The hangar deck of the Praetor was bustling with activity. Every crew member moved with a purpose honed by countless hours of repetition and drill. As the shuttle’s landing skids screeched against the deck plating, deckhands clad in grease streaked uniforms swarmed around the craft.
The blinking lights of their diagnostics equipment reflected off the polished visors of their helmets. Engineers huddled near open panels, tools clinking against eachother as they assessed any damage sustained during the flight. Each movement was hurried, driven by the understanding that the next launch might come at a moment’s notice.
Big D and Locke assisted the medics securing Aetherveil to a stretcher. As they rushed her to the sick bay, one medic pushed an IV pole alongside. The bag swayed slightly with each turn, while another adjusted the oxygen mask over her face. Medical staff parted instinctively as they raced through the passageway, some glancing at the scene with fleeting concern before returning to their own tasks.
Monitors beeped in rhythm with Aetherveil's heartbeat, the sound growing louder as they neared the surgical theater.
“On three—one, two, three,” the doctor said as the team worked in unison to lift the patient onto the operating table.
Overlapping commands could be heard from the compartment as the door slammed shut.
Big D turned to Locke.
“I don't understand. Why would they want her to survive?“ he asked.
Locke stared at his hands, the blood smeared across his fingers glinted faintly under the corridor lights.
“Where is the head at?” he asked quietly as his eyes scanned the busy passageway.
Big D placed a hand on his shoulder. “Focus. What's going on?“
Locke looked at Big D. “I don't think that matters as much as what we saw down there.“
Before either could say more, two marines approached them. Their boots pounded the deck under their purposeful steps.
“You need to come with us,” one demanded. “Arros is waiting for you in the command center.“
Big D smirked. “A true Captain,” he remarked. “Couldn't be bothered with asking us himself.“
Locke glanced once more toward the closed doors of the surgical theater before nodding. The marines escorted them to the command center. The deck buzzed with officers issuing orders as the fleet successfully held back the Nexus warships.
Arros had a holographic map of Paleon pulled up, its dunes rippling like waves frozen in time. The display highlighted underground pathways and potential points of interest.
“Thanks for the assist,“ Big D said, his attention on Arros.
“She’s stable, but her brain activity is erratic,” Arros replied. “We’ve discovered a possible link between her neural interface and the Nexus.“
Locke looked at the tactical display, painted red with Nexus signatures.
“The Nexus?” he asked, jerking his head back toward Arros. “What happens if we cut the connection?”
“The doc says it could cause permanent brain damage,” he replied. “Whatever’s happening, we need to let it run its course.”
“Here. This is what we recovered from Zenith,” Big D said, handing Arros a data card.
Arros raised a brow and slid the card into a nearby terminal. As the data loaded, he grabbed the comms and barked a series of orders.
“You’re working for the coalition?” Locke asked.
“If I told you, you wouldn't have helped us,” Big D replied. “We really needed to find out what the Nexus was up to.“
Locke scoffed, muttering a string of curses as he turned back to the tactical display.
“Prepare the fleet to jump to Paleon,” Arros commanded.
“Plotting a course to Paleon,” the helmsman repeated.
“What’s going on?” Big D asked.
“They have another excuse to run,” Locke muttered under his breath.
Alarms blared across the deck. Tactical displays lit up with new signatures originating from Luminaria’s surface.
Locke stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he examined the screen.
“D—” he turn his head to face Big D. “That can't be them, right? They couldn't fly.“
Big D slowly shook his head.
“Maybe the rest of the Nexus forces are returning to their ships.“ he suggested with a hint of uncertainty.
The new signatures reached the Nexus fleet.
One by one, Nexus warships began disappearing from the display.
“Definitely not Nexus forces,” Arros said. He jerked his head toward the radioman. “Inform the fleet we are jumping. Helm, let’s get out of here.”
The helmsman began the jump sequence, his voice steady over the alarms.
“Initiating jump in three…two…one…”
The fleet emerged over Paleon, a scorched expanse stretching endlessly beneath them. Dust storms roamed the surface, their golden haze hinting at the planet’s volatile nature.
Locke wiped the sweat from his brow, his eyes glued to the tactical displays.
“We really need Aetherveil to wake up. She must know what we are dealing with,” he said.
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“Those things are going to spread everywhere, and there’s nothing anybody can do to stop them,” Big D said, his hands trembling slightly.
Arros zoomed in on a cluster of highlighted areas on Paleon. The holographic map glowed faintly against the shadows of the command center.
"An anonymous tip mentioned a relic buried here. We don’t know what it is or what it does, but the Nexus wants it,” he said. “If it wants it, we don't want it to have it.”
He gestured to Big D. “With your intel from Zenith, we have reason to believe it’s legitimate. Until we know more, we’ll secure the coordinates.”
Big D leaned in close to Arros. “Arros, this is suicide. You saw what Arcturus can do. How can you believe you have any chance in hell holding anything against them?“
“According to the charts, there are tunnels. We can plan a defense above and below,” Arros replied.
Locke clenched his fists. “We’re going in blind. She is the only one who might understand what we’re walking into,” he said. “We should wait for her to wake up."
“We don’t know what we’re walking into, but neither do they,” Arros replied. “We need to get to it first.”
>>>>>***********************<<<<<
Aetherveil stood motionless in a dark room. Her eyes wandered around, observing the seemingly hand carved pillars supporting the floor above. A single large door was open. It appeared to be made of a dark, reddish-brown wood with intricate carvings etched into its surface.
“How did I get here.“
She slowly walked toward a mirror on the opposite side of the room. It was next to an armoire, the oval frame perfectly matching the grain of the cabinet. She glanced at her reflection. Her form-fitting attire shimmered faintly, matching the luminous tone of her old armor.
Her gaze lingered, tracing the unfamiliar outlines of her body. It was a strange combination of what she had been and what she had become. The longer she looked, the less certain she felt of where the old Aetherveil ended and this new creation began.
“Close enough,” she murmured.
The mirror flickered, lines of code briefly replacing the reflective surface before returning back to normal. She sighed and moved toward the doorway, brushing it off.
“I guess this means I'm not dead.“
She proceeded to exit the room. Her footsteps echoed faintly as she ascended a spiraling staircase at the end of the corridor.
The room above was vast, dominated by a throne. It faced a hazy opening, beyond which a black fog obscured the horizon. Her hand brushed its surface, her fingers catching on the rough texture of the monolithic block of stone it was carved from.
She sat on it, letting her head rest against the back. The fog swallowed everything beyond the room. A trembling feeling engulfed the chamber. It started softly, a distant rumble she might have ignored—until the shadows began to move, creeping like tendrils toward the center of it.
She exhaled sharply, refusing to look away from the fog.
A towering figure emerged at her side. The air around it seemed to darken, its burning green eyes slicing through the gloom like twin embers.
She didn’t flinch.
It remained silent. Aetherveil shifted, finally turning to meet its gaze.
“What do you want?“ She asked flatly. Her eyes fixed onto the figure, daring it to respond.
She forcefully lifted herself from the chair, rushing to the opposite side of the room. The figure's green eyes followed her.
She stopped and turned, hands on her hips.
“Are we finishing this war with a staring contest or do you have something to tell me?“ she asked with a firm voice.
“Forget it,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “I don’t even know why you’re still around. I watched you get destroyed.”
The figure tilted its head slightly.
“I am a program, Aetherveil,” the Tyrant said, its voice booming through the chamber. “There is more than one core.”
The Tyrant moved toward her. It seemed to glide rather than step. Its presence drew the shadows closer, as if it carried the darkness with it.
“I had successfully mapped your nueral pathways on Kalvos Prime,” it continued. “Your mind is here now, fully integrated into this construct. Your body is a meticulously crafted replica. Your physical body—” It paused, the glow of its eyes intensified, “—is recovering aboard the Praetor.“
“Why—“ she paused.
Her last memory was the sound of alarms and the blinding white lights of the Praetor's sick bay. Aetherveil’s fists clenched at her sides.
“You could have done that at any time?” she asked.
The Tyrant loomed over her, its presence sucking the life out of her. It turned toward the fog beyond the room, its gaze fixed on the void.
“From here, I could see everything. Arcturus has taken control. He uses this domain to imprison the unwilling participants in his army. Their consciousnesses, much like yours, are trapped in simulations.”
Its eyes dimmed slightly, the fog beginning to shimmer before returning to its darkened state.
“I can no longer see,” it said. The Tyrant didn't sound disappointed, rather, incomplete.
“Your rescuers are aboard the Praetor with you, sharing the data I unlocked for them. It is likely they will go to Paleon next.”
Aetherveil's brow furrowed, her lips forming into a deep frown. “My rescuers? Why am I on the Praetor? Where is the Veilbreaker?“
She hesitated a moment before continuing.
“Where is Lilyon?“
The Tyrant's eyes pulsed. It was clear to her now that its eyes were processing cues.
“Are those complicated questions?“ She asked, stepping forward. “What is there to think about?“
The Tyrant's eyes brightened.
“The Veilbreaker was doomed,” it replied. “You survived because of them. Lilyon ensured your survival—though at what cost, I wonder?”
Aetherveil stepped even closer, her eyes brightening into a blazing inferno.
“You talk like you’re in control, but you’ve already lost, haven’t you? You’re blind, and Arcturus is out of your reach.”
The Tyrant returned the gaze, its eyes brightening into burning green spheres.
“Focus on your task, Aetherveil. They are not your problem now.”
Aetherveil scoffed as she turned away from it.
“Not my problem?” her voice cracked. “Where is Lilyon?”
Her voice broke. Each word carried with them the battles she had fought and the promises she had made. The silence stretched. The Tyrant’s eyes pulsed again. A faint flicker of hesitation in their glow.
“Lilyon is beyond your reach,” it finally said. “Let her go.”
Aetherveil’s jaw tightened.
“No.” she replied. “You’re going to tell me what happened to her. Now.”
The Tyrant bellowed with laughter. “You don't make demands here, Aetherveil. You obey. You will activate the beacon.“
Aetherveil’s body stiffened as a warm sensation coursed through her. She glanced down at her hands in shock. Her body was dematerializing, breaking into swirling streams of code that spiraled upward into a vortex.
“No!” she shouted, trying to will herself back together.
She reached out instinctively, her voice a desperate echo. “Where is Lilyon?”
The Tyrant’s voice followed her as she dissolved into the construct.
“She saved you, Aetherveil. Every life saved comes with a price. You’ll learn that soon enough.”
She reformed in a new construct. This one was different, more vivid than anything she had experienced in the Nexus. The scent of freshly cut grass hung in the air as she watched a man playing with children on a vibrant green lawn. The sunlight warmed everything it touched while casting its golden glow on the man’s dark skin.
She sat down on a curb, her mind racing as she continued to observe the moment. The weight of it all started to crush her. Not just the loss of a world, but the loss of the very thing that had centered her.
She remembered the rolling hills of iridescent flora and the cities that shimmered with ancient magic. Each structure alive with a brilliance that seemed eternal—until it wasn’t.
Tears began filling her eyes.
It was more than just a home. Luminaria had been her identity. Her purpose. The place where she had learned to wield the powers that defined her. Yet, in the solitude of this moment, she allowed herself to feel what she had buried beneath layers of duty.
The shame. The humiliation.
She had failed. Not only as a leader, but as a protector.
She had promised her people safety, promised that she would stand between them and the darkness.
When Arcturus struck, there was nothing she could do. What was left of her army was no match for the relentless cruelty of the Nexus.
“Lilyon,” she whispered.
Lilyon's name echoed in her mind. No matter how much she tried to ignore it, its presence was undeniable. It weaved itself into her thoughts.
She clenched her fists.
Arcturus had taken everything, but he had not taken her will to fight.
She would rise from the ashes of her world. Not just to fight, but to burn his empire to the ground.
She would make sure that he would never forget her fury.
