The heavy thuds of Arros’s footsteps were the only thing to accompany him through the passageways of his flagship, Praetor. His gaze remained fixed straight ahead as he strode toward the command center, taking slow sips from his cup.

  He sat it down on the central console.

  “Is the quarantine around Luminaria holding?” he asked.

  Kelix, stationed at his console, responded. “Sir, the blockade has reported no activity above the planet’s atmosphere. The beasts haven’t tried to leave the surface.”

  Arros rubbed his temples.

  “Maybe they’ve finally got the hint.“

  He reoriented the holographic display, focusing the tactical map on the Outer Rim—still under relentless assault by the Nexus. His fingers traced the chaos unfolding across the stars.

  “Or maybe they’re up to something.”

  He knew better than to assume silence meant that they were resigning themselves.

  “Can we get scouts on the ground?” Arros asked.

  Kelix thought about it a moment, his eyes moving to his console. Arros watched as his fingers tapped across the interface, likely reviewing their ever-shortening roster.

  “I have a team that can deploy,” Kelix said, “but don’t you think it's too risky?”

  Arros leaned over the central console, his reflection staring back at him from the liquid pooled at the bottom of his cup. His hand dragged over his face, the coarse feel of his unshaven jaw distracted him.

  “I've really let myself go,” he mumured.

  Kelix moved around uncomfortably during the Admiral's quiet mutterings. “Sir?”

  “We need to know what’s happening down there. They might be planning a way to get off the planet,” Arros said.

  He straightened his posture as he addressed the bridge crew.

  “I shouldn’t have to remind you how many we lost hunting them down across the Frontier,” he continued. “We can't risk it. Not with the Nexus's civil war tearing apart what’s left of the Outer Rim.”

  A voice from across the deck interrupted him. “Why don’t we just raze it? That would free up resources.”

  Arros’s gaze snapped toward the officer who had spoken. “You want to be the one to ask Aetherveil how she’d feel about that?”

  No answer. The officer who had spoken out of turn quietly retreated back to his work. Arros turned back to the tactical displays.

  “The day you figure out how to stop her from turning all of us into corpses, I’ll consider turning her home into a sheet of glass,” he said.

  “Sir…he has a point. You ought—” Kelix spoke, his utterances projecting his refusal to accept the circumstances.

  Arros looked at him with hostile eyes.

  “If and when it comes to that,” he said. “Don’t tell me what I ought to do. How soon can you have the team ready?”

  “Immediately,” Kelix replied. “But we’re short on marines qualified for this kind of operation. I’ll have to lead the team myself.”

  Arros gave a curt nod. “Understood, Colonel. Just don’t get yourself killed. Report what you see—nothing more.”

  Kelix dismissed himself, turning sharply on his heel and striding out of the command center without another word.

  “Have we received any communication from Aetherveil?” Arros asked, his gaze changing over to the communications officer.

  “No, sir,” the officer replied. “Nothing but silence.”

  Arros turned back to the holographic map, watching as the red lines—representing Nexus fleet movements—slowly moved across the systems they occupied.

  “It’s been weeks,” he muttered. “Are they even still alive?”

  >>>>>***********************<<<<<

  Flashing red lights didn't compliment the compartment. The dull, worn out red hue didn't just highlight the edges of equipment, but the the dire circumstances the ship was in as well.

  The distant sounds of muted shouting hardly registered within Aetherveil’s ears. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. Sparks rained down from the damaged bulkhead, hot flecks stinging her face.

  Slowly, she turned her head. Through the haze, she saw them—Nexus cyborgs tearing a Sentinel apart, his limbs wrenched off like a small animal in the clutches of the deranged.

  “Aetherveil!”

  She snapped her gaze upward. Lilyon loomed over her, her eyes frantic and locked onto Aetherveil’s.

  “We have to get out of here!” Lilyon shouted.

  Aetherveil barely had time to react before a massive hand clamped around Lilyon's skull, lifting her effortlessly into the air. A creak came from beneath Arcturus's fingers as she screamed in pain.

  “You shouldn’t be here!” Aetherveil shouted, her voice cracking with desperation. “Put her down!”

  Arcturus loomed before her, the lumens of his silver eyes indisputable evidence of his presence. Lilyon thrashed in his grasp, her fingers clawing at his wrist, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Her boots kicked weakly against the floor, movements slowing.

  A spray of thick red.

  A dull, wet thud.

  Lilyon’s body crumpled to the floor.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  A strangled sound escaped Aetherveil's throat. It was a half-formed scream muted by the horror she just witnessed. To move, to react, her body wouldn't allow it. She was frozen, caught in a temporal bubble of her making.

  Arcturus didn’t look down. He didn’t need to. His gaze never left hers.

  “There is no escape, Aetherveil. Wherever you run, I'll be waiting,” he said, his voice low and guttural.

  The walls of the chamber peeled away, revealing an infinite void. The ground beneath her vanished.

  Aetherveil fell. Her scream was cut off by the dissolving world around her.

  She jolted awake.

  She was on her knees, fingers digging into the metal deck. Her entire body was shaking. Sweat dripped from her chin, pooling beneath her.

  "Just a dream. Just a damn dream."

  She swallowed hard, pushing herself up on trembling legs. Tears blurred her vision.

  “Why does it still feel real?”

  The persistent buzz of the comms disrupted her moment, pulling her from her thoughts. She exhaled sharply, dragging her hands down her face and flicking away the sweat.

  The buzzing didn’t stop.

  With a groan, she grabbed the handset, accepting whoever was on the other end was too stubborn to take the hint.

  “What?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

  “We’re closing in on the objective. It’s on a moon,” Locke reported.

  “So what's the problem?“ she asked, her eyes narrowing.

  “There's activity,” he replied after a short moment of silence. “It's not Nexus.“

  Her grip on the handset tightened, trapping it beneath the coil of a Boa constrictor. The metal groaned under the pressure as her fingers left their mark.

  “I'll be there soon.“

  Aetherveil stood in front of her power armor, brushing her fingers across the hole in the chest plate. After donning it, she moved toward the hatch. As she passed a polished access panel, her reflection caught her eye.

  She stopped.

  Stared.

  Her orange eyes, dull at first, ignited into young stars rich will fuel. Her jaw clenched. The image staring back at her felt foreign.

  Without a second thought, she slammed her fist into the panel. The metal buckled beneath the force, her reflection crumpling with it. She didn't linger on it long, continuing on the path to her destination.

  She stormed into the command center, focusing in on Locke.

  “Do you know what's down there?“ she asked.

  Locke shook his head, his attention on the tactical displays. “I'm not sure. They're very active,” he said. “I don't think they've detected us yet.“

  “What could be this far out?“ Big D asked from across the deck. He took steps forward. “We're what? A few million lightyears away from civilization?“

  Aetherveil let out a dry, humorless chuckle.

  “What's going on with you? You've been acting like an asshole for weeks now,” Big D said.

  “Lock it up!“ Locke snapped.

  Aetherveil exhaled through her nose, but she didn’t break eye contact with Big D. “Has Arros responded to any of our transmissions?“ she asked.

  Locke shook his head. “I think we're too far out for that,” he replied. “Why don't you fix that hole in your chest?“

  “It's all I have,” Aetherveil said quietly.

  “What's that supposed to mean?“ Locke asked.

  Before she could respond, a violent tremor rocked the ship. Aetherveil braced herself while alarms blared and red warning lights flashed across the displays.

  Hull Breach Detected

  Locke snatched up the handset, his voice hardly competing with the blaring sirens.

  “We’re being boarded!” he shouted.

  Big D’s grip tightened around his sidearm as he yanked it from its holster. “How the hell did they get past our sensors?” he demanded.

  Aetherveil’s eyes switched back and forth between the alert screens and the command center hatch. “It’s them,” she muttered.

  “What?” Locke shouted, cupping a hand around his ear to hear her over the din.

  Gunfire erupted down the corridors—sharp, rapid bursts. Then, one by one, the shots fell silent.

  Aetherveil exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders.

  She drew her sword. The violet glow of the blade bathed the command center.

  Click

  Sharp clicking sounds pierced through the reinforced hatch. The noises sent a chill crawling down Aetherveil’s spine. Sweat rolled down her cheek as the anticipation grew, every muscle tensed for whatever was about to come through that door.

  Her fingers twitched.

  Her grip loosened.

  The sword slipped from her grasp, clattering against the deck.

  “Aetherveil? Are you alright?” Locke asked.

  She heard it.

  A voice.

  It didn’t feel like the Nexus. It was something else. Something from within the deepest bowels of the cosmos.

  It roared inside her skull. It was unlike anything she had ever heard.

  "We let you live. We gave you a chance. We will take back what is ours."

  All weapons trained on the hatch as it groaned open, the light from the passageway bleeding into the compartment.

  Aetherveil stood rigid. Her heart slammed against her breast, vibrating down her collarbones. Every instinct to fight screamed at her, but she couldn’t move.

  The hatch reached its halfway point, revealing black helmets.

  “Nexus!” Locke shouted, raising his weapon.

  Aetherveil snapped out of it. Her fingers clenched around her sword as she scooped it from the deck. She raised her sword high, the blade poised just above her shoulder like a raised banner of war.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” she muttered. “How did Nexus signatures slip past our detection?”

  Both sides exchanged gunfire, sparks erupting from shattered consoles and scorched bulkheads.

  The deck crew crouched behind cover, peeking out just long enough to return fire—just enough to keep the cyborgs from advancing.

  Aetherveil vaulted over obstacles, carving through the enemy with uncontested precision. Every strike was clean, lethal—no wasted swing, no second cuts.

  Her eyes locked onto something different.

  A cyborg. Distinct from the others. Smaller, leaner. Its armor was low-profile, built for agility rather than brute force.

  Aetherveil lunged, the tip of her blade racing toward its chest.

  The cyborg twisted at the last second, Aetherveil's blade flying through empty space.

  The cyborg delivered a brutal kick to Aetherveil's knee joint. The servos in her armor seized, locking up. In the same instant, it clenched her helmet, slamming her skull into the nearest console.

  Aetherveil’s vision spun as her head lolled back and forth as she recovered. Smoke curled from the ruined console, seeping in through the cracked visor. Just enough of her senses restored in time to register the next attack coming.

  She swung her sword in a swift horizontal arc as the cyborg’s fist shot toward her head.

  The cyborg ducked under the blade, the violet edge slicing harmlessly through the air above it. In a fluid motion, it drew its sidearm and fired point-blank into Aetherveil’s chest plate. The projectiles sparked against her armor, failing to penetrate.

  As Aetherveil braced to absorb the impact, the cyborg slammed the pistol into her visor. The already compromised reinforced glass fractured more, cracks webbing across her view.

  Before she could respond, it struck again—this time driving the barrel through the visor and into the bridge of her nose.

  Pain exploded across her face.

  The cyborg ejected its magazine, already reaching for a fresh one.

  Big D grabbed the cyborg from behind. With a grunt, he wrenched it off the ground and hurled it across the command center. The machine crashed into a console, sparks exploding in every direction.

  The cyborg staggered back to its feet, its gaze sweeping the command center.

  It was almost alone now.

  It bolted for the passageway. Aetherveil pushed past Big D, pursuing it.

  She didn't make it far.

  The moment she stepped into the corridor, she froze. The bulkhead dripped with blood, the dim lighting reflecting off the slick crimson streaks. Sentinels and cyborgs lay strewn across the deck—pulled apart and torn open.

  “What could have done this?“

  Her eyes darted through the carnage, scanning for the cyborg.

  It was gone.

  Thats when she noticed it. A lanky, colorless being. Its body was pinned to the bulkhead with a sword.

  Its torso was impaled, the blade sunk deep into the metal plating behind it. Its legs slumped lifelessly to the floor. It was incredibly tall—easily eight feet, just barely fitting within the passageway.

  She approached it cautiously. Standing before the impaled figure, she reached out, gripping its head. With her thumb, she lifted its eyelid.

  Black eyes.

  She could see herself reflected in it—crisp, perfect, like staring into a mirror. Releasing it, it's head slumped over. She took a sharp step back, her shoulder slamming into Locke and knocking him aside. She hadn’t even noticed he was there.

  “Is this—” he took a step toward it, his gaze running over the being.

  “Yes,” Aetherveil said, sheathing her sword.

  She moved forward, her steps slow and careful, weaving through the corridor of the dead. Her leg burned with each motion, the failing servo in her armor grinding.

  Still, she continued forward. Something awaited her on the moon's surface, and she was going to find out what.