His clone officials marched stiffly into the throne room. Their boots clattered in perfect rhythm, sending echoes across the metallic chamber, as they approached the table to take their seats. Marcus waited patiently atop his steel throne, which flickered with its blue neon lights. He faced the window, watching the silent air traffic flowing back and forth in neat lines above the sprawling city below.

  “Your excellency,” Ironsides said in greeting, and Marcus turned around. They each took their seats. The table’s surface lit up, projecting a detailed holographic image of the Eryndal system. It showed the position of their research craft on the outer rim of the system, as well as other units that were shadowed out and blank when normally they would display the ship types with an icon. Some moved, while others were stationary like the ones over the star and the various planets and moons in the system. If these aliens were anything like the humans, then Marcus assumed those blank objects were orbital resource gathering facilities, and the moving units unidentified spacecraft.

  The only question was, were these military or civilian spacecraft?

  Marcus stood, adjusting his collar. “Gentlemen, our research craft surveying the Eryndal system has encountered the most interesting thing—new life, and the designs of their ships are not human. We have designated them as the Eryndal Anomalies. We cannot yet tell if their technology is beyond our own capabilities, but their ships seem to behave and travel similarly to ours.”

  No one spoke, and the low buzzing noise from the faint hologram seemed loud as ever. Ironsides glanced around the room, then heaved in a deep breath. “Have they noticed our presence?”

  “They have ignored our research craft as it goes about charting the system at the moment. They seem to be observing us as we do them,” the Grand Archon said, resting his hands on the warm, sleek table.

  The Grand Admiral, Den, leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “Observation today, war tomorrow,” he grumbled. “We must mobilize immediately and send a fleet to the Lysandros system. Show them we are ready should they attempt any trickery.”

  “And risk a general conflict we’re not prepared for?” Ironsides countered, frowning. “Your excellency, I would advise caution. Let us attempt communication. They have not opened fire immediately. Should they respond peacefully, we could gain knowledge and find potential allies for the flight to Vespera.”

  “And show our weakness at such a delicate moment?” Valen interjected, tapping his fingers against each other. The bald clone leaned forward, his icy gaze fixed on Marcus. “The galaxy is no nursery, your excellency. It is the state of nature. Any species with technology like ours is a threat. Strike first, and strike hard. Take them by surprise while we still can.”

  “Then they could very well annihilate us,” Claric muttered, rolling his eyes. “Very wise, Valen. Let us at least learn something about them for the creator's sake.”

  “Why is a bloody lab coat at a war council?” Valen snapped back with a venom in his tone.

  “Enough,” Marcus barked, silencing the dogs of war. “I’ve seen our fleet. We have what, two corvettes ready for deployment? Everything is being spent on construction, not the army.” All eyes turned to the Grand Archon. “We could very well try to blow them out of the stars, but what’s your plan if their friends show up, Valen? Or if they simply have a bigger fleet than us?”

  Valen’s jaw tightened. For once he didn’t look to be being obedient. “It’s not about winning a war, it's about sending a message. Hesitate now, and they’ll sniff the fear on us, mark my words. Those things you mentioned are just as big a threat if we cower before them. A show of strength would earn their respect, at least.”

  He’s not wrong, Marcus thought, biting his nail as he leaned back into his throne. It reminded him of a saying from Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. ‘Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.’ There was logic to it but no guarantees. It was purely a gamble, and Marcus detested gambling. And it wasn’t just Neptura they were gambling with.

  But his life.

  “Perhaps a compromise?” Ironsides cleared his throat, the hologram giving a blue glow to his pale face. “Prepare our fleets as a precaution, as Den suggested, and attempt peaceful contact. Should they show hostility, respond in kind. I can have a diplomat assigned immediately.”

  Marcus glanced around the table as he sat hunched over, brooding. The First Minister’s words earned slow nods from Claric and Den, though Valen remained still, grinding his teeth.

  “Very well, I will commission the construction of additional corvettes and send what we have to the Eryndal system to protect our research craft, and at least show that we notice them and that we come in peace. No shots fired unless I give the order. Claric, see if you can decipher their communications. Ironsides, assign a diplomat for this mission.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Valen stood, planting both hands on the table. “You’re gambling with Neptura’s survival and with that of Vesperas.”

  Marcus looked up at him, unmoving. “And you’re gambling with its future.” With my future. “Your job is to prepare us for war, not drag us into one.”

  The Minister for War huffed. “I will put some armies in orbit should we need them.” He got up and walked out without being dismissed. Before he left, he turned around, looked straight at Marcus, and gave a reluctant nod. “Your excellency.”

  Marcus rose amidst the silence, walking to the observation window with his hands behind his back. He stood there for a while, his faint reflection mingling amongst the metropolis beneath. “Dismissed. Except you, Claric. You stay, I’d like a word.”

  “Yes, your excellency,” they said behind him and filed out, leaving Claric alone with the Grand Archon. The scientist walked around the table to stand next to Marcus.

  “Should I be worried about him?” Marcus said, trying to calm the slight tremble in his hand currently resting behind his back.

  Claric raised a brow, seeming surprised by his suspicion. “Valen? Oh, I don’t think so, sir. Excellency, if I may speak freely?”

  A silly grin tugged at the corner of his lip for a second. “I’d be concerned if you did not.”

  The clone chuckled. “Valen’s concerns are not unfounded. The people see you as a god, and if you should falter—”

  “Then they’ll find another to follow,” he interrupted, turning to face him. “Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to speak about. How goes your research on our secret little project?” With how much time he’d been spending in the GCI, the clone had to have something by now.

  But Claric only pressed his lips, giving a slight shake of his head. “I’m afraid progress is slow. We are still not much closer to being able to extend the lives of our clone soldiers to that of a normal human lifespan, let alone extending your life, excellency.”

  “What?” Marcus’s mouth gaped open, unable to believe it. “I’ve been with you for nearly two years now, if the GCI’s dates are at all accurate! You mean to tell me you have discovered nothing?!”

  And it wasn’t just that which he was shocked by but the words he just spoke. Two years have gone by… and yet it feels like I’ve only been here a week at most… Perhaps he should take a break from the GCI, just to live a little, wind down. Should it come to war, he may very well perish anyway. He didn’t want to speed that along.

  Claric shrugged, showing two empty palms. “I’m afraid I do not know what else to tell you, your excellency. We only have the human genome to work with, and the diversity of fauna present on Neptura. We had been searching the deep seas with our submarines, and the only animals we have found to live for centuries are these giant crustaceans that live in the deep, lightless zones of the oceans. Even just glancing at the things, I could tell you that such DNA would be incompatible with any human.”

  “Damnit,” Marcus moaned. “Well, keep looking.”

  “Not all is lost, sir,” Claric said, stepping forward. “It was partly why I suggested caution in the council meeting just now. The species upon those ships could be anything, really, and it's not at all unrealistic to assume that they could live far longer lives than us. It’s not eternal life, but if we could buy you a few centuries, that's a few centuries of further research. Whatever may come of our encounter… if we could go about… capturing one of the specimens for study… it may illuminate the way ahead. But of course, I do not wish to contradict your orders for a peaceful resolution to this problem.”

  Marcus glared at him, struggling to hide the fear in his eyes of such a suggestion. Capture… That may as well be war at such a delicate moment. All his earlier fears reignited. “Hmmmm,” he hummed. “An interesting suggestion. I’ll keep it in mind, Claric, depending on what may lie ahead. For now, just keep doing what you’re doing, I suppose.”

  “As you command, sir. Apologies I could not bring more welcome news. We have our top men on this research commission, but it is difficult. Will you return to the GCI now?” the clone asked.

  Marcus turned back to the window, letting the evening sun bask his face in an orange glow. “No, I don’t think I will, not yet. If these coming months could be my last moments, I’d like to enjoy my life a little more before the end, ey? Plus, there’s a whole new world out here for me to see, yet I haven’t really gone much further than the confines of this command center, nor do I know anything about my people. I should like to learn.”

  “You can learn what we know,” Claric said. “Our own knowledge of our history is patchy, admittedly because of the strange quantum coding in the clone vats that once held all our data banks. We only know of our mission from oral tales, and fragments remain on the history of Vespera. Though, since your awakening, we have been able to dive deeper into the secrets of the clone vats. I had my people work on it ever since.”

  Marcus nodded. “I’d like to see one of these clone vats. Might as well know my own army, my men. Myself. Can we visit one?”

  “Yes,” Claric said. “They are gigantic complexes, though. Far from here, we would have to fly.”

  “Let's go, then.”