Locke's shuttle descended toward Pryxis, a bleak and barren planet where the Nexus had set up a processing station. It was a simple operation, from what Locke was made to understand.

  It was a mill—a factory where the Nexus was melting alloys for its machines. Even its smallest operations could be heavily guarded, though. Locke didn't intend on getting dragged into a prolonged engagement. This was going to be a hit-and-run, the same as the many before it.

  The closer he got to it, the more he realized it wasn't the small operation it was made out to be. The mill must have been resting on fifty square kilometers, using nearby natural formations as slag pits.

  He brought the shuttle in low, using the planet’s rocky terrain to cover his approach. He let the shuttle drift slowly toward a suitable landing zone, avoiding detection.

  Locke strapped his rifle to his back and made his way to the ramp. He threw his arms up, arching his back in a great big stretch.

  “It's about time,” he said.

  Locke jogged at a brisk, steady pace through a gorge leading to the facility.

  Drenched in sweat and rubber-legged, he finally made it to the outer defenses. He hadn't glimpsed any drones patrolling, only taking note of turrets lining the perimeter. Slipping through the facility entrance, he easily avoided detection. Upon reaching what he believed was the main building housing the control center, he discovered the door unlocked.

  He couldn't help but to chuckle at how poorly defended such a high output facility would be.

  One corridor, another corridor, a doorway, an office, and finally another corridor, he reached the heart of the facility. It was fully automated, having encounted no labor drones of any kind.

  Locke looked at his rifle, releasing a sigh.

  “Too bad,” he muttered.

  Locke took his time setting charges. To him, he had all the time in the world. All the preparation, all the training, and he had nothing to kill.

  Once the explosives were in place, he huffed his way to a vantage point outside the facility, where he had a clear view of the station.

  Locke exhaled slowly, sweeping the yard through the scope. He stopped over a transformer.

  “Maybe just one,” he whispered.

  His finger caressed the trigger, the well oiled mechanism moving with little restriction. There was nothing gritty about it. He released it, huffing.

  “Next time,” he said, slinging it.

  He equipped the detonator, flipped the safety cover, and with great pleasure, jammed his finger into the big red button.

  The charges went off, releasing an invisible force pushing its way out of the walls and ceiling, lifting the earth around the building. He watched as chunks of the ceiling catapulted into the air, providing an escape route for the inferno ignited inside.

  Locke didn't remain to admire his work. He made haste back to his shuttle before the Nexus could respond.

  By the time any units arrived to investigate, he was already in the air, his shuttle disappearing into the clouds as the station crumbled behind him.

  >>>>>***********************<<<<<

  The council reconvened in a grand chamber on Val 'Dara.

  It was a brightly lit room with a large, rectangular table in the center. The stone walls and pillars were decorated with the history of Val 'Dara.

  The low murmurs of the coalition representatives echoed throughout the chamber.

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  Coran looked at Castle, who was sitting to his right.

  "She won the battle, but what guarantees do we have that she won't wield them like the Tyrant?" Coran asked.

  Castle was skimming through the strategic intelligence reports in front of him.

  "We have been losing ground for months," he replied. "Dalcor proves she can succeed where we have failed."

  "What do we actually know about her?" Thalor asked. "A thousand years of secrecy? What does she have to hide?"

  Aetherveil walked into the room, making her way to the end of the table.

  She looked directly at Thalor.

  "I did not come here to win your trust or approval," she said.

  She turned to face the rest of the council members.

  "I came here because your survival depends on it."

  A slender, pale woman with long, dark hair took Aetherveil's side. Her sea-blue eyes were speckled with silver that sparkled faintly.

  "And how old are you supposed to be?" Thalor asked.

  Lilyon looked at him, narrowing her eyes.

  "Thirty-two," she answered.

  Thalor looked at the representatives around him before returning his eyes to Lilyon with a smile.

  "Thirty-two hundred?" Thalor asked sarcastically.

  She shot him a smirk.

  "Aetherveil is one of a kind," she replied.

  Lilyon slid a device across the table. It projected a hologram of the battle on Dalcor. Aetheveil pointed at the projection while shifting her gaze between council members.

  "The Tyrant's army can be defeated," she said.

  She looked at Thalor with contempt.

  "You hoard your resources while your outer colonies burn, Thalor," she said.

  She looked between Coran and Arros.

  "You bicker while your soldiers are dying, Coran. Arros—you're so full of doubt that you forgot how to lead."

  The council whispered among themselves as the projection continued.

  Aetherveil began taking slow steps around the table.

  "Under my command, your forces will become more than soldiers. They will become Sentinels, but only if you are willing to surrender your control."

  Arguments broke out among the council.

  Some were willing to accept Aetherveil's offer, while others were not ready to give up their autonomy.

  "We have sacrificed so much already. If there is a chance to end this, we have to take it," Arros said.

  "If we do nothing, we lose anyway,” another council member said.

  "If we give her everything, what's left for us when it's over?" Coran argued.

  "I will not surrender my people to another Tyrant," Thalor said.

  Castle fixed his gaze on Thalor. “How many victories have you had?“

  He stood up, his head sweeping across the table.

  “How many have any of us had?“ he asked. “I'll tell you. Zero. Not one win. She crushed the Nexus on Dalcor.“

  Thalor scoffed but said nothing.

  Murmurs rippled through the chamber. Castle spoke a bitter, undeniable truth.

  Aetherveil raised her hand, silencing them.

  "If you refuse, I will fight the Tyrant alone and your worlds will burn in its wake," she said, locking eyes with Thalor.

  "We will support you, but only if we maintain control over our planetary defenses,” a council member said.

  “I'll agree to that,” Aetherveil said. “That does us both a favor.“

  “You have the support of Valeria,” Castle declared.

  Other members of the council nodded in agreement, settling on her terms.

  "You have made the right choice," Aetherveil said.

  She turned, motioning for Lilyon to follow. Just as she reached the doors, she glanced over her shoulder at Thalor.

  Thalor watched her go, his eyes narrowing.

  “Coran, aren't you going to say anything?“ Thalor asked.

  “We should support her. At least for now,” Coran said. “We don't know what she is capable of. With our forces embedded in hers, we can gather intel.“

  "This isn't over, Castle,” Thalor said. “Coran, let's talk more in private. I need to get back to Eldara.“

  Castle and Arros exchanged looks.

  Thalor was a generational ruler, raised in an environment of betrayal and lies.

  They didn't need words to describe how they felt, the tension they shared was palpable.

  >>>>>***********************<<<<<

  Aetherveil looked out of a porthole as the ship glided past the stars. Shadows pooled in the corners of her quarters—the whispers growing more aggressive. She place her palms over the sides of her head.

  The hatch opened and Lilyon entered—leaning against the bulkhead, crossing her arms.

  “The Sentinels are ready,” she reported. “They know what’s waiting for us in the Nexus.”

  Aetherveil turned her head to the side, keeping her back to Lilyon.

  "Did you feel it?" she asked. "Was there interference, or were they just toying with us?"

  "You heard them, too?" Lilyon asked.

  Aetherveil took a deep breath, then turned around to face her.

  "They're going to be ready for us. Glitchar is not going to make this easy," she said.

  Lilyon uncrossed her arms and took a few steps toward Aetherveil.

  “We don't have to do this,” Lilyon said. “Glitchar is not that important.“

  “It's an obstacle between us and everybody trapped in there,” Aetherveil said.

  “At what cost?“ Lilyon asked.

  “Its using them for something,” Aetherveil replied. “Why would the Nexus waste resources on it if it wasn't important?“

  Psionus’s voice crackled through the comms.

  “We're ready to enter the Nexus.“

  Lilyon stepped closer to Aetherveil.

  “I'm with you, Aetherveil,” Lilyon said. “But this is not our home. They are not our people.“

  “You're right,” Aetherveil replied. “Its about those things.“

  “We're going to push it too far,” Lilyon said.

  She left Aetherveil's quarters to meet up with Psionus and finish the mission prep.

  Aetherveil gripped the hilt of her sword. Her hand was shaking. It was already in her head. The Nexus would stop at nothing to break them.

  She took one last look at Dalcor’s data streams before stepping out of the hatch.