The grand Hall of the Cosmic Alliance gleamed in the morning light, its towering arches and crystal-clear walls giving it an almost celestial glow. Diplomats and planetary representatives flowed through its vast entrance, their attire a mix of vibrant colors and intricate designs that reflected the diversity of the Alliance. A high presence of infantry corps stood in perfect formation, their polished armor catching the light as they silently surveyed the arriving guests.
In the midst of this gathering, Gaelon, Ryxen, and Nadira blended in. Dressed casually, they drew little attention as they moved through the crowd, their eyes sharp, scanning for any signs of trouble. They weren't here for the ceremony itself-they were here to observe, to remain unnoticed among the elites.
"Quite the show of force," Ryxen muttered, his gaze flicking toward the guards.
Gaelon nodded, his jaw set. "It's meant to be. With this many power players in one place, it's no surprise they're taking extra precautions."
Nadira stayed silent, her eyes moving across the sea of dignitaries, her mind already thinking ahead. Their task was to blend, to disappear among the attendees-but that didn't mean they weren't on edge.
Meanwhile, high above the Hall, Xelari stood in the shadow of his luxurious residence. The view was stunning, a perfect vantage point of the ceremony below. Dressed in regal attire that radiated authority, he looked every bit the leader he was poised to become. Maya, his trusted aide, remained a step behind him, ever watchful.
"Look at them," Xelari began, his voice smooth and confident, his eyes tracing the movements of the arriving dignitaries. "Each of them here to witness a new era, though most of them probably think it's just another political ceremony."
Maya remained silent as Xelari continued, "They'll see soon enough. I'm not just my father's heir-I'm the one who will reshape the Alliance. I'll carve a path that even he couldn't imagine." He smiled to himself, his hands clasped behind his back as the excitement in his voice grew. "When I take my place on the Supreme Council, it won't just be to fill his shoes. It'll be to set a new standard."
Maya watched him with quiet understanding. She had heard these words before, but today, there was a finality to them. This was the day everything changed.
×××××××××××××××
The heat of Orion Prime was oppressive, the sun blazing high in the sky. Ethan wiped the sweat from his brow as he leaned against the jagged rocks, seeking relief under the narrow strip of shade they had found. His comrades sat around him, their faces reflecting the exhaustion of a long, hungry night. Kavor's stomach growled audibly, breaking the uneasy silence.
"Anyone know if there's anything edible on this planet?" Ethan asked, his voice tinged with frustration.
Visar, still rubbing his temple from the lingering headache of the sedative, snorted. "Only if you like wildlife that knocks you out for hours. Next thing we find might just kill us outright."
Kavor glanced up, the rifle across his lap. "We've got to eat something. Can't fight on an empty stomach."
Before anyone could respond, a distant roar cut through the quiet. They all looked up to see Skyblades slicing through the air above the rocky mountains, their sleek frames gleaming under the sun. The sight stirred something in Ethan, and his thoughts drifted to Jackson. How's he faring up there? he wondered, imagining his friend navigating the skies for the first time. He could almost hear Jackson's excited voice as he readied for his first flight.
Virun sighed. "I envy those recruits. Flying up there, away from this blasted heat."
"I'll take the ground over the air any day," Kavor muttered, though his eyes lingered on the Skyblades.
"Quiet down," Loran hissed. Toran mirrored his movement, crouching lower as the Cynor twins both pointed toward the horizon. A group of raiders, outfitted in patched-up armor and dusty helmets, were patrolling the rocky plains below, their ragged transports kicking up clouds of sand and dust as they scoured the landscape.
Kavor frowned, lowering the rifle cautiously. "Why would they send us out here unarmed, knowing raiders roam the area?"
Toran, ever the calm voice of reason, replied, "Because the raiders won't attack us. They don't see a reason to if we're unarmed."
Kavor's grip tightened on the rifle. "Except for this. Bet they'd love to get their hands on it."
Ethan gave Kavor a steady look. "Keep it down. We might need that later."
The group fell silent again, watching the raiders as they continued toward a distant camp, a cluster of tents and vehicles nestled against the rocks. Dusty banners fluttered in the wind, marking it as a makeshift base of operations. Ethan's stomach growled now too, the sight of the camp sparking an idea.
Visar, ever the risk-taker, leaned forward. "They probably have supplies in that camp. Food. Water. Weapons."
Loran shook his head immediately. "You're out of your mind if you think we're going in there."
"We're not equipped to fight raiders," Toran added, backing his brother.
Kavor grunted in agreement, his eyes narrowing. "We need to avoid them, not run toward them."
But Visar's eyes gleamed with determination. "Who said anything about fighting? Just a quick look, grab what we can, and we're gone before they even know we're there."
The others shifted uncomfortably, all except for Ethan. He could see the logic in Visar's reckless idea. They were desperate, and this might be their only chance to get the supplies they needed to survive the next few days. He nodded at Visar.
"I'll go with you."
The others exchanged uneasy glances, but no one else volunteered. Loran and Toran, both protective and pragmatic, were already thinking through every risk, while Virun simply stared at the ground.
"You two are mad," Kavor muttered. "But if you're set on it, at least be careful. Don't go getting yourselves killed."
Ethan glanced at Visar, who gave him a crooked grin. "Don't worry. Just stay here and keep an eye out. We'll be back before you miss us."
With that, Ethan and Visar moved out, keeping low as they slipped between the rocks, the camp of raiders looming ever closer.
××××××××××××
The transport hovered to a smooth stop outside the Grand Hall of the Cosmic Alliance. Xelari stepped out first, the glint of his perfectly tailored attire catching the morning light. He paused momentarily, taking in the grandeur of the hall before him, where the highest of the high would gather. Today was his day, and he intended to make the most of it.
Maya, his aide, followed closely behind, dressed in the ceremonial uniform of the diplomatic corps. The sharp, clean lines of her attire mirrored the precision she carried in her duties. She scanned the surroundings, her eyes catching the tense figure of John Harris, Earth's representative, who was standing near the entrance. His brow was furrowed, and his tone urgent as he sent a voice message, pacing slightly with each word.
"King Varro," John muttered, his voice low but strained. "You promised you'd be here, that Cryonax would not be absent from such a momentous occasion. But you're nowhere to be found. You're not answering any calls either. This is very friendly of you, King Varro."
As Xelari approached, Harris quickly ended the voice message, slipping the device into his pocket. His face shifted into a diplomatic smile, but the tension remained beneath the surface.
"Xelari," Harris greeted, his voice smooth but slightly forced. "Congratulations on the inauguration. A momentous day for you and the council."
Xelari offered a gracious nod, allowing Harris to extend his hand in a congratulatory gesture, but he said little. With his usual quiet confidence, he gestured for Harris to step aside, allowing him to enter the hall before him. Harris didn't protest, his eyes briefly following Xelari's form before he straightened himself and fell in behind.
The corridors leading to the main chamber were adorned with intricate banners, representing the various worlds within the Cosmic Alliance. The hall buzzed with quiet conversations and the shifting of feet as dignitaries and representatives made their way toward their seats. Every step Xelari took was deliberate, exuding the authority and grace that he had so carefully cultivated.
As they passed through the ornate archways, Xelari glanced toward Maya, who remained composed but alert beside him. He spoke in a low voice, just loud enough for her to hear.
"You've done well, Maya. Find a place among the aides and enjoy the ceremony."
Maya nodded, understanding her role without needing further instruction. She turned on her heel and walked toward the seating area designated for the aides of planetary representatives. The low hum of conversation among the aides did nothing to disturb her calm as she gracefully found her place among them, her posture as sharp as her uniform.
Xelari continued forward, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the Grand Hall itself. The doors loomed ahead, and beyond them, the ceremony awaited. As he passed through, the weight of his impending rise to power settled on him, but he carried it with ease. Today was the day he would step into his father's shoes, but more importantly, he would begin carving his own path.
×××××××××××
The heat bore down on Ethan and Visar as they crept through the dust-streaked camp, their movements slow and deliberate, eyes darting from one makeshift structure to the next. The sun of Orion Prime was unrelenting, a burning orb that sapped their energy with every step, but neither of them complained. This was their chance to find something, anything, to eat, and the raiders' camp offered the only hope they had seen since sunrise.
The camp itself was rudimentary. Tattered canvas tents and scavenged metal parts made up the bulk of the shelters, with the occasional rusty vehicle parked haphazardly among them. Raiders paced the perimeter, rifles slung lazily over their shoulders, but the midday sun had made them sluggish. For now.
Ethan crouched behind a stack of crates, his breath shallow as he scanned the area. Visar knelt beside him, one hand on his visor, adjusting it to reduce the glare. He was silent, but Ethan knew him well enough to recognize the impatience in his stance.
"They're too scattered," Ethan whispered, eyes on a lone raider patrolling near a cluster of barrels. "If we can make it to that tent over there without being seen..."
"We won't," Visar interrupted with a grin. "But let's try anyway."
The two exchanged a glance before darting out from their hiding spot. They kept low, moving quickly across the packed dirt, aiming for the shade of the tent. The camp stretched around them, a chaotic maze of tents, vehicles, and armed figures who, for now, remained oblivious to their presence. But Ethan knew it wouldn't last.
They reached the tent, flattening themselves against its side, and Ethan exhaled, briefly closing his eyes to steady himself. His heart pounded, but the thrill of sneaking through enemy territory brought a focus to his mind.
"We're almost there," Visar said quietly, peeking around the edge. "We can grab something and-"
A shout pierced the still air.
"Hey! Over there!"
Ethan's stomach dropped. In the distance, a raider pointed directly at them, his voice carrying across the camp. In an instant, the relaxed pace of the raiders turned into a flurry of movement. Guns were drawn, and feet pounded the earth.
"Well," Visar muttered, standing up straight. "Can't say I'm surprised."
"Go!" Ethan urged, but it was too late. Raiders poured toward them, cutting off any escape routes they might have hoped for.
Before either could make another move, they were surrounded. Rifles were leveled at their chests, and rough hands grabbed their arms, forcing them to their knees in the dirt. The heat of the midday sun was nothing compared to the burning tension now hanging in the air.
Ethan glanced at Visar, who only shrugged, his usual smirk still plastered on his face.
"Guess this is what happens when you try to sneak through a raiders' camp," Visar quipped, unbothered by the weapons aimed at them.
Ethan didn't respond, his mind racing as the raiders closed in, the grim realization sinking in: they had been caught.
×××××××××××
"...and I swear to uphold the values of the Cosmic Alliance, to govern with wisdom and justice," Xelari declared, his voice steady, yet laden with the weight of responsibility. His hands rested confidently on the podium, his immaculate attire gleaming under the lights of the Grand Hall. "...and to ensure that every decision I make strengthens our collective future." The final words of his oath reverberated through the grand chamber, his presence commanding the attention of the planetary representatives, diplomats, and military personnel gathered before him.
At that moment, not far from the Grand Hall, the towering structure of the Arcanis Prime Prison Facility stood, its cold, gray exterior a stark contrast to the grandeur of the inauguration ceremony. King Varro, his imposing figure draped in royal attire, approached the entrance, his steps slow, deliberate. The guards at the entrance, their postures stiff, eyed him with suspicion.
"State your business," one of them asked cautiously.
Varro narrowed his eyes, an edge of irritation in his voice. "I am here to see inmate 21 from Cryonax."
"Do you have a pass?" the second guard asked, clearly uncertain.
Varro's jaw tightened, and he tilted his head, his voice low and sharp. "A pass? You dare question me? I am royalty, and a planetary representative. I need no pass to walk into any facility on this planet."
The guards exchanged nervous glances, quickly lowering their heads in apology. "Forgive us, Your Majesty. We meant no disrespect."
Varro took a step forward, his tone dangerous. "I'll make sure General Rylor hears of this insubordination. Pray he is lenient."
The color drained from their faces. "That won't be necessary, Your Majesty! Please, go ahead."
Satisfied, Varro stepped into the prison, a smug smirk barely concealed on his lips.
×
Back at the Grand Hall, Xelari's speech began in earnest. His voice, rich and commanding, filled the vast chamber. "For years, I have stood in the shadow of a man revered throughout the galaxy. My father's legacy is one of strength, resilience, and diplomacy. A legacy that shaped the path I now walk. But today... today, I begin a new chapter. Not just for myself, but for all of us. Today, I will not merely follow his path. I will carve my own."
The hall echoed with polite applause as Xelari paused, his gaze sweeping over the audience. His enigmatic smile gave nothing away, yet his words carried an unspoken ambition. "The Cosmic Alliance must evolve, for stagnation breeds only decay. We must rise to face new challenges, to adapt. And I will lead that charge."
In the crowd, General Rylor sat near the front, his eyes flicking between Xelari and the entrance of the hall. John Harris, Earth's representative, stood at the back, fidgeting nervously and glancing at the door more often than he should. His agitation was palpable.
×
Within the prison, King Varro moved with purpose through the dimly lit corridors, his eyes scanning the cells on either side. As he neared a particular cell, he paused, his gaze locking with that of a disheveled man inside. Jarek, General Rylor's estranged brother, looked up in disbelief, his gaunt face etched with confusion.
"King Varro?" Jarek's voice was hoarse, his eyes narrowing.
The supposed king didn't answer. Instead, he reached into his robes, producing a key card he had quietly lifted from the guards. The cell door slid open with a hiss, and as Jarek stood, ready to question him further, King Varro's form shifted. His human-like appearance melted away, revealing the shape-shifting figure beneath.
"Varro's not here, Jarek," the alien sneered, his features rippling before settling into his true form, a Vorsalite. "But I am. Follow me."
×
Xelari continued his speech at the Grand Hall, his tone unwavering. "To those who believe we must cling to the old ways, I say this: the galaxy is ever-changing. So too must our leadership change. We cannot be bound by the past. Our future requires bold decisions, innovation, and unity."
The applause was more enthusiastic this time, though General Rylor's mind was elsewhere. His comms device vibrated subtly, the screen flashing with an alert. He glanced down at the message, his brow furrowing. Something was happening at the prison.
At the same moment, Gaelon and Ryxen exchanged a look. Nadira, seated near the back, had already excused herself, slipping outside quietly. Rylor gave a barely perceptible nod to Gaelon, signaling them to investigate. As Rylor rose to leave, he did so without drawing attention to himself, his movements smooth and deliberate but Chancellor Aralyn's eyes were trained on him as he left the hall.
×
Back at the prison, alarms blared through the facility. The Vorsalite hurried through the corridors, Jarek close behind. They were spotted by a pair of guards who immediately raised the alarm. The prison's lights flashed red as the Vorsalite barked orders into a comms device hidden in his sleeve.
"They've seen us. Where are you?"
A crackling response came through. "South end. We're ready to breach."
The Vorsalite grabbed Jarek's arm and pulled him toward the southern corridor. Behind them, the heavy boots of guards pounded in pursuit.
×
Outside the Grand Hall, Gaelon and Ryxen climbed into their transport, speeding toward the prison facility. Gaelon tapped his comms device, calling Nadira.
"Where are you?"
"Already at the facility," Nadira responded coolly. The transport halted, and she stepped out, drawing her plasma handgun. "I'm going inside."
Gaelon nodded grimly as the call ended, pushing the transport forward.
×
At the southern end of the prison, two Aethorians and two Vorsalites stood poised, placing charges along the facility's outer wall. The lead Aethorian, tall and imposing, monitored the operation, his stance authoritative as he directed the others. Behind them, a sleek ship bearing the emblem of Cryonax touched down.
Inside, the alarms continued to blare as Jarek and the Vorsalite rounded the final corner. The Vorsalite motioned ahead, "We're almost there."
The charges detonated, a thunderous explosion ripping a gaping hole in the prison's wall. Dust and debris filled the air as Jarek stumbled forward into the daylight. His eyes widened when he recognized the lead Aethorian waiting for him.
"Uncle," the Aethorian greeted, inclining his head.
Jarek managed a small smile, but the moment was cut short by the sound of gunfire. Plasma energy seared the air, and the guards in pursuit fired relentlessly. One of the jailbreakers fell under the barrage, but Jarek and his nephew sprinted toward the waiting ship, the chaos of their escape unfolding behind them.
The barrage of plasma fire intensified as Jarek and his nephew sprinted toward the ship, their boots kicking up dirt in their desperate dash. From the open bay doors of the ship, more Vorsalites poured out, their weapons blazing, sending a hail of plasma toward the pursuing prison guards. Suddenly, a bolt of energy nearly clipped Jarek from the side. He stumbled and whirled around, eyes narrowing as a figure emerged from the dust.
It was Nadira, her handgun raised, her voice sharp. "Stand down! Now!"
Jarek's nephew, his eyes cold, signaled to the pilot. Without hesitation, the ship's weapons systems activated, sending a concentrated burst of fire at the guards who had begun to regroup at the breach. Explosions rocked the ground as the guards were forced to retreat or fell, their lifeless bodies crumpling beneath the assault.
Meanwhile, Gaelon and Ryxen moved swiftly through the prison corridors. The sound of distant gunfire echoed down the concrete halls, growing louder as they approached the south end.
Outside, Nadira's eyes never wavered as she took a step closer, her voice firm. "I won't repeat myself."
Jarek's nephew glanced at her with disdain. "Go on, Uncle," he muttered, patting Jarek's shoulder. "Leave her to me."
Jarek hesitated only for a second before resuming his sprint toward the ship, but the sudden crack of plasma fire at his feet forced him to stop again. Nadira's warning shot burned into the ground just inches from his boots, her glare unwavering.
His nephew moved with lightning speed, charging Nadira and tackling her to the ground in one swift motion. They hit the dirt hard, and in a fluid movement, Nadira rolled away, springing to her feet and pulling her plasma knives from her belt. She spun them expertly in her hands, her stance low and ready. The lead Aethorian didn't flinch; he merely sneered as he circled her, his eyes reading every inch of her stance.
Nadira struck first, her knives cutting through the air with deadly precision. But he was faster-far faster. He weaved around her attacks with a grace that seemed almost effortless. Every slash of her blade met only empty air. His movements were like a blur, and with each miss, Nadira grew more desperate. She lunged again, but this time, he caught her arm mid-strike, twisting it with brutal efficiency, forcing her to drop one of her knives.
×
Back in the prison, Gaelon and Ryxen finally reached the breach, only to be pinned down by the relentless barrage from the escape ship. Plasma fire cut through the air, and the two of them crouched behind debris as they scanned the chaotic scene. Guards lay scattered on the ground, some motionless, others frantically trying to return fire. Gaelon's eyes locked onto the unmistakable figure of Jarek being helped aboard the ship by an Aethorian.
"There!" Ryxen pointed, his voice barely audible over the gunfire. "Look, it's Nadira!"
Gaelon's heart sank as he saw her, locked in a losing battle with the lead Aethorian. She was outmatched, her attacks wild and desperate now, each one countered with ease. The fight had become a cruel display of superiority. The Aethorian used her momentum against her, slipping past her defenses and manipulating her movements.
×
Nadira's breath came in ragged gasps as she fought with everything she had, but it wasn't enough. With a brutal twist, her enemy grabbed her wrist, forcing her plasma knife to plunge deep into her chest. Nadira's eyes widened in shock and pain as the weapon struck home, her strength failing as blood poured from the wound. She collapsed to the ground, her knives slipping from her grasp.
"No!" Gaelon's voice broke through the chaos as he started forward, but Ryxen grabbed his arm, pulling him back. The ship was still firing, and moving forward would be suicide.
The Aethorian wiped the blade clean, turning his back on Nadira's crumpled form. He headed toward the ship, his steps calm, calculated. With a final command to the pilot, the ship's weapons ceased fire, and the engines roared to life, preparing for takeoff.
Seeing the opportunity, Gaelon and Ryxen sprinted toward Nadira. Gaelon dropped to his knees beside her, the grief already written on his face. Ryxen stood behind him, silent but stricken, his gaze locked on their fallen comrade.
---
At the edge of the landing pad, General Rylor burst from the prison corridors, his eyes immediately drawn to the ship. He moved with a speed that belied his age, sprinting toward the vessel as it began to lift off the ground. The hull of the ship rotated, revealing Jarek standing triumphantly on the open platform, a cruel smile stretching across his face. His eyes met Rylor's, and the jeer was unmistakable.
"Miss me, brother?" Jarek called out, his voice mocking even over the roar of the engines. "I'll be seeing you soon."
Rylor's blood boiled, his fists clenching at his sides. Without thinking, he shouted across the platform, his voice filled with rage. "I challenge you, Jarek! To Kavorn D'ruhn!"
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. Even Jarek seemed momentarily stunned. The ancient Aethorian combat rite was a sacred duel, one that couldn't be refused without bringing eternal dishonor. Jarek's expression shifted, his grin fading into something far more serious.
"Kavorn D'ruhn?" Jarek repeated, amusement creeping back into his voice, though tinged with surprise. "You're desperate, brother. But you know the rules-I can't refuse such a challenge. Very well, I accept. On Aethoria, then."
The ship's engines roared once more as it began to ascend, Jarek's eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. "I'll be waiting."
As the ship disappeared into the sky, Gaelon knelt beside Nadira, his face twisted in anguish. He gently cradled her body, her once vibrant energy now gone. Ryxen stood by, his hand resting on Gaelon's shoulder, his own heart heavy with the weight of loss.
×××××××××××××
The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the rugged landscape of Orion Prime as Kavor, Virun, Loran, and Toran gathered beneath the shelter of a rocky outcrop. The air was thick with tension, and the growing sounds of nocturnal wildlife stirred unease among them. With nightfall approaching, survival on Orion Prime became a different challenge entirely.
"We've waited long enough," Toran said, his voice tense. Loran nodded in agreement, his twin's thoughts already in sync. "They've either been captured or worse. We can't stay here any longer."
"Captured or not, we can't afford to be out in the open," Virun added, his amphibious skin shimmering faintly in the dimming light. "We'll be hunted. You know what roams these parts after dark."
Kavor, standing a few paces away, spun around to face them, his four arms crossed over his chest. "So, that's it? You're bailing on them? Ethan and Visar went into that camp for us-for all of us! Food, supplies-everything we need to survive the initiation. And now you want to just abandon them?"
Loran and Toran exchanged a glance, speaking as one. "It's not about abandoning them. It's about staying alive."
"They knew the risks," Virun muttered. "We all did."
Kavor's eyes narrowed, frustration boiling over. His usually calm demeanor shifted into something more forceful. "Cowardice is what this is. I thought I was part of a team, not a group of spineless deserters. What would Ethan say if he saw us running with our tails between our legs?"
Toran stepped forward, his voice firm. "And what good will we be to them if we're dead?"
Kavor took a deep breath, his gaze moving over the group. "You're right. We're no good to them dead. But think about it-do you think Ethan and Visar are waiting to be rescued? They probably planned on bringing back those supplies for us. They had us in mind the entire time. And now, you're suggesting we just leave them behind?"
Silence fell over the group, the reality of Kavor's words sinking in. They knew he was right, even if they didn't want to admit it.
"We can't leave them," Kavor continued, his tone more resolute. "We owe it to them. But we also need a plan."
Virun sighed, his amphibious skin rippling as he shifted uncomfortably. "Fine. We'll go after them. But how? The camp will be on high alert, and we don't even know how many of those raiders there are."
Kavor uncrossed his arms and looked toward the distant ridgeline where the raider camp lay. "First, we scout the perimeter. Then, we find a weakness. We can't storm the place, but maybe there's another way in."
Meanwhile, in the heart of the raider camp, dusk was settling in. The dim light cast a reddish hue over the crude structures, and the fires scattered around the camp flickered as the wind picked up. Ethan and Visar sat bound together against a wooden post, their wrists tied tightly behind their backs. The heat from the day still radiated from the ground, and the dusty air was thick with the smell of sweat, oil, and smoke.
Ethan glanced around, his mind racing as he tried to think of an escape. But with the ropes biting into his wrists and the sheer number of raiders milling about, there seemed to be no immediate way out.
"Not exactly how I pictured our initiation going," Visar muttered beside him, his usual laid-back attitude slightly cracked by the situation.
"Yeah," Ethan replied, his voice low. "Not how I imagined it either."
The sound of approaching footsteps made them both sit up straighter. A figure emerged from the shadows, accompanied by a small, dog-sized creature padding silently at her side. The camp leader. She was young-surprisingly so for someone leading a group of raiders on a planet as harsh as Orion Prime. Her skin was weathered by the sun, darkened by years spent outdoors, and her short, ash-blonde hair was tied back in a loose braid. Her sharp blue eyes gleamed with a cold, calculating intelligence. She was from Orion Prime, like the rest of the raiders here.
She stopped in front of them, her pet-an animal with sleek, furred skin and piercing red eyes-sat obediently at her side, watching them with unsettling intensity.
"So, these are the Alliance scumbags that wandered into my camp," she said, her tone laced with disdain. "You really think your kind is needed here, huh? Trying to bring your rules, your order, to a place like Orion Prime. You don't belong here. None of you do."
Ethan glared up at her, his jaw clenched. "We didn't ask to be here."
"Didn't you?" She smirked, her expression mocking. "And here I thought you'd deserted from that shiny little outpost of yours. Unarmed recruits, wandering into my camp. Either you're the dumbest deserters I've ever seen, or you were really stupid enough to think you could steal from us."
Visar shifted uncomfortably. "We didn't desert. We're in the middle of an initiation-survival training."
"Survival?" Her eyes gleamed with amusement. "You mean you're playing war games out here, while the rest of us are just trying to get by. Interesting. Well, whatever you're doing, I don't care. You're going back to that outpost one way or another."
Ethan's heart sank. "What do you mean?"
She crouched down in front of him, her pet moving closer as if sensing its master's mood. "I'm going to exchange you for some Lumium. Your outpost has plenty of it, and we need it. Simple as that."
Visar cursed under his breath. "You can't do that. We'll fail the initiation if we go back."
The leader let out a cold laugh. "You think I care about your little initiation? My people need Lumium, and you two are my ticket to getting it. It's that simple."
She straightened up and signaled to her pet. "Watch over them," she commanded. Then, she turned back to Ethan and Visar, her smirk returning. "And no, you're not getting fed. We'll see if you make it through the night."
With that, she walked away, leaving the two bound and helpless as the sky grew darker.
×××××××××××××
The sterile, dimly lit room of the medical facility on Xanthari hummed quietly, the faint beeping of machines the only sound that broke the stillness. Jackson lay motionless on the medical bed, his skin pale, almost lifeless, save for the subtle rise and fall of his chest. Tubes ran from his body to the various devices that monitored his vitals, while a holographic display above him flickered with medical data and updates on his condition. His Skyblade-the advanced neural-link aircraft that had been his pride-was the reason for his current state, its interface having overloaded his neural pathways.
Jackson's mother entered the room, her footsteps soft against the gleaming floor. She paused at the doorway, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the sight of her son. Sorrow hit her like a wave, the sight of him in this helpless state wrenching at her heart. She had always known the risks of his chosen path, the dangers of flying with a neural link, but nothing could have prepared her for this.
She moved closer, each step slow, as if the gravity of the moment weighed her down. Her eyes, red from sleepless nights and tears unshed, locked onto Jackson's face. He looked so peaceful, but that was the cruelest part. There was no peace here-only the unbearable silence of uncertainty.
She sat beside him, her trembling hand reaching out to gently take his. His skin was cool to the touch, his fingers limp in her grasp. For a moment, she couldn't find her voice. What could she say to him when he couldn't hear her? When he was lost somewhere far beyond her reach?
Tears welled in her eyes, and she lowered her head, her shoulders trembling as she fought to keep her composure. "Jackson," she whispered, her voice fragile, barely above a breath. "My boy... I'm so sorry."
Her words hung in the air, and she could almost imagine him stirring, blinking awake, giving her that lopsided grin he always did when she worried too much. But there was no movement. No sound. Just the relentless beep of the machines keeping him alive.
"I always knew this was dangerous," she continued, her voice growing stronger with the weight of her emotions. "But I never thought it would come to this. You've always been so strong, so stubborn... just like your father." She gave a small, sad smile at the thought, brushing a lock of hair from Jackson's forehead. "He would be so proud of you."
Her words broke off as her throat tightened. She closed her eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I don't know if you can hear me," she said softly, "but I'm here. I'm not leaving you. I promise."
Silence filled the room once more, and she pressed her forehead against his hand, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be flying among the stars, not lying here, caught between life and... whatever this was.
"I need you to fight, Jackson," she whispered. "I know you're strong enough. I know you can come back to me. Please... just come back."
She sat there, holding his hand, her heart heavy with grief and hope intertwined.