Mayor Slate was out with Sheriff Thrustar, appraising the new recruits training out in the courtyard. He was making the rounds to check on the defenses, progress on the dome, and following up with the colony leaders. Currently he was watching the newest recruits attempting push-ups while Cyclone shouted at them. Just over Slate’s right shoulder, the holographic image of Pewter sat at a stenographer style desk. She processed paperwork and occasionally interrupted to ask for Slate’s signature on a report.

  “Just like boot camp,” Slate said thoughtfully.

  Max nodded, “Yeah, I don’t much care for it, either. It’s one thing to guard a prison. Most of the folks under our care were fairly harmless. Up until the Void's Asteroid prisoners got mixed in with the Theta Sigma inmates. But war is coming to our fair city. I’d rather be prepared.”

  They watched in companionable silence for a time, both remembering their own time in the service. They’d only served together once, quelling a rebellion on Colony MI-12. Slate had been stationed on the naval vessel that transported Max’s infantry to the planet. They’d become fast friends after a barfight, and even fought back to back against Pyro’s revolutionaries. They’d been fast friends after that.

  Slate had hoped those days were behind them. As long as power hungry tyrants like Bitterling threatened them, they had to be prepared.

  Cyclone shouted and the soldiers stood at attention. Jade (Possibly Siren) and Typhoon (Possibly Brick) wheeled two long racks of practice weapons out to either side of the drill sergeant barking orders. Forming four lines, the soldiers marched forward, arming themselves. Cyclone shouted orders and the troops about faced, marching towards a shooting range. Ten training dummies were set up, and they took turns firing at them.

  One of the targets stood out from the others. Unlike the beige straw scarecrows that composed the other dummies, one was an off-colored green. It had extra cloth tied off to form pointed ears, a wall-eyed smile with tusks painted on its face, and a curly mustache. While the other dummies splintered and shed stuffing after a few rounds of ammo, the custom target remained pristine.

  “Uhg,” Slate grimaced. “Is that Todd? Who brought him up here?”

  Max grimaced behind his visor, “No one ‘brought’ him here. Todd just kind of shows up. Something’s not right about that thing. Where did it even come from?”

  “Apparently Orion made it,” Slate answered. “But even he doesn’t seem to understand why it moves around. He called it a ‘glitch’ one time, but he wouldn’t explain what that means.”

  Max shrugged, “Probably some weird Sentinel stuff then.”

  Cyclone demonstrated one of Pyro’s newest weapons and tossed a frag grenade at Todd. Todd took a direct hit to the face and the explosion shook the courtyard. When the smoke cleared, the faux Org smirked at Cyclone with nary a scratch on him. The dummies on either side of him had to be repaired, one of them sliced cleanly in half.

  Slate shuddered, “Whatever it is, at least Todd’s on our side.”

  Max nodded, “Yeah. Anyway, training’s going well enough. We were planning for a trip to the Equinox in a few days, but with the Bite Rock incident, we’ll probably have to postpone while the Menagerie figures out how to clear it. So I’ll be leading a team down to New Yorg to go Mutant hunting. That’s good experience for most of their levels.”

  “Just so long as they don’t kill a bunch of Cy-orgs wholesale. You know Orion doesn’t approve of that.” Slate turned to walk towards the base. “And with Rusty puttering around the place, I agree with him. If there’s any way to reverse the mutations, I’d prefer not to slaughter the locals.”

  Slate speculated about the grumpy robotic janitor mopping the grounds. While the Cy-Org hordes were dangerous, the ones in the suburban areas just seemed to be living their lives as normal. You’d see them mowing bare lawns in an endless circle, or washing cars so badly rusted the roof had caved in. They grew more aggressive the closer they got the epicenter of the meteor strike. That didn’t feel like a coincidence.

  “Copy that. The Slumgum Gang have located a few horde hotspots that would be too dangerous to leave alone.” Max said. “They could be a threat if they found a way to the surface. Some of them fly.”

  Slate looked askance at Max, “You really trust those gangsters with intel?”

  “Dame Sunrise’s information has been immensely helpful. She calls it ‘casing the joint’. Being Hivers they just walk along the dome ceiling and find places to salvage, A.C.A.B. patrols and dangerous areas.” Max shrugged. “The Slumgum Gang’s wily. There’s a reason why it took so long to catch them.”

  Slate walked in quiet contemplation for a while, interrupted only by Pewter asking for Slate’s approval of a Bounty Hunter’s Union. Slate swiped the HUD window away in frustration, dismissing Pewter with an angry flick of the wrist. The sheriff sensed something was wrong.

  “You doing okay, Slate?” Max asked.

  Slate groused. “I’m just frustrated. Every time I think I have a new handle on things, something new goes wrong. First, Bitterling is threatening the city with his weather machine. Now Orion uncovered a weird mineral that’s a danger to any cyborgs in the colony.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Max rotated his right shoulder. “I was just getting used to the new robot arm, now it could potentially turn against me? Pass.”

  Slate threw his hands up with exasperation, “That’s exactly it! Things keep going wrong! I keep waiting for the other gravboot to drop.”

  There was a sound like a crack of thunder, followed by an explosion and a crash. All in rapid succession. Slate and Max shot each other a look, then ran towards the source of the sound.

  In a moment, they found themselves at the foot of the southwest turret tower. In the distance, there was some smoking wreckage surrounded by a few curious onlookers. Slowing their pace as they approached the crash site, a feeling of dread gnawing at Slate’s stomach. He had a sinking suspicion as to what they were about to find.

  Laying in a divot a hundred feet from the turret was a smashed drone, a Manifest Industries logo stamped on the side. As Max stood over the downed robot, the cracked lens made a whirring noise as it tried to focus on him.

  Max frowned, “Looks like our benevolent corporate overlords have intercepted our distress signal.”

  The Sheriff of Phoenix drew his firearm and shot the camera, then twice more in the hull to be sure. There was a Whoomp! sound as the circuits caught fire in the corrosive air, and the smoke turned black as circuitry burned.

  Slate folded his arms, “You don’t think they were simply trying to make contact to coordinate a rescue?

  Max pulled out a MUT, using the tool’s energy ‘arm’ to flip the drone over without touching it. The drone had two broken plasma rifles attached to the bottom, smashed by the collision with the ground.

  “Ah,” Slate said bitterly. “Not a surveillance drone, I see.”

  Max dropped the flaming scrap and buried it under the dirt.

  “We’ll need to build more defense turrets,” Max said simply.

  Slate sighed, “I’ll issue the Mission.”

  Orion found himself floating above what looked like an 80’s album cover. He was drifting above an endless night sky, the landscape made up of glowing neon grids. He saw himself standing at the feet of a purple sphinx with an Org’s face, wearing shutter shades and pharaoh hat.

  “Oh, what the hell?” said the digital shade of Orion. “I thought I got all my memories back. This is bullshit!”

  He was drawn closer towards the memory of Starbeard, Apus perched on his shoulder. Orion felt a pang of loneliness. He hadn’t been able to access Apus in weeks. He missed the sassy little phoenix, even if he was just a digital tutorial program.

  Orion watched his former self walk towards the gate in the center of the sphinx. It had only been a few months but it felt like a lifetime ago since he stood here in the Org starting area. As Orion drifted closer he could hear the muffled conversation between Starbeard and Apus while they approached the gate. He was close enough to see Starbeard reach out to touch the swirling purple vortex just as Apus spoke.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Apus began to say, “Welcome to Sanctu-”

  Then the glitch started. He watched Starbeard and his AI companion being pulled apart pixel by pixel. Their image flickered and in a flash of light they were pulled impossibly thin before vanishing.

  There was a moment of disorientation as Orion felt himself being pulled inextricably away, the scenery a blur. He suddenly found himself floating in a murky void. It was like being in the depths of space, but instead of stars there was floating gray debris instead. It looked like a floating junkyard filled with miscellaneous furniture, vehicles and even chunks of ground with trees or rocks on the surface. And people, millions of people floating lifelessly like eerily realistic mannequins.

  Orion remembered this place. He had seen it on his trip through the tunnel of light, right before he managed to divert his path to land on Org?a. It was no less spooky being among the space junk rather than seeing it pass by in a flash. He caught a glimpse of color among the shadows and floated towards the unconscious Org drifting in the flotsam.

  Starbeard shook himself awake and looked around to get his bearings. That didn’t help much considering his surroundings. Starbeard opened his mouth to exclaim something when orange light pierced the darkness just ahead of him. It started as a pinprick, then slowly widened, draining into itself as if reality were pouring down a circular waterfall. What the light was falling into was anyone’s guess.

  The ring of light expanded and took shape until it formed the crude humanoid silhouette. The Black Hole shadow man started to pull the drifting space junk towards it, creating a whirling galaxy that was slowly sucked into the center mass. Three burning embers erupted in the center of the head, glaring balefully down at the hapless Org.

  Starbeard started to be drawn closer by the gravitational pull, even as the sucking hole in space walked closer.

  The void creature spread its arms in greeting, “Greetings, Sentinel!”

  Starbeard shouted against the dull roar that emanated from the living black hole, “What’s happening? Who are you!”

  The void creature grew larger, thrusting arms out to the side like a performer. The orange streaks of light grew brighter and the orange maelstrom sucked in more debris.

  “I am Centaurus!” spake Centaurus, “Avatar of the Void.”

  Orion shivered at the voice, which sounded as if dozens of voices were speaking as one. But Starbeared simply gave the silhouette a look of confusion, his brow furrowing.

  “Like the constellation Centaurus?” he asked.

  “What?” Centaurus’s pose faltered and the looked down with what might be interpreted as annoyance on his null face. “No, like the Black Hole.”

  “Oh,” Starbeard sounded disappointed. Then he shouted, “what do you want? Where am I?”

  Centaurus swept a hand outward, sucking a broken starship into its palm, “You are in a space between worlds. Unused or discarded items, lost things, and the remains of previous worlds. A dead place.”

  The three eyes bore into Starbeard. “What I want is beyond your meager understanding. My Master has plans for this universe, and you threaten to disrupt them all.”

  Starbeard spluttered incredulously, “Me? What could I possibly do? I’m nobody!”

  “No,” Centaurus boomed, “But you will be.”

  Centaurus grew in size and intensity, the streaks of light flowing like a river of molten glass. The gravitational pull grew more intense, creating a funnel of debris. Starbeard was hit from behind by a hovercar and was knocked into the spiraling vortex draining out of reality.

  Orion watched in horror as the memory of Starbeard was buffeted by space detritus. The Org tried to swim against the current, trying desperately to avoid the yawning maw of the black hole. A lamppost smashed Starbeard in the face, and his struggles went still. In a matter of moments, Starbeard spaghettified and was sucked into the void.

  Orion’s vision blurred as he was dragged along beside his unconscious former self. When his vision cleared, he saw himself inside the blue tunnel where he first regained consciousness. He watched the scene play out again in real time, Starbeard waking up and escaping through the Org?a portal with his trusty Pocket Nuke. As he approached the final Gate that brought him to his new home, Orion saw the world turn white at the edges as he woke up from his reverie.

  [Memory upload at 100%]

  Dr. Birchett was overseeing the training of her two nurse trainees. The young Kreelux and Terran women had made great strides, and were now doing practice surgeries on holographic patients. Junip was quite pleased with their progress, both women had taken to the medical field with enthusiasm. It was good to know there were capable physicians besides zer in the colony.

  Junip’s scalp itched and ze scratched at the base of zer antler. The broken horn popped off and clattered to the floor. This startled the two nurses who stared at Dr. Birchett’s head with worried expressions.

  Junips smiled gently and waved off their concern, “It’s perfectly natural for Zylvaans to shed their antlers during the harvest season. They will grow back in a few months, undamaged. Speaking of, I should get you trained on different species biology soon. Now, concentrate on your tasks ladies. You’re losing your patients.”

  Warning bells started to go off on their holographic tests and the two nurses hurried back to their surgeries, both getting their subjects stabilized.

  Junip smiled and decided to give them some space and make zer rounds. Ze could always review the test logs to see how they did.

  Stopping by zer desk to drop the broken antler into the trash, Junip frowned and picked up the lollipop jar. It was definitely lighter than before. Random must have struck again. Sighing gently, Junip made a note to replicate more later, just to keep the mischievous Hiver invested in his harmless crime spree. It was better that the former art thief pilfered zer candy stash than going after more important items.

  With that done Junip clicked down to check on the living patients. There were still a few lingering patients on life support, badly injured during the Soilfang fight. They were being attended by Medidrones and having nanobot medicinal cocktails fed intravenously to them while they rested. They were in good spirits when Junip stopped by to check in on them. They were expected to make a full recovery soon, scarred but whole.

  As ze was checking in on a comatose Terran in the process of having artificial organs replicated by a nearby 3-D printer, there was a stirring in Gunmetal’s bed. Junip pauses and watched the Grey carefully. Large, dark eyes fluttered and Gunmetal groaned, shifting to sit up. His skin was still ashy and one half of his face was still badly bruised.

  Junip moved forward to try and settle him, “Don’t move too much, you’re still badly injured.”

  Gunmetal sat back and clutched his head with a groan, “What happened?”

  Junip relaxed as he calmed down, checking his status on the monitor connected to his medical bed. It recorded his vitals while he recuperated. Most of his injuries were bruising and lacerations, with a twisted ankle. The toxins that seeped into his bloodstream through the damaged BioSuit had all been filtered out. It was miraculous that he didn’t have any broken bones considering the nature of the attack that injured him.

  “You were attacked on a scouting mission,” Junip answered. “We found you a few days ago walking in the desert, half conscious.”

  Gunmetal stared at the ceiling and croaked, “What happened to my team?”

  Junip looked down, “You were the only survivor.”

  Gunmetal squeezed his eyes shut, his face a mask of pain. Whether physical, emotional, or a mixture of both was anyone’s guess.

  Gunmetal struggled to sit upright again, “I have to get out there. Maybe they’re still alive.”

  Junip placed a restraining hand on his shoulder, “You’re not going anywhere. I saw the feed of the attack, it looked like a terraworm. Even if you weren’t too injured to leave, there’s nothing you could do against something like that. Even with twice as many soldiers.”

  Gunmetal reluctantly laid back down, scowling.

  Junip leaned back and relaxed. Ze double-checked his monitor to make sure Gunmetal hadn’t aggravated his wounds. Satisfied he wasn’t in any immediate danger, Junip opened zer mouth to scold him when ze was suddenly interrupted.

  There was a flash of purple light from the Quarantine Chamber, immediately followed by a loud ‘Clang!’ and the clatter of a medical tray. Dr. Birchett shot a look at the clear but sturdy walls of the enclosure. Orion was laying there in a tangled heap, the mutated implants still ravaging his body. But aside from the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed raggedly, there was no movement.

  His mutations were worse than ze’d ever seen them. Cautiously, Junip summoned a sphere of concentrated psychokinetic energy into the palm of zer hand and stealthily crept closer. Reaching the chamber ze examined the body, which now took up most of the floor space in front of the Orgish sarcophagus standing against the back wall. Quietly, ze pulled up Orion’s health stats and was relieved to see the virus ravaged Org was unconscious. The corrupted implants began to oxidize, corroding so badly that patches of metal erupted with green flame.

  “What is that?”