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A board the Legion Warship Tyrannis

Three Days from Cryon II

The bridge of the Tyrannis pulsed with quiet tension. Andri Andronikos paced back and forth, each step measured, controlled—yet seething with the storm beneath his surface. The crew stationed at their consoles stole covert glances in his direction, wary, their movements precise, as if afraid to draw his attention. He could feel their unease, their silent fear. It was a tangible thing, slithering through the air like a living entity.

The only one who seemed unaffected was Commander Ri Manta.

Manta stood near the command console, his posture relaxed yet poised, like a predator surveying its domain. Andri had promoted him after executing the previous captain for incompetence . The memory was still fresh—the look of stunned horror in the man’s eyes before Andri fired his blaster at point-blank range, the spray of blood staining the cold metal deck. The four officers removing the body had worked quickly, efficiently. Andri had watched dispassionately as the lifeless husk was dragged out of sight, never to be spoken of again.

Ri Manta, on the other hand, had not flinched.

Instead, he had merely turned away from the sight, addressing the bridge officers as if nothing had occurred.

“Status report,” Manta ordered now, his voice level.

The navigations officer straightened immediately. “The fleet is maintaining formation. We are three days from our target.”

Manta nodded. “Hold course. Keep the formation tight.”

Andri paused, tilting his head as he watched his new captain at work. Yes… Manta was different. Calculated. He took command effortlessly, without hesitation, without the constant, self-serving fear that plagued so many officers. He reminded Andri of them .

Coleridge. Roan.

A slow, seething rage burned through Andri’s veins. They had betrayed him. They had turned against their purpose, against their destiny. His own brother, his blood, had defied him, questioned him, as if Andri was the one who had lost sight of their goal.

And Roan… Roan had been Andri’s greatest disappointment. His nephew —his heir —who had every advantage, every opportunity to rise above the rabble, only to abandon everything for a pathetic cause .

No.

This one, Ri Manta , would be different. This one would be loyal.

Andri’s lips curled. “Captain Manta,” he said smoothly, gesturing toward the doors. “Walk with me.”

Manta nodded once before turning to his second-in-command. “The bridge is yours.”

Without another word, he followed Andri into the command room adjacent to the bridge. The moment the doors slid shut, Andri crossed the room to the sleek bar built into the far wall. He poured himself a glass of dark amber liquid and swirled it idly, watching the way the light caught the surface. He turned to Ri, who stood silently, waiting.

“Drink?” Andri asked.

Ri Manta shook his head. “Never while on duty.”

Andri smirked, impressed. “Good.” He took a slow sip before setting the glass down, then folded his arms, studying the man before him. “Tell me about yourself, Captain.”

Ri Manta remained utterly composed. “I was recruited into the Legion at thirteen. Attended advanced training immediately after my seventeenth birthday. My studies were focused on military history and strategy. I served under several commanders, including General Roan Landais.”

At the mention of Roan, Andri’s fingers twitched. He inhaled sharply. “And what do you think of my nephew?”

Manta’s answer was immediate. “He was brilliant in battle. His strategies often followed classic military doctrine, but he knew how to adapt. He had an instinct for it. It’s why he won as often as he did.”

Andri let out a slow exhale, his jaw tightening. “ Won ? He lost to an Ancient Knight. A species from another world.”

Manta nodded. “True. The Ancient Knight outmaneuvered him—but there were mitigating circumstances. General Landais adapted, learned from it. That was his strength. He changed direction in real-time without hesitation. That’s what made him dangerous.”

Andri studied Manta for a long moment. “Made….” He studied Manta’s face. “Do you believe you can defeat Roan?”

Manta inclined his head slightly. “Yes.” His voice was unwavering. “General Landais is at a disadvantage now. He no longer commands elite Legion soldiers. He has patchwork rebel fighters—many of whom distrust him. He must constantly prove himself to them. That hesitation alone gives us the advantage.”

Andri’s lips curved into a slow, approving smile. Yes… this one understands . “Good.” He turned to the star chart projected in the center of the room. The blue holographic outlines of the Legion fleet stretched across the void, converging toward Cryon II.

“Stay the course. Destroy any freighters or rebel ships you encounter. And when we reach Cryon II…” He looked back at Manta, his eyes gleaming. “We raze it until there is nothing but debris floating in space. I want no survivors. Everything must be destroyed. Dorane LeGaugh and his empire will burn. Do I make myself clear?”

Manta saluted, sharp and precise. “It will be done.” He turned and strode from the room without hesitation.

Andri watched him go, his smirk widening. Yes… this one will serve me well.

Silence settled over the command room as Andri turned back to the viewport. The fleet moved in perfect formation outside. Close to a hundred massive warships cut through the void like a sea of unstoppable destruction.

My fleet. My power. My legacy.

His fingers flexed around his glass as the knowledge and might of everything he built surrounded him. He lifted the glass again and sipped the fiery liquid, embracing the burn as it slid down his throat and hit his empty stomach.

Then—he heard it.

A dry chuckle.

Andri froze.

The sound was faint, like a whisper in the recesses of his mind. He turned sharply, eyes scanning the empty room. Nothing.

Then it came again.

Soft, knowing, filled with amusement .

Coleridge’s voice.

“So confident, big brother.”

Andri’s breath stilled in his throat. His grip tightened around the glass.

“Still convinced you’re the only one who sees the future.”

The voice was inside him—woven into the very fabric of his mind. A ghost of the past.

Andri’s pulse pounded in his skull.

“ You were weak, Coleridge!” he whispered aloud, his voice shaking. “ You and that brat that you and Nia had. He should have been mine! Nia should have been mine! ” His words sounded hollow.

The laughter in his head grew.

“And yet, here you are… desperate. Doubting.”

“ No! ” Andri’s glass shattered as he threw it against the wall.

The room spun. The holomap flickered, as if the very ship had exhaled under his fury. His breath came in ragged bursts, his vision swimming as he turned back to the viewport.

For a moment—just a moment—he swore he saw a reflection standing behind him.

Coleridge.

Tall. Strong. Giving that damn smirk he always had when he was right.

Andri lunged .

His fists struck empty air. He stumbled forward, gripping the edge of the table, his body trembling.

His mind roared against the phantom. You’re not here. You’re DEAD.

“And so are you, Andri,” the voice whispered. “You just don’t know it yet.”

Andri gasped and stumbled back until his back hit the wall. He slowly slid down to the cold floor and clutched his head, his fingers digging into his skull as he rocked forward.

“You were never meant to win.”

Andri clenched his teeth, shaking. “I will win…”

But the silence that followed told him the truth.

Kryla Settlement – Aetherial

The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of warm spices and the faint metallic tang of starship fuel. Above, the sky stretched into infinity, a canvas of endless stars, brilliant and unfamiliar. Mei exhaled slowly, her breath disappearing into the cool night as she pulled her hood up, blending into the shadows that stretched across the settlement of Kryla.

The Aetherial Arrow had landed in one of the designated docking zones—an enclosed circular bay reinforced with thick metal walls to shield against the violent sandstorms that could descend upon the settlement without warning. The landing pads were arranged in a semi-circle, large bay doors allowing the transfer of cargo and supplies. Even now, the sounds of hydraulic lifts and the chatter of workers echoed against the high walls.

Mei’s gaze flicked toward Dorane.

He stood near a group of traders—broad-shouldered, confident, the golden light from the ground fixtures casting sharp shadows along the angular planes of his face. His hazel eyes gleamed with amusement as he exchanged stories with a rugged-looking Tesla Terran merchant and a reptilian S’vakarian with iridescent blue scales. His laugh was deep, warm, unguarded in a way that made something tighten in Mei’s chest.

Dorane looked up.

Their eyes met across the landing bay, and a shiver ran through Mei at the heat in his gaze. He didn’t need to say anything. The memories of their time together—the taste of his kiss, the heat of his hands, the whispered words between them—were already burning between them.

Mei smirked under her hood and tilted her chin in silent farewell. Dorane arched an eyebrow in question.

She turned toward the settlement, glancing back once.

He mouthed, Be careful .

Mei wrinkled her nose at him and stuck out her tongue playfully before vanishing into the night.

The main street of Kryla was alive with movement, a bustling artery of trade and commerce nestled in the heart of the Aetherial wastelands. Narrow side streets branched off into darkened alleys and staircases leading to multilevel walkways and flat-roofed structures.

Unlike the artificial brightness of the Legion-controlled cities, Kryla’s lighting was soft, warm, and intimate—angled downward or close to the ground, creating an otherworldly ambiance. Bioluminescent lanterns hung from metal poles, casting soft gold and green light onto the stone-paved walkways.

The marketplace was in full swing, despite the late hour. Merchants hawked their wares in a dozen languages, some human, others deep-throated or insectile. Exotic fabrics hung from wooden stalls, shimmering like liquid under the lights. The scent of grilled meats and sweet pastries drifted through the air, mingling with the smoky spice of incense from an apothecary’s corner stand.

Mei weaved through the crowd with practiced ease, her senses attuned to every detail. The soft clink of credits exchanged. The low murmur of negotiations. The sound of children laughing as they darted between adults, playing a game of chase.

She paused near a rising staircase, her fingers brushing the worn stone railing before leaping onto the roof of a low building. The settlement’s architecture was compact, built for efficiency against the sandstorms. The rooftops connected in sections, forming a natural pathway for anyone skilled enough to navigate them.

From this vantage point, Kryla stretched before her like an ancient maze, bathed in the golden hues of its ground-lit streets and the stark white glow of its landing pads. The stars above shimmered in breathtaking clarity, unpolluted by city lights.

Mei leaned against a metal cooling vent, tilting her head back to stare at the cosmic expanse overhead.

An alien world… in a galaxy far from Earth.

Sometimes it still didn’t feel real.

She had grown up beneath artificial lighting, surrounded by reinforced steel walls, training for battles that had nothing to do with the universe beyond them. But this—this was different. Out here, in the vast unknown, she was free.

Her thoughts drifted to Dorane.

His quiet confidence. His teasing. The way he pushed her buttons just enough to make her want to shove him… or kiss him.

I enjoy being with him.

The realization hit her harder than she’d expected. She wasn’t just attracted to him—she trusted him. She liked him. She felt safe in his presence in a way she never had with anyone but the crew of the Gliese.

Was she ready to promise him something more than this moment?

Would he be?

Mei exhaled, shaking her head. It wasn’t the time to get lost in what ifs. Not when there was still a threat looming over them.

The settlement was unfamiliar. She needed to know its escape routes, its blind spots, its weaknesses. Zoak was still out there.

She couldn’t afford to be careless.

As she scanned the crowd, a ship descended toward the docks, its engines humming as it lowered onto one of the outer landing pads. New arrivals. Potential threats.

Mei was about to move when a familiar shape caught her eye.

A tall, hooded figure wove through the crowd with effortless grace, his movements fluid, precise. Mei’s body went still, instincts kicking in.

Zoak.

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

The Turbinta assassin was here.

She tracked his movement, her muscles coiling in anticipation. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry, but there was purpose in the way he moved—cutting through the shifting masses with predatory ease.

Mei followed from the rooftops as far as she could, leaping silently across the narrow gaps between buildings. When the structures grew too distant, she descended into the street, seamlessly merging into the crowd.

Zoak slowed.

As if… sensing her.

Mei ducked behind a merchant’s cart, pretending to inspect a rack of dark red fabric. The moment Zoak turned forward again, she resumed her pursuit, closing the distance.

He knows someone’s watching.

But he doesn’t know who.

She watched as he slipped into a bar, its entrance hidden beneath a canopy of thick vines and twisted metal lanterns.

Mei hesitated, considering her options.

She had been in his head for weeks now, forcing him to question his own dominance. She had rattled him, made him second-guess himself.

Now?

Now it was time to turn that whisper of doubt into a roar.

Adjusting her cloak, she strode forward.

And entered the bar.