Salvador and Titus made their way over to the escape pods, the officer rubbing his chin in a frantic motion.

  “Shit, Salvador – I-I mean, Mr Vigino. This is bad. Really bad.” Titus was running a gloved hand through his hair repeatedly.

  “The translators. They had them for who knows how long. Some of them, hell maybe all of the Rexia knew of us. No wonder they so quickly adapted the ships to human conditions – they changed the internal atmosphere the second we all landed. I mean no wonder they were building new rooms in old architectural styles that we haven’t even used for years – they must have been learning from an old Doctrine archive data dump. And maybe they’ve been in contact with Heaven’s Doctrine for who knows how many years, preparing for this event. Mr Vigino, I fear the Eternal War might have upped in scale to far more than a tiff over Earth’s corpse.”

  “Christ. Can we… do anything?”

  “Right now? No. We’re not in the position to act. For now, we survive. But in the coming years, this will be big. But why did the Emperor make his move now? What pushed him towards this?”

  They passed through a maintenance corridor to avoid more combat as they weaved past pipes and risers. It wasn’t far now until they reached the escape pods. Sal didn’t particularly fancy another crash landing on Fifth Spoke, but they didn’t have the time to locate proper ships for transport.

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s not our place to worry right now. For now, we just need to get onto those shuttles.” He was quiet for a moment. “So, Mr Vigino, what changed your mind? I would have thought that staying with the Cambiar would have been a no-brainer, especially with that one you are like having relations with, hmm?”

  “Ugh.” Sal felt dirty after the way they’d made love to Xeena and then abandoned her. “Sir, it is a bit more complicated than that but… Yes, it should have been an easy choice. I just made it feel like it was the wrong one, mostly because of how simple it seemed. I didn’t want myself to feel weak by relying on someone I cared about. But I won’t falter, not anymore. So yeah, I’ve got to get back to Xeena.”

  They erupted from the hallway, Titus ready to strike and Sal aiming his gun. Thankfully, the flickering corridor was devoid of life. Stepping over some debris and busted piping, the two approached an escape pod. Titus stepped inside to sort out the console as Sal stood on watch.

  “So, sir, what about your story? Why’d you go so hard against H&H? I had always pictured you as the perfect corporate lackey. Uh, no offense. And I’ll be honest, when I heard you’d delayed and changed Curtin’s messages, I thought you were a traitor for a bit.”

  “No offense taken. I did act fully in H&H’s best interests for the longest time, simply because they offered the best chance for humanity to flourish. Or at least, I thought they did. I looked into the Keeper program, as per your hint, and now… now I don’t know how much of my perception had been tainted from the very start. Seeing Curtin’s actions and the slavery they the Keepers under has changed my views somewhat. That, and I would never trust them to fully handle negotiations with the Cambiar, that much is clear. No, the presence of Doctrine traitors, planted explosives, artificially grown humans and GaltCorp mechs clearly showed me, if nothing else, that Josiah Dexter himself is a disease that must be uprooted for the CCH to thrive.”

  “Josiah Dexter? I get he’s pretty high up in H&H, but what does he had to do with this?”

  “Well, do you remember when I mentioned that the manifest for the cargo was his responsibility? I looked into it, and Josiah personally signed off on those articles of contraband, as well as other parts. It would appear he’s been doing some dirty dealings on the side, likely hiring clan forces to steal the mechs and goreskins for some cheap defence of any new colony he establishes using the Expedition fleets. No wonder they infiltrated us so easily; half of these soldiers were likely on his payroll before joining H&H as crewmates.”

  “Huh. I did wonder where the mechs came from. The goreskins - could the clans steal those from Paradise?”

  “Possibly… that would seem- Oh damned firmware… ‘Yes I want to rollback to the previous update’, we want to crash. Stupid thing. Ah, apologies Mr Vigino, just some computer troubles.”

  “Windows 63?”

  “Windows 63. I don’t know why IT keeps forcing everyone to update to the next OS, they’re always worse. Now, we should be ready for- “

  Gunshots rang out as Sal ducked for cover. Sparks rained on top of him as he reached for his handgun.

  The Nova was heavy in his hands, but he had no time to freak out, not when he had a mission to do. He counted their shots and heard the sound of their approach. The second there was a pause, he leaned out, lined his sights up, and took out the two crazed gunners. He swore he even heard the second one cackle as he died.

  It was only after they died that Sal felt his hands shake. He’d killed two men. Sal tried to rationalize it, swallowing whatever feelings were beginning down, by considering he had likely indirectly killed people by helping maintain the recon ships he served on many years before. In a way, this would be nothing new. Facing the escape pod, the control panel had been wrecked in the shootout, and Titus was struggling to open the sealed door. With each tug, more and more synthetic skin was ripped from what little remained on his arms.

  “It won’t budge,” Titus conceded. He seemed poised to smash the door’s window but seemingly realized how putting a hole in a spacecraft was likely not a good idea and halted. “The launch is already activated. You’ll have to grab another and follow me. Ok?”

  “Yes sir, I’ll be right behind you.”

  Seconds later, the pod shot away, shooting towards Fifth Spoke. Damn, well there went that initial plan. Soon, Sal found that there were no other pods - none that were usable anyway. One was free but had been damaged from gunfire penetrating the outer window, rendering it useless. Pacing the hallway and feeling anxious at the time he was wasting, he passed by an airlock with familiar storage lockers sat astride. Looking at the voidsuits within, an idea came to him If he couldn’t make it to Fifth Spoke by pod… they why not by EVA?

  Suiting up in the voidsuit and checking the propulsion tank, Sal was ready. He cycled the airlock and was once again cast into the vacuum of space. Unlike the investigation of Ruby Eye, he was alone. The last time he had been alone like this was Tartarus, all those years ago. But he had changed, no longer the man who feared for his own strength. Now, it was time to act. Firing his boosters, he could see that the other Cambiar ships had surrounded the Fifth Spoke, but none had moved to board or directly engage. What was going on?

  Sal was some distance from Starheart when he heard a transmission coming through his suit’s communication system. Expecting to hear a message from Titus or another H&H staff member, a storm of static startled him, forcing him to turn down the volume. As the ringing in his ears subsided, an orange flash made him to avert his eyes and block his view with a thick voidsuited arm. Once he had blinked the spots out from his view, he stared at something long and boxy that had just appeared, sitting in space directly next to Fifth Spoke. A colossal ship, matching Starheart in size, had its Scar Field spiral and twirl around its hull before it stabilized. The network of orange and red lines spider-webbed across the surface, a clear sign of its heavy defences. Sal recognized the vessel from its shape, though the Doctrine markings along its hull were new. Gold and red was streaked in rough lines along the edges, outlining a crude mural of a skull wrapped in livery. Before Sal could take in the ship in its entirety, it set off a volley of railcannon shots directly at the husked remains of Ruby Eye.

  Lighthouse had S-Jumped into New Horizon, under new ownership, and made itself well known.

  A roar from the depths of hell echoed around Xeena as the group marched along a service tunnel towards the main data centre for Fifth Spoke. A split second later, a great rumbling rocked the entire hall, with Abel falling to his knees. Seconds passed, and the effect subsided.

  “What the hell was that?” Xin looked around, searching for some cause of the disturbance.

  The initial sound had faded away but was quickly replaced by a constant banging sound that grew in speed and intensity. Big Stannock was the one who seemed to recognize it.

  “Is that debris hitting the outer hull? That’s strange, there’s no asteroid field in this system. Unless one of the other ships nearby was damaged, then I’m uncertain where that sound is coming from.”

  “We need to keep moving,” Abel said, his voice intense. “If we can get to the main control centre, we can try and find a safe spot to hide this out. That, or we can go to the bridge and try to contact the rest of the fleet.”

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  Abel seemed to take leadership with ease. For most situations, being jovial and aloof was his natural state. When shit hit the fan, however, he seemed to focus on the task at hand with all his attention. His normally relaxed expression was as hard as stone as they followed his lead down the tunnel. They had left the task of pushing the assault against the Doctrine forces towards the fore end of the mid decks to the other members of the newly formed militia.

  A handful of their new allies were formed from a group of passengers from Ruby Eye who had turned out to be undercover mercenaries, hired by the rival corporation Tripwire Services. Their initial story sounded less than believable, supposedly being hired to keep an eye on any potential colony H&H put down, as they didn’t trust Josiah Dexter not to lose it to the next attack from Doctrine. Little did they knew they would end up meeting aliens and decided to hide their role until needed. After one of them passed out a copy of his contract, alongside his spare gear to those who stayed at the barricade, they were given command of the newly formed militia there. It also helped that most of them were mechanically augmented, and each single member from Tripwire could likely do as much damage as the rest of the scrappy army combined.

  Abel, however, was not content to sit back, and neither were the other Torchers. Retrieving what weapons and armour could be spared, they had made a mission of reaching the central systems unit, which would give them access to some ship information. That was, if a Cambiar helped gave them access. Thankfully, the Torchers had six right there.

  “Titan, are you doing ok?” Dusty rubbed the arm of the haggard Delkar that lumbered next to him.

  “I’ll be fine, Dusty. Just… need some time to heal.” Titan said, voice low and tired. She had soaked up the majority of the fighting in the previous battle, her carapace pocketed with gunshots and sword blows. Though she was at no risk of dying, everyone could see the warrior had slowed dramatically, the strain of healing taking up most of her energy.

  “Worry not, dear. I am sure we can rest for a bit once we reach our target. I’ll give you some of my spare bioenergy, as you look rather thin.” The soft, motherly voice was that of Cerella, Marcus’ Onusian partner. She wore a long dress that had since been tattered in the fighting. The stocky worker-caste had proven herself more than capable in hand-to-hand combat, wielding a variety of tools attached via a series of hidden limbs extending from her back. The specks of human blood that marred her appearance stood at contrast with her calming tone.

  Marcus, however, looked far from calm. He had donned a heavy suit of body armour he’d taken from a fallen security guard, and the helmet’s visor did little to hide his wrathful glare. His hair had long since been swept back over his head, no longer covering his eyes. Marcus would no longer hide away from his past, it would seem.

  Xeena herself had been doing her best to adapt the best physiology for the current emergency. Even with the combined code of all the castes, as well as the numerous genetic shortcuts the Rexia had created over the years, it was taking time to put it to good use. Yet, despite this time, she could already feel some of the adjustments. Her muscles felt stronger, her reactions quicker, her eyes sharper. Armoured plating was rising beneath her skin along her limbs and torso, and she felt her claws elongating and strengthening. And yet, there still there was something… missing. Did all Cambiar who had developed into their specific castes felt this way? That even with all the time in the world, did they feel as though they might never reach their maximum potential? It was almost as if, even with all of the XNA combinations and structures she had memorized and absorbed in her life were still lacking a connective tissue between them, a clear structure to build with.

  Regardless of her frustration, she had to push on. There was little time to worry about such things. Even if their team did reach the central console, they still wouldn’t be able to contact the other ships from there. Only the bridge, where Rexia Rubicoss was meant to be stationed, had the necessary communication capabilities for that. Xeena was planning on splitting off from the group to head for the bridge, hoping that her newly gained rank in the eyes of the Cambiar as the Bearer of the Reward of Five Digits would help convince the Cambiar who had remained idle. By taking the Reward, she had effectively been raised to the same level to that of a Rexia, albeit not in practical terms yet, as she hadn’t fully grown her crown. Xeena had been… preoccupied with Sal to even worry about leadership roles.

  Sal… The thought of him stung at her heart. Not because of some perceived betrayal, she had long guessed that he hadn’t enough time to heal from his past by the time of their intimacy, but because she had failed at easing his pain. In the same way that he had given her life meaning, by opening her eyes to a world of individuality, of self, she had been unsuccessful in returning the favour. However, a small spark, deep within her, desperately hoped that if not tomorrow or the day after, that sometime in the future he would gain the strength to not only understand in his own self-worth, but to trust those around him.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of servos whirring and the clanking of metal feet. The entire team stopped, ready to engage an approaching unknown figure. From the darkness it lurked forward, the sound of steel on steel echoing around them. The team raised their firearms at the unsteady form. Slowly, it stepped into the blinking orange lights of the tunnel, formal suit torn to shreds and strip of synthetic skin sloughing off the artificial body beneath.

  “I need a vacation,” A weary sounding Titus said.

  The group released their held breaths as they rushed forward to greet him.

  “Titus! You’re… alive. I think?” Xin looked across the man’s damaged features.

  He looked like he had been tossed through an ore processing plant. Clothing in tatters, most of his body and face had its fake skin peeled away, leaving a mechanical physique and metallic skull for a head, fitted with glowing red sensors. He somewhat resembled a time-travelling android, sent into the past to terminate a target. Somehow, his necktie had survived the ordeal, hanging loosely by a thread. Scrapes and cuts along his metal body showed the severe wear and tear he had gone through.

  “Yes, Ms Rouse. I am alive, albeit in rougher shape than I would like. Turns out, the braking thrusters on the escape pods weren’t refuelled, so my landing was quite hard. That, and an unwelcome surprise comprised Doctrine forces was ready for me. Still, better late than never. How is Fifth Spoke?”

  “Ah, Mr Fornax, it is good to see you.” Stannock sounded rather proud to turn Titus’ surname habit back on the man. “Though you could do with some beauty tips, that can probably wait. There’s a group back in the relaxation sector of the next deck up, if you are looking for those trying to take down the clan traitors. Some Tripwire mercs are helping out, for now. We were heading for the control systems, hoping to get some more order back to the ship, maybe see how bad the damage is.”

  “I see. In that case, if you feel safe going on, please proceed. I am going to the bridge. I need to find out why the Cambiar haven’t intervened, and I am hoping they haven’t sold us out to Heaven’s Doctrine.”

  In response to their immediate confusion about the hypothetical scenario, he explained his theory about the Jade Emperor’s prescient knowledge of the alien race, before he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  “I must admit, it would assist me greatly if a Cambiar could join me, if only to help with the computer systems and to assist with convincing the other ships.”

  “I will. I might as well be a Rexia. They’ll listen to me.” Xeenia was proud to help in a way no one else could. She would force her people to help, one way or another.

  Titus sighed with relief, his mechanical frame buzzing with the movement. He turned to continue towards the junction between their two paths, and the group followed. The analyst seemed to prepare to say something, inhaling a deep breath.

  “I am proud of you all. I am sure Salvador will be very impressed once he makes his way over too.” The analyst couldn’t resist cracking a grin as a torrent of questions and confused shouts rained down upon him.

  Salvador was facing death, once again. He was considering breaking the habit. To his left, a giant field of twisted shrapnel and debris from Ruby Eye, now splintered into an unrecognizable mess, was racing towards him at incredible speed. Blasting his voidsuit’s thrusters as hard as possible, changing his trajectory to aim for a lower airlock on Fifth Spoke, he could see the innumerable shards incoming. He pre-emptively activated his suit’s compartmentalization safety feature, designed to seal off holes and tears. It would not, however, lessen the impact of any debris that hit him. His mind focused on the wide-band transmission that was being sent out from Lighthouse, its surface bathed in a radiance of red.

  “Hear me, weaklings of the corporations and xeno-scum! For the glory and honour of Hideki’s Mercy, I will take your lives and strip you of your dignity! Jade Emperor, grant me strength, for my name is Zafar Ironskin!”

  Well, that sounded bad. Sal hadn’t the time to worry, he had made it most of the way when the first signs of debris shot past his vision. Damn it, he wouldn’t make it all the way in time! He deactivated his thruster’s safety limits to push himself at an increasingly unsafe speed towards the airlock. A few more seconds and-

  A jolt sent him flying at a random direction as pain throbbed at his side. Gasping, shaking, he frantically tried to adjust his flight path and feel at his stomach simultaneously. He knew what he would find, but grabbing onto the blade of steel did little to ease his fears. No, he didn’t have time to panic, he had a job to do and friends to make up his failures to. He made a hard manoeuvre with the thrusters, effectively flying blind into the incoming debris whilst rolling his view to get a better angle. The longer he stayed in the path of danger, the higher the risk of him dying, and he couldn’t waste time checking his surroundings.

  Already, he could feel the lower compartment of the voidsuit crushing against his skin, desperately trying to seal the hole made by the shard. It wouldn’t last long, but it would be enough to give him a chance to get inside. That was all he needed. Turning to face the rushing mass of glass and steel, he gave one final thrust of his boosters as he stretched outwards to grip the handle of the airlock by his fingertips. Just as another wave of death was closing in, each one his doom, he finally got a solid grip on a bracing rail. He pulled himself in, feeling the vibrations of pinging metal bouncing off the hull around the niche he had pulled himself into. Fingers dancing across the console as drops of red floated past his vision, he cycled the airlock and threw himself in.

  Rasping, he tore the suit away as the chamber pressurized and felt at the shard of metal sticking out from his side. Despite the blood streaming from the wound, his first thought, almost in comical hysteria, was that it was nowhere near as big as the piece that had impaled him back on Tartarus Nine. A weak laughter brought him to his knees and he attempted to brace himself. In the airlock, a med kit sat in the locker. Throwing out the useless burn and friction ointments, he dumped thrice the regular dosage of coagulants, four times the dose of painkillers, and used a thin plasma torch from his jacket’s tools to cut the excess metal away from the impact site.

  Wrapping his wound tight with a bandage, he left the airlock and inhaled the sweet lavender air of Fifth Spoke. It was good to be back. But he couldn’t stop, not until he had accomplished his task. Salvador was determined not to die quite yet.