The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, casting a muted glow across the rugged terrain of Orion Prime. As the team stirred awake on the stolen hovercraft, the air was filled with the crisp scent of damp earth and the distant rustle of unseen creatures. Ethan sat up first, his eyes scanning the surroundings, the memory of last night's harrowing escape still fresh in his mind. Beside him, Visar adjusted his visors, the lenses glinting as they caught the morning light.
"Did you sleep at all?" Visar asked, stretching his limbs, his voice laced with concern.
"Not a wink," Ethan replied, rubbing the fatigue from his eyes. "But I'm alert enough. We need to keep moving."
Kavor, Virun, Loran, and Toran joined them, yawning and shaking off sleep. The hovercraft creaked under their shifting weight, a reminder of their precarious situation. Kavor let out a groan, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Let's hope today is a bit easier than yesterday," he muttered.
Before anyone could respond, a sudden rustle in the underbrush drew their attention. From the thick foliage emerged a cluster of peculiar creatures, their bodies glistening with iridescent scales, a riot of colors shifting as they moved. Each one had elongated limbs and darting, curious eyes that seemed to scan the group with an intelligence that sent a shiver down Ethan's spine.
"What in the universe are those?" Loran whispered, eyes wide.
"They look like something out of a nightmare," Toran replied, gripping his knife tightly.
Just then, one of the creatures lunged forward, snatching a pack of supplies hanging loosely from the hovercraft. The team sprang into action, but the creatures were quick, darting back into the thicket with a flurry of activity. A second creature leaped onto the hovercraft, its claws scraping against the metal surface as it clawed at the Lumium power cell.
"Get it!" Ethan shouted, lunging toward the creature. He managed to grab its tail, but it twisted and kicked him away, sending him tumbling to the ground.
Visar, still on his feet, aimed a well-placed kick that sent the creature sprawling. In the chaos, the rest of the creatures followed suit, scattering back into the underbrush, their prize clutched tightly in their claws.
"Great, now what?" Kavor exclaimed, surveying the damage. The hovercraft sat at an awkward angle, one of its wheels buckled from the ruckus.
"We salvage what we can," Ethan said, determination hardening his voice. Together, they picked through the remains of their supplies, salvaging what they could. They recovered the Lumium power cell, now slightly dented but still operational.
"Back to square one," Loran grumbled, glancing around at the wilderness closing in on them. "We need to find a settlement. There's bound to be someone who can help."
Visar nodded, his face set in grim determination. "Two more nights to survive. Let's move."
With the weight of their loss lingering in the air, the team plunged deeper into the unknown, the vibrant sounds of Orion Prime's wildlife echoing around them. Each step forward was a reminder of the stakes they faced, but they pressed on, fueled by the hope of finding a settlement and a chance at survival.
××××××××××
Aethoria, a planet of jagged mountains and fierce landscapes, pulsed with a raw energy that echoed the spirits of its inhabitants. The Royal Palace, a sprawling fortress of obsidian and gold, towered against the slate-grey sky, its spires glinting ominously in the dim light. Jarek stepped inside, the cool air brushing against his skin as he entered a world that once revered him.
By his side, Tharok moved with an air of alertness, his sharp gaze surveying the surroundings. The palace, now a gilded cage, felt stifling. Jarek, once a ruler, now a fugitive, sensed the weight of judgment lingering in the corridors. As they walked deeper into the palace, whispers and wary glances followed them, the atmosphere thick with tension.
Suddenly, a contingent of Aethorian military personnel approached, their armor gleaming like polished steel. Jarek halted, meeting their steely gazes with defiance. "I am here for the Kavorn D'ruhn," he declared, his voice steady despite the tumult within.
The soldiers exchanged glances, uncertainty flickering in their expressions. After a moment, their leader stepped forward. "You're a wanted criminal, Jarek. Your presence here cannot go unchecked."
"I'm not here to cause trouble," Jarek replied, his tone firm. "The Kavorn D'ruhn is a matter of honor."
With a shared nod, the soldiers lowered their weapons but maintained a vigilant stance. "You will be placed under close watch," the leader instructed, gesturing for them to follow. As they guided Jarek and Tharok deeper into the palace, Jarek felt a sense of isolation. Once a symbol of Aethorian pride, he was now a pariah in a place that had once been his throne.
As they approached a large section of the palace reserved for confinement, a group of Aethorian diplomats appeared. Their expressions ranged from guarded to hopeful. One, a stout man with a crest of gray hair, stepped forward. "Jarek, it's good to see you. Many still remember your strength and leadership," he said, a hint of admiration in his voice.
The soldiers quickly intervened, blocking access. "He's not to be approached," one soldier warned. But the diplomat managed a quick word, "Some of us still look up to you," before being ushered away.
"Look at this," Tharok muttered, frustration simmering beneath his calm facade. "They don't know what you've done. They're afraid of the past."
"Fear is a powerful tool," Jarek replied, his voice low. "But it won't keep me from what I need to achieve."
Once alone, Tharok turned to Jarek, his expression shifting from concern to determination. "Uncle, I need to ask you something."
"What is it?" Jarek's brow furrowed.
Tharok leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I broke you out of prison for a reason. I found something-something powerful."
Jarek's interest piqued. "What are you talking about?"
Tharok took a breath, steadying himself. "The Eyes of Verathor. They're cosmic artifacts, two halves of an ancient power. When united, they grant the user the ability of mind control."
Jarek's eyes narrowed, the implications washing over him like a wave. "Mind control? That's dangerous."
"It is," Tharok affirmed. "But think of what we could achieve. With that power, we could reshape the Alliance. We wouldn't just be fighting for survival; we'd be rulers in our own right."
A flicker of ambition ignited within Jarek. "And where do we find these artifacts?"
"They're scattered across the galaxy, hidden away, but I believe we can locate them after the Kavorn D'ruhn," Tharok explained, his voice filled with conviction.
Jarek considered this, the weight of his choices heavy upon him. "After the Kavorn D'ruhn," he repeated, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "Then we will seize what is rightfully ours."
As the soldiers stationed outside maintained their vigil, Jarek felt a renewed sense of purpose. In a world where he was no longer welcomed, the prospect of reclaiming his power through the Eyes of Verathor invigorated him. Whatever awaited him in the arena of Kavorn D'ruhn, he would face it with a fierce determination, for he had a plan-and it was only the beginning.
××××××××××××
The sun crept over the skyline of Arcanis Prime, its pale light casting long shadows across the landing field where the solemn procession took place. Hovercrafts hummed gently, their engines emitting a low vibration that barely disturbed the quiet of the dawn. Soldiers stood in silent rows, their armor glinting in the light of the rising sun. At the center of it all, Ryxen, a figure of duty and discipline, oversaw the operation with steely focus.
Gaelon, standing to the side, watched in silence. His eyes, though sharp, were hollow. He had long since locked the pain away, placing it somewhere deep within him where it couldn't break through. Yet, as he stood there, the numbness couldn't shield him from the truth that lay before him. Bodies of the fallen were being prepared for their final journey to Solace Station, orbiting Arcanis Prime. A place where the deceased of the Cosmic Alliance would receive their last rites-cremation in the void, their ashes to become part of the stars.
The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken grief, the weight of loss bearing down on every soul present.
When Nadira's body was brought forward, encased in a transparent capsule that gleamed under the morning light, Ryxen glanced at Gaelon. There was a subtle shift in his stance, a wordless understanding of the gravity of this moment. Ryxen cleared his throat softly. "Would you like to say your goodbyes?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, respectful of the fragile emotions that hung in the air.
Gaelon's throat tightened, his chest constricting as the numbness momentarily cracked. He nodded and stepped forward, his boots making soft sounds against the ground. As he neared the casing, the image of Nadira-her face pale but peaceful, her body still in the way only death could bring-rushed through him like a silent storm. He hadn't truly processed it until now.
He placed a hand against the transparent surface, feeling its coolness beneath his fingertips. "Nadira," he began, his voice trembling despite his best efforts. "I... I'm sorry." He swallowed hard, the words catching in his throat. "I should've been there... I should've done more."
The words flowed freely now, each one laced with a painful truth. "I always admired your fire, your fearlessness... You never held back. Maybe that's what I loved most about you. And now... you're gone, and I couldn't stop it."
He paused, his gaze fixed on her face, as if willing her to wake up, to hear him. "But you were right. You were always right. The Alliance will remember you, and so will I... until the stars fade."
He stepped back, feeling an overwhelming emptiness as the crew moved Nadira's body into the transport. He stared after it, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Gaelon was used to loss, to death. But this felt different. It had carved a space within him, leaving behind an ache that even time might not heal.
Some distance away, unseen by most, General Rylor stood on the ramp of his ship, his own eyes following the procession. He had watched everything-every word, every movement. He felt the weight of responsibility, the guilt heavy in his chest. Even from afar, he could see the raw pain in Gaelon's expression, though Gaelon hid it well. Rylor had no words, no means of comfort, only a silent apology that hung in the space between them.
"I'm sorry," Rylor whispered under his breath, knowing full well that Gaelon couldn't hear him. His apology floated in the air, unreceived.
With a final look at the ceremony, Rylor turned away and boarded his ship. The engines whirred to life, a low, reverberating hum echoing through the stillness of the morning. As the ship lifted from the ground, leaving the scene of loss and grief behind, Rylor's thoughts turned to Aethoria. To the battle that awaited him. To the fractured family he needed to mend.
He steeled himself for the journey ahead, but the weight of Nadira's death-and Gaelon's silent suffering-followed him as the ship broke through the atmosphere, heading toward the inevitable.
××××××××××××××
The midday sun bore down relentlessly on the rocky plains of Orion Prime, casting harsh shadows across the jagged terrain. Ethan led the way, his eyes narrowed against the glare, while Visar, Virun, Kavor, Loran, and Toran trudged behind him, their movements weary but determined. Every step felt like a battle, their bodies still aching from the ordeals of the previous days. The Lumium power cell was cradled carefully in Kavor's arms, their only hope for survival-and perhaps a lifeline to trade for something more valuable.
The land stretched out in front of them, unforgiving and barren. Jagged rocks jutted up from the ground like teeth, and the air shimmered with the heat rising off the plain. There was no shade, no shelter. Just endless, scorched rock.
Kavor squinted into the distance, wiping sweat from his brow. "If only I were from Nadros 4," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "At least the sun would recharge me. Right now, it's only cooking me alive."
Ethan smirked slightly at the comment, but the heat had sapped most of his energy for conversation. Visar, always quick with a retort, merely grunted, his visors reflecting the harsh light in a way that made his expression unreadable. He was likely the least affected by the sun, but even he wasn't immune to its oppressive intensity.
Suddenly, Virun, with his amphibious senses heightened, tensed, his head snapping to the left. "We're being watched."
The group instinctively slowed, eyes scanning the horizon. Ethan followed Virun's gaze, but it wasn't until a low, guttural growl echoed through the plains that they saw it. A predator, massive and sleek, prowled toward them from the shadow of a rock formation-a creature native to Orion Prime, and one they had heard about but never hoped to meet. Its scales glistened in the sunlight, and its eyes, sharp and hungry, locked onto them with predatory intent.
"Run," Ethan ordered, his voice barely above a whisper, but the urgency was clear.
They bolted, scrambling across the rocky terrain, their boots skidding and slipping on loose gravel. The creature gave chase, its claws digging into the earth, propelling it forward with terrifying speed. Ethan's heart pounded in his chest, his breath ragged as they dodged boulders and sharp outcroppings.
As they sprinted, Ethan's mind raced. We're not fast enough...
Just as they rounded a corner, another figure emerged from the rocky shadows-another predator, even larger than the first. This one, with fur like bristled metal and fangs that glinted under the sun, had its attention elsewhere. But as the two apex predators came into view of each other, both beasts paused, their attention divided.
"We need to move, now!" Visar hissed, pulling Ethan behind a large boulder. The rest followed suit, huddling close together as they watched the confrontation unfold before their eyes.
The first predator let out a roar, its scales rippling in a display of dominance, while the furred beast responded with a thunderous bellow. In the next instant, the two creatures collided in a fury of claws, teeth, and sheer power. The ground trembled beneath the weight of their struggle, dust kicking up into the air as they fought for supremacy.
Loran and Toran, speaking in unison as usual, whispered, "One of them will win soon. We need to be ready to move the second it's over."
Kavor, clutching the Lumium power cell tighter, muttered under his breath, "This is why I prefer machines. They don't tear each other apart."
The fight was brutal but short-lived. The first predator, with its speed and vicious precision, sunk its claws deep into the furred beast's throat, ending the struggle with a final, guttural snarl. The furred beast slumped to the ground, lifeless, its blood pooling around the rocks.
Ethan exhaled slowly, just as a group of locals appeared from behind the ridgeline. They were tall, wiry figures, their skin painted with the mud of the plains to camouflage them against the rocky landscape. Without hesitation, they approached the dead beast, brandishing makeshift tools and weapons, and began cutting away at the carcass, taking chunks of meat.
The predator, victorious but perhaps wary of the newcomers, let out a low rumble before retreating, leaving the spoils of its kill behind.
"We follow them," Ethan whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind. "Wherever they're going, it's better than staying out here in the open."
The team nodded in agreement, and as the locals finished their work and began to move away, the recruits quietly trailed after them, keeping a safe distance. The midday heat remained oppressive, but the prospect of finding shelter or perhaps even aid spurred them forward.
Each step into the unknown felt perilous, but there was no turning back now. They had survived Orion Prime's apex predators-but what awaited them among the planet's native inhabitants was yet to be seen.
××××××××××××
Maya sat on the edge of her bed, her quarters bathed in the soft, muted glow of Arcanis Prime's artificial evening light. She had already packed most of her things-neatly folded garments, personal gadgets, and a few other essentials for her upcoming journey to Sirius Beta. As her hands carefully slipped her diplomatic badge into her bag, she flicked open her holo-comms device with her free hand, connecting the call to Alex.
The translucent blue screen hovered before her, and Alex's familiar face appeared, framed by the backdrop of a cluttered tech station on the space station where he was stationed.
"Busy as usual, huh?" Maya said with a small smile as she continued packing.
Alex shrugged, grinning. "You know how it is. Too many projects, not enough hands. You ready for Sirius Beta?"
"Almost," Maya replied, glancing at the last few items she had left on the bed. "I just... It feels strange heading off-world again. Especially without hearing from Ethan or Jackson. It's been a while."
Alex raised an eyebrow, pausing in his work. "Ethan's on Orion Prime, right? And Jackson's still stationed on Helios. I wouldn't worry. They're probably just caught up with their assignments."
"I know," Maya sighed, zipping up her travel case. "It's just... I thought I'd have heard from one of them by now. Especially Ethan. He always checked in, no matter what."
Alex leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, but you know Orion Prime. No comms, probably bad signal out there. Besides, it's Ethan we're talking about. He's probably fine-he's survived worse, hasn't he?"
Maya chuckled, though there was an edge of worry behind it. "I guess you're right. It's just, with everything going on, I get this feeling like something's off."
"You've always been the overthinker," Alex teased, though his tone was lighthearted. "Honestly, Maya, Ethan's tough. And Jackson's probably flying circles around those military recruits on Helios. They'll be fine."
Maya didn't respond immediately. She stuffed a few last-minute items into her case and sat down, her fingers absently tapping the clasp. Her thoughts wandered-back to their time at the Cosmic Alliance Academy. The four of them had always stuck together, even when assignments scattered them across the galaxy. But lately, the distance felt more pronounced. Communication was sparse. Each of them was buried in their own responsibilities, and now, with her preparing to head to Sirius Beta, it felt like they were drifting further apart.
"You think we'll all get together again soon?" Maya asked, her voice quieter now.
Alex tilted his head, his smile softening. "We will. Maybe when all this dies down-when our assignments wrap up, we'll find time to meet. Grab a drink, reminisce, you know."
"I'd like that." She finally smiled, though it was faint.
"Good. And hey, while you're at it, try to enjoy Sirius Beta. I hear it's quite the sight," Alex said, his tone lightening again. "Send me some pics when you get there, yeah?"
"Of course. You can get a break from all that tech and live vicariously through me," Maya teased.
Alex rolled his eyes, but his grin was genuine. "I'll hold you to that."
Maya looked down at her now-packed bag, her fingers grazing the edges of the fabric. "Take care of yourself, Alex. Stay safe."
"You too, Maya. And don't worry about Ethan and Jackson. We'll hear from them soon, I'm sure of it."
Maya nodded, feeling slightly reassured by Alex's words. "Yeah. Thanks, Alex."
The call ended, and the screen faded from view, leaving Maya in the quiet of her quarters. She stood up, casting one last look around the room. Tomorrow, she'd be on Sirius Beta, exploring Xelari's project and whatever else lay in store. But for tonight, her mind lingered on her friends-wondering what distant worlds they were walking on, and if they were thinking of her too.
×××××××××××
The sun hung low over Aethoria's jagged mountain peaks, casting long shadows across the courtyard where Jarek and Tharok stood. The Royal Palace loomed behind them, its stone walls towering and unyielding, much like the warrior culture that had once hailed Jarek as its leader. Now, despite the grandeur, he was no longer welcome, confined to a section of the palace like a relic too dangerous to display but too valuable to discard.
Jarek took a deep breath, inhaling the sharp, dry air of Aethoria. His eyes scanned the empty courtyard, settling on the sparring mats set up under the watchful gaze of Aethorian soldiers, stationed not far away. Their posture was tense, as if expecting Jarek to snap at any moment. But Jarek ignored them.
"Do you remember the story of the First Conquest, Tharok?" Jarek asked, his voice deep and reflective, turning to face his nephew, who stood by his side.
Tharok's brows furrowed slightly. "Of course. It's part of every Aethorian's training, uncle."
Jarek smiled faintly. "Yes, but most forget its true meaning. The First Conquest wasn't just about dominance or victory." He walked over to the sparring mats, gesturing for Tharok to follow. "It was about unity. Our ancestors fought not just to subjugate others, but to unify the Aethorian clans under one banner-under one purpose."
Tharok watched as Jarek removed his heavy outer cloak, tossing it aside with a practiced ease that belied his age. "And that's what you think we need now? Unity?" Tharok asked, his tone both curious and skeptical.
"Unity, yes," Jarek replied, stepping onto the mat. He rolled his shoulders, the old, familiar rhythm of combat sinking into his muscles. "But also the strength to take back what is ours. That's what our people have forgotten. They've become complacent."
Tharok's eyes narrowed as he followed Jarek onto the mat, his steps measured. "You want to bring back the old ways. But the galaxy is different now. Aethoria has changed."
Jarek's smirk was almost imperceptible. "Everything changes, Tharok. But power... power remains the same."
Without warning, Jarek lunged, his fist cutting through the air with precision. Tharok reacted instinctively, parrying the blow with his forearm and stepping back, muscles tensing as he prepared for the sparring match. The two circled each other on the mat, feet shuffling quietly against the worn surface.
"Our ancestors," Jarek continued, weaving his tale with each calculated strike, "they knew that to control the galaxy, they first had to conquer their own weaknesses." He struck again, this time aiming for Tharok's side. Tharok countered with a swift block, but Jarek was quick, sweeping Tharok's leg from under him in a flash.
Tharok hit the mat hard but rolled with the impact, springing to his feet. His face showed determination now, no longer just listening to the story but fully engaged in the match. "And you think that's what we need now? To face our weaknesses?"
Jarek's eyes gleamed. "Yes. And to know when to use others' weaknesses against them."
He darted forward again, their fists meeting in a clash of strength, each strike heavy with meaning. Tharok fought back, his own moves becoming sharper, more focused. He was no novice-Jarek had trained him well over the years.
"The First Conquest," Jarek said between strikes, "was not just a battle of swords, but of wills. They didn't defeat their enemies by brute force alone, but by breaking their spirits. That is what you must understand if we are to reclaim what's been lost."
Tharok gritted his teeth, pushing Jarek back with a forceful shove. "You speak of reclaiming power, but at what cost? The galaxy already views us as relics of a bygone era. You saw how they treated you when we arrived."
Jarek's expression hardened. "Let them think I'm a relic. They've forgotten what it means to be Aethorian." His movements became swifter, almost too fast for Tharok to fully counter, and Jarek's fist grazed his jaw, sending a shock of pain through him. But Tharok held his ground.
Jarek stepped back, giving Tharok a moment to collect himself. "You broke me out of prison because you believed in something, didn't you?"
Tharok wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and nodded, his chest rising and falling with the exertion. "I did. But it wasn't just for you. It was for Aethoria. It was for us."
Jarek's smile returned, this time softer, almost approving. "And that's why you're here, Tharok. To help me remind our people what they are capable of."
The sparring continued, the sounds of their fists and feet echoing through the courtyard. The guards watched, tense but silent, their eyes flickering between Jarek and Tharok.
"The First Conquest wasn't just a battle-it was a promise," Jarek said, his voice calmer now. He and Tharok slowed their movements, the match becoming less about defeating one another and more about the fluidity of the fight itself, the bond between mentor and student, uncle and nephew. "A promise to never fall to the whims of weaker minds. We do not bend."
Tharok, breathing heavily, nodded slowly. "And we won't."
Jarek stopped, lowering his fists and stepping back from the sparring mat. He looked at Tharok, his eyes filled with something between pride and determination. "Good. Because we have something bigger to fight for now."
Tharok, still catching his breath, raised an eyebrow. "The Eyes of-"
"Verathor," Jarek finished for him, his voice filled with a reverent tone. "Yes. The Eyes of Verathor. With them, we will not only unify Aethoria but the galaxy."
Tharok nodded, his mind still spinning from both the fight and the weight of his uncle's words. "We'll find them, uncle. But first, the Kavorn D'ruhn."
Jarek placed a hand on Tharok's shoulder, his grip firm. "After the Kavorn D'ruhn, we will no longer be confined. We will rise again. And the galaxy will remember what it means to be Aethorian."
Jarek gave Tharok's shoulder one final squeeze before turning away, his steps deliberate and measured as he walked toward the far end of the courtyard. The fading sunlight cast a fiery glow over the horizon, painting the Aethorian sky in hues of crimson and gold. Jarek moved with the grace of a warrior long accustomed to battle, but there was a heaviness in his posture now, a weight that even his tall, broad frame could not hide.
As he passed the towering stone columns of the courtyard, his gaze lingered on the symbols etched into them-remnants of the ancient Aethorian empire, a time when his bloodline commanded respect and fear in equal measure. Now, he was a fugitive, a shadow of the legacy he once embodied. The Aethorian soldiers stationed at the gates stood still, their eyes locked on him, wary but silent. He knew they were there not just to protect him, but to ensure he did not stray from his confinement.
The soft crunch of gravel beneath his boots was the only sound as he walked, leaving Tharok behind. His nephew stood in the courtyard, watching him go, still reeling from the intensity of their sparring session and the weight of the conversation they had shared.
Jarek's thoughts drifted as he entered the darker, cooler part of the palace. The memories of his time as Aethoria's ruler were vivid here, in these halls. He had once commanded armies, made decisions that shaped the fate of entire worlds. Now, he was a prisoner in the very place where he had once worn a crown.
But that would change soon.
He glanced back, catching a glimpse of Tharok in the distance. His nephew was strong, driven. There was potential in him, but there was also youth-an idealism that Jarek had lost long ago. Still, Tharok had freed him, and for that, Jarek would guide him toward their shared destiny. The Eyes of Verathor... with that power, they would reshape the galaxy.
But first, Jarek needed to rest.
His body, though still powerful, bore the scars of countless battles, and even the strongest warrior needed time to recover. He made his way down a long corridor that led to the private quarters he had been granted-if one could call them that. In truth, it was a gilded cage, no matter how much the walls glittered with Aethorian craftsmanship.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was sparse, devoid of the grandeur he had once been accustomed to. A simple bed, a table, and a single window overlooking the mountains. Jarek moved to the window, staring out at the jagged peaks, bathed now in the deepening twilight. A gust of wind swept through, carrying with it the scent of the earth and metal-a scent that reminded him of battles fought and blood spilled.
He exhaled slowly, his breath steady but deep. Rest. That was all he needed for now. But not for long. Soon, the Kavorn D'ruhn would begin, and then, he would remind the Aethorians, the Alliance, and the galaxy itself who Jarek truly was.
Without looking back, he crossed the room and lay down, the firm mattress barely yielding beneath his weight. He closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion of the day pull him under, but his mind remained sharp, plotting, calculating.
In the courtyard below, Tharok remained where Jarek had left him, standing amid the fading sunlight. He glanced up at the palace, knowing that his uncle was already resting, but his own thoughts churned restlessly. The future loomed large, and with Jarek's vision, they would soon seize it.
But for now, Jarek slept-preparing for the war to come.
×××××××××××××
The sky above Orion Prime had turned from the searing midday heat into a softer orange glow as evening began to set in. Shadows lengthened across the rocky terrain, and the group of recruits trudged through the ever-changing landscape, their boots kicking up clouds of dust with each step. Ethan kept his eyes on the locals they had been following from a distance-figures in simple, rough-hewn clothing, moving with purpose but never straying too far from their settlement.
Visar was beside him, visor glinting in the dying light, while Kavor lagged slightly behind, muttering under his breath about how the Lumium power cell had better be worth more than a few scraps of food. Loran and Toran, as usual, moved as one, their synchronized steps barely noticeable to anyone who didn't know them. Virun, with his amphibious features, remained unusually quiet, his attention divided between their surroundings and the odd flicker of movement in the undergrowth.
"We're close now," Ethan said, narrowing his gaze as they crested a low hill.
The settlement came into view, a hodgepodge of makeshift shelters and stone structures nestled between jagged rocks and stunted trees. Smoke rose from several open fires, casting a faint haze over the scene. The locals moved about in their usual rhythm, but something caught Ethan's attention-a group of recruits, much like themselves, already mingling among the settlers.
Kavor was the first to speak. "Looks like we're not the first ones here," he grumbled. "Wonder if that's part of the initiation-seeing how many people cave in and take the easy way out."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "Or it's just cowardice."
They approached the settlement's edge, and one of the recruits, a young Zorvian with a wiry frame and an arrogant smirk, caught sight of them. His uniform was dirtied, but he didn't look worse for wear. Clearly, he'd been here since the start of the initiation.
"So," the recruit called out, stepping toward them with a swagger that instantly set Ethan on edge, "you finally made it. Took your time."
Ethan ignored the jab, his eyes scanning the rest of the recruits lounging nearby. "Living here with the locals," he said, "how does that count as surviving the harsh nature of Orion Prime?"
The question struck a nerve. The recruit's smirk faltered, and his posture stiffened. "You think you're tougher than us because you didn't find this place sooner?"
Visar stepped in quickly, holding up a hand to defuse the tension. "We're just looking for supplies and a place to rest. No need to fight over it."
The recruit glanced at him, the disdain in his eyes clear. "Supplies, huh? You've got something to trade?"
Loran and Toran, who had been silent until now, spoke in unison, their voices calm. "Even if we don't have enough to barter, we could offer our services. Surely there's something we can do to earn a meal and a place to sleep."
The recruit snorted, his earlier arrogance returning. "Services? The locals here don't need any help from you. They've been surviving on this rock long before any of us showed up. But sure, if you think you've got something to offer, go ahead and try."
Ethan stepped forward, his eyes locking with the recruit's. "Enough with the games. Where do we go to trade?"
There was a moment of silence, a tense beat that hung in the air as the recruit looked at Ethan, clearly weighing whether to push him further or back down. After a moment, he relented, pointing toward the far side of the settlement, where a larger structure stood.
"Over there. That's where the locals do their trading. If you've got something worth bartering, that's where you'll get food, clothes, maybe even a place to rest."
Ethan nodded and turned to lead his team toward the building, but not before casting a final glance at the group of recruits who had found shelter here. He didn't say it, but the thought gnawed at him-how could they claim to be surviving when they'd taken refuge the moment they had the chance?
As they approached the trading post, the sounds of the settlement filled the air-the crackle of fire, the low murmur of voices, the clanging of tools against metal. Orion Prime, for all its dangers, had its pockets of life, and the locals seemed to be thriving, indifferent to the struggles of the Cosmic Alliance recruits who roamed their lands.
Kavor nudged Ethan. "You think that power cell's going to get us everything we need?"
Ethan glanced down at the small Lumium core in Kavor's hand. "It'll have to. We're running low on options."
They entered the building, the heavy wooden doors creaking as they swung open. Inside, the air was warmer, thick with the smell of burning herbs and cured meats. A figure stood behind a counter, an older local with deep-set eyes and a sharp, calculating expression. Behind him, shelves lined with various goods-from food supplies to simple garments-stood as evidence of the trade that passed through here.
Ethan stepped forward. "We're looking to trade. Food, clothes, a place to rest."
The local eyed them skeptically before his gaze fell on the power cell in Kavor's hand. "You got Lumium," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "That's valuable."
Ethan nodded. "Will it get us what we need?"
The man paused, considering. "Depends how much you're willing to give."
Ethan shared a glance with the others. They had only one power cell, their last lifeline. But with two nights left in the initiation, they needed to make it count.
"We're willing to negotiate," Ethan said. "Let's see what we can work out."
As the haggling began, Ethan's thoughts remained focused on the recruits they had left outside. No matter how hard this initiation was meant to be, no matter what tricks the Alliance had in store, one thing was clear-he wasn't going to take the easy way out.
The local leaned over the counter, his wrinkled hand extending toward Kavor, motioning for him to hand over the power cell. Kavor hesitated for a second, glancing at Ethan before placing the small, glowing cylinder in the man's outstretched hand.
The local turned it over carefully, his dark eyes squinting in the dim light as he examined the Lumium core closely. For a moment, the recruits watched in silence, hope flickering in their eyes as they waited for his assessment.
Then the man's brow furrowed, and he clicked his tongue in disappointment. "This," he said, holding up the power cell, "is still in its ore form."
"What do you mean?" Kavor asked, frowning.
The local set the cell down on the counter with a dull thud. "Useless. The Lumium hasn't been fully processed. I can't use it like this."
Ethan's heart sank. This was their only bargaining chip. "Are you saying you won't buy it?"
The man leaned back, folding his arms. "Not for me, no. There's no point unless it's refined. But," he said, pausing as if considering, "there are others in the settlement who might have some use for it."
Ethan seized on the opportunity. "Can you point us in their direction? We're willing to make a deal."
The local stared at him for a long moment, then grunted. "Wait here."
He stepped away from the counter, moving toward a small communication device on the far side of the room. Ethan and the others exchanged nervous glances as the man made a call, his voice low and indistinct. The minutes dragged on as they waited, tension building in the air.
After what felt like an eternity, the man returned, tucking the device back into his pocket. "I've spoken with someone who's willing to buy the cell. On their behalf, I'll make the trade."
Ethan's shoulders relaxed slightly. "And what's your offer?"
The local eyed them up and down, clearly measuring what he thought their needs were. "For one power cell? I'll give you some clothes," he said, gesturing to a stack of rough, durable garments behind the counter, "and enough dried meat to last you a couple of days."
Kavor's mouth tightened into a thin line. "That's all? For a Lumium power cell?"
The man gave him a flat look. "That's all it's worth in this state. You could try your luck elsewhere, but here? That's the deal."
Ethan clenched his jaw. They didn't have time to shop around, and with two nights left in the initiation, they needed the supplies. "Fine," he said, before Kavor could protest. "We'll take it."
The local gave a curt nod and moved to gather the clothes and dried meat. As he did, Kavor muttered under his breath, clearly frustrated. "All that for a useless hunk of Lumium."
"It's better than nothing," Ethan said, keeping his voice low. "We still have two nights to survive, and this will at least get us through the next day."
Kavor shook his head but didn't argue further. Moments later, the local returned, dropping a bundle of rough-spun clothes and several packets of dried meat onto the counter.
"There you go," he said. "And the cell?"
Ethan nodded to Kavor, who handed it over reluctantly. The local took it, weighing it in his hand one last time before tucking it away in a pouch.
"Good luck," the man said, his tone dismissive, as if he'd already moved on from their transaction.
Ethan gathered the supplies and turned to his team. "Let's go."
They exited the trading post, the cool evening air a welcome relief after the stuffy warmth inside. As they walked back through the settlement, Ethan kept his eyes on the horizon, where the sky had deepened to a rich purple, the first stars starting to appear.
Two more nights. That was all they had to get through. But as Ethan looked at the bundle in his arms and thought of the other recruits who had already found shelter, a nagging feeling settled in his gut.
The real challenge wasn't just surviving Orion Prime. It was surviving with their dignity intact.