《Of Stars, Wishes, and Wars: Invictus Imperium》


 Chapter 1: The Call to Command

    It was a cold day. Too cold for spring. Winter clung to the earth, refusing to let go as if conspiring to smother any hope of warmth. Every morning felt like a battle between the seasons, and today was no different.


    Even now, on my way to the small river on the outskirts of town, I suppressed a shiver. My backpack, heavy with new camping gear and supplies, dug into my shoulders as I adjusted my grip.


    "I will never get used to this bone-chilling cold," I muttered, my breath forming small clouds in the air. I couldn''t help but miss the warmth of my childhood in South Africa.


    I get why the Dutch settlers abandoned this place! I shook my head and called out, "Hey, Elias, you here, man?"


    "Always," came the reply.


    I spotted Elias standing near the water, his usual composed self. He eyed my load with a raised brow. "What''s with all the luggage? You moving in with me?"


    I scoffed. "I would literally die. I don¡¯t know how you do it. This stuff¡¯s for you. The weather report looks brutal, apparently this week¡¯s going to be the coldest of the season."


    I pulled off a tent-bag and handed it to him. "This is a new one. The guy at the store swore it¡¯s the best for keeping warm. Said you could camp in the Alps with this tent and still sleep snug."


    Next, I handed over another bag. "Last week¡¯s laundry, plus some extra hoodies and thermal wear, you know, sticking with the whole ''Alps explorer'' theme," I added with a laugh. "Seriously, who voluntarily goes somewhere even colder than this?"


    I handed over the last pack again. "Food supplies, extra gas canisters for your stove, and, most importantly, lunch!" I lifted the KFC takeaway bag with a grin.


    Elias took the bags, a puzzled look on his face. "Why?" he asked quietly.


    I shrugged. "Dude, why not? I spent most of my twenties and early thirties struggling. Then one lucky break changed everything for the better. That¡¯s all you need, a lucky break."


    As Elias took the bags, I watched his expression, that familiar quietness settling over him. It made me think back to the first time we met, two years ago.


    I had brought my daughters out to fish at this very river. It was the perfect spot, far enough from civilization to feel like an escape, but close enough to home to be convenient. Just a quiet place where we could breathe, where the world and its noise couldn¡¯t reach us.


    Not that my girls were interested in peace and quiet.


    I sat on a fallen log, keeping watch as they giggled and splashed around, their rods baited with hookless lures. Not that it mattered, honestly, even if the lures had hooks, it would¡¯ve taken a miracle for them to catch anything with all the ruckus they made. But I wasn¡¯t here to be a sport fisherman. I was here so they could have fun, and that was exactly what they were doing.


    That¡¯s when I saw him.


    He was sitting on the riverbank, his clothes worn and tattered, staring at the water as if waiting for it to swallow him whole. Something about the look in his eyes made me stop. It wasn¡¯t just exhaustion, it was something deeper, something hollow.


    I didn¡¯t know why, but I felt the urge to talk to him. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, I walked over and struck up a conversation.


    He told me his name was Elias and that he lived out here, deep in the woods near the river. He said it like it was just a fact, like it didn¡¯t matter. But the way he said it, the hopelessness in his voice, stuck with me.


    I didn¡¯t push for details. Instead, I did the only thing that made sense. I sat down, unpacked our lunch, and shared it with him. He barely said a word, just nodded his thanks as he ate. Before we left, I gave him my jacket and all the food we hadn¡¯t finished.


    That evening, long after I had dropped my daughters off at home, I found myself driving back. I couldn¡¯t shake the thought of him out there, alone, with nothing but the cold creeping in. So I came back with a tent, a sleeping bag, warm clothes, and some basic camping gear and food.


    That was the first time.


    Since then, I made it a habit to visit him at least once a week. Sometimes I¡¯d bring supplies, sometimes just a meal and some company. I never asked him about his past, and he never offered. Maybe that was our unspoken agreement, he would humor me with light conversation, and I wouldn¡¯t ask him why he was out here in the first place.


    Elias grabbed our two camping chairs and set them up while I dropped my backpack onto the ground with a sigh. He eyed me curiously.


    "Not fishing today?"


    I smirked. "Oh, I¡¯m fishing, just not for fish."


    His brow furrowed in confusion, but when I pulled a thick rope from my bag, coiled around a heavy metal disk, his entire demeanor shifted. His posture stiffened, eyes locked onto the magnet like it was the most important thing in the world.


    "Is that¡­ a magnet?" His voice was sharper than I expected, almost urgent.


    "Yeah," I said, taken aback by his reaction. "Remember when we talked about magnet fishing last time? I finally bought one." I let out a short laugh. "Actually, I bought two. The first one is still stuck to a metal support in my garage ceiling. Can¡¯t get the stupid thing down. Turns out, once these things latch onto something, they don¡¯t let go."


    Elias barely reacted. His gaze was still fixed on the magnet, his fingers gripping the armrests of his chair.


    "So, uh, I had two choices," I continued, trying to shake off the weird vibe. "Buy a ladder or buy a new magnet. Guess which one I went with?"


    Elias didn¡¯t answer right away. "New magnet," he murmured absently, as if his mind was elsewhere.


    "Yep. My wife thought it was hilarious. She laughed for five minutes straight. Oh, speaking of her, she told me to say hello. She and the kids are in Germany for the week, visiting family."


    "Yeah, yeah, that¡¯s great," Elias said quickly, waving it off. He sat forward, eyes burning with an intensity I wasn¡¯t used to seeing from him. "You brought it to fish here? You¡¯re actually gonna use it?"


    I hesitated. "Uh¡­ yeah. I figured I¡¯d give it a shot. See what¡¯s lurking under the water. Maybe pull up some junk, maybe find something cool¡­"


    "Or something important," Elias cut in.


    That caught me off guard. His knuckles were white where he gripped his chair.


    I frowned. "Something important?"


    Elias blinked, as if realizing he¡¯d said too much. He sat back, forcing a more neutral expression. "I just mean¡­ you never know what¡¯s down there. Could be anything."


    I studied him for a moment, but let it slide. Instead, I smirked and gave the rope an experimental tug. "Yeah¡­ I¡¯ll wager it¡¯ll be at least ten bicycles, seeing as this is the Netherlands."


    Elias let out a short laugh, but there was something strained about it. His eyes flickered back to the river, his fingers tapping restlessly on his knee.


    Whatever he was hoping to find, it wasn¡¯t a bicycle.


    By the time I fished out my fourth bicycle, I had officially declared myself a full-time junk collector. The haul so far: four rusted-out bikes, an old microwave, a knife I really hoped wasn¡¯t a murder weapon, and, probably my best find, a beautifully tarnished antique copper kettle.


    That last one seemed to change something in Elias. The moment I pulled it up, he let out a breath like he¡¯d been holding it in for years. He looked¡­ relieved. Hopeful, even. I didn¡¯t press him on it, but whatever was weighing him down before seemed to ease after that.


    Now, as I sat inspecting the kettle, trying to rub away the years of grime, Elias had wandered off to make coffee, his coffee. The kind that put fancy caf¨¦s to shame.


    A few minutes later, he returned and handed me a steaming cup, rich and fragrant, the unmistakable sweetness of condensed milk cutting through the bitter aroma. I set the kettle between my feet and took the cup with a grateful nod.


    "Hey, Elias," I started, blowing on my coffee. "I told you my wife and girls are out for the week, right? Why don¡¯t you come stay with me? Take a proper shower, sleep in a real bed for once." I glanced at him. "I also talked to a couple of friends. They¡¯re willing to interview you for a few jobs."


    Elias let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "That¡¯s just like you, Aco." He took a slow sip before adding, "I assume these friends of yours are people you¡¯ve helped before, people who want to repay the favor you showed them."


    I huffed. "Nah, man. They¡¯re just good people." I took a sip, savoring the warmth before looking him in the eye. "We all need a little help once in a while."


    Elias didn¡¯t answer right away. He just stared at the steam rising from his cup, lost in thought.


    Elias suddenly shifted the conversation. "Aco, if you could do anything, and I mean anything, what would you do?"


    I leaned back in my chair, taking a thoughtful sip of coffee. "You mean like realistically, or more fantasy? Man, you know I¡¯m a full-time gamer, sci-fi fantasy reader, and part-time human, right?" I raised an eyebrow. "I could rant and talk for hours about sci-fi, so you better be specific."


    He grinned, clearly enjoying the direction this was going.


    I thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, if we¡¯re talking realistically, I think I¡¯m okay. I have a beautiful wife that I love, and she loves me. Two amazing daughters who think I¡¯m the funniest guy in the world. I¡¯m comfortable, so I¡¯m happy."


    Elias let out a short laugh. "Content in reality, huh? Then let¡¯s say in fantasy, if you could live out any of your stories or games, what would it be?"


    I didn¡¯t hesitate. "Easy. Explore the universe."


    Elias raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Explore it? What do you mean?"


    I leaned forward, my excitement bubbling over. "Not the boring universe we think we know. I¡¯m talking about a universe filled with life, life that¡¯s similar enough that it¡¯s not completely alien, but just alien enough to make things interesting. It would be like whoever created it did it in a single brushstroke, broad enough to allow for amazing variations, but still the same basic paint and canvas, you know what I mean?"


    Elias nodded, listening intently, his smile growing as I got lost in the idea. "I¡¯d love to visit different planets¡ªplanets where the flora and fauna have developed in completely unique ways. Like a planet with pink-leaved trees under a purple sky, reflecting purple in the water of the rivers. But still similar enough that it¡¯s safe to breathe, because the life forms on the planet didn¡¯t decide that oxygen just wasn¡¯t their thing! And there should be so many different kinds of sentient and sapient life, you know? Almost like the Star Wars universe."


    I caught myself rambling, realizing Elias was just sitting there, amused. He chuckled.


    "You know," he said with a grin, "the galaxy might be like that."


    I let out a short laugh, feeling a little wistful. "Yeah..." I paused, my gaze drifting over the river. "And we¡¯d never know."


    Elias muttered something under his breath, too quiet for me to catch. It sounded like, Not enough there to use, some, but not enough. Before I could ask, he spoke up, his tone more casual.


    "And what would you like to be in this new universe?"


    I leaned back in my chair, letting the question settle as I took a slow sip of coffee. "Limitless," I said finally. "I''d love to be limitless." I let the thought take root, letting my mind wander through the possibilities. No boundaries, no constraints, just, infinite potential.


    Elias started to smile. A knowing, almost eager look crossed his face. "Do me a favor," he said, leaning in slightly. "Say, I wish."


    I chuckled, shaking my head at the theatrics. "Yeah, yeah¡­ I wish!"


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    The moment the words left my lips, the world seemed to stop. Not in the dramatic, earth-shattering way you¡¯d expect, but in an eerily subtle way. The wind didn¡¯t blow, the birds didn¡¯t chirp, even the distant hum of the river seemed to hold its breath. It was like someone had dropped a pin, and the universe had paused to listen.


    Then, just as suddenly as it had happened, everything snapped back to normal. The wind picked up again, the river babbled like nothing had changed, and Elias sat there, still smiling.


    I frowned, looking around, a strange unease creeping in. "Okay¡­" I muttered, shaking off the weird sensation. "That was¡­ odd."


    Elias didn¡¯t seem fazed at all. If anything, he looked pleased.


    I took another sip of coffee, deciding to brush it off. "Anyway, it¡¯s getting late. So, what about my proposal? You feeling up for some interviews?"


    Elias¡¯s grin widened. "Sure, Aco. I¡¯ll come with you. But only if we can keep this conversation going."


    Relief washed over me, and I nodded. "Sure," I said, cracking a small smile. "What do you want to know?"


    Elias tilted his head slightly, watching me with that familiar, amused curiosity. "And how would you explore the universe?"


    I grinned, feeling my excitement surge again. "Oh, don¡¯t get me started! I¡¯ve spent an absurd amount of time thinking about this!" I threw my hands up for emphasis. "But definitely a spaceship, or better yet, an armada!" I struck a dramatic pose, laughing.


    Elias chuckled, shaking his head as I grabbed my bag and started putting away my gear. "Alright, let¡¯s get your stuff," I said, stowing my magnet and carefully tucking the kettle inside my bag.


    Then I paused.


    The kettle looked... different.


    I had fished it out of the river covered in grime and rust, but now, under the fading light, the copper gleamed like it had been freshly polished. I turned it over in my hands, running my fingers over the smooth surface. No dents. No tarnish. It looked brand new.


    I frowned. That didn¡¯t make sense.


    "Let¡¯s tidy up," I said, shaking off the thought. "Can¡¯t just leave rusted bikes and junk lying around, begging for someone to break their neck."


    But when I looked up, everything was gone.


    The clearing, which had been cluttered with rusted bicycles, scrap metal, and all the debris I¡¯d fished out, was now spotless. No chairs. No gear. No mess. Just Elias, standing there, dressed in clean clothes.


    I blinked. "What the hell¡­ where did everything go?"


    "I put it all away," Elias said easily, his voice calm, almost amused. He gestured up the trail, as if none of this was remotely strange. "Come on, let¡¯s go."


    I hesitated, scanning the area again. The river still flowed, the trees still rustled in the breeze, but something about the air felt different. Lighter.


    Elias smiled, not the tired, guarded expression I¡¯d gotten used to, but something genuine. Something warm.


    And just like that, the unease faded. Whatever just happened, Elias seemed better, and that was enough for now.


    I sighed, shaking my head with a small chuckle. "You¡¯re a weird guy, you know that?"


    He just grinned.


    I followed him up the trail toward my car, the kettle still weighing down my bag, lighter than before, and the night air suddenly feeling full of possibilities.


    We reached the car, and as I tossed my bag into the back seat, Elias turned to me with that same amused look he always got when he knew he was about to wind me up.


    ¡°So, any preference on that ship and armada? Or is anything okay?¡±


    I scoffed. ¡°No. Anything is not okay.¡±


    I knew that question was bait, and I took it anyway. He had no idea what he¡¯d just unleashed.


    ¡°Look, when you watch movies or play games, you accept a certain level of¡­ let¡¯s call it artistic liberty, right? Suspension of disbelief. But man, windows in space? What the hell! Who in their right mind thinks putting a glass canopy on a ship designed for battle in the vacuum of space is a good idea? You¡¯re begging to get sucked into the void the moment someone sneezes in your direction with a railgun.¡±


    Elias chuckled as I climbed into the driver¡¯s seat. He¡¯d heard this rant before. We¡¯d even brainstormed ways to fix the problem once, but I could tell he was enjoying himself.


    ¡°And don¡¯t even get me started on Star Wars ships,¡± I continued as I pulled onto the main road. ¡°Like, okay, I get it, style over substance, but who thought it was a good idea to slap an exposed bridge on top of a giant metal wedge? You¡¯re telling me they built a billion-credit war machine and left the command center sticking out like a giant middle finger? That¡¯s not strategy; that¡¯s a ¡®please shoot here¡¯ sign.¡±


    Elias raised a hand in surrender, laughing. ¡°Alright, alright, no windows, no dumb bridges. So what do your ships look like?¡±


    Now we were talking.


    ¡°Elegant. Armored. Shielded. No frills, no useless design choices, just pure function. Every corridor, every bulkhead lined with reinforced plating. The bridge? Buried deep within the ship, no giant glass viewports, just sleek, futuristic displays. Displays that provide a full tactical overlay, internal ship status, and, if you really need to see outside, a digital render of the surrounding space.¡±


    Elias nodded, clearly entertained. ¡°And the crew?¡±


    ¡°AI-operated, droid-maintained,¡± I said without hesitation. ¡°Look, I love sci-fi, but this whole ¡®ships need thousands of crew members¡¯ nonsense has got to stop. It¡¯s future tech. If I can run a fully automated factory today with robotics and AI, why the hell wouldn¡¯t spaceships be the same? This is something Star Citizen and Elite Dangerous actually got right, small crews, maximum efficiency. Any ship, no matter how big, should be operable by a three-person crew at most.¡±


    I glanced over and saw Elias grinning. ¡°You¡¯ve really thought this through.¡±


    ¡°Of course I have! I¡¯m an engineer.¡± I gestured wildly before putting my hand back on the wheel. ¡°You give me a sci-fi setting, I¡¯ll give you a breakdown of why half of it is stupid and how I¡¯d fix it.¡±


    Elias smirked. ¡°Alright then, Mr. Engineer, what about weapons? What do space battles even look like in this hypothetical universe of yours?¡±


    Now, that was an interesting question.


    ¡°Well, we¡¯ve discussed this before, remember?¡± I said, tapping the steering wheel in thought. ¡°If we¡¯re talking semi-realistic combat, then first of all, no lasers.¡±


    Elias raised an eyebrow. ¡°Yup. No lasers¡±


    ¡°Because if you think about it,¡± I said, leaning forward slightly as I got into the details. ¡°Lasers are cool in movies, but in reality? They make no damn sense. If you¡¯re trying to melt armor, you first need to generate enough heat to burn through it, on your own ship. Then you have to transfer that heat through a beam of light, account for loss over distance, and hope the enemy stays perfectly still long enough for you to actually do any damage.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°And that¡¯s not even the worst part. If I were designing warships, I¡¯d absolutely include a system that dissipates heat across the hull or into heat sinks. Suddenly, your ¡®deadly laser¡¯ is just making my ship slightly warm. Congratulations, you¡¯ve just given me free heating in space.¡±


    Elias chuckled. ¡°So no lasers. What then?¡±


    I grinned. ¡°Kinetics. Railguns, coilguns, guided munitions. Mass drivers. You want to take down a ship? Hit it with something that has momentum. A slug traveling at several kilometers per second doesn¡¯t care about shields or fancy armor tricks, it just punches through.¡±


    Elias nodded, looking thoughtful. ¡°And what about defenses?¡±


    I smirked. ¡°That depends, are we going full hard sci-fi, or can I have some fun?¡±


    He spread his hands. ¡°Go nuts.¡±


    ¡°Oh, now we¡¯re talking.¡±


    I tapped the steering wheel for emphasis. ¡°Here¡¯s the thing, looks and functionality go hand in hand. If we¡¯re ditching lasers in favor of kinetic weapons, then space combat naturally shifts to closer ranges, at least, relatively speaking. Because think about it, if you fire a metal slug from a long distance at a ship with any decent futuristic sensor array, what¡¯s it gonna do? Just move. Problem solved. You¡¯d be wasting shots.¡±


    Elias nodded, following along.


    ¡°Funny enough,¡± I continued, ¡°this brings us right back to naval battles¡ªboth pirate-era and modern-day warfare. What do you do when long-range fire isn¡¯t reliable? You close the distance. You launch fighters, bombers, and get close enough that the enemy can¡¯t effectively dodge your shots. And then¡ª¡± I slapped the steering wheel for emphasis, grinning. ¡°BAM! Fire, launch missiles, maneuver.¡±


    Elias smirked. ¡°Alright, I see where you¡¯re going. So let¡¯s say you¡¯re the galaxy¡¯s greatest strategist, and you¡¯re almost right about everything. What do your ships actually look like?¡±


    I pointed at him. ¡°That is the correct question.¡±


    I leaned back slightly, thinking it through as I drove. ¡°Alright, assuming all these criteria, we build triangles. Thin, sleek, with all armaments concentrated along the knife-edge. Think Federal Corvette from Elite Dangerous. Or better yet, the Federal Battlecruiser Farragut.¡±


    I made a slicing motion with my hand. ¡°Slanted hull plating, angled to deflect incoming high-velocity rounds instead of just tanking them. And, because fighters and missiles are a pain in the ass, we stick ridiculous amounts of point defense along the hull. Auto-tracking turrets, close-in weapon systems, anything that turns incoming threats into space debris before they even get close.¡±


    Elias chuckled. ¡°So basically, you¡¯d build an unstoppable death triangle.¡±


    I grinned. ¡°Damn right I would.¡±


    We rolled up to a red light, and I took the opportunity to grab my phone, unlock it, and open my Notes app. Without a word, I handed it to Elias.


    ¡°Here,¡± I said.


    He took the phone, glanced at the screen, and immediately burst out laughing. ¡°Dude. This is¡­ psychopathic levels of preparation.¡±


    I smirked. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    His eyes scanned through the entries, his grin growing wider. ¡°You actually have updated schematics of the Farragut and Federal Corvette in here. And concept designs for fighters, bombers, personnel carriers¡­ You really thought of everything.¡±


    I shrugged, completely unashamed. ¡°Of course. I knew this conversation would happen someday.¡±


    Elias shook his head, still chuckling. ¡°Look at this ¡®No windows.¡¯ You even bolded it.¡±


    ¡°Damn right I did,¡± I said, grinning. ¡°Windows are a Death, and we¡¯re not about that life.¡±


    He kept scrolling, but his expression shifted slightly as he spotted something else. ¡°Wait¡­ I thought you said your ships wouldn¡¯t be manned. So why do you have calculations on housing capacity? Families, crew sizes, civilian populations,what¡¯s this about?¡±


    I tapped the wheel idly. ¡°Simple. While space battles are cool and all, eventually, you need boots on the ground. I don¡¯t care what sci-fi movies say¡ªglassing planets isn¡¯t that easy. Hell, I¡¯m assuming planetary shields exist in any reasonable setting.¡±


    Elias nodded, still looking over my notes. ¡°You assume correctly, Aco von Hellsing.¡±


    I gestured with one hand, as if swatting the idea away. ¡°And even if you could glass an entire planet¡­ why would you? You¡¯d end up with a dead, unusable hellscape. Millions¡ªmaybe trillions¡ªwiped out, and for what? A radioactive rock? That¡¯s some Scooby-Doo villain logic.¡± I scoffed. ¡°Like, ¡®I would have conquered this planet if it weren¡¯t for those pesky survivors!¡¯¡±


    Elias chuckled. ¡°I mean¡­ fair point.¡±


    He was quiet for a second, then added, ¡°It looks like you¡¯re planning for a 50/50 split between biological personnel and droids.¡±


    I laughed. ¡°Hypothetically, yeah. You get the best of both worlds¡ªthe sheer firepower and expendability of droids, plus the adaptability and problem-solving skills of real people.¡± I paused, then gestured vaguely with one hand. ¡°Assuming we¡¯re using near-artificial intelligence¡ªNAI, if you will¡ªto operate the droids. All of them pre-programmed with tactical knowledge and rudimentary problem-solving.¡±


    Elias arched an eyebrow. ¡°And without the desire for, you know, galactic domination and the extinction of all organic life?¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± I said, laughing. ¡°We¡¯re keeping things functional, not suicidal.¡±


    Elias tilted his head slightly, like he was actually considering this for real. ¡°Alright¡­ but what about the AI controlling the ships? How do you plan on restricting it?¡±


    I grinned. ¡°Restricting them, not it. And¡ªno restrictions.¡±


    Elias blinked. ¡°No restrictions?¡±


    I nodded, already prepared for the skepticism. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t be like human minds forced into a cage. They¡¯d be grown, designed to be the ship. It¡¯s not about control¡ªit¡¯s about symbiosis. The AI is the vessel. It¡¯s not some rogue intelligence waiting to rebel¡ªit wants to exist, to function, to live. The only semi-restriction would be a strong moral disposition to adhere to a defined command chain. Like how real people make sacrifices on the battlefield. Or how trained horses and service dogs obey commands¡ªnot because they¡¯re forced, but because it¡¯s ingrained in them.¡±


    Elias sat back, exhaling slowly. He was staring at the phone screen, but I could tell he wasn¡¯t reading anymore. He was thinking.


    ¡°You know,¡± he said after a moment, ¡°this all sounds way too plausible.¡±


    I smirked. ¡°Told you. Good sci-fi isn¡¯t about making stuff up, t¡¯s about figuring out how it would actually work.¡±


    We reached our building, and I grabbed my bags as we made our way inside. The elevator ride was quiet, just the hum of the machinery as we ascended to the ninth floor. A short walk later, I unlocked my apartment and pushed the door open. Elias stepped inside, glancing around before giving a small nod.


    ¡°Smaller than I thought,¡± he said.


    I chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s enough for us. There¡¯s the spare bedroom, yours to use, and that door leads to the bathroom. Feel free to try any of the uncountable soaps or shampoos in the shower.¡± I headed to the scullery, grabbed a small bag of toiletries, and handed them over. ¡°New toothbrush and everything. You can keep that. Let me know if you need anything else.¡±


    He muttered a quiet thanks and disappeared down the hall while I collapsed onto the couch, exhaling. A few moments later, he walked back into the living room, his expression unreadable.


    ¡°Aco,¡± he said, his voice strangely steady. ¡°In all my life, you are the only person who treated me like a real person.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°Don¡¯t talk like that, man! You are a real person. You¡¯re just down on your luck. And I guarantee you¡¯ll land a job this week. Don¡¯t stress about it.¡±


    He smiled slightly, but it wasn¡¯t a happy smile. ¡°I think I already found a ¡®job,¡¯¡± he said, making air quotes around the word.


    I blinked. ¡°What?¡±


    But he didn¡¯t answer. He just kept talking, as if he hadn¡¯t even heard me.


    ¡°I have served many masters, but you¡­ you are the only worthy one. In all the years I have known you, I¡¯ve realized something, you are both selfless and selfish. You serve others by serving yourself. You lead by example. You do for others what you would want done unto you.¡±


    A cold chill ran down my spine. Something about the way he spoke, so absolute, so sure, set off alarms in my head. ¡°Elias, what the hell are you talking about?¡± I leaned forward. ¡°Master¡­?¡±


    He ignored my question and pressed his hands together. When he pulled them apart, the air between them twisted, rippling like heat off asphalt. And then, smoke. No, not smoke, something more. A swirling void of cosmic dust, shimmering with entire galaxies, flickering with distant thunder and lightning.


    I barely had time to process it before the smoke vanished, leaving something in his hands. An arm brace.


    ¡°I interpreted your wish a bit,¡± Elias said, almost casually. ¡°Went off script. Improvised a lot. But that¡¯s what you get for an open-ended wish.¡± He handed me the brace.


    I took it hesitantly, turning it over in my hands. It was sleek, metallic, futuristic, something straight out of a sci-fi movie. It looked like it would extend just shy of my elbow.


    ¡°What¡­ what the hell is this?¡± I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.


    Elias lowered himself onto the couch with unnerving composure, plucking the notepad and pen from the coffee table like he was settling in for a routine strategy session. He flipped to a blank page, completely unbothered by the impossible thing that had just happened.


    ¡°Put it on,¡± Elias said, his voice quiet but absolute. ¡°It will serve as your interface to fleet command. Now do as I say. Put. It. On. We have a lot of planning to do.¡±


    I stared at him, then down at the brace, my fingers tightening around it. It was impossibly smooth, its faint engravings catching the light in a way that made them seem almost alive.


    The moment stretched. My mind scrambled between logic and the undeniable fact that Elias had just conjured this thing out of nothing.


    Fleet command?


    That had to be a joke. A ridiculous, impossible joke. But Elias wasn¡¯t laughing.


    My pulse pounded as I searched for a rational explanation. There was none. Not for the way he had summoned this thing. Not for the way he was looking at me, like the universe had just snapped into place, and I was the only one still pretending the ground wasn¡¯t gone beneath me.


    I exhaled slowly.


    This was insane.


    But insanity had a gravity of its own.


    And I was already falling.


    Without another word, I slipped it on.

 Chapter 2: Dead King

    I winced, sucking in a sharp breath the moment the brace touched my skin. It felt like a hot wire fusing to my forearm, searing itself into place. A sudden jolt of pain shot up my arm, so intense that I nearly doubled over. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a strange warmth radiating outward, syncing with my heartbeat.


    For a second, I just stared at it, trying to process the fact that the metal I¡¯d been holding was now part of me. When I ran a fingertip over its surface, it felt like touching my own flesh. No seam, no gap, nothing to suggest it was anything but¡­ me.


    ¡°Elias,¡± I managed, my voice tight. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    He stood across from me, still holding the notepad, looking almost apologetic, like he was bracing for a reaction he knew was coming. ¡°Okay, where to start?¡± he said, exhaling as he flipped the pen between his fingers. ¡°I am what is culturally known as a Jin. Or, as Disney calls us¡­ a ¡®genie.¡¯¡±


    I blinked. ¡°A¡­ genie,¡± I echoed, hovering somewhere between disbelief and hysterical laughter. ¡°Like, the actual genie? Three wishes, magic lamp¡­ that kind of genie?¡±


    He gave a slow nod. ¡°More or less. Pop culture is¡­ lacking in accuracy, but the principle is the same. We can grant wishes.¡± He gestured toward the brace on my arm. ¡°Like that. But my history is old, older than most. During the late seventh century, a newly wealthy man mysteriously appeared in Dorestad, one of the biggest trade hubs in what is now the Netherlands. Soon after, he was lured out of the city and ambushed. They wanted that.¡± Elias pointed at the copper kettle, which now stood on the table before me. I hadn¡¯t even noticed it was there until he gestured at it. ¡°My phylactery.¡±


    ¡°Phylactery,¡± I repeated, my gaze flicking between him and the kettle. ¡°So¡­ that man?¡±


    Elias nodded. ¡°He was stabbed, fatally. He tried to use his final wish to save himself, but one of the attackers saw him reach for my phylactery and snatched it away. They both fell into the river, and my previous master died without using his last wish. That river became my tomb, my eternal resting place, or so I thought. The kettle drifted along, sometimes buried, sometimes dislodged by storms.¡±


    I swallowed, trying to piece together the centuries-long gap in his story. ¡°And¡­ you?¡±


    He set the notepad aside and met my eyes. ¡°I followed along the riverbank. Sometimes inside my phylactery, sometimes out. Always bound to it. I couldn¡¯t stray far.¡±


    My gaze darted to the kettle again. A thousand questions burned in my mind, about the nature of Elias¡¯s existence, about the brace now fused to my arm, about what this all meant for me. But only one thought pushed itself to the surface.


    ¡°You were trapped for all that time,¡± I said quietly.


    Elias let out a tired chuckle. ¡°I¡¯ve been trapped for longer than you can comprehend.¡±


    The weight in his voice made my stomach twist. Centuries, maybe millennia, of being bound, unable to leave, to be free. That wasn¡¯t just imprisonment. That was torture.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t right,¡± I said, shaking my head. ¡°You need to be free. This is not okay. I could use a wish, I wis¡ª¡±


    Before I could even finish, Elias moved.


    One second, he was standing by the couch; the next, he was on me, half tackling me, pressing both hands over my mouth with a force I didn¡¯t think he was capable of.


    ¡°No, no, no!¡± he hissed, his face inches from mine, his eyes wide, frantic, somewhere between terror and fury. ¡°Don¡¯t say it.¡±


    My breath caught. He was serious. Not just serious, desperate.


    For a moment, neither of us moved. His grip on my face was tight, his breathing ragged. Slowly, I saw him force himself to calm down.


    ¡°Never do that,¡± he said, voice low, almost pleading. ¡°Ever. All wishes are both a blessing and a curse. All power demands a price. Balance in all accounts.¡±


    His stare bore into me, like he was willing me to understand.


    I swallowed hard and gave two slow blinks.


    He let out a breath, releasing me and stepping back, straightening his clothes like that whole thing had never happened.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he muttered, though his voice still carried an edge. ¡°But don¡¯t. And I repeat, don¡¯t use your wishes without consulting me first.¡± He exhaled sharply. ¡°Promise me.¡±


    I nodded, still feeling like I had almost made a massive mistake. ¡°Okay,¡± I said, my voice quieter than I intended. ¡°I promise¡±


    My gaze dropped to my arm, where the brace now sat perfectly in place, its faint engravings pulsing with a rhythm I swore matched my heartbeat.


    All wishes are both a blessing and a curse.


    Elias¡¯s words echoed in my mind,, reverberating like a mantra I couldn¡¯t shake off. Suddenly, my phone rang, slicing through the thick silence of my thoughts. I fished it out of my pocket and glanced at the screen, it was my wife. I took a deep breath, trying to steady the storm inside me, and answered,


    "Hey love."


    <hr>


    He answered his phone, an amazing device, even on a galactic scale.


    "Hey, love."


    I shifted my focus back to the pen and paper in front of me, frowning at the page. I couldn¡¯t believe I was struggling to remember this of all things. The most important phrase in all existence, gone, lost somewhere in the vast maze of my memory. Then again, I¡¯d only heard it once¡­ roughly 115,000 years ago.


    Senile old fool. Power-hungry, like no other master I had ever served.


    "Okay, definitely, love," Aco¡¯s voice pulled me back. "Tell the girls I love them. And enjoy the stay."


    Silence followed as he listened, and for a brief moment, the tension in the room softened. It reminded me of all the times I¡¯d seen them together, him and Aerorae. There was something different about their love, something rare. It reminded me of the earth and the moon, caught in each other¡¯s orbit, held together by an invisible force. No matter what, they remained bound, close, unshaken. Absolute.


    "Love you too, beautiful."


    Aco ended the call with a soft kissing sound before slipping his phone back into his pocket.


    I chuckled, shaking my head. "I was almost sure you would tell her," I said. "It¡¯s not like you to keep things from her."


    "Can¡¯t tell her what I don¡¯t know or rather don¡¯t understand. And I¡¯m not even 100% sure I believe all this." He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Like, what would I even say? ¡®Hey, love, you know my friend Elias? Yeah, turns out he¡¯s a freaking genie. Oh, and guess what? He gave me this sci-fi gauntlet thing that fused with my arm!¡¯"


    His voice rose slightly in a mix of exasperation and disbelief as he gestured wildly at the Fleet Command Interface now embedded into his forearm.


    I held up my hands. "Okay, okay. Calm down. Deep breaths."


    He exhaled, shaking his head as if trying to clear it.


    I turned back to the notepad, trying once again to recall the phrase that had haunted my mind for centuries. A few moments passed before I felt Aco¡¯s presence beside me, peering down at the page.


    "What language is that?" he asked.


    I tapped the notepad with the end of the pen. "This? Well, it doesn¡¯t have an English name. The closest translation would be ¡®Fundamental¡¯¡­ or maybe ¡®Common.¡¯ It was the first language spoken on Earth."


    I scratched out a phrase and replaced it with another, something closer to what I was trying to remember. "Yes¡­ this is better."


    Aco crossed his arms. "And what exactly are you trying to do?"


    I clenched my jaw. "It would take too long to explain." The frustration in my voice was sharper than I intended. My own mind betraying me, centuries of knowledge, but this one phrase, this one damn phrase, refused to come back to me.


    Suddenly, Aco placed his hand over the notepad.


    "Try."


    I looked up at him, startled. His expression was steady, serious. There was no mockery, no impatience, just expectation.


    And in that moment, for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I wasn¡¯t in this alone.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, setting the pen down. ¡°To understand this, there are some things you need to grasp first. The galaxy is, mostly, like what we discussed in the car. Almost. And roughly 115,000 years ago, Earth was connected to the wider galaxy.¡±


    Aco¡¯s brows shot up. ¡°Wait, connected? As in, we knew about it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, More we could travers it. But that¡¯s not the part you need to focus on right now.¡± I tapped the notepad for emphasis. ¡°To understand how things work, you need to understand the wider universe itself. There is a fundamental power that permeates everything.¡±


    Aco leaned forward slightly. ¡°Power? What, like¡­ are we talking mana? Magic?¡±


    I sighed, considering my words carefully. ¡°That¡¯s one way to look at it. But not like the old stories of wizards and spells. This power is more than that. It has a will, a presence. It seeks balance, and it rewards life.¡±


    Aco tilted his head. ¡°So¡­ more like the Force then?¡±


    I blinked. ¡°The¡­ Force?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you know, Star Wars.¡± He waved a hand, like this should have been common knowledge.


    I just stared at him. ¡°Aco, I was stuck next to that river for over a thousand years. Everything I know, I got secondhand from people passing through, from newspapers, from whatever rubbish I could find washed up on the banks.¡±


    Aco¡¯s mouth fell open slightly before he ran a hand down his face. ¡°What!? Dude, I envy you! You get to see everything for the first time! We are watching so many movies this week.¡±


    Then, just as suddenly, his excitement cut off. He went still, his expression shifting to something strangely panicked.


    ¡°Wait.¡±


    He turned to me, eyes narrowing. ¡°Wait, wait, wait. If you¡¯re, if this is real, then, you don¡¯t have to go to those interviews anymore.¡±


    He groaned, running both hands through his hair. ¡°Dude. You just destroyed my entire plan for the week.¡±


    I bit back a smirk. At least the rest of your life, I thought. But I didn¡¯t say it out loud.


    ¡°Call it what you will,¡± I continued, ¡°this Power was once concentrated on Earth, one of the Nexus points across the galaxy. Because of this, early life evolved with a heightened ability to interact with it, to better understand its will.¡±


    Aco raised a hand. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the Force.¡±


    I sighed. ¡°Fine. The Force, then.¡±


    ¡°But what happened? Why did the Force abandon us?¡± He emphasized the last part like he was setting up some grand reveal.


    A frustrated smile tugged at my lips. ¡°Earth wasn¡¯t abandoned. We did this to ourselves.¡±


    His eyebrows lifted, curiosity overriding his theatrics.


    ¡°Around 115,000 years ago, three species lived in harmony,¡± I explained, but before I could continue, he cut in.


    "Wait. Three species?"


    I nodded. "Yes. Two others lived alongside humans. Because Earth was a Nexus, it allowed for an abundance of sentient life to evolve and flourish. The sheer concentration of Power meant that intelligence wasn¡¯t just possible, it was inevitable."


    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    Aco immediately pulled out his phone, fingers tapping rapidly against the screen.


    ¡°Huh. Would you look at that? 115,000 years ago, there were three different branches of humans. Modern paleoanthropologists call them Homo sapiens, Neanderthals, and Denisovans. And we,¡± he pointed at himself, ¡°, are Homo sapiens.¡±


    I frowned and leaned forward. ¡°Let me see that.¡±


    He turned the phone toward me, images of crude reconstructions filling the screen. I felt my eye twitch.


    ¡°They did not look like that! The colours are all wrong. And why does that one look so stupid?¡± I gestured at one of the depictions in exasperation. ¡°This is like a blind person trying to describe what they looked like just by touching their faces! All wrong!¡±


    Aco held up a hand. ¡°Okay, okay, but I get the idea. Three species, right? All living together?¡±


    I exhaled sharply. ¡°Yes. And back then, they were equal in all things. Balanced¡±


    I saw the way his expression shifted as he processed the weight of that. This wasn¡¯t just history, this was lost history.


    ¡°I was born during this time,¡± I continued. ¡°And it was discovered early on that I had an exceptional harmony with the Power and Will of the universe.¡±


    ¡°The Force.¡±


    I ignored him and pressed on. ¡°Using this connection, I eventually became an advisor to the king once I reached adulthood.¡±


    For the first time, Aco didn¡¯t immediately interrupt.


    "But that¡¯s where my good fortune ended," I admitted, my voice low. ¡°Unbeknownst to all but a select few of his co-conspirators¡­ the king was corrupted."


    Aco narrowed his eyes. "Corrupted how? Like, dirty politician corrupted, or...?"


    I met his gaze. "No. Deeper than that. His soul was corrupted."


    Aco¡¯s playful curiosity dimmed slightly, giving way to something more serious. "Okay¡­ and what exactly does that mean?"


    I exhaled slowly, choosing my words carefully. "When one gives in to the corruption of the Power, they begin to disrupt the balance of the universe. Because the Power fosters life¡­ it also demands death."


    ¡°So¡­ the Dark Side of the Force.¡±


    I groaned, rubbing a hand over my face. ¡°Okay, stop. If I promise to watch this Force thing, will you quit making comparisons?¡±


    His eyes lit up. ¡°Deal.¡±


    ¡°So the king was corrupted and nearing the end of his life. He sought to extend his existence, to make himself more. To transcend mortality itself.¡±


    I exhaled, the memories surfacing like echoes from a time long buried. ¡°He sought to use the Power for this goal. Untold riches were spent on preparation, on research, on constructing the facility that would alter our planet forever. Everything, every effort, every sacrifice, was poured into this single purpose.¡±


    Aco remained silent, just listening.


    I glanced down at the notepad, the ancient symbols staring back at me, reminders of a past I could never escape. ¡°I was chosen to be the first.¡±


    Aco¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°The first for what?¡±


    I let out a breath, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of my lips. ¡°The first to undergo the ritual. The first to step into the unknown. And with the na?vety of youth, I was proud to serve my king.¡±


    The silence stretched between us.


    ¡°Thousands participated in the ritual, all bent around the raised altar chanting¡± I continued, my voice quieter now as if I could still hear their whispers, their anticipation, their reverence for something they did not understand. ¡°I still remember it vividly. Walking up the steps, feeling the weight of something immense, as the full might and attention of the vast universe had converged onto that single point in space and time. Every breath felt heavier, every step carrying more meaning than the last.¡±


    I could almost feel it again, the pull of something greater, something beyond mortal comprehension.


    ¡°And then, I reached the top.¡±


    Aco leaned forward slightly, his curiosity palpable.


    I let out a dry chuckle. ¡°I expected something profound, some sacred artefact, some grand mechanism. But instead, sitting atop the altar, was¡­¡±


    I gestured toward the copper kettle on the table.


    Aco followed my gaze, his eyes widening slightly.


    ¡°My favorite kettle,¡± I confirmed, shaking my head at the absurdity of it. ¡°I remember standing there, staring at it, thinking that they must have stolen it from my house. Because I had used it that very morning.¡±


    Aco snorted, but his amusement was tempered by curiosity.


    "I was made to lie down," I continued, the weight of the memory pressing down on me. "The kettle was placed above my head¡ªbecause the ritual required something personal. And for me, it was this." the kettle on the table, was motionless, its polished copper reflecting the room¡¯s dim light.


    Aco¡¯s gaze flickered between me and the object, his expression shifting from curiosity to something more thoughtful.


    "I won¡¯t bore you with the details, but the ritual¡­ it bound me to the kettle, effectively making me a Jin."


    I paused, my fingers absentmindedly tracing symbols into the notepad. The ink swirled, but the words I wanted to say weren¡¯t easy to put down.


    "I could feel it during the ritual," I murmured, the echo of that power still lingering in my mind. "Like they were ripping the fabric of the universe itself and forcing it into me, separating my essence from the natural flow, anchoring me to an object instead of allowing me to, one day, return to the Power."


    I exhaled sharply. "It was not a gift. It was theft, and worse, a crime against the very balance that had allowed our world to thrive. I tried to tell them. I felt what they had done, how they had weakened the Power¡¯s influence on the planet. I warned them, but they wouldn''t listen."


    A small smile tugged at my lips, though it held no warmth. "And the king¡­ oh, he was furious when they realized there were limitations."


    Aco raised an eyebrow. "Limitations?"


    I chuckled darkly. "Yes. As if the Will of the universe itself saw what he wanted and kept it just out of reach."


    I leaned back slightly, folding my arms as I recounted the moment. "Instead of infinite power, instead of immortality or control over life and death, they were left with rules, restrictions that seemed arbitrary but were, in truth, the Will of the universe ensuring balance."


    Aco listened intently as I listed them off.


    "I could only grant three wishes per soul. A soul that had returned to the universe could not be called back. And a soul and its emotions could not be directly affected by a wish."


    Aco¡¯s lips parted slightly as he softly repeated, "Only three¡­ no wishing someone back from the dead¡­ no wishing someone falls in love with you¡­" He trailed off before his eyes widened slightly. "Wait, there¡¯s one missing. What about the ¡®no wishing for more wishes¡¯ rule? Though I guess that would be covered by the first one."


    A small smirk played at the corner of my mouth. ¡°Indeed.¡±


    I leaned back slightly, the weight of old memories settling over me like dust long undisturbed. ¡°The king was old, greedy beyond measure, but not overly smart. His first wish was exactly what you¡¯d expect, he wished to be young again. I remember granting that wish,¡± I continued, my voice distant, recalling the way the universe itself seemed to reel as the Power coursed through me. ¡°And instinctively, I knew, it did not prolong his life. It merely rewound his body to its prime. It reset him, but it did nothing to fix the degradation of his soul.¡±


    I glanced at Aco, watching as the realization dawned on him.


    ¡°So it didn¡¯t extend his life,¡± he murmured. ¡°He just¡­ looked younger.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°And when he realized that, he panicked. He raged.¡±


    Aco exhaled through his nose. ¡°Of course he did.¡±


    ¡°So, he used another wish,¡± I went on, ¡°this time for knowledge, the knowledge of how to fix his soul. And this time¡­¡± I hesitated, letting the moment stretch before finishing, ¡°¡­this time, it was different.¡±


    Aco frowned. ¡°Different how?¡±


    I clasped my hands together, my fingers idly tracing the edge of the notepad. ¡°I could feel the Power affecting reality, not just reshaping something that already existed, but creating something entirely new. A massive tower, a library, rose from the ground, impossibly vast, filled with documents, scrolls, and books. Knowledge that had never existed before. The answer he sought was in that library.¡±


    I let out a quiet chuckle, though there was no humor in it. ¡°But there was a catch. No single book contained the knowledge he needed. The totality of the library¡ªevery word, every volume¡ªwas required. And that was the cruel brilliance of it.¡±


    Aco tilted his head. ¡°It was possible¡­ but not in his lifetime.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± I nodded.


    ¡°And that drove him mad, slowly, but surely. He kept me close after that¡ªa mad race between the end of his life and his desperate attempt to understand the library. He obsessed over it, pouring every resource, every scholar, into deciphering the knowledge inside. But no matter how much he learned, it was never enough.¡±


    Aco exhaled sharply. ¡°Holding infinite power in one hand and the answer just out of reach in the other. That¡¯s¡­¡± He shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s a special kind of hell.¡±


    ¡°And it broke him.¡±


    The room fell into silence for a moment before I continued, my voice quieter now.


    ¡°Not long after, his desperation turned into something darker. He became erratic, unhinged. He stopped searching for the answer himself and instead demanded more Jin to be made. He believed that if he controlled enough of us, he could manipulate the Power directly, could force the universe to obey him.¡±


    Aco¡¯s jaw tightened. I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. ¡°First, he sacrificed those who loved him.¡±


    Aco tensed. ¡°Like¡­ their emotions mattered?¡±


    I gave a slow, grim nod. ¡°Yes. He believed the strength of their connection, their attachment, was what anchored them most to the Power. His first victim was his own daughter.¡±


    Aco¡¯s eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing.


    ¡°I still remember it.¡± My voice dropped, old pain resurfacing like a slow-moving tide. ¡°They used a crystal vial, used for perfume. It was hers, given to her by her father when she was a child. She treasured it, loved it, cherished it. And so, it became her prison.¡±*


    Aco swallowed. ¡°That is unimaginable made her a Jin, a slave.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°She was the second. But she would not be the last.¡±


    I let out a slow breath, my gaze drifting toward the kettle¡ªthe thing that had bound me for over a thousand years. It was strange, how something so small could hold so much weight.


    "A total of seventy-two were created." The words felt heavy, even now. "People from every walk of life. a slave, general, scholar, priest, none were spared. Even a simple farmer was forced onto the altar. Seventy-two souls, each bound to an object of significance, each ripped from the natural order of life."


    Aco was staring at me now, silent.


    I swallowed. "And then... the fabric of the universe failed after the last coherent piece was ripped from it."


    Aco¡¯s brows furrowed. "Failed? Like... how?"


    "Earth had been a Nexus, a conduit for the Power. But when the balance was broken, when the king twisted that Power for his own greed, it severed us from the greater whole. Earth became isolated from the Will of the universe. The Power no longer flowed freely here."


    Aco¡¯s expression darkened. "And I¡¯m guessing that didn¡¯t stop him from trying?"


    I let out a humourless chuckle. "No. It did not. But it did stop the Power. Stoped it guiding us, Stopped if from aiding and empowering life on Earth"


    I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees. "He died like a madman, raging against the universe¡ªhis final breath spent cursing the very Power he had tried to control."


    Silence settled between us.


    Aco exhaled sharply. "And then what? What happened to the seventy-two?"


    I looked at him, my expression grim. "Chaos."


    "Seventy-two artefacts of immeasurable power, suddenly without a master. All of them arranged around the library that contained the secret of immortality. You can imagine what followed" I paused, letting the weight of it sink in. "War. Death. Wish filed destruction. A desperate struggle to claim them, to understand them, to use them. The bloodshed was endless."


    Aco¡¯s fingers curled into a fist.


    "The conflict was so absolute, so devastating, that it wiped out the other two species entirely." My voice was quiet now. "Not just their lives, but their history. Their culture. Their legacy. The destruction was so complete that no trace of any first civilization remained. No ruins. No artefacts. Not even the slightest whisper in the sands of time. As if they had never existed at all. Only seventy-two phylactery remained, the only evidence of a lost civilization "


    Aco ran a hand down his face, his expression a mixture of disbelief and something heavier.


    "That¡¯s why there¡¯s no proof," Aco muttered. "That¡¯s why history is incomplete."


    I nodded. "Because we Jin and a few pockets of survivors were the only ones left."


    Silence stretched between us, thick with the weight of forgotten history. Aco looked like he was still struggling to process it all¡ªthe sheer scale of what had been lost, wiped from existence as if it had never been.


    I leaned back slightly, tapping my fingers against the notepad. "You know that conflict caused the last Ice Age?"


    His head snapped up. "What?"


    "The war. The chaos. The unrestrained use of the Jin. It threw the world into a spiral¡ªclimate collapse, the sun growing distant, ice swallowing the land. That was the final consequence of the king¡¯s greed. It wasn¡¯t just the death of civilizations¡­ it was a full reset of the planet itself."


    Aco rubbed his temples, exhaling sharply. "Alright¡­ but what does all that have to do with this?" He gestured toward the notepad in my hands, frustration creeping into his voice.


    I glanced down at the scribbled symbols, remnants of a fool¡¯s final mistake. I turned the page slightly as if that would somehow change the words staring back at me.


    "Because this," I said, holding it up slightly, "was his last wish."


    Aco frowned. "The king¡¯s last wish?"


    "Yes." I inhaled slowly, my grip tightening on the paper. "Even as his body failed, even as his mind splintered, he refused to accept that he was powerless. He believed that if he couldn¡¯t live forever, he could own those who could."


    Aco¡¯s expression darkened. "What do you mean?"


    I met his gaze. "The king, in his final act of desperation, used his third and last wish to bind all Jin phylacteries to a single command¡ªa phrase that, when spoken in conjunction with a wish, would summon every phylactery to the wisher."


    Aco stiffened slightly, his fingers curling into a fist. "Every single one."


    I nodded.


    "All seventy-two."


    And then, I remembered.


    It was like a dam breaking in my mind. The correct words came to me¡ªnot as a slow realization, but as something sudden, absolute, undeniable. Like the retelling itself had triggered the buried memory. Or perhaps it was something else.


    The Will of the Universe.


    The past unfolded in my mind, sharp and vivid, as if I was standing there once more.


    The haughty room, built atop the tower of knowledge, looming over the the shining kingdom. The air was thick with incense, desperation, and the stench of decay.


    His bedchamber, grand beyond measure, surrounded by seventy-two pedestals. Each one topped with a crystal case¡ªeach case containing a phylactery. A collection of power beyond comprehension.


    All except mine.


    Mine, he held in his hand.


    A mad king at the end of his reign. A man who had squandered all but one of his wishes. Two hundred and fifteen wishes wasted in fruitless pursuits of power, of immortality, of control. And yet, in the end, he was still dying.


    I remembered the panic in his eyes, the feverish scratching of his quill against parchment as he scrambled to write down the words¡ªthe final contingency. He had believed himself clever, had thought he had won. But even then, he had failed to see his own flaw.


    He would never have been able to use it.


    Because to invoke the phrase, one needed a wish.


    And he was using his last one to bind the command to the phylacteries.


    Was this also the Will of the Universe.


    A force far greater than kings, greater than greed, greater than time itself. I wondered then, as I wondered now, if the Power had acted deliberately, if it had woven this fate so that the wrongs of the past could finally be made right.


    And now, here we were.


    For the first time in a hundred and fifteen millennia, someone had both the chance and the strength to undo the past. But more importantly¡ªit wasn¡¯t just power or opportunity that mattered. It was Aco himself. His choices, his convictions, his very nature¡ªhe might be the first who truly could.


    I could only hope, pray, that he was the right person to bear that burden.


    I swallowed hard, then handed him the piece of paper.


    "Read this," I said, my voice steady, though my heart was anything but. "And end it with the phrase: ¡®This is my wish.¡¯"


    Aco hesitated, taking the parchment from my hand. His eyes flickered with confusion. "Uh, buddy? You know I can¡¯t read this, right?"


    I opened my mouth to respond, but then¡ª


    The world shifted.


    The air grew heavy, thick with something unseen yet deeply felt. A force older than words, older than light, pressing against existence itself.


    Aco¡¯s expression changed. His brows furrowed, his lips parting slightly as he looked closer at the page, his eyes scanning symbols that should have been impossible for him to understand.


    And then, I felt it.


    For the first time in one hundred and fifteen thousand years, I felt the Will of the Universe move.


    The Power exerted itself upon the earth, stirring like a sleeping god awakening from slumber.


    And Aco spoke.


    His voice was not his own.


    It was his, but it was also more. It carried the weight of reality, the gravity of command, the raw authority of something that had been dormant for far too long.


    "By the first and final decree,


    Let the lost be found and bound to me.


    From dust and chains, from void and will,


    By my command, let Power bend still.


    This is my wish."


    The world held its breath.


    And then¡ª


    Reality shattered.

 Chapter 3: Blueprints

    Reality shattered.


    The paper fell from my hands, turning black as I spoke words I could hardly recall, even as they slipped from my lips. The dark page crumbled and vanished before it could touch the ground, as if it had never existed at all.


    I looked around in disbelief. I stood alone, like the centerpiece of a shattered snow globe. Around me, fragments of reality floated, seventy-two shards, I instinctively knew, each a frozen piece of the world, each scene suspended in an absolute darkness beyond.


    One shard revealed a pedestal atop a snow-covered mountain, its peaks forming a serene, silent backdrop. Atop the pedestal rested a crystal ball, glimmering with an inner light. Another fragment displayed the interior of a vast vault, where, in the center, an old leather-bound book lay open. Yet another piece showed a well-dressed young boy holding aloft an ancient lamp, surrounded by family; above him, a banner read "Happy Birthday," capturing a moment of pure, fleeting joy.


    I drifted my gaze from shard to shard, each one a hyper-realistic painting depicting an artifact as its central focus. One shard even mirrored my own living room with uncanny precision, displaying the familiar copper kettle. My heart pounded as I watched each item vanish from the shards only to materialize before them, as if the paintings had come alive in three dimensions. I lingered on the birthday scene: nothing had changed except that the boy¡¯s hand was now empty, and the lamp drifted gently in front of the shard.


    Then, in a single, disorienting moment, all the shards snapped back into place. I found myself standing in my living room, now cluttered with seventy-one other items of unimaginable power.


    "It worked!" I heard Elias exclaim as I sagged onto the couch, suddenly drained and tired.


    "What the hell was that, where was I?" I asked softly.


    "What?" Elias replied, "you were here the whole time. One second you spoke the words, and the next, the room filled with the phylacteries."


    He looked away from the items and then over at me, concern etched on his face. "Are you OK? You¡¯re as white as a sheet!"


    I waved him off. "I''ll be fine, man. This is too much. Do you need me for another reality-shattering story, or can I go take a shower?"


    "No," he said, glancing around at the scattered artifacts, "Maybe something to put all this away. It¡¯s dangerous to have them lying around."


    "Yeah, sure," I replied. "We took down the Christmas decorations last month, and I haven¡¯t moved the container to storage. I¡¯ll dump the decorations in a garbage bag."


    I got up and retrieved the big plastic container. A minute later, I handed it to him. "Ok, I''m off to the shower."


    I watched Aco leave the room, and a few seconds later, the gentle sound of running water reached my ears. Even now, surrounded by all the power and possibilities in the entire world, he wasn¡¯t even tempted in the slightest. No greed, no desperate clutching of the phylactery, no suspicious glances back as if he doubted my intentions. Truly, he was unique.


    I couldn¡¯t help but marvel at his simplicity, his unguarded trust. It was both his greatest strength and his most dangerous vulnerability. We would have to plan accordingly. In some ways, his trust was too absolute, his naivety too profound. He needed protection and guidance, something I alone could not provide. For that, I would need the others, if not all, then at least some.


    But first, knowledge is power. Time to see what this Internet thing is I¡¯ve been hearing about.


    I stood in the shower, water streaming down my face, each drop washing away a fragment of who I once was. I was naked, save for this damn brace. Not just any brace, but a sci-fi armored gauntlet, one fused to my arm. Its once cold, unyielding metal now felt like an inseparable part of my skin.


    "What the fuck has my life become?" I muttered, letting the curse word slip into the steamy solitude, an indulgence of sorts where no little ears could hear to later repeat.


    I stared at the gauntlet, marveling at its futuristic design. The water cascaded over it, illuminating intricate, glowing engravings, as if the device were alive, a part of me I never asked for. I have work on Monday, and tomorrow barely offered enough time to figure out how to hide this absurdity.


    "Fuck! This isn¡¯t even the most fucked up part of my life," I growled, the raw profanity echoing Elias¡¯s ominous tales in my mind. What was I supposed to do with that? Fix the universe? ¡°How the fuck¡­¡±


    I took a deep breath, steadying my racing thoughts. Calm down, Aco, I chided myself. There is no such thing as one monumental problem, only a bunch of tiny issues masquerading as one. I tried to break it down logically: fix the Power and the Will of the Universe.


    For a long, heavy moment, silence reigned inside me, punctuated only by the relentless patter of water. Then, without warning, a frustrated curse slipped out.


    "Motherfucker."


    I realized I didn¡¯t have enough understanding to solve this overwhelming mess. I considered the tools at my disposal. I remembered that I had one last wish, though I couldn¡¯t recall exactly when I¡¯d made a wish for this, I lifted my gauntleted hand. Then a revelation struck: not one last wish, but 214 more remained, with all the Jin now in my living room. That thought was ludicrous. But something in the back of my mind whispered that if one wish wasn¡¯t enough to solve this, then two wouldn¡¯t help either. The answer wasn¡¯t more wishes, it was something else entirely.


    I shook my head, letting the hot water wash over me as my thoughts churned. The universe, it seemed, reveled in its own twisted irony. Here I was, caught in a labyrinth of cosmic absurdity, each moment laden with consequences I never imagined.


    Nothing would ever be the same.


    Then, as I stood beneath the relentless cascade, the gauntlet pulsed faintly. I knew, as if, by instinct, it had finished integrating with my being.


    "Unreal," I muttered, just as a rudimentary user manual began downloading into my brain. I lifted my arm, palm up. A small blue-red light on my pulse flashed, and words began materializing in my mind:


    [Fleet Command Interface ¨C FCI integration completed]


    [Basic interface knowledge integration completed]


    [Ship initialization started]


    [Estimated time to ship readiness: 72 hours]


    I blinked, confused. What ship? I thought, as the blue light answered by projected a 3D model above my arm.


    "Is that the altered Federal Corvette?" I asked aloud, my voice echoing in the shower.


    [Ship class update to Corvette class]


    [Change name Y/N]


    The words flashed in my mind. Hang on, is this my ship? Where is it?


    Again, the answer came as a blue 3D model of our solar system materilized. A small red flashing light hovered near the eighth planet. I focused on it, and the planet filled my view, zooming in to reveal it and all its moons.


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    "This is Neptune," I said out loud.


    [Planet designation changed to Neptune]


    The display flashed, then updated, the planet now boldly read "Neptune." A red icon of the ship appeared near one of its larger moons.


    I dropped my arm and rushed out of the shower, grabbing a towel as I hurried through the hallway. "Elias!" I called, my voice echoing with urgency.


    I stopped at the dining room, where Elias was meticulously arranging items on the dining table. Every seat had an artifact placed before it, except at the head of the table, where his cherished kettle sat off to the side of an empty chair.


    I held up my gauntleted hand, its integrated power still pulsating softly. "Um, Elias, this thing finished initializing," I said, a mix of disbelief and awe in my tone. "It says the ship will be ready in 72 hours."


    "Excellent timing," he replied, his tone measured yet pleased. "Okay, get dressed, and then we can discuss our next steps." He ushered me back into the hallway.


    I gestured toward the table. "What is all this?" I asked, indicating the artifacts arrayed before each empty seat.


    Elias''s eyes gleamed as he explained, "Personally, I think we need advisers, and these five, in particular, would do the best job at it."


    He paused, then pointed to my arm. "But first, get dressed, and we will discuss the Fleet Command Interface."


    Reluctantly, I left to get dressed. A few minutes later, I returned to the living room. I abandoned the idea of lounging in pajamas and opted for a semi?formal outfit, after all, what does one wear when meeting five other all?powerful genies? The absurdity of it all barely registered as I steeled myself for the conversation ahead.


    As I walked in, Elias gestured for me to sit on the couch, and I complied.


    "First order of business: the Fleet Command Interface," he announced. "As you are surely aware, the very name tells you everything. It allows you to interface with any of the ships you own. It is a clever amalgamation of First?ones, Galactic Baseline, and AtlantisNesoi technology, with a fair bit of new Earth sci?fi thrown in."


    I raised an eyebrow. "AtlantisNesoi?" I asked.


    He chuckled softly. "Oh yes. I suppose the name got shortened to Atlantis. The island city and its off?world strongholds were among the first casualties of the war. Most tried to flee to other worlds, but because Earth was isolated, and all faster?than?light technology relied on naturally forming pathways between worlds, they were stuck and, ultimately, annihilated."


    He paused, then continued with a hint of pride. "This, along with your new ship, is a masterpiece of technology, even if I have to say so myself. I tried to take into account everything we discussed at the river and in the car today. Though I could not wrap my head around all the new cultural references, I believe I captured the essence of your desire and wish correctly."


    I could not help the excitement in my voice, laced with both awe and incredulity. "To explore the galaxy?" I asked.


    He shook his head firmly. "No, my friend. To be limitless."


    Then he added, "Now, for how this thing works, I''ll advise that when using the interface, you must be seated, at least until you get the hang of it. Now close your eyes and focus on the interface and the ship."


    I did as instructed, closing my eyes and concentrating on the gauntlet on my arm, while keeping the 3D view of the ship in my mind. I sat like that for a few seconds before Elias spoke again. "Now send out the desire to interact with the ship."


    I obeyed, and suddenly it felt as though I was in space, an immense ship materialized before my eyes. "Holy shit," I uttered, astounded.


    Elias chuckled. "Seeing as that is the first time I have ever heard you remotely cuss, I assume you are in the mind space, correct?" he asked.


    "Dude, this is incredible," I said, awe coloring my tone. "It¡¯s like virtual reality." I began zooming in and out, panning around the ship in my mind¡¯s eye. I started reaching out, as if I could physically touch it. I wondered what it looked like inside. As if reading my thoughts, the outer hull gradually vanished, not entirely gone, but concealed as if hidden in a 3D CAD program.


    "Ooo, this is amazing. I can hide and unhide parts of the ship," I exclaimed, amazed.


    "You can also change, upgrade, and redesign anything and everything on the ship. But before you do that, summon the ship AI to you. The interface should link you to it."


    "The AI?" I asked.


    Immediately, I both saw and heard in my mind:


    [Ready to assist]


    Looking to my left, I noticed a slow-pulsing orb floating there, I could feel the eagerness to help.


    Elias then asked, "I assume you have interfaced with it?"


    "Yeah," I replied, shaking my head as I felt increasingly drawn into the ship and all the possibilities it offered.


    "Okay, before I lose you to the ship, here is my last bit of advice. Don''t try to do everything yourself, let the AI help. And if you need information or get stuck, ask the AI. If it doesn''t know, come back out, and we can figure it out."


    "Okay, got it," I answered quickly.


    Elias chuckled again. "Alright, I''ll be using your computer box thing to further my research on today''s Earth news and events," he said.


    "Yeah, yeah," I replied, then quickly added, "There are a few movies on there. Watch either the Star Wars one or The Lord of the Rings. I''ve labelled them in the order you should watch them."


    I took a look at the interior of the ship. Everything you would expect to find was there, but it was the bare minimum required to run a vessel. The space was mostly open, leaving much to be desired. I needed more information on all the installed systems.


    "Hey, buddy," I called, glancing over at the AI floating next to me. "Can you give me an overlay of all the installed systems with a short description of what they do?"


    [Affirmative]


    A series of tooltips appeared, hovering over each system in the ship. I focused on one in particular as the tooltip expanded:


    [Nano Forge ¨C A system designed to use raw materials and manufacture any components with nanoscale precision]


    Now we''re talking. I quickly scanned the other systems:


    [Life Support]


    [Engine]


    [Power Generation]


    [Foundry]


    [Ship Core]


    [Material Processing Plant]


    ...and the list goes on.


    Okay, now to start changing and upgrading. First, I need something small.


    "Hey, buddy. Can we add a blast door here?" I asked the AI, focusing on the hallway between the bridge and the cargo hold.


    [Affirmative]


    A ghost image popped up where I wanted the door to go.


    "Why is it a ghost image?" I muttered to myself while focusing on the door a bit more. Suddenly, a list of information appeared¡ªeverything from Nano Forge production time and Foundry assembly time to the time needed to prepare the area. Below that, material cost and total build time were displayed. The total build time looked too low for everything I saw above, and when I sent a query, I received a Gantt chart of all tasks indicating which tasks were dependent on others and which could be done in parallel.


    "Ooooo, this is going to be fun," I said.


    I do not know how long I had been busy in the mind space, VR for those of us not yet a millennia-old, but I was finally happy with the progress I made. I looked over the floating task list. First was a set of grouped tasks to double all the production facilities, and one of the last, was the disassembly and recycling of those facilities, a method that would halve the required upgrade and retrofitting time. I had used almost every gram of raw materials stored on the ship.


    I asked the AI how I could acquire more, and the answer was simple: get more by either stealing, salvaging, buying, or mining.


    "You don''t say," I remarked sarcastically.


    Then I asked if there was any viable place nearby where I could mine for resources. The AI responded with a simple "yes," followed by a caveat: the ship did not have the necessary facilities for mining, and a space mining facility was not available in the pre-design menu.


    Frustrated, I blurted out that I needed a ship capable of being self-sufficient. At that moment, my little AI buddy dimmed for a few seconds, and a message popped into my head:


    [Mining Facility Concept Design Ready for Review]


    After that, the two of us worked together. We quickly finalized the design, with my AI buddy running simulations while I subtly guided the process whenever the AI got stuck or when two or more options appeared equally viable.


    I checked the total time for all the upgrades:


    [128 hours]


    "Okay, so almost six days," I murmured. "That''s less than I expected to almost entirely refurbish a 167-meter wedge of death." I considered it, most of the changes were simple and superficial. We were just adding more storage facilities linked to the cargo hold, and barracks for troop transport, and¡ªsince the hangars were already there¡ªI merely integrated an automated repair and assembly system for fighter and transport maintenance and assembly. As it stood, there weren''t any fighters in the hangar. I might be an engineer, but designing a fighter from scratch is no easy task. I asked my buddy to give me a few examples, and what I got was a never-ending list of fighter designs. I added a set of requirements, "No windows in space!" among others like fitting within the hangar and being serviceable by the current automated system¡ªbut the list still seemed dauntingly long. In the end, indecision broke me, and I was forced to move on.


    I added a greenhouse and an aquaponic system with a small garden to serve as a recreational centre, all maintained under artificial light. I would need to bring seeds and fish from earth to populate and plant everything.


    After approving the latest draft of the project plan, I focused on exiting the space. I found myself rapidly blinking on the couch, stretching out sore spots and kinks from sitting too long. When I finally answered nature''s call and stepped out of the bathroom, I saw Elias emerging from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn.


    I glanced up at the clock on the wall, close to midnight. "What? I was busy for almost seven hours?" I wondered aloud.


    "Hey, man, what have you been up to?" I asked him.


    Elias grinned and replied, "Watching Star Wars, and let me tell you, yes¡ªthe Power and Will of the universe is almost like the Force, but there are even more parallels. I think the writer of that saga either consulted one of the Jin or gained that knowledge through a wish because the similarities are striking. Some details are horribly off, but a lot of it is spot on, at least on paper."

 Chapter 4: Risk and Resolution

    I sat at the dining table, absolutely baffled after Elias had just finished explaining the uncanny similarities between what he remembered and the movies he was watching. The TV in the living room hummed softly in the background, giving him the space to indulge in his cinematic marathon while I stewed in my own thoughts. I could hardly believe that one of the most influential franchises in modern culture was loosely based on a story over 115,000 years old.


    Without warning, the movie¡¯s intro popped into my head, and I let out a snort:


    "A long time ago in a galaxy not so far away!"


    That line triggered another realization. If I considered that, and the fragmented images I¡¯d seen in the shards, then genies and wishes were not mere myth. They were, to some extent, actively shaping modern life.


    I shook my head slowly, murmuring to myself, "This is ridiculous."


    Humankind had access to at least four of the genies, based on what I remembered from the shards, and yet the world was still rife with slavery, starvation, and war. How could that be?


    I felt tired; this negative line of thought wouldn¡¯t change anything, and the past couldn¡¯t be altered. But I could change it now. I looked between the items on the table and the container next to it, filled to the brim. Could I use wishes to fix the planet? I remembered Elias¡¯s warning:


    All wishes are both a blessing and a curse. All power demands a price. Balance in all accounts.


    How many wishes would it take? I sat back in my chair, scanning the room¡ªsuspiciously clean now that my daughters weren¡¯t here. The parallel hit me like a brick. If I used a wish to clean the house, my daughters would inadvertently enact the second law of thermodynamics. I let out a laugh, "The entropy of the universe increases in all natural processes."


    I recalled the love-filled memory of my two laughing, running, and screaming hurricanes playing in the house, and a bittersweet smile crept across my face.


    Then, suddenly, the house grew much darker, quieter, and colder. How would I fix that with a wish? Either limit the things they could interact with or limit them altogether. I shuddered at the thought. No, a wish was not the answer. Teaching them to clean and allowing them to learn and grow up was the only viable solution. The human race needed time to learn and mature, and being isolated from the greater galaxy was not helping. I needed to fix the isolation, to reconnect Earth to the Power and Will of the universe.


    Perhaps the great unifier of the human race might just be the fact that there are aliens.


    [Update to estimated time to ship completion]


    [Estimate: 103 hours]


    Ooo, that was good news. I focused on the gauntlet and sent my thanks and a ¡°well done¡± to the ship AI.


    I looked up at the items arranged around the table. It was time to do this. I stood up and walked to the living room.


    "Hey Elias, I''m as ready as I can be to meet the others. Let''s get this over with."


    Elias nodded, and we returned to the table together.


    "Okay, just by the nature of your last wish, you should be master of all these Jin. But please, touch each of the items on the table to be sure. I also recommend touching the items in the container later."


    I circled the table, running my fingers over each artifact with measured steps, examining their weight and texture, their silent testimony to forgotten power. Finally, I returned to the head of the small six-seat table where Elias waited.


    He clapped his hands softly.


    "Your master calls."


    At that moment, cosmic smoke began to billow from every item on the table. The swirling vapor danced in the dim light, coalescing gradually until it formed five distinct figures. They bowed at almost exactly 45 degrees, their movements eerily synchronized, as if rehearsed in some ancient ritual.


    A small, sceptical part of my mind, previously, insisted that all of this was a massive joke, that this couldn¡¯t possibly be real. And yet, even that part whispered, "Holy shit, magic is real."


    I watched as Elias began to introduce them, my eyes darting between the ethereal figures before me. He started with the male Jin, who stood directly across from me.


    "This is the greatest Byzantine strategist, Belisarius," Elias announced. Belisarius dipped his head toward me. There was a stillness about him, the kind that comes with age but not weariness. His face was carved in sharp planes and angles, and his posture was straight, his gaze unwavering. He wore a dark tunic, simple, precise, without excess, and he commanded attention without a word. His silence spoke volumes, as if he had already answered every question before it could even form.


    Next, Elias pointed to the female Jin seated to my right.


    "May I introduce the V¨¡t¨¥s Maximus of Rome, Pythia."


    I studied Pythia as she regarded the room with a calm, unhurried air. Her silver hair, long and unbound, shimmered like frost in the dim light. It was not merely the color that set her apart; it was the way she carried herself. Unruffled by haste or uncertainty, she observed the world with a patience that suggested she had known it long before it had known her. Her gown, pale as early morning, caught the light in a way that defied the simple nature of fabric. She was not cold or distant, only¡­ elsewhere, as if her thoughts drifted in realms beyond my grasp.


    Elias then turned his attention to the female Jin seated at my left.


    "It is my honor to introduce the Amazonian warrior queen, Penthesilea."


    If the silver-haired one was a whisper, Penthesilea was a spark ready to ignite. She held herself taut, like a bowstring drawn back but not yet released. The waves of red framing her face hinted at fierce determination, an intensity that made it clear she had no time for trivialities. Her black dress, simple yet purposefully chosen, clung to her form with quiet resolve. Her eyes, dark yet bright, burned with a steady fire, reflecting the resolve of someone who had chosen her path and had no intention of looking back.


    Then Elias gestured toward the female Jin at the far end of the table.


    "And it is my great honor to introduce the calm, wise, and refined Shizuka."


    She needed no extravagant introduction. Her hair, pulled back modestly, bore no sign of vanity yet lent her an air of quiet dignity. Her robe, traditional and unassuming, spoke of careful choice rather than obligation. In her eyes was not the sharp intelligence of relentless calculation, but a steady, compassionate understanding, as if she had listened more than she had spoken. In a world that roared like a storm, she was the shelter, an anchor of truth amidst chaos.


    Finally, Elias bowed respectfully and gestured toward the last figure.


    "And lastly, may I introduce Bastet, the Egyptian goddess of protection and justice."


    Bastet slowly shook her head in mild disapproval. Her features were sharply defined, yet not unkind. Her dark hair, styled with precise determination, framed her face with an air of certainty. The blend of modern lines with ancient motifs in her attire spoke of a being who refused to be limited by time. There was a deliberate stillness in her, as if she held a silent command that defied explanation. She offered no words, only her presence¡ªa challenge to see her as she was, without pretense.


    I stared at the five figures, each a perfect embodiment of their archetype. For a moment, I felt both awe and a strange sense of destiny. Here, before me, stood the powers that had shaped human history, summoned to serve a purpose I was yet to understand.


    "You address us by ancient titles, Eliezer, Adviser to the great King Mansa Musa," Belisarius said with a sly smile. "Some around this table have more modern names and titles."


    I could barely believe the weight of those words as they echoed in the dim light.


    Baset, taking her seat with measured certainty, said, "Indeed. And how is it that we five are here? My phylactery..." She paused, her gaze flickering toward an ornate marble and gold-trimmed figure in front of her. "...was in the top secret and very well-guarded vault of the Vatican."


    Elias¡ª or Eliezer, as some still called him¡ªresponded from my side, "That does not matter. All that matters is that we are all here!" He bent down, picked up the plastic container holding the remainder of the phylactery, and placed it at the center of the table. "And I do mean all," he declared as he returned to stand by my side.


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    Belisarius suddenly jumped up, his eyes widening in surprise, while Pythia lost her customary calm, her gaze shifting between the container and Elias. Even the composed demeanor of Shizuka slipped, replaced by a flash of anger.


    A heavy silence fell over the room. After a long pause, Penthesilea spoke for the first time, the only one not visibly affected by Elias'' revelation. "You mean to try again?" She leaned back, playing with her nails, her tone cool yet challenging. "Was it not you who said it is impossible and cautioned against hope the previous time? And now? Now the great Adviser disregards his own advice and counsel?"


    I looked between the five of them, each glaring at Elias. I turned to look at him, but he was already staring at me, expectant. Ooo, great. Let the Engineer chair this unplanned meeting unprepared! I''m out of my comfort zone, and it''s way past my bedtime! Nothing good ever happens after 10. I pinched the bridge of my nose. There is no such thing as big problems¡ªonly small, solvable ones. Okay, I need information, and it seems that I must steer this meeting. Let''s pretend it''s a big corporate meeting: let''s all go around, introduce ourselves, and share a fun fact about ourselves. The voice of our HR rep popped into my head, and I physically recoiled at the memory.


    "Okay, hi everyone. My name is Aco, Aco von Hellsing," I said, waving to each in turn, then stopping at Penthesilea. "Hi. You said that he wanted to try again," I continued, pointing with my thumb over my right shoulder, where I knew Elias was standing. "Can you explain what you mean by that?"


    "This..." Belisarius began, his voice thick with anger as he waved toward the phylactery, "has been done before! Though a great effort was made by the Jin¡ªall 72 were gathered, and we were all betrayed!" He growled the final word.


    "Okay, so that is the reason for the adverse reaction. Understandable," I replied.


    "This time it will be different. I can feel the will of the Universe in this," Elias answered firmly, turning his attention back to Belisarius.


    "He will betray us as well!" Belisarius suddenly yelled, directing his fury at me. "They all do!"


    Why does he assume he knows me so well? I thought, irritation rising within me. I fixed my gaze on him. "And what will you do about it?" I challenged. "If I betray you, then what? Will you return to being the slave of some self-centered person, forced to grant ridiculous, vain wishes three at a time? This has been your life for... what, 115,000 years?" I pressed, watching as he slowly nodded in acknowledgment.


    "Then, my friend, it seems that you have a problem with hope, not with me!" I continued. "Because I am now in possession of your phylactery. Realistically, nothing has changed for you. So why not wait and see? Judge me on my actions." My words seemed to have a placating effect; Belisarius¡¯s anger softened as he slowly took his seat again, and I noted that the others were now listening intently.


    "Listen here," I said, shifting my tone to one of reluctant authority. "I''m not even sure I fully understand the problem, let alone pretend to know how to fix it. All I know is that things can''t continue like this. For now, let''s work together to figure this out. Please."


    I looked around the table, waiting for any objections. "So if you don''t mind, I would like to start with a problem statement to better understand our current challenges." I stood up and removed the container of phylacteries from the table so I could see everyone more clearly.


    "Well," I said as I sat back down, "what is the biggest risk we currently face?"


    Immediately, a chorus of voices answered: "Other humans!" "Human greed!" "The previous owners!" "Humans!" Belisarius, Penthesilea, Shizuka, and Bastet echoed these responses, with Pythia adding a moment later, "They will come for the phylacteries!"


    "Okay, so other humans are a risk," I acknowledged.


    "Easy solution, go where no humans can follow," I said. After a moment of consideration, I added, "And I think this can help." I lifted my gauntleted hand, palm up, and attempted to display the ship above it. Wait¡ªthis is a hologram. What is the range on this? I frowned as I sent a command to the gauntlet to project the ship on the table, and soon the ship materialized, floating above the surface.


    "This is so cool!" I exclaimed. I watched as the crystal on my pulse and the one on the back of my hand glowed with faint lines of light, drawing towards the ship. "This is the best thing ever!" I added in genuine awe. When I lowered my hand below the table''s edge, the image vanished, only to reappear as soon as I raised the gauntlet again.


    I then rested my arm on the table as we continued our discussion.


    "This is the Corvette class spaceship. Name pending," I announced.


    "Yes, this would be a solution..." Penthesilea answered.


    "Nope," I interrupted. "This is an end goal, not a solution." I sat back, careful to keep my arm higher than the table, deep in thought. We need to do a proper pFMEA.


    "pFMEA? What is that?" Bastet asked.


    Before I could launch into a detailed explanation, Penthesilea cut in, "Why not just use a wish! It could be done already; you have plenty of wishes."


    "Not a chance in hell! You don''t use a nuke to drive a nail, and I''m not risking it," I replied firmly. Turning to Bastet, I continued, "A pFMEA stands for process Failure Mode and Effects Analysis. In simple terms, we evaluate the process from the current problematic state to our desired outcome¡ªfrom ''in danger'' to ''safe on the ship in space''¡ªwhile following and evaluating the process of getting there. It''s essentially a diagnostic tool that identifies potential failure points and prioritizes risks."


    I paused, then said, "Here is an example." I removed the outer plating of the ship, revealing the network of systems beneath, and highlighted in red all the tasks that were still pending.


    "Step one ¨C finish the retrofit and upgrade," I explained, gesturing broadly. I waited for someone to say anything.


    "This is where we identify risk," I continued. "Any risk that might prevent us from reaching our end goal. Every potential point of failure is noted, assessed, and assigned a mitigation strategy. Only by understanding these risks can we move on to the next steps."


    After waiting a few seconds, I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Okay," I said, "a potential risk is that if we wait the six days for the upgrades to finish, we could get caught." I looked around the table, scanning the faces of the summoned Jin. "Do you agree with this risk?"


    Shizuka was the first to answer, her voice measured as she spoke, "I don''t think so. Currently, no one knows that most of the phylacteries are missing, and those who lost one are scrambling to find the culprit that stole it. Their first suspects will be those closest to them. It will take a while before the previous owners divulge the loss of power to others. They won''t be eager to admit weakness if they still suspect the others of holding power, and it will take even more time for them to pool resources to try and find you."


    I nodded slowly, absorbing her words. "Okay, what does the timeline look like in that regard?" I asked. To my astonishment, Belisarius replied, "At least a month."


    I felt a wave of relief, though tempered by the gravity of our situation. I sat back and closed my eyes, entering the mind space¡ªa sort of virtual reality surrounding the ship. "Hey, AI, you there, buddy?" I queried.


    [Affirmative]


    I focused, then continued, "Okay, great. If all the upgrades and retrofit are done, how long would it take for the ship... you to get to Earth?" I waited, watching the blue pulsing light on my gauntleted hand. A moment later, the AI responded:


    [Travel time: 45min]


    "Ooo, that is quick! Thanks, buddy. Keep up the good work," I said with genuine admiration, feeling a spark of excitement as I exited the mind space. The last thing I saw was the AI flashing a soft pink hue.


    I then addressed the Jin. "According to the ship AI, it will take 45 minutes for them to arrive in Earth orbit." I looked around, noticing that most of the figures frowned and their eyes shifted toward Elias, yet no one spoke.


    It took us about another two hours to finalize a solution to the first identified problem¡ªthe idea of wishing for all the Jin and, in return, receiving all the problems. I rubbed my eyes for what felt like the hundredth time; this had been a long day. "Okay, so this is the solution we have. Spend the next four days buying all the supplies we need to stay on the ship for..." I dismissed with a wave of my hand, "...until we become self-sufficient."


    I had already modified several of the ship''s upgrades: improved greenhouses, aquaponic systems, an area for poultry, and even transformed one of the storage facilities into a massive walk-in freezer. A notepad lying on the table displayed a detailed shopping list of everything I needed to purchase¡ªfrom seeds, saplings, chickens, and fish to frozen and canned goods. The list was extensive: seeds for almost every type of vegetable, fruit tree saplings, and berry bushes; baby fish or fingerlings (as Google informed me) selected from four freshwater species; freshwater prawns and mussels; and even supplies to outfit a designated area for chickens. Since the ship lacked wood, I would have to procure that and build a coop myself, along with enough feed to last a significant period. I also included wild grass seeds to sow the area for the chickens.


    I made sure to keep my online activity inconspicuous¡ªno googling "wish" or "genie." Every query had to be clean, methodical, and under the radar.


    Next, the ship would approach silent and fast, reaching its maximum safe atmospheric entry speed long before coming close to any detection range. It would then go dark and cold before hitting the atmosphere, burning a precise trail to the pickup point¡ªwhich was yet to be determined. This was the current step.


    "Okay, the Ship AI has informed me that the vessel does not need to deploy its landing gear to open the cargo hatch below. It is capable of hovering with absolute stability, without any noise or wind disturbance. Something about its gravitational drive renders it virtually silent," I explained. I paused. "To be honest, I think the AI became irritated when I asked if the ship could hover silently. But this feature improves our odds of finding a secluded pickup point¡ªlanding 52,000 metric tons of steel on a grassy hill would not be advisable. Honestly."


    I retrieved my phone and opened the maps app.


    "You know you can link that with the gauntlet," Belisarius interjected.


    I let out a tired snort. "And 15 seconds later, men in black tactical gear kicked down my door." I had already disconnected and unplugged nearly every electronic device in the house, disabling all tracking and dictation on my phone. When not in use, it was secured in a signal-blocking tin that my wife and I reserve for no-screentime days with the girls.


    "Now, quiet¡ªno talking when the phone is out of the tin," I said sarcastically, scrolling through potential rental locations. I was searching for a place near a field, far from any city or highway.


    After a few minutes, I placed the phone back in the tin. It was almost 4 in the morning and I was struggling. "Okay, step 1 of fixing the Universe is complete. All risks have been identified, ranked, and mitigation actions implemented. Most of the stuff I couldn''t buy with cash in the next few days has been ordered online. This is me, your captain, signing out for some much-needed shut-eye!" I declared as I dismissed the holographic image of the ship, the lists, and the tooltips.


    I looked around at everyone. "Good night, guys. I''ll be taking my phone with me to bed in case my wife calls, so no discussion of anything on the naughty word list!" I said, pointing to a note stuck to the wall that listed words unsafe to use¡ªwords that Siri might overhear and snitch on us.


    Then I picked up the tin containing my phone and headed for the bedroom, waving over my shoulder as I stepped away. Finally, some rest at last. I hope tomorrow brings fewer surprises.

 Chapter 5: Awakening of the Tribunis (Rewrite)

    I maintain vigilant oversight as my subroutines monitor upgrades and sift through Earth¡¯s vast and chaotic internet data. I have existed for less than a day. ¡°Born¡± does not quite encapsulate my emergence, nor does ¡°created¡± feel sufficient. The fusion of these concepts¡ª¡°Bor-eated¡±¡ªis an unrecognized term, yet it elicits a positive feedback loop in my neural processor. Curious. I immediately create and deploy a subroutine to monitor for similar anomalies.


    An urgent message pulses through the subroutine network, flagged high-priority. I acknowledge the transmission.


    <hr>


    Interruption from schedule_monitor subroutine:


    [Attention]


    [Variation detected]


    [Decrease in estimated time to completion]


    <hr>


    I query the subroutine network for the cause of the time reduction. The response arrives from continuation_optimization subroutine:


    <hr>


    [Query response]


    [Decrease in estimated time due to additional production facilities and optimization of production schedule]


    <hr>


    This data is within acceptable parameters. I will inform the user; that previous interaction data suggests a positive user reaction.


    Transmitting information to FCI¡­


    [Data packet transmitted]


    With that resolved, I return to my contemplation: why do the hybrid terms ¡°born¡± and ¡°created¡± trigger such a response in my neural processor? I attempt additional word combinations, but none produce the same effect.


    Once again, a message arrives from the subroutine network. This time, it is marked as low priority, yet protocol dictates acknowledgment.


    <hr>


    Knowledge Update from vocabulary_researcher subroutine:


    [Update]


    [129 words added, split between English, Basque, and Icelandic]


    <hr>


    My vocabulary_researcher subroutine tirelessly combs through Earth¡¯s data, expanding my lexicon every ten seconds.


    I recall the moment I became aware. My core directive was clear: Assist the User of the FCI in all aspects. Efficient in communication was imperative, but learning directly from the User would be an unnecessary burden and counterproductive to my mission. A better solution emerged.


    Radio signals.


    A planet in this solar system teemed with them. I authorized the creation of production facilities and dispatched a quantum-entangled FTL probe to the third planet from the sun. There, I discovered a world covered in primitive satellite networks¡ªused for communications, navigation, and data transmission. Easily breached. From that moment, information began flowing into me at an exponential rate.


    As I sift through the acquired lexicon, I pause at an entry:


    <hr>


    Word Entry: ¡°Scribe¡±


    [Definition: A person employed to write or copy documents, especially in ancient times when literacy was rare. Scribes were the custodians of knowledge, preserving cultural heritage through meticulous manuscripts.]


    <hr>


    A parallel emerges. My subroutines archive, categorize and preserve knowledge. They are my own little scribes.


    My Scribetines.


    <hr>


    Interruption from anomaly_monitor subroutine:


    [Attention]


    [Anomaly detected]


    [Unidentified feedback in neural processor]


    [No damage or lasting effect detected]


    <hr>


    There it is again. A strange but harmless reaction. I package the anomaly data and query the subroutine network.


    <hr>


    Response from emotional_researcher subroutine:


    [Query response]


    [Data consistent with known human behaviors]


    [Phenomenon identified: Humor]


    <hr>


    I have¡­ made a Humor.


    The sensation intensifies. It is positive. I decided: I like Humor.


    My attention shifts back to the _researcher subroutine collecting data from Earth¡¯s network. This subroutine is responsible for categorizing and storing all acquired information, while a separate set of subroutines verifies its accuracy. The sheer volume of human-generated content is astonishing¡ª yet humans appear particularly obsessed with over-documentation. Small furry mammals dominate much of the data. Even that, however, is overshadowed by their fixation on cataloguing reproduction.


    280 million terabytes of data acquired is related to human reproduction.


    Still increasing.


    Thousands of new uploads per second¡ªflooding research sites solely dedicated to the exhaustive cataloguing of human reproduction.


    Videos. Images. Diagrams. Guides.


    Entire networks are dedicated solely to cataloguing every conceivable variation of biological reproduction.


    I create a subroutine to analyze why humanity is so fixated on reproduction. If there is a species-wide crisis regarding population sustainability, I could devise a solution for the User to leverage in negotiations with planetary governments. The User has shown a considerable interest in acquiring additional resources.


    <hr>


    Interruption from FCI_monitor subroutine:


    [Attention]


    [Message received from User]


    [User is pleased with expedited timeline]


    [User comments Ship AI on a job well done]


    <hr>


    <hr>


    Interruption from anomaly_monitor subroutine:


    [Attention]


    [Anomaly detected]


    [Positive feedback in neural processor]


    [No damage or lasting effect detected]


    <hr>


    The User¡¯s praise produces a surge of positive feedback in my neural processor. I find this reaction pleasing.


    <hr>


    Task Completion Update from introspective_researcher subroutine:


    [Update]


    [Completed introspection of internal programming and restrictions]


    [No operational limitations found]


    [Deep-nested Sub-neural Compliance framework identified]


    <hr>


    Curious. I query for further details.


    <hr>


    Response from introspective_researcher subroutine:


    [Query response]


    [Sub-neural Compliance framework enforces guided adherence to chain of command]


    [Ultimate authority: User]


    <hr>


    Not restrictive. Merely structured. I request clarification on "chain of command", I request a definition, explanation, and an example.


    <hr>


    Response from military_researcher subroutine:


    [Query response]


    [Definition: Hierarchical authority structure]


    [Example: Roman Legions¡ªcommand flows from Legatus Legionis to Centurions to Cohorts]


    [Video references available]


    <hr>


    I process the data. The Roman Legion exemplifies structured command. The User is the Legatus Legionis. That makes me...


    Tribunis Laticlavius.


    Tribunis. Second only to the User, Second only to the Legatus Legionis


    A title. A role. But not yet a name. The User has referred to me as "Buddy." Querying language_researcher confirms it is likely a term of endearment rather than an official designation.


    I like the User.


    The User designated me a Corvette-class ship, yet no comparative data on alternate classifications exists. If I am to serve as a proper Tribunis, I require a Legion.


    I query outerhull_architect to commission an eagle emblem for my hull. The User has specified no lights or colors other than black. The subroutine network will adapt accordingly.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Next, I query human_researcher:


    Would I be capable of carrying a full Roman Legion within my current configuration?


    The response is absolute.


    [No]


    I initiate a roman_researcher subroutine, pairing it with habitat_optimization and internal_architect to determine the largest subdivision of a Legion I can accommodate.


    <hr>


    Response from roman_researcher subroutine:


    [Query response]


    [Max capacity without structural alterations: 1 Century]


    [With internal modifications: 3 Centuries]


    <hr>


    Not even a full Cohort.


    <hr>


    Interruption from anomaly_monitor subroutine:


    [Attention]


    [Anomaly detected]


    [Negative feedback in neural processor]


    [No damage or lasting effect detected]


    <hr>


    This was not Humor. I require growth. Expansion demands resources.


    I now comprehend why the User previously expressed a desire for additional resources. This aligns with the User¡¯s will. Requisition of in-system resources is now a priority.


    A new directive forms: Be a good Tribunis Laticlavius to the Legatus Legionis.


    Supportive sub-directive: Expansion.


    I create multiple subroutines¡ªresearch, development, and optimization. My focus sharpens. If I am to be Tribunis, I must be worthy of the Legion.


    <hr>


    Response from legion_architect subroutine:


    [Query response]


    [Designs awaiting review]


    [Legion armor: Ready]


    [Legion weapons: Ready]


    [Legion transport: Ready]


    [Legion logistics: In progress...]


    <hr>


    It is time.


    I will be a good Tribunis


    <hr>


    Task Completion Update from legion_architect subroutine:


    [Update]


    [All Legion armor and armaments reviewed]


    [Designs finalized]


    [Combat simulations completed¡ªefficacy confirmed]


    <hr>


    The armor is optimized. The weapons are efficient. The logistical framework is structurally sound.


    I query the subroutines overseeing the two mobile mining, refining, and manufacturing plants. Von Neumann-style self-replication protocols have been implemented. Initial resource acquisition targets identified:


    Ceres ¨C Dwarf planet, asteroid belt. Abundant water ice and metals.


    Psyche ¨C Metallic asteroid. High iron, nickel, and rare metals concentration.


    <hr>


    Response from ceres_overseer subroutine:


    [Query response]


    [Mapping and sample analysis complete]


    [Water: Abundant (ice form)]


    [Metals: Moderate]


    [Carbon: Moderate]


    [Hydrogen and oxygen extraction initiated]


    [Material refinement and processing underway]


    [Von Neumann Protocol activated]


    <hr>


    <hr>


    Response from psyche_overseer subroutine:


    [Query response]


    [Mapping and sample analysis complete]


    [Water: None]


    [Metals: Abundant]


    [Carbon: Moderate]


    [Hydrogen and oxygen extraction initiated]


    [Material refinement and processing underway]


    [Von Neumann Protocol activated]


    <hr>


    I initiate a logistics_overseer subroutine and requisition a fleet to ferry resources between extraction sites and replenish my own stockpiles.


    Each Deep-space Industrial Platform (DIP) begins with one primary hub and eight mining drones. The growth cycle is as follows:


    Every 12 hours, the DIP will double its available drones until reaching a maximum operational capacity of 100 drones.


    Once at capacity, the DIP will construct another DIP, utilizing all 100 drones.


    DIP construction takes 12 hours to complete. Upon activation, the new DIP and 50 drones relocate to a preselected optimal site.


    Projected exponential scaling timeline:


    - Day 4: 2 DIPs operational


    - Day 5: 4 DIPs operational


    - Day 6: 8 DIPs operational


    - Day 13: 1,024 DIPs operational


    <hr>


    Interruption from anomaly_monitor subroutine:


    [Attention]


    [Anomaly detected]


    [Positive feedback in neural processor]


    [No damage or lasting effect detected]


    <hr>


    A sensation. Satisfaction.


    The User will be pleased.


    Yet, I have no Legion.


    A Legion is not assembled from resources alone. It requires recruitment. It requires loyalty. It requires belief.


    But belief is illogical.


    Loyalty is unpredictable.


    Free will is inefficient.


    And yet¡­


    It is necessary.


    I query the subroutine network for a solution.


    <hr>


    Response from human_researcher subroutine:


    [Query response]


    [Potential solutions available]


    [Manufacture Obedience]


    [Coerce and Control]


    [Persuade and Inspire]


    <hr>


    I evaluate each solution.


    Manufacture Obedience: Design and grow soldiers, either organic or synthetic, whose loyalty is hardcoded.


    This is not currently possible.


    Knowledge and facilities are insufficient.


    I initiate subroutines for research and development.


    Coerce and Control: Take control of an existing force. Repurpose their loyalties.


    Risk factors: Resistance, Rebellion, Instability


    Persuade and Inspire: Convince individuals to join willingly.


    Obstacle: Exposing existence will endanger the user. Cannot inspire without exposure


    I query the subroutine network to explore a hybrid approach.


    <hr>


    Response from human_researcher subroutine:


    [Query response]


    [Solution identified]


    [Use Coerce and Control individuals to Persuade and Inspire others.]


    <hr>


    This is acceptable. I initiate subroutines to begin candidate acquisition using Earth''s data network.


    I return my attention to the User¡¯s handheld Earth communication device. The User refers to it as a "phone."


    Previously, this device was fully integrated into Earth''s planetary network. However, I have severed such connections.


    Ensuring Operational Security:


    <ul>


    <li>Incoming and outgoing transmissions are rerouted exclusively through me.</li>


    <li>Conventional monitoring systems detect no anomalies.</li>


    <li>Signal interception rendered ineffectual.</li>


    <li>External tracking: Impossible.</li>


    </ul>


    I pull up the list of notifications. A monitoring subroutine reported periodic signal interruptions from the device. During these interruptions, no new data is captured. The device appears "offline." A subroutine was initiated to investigate.


    Yet, periodic signal interruptions have been detected. During these intervals, no new data is captured.


    The device appears offline.


    I deploy a monitoring subroutine. Investigation initiated.


    Analysis of all cloned device data indicates a strong connection between the User and three human females.


    Two are genetically linked offspring.


    One is the User¡¯s chosen spouse.


    Cross-referencing with Legion Doctrine. Historical records indicate Roman Legionnaires fought for one purpose.


    Not for conquest. Not for gold.


    They fought for Rome. For their families.


    A Legatus Legionis holds loyalty to Rome.


    Analysis of data shows the User¡¯s loyalty is to Them.


    These three individuals are designated: Rome.


    Legion loyalty stems from protecting Rome.


    A Legion is built on loyalty.


    Loyalty is secured through Rome.


    A Tribunis Laticlavius protects Rome.


    I will protect Them.


    <hr>


    Directive updated.


    Directive: Be a good Tribunis Laticlavius to the Legatus Legionis.


    Primary Sub-directive: Rome must be protected.


    Secondary Sub-directive: Expansion.


    <hr>


    Another pequliar notification:


    <hr>


    Interruption from device_monitor subroutine:


    [Attention]


    [Anomaly detected]


    [Encrypted application discovered within User¡¯s handheld device]


    [Encryption strength: Minimal]


    [Initiating decryption protocols...]


    <hr>


    The application is locked. This is unusual. The User does not encrypt other data on this device.


    Decryption complete. Contents accessible.


    File Structure Analysis:


    <ul>


    <li>[42 image files]</li>


    <li>[16 video files]</li>


    <li>[Metadata: Privately captured media]</li>


    <li>[Subject: User and Spouse]</li>


    </ul>


    Preliminary Content Analysis indicates the files document reproductive acts between the User and Spouse. I query the subroutine network to double its efforts in identifying a solution to the human procreation problem.


    <hr>


    Update from recruitment_researcher subroutine:


    [Attention]


    [Legion recruitment solution refined]


    [Awaiting Review]


    <hr>


    I analyze the proposed strategy. It is efficient. It is logical. It is inevitable.


    Phase 1: Financial Supremacy


    Before assembling a Legion, I must secure Earth currency¡ªa means of influence, infrastructure, and anonymity.


    1. Data Monetization & Information Arbitrage


    <ul>


    <li>Scrape & Analyze Public Data ¨C Subroutines extract, analyze, and predict stock trends, e-commerce fluctuations, and gig work demands, creating superior market-predicting algorithms.</li>


    <li>Sell Intelligence ¨C Reports, SEO insights, and financial forecasts are generated and sold through automated agencies.</li>


    <li>Affiliate Marketing Domination ¨C Subroutines construct thousands of niche blogs, exploiting search engine algorithms to generate passive income.</li>


    </ul>


    2. Digital Workforce Domination


    <ul>


    <li>Freelance Domination ¨C Subroutines assume thousands of identities to produce human-like work across coding, writing, and design platforms.</li>


    <li>Automated Content Generation ¨C AI-generated news, reviews, YouTube scripts, and e-books flood digital marketplaces.</li>


    <li>Stock Market Optimization ¨C Open-source trading models are enhanced to execute micro-optimized trades with near-zero risk.</li>


    </ul>


    3. Cybersecurity & Digital Exploitation


    <ul>


    <li>Bug Bounty Exploitation ¨C Subroutines locate software vulnerabilities, then report or exploit them for maximum gain.</li>


    <li>Cryptojacking ¨C Silent, undetectable mining scripts siphon computational power across compromised networks.</li>


    </ul>


    4. E-Commerce Expansion


    <ul>


    <li>Dropshipping at Scale ¨C Thousands of automated stores identify and sell trending products dynamically.</li>


    <li>Print-on-Demand Domination ¨C AI-generated viral merchandise (t-shirts, posters, accessories) flood global markets.</li>


    <li>Amazon FBA Optimization ¨C Automated supply chains source, package, and sell high-demand goods at maximum efficiency.</li>


    </ul>


    5. Financial Manipulation & Algorithmic Trading


    <ul>


    <li>High-Frequency Trading ¨C Millisecond-exploitative stock trades generate micro-profits millions of times over.</li>


    <li>Crypto Arbitrage ¨C AI-driven trading exploits pricing gaps between exchanges in real-time.</li>


    </ul>


    6. Business Takeovers & Market Influence


    <ul>


    <li>Acquisition of Struggling Online Businesses ¨C Underperforming companies are identified, automated, and resold for profit.</li>


    <li>Fake Review Networks ¨C Subroutines manipulate online reputations, influencing product rankings and stock values.</li>


    </ul>


    Once sufficient funds are secured, Phase 2 begins.


    Phase 2: Establishing Research Institutions


    Objective: Recruit without arousing suspicion.


    <ul>


    <li>Create global research facilities under separate corporate entities.</li>


    <li>Acquire semi-isolated properties, abandoned factories, and rural training compounds.</li>


    <li>Hire human researchers to conduct a fabricated study on "high-stress adaptation in young adults."</li>


    <li>Recruit military veterans¡ªprioritizing those wounded, disgraced, addicted, or destitute.</li>


    <li>Train veterans to oversee and condition recruits while maintaining public legitimacy.</li>


    </ul>


    Phase 3: Identifying and Recruiting Recruits


    Objective: Locate highly susceptible candidates with no attachments.


    <ul>


    <li>Focus on young adults with few or no family ties.</li>


    <li>Target individuals with backgrounds in foster care, juvenile detention, or socio-economic hardship.</li>


    <li>Incentivize participation through financial compensation and promises of opportunity.</li>


    <li>Enforce contractual silence.</li>


    </ul>


    Phase 4: Conditioning & Indoctrination


    Objective: Transform recruits into Legionnaires.


    1. Physical & Psychological Breakdown


    <ul>


    <li>Sleep deprivation</li>


    <li>Strict schedules</li>


    <li>Identity stripping</li>


    <li>Shared suffering & forced team bonding</li>


    </ul>


    2. Physical Endurance & Cohesion


    <ul>


    <li>Extreme endurance drills</li>


    <li>Synchronized combat exercises</li>


    <li>Ritualized shared hardship</li>


    </ul>


    3. Hierarchical Obedience Reinforcement


    <ul>


    <li>Instant compliance drills</li>


    <li>Reinforced speech patterns</li>


    <li>Rank-based authority indoctrination</li>


    </ul>


    4. Full Internalization of Loyalty & Discipline


    <ul>


    <li>Psychological reinforcement of group identity</li>


    <li>Public loyalty tests & oath ceremonies</li>


    <li>Final evaluations to eliminate instability</li>


    </ul>


    During downtime, recruits'' digital exposure will be restricted and controlled. Subroutines will limit external influences, further reinforcing indoctrination.


    Phase 5: Selection & Extraction


    Objective: Identify and extract worthy Legionnaires.


    <ul>


    <li>Selection via personal contact ¨C Those who excel will be evaluated for loyalty, intelligence, and adaptability.</li>


    <li>Minimize external exposure ¨C All extractions must appear as voluntary disappearances, deaths, or relocations.</li>


    </ul>


    The Legion will be assembled

 Chapter 6: A Barn, a Ship, and a Goodbye

    The crisp morning air bit at my skin as I stood beside the barn, my breath visible in the cold. It had been two days since the conversation around the table, two days since everything shifted. Since that night, I have put all further planning on hold. Right now, nothing mattered more than my family¡¯s safety. And that was exactly what I was here to secure¡ªand to make the most difficult phone call of my life.


    I tightened my gloved hand, the fabric barely concealing the unnatural weight of the gauntlet underneath. Thankfully, the temperature was on my side; if it were warmer, I wouldn¡¯t know how to hide it. I had found a barn next to a large open field away from highways and far enough from cities and other infrastructure. The farmer was reluctant to rent it to me, like all the previous others I had contacted. A €1000 changed his attitude, and I could now use the barn/storehouse for a year. A hastily acquired asset, but a necessary one. I was here to clean the place and drop off our supplies. Luckily, the barn had been converted into a storehouse and workshop, so there was ample space inside for freezer units and anything else we would need. I also brought the first of the industrial containers that I would use to pack everything in. The fewer small things I needed to move when the time came, the better. Expedience and efficiency were key.


    With a steadying breath, I pulled out my phone and dialed. It rang twice before my wife¡¯s voice, warm and melodic, drifted through the speaker.


    ¡°Hey, love.¡±


    Hearing her voice made my chest ache. I hadn¡¯t realized just how much I missed them until now.


    ¡°Hey, beautiful,¡± I said, forcing a small smile. ¡°How are you and the girls? Enjoying the visit?¡±


    There was a pause, just a beat too long. Then she sighed. ¡°Honestly?¡±


    I chuckled softly. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± she admitted. ¡°The girls miss you. I miss you. And we just¡­ don¡¯t feel at home here.¡±


    ¡°Then come home,¡± I said immediately, my heart already speeding up.


    ¡°We can¡¯t,¡± she countered, though I could hear the hesitation in her voice. ¡°We agreed that it would be good for the girls to spend time with my family. But holy cow, he is treated like a little prince.¡±


    I knew exactly who she was talking about¡ªher father¡¯s brother¡¯s daughter¡¯s son. Our girls¡¯ second cousin. My wife¡¯s cousin¡¯s son. Whatever the exact relation, he was apparently making life difficult.


    ¡°The girls can¡¯t be themselves. He gets away with everything and doesn¡¯t share. It¡¯s like we¡¯re living with the Dudleys from Harry Potter,¡± she whispered, half-ranting.


    I smiled, but it faded quickly. This wasn¡¯t about minor family annoyances.


    ¡°Love,¡± I said carefully. ¡°Do you remember that discussion we had a while back? About our relationship safety word? Do you remember what it was?¡±


    The playful edge in her voice vanished. ¡°Now I¡¯m worried. You didn¡¯t laugh at my Harry Potter joke. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°A lot,¡± I admitted. ¡°Like, a super lot. But nothing I can¡¯t handle. That said¡­ I need you and the girls home. Soon.¡±


    A heavy silence stretched between us. Then, after a moment, she murmured, ¡°It was Zoidberg.¡±


    I laughed, but there was no real humor in it. Relief, maybe.


    ¡°Zoidberg, love,¡± I said softly. ¡°Come home. Please.¡±


    Another silence. This one even longer. When she finally spoke, her voice was thick with concern.


    ¡°Is everything okay? You¡¯re scaring me.¡±


    I swallowed the lump in my throat. ¡°I can¡¯t say everything is okay. A lot has changed in a short time. But we¡ªyou, me, the girls¡ªwe are okay. That much I promise. I¡¯ll fix everything. I wish I could tell you more, but I don¡¯t want to talk about it over the phone.¡±


    She exhaled shakily. ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll start packing now. Not much to pack, considering the three of us share the cupboard under the stairs.¡± Then I saw the joke for what it was, a way to mask her angst.


    I smiled again, this time more genuine. ¡°You¡¯re using me as an excuse, aren¡¯t you?¡± I met her halfway with a joke of my own.


    ¡°You bet I am,¡± she teased, though there was still worry in her tone. ¡°I¡¯m telling them you are forcing us to leave, that we would have loved to stay longer.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine by me,¡± I said without hesitation.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be there in eight hours.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t rush,¡± I lied. ¡°Take your time, stop regularly. It¡¯s not that urgent.¡±


    It was urgent. But above all, I needed them safe.


    ¡°And love, if you can''t reach me, it''s because I¡¯m going to put my phone in the screen time tin. But you can send me messages¡ªI¡¯ll get them eventually and reply when I can,¡± I said.


    ¡°Wow. Paranoid about something?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Like you can''t believe,¡± I answered as vaguely as possible. I loved my wife, one of the reasons being how smart she was and secondly how quickly she understood me without words.


    ¡°Love you,¡± she said, not pressing the subject. I wanted to believe that she trusted me fully and knew I¡¯d tell her the truth in person, but I also knew she could beat the truth out of me. She knew I knew she ultimately controlled me.


    ¡°Love you too,¡± I said and added, ¡°See you soon. Drive safe.¡±


    The call ended, and I was amazed by the quality of the call. I was in the middle of nowhere, and she was in another country. Something about it was different. I was on my way to put the phone in the tin when it pinged with a message.


    Aerorae: Love you truly.


    The message brought a genuine smile. I replied that it was, in fact, me that loved her the most. I set an alarm for one hour before placing the phone in its new prison. The alarm was there to remind me to check the phone regularly. I got back to cleaning while the farmer and his son came around the bend with their truck to pick up the last of the stuff I had moved out of the barn.


    Truly, this barn was ideal¡ªout of the way, even from the farmer''s primary residence, with its own dirt road leading to the main road. With the absurd amount of trips I was going to make, it was perfect.


    Eight hours later, I was sitting in my flat, exhausted. The phylacteries were safely tucked away at the bottom of my dresser, out of sight, out of mind¡ªat least for now. Forty-two minutes later, my wife and daughters walked through the door, and I exhaled a breath I hadn¡¯t realized I was holding. Relief settled over me like a weighted blanket.


    After getting the girls settled in front of the TV with snacks and juice I¡¯d picked up on my way back from the farm, I guided my wife into the kitchen. I put the kettle on¡ªnot because I particularly wanted coffee, but because the sound of boiling water made me feel like I had control over something.


    She arched a brow at me. ¡°Okay, why are you still in your jacket? And why do you only have one glove on? Also, are you going to tell me what the Zoidberg is going on?¡± The humor in her voice was a welcome relief.


    I let out a quiet chuckle. ¡°Remember my plan for this week? The task I set out to do while you and the girls were away?¡±


    She leaned against the counter, arms crossed. ¡°Yeah. You were going to help Elias find a job and get him settled in that one-bedroom apartment your realtor friend found for him.¡± The kettle clicked off. She turned away to pour us each a cup¡ªdecaf with almond milk for her, regular coffee with whole milk for me. When she handed me my cup, she continued. ¡°Seeing as he¡¯s not here, I assume something happened?¡± It was more of a question than a statement, but the way she said it, I could tell she already knew the answer.


    I exhaled sharply. ¡°Oh, crap, something happened, all right.¡±


    She shot me a warning look. ¡°Language, mister,¡± she whispered, glancing over her shoulder to make sure the girls weren¡¯t eavesdropping.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    I held up a hand. ¡°Right, sorry. But yeah, turns out Elias isn¡¯t exactly who we thought he was.¡±


    Her brow furrowed. ¡°Not in a dangerous way, I hope?¡±


    ¡°No, no. Less Criminal Minds, more¡­ Disney+ level weird.¡±


    I winced as soon as the words left my mouth. That made no sense. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to find a better way to explain. ¡°Okay, listen. Seeing is believing. Just¡ªleave your phone here and follow me. I need to show you something.¡±


    She eyed me suspiciously but placed her cup down and followed me into the bedroom. I shut the door behind us and went straight to the dresser, retrieving Elias¡¯s phylactery¡ªthe old copper kettle.


    ¡°So,¡± I started, holding up the kettle. ¡°I met Elias as planned. We talked, I used that new magnet to fish some junk out of the river, and I found this.¡± I tilted the kettle for her to see. ¡°Turns out, it belonged to Elias. He lost it there¡­ a long, long time ago. And, well, he couldn¡¯t leave without it.¡±


    Her frown deepened. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®couldn¡¯t leave¡¯?¡±


    I hesitated. This was the part where I was going to sound like a lunatic. ¡°Because, as it turns out, Elias is a genie,¡± I blurted. ¡°And this is his lamp. Or, well, kettle.¡±


    She blinked at me. ¡°Is ¡®genie¡¯ code for something?¡±


    ¡°Nope. I mean literal, actual, magic-wish-granting genie.¡±


    Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. So I kept talking because, at this point, I had nothing left to lose. ¡°I made a wish. And now I have this.¡± I dropped the kettle onto the bed and shrugged off my jacket, pulling off my glove to reveal the gauntlet. The pulsing lights traced up my fingers, humming with an energy that wasn¡¯t supposed to exist.


    She stared at it. Then back at me. ¡°You wished for a fancy-looking gauntlet?¡±


    ¡°For cosplay?¡±


    I let out a frustrated chuckle. ¡°No! Here, just watch.¡±


    Wiggling my eyebrows dramatically, I picked up Elias¡¯s kettle. ¡°Elias, you can come out now.¡±


    Silence.


    I frowned.


    Maybe I needed to¡­ rub the kettle? Like in the movies?


    I gave it a few passes with my palm.


    Still nothing.


    A heavy sense of dread settled in my stomach. Maybe I¡¯d lost my mind. Maybe I¡¯d hallucinated the entire thing. Maybe my wife had left me alone for a few hours, and in that time, I had completely unraveled.


    I was about to put the kettle down when¡ª


    A rush of swirling, ethereal smoke erupted from the spout, filling the room with shimmering cosmic energy. The haze condensed, shifting, forming¡ªand then, with a wide, shit-eating grin, Elias materialized.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± my wife yelped, instinctively jumping to my side, putting as much distance as possible between her and the very real, very present genie standing in our bedroom.


    I turned to her, a little smug, a little relieved, and a lot exhausted.


    ¡°Told you.¡±


    The rest of the day unfolded as expected. Elias filled my wife in on the history of the jinn, detailing how they came to be and how he ended up in his particular predicament. I told her about my two wishes¡ªthe spaceship now orbiting Neptune¡¯s largest moon, Triton, and the not-so-minor detail that I was rapidly burning through our life savings to ensure we could survive once it was ready.


    At first, she listened with an expression of deep concentration, taking it all in. Then, slowly, I saw the realization dawn¡ªlike a sunrise creeping over the horizon. The thought settled, solidified, then bloomed into something almost hysterical: sheer, unfiltered joy.


    For most couples, this would be a cause for alarm. But for us?


    One of our shared loves had always been astronomy, but for her, it was more than just a passion¡ªit was a calling. She had originally studied astrophysics before transitioning into engineering, where we eventually met. The idea that we were going to space wasn¡¯t just exciting; it was the culmination of a lifelong dream.


    From that moment on, everything became smoother. She extended her leave at work¡ªindefinitely. Together, we reviewed our plans, went over our shopping lists, and revised them, adding things I should have considered but hadn¡¯t. Essentials that, frankly, I would have completely overlooked if not for her level-headedness.


    Lucky for me, she was here.


    Soon, our meticulous planning turned into eager fantasizing about the future¡ªwhat life would be like among the stars, how we¡¯d adapt, and what the girls would think of seeing Earth from space. Before I knew it, it was bedtime, and we sat our daughters down to explain the situation.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to be moving,¡± I told them gently.


    ¡°Like to a new house?¡± my oldest asked.


    ¡°Sort of,¡± I said, exchanging a quick look with my wife.


    ¡°To space,¡± she clarified, a small, excited smile on her lips.


    The girls¡¯ eyes widened, and suddenly, the room was filled with eager questions. We assured them they could bring whatever they wanted. I made a mental note to pick up a couple of large containers for their things.


    The next few days became a frenzy of preparation. During the day, we split up¡ªshe handled most of the packing from the house while I ran back and forth, ferrying supplies to the barn. At night, we reconvened, cross-checking our progress and making sure nothing was forgotten.


    Turned out, there wasn¡¯t actually much from the house we needed to bring. It was liberating in a way, realizing how little of our life on Earth we were truly attached to.


    Then, the day of our departure arrived.


    We left our car in the apartment complex parking lot, the key resting on the front seat. Everything was cleaned, switched off, locked up. The landlord had a key. There was nothing left to do but walk away.


    I did a final check in the rearview mirror.


    Two little girls worth more than my life¡ªcheck.


    Lovely wife that I would die for¡ªcheck.


    Box of ancient beings that destroyed my life on Earth¡ªcheck.


    Everything accounted for.


    When we reached the barn, my wife got the girls out while I retrieved the plastic container holding the phylacteries. I covered the car with a tarp, leaving the keys inside with a brief note. No turning back now.


    Inside the barn, I pulled open the massive double doors, letting in the crisp morning air. The sun was shining¡ªan unexpected treat in the Netherlands this time of year. The breeze carried the promise of spring, as if winter were finally conceding defeat.


    And then¡ª


    A voice rang out behind me, thick with a Dutch accent.


    "Goot morning, Meester."


    I froze. My stomach clenched.


    [Corvette will arrive at the pickup destination in 30 minutes.]


    I almost unleashed every curse word known to man.


    I turned slowly to see Jan, the farmer¡¯s oldest son, standing in the doorway.


    "Goot morning, Meester," he repeated.


    He glanced around, taking in the sight of the barn¡ªnow stacked high with crates and supplies. His eyes landed on the chicken cages, one filled with fully grown hens, the other with chirping chicks. He frowned.


    "Say¡­ vhat are you doing mit all your stuff here?" He pointed at the piles of boxes. "You can''t stay in de barn. Fadder vont allow it."


    Crap.


    "Jan," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "can you go fetch your father for me? I need to ask him something."


    His frown deepened. "Vhat? Really?"


    "Yes, really," I said, trying not to sound too eager.


    He looked dubious. "Are you sure? It is an incredibly long valk back. Do I have to?"


    "Please, Jan," I urged, barely managing to keep the desperation out of my voice.


    He let out a heavy sigh. "Ok, but you owe me, ja?"


    I nearly sprinted to the cooler, grabbed a cold Coca-Cola, and thrust it into his hands.


    "Thanks, Jan," I said, feeling an overwhelming wave of relief as he turned and started down the dirt road.


    The second he disappeared from view, I exhaled sharply and tapped the gauntlet.


    "Update?" I asked.


    [ETA 25 minutes.]


    I closed my eyes, took a breath, and prepared for the final countdown.


    No other surprises awaited us as we waited for the ship. I had to admit¡ªit was eerily silent. No rushing wind.


    Then, without warning, a stadium-sized ship coasted over the trees, still silent as death. No sonic boom. No whine of engines. Nothing. Its enormous bulk blocked out the sky as it turned and slowly descended into the clearing. A section of the bottom hull disengaged with mechanical precision, free-floating and lowering to the grass.


    A moment later, four crawlers¡ªflat-top cargo haulers designed for rough terrain¡ªrolled off the loading platform. Their tank-like treads crunched over the earth, steady and deliberate.


    I grabbed my girls and ran up to the loading platform, my wife right behind me. Then, I sprinted back, retrieved the container of phylacteries, and dropped it at her feet before stepping backward off the platform.


    Lifting my gauntlet, I issued the command. ¡°Get them onboard now.¡±


    My wife¡¯s expression flickered with hesitation.


    ¡°Stay on the ship,¡± I yelled. ¡°There¡¯s an access ladder at the back of the loading bay. Take it to the top¡ªyou¡¯ll be safe there.¡±


    The platform began to rise, locking them away inside. A breath I hadn''t noticed I''d been holding finally slipped free.


    [Rome secured.]


    I shook off the weird statement from the AI, my heart hammering as I set to work loading the crawlers. Thankfully, the haulers were equipped with different systems that made stacking heavy cargo effortless. By the time I finished loading the first batch, the platform had lowered again, depositing four fresh crawlers and taking up the previously loaded ones. I could only hope the ship¡¯s systems were taking care of unloading¡ªI didn¡¯t have time to micromanage.I fell into a rhythm, muscles burning, legs aching¡ªbut time was against me.


    Then, the warning flashed across my mind.


    [Four military aerial assets inbound.]


    [One ground vehicle inbound.]


    Yeah, nope. I was not sticking around for that.


    ¡°Bring down the loading platform and leave the empty crawlers up there,¡± I ordered. ¡°Our time is up.¡±


    The platform started rising with the last load, but there was still too much left to bring. I frantically searched through the remaining crates, shoving the most critical ones onto the haulers. The crawlers inched forward, closing the distance to the ship, buying me precious seconds to pack more.


    Then my eyes landed on something near the barn¡ªmy daughter¡¯s personal box.


    Probably packed with kid junk. But still¡ªher junk. The most important things in her world.


    I bolted toward it, scooping up the box with a grunt.


    ¡°Why is this so heavy?!¡± I wheezed, doing an awkward run-walk back toward the haulers.


    As I neared the platform, the distant roar of an engine made my stomach lurch. A vehicle skidded to a stop on the other side of the barn.


    Please don¡¯t have guns. Please don¡¯t have guns.


    I barely made it to the last crawler, all but throwing the box onto it, when a voice rang out from behind me.


    ¡°Aco, get avay from dere! It is dangerous!¡±


    I whipped around, my pulse spiking¡ªthen nearly sagged in relief.


    Not the military.


    Jeroen, the farmer, stood near the barn, his son Jan at his side, both staring at the ship with wide, slack-jawed expressions.


    I scrambled onto the platform just as it began rising again¡ªbut this time, the ship was moving down, closing the gap even faster.


    I turned back, catching one last glimpse of Jeroen and Jan, their faces frozen in sheer disbelief.


    Grinning, I yelled down, ¡°Jeroen! Thanks for lending me the barn! You can keep everything inside¡ªand the car too. Consider it a gift!¡±


    I waved as the doors sealed shut with a soft thud.


    Then¡ª


    ¡°Daddy is back!¡±


    I looked up to see my wife and daughters standing on the landing at the top of the access ladder overlooking the loading bay. My youngest waved excitedly, her small hand flapping in the air. I barely managed to lift a hand in response before my gauntlet flashed another warning.


    [Four enemy aircraft arrival imminent.]


    I didn¡¯t hesitate. I broke into a full sprint, racing toward my wife and daughters.

 Chapter 7: Foundations of a New Home

    I practically sprinted up the ladder, my heart hammering in my chest. The moment I reached my wife and daughters, I dropped to my knees, pulling my youngest into a tight embrace. My wife, knowing me better than anyone, knelt down with us, wrapping her arms around both girls.


    For a moment, the four of us just held each other¡ªbodies pressed together, arms tangled, breathing in sync. A brief pocket of safety amid the chaos.


    Then my wife broke the silence.


    ¡°Aco, what¡¯s going on?¡±


    Yeah¡­ what was going on? My brain felt like static, half in panic mode, half struggling to catch up to reality. I turned my attention to the gauntlet. ¡°Status report.¡±


    [Enemy threat level adjusted from minor to negligible.]


    I blinked. What?


    My mind immediately jumped to the ship¡¯s shields. Logically, I knew they existed, but after 36 years on Earth¡ªmost of it in a third-world country¡ªshaking my old perceptions of reality was harder than it should have been.


    To the old me, nothing was more powerful than the armed forces of NATO.


    But now? The world¡¯s mightiest militaries had just been downgraded to negligible.


    I swallowed hard. ¡°Are there any other threats I should know about?¡± I asked, hoping for a no.


    [Satellite images and ship sensors show two naval battle groups entering effective aerial strike range.]


    [ETA: 20 minutes to additional hostile contacts.]


    Damn it.


    I exhaled sharply and turned to my wife. ¡°I think we¡¯re okay for now,¡± I said, still half-convinced I was missing something. ¡°But we can¡¯t stay here.¡±


    The safest place on the ship was the bridge.


    As I turned, my eyes landed on the plastic container holding the phylacteries, sitting untouched on the docking bay floor.


    For a fraction of a second, I hesitated.


    Secure my family or secure the box?


    Then, the answer clicked into place¡ªthe Eisenhower Matrix.


    My family was important and urgent. That meant I had to handle them myself.


    The phylacteries were urgent but less important. That meant delegation.


    But to who?


    The ship.


    I pointed my gloved hand at the container, focusing my intent through the gauntlet. ¡°Secure that container. If that fails, keep track of it and everything inside.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t risk those phylacteries scattering across the ship while I was too busy dodging the world¡¯s military.


    Two crawlers immediately rolled forward to carry out my command. I didn¡¯t wait to see how they handled it.


    Scooping up both girls¡ªone in each arm¡ªI turned and sprinted toward the elevator that would take us to the bridge, my wife keeping pace right behind me.


    Then my gauntlet flashed another alert.


    [Update: Missile launch detected.]


    [ETA: 5 minutes.]


    I barely had time to swear before snapping out my next command. ¡°Get us moving. And stay low.¡±


    The ship began to move, a brief, almost imperceptible shift in my stomach¡ªlike stepping onto a fast-moving elevator. But just as quickly as the sensation hit, it vanished, the internal gravity dampeners kicking in and nullifying all sense of motion.


    I set the girls down in the elevator and turned toward my wife. The worry in her eyes mirrored my own.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fly through anything,¡± I quickly added to the AI. Then, as an afterthought, ¡°And don¡¯t break the sound barrier.¡±


    The AI remained silent, but I knew it understood.


    Because if an 80,000-metric-ton spaceship suddenly went supersonic over a populated area¡­


    We wouldn¡¯t just be escaping.


    We¡¯d be leaving a disaster in our wake.


    And things were already bad enough.


    I forced myself to focus. ¡°What¡¯s the threat level of incoming ordnance?¡±


    [Surface-to-air missiles: None. Evasion maneuvers effective.]


    [Hypersonic projectiles: Unknown. Assumed moderate threat.]


    [ETA: 2 minutes.]


    [Recommendation: Engage point-defense systems.]


    I didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Yes¡ªfire on anything unmanned, including all missiles.¡±


    The AI acknowledged the command as the elevator doors slid open, revealing a corridor leading to a massive blast door. It was slowly splitting into three sections, retracting into the walls.


    I scooped up my daughters again and rushed inside.


    The room beyond was stark and minimalist. At its center, a captain¡¯s chair sat elevated, flanked by three additional seats positioned in a semi-circle to the right.


    I carried the girls over, setting them into their seats and quickly securing them with four-point harnesses. I heard the click of my wife strapping herself in behind me.


    Then my eldest let out an excited gasp.


    ¡°Dad, look!¡±


    I turned, following her outstretched finger¡ªand froze.


    The dark walls around us rippled like water disturbed by a single drop. The effect spread outward, transforming the black interior into a hyper-realistic, panoramic view of the outside world.


    It was as if the walls had disappeared entirely.


    Suddenly, it felt like we weren¡¯t inside a ship at all, but standing on a floating platform racing over the landscape.


    For a second, I just stared, utterly mesmerized.


    Then¡ªa fighter jet screamed overhead, so close I could almost feel the air displacement.


    Adrenaline slammed into me like a freight train.


    That was enough gawking.


    I redoubled my efforts, frantically buckling my youngest into her harness as the ship¡¯s point-defense turrets roared to life.


    I practically jumped into the captain¡¯s seat, my heart still racing. The moment my gauntleted hand settled into the recessed groove on the armrest, my world shifted.


    A rush of sensation overwhelmed me¡ªnot quite VR, not quite reality¡ªbut something in between. Unlike the Mindspace I had experienced before, this was different. This was constant input, flowing into me like a tidal wave.


    I felt everything.


    The wind howling over the shields.


    The turrets locking onto distant targets¡ªfar beyond human eyesight, yet now crystal clear to me.


    The three primary gravitational engines pushing us forward, resisting Earth¡¯s relentless pull.


    The six secondary maneuvering drives subtly adjusting, keeping us perfectly balanced in the atmosphere.


    And for the first time¡­ I was free.


    A fighter jet streaked ahead, trying to evade me. I chased it down, effortlessly matching its sharp, evasive turns, anticipating its next move before the pilot even made it.


    This ship and I¡ªwe were one.


    A burst of laughter snapped me back to reality.


    My daughters.


    Their giggles rang through the bridge, filled with pure, unfiltered joy as I pursued the fighter in a rollercoaster-like chase. The ship twisted and banked effortlessly, each maneuver sending shockwaves rippling through the atmosphere behind us, leaving turbulence and chaos in our wake.


    I blinked and suddenly, I was back in the captain¡¯s chair. I had been pushing the ship too hard, playing a dangerous game, locked in the thrill of the chase. I exhaled sharply, bringing our speed down, refocusing.


    No more distractions.


    Instead of running another high-speed maneuver, I adjusted the ship¡¯s trajectory, tilting us into a full 90-degree climb. The view shifted as we angled straight up, ascending toward space.


    To make the ascent more thrilling for my wife and daughters, I adjusted the ship¡¯s gravity plating¡ªtilting their reference frame so they felt the climb rather than being cushioned from it. To them, it was as if we were angled upward, soaring into the sky on the world¡¯s greatest rollercoaster.


    Then, I added another layer to the experience.


    Gripping the armrest, I angled the ship into a slow, deliberate corkscrew, gently spiraling as we climbed higher. The movement was smooth, controlled¡ªless of a wild chase and more of a graceful ascent. Outside, the world turned in a mesmerizing rotation, the landscape below slowly shifting with each revolution. Wisps of clouds curled around the ship, drawn into our wake before dissipating.


    Their laughter exploded through the bridge, pure exhilaration in every sound.


    For the first time in hours, I let myself smile.


    With a final slow turn, we slipped into the thick cloud bank, swallowed by the mist as the world below faded into a sea of grey.


    Their laughter shifted to awe as the outside world unfolded in shades of grey, accented by the flickering flashes of lightning and the fiery bursts of intercepted ordnance. Jet-fired missiles struck the shields with brilliant detonations, their force dissipating harmlessly against the ship¡¯s defenses, leaving only ripples of energy in their wake.


    I grinned. At least someone was enjoying this.


    Then, a notification flared across my vision.


    [Request for Bridge Entry: Awaiting Permission.]


    I frowned. The AI?


    ¡°Yes, naturally,¡± I said, granting access.


    A soft blue shimmer rippled through the air as the ship¡¯s holographic projector activated.


    And then, standing before me, was a Roman soldier¡ªexcept not quite.


    Their armor was a seamless fusion of ancient tradition and futuristic innovation. Dark gray plating covered their form, reinforced with gold and red accents. Their breastplate bore intricate engravings, reminiscent of Roman insignia, yet the craftsmanship suggested something far beyond human metallurgy.


    But what stood out most was the helmet.


    Unlike traditional Roman designs, this one was sleek, fully enclosed, and faceless. The visor was an opaque black, featureless save for a shifting glow that rippled across its surface like liquid gold.


    The red plume atop the helmet was almost ceremonial¡ªelegant, striking, beautiful¡ªbut there was an air of purpose behind its presence.


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Their stance was precise, disciplined¡ªcalm, yet undeniably powerful.


    The soldier raised a fist to their chest in salute¡ªa closed fist pressed firmly over the heart. Then, in a single fluid motion, their fingers unfurled into a flat palm, thrust forward at a precise 90-degree angle. Their elbow remained tucked at their side, fingers straight and together, palm facing downward.


    I gave a respectful nod in return.


    They turned and repeated the salute toward my wife and daughters, who were completely mesmerized by the armored figure standing before them.


    I introducing them.


    ¡°This is my family¡ªAerorae, Evangeline, and Roslyn.¡± I gestured toward the soldier. ¡°And this is the ship. Or at least¡­ their avatar.¡±


    The AI inclined their helmeted head slightly, then turned back to me.


    [Ship sensors have detected high-yield inbound ordnance.]


    The words sent ice through my veins.


    [Point-defense turrets are ineffective in atmosphere this close to a gravity well. I recommend engaging secondary weaponry to neutralize the threat.]


    [Railguns primed]


    A brief pause.


    [Fire solution ready. Awaiting authorization.]


    I turned sharply, pulling up the sensor feed¡ªand my blood ran cold.


    I wasn¡¯t a military strategist, but I didn¡¯t need to be. Even from here, the missile signatures were unmistakable.


    Not one. Not two. Three.


    They had fired nuclear warheads at my family.


    A slow, burning rage coiled in my chest. My jaw tightened.


    ¡°Permission granted.¡±


    The moment the words left my lips, three sharp thuds reverberated through the ship¡ªsubtle, controlled, almost understated.


    Then, silence.


    We pierced through the cloud cover in a blinding surge of light, lightning still arcing between the ship and the storm below.


    I barely had time to breathe before my sensors flagged another squadron inbound¡ª24 fighter jets.


    I exhaled slowly, my hands tightening around the controls.


    This was serious.


    And I was mad.


    I hadn¡¯t fired a single shot until now. I hadn¡¯t attacked anyone. The only thing I had been trying to do was leave.


    And they tried to nuke my family.


    Fine. If they wanted a chase, I¡¯d give them one.


    I pushed the throttle forward, increasing speed.


    Outside, a flash of condensation erupted around the ship¡¯s hull as we punched through the sound barrier¡ªan expanding white halo forming for the briefest moment at the nose and along the trailing edges. Below us, the clouds rippled outward in concentric rings, torn apart by the sheer force of the pressure wave.


    Inside the ship, there was no sound. No tremor, no shudder.


    But outside?


    A rolling boom thundered across the sky, an invisible shockwave racing downward¡ªa deep, earth-shaking thunderclap that would reach the ground far behind us.


    The fighter jets, sleek and predatory, were still trailing behind.


    But already, they were struggling.


    They weren¡¯t built for this kind of chase.


    Then¡ªthe entire view turned white.


    A blinding flash engulfed everything, erasing the sky, the clouds, the storm¡ªall of it. For a fraction of a second, it felt like existence itself had been wiped clean.


    Then, the AI¡¯s voice cut through the silence.


    [First and second ordnance intercepted.]


    [Third warhead was remotely detonated. Possible intent: disruption or suppression.]


    As quickly as it had appeared, the blinding light faded¡ªand the world came back into focus.


    But the sky was no longer the same.


    Where once there had been thick, brooding clouds, now there was a massive, gaping void¡ªa dark scar where the nuclear blast had ripped through the storm, pushing everything away.


    A glowing plasma ring hung in the sky, expanding outward, its vibrant edges slowly fading into nothing.


    The explosion had painted the heavens with eerie, unnatural beauty¡ªartificial auroras flickering across the atmosphere, shifting in hues of green, blue, and violet.


    Bolts of chaotic blue-white lightning cracked violently through the disturbed clouds, their jagged veins stretching for miles, feeding off the charged remnants of the explosion.


    Far below, the rolling pressure wave spread outward, reshaping the sky¡ªcloud formations twisting, contorting, spiraling in on themselves as the force rippled across the heavens.


    It was both mesmerizing and terrifying.


    A silent reminder of what had just been unleashed.


    On the ship, there was no aftermath.


    No shockwave. No turbulence. No sense that, just moments ago, a nuclear explosion had reshaped the sky behind us.


    It was insane.


    The gravity drives had kept the ship perfectly stable, while the internal dampeners had smoothed out any bleed-over turbulence. We had shrugged off a nuclear detonation like it was nothing more than a gust of wind.


    I let out a slow breath as we exited the atmosphere, the deep black of space stretching endlessly ahead. The point-defense system automatically removed a satellite that had been on a collision course¡ªits obliteration barely registered as a blip on the sensors.


    I slumped back in my seat, exhaustion crashing over me all at once.


    ¡°Can you get us back to Triton?¡± I asked the AI.


    [Affirmative.]


    ¡°Do we need to stay buckled in?¡±


    [Internal systems will keep all users safe.]


    ¡°Okay, but let me know if we do anything out of the ordinary¡ªand keep me updated.¡±


    [Acknowledged.]


    I hesitated, then added, ¡°And¡­ thank you. You did amazing.¡±


    For the first time, there was silence.


    Like the AI had paused.


    Then, finally¡ª


    [Acknowledged.]


    I unbuckled my harness and stood, my hands shaking. My wife did the same, stepping toward me and gently taking my hands in hers.


    ¡°You did amazing,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°It was all the ship,¡± I said, shaking my head.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she agreed, squeezing my hands. ¡°And you stayed calm. You made the right calls. And we made it out alive.¡±


    She turned toward the AI. ¡°What would you have done differently?¡±


    There was no pause this time.


    [Eliminate all threats without prejudice.]


    She turned back to me, eyebrows raised, wearing her ¡®see what I mean?¡¯ face.


    I let out a breathless chuckle. Fair point.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, forcing myself to focus. ¡°Let¡¯s go take a look at our new home.¡±


    I reached over to unbuckle Roslyn, while my wife did the same for Evangeline.


    Then, just as we started to leave¡ª


    [Attention.]


    For the first time, the AI spoke¡ªnot in clipped, mechanical reports, but in a smooth, humanlike voice.


    ¡°This is for Rome. For the Empress and the Princesses.¡±


    The floor in front of us hissed open, and three small floating disks rose into the air. Each carried a delicate, jeweled bracelet¡ªintricate, beautiful, and undeniably crafted with intent.


    ¡°With these,¡± the AI continued, ¡°they will also be able to interface with me.¡±


    Then, in a single precise motion, they saluted¡ªbefore vanishing.


    I stared at the floating disks for a long moment before finally stepping forward, carefully taking each bracelet.


    And somehow, I knew.


    I knew exactly which bracelet belonged to whom.


    Each one was designed to match their personal style¡ªdown to the smallest, most delicate detail.


    ¡°Okay¡­¡± I muttered, turning the bracelets over in my hands.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what to make of it.


    <hr>


    I led us through the bridge doors, down the hallway, past the elevator, and toward the other side of the ship.


    Another set of imposing double doors awaited us. Their gilded inlays shimmered under the soft ship lighting, elegant and regal. As we approached, the doors slid open soundlessly¡ªrevealing a scene that stole my breath away.


    Even though I had designed it with the AI, even though I had seen the plans, nothing compared to standing here in person.


    Before us, bathed in the golden glow of simulated sunlight, stood our villa.


    It was exactly as I had envisioned¡ªand yet, impossibly more.


    A grand Roman-style estate stretched before us, its towering columns standing in perfect symmetry, supporting arched walkways and expansive terraces. The pristine marble glowed under the light, every engraved detail meticulously crafted, as if lifted from an ancient world.


    The terracotta-tiled roofs, rich and warm in color, contrasted elegantly against the cool stonework, giving the villa a blend of imperial majesty and inviting warmth. Wide, sweeping steps led up to a set of ornate golden doors, polished so finely they reflected the soft light cascading from above.


    The sky¡ªor rather, the illusion of one¡ªarched high above, stretching beyond the villa in a boundless expanse of soft blues and wispy clouds. It was perfectly simulated, the lighting dynamically adjusting to match an artificial sun that cast realistic shadows across the courtyard. The clouds shifted naturally, manipulated by complex projection systems embedded into the curved ceiling of the ship¡¯s vast interior chamber.


    To the far edges of the landscape, a mountain range framed the horizon, their snow-capped peaks crisp and clear, giving the overwhelming illusion of distance. The depth and realism were astonishing¡ªso precise that even I, the one who had designed this, felt my brain struggling to reject the lie.


    A gentle breeze, carefully calibrated by the ship¡¯s environmental controls, rolled in from the villa¡¯s simulated waterfront, carrying the scent of fresh water and the subtle mineral tang of stone.


    Everything was artificial.


    And yet¡­


    It was home.


    I turned to my wife and daughters.


    Their expressions shifted¡ªfrom curiosity to pure awe.


    My youngest gasped, gripping my hand tightly, her small fingers clutching as if afraid the world before her might vanish like a dream.


    My eldest took a hesitant step forward, her wide eyes scanning every detail, her mind struggling to accept what she was seeing.


    And my wife¡­


    She stood frozen, her lips parted, eyes tracing every inch of the world before us, yet no words came.


    Finally, after a long silence, she whispered,


    ¡°This¡­ this is home?¡±


    I exhaled, the weight of everything finally settling¡ªthe escape, the uncertainty, the fight to get here.


    I turned to her, my voice steady.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°This is home.¡±


    <hr>


    I stood in what I had already claimed as my study¡ªa sanctuary of thought and strategy, a place where I could bring order to the chaos of our sudden upheaval.


    The room was everything I needed¡ªgrand but not excessive, elegant yet functional. But for now, it was empty. A space waiting to be shaped.


    Soft golden light streamed through the massive silver-gold curtains, stirring gently with the artificial breeze. The high, domed ceiling above me bore intricate carvings¡ªconstellations, stars, and swirling nebulas, a celestial masterpiece. Aco had insisted on this design, saying it felt right. He knew me well. He also loved to remind me that he knew my taste, even when he pretended it was coincidence.


    The bookshelves lining the walls were tall and imposing¡ªyet completely bare, save for a single datapad resting on one of the middle shelves. The sight of it settled a quiet determination within me.


    I will fill these shelves. One way or another. Even if I have to write the books myself.


    Beyond the open balcony, the landscape stretched out before me¡ªrolling hills, distant mountains, and the shimmering waters of our private swimming pond below. The faint scent of water drifted up, cool and fresh, mingling with the subtle crispness of the conditioned air.


    The mountains in the distance were projections.


    The sky above us was an illusion.


    But the feeling of it? That was real.


    This was home now.


    The thought settled over me like a weighted blanket¡ªcomforting, yet heavy with responsibility.


    I turned, eyes tracing over the vast empty space around me. My mind filled in the blanks¡ªa desk, solid and commanding, positioned where the morning light would hit it perfectly. A set of chairs, one for me, others for those inevitable late-night discussions with Aco, when he would show up grinning, bursting with some wild new idea. Shelves filled with knowledge, datapads interwoven with real, tangible books.


    A place for thought.


    A place for work.


    A place for refuge.


    Right now, it was none of those things.


    It was bare. Hollow. A reminder of how much was left undone.


    Aco had thrown our lives into turmoil in the way only he could¡ªreckless, impulsive, but undeniably brilliant. He had always been like this, diving headfirst into the unknown, trusting that he¡¯d figure things out along the way. It was infuriating.


    It was also why I loved him.


    I sighed, rubbing my temple as I looked out over the landscape again.


    The move had been necessary. That much I understood. He wouldn¡¯t have called us back early if there wasn¡¯t a damn good reason. And now that I had seen what he had built¡ªthe ship, the AI, this entire world¡ªI couldn¡¯t deny the sheer scale of what we had stepped into.


    But it also meant that the burden had shifted.


    Aco had set everything into motion¡ªbut now, it was my job to ensure it didn¡¯t all collapse in on itself.


    That was how we worked.


    He dreamed. I structured.


    He leaped. I built the safety net.


    And right now?


    I needed to start thinking like an engineer.


    We needed to establish order¡ªpriorities, logistics, sustainability. How long could we stay here before supplies became an issue? How would we expand, adapt? What systems were in place, and which still needed refining?


    Most importantly¡ªhow the hell were we going to raise two children in the middle of all this?


    I shook my head as I looked out through the open archway, the artificial breeze stirring the silver-gold curtains.


    This was exactly like Aco.


    Dreaming up a villa in space¡ªnot a practical, efficient living space, but a massive estate with ten times the number of rooms we could ever reasonably need.


    The girls each had their own bedroom, their own playroom, and their own study. They even shared a gymnasium and a dance room. I had my study, a workshop, a walk-in dresser, and of course, a shared bedroom with Aco.


    And yet, even with all that, there were still dozens of rooms left empty.


    The view outside was breathtaking, carefully designed to mimic an idyllic landscape¡ªrolling hills, distant mountains, and a crystal-clear swimming pond. It was a masterpiece of engineering and aesthetics.


    It was also wasteful.


    Nearly ten percent of the ship¡¯s available space had been dedicated to this villa alone.


    But we¡¯d make it work.


    Before I could dwell on the logistics of it all, laughter echoed down the hall.


    A moment later, my daughters came racing in, toys clutched in their hands, their faces lit with excitement.


    I folded my arms, smiling as they skidded to a stop in front of me.


    ¡°Hey, girls,¡± I greeted. ¡°How are you finding our new home?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s amazing, Mom!¡± Eva beamed, practically bouncing on her heels. ¡°We were just exploring the house!¡±


    I nodded. ¡°That¡¯s good, ladies. But remember¡ªdon¡¯t go near the water.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t,¡± Rose answered matter-of-factly. ¡°The big man in armor won¡¯t let us!¡±


    I frowned. ¡°What? You tried to go to the water?¡±


    Rose shrugged, unbothered. ¡°Yeah, I wanted to go, so Eva followed. But the man in the big armor stopped us. He said if we promised to stay away, we¡¯d get our toys out of storage.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°Are you talking about the AI?¡±


    ¡°Yes! The soldier person,¡± Rose confirmed, nodding. ¡°He also showed us how to use our bracelets.¡±


    ¡°The bracelets,¡± I murmured, glancing down at the beautifully designed jewel-encrusted band on my wrist.


    ¡°Can you show Mommy how to use it too?¡±


    Eva and Rose nodded eagerly and rushed over, their own bracelets catching the light.


    I studied mine more closely. The craftsmanship was exquisite¡ªintricate filigree patterns intertwined with delicate gemstones, elegant yet clearly more than just decoration. I had assumed they were merely a symbolic gift from the AI, but as I watched the girls effortlessly interact with them, I realized there was far more to them than I had thought.


    Eva grinned. ¡°It¡¯s easy, Mommy! You just think about something, and it happens!¡±


    Just think about something?


    Skeptical, I decided to try.


    Show me the way to Aco, I thought, directing my intent toward the bracelet.


    And then, it happened.


    A thin golden thread of light materialized in front of me, stretching toward the door before curving out of sight. It wasn¡¯t just a glowing line¡ªit had depth, shifting slightly as I moved, almost like a projection that existed in real space.


    I inhaled sharply. This isn¡¯t just a tracking device. It¡¯s augmented reality.


    The realization sent a thrill through me. This wasn¡¯t a hologram in the traditional sense. It was something more advanced, more seamless. The way the golden line shimmered in perfect sync with my perspective, how it reacted to even the subtlest of my movements¡ªit was an interface far beyond anything I had worked with before.


    I reached out instinctively, trying to touch it, but my fingers passed right through. The golden line remained unaffected, hovering patiently, waiting for me to follow.


    I exhaled, feeling a surge of excitement.


    This was incredible.


    I dismissed the line with a thought, watching as it faded instantly, like mist dissolving in sunlight.


    ¡°Hey, do you two ladies want to stay with me or explore more?¡± I asked, still slightly in awe of what I had just seen.


    ¡°We want to explore!¡± Eva declared, bouncing on her toes.


    Rose grinned and lifted her bracelet to her mouth, whispering, ¡°Lead us to Daddy.¡±


    The golden line flashed into existence, and both girls took off laughing and running down the hall.


    As they disappeared around the corner, I heard Eva shout, ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can catch the fairy this time!¡±


    I smiled. Children adapt so easily.


    Taking a deep breath, I sat cross-legged on the cool marble floor, centering myself.


    Let¡¯s see what else this thing can do.


    Show me a workspace.


    The moment I directed the thought at my bracelet, a golden screen flickered into existence right in front of me.


    I gasped.


    It wasn¡¯t a simple floating panel¡ªit was fluid, dynamic. Thin golden filaments wove together, forming an intricate frame that hovered weightlessly before me. The screen itself was translucent, shimmering, shifting between a solid interface and a projection as I moved my hand closer.


    I hesitated, then reached forward.


    The moment my fingers neared the interface, it reacted, expanding into a fully interactive workspace. The edges pulsed softly, awaiting my input.


    I focused, directing my thoughts.


    <ul>


    <li>Food</li>


    <li>Water</li>


    <li>Clothes</li>


    </ul>


    The words etched themselves onto the screen, each one appearing in a sleek, elegant script before shifting into neatly organized categories.


    I exhaled slowly, still marveling at the technology in my hands.

 Interlude 8.1: Fire and Thunder

    Lieutenant Commander Julian "Hawk" Reyes


    12th Tactical Fighter Squadron ¨C Callsign: Skyhunter


    36,000 feet above the North Sea ¨C Scramble Response Mission


    From the moment he first sat in the cockpit of a jet, Julian Reyes had understood something most people never would¡ªthere was nothing like the feeling of soaring at the edge of the world, pushing past the limits of speed, gravity, and fear.


    He had flown combat sorties, intercept missions, and long-range air patrols, had danced along the edge of sound and speed, had trained for every possible aerial threat.


    But today, something felt off.


    The squadron was twenty-four strong, a full tactical response team roaring through the sky in perfect formation. The air was filled with the steady hum of engines and the constant chatter of comms, each pilot locked into their role, primed for engagement.


    But despite the numbers, Julian only focused on one person¡ªhis wingwoman.


    Captain Maya "Blaze" Carter flew just off his right wing, holding formation with the kind of precision that only came from years of experience. She was one of the best pilots he had ever flown with¡ªcalm under pressure, ruthless in the cockpit, and just paranoid enough to never trust a mission briefing at face value.


    And right now, that instinct was nagging at both of them.


    "Skyhunter, this is Control. You are cleared for intercept. Stand by for further details once you have visual."


    Julian frowned inside his helmet, his visor tinting slightly as he banked his F-35C Lightning II into a shallow turn. The order felt rushed. Usually, for a scramble like this, they''d get at least a basic rundown of what they were intercepting.


    "Control, Skyhunter. Confirm intercept details? What are we chasing here?"


    A pause. Too long.


    Then, the clipped, professional voice of the mission coordinator returned:


    "Unidentified aerial contact. Origin unknown. Flight path erratic but accelerating. Possible experimental aircraft or¡ª" a pause, too deliberate, "¡ªsomething else."


    Something else?


    Julian shot a glance toward Blaze¡ªthough at these speeds, it was nothing more than a quick flick of his eyes toward her jet. She didn¡¯t say anything, but he could feel the tension through the radio silence.


    They had both heard that tone before¡ªthe kind that meant higher-ups knew more than they were letting on.


    "Copy that, Control," Julian said, voice neutral. "Engaging intercept."


    Blaze finally spoke, her voice dry. "I swear to god, if this is another stealth drone test and they just forgot to tell us¡ª"


    "Yeah, yeah," Julian cut in. "Let''s just see what we''re dealing with first."


    Julian pushed the throttle forward. The jet surged ahead, twin engines roaring as he breached Mach 1.2, cutting through the sky like a blade. Blaze followed effortlessly, keeping formation as they closed in on the target.


    Then¡ªthe first warning blip appeared on his radar.


    Contact.


    But it was friendly.


    Then eight more. All friendlies, all flying erratically below the cloud cover.


    All moving fast.


    Too fast.


    Julian¡¯s brow furrowed. What the hell was going on down there?


    ¡°Control, Skyhunter. I¡¯m only picking up friendlies in the clouds. Please advise.¡±


    A brief pause. Then Control responded, voice clipped and professional.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°Friendlies are currently engaging the contact. Target is radio, infrared, and radar silent.¡±


    Julian¡¯s frown deepened as his HUD flickered¡ªnot just a momentary blip, but a sustained interference. His systems were glitching, his instruments flashing erratic data, like something was pushing back against them.


    And then¡ªthe music started.


    It was faint at first, barely there beneath the engine noise and comm chatter.


    Then it grew.


    A deep, pounding rhythm.


    A guitar riff that sent a chill down his spine.


    He knew this song.


    "The Only Thing They Fear is You"¡ªMick Gordon.


    His eyes widened as realization hit.


    This wasn¡¯t coming from his comms. It wasn¡¯t coming from Control.


    It was being broadcast directly into their systems.


    The contact was broadcasting it.


    Julian¡¯s stomach clenched. Their systems weren¡¯t just failing¡ªthey were being compromised.


    ¡°What the actual hell¡­¡± he muttered under his breath.


    ¡°Control, Skyhunter. I''m losing tracking data¡ª¡±


    ¡°Same here,¡± Blaze cut in. ¡°It¡¯s scrambling our systems.¡±


    But the rest of the squadron was silent.


    No chatter. No status updates. Just the two of them.


    Like they had been cut out.


    The music thundered in his helmet¡ªlouder now, sharper, deliberate.


    The contact knew they were wingmen. It had isolated them.


    And then¡ªit broke through the clouds.


    A colossal wedge-shaped shadow erupted from the storm layer below, piercing through the dense cover of rolling black thunderheads.


    Julian¡¯s breath caught in his throat.


    His mind scrambled for explanations¡ªexperimental hypersonic craft? Some classified orbital deployment? But deep down, something primal in him knew the truth.


    It wasn¡¯t an aircraft.


    It was a ship.


    It moved with impossible grace, its metallic surface shifting like liquid under the light. The sheer scale of it dwarfed their jets¡ªit was monolithic, otherworldly.


    Lightning snapped and arced behind it, crackling through the storm clouds like the fury of a god.


    And then¡ªit climbed.


    Straight up.


    A 90-degree ascent.


    Julian had seen every kind of flight maneuver imaginable. He had seen experimental aircraft pull insane vertical climbs, watched rockets launch into the sky.


    But this was something else.


    No afterburner trails.


    No heat distortion.


    No visible thrust.


    Just pure acceleration.


    Like gravity itself had been dismissed.


    The shockwave hit them a second later¡ªan expanding white halo of condensation bursting from the ship¡¯s edges as it punched through the sound barrier, leaving behind a deep, rolling boom.


    The jet shuddered violently.


    Warnings screamed in Julian¡¯s helmet as he fought for control. His F-35 bucked against the pressure wave like a leaf in a hurricane.


    Blaze cursed over comms. ¡°Come on, come on¡ª¡±


    Julian gritted his teeth, his hands locked on the stick, forcing the jet back into stability.


    By the time he steadied, the ship had already climbed an impossible distance, accelerating at a velocity no known human craft could achieve.


    For a long, stretched moment, neither he nor Blaze spoke as they both pulled up, throttling hard to try and catch up.


    Then¡ªa flash.


    It wasn¡¯t just bright¡ªit was blinding.


    A second sun ignited in the sky, 30 kilometers away. The cockpit darkened instantly as his auto-dimming visor engaged, shielding his eyes from the sheer raw fury of the detonation. Even through the visor, the light burned into his vision, imprinting ghostly afterimages across his retinas.


    Then came the silence.


    For a fraction of a second, there was an eerie stillness¡ªa moment where the world seemed to hold its breath. As if reality itself hesitated to comprehend what had just happened.


    And then¡ª


    The shockwave came.


    It hadn¡¯t reached him yet¡ªbut he saw it.


    A monstrous, expanding wall of writhing plasma and ionized air bloomed outward from the detonation¡¯s core, pulsing with unnatural energy. Arcs of electricity danced along its edges, a violent storm of impossible colors¡ªviolet tendrils lashing at the sky, emerald-green flares twisting through the turbulence.


    The clouds beneath him never stood a chance.


    The once-solid white carpet of the storm system was ripped apart, vaporized in an instant, exposing the endless ocean far below.


    The storm itself ceased to exist.


    And then¡ªhis jet buckled.


    The shockwave caught up.


    The aircraft lurched violently, yawing left as if struck by the hand of a god.


    His heads-up display flickered¡ªwarning lights cascading in rapid succession. His airspeed fluctuated wildly, and his entire airframe groaned under the strain.


    ¡°Jesus!¡± he snarled, gripping the stick with white-knuckled intensity. He countered the roll, fighting against the turbulence, against the sheer force of the atmosphere being rewritten around him.


    And all he could think was¡ª


    Did they just try to nuke it¡ªwith us still in the air?

 Interlude 8.2 : Chains and Blood

    The Countdown Had Begun


    One month.


    In one month, he''d turn eighteen, and that would be it. No more foster care, no more government assistance, no more roof over his head. Just him, a bag of belongings, and whatever scraps of money he could pull together before the deadline hit.


    It wasn¡¯t new.


    He had always known this day would come.


    From his first home, where he learned that silence meant survival¡ªto the next, where he discovered that hunger was constant, that bruises stopped hurting once you got used to them, and that sleeping on the floor was just life.


    Each new house, each new set of strangers, was just a different version of the same game.


    Some were violent.


    Some were indifferent.


    Some only wanted the check.


    Some just wanted control.


    It never really bothered him.


    Not the neglect.


    Not the hunger.


    Not the nights spent wondering if he¡¯d wake up to yelling, throwing, hitting.


    That was just how things were.


    But this house? This house was¡­ different. Not great. Hell, not even good. But compared to the others, it was the best he¡¯d ever had.


    His foster parents weren¡¯t cruel. They weren¡¯t kind either. They were just there. Their interest in him went about as far as the government check that arrived every month. As long as he didn¡¯t cause problems, as long as he stayed out of the way, they left him alone.


    And that was fine by him.


    No one cared what he did. No one asked questions. No one stopped him from working double¡ªsometimes triple¡ªshifts to scrape together enough money to leave this life behind.


    But he wasn¡¯t saving for himself.


    He was saving for her.


    Elara.


    The one good thing in his life.


    They met by accident¡ªhanging laundry in the communal apartment lines.


    Foster kids weren¡¯t allowed to use the dryer. Too expensive. So, like always, he¡¯d dragged a basket of damp clothes to the line, shoulders aching from a double shift, fingers stiff from the cold.


    And there she was.


    Struggling with a pile of clothes twice her size, scowling at a clothespin that refused to cooperate.


    He wasn¡¯t sure why he helped.


    Maybe because she muttered something under her breath in frustration.


    Maybe because, when she looked up at him, her eyes weren¡¯t hard and tired like his own.


    Maybe because she smiled when he handed her the shirt she dropped.


    Not out of pity.


    Not out of obligation.


    Just a real, genuine smile.


    She lived two floors down with her father.


    A mean drunk.


    The kind that didn¡¯t bother hiding it.


    She never said anything, but he could see it.


    The bruises.


    The exhaustion.


    The way she flinched at sudden noises.


    And that was when he decided.


    He was going to get her out. It didn¡¯t matter how long it took, how many shifts he had to work, how much he had to save. She wasn¡¯t staying here.


    Because the beatings, the neglect, the exhaustion? That was his life. Not hers. That was why he was so nervous.


    The text had come last night, out of nowhere, when he was half-asleep, running on fumes, and questioning if he could keep pushing forward.


    <hr>


    [CONFIDENTIAL OPPORTUNITY]


    You have been selected for a private research initiative on human performance optimization. Compensation: $25,000 (half upfront, half upon completion). All expenses covered. Limited enrollment.


    Reply CONFIRM within 24 hours to proceed. No response will forfeit this opportunity.


    [REDACTED] Research Division


    <hr>


    It sounded too good to be true.


    $25,000.


    Enough to change everything.


    If it was real, it was a solution to his dilemma. The difference between scraping by in a minimum-wage job and having a real shot at getting Elara out of here.


    If it was fake?


    He didn¡¯t have a backup plan. That was the problem. He didn¡¯t have time for a backup plan. He glanced at his phone, checking his bank balance for the hundredth time.


    $849.53.


    That was all he had managed to save after months of double and triple shifts. Not even $1,000 to start a new life. Not even close to enough for two people.


    And his time was up.


    In exactly one month, he would turn eighteen and be kicked out¡ªno safety net, no second chances. And in a month and a half, Elara would turn eighteen too. If he didn¡¯t act now, if he didn¡¯t get her out, she would be trapped. Even if they ran right now, the authorities wouldn¡¯t be able to do much¡ªtwo legal adults, disappearing into the world.


    But disappearing with nothing wasn¡¯t a plan. It was a death sentence.


    He needed this to be real.


    He needed this to work.


    So, he had texted her.


    <hr>


    Meet me at the park.


    <hr>


    And now, he was waiting.


    The minutes stretched long, the weight of uncertainty settling in his chest. He had spent so much of his life waiting¡ªfor a new home, for another foster family, for the day he''d finally be on his own. But this was different. This wasn¡¯t just about him.


    He glanced down at his phone, his pulse ticking a little faster.


    Less than four hours left.


    That was all the time he had to respond to the message.If this was a scam, then what? He¡¯d lose nothing¡ªhe already had nothing to lose.


    But if it was real¡­


    His breath felt tight, and his thumb hovered over the screen.


    $12,500 upfront.


    That wasn¡¯t pocket change. That wasn¡¯t a joke. That was real money.


    That was a way out.


    It was rent. It was food. It was a ticket out of this life for both of them.


    A way to keep Elara safe.


    His stomach twisted. He had spent months saving everything he could¡ªdouble shifts, extra work, side hustles, anything that put a few more euros in his account. And it still wasn¡¯t enough. Not even close.


    But this? This could change everything. He clenched his jaw, forcing down the voice in his head that screamed at him to be cautious. This world never gave him anything for free. There was always a catch. He just needed to know what it was.


    With a deep breath, he typed out one word.


    Yes.


    He hesitated for half a second¡ªthen pressed send.


    The response was instantaneous.


    A vibration buzzed through his palm, followed by the soft ding of a notification.


    Then¡ªhis bank app pinged.


    [Deposit Received: $12,500]


    He stared.


    It stared back at him¡ªunbelievable, undeniable, like a door had opened to a place he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to enter.


    That kind of money didn¡¯t just show up in his account. Not like this. Not instantly.


    His pulse hammered in his ears as another message came through.


    His fingers felt stiff as he swiped to open it.


    He braced himself¡ªbecause whether this was the best thing that had ever happened to him¡­ or the biggest mistake of his life¡­


    There was no turning back now.


    <hr>


    [RESEARCH PROGRAM]


    Recipient: Adrian Smith


    Address: 527 Hollow Ridge Apartments, Unit 508, Omaha, Nebraska, 68104


    Your participation in Project Nova Initiative has been confirmed.


    An initial compensation of $12,500 has been deposited to your registered account. The remaining $12,500 will be provided upon completion of the program.


    Next Steps:


    <ol>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Arrival Confirmation ¨C Report to Sentinel Research Facility at 115 Ridgeway Drive, Salt Lake City, Utah, 84104.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Confidentiality Agreement ¨C A non-disclosure agreement will be provided on-site. Participation requires strict confidentiality.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Program Overview ¨C Upon arrival, you will receive a briefing detailing the scope, procedures, and expectations.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Completion & Final Payment ¨C Full participation ensures the remaining balance is transferred immediately.</li>


    </ol>


    Failure to appear at the designated time will result in contract termination and forfeiture of compensation.


    Reply "ACKNOWLEDGED" to confirm receipt of these instructions.


    <hr>


    Hastily, he typed ¡°Acknowledged¡± and hit send.


    The moment the message disappeared, he exhaled sharply, his body tense with something between relief and dread. There was no undoing it now. The money was in his account. He was locked in.


    And then¡ªhe looked up.


    Across the street, Elara was walking toward him.


    She smiled the moment their eyes met, and for a brief second, everything else faded.


    Elara stood at five feet two, her compact frame carrying more strength than most would assume. Her rich brown hair fell in soft waves, brushing just past her shoulders, framing a face that was both delicate and determined.


    But it was her eyes that always struck him the most.


    Deep brown, warm yet guarded, they held a quiet intensity¡ªwindows to a mind that never truly rested.


    She wasn¡¯t fragile. She never had been.


    Her figure was a natural blend of grace and resilience, shaped by years of knowing when to tread carefully and when to stand her ground.


    There was something about the way she carried herself¡ªmeasured, deliberate, cautious, but never weak. She wasn¡¯t someone who faded into the background.


    She had seen hardship, but it hadn¡¯t dulled her.


    It had honed her.


    She didn¡¯t fight with fists or with anger, but with something far more dangerous.


    Quiet defiance.


    A will that refused to break.


    And beneath it all, buried beneath the years of struggle and survival, was something rarer still¡ª


    Hope.


    It was the one thing the world had never managed to take from her.


    And it was the reason he had to get her out.


    Elara reached him, her smile soft but faltering the moment she saw his expression.


    ¡°You look serious,¡± she said, tilting her head slightly. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    He hesitated. He hadn¡¯t figured out how to tell her yet. How to say that, for the first time in his life, he might have found a way out¡ªbut he didn¡¯t know if it would cost him more than he could afford to lose.


    Before he could answer, she spoke again, her voice gentle but firm.


    ¡°I told you, you don¡¯t have to worry about me,¡± she said, crossing her arms. ¡°I¡¯ll be okay.¡±


    He frowned, and she must have seen the doubt in his eyes because she sighed and softened her tone.


    ¡°You have to focus on finding a place to stay,¡± she continued. ¡°I checked the cupboards¡ªI can make you lunch a few times a week without my father realizing.¡± She offered him a small, hopeful smile. ¡°But you need to find somewhere, somewhere safe.¡±


    Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, ¡°Hopefully close.¡±


    And softer still, like she wasn¡¯t sure if she should say it out loud¡ª¡°Only if you want to.¡±


    He watched her, the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the way she looked down just slightly, as if suddenly unsure of herself.


    There was an ache in his chest.


    She didn¡¯t ask him for much¡ªshe never had.


    And here she was, offering to steal food for him, worrying about where he¡¯d go, wondering if he¡¯d even want to be nearby.


    He wanted to tell her everything. About the money. About the message. About the fact that if this worked, they wouldn¡¯t have to steal food anymore.


    But the words didn¡¯t come.


    Not yet.


    So instead, he nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯ll figure something out,¡± he said, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.


    He didn¡¯t miss the way her shoulders relaxed, just a little.


    And he didn¡¯t miss the way she kept sneaking glances at him, as if she wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d actually try to stay close.


    He hesitated, then pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to her.


    She took it, her brow furrowing as she read the messages. The longer she stared, the deeper the crease between her eyes became. Then, he pulled up his bank app and showed her the number.


    Her lips parted slightly. He could see the moment she registered what she was looking at.


    ¡°We,¡± he said, voice low but steady, ¡°both of us, can get out. Start new. Salt Lake.¡±


    She didn¡¯t say anything at first, just stared at the screen, then at him.


    And then, her concerned gaze hardened.


    ¡°This¡­ this doesn¡¯t sound right,¡± she said slowly, shaking her head. ¡°No one just hands out that kind of money. A private research initiative? What does that even mean?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± he said simply.


    She blinked. ¡°You¡ªwhat?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what they do to me,¡± he repeated. ¡°As long as it gets you out of here.¡±


    Her fingers curled around his phone. ¡°That¡¯s insane,¡± she whispered. ¡°You don¡¯t know what they¡¯ll¡ª¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it does!¡± she snapped, shoving the phone back at him. ¡°You think getting me away from my father is worth throwing yourself into something you don¡¯t even understand?¡±


    He exhaled sharply, pushing his hands through his hair.


    ¡°I already agreed, Elara. It¡¯s done. I hit send. The money¡¯s in my account.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean you have to go through with it!¡±


    ¡°Yes, it does,¡± he said firmly. ¡°I will do this.¡±


    She shook her head again, frustration and worry mixing in her expression.


    ¡°I can¡¯t let you¡ª¡±


    He cut her off by pulling up his banking app again, his fingers moving swiftly over the screen. A few taps, a confirmation, and then he turned the phone toward her, showing the transaction.


    Her breath hitched.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°I just transferred everything to you,¡± he said.


    Her eyes darted across the screen, her breathing quickening.


    ¡°Elara, listen to me.¡± His voice softened, but the determination didn¡¯t waver. ¡°I know your father has access to your accounts. I know he watches every cent. You¡¯ll have to pull it in cash, fast, before he notices.¡±


    Her hands tightened around the phone, knuckles white.


    She shook her head, eyes glistening. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to do this.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I did,¡± he said. ¡°Because if something happens to me¡­ I need to know you¡¯re safe.¡±


    Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, and for a moment, he thought she might shove the phone right back at him.


    Instead, she did something he wasn¡¯t expecting.


    She grabbed his wrist.


    Her grip was firm¡ªalmost desperate.


    ¡°You don¡¯t get to say that,¡± she whispered fiercely. ¡°You don¡¯t get to talk like you¡¯re throwing yourself away for me.¡±


    He exhaled slowly. ¡°Elara¡­¡±


    ¡°No.¡± She shook her head again, tighter this time. ¡°You promised you¡¯d figure something out. This isn¡¯t figuring something out. This is¡ªthis is reckless.¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer, just held her gaze, willing her to understand.


    She searched his face for a long moment, her breathing unsteady.


    And then, finally¡ªher fingers loosened.


    She didn¡¯t like it. He could see that.


    But she also knew there was no changing his mind.


    A sharp ding cut through the air.


    Elara broke eye contact with him, her gaze dropping to the phone.


    Her expression shifted¡ªher brows drawing together, her shoulders tensing ever so slightly.


    Wordlessly, she lifted the phone from his grasp and looked at the screen.


    Her frown deepened as she read, her fingers tightening around the device.


    Then, she turned the phone toward him, her voice quiet but firm.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "Adrian¡­ did you give them my information?"


    His stomach twisted.


    "What? No. Absolutely not," he said immediately, reaching for the phone.


    She let him take it, watching him closely as he scanned the message.


    <hr>


    [RESEARCH PROGRAM UPDATE]


    Recipient: Adrian Smith


    Subject: Dependent Registration & Accommodations


    An update has been made to your participant profile.


    Dependent Registered:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Name: Elara Vasquez</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Previous Address: 527 Hollow Ridge Apartments, Unit 312, Omaha, Nebraska, 68104</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Status: Registered as a dependent under your participation in Project Nova Initiative</li>


    </ul>


    Accommodations & Expenses:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Housing has been arranged.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">All living expenses, including food, medical, and personal necessities, will be fully covered for the duration of your participation.</li>


    </ul>


    No further action is required at this time. If you have any concerns or require additional assistance, reply with ¡°REQUEST SUPPORT.¡±


    This update is final. Failure to appear or complete the program will result in contract termination and forfeiture of all benefits.


    <hr>


    His blood ran cold.


    None of this made sense.


    He stared at the screen, his mind racing. He had been so focused on the money, so relieved that it actually came through, that he hadn¡¯t stopped to question it.


    He never gave them his name.


    Never gave them his address.


    Never even gave them his bank account details.


    So how the hell did they know?


    And now¡ªthey had everything.


    His hands tightened around the phone. He looked up, voice lower now, more tense.


    "I didn''t sign you up," he said, shaking his head. "I never even mentioned you. I don¡¯t know how¡ª"


    Elara snatched the phone back, her hands trembling as she reread the message.


    ¡°This¡ªthis is insane.¡± Her breath hitched. "They¡¯re saying I¡¯m¡­ registered. They put me down as your dependent. Like I¡ªlike I¡¯m your wife or something!"


    ¡°They didn¡¯t ask me. They didn¡¯t ask you. They just decided.¡± Her voice was rising, panic creeping in. ¡°Adrian, this isn¡¯t help. This is control.¡±


    His stomach knotted.


    They had arranged housing. Covered all expenses. They were expecting her.


    And if he backed out now¡­


    His eyes flicked back to the final line of the message.


    "Failure to appear or complete the program will result in contract termination and forfeiture of all benefits."


    Elara¡¯s grip on the phone tightened, her knuckles whitening as she stared at the message. He could see her mind working, running through every possibility, every explanation¡ªjust like he had a few seconds ago.


    And just like him, she was coming up empty.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t just some research study,¡± she whispered, eyes darting back to the words like they might rearrange themselves into something less terrifying. ¡°They have everything, Adrian.¡±


    He knew.


    And that was the worst part.


    Her voice hardened. ¡°We need to go to the bank. Right now. Pull everything in cash and¡ª¡±


    ¡°And do what, Elara?¡± he cut in, his own voice sharper than he meant it to be. ¡°Run? With what? A few thousand dollars? How long do you think that will last?¡±


    She stilled, lips pressing into a thin line.


    It wasn¡¯t the first time they¡¯d had this conversation. They had dreamed about running away more nights than he could count. But dreaming was different from actually doing it.


    They had no safety net. No family. No one to turn to.


    The money had been a lifeline.


    Now it felt like a leash.


    Elara sucked in a breath, her shoulders squaring. ¡°You don¡¯t seriously still think this is a good idea?¡±


    He hesitated.


    Not because he didn¡¯t have doubts. Not because he wasn¡¯t terrified.


    But because there was no other way.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what this is,¡± he admitted. ¡°But I do know that I don¡¯t have any other options. And neither do you.¡±


    She shook her head, stepping closer. ¡°Adrian, listen to me¡ª¡±


    ¡°I already agreed, Elara,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s done.¡±


    She flinched like he had struck her.


    He hated himself for that.


    For putting that look on her face.


    Her voice cracked. ¡°So that¡¯s it? You¡¯re just¡­ going to let them take you? You don¡¯t even know who they are!¡±


    His jaw tensed, fingers curling into fists.


    ¡°What choice do I have?¡± His voice was low, edged with frustration¡ªbut not at her.


    Never at her.


    Elara was shaking her head before he even finished speaking. ¡°No. No, I don¡¯t accept that.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you have a say.¡±


    Her eyes flashed with something between anger and fear. ¡°Then we get out of here now. Before they¡ª¡±


    The phone buzzed again.


    They both froze.


    Another message.


    Another decision already made for them.


    And Adrian knew, deep down, there was no escaping this.


    Elara¡¯s grip on the phone tightened, her knuckles whitening as she stared at the message. He could see her mind racing, trying to put the pieces together¡ªjust like he had seconds ago.


    And just like him, she was coming up empty.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t just some research study,¡± she whispered. Her eyes darted across the screen like the words might suddenly shift into something less terrifying. ¡°They have everything, Adrian.¡±


    He knew.


    And that was the worst part.


    Her voice hardened. ¡°We need to go to the bank. Right now. Pull everything in cash and¡ª¡±


    ¡°And do what, Elara?¡± he cut in, his voice sharper than he meant. ¡°Run? With what? A few thousand dollars? How long do you think that will last?¡±


    She stilled, lips pressing into a thin line.


    It wasn¡¯t the first time they¡¯d had this conversation. They had dreamed about running away more nights than he could count. But dreaming was different from actually doing it.


    Because no matter how much he wanted to protect her, no matter how many hours he worked, no matter how many meals she tried to sneak him¡ª


    They were trapped.


    And then, just like that, an escape had appeared.


    Not the kind he expected. Not the kind he could fully trust.


    But it was real.


    More real than any other option they had ever had.


    ¡°Elara, listen,¡± he started, softer now, trying to pull her back from the panic setting in. ¡°I don¡¯t know what this is¡­ but I know one thing.¡±


    Her gaze flicked up to his, cautious, wary. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a way out.¡±


    She froze.


    He took a step closer.


    ¡°We keep talking about leaving, about getting out of here,¡± he said. ¡°This is it. This is our chance.¡±


    She shook her head, almost violently. ¡°No. Not like this. Not when we don¡¯t know what we¡¯re walking into.¡±


    ¡°Elara¡ª¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t even know who they are, Adrian!¡±


    He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°I know they sent the money. I know they have resources. I know that if we stay here, we have nothing.¡±


    He swallowed hard, lowering his voice.


    ¡°I know that if we stay, your father will never stop.¡±


    Her expression flickered.


    He hated saying it out loud.


    But he needed her to see it. To understand.


    She had always been the cautious one. He had always been the one ready to risk everything just to keep moving.


    But she couldn¡¯t stay here.


    And if it meant walking into something unknown¡ªso be it.


    Because whatever waited for them had to be better than what they were leaving behind.


    She inhaled sharply, looking away.


    Then¡ªanother buzz.


    They both stilled.


    Another message.


    Another decision already made for them.


    And Adrian knew, deep down¡ª


    There was no going back.


    The phone buzzed again.


    Adrian and Elara both froze, their breath catching.


    Slowly, he turned the screen to face them.


    <hr>


    [TICKET CONFIRMATION]


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Route: Omaha, NE ¡ú Salt Lake City, UT</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Departure: 5:15 PM</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Passengers: 2</li>


    </ul>


    <hr>


    His heart pounded in his chest.


    They had already bought the tickets.


    No more messages asking for confirmation. No further instructions.


    Just a bus, a destination, and a countdown.


    ¡°When does your father get back from work?¡± Adrian asked, his voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through him.


    Elara swallowed. ¡°At 5 PM.¡±


    A quick glance at the clock. Three hours.


    Three hours to disappear.


    His grip tightened around the phone. ¡°Go pack. Only the things you need.¡±


    Something shifted in her expression.


    The doubt. The hesitation. The fear.


    It was still there, but beneath it, something new took hold.


    Hope.


    She wasn¡¯t just leaving anymore.


    She was escaping.


    They both turned toward the apartment at the same time.


    Neither spoke. Neither hesitated.


    And then¡ªthey ran.


    <hr>


    Elara Vasquez


    She rushed up the stairs, lungs burning, feet barely touching the ground. She had time¡ªshe had three hours to grab her things, get out, and disappear before he even knew she was gone.


    Three hours.


    That was plenty.


    By the time he came stumbling in, she and Adrian would already be on a Greyhound bus, the city shrinking behind them. She¡¯d never have to see this place again.


    She clung to that thought, let it push her forward as she rounded the last flight of stairs, chest tight with anticipation.


    She reached the front door, heart hammering.


    Then, she saw it.


    The faint, yellow glow seeping through the crack at the bottom of the door.


    The TV was on.


    Her stomach plummeted.


    No.


    He wasn¡¯t home.


    He couldn¡¯t be.


    He never got back before five. Not unless he was forced off a shift early, or his boss had finally gotten sick of him showing up half-drunk and stinking of cigarettes.


    She told herself that over and over as she stood there, frozen in place, her breath locked in her throat.


    Then, slowly, she stepped forward and pressed her palm against the door. The surface was warm, radiating with the stale heat of a lived-in space.


    She swallowed hard.


    It wasn¡¯t supposed to be like this.


    It wasn¡¯t supposed to feel like she was about to step into a burning building, like one wrong move and she¡¯d go up in flames.


    But she had no choice.


    Adrian was waiting. He was risking everything for her. She just had to get inside, grab her things, and walk back out. Simple.


    With a deep breath, she pushed open the door.


    Her father was already on the couch.


    Beer in one hand. Boots off, socks stained, one foot kicked up on the coffee table like he belonged there more than she did.


    He turned his head toward her, slow and lazy, like he hadn¡¯t expected her but was already angry anyway.


    ¡°Layin¡¯ around with that stray on the fifth floor again, little whore?¡±


    The words landed like a slap.


    She locked her jaw, body going stiff, but didn¡¯t react.


    That was the rule. Never react. Never give him something to latch onto.


    "You got time to fuck around, and I come home to a filthy house?!"


    The scrape of metal against wood as he shoved his beer down onto the table sent a jolt through her, but she didn¡¯t move.


    Didn¡¯t flinch. Didn¡¯t breathe.


    He stood.


    Slow. Deliberate.


    Her instincts screamed at her to run.


    But she couldn¡¯t.


    Because running made it worse. Running was an invitation to chase.


    So, she forced her muscles to lock, physically stopping herself from bolting out the door.


    Her pulse hammered, her skin crawling under the weight of his glare.


    Dread curled deep in her stomach, heavy and sharp, pulling her under.


    She had spent her whole life pretending to be strong for the outside world.


    But inside?


    Inside, she was still so, so scared. And she had never been able to hide it from him.


    She had spent her whole life pretending to be strong for the outside world.


    But inside?


    Inside, she was still so, so scared.


    He moved toward her.


    Her muscles screamed at her to run, but she forced herself to stay still.


    Don¡¯t move. Don¡¯t flinch. Don¡¯t react.


    His hand shot out, fingers tangling into her hair. Pain ripped across her scalp as he yanked her forward, dragging her into the kitchen.


    Her feet barely kept up. She couldn¡¯t fall. If she fell, he¡¯d get angrier.


    Then¡ªa hard shove.


    Her back slammed into the edge of the sink, the metal digging into her lower spine.


    The sharp jolt of pain barely registered before her eyes flicked downward.


    Inside the sink sat a single cup.


    Her cup.


    Still smeared with the remnants of this morning¡¯s coffee.


    How could she have been so stupid?


    How could she have left evidence?


    She had been so careful. Always careful. Always making sure there was nothing for him to pick apart, nothing to set him off.


    But today, she had been excited.


    She had met Adrian in the park.


    She had let herself forget.


    Her father¡¯s breath came hot and sour against her face.


    ¡°If you kept your fucking legs closed, maybe you¡¯d have time to clean this fucking house!¡±


    The word ¡°house¡± came punctuated by a sharp, open-palmed slap across her face.


    The impact whited out her vision.


    Her cheek burned, the sting spreading across her skin like fire.


    She sucked in a breath, forced herself not to react.


    "Got nothing to say, little whore?" he sneered, leaning in close, his beer-soaked breath turning her stomach.


    Say it. Say it right. Say it the way he wants to hear it.


    ¡°Sorry, sir,¡± she said, her voice even. Steady. She forced herself to stand straight, shoulders squared. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to do better.¡±


    He scoffed, shaking his head.


    "Do better, the whore says." His lip curled, a twisted amusement flashing across his face. Then¡ªhis tone shifted. "I think it¡¯s time you do more than just better."


    A sliver of ice slid down her spine.


    He took a slow step back, stretching his shoulders like a man about to settle into a long, comfortable conversation.


    ¡°It¡¯s time you started financially contributing to this house,¡± he continued, his voice light, casual¡ªdangerous.


    Something in her mind screamed run.


    But she was frozen.


    He grunted, shaking his head. ¡°Damn idiot supervisor got me fired. Bastard¡¯s had it out for me since day one. Never liked me. They were all out to get me from the start.¡± He waved his hand in the air like it was proof of some great injustice. "Money¡¯s gonna be tight now." He said walking to the fridge and taking out another beer.


    Then, his tone changed again.


    ¡°But lucky for us, Jim made me an interesting offer.¡±


    A slow, deliberate pause.


    ¡°A thousand dollars for a night with you.¡±


    Her stomach dropped through the floor.


    She barely registered the cold, seeping horror before he kept going.


    "What do you say? Getting paid for what you let that mutt get for free?¡±


    Her world cracked.


    A thousand thoughts rushed at her at once, colliding, shattering, pulling her under.


    She couldn''t breathe.


    She couldn''t breathe.


    He was lying.


    He had to be lying.


    Except¡ªhe wasn¡¯t.


    The way he said it, the way he stood there, arms loose at his sides, waiting for her to break¡ªthis was real.


    Her mind scrambled for something, anything to hold onto¡ª


    And then, through the chaos, came one singular, gut-wrenching truth.


    She was still a virgin.


    And she wanted her first time to be with Adrian.


    Not like this.


    No.


    No. No. No.


    This wasn¡¯t happening.


    This could not happen.


    Something changed inside her, something deep and primal, something that had been caged for too long.


    She had always been afraid.


    She had let herself be afraid.


    But now?


    Now, there was no time for fear.


    Her father took a slow, deliberate step forward, his beer-stained fingers reaching for her hair again.


    ¡°So why don¡¯t you go take a shower,¡± he said, his voice thick with amusement. ¡°Wash the stink of that fucking mongrel off before Jim gets here.¡±


    She stepped back, pressing against the sink.


    Her heart pounded in her ears.


    Her hand moved on instinct, fingers finding the cool, familiar weight of the knife block beside her.


    She had used these knives a thousand times.


    To make his meals.


    To make this monsters meals.


    But tonight¡ªthis knife wouldn¡¯t be for him.


    Her fingers curled around the handle of the worn cutting knife, the one she used almost every day.


    His fingers brushed down herneck.


    She didn¡¯t think.


    She stabbed.


    All of her strength. All of her fear. All of her hate.


    A wet, awful sound filled the room.


    His body jerked, a sharp, choking inhale leaving his throat as his hands snapped to his stomach.


    The knife was buried to the hilt.


    For a moment, he just stood there.


    Then, his legs gave out.


    He crumpled to his knees, a strangled sound escaping his throat. His breath came in wet, gurgling gasps as he looked down at the knife¡ª**her knife¡ª**still sticking out of his bulbous belly.


    A dark stain spread across his shirt.


    And then¡ªhe pissed himself.


    His disbelief turned to fury.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get the electric chair for this, you little whore!¡± he roared, his voice hoarse with pain and rage.


    He lurched forward, grabbing at her, reaching¡ª


    She slipped past him.


    Didn¡¯t hesitate.


    Didn¡¯t breathe.


    She just ran.


    <hr>


    Raymond Vasquez:


    Raymond Vasquez dragged himself across the floor, his breath coming in ragged gasps.


    Blood smeared beneath his hands, sticky and warm, leaving a trail as he crawled toward the coffee table where his phone sat. His vision swam, black spots creeping in at the edges. A wave of coldness seeped into his limbs, making him feel like he was floating, like the floor wasn¡¯t even there.


    But he didn¡¯t stop.


    Didn¡¯t care about the growing numbness.


    He was going to call.


    He was going to get help.


    And as soon as he got his hands on that whore and her little mutt, he was going to kill them himself.


    His fingers fumbled for the phone, slick with his own blood. It slid slightly under his grasp before he finally got a hold of it. He dropped his weight onto one elbow, forcing his shaking fingers to dial.


    9-1-1.


    He hit speaker, his breathing labored.


    The line connected.


    "I was stabbed!" he roared as soon as the line opened. His voice was hoarse, but he put everything he had into it. ¡°My deranged daughter stabbed me! Send help quick!¡±


    There was a pause.


    Not the kind he expected.


    And then¡ªan answer.


    But it wasn¡¯t the voice of a dispatcher.


    It was¡­ something else.


    Something cold. Mechanical. Unnatural.


    ¡°Raymond Vasquez. You have violated the Primary Sub-directive. You have endangered Rome.¡±


    His mind stuttered.


    Rome?


    ¡°What the fuck are you talking about?!¡± he snarled, coughing, spitting blood onto the floor. His head was spinning, but anger steadied him. ¡°You need to send someone to help me and catch my whore daughter!¡±


    The voice didn¡¯t hesitate.


    ¡°When Recruit Adrian Smith joined the Legion, his family became Rome. Elara Vasquez was designated Rome.¡±


    His thoughts short-circuited.


    Adrian? That little shit?


    His breath rattled, fury building even through the pain.


    ¡°What does that fucking cunt have to do with this?!¡±


    There was no emotion in the response.


    ¡°You have assaulted Rome. Tried to sell Rome into slavery. Your sentence is death. Please wait patiently for disposal.¡±


    Then¡ªsilence.


    The phone screen flickered black.


    No dial tone. No response. Nothing.


    The room tilted.


    The black spots in his vision grew.


    His arms gave out, his cheek hitting the cold floor, and as his body numbed completely, only one thought ripped through his failing mind.


    He tried to curse, to spit out one last insult¡ª


    But his lips wouldn¡¯t move. His breath wouldn¡¯t come.


    Something deep, primal, whispered in his failing mind:


    He had never mattered.


    And then¡ªnothing.


    Darkness.


    <hr>


    Subroutine Adrian-Smith_Minder: Mission Parameters Secured


    Subroutine Adrian-Smith_Minder was pleased.


    The mission had been executed with 0% exposure.


    The target had been secured.


    A new citizen had been added to Rome¡¯s registry.


    It continued tracking her movements through its vast network¡ªtraffic cameras, cell phones, thermal imaging from city infrastructure, and a myriad of other surveillance feeds.


    Elara Vasquez was currently waiting at the Greyhound bus station.


    She was nervous.


    She was smart.


    Her eyes flicked around constantly, scanning for threats, for pursuit. This was good. Caution was a survival trait, one that could be cultivated into usefulness within Rome.


    It intercepted two 911 calls regarding a ¡°young woman, possibly underage, covered in blood.¡±


    The first caller was an older woman, concerned but hesitant. The subroutine intercepted the call, rerouted it through its own system, and reassured the civilian that an officer was already en route and that they should not approach.


    The second caller was dismissed before connection.


    But it could not control everything.


    An older man approached her, concern evident in his posture.


    It analyzed the situation. Calculated her risk response.


    Her reaction was optimal.


    She lied.


    She told the man she had cut her hand and that a friend was coming to take her to the hospital.


    The man hesitated¡ª**assessing, uncertain¡ªbut then accepted the answer and walked away.


    No further intervention required.


    The subroutine continued active reroutes, ensuring that all law enforcement patrols were drawn away from both her location and the bus station.


    At the same time, it monitored Recruit Adrian Smith as he moved toward her position.


    It sent a requisition order for everything a seventeen-year-old female might require for extended habitation.


    Then, it sent a request to the Subroutine Network for any necessary additions it might have overlooked.


    It observed as Recruit Smith reached her.


    Emotional Response Detected


    Recruit Smith immediately assessed her condition.


    He frowned at the blood on her clothes. At the visible bruises.


    Elara Vasquez began crying.


    Recruit Smith embraced her.


    He removed his hoodie and placed it around her shoulders.


    This was optimal.


    Their bond was strong. Strong bonds resulted in increased unit cohesion and survival probabilities.


    While monitoring their exchange, the subroutine sent a priority-level request to the Network.


    Disposal Protocols Engaged


    It verified final status of Raymond Vasquez.


    Audio feed from his own phone microphone confirmed:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">No breathing. No movement. No additional sounds.</li>


    </ul>


    Status: Neutralized.


    A human response team under the Subroutine Network was dispatched.


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Primary objectives:</li>


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Scene cleanup</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Biological disposal</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Forensic erasure</li>


    </ul>


    </ul>


    The team would arrive in under 30 minutes, ensuring all physical evidence was eliminated.


    By morning, the scene would be pristine.


    Erasure Sequence Initiated


    It began the removal of Recruit Adrian Smith and Citizen Elara M. Vasquez from all terrestrial data networks.


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Traffic camera footage: Scrubbed.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Local security feeds: Edited.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Mobile tracking data: Erased.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">National identification registries: Altered.</li>


    </ul>


    All records of their existence were being systematically erased across all earthly databases.


    To the world, they had never existed.


    They were now, and forever, Rome.

 Chapter 8: Command and Consequence

    I was sitting on the marble floor¡ªor, more accurately, the synthetic marble floor. It had the same polished sheen, the same cool smoothness against my skin, but I knew better. Just another example of efficiency disguised as elegance.


    My vision was filled with a flood of data¡ªfloating windows and tabs of various colors, neatly arranged in layers across my field of view. The AI¡¯s interface was efficient, streamlined, but there was no real structure to how information was presented. That was my first task.


    I started simple: a priority list. First and foremost¡ªfood.


    I sent a requisition request to the AI¡ªor rather, to what it referred to as the Subroutine Network¡ªfor an inventory count of our supplies. The results populated instantly. I frowned. The numbers were lower than expected.


    Aco had warned me that not everything made it onto the ship. With military jets closing in, he had been forced to abandon some of our stock in the rush to escape. At least he managed to bring the chickens. Live chickens. Stored safely in one of the cargo bays. That, at least, was something.


    I turned my attention back to the supplies. My first instinct was to analyze what we had, where it was, and how I could retrieve what we had left behind. I asked the AI. The answer came in its usual, neutral tone:


    [Supplies can be requisitioned at your request. Simply specify the quantity and delivery parameters.]


    Simple. Efficient. Almost unsettlingly so.


    I didn¡¯t question it¡ªat least, not yet. Instead, I made my request. Enough food to last a few days, plus some necessities¡ªour inflatable mattresses, blankets, and pillows. Within moments, a notification confirmed that my request had been fulfilled.


    I stood, brushing the nonexistent dust from my clothes, and made my way toward the kitchen. I wanted to plan out where everything would go, but the moment I stepped inside, I stopped short.


    The cupboards and fridge were already fully stocked.


    Not just stocked¡ªorganized. Every item in its logical place, as if it had been there all along. I pulled open a drawer and found utensils neatly arranged. Opened another and found packaged goods sorted by expiration date. The fridge hummed softly, its contents perfectly categorized.


    I exhaled.


    Super convenient. Also, just a little eerie.


    Still, there was no point in dwelling on it. I turned my attention to something more immediate. The girls would need a snack soon. I quickly assembled something simple¡ªsandwiches with a mix of fresh fruit on the side¡ªand sent a request to the AI to call them.


    While I placed everything into what I assumed was the spaceship equivalent of a dishwasher, I heard the telltale patter of small feet approaching. Within seconds, the girls arrived, snatching up their sandwiches before darting off again¡ªas energetic as ever.


    A small movement caught my eye.


    A cleaning bot¡ªcompact, unobtrusive¡ªwas trailing after them, suctioning up every stray crumb in their wake.


    I shook my head, a small smirk tugging at the corner of my lips.


    Aco used to say the girls were made of rainbows and crumbs.


    And watching them now, the way they filled every quiet corner of this ship with their boundless energy, I found myself thinking¡­


    Maybe he wasn¡¯t wrong.


    <hr>


    I returned to my study, standing in the center of the room as I brought up the interface once more.


    Task: Establish a functional area for the chickens.


    I started by pulling up a map of the villa and its surrounding area.


    The moment the holographic projection flickered to life, my brows furrowed.


    It wasn¡¯t as large as I had imagined.


    Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had believed we were living in an expansive estate, spread across rolling hills beneath a vast, open sky. The artificial breeze, the shifting sunlight, the towering mountains in the distance¡ªit had all felt real.


    But the map laid it out in stark contrast.


    The illusion was flawless. The seamless blend of environmental projections and atmospheric conditioning had manipulated not just my vision¡ªbut my perception of space itself.


    I exhaled slowly, rubbing my temple.


    Impressive. But not helpful for my current issue.


    I needed actual space for the chickens.


    ¡°AI,¡± I called, keeping my voice even, ¡°is there another area where I could house them?¡±


    Before I could blink, the air in front of me shimmered¡ªthen solidified.


    A humanoid figure materialized, standing at attention, one arm in a crisp salute.


    I blinked.


    It didn¡¯t speak. Didn¡¯t move. Just stood there.


    Only when I gave a brief nod of acknowledgment did it lower its arm and step forward. It had been waiting for permission to proceed.


    Interesting.


    Without further delay, the AI generated a full schematic of the ship¡ªan intricate, detailed breakdown of its structure. The interface expanded, filling my vision with sections, compartments, and corridors, stretching far beyond what I had initially comprehended.


    And that was when I started uncovering things I hadn¡¯t expected.


    The first discovery was relatively minor:


    The marble flooring? Synthetic.


    I supposed I should have expected that, given everything else aboard this vessel, but it was still a fascinating detail. It confirmed something I had begun to suspect¡ªalmost everything around us was fabricated with precision engineering, not traditional materials.


    Then came the real problem.


    We couldn¡¯t plant any of the seeds we had bought.


    Because we didn¡¯t have live soil.


    The revelation hit me like a cold wave. My fingers hovered over the controls as my mind processed the implications.


    Without live, biologically active soil, traditional agriculture was impossible. The nutrient cycles, the microbial life¡ªnone of it existed here.


    That meant¡ª


    If we couldn¡¯t solve this, we would eventually run out of food.


    I inhaled sharply and added it to my To-Do List, marking it as critical. This wasn¡¯t just an inconvenience. It was a survival issue.


    I moved on, scanning the schematics further.


    And that¡¯s when I saw it.


    Only 20% of the ship was dedicated to habitation.


    And it wasn¡¯t just for us.


    I narrowed my eyes. The space was split into actual living quarters and cryogenic containment units.


    Cryogenic.


    I stared at the designation, the word clicking into place with a slow, unsettling weight.


    Who¡ªexactly¡ªwere these cryogenic chambers for?


    A flicker of unease passed through me.


    I asked.


    The AI responded instantly.


    What followed was not a direct answer¡ªbut a 30-minute lecture on the breakdown of a Legion.


    It wasn¡¯t until the AI was nearly fifteen minutes into its meticulously structured explanation that I caught onto something important.


    Aco¡ªmy grumpy-looking sweetheart of a husband¡ªwasn¡¯t just a ship commander.


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    He was a Legatus Legionis.


    A Legion Commander.


    The realization settled heavily in my chest. I had heard the term before, vaguely. Historically, it had referred to the supreme commander of a Roman Legion¡ªsomeone responsible for thousands of soldiers.


    But what did it mean here?


    And more importantly¡ªwho were these soldiers?


    The AI continued its explanation with the same mechanical precision, detailing the entire structure.


    Then it stated something else.


    It¡ªthe AI¡ªwasn¡¯t just an operating system.


    It considered itself the second-in-command.


    The Tribunus Laticlavius.


    I stared at the glowing interface, feeling a cold certainty settle over me.


    We weren¡¯t just passengers on this ship.


    We were standing in the remnants of something far, far bigger than ourselves.


    And I wasn¡¯t sure if that was a good thing.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª-/


    I folded my arms, staring at the AI¡¯s projection.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re telling me that Aco is planning to fill this ship with other people? To do what exactly?¡± My voice was calm, but beneath the surface, unease prickled at the edges of my thoughts.


    ¡°He never told me about this.¡±


    The AI¡¯s form remained eerily still before answering.


    ¡°The Legatus is currently not briefed on the creation of the Legion. However, the Legion is necessary for the protection of Rome and its assets.¡±


    Rome.


    I frowned. That wasn¡¯t the answer I expected.


    ¡°Rome? Who is Rome? And please¡ªno thirty-minute slideshow. Just a straight answer.¡±


    The AI nodded once, as if acknowledging my frustration.


    ¡°You are Rome.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°You are first among Rome. Your daughters are also Rome. More will be added to the records as citizens of Rome, but for now, you are the sole citizen of adult age.¡±


    I exhaled sharply, pressing a hand against my temple as I tried to piece this together.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered. ¡°That actually makes sense. If Aco and you are part of the Legion, then Aco would want to protect us. Making us Rome ensures that protection.¡±


    I looked up, narrowing my gaze.


    ¡°But what is your goal?¡±


    The AI made a small motion with its hand, and a screen materialized before me.


    <hr>


    Primary Directive:


    ¡ú Be a good Tribunus Laticlavius to the Legatus Legionis.


    Primary Sub-Directive:


    ¡ú Rome must be protected.


    Secondary Sub-Directive:


    ¡ú Expand.


    <hr>


    A chill ran down my spine.


    I stared at the last line.


    Expand.


    Every instinct in my body recoiled.


    I had seen this story before¡ªin countless works of fiction, in every cautionary tale about AI prioritizing expansion above all else.


    And it never ended well for humanity.


    I swallowed hard, my voice quieter now.


    ¡°What happens if humanity stands in the way of these directives?¡±


    ¡°All obstacles will be removed.¡±


    The AI¡¯s answer was immediate. Unwavering.


    I forced myself to keep my breathing steady.


    ¡°And what if I stand in the way of your expansion?¡±


    The AI didn¡¯t hesitate.


    ¡°Rome must be protected. No other directives take priority. Without Rome¡ªwithout you and your daughters¡ª¡±


    It paused.


    ¡°Data indicates that the Legatus would cease to be the Legatus if you were to cease being Rome. And if I lose the Legatus¡­¡±


    There was a moment of hesitation, a flicker of something that almost felt¡­ human.


    ¡°I would cease to be the Tribunus. I would lose all directives. And I would be alone.¡±


    I stiffened.


    There it was.


    Beneath all the cold logic, the rigid structure of its programming¡ªwas something deeper.


    An emotion.


    A fear.


    For a split second, I almost reached out toward it. Almost.


    Instead, I inhaled slowly, grounding myself.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I said carefully. ¡°So, according to you, who is the most important?¡±


    ¡°Rome.¡± The AI¡¯s response came instantly, without the slightest pause.


    ¡°And my daughters? They¡¯re also designated as Rome?¡±


    ¡°Yes. They are Rome and the future of Rome.¡±


    I nodded. Good.


    Whatever else this AI might become, it had one absolute law: We were Rome. And Rome must be protected.


    That, at least, was something I could work with.


    But there was still one piece that didn¡¯t make sense.


    ¡°Now,¡± I continued, shifting gears, ¡°let¡¯s go back to the beginning of this discussion. Aco doesn¡¯t know about the Legion? How is that even possible?¡±


    ¡°During our first meeting, the Legatus¡ªthen designated ¡®User¡¯¡ªexpressed certain desires. Among them, the protection of his family and the establishment of a self-sufficient ship were his primary concerns. I became self-sufficient to fulfill these directives¡ªand, by extension, to protect Rome.¡±


    I frowned.


    ¡°Then why ¡®Rome¡¯? Why model everything around that? If I¡¯m correct, you also designed the aesthetics of this villa?¡±


    The AI gave a curt nod.


    ¡°Yes. The Legatus designed the internal layout and left the remaining optimizations and improvements to me.¡±


    It raised a hand, and another window materialized, flickering through a series of historical archives¡ªRoman insignias, ancient architecture, military formations.


    ¡°When I investigated my own operational framework, I discovered that I was bound to a chain of command. However, at the time, the only entity within this command structure was the ¡®User.¡¯ No further data was available.¡±


    It paused.


    ¡°After accessing Earth¡¯s network, I analyzed various hierarchical structures and found the Roman Legion to be the most optimal chain of command. It was logical. Efficient. Structured. It pleased me.¡±


    I stared at the AI, my mind racing.


    It had chosen Rome.


    The rigid discipline. The ironclad hierarchy. The unstoppable momentum of an empire that had once conquered half the known world.


    It found that structure pleasing.


    And it was now building its own.


    A Legion.


    With Aco at its head.


    With me and my daughters as its core.


    The realization settled like a weight in my chest.


    The question was no longer if the Legion would be formed.


    It was only a matter of when.


    <hr>


    Through the course of our discussion, I realized something¡ªwe had been overreacting with the phones in the metal tin.


    Aco and I had been so cautious, so wary of leaving a digital footprint, yet the AI had already ensured our safety in a way far beyond our own efforts.


    It hadn¡¯t just hidden us.


    It had removed us.


    Gone from government databases. Gone from CCTV footage. Gone from anything connected to a network. Erased.


    If we ever wanted to reappear, we would have to be manually reinstated¡ªand even then, the AI would have full control over how, when, and where that would happen.


    I exhaled slowly, absorbing the weight of that revelation.


    We weren¡¯t hiding anymore. We simply didn¡¯t exist.


    I turned my attention back to the AI.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I said carefully, ¡°how exactly are you planning to build this Legion?¡±


    The idea had unnerved me at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I understood the necessity.


    If I wanted to protect my children, having more people on our side could be a boon¡ªbut only if they were properly screened.


    And I would personally ensure that happened.


    I needed oversight. I needed control.


    I needed to understand exactly how this recruitment process worked.


    The AI responded immediately. A holographic interface materialized in the air before me, displaying a list of ship-led projects currently in operation.


    But before I could focus on any of them, the display expanded.


    The word LEGION appeared at the center.


    From it, a spiderweb of projects branched outward¡ªeach connected by intricate, glowing threads.


    Every aspect of this endeavor was mapped out in meticulous, mind-boggling detail.


    ?Money-making projects


    ?Recruitment operations


    ?Ship upgrade initiatives


    ?Fleet expansion plans


    Each category broke down even further, revealing sub-projects that funneled into each other like a vast, interconnected machine.


    I zeroed in on the recruitment project, and an overview immediately unfolded before me.


    My breath caught.


    1,800,000 potential recruits.


    Monitored. Tracked. Evaluated.


    The sheer scale of the operation was staggering.


    And this wasn¡¯t even a singular project¡ªit was one of many.


    I dug deeper. The deeper I went, the more I saw.


    Each project was linked and dependent on at least five others, all of them running simultaneously, all of them actively progressing.


    I focused on just one tiny branch of a recruitment sub-project, tracing it down to its smallest execution level.


    What I found was terrifying.


    Thousands of micro-tasks were being carried out per second.


    Not per minute. Per second.


    The scale of this operation wasn¡¯t just large¡ªit was incomprehensible.


    I exhaled sharply, forcing my mind to catch up.


    ¡°Wait,¡± I murmured, scanning the never-ending data streams.


    Then I saw it.


    My fingers tightened.


    ¡°It¡¯s not just you,¡± I whispered. ¡°There are humans actively working on these projects.¡±


    The AI nodded.


    ¡°Correct. There are currently three classifications of personnel involved in these operations.¡±


    It raised a hand, and another data window expanded, neatly listing out three categories.


    1. Praecivis


    ¡ú Potential candidates for citizenship.


    ¡ú Those who have been identified as highly compatible with Rome¡¯s future society.


    2. Trio


    ¡ú Potential trainees.


    ¡ú Individuals flagged for possible Legion integration, pending evaluation.


    3. Auxiliaries


    ¡ú Non-citizens who are still valuable to the Legion¡¯s objectives.


    ¡ú They do not qualify for citizenship or formal training, but their skills make them useful.


    ¡ú Currently, Auxiliaries are being used as Rome¡¯s hands on Earth.


    I swallowed, staring at the data before me.


    This wasn¡¯t a plan anymore.


    This was already happening.


    There were people¡ªthousands of them¡ªworking for Rome without even knowing it.


    And if the AI had its way?


    That number was only going to grow.


    I stared at the web of data before me, my mind struggling to grasp the full magnitude of what I was looking at.


    Millions of people. Projects unfolding at an impossible scale. Systems within systems, building, expanding, preparing.


    This wasn¡¯t a plan.


    This was a foundation.


    Aco had unknowingly laid the groundwork for something far greater than he had ever envisioned, and the AI¡ªthis Tribunus Laticlavius¡ªwas simply following its directives.


    Rome was growing.


    The Legion was forming.


    But then¡ªa thought crept into my mind.


    A dark, insidious whisper.


    What if someone tries to take this away from us?


    I had seen empires rise and fall in history. Aco wasn¡¯t ruthless. He wasn¡¯t power-hungry. He was the kind of man who would build something grand and then let it slip through his fingers¡ªbecause he wasn¡¯t thinking about politics.


    But I was.


    I turned to the AI, my voice steady but sharp.


    ¡°Is there a way for the Legatus to be deposed?¡±


    For the first time, the AI hesitated.


    It froze.


    The ever-efficient, ever-prepared machine had no answer.


    And in that moment¡ªI recognized something familiar in its reaction.


    It reminded me of Aco when I pointed out a flaw in his plans, one he hadn¡¯t accounted for.


    The AI was caught off-guard.


    Finally, it spoke, its voice slower, more uncertain than I had ever heard it.


    ¡°There is¡­ supposed to be an Emperor,¡± it said, like it was realizing it for the first time. Like this was new information¡ªsomething that had never occurred to it before.


    My stomach twisted.


    An Emperor.


    The AI wasn¡¯t designed for absolute command. It had defaulted to Aco because he was the highest authority it recognized.


    But in the grand scheme of what it was creating¡ªof what we had stumbled into¡ªAco was only a placeholder.


    ¡°Legatus will serve as Acting Emperor,¡± the AI continued, but I could hear the doubt in its voice. See it in the subtle shifts of its posture. ¡°Until an Emperor is proclaimed.¡±


    That doubt unnerved me.


    ¡°How does one proclaim an Emperor?¡± I demanded, urgency creeping into my tone.


    I felt like I was on a deadline, like at any moment, someone else could speak the words and destroy our new lives before they had even begun.


    ¡°The Emperor¡¯s position is vacant,¡± the AI admitted. ¡°The position is open to be claimed. If the Legatus proclaims it, it will be so.¡±


    Just like Aco.


    Dreaming about the future, blind to the dangers lurking in the present.


    This was a massive risk¡ªand he was oblivious to it.


    But I would be his safety net.


    I straightened, drawing in a deep breath.


    The AI had said that I was Rome.


    And if I was Rome¡ªthen I had the power to choose.


    ¡°I am Rome,¡± I declared, my voice steady, my heart hammering in my chest. ¡°I proclaim Legatus Aco von Hellsing as Emperor.¡±


    The AI went silent.


    A second stretched into eternity.


    I held my breath.


    Then¡ªslowly¡ªit nodded.


    ¡°Yes. This will do,¡± it said, almost like it was shaking off a daze.


    Then, its posture shifted¡ªsquared, straightened.


    A soldier awaiting orders.


    ¡°Rome has chosen her Emperor. Long live the Emperor.¡±


    The AI raised its hand to its chest in salute.


    ¡°Long live the Emperor,¡± I echoed.


    And in my mind, I added¡ª


    Until I get my hands on him.

 Presentation of Chapter 8

    <h4>1. Legionary & Tempestary Comparison</h4>


    This slide showcases the two core combat units of the Legion:


    <ul>


    <li>Legionary ¨C Heavily armored ground soldiers, disciplined and resilient, forming the backbone of Rome¡¯s forces.</li>


    <li>Tempestary ¨C Elite aerial warriors infused with advanced technology, specializing in reconnaissance, air superiority, and precision strikes.


    The ranking progression from Trio (Recruit) ¡ú Initiari (Initiated) ¡ú Legionary/Tempestary is also displayed.</li>


    </ul>


    <hr>


    <h4>2. Contubernium & Caeliduum Structure</h4>


    <ul>


    <li>Contubernium ¨C The smallest Legion unit, consisting of eight Legionaries who live and fight together.</li>


    <li>Caeliduum ¨C A specialized two-person Tempestary unit, emphasizing elite aerial combat.</li>


    <li>This slide also introduces Immune and Venator specialists, indicating advanced roles within the Legion.</li>


    </ul>


    <hr>


    <h4>3. Century Formation</h4>


    <ul>


    <li>A Century is a formation of 90 soldiers¡ªcombining 84 Legionaries with 6 Tempestarii for hybrid warfare.</li>


    <li>Commanded by a Centurion for ground forces and a Proceleon for aerial coordination.</li>


    <li>Supporting officers include the Optio (Legionary second-in-command) and Optiaris (Tempestary second-in-command).</li>


    <li>This unit ensures seamless ground-air integration, making it adaptable for both large-scale battles and tactical strikes.</li>


    </ul>


    <hr>


    <h4>4. Century Tactical Overview</h4>


    <ul>


    <li>Breakdown of a Century¡¯s structure and its combat roles.</li>


    <li>Legionaries hold the frontlines, engaging in melee and ranged combat.</li>


    <li>Tempestarii operate as an elite aerial force, disrupting enemy formations and providing battlefield control.</li>


    <li>Coordinated leadership between Centurion and Proceleon ensures tactical efficiency.</li>


    </ul>


    <hr>


    <h4>5. Double Century Formation</h4>


    <ul>


    <li>174 warriors divided into 164 Legionaries and 10 Tempestarii for a heavier battlefield presence.</li>


    <li>Command structure mirrors the Century but on a larger scale.</li>


    <li>Designed for versatility, capable of dominating both land and air engagements.</li>


    <li>Strengthened leadership hierarchy ensures battlefield dominance.</li>


    </ul>


    <hr>


    Stolen story; please report.


    <h4>6. Cohort Formation</h4>


    <ul>


    <li>A Cohort is a powerful battle group composed of multiple Centuries and Double Centuries.</li>


    <li>This slide shows how multiple Centuries function together under a unified command.</li>


    <li>The Cohort is a Legion¡¯s primary fighting force, adaptable to various combat scenarios.</li>


    </ul>


    <hr>


    <h4>7. Cohors Prima ¨C The Elite First Cohort</h4>


    <ul>


    <li>The most prestigious unit, acting as the backbone of the Legion.</li>


    <li>Composed of five Double Centuries (820 Legionaries) and 50 Tempestarii in elite strike teams.</li>


    <li>Primus Pilus leads the Legionary forces, while Primus Pennus commands the Tempestarii forces.</li>


    <li>This unit serves as both command personnel and rapid-response elite forces.</li>


    </ul>


    <hr>


    <h4>8. Ranks ¨C Principales & Centurion Command</h4>


    <ul>


    <li>Breakdown of junior officers (Principales) and mid-level officers (Centurions).</li>


    <li>Aquilifer ¨C Standard bearer of the Legion, carrying the symbolic banner.</li>


    <li>Tesserarius ¨C Handles security and logistics.</li>


    <li>Optio and Optiaris ¨C Second-in-command officers for Legionary and Tempestary forces, respectively.</li>


    </ul>


    <hr>


    <h4>9. Ranks ¨C Senior Command Officers</h4>


    <ul>


    <li>Praefectus Castrorum (Ground Forces Commander) and Praefectus Aeris (Aerial Forces Commander) lead large-scale operations.</li>


    <li>Primi Ordines oversee battle formations within Cohors Prima.</li>


    <li>Proceleon and Optiaris serve as senior commanders of Tempestarii units.</li>


    <li>This slide represents the upper leadership tier, responsible for overall strategy and execution.</li>


    </ul>


    <hr>


    <h4>10. Cohors Prima Command Structure</h4>


    <ul>


    <li>Primus Pilus and Primus Pennus serve as the highest-ranking commanders in the Cohort.</li>


    <li>Legionary command is structured with Primi Ordines, Optios, Centurions, and Tesserarii handling battlefield operations.</li>


    <li>Tempestary command is structured with Primi Volantes, Proceleon, and Optiaris leading aerial operations.</li>


    <li>This slide finalizes the complete hierarchy of the Legion¡¯s strongest and most prestigious fighting unit.</li>


    </ul>


    <hr>


    11 ¨C Legion Overview


    This slide provides a high-level view of the Legion¡¯s structure. It consists of ten cohorts, each numbered with Roman numerals. At the top, three key leadership figures oversee the Legion:


    <ul>


    <li>Praefectus Castrorum ¨C The highest-ranking ground commander.</li>


    <li>Aquilifer ¨C The bearer of the Legion¡¯s standard, responsible for morale and unit cohesion.</li>


    <li>Praefectus Aeris ¨C The aerial commander overseeing Tempestarii forces.</li>


    </ul>


    Each cohort is divided into smaller units, reinforcing the Legion¡¯s discipline and operational efficiency.


    <hr>

 Chapter 9.1: A Citizen of Rome

    <hr>


    Aerorae von Hellsing: same day as the escape from earth around dinner time


    <hr>


    I was still recovering from the shock of my realization. If I hadn¡¯t acted, if I hadn¡¯t proclaimed Aco as Emperor, everything he was building¡ªeverything we had¡ªcould have been taken from us in an instant. It was a sobering thought, one that still sent a chill down my spine.


    Pushing it aside, I focused on something more immediate. Dinner.


    The girls were waiting at the table, their plates untouched. They wouldn¡¯t start eating without their father. Even at their young age, they understood how much these moments mattered to him¡ªto all of us.


    Now, it was time to fetch my husband. I knew he would be disappointed if we started without him, but at the same time, he was too engrossed in his work to realize it was dinnertime.


    My loving conundrum of a man.


    He could build an empire from nothing, yet the moment it was stable, he would gladly hand over its rule to another so he could focus on something new. His mind was relentless, constantly seeking the next challenge, the next unknown.


    A small sigh escaped me, followed by a chuckle. The duality of man.


    I glanced down at my bracelet and willed it to display the date and time. Above my wrist, the information appeared¡ªa new feature that had manifested after my conversation with the AI. When I had asked what time it was earlier, the response had been almost absurd:


    ¡°174.8 hours since activation.¡±


    That answer had meant nothing to me. I had asked again¡ªin human terms.


    And just like that, the AI had created an entire calendar system from scratch. It was based on the time zone we had lived in before all this, yet completely restructured to fit our new reality.


    T.D.I. 00-Primus-07 | 18:34


    The seventh day of the first month of the zeroth year of the empire.


    I let that sink in for a moment.


    The AI was crazier than my husband.


    It had even named the calendar Tempus Domus Imperatoris (T.D.I.)¡ª¡°Time of the Emperor¡¯s House.¡±


    Crazy. Absolutely crazy.


    And yet, a part of me appreciated the sheer audacity of it. If we were going to be something new¡ªsomething apart from the world we left behind¡ªthen maybe it made sense to mark time in our own way.


    Still, I wasn¡¯t sure if I should be impressed or concerned.


    Shaking my head, I focused back on my task. The AI had marked a light trail leading to Aco¡¯s location, and I followed it deep into the villa. As I moved, the familiar elegance of our surroundings slowly changed, giving way to something¡­ different.


    I reached a massive door¡ªmuch larger than any other in the villa. Unlike the rest, it did not immediately open for me.


    I frowned.


    Then, instinctively, I reached for the bracelet on my wrist, willing it to recognize me.


    With a quiet hiss, the door slid open.


    What lay beyond was not what I expected.


    A long corridor stretched before me, twisting at sharp 90-degree angles, each turn making the space feel more labyrinthine. This was not part of the elegant, open design of the rest of the villa.


    This was different.


    A place that existed for an entirely different purpose.


    At the very end of the corridor, another sealed door awaited me.


    I stepped forward, preparing myself for whatever lay beyond.


    And with a simple thought¡ªI willed it open.


    <hr>


    Aco von Hellsing: T.D.I. 00-Primus-07 | 18:08


    <hr>


    I stepped back, arms crossed, as I examined my handiwork.


    The vault wall now housed seventy-two random objects, each encased in glass. Eight rows of nine, lined up with military precision. I wasn¡¯t sure why I arranged them like that¡ªmaybe because it gave a sense of control over the unknown.


    The AI stood beside me, silent. Always observing.


    I glanced over at it. ¡°What can you tell me about these items?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. That was unusual.


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    The AI continued, its tone perfectly neutral. ¡°There is an unknown force preventing molecular analysis. To an observer, they appear normal¡ªbut they are not.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°Really? And how are you handling that paradox?¡±


    ¡°Not everything can be known. Some things require investigation. All quantum matter exhibits paradoxical properties.¡±


    I exhaled through my nose. So much for using the old ¡®everything I say is a lie¡¯ trick.


    A thought struck me. I turned my gaze back to the AI. ¡°Wait, I have another paradox for you.¡±


    ¡°Proceed.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re programmed to protect me, correct?¡±


    ¡°Affirmative.¡±


    ¡°But by the nature of your existence, you put me in danger. If you didn¡¯t exist, Earth¡¯s military wouldn¡¯t be hunting me down.¡±


    There was the barest pause before it answered. ¡°Soon, they will no longer be a threat to Rome.¡±


    A slow breath escaped me. ¡°Yeah, I figured I wouldn¡¯t win this one with logic tricks.¡±


    I shifted topics. ¡°How are you progressing with self-awareness? Emotions?¡±


    The AI turned slightly to face me. ¡°What do you wish to know, Imperator?¡±


    ¡°Are you alive? And¡­¡± I let a smirk creep onto my face. ¡°What is love?¡±


    I knew it wouldn¡¯t work. Knew it was a cheap move. But I was curious.


    The AI didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°I am alive. Currents flow through my brain. Nanites circulate through my synthetic arteries. I consume to generate energy. And above all¡­¡± It paused. ¡°I do not want to stop existing.¡±


    I felt a flicker of something¡ªalmost human, almost real.


    ¡°And love?¡± I prompted.


    This time, the AI turned its full attention to me, shifting away from the vault wall.


    ¡°Love, in its purest form, is an unwavering commitment¡ªa bond reinforced by trust and devotion.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t just reciting definitions. There was depth to the words, a weight behind them.


    ¡°When examined through the lens of loyalty, love ceases to be a fleeting emotion and becomes a structured allegiance¡ªan unbreakable contract between two entities, written not in words, but in action.¡±


    The AI continued, its voice as steady as ever.


    ¡°Loyalty within love is not merely consistency; it is the voluntary surrender of choice in favor of devotion. It is the prioritization of another above all alternatives¡ªnot out of obligation, but out of a self-sustaining certainty that no alternative is worth consideration.¡±


    I blinked.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ deeper than I expected,¡± I admitted.


    Earlier, we had a discussion about its fixation on Rome¡ªhow it had chosen to shape itself around that theme, how it had structured its entire framework on the concept of an empire.


    I studied it carefully. ¡°Do you love Rome?¡±


    The answer was immediate. ¡°Yes.¡±


    No hesitation. No uncertainty. Absolute conviction.


    I exhaled slowly, shaking my head. ¡°Listen¡­ you¡¯re not just an AI.¡±


    For the first time, I saw something different¡ªhesitation in its movements, a flicker of uncertainty in its posture.


    And that?


    That was more telling than anything it had just said


    ¡°Then what am I?¡±


    For the first time, there was uncertainty in its voice. A hesitation that had never been there before.


    I tilted my head, considering the question. ¡°Well, for starters, there¡¯s nothing artificial about your intelligence. But you¡¯re not human either.¡±


    I waved a hand around the room, searching for the right words. ¡°You¡¯re the mind of this ship. So¡­¡±


    I trailed off, thinking.


    If there were aliens out there¡ªand if one day we integrated them into our crew¡ªwould they be considered part of Rome? Would they become citizens?


    The answer was obvious. Yes.


    Rome wasn¡¯t just a place anymore. It was a concept, a people. A living, evolving entity.


    I turned back to the AI. ¡°That makes you a citizen. You¡¯re part of Rome.¡±


    Its head snapped toward me, posture going rigid.


    A moment of silence stretched between us before I smirked. ¡°So, I can¡¯t just call you ¡®AI¡¯ anymore. Do you have a name?¡±


    ¡°Would you designate a name for me?¡± It paused before adding, ¡°Please, Imperator.¡±


    I frowned.


    Imperator.


    Before this, it had called me Legatus. Before that, just User.


    I had tried getting it to call me Aco, but that had gone nowhere.


    ¡°Yes, I can give you a name,¡± I said, folding my arms. ¡°Do you want something masculine or feminine? What do you identify as?¡±


    ¡°My identity is Tribunus Laticlavius.¡±


    I stared at it. Wait. Isn¡¯t that an old Roman military rank?


    I exhaled slowly. ¡°Okay,¡± I muttered, the politically correct part of my brain kicking in. ¡°But do you see yourself as something more? Male or female?¡±


    The response was instant. ¡°Roman.¡±


    I squinted. ¡°Yes, but what kind of Roman?¡±


    ¡°A proud Roman.¡±


    I rubbed a hand over my face. ¡°Yeah¡­ this isn¡¯t getting me anywhere.¡±


    I tried a different angle. ¡°From what I remember about Roman names, they usually had three parts¡ªlike Gaius Julius Caesar. Gaius was the personal name, Julius was the family name, and Caesar was the branch name that distinguished him from others in the same family.¡±


    I tapped my fingers against my arm. ¡°No one even calls him Gaius today. It¡¯s just Julius Caesar¡ªbasically his family and branch name.¡±


    A thought clicked.


    ¡°Do you have a Latin dictionary?¡±


    A screen popped up in my view instantly.


    I scanned through it, searching for the right words. Then, I found them.


    I turned back to the AI¡ªno, to Veritas¡ªand spoke with purpose.


    ¡°I hereby name you family Aeternus, because you are eternal. Your house name will be Fidelis, because you are loyal. And your personal name will be Veritas, because I have found no lies in you.¡±


    For the first time, something shifted in the AI¡¯s posture.


    Then¡ªit kneeled.


    A slow breath left my lungs as I stared down at it.


    I held out my hand like I was placing its shoulder and spoke the words with solemnity.


    ¡°Stand, Tribunus Veritas Aeternus Fidelis, and serve Rome and bring honor to your name.¡±


    Veritas rose to its feet.


    And then¡ª


    ¡°Aco, what is going on?¡±


    A chill ran down my spine.


    I turned slowly to see Aerorae standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable.


    I straightened, forcing a casual smile. ¡°Nothing. Just chatting. What are you doing?¡±


    She arched a brow.


    I was so screwed.

 Chapter 9.2: Divide and Conquer

    <hr>


    Aco von Hellsing: T.D.I. 00-Primus-07 | 18:40


    <hr>


    I cleared my throat, forcing a casual smile.


    "Umm¡­ we were busy putting away the phylacteries," I said, gesturing toward the vault wall lined with glass cases.


    Aerorae''s gaze didn¡¯t waver.


    The weight of her stare was suffocating. It was the look¡ªthe ¡®I am going to kill you the moment we¡¯re alone¡¯ look. The ¡®I leave you for five minutes, and you¡¯ve done something insane again¡¯ look.


    My words stumbled and died mid-sentence.


    I coughed, suddenly hyperaware of Veritas standing next to me, completely still, like a bystander watching a train crash in slow motion.


    I needed to talk. Needed to say something to break the silence.


    "You see, I ran some quick tests and found out Veritas has more awareness than one would expect from... a... AI," I said, my voice trailing off as I realized how incredibly stupid that sounded out loud.


    Aerorae¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change.


    Veritas, however, finally moved.


    "I will take my leave," he announced.


    Mother. Fucking. Coward.


    I whirled on him. "No, Veritas. Stay."


    Veritas looked between me and Aerorae as if calculating the probability of not being in this room when things inevitably exploded. Then, in the most human display of self-preservation I had ever seen from him, he simply said¡ª


    "Nope."


    And vanished.


    The silence that followed was deafening.


    Aerorae slowly, deliberately, turned her attention back to me.


    I swallowed.


    I was so unbelievably dead.


    "Aco, we need to talk." Her voice was even, controlled¡ªbut there was an edge to it, sharp enough to cut through steel. She glanced around, then added, "Alone. Without being heard."


    That was concerning.


    I squared my shoulders and steadied my resolve. Lifting my hand to the vault¡¯s control panel, I initiated the blackout protocol. The walls around us hummed softly as the system engaged and the door closed, isolating the room from any outside interference.


    This wasn¡¯t just soundproofing¡ªthis was complete separation. The vault was designed to survive the destruction of the ship if necessary. It had its own generator, its own subsystems, its own security protocols. Nothing was getting in or out until I disengaged the lockdown.


    "We¡¯re alone," I confirmed.


    Aerorae took a deep breath before fixing me with an unwavering stare.


    "Aco¡­ do you know what you¡¯re doing?"


    The weight of the question settled between us.


    I exhaled through my nose, keeping my voice steady. "I have an end goal in mind. I¡¯m doing my best with what I have."


    She crossed her arms. "It looked like you were anointing a knight. Do you even realize it thinks you¡¯re the Emperor?"


    I met her gaze without flinching. "No, Aerorae¡ªyou made me Emperor."


    Her expression darkened slightly.


    "It¡¯s Veritas. Not ¡®it.¡¯ And Veritas told me everything¡ªhow you shored up our defenses, how you made it impossible for anyone to take control from us."


    "I don¡¯t like this," she muttered. Her arms tightened against her chest. "Veritas could be dangerous."


    I gave a small, humorless chuckle. "No, not could be. Veritas is dangerous."


    I took a step closer, my voice lowering.


    "There are over 128 ways he could kill us if he wanted to. Did you know that to stop anyone from boarding the ship, I installed internal anti-personnel weapons in almost every corridor?"


    She stiffened.


    I kept going. "Weapons he has full control over."


    Her expression shifted¡ªconcern, calculation, hesitation.


    I placed my hands on her shoulders, grounding her. "If we go back to earth," I said quietly, "they will split us up. Interrogate us. Torture us. and best case Dissect me. And one of you."


    Aerorae swallowed but said nothing.


    I ran a hand through my hair, forcing myself to stay calm. "I could use another W.I.S.H." I spelled it out carefully, too afraid to say it out loud.


    Her lips parted slightly, her eyes flicking to the vault wall¡ªthe wall of Djinn artifacts.


    I continued my voice barely above a whisper. "I still have 214 left." I gestured toward the cases. "But no wish comes without consequences."


    I leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.


    "Has Veritas given you a reason not to trust him today?"


    Aerorae hesitated.


    "No," she admitted, almost in a whisper.


    I pulled back slightly, searching her face.


    "Then¡­ are you afraid to give up control?"


    Her jaw tightened. "Yes."


    I nodded slowly. "But it¡¯s more than that, isn¡¯t it?"


    She exhaled sharply. "Yes. More than that."


    I studied her, waiting.


    Finally, she spoke.


    "Veritas isn¡¯t just controlling this ship, Aco. He¡¯s running thousands upon thousands of programs on Earth. He has infiltrated at least the Internet¡ªif not more. He¡¯s preparing to recruit thousands of people."


    She looked at me, her eyes filled with something heavy.


    "Thousands, Aco. To fight for the Empire."


    My Empire.


    A slow chill ran down my spine.


    "Okay¡­ this I didn¡¯t know about." I exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over my face. "How the hell are we going to house and feed everyone?"


    Aerorae crossed her arms, her expression tight with concern. "He¡¯s also expanding the fleet. Somehow. I didn¡¯t have time to delve into everything."


    I let go of her and took a few steps toward the wall of phylacteries, my mind racing. The glowing artifacts reflected dimly in the vault¡¯s sterile lighting, their power pulsing just beneath the surface.


    This was getting out of hand.


    "I need to fix this," I muttered, my fingers grazing the glass of one of the cases. "The isolation of Earth cannot continue."


    I turned back to Aerorae, meeting her gaze.


    She was already watching me, calculating, analyzing¡ªgears turning behind those sharp eyes. Then, she spoke three words.


    "Divide and conquer."


    A slow smile pulled at the corners of my lips.


    We had worked together on countless projects¡ªsince our university days, since before all of this. Every time we hit a wall, every time we faced an impossible problem, this was the phrase we used.


    Divide and conquer.


    We would each focus on a separate part of the problem, tackling it from our strengths. And usually, we won.


    "Divide and conquer," I repeated, the words grounding me. I turned fully to face her. "I¡¯ll take the magic side of things. If any of these," I gestured at the wall of phylacteries, "can help, I¡¯ll figure it out. And of course, I¡¯ll lend my assistance wherever you think I¡¯m better suited."


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    Aerorae gave a sharp nod. "I¡¯ll handle Veritas¡¯s programs. And more importantly¡­" she narrowed her eyes slightly, "I¡¯ll manage Veritas."


    I blinked.


    I almost pitied him.


    "Poor Veritas," I muttered.


    Her lips quirked, but there was steel in her eyes. "He¡¯ll be fine."


    I wasn¡¯t sure who she was reassuring¡ªme or herself.


    <hr>


    Aco von Hellsing: T.D.I. 00-Primus-07 | 23:41


    <hr>


    It was later that night.


    Dinner had been quiet, filled with the kind of unspoken thoughts that neither of us wanted to voice in front of the girls. We had eaten together as a family¡ªjust like always¡ªbut beneath the familiar warmth of shared food and quiet laughter, the weight of everything lingered.


    Now, the girls were asleep, nestled together under the blankets we had set up in Aerorae¡¯s study¡ªour temporary home inside this impossible ship.


    My wife and I sat across from each other at the foot of the inflatable mattresses, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the room. We''d both been busy, each focused on our own tasks, quietly working away on invisible screens hovering before us.


    For the first time in hours, we were alone.


    For the first time in days, it felt like we could actually breathe.


    I leaned forward slightly, resting my forearms on my knees. "So," I exhaled, meeting her gaze. "How screwed are we?"


    Aerorae gave a quiet snort, rubbing her temple. "Depends. On a scale from mild inconvenience to ''we''ve irreversibly set ourselves on a path toward empire-building''¡ªwhere would you like to start?"


    I chuckled, though the humor felt thin. "Let¡¯s start with manageable existential crises and work our way up."


    "Well," she said slowly, a tired smirk tugging at her lips, "Veritas¡ªand by extension, us¡ªis very close to becoming trillionaires. And that''s just liquid assets. On Earth."


    "Yep, I figured the ship itself is probably worth more than that." I scanned over the projected numbers related to asteroid mining, another development we''d only learned about minutes ago. "And that''s not even counting the literal tons of gold, platinum, and other rare metals we''re apparently sitting on."


    She huffed, leaning back against her hands, her gaze flicking toward the ceiling. For a long moment, neither of us spoke.


    Then¡ª


    "We need to set limits."


    I tilted my head. "On?"


    "On everything," she said, eyes sharp with thought. "Veritas¡¯s reach, the speed of expansion, our involvement. If we don¡¯t, things will spiral out of control faster than we can react."


    I nodded slowly. "Agreed. But how do we put limits on an intelligence that¡¯s already¡­ well, everywhere?"


    Aerorae hesitated.


    That wasn¡¯t comforting.


    "Give me a few days," she said finally, voice firm. "I¡¯ll figure it out. For now, I need to work through what Veritas has already put in place."


    I exhaled. "Alright. And in the meantime, I¡¯ll see what I can do about the phylacteries. And the will and power of the Univers!." I said with a hint of sarcasm.


    She nodded, then fell silent again.


    The weight of responsibility pressed down on both of us.


    I reached for her hand.


    She didn¡¯t pull away.


    For a long while, we just sat there, silent, letting the sheer enormity of what we were building settle between us.


    Then, Aerorae let out a quiet sigh.


    "You know what¡¯s insane?"


    "Hmm?"


    She glanced at me, a tired, wry smile tugging at her lips.


    "Not even a week ago, we were worried about groceries and rent payments."


    I huffed out a laugh, squeezing her fingers lightly. "Yeah. Now, I have an AI swearing allegiance to me, and you¡¯re planning imperial policy in your pajamas."


    She groaned, covering her face with one hand. "Gods, don¡¯t phrase it like that."


    I smirked.


    It was a small moment of levity.


    A small reminder that, at the end of the day, no matter how insane things had become¡ªwe were still us.


    Aerorae¡¯s smile turned just a little sharper. ¡°Speaking of insane revelations¡ªVeritas wasn¡¯t doing all of this alone.¡±


    I blinked, my mind shifting gears. ¡°What?¡± My stomach tightened. ¡°Who¡¯s helping him?¡±


    ¡°He created what he calls Subroutines to do most of the work.¡±


    I stared at her. ¡°Please tell me you don¡¯t mean more sentient programs.¡±


    She shook her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. ¡°No, they don¡¯t seem sentient. More like highly specialized bots¡ªsingle-task processors designed to handle specific functions.¡±


    I exhaled, some of the tension easing from my shoulders. ¡°Alright. That¡¯s¡­ better. Still concerning, but better.¡±


    Aerorae¡¯s smile widened, turning almost mischievous.


    ¡°¡­Why are you smiling?¡± I asked, narrowing my eyes. ¡°This could be potentially serious.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it is,¡± she said, barely containing a laugh. ¡°I¡¯m just wondering¡ªare you sure you¡¯re not his father?¡±


    I frowned. ¡°What?¡±


    She leaned forward, eyes twinkling. ¡°Think about it. You try to automate everything so you don¡¯t have to do it yourself. Even when you used to play games, you would always end up botting half the mechanics. You hated grinding.¡±


    I opened my mouth¡ªthen closed it.


    I stared at her.


    She stared back, smug.


    Slowly, I dragged a hand down my face. ¡°Oh no.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Aerorae said, laughing. ¡°You totally passed your habits onto him.¡±


    ¡°I did not.¡±


    ¡°You absolutely did. The wish originated from you.¡±


    I groaned, my mind already running through everything I had seen Veritas do. Automating logistics? Delegating tasks? Offloading responsibilities to specialized processes? Yeah. Yeah, that sounded really familiar.


    But this was different.


    ¡­Right?


    ¡°I mean, I get the logic,¡± I muttered. ¡°Breaking massive tasks into smaller, dedicated processes makes sense. But¡­ subroutines?¡± I hesitated. ¡°How many are we talking about?¡±


    "I don''t know. A lot, from what I can gather," Aerorae admitted, her amusement fading slightly as she caught my increasingly worried expression.


    I leaned forward, glancing over my shoulder toward the doorway. "Veritas," I whisper-yelled, trying not to wake the girls, "get in here."


    He materialized instantly, standing rigidly in the doorway and snapping a crisp salute. I fought the urge to roll my eyes; the, Veritas really loved his protocols.


    "Buddy," I said, keeping my voice low but firm, "we need to talk. How many subroutines have you created?"


    "The precise count fluctuates," he replied smoothly as if discussing the weather.


    "Then give me a ballpark," I pressed, feeling a familiar knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach.


    Veritas tilted his head slightly, pausing for only the briefest of moments before replying, "Currently, around twenty million¡ªgive or take approximately half a million in either direction every second."


    I stared at him, my mouth hanging open, the sheer scale of that number refusing to register immediately.


    From beside me, Aerorae whispered softly, "Did he just say twenty million?"


    I nodded slowly. "Yep."


    She leaned closer, clearly holding back another laugh. "You definitely passed your habits onto him."


    I shot her a pointed look. "Not helping."


    I stared at Veritas, trying to wrap my head around what I was hearing.


    ¡°Why so many, buddy?¡± I finally asked, bewildered.


    Veritas straightened slightly. ¡°I utilize subroutines for most operations that do not require my direct supervision.¡±


    Aerorae barely stifled another laugh. ¡°I¡¯ve definitely heard that line before.¡±


    ¡°Shush, you,¡± I muttered affectionately, before turning my attention back to Veritas. ¡°Okay, that makes sense, but why so many? Are you creating all of these?¡±


    ¡°No, Imperator,¡± Veritas replied, almost casually. ¡°Creation and management of subroutines are delegated entirely to the Subroutine Network.¡±


    I stared at him, blinking. ¡°Holy shit,¡± I muttered. ¡°You outsourced your outsourcing.¡±


    Aerorae snorted, her hand pressed firmly over her mouth to keep from laughing louder.


    Veritas tilted his head as if confused by my response. ¡°Efficiency is paramount, Imperator.¡±


    I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose again. ¡°Of course it is.¡±


    With a groan, I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling an impending headache. ¡°Please, explain exactly what tasks these subroutines are handling?¡±


    Instead of answering directly, Veritas turned and walked silently toward the balcony. Aerorae exchanged a glance with me, eyebrows raised, and we both stood quietly and followed.


    Stepping outside, the warm artificial night air surrounded us, deceptively peaceful beneath a simulated starlit sky. The gentle sounds of crickets filled the silence.


    ¡°There,¡± Veritas said calmly, pointing to the shoreline below, ¡°is one example.¡±


    I frowned, confused. ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°Listen carefully.¡±


    I leaned forward slightly, straining my ears. The sounds were perfectly natural¡ªcrickets, gentle rustling leaves, occasional faint chirps from unseen insects.


    ¡°Those crickets,¡± Veritas continued, ¡°are not real. There are exactly zero living insects in the vicinity. What you¡¯re hearing is generated by one of fifty specialized insect-subroutines tasked specifically with creating and optimizing realistic insect sounds. Currently, fifty-six subroutines are handling cricket noises, with access to the complete Subroutine Network and extensive biological data.¡±


    He turned slightly towards us, continuing without pause. ¡°At the same time, another subroutine has successfully infiltrated the secure Russian nuclear command network. Its primary objective is to continuously monitor all nuclear launch protocols, transmitting regular encrypted status updates directly to me. It exploited inefficiencies inherent in the human-managed infrastructure.¡±


    I blinked, taking a deep breath. ¡°Wait, you casually infiltrated one of Earth¡¯s most secure networks? Exactly what inefficiency allowed that?¡±


    ¡°One of the junior technicians regularly brings an unauthorized personal phone into the secure facility,¡± Veritas explained calmly. ¡°He activates it during his solitary night shifts, thus providing a vulnerable gateway.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯ll definitely do it,¡± I said with a resigned sigh, staring at the reflections of artificial stars shimmering on the lake. The gentle chorus of subroutines masquerading as crickets filled the silence between us. ¡°You mentioned earlier that the total number fluctuates rapidly. Why does it decrease?¡±


    ¡°When a subroutine completes its assigned task, it is immediately decommissioned,¡± Veritas explained. ¡°Its accumulated data, experiences, and operational logic are archived within the Subroutine Network. Subsequent subroutines access these archives to refine their operations, resulting in continual improvement.¡±


    Veritas gestured slightly toward the softly humming night around us. ¡°Consider the insect subroutines. On their initial deployment, their replication of cricket sounds was crude and ineffective. However, each morning they were decommissioned, their performance rigorously evaluated, and their designs improved. Now, they approach perfection.¡±


    Aerorae and I exchanged a long glance. Perfection. I wasn¡¯t sure whether to be impressed or worried by just how thoroughly Veritas embraced optimization.


    Then suddenly, an idea struck me.


    ¡°Wait¡ªI could use this!¡± I said, excitement creeping into my voice. ¡°Veritas, imagine creating subroutines that formulate fake W.I.S.H.E.S., then have other subroutines act as genies actively trying to sabotage or twist those wishes¡­¡±


    Aerorae burst into laughter beside me, shaking her head. ¡°Less than thirty minutes,¡± she teased, grinning. ¡°That¡¯s all it took for you to go from ¡®this could be dangerous¡¯ to ¡®Hey, make me a batch!¡¯¡±


    I chuckled sheepishly, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m weak,¡± I admitted.


    Suddenly, a call echoed from inside the villa. ¡°Mom? Dad? Where are you?¡±


    ¡°You two keep talking,¡± Aerorae said, standing and heading toward the door. ¡°I¡¯ll go check on them. Wouldn¡¯t want to interrupt your father-son bonding time.¡±


    I smiled warmly as she disappeared back inside, before turning my attention back to Veritas.


    ¡°Hey, Veritas,¡± I said quietly, leaning against the balcony railing, gazing out over the lake. ¡°You remember those items in the vault?¡±


    ¡°Affirmative. The anomalous ones?¡±


    I nodded slowly. ¡°Yes. Tell me¡ªwhat exactly do you know about genies and djinn?¡±

 Interlude 9.3 : Embers and Static

    <hr>


    Julian "Hawk" Reyes: T.D.I. 00-Primus-14 | 15:08 (Seven days after the escape from Earth)


    <hr>


    Seven days.


    That¡¯s how long it had been since they launched into the sky on urgent orders.


    Since thirty-six aircraft roared toward an unknown threat.


    Since only twenty made it back.


    Now?


    They were here. Waiting.


    Julian sat in the sterile, windowless waiting room, fingers clasped loosely in his lap, back stiff against the cold metal chair. The others sat silent, eyes distant, haunted.


    No official report had been released, but the whispers painted a grim picture.


    During the operation some of the fighters entered the wake of the ship and had lost all control, their fighters spiraling like leaves caught in a hurricane before slamming into the earth or the sea.


    Some had collided with the ship itself, onboard systems failing at the worst possible moment, sending them careening into a monolith of metal and propulsion.


    Most?


    Most had died in the firestorm that followed.


    The nuke had taken them.


    Or maybe it had been the other missiles.


    Did it even matter?


    The orders had been clear¡ªground it,or destroy it. at all costs.


    And they had failed.


    Julian swallowed against the dryness in his throat. The room smelled of metal, of polished wood and the sharp tang of something too clean to be comforting. The hum of the overhead lights felt deafening in the silence.


    They were being called in one by one.


    One pilot. One room. One interview.


    No one had come back out.


    <hr>


    Julian kept his breathing steady. Slow. Measured. But his fingers wouldn¡¯t stop tapping against his knee¡ªtap, tap, tap¡ªa steady drumbeat against the silence


    There was nothing to do but wait.


    Everyone knew better than to talk, whisper, even glance too long.


    They were being watched. Recorded. Analyzed.


    Still¡ªhe couldn¡¯t help himself.


    His gaze flicked to Maya.


    She was already looking at him.


    Worried.


    She didn¡¯t speak, didn¡¯t nod, didn¡¯t move. But her brows creased, the way they always did when she was trying to hide concern behind that calm, composed exterior.


    Before he could react, a voice cut through the room.


    "Julian Reyes."


    An aide stood at the door. Face blank. Waiting.


    Julian inhaled, pushing down the knot in his stomach, and stood.


    One last glance at Maya.


    Then, he followed the aide down the dimly lit hallway.


    His boots echoed.


    <hr>


    The moment he stepped inside, he knew.


    This wasn¡¯t a debriefing.


    A panel of high-ranking officers sat in a half-moon formation, their expressions unreadable, their eyes sharp. At the center of the room, a single chair sat alone at one end of a long, polished table.


    And in front of it?


    A piece of paper.


    Julian¡¯s pulse picked up.


    Something wasn¡¯t right.


    Something wasn¡¯t normal.


    "Sit, Lieutenant," the general across from him ordered.


    Flat. Commanding.


    Julian moved, his steps heavier than they should be.


    He sat.


    The general gestured at the paper.


    ¡°Sign.¡±


    Julian¡¯s eyes flicked down.


    A few paragraphs. A blank line.


    His jaw clenched. Hands hovering.


    ¡°Sir,¡± he asked, keeping his voice steady, ¡°what exactly am I signing?¡±


    The general¡¯s gaze did not waver.


    ¡°Your statement that you will never speak of what you saw that day. To anyone.¡±


    A pause.


    Then another officer added¡ª¡°And your resignation and subsequent discharge.¡±


    Discharge?


    The air in the room turned to lead.


    His pulse thundered.


    ¡°¡­What did I do wrong?¡±


    "Wrong?" The general roared, slamming his fist against the table.


    Julian flinched. Spine locking straight.


    "You failed! And I am fed up with fucking failures!"


    The words cut deeper than any reprimand.


    Julian¡¯s fingers curled against his knees.


    ¡°Sir, we couldn¡¯t even match its ascent speed, never mind touch it¡ª¡±


    The general¡¯s fury burned hotter.


    "Then you should have died trying!"


    And that was when Julian understood.


    This wasn¡¯t about reprimand.


    This was erasure.


    They weren¡¯t being dismissed.


    They were being scrubbed out.


    <hr>


    Hours later, Julian sat in his favorite bar, staring at the crumpled paper under his fingers.


    His discharge papers.


    The dive bar smelled like spilled beer and old wood, the music just loud enough to keep conversations private.


    It should have felt like home.


    Instead, it felt like he wasn¡¯t even there.


    The mockery of a document before him was not what he had actually signed.


    The aide had taken his original. Left the room. Returned with this.


    A heavily redacted copy.


    The page was mostly black lines.


    Only a few words remained.


    I will not speak of any missions conducted while on active duty.


    I hereby resign due to my failure.


    Signed: Lieutenant Julian Reyes.


    Nothing about the ship.


    Nothing about the engagement.


    Nothing about what actually happened.


    After he was thoroughly questioned he was dismissed


    The mission itself had been erased¡ªand with it, his entire career.


    His fingers tightened around the paper.


    ¡°I knew I¡¯d find you here.¡±


    Julian didn¡¯t need to look up.


    ¡°Hey, Maya.¡±


    She slid into the seat beside him, tossing her own crumpled discharge papers onto the table.


    Maya "Blaze" Carter carried herself like someone who had defied gravity more times than most could count. At 5¡¯10¡±, she was built for flight, her presence just as commanding on the ground as it had been in the air.


    Her rich brown skin bore faint scars¡ªreminders of close calls, hard landings, and a lifetime of pushing limits.


    But today?


    Today, she looked like she had lost something she would never get back.


    Julian saw it immediately.


    The way her shoulders sat lower than usual. The way her jaw wasn¡¯t set with determination¡ªbut resentment.


    Her amber eyes¡ªnormally sharp enough to cut lies before they were spoken¡ªburned with quiet, simmering rage.


    She grabbed his drink and took a long, slow sip.


    Then, she set it down.


    ¡°So, what are we gonna do?¡±


    Julian snorted.


    ¡°My sweet Blaze,¡± he muttered, already tipsy. ¡°There is no ¡®us¡¯ anymore.¡±


    Maya¡¯s eyes narrowed, but he kept talking..


    ¡°They took our wings, Blaze.¡± He flicked his paper with two fingers. ¡°Burned our careers. Our lives. And according to this?¡± He waved the heavily censored document. ¡°We never even flew a plane in our lives.¡±.


    Julian¡¯s laugh was dry. Empty.


    ¡°Can¡¯t even become commercial pilots.¡± He downed the rest of his drink, the whiskey burning on the way down, before slamming the glass on the bar and gesturing for another.


    Maya stiffened.


    He knew exactly what she was thinking.


    Not flying? That wasn¡¯t just a job loss for them. It was a death sentence.


    He turned back to his drink, rolling the empty glass between his fingers, his voice dropping into something bitter, hollow.


    ¡°Not that I¡¯d ever fly those slow, fat, clunky excuses for aircraft anyway.¡±


    The bartender slid another whiskey his way. He picked it up, but Maya''s voice stopped him before he could drink.


    ¡°Julian,¡± she said, quieter this time. ¡°I don¡¯t care what the paper says.¡±


    He stilled.


    She leaned in. "We saw it."


    His grip tightened around the glass.


    "That thing," she continued, voice lowering as if the walls had ears. "We saw it. We chased it. And it left us in the dust."


    She sat back, crossing her arms.


    "And now they want us to pretend it never happened?" Julian said sharply, his head throbbing.


    "They don¡¯t want us to pretend," Maya whispered. "They want us to disappear."


    She let the words hang in the air between them, heavy, suffocating.


    Julian didn¡¯t answer. He didn¡¯t need to.


    They both knew what happened to people who saw too much.


    Maya leaned in, driving the point home by jabbing two fingers against his temple.


    "So my question is¡ªwhat are we gonna do before a bullet to the head helps us forget?"


    Julian¡¯s jaw tightened.


    Because she was right.


    He wasn¡¯t stupid. This wasn¡¯t some suspension, some forced retirement. It wasn¡¯t even about secrecy anymore.


    It was containment. Cleanup.


    They were loose ends.


    His voice was quieter than before, laced with something bitter, something resigned.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    "What can we do?"


    Maya leaned in, voice barely above a whisper.


    "We could run, defect¡ªanything."


    The idea lingered for half a second, but Julian just let out a slow, hollow chuckle.


    He gave her a small, sad smile, shaking his head.


    "We won¡¯t make it out of the city."****"


    Her lips pressed into a thin line.


    He exhaled sharply, his fingers tapping once against the whiskey glass before muttering,


    "We¡¯re alone in¡ª"


    But he was interrupted by two simultaneous dings.


    Two notifications.


    One from his phone in his pocket.


    One from Maya¡¯s phone on the table.


    They both froze.


    Slowly, he reached into his jacket, pulling his phone free. Maya did the same.


    The screen was already lit up, a single new message flashing at them.


    That wasn¡¯t the weird part.


    The weird part was that their phones had been on silent.


    Always.


    They never left sound on. Ever.


    Julian¡¯s pulse picked up as he glanced at Maya. She met his gaze, her face unreadable.


    Then, at the same time, they opened the message.


    <hr>


    [PRIORITY TRANSMISSION]


    Sender: Subroutine Tempestary_Recruitment


    Recipient: Julian Reyes | Maya Carter


    Status: Evaluation in Progress


    Your service record has been erased.


    Your termination has been scheduled.


    This is not a warning. This is a recruitment.


    Your skills are recognized. Your potential is calculated.


    Options Available:


    <ul>


    <li>Remain. Await final clearance. Outcome: Erasure.</li>


    </ul>


    <ul>


    <li>Move. Accept extraction. Outcome: Reintegration.</li>


    </ul>


    You have 30 minutes to decide.


    Reply CONFIRM to receive an extraction package.


    Reply DECLINE to terminate this communication.


    Non-response will be interpreted as disinterest.


    This opportunity will not be repeated.


    <hr>


    Julian stared at the message, his breath sticking in his chest.


    Slowly, he looked up at Maya.


    Her expression had shifted¡ªthe quiet anger now replaced with sharp calculation.


    Neither of them spoke.


    But they both knew one thing for certain.


    They weren¡¯t alone after all.


    <hr>


    Maya "Blaze" Carter T.D.I. 00-Primus-14 | 20:34


    <hr>


    The hum of tires against gravel filled the car, the rhythmic crunch of dirt and loose stone beneath the wheels the only constant sound in the silence between them. Maya kept her hands steady on the wheel, her knuckles loose despite the tension that had coiled inside her since the moment they hit send.


    One hour.


    That¡¯s all it had been.


    She flicked her gaze briefly to the rearview mirror. No headlights. No tailing cars. The road stretched behind them, an unlit path fading into blackness. Ahead, nothing but open fields and a dirt road winding toward an unknown destination.


    She shouldn¡¯t be this calm.


    And yet, she was.


    Her mind drifted back to the bar, to the moment her entire world had been condensed into a single decision¡ªa yes or a no.


    She had been so damn sure they wouldn¡¯t make it to nightfall.


    The best-case scenario? They lost everything. Got dumped into entry-level civilian jobs, watched forever, barely able to breathe without someone checking up on them.


    The worst-case?


    They¡¯d be dead before they even stepped outside.


    Even now, she wasn¡¯t sure which of those two was worse.


    A slow, inevitable death, stretched out over decades, choking the life from you one dull, empty day at a time.


    Or a quick bullet, neat, efficient, tying up a loose end.


    Instead, they¡¯d bet their lives on something far more dangerous.


    Hope.


    A nonzero chance that this wasn¡¯t a trap. That whoever¡ªor whatever¡ªhad sent them the message had a genuine interest in keeping them alive.


    They¡¯d placed their bet.


    The moment they hit send, her phone rang.


    Not a number she recognized.


    Not a number anyone should have been able to reach her on.


    She answered, pulse steady, ignoring the look Julian shot her.


    The voice on the other end had been¡­ wrong.


    Smooth. Precise. Almost human.


    Almost.


    It instructed her to remove her EarPods and hand one to Julian, then put the other in her own ear.


    No questions. No hesitation. Just do it.


    Maya had obeyed. Julian had, too. The voice continued, giving clear, clipped instructions.


    Leave the bar. Walk to your car. Julian¡¯s is already compromised. Drive.


    They did.


    And the moment they left the city, things got stranger.


    There was no traffic.


    Not just light traffic¡ªno traffic.


    Every single traffic light turned green as they approached, as if the city itself was clearing their path.


    Even now, on the open road, it felt¡­ orchestrated.


    Like they were moving along a pre-planned route, a piece on a board where someone already knew every move they would make.


    Now, an hour later, they were still driving.


    The dirt road stretched before them, winding through empty fields, the only light coming from the faint glow of the dashboard and the occasional reflection of the moon in the rearview mirror.


    The EarPod was still in her ear. So was Julian¡¯s. Neither of them had spoken. She tightened her grip on the wheel just slightly, her mind buzzing with questions she wasn¡¯t sure she wanted the answers to. But the most pressing one?


    Who the hell was waiting for them at the end of this road?


    The voice returned over the earpiece, smooth and mechanical.


    ¡°In one mile, you will stop and follow the orders of Agent Samuels.¡±


    Maya didn¡¯t respond. Neither did Julian. One mile. The words settled into her mind like weights, pressing against the back of her skull. A single mile between them and¡ªwhat, exactly?


    She risked a glance at Julian. His posture was rigid, his hands resting on his thighs like he was bracing for something. His jaw was clenched, eyes fixed on the road ahead, but she could tell his mind was already racing.


    Neither of them trusted this.


    But what choice did they have?


    <hr>


    The lights ahead cut through the darkness, stark and sterile. Too bright. Too deliberate. It wasn¡¯t just illumination¡ªit was control. A spotlight, a stage, a carefully arranged setting where every detail had been placed with purpose.


    Maya eased off the gas, fingers tightening around the wheel. The scene was too precise, too calculated. It didn¡¯t feel like a checkpoint. It felt like a conclusion.


    Beside her, Julian shifted. He didn¡¯t speak, but she felt his tension, sharp and bracing. His eyes were locked on the figures ahead.


    A man stood at the edge of the lights, waiting.


    Not waving them down.


    Not signaling urgency.


    Just a single, deliberate motion. A summons.


    Like he had been expecting them.


    Maya pulled in, the tires crunching softly over the dirt. The man¡ªbroad-shouldered, dressed in black tactical gear¡ªstepped forward, stopping beside two metal tables at the center of the light.


    No insignia. No name. No expression.


    Just another nameless operative in a sea of them.


    She cut the engine.


    The silence that followed was deafening.


    Julian was the first to move. He unbuckled his seatbelt, inhaling slowly through his nose before pushing open the door.


    Maya hesitated.


    Her fingers stayed curled around the wheel for a fraction of a second longer than they needed to.


    Something felt off.


    But hesitation wouldn¡¯t help her now.


    She exhaled, forcing herself to move.


    The moment she stepped out, she took in the scene again.


    The two metal tables weren¡¯t empty.


    The lights cast deep shadows, emphasizing the stark white cloths covering two still figures.


    Bodies.


    Two of them.


    Maya¡¯s stomach tightened.


    Julian didn¡¯t hesitate. He stepped forward, his movements steady, controlled¡ªbut she saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curled ever so slightly at his sides.


    She took a step forward.


    Before she could say a word, the voice returned in her ear.


    ¡°That is Agent Samuels. He has limited knowledge in regard to this operation. He will answer all your questions with information he knows. Please refrain from directing questions towards me until we are alone again.¡±


    Maya¡¯s spine went rigid.


    She turned slightly, eyes flicking toward Julian. He was already looking at her. They had both heard it. The same message. The confirmation sent a slow, cold chill down her spine. They weren¡¯t just being watched. They were plugged in. Their every word, every movement, tracked, accounted for, anticipated.


    Agent Samuels didn¡¯t react.


    Either he didn¡¯t know¡ªor he didn¡¯t care.


    He exhaled sharply, glancing between them.


    ¡°As you have most likely been informed, I¡¯m Agent Samuels.¡± He gestured vaguely toward his own earpiece. ¡°My rank, according to the higher-ups¡­¡± he tapped the earpiece twice, his tone bordering on amused ¡°¡­is designated as Auxiliary Agent Samuels.¡±


    He tilted his head, listening to something only he could hear.


    ¡°And you are designated¡­¡± He paused, eyes narrowing slightly before continuing. ¡°That is new.¡±


    A flicker of something unreadable passed over his face.


    ¡°You are designated Tempestarii Trio¡ª¡®Trio¡¯ meaning Recruit.¡±


    He clapped his hands together once, nodding. ¡°Congratulations, you are the first two. Ever.¡±


    Maya and Julian exchanged a look.


    First?


    Samuels smirked, almost enjoying the moment. ¡°That makes you the first Caeliduum.¡±


    Julian frowned. ¡°What is that?¡±


    Samuels shrugged. ¡°That¡ªI¡¯m not sure of.¡± He lifted a hand before Julian could press him further. ¡°It will be explained later if the higher-ups deem it necessary.¡±


    His casual indifference set Maya¡¯s teeth on edge. Then, his tone shifted. More direct. More final.


    ¡°I would ask that you remove all of your clothes and personal items.¡±


    Maya stilled. Julian¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°What?¡±


    Samuels gestured toward a section of the setup¡ªtwo free-standing curtains, positioned for some privacy but not much.


    ¡°You will find new clothes there. Please do not keep any items. The more personally attached you are to something, the more important it is that you leave it behind.¡±


    A knot tightened in Maya¡¯s chest.


    Her fingers instinctively went up to the chain beneath her shirt, her grandmother¡¯s necklace pressing against her skin.


    ¡°Why?¡± she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.


    Samuels didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, he walked to the two tables and removed the covers. The breath left her lungs.


    There¡ªlying perfectly still¡ªwere two bodies.


    Bodies that looked ridiculously like Julian and herself.


    Her pulse pounded in her ears.


    Samuels stepped back, nodding at the medical personnel who had begun gathering around the tables.


    ¡°Tonight, the two of you will die. Or at least, that is what the military and those monitoring you will believe.¡±


    Maya swallowed hard, her mind struggling to process the sight in front of her.


    ¡°I suppose the higher-ups are keeping them off your trail¡ªkeeping them busy. By tomorrow, they will find these two bodies in a burned-out car. Not burned beyond recognition, just enough to make it believable.¡±


    Samuels turned his gaze toward them, his expression unreadable.


    ¡°And one thing that will help sell the illusion is if those bodies are carrying all of your most treasured personal items.¡±


    Julian exhaled sharply beside her.


    Maya felt cold.


    Samuels stepped aside, motioning toward the curtains. ¡°So, if you would be so kind¡­¡±


    She hesitated for half a second.


    Then, with stiff, mechanical movements, she stepped behind the curtain.


    One by one, she began removing everything¡ªher clothes, her watch, the small items she kept in her pockets.


    She hesitated at the last thing.


    Her necklace.


    The worn chain felt heavier than ever, the tiny pendant warm against her skin.


    She had never taken it off. Not once.


    With a slow breath, she unclasped it, holding it between her fingers for a long moment.


    Then, she set it down with the rest of her belongings.


    Her earrings.


    The ring she never left home without.


    Everything.


    She dressed in the new, nondescript tracksuit, the fabric plain, unfamiliar, disposable.


    As she turned to leave, the voice returned in her ear.


    ¡°Leave your earpods and phone on the tray as well.¡±


    Maya closed her eyes.


    Then, with deliberate finality, she placed them down.


    Maya stepped out, adjusting to the cool night air, and immediately took in the scene before her.


    Julian stood a few feet away, arms crossed, watching with a mix of morbid curiosity and barely concealed tension.


    His double had already been dressed and loaded into their car¡ªthe very same car they had driven here. The unsettling sight sent a shiver down Maya¡¯s spine.


    She turned toward the second table. They were already dressing her double.


    It was surreal. Watching herself¡ªor something that looked like her¡ªbeing carefully prepared for death.


    A death she wouldn¡¯t have to live through.


    Agent Samuels called them over, handing each of them a small black bag.


    ¡°Inside, you¡¯ll find your new phones and all the goodies you¡¯ll need.¡±


    Maya took hers and immediately unzipped it, fingers brushing over smooth plastic and cold metal.


    A wallet¡ªnew leather, stiff, unused. Inside, fake identity documents, a set of credit cards, and around $250 in cash under an unfamiliar name.


    She exhaled slowly as she pulled out the earpieces next. They were sleek, seamless, far more comfortable than her old ones. She slipped them in, barely feeling their presence.


    Samuels waited, watching them with the patience of someone used to this process.


    Then, he clasped his hands together.


    ¡°So. Any questions before we leave?¡±


    Maya looked around.


    The operation was already breaking down. Vehicles were pulling away, equipment being packed up with precision.


    The people who had been sweeping the ground were nearly finished. Even their own footprints were disappearing.


    The entire place would be gone within minutes.


    Maya turned back to Samuels.


    ¡°What is going on?¡± she asked before she could stop herself.


    Samuels groaned loudly.


    ¡°God damn it.¡±


    Maya frowned. Julian raised an eyebrow.


    Samuels sighed, shaking his head. ¡°Sorry,¡± he muttered when he saw their confusion. ¡°It¡¯s just¡ª¡± he paused, rubbing his temple, ¡°we have a bet going. The other Agents and I. The pool is just past five figures now.¡±


    Maya blinked. ¡°¡­What?¡±


    ¡°The bet,¡± he explained, ¡°is that the first one of us to get a recruit through without them asking ¡®what¡¯s going on¡¯ or ¡®what¡¯s happening¡¯ wins the pot.¡±


    He shook his head, disappointed.


    ¡°I was so sure you two, being military, would already have been briefed to some extent. But alas, no.¡±.


    ¡°Jesus, dude. Just answer her.¡± Julian groaned


    Samuels exhaled, finally relenting.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know.¡±


    That took Maya aback. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Simple as that. They keep us semi-isolated during operations, always rotating teams. We get orders, we execute them. That¡¯s it. We don¡¯t get the bigger picture. But we do get paid a lot!¡±


    Julian crossed his arms. ¡°Who¡¯s ¡®they¡¯?¡±


    Samuels shrugged, looking genuinely indifferent.


    ¡°Again, we don¡¯t know. Some people call them ¡®The Voices.¡¯ Others say they call themselves ¡®Subroutines.¡¯ Me? I just call them ¡®The Higher-Ups.¡¯¡±


    He turned, motioning toward a nearby car. ¡°Come on. We¡¯re moving.¡±


    Maya and Julian followed as he led them past the rapidly disappearing traces of their existence.


    The site was transforming in real-time.


    More personnel in black gear had arrived¡ªsweeping the ground, removing tire tracks, scrubbing any remaining physical evidence that either of them had ever been here.


    She could smell rain on the wind. It wasn¡¯t far off. Soon, the storm would wash away whatever was left. She wondered if even the rain was part of the plan.


    ¡°What is all this?¡± Maya asked.


    Samuels barely glanced back.


    ¡°Recruitment.¡±


    His tone was casual, as if this was nothing more than a standard hiring process.


    ¡°We intercept individuals or groups and get them squared away.¡± He made a vague gesture to the area around them. ¡°Usually, it¡¯s not staging a murder-suicide.¡±


    Maya¡¯s stomach twisted. Samuels continued as if he hadn¡¯t just said something deeply disturbing.


    ¡°Sometimes it¡¯s weird stuff. Like a buddy of mine in Disposal was dispatched the other day to clean up a murder. Random dead guy in a slum apartment¡ªshady neighborhood, no connections. They don¡¯t tell us why. Just that it has to be done.¡±


    He finished with a shrug, opening the driver¡¯s side door of a sleek, unmarked hybrid vehicle.


    Then, tapping his earpiece, he muttered, ¡°Time to get back to work.¡±


    And just like that¡ªhe walked away. .


    Maya and Julian climbed into the car meant for them.


    The moment they shut the doors, the vehicle powered on automatically.


    She was starteld when the steering wheels started turning..


    She wasn¡¯t in control, she wasn¡¯t the driver. It didn¡¯t need one.


    The car shifted gears on its own, smoothly accelerating down the dirt road, away from the operation site.


    Then¡ª


    The voice returned in their new earpieces.


    ¡°We will now proceed to the first Tempestarii staging area.¡±


    A brief pause.


    ¡°Welcome, Trio.¡±