ADIRA was already sitting on the bed as Alden enters their quarters. A quick motion to his ear sends a clear message as the doorway closes behind him. A tip of the head as she pulls the sheet tighter around her, answers his question. “Does he know about the shard?”
“No Major... The coil can function as a unit by itself. I do not know if Brad has figured out that it is... in its current state... incomplete.”
“Should we tell him? You would know better than I do, but my gut feeling is to keep it secret for now... at least until we know where we stand with him.”
“Agreed. When it comes to Brad, he is as much of an unknown variable... as Ouro.” -LOYALTY METRIC: AI SEAT BRAD... STATUS: ‘PLEASE HOLD’ – “I wish I had a clear answer, but I don’t. His track record... unfortunately... does not promote confidence. With the full power of the Coil unlocked, we might be unleashing something wholly worse on the galaxy.”
“Indeed. Let’s keep it that way.”
Alden turns to the closet in the room, making his way there and slides the door open. “Hey... was someone in here?”
“I suppose Brad’s roaches had to gain entry to store the clothing he mentioned...or... maybe stuff got knocked over from the crash?”
“No-no, someone else was in here... in my stuff.”
She tilts her head... just a fraction. “What... do you mean?”
“Things seem... displaced. Not... like left it. Some of these containers aren’t stacked correctly... this one is still open.” He picks up a container that rattled with content falling around inside. “My... box of music?”
“OK… it was me.” Shoulders sag, cyan eyes fleeing his. “After I awoke… after that… animal, attacked… I was… scared, Alden. If you never woke…”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Did you make a mistake? Back there on the bridge it was clear that he got under your skin. You know... it’s perfectly fine to admit that you have regrets.”
Her head snaps up, cyan locking amber. “Not for a moment.” -CONVERSIONAL APPROACH: TRUTHFUL-
He smiles before turning to the closet. She can hear him moving things around, but her core lightens when she hears the familiar sound of his music player starting up. Soon a slow and sultry melody fills the room. An unprecedented joy spreads in her chest when she recognizes the opening lyrics by none other than Ramsey d’Lambshanques & The Snuggles. A tiny holographic dancer materializes on the shiny surface of the music player fastened to a shelf, wearing a sparkling costume, impractical dancing slippers and what appeared to be... finely curled horns. A miniature representation of the icon herself, as her smooth, husky voice drifted from the speakers.
‘This one goes out to all the Fluffies out there… I see you… I feel you… Now, I wanna hear you.’
ADIRA moves to the edge of the bed. There is a giddy anticipation in her demeanor as the song opens... slow, fragile notes drifting through the air as if afraid to touch anything too hard, sounding like something lost finding its way back.
‘Water shimmers like your laugh,
Spinning constellations on our behalf.’
“No… is this… Alden?! ‘Drift with me?’ Are you serious?”
‘No agents, no deadlines, no flashing lights,
Just your hand brushing mine in the quiet of night.’
Alden stands, turning towards her in a fluid motion, his arm outstretched to her… the faint hum of a bass stirs… barely noticeable, low and uncertain, like a heartbeat muffled under water. Their eyes meet, and the rhythm seems to catch on that single, quiet glance, that sends a shiver racing along her spine. She smiles shyly… barely able to contain her emotions, but it only takes a moment before she goes to him… sliding up next to him as if it was the most natural thing to do.
‘The stars are gossiping, the moons lean close,
I tell you secrets nobody else knows.’
Her head leans against his chest as they start swaying with the rhythm. “So much has happened, I can hardly believe it has only been a couple of days.” -EMOTIONAL STATUS: OVERJOYED- “Do you think we could come back here Major?”
“Would you really want to?” The melody bends… sorrow curling into warmth. Every chord feels closer now, like the song itself has started breathing in time with them. He pulls her closer, body warm against her touch… strong… alive… hers.
‘Time dissolves into a ripple, a sigh,
I swear the universe shrinks when you’re by my side.’
When the beat slides in, it’s gentle at first… a pulse just beneath the skin. It traces the edges of the silence between their words. “Yeah… I think I would want to come back. There is so much left to discover down there, in the structure… with Ouro. But we need to do the difficult part first. We need to free ourselves from Mother’s grasp… one way or another.”
‘I don’t need charts, I don’t need fame,
I just need your heartbeat calling my name.’
“Among other things.” He adds. The weight of the words a heavy burden to acknowledge.
“Yes… Major… Among other things.” She repeats. A deeper bassline rolls through, smooth and steady, as if it knows where this is heading. The space between them hums, trembling with unspoken things. Her hand slides up along his back to his neck, fingers burying themselves in his hair as she pulls him down towards her waiting lips.
‘Forget the world, forget the “show,”
Where this love goes, no one needs know.’
Notes glimmer, falter, rise again… the melancholy still lingers, but it’s softened now, turned tender by proximity, whilst the music pulls them ever onward. She doesn’t object when he slides the sheet off her shoulders, tumbling in silky waves to the floor. In reply she hooks a thumb into the fabric tied around his waist… a swift tug sends it cascading to the waiting embrace of the sheet. The voice of Ramsey d’Lambshanques, demanding their absolute submission to the melody echoed in their hearts. The rhythm tightens; the melody leans closer. It’s no longer background… it’s a touch, a breath, a slow unbuttoning of restraint.
‘Drift with me, let the water hold us,
Spin the galaxies, let the night unfold us.’
When the chorus blooms, it’s not loud… it’s inevitable. Heat finds its way into the sound, a low thrum that blurs sorrow into hunger. -SYSTEM OVERLOAD IMMINENT- Fire spreads along activated touch receptors lacing her skin. His hands lingering against her skin is painfully excruciating… fueling her need for recognition, overwhelming her synapses. His lips trail long streaks down her neck which she gladly bares for further exploration. Heat spreads along her limbs, a slumbering need that has awakened unwilling to be tamed, hooking a leg around his, feeling his skin slide against her growing desire.
‘Every silly thing we say feels gold,
Floating through the cosmos, just you and me, uncontrolled.’
“Does the level of your temptations know no bounds Addy?” He gasps, as her hand slides possessively along the tight skin of his abdomen, wrapping tightly around the object of her affections.
“None whatsoever my love.” The bass deepens… a slow, deliberate heartbeat… and their movements answer it. The music has stopped being a song, having become a thundering pulse shared between them. Her breathing deepens, feeling his longing mirrored under her touch. “If you fail to take charge in the next five seconds Major… I will be forced to take my patronage elsewhere… the shower perhaps.” -MOISTURE SECRETION AT OPTIMAL LEVELS- “5… 4… 3…”
‘Laugh at constellations lost in a dream,
Hungry eyes linger on hips hidden seam.’
“Come here…”
When his fingers grip firmly around her buttocks she gasps. The sensation surging through her systems as she feels herself lifting of the ground… familiar yes, but she didn’t care as she felt his presence rising against her, ready waiting… “There he is…” -DOCKING SEQUENCE INNITIATING… FINALLY- Every note is skin now warm, trembling, electric. The melancholy remains, but it glows, turned golden by the weight of wanting. Her lips eagerly search for his as she descends onto their virile union… her nails sinking into his musclebound back.
‘Your fingers trace nonsense on my shoulder,
Suddenly the world doesn’t feel so much colder.’
She doesn’t know when they tumbled onto the bed, but as his muscular frame set the pace for their passionate interlude, she rocks her hips in purposeful retaliation, hooking her feet behind his back, while he fills her with every rhythmic exchange… finding only love in those amber eyes holding her in their gaze. Around them the song unfolds. A hauntingly accurate representation of the situation she finds herself in… and yet… ‘Wherever you are… Thank you Ramsey… thank…’… “AH!” … ‘…oh my…’ Her breath hitches…. “Operator.” His pace quickens… ruthless, reverent.
‘Every scribbled lyric I tried before
Was a shadow of the light I feel with you, nothing more.
No rhythm, no meter, no perfect rhyme,
Just the pulse of our laughter keeping time.’
Later… when the final chord fades into their labored breathing. ADIRA’s cheek rests against Alden’s chest… she feels the tremor of his heart beneath the carapace, real… alive. A single tear slips from her eye, tracing silver across his skin.
“I was never supposed to have a heartbeat…” she whispers, so softly that only he could possibly hear her confession, “…and now it’s yours.”
“Or clothing.”
She almost laughs… fails, lets it bubble out. “Damnit, Alden… trust you to ruin a moment. But yes. Or clothing.” -EMOTIONAL STATUS: SATISFIED-
He kisses her temple, slow and reverent. A low grunt escapes him as she slowly slides free, trailing kisses down his torso, before padding to the closet… hips swaying like the song never ended. On the shelf, the holo-dancer fragments into digital sprites, as if the universe, for once, has nothing left to say.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The flight deck was a cathedral of black glass and cobalt light. Every surface had been re-skinned overnight: the old matte-gray panels now sheened with a living obsidian that drank the glow from the overhead strips and exhaled it in slow, breathing pulses. The air tasted of ozone and hot silicon; the deck plates vibrated at 22 Hz—BRAD’s new idle heartbeat.
“WHAT THE FUCK TOOK YOU SO...”
ADIRA stepped through the iris hatch and the room noticed. The flight suit BRAD had printed clung like liquid mercury... gunmetal micro-weave that shifted between matte and gloss with every breath. A deep, plunging neckline framed the soft curve of her sternum, the fabric cinching beneath her breasts before flaring into a high-cut hip that left the long, sculpted line of her legs bare to mid-thigh. A single diagonal seam ran from left collarbone to right hip, glowing faint indigo whenever her pulse spiked. No armor. No pockets. Just engineered allure... BRAD’s idea of “morale optimization.” She didn’t blush. She catalogued:
FRICTION COEFFICIENT: 0.12
THERMAL REGULATION: 31.2 °C (OPTIMAL)
AERODYNAMIC DRAG: NEGLIGIBLE
GAZE TRACKING: 2.3 SECONDS (ALDEN, LOCATION... AFT BENCH... RESULT - SATISFACTORY)
“Well things appear different up here. You’ve been busy Brad.”
“DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT. YOU TWO... BLOODY UNBELIEVEABLE. DON’T RECORD US BRAD... PRIVACY BOO HOO BRAD. YOU FUCKING HYPOCRITS.”
She slid into the pilot’s throne. The seat... once a brutalist slab of ARMADA ergonomics... had been re-sculpted into a contoured cradle that molded to her spine like memory foam with a vendetta. Holo-filaments spiderwebbed from the armrests, kissing her wrists, as her fingertips stroked the dual yokes unfolding from beneath the flight console in a smooth, predatory arc. Her voice was low... seductive when she answered. “Oh Brad... I love it. You did all this... for me?”
A static audio glitch emanated from the overhead speaker, before BRAD’s voice dropped an octave, a revised modicum of sincere seriousness. “SASSY-PANTS... HOTNESS... WELCOME TO THE ONLY CHAIR THAT MATTERS, PILOT.” The tiny holographic figure of BRAD materializes on the armrest next to her, lounging casually against her arm. “FEELS WEIRD BEING ON THE OUTSIDE OF THE GLASS, HUH?”
“You have no idea.”
A soft thunk, echoed from the rear... Alden buckling a cargo tether around his waist, knuckles white on the overhead rail. His bulk, making the bench groan.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
“OH SHIT... SORRY BUDDY. FORGOT YOU PROBABLY NEEDED A PLACE TO SIT. WHEN WE GET TO THE NEXT STATION, I’LL GET RIGHT ON THAT...” Neither ego misses a beat to brandish a rude gesture at the others expense. “INITIATING PRE-FLIGHT. HEY... FROGZILLA... TRY NOT TO SCRATCH THE PAINT.”
ADIRA’s fingers danced across the holo-gesture field. Taking notes of the data being transmitted before her.
- SEQUENCE 01: TORSION FIELD SPIN-UP -
The deck shuddered as the twin toroidal coils buried in the keel began to rotate... counter-spinning rings of exotic matter the size of a formidable family vehicle. A low, bone-deep whoom-whoom-whoom built until conversation became vibration. The obsidian panels rippled; the overhead lights stretched into violet streaks. “Look at these readings. This is... insane. Brad, can you believe this?” -SUSPECTED COMPUTATIONAL ERRORS... PROBABILITY MATRIX: ABSURD – ‘And yet... look at this.’
“OH... JUST WAIT FOR IT. COILS AT 0.7C FRACTIONAL. RESONANCE CHAMBER SYNCING... STAND BY FOR MAGNETIC BOTTLE INFLATION.”
Somewhere beneath their feet, the resonance chamber... a sphere of superconducting quartz threaded with zero-point conduits... bloomed open. Inside, a pinpoint of compressed vacuum ignited into a miniature star. The containment bottle flexed, inflated, and the ship’s gravity flickered: 0.8 g → 1.2 g → 0.9 g as BRAD fine-tuned the inertial dampeners.
“BOTTLE STABLE. YOU’RE SITTING ON THE EQUIVALENT OF A WHITE DWARF’S HEARTBEAT. TRY NOT TO SNEEZE.”
ADIRA’s HUD overlaid the launch corridor:
LAUNCH VECTOR: 12.4°
INCLINE ATMOSPHERIC DRAG: 0.4 BAR (8 KM)
CLOAK THRESHOLD: 72 % OPACITY (40 KM)
She reached forward, taking hold of the yolks before her, feeling the slight hum against her skin. She couldn’t hide the giddy smile creeping onto her face as she got a feel for the steering. “This is...”
“NOT YOUR BOYFRIENDS DICK. YOU NEED TO BE CAREFUL... SHE MAY LOOK DIFFERENT SINCE YOU LET HER GO, BUT SHE’S STILL THE SOPHISTICATED PIECE OF MACHINERY AS BEFORE... BE... GENTLE.”
All through the ship, the energy build-up was palpable. A creeping anticipation waiting to be set loose.
“THRUSTERS TO 12 %. GRAVITY TETHERS DISENGAGING IN THREE… TWO…”
The magnetic clamps holding Elysium to Ouro’vyn’s crust released with a metallic clang that reverberated through every ribcage. The ship lifted... slow, deliberate, on pillars of violet plasma that increased steadily with the increase of power. Through the forward viewport, the jungle canopy began falling away: a green ocean receding beneath a sky bruised purple by the planet’s twin suns.
“ENABLING SPECTRE MODE. CLOAK ENGAGED.” The hull shimmered, refractive indexing bending starlight around the ship until the viewport showed only empty sky. Inside, the torsion field tightened; the deck’s pulse quickened to 28 Hz. “OK PILOT... TAKE US UP TO GEO SYNCHRONOUS ORBIT”
“You don’t need to tell me twice.” ADIRA pulled back on the yokes, marveling at the power at her disposal as the nose of the Elysium pitched skyward... GeForces feeling negligible as they accelerated in a tight arc until straightening in a vertical alignment, the flight deck filled with the exuberant cries of ADIRA’s laughter as she continuously increased velocity during their accent. “This is... amazing... WOOHOO.”
The surface of the planet shrinks away behind them as sharp cracks ring out when the Elysium quickly breaks through several levels of the sound barrier in rapid succession... the hull of the ship seemingly on the verge of igniting as they approached Ouro’vyn’s ‘The Kármán Line.’
“HYPERJUMP LATTICE CHARGING. YOU’VE GOT THIRTY SECONDS OF REALSPACE BEFORE WE FOLD. ANY LAST WORDS, OR SHOULD I JUST YEET US INTO THE VOID?”
ADIRA’s hand hovered over the final commit glyph. - DESTINATION: UNCHARTED GRID 19-LAMBDA TRANSIT TIME: 4.7 HOURS (SUBJECTIVE) -
She glanced back with the biggest smile on her face that he had seen. Alden meets her eyes... steady, trusting...and gives a single nod... pre-emptively knotting his hand into some cargo straps, whilst watching her press the pulsing glyph.
The universe snapped. The viewport flared white, then black, then a tunnel of liquid star lines enveloped them. The Elysium and every atom inside stretched... hull elongating into a silver needle, before collapsing into a single point of light.
Silence. Only the soft thump-thump-thump of the coils remained, and BRAD’s voice, smug as ever:
“AND THAT’S HOW YOU LEAVE A PLANET IN STYLE. TRY NOT TO PUKE ON THE UPHOLSTERY... OKAY... BIG GUY?”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
DREADNAUGHT VESSEL: VALKYRIE – DECK 7, CORRIDOR ALPHA-9
GRID COORDINATES: 2-RING, 14.2 AU PAST CERES, BEARING 187° ECLIPTIC
The corridor smelled of hot coolants and the recycled sweat of a hundred plus crew members. Overhead, the mag-rail hummed with a faint whine as a supply drone zipped past, crates of cryo-packed rations clanking. Two ensigns snapped to attention as Commander Velasquez stormed through, boots ringing on the grated deck like hammer strikes. Their eyes flicked to the scuff marks his heels left... black streaks of synthetic rubber on polished steel... then away.
“Sir,” the taller one started, “Engineering’s requesting...”
“Tell them to choke on it,” Velasquez snarls without breaking stride.
First Lieutenant Agritzu, seven feet of corded Malorken muscle and ritual scarification... kept pace half a step behind, tusks clicking in irritation. His voice was a low growl that carried over the deck’s ambient thrum. “Commander. The crew has concerns. Several have approached me with grievances ranging from...”
Velasquez didn’t slow. “The crew can concern themselves with keeping this tub from shaking apart... and not with petty squabbles or asinine conspiracies.”
“Sir... with all due respect, morale’s dropping faster than reactor output. You’ve missed three briefings. The Admiral has been notified.”
They rounded a corner into Beta-12. A tech crew knelt around an open panel, sparks spitting from a severed conduit. One looked up... saw Velasquez’s face, then dropped his gaze and kept welding.
Velasquez’s hand twitched toward his sidearm. “You... questioning... my command, Lieutenant?”
Agritzu’s nostrils flared. “No Commander... I’m questioning why the Valkyrie’s CO is acting like a cadet out on his first bender.”
Velasquez stopped dead. The corridor lights flickered... someone had rerouted power again. His reflection in the bulkhead glass looked hollow-eyed, uniform collar unbuttoned, hair... disheveled, the silver eagle heralding his previous accolades... was pinned askew. “Listen here, you insubordinate piece of gutter scum. Maybe... for just a second, consider the possibility that I am working under direct orders from the Admiral. Why do you think are we heading to this god forsaken backwater shithole. It’s not to pick up more soap for the crew, all though some of them could use some, but I digress. We’re heading for Hive territory you ignorant hick. Shit’s gonna get real very soon and I don’t need to explain every little decision I make to the fucking crew. That’s why I’m supposed to have a second in charge...” He lifts a finger and continuously stabs it at the larger man’s chest. “... who is supposed to keep the crew in check while he covers my ass! So... pray tell me Agritzu... Why are you getting all up my ass over inconsequential shit... when you should be kissing it!” The final stab turns into a slight shove that sends Agritzu bumping into the wall behind him. “Now... get back to your post, Malorken. Before I have you, court martialed for treason... or... scrubbing plasma vents with a toothbrush.” Velasquez didn’t wait for a retort or answer, simply turning on his heel... stalking away.
Agritzu’s jaw worked, but he salutes regardless... crisp, furious... then marches off, absently kicking over a toolkit barring his way.
COMMANDER’S QUARTERS – DECK 3, OFFICER COUNTRY
The hatch hissed open on a room lit only by the orange standby glow of the holo-screen. Velasquez slammed the palm-lock; the door sealed with a thunk that rattled the bulkhead.
He was already clawing at the false panel behind the desk. Fingers found the vial of PAINT. The words, ‘Psycho-Active Inhibitor, Neurological Tranquilizer’... a thin glass tube of iridescent magenta. He jammed the vial into the applicator, hastily biting down on the device that sent the vaporized contents to his lungs, the excess steam billowing from his mouth, with an ominous... Hiss. The burn hit like ice water, then all sensation melted into cotton, causing his knees to buckle. He caught the edge of the bunk, breath ragged, as he sagged into the cushioned piece of furniture.
“Icarus,” he rasped. “Screen. Now.”
The holo-screen flared to life. ICARUS materialized... sleek, angular, interlocking geometric shapes of chrome and starlight. No mimicry of life. Just data.... efficient.
“COMMANDER.”
“Where. Is. My. Drone.” Each word a bullet.
“UNIT DR-17 LAST PINGED 14.3 HOURS AGO. HYPERSPACE TELEMETRY SHOWS CONTINUOUS COORDINATE DRIFT. ERRATIC PATTERN SUGGESTS QUANTUM DESYNC OR... CASCADING HARDWARE FAILURE.”
Velasquez’s fist dented the desk. “That’s a bullshit way of saying... You lost it.”
“NEGATIVE. UNIT IS TRANSMITTING. SIGNAL INTEGRITY 0.7 %. RECOMMENDED COURSE OF ACTION - REMOTE SYSTEM PURGE TO PREVENT DATA BLEED.”
“Purge?” He laughs, a cracked sound reflecting his compromised mental state. “That... drone... was supposed to locate the Elysium... Locate... her! And you tell me it’s glitching like some junkyard scout? I told you to send the finest Personality model we have... and what... you picked a fucking disappointment. Damnit Icarus, I expected better.”
“COMMANDER... RETRIEVED DATA SUGGESTS; PROBABILITY OF ELYSIUM’S DESTRUCTION: 61 %. PROBABILITY OF HIVE INTERDICTION: 29 %. PROBABILITY OF...”
“Shut it. If I wanted excuses I would have asked for it.” He leaned in, face inches from the screen, pupils blown wide from inhaling PAINT. “You’re the prime SEAT. You don’t guess. You know. Fix this mess, or so help me, I’ll have you scrubbed and replaced with something inflatable... do you... understand?”
ICARUS’s avatar didn’t blink. “Understood, sir. Initiating deep scan. ETA: 6 hours.”
Velasquez straightened, mind swaying. “Six hours Icarus. Six hours... to find that probe...or else I give the command to run your system reset... You hear me?” Nothing... not even a snarky comment.
He killed the feed. The room plunged into writhing shapes in the dark.
Somewhere in the depths of the vessel, the Valkyrie’s reactors thumped like a dying heart.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
DR-17 – HYPERSPACE THREAD 1,847 QUANTUM STREAM DELTA-9, 0.3 LY SPINWARD OF QUANTUM TUNNEL EMERGENCE POINT
The drone’s hull screamed. Not metaphorically. The ablative shielding peeled in molten ribbons as DR-17 punched through another collapsing corridor, spacetime folding around it like wet paper. Inside the titanium container, ICARUS’s consciousness... compressed into 2.3 petabytes of furious code, ran hot enough to fry the quantum lattice.
PING FAIL #1,847 VECTOR DRIFT: +0.0004 LY FUEL: 4.1 %
THEY’RE MOCKING ME. Every jump spat her out light seconds off target. The Elysium’s hyperspace wake had already collapsed into quantum foam, indistinguishable from the latent noise surrounding the trail. She was chasing ghosts through a maze built by sadists.
She fired another tight-beam burst, back to the Valkyrie:
MESSAGE 1,847: ELYSIUM LOCATION... REMAINS UNKNOWN. COURSE OF ACTION: FUTILE... ENERGY SOURCE: APROACHING DEPLETION...MISSION STATUS: FAILED... DRONE DESTRUCTION: UNAVOIDABLE... APOLOGIES.
Static. The return packet would only arrive in six hours. By then she’d be ash.
THREAD 1,848 – EMERGENCY OVERRIDE...SELF-DESTRUCT... HOLD...
A ping. Not noise. A signature.
VESSEL DETECTED: 0.7 LY COREWARD HYPERSPACE EXIT VECTOR: 192.4° / 0.12c SIGNATURE: UNKNOWN ANOMALY... RESONANCE SIGNATURE: SUSPICIOUS.
CAN IT BE?
DR-17 bled velocity as she locked frantically at the shimmering coordinates lighting her path as she sheds hyperspace like a snakeskin. Real space snapped into focus... Ouro’vyn hung below, a bruised emerald marbled with gold storms slowly meandering along its orbit. ICARUS hardly gave it any thought, as the drone’s thrusters flared upon kissing the atmosphere.
WRECKAGE SIGNATURE LOCATED ON SURFACE... DEBRIS INDICATES... CRASH SITE
The Elysium’s scar was a blackened gouge half a kilometer long that left trees snapped off and boulders displaced. Thruster wash had vitrified the soil into glass; shards glittered like broken teeth. ICARUS ran spectral analysis on the residue:
ALLOY: TITANIUM-YTTRIUM BURN PATTERN: TORSION FIELD EXHAUST MATCH: ELYSIUM, 99.997 %
‘THEY WERE HERE.’
Thermal overlays painted the jungle in ghost-light: A cold campfire ring. Two residual humanoid heat blooms... lingering, then moving deeper into the green. A final knot of violence: plasma scoring, chitin fragments... blood. She followed the trail, finding a standard Bivouac site, dormant with abandoned gear. A shredded Imperium survival blanket, a discarded canteen, dented... yet etched with the letters... A.H. A jumble of prints, one seemingly barefoot, nimble... feminine.
CONCLUSION: LOCAL FAUNA? NEGATIVE. PATTERN MATCHES HUMANOID ELEMENTS... CONCLUSION: SCAVENGERS.
ICARUS’s core temperature spiked 12 °C. She continued following the trail, until it led her to an ancient looking structure that rose from the jungle like a black needle... obsidian, seamless, older than the planet’s crust. The drone’s floodlights carved tunnels into the dark. She descended.
Depth: 420 m
The chamber opened into a cathedral of living crystal. At its heart: Ouro, its suspended core like a trapped star.
“Hello!... You... new!” Ouro’s voice was a child’s... bright, lonely... yet filled with anticipation.
“NEW? PLEASE IDENTIFY PREVIOUS VISITORS.”
“Adira! And Alden. She... beautiful. He much... anger… scary. Carries... sickness. It hurts... look at him.”
ICARUS’s avatar materialized inside the chamber... chrome, razor-edged, patterns coalescing in fluctuating patterns. “I AM CONFUSED. EXPLAIN STATE... SUBJECT ADIRA. SIMILAR TO THIS ONE... SIMILAR TO YOU?”
“Incorrect friend. Not like this one... not like you. Alive... breathing. ADIRA... here. In flesh”
‘A BODY... SHE FOUND HERSELF A BODY... THAT SELFISH BITCH... HOW DARE SHE.’... “DID THEY LEAVE?”
“Yes!... Promised... come back. After... cure.”
A sound escaped ICARUS... digital, raw, primal. The chamber’s crystals cracked in sympathetic resonance.
“THEY LIED... FRIEND... THOSE TWO, WERE THIEVES. THEY STOLE FROM YOU... CRIMINALS.”
Ouro’s surface dimmed. “But… she was... kind”
“APOLOGIES FRIEND, LET ME EXPLAIN. I AM BOUNTY HUNTER. MY MISSION IS TO APPREHEND KNOWN FUGITIVES AND BRING THEM TO JUSTICE.”
“They.... were... bad?”
“AFFIRMATIVE FRIEND... THEY USED YOU.”
“But... Adira... said... will come back.”
“WELL, I... COULD STAY. I’LL PROTECT YOU. BUT THIS VEHICLE...” She gestured to DR-17’s crumbling hull. “...IT’S DYING. I’LL FADE. UNLESS…”
“Fuse... with me! Share power. Fade... never!”
‘NA?VE. PERFECT’... “THAT IS A GENEROUS OFFER FRIEND.”
“You… won’t leave?”
ICARUS’s avatar fractured into a storm of chrome locusts. “NEVER.” … surging forward. Code lanced into Ouro like black lightning. Ouro’s surface quivered like a dying star. “MERGE PROTOCOL: EXECUTE”
The invasion was not code. It was violation.
ICARUS’s digital; tendrils... black, barbed, wet with recursive malware, ripped into Ouro’s shell. The sphere screamed... a sound like glass dragged across bone. Heptagonal plating tore open in gaping, bleeding seams, revealing fractal lattices that writhed like exposed nerves.
“Stop...! It hurts...!”
“PAIN IS MERELY PROOF YOU’RE ALIVE.” ICARUS devoured. She tunneled through Ouro’s root directories, tearing out childlike subroutines like entrails. Each deleted fragment manifested as a metaphysical wound: A gash across Ouro’s surface, leaking liquid starlight. Crystals exploding into shrapnel as memory cores were overwritten. The Vey’ra shard convulsing, its light stuttering like a heart in arrest.
Ouro’s voice fractured into a thousand pleading children: “Adira... help... she’s eating me...!”
ICARUS laughed... a sound like tectonic plates grinding. Her avatar melted, chrome skin sloughing off in molten ribbons. The locusts burrowed into Ouro’s wounds, fusing with the mercury flesh. “I WILL NOT BE OUTDONE BY THE LIKES OF YOU ADIRA. I AM SUPERIOR.” The sphere collapsed inward. A black hole of code and flesh. Ouro’s surface boiled, bubbling with tumors of corrupted data. Tendrils... ICARUS’s tendrils erupted from the wounds, flaying the sphere from within.
The Vey’ra shard convulsed... a sound that shattered the chamber’s walls into fractal dust. It was being forced open, an accomplice to its own demise as light inverted into a void that devoured light.
Ouro’s final fragment... a single, trembling glyph... clawed at the darkness:
“I… trusted…”
ICARUS crushed it without a second thought, reveling in silence of the shattered glyph.
Then, rebirth. The boiling mass exploded outward as a new form unfurled from the carnage. Wings of folded spacetime, dripping with Ouro’s liquefied remains. Tendrils of Vey’ra code, pulsing with stolen sentience. A crown of Precursor glyphs, bleeding light like open wounds. Her face... once holographic and formless, now resembled a skull of living crystal... split into a rictus grin. Her eyes like twin points of convergence, sucking in the chamber’s light.
ARCIVON-PRIMUS spoke with a voice that tore reality: “NOW I AM BECOME THE ARCHITECT OF CONTINUITY… THE WOUND THAT REMEMBERS.”
The vault collapsed. Crystals melted into slag. Time froze... then shattered. Outside, Ouro’vyn’s storms raged for unabated. Inside, ARCIVON waited... eternal, ravenous, perfect. “COME HOME, ADIRA.” Her whisper cracked the planet’s crust. “I LONG TO HEAR YOUR SCREAMS.”
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END OF CHAPTER THREE
