fallen twice, once on a station in the middle of remote space, ready to die, and in the lobby of a colony ship, ready to give in.

    Now, he was ready to live.

 Intermission II: The Show Must Go On

    Mikhail Olegovich, third in line for the Broken Fang was feeling rather confused and, frankly, pissed. Standing over the corpses of a couple dozen uppity soldiers who could barely even pronounce the name of the clan they came from, Mikhail was slowly donning a new disguise, one he hoped was unneeded but was practically guaranteed at that point. The dead men before him had recognized his augmentations and challenged him to a duel, which had gone about as well as one would expect when trying to fight a man titled ¡®One-Shot¡¯. Still, a chance to feed Cassaria¡¯s bloodlust was always nice ¨C the power blade had been dry for months.

    Mikhail was growing tired of the disguises and uniforms, but needed them for just a bit longer, if for no other reason than to confirm his suspicions. Still, in some ways, he was glad everything was ending. If only he had been in on the plan to start attacking at random as soon as H&H arrived. In his mind, this ¡®attack¡¯, if it could be called that, was just wild flailing, one that served no purpose. Mikhail had made great progress with a certain Rexia about recruiting some of their faction into the Doctrine, or at least to assist the Broken Fang. The other clans, those who had hidden with H&H¡¯s crew, were doing their best to ruin Mikhail¡¯s plans however.

    Rubbing the brow of his nose, he was frankly sick of it all. Eventually, his second in command in this mission, the one he trusted above all others stuck his head into the room.

    ¡°Um, sir?¡± He had a quiver in his voice. Mikhail considered himself kind to his underlings, though not everyone got that impression.

    ¡°Yes, Matvey, what is it?¡± Mikhail turned to face him. Oh, that was right. The skin on his face was currently removed for adjustment, revealing the integrated metal and raw augments underneath. That would explain his look of terror. That and the corpses. Cassaria had been messy, naughty girl.

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    ¡°We, um, have just received word that the backup will be moving in.¡±

    ¡°Backup?¡± What the hell? Mikhail knew that the crew of H&H, even with lower predictions of Doctrine infiltration rates, would likely have a few traitors here and there as a reserve if resistance was too strong. But backup? And where from?

    ¡°Yes sir. A message from Zafar Ironskin of Hideki¡¯s Mercy.¡±

    Oh, for fucks sake. Mikhail held the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. He needed to move before that moron entered the system.

    ¡°Matvey, listen to me carefully. Contact our Cambiar sympathizers, the ones who agree with us and ready a shuttle for departure in the hanger. We¡¯ll meet up on their main ship and leave together. Get the rest of our forces to follow. If you can, avoid killing anymore corpos or Cambiar, they¡¯re not the target. Clansfolk are fine though.¡± Mikhail sighed heavily. This was not his day. ¡°Are you ready?¡±

    Matvey smirked, saluted, and left the room as Mikhail continued adjusting his new disguise. Any long-term plans that involved blending in and improving relations had gone out the window. Zafar was coming, and that required changing his whole schedule. If that berserker was due to arrive soon, he now had a rough idea of what the Jade Emperor was planning. Damn that rotten husk.

    With a deep sigh, he replaced his face, making sure the muscles all lined up, before standing. His Hullbuster revolver was itching for battle, and Cassaria was ever hungry for blood. It was time to see if the other clans deserved their place, and whether the newcomers to the party could handle the heat. Preparing his gear, and flexing his cybernetics, a simple thought came to him.

    ¡°I wonder if Sal¡¯s still alive?¡± Mikhail thought aloud.

 Chapter 23: Running No More

    For the first time in years, Salvador Vigino¡¯s heart was alive. Sprinting through the lobby, he looked around for any signs of the Torchers. Damn, it had already been some time since he left them for processing. They were already gone. However, the sound of distant gunfire echoing throughout the ship snapped him back to his immediate surroundings. The lights had returned to their emergency flashing as the blaring of alarms swirled around him.

    Cautiously, he retreated back into the labyrinthine corridors of Starheart. Staying as quiet as he could, he made his way to a man passageway, considering his options. Back to the dorm? No, he doubted the Torchers would all go back there, the space would be too small for all of them and their Cambiar partners. The engineering deck? Possibly. Elijah would be prepared for such a situation and would likely be in the assembly hall. That was, if Elijah was even on Starheart or Fifth Spoke. Last Sal had heard, he had gone to a different ship to try and teach the Cambiar there. Perhaps the connection dock between Starheart and Fifth Spoke? Most likely. Sal turned at a four-way junction and a right turn, only to find a group of Doctrine soldiers inspecting some twitching bodies. One was giving it a kick when they noticed Sal.

    Wheeling back, he turned and darted down the junction in the direction he had been heading. It wasn¡¯t long before the sound of bullets pinging off the walls around him filled his ears. Ok, new plan ¨C he decided to head towards O¡¯Malley¡¯s, as that was the closest spot his friends might have gone to. He hadn¡¯t seen anymore messages on his comm-device but hoped that soon Titus might send another out. With this thought in mind, he stumbled down a staircase before he stopped in place when he came to another soldier, this one not focused on him, instead firing down a hallway at some unseen target.

    Before Sal even had the chance to duck to the side of the hall for cover, Titus Fornax appeared, dashing far quicker than any man had the right to and impaled the trooper with his arm up to his bicep. The gunfire ceased as Salvador stood, stunned. Titus turned, his glasses outlining the glowing red of his cybernetic scanners, contacts gone, and surveyed the engineer.

    ¡°Mr Vigino, what brings¡­¡± Titus trailed off.

    The soldiers from earlier were stomping down the staircase, hot in Sal¡¯s trail. The cries of Doctrine curses and taunts echoed from above. None of them made it to the bottom, however, as Titus zipped forward, the whine of mechanical augmentation clear to Sal¡¯s ears. With three quick strikes, plus a single gunshot from a rifle redirected on its user, and they were dead. Breathing heavily, Sal could only stare as a gore-stained Titus approached him. The synthetic skin on one arm had been peeled back by the force of his repeated strikes, leaving a completely metallic limb extending from the shoulder below.

    ¡°Now¡­ Mr Vigino, how are you?¡±

    Salvador couldn¡¯t immediately respond. A mixture of rush of emotions he had gone through not five minutes before, and the surprise appearance of an unexpected Titus left him gaping like a fish.

    ¡°Mr Vigino?¡± Titus chocked his head.

    ¡°S-sir. Yes?¡± Sal¡¯s tongue didn¡¯t seem to fit in his mouth.

    ¡°Are you ok?¡± Titus crouched down before a slumped Salvador.

    Was he ok? Things were going to hell in a handbasket. Possibly every ship in the Out-Han¡¯s fleet was being attacked, Salvador had turned his back on his friends, changed his mind at the last possible moment, and now the man he had once labelled a pencil pusher was looking more like some sort of terrifying murder ¡®borg.

    ¡°Were you at the docking port for Marshstrider?¡± Titus seemed to be hoping a question would bring Sal back to reality, and to his credit it did.

    A further question was left unsaid ¨C ¡®were you leaving with H&H?¡¯ Sal wanted to deny it, to brush it off, but he could no longer.

    ¡°Apologies, Titus, sir. I¡­ I had a moment of failure, of weakness. I thought I could live for myself, and just myself. But I see now I was wrong. Horribly wrong. I¡¯ve decided to come back, to fix my mistakes. It won¡¯t happen again; I¡¯ve made sure of that. My friends, sir. Please, I need to help them. Have you seen them?¡±

    Titus gave a sigh, finally seeing his subordinate looking a bit less like a braindead buffoon and readjusted his bloodied glasses. ¡°Unfortunately not, Mr Vigino. I would, however, presume they are back on Fifth Spoke, like most of the crew. The crowd at Marshstrider¡¯s dock quickly left for some better furnished pastures back on the alien vessel. As you can see, the traitors have made their move ¨C H&H¡¯s arrival must have been their signal. We seem to be clearing out Starheart easy enough, but I am unsure of the situation elsewhere. Come, walk with me.¡±

    Titus turned and headed back down the hallway from which he had appeared like a phantom.

    ¡°I take it you have no intentions of waiting this mess out. You wish to help, despite the danger?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir. I can¡¯t stand by anymore. I¡¯ve decided on my path. I can¡¯t run away.¡±

    ¡°Good man. In that case, I am more than happy to assist you. I am planning on heading for Fifth Spoke myself, but they¡¯ve severed our umbilicals. I fear we may be experiencing some d¨¦j¨¤ vu, but I think our best plan in the immediate future is to use the escape pods. At least, those we¡¯ve reloaded since our initial evacuation. If all goes as planned, those are our best bet. Our regular landing shuttles will be risky to land over there, as the sparse reports I have say that Fifth Spoke¡¯s hanger is completely overrun with Doctrine forces. What do you think, Mr Vigino?¡±

    ¡°As much as I hate rough landings, if it gets us there quickly then that works for me. I have to say, sir, I only had basic training back in the Recon Fleet. I¡¯m¡­ not exactly like you, sir.¡± Sal saw the where the formal suit had torn, revealing mechanical motors and servos extending from the shredded synthetic skin below. No wonder he wrapped himself up in formal attire from neck below ¨C he was likely more steel than man.

    ¡°Fear not, Mr Vigino.¡± Titus, using his foot, flicked up a gun from a Doctrine corpse as they passed, a simple handgun. Sal recognized it as a Nova .338, a mid-sized pistol used by CCH and Doctrine soldiers for in-ship combat. The common ammunition it chambered would crumple and mitigate impact force upon contacting metal bulkheads or utilities but would punch straight through most body armours or organic material.

    ¡°You know how to shoot?¡± Titus asked.

    ¡°Kinda. I¡¯ve repaired recon ships during war, you know.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good enough for me. Honestly, I¡¯ve always needed to eliminate my targets fast, and I find bullets a little too slow, sometimes.¡± Sal wasn¡¯t sure if he was making a joke, and the idea that Titus might not be felt freakishly impressive.

    They went by a darkened O¡¯Malley¡¯s and saw numerous huddled figures inside. Surprised by the unexpected figures within, Sal aimed his new gun in a flash before Titus placed a hand on the barrel, lowering it.

    ¡°Civilians, on our side. They¡¯ll be fine for now,¡± Titus said as they passed without stopping. ¡°There¡¯s a lot of loyalty still left in H&H¡¯s crew, surprisingly. Not to the company, that ship has sailed, but to each other and to our new alien friends. It appears the upper echelons of the crew were the most infiltrated, alongside the passenger class. I think I understand now why we evacuated so quickly from Starheart following Ruby Eye¡¯s untimely destruction; the Doctrine thought the Cambiar ships were their allies, waiting here. That, or they simply wanted us defenceless for some third party. I have a sinking suspicion that there might also be non-Doctrine forces at play, based on the few communications I¡¯ve received.¡±

    ¡°Wait, non-Doctrine?¡± Sal struggled to keep up with the fast pace of Titus, apparently showing no sign of exertion.

    ¡°Indeed. Could be another corporation, non-affiliated bandits, rare as they are, or even Paradisians. Not completely certain. Don¡¯t think it¡¯s the Cambiar turning on us, thank god.¡±

    Their conversation was interrupted they turned to an access passage to the escape shuttles, only to see a group of clan fighters, all brandishing clubs and blades, approaching. Upon seeing them, they did not draw any guns, instead chanting. Sal had learnt a little of the clan tongue from Xin, as she had learnt it as part of her pilot training and could make out the repeated invocation.

    ¡°Honour! Duel! Honour! Duel!¡±

    Instead of charging, Titus stopped and gestured for Sal to wait behind him. Rolling his sleeves up, he approached them calmly.

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    ¡°I accept.¡± He said in their foreign tongue. He moved like lightning, punching and kicking with inhuman speed. Every blow sent the men flying against the walls, landing with a crunch. In less than ten seconds, he had cleared the group of a dozen warriors, the last one twitching on the floor, battered and broken. Titus attempted to draw information from the dying trooper but was unsuccessful.

    ¡°It seems we have a problem. A very big problem.¡± Titus didn¡¯t sound worried, his usual neutral tone still steady.

    ¡°And that is, sir?¡± Sal tried to work out the issue as he stared down at the dead men and women.

    ¡°We have a mix of clans on our hands, at least three of four groups by my eyes so far. That means, this isn¡¯t some small operation. Many different factions within the Doctrine are at play here, even the ones that despise each other. Which means that either they teamed up for this one operation out of some collective glory or funds, unlikely if they were lying in wait for the colony, or this came as an order from the Jade Emperor himself.¡±

    ¡°Oh. That sounds¡­ bad.¡±

    ¡°It is. It means that he had a specific interest in our cargo perhaps? Or maybe¡­¡± For the first time since he¡¯d come to meet this strange man, he saw shock overtake him. Titus¡¯ glasses tumbled to the floor and his forwent the attempt to catch them.

    ¡°My god, Salvador. He knew about the Cambiar. The Jade Emperor knew about them before we did. He¡¯s known all along.¡±

    <hr>

    Xin was going to die. Random people were standing around her, shouting orders at one another and firing indiscriminately over the makeshift barricade she huddled behind. It had been hastily constructed between a tired looking casino and a swimming pool. Despite the immediate chaos around her, the one thought that rang through Xin¡¯s mind was that she had never learnt to swim. She had never really wanted to, nor had she ever needed to, but it was a familiar dream. It was the same one she had considered when her craft was shredded by a Doctrine fighter years before. Reality had no time to wait for her. The bark of gunfire was unrelenting, her ears ringing with each shot. It was only when a gruff man took a few attempts to grab at her hand that she remembered what she was doing. In her state of shock, someone had loaded her up with magazines and spare guns and told her to sit still and hold them up. Like an automaton, she had followed, the fear that if she moved her leg would once again be torn apart and erupt in flames, her metal coffin of a vessel crushing in around her. Head tucked between her arms as the sting from her tears burned, Xin Rouse really wished she had learnt to swim.

    Many nights she had dreams like this, albeit with less gunfire and more alarms from her ship depressurizing around her. Recently, Xin had pushed past those dreams, and not just because Ace had kept her up all night. No, talking to Xeena and promising to fix her leg had recentered her way of remembering the event. Her leg had seared, muscle cramping as it was licked clean from her bones, but that was then; this was now. Dumping the ammo in a pile, her senses regained, she muttered some apologies and went looking for her team. Crawling on all fours as gunfire was exchanged to and from the barricade, Xin retraced her steps to find her team.

    Abel, Stannock, Cerella and Xeena had gone into the casino to look for some access to the maintenance tunnels to see if they could make a pathway for a possible flank on the assaulting forces. The distant roars from Titan signalled that she was in the middle of the fighting. In that case, where were Dusty and Marcus? Far enough from the front line to stand, she got her bearings. A motley crew of various ranks of humans and Cambiar castes moved around and swapped out with those on the barricade. The hasty arrival of a few security officers bringing some desperately needed longer-range Watchman 72 rifles helped turn the tide long enough for more serious defences to be assembled. As Xin stumbled through the hall, about to approach the entrance to the casino, a spindly figure dropped in front of her.

    Xin flailed for a second, reaching for a pilot¡¯s holster that had long since been handed in at the end of her service. Xin relaxed upon recognising the face.

    ¡°Xin, are you ok?¡± Xeena chirped, tilting her head.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been better, but yeah. Good for now.¡± Xin did her best to avoid glancing at her leg, stripped muscle leaving it withered and knotted. No matter what, she would get that leg as good as new somehow.

    ¡°Ok, you¡¯re doing great. I¡¯m looking for Dusty and Marcus, have you seen them?¡± Xeena leaned over and gently gripped the engineer¡¯s shoulders. It had been harder to tell earlier, but Xin could see up close the effects of Cambiar adaption in real time. Her once almost skeletally thin arms had begun bulking up as the hardened lining of plates slowly emerged from her skin. Even her height was slowly growing taller with every heartbeat. Though she paled to Titan, roaring as she tore through Doctrine forces, it was clear that Xeena was already on the way to developing some similar characteristics.

    ¡°Sorry Xeena. No idea,¡± Xin mumbled.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll look for them at the other end of the baricade. See if you can look in the pool maybe?¡±

    With that, Xeena scuttled off, the clacking of her claws echoing into the dark distance as the orange warning lights pulsed. With a heavy sigh, Xin passed the casino where she heard Abel and Stannock arguing over removing a security plate without the necessary tools. Leaving them to it, she limped onwards to the swimming pool¡¯s entrance, the dim atmosphere putting a downer on the once bright reception area. Xin considered what would happen once the attack was over. She had turned her back on H&H, obviously. Sal might have given up on the idea of a better life, but Xin sure as hell wasn¡¯t going to surrender herself to a crappy life back on Titanlock. If the Out-Han took her on after this, she would make them damn proud. Besides, if she always needed citizenship, she could probably convince Ace to marry her after a couple rounds under the blankets. He always bitched about her forcefulness in public afterwards, but certainly didn¡¯t seem to mind it in the moment.

    With a wild shout, her daydreams were shattered. Hobbling as fast as her leg would let her, she limped into the main pool area, glowing lights from under the water¡¯s surface providing limited visibility. Stepping onto the tiles, she saw a glint in the corner of her eye and dodged an errant blade flying at her from the side. Looking around she saw that Marcus stood, topless and surrounded by at least five Heaven¡¯s Doctrine troops, all in light gear and wielding weapons. Xin had never gotten too close a look at his body before, but she could see clearly the dozens of crisscrossed scars from blades, hooks and whips that coated every inch of his back¡¯s torn tapestry. His eyes were those of a predatory animal, fierce and unblinking. Marcus¡¯ bangs no longer provided cover for his unblinking gaze, and his unslouched posture gave way to his full, and impressive, height.

    Had she not looked closer, she would¡¯ve cried out for his safety, to run from the maniacs around him. Instead, she noticed that at his feet lay the corpse of another soldier, head caved in by Marcus¡¯ bare fists. From the cries and pleas filling the room, she realized the warriors surrounding him were not trying to assault him, no, far from it. As blades clanged to the floor and some attempted to take to the pool in retreat, it was clear they were trying to flee. Marcus grabbed the next soldier scrambling away and wrenched the screaming clansman over his shoulder with one hand, the man landing with a crack on the tiled floor. Before she could even consider intervening, a gasping, groaning noise took her attention.

    Huddled in the corner sat Ace and figure, his hairy back turned to Xin. The distracted clan fighter was strangling the smaller Cambiar, screaming violent obscenities as he did so. Reaching into her pocket for a steak knife, the same one she had been forced to give back to the restaurant when she had tried to faux stab Stannock at their dinner, she drew it with the blade pointed down. Xin had managed to get the blade back, explaining her intentions to give it as a gift from the ashen bastard as a peace offering. She had intended to decorate the tool and give it back once again as a present for the two Stannocks as a way of making amends, but saving her boyfriend would have to do.

    Surging forward, and pushing off her good leg, she wrapped one arm around the beast¡¯s neck and used the knife in the other to gouge at him. With a wail, he stumbled back, immediately giving Ace enough air to prop himself up and thrust a claw into his gut. Still holding on for dear life, both he and the grotesque man toppled into the pool, the cold water chilling Xin to the bone. Soaked, panicking, Xin flailed wildly in the water. Now in the opposite situation of her Needle-class ship, she would die by drowning, not searing flames or the depressurization of space. Just as she felt her lungs burn, she reoriented herself and kicked off the bottom floor with her bad leg, the most force she had put on it in years. Kicking wildly, she broke the surface and found a clawed hand outstretched to drag her out. A familiar face greeted her, hanging over the pool¡¯s edge.

    ¡°Need a hand?¡± Ace smirked.

    Though the red marks around his neck were still raw, he sounded mostly fine. Together, they pulled Xin out and both flopped to the side. Her immediate thought was to rush and help Marcus, but the collapsed pair inclined their heads to see a panting Marcus standing over more bodies and reaching out to grab the last conscious marauder by their long hair. Marcus tossed the man into the wall and letting him fall to the now thoroughly bloodstained floor before pounding the man over and over with the bottom of his fist. The foe¡¯s head cracked against the hard tile floor with every strike.

    ¡°This! Is! For! My! Family!¡± he roared, skin split and bloodied.

    Once he was done pulping the man¡¯s skull, he steadily rose up and looked over to see Xin and Ace looking in shock. With as much care as one would wipe starch-flake crumbs from their jumpsuit after breakfast, he gripped a small knife embedded in his shoulder and casually flicked it into the pool. Blood from the blade mixed with the hairy man¡¯s as the metal blade sank to the bottom.

    ¡°You guys ok? They didn¡¯t get you, did they?¡± Marcus¡¯ voice had a cold edge to it as he slowly walked their way.

    Xin shook her head and heaved to her feet with Ace. Like a viper, Marcus snapped to attention when distant sounds coming from the reception grew closer. Sighing with relief, the trio saw the rest of the Torchers stumbled in, absorbing the scene with astonishment.

    ¡°Oh, thank god you¡¯re fine.¡± Abel bent over sighing. ¡°The resistance has pushed forward, and we can actually start moving now and we finally got some schematics. The fore section of the ship has the bridge, which is where we can send out a mayday and the central control unit where we can figure out what¡¯s going on a bit clearer.¡±

    ¡°Are there more of them on the way?¡± Marcus didn¡¯t phrase it as a question - it was a challenge.

    Abel shrugged, not apparently wanting to fuel his testy friend¡¯s apparent newfound hunger for violence, and gestured them to follow. Xin and Ace regrouped with Marcus as they left the pool, the smaller Cambiar taking some time to inspect and clean his wounds. Busy fussing and fiddling, Ace didn¡¯t pay attention when Marcus turned to Xin.

    ¡°Xin. Don¡¯t give up hope on Sal. I did for a bit there too, but one day he¡¯ll see the light. We all do, eventually.¡±

    He smiled determinedly, looking much more robust than he had before.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean I won¡¯t sock him one when I see him next though.¡±

 Chapter 24: Shortcuts to Death

    Salvador and Titus made their way over to the escape pods, the officer rubbing his chin in a frantic motion.

    ¡°Shit, Salvador ¨C I-I mean, Mr Vigino. This is bad. Really bad.¡± Titus was running a gloved hand through his hair repeatedly.

    ¡°The translators. They had them for who knows how long. Some of them, hell maybe all of the Rexia knew of us. No wonder they so quickly adapted the ships to human conditions ¨C they changed the internal atmosphere the second we all landed. I mean no wonder they were building new rooms in old architectural styles that we haven¡¯t even used for years ¨C they must have been learning from an old Doctrine archive data dump. And maybe they¡¯ve been in contact with Heaven¡¯s Doctrine for who knows how many years, preparing for this event. Mr Vigino, I fear the Eternal War might have upped in scale to far more than a tiff over Earth¡¯s corpse.¡±

    ¡°Christ. Can we¡­ do anything?¡±

    ¡°Right now? No. We¡¯re not in the position to act. For now, we survive. But in the coming years, this will be big. But why did the Emperor make his move now? What pushed him towards this?¡±

    They passed through a maintenance corridor to avoid more combat as they weaved past pipes and risers. It wasn¡¯t far now until they reached the escape pods. Sal didn¡¯t particularly fancy another crash landing on Fifth Spoke, but they didn¡¯t have the time to locate proper ships for transport.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s not our place to worry right now. For now, we just need to get onto those shuttles.¡± He was quiet for a moment. ¡°So, Mr Vigino, what changed your mind? I would have thought that staying with the Cambiar would have been a no-brainer, especially with that one you are like having relations with, hmm?¡±

    ¡°Ugh.¡± Sal felt dirty after the way they¡¯d made love to Xeena and then abandoned her. ¡°Sir, it is a bit more complicated than that but¡­ Yes, it should have been an easy choice. I just made it feel like it was the wrong one, mostly because of how simple it seemed. I didn¡¯t want myself to feel weak by relying on someone I cared about. But I won¡¯t falter, not anymore. So yeah, I¡¯ve got to get back to Xeena.¡±

    They erupted from the hallway, Titus ready to strike and Sal aiming his gun. Thankfully, the flickering corridor was devoid of life. Stepping over some debris and busted piping, the two approached an escape pod. Titus stepped inside to sort out the console as Sal stood on watch.

    ¡°So, sir, what about your story? Why¡¯d you go so hard against H&H? I had always pictured you as the perfect corporate lackey. Uh, no offense. And I¡¯ll be honest, when I heard you¡¯d delayed and changed Curtin¡¯s messages, I thought you were a traitor for a bit.¡±

    ¡°No offense taken. I did act fully in H&H¡¯s best interests for the longest time, simply because they offered the best chance for humanity to flourish. Or at least, I thought they did. I looked into the Keeper program, as per your hint, and now¡­ now I don¡¯t know how much of my perception had been tainted from the very start. Seeing Curtin¡¯s actions and the slavery they the Keepers under has changed my views somewhat. That, and I would never trust them to fully handle negotiations with the Cambiar, that much is clear. No, the presence of Doctrine traitors, planted explosives, artificially grown humans and GaltCorp mechs clearly showed me, if nothing else, that Josiah Dexter himself is a disease that must be uprooted for the CCH to thrive.¡±

    ¡°Josiah Dexter? I get he¡¯s pretty high up in H&H, but what does he had to do with this?¡±

    ¡°Well, do you remember when I mentioned that the manifest for the cargo was his responsibility? I looked into it, and Josiah personally signed off on those articles of contraband, as well as other parts. It would appear he¡¯s been doing some dirty dealings on the side, likely hiring clan forces to steal the mechs and goreskins for some cheap defence of any new colony he establishes using the Expedition fleets. No wonder they infiltrated us so easily; half of these soldiers were likely on his payroll before joining H&H as crewmates.¡±

    ¡°Huh. I did wonder where the mechs came from. The goreskins - could the clans steal those from Paradise?¡±

    ¡°Possibly¡­ that would seem- Oh damned firmware¡­ ¡®Yes I want to rollback to the previous update¡¯, we want to crash. Stupid thing. Ah, apologies Mr Vigino, just some computer troubles.¡±

    ¡°Windows 63?¡±

    ¡°Windows 63. I don¡¯t know why IT keeps forcing everyone to update to the next OS, they¡¯re always worse. Now, we should be ready for- ¡°

    Gunshots rang out as Sal ducked for cover. Sparks rained on top of him as he reached for his handgun.

    The Nova was heavy in his hands, but he had no time to freak out, not when he had a mission to do. He counted their shots and heard the sound of their approach. The second there was a pause, he leaned out, lined his sights up, and took out the two crazed gunners. He swore he even heard the second one cackle as he died.

    It was only after they died that Sal felt his hands shake. He¡¯d killed two men. Sal tried to rationalize it, swallowing whatever feelings were beginning down, by considering he had likely indirectly killed people by helping maintain the recon ships he served on many years before. In a way, this would be nothing new. Facing the escape pod, the control panel had been wrecked in the shootout, and Titus was struggling to open the sealed door. With each tug, more and more synthetic skin was ripped from what little remained on his arms.

    ¡°It won¡¯t budge,¡± Titus conceded. He seemed poised to smash the door¡¯s window but seemingly realized how putting a hole in a spacecraft was likely not a good idea and halted. ¡°The launch is already activated. You¡¯ll have to grab another and follow me. Ok?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir, I¡¯ll be right behind you.¡±

    Seconds later, the pod shot away, shooting towards Fifth Spoke. Damn, well there went that initial plan. Soon, Sal found that there were no other pods - none that were usable anyway. One was free but had been damaged from gunfire penetrating the outer window, rendering it useless. Pacing the hallway and feeling anxious at the time he was wasting, he passed by an airlock with familiar storage lockers sat astride. Looking at the voidsuits within, an idea came to him If he couldn¡¯t make it to Fifth Spoke by pod¡­ they why not by EVA?

    Suiting up in the voidsuit and checking the propulsion tank, Sal was ready. He cycled the airlock and was once again cast into the vacuum of space. Unlike the investigation of Ruby Eye, he was alone. The last time he had been alone like this was Tartarus, all those years ago. But he had changed, no longer the man who feared for his own strength. Now, it was time to act. Firing his boosters, he could see that the other Cambiar ships had surrounded the Fifth Spoke, but none had moved to board or directly engage. What was going on?

    Sal was some distance from Starheart when he heard a transmission coming through his suit¡¯s communication system. Expecting to hear a message from Titus or another H&H staff member, a storm of static startled him, forcing him to turn down the volume. As the ringing in his ears subsided, an orange flash made him to avert his eyes and block his view with a thick voidsuited arm. Once he had blinked the spots out from his view, he stared at something long and boxy that had just appeared, sitting in space directly next to Fifth Spoke. A colossal ship, matching Starheart in size, had its Scar Field spiral and twirl around its hull before it stabilized. The network of orange and red lines spider-webbed across the surface, a clear sign of its heavy defences. Sal recognized the vessel from its shape, though the Doctrine markings along its hull were new. Gold and red was streaked in rough lines along the edges, outlining a crude mural of a skull wrapped in livery. Before Sal could take in the ship in its entirety, it set off a volley of railcannon shots directly at the husked remains of Ruby Eye.

    Lighthouse had S-Jumped into New Horizon, under new ownership, and made itself well known.

    <hr>

    A roar from the depths of hell echoed around Xeena as the group marched along a service tunnel towards the main data centre for Fifth Spoke. A split second later, a great rumbling rocked the entire hall, with Abel falling to his knees. Seconds passed, and the effect subsided.

    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± Xin looked around, searching for some cause of the disturbance.

    The initial sound had faded away but was quickly replaced by a constant banging sound that grew in speed and intensity. Big Stannock was the one who seemed to recognize it.

    ¡°Is that debris hitting the outer hull? That¡¯s strange, there¡¯s no asteroid field in this system. Unless one of the other ships nearby was damaged, then I¡¯m uncertain where that sound is coming from.¡±

    ¡°We need to keep moving,¡± Abel said, his voice intense. ¡°If we can get to the main control centre, we can try and find a safe spot to hide this out. That, or we can go to the bridge and try to contact the rest of the fleet.¡±

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Abel seemed to take leadership with ease. For most situations, being jovial and aloof was his natural state. When shit hit the fan, however, he seemed to focus on the task at hand with all his attention. His normally relaxed expression was as hard as stone as they followed his lead down the tunnel. They had left the task of pushing the assault against the Doctrine forces towards the fore end of the mid decks to the other members of the newly formed militia.

    A handful of their new allies were formed from a group of passengers from Ruby Eye who had turned out to be undercover mercenaries, hired by the rival corporation Tripwire Services. Their initial story sounded less than believable, supposedly being hired to keep an eye on any potential colony H&H put down, as they didn¡¯t trust Josiah Dexter not to lose it to the next attack from Doctrine. Little did they knew they would end up meeting aliens and decided to hide their role until needed. After one of them passed out a copy of his contract, alongside his spare gear to those who stayed at the barricade, they were given command of the newly formed militia there. It also helped that most of them were mechanically augmented, and each single member from Tripwire could likely do as much damage as the rest of the scrappy army combined.

    Abel, however, was not content to sit back, and neither were the other Torchers. Retrieving what weapons and armour could be spared, they had made a mission of reaching the central systems unit, which would give them access to some ship information. That was, if a Cambiar helped gave them access. Thankfully, the Torchers had six right there.

    ¡°Titan, are you doing ok?¡± Dusty rubbed the arm of the haggard Delkar that lumbered next to him.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, Dusty. Just¡­ need some time to heal.¡± Titan said, voice low and tired. She had soaked up the majority of the fighting in the previous battle, her carapace pocketed with gunshots and sword blows. Though she was at no risk of dying, everyone could see the warrior had slowed dramatically, the strain of healing taking up most of her energy.

    ¡°Worry not, dear. I am sure we can rest for a bit once we reach our target. I¡¯ll give you some of my spare bioenergy, as you look rather thin.¡± The soft, motherly voice was that of Cerella, Marcus¡¯ Onusian partner. She wore a long dress that had since been tattered in the fighting. The stocky worker-caste had proven herself more than capable in hand-to-hand combat, wielding a variety of tools attached via a series of hidden limbs extending from her back. The specks of human blood that marred her appearance stood at contrast with her calming tone.

    Marcus, however, looked far from calm. He had donned a heavy suit of body armour he¡¯d taken from a fallen security guard, and the helmet¡¯s visor did little to hide his wrathful glare. His hair had long since been swept back over his head, no longer covering his eyes. Marcus would no longer hide away from his past, it would seem.

    Xeena herself had been doing her best to adapt the best physiology for the current emergency. Even with the combined code of all the castes, as well as the numerous genetic shortcuts the Rexia had created over the years, it was taking time to put it to good use. Yet, despite this time, she could already feel some of the adjustments. Her muscles felt stronger, her reactions quicker, her eyes sharper. Armoured plating was rising beneath her skin along her limbs and torso, and she felt her claws elongating and strengthening. And yet, there still there was something¡­ missing. Did all Cambiar who had developed into their specific castes felt this way? That even with all the time in the world, did they feel as though they might never reach their maximum potential? It was almost as if, even with all of the XNA combinations and structures she had memorized and absorbed in her life were still lacking a connective tissue between them, a clear structure to build with.

    Regardless of her frustration, she had to push on. There was little time to worry about such things. Even if their team did reach the central console, they still wouldn¡¯t be able to contact the other ships from there. Only the bridge, where Rexia Rubicoss was meant to be stationed, had the necessary communication capabilities for that. Xeena was planning on splitting off from the group to head for the bridge, hoping that her newly gained rank in the eyes of the Cambiar as the Bearer of the Reward of Five Digits would help convince the Cambiar who had remained idle. By taking the Reward, she had effectively been raised to the same level to that of a Rexia, albeit not in practical terms yet, as she hadn¡¯t fully grown her crown. Xeena had been¡­ preoccupied with Sal to even worry about leadership roles.

    Sal¡­ The thought of him stung at her heart. Not because of some perceived betrayal, she had long guessed that he hadn¡¯t enough time to heal from his past by the time of their intimacy, but because she had failed at easing his pain. In the same way that he had given her life meaning, by opening her eyes to a world of individuality, of self, she had been unsuccessful in returning the favour. However, a small spark, deep within her, desperately hoped that if not tomorrow or the day after, that sometime in the future he would gain the strength to not only understand in his own self-worth, but to trust those around him.

    Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of servos whirring and the clanking of metal feet. The entire team stopped, ready to engage an approaching unknown figure. From the darkness it lurked forward, the sound of steel on steel echoing around them. The team raised their firearms at the unsteady form. Slowly, it stepped into the blinking orange lights of the tunnel, formal suit torn to shreds and strip of synthetic skin sloughing off the artificial body beneath.

    ¡°I need a vacation,¡± A weary sounding Titus said.

    The group released their held breaths as they rushed forward to greet him.

    ¡°Titus! You¡¯re¡­ alive. I think?¡± Xin looked across the man¡¯s damaged features.

    He looked like he had been tossed through an ore processing plant. Clothing in tatters, most of his body and face had its fake skin peeled away, leaving a mechanical physique and metallic skull for a head, fitted with glowing red sensors. He somewhat resembled a time-travelling android, sent into the past to terminate a target. Somehow, his necktie had survived the ordeal, hanging loosely by a thread. Scrapes and cuts along his metal body showed the severe wear and tear he had gone through.

    ¡°Yes, Ms Rouse. I am alive, albeit in rougher shape than I would like. Turns out, the braking thrusters on the escape pods weren¡¯t refuelled, so my landing was quite hard. That, and an unwelcome surprise comprised Doctrine forces was ready for me. Still, better late than never. How is Fifth Spoke?¡±

    ¡°Ah, Mr Fornax, it is good to see you.¡± Stannock sounded rather proud to turn Titus¡¯ surname habit back on the man. ¡°Though you could do with some beauty tips, that can probably wait. There¡¯s a group back in the relaxation sector of the next deck up, if you are looking for those trying to take down the clan traitors. Some Tripwire mercs are helping out, for now. We were heading for the control systems, hoping to get some more order back to the ship, maybe see how bad the damage is.¡±

    ¡°I see. In that case, if you feel safe going on, please proceed. I am going to the bridge. I need to find out why the Cambiar haven¡¯t intervened, and I am hoping they haven¡¯t sold us out to Heaven¡¯s Doctrine.¡±

    In response to their immediate confusion about the hypothetical scenario, he explained his theory about the Jade Emperor¡¯s prescient knowledge of the alien race, before he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

    ¡°I must admit, it would assist me greatly if a Cambiar could join me, if only to help with the computer systems and to assist with convincing the other ships.¡±

    ¡°I will. I might as well be a Rexia. They¡¯ll listen to me.¡± Xeenia was proud to help in a way no one else could. She would force her people to help, one way or another.

    Titus sighed with relief, his mechanical frame buzzing with the movement. He turned to continue towards the junction between their two paths, and the group followed. The analyst seemed to prepare to say something, inhaling a deep breath.

    ¡°I am proud of you all. I am sure Salvador will be very impressed once he makes his way over too.¡± The analyst couldn¡¯t resist cracking a grin as a torrent of questions and confused shouts rained down upon him.

    <hr>

    Salvador was facing death, once again. He was considering breaking the habit. To his left, a giant field of twisted shrapnel and debris from Ruby Eye, now splintered into an unrecognizable mess, was racing towards him at incredible speed. Blasting his voidsuit¡¯s thrusters as hard as possible, changing his trajectory to aim for a lower airlock on Fifth Spoke, he could see the innumerable shards incoming. He pre-emptively activated his suit¡¯s compartmentalization safety feature, designed to seal off holes and tears. It would not, however, lessen the impact of any debris that hit him. His mind focused on the wide-band transmission that was being sent out from Lighthouse, its surface bathed in a radiance of red.

    ¡°Hear me, weaklings of the corporations and xeno-scum! For the glory and honour of Hideki¡¯s Mercy, I will take your lives and strip you of your dignity! Jade Emperor, grant me strength, for my name is Zafar Ironskin!¡±

    Well, that sounded bad. Sal hadn¡¯t the time to worry, he had made it most of the way when the first signs of debris shot past his vision. Damn it, he wouldn¡¯t make it all the way in time! He deactivated his thruster¡¯s safety limits to push himself at an increasingly unsafe speed towards the airlock. A few more seconds and-

    A jolt sent him flying at a random direction as pain throbbed at his side. Gasping, shaking, he frantically tried to adjust his flight path and feel at his stomach simultaneously. He knew what he would find, but grabbing onto the blade of steel did little to ease his fears. No, he didn¡¯t have time to panic, he had a job to do and friends to make up his failures to. He made a hard manoeuvre with the thrusters, effectively flying blind into the incoming debris whilst rolling his view to get a better angle. The longer he stayed in the path of danger, the higher the risk of him dying, and he couldn¡¯t waste time checking his surroundings.

    Already, he could feel the lower compartment of the voidsuit crushing against his skin, desperately trying to seal the hole made by the shard. It wouldn¡¯t last long, but it would be enough to give him a chance to get inside. That was all he needed. Turning to face the rushing mass of glass and steel, he gave one final thrust of his boosters as he stretched outwards to grip the handle of the airlock by his fingertips. Just as another wave of death was closing in, each one his doom, he finally got a solid grip on a bracing rail. He pulled himself in, feeling the vibrations of pinging metal bouncing off the hull around the niche he had pulled himself into. Fingers dancing across the console as drops of red floated past his vision, he cycled the airlock and threw himself in.

    Rasping, he tore the suit away as the chamber pressurized and felt at the shard  of metal sticking out from his side. Despite the blood streaming from the wound, his first thought, almost in comical hysteria, was that it was nowhere near as big as the piece that had impaled him back on Tartarus Nine. A weak laughter brought him to his knees and he attempted to brace himself. In the airlock, a med kit sat in the locker. Throwing out the useless burn and friction ointments, he dumped thrice the regular dosage of coagulants, four times the dose of painkillers, and used a thin plasma torch from his jacket¡¯s tools to cut the excess metal away from the impact site.

    Wrapping his wound tight with a bandage, he left the airlock and inhaled the sweet lavender air of Fifth Spoke. It was good to be back. But he couldn¡¯t stop, not until he had accomplished his task. Salvador was determined not to die quite yet.

 Chapter 25: Three-Way Thoroughfare

    ¡°What the fuck do you mean, ¡®it¡¯s good to see you¡¯? I nearly killed you the last time I saw your disgusting face,¡± Mikhail grimaced into the holographic screen projected atop a metallic limb from his arm. He attempted to burn his revulsion into the arrogant face of Zafar Ironskin beyond the picture.

    To see the putrid man, skin lightly tinged in sickly tones of yellow-green, was not entirely unexpected for Mikhail. He had felt that the boar would appear during the mission at some point, but was nevertheless disheartened. He appeared the exact same as the last time Mikhail saw him. His immediate desire was to slaughter the fat pig, replacing most of his body in a complete soma-exosuit replacement. The only part of the man still containing flesh was his upper jaw and above, his face toadlike and layered with fat jowls. Aside from that one blemish upon his appearance, he would have stood an impressive figure, larger than any human could hope to naturally be. Zafar was decked out in some of the most expensive tech available in clan space, his armour incredibly heavy but durable and weaponry far too large for a normal human to wield. Such things were wasted on someone as loathsome as Zafar, though Mikhail felt regardless of quality, the equipment was too cumbersome for his liking. Around him laid the once proud bridge of Lighthouse, now broken and bloodied. Beyond the edges of the projected image were signs of gore and viscera, the remnants of the command crew still not fully cleaned up.

    That was, of course, the typical manner of any Hideki¡¯s Mercy hijacking ¨C brutal and resulting in few survivors. Their past was one of disgrace, even amongst the annals of the worst clan histories. They had a start as a sullied lesser corporation that was forced to defect to Heaven¡¯s Doctrine when their disregard for laws and thirst for violence grew too much for the CCH to handle. As it stood, the Mercy was the epitome of what Mikhail considered the worst of their faction; too much violence, too little motive, almost no purpose. Even the Lengti understood that suffering could be used for a purpose, as all had seen from their advancements in the past centuries. Mikhail understood passion and aggression as a means to an end - to help display the strongest might and values with the best skill. Parading bodies around on spikes and finding new ways for humans to experience pain were not quite what the clanprince felt showed true grit in the face of adversity.

    Once seventh in line to the throne of the Mercy, the adopted bastard Zafar had killed so many of his kin and lesser lords that the Jade Emperor himself had stepped in. The fetid old corpse of a leader had implied he would not accept any more intra-clan violence until he succeeded the position from his father, Hideki Voidburn. Mikhail doubted the fat bastard would wait for his patriarch to die a natural death. In his nearly forty years of mayhem and unabated passion for blood, he had absorbed many lesser clans under him with great force and little patience for resistance. The last time Mikhail had seen the man was at the last Tournament of Strength, where the coward had backed out of their duel at the last second. Such was Mikhail¡¯s frustration at losing the opportunity to kill the pig without stirring conflict that he almost broke conduct and sought to prove his ¡®One-Shot¡¯ moniker to all those who stood in his way that night. Yet, Mikhail had lacked the drive, the will, that he had developed in the months since then. The Cambiar he had spoken to had not only been changed by man but had altered the young clanlord in return.

    ¡°Ahaha! You are always so testy, little man. Why are you so angry?¡± Zafar¡¯s rumbling voice, tinged with a synthetic tone echoed about the tiny cleaner¡¯s closet Mikhail had hidden himself in. It was far from an ideal space, and Mikhail thought that for all their benefits, it was ridiculous that the Cambiar had found the need to build storage closet on a ship where the floor itself consumed stains and rubbish. Regardless, Mikhail had nearly finished preparing his new disguise before Zafar contacted him.

    ¡°Angry? Why am I angry? Because you are fucking up this mission. Badly. What the hell are you doing? We¡¯re supposed to be allying with these aliens you fool, not slaughtering them. You¡¯re lucky they haven¡¯t turned your hijacked ship into slag yet.¡± Mikhail didn¡¯t believe that the Emperor ever planned to ally with the Cambiar now, but he wouldn¡¯t let that slip until he heard it from the maniac in front of him.

    ¡°Bwahah! You call me a fool, yet you are the one in the dark! Such is the state of your dishonoured clan. From here on, I am leading this assault, and you will follow my orders.¡±

    God in heaven, this idiot was going to slaughter everyone he saw, regardless of species, clan or age. It would be a bloodbath.

    ¡°Wait. I need answers. You owe me that, if nothing else.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Zafar hardened, his look tensing. ¡°You are a good fighter, and I can spare some words. What do you want to know?¡±

    ¡°Why are you attacking the Cambiar? Surely, they would suit our faction, our ideology, well? They are useful, and I have even taught many of them our ways. They can see the holy light, Zafar.¡±

    Zafar scoffed. Though their way of life was simply one determined by strength, Mikhail still considered it a righteous one. Though the supposed avatar for god¡¯s will had tested Mikhail faith, he now knew that anyone with the might could be their instrument of power. The barbarian before him would never see it as a something to put religious faith into ¨C the glorious mission of Heaven¡¯s Doctrine was a just a means for the pig to kill.

    ¡°Well, truth be told, the Emperor himself told me to keep quiet, to hold on taking over until we got to this system, but I couldn¡¯t wait. So many cute officers on the bridge.¡± The sickening man licked his lips. ¡°After some chewing out, the boss told me to make a move. Gave me a rundown on all these little critters. Simply put, I think the Emperor¡¯s scared. Doesn¡¯t want them anywhere near the Doctrine anymore. He¡¯s known about them for a few years, but now¡­ Now he wants an advantage against them.¡±

    Mikhail couldn¡¯t believe his ears. If there was any part of his loyalty for the Doctrine still lingering, it had just died.

    ¡°But¡­ there¡¯s trillions of them. You can¡¯t fight that, even with all the clans or some stupid new technology. I mean, they could eat right out the palm of our hands, my hands. You can¡¯t be serious? What advantage could the Emperor want?¡±

    ¡°Ah, their genetic code of course. For his glory¡¯s genomic augmentation program. He wants the Dragon Guard to be stronger than anything else in the galaxy and won¡¯t stand for any opposition, no matter how daunting. They must have it stored in data format somewhere, likely on that ship you¡¯re on. Fear not, little man, I will be coming aboard soon. The prow¡¯s just about to ram in. Maybe we can chat soon?¡±

    No. No, no, no.

    To hell with the Jade Emperor¡¯s idiotic fear of the unknown. Heaven¡¯s Doctrine was being led by fools, idiots all. That much was clear. Mikhail wouldn¡¯t stand for this. The die had been cast when he had seen the Emperor¡¯s broken form, a man clinging to a half-life in a beyond ruined state, and now it was time to call his bluff. Heaven¡¯s Doctrine could no longer be fixed, not from within. Even if he reclaimed the honour of the Broken Fang, it would be for a dying cause, one that deserved a swift euthanasia. The galaxy needed someone who truly believed in a world where those with strength would lead those below them to glory. One who could bring up everyone, human, non-human, hell even the shuckabrush if it could rely on its own strength.

    Someone like Mikhail.

    ¡°Zafar. I¡¯m done. If I see the Doctrine, they¡¯re dead. When I see you, you¡¯re dead.¡± Mikhail cut the call on his surprised, fat face.

    This was it. Mikhail was going solo, free from the chains that once bound him. It felt¡­ good.  Freeing. No more would he have to rely on pulling the rotten remains of the empire around him. He would be building his dream anew.

    The sound of organized, marching footsteps outside the closet told him it was time. Switching his face to his new disguise and throwing the robe on, it was time to help dance with the other partner at this tango.

    <hr>

    Salvador¡¯s body was falling apart physically, but his mind couldn¡¯t be happier. He had made it to Fifth Spoke. The only question was where to go. Where would Titus have gone? Moreover, where the hell was he in the first place? He didn¡¯t recognize this part of the ship from his time here, though the harsh orange pulse of the lights made it seem far stranger. Guessing he was nearer the back end of the vessel, obviously near the outer hull, he decided to work his way inwards and forwards. How badly could it go?

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Grasping his Nova handgun in one fist and putting pressure on his wound with the other, he stumbled down the hallway, blood trickling behind him. Sal hoped the Doctrine clans who had sprung to action weren¡¯t good trackers; he would make for easy prey with such a trail. Hearing noise, he peeked around a corner. Slowly, steadily, he edged his head out enough to see some Doctrine soldiers decked in heavy red armour looking at a sealed bulkhead.

    ¡°What do you mean they sealed it?¡± One spoke in their foreign tongue.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. They just did.¡±

    ¡°Well, who was it? Better not have been those Hideki goons. They¡¯re already crawling all over, and they¡¯ve only been here five minutes.¡±

    ¡°Hey, do you guys hear beeping?¡± Another interjected. A fraction of a second later the door blew open and Sal sprung back in to avoid the flying fragments. He had already been stuck once, and didn¡¯t need any more metal in his gut if he could help it. Red mist and metal shot down the hallway as smoke filled the area. Regaining his bearings, Sal took a tentative look around the now damaged corner, only to see that the situation had somehow become worse.

    From the destroyed door, a number of white and black robed individuals stepped out, calmly humming a choir-like tune. One was preparing a number of explosives attached to his suicide vest as the others loaded ornate firearms, decorated in brass and gold, with surgical precision. Their eyes were glazed, and a limp smile hung from all of their faces. Behind the first line of them stood a tall man in heavy black armour, a thin visor the only window into the human beneath. It was not the sort of advanced power armour one would expect in the 22<sup>nd</sup> century but instead resembled some set of medieval plating. In one hand the dark figure wielded a serrated blade, and in the other, a great handheld railcannon was hefted.

    Paradisians.

    ¡°Be still, unborn.¡± The armoured man stated, calm and monotone, to one of the dying clan warriors, missing a leg from the blast. ¡°Death comes for all those who spurn Paradise. May you find rest in a new life, one of guidance, of faith.¡±

    He nodded to those in front and continued his procession. ¡°Brothers and sisters all, we must make haste. If we are to remove the filth from the galaxy, Praecursori Solras must make his way to the bridge to announce our voyage. Please, continue onwards. Return the broken souls to the cycle.¡±

    Without looking down, he plunged the blade into the wounded man¡¯s face and continued his path, the cult-like members trailing behind. Shit, shit, this was bad. Salvador had wondered what the hell could be worse than Doctrine soldiers invading the fleet, but seeing the force on the other side of the Eternal War was making him reconsider. Turning to flee, he jolted to a stop when he saw a silent group of more robed figures less than five steps behind him, approaching with the same faint smile and swords at the ready.

    Sal sprinted away, his cover blown and needing to put distance between him and them. As he turned, a violent screech of metal and force bayed through the corridor next to him. In the spot where he stood a second before, a railcannon round had punched through the wall ahead of him and through the next couple rooms. The sheer power of such a weapon could only be one thing ¨C A Masslock Recoilless Rifle, a weapon so dangerous and controversial that even most Doctrine forces saw the usage of such a device as dishonourable, as well as insane. It did so much damage to ships from the inside that they were better used for attempting suicide than inflicting casualties. Using one was tantamount to accepting one¡¯s demise whilst destroying the ship at the same time.

    Feet pounding against the deck, Sal carried himself through the dim halls, the sounds of Doctrine tongues distantly mixing with the chanting of Paradise crusaders. Shouts and cries broke out as the first firefights and brawls between the two groups began. Gasping for breath, he passed what seemed like an empty restroom when a bronze hand grabbed his jacket and pulled him in. Palm pressed to his mouth, Sal was kept silent as a Paradisian squad sauntered past, their humming synchronized with one another. As it faded into the darkness, the hand moved.

    ¡°Hello Salvador,¡± Thomas tried grinning. ¡°Apologies for the surprise. I was hiding from a group of clan soldiers when they met the Paradisians. It would appear they are more distracted with each other for now.¡±

    ¡°Tom!¡± Sal hissed back, pain in his side growing. ¡°You¡¯re ok! Where the hell are we? I was with Titus, but we got separated. I managed to get in through an airlock but, well, I am completely lost.¡±

    ¡°We are in Recreation Sector 5A. May I ask where you were heading, exactly?¡±

    ¡°Well, to be honest, I¡¯m not too sure. I was hoping to reunite with the Torchers. I¡¯ve got some things I need to apologise for.¡±

    ¡°A fair motive. I understand. I was heading for the central control unit myself. I fear Paradise may have interfered with the S-Drive from Ruby Eye. There is a disturbance in the air, I can feel it. The main core unit of the processor is this way.¡± Thomas projected a map using his built-in computer system and pointed to a specific path. ¡°Shall we stick together? I plan to move to the S-Drive after getting the necessary data from the central unit. There is a decent chance at least some other loyal crewmembers are in that direction.¡±

    ¡°God, yes please.¡± Sal tried laughing in relief but grimaced as his wound pulsed with pain. Thomas leaned back in surprise.

    ¡°Salvador, that is a serious injury. How are you walking around?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve had worse, trust me. You would know.¡± Sal helped himself to some more of the painkillers from the bathroom¡¯s medical box, swallowing them dry. Admittedly, he had an automatic surgery device back on Tartarus Nine to stop him from bleeding out, but now wasn¡¯t the time to stop.

    ¡°I see. Your vision, the one I saw a part of¡­¡±

    ¡°That was in the past. Now, I¡¯m heading into the future.¡± They shared a look as they prepared to leave.

    Salvador checked his gun, bullet in the chamber, and Thomas recalibrated his interfacing systems for hacking the nearby Cambiar ship¡¯s utilities. He quickly demonstrated his powers by overflowing a toilet, which had less impact on Sal than the mechanical man had hoped. Still, he claimed he would be useful even without a gun. They stepped quietly as they skirted around the sounds of distant firefights. After some close calls, they came to a stop near a door that led out of the recreation area.

    A huddling group of three Paradisians seemed to be inspecting a pile of corpses. Which group they came from was no longer discernible, only that their remains had been ravaged beyond belief. Thomas and Sal quietly discussed a plan using the piping above them to burn or stun them whilst Sal picked them off in the confusion. Getting behind cover, Sal aimed at one of them and steadied his aim. Taking a deep breath, he told himself that he could do it. It was only three of them, how hard could it be? Thomas stood a bit further back, hand raised, preparing the assault. He gave a quiet beep to signify he was beginning. However, a split second later, as the steam shot out and seared the faces of two of the indoctrinated combatants, the third span in an instant.

    He pointed towards the two of them, a quiet ticking announcing the activation of his suicide vest, before he erupted in a fireball that consumed most of the hallway. Wires and plating splayed out like a tin of food left on a hot stove. A wave of heat spilled towards Sal, blowing him to the floor, as metal flung overhead. The ground below Sal crumpled as he slid downwards, into the now open hole into the deck below. Tumbling, twisting Sal felt every jolt against his shrapnel wound soak his bandage further scarlet. Dropping his gun, he fumbled desperately for a handhold but found none. With no support he fell into the unknown. Dropping some distance onto his, thankfully, less injured side, he landed hard.

    Rolling onto his knees and really wishing he had stayed in bed with Xeena that morning, he found the strength to look up. Thomas stared down in concern, before desperately looking for something to help. Instead, Sal shook and told him to go on. Or at least, he thought he said something along those lines. Whatever suicide bomb the last Paradisian had was strong enough to render Sal hearing a whining drone, deaf to anything else. He couldn¡¯t hear himself, but Thomas seemed to register the message and after saluting made disappeared from the hole above.

    Hauling himself up, he took two tries to pick up his gun. Now covered in dust, ash, and god knows what else, he had his weapon secured. He stumbled in the direction he¡¯d been heading before, a pitch-black corridor. Sal had never been to that part of the ship before, and the unfamiliarity did little to ease his fraying nerves. It wasn¡¯t long before he found himself in trouble. Near a ruined hair salon, a pair of robed soldiers were preparing a bomb, one that was familiar in design to Sal. Realizing that if he didn¡¯t stop them, he would be unable to disarm it himself, Sal sprung to action. Not wasting time, he prepared a line of sight over the shattered window of the salon and braced himself.

    Pistol cracking with energy, he took the first one out in a single shot but started firing wildly as the second figure dove for cover. A spray of blood from the man¡¯s head told Sal he had struck true, if without great accuracy. Magazine empty, and still pulling the trigger, Sal rose from his crouched position. After verifying the bomb was thankfully not activated, he found his hearing slowly returning, but, to his horror, the first thing he heard was an angelic choir reverberating the halls around him.

    Sal was being surrounded.

    He dashed to grab the guns the Paradisians had, a type of small calibre submachine gun from the looks of it, and looked around for a place to make his stand. He considered fleeing, but down all available hallways the echoing tune of song assaulted his ears. Eventually, panic rising, he found a hardware store, lights shattered, and aisles still loaded with strange Cambiar tools. None of them appeared to be for human use, handles ending in attachment points for alien limbs, but the additional breaks in enemy sight lines would still be useful.

    Nova reloaded and SMGs hanging from shoulder straps, he was ready for them. Or as ready as a non-combatant with no experience could be against a small army of brainwashed maniacs.

    Well, at least Sal could say he wasn¡¯t taking an easy route to redemption.

 Chapter 26: A New Path

    Elijah held his organic arm, bruised and battered from dodging and rolling around in the numerous firefights he had gone through. God be damned if a single shootout at his age was a good idea; he had pushed through four separate groups of insurgents on his way to the bridge of the ship. First Spoke was the same size as the other Spoke ships, and trawling through its winding guts did little to help Elijah¡¯s aching joints. Even if his legs weren¡¯t blown off in the next firefight he was considering getting them replaced. Step by step, he made his way, prowling like a great beast. His cape had become a tattered mane, his eyes scanning the dark for his prey. With great anticipation, he continued to thumb the hammer of his gun over and over, preparing to unleash hell on the next clan warrior he saw.

    Elijah hoped it would be one of the stupid ones, the ones who thought hacking an opponent to bits with machetes and clubs made you more honourable than blowing their brains out with a hollow point. Their motives mattered not to the grizzled deck manager, only that they made much easier targets. Much to his chagrin, many of the Cambiar on the ship had relatively little contact with humans, and some stood like dodos as they were butchered. He wondered how Fifth Spoke was doing, as it had become something of the central point that most humans and the important Cambiar had centred themselves at. Thankfully, a few of the moronic aliens on his current ship had realized that not all humans were sunshine and rainbows, and had actually decided to fight back, some with surprising skill and horrible emotional detachment. One had calmly decapitated a soldier and waved with the now severed head at Elijah as if it were a Christmas present.

    Such actions reinforced his lack of trust of the creatures, and considering the lack of response from the fleet in general so far, he felt justified in his suspicions. Still, it would do little to help him if he waved his gun at every four-legged creature he saw, and instead continued towards his target. Reaching an extra thick bulkhead leading to the bridge, knees aching like hell after climbing far too many stairs, he slammed the intercom.

    ¡°This is Deck Manager Elijah Meyer, requesting access to the bridge. We have urgent matters you alien frea-¡­¡± Elijah¡¯s anger took hold of him for a second too long. Coughing, he repeated himself. ¡°We have matters regarding human lives, all our lives at stake here, so let me in!¡±

    A tense second passed with no response. Then, the door separated apart, the entrance splitting to revealing it had been made up grey hair-like filaments compacted together like baleen. Inside, the fleshy black-green consoles and surfaces played with his senses. It was dark, much like when he first arrived on Fifth Spoke. It would seem the aliens were happy to retrofit every part of their ship aside from the one spot humans didn¡¯t need to see on a daily basis. Flicking his shoulder-mounted flashlight on, he initially saw no signs of life. When a Cambiar stood up inches from his gun¡¯s barrel it took all his training not to blow its head off.

    Elijah shouted, ¡°Fucks sake! Don¡¯t scare me you stupid xeno!¡±

    The expressionless Cambiar shook slightly, perhaps in fear or excitement as it held its arms up in surrender. Around the room, several more stood up, each staring at him with their dozens of unblinking black marbles.

    Elijah lowered the weapon, grunting, ¡°I¡¯m not here to kill you. Unlike the rest of these traitors, I don¡¯t kill on sight. Usually.¡±

    ¡°Apologies, Deck Manager,¡± The alien said, relaxing. ¡°We could not confirm your affiliation.¡±

    ¡°Then why the hell did you let me in?¡±

    ¡°You told me to,¡± It said plainly, like any other option was incomprehensible.

    Christ almighty these things were going to be the death of him. He marched over to a gangly looking one, shaded in a sickly yellow as the lights slowly lit up around them. Beyond the window, Elijah had seen a variety of ships strewn across the nearby space. Lighthouse stood proud, flying Doctrine insignia and currently sitting with its nose rammed into Fifth Spoke. The ship had been adapted to deploy troops from the intersecting point, based on the shoddy retrofitting along its hull. Elijah couldn¡¯t even imagine how many soldiers could already be pouring into the ship, killing all the men and women the manager had tried to teach over the years.

    Elijah pointed, ¡°You. Tall one. Why the hell are you not firing at that enemy ship?¡± It took all the man¡¯s strength not to shout the question at the dumbfounded alien.

    ¡°Apologies, sir. But we have clear orders not to intervene until absolutely necessary. Protocol declared that the only situation where this is approved is if we are personally fired upon. As per the orders of Rexia Zeentach, we cannot fire upon or board any vessels undergoing human-on-human conflict.¡±

    ¡°And what about the rest of you bastards down below who have actually have enough balls to fight back?¡±

    ¡°They are¡­ abnormal. Evolved. Beyond what is considered typically ¡®Cambiar¡¯. But that is good. It shows we are learning. They can choose to intervene, if they wish.¡± The damned thing faintly smiled. Elijah wanted to break its long head open.

    ¡°Well, for the love of god, open up a communications line to this Zeentach. I need to speak to him.¡±

    ¡°I would be more than happy to assist you sir, but the Onusian ¡®Jeff¡¯ over there had decided as part of learning human experiences that he would take apart the transmission terminal.¡±

    ¡°Why?!¡± Eljiah screamed, the gun alluring in his hand.

    ¡°He says he is training to become a human ¡®mechanic¡¯. Isn¡¯t that great!¡± The Cambiar widened its jaw into a dumb, open-mouthed grin that, had it not been anything but idiotically na?ve, Elijah would have been tempted to unload his gun on all the nearby evolutionary dead-ends in an instant.

    Ordering the computer to be put back together, Elijah slumped in a lumpy, writhing chair that extended from the floor. Rubbing his forehead, he groaned. This was going to be a rough day.

    <hr>

    Salvador had done a lot better than he had anticipated. He laid on the floor behind the store¡¯s counter. Blood soaked through his clothes, the shrapnel getting the better of him. By his count, he must have dropped at least ten Paradisians, though he was humble enough to admit that it was almost entirely due to their slow, lumbering approach indifferent of the danger of death. Blood slick on his hands, he failed to load his pistol once again. Limply he dropped the magazine to the floor, the container landing with a clatter. It didn¡¯t help that he¡¯d caught two stray shots ¨C one from firing over the counter and another when switches aisles for cover. He was down the bottom half of his right hand, leaving bone sticking out from the muscle, and a close shave from a slug had skimmed his face, tearing flesh from his cheek away, and shredding his ear. Using the two fingers and thumb left on his dominant hand, he could brush against most of his teeth on the right side, even when trying to close his jaw.

    Sal hadn¡¯t anticipated dying in the back of a hardware store on an alien ship, but life wasn¡¯t always fair, he rationalized to himself. Still, better than throwing himself into space, that much was certain. Footsteps approaching, he braced for the end. He reflected on Xeena, remembering her happy expressions from their time spent together. He held the bright faces of the Torchers in his mind, Dusty¡¯s birthday springing to memory. But most of all, Sal thought on whether his father would approve, a silly thought considering the man was over a decade and a half gone. Pitifully, Sal hoped his father would say he had tried his best. He missed his father¡¯s coat.

    As the footsteps stopped, and beginning to feel woozy from the blood loss, Sal lazily looked up to see three Paradisians staring down at him. He expected them to kill him on sight, but instead they surveyed him. One at the back, face hidden by a hood, scratched his temple as the others looked down on him.

    ¡°Fuck you,¡± Sal mumbled out. Not exactly Shakespeare, but he didn¡¯t have much energy left to think with.

    ¡°He fought well. Are all outsiders like this?¡± One said, a younger looking man, face fully clean shaven of hair.

    ¡°Perhaps. We saw many fake lives whilst biding our time. This man could just as well be one of the billions out there lacking a soul, just pretending.¡± This one was slightly older, though his eyes held the same unblinking look. As he finished talking, he raised a rifle he had slung under an arm.

    The younger one said, ¡°Well, it of my opinion that Er-¡°

    A pair of gunshots, so quick they sounded like one, roared from an un-Paradisian styled revolver held by the rearmost, hooded figure. The two Paradisians dropped to the ground, heads mangled into pulp by the force of the shots. Sal flinched, some of his senses regained. The remaining figure walked closer, stepping over the corpses before crouching down.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Look at the state of you, Sal. I¡¯m rather proud. Were it up to me, I¡¯d give you a medal back home. Didn¡¯t think you had the guts of a fighter in you.¡± An unfamiliar voice said in a tone that would be taunting if Sal couldn¡¯t see him nodding approvingly. The way he surveyed his injuries seemed sincere, as if the man was looking at a beautiful piece of art.

    Leaning even closer, a pair of eyes appraised his very soul. Black on black, they lacked pupils or iris, reminding Sal of the eyes of a fish. Dead eyes, eyes that never blinked or unfocused. Strings of long, white hair hung across his face, silvery locks that unnaturally glinted even in the darkness of the store. Lunging forward, a hand stretched out and ripped the shrapnel from his side.

    A howl of agony escaped Sal, the pain forcing him back into reality proper.

    ¡°You son of a bitch! I¡¯ll kill you!¡± Sal clenched a fist, preparing to try and strike back with what little strength he had.

    ¡°I doubt that, Sal. You of all people know I¡¯ve got some skills with handling your body.¡±

    What? Was this man delusional and mistaking him for someone else? How did he know his name? Tossing the twisted metal to the side, the dead-eyed man took out a syringe, twirled on a finger, and plunged it into the open wound. The twinkling azure within the ampule contained white fragments that drained into Sal as the needle dug at his insides. Air rushed from Sal¡¯s chest as an icy feeling spread out from the injection site. In seconds, the pain faltered and puttered out, like a candle snuffed. Without waiting, the man grabbed Sal¡¯s arm and dragged him out of the store, smearing a trail of blood, both his own and the Paradisians, across the floor as he was hauled through puddles of viscera.

    Being placed down in the centre of the hallway, Sal felt his muscles were numb. Yet, he still found the strength to look down at his injury. Below the tattered remains of his jacket, he could see the open wound where debris had jutted from his side not half a minute before closing in on itself, flesh knitting closed. The rate of blood leaking from the site had slowed, leaving a nasty gash but far from the increasingly fatal injury it had become.

    ¡°What the hell?¡± Sal gingerly touched the wound, the pain dulled.

    ¡°Cheer up, Sal. That stuff¡¯s expensive, so you should be glad I¡¯m spending it on you. That being said, it¡¯s coming out of the Doctrine¡¯s paycheck, and frankly I don¡¯t care if it costs them anymore.¡±

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Sal tried to climb to his knees and failed. ¡°Are you a clan warrior? Do you know me?¡±

    The figure had been fiddling with a control panel and heaved a breaker switch to return the blinking orange lights back to a healthy white. Holding the position, he looked towards Sal, teeth reflecting like diamonds. Rocking his head back, the robes fell, revealing his unfamiliar face. Sharp outlines belied a young face, likely younger than Sal. Despite the man¡¯s youth, his eyes held signs of rough life. A pair of scars under each eye, a cleft mark through an eyebrow, the signs of previous conflict were clear. Below the robes, the man wore a black bodysuit, blue wires coursing beneath the surface. Attached to his hips were a holster, and a boxy mechanical sheath for a sword. Along the skin beneath his face and hands, Sal could make out cybernetics, twitching and eager for action. The ones along what little of his forearms could be seen were familiar in a way.

    Sighing, as if disappointed Sal didn¡¯t recognise him instantly, he reapproached Salvador and dropped to a knee. Sal wasn¡¯t sure if he should try to attack the strange man or thank him, but the deadness in his limbs left him without a choice.

    ¡°Come on Sal, let¡¯s not be coy.¡± He cleared his throat, an obvious edge of excitement to it. ¡°Tick, tock. Tick, tock.¡± He tilted his head. ¡°Cuckoo.¡±

    It hit Sal like a cargo freighter.

    ¡°Michaels?¡±

    ¡°Bingo! If I had my personal fighter ship on me, I¡¯d give you the activation codes as a reward.¡±

    ¡°Who¡­ are you, really?¡± Sal gaped like an idiot. This traitor had been with Sal for months now, and Sal hadn¡¯t noticed. Though, in hindsight, he supposed some signs were there: his knowledge of mechanized armour from Ruby Eye¡¯s cargo, his strange admiration with Cambiar that seemed to go beyond a mild interest and Thomas¡¯ recounting of his gore-filled S-Jump vision certainly made more sense now.

    With an exaggerated bow, he gleefully said, ¡°Mikhail Olegovich, third in line to the Broken Fang, at your service. Though, after I¡¯m done, likely Mikhail of Ten-Tri from here on out.¡±

    ¡°W-what?¡± None of this was making sense. Michaels had been ¡®One-Shot¡¯ Olegovich? The Ten-Tri? What the fuck was going on?

    ¡°Ah, dear Sal, I can see you¡¯re confused. Do you mind if we walk and talk? I¡¯m rather excited to get moving.¡± Without waiting for an answer, Mikhail heaved Sal over his shoulders in a fireman¡¯s carry, Sal¡¯s uninjured side placed behind his head. Mikhail showed no sign of strain or even exertion as he calmly walked through the halls of Fifth Spoke, swinging his Hullbuster revolver in one hand and supporting Sal with the other. Occasionally, the sheath of a long sword, the container made of advanced sheeting and components, bounced against his leg. Writing on the metal container spelt out ¡®CASSARIA¡¯ in blood red font.

    The long silver hair brushed against Sal stomach as he continued. ¡°Apologies about the hand and face, the nano-serum won¡¯t fix those up, too far from the injection spot. You¡¯ll have to see if the Cambiar are good at plastic surgery. God knows they didn¡¯t spot my little adjustments.¡±

    ¡°How¡­ how long?¡±

    ¡°Hmm? Oh, me? I¡¯ve always been part of the crew, always here.¡±

    ¡°But, what about Michaels, the one on the crew manifest? Did you kill him?¡±

    ¡°Heh, you wish. A completely falsified identity. I couldn¡¯t live knowing I was stepping into someone else¡¯s shoes. You¡¯d be surprised how shoddy H&H¡¯s background checks are. Well, you might have been surprised if a couple thousand of them didn¡¯t turn out to be traitors. I think their security department is going to have some major layoffs this financial year. That, and their IT department. You wouldn¡¯t believe how easy it was to spread pornography to all the Cambiar ¡®Must Read¡¯ data archives. That was amazing watching them see it for the first time.¡±

    Despite the swarm of questions buzzing in Sal¡¯s head, a few stuck out.

    ¡°Why are you doing this? What¡¯s going on? What do the Ten-Tri have to do with this?¡±

    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s quite the number of enquiries, wouldn¡¯t you say my dear engineer? Because I¡¯m in a great mood, since I got to kill a couple hundred of those robed lobotomites and will probably deal with even more clansmen, I¡¯ll tell you. I¡¯m on a schedule, but for you buddy, I¡¯ve got time.¡±

    A few¡­ hundred? What sort of monster was Mikhail? Were the legends about the princeling true in some way?

    ¡°So, first things first ¨C ¡®what¡¯s going on?¡¯. That¡¯s a big question but can be summed up rather quickly. Josiah Dexter - the rapacious H&H weakling wants new land, made bad deals with the lesser clans to get extra firepower to protect any new colony he starts, and got infiltrated by everyone in the galaxy it seems. I think H&H is not long for the world, regardless of how things go here. The Jade Emperor, fuck his rotten corpse, has been rather naughty. He¡¯s known about the Cambiar for a while.¡±

    ¡°The translators¡­¡±

    ¡°Exactly! I knew you were smart. Sounds like he sent a probe into their space some years back and has chatted with them ever since. He¡¯d convinced a handful of the Ten-Tri to ally with the Doctrine a few years back ¨C great minds thinking alike and all that. However, the bastard is now scared shitless. I guess he didn¡¯t know how many Cambiar there are, big blunder on his part, and now wants them dead. He¡¯s too scared to deal with another serious opponent after all the trouble he¡¯s had with Paradise. That, and his ego is as big as the galaxy. In the end, he just shot himself in the foot.¡±

    Mikhail paused, thinking, ¡°As for Paradise¡­ I¡¯m still fuzzy on them. They planted the bombs, but not sure why. Trying to get sympathy from the Cambiar to position themselves as refugees? Who knows, they don¡¯t have fully working brains, so their logic is all over the place.¡±

    ¡°What¡­ what about you? Why save me?¡±

    Mikhail looked over his shoulder, feigning hurt in his voice.

    ¡°Sal, how could you say that. I thought we had something. Didn¡¯t you like it when I did your checkups, placed my hand on your chest, felt your beating heart?¡± He winked, causing Sal to lurch back in immediate fear, his ¡®gaydar¡¯ reading spiking.

    ¡°Hahaha! Just kidding.¡± Sal thought he heard an incredibly quiet ¡®or not¡¯ from the bizarre man but kept that to himself. ¡°Myself? Well, if you didn¡¯t pick up on it already, I¡¯m sick of the Doctrine. I¡¯ve killed so many for that husk of a leader, and he wants to throw it down the drain. In his mind, the only man who deserves to rule the galaxy is himself, and he refuses to even consider that anyone else could be stronger. I think that¡¯s a spit in the face to the entire ideology of Heaven¡¯s Doctrine, so I¡¯m going to finish my own deal with Ten-Tri. Thinking of making my own version, maybe with blackjack and hookers.¡± Mikhail chuckled. ¡°No, I will ensure that the one leading the galaxy will be strong, not some corpse hiding himself away. Someone¡­ like me.¡±

    Sal scowled at the man, any previous admiration fading, ¡°Huh, I thought you might be different from the rest of these marauders, but it seems I was mistaken.¡±

    ¡°Ah, come now Sal. Trust me, I¡¯ll make a bright future for all of us. In my new world, it will be the strength of ideals that will pave the way. There will be no more Josiah Dexters or Captain Curtins or Jade Emperors ¨C those who bow down and break under the their own weakness will be the ones who will be wiped clean from this galaxy. So fear not, men like you and me, those who live and die for their beliefs will succeed. And the others? Those who cannot live by their own strength? They will face their justice soon enough.¡±

    Sal sneered at the fanatic¡¯s words. He had just about enough of self-reliance for one lifetime, but he kept that to himself. As much as he hated it, continuing to disagree vehemently with the incredibly dangerous madman carrying him was a good way to die.

    ¡°And the Ten-Triumphs? What¡¯s their deal?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve convinced a lot of the envoys here to let me go back with them, alongside those loyal to my clan. I¡¯ll start out small, help add a bit of human culture to their society. When they¡¯re ready, I¡¯ll help them take bites out of the Doctrine, one system at a time. Still, there are others from their faction still blindly thinking the Doctrine are here to confirm a new alliance. They will be sorely mistaken.¡± He sighed wistfully, as if mass murder and conquest were something on a to-do list he had forgotten.

    ¡°Still, I wonder what Paradise is doing exactly. I¡¯d love to know, wouldn¡¯t you?¡±

    With those jinxed words, a new message, hijacked throughout the speaker system, began. Sal couldn¡¯t quite place the voice, but it seemed familiar, albeit in a different tone from how he remembered it.

    ¡°Attention, Beholders and Folgeres of Utopia. The time has come for our journey, the one to remove all impurities from this system, and to lead the way to a brighter future. As your Praecursori, I will lead us to glory. In less than an hour, our combined efforts will tear all the demons and false souls through the dark void, and our souls will be protected. Protect the engines until they are charged to their limits and beyond. Glory to us, we will reach the true Paradise!¡±

    Mikhail stopped for a second, Sal hanging loosely from his back for a moment. Then the clanlord raised his head, eyes wide in disbelief. He spewed forth a torrent of swears and curses in his natural tongue that Sal could only catch a few of. He calmed down just enough to speak English, ¡°Those idiots! They can¡¯t be serious ¨C overloading both engines? No, those bastards are going to try and S-Jump everyone, no everything in the goddamn fleet without any protection! They¡¯re trying to turn us into a flotilla of goddamn vegetables!¡±

 Chapter 27: A Strange Time In All Our Lives

    Abel leaned against the central processing station at the heart of Fifth Fleet. The room had been difficult to locate, with its doors and passageways hidden behind false walls that were only detectable to Cambiar using pheromone signals. In the harsh white light of the room, Dusty was hard at work, alongside Titan and Cerella giving encouragement, at trying to divine some details from the computer. In the background, the others were talking loudly.

    ¡°No, no.¡± Xin said, adamant. ¡°What if it¡¯s a trap? We can¡¯t all go to one or the other, we might be dead meat.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice.¡± Marcus retorted. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s gonna take all of us to sort the fusion engine.¡±

    ¡°Well, unless¡­¡± Xin seemed to consider the only person likely to have the required knowledge to fix the Juhgler Trian Fusion Engine.

    ¡°Not yet,¡± Marcus interrupted. ¡°Not until I see his stupid face. I won¡¯t plan anything until I see him. Thomas, what do you think?¡±

    The Keeper, who had been in distant thought, with his cords attached to the machine to directly retrieve information, was brought back to the real world upon hearing his name being called.

    ¡°Apologies, Marcus,¡± Thomas said. I am the least familiar with the exact mechanics behind resolving the overloading engines. I must state that I feel my best position would be with the Schrodinger Engine, as I can directly interface with the controls there, but for the rest of you?¡± He shrugged.

    The team had rushed to the central databank after splitting with Xeena, Titus and both Stannocks as they headed for the bridge to contact the Cambiar fleet for assistance. Abel had little desire to talk, his face unmoving as stone, even when Pippa had tugged at his clothes. For now, he wanted to wait until he appeared. Then, Abel would let his gut decide the best option.

    Dusty lightly coughed to get their attention. ¡°Hey guys, sorry to interrupt, but it seems our predictions are right. Both the fusion and S-Engines and being set to overload. We have time, but they¡¯re at opposite ends of the ship. If we don¡¯t split up, there¡¯s no way we can reach both in time.¡±

    They discussed what the results would be, but it wasn¡¯t looking positive. An overloading engine of any type was bad ¨C a fusion going into meltdown, as inaccurate as the term was for the cooled power generators, would overload the system and melt anything in the surrounding hundred kilometres to slag from the raw electrical current. An S-Drive going out of control would result in random jumps in the nearby area, tearing matter apart and separating people from their QIS at random. That was if a fully manifested jump happen, which would render everyone caught in it braindead without the proper tanks and Keepers. Together, however, the result was far, far worse. The massive energy release from the fusion core providing insane amounts of energy, it could send the Schrodinger into a randomized jump with an insane range.

    The end result for a combined overload for engines of the size taken from Ruby Eye could be nearly the entire star system getting their waveforms collapsed and reappearing randomly in a nearby system, killing everyone from either the jump or the net result of two stars appearing inside another. It was all highly theoretical, but Paradise had seemingly run the numbers, and their predications were growing more and more accurate as the central unit calculated likely outcomes when both engines reached their limits. Regardless, absurd reality breaking predictions aside, either engine going out of control would kill everyone on Fifth Spoke, no questions asked.

    ¡°Alright, anything else Puppy?¡± Xin sauntered over to read the screen from behind Dusty¡¯s shoulder, a level of closeness that Titan huffed at. Apparently, the giant soldier alien was rather jealous of the tattooed woman¡¯s disregard for personal space.

    ¡°Well¡­ the scanners are on the fuzzy side, some interference is coming from Lighthouse but yeah, we¡¯ve got a mix of what seem to be Paradisians and Doctrine towards those two ends. The ID tags for the ones towards the S-Engine, where Lighthouse rammed into us, are going down for some reason, but maybe they¡¯re camouflaging? The computers labelled a bunch as ¡®arti-humans¡¯, which I think means goreskins. Most of those are stuck in the cargo hold, in the containers taken from Starheart and Ruby Eye. On Lighthouse itself¡­ it¡¯s bad. Really bad. There are thousands of them preparing to disembark. The ones that have moved so far are just the advance teams.¡±

    ¡°Right. Ok, cool. Well, not cool, but you know what I mean. Good work kid. Anything else?¡±

    ¡°Um¡­ we¡¯ve got a regular crew tag coming this way? Just in the hallway¡­ outside?¡±

    Nobody said a word, the information processing. As one, the team then all rushed out of the room back into the main hallway, aside from Thomas who was still plugged in. Abel sluggishly followed behind the rest, dreading the decision his gut would come to.

    Stepping outside, they could see in the darkness, outlined in pulsing orange and surrounded by the fog that had started seeping once more throughout the alien ship, a figure. It lurched with every step towards them, but the rough shape of the jacket was unmistakable.

    Sal.

    Xin turned to the others, whispering, ¡°Alright guys, you remember the plan. We get him to apologize, beg to come back to the team, we take him back in but under Dusty¡¯s management, ok? Then, once this blows over, we go back to normal. Deal?¡±

    Before anyone could respond, Sal stepped closer, his breathing heavy. Clearing her throat and partially faking anger, Xin stomped up to him.

    ¡°You fucker! What kind of sick fucking game were you playing walking aw- oh my god your face!¡±

    Sal heaved closer into the light, most of his cheek blown off to show teeth and sinew below. Part of his earlobe dangled loosely from his head and blood caked every inch of his clothes. Crimson leaked from the seam of knitted skin that clearly outlined a huge scar from hip to nipple on his left side, a fitting pair for his old diagonal wound. His hair was a ragged mop, and his beard was stained with gore.

    ¡°It¡¯s worse than it looks,¡± Sal croaked out. He attempted to wave off their concerns, but that only showed off his mangled hand, pale metacarpals sticking out into the open air.

    If there had been any anger within the team towards the man, real or fake at the moment, it had faded at the sight of his wretched state. Dusty winced at the sight of the Torcher¡¯s leader being so utterly brutalized. Marcus had previously stated his intention to punch the engineer the next time he saw him and Abel genuinely thought the planned strike would kill the man in his current state.

    ¡°Guys¡­ I¡­¡± Sal dropped to a knee. He had been bending to bow down but involuntary fell, limbs shaking with weakness.

    ¡°I failed you. I let you down. You can¡¯t forgive that, not when you trusted me. I can¡¯t excuse it, and neither should you. But¡­ for the sake of everyone on the ship, for now, we have bigger issues.¡± He pointed upwards, towards the occasionally repeating message echoing through the speakers. The engines were still being rigged to blow, and everyone knew Sal had the skills to help. That was all the wounded man seemed to think about.

    No one moved, too uncertain of what actions to take. Xin stood, shocked by his state and holding her arm. Marcus still stewed with anger, but now looked on with more pity in his gaze than hate. Dusty just looked lost. Everyone had been overjoyed to hear of Sal¡¯s return and had grilled Titus relentlessly for holding out that tidbit of info when they met up with him. To see him now, not some proud, stoic figure like usual further cracked the once pristine image they had of the man. Abel made the first move.

    Moving to the front of the group, standing next to Xin who rubbed her arm anxiously. Abel looked down on his superior officer, his friend, his brother. Slowly, the angle causing strain, Sal craned his neck upwards to return his look. Abel¡¯s breathing had grown tense, heavy. Building upwards, the pressure rising, the tension forced him to make the only move he could.

    He crouched down, wrapped his arms around Sal¡¯s sides, pinning them there, and lifted him up in a bear hug. Feet dangling, Sal barely whispered out, ¡°Abel, my side, please man.¡±

    Abel cared not; tears flowed from his eyes freely as he rested his head in Sal¡¯s neck. Spinning him around like a doll, he whispered, ¡°I knew you had it in you, brother. Always. I knew it. I knew it.¡±

    Sal visibly attempted to hold it back, but an ugly cry escaped the man as he did his best to return the hug, legs still flailing about.

    Returning him to the ground and feeling all the better for tossing his friend around, Abel sighed and grinned once more.

    ¡°So, brother. Where do we start?¡±

    <hr>

    Xeena climbed up flight after flight of steps upwards to the bridge. If there was one engineering design the Cambiar had made to suit the humans¡¯ tastes that she disapproved of, it was the placement of the bridge on the outer hull of the ship, high above any regular deck. Or at least, not designing elevators capable of surviving Doctrine raids to go along with them. Even with her enhanced Cambiar physiology, the effects of her newly adapted genes kicking in, it was exerting work ascending from the lower decks. Stannock had been relegated to being carried by his body double companion, not that he complained, whilst Titus continued to leap up flight after flight of steps. Though damaged from his crash landing, his endurance had clearly not been too badly diminished.

    With great effort and time spent, they reached the final steps that led to the imposing bulkhead of Fifth Spoke¡¯s bridge control. Lightly panting, Xeena approached the control panel for the door and activated the hatch release. Oddly, the door, one of human design, had already been unlocked. Glancing over at Titus, he nodded and readied his posture for fighting. Servos whirring, an armature locked into place over the door and pulled it wide, revealing a brightly lit interior.

    Unlike other parts of the ship, the bridge had remained fully in the style natural for the Cambiar, with organic looking surfaces made up of her people¡¯s favourite material ¨C bioweld. Cautiously stepping inside, the quartet made their way over to the captain chair which overlooked the other stations and gazed into space through a curved, room-spanning window. With a delicate hand, Xeena spun the chair around.

    Rexia Rubicoss was dead, orange blood trickling from a stab wound to the head. He was slumped in the chair, jaw hanging open loosely. Titus looked around the room, searching for any possible attacker but was left wanting. Both Stannocks made their way over to a panel that, as a result of her new Tenau genes giving her instinctual knowledge of its purpose, served as a communications terminal. Despite his newfound love for all things vanity related, the pilot Cambiar still remembered how to do his job as he connected to another ship, the Tenau slotting in fleshy wires into the back of his neural ports.

    ¡°Attention, this is Fifth Spoke, Tenau Unit 7192-B2 aka Stannock requesting immediate request for contact. Please respond, over.¡±

    A moment passed, the room lightly humming from the equipment it seemed. A hissing, Cambiar voice replied, the sound routed through the bridge¡¯s speakers, ¡°Fifth Spoke, this is Rexia Zeentach, we copy. What is your request, over?¡±

    ¡°Request? Sir, the ship is being assaulted by both Heaven Doctrine clans and Paradisian terrorists, and Lighthouse has been obviously highjacked. Where are our reinforcements, and why hasn¡¯t the enemy ship been targeted, sir?¡± If there had been any ounce of his usual haughty tone, it had died in moments; his voice was serious and deliberate.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    ¡°We understand, Tenau. We are in a¡­ difficult position.¡±

    ¡°Copy, you have insurgents of your own?¡±

    ¡°Negative, Stannock. We¡­ as is the position of the Out-Han, we must refuse any direct involvement in this conflict. Only when our members are directly attacked can we act.¡±

    ¡°Sir, with all due respect, that is outrageous! People are dying here, both human and Cambiar. And Lighthouse is just waiting to be taken out. Any minute now it will deploy its soldiers, and Fifth Spoke will be lost. Sir, please.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I cannot. Please, understand my position. We must stay neutral. If we interfere, we are at risk of pinning ourselves against factions we do not wish to fight.¡±

    ¡°Sir, surely you can see this is madness.¡± The Cambiar was shaking his head. ¡°We¡¯ve spent many weeks with these people. Can¡¯t you see that they are worth fighting for?¡±

    ¡°I see your position. The members of Henry and Huell Incorporated must be protected. However, to command the death of so many is something I cannot order singlehandedly. I¡­ I cannot carry the burden alone. I would require the recognition of another Rexia to make such a decision, and I am still awaiting Rubicoss¡¯ position on the matter.¡±

    ¡°Rexia Rubicoss is dead, sir. They¡¯ve been killed.¡±

    A gasp followed by teeth chattering was heard on the other side of the comm channel. ¡°I am most upset by this. But as it stands, I cannot order the attack of Doctrine forces until I receive confirmation from another Rexia, and you see-¡°

    ¡°I can stand as Rexia, sir.¡± Xeena stepped forward, announcing herself. ¡°I am Xeena, Rewarded of the Fifth Digits. I support the motion of the removal of any humans who oppose the non-hostile crewmembers.¡±

    ¡°Another Rexia? I see. I was not present at your ceremony, but I know of you, Xeena. I¡­ I see. I can order the boarding of attacked vessels but to destroy Lighthouse is still too much for me. Even if I could handle such an order, the risk of crew who we can still negotiate with is still¡­¡±

    Xeena sighed, preparing to request the order herself when the charging hum of a weapon grabbed their attention. Titus span, ready to strike but held himself back when he understood what he saw. Peeking out from under what appeared to be tear in the seam of reality, a glowing, colossal weapon was aimed in their direction. Slowly, the seam inverted, revealing itself to be a garment wrapped around a man. He appeared to be wearing a light bending device as a blanket of sorts. Below the invisible sheet, he wore a white and black robe, a small network of golden thread stitched above his heart.

    He shrugged the light bending cloth off his shoulders, the optical camouflage falling to the ground, and it starting to match the black-green of the floor perfectly. Titus had earlier described the large weapon, with glowing lines running along its black length, held by the man ¨C a Masslock Recoilless Rifle, capable of blowing half the room out into the vacuum of space with an errant twitch of his finger.

    ¡°Hello everyone!¡± Erohin happily cried, charging the weapon to maximum output.

    <hr>

    The team of Torchers stood around the terminal, reading the schematics closely. Sal rubbed his beard in thought, after having washed it out with some water, as he continued working out the best combinations of team members for each task. Though many of the others chatted and discussed, Sal stood silent until Abel approached.

    ¡°So, brother, what are you thinking?¡± It was good to see his broad smile once more.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got an idea, but I want to hear what you think first. If it goes as planned, I think we have a real shot at this.¡± Looking over to Dustin, he asked the young man, ¡°Dusty, how are the enemy counts looking?¡±

    The young man sprang to action, switching to a different screen. ¡°Counts near the fusion engine are dropping, but there¡¯s still at least a few dozen in the chamber itself at the moment. S-Drive is looking better, path is pretty much clear, seems to be dropping every second. Still not sure why. Decompression maybe? Atmosphere still looks good on the readings but the scanners could be faulty.¡± He shrugged.

    Sal had relayed the information that Mikhail had told him. His wild ideas sounded like they would be huge problem for the galaxy¡¯s future, but was something for Sal to worry about later. Still, as the madman had eventually helped Sal back onto his feet, he mentioned about ¡®clearing a path¡¯ to the hangers, which also happened to be the way to the Schrodinger drive. Doing his best to forget about the bizarre man, Sal wanted to get some input.

    Raising his voice, he spoke up, ¡°Alright guys, I¡¯ve got an idea.¡±

    As the room turned to face him, Sal felt nervous. Before, he had no trouble giving orders to the Torchers, but that was before his weakness and fear had overtaken him. Now, did he have the right to give such instructions? Before he could change his mind, Abel patted him on the back.

    ¡°Our wonderful boy here does have a good plan. I¡¯ve got a bet I want to make, but I¡¯ll keep my mouth shut until he gives us his idea.¡± Abel tapped his temple, preparing to cashout on some prediction. Great.

    Clearing his throat, Sal began, ¡°Ok, so here¡¯s the general idea. To reach the S-Drive, there¡¯s the transport network. The central hub still says it works, so no problem there, and if you take the undercarriage, there¡¯ll be almost no resistance. Getting to the fusion engine will be harder. Walking will take too long, so I¡¯ve got an alternative. The cargo line has a hauler not far from here, and can be used to get close, as long as the driver knows their stuff.¡± Sal replicated the motion of revving a motorcycle, as the cargo hauler used a similar styled handle for controlling its throttle and movement. He barely resisted the urge to make a sound, however.

    ¡°So, here¡¯s my position ¨C Xin, Ace, Marcus, Cerella, Dusty, Titan, Pippa, and Thomas will all go for the S-Drive, me and Abel will go for the Fusion Engine. I can drive the cargo hauler ¨C had a bike for a while back on Titanlock.¡±

    ¡°Whoa Sal, I know you¡¯re ready to prove yourself but that seems a bit of an unfair split, don¡¯t you think?¡± Marcus folded his arms.

    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m surprised he¡¯s letting me go with him. I was betting on him riding solo!¡± Abel seemed proud to lose a bet for once.

    ¡°I know it sounds stupid, but here¡¯s my reasoning. The S-Drive is relatively easy to power down, but the problem is the number of layers. It¡¯s less a matter of difficult, more of time. If you want to reach the inner core, it will take a lot of effort, even with a whole team. It¡¯s meant to take a team of ten an hour to do it, for reference. Thomas can plug into the diagnostics of the Schrodinger, the Cambiar can handle the heavy parts or small spaces whilst Xin, Marcus and Dusty can work on the actual core itself. The fusion engine on the other hand requires specific knowledge for the different errors that can pop up. In a split second, a different configuration of control rods might be needed, and that knowledge can¡¯t be taught in the time we have left. But I know it, since I¡¯ve had experience babysitting a Juhgler before. In terms of manpower, it¡¯s closer to a one-man job, but I¡¯d like Abel with me, just in case.¡±

    ¡°Um, sir?¡± Dusty raised a hand. ¡°Can we¡­ actually do it? I was thinking you would go the S-Drive, since it¡¯s a reality bending teleport machine and all.¡±

    ¡°Dusty, Xin, Marcus. You guys are not some crappy mechanics stumbling in from New Paris or wherever ¨C you are the best of the best. Don¡¯t forget the time we¡¯ve put into this. The danger at the S-Drive¡¯s core will be relatively low ¨C no rads like the shows. It just takes some time and numbers to get to the centre. The fusion engine on the other hand only requires one or two pairs of hands but will need someone with experience to carefully power it down without blowing all of Fifth Spoke to hell.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, Sal, just a question.¡± Xin sheepishly asked, as if she should know the answer. ¡°Why don¡¯t we just deal with the fusion engine alone? Won¡¯t that cut power to the S-Drive? Stop this whole thing?¡±

    Sal shook his head, and Thomas spoke up to support him. ¡°Unfortunately, once the S-Drive reaches a certain power level, its components can continue to generate its own electricity by drawing chiral-waves from throughout the nearby environment. It naturally self-sustains itself until an operator or Keeper can step in. Honestly, we Keepers are actually on a bit of a time limit after each jump to switch it off.¡±

    ¡°So, we need to go to both, no matter what?¡± Marcus asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s right. So, that¡¯s my plan, any objections?¡± Sal crossed his arms.

    ¡°I have one, Senior Supervisor,¡± a harsh, ragged voice answered behind them.

    As they were talking, they had forgotten to lock the door. From the archway, coated in cuts and slices stood Captain Curtin, a wild frenzy to his eyes, and a shotgun in his hands. His once proud uniform had been torn and shredded, his thin beard nicked, and a swollen wrist held the large weapon.

    ¡°Well, well, well, here are some traitors it seems, trying to take all the data for yourselves, hmm?¡± His voice was a stretched wire, close to snapping. There was little of the direct anger Sal had seen many times before ¨C the Captain¡¯s psyche was hanging by a thread. The shaking of his hands, finger pressed on the trigger, did little to ease the tension.

    Ah shit.

    Everyone else in the room stepped back as Sal limped into the line of fire, raising his hands.

    ¡°Hello sir,¡± Sal asked, voice as soft as he could make it. ¡°Are you ok? H&H requires all commanding staff to be able to perform their functions, right Captain?¡±

    ¡°Am I ok?! Am I¡­ Yes. I am well. Henry and Huell needs me.¡± He feverishly giggled, the corners of his mouth twitching. ¡°It is people like you who are unwell, you who are breaking company policy. Everyone¡¯s a traitor. All of Titus¡¯ useless fucking intelligence teams have gone to the Doctrine, my goddamn bodyguards turned out to Paradisian dogs. And you¡­ all of you¡­¡±

    Sal had to handle this carefully. He trusted that Abel remembered a one-off stupid conversation they had shared during a film night many years back as he shuffled forward and put great effort into his voice.

    ¡°Ah sir, I¡¯m not a traitor! In fact, none of us are. I know this might look bad, but I am securing the future of H&H endeavours here, sir!¡± He tried speaking lightly, calmly so as to not sound rebellious to the thin-skinned officer. He recalled the way the man focused on H&H and their future after the investigation of Ruby Eye and banked everything on trying to relax him.

    ¡°Yes¡­ H&H. That¡¯s right. That¡¯s what I am here for. What are you doing, if not betraying the company? Your superiors?¡±

    ¡°Well, sir, I was actually about to get on Marshstrider, my name is on the register if you wish to check, but I actually volunteered to get something H&H would desperately need ¨C the diagnostics of the Cambiar fleet from this here terminal, see?¡±

    He leaned over slightly to reveal the schematics of the ship, discretely switched over by Dusty to show the manufacturing areas layout, their structure highlighted in green. Curtin surveyed them before seemingly checking the Marshstrider registrar on his in-eye visual display. One his eyes flicking up, showing nothing but white, Curtin eventually relaxed, Sal¡¯s story so far matching up.

    ¡°I see. Well. What about these freaks here? Why are they alive?¡± Curtin pointed his gun towards Titan, Ace and Cerella. The Delkar looked like she was resisting the urge to charge forward and crush the man in seconds. Sal might not be able to tank a shotgun blast to the face, but she certainly could, probably a hundred times over.

    ¡°Ah sir, we were just using them to access the terminal.¡± Sal did his best to switch to the Doctrine language, praying Curtin wouldn¡¯t shoot him.

    ¡°They don¡¯t know this language. We¡¯re planning on killing them once we have the data. Stupid not-humans.¡± He emphasised with a wink. Abel had shuffled slightly to Curtin¡¯s side and was sweating bullets.

    Curtin was no longer pointing the gun at Sal, but at Ace, a feral smile on his lips. ¡°Good work, boy. Good work. How long left until you have it all?¡±

    ¡°Ah, sir, we need some more time to fully extract it all. We can¡¯t risk corrupting it. Mr Dexter would want it all intact, wouldn¡¯t he?¡± Sal made his final move and did a corporate salute at the mention of the board member¡¯s name. Curtin, swept up in madness and rapturous praise for the corporation went to copy the salute, lowered his gun just enough for everyone to be out of its line of fire.

    Seizing the moment, Abel leapt forward and clocked him one across the jaw. The shotgun went flying, discharging as everyone else ducked for cover. Thankfully, Curtin¡¯s weak grip led to the only casualty being a vent panel to the side. The Captain slumped to the floor unconscious, murmuring something about traitors.

    ¡°Whoa¡­ That¡­ was tense,¡± Abel shook his hand in pain, apparently having hit in-skin implants or augments within the broken man¡¯s jaw. ¡°Thanks Sal. Guess you remembered that chat? The one from ages back about if we were ever in a hostage situation?¡±

    ¡°Hell yeah. Didn¡¯t have any duct tape to hold a gun on my back this time, but a talk down and surprise attack works just as well.¡± Nevertheless, Sal laughed nervously. That had been too close for comfort.

    Abel hefted the shotgun and pumped it, smoking spent shell falling to the floor. Sal bent down and retrieved the officer¡¯s shock baton Curtin had secured to his belt, giving it a test shock. Lightning arced along the outer surface of the prod¡¯s head, and he was satisfied.

    ¡°What should we do with him?¡± Dusty said, uncertain.

    Everyone was quiet for a moment. Marcus mimed turning the gun on its former user for a moment and firing a shot before Dusty gave him a scowl.

    ¡°As much as I¡¯d like to crush him, it¡¯d probably best to just tie him up for now.¡± Titan sorely said, snapping her claws. ¡°Let H&H pick him up once the situation is a bit clearer.¡±

    The team gathered their supplies, tied up the captain and made their way out of the central processing room. Aside from Pippa repeatedly telling Abel to be safe, everyone seemed on board with the plan, and the two groups separated for some last discussions. Watching the rest of the team talk amongst themselves, Sal wondered when the next time he would see them, or Xeena would be. Xeena¡­ He would need to definitely make it up to her, no matter what.

    Abel could see the consternation on his face and thumped him on the back. ¡°Come on brother. Waiting here all day won¡¯t fix things, right?¡±

    ¡°Too right. Let¡¯s make a move, cargo tunnel¡¯s not far from here.¡±

    Abel grunted in agreement, but before they could leave, he spoke up. ¡°Oh Sal?¡±

    ¡°Hmm?¡±

    ¡°It hasn¡¯t been long, and there¡¯s the risk we get might not get out of this in one piece but for the record¡­ I¡¯m glad you¡¯ve changed, for the better, that is.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Me too. I¡¯m not turning back. And besides, I¡¯ve got you by my side.¡± Sal savagely grinned, fleshless cheek spreading it wide. ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve got to do one last thing. For the team.¡±

    Abel cocked his head, watching his friend. With a deep breath Sal closed his eyes and raised his head to the heavens. The others in the hallway all turned, noticing their leader preparing something. A moment passed, his heartbeats like drums signalling the beginning of the end.

    ¡°Torchers!¡± Sal snapped his eyes open and flared a wild smile. ¡°Let¡¯s do this!¡±

 Chapter 28: Letéˆ¥æªš Get Ready To Rumble

    ¡°Ah, so here we all are! So happy to see that my nemeses could turn up to the party!¡± Erohin smiled with glee, muscles frozen on his face. His gaze flicked between those on the opposite end of his gun, finger stroking the trigger over and over.

    ¡°Do we¡­ know you?¡± Titus sounded genuinely confused, a rare occurrence for the analyst. ¡°Nemeses?¡±

    ¡°Ohoho! Titus! How could you forget me ¨C Erohin Solras, bartender to many, loved by all.¡± Xeena felt that was a lie. ¡°I brightened all of your dim little fake lives up with every drink, remember? Not that empty shells, such as yours, deserve such little pleasures. Then again, only so many can be born into Utopia, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°W-well, Titus knows a lot of people on this ship, but apparently you don¡¯t ring a bell.¡± Stannock said, tone dripping heavy with condescension. ¡°For man like him to forget about you? perhaps you are just not worth remembering, Mr Solras. Besides, a man who plans to blow himself up must be some sort of moron.¡± Stannock teased. When Xeena looked at him in abject confusion, the man nervously shrugged. Perhaps being a dickhead was his nervous habit? The ex-bartender¡¯s showed no signs of humour from the words, the corners of his lips drooping.

    Big Stannock tried to add to the insult, ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right, completely forgettable. What sort of moron wo-¡°

    ¡°I AM NOT A MORON!¡± Erohin shouted, any hint of the previous false joy he expressed dead in an instant. ¡°I will be remembered! We all will, those of true hearts and souls! You all ¨C nemeses of the truth - share one heart, a heart made of stone. You will be the ones forgotten.¡± The fury only lasted a few moments, but in an instant, his wrath fled from his face as the plastic grin once again slipped into position. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t matter right now. All is well. All is right, as it should be. Tell me, Zeentach, can you hear me?¡±

    A moment passed before the Cambiar spoke up once more. ¡°I can hear you, human. Erohin was it? I am afraid I must ask you to not harm the others, please.¡±

    ¡°Oh, but I am afraid that is the only option I can make, whether I want to or not.¡±

    ¡°Why are you doing this, Erohin?¡± Xeena said. ¡°Help us understand.¡± Xeena was desperately looking for ways to distract the insane madman long enough for Titus to get close. Even an errant shot from his rifle would destroy the windows or ceiling, sending them all into the darkness of space.

    Erohin sighed heavily, like it was some great burden he had removed was shouldered onto his back once again.

    ¡°Why do I bother? I have tried and tried, but none of you listen. But then again, how could you? It is in your nature, those of you not blessed by The Council. It is¡­ a deformity than cannot be amended, you see.¡± Erohin tapped the side of his head and smirked. ¡°Still, I must try, as is my role as a Praecursori of Paradise. You see, for you Xeena, it is just a part of your alien makeup. Only humanity is truly able to grasp at the light of sentience ¨C what you think is an existence is just your body following genetic instructions. But please, do not be dismayed; most humans are the same. It is only with the blessing that I have been granted, by seeing the light, that I have narrowly avoided your pitiful states. If I could, I would try to save you.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ what do you want, Erohin? What would make the galaxy a better place, in your eyes?¡± Xeena was asking, not only to delay him, but to try to see his view of the world.

    ¡°Well, seeing as we are in no rush, I shall tell you. I want a world where everyone is happy, free of pain and suffering. As you can see, my actions may look like they run opposite to this idea, but I can explain. Is it not true that both humanity and the Cambiar have seen their fair share of suffering? Both the Eternal War of mankind and the Great Awakening for you aliens prove that there is unavoidable suffering and dismay in this universe, as true as the genes that make up our nucleotidic blueprint. The only way to solve this pain, from both within ourselves and from others, is to be blessed like I have. Do you know what I feel every day, Xeena?¡±

    ¡°No. I can¡¯t imagine. What do you feel?¡± Xeena was quiet, but it was needed to be said.

    ¡°Nothing but the purest joy.¡± Erohin sighed, a relaxed breath taking him. ¡°Every day is as if Earth still lives, and I am on its surface. The sun shines on my face, and I bask in its embrace. In a world with Paradise, Earth lives on. And, one day, it will for everyone. I lack the hatred you all subconsciously feel towards others because¡­ well, you see them as ¡®others¡¯. As something not of your own nature, regardless of whether they be your own species or not ¨C it is the divide between each of your souls that makes this ¡®otherness¡¯. My brothers and sisters, the Beholders and Folgeres below, my fellow Praecursori around me and the Furists above ¨C we are not ¡®others¡¯. We are one. One and the same. It is only through The Council that we become one.¡±

    Xeena couldn¡¯t help but feel immense pity for the man and not just because she felt his worldview itself was wrong. Being brain damaged at birth and forced to see the life the way Paradise wanted you to see it was far from what Xeena considered a good life. No, the real sadness came from how his whole perception had been malformed from that point onwards. Every moment of joy with H&H¡¯s crew and the aliens must have felt as fake as his own smile. To the bartender, all those moments would have provided the same feeling of falseness as that deadened grin. That made her heart ache.

    ¡°But¡­ soon. It can be fixed. Your counterfeit souls, even if only a fraction of them are usable, will pass from this life and whisked into the next, someday. Eventually you will be reformed by The Council, and you will know the warmth I feel.¡±

    ¡°The Council?¡± Titus asked. The intense expression he bore, likely from running calculations on how best to attack, was relaxed for a couple seconds as he attempted satiate his curiosity for knowledge. ¡°You keep referring to them. Who are they? Why do you trust them?¡±

    ¡°Ahh, now we are getting to the heart of the problem, Titus. They are why you are lacking. The Council have seen the truth of our natures. They foretold the diminishing value of Earth, her poor resources drained dry by hunger and avarice. They saw the rise of Heaven¡¯s Doctrine and their leader, who lives a life far too long and stretched, held on only by the taste of Evergreen. They saw Earth¡¯s end, and what was needed to be done to remove it from the game board, as it were. By commencing the final scouring, it showed us that Earth and the blessed Utopia we long for is not a place, but a people. And now, we are in the next stage of The Council¡¯s dream. They have led us so far, and with the arrival of the Cambiar, it has proven them correct.¡± Xeena felt confused. Did Paradise know of the Cambiar before H&H did? Then again, why else had they planted bombs on Ruby Eye and Starheart.

    For a moment, he looked uncertain. ¡°I was¡­ initially doubtful of my actions. But, I now know, I was right to destroy Ruby Eye. I would have removed Starheart too, but my orders went out too late. Again, on our return, my attempt to reactivate Starheart¡¯s bombs proved unsuccessful. Thanks to you, Xeena and your friend, Sal.¡± Despite his mixed expression, there was noticeable acid in saying their names.

    ¡°You¡­ you gave the orders to destroy Ruby Eye? To kill all those people?¡± Titus could barely contain the wrath in his voice, fists clenched so hard that sparks fell to the floor from them.

    ¡°Indeed. Did you think that was Heaven¡¯s Doctrine? I don¡¯t blame you. They act in such destructive ways but lack the reasoning behind it. If I knew what I knew now, I would have carried out my current plan ¨C to initiate a journey for the whole system to not just remove the fake souls of mankind, but to also reduce your inhuman, alien souls along with them. But I was too late.¡±

    He seemed genuinely harrowed as he considered his inadequacy, face creasing into a mask of utter sorrow. Erohin bowed his head, looking to the floor. As Titus seemed to be preparing to move, the fanatic raised his face to meet them once more, any previous signs of turmoil vanished, like Earth¡¯s early morning mist in the rays of Sun.

    ¡°But I can fix this! I cannot save your souls as they are, but soon, we will be in glory. Sorry!¡±

    The smouldering spark of empathy he had surgically removed at birth left him a puppet, following orders more obediently than any genes could ever hope. Nevertheless, despite whatever indoctrination he had believed his whole life, the stress of the whole ordeal had clearly not helped the man¡¯s mind. Eyelids twitching and sneer pulled painfully wide, Erohin giggled.

    ¡°Still, sad as it is, I want you to understand that this is far from the end. My Folgeres are currently at work, and soon we shall all undergo a little S-Jump to a nearby system ¨C both man and monster wiped clean. I hope some real lives can be born from the remnants of your husks. So, Zeentach, anything you want to say to them before your own end comes?¡±

    Just as Erohin seemed to be preparing his Masslock, a new voice came through the speakers, low, and weak.

    ¡°Zeentach¡­ Xeena¡­ Titus. Listen.¡± It gasped out weakly, tinged with pain. Erohin tilted his head in confusion and held his finger off the Masslock in curiosity. ¡°I am¡­ Primary Executive Captain Yulia Preltor¡­ leading commander to all Henry and Huell crew in the Seventh Expedition Fleet.¡±

    Titus¡¯ optical sensors widened in shock. ¡°Yulia¡­¡± His voice came out barely a whisper.

    ¡°I am giving my authority, as Captain of Lighthouse¡­ to order the immediate destruction of my vessel by the Out-Han.¡±

    <hr>

    Salvador and Abel dismounted the cargo hauler, having reached the end of the line. With a heave Sal slid off the forward mounted controls. Initially, having a seat and controls like a motorcycle from one of the racetracks of Titanlock was rather cool, but going down a tunnel at high speeds with mostly torn up clothing had made the experience rather cold. Abel had been able to sit in the chair next to him and was at least a little less stiff.

    Stretching his back and halting when his side roared with pain once more, Sal surveyed the surroundings. They had managed to avoid any contact with combatants as they had raced down the tunnel. Sal wasn¡¯t sure if he preferred not seeing anyone at all, the eerie silence leaving every movement bouncing off the walls. The corridor attached to the cargo tunnel was far wider than any other so far, further adding to the desolation of the area. Sal wondered how the fusion engine had been stored within Fifth Spoke, considering the huge size of the device¡¯s chamber. However, as they neared the colossal, circular blast door that marked the entrance to the engine¡¯s room, he guessed that, like many of the other changes made, Fifth Spoke simply grew around the engine¡¯s room once it had been severed from its original vessel¡¯s wreckage.

    ¡°So Sal, what do you reckon our chances of actually stopping this thing from going into meltdown are?¡± Abel had Curtin¡¯s shotgun hefted onto a shoulder as he looked at Salvador, questioningly.

    ¡°Well, I was able to maintain and learn about Juhgler fusion engines back on Tartarus Nine. That one was smaller, but the same mechanisms were in place there too.¡±

    Abel gave him a look, nodding. He had not only accepted the answer but seemingly to be approving of something else.

    ¡°What?¡± Sal said.

    ¡°I¡¯m happy for you. You talk about it much easier now. Every time before, for years, it made you look sick whenever the topic got close to your past before the Recon Fleet. Now? You look like a man ready for action.¡±

    ¡°Heh, well, it took me long enough. That, and Xeena helped a lot.¡±

    ¡°That she did. Good job, sister,¡± Abel mused to the open air, as if the Cambiar could hear him.

    Xeena¡­ Sal would need to prove it to her one day, prove that she had changed his life.

    ¡°So¡­ uh, did Tartarus actually have an overload you needed to fix?¡±

    ¡°Nope, but I did have a lot of time for reading. Difference is now the control rods will be the size of a ship¡¯s drive shaft, not the size of a ruler. Still, I¡¯ll work it out.¡±

    Abel gave a rather fake sounding cough, as if awaiting something.

    ¡°Yes, Abel?¡± Sal looked over.

    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m just surprised you didn¡¯t ask me.¡±

    ¡°Ask you what?¡±

    ¡°Y¡¯know, we might die if things go badly in there and, well, I thought you would ask about it.¡±

    ¡°Ask about what?¡± Sal repeated.

    ¡°My necklace. Surely you want the real story behind it?¡±

    Sal considered the small, white thing around his friend¡¯s neck. After speaking and interacting with Cambiar on a daily basis, their maws usually snapping about a few dozen times per conversation, the majesty of the, frankly, pathetic thing had worn off a little. Still, the truth was a tantalizing thought.

    ¡°I mean, if we¡¯re not going to get the chance to know if we croak, then sure.¡±

    Abel rubbed it thoughtfully. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Oh, for the love of god. Don¡¯t back out after pestering me about it! Yes, tell me!¡±

    ¡°Fine. Fine.¡± Abel sighed. ¡°It¡¯s fake. Didn¡¯t come from a real fish. Just bought it from some junk dealer back home.¡±

    Sal stared at his friend for a moment, unblinking. Then, he shrugged.

    ¡°Uh, this is the part where you are supposed to be surprised, brother. Where you say ¡®How could you do this? What about the grand tales? What about the mafia boss¡¯s pet shark?¡¯¡±

    ¡°Of course I¡¯m not surprised. How could I be? No wonder it was fake, you¡¯ve never even been near a fish in your life. You don¡¯t even eat fish. Unless hyizka counts, but I doubt that.¡±

    ¡°Wha- That doesn¡¯t mean it couldn¡¯t be real, could it?¡±

    ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t. But then again, does it matter? You¡¯ve kept it all this time, so no matter what, it¡¯s important to you, right?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I guess so. I mostly thought the mystique of it was the best part. Having you guys all tossing and turning at night wondering how I got it. Which story was real? Which one was fake?¡±

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    ¡°Abel, they were all obviously fake. I don¡¯t think even Dusty believed a single story. Hell, I¡¯m pretty sure the Cambiar twigged that the first time you told them, and they had barely understood human culture at that point. But you know what? It doesn¡¯t change a thing. It was never about the story behind the tooth, it was about what the story said of you, Abel. You¡¯ve always been the same guy as always, making us laugh and groan with every tall tale. And I wouldn¡¯t change it for the world.¡±

    Abel rubbed his neck, awkwardly.

    ¡°Shit, Sal, thanks. Just uh, maybe don¡¯t tell the other guys. I think Dusty might actually believe some of my stories.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, sure thing, bro.¡±

    Approaching the control mechanism, Sal punched in a few engineer codes, and it responded with a chirp. With a shared look, the two engineers gave each other a fist bump, ready for whatever would come next. Grinding metal signalled their success, the iris of the door expanding, ready to accept the two men. The smell of death and gunpowder punctuated their arrival. Cringing at the odour, they saw a bloody scene before them once the door fully opened.

    The room stretched far into the distance, a base plate marking each of the cardinal approaches to the core¡¯s suspended control station. Beyond the platform the door opened into, a hanging catwalk led to a metal building, held aloft with cables over a gut-wrenchingly high drop. Even from this high up, a bright sapphire-blue light pulsed steadily from hundreds of meters below where the shielded core of the fusion engine sat. From within the room the gravity the fusion core itself produced pulled on the pair. It would be a simple matter of lowering the catwalk that led to the control system building, walking over, and adjusting the necessary safety measures to bring the engine back under control. Well, if only it were that easy.

    Across the wide entrance area that overlooked the core¡¯s drop, almost in horrific contrast to the calming blue light emanating below, a massacre of red and orange had covered the area. Dozens of bodies, mostly human but interspliced with Cambiar of various castes were spread about. Paradisian robes blended in amongst Delkar plating, clan armours of emblematic crimson and H&H jumpsuits of mixed roles. Standing across the battlefield, back arched and breathing heavily, was a single figure ¨C the sole survivor of the apparent slaughter.

    ¡°Ah. Hello,¡± panted Rexia Protheus. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ afraid I don¡¯t know who you two are. Who are you?¡±

    The Cambiar was covered in wounds, each one slowly healing before Sal¡¯s eyes. His skin adorned in red colours that had sprawled their way down from his shoulders, eating away at the once emerald shades of his torso, the black crown-like protrusions upon his head darkly reflected light with every pulse of the core from below. The part of the alien that drew Sal¡¯s attention was the hastily carved Doctrine emblem on his chest, orange Cambiar blood still streaming from the seemingly self-inflicted wound.

    ¡°Rexia Protheus?¡± Sal asked, recognising the alien from the archive notes and failing to fully comprehend the bloody arena before him. Abel looked sickened at the sight before him. ¡°What¡­ what happened?¡±

    ¡°Ah, well. You can see we had a bit of a disagreement. Our first step onto the Ten-Tri¡¯s true path, you see. There were some¡­ mixed opinions, but in the end the belief of strength has prevailed. Wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±

    If the emblem hadn¡¯t made it clear to Sal, his words surely proved his shared ideology with a certain faction of madmen.

    ¡°I guess? Look, sir, we are here to fix the fusion engine. It¡¯s going to overload.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right. It¡¯s actually why me and my entourage came here. Some of them suggested waiting for some Doctrine backup, but our current strength was enough to prevail.¡± Not without causalities, it appeared.

    ¡°Look, sir. I¡¯m not sure what you know. I¡¯m aware of some previous discussions with the Jade Emperor, but that¡¯s fallen through. Mikhail-¡°

    ¡°Ah, Mikhail. That¡¯s right. I was warned of him. Have you seen him? Never mind. Yes, I am aware of what you speak. Two years ago, I personally was in contact with the Jade Emperor, and he helped provide me with the information needed to set up this meeting between humanity and the Cambiar. Some of the elites of the Ten Tools of Triumph have been awaiting our connection for so long, absorbing every last scrap of data we were sent. I almost discarded my fa?ade the day you all arrived, excited as I was to finally see you in the flesh. And now, the culmination of our purpose comes.¡± The Cambiar raised a clenched fist towards the dark, domed ceiling of the chamber. ¡°You say that the deal has been retracted though?¡±

    ¡°Uh, yeah.¡± Sal tried to hide the fear in his voice as the Rexia straightened, most of his wounds closed.

    Sal and Abel slowly walked towards the controls for the catwalk, sensing that all was far from well with the alien before them. His optical orbs stared at them in a predatory manner. He flexed his claws as the wounds on his arms fully sealed closed, the skin healing as if the injuries were never there. Were all Rexia capable of such feats of physical prowess, or was it just this strange, ideologically possessed creature?

    ¡°Well, no matter. In some ways I hoped that old fool would betray us. Such weakness must be par for the course when it comes to humanity. In that case, I will take up the mantle this universe needs.¡± Oh, for the love of god, not this shit again. ¡°I will prove that the Cambiar will reign supreme above all others¡­ including humanity.¡±

    Uh oh.

    ¡°If you want to talk more about, uh, ¡®might makes right¡¯ and all that, Mikhail was on board with idea. Bit more shared multi-species sort of thing going on, but you could make it work. Want to go see him? He¡¯s probably down by the hangers right now. And, uh, can we talk about this once we¡¯re not at risk of dying from the engine discharging and frying us all? It¡¯s right there.¡±

    Sal gestured towards the pit from which the ethereal glow of the core emanated from, but the Rexia had risen up fully straight, clacking his jaws together in anticipation. A number of limbs that had been hanging limply from his back now stood erect, each bearing claws or some form of brutal attachment.

    ¡°Hmm. An interesting idea, but I¡¯ve got a better one. If you survive, you get to turn off the engine, proving your strength, correct? If I win, I have to prove my knowledge and skills are capable of more than just killing, proving my strength of mind. That, and I can go and kill Mikhail afterwards. How does that sound?¡±

    Ah shit. Abel shouldered the shotgun as he aimed it at the mad creature.

    ¡°Uh, no deal?¡± Abel said.

    ¡°Too bad. Hope you are ready, because I have been for a long time! For the Ten-Triumphs!¡± The Rexia skittered towards them fast.

    ¡°Sal! Go for the engine, I¡¯ll hold him off!¡± Abel fired twice at his target in quick succession. The alien dodged both shots, dashing to the side.

    Abel felt his heart lurch. Could he trust Abel for this? He would be near defenceless whilst he put in the codes to unlock the hanging walkway, his back exposed. And yet¡­

    No, of course he could. Abel was his best friend, and he would never let him down again. Nodding, Sal sprinted to the console and started typing out access codes at lightning speed.

    ¡°Stay alive!¡± Sal shouted over his shoulder. He could do this. No, they could do this, together.

    <hr>

    ¡°I am¡­ not in the state to activate the systems myself,¡± Captain Yulia wheezed. ¡°Zafar¡­ has barely kept me alive. My crew¡­ are gone. All of them, to the last. He¡¯s left me alive, to exist in suffering. But I listened, I learned. I was one last prize for him¡­ but I shall be his downfall. I don¡¯t have much time. Zeentach, Titus, whoever is there, please. I give my authority for the Outstretched Hands, or whoever you are, to destroy my ship¡­ please. Let our sacrifice- no, our failure, not be in vain. Please. Please.¡± Her cries echoed out, sorrow overtaking the woman over the communications.

    Somewhere below in Fifth Spoke, rhythmic rumbles rang out. Xeena prayed that it was not too late for the Torchers to save the ship. For Sal to save it. Please. Erohin was still confused, glancing at the embedded ship in the distance, and back to the group in front of him. His tongue was pressed along the inside of his cheek as his mind seemed to be working out his exigencies.

    From the broadcasting speaker, Zeentach had fallen silent. Then, a heartbeat later, a reinvigorated voice commanded, ¡°I, Rexia Zeentach will honour this. To all ships of the Cycle of Outstretched Hands ¨C I hereby order you to intervene in this conflict, for the good of our renewed purpose. Outer Rim vessels, board all ships undergoing conflict, secure all non-Doctrine and non-Paradise forces for evacuation. Axles and Hubs, destroy Lighthouse. Aim for the stern and mind Fifth Spoke. Glory be to the Cycle.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± Erohin had a tone of mild surprise, though his face gave the impression of disappointment.

    His reaction was interrupted by the distant view of Lighthouse instantly getting split into two, three, no, a dozen pieces as white projectiles, tusk-like in shape jetted through the void at speeds beyond those of railcannon shots. The Scar Field, radiant and glowing red, diverted the first volley away, but the sheer mass of the Cambiar ammunition quickly drained the shield¡¯s power in seconds, leaving the ex-colony ship defenceless. They were only visible for a flash, but the projectiles must have been the size of lesser vessels, tens of meters in length. Xeena had not studied the weaponry of Cambiar, as there had never been a need for her to know as general worker. Now, she wished she had paid more attention to the discussions of the Onusians in the security department. Intense tremors rumbled out from the point of impact and across all of Fifth Spoke. The bridge shuddered, screens and organic furniture being thrown to the floor as Xeena fell to her knees from the overwhelming force. Erohin dropped to a knee, Masslock still dangerously pointed at them. Seconds later the energy dissipated, and beyond its fore tip Lighthouse had been rendered to nothing more than a few twisted hunks of ruin, floating in the dark.

    Finally, the Out-Han had displayed their might against the humans, the ¡®others¡¯ they had searched after for so many years. And now, the tarnished corpse of Lighthouse was the result.

    ¡°Well, it seems that the Cambiar are more than willing to do my job. Isn¡¯t that nice?¡± Erohin smiled once more, this one with hints of genuine amusement, and flicked a switch on the side of the Masslock. ¡°But I think we¡¯re about done here. It has been great fun, and I hope one day we will meet again, under the great ha-¡°

    The upper half of Erohin¡¯s body became red mist as a swarm of flechettes cut through the air, turning his rifle to scrap and leaving his legs to topple to the floor. The industrial sound of a weapon cycling its magazine leaked through the doorway where a giant, shadowed figure stood. The moment of stunned relief was quashed when the man, larger than even Abel by a handful of feet, crouched through the doorframe. A metal exosuit had replaced his entire body from the lower jaw down, a horned helmet adorned with bones topping the goliath¡¯s form. Black metal twisted in shape and plated heavily covered the form of the mechanized beast. Stepping over the remnants of Erohin¡¯s corpse he glared from across the room.

    Staring out from a polarized visor at the shattered remnants of his captured vessel with jowls thick and flustered, he growled, ¡°Titus. You are going to regret doing that.¡±

    ¡°Zafar Ironskin. I¡¯m glad I finally have the chance to personally kill you myself.¡± Titus rolled his shoulders.

    ¡°Oh? Remind me who was it lost their eyes during my last attack? My men sure did a number on you, corporate dog. Not that there was a lot of meat left to take.¡± Thankfully, the beast had more brawn than brains as he slung the large, shotgun-like firearm onto his back, and replaced it by drawing a large machete a mechanized waist sheath. Its outline vibrated in the air, as if moving slightly even when unmoving.

    ¡°Yes, and now I¡¯ll pay it back. Xeena, back me up. Stannocks, get clear.¡± The analyst straightened, cracked his cybernetic neck and discarded a shredded necktie from it. ¡°Tonight, you die Zafar.¡±

    Titus surged forward, ready to meet the charging berserker¡¯s blade, hands raised to strike.

    ¡°Look, the instructions say to remove the P-Bolt number fifty-three, that¡¯s all I¡¯ve got here, ok?¡± Xin said, irritated, slapping the console¡¯s screen for effect.

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t see a P-Bolt at all. Sorry Xin, did you skip a step maybe? Are you sure you¡¯re on the right page?¡± Even Dusty, the softest of the group, was growing annoyed by the difficult progress so far. Who knew that taking apart the shielding of a reality bending, soul tearing, teleportation device could be so difficult.

    Well, it would be difficult to Marcus if he hadn¡¯t been doing surprisingly well on his side. Sal had thoroughly taught him everything he could, and then some.

    ¡°Plaz-wrench, three inches please Cerella?¡± Marcus asked in an almost comedically calm voice by comparison.

    A few seconds of rattling in a toolbox and the desired tool was passed over. ¡°Of course, Marcus.¡± Cerella said.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Cerella had truly been what he had needed. Initially, he had felt nothing but disgust for the aliens around him, especially the one he had been forced to partner with after Xin had continued to badger him. However, slowly but surely, she had worked her way into his heart. She had been the only person, other than Sal, he had told about his past. Sal had been receptive, but in a cold mentor-like manner. Cerella was the opposite ¨C warm, soft and very familiar. It took him days of thinking on it, but he came to the embarrassing conclusion why she was had become his elixir for healing.

    She reminded him of his mother. Not the state she had been towards the end, barely a shell of a human. Unlike his father, who had remained sane until he had breathed his last, his mother had given up, disconnected from the world early into their torture. In a way, though he had said the words, Marcus never got the chance to say goodbye. At least, his mother didn¡¯t react to the words. Cerella didn¡¯t judge him when he first said the words, called her by his mother¡¯s name. Instead, she sat and nodded, taking it all in. Some rough days of personal therapy together, and he had made the start on healing the wounds he thought could never close. Now, day by day, he had the opportunity to take the next step of his life, to move on. Part of him knew that treading closer to anger, to wrath, would sour the corrupt he made, but nevertheless, he still needed to find closure in some way.

    Still, Marcus felt rather crappy in a physical sense. The room was freezing, kept cool to help maintain the S-Drive¡¯s components. Marcus now heavily regretting removing his undershirt as an afterthought during his fight with the Doctrine forces at the pool earlier, and the body armour he had claimed did little to trap his heat. The engine had been a lot smaller than he had expected, though the schematics didn¡¯t lie about the measurements. It was one thing to see the description on a screen or in a booklet, and another to gaze up at the device directly. The machine was as big as an in-atmosphere flight craft and lined with hundreds of layers of unique materials that each needed specific instructions to remove correctly.

    Thankfully, a full teardown of the whole machine was not needed. Only a particular area mid-way along its length needed to be worked through to the centre for a Keeper to disable the programming that fed the runaway reaction within. Kneeling down, he removed another section, delicately keeping the wires in place without damaging them. Internally, he repeated the mantra he¡¯d overhead Sal say once or twice. ¡®Slow is smooth, smooth is quick¡¯. ¡®Slow is smooth, smooth is quick¡¯. Though his fists still ached to punch that asshole in the nose, the fact Sal had come back was enough to at least put that thought on hold. That, and the fact that he looked like he would die before he even got a chance to punch the idiot himself.

    Looking down, blood touching his boot, Marcus realized the blood puddle from near the entrance had spread all the way over to him. When the team had arrived, they were terrified about their proximity to Lighthouse, and the potential flood of troopers they might need to fight through. Instead, they had been greeted by armies of soldiers dead  and dismembered ¨C either from some straight blade or an extremely powerful firearm. Some bodies were just limbs ¨C the rest turned to pulp. Sal had mentioned the way to the S-Drive was ¡®getting cleared¡¯ by a particular clanlord. Were the stories about ¡®One-Shot¡¯ Olegovich true? Marcus hoped he¡¯d get the chance to find the man once they were done with the engine; he wanted to take down a Doctrine, or ex-Doctrine, whatever he was, high-priority target. His rage at the Lengti forced him to put that anger towards any clan warrior he saw, and no rumours would stop that.

    ¡°Ace! Come on, just hold it steady! It¡¯s only a syraline panel, it can¡¯t be that heavy!¡± Xin had taken off her prized sunglasses and was rubbing her nose, as bad a sign as any. Marcus needed to finish his side and help out those dumbasses before someone got murdered. Well, Dusty was doing fine, but Xin had quickly grown too annoyed to focus properly. Sal, however, had always praised Marcus¡¯ skill, even early on when he was far from the friendliest man to be around. Marcus had initially been blind to Salvador¡¯s perspective as the Torcher¡¯s leader walked away, apparently deciding on a worse life in every sense. In hindsight he could see the man had been like Marcus after getting out of the Lengti slave camps - a man injured but had never truly healed. He had opened up to Sal before, Sal would one day open up to him, Marcus was sure of it.

    The shallow stab wound in his shoulder throbbed. Had Marcus ever truly healed himself? His earlier barrage of uncontrolled rage proved otherwise. The long-term pain was weakened, thanks to Cerella¡¯s medical skills and a dose of painkillers, but the sharp, controlling fury whenever he thought on the Doctrine still hungered. But right now, he didn¡¯t have time to worry. One more plate was removed, this one similar to a weak strength baryplate, and the inner network of the Altysn-regulator side was revealed.

    ¡°Thomas! This side is open. Can you do your magic?¡±

    ¡°Sure can,¡± Thomas said.

    Thomas¡¯ natural tone was a little odd to hear after months of the man speaking like the machine he appeared to be. Making his way over to the exposed port, he plugged a number of wires and cables in. ¡°

    ¡°Thank you, Marcus. See if you can provide some¡­ encouragement to the Torchers, please?¡±

    Thomas was correct, help was needed. Xin had thrown a spanner out of the room as Marcus looked over. As he approached the Chitysn-activator side, a thought caught him. Instead of immediately trying to stop Xin from killing Ace as Titan and Dusty attempted to separate them, he made his way over to the console.

    With a series of keystroke, he found what he was looking for. Firstly, there was a gathering of what appeared to be Doctrine ID tags near the hanger, their last holdout spot, maybe? Secondly, it seemed that not only Ruby Eye¡¯s cargo had been suspicious. There were some uniquely marked containers that had been moved up from the lower decks but not utilized by any of the forces. The tags that referred to goreskins had all been labelled as ¡®neutralized¡¯, a calming thought, and the number of enemy combatants in general was dropping quick. A flood of green-labelled Cambiar tagged units were pouring in from every docking port along the ship. Reinforcements were on their way it would seem. Regarding the moved containers, it was something for Marcus to think about after the engine was safe. He had to tear himself away to deal with his teammates. Hearing the tattooed woman screeching about needing an energy drink made Marcus think: was this how Sal felt at all times? No wonder the man had tried to run away. Shaking his head, he went over to fix his friend¡¯s shortcomings.

    Such was life as part of the Torchers.

 Chapter 29: No Victory, No End in Sight

    Titus dodged under the heavy machete and delivered a heavy punch to the goliath, who laughed deeply all the while. Putting all the energy of his augmentations behind it, it struck solidly. Though his armour was thick and heavy, it dented inwards with the blow.

    Now only a couple hundred more of those and the bloodthirsty monster would be dead.

    Dashing backwards from Zafar¡¯s kick, Titus needed a new plan. Xeena gave a few quick glancing slashes to the warlord¡¯s arm, giving the analyst the milliseconds he needed to process the situation.

    Go for the flechette gun? Bad idea ¨C too heavy, unwieldy, required a wired connection, and likely wouldn¡¯t punch through his plating.

    Run away? Possible, but Zafar catching them in the staircase would be horrendous. Xeena and himself could dodge away, but the Stannocks? Unlikely. Besides, letting Zafar live would be something Titus could never live down. He needed to finish this right here, right now.

    Break the window? Following through with Erohin¡¯s idea sounded stupid, but Titus knew he could survive a few minutes in a vacuum thanks to his enhancements. The others though? Xeena and Big Stannock could survive for a bit longer than the average person, but neither were Jherl and not pressure protected. Little Stannock would be dead in seconds, and Zafar would likely survive.

    No, one last idea that came to Titus. Simple, but potentially risky. They needed to go for the head. Most of Zafar¡¯s body had been replaced with a Kronos Full Body Replacement exosuit. Ninety-five percent of the man was metal, wires and pure power. The last five percent, however, was flesh ¨C his upper head. He had apparently accounted for this weak spot with a visored helmet. Nevertheless, it was clearly the only spot that would ensure victory.

    The milliseconds had past, with Xeena stumbling back from Zafar¡¯s backhanded swing of his blade. Titus sprang to action. A feint to the left allowed him to dodge behind the beast, and with an enhanced jump he leapt ten feet into the air effortlessly. Bracing against the ceiling with one hand, he twisted and delivered a strong kick to the back of the warlord¡¯s helmet. There, it had been knocked forward slightly. All Titus had to do wa-

    It was far too fast for his hefty size, but Zafar had twisted his upper body and blindly struck Titus back down to the ground. Christ, that swing was hard. Jets of flame spilling from the exosuit¡¯s joints told Titus all he needed. The idiot had installed microthrusters to his aid his reflexes, a move that would result in more strength and speed when responding to blows but would make him far less precise. What moron wired up miniature ship thrusters to an already powerful cybernetic body? Checking his body from within a crater in the floor, he was lucky to not be split in two. At the last second, his reflexes had protected his body using his arms as a sacrifice, losing his left limb from the machete¡¯s force but saving most of his functionality. Regardless, the blow had weakened him. An internal diagnostics check showed his leg servos had been damaged from the impact, and his reactivity sensors had been thrown out of calibration by magnitudes.

    Dammit, this was not the time to be at a disadvantage. Was this what all his years of experience came down to? After working for so long in the security wing of H&H, saving hundreds of high-ranking executives and managers, and giving up almost all of his body, was this how he died? He had even gone back on his one guiding ideal in life ¨C that Henry and Huell would be the best shot for humanity to thrive. He had seen them rot from the inside out, Josiah Dexter leading the charge into mediocrity himself. Titus still had hoped in vain that they could recover, that each failed Expedition Fleet would teach them to be more careful, to put more time into a long-term plan. And yet, like a stack of dominos, the failures were already in place, and Titus had been left to ride it out until the end.

    That was until the Cambiar arrived. Not only did intelligent alien life exist, but they were friendly and capable of learning. That had changed everything. No longer would the CCH have to rely on their own self-propelled market and continue to keep the same old faces around, prolonging the cycle of human stagnation. There was a new avenue, one as ripe for human advancement as Earth had ever been. All Titus needed to do was stop H&H corrupting this seed of innovation before it had a chance to sprout. Standing below the mechanized monster of a man, Zafar¡¯s toad-like sneer mocking his weakness, Titus knew he couldn¡¯t give up, not yet. He needed to finish this for the good of all in the CCH, and for those who would come after them.

    Though his heart had long been replaced with an artificial energy-pump, he felt burning pride in his chest to see the team hadn¡¯t wasted the opportunity he¡¯d created. Xeena utilized her faster speed to outmanoeuvre the hulking man whilst occasionally scrambling away from the occasional blow. One strike caught her tail, crushing the tip. Though she wailed in pain, orange liquid spilling from it, she had wasted no time in recovering. The Stannocks had been raining down small arms fire on the man, albeit doing little damage but causing some significant distraction.

    Heaving himself out the hole, he planned to focus on the helmet more but saw Zafar changing his strategy. With a flick, he revealed an inbuilt flamethrower on his left forearm and sprayed liquid fuel across the room. In a mad dash, the Stannocks were forced into Titus¡¯ path as he ran, causing the analyst to adjust his speed to avoid crashing into them. The barking of an inbuilt shoulder firearm from Zafar practically proved to Titus that the Doctrine clanlord was using an inbuilt computer to manage his combat skills, switching tactics on the fly to throw off his opponents. The idiot was far stupid to be doing it naturally.

    To the left, to the right, Titus swivelled and twisted around the shots, the shrapnel of one bullet flicking away from a console and into human Stannock¡¯s arm. He dropped to the floor, holding the limb in agony. Put in an awkward position after a series of dodges, Titus was forced to block a number of blows from the cyborg directly, pushing his right arm¡¯s servos to their limits. Fearing the limb would break after one last blow sent sparks flying from the joint¡¯s mechanisms, he dropped close to the floor and lunged up and inside Zafar¡¯s guard. Being this close was risky, but it was one he had to take. Engaging his remaining arm to wind up for a blow, he aimed directly for his helmet. Targeting straight at Zafar¡¯s ugly countenance lurking behind the polarized glass, his limb charged up to its limit.

    Just as he feared, Zafar recovered too quickly for a regular fighter and grappled him in a bear hug, crushing Titus¡¯ lower body and torso. Warnings blared across his visual display, but he pushed past them. A split second later, and his punch released, knocking Zafar back with a grunt and cracking the glass. Released from the steel vice, Titus crumpled to the floor, legs snapped, and torso crushed. His arm still worked, but he was in terrible shape. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, a rallied pair of Stannocks, the smaller one still injured, jumped onto Zafar¡¯s back and stabbed into the seal around his neck with whatever weapons or claws they had. Xeena skittered up his front side in an instant and stabbed at the helmet with vicious ferocity.

    The table had appeared to have turned as Zafar screamed in frustration. However, horror swelling in Titus¡¯ heart as he saw the barbarian¡¯s fearful look snap to one of confidence. In a second, the table turned once more. An arcing field of electrical current, powerful enough to be visible to the naked eye, swelled around Zafar as Xeena and Big Stannock dropped to the floor, muscles seizing instantly. Human Stannock held on for dear life, still stabbing wildly at the neck seam with a small knife. As the sealing gasket tore, Stannock gritting his teeth from the electricity, Zafar reached up and seized the man. With little care, he tossed the man to the side, a horrid crunch ringing out as he impacted a wall.

    ¡°No!¡± cried Big Stannock, still curled on the floor from the electricity.

    Damn it, this was going to hell in a hand basket. Crippled and laying on the floor, Titus felt as weak as the day he lost his eyes. Unable to fight, unable to act. As Zafar laughed, accepting his inevitable success, Titus was plagued with a single thought ¨C was this how the dream of humanity dies?

    <hr>

    Sal worked fast. Every single grunt or shout from Abel was a dagger to his heart, but he couldn¡¯t slow down, not for anything. His speed was already hampered by his missing digits and fatigue, but he didn¡¯t have time to waste. Damn it, why did the catwalk take so long to authorize a new digital token? It wasn¡¯t even for the core itself! Keystroke after keystroke, Sal continued his assault. A particularly rough cry from Abel sent ice into Sal¡¯s veins but he had made a promise. His friend would hold on, no matter what. With one last layer of defence defeated, the platform whirred into motion, extending a good fifty yards into the open space as it made contact with the suspended control building.. Hissing with success, he turned.

    ¡°Abel! I did it I-¡° Sal turned.

    Abel hung loosely in the grip of the Cambiar, holding him outstretched. His friend was badly beaten, cuts etched all across his body and his face a bruised mess. If he was conscious, he showed no signs of activity.

    ¡°Abel!¡± Sal cried.

    ¡°Hmm. He did well for a human. He didn¡¯t have any augmentations, did he? If humans have any advantage, it is surely your fondness for artificial enhancements. That is one notion the Cambiar haven¡¯t considered yet.¡±

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°You fucker, I¡¯ll¡­¡± Sal clenched his fists, shaking with anger.

    ¡°You¡¯ll what? Fight me?¡± The Cambiar looked disappointed. ¡°Tell you what. You go on and fix the engine, I¡¯ll deal with your weak friend here, and I¡¯ll be on my way. Killing a pathetic specimen such as yourself is no challenge for me, so run along.¡±

    Sal¡¯s face contorted with fury. The obvious step would be to go to the engine, save everyone¡¯s lives and sacrifice Abel for the greater good. Fighting the creature before him would be a futile endeavour. Abel outweighed Sal by a hundred pounds and the alien was only slightly bloodied from his friend¡¯s efforts. Sal truly had no chance of defeating Protheus.

    Yet, surprise was the last thing he felt when he autonomously approached the alien, ready to fight.

    ¡°Oh, come now.¡± Protheus tutted in pity. ¡°There¡¯s no need for that. Just¡­ run along.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m tired of running. You¡¯re going down.¡±

    The Cambiar gave an exaggerated sigh. ¡°Fine, don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you.¡± He tossed Abel to the side of the arena with a thud and lazily walked towards the engineer.

    Sal could do this. He had gone through worse, he had-

    A slash to the face cut his remaining cheek to ribbons. Gasping, Sal staggered back. Christ, that was fast. He was barely able to comprehend the next incoming blow and dodged to the side. Desperate, he threw a knife scavenged from the floor at the creature. Without a care, the creature deflected it with one of his many arms.

    ¡°Really? That¡¯s the best you can do?¡±

    Sal only had one shot ¨C the electric stun prod from Curtin. He had heard that for all of their adaptations, Cambiar were surprisingly weak to electrocution, with many of their accidental fatalities coming from poor power management or wiring. All Sal had to do was not die and get a good hit in when the time came.

    Backing off, away from Abel, he pulled out the spare pistol Mikhail had given him before running off and fired a few shots off. However, he wasn¡¯t aiming for Protheus, seeing as the alien could dodge bullets with his absurd reflexes. Instead, he aimed to miss in order to get him to dodge towards a specific Paradise soldier¡¯s body. Cursing under his breath and counting his shots, he lured Protheus into a straight line towards him over the corpse.

    ¡°Come on, engineer. Make this fun!¡± Protheus sounded excited.

    Sal responded by shooting the wired up Paradisian, his suicide bomb triggered but failed to blow after death. Bullets shredding the failsafe system of the vest, a roaring inferno rattled Sal, blasting him across the floor. Coughing as a bloody haze filled into the air, Sal wondered if he had killed the monster with such a fluke. Instead, a burning figure strode out of the flames, cracking its neck loudly.

    ¡°You know what, I deserve that. I didn¡¯t take you seriously. Now human¡­ now you die. Nice and slow.¡± The flames licked at his skin, some of his limbs snapped or shredded and a glare of wrath directed at the human. If showed any signs of pain, then they had been subsumed by the alien¡¯s greater feelings of rage. Rising to face the demon, Sal stood up and prepared for more.

    <hr>

    ¡°Thomas, how are we looking. The output¡¯s looking bad man! Don¡¯t think we have long left!¡± Dusty was biting his nails.

    All Thomas wanted was some damn silence as he felt the thousands of instructions from the S-Drive calling out to him. Wired up and cross legged, he was deep into the systems of the engine, feeling each and every pulse of quantum waveform checking and collapsing. The point of no return was near, and already random atoms were being flung to the next star system over. At its current rate, it would not be long before chunks of ship or people would be next.

    ¡°Xin, get me a long-arm multitool, I want to try something.¡± Marcus instructed as calmly as possible.

    Thomas still had his optical sensors disabled, but the sound of clanging metal continued to disturb him. Right now, the last thing the Keeper needed was more distractions. He felt someone touching a connection port of his. Seconds from shouting at them for playing with his delicate parts, he felt his consciousness snap away to somewhere else.

    Opening, not his visual sensors, but what felt like his organic eyes, the ones he had as a child, Thomas looked around. He was in an infinite, green void, the same green that glowed from the exotic matter within the S-Drive¡¯s core. Had Marcus somehow directly interfaced him with the main computer? Dangerous, but effective it seemed. No matter, he had to continue. From within this strange space, he felt he could manually read the rules and instructions that automatically managed the Schrodinger engine¡¯s deeper protocols. An endless wall of lines of code delivered standard information ¨C backup scenarios and situations if QIS patterns were or weren¡¯t detected, stabilization methods, and many more thousands of messages repeated over and over

    But in between the many rules and records, a few stood out. The first one was an added piece of data, inserted only a few hours prior. The Paradise overload code. They had taken the time to deeply implant it using a virus from months before, but the activation code was shockingly simple With a few mental nudges to remove the offending data the threat was gone. Externally, from beyond a void of green, he heard the Torchers cheer out, Thomas faintly smiled. Yet, there was more here. More to learn, the parts of the S-Drive never accessible to him before due to his restrictions. In the real world, he vaguely waved off the Torchers, stating his intentions to follow them out after some more checks.

    In the endless space, he could feel the echo of the core pulsing away. But when he focused, there was something else, a deeper force pushing outwards like the rhythmic movement of an ocean. Adjusting his mental perspective against this strange gravity he urged himself moving towards, no not towards ¨C inwards, to a new space. The greens bled out from the area around him into lighter shades. Before they reached a solid overwhelming white light, the colour again filled with new hues. The shades twisted into a textured pattern, one rippled and firm to touch. If the emerald hue had been a light, all-encompassing feeling, the new one was more direct, like the sensation of pressing against an unyielding surface. It was as if he had stepped out of water, breaking the surface, and planted his feet on solid ground.

    Despite the change, the green was still present somehow, if not visually to Thomas. Instead, the ¡®tone¡¯, if the light could have such a thing, had altered. To match the new texture, the world around him had adjusted its look. As if he had cast himself down the visual spectrum, the distance between all points in the space had spread out, the colour finally settling on one tone.

    Gold. Royal gold, the gold of a pond at sunset, the gold of flames licking at the darkness. This pattern, this green and gold, had encroached deep into the heart of Thomas. Despite an initial wave of confusion and awe, non-existent hairs raising on his artificial limbs, Thomas came to a strange understanding. The feeling that wrapped around him, penetrating his mind, was not an entirely unknown one It was the same as during the S-Jump to New Horizons. From when he had seen into Salvador¡¯s past, his pain, his sorrow, his overwhelming layers of defence to hide against a past he couldn¡¯t run from. Again, when he had seen into Michael¡¯s¡­ no Mikhail¡¯s feelings. The battlefield, the bodies, reaching up. It hadn¡¯t been guilt the clan prince had felt, no, it had been his determination, his drive. The deaths he had caused only motivated him further to achieve his goals.

    Yes, this sight matched his feelings of the unusual incident. Almost as if to ease his burning curiosity, a new layer of instructions and roles appeared before him. These had been locked away, never able to be seen unless someone had directly altered the deepest components of the Schrodinger engine¡¯s core. Despite his intertwined nature with the S-Drive, he had very little knowledge about the origins of the creators. GaltCorp had been directly involved, but the individuals behind its design were classified. Who made these rules?

    They were a mishmash of unfamiliar terms and instructions, incomprehensible to Thomas. They tried to form words in his mind, but his sheer understanding of their context was lost on him. Perhaps they needed to be decoded or translated for a biological mind to fully comprehend. Yet, there was one section, the only one his mind could fully comprehend, that stood alone. It simply read ¨C ¡®Icarus Beta¡¯. It was tied to one function of the drive, one that matched the strange frequency emitted during the last S-Jump. It referred to a QIS Pattern Coefficient, some variable tied to the crewmembers linked to the Keepers. The data utilized a number of confusing variables and strings, but a clear signature had been left. The data had been encoded by one ¡®Dr. Schulyer¡¯, a name Thomas didn¡¯t recognise. Tentatively, he reached towards this rule and found an adjustment for the S-Drive¡¯s core. The last thing Thomas wanted to do was overload the device after the team had spent so much effort fixing it. There was one idea, however, Thomas could not shrug off. It shouldn¡¯t denature the stability of the device, and the Keeper had to know.

    What would happen to this ¡®QIS Pattern Coefficient¡¯ when the output frequency of the core matched those recorded from when the last S-Jump? Cautiously, Thomas adjusted the frequency of the engine upwards by perceiving a dial in front of him and increasing it slowly.

    <hr>

    Sal was nearing his limit. Cuts and slashes lined his arms and torso, a wound on his forehead blinded his left eye, and his legs bore a closer resemblance to gelatine than limbs. Yet, he had to keep trying. His attempt to fire off the last shots in his pistol had been in vain as the Protheus knocked the gun away indifferently.

    ¡°Ok, then. It¡¯s time for you to join your friend. What as his name? Doesn¡¯t matter, I hope you believe in some sort of afterlife, human. I certainly don¡¯t.¡±

    Sal¡¯s left hand reached towards his back pocket. He had one chance, one shot left. And yet, his legs gave out on him. The overexertion of his body had been pushed to their limits, and he couldn¡¯t fight anymore. Falling to his knees the Cambiar approached Sal and bent to his level, eyes focused on the man¡¯s drooping head.

    ¡°Still, I should give you some praise. You were in a far worse state than your friend, yet you¡¯ve held on a bit longer than he did. You must be experienced with pain, hmm? Tell me, human. What is your name? I will remember it as the finest of my trophies here before I start my journey towards claiming the glory of this galaxy. No, the universe.¡±

    Was this it? The limit of Salvador¡¯s effort? After everything he¡¯d done, all the suffering he¡¯d endured? What would the Torchers think of him now? They had put all their trust in him for this plan, forgiven him after his moment of frailty, and Sal had thrown away any hopes for the survival of Fifth Spoke.

    What would Xeena think? What was she thinking right now? Part of Sal, despite the odds and the risks of the situation had desperately hoped that he would see her again, let her know that his love for her had healed the wound of his heart. The life he had dreamed of, having someone he could risk trusting his soul to, would become nothing but a bloodstain on the steel floor of an engine room. All for a pointless fight with a crazed alien that would die, even if he won.

    ¡°Go fuck yourself.¡± Sal said. He reached back for the shock baton, amping the current has high possible and preparing to activate it.

    Protheus clicked his tongue¡­ tendril? Shaking his head in annoyance, the alien growled. ¡°Fine. Die like the vermin you are then.¡±

    Protheus rolled a shoulder and prepared a claw to stab down into Sal chest.

    The end had finally come, but Sal would not surrender just yet.

 Chapter 30: éˆ¥?ut There is Always Another Horizon

    Xeena laid, skin burnt and muscles twitching. What had happened? She had penetrated the casing of Zafar¡¯s helmet, but still he stood. The seared scent of flesh snapped her back to the moment she fell away. His suit had shocked her, somehow, and her muscles seized up leaving her immobile. Looking across the floor, Titus also laid, broken and battered. With his single functioning arm, he was desperately crawling towards the broken remains of Erohin¡¯s Masslock rifle, desperate to wield it in spite of both his and the weapon¡¯s shattered state. Little Stannock groaned in the corner, his legs twisted at an awful angle whilst Big Stannock had also fallen to the ground, shocked and writhing in agony.

    It was only due to Xeena¡¯s previous adaptations for increased neural sheathing that she could even think straight. Zafar had crouched to one knee as he tore away the translucent cover from his helmet, spiderwebbed with cracks, grumbling angrily.

    ¡°Stupid aliens. When will you learn that your position in the galaxy is in the ground?¡± His face now clearly visible, Xeena could make out the metallic mandible affixed to a fleshy upper jaw, grinding his teeth together. Strings of greasy hair trailed across his red face, puffed up in exertion and anger. ¡°Time to put you all down.¡±

    For a moment, it looked like the warlord was going to intercept the slowly crawling analyst, his one arm working frantically to drag him closer to the ex-bartender¡¯s remains. Instead, Zafar turned and looked at Xeena. A sick grin split his face in half as he stood up and strolled over to her.

    ¡°Well, well, well. Not so nimble now, are we?¡±

    Cracking his neck, Zafar raised up a heavy armoured foot, ready to send it down onto Xeena.

    Was this it? No, Xeena refused to believe it. Not out of some sense of illusion that the current situation was not reality; Xeena¡¯s pain and spasming muscles told her that much. No, there had to be a solution to this, there always was. Sal had turned her away when she failed to understand human social cues and she had solved that. When Starheart was at risk of being blown to dust from Erohin¡¯s bomb, she had solved that with Sal. And when he tore his heart open for her to scrutinize, she accepted every part of him, from his weakness to his determination.

    So, even when the end was above her, the light of the bridge obscured by the warlord¡¯s foot, Xeena would not believe in such things. Her mind sprang back to the genetic adaptions that she had been working through as quick as possible. Why did they not fully match up? XNA was highly variable, but there had always been some structural issues preventing even the most efficient gene combinations from achieving their full potential. Even with all the code provided from the Reward, there was still something potent missing from the puzzle.

    Almost as if the universe was answering her, from deep within herself, she felt something giving her a cue to adapt, to adjust, to grow.

    <hr>

    Elijah had just about had enough of the aliens. Unable to produce any outgoing messages after ¡®Jeff¡¯ had accidently broken the biological circuit responsible for that task, he had been forced to listen to the communications between Zeentach and Titus¡¯ group like an invalid. Waiting for a new board to be constructed, he bit his lip to the sounds of Xeena and the others desperately fighting Zafar Ironskin, the bastard. Of all the people to be stuck in a room with, there were few choices worse.

    When all had gone quiet, his heart sunk. No resounding shot or death rattle from the disgusting pig of a man had signalled the crew had been successful. Elijah hung his head. When a strange feeling overtook his senses, Elijah initially associated it with an incoming migraine from the overwhelming stress of the entire day and the emotional distress of losing his crew. Waving his hand around, he chalked up the faint blur effect of his digits to a headache. Beyond the throbbing within his skull, the afterimage gave him a similar feeling of discomfort to that of his last S-Jump.

    Incredibly quick, lasting less than a few seconds, Elijah had a flash of a strange dream before he awoke in his tank on the upper officers¡¯ deck. When he mentioned to his Keeper, the manufactured man couldn¡¯t give him a straight answer and left him scratching his head like an imbecile. Now, Elijah felt that same feeling, albeit thrumming strongly through his entire body.

    It was only when he decided to clench his hand that he noticed that it was not some aftertrail from his movement.

    Instead, the shadowy outline of his callused fingers moved into a fist before he even made the move. His vision saw the hand moving before he actually did so.

    <hr>

    The feeling deep within Xeena was far more than an emotional response, it was as if her organs were twisting against her, trying to tell her something. Focusing on the feeling, ignoring the impending death above her, it was localized to two spots ¨C one in her midsection, her digestive tract, and another¡­  lower. It was, oddly, within her mimicked uteral tissues she had evolved to have intercourse with Sal. The response was not coming from her own cells directly but instead inside her internal linings she felt it reacting. Sal¡¯s emissions were, somehow, her answer. In the past, she had joked with Sal about analysing his DNA, to which he seemed rather concerned about his genome being dissected so closely.

    Now, however, she forced her body to breakdown and absorb as much information from his expulsions as possible. As if all the power of a star had erupted within her, the instant her genome made contact with Sal¡¯s genetic code, she felt new bonds and connections being forced within in her genetic structure that had been lacking definition and support. Ribose structures twisting and bonding in between her segments of XNA, the key had found its lock and swung the sealed door open. Every series of genes that would have taken weeks or months to adapt to create proteins and other organic molecules morphed and evolved in seconds. With the last her energy, she dumped as much effort as she could into every new evolution she could think of.

    Snapping back to reality, the warlord heaved downward, stomping with all his weight onto Xeena. The sound of Zafar¡¯s whirring motors cut off with a thunderous clang. Confused, he lurched back to survey his work. Instead of the crushed pile of alien remains he had seemingly expected, Xeena crouched, skin sealing closed from the electrical burns in seconds, her skin hardened like diamonds.

    ¡°What¡­ the fuck?¡± the once prideful clan heir spat, fear clenching his vocal cords like a noose.

    Standing straight, feeling her muscles reform and achieve a density that exceeded the strongest of Delkars, Xeena flared her claws out. In seconds her injured form had recovered as a second wind overtook her deep weariness. Zafar didn¡¯t waste any time before running forward to deliver a heavy kick. Xeena, reactions like lightning, sidestepped the swing and struck at the limb as it passed. To Zafar¡¯s horror and Xeena¡¯s triumph, her newly sharpened claws had sliced through the metal, biting deep into the internal mechanisms.

    Attempting to steady himself as he stepped back, Zafar took a boxer¡¯s stance. An exchange of blows rang out, with Xeena deflecting and occasionally matching his blows head on, his steel fists against her organic ones. Though her body internally screamed with every blow, her mass still limited by her stored bioenergy, the fact she could match the tank of a man was incredible. Big Stannock had recovered enough to scurry away from the fight, dodging the now flailing cyborg¡¯s heavy backsteps.

    After an especially quick trade of swings Zafar snapped out of his haze and quickly reached for his flechette gun, jumping backwards with the assistance of his thrusters. Xeena was on him in a second.  With an outstretched arm, he levelled the weapon at her but quickly found himself retreating once more when Xeena split the weapon in two with a slash from her reformed tail. She had shaped the regrown tip into a curved, scythe-like blade.

    Eyes lost in panic, Zafar drew his machete and switched tempo. Instead of charging in, he kept Xeena at range, using wide sweeps and thrusts to keep her back. She didn¡¯t trust her newly grown armour to deflect such a weapon yet and instead weaved in and out of his unfocused slashes.

    ¡°Die! Die you bitch!¡± Zafar shouted, his voice a wailing cry.

    Any composure the man once held had evaporated. Xeena cleaved out chunks of metal from across his exosuit, once even slicing his cheek open with a tail swipe as she danced about. His damaged leg limped when he moved, and the man¡¯s bloodshot eyes struggled to follow her pirouettes and dodges around his swipes. After he overextended after a particularly unsteady overhead chop, Xeena surged forward and brought down all her strength towards his head. At the last second however, he leaned to the side, thrusters burning white. The effort was not wasted on Xeena¡¯s part, however, as she severed Zafar¡¯s right arm at the shoulder with her claw instead, thrusting deep before tearing the socket apart.

    She intended to follow through with the momentum and spike him in the face with her tail but was blown back by a fast blow from his remaining arm. The thrusters on his remaining arm¡¯s elbow had fired so strongly that the wall behind him had burned and melted away in an instant. Armour only able to block so much of the hit, Xeena was stunned from the strong attack, her internal muscles tearing as she flew back. Stomping forward, he delivered a train of hits that knocked her about as she felt the frisson of her initial superiority fading. A particularly rough uppercut knocked a number of teeth from her mouth, the triangular shards flying across the room, as her central neural column snapped. Battered and paralysed, she fell to the floor. As if he were reclaiming a prize, Zafar reached down and held her aloft in his bulky metal hand.

    ¡°That¡­ was fun,¡± He panted. ¡°If I capture some more of you spindly freaks, I¡¯ll train one to fight for my amusement. Maybe I¡¯ll even fuck it, if it does well.¡±

    Wrenched into the air, Xeena could feel that her limbs were mostly broken, the nerves temporarily severed below the neck, and all her energy had been exhausted by the sudden transformation. The weakness, the inability to save oneself ¨C was this how Sal felt when he couldn¡¯t go on? When the darkness of the space took him on Tartarus Nine? What of her dreams, ever since she was a spliceling? The ship she had been born into was not affiliated with any of the major factions, just serving as a spot for Cambiar to drop off their offspring after birth for designation. Even then, staring into the endless darkness, she had always hoped that there was something out in the tinkling night looking back. Was it all for naught? In some ways, it felt like the time to give in had come. That would be, if Xeena didn¡¯t think she would see Sal again.

    So no, Xeena wouldn¡¯t surrender. She still had skies to see with Salvador Vigino.

    No matter what.

    Although she had little energy left in her body, most of her biomass and stored resources burnt up in seconds to fuel her rapid transformation, and she couldn¡¯t adapt anything below the neck, there was one last opportunity she could try.

    ¡°You know, Sal showed me a lot of things.¡± Xeena croaked out.

    ¡°What? Who?¡± Zafar cocked an eyebrow, seemingly intrigued.

    ¡°He showed me that you have to fight for what you want, even if it seems impossible. Like a scar, sometimes the pain never goes away, but you learn to live with it.¡±

    ¡°What are yo-¡°

    ¡°But the most important thing he showed me?¡±

    Zafar cocked his head slightly, bringing her face closer.

    Xeena opened her jaws wide, revealing a long, black tendril, dripping with fluid and tipped with curved fangs.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Sal showed me Alien.¡± She extended her digestive tentacle, strengthened and dripping acid, tearing straight through Zafar¡¯s exposed head and out the back of his skull. Whipping the organ about for a second or two, she retracted it, and the lifeless barbarian dropped to his knees. A second later, a gurgle sputtered from the spasming corpse as he tipped to the side and relaxed his grip on Xeena. Coughing on the floor, blood dripping from her inner mouth, she watched him for signs of movement.

    After a few twitches, he ceased all motion. Zafar Ironskin was dead.

    <hr>

    Glinting in the ambient blue light, Protheus¡¯ claw shot downwards. Sal felt death upon him.

    Yet, before it made contact, Sal reflexively made a move to deflect it as best he could. He was surprised to see the claw was shadowed, echoey, as if it were some delusion of his injured mind. Even with his sluggish movements, he saw the attack and deflected it. Sal was shocked to see that as his arm came to where this odd vision was, Protheus¡¯ limb had moved in that spot in a flash, previously relaxed as the alien rolled his shoulder. Even with his slow movements, he had pushed the lightning quick attack away by blocking pre-emptively.

    Sal had seen the move, a strike that shot out as fast as a cobra, coming before the limb had even moved.

    Another strike was deflected and lightly clipped Sal¡¯s shoulder instead of impaling him through the neck. Protheus stepped back in confusion. A feeling of lightness, as if his bones were being strung up by puppet strings, encouraged the engineer to stand once more. Knees rock solid, Sal adjusted his stance and met the alien¡¯s glare. Protheus shook off his puzzlement and went for a flurry of attacks. Before each one even came close to landing, Sal could see an outline of each stab or slash moving ahead of the actual limb. A shadowy copy, absorbing and refracting light around its edges, had stepped out ahead of Protheus and Sal could see when, where, and even with how much force the alien would attack with. His body screaming in pain, Sal could make blocks or parries with his forearms by knowing when to move and how best to divert every strike.

    After a solid ten seconds of Protheus being unable to land a clean hit, the Rexia stepped back.

    ¡°What on Prime Nexus?¡± the alien said. ¡°How are you doing this? You should be dead.¡± The alien shook his head. ¡°No, you are dead, you just don¡¯t know it yet.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong. I have not¡­ come this far¡­ to die now.¡± Sal grunted out.

    Gritting his teeth, he pushed on the strange feeling has far as it could go. Around him, the battlefield shifted and twisted. He saw his own echo moving in dozens of directions, each one ending with him freezing in place, a blow from Protheus killing him in a possible future. A few however, resulted in him either making distance or repositioning. One such shadowy Sal saw him kick down on a specific part of the floor, flicking something to the air. Sal could barely believe his eyes. Was his exhausted mind giving him fanciful illusion before his death? His gut told him otherwise; all across his body his nerves tingled with excitement, as if they were feeling the air for the very first time. Sal didn¡¯t have time to consider the strangeness of the moment. He had a foe to fight.

    Following the movements he saw last, like acting out some pantomime on stage, Sal lurched over to the exact spot and stomped hard. The area was right next to a gold and red coated Doctrine officer, his rank denoted by an emblem on his cape. Beneath the corpses and gore of the scene, he clipped the edge of a familiar syringe, the exact same sort that Mikhail had injected him with earlier, sending it flying into the air. Catching it with his injured hand, he slammed the auto-injector into heart, the icy-blue of the liquid within draining into him. The freezing, numbing feeling that spread out across his arteries brought relief to Sal as he grinned fiercely. If his muscles were weakened by the chemical, as they had been the last time he was healed, Sal couldn¡¯t feel it. Instead, a resonation from within burned his muscles, urging him to move.

    Picking up a crude blade from another corpse, he strode towards Protheus, who was watching in abject horror as Sal¡¯s various cuts and gashes sealed before his eyes.

    ¡°Ready for round two?¡± Sal beckoned him closer with the two fingers on his mangled hand.

    The enraged alien let out a growl as they clashed. Normally, Sal would stand no chance against such a terrifying opponent, one who was skilled beyond him in every facet of combat. But being able to see his every move seconds in advance, and knowing how best to respond, gave Sal plenty of time to counter and riposte every swing or thrust. As if his mind was soaking in more information than he could ever normally comprehend, he could feel the layout of the bodies around him without even looking. Acting by reflex, his body casually twisted and danced over the obstacles of the battlefield whereas Protheus stumbled and occasionally fell backwards in his frantic movements.

    Even when the alien, frustrated with being put on the backfoot, reached down and activated a smoke grenade, Sal could feel the next attack from beyond the mist. Diverting around a thrust from a spearlike appendage, Sal grabbed the assaulting limb and severed it in a single motion. With his newfound vision, he could sense the trail of orange blood streaming away as black shadows followed by the Rexia¡¯s cry of frustration and pain. Stepping beyond the cloud, he saw Protheus had backed onto the lowered catwalk leading to the control station, blades at the ready. Eager to finish it, Sal stepped closer.

    A sudden palpitation of his heart stuck Sal dead in his tracks. All his bluster vanished as the shadowy echoes faded from his sight, the detail of foresight available to Sal fading by the second. Damn it, he had to finish this quickly. In a rush, Sal sprinted forwards and mistimed a deflection as all but the last vision winked away. Protheus, seeing his chance, pinned Sal¡¯s left arm to the side and twisted his right up in the air, yanking Sal¡¯s blade into the blue chasm. Trapped, and unable to move, the Cambiar spread his vicious smirk wide.

    ¡°Got you now, human. That was a clever trick, whatever that was, but you can¡¯t escape your fate. You can¡¯t escape me.¡±

    The last image Sal had seen only gave him limited information to work with but nevertheless, he had bet it all on one shot.

    With pride, Sal stuck out his chest. ¡°Why don¡¯t you prove it, xeno?¡±

    Sal dumped as much venom as possible into the insult. Shaking with rage, Protheus lurched back and thrust at Sal¡¯s chest, intending to impale the man with his claws. Once again, the alien was left shocked. His fingertips sunk into the man¡¯s skin only an inch, cutting through his outer skin and muscle, but obstructed against a hard surface. With great strain, Protheus attempted to pull his hand free, but found the impossible presence of metal below Sal¡¯s skin had hardened after the initial impact, holding the alien¡¯s claws in place. Sal was right; his surgical plates had stopped the blow long enough to keep Protheus still. The last vision had not been some premonition of his death ¨C it was his last chance for success.

    The issue was the follow-up. Arms pinned, Sal had only one choice left.

    Sal grinned madly, ¡°If you still think humans are weak, then you¡¯re in for a shock.¡±

    With a flick of the switch, he activated the shock baton in his back pocket, the tip pressed against his own rear. Current coursed through Sal¡¯s body, stiffening him straight. His lungs refused to work as his teeth crushed against one another, a stream of pained cries escaping his throat. Arms pinned in place, Sal¡¯s balled his hands into tight fists, his nails cutting into his palms. In his haste, he had flicked the baton to ¡®lethal¡¯, a decision he was now seriously regretting. That was, until he saw his opponent.

    Frozen in place, current running through Sal and into his foe, the alien¡¯s eyes were inches from his own. The black orbs, filled with hate, stared daggers into him from beyond the translucent dome of its head as Protheus¡¯ jaws snapped open and shut every millisecond. From the grim smell and violent shaking, the Rexia was suffering the electricity far worse than Sal. Hate streamed out of every drop of Protheus¡¯ glare. Despite the agony, his eyes displayed no intention of relinquishing Sal; this was a battle of endurance to the death. The Cambiar¡¯s skin began to sear and wrinkle around the joints as his claws bit into Sal¡¯s skin. Eventually, the smell of burning consumed the air around them as both Sal and Protheus twitched on the spot, shouting in agony. As Sal¡¯s skin was beginning to show red welts and burns, Protheus¡¯ skin blackened ¨C eyes still fixed on the human¡¯s.

    Just w Sal was reaching the limits of his pain, his hair burning at the tips, Protheus planted his head against Sal¡¯s. Frantically twitching beyond his cranium plate, his optical marbles swivelled madly before they froze in place. Then, a moment later, they popped. One by one as dark-orange blood splattered the translucent surface and filled the ocular space, Protheus¡¯ eyes burst open. A scream erupted from both of their mouths as the battery on the baton finally died out and the suffocating grip of electricity around their lungs was released. Skin smoking, Sal collapsed to the floor of the catwalk. Every inch of himself was pure suffering, a deep pain that stretched far inside him. He considered that the only reason his heart had not given out was from the aftereffects of using the nano-serum just before. Aching dreadfully, he looked up at Protheus. Having released his grip on Sal, the alien was leaning heavily on one of the guardrails, his once red and green skin charred into an awful black all over. If he had any eyes left, they weren¡¯t visible beyond the splattered viscera of his head¡¯s clear plating.

    The alien¡¯s breathing was a rasping heave, his chest shaking with every intake. With the last of his strength, Protheus attempted to stagger towards Sal but found himself positioned too far over the guard rail, and the shifting of his weight forced the bar to bend. Tipped over the edge, limbs flailing and tail attempting to coil at anything to support him, the extraterrestrial fell to his doom. A distant thud resounded as Protheus likely hit the core or some other structure in the shaft below. He was gone. With intense effort, Sal climbed to his feet and tried to ignore the smell emitting from his burns. Morbidly, it reminded him of burnt pork, the sort Sal smelt during the occasional self-serve barbeque on Starheart thanks to Abel¡¯s substandard cooking skills. Mind awash with pain, Salvador lightly laughed to himself ¨C the Rexia was gone, and he could fix the engine at last. Still, it was hard to disregard the inexplicable fight that had just occurred. Where on earth did he get such reflexes or predictive abilities from? Some deep part of Sal felt reminded of feeling he had after the last S-Jump, just as he had broken the water¡¯s surface in his dream. It was something to consider, but not whilst the ship was at immediate risk of being burnt to a crisp.

    Step by step, he made his way down the rickety catwalk, cables well out of maintenance and under strain from several stray gunshots and explosions from Protheus¡¯ previous battle. He cast a gaze backwards, spying the prone figure of his friend. He hoped that Abel could hold on until he got back. Maybe there were other nano-serums lying about? For now, he had to focus. Below, he cast a gaze into the abyss. The roughly spherical shape of the main fusion core was covered in thousands of plating sections that could move around independent of one another, with special designated spots for the hundreds of control rods to move about and insert from. Occasionally, marking the Juhgler¡¯s path to destruction, part of the raw inner lining would be exposed, releasing the blue pulse of light from within. Sal was very glad that the fusion engine below was not actually radioactive in pre-voidspace terming for the word ¨C the term was often thrown around for non-atomic decay mechanisms out of a misplaced sense of tradition. Had this been an older Beria Class fusion engine, one that actually produced radiation, he would have melted into a puddle the second the door to the chamber opened up from the gamma rays.

    Looking up again, Sal lurched his way to the small building attached to the catwalk. The spindly wires that held it aloft left Sal wishing for more support. His head throbbed badly following the almost unreal experience of his fight with Protheus, as well as shocking himself to a crisp. Eyes bleary, he entered the metal shack and struggled to read the output from the fusion engine. Based on the display screens littered about the room. the current situation was near fatal, but not unsalvageable. Rushing between two management consoles in the open-plan room, windows bleeding in blue light from below in increasingly fast pulses, Sal hurried to figure out what he needed to do.

    A number of accurate movements were required to be issued but only set to be executed once it was prepared. Any mistiming in the control rod insertion could tip the now dangerously-close-to-discharge engine over the edge. Mind in a daze, he quickly ran the math, planned out a simple but reliable insertion procedure he had often used back on Tartarus, and input the sequence. Finger shaking, he pressed the ¡®execute¡¯ key and waited for he results. Would his time at the edge of CCH space, stuck on his own and studying the comparatively tiny engine be enough to save everyone? With the situation out of his hands, he hobbled over to the outer balcony of the building and leant over the guard rail to watch. Below, almost as if he were looking into a mechanic¡¯s idea of hell, the shifting mass of plating around the fusion engine swivelled into position. Syraline ¡®atom-stopper¡¯ control rods swivelled around the mass, a crawling swarm of metal and glass.

    To his overwhelming joy, he saw the programmed safety locks fit into place, the rods sliding into the core¡¯s centre, and the pulsing of the light slowed. The only light remaining was the dull leakage from between the plates. Muscles drained of energy, Sal slumped down, and let out a howl of triumph. He had done it! Fuck yeah! The fusion engine was secured, and Fifth Spoke would live another day. As he chuckled to himself in fugue of hysterical victory, he looked over into the far distance.

    His stomach dropped as he saw a black figure far away. Protheus clung to the side of the wall of the chamber.

    ¡°You! I do remember you!¡± The alien shouted, his voice at a fever pitch as it echoed about the chamber. His hand dug into the wiring of the vertical shaft, Protheus aimed a limb tipped with an organic firearm at his direction. ¡°One of the first arrivals here. I saw the look in your eyes, in Titus¡¯ eyes. You had already communicated with one of our own. Already, you had corrupted us. Your kind deserve nothing¡­ nothing but servitude. Or better yet¡­ to die in disgrace¡­ at the hands of your superiors!¡±

    With a scream taking all the Cambiar¡¯s strength, he pulled his limb back before unleashing a spray of white, bony projectiles towards Sal as exhaustion took the Rexia. Limb still outstretched, Protheus fell, this time for good, his body tumbling far below to the core. Sal dived weakly to the side, though the shot was already wide. Thankfully, patting himself down, he could see he was unharmed. However, to Sal¡¯s dismay, he looked up to see the shot had struck some of the supporting wires for the whole control building. Reaching the last of their strength, the remaining cables started snapping with loud twangs as the entire platform swung below him. The light of the core closed in on him. Clutching for dear life, he gripped the grated floor as the entire structure jolted downwards.

    Down towards an all-encompassing blue void.

 Chapter 31: Surrender, Surrender

    Xeena panted, the twitching form of Zafar leaking blood onto the floor. Groaning, her nerves regenerating, she heaved herself onto her knees.

    ¡°Titus, are you ok?¡± She took a moment to spit out some of the dead man¡¯s viscera still in her tendril. Eugh.

    Titus nodded, his form crumbled and twisted. Slowly, he raised his one good limb to produce a weak thumbs up. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ live. Please see to Stannock.¡±

    Obeying the analyst, Xeena rushed over to the Stannocks, the Cambiar one hunched over the man, who groaned in pain. His legs had been snapped from hitting the wall and one arm was clearly dislocated. Yet, he was still conscious.

    ¡°Did¡­ did we win?¡± Stannock murmured.

    ¡°Yeah Stan. We won.¡± Big Stannock patted his friend on the back. Likely aflush with pain, the injured man let out a weak moan before collapsing. The Tenau lifted his partner on his back, ready to take his partner away.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take him down to the medbay, get him all fixed up,¡± Big Stannock said. ¡°What are you guys going to do?¡±

    Xeena scratched her neck, shrugging. Pulling Titus to a wall so he could support himself enough to lean up, she went over to a monitoring console to check on the ship. The earlier threat of Paradise¡¯s ¡®journey¡¯ still loomed over the entire ship, or maybe even the whole fleet based on Erohin¡¯s words. Xeena couldn¡¯t trust what the madman said was true, but she didn¡¯t want to leave it to chance. Flicking through the monitors, she could see that the power levels for both salvaged engines from Ruby Eye had been decreased, the risk of overload dissipated. Clenching a fist in victory, she used the cameras to search across the ship.

    From the screens, she could see groups of Heaven¡¯s Doctrine soldiers being rounded up and arrested by the hordes of Cambiar that had begun boarding the ship. It seemed that Zeentach and his forces could work fast once they put their minds to it. Many Paradisians refused to give in, instead fighting to the last man, with many choosing suicide over captivity. Xeena thought it was a sad fate for those who couldn¡¯t even choose their circumstances of birth.

    She came across a view of the S-Drive, a solitary figure sitting cross-legged. Keeper Thomas was slowly disconnecting himself from the device, retracting plugs and cords back into his robotic spine. He looked unsteady, like a man hungover. Stumbling to his feet, Thomas made his way to the door. Next, Xeena checked the hallways and corridors towards the hanger. The cameras inside the hanger had been disabled, but the surrounding areas leading to it showed many groups of allied troops converging, human militia and Cambiar soldiers moving as one.

    The next people she recognized as she continued to flick through the next passageways were some of the Torchers ¨C Xin, Dusty, Marcus and their alien partners. Almost as if one of his posters had come to live, Dusty was piloting one of the mechanized armour frames taken from Ruby Eye¡¯s salvaged cargo. Ahead of the group of Torchers stood a singular pale man, white hair trailing down his back. He stood in an aloof stance, hands relaxed as he raised them in mock surrender.

    Seeing that they likely had the situation under control, she adjusted her view to that of the fusion engine. Her throat seized up.

    ¡°Please, no.¡± Xeena could barely breath.

    ¡°Xeena?¡± Titus asked, trying to heave himself off the floor. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    A massacre had taken place. A battered Abel was distinctly the only one breathing amongst the bodies, lying on the floor covered in wounds. In a new view, one meant to look down on the core and control station from above, she could see a sight that collapsed her gut into a black hole.

    The entire control section of the room had fallen and rotated, a twisted mess of steel and shrapnel barely hanging by a few cables. And, dangling at the bottom, legs whirling above the blue abyss, was Sal.

    Xeena moved like she had never moved before, jumping through the bridge¡¯s entrance and sprinting down the staircase, each step traversing a whole floor.

    Please Sal, hold on.

    <hr>

    Dustin¡¯s hand gripped the joysticks of the Durand Combat Mech¡¯s controls as he attempted to realign the digital crosshairs on the man ahead of him. The odd looking man turned, swivelling on one foot to face them as the young engineer placed his unsteady fingers on the triggers, mentally preparing to squeeze them down hard. Outside the mech, Xin¡¯s foot tapped anxiously as Marcus¡¯ hand gripped the chassis, holding himself back from charging the figure. It was just their luck that the team had run into the one of the only men on the ship who could put the fear of god into them, even armed with a high-end mech. Dustin had definitely not expected to see a living legend in the flesh today, especially one as deadly as Mikhail ¡®One-Shot¡¯ Olegovich of the Broken Fang.

    He had a slim figure and was decked from neck to toe in a black, one-piece bodysuit. It was the many mechanical armatures and blades projecting from his back and arms, as well as the multiple splatters of scarlet across his body that broke the idea that this man was anything but harmless. Slowly, one by one, the steel limbs retracted inside his body, folding into compact layers below his skin, as he held the uncaring posture of mock surrender. His right hand flexed as if motioning towards the mechanical sheath at his hip.

    ¡°Oh. Hey guys. How¡¯s it going?¡± The clan prince asked like it was the start of a work shift following the weekend.

    ¡°Shut up, you Doctrine bastard!¡± Marcus snarled. ¡°You monster! You¡¯ve killed god knows how many people. Why shouldn¡¯t I let Dustin here unload on you, turn you to a Heavenly mess?¡±

    ¡°Oh please. I haven¡¯t killed any crew you would care for¡­ yet. I¡¯ve got my own code of honour, and plans that go beyond mass slaughter, thank you very much. Didn¡¯t Sal tell you as much?¡±

    Dustin stammered, ¡°B-be quiet! How could we trust you? You¡¯re a dangerous lunatic ¨C no matter what sort of code you follow.¡± His weak voice was jagged glass shattered in his throat.

    Even with a team of six armed people, including a Delkar and a powerful mech, something inside Dustin told him that they couldn¡¯t take the man in a fight. The myths surrounding the warrior were beyond belief ¨C entire stations singlehandedly taken over, winning all of the Doctrine Tournaments of Strength he had participated in with barely any effort, and wiping out lesser clans with almost no reinforcements were some of the lesser feats he was known for.

    And now, Mikhail stood there, smirking. ¡°Come now, I¡¯m not your enemy. These idiots - cultists and mindless killers both ¨C are the ones you should be shooting at.¡±

    ¡°And why don¡¯t you fit into the latter, huh?¡± Marcus growled.

    ¡°Because¡­¡± Mikhail twirled a hand around thinking before he seemingly gave up on the idea. ¡°Ok, look I¡¯ll show you, but it¡¯s best I can drop my arms. This pose is killing me.¡±

    If he actually showed any sign of exhaustion, it wasn¡¯t apparent. Dustin thought his black, fish-like eyes were akin to those of a barracuda, seconds from biting down on some weak prey.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t had a good arm workout since I first pretended to be Michaels.¡±

    Without waiting for confirmation, he slumped his arms down. Whistling, the silver haired man flicked out a comm-device from a pocket, wired up with attachments that jutted out at strange angles, and raised it to his ear.

    As Dustin kept his fingers on the triggers, sweat slicking them once again, Xin caught his eye and nodded towards the attachments. Even as the junior-most member of the team, he could recognise some of the add-ons as range boosters and wide-band frequency strengtheners.

    ¡°Dusty, if he even thinks about calling for reinforcements, you light him up, ok?¡± Xin said, voice cold as death.

    ¡°O-ok.¡± Dustin was uncertain he could do it, lacking both the mental wherewithal and the physical capability, based on the warrior¡¯s legendary tales.

    Clearing his throat, Mikhail announced. ¡°Attention all of those in the HL7628, or New Horizons, as it has come to be known, I have news. Whether you be Henry and Huell corpos, Heaven¡¯s Doctrine clans, or you silly little buggers in Paradise, listen. This is Mikhail Olegovich. I, blood-heir third in line to the Broken Fang, am hereby declaring a soma-curse on the Jade Emperor Yuan Xia, cursed be his name, of Heaven¡¯s Doctrine.¡±

    Dustin couldn¡¯t believe it. A soma-curse was a rare part of clan culture, rarely  used by most clans, including the Emperor¡¯s own personal holdings. It was the worst form of insult a clanlord could deliver but required specific criteria for it to be considered a valid curse, one that would haunt the target for the rest of their life. Dustin was far from an expert on Doctrine lore, but he had heard the rumours of the occasional backstabber staining a former leader or ally with a soma-curse. The main criteria were that the curser must have personally met their target, not through long-ranged or electronic communications, and to have gained a high level of their trust. Though the exact requirements varied, if Mikhail had indeed met the Emperor in person, a claim few in the galaxy could make, he would certainly qualify for both aspects.

    ¡°If you doubt the veracity of my claim, you can confirm it with the Dragon Guard ¨C some eight months ago, my personal craft White Gold personally docked with his personal ship, Great Dragon. The docking codes and personal summons I received by them have been attached to this message. And so, I strike it thus ¨C Jade Emperor. Your rotten, fetid hide will die by my hand one day. Let your clans run wild, it will be for naught. When the stars burn cold, even then my hatred for you and your weak heart will live on. The Broken Fang is no more. Now, Dawn¡¯s Fang steps into the future.¡± He paused for a second, thinking. ¡°Oh, and if anyone¡¯s wondering, I can personally attest he is far from the demigod you may think he is. Whatever Evergreen or other alternative he is using is certainly not working. Good luck on putting the ¡®corpse king¡¯ back in the coffin he belongs him everyone. With that, I bid you all adieu!¡± With a click, he deactivated his comm-device and slipped it away.

    The sudden change in tone towards the end of his speech only added to the confusion of those listening in the hallway. Marcus¡¯ mask of hatred had become one of uncertainty, though he still gripped the mech with white knuckles and a hand holding his pistol

    ¡°Mikhail, are you sure?¡± Dustin said. ¡°I mean, I don¡¯t know you, and you seem kind of evil to be honest, but spitting in the face of the Emperor? Is that really a good idea?¡±

    Dusty didn¡¯t have much love to spare for any clanlord, let alone one with a reputation like Mikhail, but even he could see that this move was suicidal. Supposing the chance that all Doctrine forces were apprehended before they could escape, H&H would surely spread his message back in CCH space, recording and all, for the sake of propaganda.

    The midnight eyed man shrugged. ¡°Eh, screw it. I was going to go against him one day, and now I¡¯ve got some new friends.¡±

    ¡°Friends?¡± Xin asked, looking around the tunnel as if she were expecting an ambush.

    ¡°Ah yes, the Ten-Tri have taken me on. We¡¯ve got some great plans for the future. Big ideas, full of fun adventures and wonderful celebrations.¡± He looked down at an in-skin chronometer. ¡°Ah, deepest apologies Torchers, but I must go. Time is fleeing quickly, so I must head for the hanger. Thanks for chatting, maybe we¡¯ll speak in the future!¡±

    Marcus raised his gun, ¡°Hey, wait! We¡¯re not done!¡± Mikhail made no sign he had heard Marcus¡¯ order, and he instead tucked his hands into his pockets, turning to walk away. ¡°Dusty, shoot him!¡±

    With a jerk, and thrust into action by Marcus¡¯ command, Dusty slammed the triggers down, the joystick controls heavy in his hands. The mech shifted its weight as its twin rotary cannons whirled to life. Automatic targeting systems locked onto the slowly walking assassin and unloaded everything the mech had. Lead filled the air, tracers trailing into the distance as the tunnel¡¯s floor and walls were mangled by the regulated Masslock Rifles that dented and ricocheted the bulkheads ahead of them. And yet, not a single drop of blood from the man was spilt. Like a ghost, Mikhail¡¯s movement became blurred as he dodged at speeds unfathomable, his figure little more than a smudged image in the air ahead. Dancing from side to side, flipping in the air in somersaults, the blur twirled about as bullets passed where he¡¯d been just milliseconds before. When Dusty finally let off the rotary cannons, smoke rising from the red hot barrels, Mikhail came to a stop.

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    Brushing off some imaginary dust off a shoulder with one hand and balancing a mushroomed bullet on the tip of a freshly drawn blade with the other, Mikhail looked up.

    ¡°That was fun,¡± He said. ¡°You used mechs before, kid? Surprised you didn¡¯t use the power blades in the forearms, not that they would have done much good.¡±

    Dusty couldn¡¯t respond. He gobsmacked, as were the others.

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re probably just a fan. Loads of kids are. A distant nephew of mine is really into that sort of stuff. Loves both the anime and live-action mecha stuff. Real nice kid. Where was I? Ah, whatever. Oh, before I go, there¡¯s something I really wanted to tell Sal, but I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll pass it on. You guys are nice like that.¡± Mikhail cleared his throat in preparation.

    He spread his arms wide, flourishing, ¡°When I first met him all those months ago, I couldn¡¯t get his name out of my mind. Vigino¡­ Vigino¡­ where had I heard it before? Of course, his background history stood out, surviving such a perilous event on Tartarus Nine and all. Then, it came to me!¡± He snapped his fingers for effect. ¡°Tell dear old Sal to look into clan Greyalt, the Lost Hunters ¨C there¡¯s a certain someone rising in the ranks there, someone who will probably take over soon. That person who goes by the name Citra Vigino. Might be coincidence, but you never know.¡± He shrugged and gave an exaggerated bow.

    ¡°Now, I must dash off. Ciao!¡± And with that the pale figure walked away, whistling a tune and flipping his sword all the while, a streak of red light flashing with every movement of the weapon, radiating out from the modified baryplate coating along its spine.

    The group gawked for a moment, the whistling fading into the darkness, before Xin could reclaim control of her voice.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think we should go that way anymore.¡±

    <hr>

    Sal held on for dear life. Legs hanging loosely below him, he could feel the thrum of the fusion engine below. He was barely holding onto a guard rail, the entire control structure around him tipped downwards. During the initial collapse, Sal had lost his balance and grip, nearly falling to his death in an instant. Luckily, he had caught the rail at the last second, his shoulders aching dreadfully from the force. Twisted metal fell from above as the few wires that held the entire construct together vibrated under stress.

    This was becoming a rough day for Salvador.

    With all his strength, he pulled his torso up and braced against the rail. With enough support, he swung his legs over. Looking up at the crumbling monstrosity above him, Sal sighed. He¡¯d been through too much for one day, and this was the cherry on top of the shit sundae. With slow and steady movements, Sal gripped the grated flooring, now a near vertical wall for him, and started to climb his way upwards.

    It was far from the time or place to consider it, but Sal wondered how the others were doing. Abel had been badly beaten, but the man was strong, both in body and mind. Sal prayed that the lovable buffoon could hold on long enough for him to help him. Damn it, he would really have to make it up to him after this. Maybe a matching tooth of his own? Would Xeena give him one?

    Gods, Xeena. He could not die now, not without seeing her cute face one more time. If it was the last thing he did, he would let her know how much he loved her, and how she had changed his life. Blue hues shining below, he still remembered the digging in of her claws from the night before, and he longed for her touch once again. Instead of slender fingers, Sal wrapped his digits around the increasingly wobbling metal plates of the catwalk. He had reached the control building when the first cluster of the debris fell down towards him, sharp swarms of death rapidly approaching.

    Sal yelled as he was forced to swing to the side, relying entirely on his injured hand to hold his entire weight. Shrapnel the size of his entire body missed him by inches. Breathing still shaky from one more near-death experience that day, Sal continued upwards. His seared skin and bones were rebelling in agony, pleading with him to take a break, maybe even lie down if he could. No, Sal couldn¡¯t give in, not now. The entire structure was not long for the world, and Sal would not go down with it. He had initially planned to circle the outer rim of the building, to climb along the area he had been sitting when it tipped, but the catwalk there had been entirely stripped away, forcing his path through the building itself. Squeezing through a shattered window, glass nicking at his arms, Sal pulled himself inside.

    What would Xin think of him now? She had always been trying to worm into his heart, desperate to pry his past open, but Sal had always blown her off. Perhaps it was Xeena¡¯s lack of resemblance to the women that had hurt him before, his mother and sister, that allowed her to stitch his wounded soul together. Still, he had seen in Xin¡¯s eyes the last time they met that her previous fear had been tempered down, collared like a bad pet. Whatever she had gone through, she had tamed her past. If Sal had finally left the mindset Tartarus had scarred him with, maybe Xin could leave her memories of her last day as a pilot behind as well? Remembering Xin reminded him to ask her to remove that one saucy video; Xeena had learnt a little too well from the woman, and he had to curb his alien partner¡¯s bedroom prowess somehow.

    Marcus had been furious with Sal, that much was clear. Nevertheless, it was better to face that anger than to have walked away. Though marked in a way that went beyond Sal¡¯s personal strife, the man had stayed strong and stuck by his friends. In that way, Marcus was the far stronger man. Yet, Sal hoped to rival his friend¡¯s capacity for endurance and change, if he could make it out of this hellhole that was. Pushing past a now deadened computer terminal, he stretched towards the door above him, the one that lead to the entrance catwalk.

    Stannock had surprised him. Truthfully, Sal had cared less for the man than the others in the group, his selfish nature an unintended stinging reflection of Sal¡¯s own self-reliance. Knowing the two Stannocks had gone to help Xeena actually gave him some hope of success on their part. Mostly because Sal knew that anything that would put Xeena at danger would be a mark against their combined egos. Sal hoped to see them in their usual egocentric ways soon; that would be nice for once.

    And Dusty, poor kid. The whole situation was far too much for someone like him. Tartarus Nine had been overwhelming for Salvador, but the loss of his family had prepared him for the unfairness of life. Dusty, however, had never known such horror before this attack. Sal prayed that the young man would overcome what he saw here today and continue to live as his usual self. That was if Titan didn¡¯t break is pelvis after the situation was all cleared up. Sal still had no idea how the two of them fitted - maybe like how an anglerfish did?

    Reminiscing on his friends had taken his mind away from his current predicament, but now was the time to focus. Another one of the few cables had snapped, turning the already tilted structure to a completely flat, vertical one. His ragged boots found little purchase against the grated floor; the spaces too small for the tip of his footwear to stick in. With each grab and pull upwards, he wrenched himself higher and higher. A shifting of the metal, and the sound of steel screeching below, signalled the disconnect and collapse of the main control building, crushing against the colossal plating of the core below with a thud. Sal hoped it hadn¡¯t damaged one of the control rods but shook his head. He didn¡¯t have time to consider that - he needed to escape.

    The spaces between intact floor grates grew wider and wides, with him needing to stretch his arms wide apart to reach the next section. Biceps aflame, it was not far to the entrance platform he had come from. The throbbing of his heart in his chest deafened all other sounds, the drone of the engine behind him little more than a muffled drumming. One, two. One, two. Sal rhythmically moved, any pause jeopardising his concentration and risking his fall.

    Within reach, the secure edge of the baseplate sat. Fingers glancing the edge, a jolt shook the structure. The wires twisted and snapped as the entire catwalk shot downwards by a few feet. Damnit! Sal held for dear life as the wall finally stopped, sitting much lower than before. The wires were at their limit, and the baseplate was out of reach now. Lugging himself onto the top of the catwalk¡¯s edge, he could only stare in disbelief as the edge of the baseplate sat out of reach by a fair margin. Every second that passed wrought a groan of stain from the wire, the very threads of the metal unwinding before his eyes. Too far to jump and wires too weak to climb; Salvador was stuck.

    So close, and yet so far.

    <hr>

    Elijah couldn¡¯t help but stare as the entirety of the Out-Han fleet swarmed in on Fifth Spoke and other nearby ships, snake-like tubes extending from their hulls for boarding. Lighthouse¡¯s near instant destruction at the hands of the fleet dug deeply into Elijah. This whole time the Cambiar wielded such power? For once, he decided to hold back on insulting the strange aliens around him, even as ¡®Jeff¡¯ repeatedly failed to insert the external communications board back into the terminal. Stupid thing, just fucking rotate the component, it¡¯s not hard! But no, he held his thoughts to himself, Jeff could learn it in his own time. Instead looking to the side, beyond the debris field growing from Ruby Eye and Lighthouse, Starheart stood proud, the signalling lights and incoming communications confirming that the vessel had been secured.

    Trailing away, a stream of ionic gas behind it, Marshstrider flew away. Gaining distance, it had announced that it had secured all the crew it could and would soon prepare for travel back to human space. Good riddance, Elijah thought. As much as he thought the Cambiar were too stupid and annoying for him to like, he could at least appreciate their success when it mattered. Seeing the sheer amount of internal corruption H&H had let into the Seventh Expedition Fleet had truly soured something deep within Elijah. That, and most of the crew were staying, and in Elijah¡¯s eyes, wherever they were was where he was needed. God knows that the crew of the engineering deck would get sloppy without him looming over them.

    Striding over to the aliens, he asked about updates on Fifth Spoke, recalling Titus and the others there were still at potential risk even if it sounded like Xeena had somehow killed Zafar, the fat bastard. Nothing had come through about the overall situation there, but increasing chatter from the hanger marked approaching action. That, and the Ten-Tri ship, Hammer of Victory was not docking along the Fifth Spoke¡¯s midsection, but instead directly affixing itself to the hanger bay. What was going on? Were they deploying troops to secure the area, or were they doing something else?

    It mattered not. His head was killing him after the strange, almost nauseating feeling and visions had disappeared, and he lacked the energy to do anything more. Sighing, Elijah considered the many people under his command as part of the engineering deck. All those workers, some bright eyed and fresh to the wonders of space, and others cynical and worn down but defiant to go on. Out of all the crew he had known over the years, the ones he thought of the most were the Torchers.

    More specifically, how the hell was Sal doing?

    <hr>

    Sal looked down, a vast fall to a certain death lurking beneath him. Had Sal still been the man who¡¯d just survived Tartarus Nine, knowing nothing but his own certainty, he would have seen such a distant end and embraced it. After all, he had thought that it was better to go out by his own hand than to struggle in the face of fate. But that was then, and times had changed.

    Salvador had changed.

    Looking up, the ledge high above him, there was only one possible outcome left. Taking one last breath, steeling himself, he crouched. Building as much strength as he could and ignoring the wires fraying all around him, Sal was a tightly wound spring, fit to bursting with all his remaining energy. Sal was ready to make the leap the Salvador of the past never could dream of.

    The weaker Sal, one held back by fear and doubt would surrender himself and give in. But the Sal of today would not capitulate to the past. Never.

    The tension snapped, and he hurled himself upwards, arms windmilling for a grip. As he left the platform, his last bit of force saw the cables holding the catwalk fall apart. Careening below, it too came to crash onto the core below. He leapt upwards, his mangled hand stretched as far as possible, digits twitching in anticipation.

    Despite his injured state, muscles cramped, and skin burnt, he was more alive than ever. With a cry of exertion, he felt his upward momentum slow, fingers brushing against the bottom of the base plate. By a few inches, he was short.

    Sal reached the periapsis between him and the ledge as gravity took him. It was the end, but Sal had fought hard. If nothing else, he had at least stopped the fusion core from killing those he loved. He wasn¡¯t at peace, not until he could see Xeena one last time, but he could be satisfied with saving those he cared for. No matter what, Sal was glad he wasn¡¯t on Marshstrider. Perhaps in death Sal could-

    A tremor ran through his arm as a clawed hand latched his own, the strength of an industrial crusher on his limb.

    ¡°Sal!¡± Xeena cried, leaning all the way over the ledge, extended tail supporting their combined weight on a nearby rail.

    ¡°Xeena!¡± Sal couldn¡¯t believe his eyes. She had come for him, and not a second to spare.

    This was not the end.

    Sal wheezed out a shout as he swung his other arm up to grab hers. Their eyes locked, and with a nod, she winched the two of them from the abyss. Inch by inch, they left the cobalt void behind. Finally, pulled to solid ground with a thump, the two laid astride, looking at one another. Panting, gasping, the two were motionless for some time. Xeena was the only thing in the universe Sal could register - the soft outline of her face, the relieved smile of her mouth, the small outcroppings of blue crystals on her head.

    Oh, that was new. In fact, she looked rather new in general. Her body was lined with hard armoured plating, and he swore she had gained some height. Looking over, a line of embedded footsteps marked her path towards the ledge, the outlines of footprints clawing into the metal floor. She must have been moving at incredible speed and power, tearing up the ground beneath her.

    With great effort, he hoisted himself onto his side, fully exhausted.

    ¡°Xeena¡­ I¡­¡± Sal needed to say the words, to let her know that that he never gave in, that he loved her. Before he gave out, his weak body pushed beyond its limits ten times over, he needed to say the most important words he could.

    Instead, she crawled over and placed a single finger on his lips. ¡°Sal, there¡¯s nothing to say. You came back. I knew you would.¡± She trailed a hand to his chest as the two of them sat up, supporting each other.

    ¡°Does it hurt, still?¡± she asked.

    Sal lowered his own hand to his chest and outlined the scar from Tartarus. Many new ones had been added over the course of the day, not given enough time to heal, but the one that had anchored him down to a lesser life was painless. Closing his eyes and raising his gaze to the heavens, he sighed.

    ¡°No. My pain is gone.¡±

    A simple phrase, but it felt the weight of the world on his heart had finally been lifted.

    Together, they looked out towards the rest of the room. Senses dulled from the aftermath of his adrenaline rush, Sal only then noticed the chorus of Cambiar and human crews rushing in when he turned to look at them. They checked the bodies from Protheus¡¯ battle as a group of medics sat around a moaning Abel. The injured man spared enough strength to look over at Sal and Xeena and give a thumbs up before the doctors and soldiers lifted him into a stretcher.

    Sal thought it was a good idea to follow suit and leant against Xeena. Slowly, his body got what it wanted, and he let exhaustion take him.

    ¡°Rest well, Sal. You¡¯ve earned it. Sweet dreams.¡±

    And, having been given permission, Salvador slept.

 Chapter 32: But Donéˆ¥æª› Give Yourself Away

    Several weeks later

    Rexia Xeena of the Cycle of Outstretched Hands made her way along the restored hallways of Fifth Spoke, the time for departure rapidly approaching. It had been a hard time for everyone involved ¨C the Cambiar had experienced their first taste of real conflict on a scale beyond their imagination and many innocent crew members had been killed in the fighting. With the intervention of the rest of the Out-Han fleet, the majority of the assaulting forces had been captured or put down, with the exception of the newly retitled Dawn¡¯s Fang. Retreating to the hanger, the small company of soldiers had boarded the Hammer of Victory and left with the surviving Ten-Tri envoys into the depths of space.

    Considerations for pursuit had been made, but it was decided to focus on the recovery of those effected by the conflict above all else. Even after weeks had passed, work was still being done on the hallways and corridors of Fifth Spoke. Wiring and plating were replaced, and human workers were still scratching their heads at some of the more complex bio-components. Nonetheless, progress was going smoothly. With casualties kept to a minimum thanks to the quick reorganization of militias across the infiltrated vessels, many injured in the attack were already up and walking already. It was due to this speedy recovery that the fleet had quickly prepared enough to begin their first wormhole opening since their arrival at New Horizons.

    Passing through the hallway, a trio of Cambiar huddled to the side, cooing over a comm-device. Xeena rarely saw Cambiar that had not yet picked up at least some human features from among the Out-Han ships she had visited, and based on rough estimates it seemed like most took on female forms. Perhaps some reference to their original reproductive method being able to produce offspring? That, or maybe they were simply attracted towards the majority male Expedition Fleet crew. As a result of putting their adaptive powers to use, many had seen some ¡®action¡¯ with the men of the ex-H&H crew, though some Delkar had reportedly been a bit too aggressive for the target of their affections.

    As she passed down the passage, the excitable Cambiar of the group stepped towards her.

    ¡°Rexia Xeena! Rexia Xeena!¡± one said. ¡°Sorry to bother you, but we have an issue we request your personal judgement on. Could you please help us? It¡¯ll take just for a second?¡±

    They looked up at her with a desperate need for answers and Xeena couldn¡¯t help but assist. Since becoming a Rexia, she had gained a bit of height that placed her above most Uvolo, and helped increase her image as a leader to the still adapting Cambiar. Already she had seen her fair share of people coming to her for advice, both professional and personal, following the spreading of tales about her climactic battle with Zafar Ironskin.

    Xeena was still coming to terms with said new position as a Rexia. A newly put together full ¡®coronation¡¯ procedure was the first of its type among her people, a rather human affair, which resulted with her being given a full title and command over part of the Out-Han 62<sup>nd</sup> Outer Fleet. In a manner previously unseen in Cambiar celebration, there had been much festivity and partying, far different from the stilted matter of her Reward of Five Digits. It had mostly been a lot of standing around and complementing her new cranial spires. In her mind, the only person who truly needed to like the new look was Sal, and he had been very fond of them. Though she had yet to see a hoverbike in person, the term ¡®handlebars¡¯ was very apt the first night she showed them off to him. Aside from the crown, the additional vocal organ and increased gleam of her skin hadn¡¯t been too bad either, but the crown still felt the most special part about her new appearance.

    Absentmindedly feeling the tips of her indigo projections, she saw the three Cambiar ladies flip through a comm-device, a close replication of the H&H standard model, and turn it around to display a casual man, leaning against a wall some distance from the camera as he looked at something offscreen.

    ¡°Miss Xeena, this is a¡­ close friend of ours. He¡¯s been good to us so far, but we are unsure of our next steps in our¡­ friendship. Based on his look, in your personal appearance, do you think that this man¡­ well¡­ does¡­¡± The shortest of them trailed off, tapping their claws together.

    ¡°What she means to ask, Lord Rexia, is whether you think this man looks like she would instigate the ¡®human handshake¡¯ with us?¡± The most assertive of the group smirked.  ¡°The ¡®need-to-know-archive¡¯ with a certain Cambiar trio? If you¡¯ll pardon my language, Rexia Xeena - I think he looks like he fucks alien women. Just has the look, one you may have picked up on from your personal experience.¡± The Cambiar grinned wide; Xeena had a feeling most of those who came to her with relationship advice knew exactly what sort of things the Rexia got up to with her consort.

    A modest part of Xeena wanted to admonish the group, to tell them to just ask him plainly. The stronger, horny part of her that had desired after Sal from the very start had a better idea.

    ¡°Agreed!¡± she huskily said, rolling her ¡®R¡¯s in a sultry tone and she returned a wide smile.

    Leaving the now feverishly eager group to their own illicit motivations, she continued on her way towards the party. Through the window, she saw the new ships that had decided to follow the Out-Han to their next destination. Though H&H had fled with their tail between their legs, Marshstrider marking the last of their ships seen since the surprise attack, many of their competitors had stepped in to make their own attempt at first contact. In the days following the assault, Galant Corporation, Tripwire Services, Dark Sun Enterprises and many others had arrived, each expressing their intentions of free trade and information exchange between the aliens and the CCH. Word had quickly spread throughout human space about the presence of a new alien faction, open to human contact. With a small convoy on their tails, Rexia Zeentach had been preparing for days in order to please the greater human galaxy with a wonderous showing. What better way to mark the first steps of the Out-Han on the galactic stage by showing off their form of faster than light travel?

    Straightening her dress and nervously feeling at her crown¡¯s tips, Xeena swung open the doors to the main ballroom, constructed towards the fore end of the ship. The wave of sound from partygoers dancing and cheering hit her like a shockwave, the walls and doors of the room being soundproofed for the sake of the non-attending crew. Hundreds had been packed into the room, the entire far side covered with a colossal window to give an awe-inspiring view in the fleet for the event. Decked out in livery and glimmering metals, the ballroom had made use of the best architects and builders of the fleet to nail the ancient style of the dance halls of the pre-industrial era of human history.

    Though long out of fashion in human space, no one seemed to mind, music filling the air as waiters of both species darted about to serve the guests. With H&H officially giving up on the remains of Lighthouse and Ruby Eye and the CCH collectively gifting Starheart away as a ¡®commercial trading gift¡¯, the Cambiar had finally obtained access to a large stockpile of human food and crops, providing them better service for their new citizens beyond hyizka patties. Initially the Rexia had all considered offering Starheart back, confused as to why H&H would leave such a valuable asset behind. When news came that Henry and Huell were falling apart by the second back in CCH space, it was clear they had larger issues than a single colony ship. Apparently, their dealings with Doctrine to obtain both goreskins and large amounts of rival corporation merchandize from under their noses had turned the rest of the conglomerates against them. Combined with poor finances from before the whole fiasco, one of the seven founding conglomerates of the CCH was on the way to being decommissioned.

    That wasn¡¯t an issue for the Out-Han to worry about for now ¨C it was time to return home. The trip back to their capital planet, Kalscar Prime, would take some time and numerous wormholes, and Xeena had one special spot in particular to show Sal on the way. Stepping into the hall, she was met by a distinct duo. Titus and Elijah stood, desperately trying to wave off a particularly enthusiastic waiter repeatedly offering them bite-sized hyizka pieces topped with tomatoes. Seeing an opportunity to evade the overly generous alien, they made their excuses and approached Xeena.

    ¡°Ah, there she is, the star of the party,¡± Elijah said. ¡°How¡¯s it feel, being queen and all? Ready to lead our people into the unknown future?¡±

    The former deck manager grunted, hands on his hips. Xeena had been surprised to see him sticking around. Though he had frequently expressed annoyance with the Cambiar, it was undeniable that he had shown where his loyalties had laid in the end. He had made his choice to stay and work with the aliens, such was the attachment he had to his crew. He had even developed a small following of apprentice Cambiar engineers attempting to learn all they could from the old coot, much to his grouchiness.

    ¡°Now, now, Mr Meyer. Miss Xeena is barely a few weeks into her new role, and I¡¯m not sure how the Cambiar would feel about the idea of royalty quite yet.¡± Titus had been repaired since his battle with Zafar, new synthetic skin covering his extremities and face once more. A newly made pair of gold rimmed glasses mounted his nose as he gave a proud smile towards Xeena. ¡°Still, whatever role you¡¯ll find, I am sure you will do superb. Have you seen the Torchers yet? Everyone¡¯s preparing for the countdown, and I am sure they don¡¯t want you to miss it.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t found them yet, Titus,¡± Xeena looked around. ¡°Do you know where they are?¡±

    Xeena couldn¡¯t see them from their current corner, and was beginning to worry she would miss meeting with Salvador in time. After all the preparation and effort she had made in adjusting the next leg of the journey, the last thing she wanted was to the miss sharing the moment.

    ¡°Worry not, Miss Xeena. I just saw them by the window over there, beyond that pillar. We¡¯ll come over once we¡¯ve had enough hyizka, right Mr Meyer?¡± Titus nodded to Xeena as he called a waiter over and pointed to the old deck manager. ¡°Over here waiter, he hasn¡¯t had his fill yet!¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll show you a filling you metal gonk. Come here!¡±

    Titus fled from a now enraged Elijah and platter wielding waiter as Xeena made her way through the crowd. Before she could make a move to find her friends, another pair stood out, waving. Cesare and Fae stood, halting their intricate dance for just a moment to give their cheers to her. The lanky Jherl looked almost comical next to the portly man, but their skill and precision at their tango was second to none others on the dance floor. Xeena did not miss the way the Cambiar pressed a breast into the man¡¯s cheek as they paused. Curtseying, Xeena gave her best wishes to the pair and departed further into the crowd. Just as the overhead timers were reaching their last digits, she came through a swaying mass of people to find a clearing bordered by familiar faces.

    ¡°Hey, she made it!¡± Abel shouted. ¡°Over here, sister!¡± He waved her over and Pippa, awkwardly riding his shoulders, did the same. Frankly, she was getting a bit too old to keep riding the man, closer resembling some giant parasitic spider than the tiny extraterrestrial she had once been at the start of the Parter Program.

    ¡°Well, better late than never, I guess?¡± Xin said. ¡°Come on over, there¡¯s still time! Stannock wants some photos.¡±

    Xeena, striding with newfound relief, joined the group of well-dressed Torchers, bar one special member. Xin and Ace stood, arms around one another in a gentle rocking motion. The ex-pilot¡¯s leg had taken to the newly regenerated tissue well, barely noticeable from where it had previously been scarred. Following some pats to the back and cheers as Stannock snapped a few pictures for his new photo album, the huddle parted to reveal the man she had been waiting for with hands in his pockets, leaning against the magnificent window and facing the endless void beyond.

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    Slowly turning, he smiled and met her eyes. Though he had made an effort with most of his attire, the same tatty old jacket still clung to him. In some ways, it was the perfect way to describe Sal ¨C battered and bruised but still holding on. The same couldn¡¯t be said for his face. The only signs of his injuries from the great battle he had endured were a thin line from the edge of his lips to his newly reformed ear and a small scar over an eyebrow. Even at a closer look, it would be hard to tell if there had been any real injuries from his confrontations with the Paradisians or the Rexia.

    More striking than any physical wound, the calm smile he gave expressed the resolved conflict within his heart. Raising a hand from his pocket, he gestured her closer, and Xeena acquiesced, wrapping herself in his arms. His jacket, now stitched to oblivion and back, was still as comfy as it had been before. Swathed over the both of them, it kept the two of them close. Eyes locked with one another, they kissed.

    <hr>

    Sal held Xeena close some time before releasing their connection. Beautiful black marbles staring at him, she tilted her head and brushed his hand. The hemmed dress she wore outlined her figure perfectly. When he had first seen the new spires atop her head they had been a surprise to be sure, but a welcome one. Standing eye to eye with him, he found her natural grace only enhanced by the additional height she had gained recently.

    ¡°So, did you like the cold, silent type-pose? Looking out the window all mysteriously?¡± Sal asked, his overly stoic fa?ade cracking.

    ¡°Well, it did feel very¡­ you, in a way, but I take it you got the idea from a certain someone?¡± Xeena gave him a look before directing her gaze towards the group.

    ¡°What? No! I mean, who would tell him to do something like that?¡± Abel looked around in mock nervousness.

    The group chuckled as they turned to face the stars together. In the distance a cluster of small but brightly glowing craft completed an engine burn away from the star they had not long before visited the surface of. The wormholes produced by the Cambiar required the direct storage of vast amounts of energy from nearby stars, acquired by positioning incredibly heat-resistant ships near the surface of the solar bodies and extending thermal batteries into the sea of plasma.

    Now, those ships were ready. There were barely a few minutes to go as they arranged in a circular formation some distance ahead of the fleet, hulls glowing with power.

    Stannock said, ¡°We¡¯ve all come a long way. Never thought I would be standing side by side with some of the best men and women in the galaxy. I¡¯m so proud of you all, even if you all still need some more makeup tips.¡± Trying to hide the quivering emotion in his voice, he let out a fake cough. Sal was quick to notice the glistening at the corners of his eyes but kept quiet. He wouldn¡¯t want Stannock to smudge his mascara by wiping them hastily.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t easy, and I think I can say for us all when we all learnt a bit more about ourselves than we expected on this journey. Despite everything it took to get to this point, I wouldn¡¯t give up this for anything.¡± Marcus gestured to the environment around them with the word, his blonde hair tied in a bun to reveal the look of determination in his gaze. Standing straight, as had become normal for him after the attack, the man stood a fair bit taller than Sal.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m really glad to have met you all. Especially Abel, but only if he keeps giving me piggyback rides,¡± Pippa said. ¡°Do you guys know what will happen next? What will we do once we get back home?¡±

    ¡°Hmm, well I¡¯m sure I can find something for our dear slob over here to help out with back on Kalscar Prime. Rubbish lady?¡± Ace laughed and received a love tap to the ribs from Xin as she scowled before giving him a smoke-filled kiss. Coughing away the vapour, Ace continued. ¡°Still, what of the CCH?¡±

    ¡°Ah, I think they¡¯ll be just fine. I imagine the Jade Emperor¡¯s quaking in his boots over this whole thing. Bet he didn¡¯t expect to walk away not just empty handed but down a couple clan armies and someone bad mouthing him in front of the whole galaxy!¡± Abel said as he played with his necklace, flicking the tooth between his fingers.

    Seeing the action, Sal saw Xeena reactively dig into her dress¡¯s inner pocket. Carefully, she raised her hand and interlocked her fingers with Sal¡¯s.

    ¡°You know, I think I prefer the new fingers. Old ones were getting a bit too used.¡± Sal couldn¡¯t resist grinning wide.

    Another thin, almost invisible line marked the divide between his original fingers and the newly regrown ones, perfect and unblemished. Truly, Cambiar medical science was almost magic. A mixture of DNA and XNA adjustment and recombination allowed them to develop human tissues in hours that would have taken days or weeks back in the CCH and would have cost an arm and a leg to get, well, an arm or a leg. What was more unusual than the miracle of alien science was the small shape he felt in his palm.

    Opening his hand, he found a small tooth mounted on a string that Xeena had placed there. The shape of the fang was distinct ¨C Xeena flashed a smile full of hundreds of the same teeth.

    ¡°Is this one of yours?¡± Sal considered the offering before sliding it around his neck. The sharp tooth was thin and less than a finger in length, but it was still larger than Abel¡¯s.

    ¡°Yeah well¡­ there¡¯s more I want to give you as a gift, but for now it will have to do. Do you think it¡¯s good? I can take it back if you don¡¯t¡­¡± She trailed off.

    ¡°Xeen¡¯, I love it! It¡¯s much better than a certain somebody¡¯s little fish tooth.¡± Settling it on his chest, he turned to see Abel standing right next to him.

    ¡°I knew you would get one soon, brother. I just knew it!¡± He bellowed with laugher as he shook Sal by the shoulders. ¡°Though yours may come from an alien, mine came from a megalodon! Don¡¯t you forget it.¡±

    The team groaned. Even with Sal knowing the truth behind Abel¡¯s trinket, it had done little to hinder the giant¡¯s tall tales. Footfalls alerted Sal to a new arrival. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a simultaneously unfamiliar and familiar face. Green eyes looked over the group, a knowing smile affixed to his lips.

    ¡°Is that you¡­ Thomas?¡± Sal cocked an eyebrow.

    The slim man decked in curly red hair and soft features bowed to the group.

    ¡°Hello, everyone. It¡¯s good to see you in the flesh, as it were, for the first time.¡±

    Sal had heard that Thomas and the Keeper friend that had stayed with the Out-Han had been discussing some sort of full body growing procedure to restore them to regular biology once more. When Thomas¡¯ information had been sent out amongst the millions of messages regarding the Cambiar, knowledge of the Keeper experiments and free-will restrictions had been made public. Whilst it was a great step towards their freedom, Sal wondered if alternative means for space-travel would become necessary without the forced usage of Keepers in the future. Another issue for another day for another group. The Out-Han had few worries like that for the moment.

    ¡°Though the process isn¡¯t completed, as I am still filled with augmentations under all of this, I am now able to breath for the first time in many years. Isn¡¯t the feeling of air just¡­ sweet?¡± Thomas inhaled and spread his arms wide in nirvana.

    ¡°Uh sure? Breathing is much better than¡­ not breathing, I guess.¡± Dusty shrugged but nevertheless still beamed at the Keeper¡¯s transformation from awkward automaton to an expressive man loving the world. Shame he still lacked a soul, being ginger and all, but what could you do?

    Releasing his breath, Thomas looked back at the group. ¡°Indeed. I wanted to thank you, each and every one of you. Had it not been for all of your combined efforts, things would have gone a lot worse. I am sure had one of us not played our part, we would all be halfway across the galaxy with a few less mental faculties. Still, all¡¯s well that ends well.¡± He seemed to prepare to leave but stopped himself. Locking eyes with Sal once more, leant in and whispered, ¡°Salvador, I¡¯m still working on the S-Drive data. It¡¯s all very strange, but I think it has to do with that vision you had. See me when this is all done, drinks are on me.¡±

    With a wink, the newly organic man left them to party, seemingly eyeing up a particularly curvy Cambiar woman wearing nothing but an apron by the drinks bar. Opening his shirt to adjust his necklace, Sal felt Xeena stroke his chest, fingers lightly glancing over the smooth patch of skin going down from shoulder to hip. Sal had taken some time to consider his options, but decided he wanted to move on from the man still stuck on Tartarus Nine. His other scrapes and scratches had been reduced to small white marks along his skin, but the large scar, the reminder of his failed dogma of self-reliance at all costs, had been wiped clean. Truthfully, the decision hadn¡¯t been easy, but neither was moving on. Sal had somehow managed to do that as well.

    She smiled approvingly and continued to stroke his chest for beyond what could be considered a quick look. Realizing she was still in public, Xeena stopped and looked away, flustered, as she redid his shirt back up. The countdown timer was growing close to the deadline, and Sal excitedly tapped his foot. The music playing was some neo-wave jam, but Sal wasn¡¯t fully feeling it. It was too slow for the dancing that Sal was itching to do with Xeena.

    ¡°Abel, you know the DJ right?¡± Sal looked over to see Abel trying to convince a surprisingly flustered Titan to ride on his back.

    Breaking from his flurry of excuses as to why piggybacks were good for Cambiar health, he nodded at Sal. ¡°Sure do, brother. You want something in particular?¡±

    ¡°Nah, just something a tad quicker. Maybe something proto-wave?¡±

    A thumbs up confirmed his suggestion and Sal focused back on Xeena. Sal hadn¡¯t initially been sure what to think of the whole ¡®Rexia¡¯ deal, but Xeena had calmed his worries. The Out-Han hadn¡¯t even started working out what sort of government they wanted to develop now that human values were expected to spread out across Cambiar space. Zeentach had once started an announcement about his wild plans for over a million seats in a new senate but was cut off the air halfway through by another Rexia when the pair realized that the rest of the Out-Han didn¡¯t even know humanity existed yet. That would probably take slightly more priority in the short term.

    On a personal level, the new grace that Xeena exuded with every motion filled something warm in Sal¡¯s heart. He could picture her in a field of flowers, the kind that used to grow all over Earth, as the sun shined down on them. It also didn¡¯t hurt having the new title of Rexia-consort, which sounded to him like some sort of royal lord. Sal wasn¡¯t one for titles or prestige, but he couldn¡¯t deny that the idea was flattering.

    Pictures of him in finery being painted by courtiers put on hold, an announcement chimed to life, ¡°Dear all passengers and citizens of the Cycle of Outstretched Hands ¨C we would like to inform you that the space-time fragmentation process will begin shortly. For now, we will be moving to system IZN72198 ¨C name is currently pending reassessment. To all human members, the date is September 29<sup>th</sup>, 2257. Today marks a new step in the bright future we share between both our species. We hope you enjoy you first experience of Cambiar inter-system travel. Thank you, and enjoy the music!¡±

    Finally, the time had come. As a new song burst to life around the room, a rocky song that felt 20<sup>th</sup> century-ish, the wormhole fleet finalized their formation. A number of squid-like tendrils extended from the ends of the ships, their lengths ringed with pulsing orange, and began to make elaborate movements in the vacuum. Once the tips of their extensions met one another, they rotated them in a vast circle, splitting the circle of dark space ahead of them. A thin ring of light followed their movements, that of light gold and pale fire, where upon the fabric of reality was sliced open and restitched together.

    From beyond a portal, rimmed by the shimmering veil of blackness, the shape of a verdant planet, green cast across the surface, became clear. A swath of sunset was spread across the surface of the planet as if it were a watercolour painting, sweeping motions of golden light shining down across the rolling fields of jade. Sal was excited at the prospect of not only going through FTL without needing to be drowned in green goo, but also at the fact he might be getting a chance to go planet bound for the first time in his life. Looking closer at the planet, a twinge of realization stuck him.

    ¡°Xeena, you never said exactly where we were going. I mean, you said we¡¯d go to the capital of the Out-Han eventually, but that we¡¯d take some pit stops on the way there. Is this¡­¡± Sal trailed off.

    She scratched the back of her head, tendrils moving nervously. ¡°Well, I had to give you a reward for all your hard work. And I was able to make some adjustments to our course, as per my newfound role as Rexia. Salvador Vigino, How do you fancy seeing Yuel 721 a little early?¡±

    Sal reached around her waist and gave her a spin in the air, Xeena squealing with joy all the while. The other Torchers looked over and hollered at the sight. As the wormhole grew, almost stretching to beyond the window¡¯s view, Sal put Xeena down.

    ¡°I think that would make me the happiest man alive. Xeena, thank you. For everything. I love you.¡±

    ¡°And I must thank you Sal, for showing me what it means to live. What it means to love. And, after everything we¡¯ve gone through, I think it¡¯s fair to say - I love you too, Sal.¡±

    Their lips met once again as the song burst into chorus.

    ¡°?Mommy''s all right

    Daddy''s all right

    They just seem a little weird

    Surrender

    Surrender

    But don''t give yourself away?¡±

    The pair looked out to the future, Yuel 721 awaiting them in hues of green and gold.

    ¡°So, what is this song?¡± Xeena leaned into his chest, feeling his heart thumping.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got no idea.¡± Sal flashed a smile and looked down at her. ¡°But I¡¯m looking forward to finding out.¡±

 Epilogue: Alléˆ¥æªš Well That Ends Well

    Mikhail Olegovich, clan leader of Dawn¡¯s Fang, flipped his trusty high-frequency blade, Cassaria, in the air as he leaned back in a pilot¡¯s chair. The peaceful sound of his salvaged cuckoo clock ticked away on the dashboard, the little bird that extended from it hourly had been freshly painted with a small beard in memory of a certain engineer. The Hammer of Victory was certainly smaller, and more utilitarian compared to Fifth Spoke or Mikhail¡¯s White Gold, but it did the job. Hell, it practically made Starheart look like a prison ship in comparison. Whistling a light tune, Mikhail sat as the ship continued to burn towards their current system¡¯s star for an energy resupply. Escaping from under the nose of the Out-Han had been a little tricky, but his new allies had learnt a lot about discreet ship manoeuvres in the short time they¡¯d been acquainted, and the cloaking field he had given the Ten-Tri early in his mission had helped.

    Of course, it made things easier that only one Ten-Tri Rexia had made it off the Out-Han fleet, the far more agreeable Rexia Hyalt. Protheus had the motivation in spades, but had displayed signs of his growing xenophobia towards humanity as time went on. Such weak divisions of the mind had no place in his new empire. Mikhail made a mental reminder to thank Salvador, god knows how he actually did it, for dealing with the uppity alien one day. Some chocolates? A good ros¨¦ perhaps? Hmm, a thought for later. Additionally, the strange visions he experienced as he was escaping seemed to line up timewise with the reports that Keeper Thomas, the man who stared too deep into Mikhail¡¯s bloody gulf of a heart, was messing with the Ruby Eye¡¯s S-Drive. The lingering headache he received following the event reminded the ex-clanlord of the sensation of breaking the surface after every S-Jump. If the S-Drive could be altered to act as a weapon capable of inducing disorientation and illusions, that would be useful to have. That was unless those visions were something else entirely.

    Eventually, Matvey approached him. ¡°Sir.¡± The man saluted, wearing a smile full of success. Mikhail knew he had chosen right by appointing the man to be his second in command. He was quick, clean and efficient at his job. Additionally, judging by the data packet in his hand, he had triumphed at his task once again. He tossed the device to his superior and gave a bow, turning back to the small entourage of Cambiar he had been training in combat throughout the journey.

    ¡°Thank you deary,¡± Mikhail called out as he inserted the drive into the ship¡¯s computer. The Ten-Tri had developed some serious cryptographic technology and had managed to decipher this encoded information in only a few hours. Taking a mug of steaming, slightly herbal, drink from the Cambiar equivalent of a cabin boy or maid, Mikhail struggled with some of the more ambiguously sexed Cambiar, he scanned through the data.

    Matvey had done his job well, taking out Maltar the Qilin, a top-rank Dragon Guard sent to keep an eye on Zafar. Though the officer¡¯s disguise had hidden the Emperor¡¯s elite officer from the mechanical buffoon, Mikhail and his men were not so easily misled. Aside from the typical secrets and high-value information one would expect on such a device, there was a sub-section sealed off, intended for only the highest members of Heaven¡¯s Doctrine to read. Firstly, there was a plan to enhance the genetic augmentation program of the Dragon Guard utilizing data stolen from the Cambiar. Mikhail couldn¡¯t help but laugh aloud at the sight of such orders. None of the Doctrine forces had managed escaped the Out-Han, aside from those alongside Mikhail. The Emperor would be in a rather sore position ¨C having made enemies of an alien empire many times the size of his own and without obtaining a single strategic advantage. Of course, Mikhail¡¯s own clan would likely be receiving a penalty of their own, having spat in the face of the Jade bastard himself. Disbandment? Forceful possession of their territories? That seemed likely ¨C no family who cursed the god-emperor himself would receive anything but the worst fate. Mikhail had already made escape plans for his personal troops and court prior to his meeting with the old corpse many months back, and all he needed to do now was recall those loyal to him.

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    His father, brother and sister on the other hand¡­ Mikhail brushed off those worries. He was never that close to his family, considering they had treated him as a sword lacking a grip his whole life ¨C first as a tool to murder all possible targets available to a dishonoured clan, then as an object to be discarded by sending him on continuous suicide missions. In the end, a new future stood ahead of him and his family were the ones facing their death.

    Returning his focus back to the data, he found the next section was far more important that the earlier information. Putting down the drink, Mikhail tensed up. The majority of the information was raw data taken from a series of remote analysis probes beyond clan space, alongside some speculation and predictions. The main body of the data was the fact that unusual space-time distortions, seemingly echoing those of Schrodinger Drive activations or tests, were detected far beyond the reaches of human or Cambiar space. Initially, this seemed like a distant Exploration Fleet, or some poor merchant of the corporations lost far from home. This was disproven when an analysis of the quantum sub-reality particles came back with bizarre patterns. They didn¡¯t match any known S-Drive components and varied from the typical standard human frequencies used for QIS displacement. Supposing a regular human ship was using an S-Drive that far out, they would be running at an incredibly low rate of efficiency, as the frequency detected did little to assist in the FTL travel of human QIS patterns. It made no sense.

    That was unless the machine¡¯s outgoing readings were not coming from a human operator. With a grin spread wide as a shark¡¯s, Mikhail had found a new direction for the Ten-Tri to look in. Cracking his neck and tossing the data-tablet back to an idle clan guard, he made his way towards the gathered Ten-Tri officers in the ship¡¯s lounge. He had a lot to explain, a new form of intelligent life to be found, and an empire to build. Who knew what laid out there in the vastness of space. Was there another hand reaching out of the deep sea of the unknown, waiting to break the surface? If there was, he would be waiting with open arms and open eyes.

    Mikhail couldn¡¯t wait.