Chapter 3: Lesson One

  The corridor outside the Resolute’s main Tessereactor suite was unusually quiet at 0558.

  The ship’s night-cycle lighting still lingered, casting everything in a low, bluish haze.

  Only the soft whirr of passing deck drones broke the silence.

  I stood alone in front of the wide archway, arms stiff at my sides, suppressing the growing urge to pace.

  My pulse thumped louder than I liked to admit, a dull drumming against the inner curve of my neck.

  I shifted my weight. Breathed slow.

  Tried to remember the confidence I’d had just a day ago.

  It didn’t come.

  I wasn’t ready, and somewhere deep down, I knew it. The pressure in my chest didn’t feel like anticipation—it felt like dread. Something old and cold had curled up beneath my ribs, whispering reminders that I wasn’t built for what was about to happen.

  0600 came with the hiss of the doors parting.

  Inside, the Tessereactor flickered to life with smooth, mechanical grace. It didn’t just load a program—it constructed a world, tangible and total. A clearing surrounded by dense, alien vegetation sprang into being. Towering trees with thick, ribbon-like leaves loomed over the arena, their canopies blotting out everything but a thin shaft of golden light. Vines hung like nooses. Insects chirped in the distance, echoing against the thick dampness in the air. A strange bird screeched far off, low and guttural. Foreign.

  I vaguely recognized the terrain from my studies. This must be a simulation of Zeth’s home planet: Drakar'Ven Alpha. The air was humid, oppressively so. It smelled of moss, wet bark, and something vaguely metallic, like old blood. The environment felt ancient. Underfoot, the earth was uneven, soft in places, and knotted with roots like hidden traps.

  Every inch of this place felt hostile.

  Designed to test, to strain.

  Even the simulated air tasted of struggle.

  At the centre of a clearing stood Commander Ka’Rina Zeth.

  She was motionless, save for the slow rhythm of her tail cutting back and forth behind her—like a metronome counting down to impact. Her arms were crossed, stance wide. The Vanguard crest on her sleeve caught a sliver of simulated sunlight and flared like a dagger. Her scales shimmered with subtle iridescence, and her gaze, when it landed on me, rooted me to the spot.

  She didn’t blink.

  She didn’t nod.

  She didn’t speak.

  And she wasn’t alone.

  Commander Avari, the ship’s First Officer, stood tall near a jagged stone outcrop, arms crossed and gaze sharp as a vibroblade. Her human expression was unreadable, but her presence alone made the clearing feel tighter, more dangerous.

  Why was she here?

  Beside her stood Commander Halem, Chief Medical Officer, fingers laced behind his back, jaw clenched in the way of someone trying not to intervene too soon. His eyes, sharp and knowing, tracked every movement like a field medic preparing for trauma before it happened. He pulled a touchscreen H-interface out from his pocket, staring down he started making notes.

  Even Theven—the ships wellbeing officer—was there. The lieutenants’ concerned stillness dimmed to something far more somber. He stood beneath a large tree canopy, his gaze flicking between me and Zeth. A H-interface rested in his hand, dark and inactive: he sensed there would be nothing to record here but discomfort.

  They hadn’t come to spectate.

  They came to bear witness.

  They were here for a reason. I had studied their profiles when packing my bag. These weren’t casual observers—they were the ships senior command. Influential. Respected. If they were here, it meant this wasn’t just a routine training exercise.

  It meant something was being measured.

  Recorded.

  I hated meeting them like this.

  Feeling judged.

  What the hell have I got myself into?

  Zeth didn’t acknowledge them. Her gaze was still pinned to me like a laser sight.

  “Step into the circle, Varr.”

  Her voice was deeper in this space, filled with something primal. It echoed off the bark, settling deep into my spine. I swallowed and moved forward. The ground shifted subtly under each step. The terrain wasn’t just uneven—it was deliberate. Every inch seemed engineered to disrupt footing. The air was thicker now. I could feel sweat starting to bead at the base of my neck as near-jungle environments do, even simulated ones.

  Zeth was not in her standard grey uniform, instead replaced by a sleek black-and-crimson combat suit. It was sleeveless, tightly fitted, exposing her sinewed arms and the faint glimmer of scale patterns that ran up from her wrists. Her claws were flexing with a slow and deliberate patience.

  “You are good with a rifle, yes?”

  I nodded carefully.

  She considered me, but continued. “Useless here Ensign, won’t be needed. No phasers,” she said.

  “No handhelds. No safeties.”

  My stomach dipped.

  I blinked. “Wait—no safeties?”

  “They’re not off,” she clarified. “Just lowered. Enough to make this more realistic and test your abilities. Enough to make it stick.”

  A cold sense of dread began to wash over me.

  “We are starting with hand-to-hand combat. I want to see what you got. These are my terms”

  Then I nodded. My voice came out hoarser than expected.

  I’d done hand-to-hand combat before at the Academy. I was proficient in a few martial arts—more than competent, really. But Zeth? Just from the presence of her, her stance, she didn’t give off a single angle. Nothing to grip. Nothing to read. Unlike my own skin at her hands—she probably had plenty to claw into.

  I was terrified. But I drove the fear down. Calmed the nagging voice of self-preservation and unknowing. Steadied my breathing. Found a centre—anything I could hold onto.

  I simply hadn’t come this far to back down now.

  “Understood, Commander.”

  She looked at me hard.

  “Are you sure? This won’t be like anything you have trained for. ”

  “There is no shame in leaving.”

  And those final words were the ones that did it. They cut straight into my pride—into my past—and she knew it. She had to, it was on my Academy records. I was never the type to back down. They called it almost dysfunctional.

  A wave of anger rose up in me, she seemed manipulative. And right on cue, that slight sneer curled at the edge of her lips—barely visible, but there. Her eyes told me she knew exactly what she wanted to provoked. Perhaps this was the test? Either way, I was no stranger to hand-to-hand combat. She might be better, faster, stronger. But I wasn’t going to make it easy. My gaze flicked to the treeline. Maybe, just maybe, I could use the terrain to even the odds?

  “Ensign Varr, I asked you a question” Zeth said sharply.

  I was annoying her. Good.

  My confidence built, and a grin crept to the edge of my lips.

  “I understand sir, lets go.”

  Zeth crouched slightly, one foot sliding back, arms loose at her sides. Her pupils widened slightly like a cats. The change in her posture was subtle, but terrifying.

  She was no longer a commanding officer. She was a predator uncoiling.

  “Ready?”

  I dropped into half-guard stance. Kickboxing style. Knees bent. Center of gravity low. I focused on her shoulders. Head lowered. Watched for movement. I was ready.

  I had this.

  “Ready Commander”

  She lunged.

  And the space between us collapsed instantly.

  The clearing, despite its beauty, became a theatre. Vines swayed as though they were watching. Leaves trembled with every footfall. Sunlight scattered through the trees, fractured into golden daggers across the mossy ground. Roots now tangled like nerves beneath our feet. A heavy bird burst from the trees overhead and screeched into the canopy as if warning the forest what was to come.

  But this time, the birds’ cries were calling for me.

  In a single instant she was across the clearing.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  The next, head low, her arm was driving toward my sternum in an arc with the speed and grace of a viper.

  I twisted aside, narrowly avoiding the full force of the strike—but the edge of her hand clipped my ribs like a steel pipe.

  My breath vanished, and there was a sickening crack.

  I had never been hit that hard before.

  The pain shot from the now broken rib.

  Wincing, I staggered. Right as I saw her twist in midair.

  Her tail followed, not an afterthought but a calculated second strike.

  It swept low with deadly precision, cutting through the humid air like a whip engineered for war.

  The thick clearing ground offered no mercy—its soft, root-knotted terrain was perfect for breaking balance.

  Her tail slammed into my legs with such force that I left the ground entirely.

  The world turned upside down in an instant.

  I crashed to the ground hard.

  My back slammed into a tree root.

  The back of my head bounced against the soil with a wet, dull thud.

  The moss beneath me felt suddenly cold and slick with sweat and dirt.

  I saw stars—brief, scattered constellations across my eyes, like galaxies breaking apart in silence.

  At this point, my brain finally caught up with what the hell was happening.

  I was in real danger here. I needed to get up.

  Genuine fear now started to overwhelm me, fighting to control it.

  Yet she didn’t pause. She flowed in continuation.

  I barely rolled aside in time to dodge her heel strike. It slammed into the dirt, cracking the surface like a mortar round.

  I scrambled back to my feet, tying to raise my hands to full guard.

  My composure slipping, now entirely eroded into terror.

  My eyes were wide, breathing hard, mouth open.

  It had been less than ten seconds.

  I struck back—an elbow, then a side kick.

  Desperation, not technique.

  She dodged them like they were slow, lazy suggestions.

  With an air of impatience, the next blow came so fast it felt like a blast wave:

  Stepping to my side, her clawed hand caught my collar, yanking me forward and off balance.

  Uncoiling like a whip, her knee strike drove upward into my stomach with brutal force.

  I doubled over, the air extinguished from my lungs, winded, the world shrunk to a tunnel of pain.

  My vision blurred. My legs weakened.

  She wasn’t done.

  She pivoted to the next foot, bracing her stance, and with frightening precision, lifted me up and slammed me into the ground.

  This was beyond any one martial-art technique I had traversed.

  I was completely outmatched.

  Something cracked in my arm.

  The pain came an instant later—a jagged lightning bolt up to my shoulder.

  My mouth opened in a silent scream.

  She broke my arm.

  I tried to crawl away.

  Grasping at the roots.

  She let me.

  But only for a moment.

  My limp and failing hand was useless clawing at the mud.

  I could not get up.

  I heard her steps.

  Heavy. Deliberate.

  It wasn’t just fear now.

  This was utter panic.

  The instinct to survive

  My limbs stiffened.

  My breath caught.

  I clawed harder.

  This was real, this was primal.

  The kind that grips your lungs and tells you—you’ve already lost.

  She loomed over me, an animal going for the kill.

  Crouched low, eyes flashing with raw intensity.

  “This isn’t the Academy Varr,” she said, her voice low.

  “Out here, hesitation and incompetence gets people killed.”

  Her words pierced through the haze of pain, echoing across the clearing.

  I tried with everything I had, but I could still not get to my feet.

  I blinked at her—vision doubled. Mud clung to my uniform.

  Blood trickled from my lip.

  And then I lay still.

  I gave up.

  I was done.

  And I looked into her eyes, like I was seeing her for the first time.

  Gold flashing towards me, as intense as the sun.

  I could hear murmurs—someone at the edge of the clearing, calling for medical.

  Someone else whispered, “That’s enough.” No one stopped her.

  And right then, just when she sprung towards me with open claws.

  Collapsing towards me with the speed and grace of a huntress.

  It was right then that I felt it.

  And I saw it again.

  Not for the first time in my life, but it had been a long time.

  The pull backwards at the base of your skull.

  And then suddenly being pushed under. Down.

  Being drowned, folded into the end of everything.

  Pins and needles rushing through my cold fingers—just as they stopped responding.

  Her screams. As open hands hopelessly pounded against the glass.

  The water entering my lungs as the lights went out forever.

  Just before I felt my body, being ripped the furthest thing from my mind.

  I wasn’t a stranger to death. I had seen this once before.

  But never standing over me, with eyes black and gold.

  I closed my eyes for the end.

  “Computer, halt sim!,” someone barked. An instinct thinking it was going to stop the horror that what was happening before them.

  “Zeth, NO!” another yelled.

  The jungle shimmered and stilled.

  Trees locked in place. The wind died.

  Even the sun froze overhead.

  And thankfully.

  Zeth also stopped in her tracks.

  Clearly frustrated.

  She stepped back. Her chest rose and fell slowly.

  There was no satisfaction in her eyes. No triumph.

  Just clinical detachment.

  Evaluation. Disappointment.

  And as the memory fell below the surface once again, I lay there, humiliated.

  Shaking. Broken. There was no way in hell I could have done anything to defend myself.

  She was too fast!

  Footsteps approached. Doctor Halem knelt beside me, gentle fingers at my wrist.

  “You’re in shock,” Halem murmured. “I think your arm is broken. Lie still.”

  From somewhere near the tree line, I heard Zeth’s voice again—low, curt, as if meant to be quiet but not quite soft enough.

  “He doesn’t have what it takes” she told Commander Avari, with a sideward glance.

  The ships First Officer didn’t reply at first. She looked on gravely at the scene they had created.

  But the silence that followed spoke louder than words.

  When Commander Avari finally did speak, it was in a hushed tone.

  Quiter than I could hear in my state and at that distance.

  “Zeth. The captain does not approve of this. His record is excellent, and you feel like you need to make an example out of him? He is barely nineteen! This is ridiculous, I cannot condone this treatment”.

  She turned to Zeth. Not with a wary look, but that of anger.

  “I have high command breathing down the captains back, my back! This isn’t working. We need to think of a new strategy.”

  Zeth scoffed. “The captain knows the stakes. So do you. We all do, Avari. If this is going to work, I need to do it my way. Understand? It’s the only way.”

  Theven approached now, joining their side. He looked very uncomfortable. “Zeth, this is affecting the entire crew. We are all on edge, and it’s becoming difficult to hold it together. They didn’t sign up for this. There must be another way. We should have another meeting to discuss a strategy to find enlisters.”

  Looking at Zeth gravely now. Avari added, with a hard look of a seasoned commanding officer. “And in the last three months, while we have been here waiting for you, an entire bloody ship Zeth. All the recruits left. Three died Zeth. Died! You call that progress? You think he will be different?”

  With anger now, she added. “He is not a lab rat for your experiment. You are psychotic Zeth.”

  Zeth’s expression remained unchanged, unreadable, looking at me withering in pain. Unmoved in her resolve. Blank. Perhaps she felt justified, perhaps she didn’t deny it.

  Joining Zeth, Avari now looked back towards me. On the floor next to Doctor Halem, who was scanning my arm. Ensign Varr was in serious pain. The first officer’s face contained a certain sense of dread and sadness. A certain level of responsibility.

  Zeth then spoke to them both with an air of authority.

  Quite serious now, without sarcasm.

  Only conviction.

  “The captain knows the stakes. Both of you do too. This is necessary. It’s the only way to be sure. I don’t see any other choice, do you?”

  Avari signed, raising a hand to rub her face, squeezing the tension from the bridge of his nose.

  “No. I have no idea either. Neither does Helion Command”.

  Zeth sighed. “But to answer your question Avari, no, he won’t be any different. His hand combat skills are just not good enough. We need to keep searching. I’m trying to do this faster, but we are running out of time.”

  Unbeknown to me, the gravity of the situation.

  On that floor.

  It was only pain.

  I was trying to breathe, but every inhale scraped like a sickening fire. I was broken. I had never faced anything like that in my life.

  Drac’kari are dangerous. But Zeth was catastrophic.

  That kick had certainly done damage internally. My arm was screaming.

  Ribs broken. Mind concussed. My vision flickered.

  I wasn’t sure which light was the simulated sun and which was internal now.

  The last thing I saw before blacking out was Zeth’s silhouette, next to Commander Avari and Lieutenant Theven. All three haloed in frozen sun.

  Watching.

  Unmoving.

  Uncertain.

  I awoke in medbay to a sterile ceiling and a dull, humming pain. The bed beneath me adjusted automatically to my breathing, but my arm—my arm—ached with every subtle shift. My head felt packed with cotton and static. The chest pain was mostly gone but still lingered. My head still pounded.

  I blinked slowly. Lights overhead came into focus. Voices. Machines. The antiseptic smell of gel and sterilization fields.

  The medical staff didn’t speak at first. Just scanned. Monitored.

  “You’re the new one,” said a young nurse. “The one who fought Zeth?”

  I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t fight her.

  I survived her.

  "Well, you better get used to it, kid. It does not get any easier."

  Her voice had no edge, just a matter-of-fact weight that sounded older than her face.

  "We have healed your other injuries, and that regenerator brace is seeing to your arm. But it might keep hurting for the next day or so until the swelling goes down. I think that’s the best number she has done on new recruit thus far, especially on day one."

  I groaned slightly. Great.

  "For now. Lie and rest."

  She headed for the door, pausing with one hand on the frame. About to breach protocol on something that was probably above her pay grade Finally, turning to me.

  "If you know what's good for you," she added over her shoulder, "You should leave."

  The nurse’s eyes narrowed, distant now, haunted.

  Something lingers behind her eyes. Like she’s seen the injuries.

  The bodies her outfit leaves behind perhaps.

  And she kept count.

  It was unsettling.

  Then she walked out, leaving me in the silence of machines and pain and one real truth—this wasn’t over.

  I leaned back, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts blurry and heavy. And then, one single thought rose above the others.

  If I wanted this.