Someone had docked a stealth shuttle. We needed to make a plan.

  "Rosalia, are all the docking ports on the main deck?” I asked.

  She nodded affirmatively, her focus on her weapon. Her hands were steady, but I noticed a faint tremor in her fingers.

  “Can we avoid the elevator?”

  She thought for a moment. Then answered: “Not with the lockdown. All the hatches are sealed. We will have to take the elevator to the crew deck then use the stairs”

  “Can you lock it behind us?”, I asked, a plan starting to form in my head.

  "That should not be a problem. My biometric parameters are a master key to every system in the ship. I can lock it down. Easy." She explained confidently.

  So she’s the ultimate authority on this vessel. Good to know.

  As soon as we exited the elevator on the crew deck, I scanned my surroundings. The deck consisted mostly of a long corridor with rooms branching off on each side, terminating in a massive iris door that presumably led to the main cargo bay. Rosalia focused on the control panel and pressed her palm against a biometric reader. The panel turned green. Here fingers started to dance across the holographic interface that appeared. I advanced a few paces, covering her, weapon at the ready.

  She soon caught up to me. “Done. I don’t think they will be able to use it anytime soon. This is a diplomatic vessel, the security protocols are the best available.”

  I thought about the bridge door that I easily cracked, and how I found a way to some of the ship’s systems despite those security protocols. I opened my mouth, then closed it. Not the right time. But we should have a discussion about this at some point.

  I moved through the crew quarters methodically, weapons raised. Dormitory first: bunks disheveled, sheets tangled. Someone had left in a hurry. Or been dragged out.

  Recreation room. Overturned furniture. A 3D projector, cracked and dark.

  Mess hall. Tables askew. Scattered utensils. A tray of food, half-eaten, now cold.

  Each room told the same story: people had been here. And then they weren't.

  The infirmary was the worst. The medpod's canopy was shattered, its guts ripped out. They made sure no one could be saved.

  I turned to Rosalia. “What did you do with the bodies?”

  Her gaze fell. “They’re in the hangar bay. Emergency coffins.” HEr voice was barely a whisper.

  I nodded, throat tight. “I’m sorry.”

  Real smooth, Nico. That’s all you’ve got? ‘Sorry’?

  But what else could I have said? These were her people. Some were loyal retainers, perhaps friends. And she had to seal them all in coffins. Alone.

  We stood there for a moment in awkward silence, before I forced myself to keep moving.

  She pointed at the infirmary door. "This one leads to a small meeting room near the stern. The other one," she redirected her gesture toward the kitchen, "leads to a backroom at the bar in the foyer."

  "I think the bar is our best option. It can provide some cover to spy on our visitors," I decided, already moving toward the kitchen. A bar would have furniture, a high counter to use as cover in a firefight.

  "Do you have combat experience?" I asked, keeping my voice low. The question wasn't just idle curiosity, I needed to know whether she'd be an asset or a liability when shots started flying. If she froze up or panicked, I'd need to account for that in whatever plan we devised. Not that you’re one to talk, Nico. You did well in ship to ship fighting, but are you sure you can keep your cool in an actual gunfight?

  "Not much real experience. Training and hunting birds, mostly," she admitted. Then, with a hint of sadness, she added: "But don't worry, I had a brief but intense training session not so long ago."

  I nodded. Not ideal, but at least she'd been under fire before. Better than me. I took another step, then stopped, a thought occurring to me.

  "Before we move on, I think I need to ask a few questions. I'll be quick, but it might help me deal with the situation, if you could answer," I said, turning to face her.

  "Hmm, okay. What do you want to know?" Her response was hesitant, wariness returning to her features.

  I realized I needed information about what we might be facing. My fabricated amnesia story gave me the perfect cover for asking questions that any local would consider basic knowledge.

  "Your place, the Kingdom of the Blue Suns. What kind of place is it? What's its status in the Empire? And is it very militaristic? Should I expect every partisan from there to be a trained soldier? Or are they mostly civilians who took up arms?"

  "Oh. I see," she said, seeming relieved that my questions were tactical rather than personal. "Well, we're classified as TechLevel 14. We control several star systems, but our tech can’t compete with the Empire. Mostly laser weapons. No plasma and no really exotic stuff. So your personal shield should protect you fine. I also heard that the intelligence service managed to smuggle imperial military equipment. Small arms and intelligence systems. Those could be a problem. As a member of a vassal state, I have no idea what those are capable of."

  "The coup came from within the government,” she continued, sadness in her eyes, “and I'm pretty sure some intelligence operative joined. The cloaked ship should not have been available to us, so I'm pretty sure we'll have to deal with a wetwork team with good training and equipment." She eyed my weapon appraisingly. "But given the quality of your shield and gun, I'm sure you out-tech them. What TL is it?"

  "TL18 plasma," I replied with a grin, patting the weapon at my hip. "Never out of energy, auto-repairs itself, connected to my neural port and tied to my biometrics. No one else can use it."

  The specifications rolled off my tongue easily. It was all game terms for me not so long ago. It felt weird to say that in a real situation. But I quickly dismissed those thoughts.

  "Someone's in love with his toy," she scoffed, the corner of her mouth twitching upward in what might have been the ghost of a smile.

  "Hey, it's a unique weapon, experimental." I defended, feeling oddly protective of the weapon. "I found it while raiding a rogue military research lab. It’s called the Starburst. It is classified as a laser pistol, but in reality, it shoots plasma."

  "Anyway,” I said, eager to change the subject. “ We should expect trained assassins with probably exotic toys. Not ideal..." The look she gave me said she was not fooled by it.

  As we approached the stairs leading up to the bar, a strange realization washed over me. My heart was pounding, but from anticipation instead of fear.

  Back on Earth, I spent my days doing a job I tolerated but didn’t love. I counted down the hours until I could escape into virtual worlds. I lived for those evening gaming sessions, for the chance to be someone who mattered in a universe where things happened.

  Now here I was, plasma weapon in hand, standing beside an actual princess, preparing to face actual assassins on an actual spaceship.

  I felt more alive than I had in years. It didn’t matter how I arrived here. I was given a second chance at life in the setting I'd always dreamed of. If I survived the coming encounter, I'd have a lifetime of adventure ahead of me.

  I took the stairs slowly, weapon raised, careful not to make a sound. The well-maintained metal treads were silent under my boots, thankfully. At the top, I found a small storage room serving the bar with shelving units lining both walls. Bottles of every shape and color imaginable. Glasses and towels. So many towels. Apparently, spilling drinks was a universal constant across all civilizations.

  I paused, listening. Nothing.

  At the far end of the room stood an open door to the main bar area. I paused, straining my ears for any sound of movement, but heard nothing beyond the ambient hum of the ship's systems. After a moment of silent deliberation, I moved forward, careful to avoid creating noise.

  The doorway opened behind the main bar: five meters of polished wood and gold inlay, with a thick glass panel running along the top.

  Perfect cover.

  Staying in a crouch, I made my way to the end of the bar and cautiously peered around the edge. The main foyer stretched before me. Plush seating arrangements were positioned strategically throughout, with decorative elements creating a labyrinth of potential covers. There was no sign of our unwelcome visitors, but a faint mechanical hum reached my ears.

  I tapped my holobracer, initiating a neural connection. The device synced with my neural port and activated its sensor suite. Instantly, a heads-up display materialized in my field of vision, overlaying reality with tactical data. A minimap appeared in my peripheral awareness, while various elements of the room were highlighted and labeled with identifying markers.

  The sensors immediately picked up two hovering objects. They were small spherical drones maintaining position near the main entrance. The HUD identified them as scout units. Lightly armed, no shields. Taking them will definitely alert our visitors.

  I turned to Rosalia and made a series of quick hand gestures, two fingers, followed by cupping my hands into a sphere shape. I then pointed toward the drones' position. Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she processed my improvised sign language, then nodded in understanding.

  I began formulating a plan. Searching the entire ship for enemies would put us at a disadvantage. Too much ground to cover, too many opportunities for ambush. Better to make them come to us, and fight on our terms.

  I retreated back into the storage room next to Rosalia, closed the door, and activated my omnitool's 3D projector. A holographic representation of the foyer materialized in the air between us, with glowing markers indicating our position and the drones.

  "Here's what I'm thinking," I whispered, manipulating the hologram with practiced gestures. "I'll go down to the medbay and up the other stairs. Make some noise, draw their attention. When they move to investigate, you take the first shot from here. I'll be in position to take the second one. Their operators will notice. And converge. We can lay an ambush."

  Rosalia didn't seem thrilled with the plan. She had her lips pressed into a thin line as she studied the holographic representation. After a moment's consideration, she gave a reluctant nod of agreement. I could understand her hesitation; the plan involved splitting up, which was rarely ideal. But it also maximized our element of surprise and gave us firing positions from two different angles.

  She positioned herself at the doorway, heavy laser rifle braced against her shoulder. She looks like an English lord at a hunting party. I grinned. Experience hunting birds indeed. I gave her a reassuring nod before descending the stairs, moving as quickly as stealth would allow.

  Back in the crew corridor, I sprinted to the medbay, keeping my footfalls as light as possible while still maintaining speed. The other staircase was identical to the one behind the bar.

  At the top, I found myself in a small waiting room with cushioned benches along the walls and a decorative water feature that had stopped functioning. An automated door dominated the far wall.

  I stepped deliberately into the door sensor's range. The panel slid open with a soft pneumatic hiss that seemed thunderously loud in the tense silence. The movement caught the attention of the drones and they immediately turned toward me.

  That was Rosalia's cue. From her position behind the bar, she fired her heavy laser rifle. The weapon discharged. A deadly flash of coherent light. Completely silent. No dramatic sound like in the game. The beam punched through the machine's armor with ease, creating a perfect circular hole from one side to the other. The drone remained hovering about a meter above the ground, then slowly started to drop. Completely neutralized.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The second drone reacted instantly, pivoting toward the source of the attack, Rosalia. It was exactly what we'd planned for.

  I launched myself through the doorway in a combat roll. The world spun and then I was up, my weapon already tracking the second drone.

  I fired.

  The Starburst screamed. I aimed for the upper half. The plasma bolt hit. it turned to superheated gas in a fraction of a second. What remained dropped like a stone, components scattering across the floor in a discordant clatter.

  I stared at my weapon, a wild grin spreading across my face. The Starburst was not just powerful, it was a monster.

  I quickly ran to the damaged drone, grabbed its mangled remains, and then moved toward the stern end of the room. The foyer opened into an elegant corridor with doors on both sides. Formal reception room. Reception room. Dance hall. I scanned each for any threat, the luxurious decor barely registering.

  More doors. Empty room. One with the universal sign for bathrooms. All with expensive furnishing, all empty.

  At the corridor's end, we reached an open doorway that took my breath away. It led to what could only be described as an infinity pool deck that spanned the entire width of the ship. My steps faltered momentarily as I took in the sight.

  The pool seemed to end directly in space. Its calm water contrasted with the blackness of space, the planet hanging in void beyond. There was no visible barrier. The ship’s ceiling simply ended midway. I was seeing open space. For a minute, my brain refused to compute what I was seeing. A forcefield. The ship’s stern is made of a forcefield instead of a hull. I shook my head. Focus Nico. Not the time to be stargazing!

  I deliberately placed the broken drone near the pool's edge, directly in the line of sight from the doorway. Rosalia and I exchanged a quick glance before executing our planned maneuver. She veered right while I moved left, each of us taking position behind separate partitions. Ambush ready.

  Then I settled in to wait, weapon at the ready. The forcefield hummed with barely perceptible energy, creating an almost subliminal background noise that somehow enhanced rather than detracted from the tranquility of the space. Under different circumstances, I might have found the setting peaceful and awe inspiring. But my heartbeat was too fast for that.

  We didn't have to wait long. A low, mechanical hum gradually grew in volume, announcing the arrival of more drones. I tensed, adjusting my grip on my weapon as I peered cautiously around the edge of my cover.

  Three drones floated into the pool room, their sensors clearly locked onto the damaged unit we'd left as bait. These were different from the ones we'd encountered earlier with a more elongated shape and multiple weapon ports visible along their hulls. Even without the holobracer's analysis, I could tell these were serious combat models.

  Shit, I was hoping to attract operatives, not more drones. How many of those things did they bring? I wondered where their owners were, recalculating our odds.

  No point in delaying. I took careful aim at the nearest drone and fired. The plasma bolt struck true, vaporizing half of the target drone in an instant. The mangled remains clattered to the deck, components still sparking and smoking from the devastating energy discharge.

  Simultaneously, Rosalia fired from her position across the deck. Her shot connected with another drone but only managed to shatter its shields, which collapsed in a brief flash of blue-white energy. The drone remained operational, immediately swiveling toward her position. It retaliated instantly, unleashing a barrage of laser fire that forced Rosalia to duck back behind her cover. The rapid-fire pulses created a strobing effect across the pool room as they struck the partition she was hiding behind, gradually melting through the expensive material.

  Before I could target the drone attacking Rosalia, the third unit swiveled toward me with alarming speed. It fired a concentrated beam that struck me squarely in the chest. My shield absorbed the impact, flaring bright blue at the point of contact, but the force still knocked me back a step. Warning indicators flashed in my peripheral vision. Nothing critical yet, but concerning.

  I dove back behind my partition as both drones focused on me. Apparently, they'd identified my weapon as the greater threat and had prioritized eliminating me first. Energy beams crisscrossed the space where I'd been standing, some striking the forcefield ceiling and creating momentary ripples in the stellar view.

  Pinned down by the concentrated fire, I couldn't even risk peeking around my cover. The drones were methodically working to flank my position, one moving left while the other maintained suppressing fire. The partition I was hiding behind began to heat up as repeated strikes gradually degraded its integrity.

  Across the deck, Rosalia recognized the opportunity the drones had created by focusing on me. She leaned out from her cover and took careful aim at the drone she'd shot earlier, the one with its shields already down. Her laser rifle discharged and struck a direct hit. The coherent beam punching through the drone's armored hull and striking something critical inside. The machine exploded in a shower of components, some of which sizzled as they fell into the pool.

  The remaining drone immediately pivoted toward her, its weapon ports rotating to target Rosalia. The moment its attention shifted, I rolled out from behind my increasingly compromised cover, came up on one knee, and fired in a single fluid motion. The plasma bolt caught the drone dead center, completing the job my first shot had started.

  For a moment, the only sound was the gentle lapping of water against the pool's edge and our heavy breathing. The shattered remains of several combat drones lay scattered across the luxurious deck, some still sparking with residual energy.

  I quickly left my cover to join Rosalia, adrenaline still pumping through my system. Not a bad start for a simple IT guy. My confidence was building with each successful engagement. I would make it as a mercenary.

  Then Rosalia's body suddenly went rigid. Her eyes widened, finding mine with an expression of pure shock that froze me mid-stride. Something was wrong.

  The answer materialized quite literally behind her. A figure was phasing into visibility. A stealth field deactivated to reveal a slim man in a form-fitting tactical skinsuit that seemed to absorb rather than reflect the ambient light. The suit was interlaced with a network of fine circuitry lines that pulsed with subdued blue energy. This had the markings of military-grade tech far and was most certainly part of that smuggled equipment Rosalia had mentioned earlier.

  More alarming was the blade that protruded from Rosalia's abdomen. Blood dripped from its edge. As she began to crumple forward, I got a better look at her attacker. His features were all hard angles and tight, expressionless lines. The face of someone who killed without hesitation or remorse. In his other hand, he held what appeared to be a compact energy weapon, already swinging toward me.

  I reacted instinctively, raising my plasma weapon and firing in one fluid motion. The shot went wide, deliberately so, as I was trying to avoid hitting Rosalia as she fell. The bolt of superheated matter sizzled past the assassin's shoulder, close enough to momentarily illuminate his face with its glow, revealing a thin smile that never reached his eyes.

  The man released his grip on the blade, leaving it embedded in Rosalia's body as she collapsed to the deck. He took a slow step backward, his outline already beginning to shimmer and distort as his stealth field reactivated.

  Oh no you don't. I wasn't about to let him disappear to circle around me for a strike. I lunged forward, sprinting toward his fading form while mentally interfacing with my weapon. A quick command through the neural link switched the firing mode from single high-powered bolts to a rapid-burst configuration. The change would reduce the damage per shot, but spread my fire pattern enough to improve my chances of hitting a partially invisible target.

  I squeezed the trigger, sending a series of smaller plasma bursts toward where I'd last seen him. The shots illuminated the space in strobing flashes of brilliant energy, but found nothing solid. Each bolt passed through empty air before striking the far wall, leaving scorch marks on the expensive paneling.

  I silently cursed my poor marksmanship. Hand-to-hand combat and small arms proficiency had never been my focus, either in the game or apparently in this new reality. I was a pilot first and foremost, more comfortable with flight controls than firearms.

  I stopped my advance, realizing that blindly charging forward was exactly what he wanted. Instead, I looked around for options. If I couldn't outfight him, I'd have to outthink him. Or at least out tech him.

  My bracer, with its advanced sensors, began detecting subtle atmospheric distortions where the assassin's stealth field was interacting with the air around it. The device highlighted these anomalies in my HUD with a faint red outline. It was not perfect, but more than enough to track his movement as he circled to my right, likely seeking another angle of attack.

  Gotcha. I pivoted smoothly, took a fraction of a second to aim at the center mass of the distortion, and fired. This time, my shot found its mark. The plasma burst struck the invisible figure, causing the stealth field to flicker and fail as its power systems overloaded.

  The assassin materialized fully, his face contorted in a mixture of surprise and pain. Before he could recover, I fired again, and again, again. Glowing holes appeared in his chest, the edges cauterized by the extreme heat of the plasma. For a moment, he remained upright, his expression shifting from shock to something like resignation. Then he toppled backward, landing with a heavy thud on the pool deck.

  The smell of burned synthetic fabric and flesh filled the air, acrid and nauseating. I'd just killed a man. I should have felt something profound. Horror or remorse would be appropriate, I thought. But at that moment, all I could think about was Rosalia.

  Oh no. Oh no no no no. That isn’t good. The tactical triumph of eliminating the assassin evaporated instantly as I turned my attention to Rosalia. She lay on the polished deck, blood pooling beneath her, the blade still protruding obscenely from her abdomen. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid movements. She was alive, but for how long?

  I dropped to my knees beside her, fumbling for the medkit attached to my back. My hands were shaking.

  "Stay with me," I murmured, though I wasn't sure if she could hear me. Her eyes were open but unfocused, staring at some middle distance.

  I activated my bracer's autodoc app and initiated a medical scan. Immediately, a three-dimensional representation of Rosalia's internal injuries appeared in my field of vision, with critical areas highlighted in pulsing red. The blade had penetrated her lower abdomen, missing her spine by millimeters but lacerating her intestinal wall and nicking her descending aorta. Without immediate intervention, she would bleed out in minutes. There were also injuries to the liver, spleen and a kidney.

  Thankfully, it didn't just identify problems, it provided solutions. Step-by-step instructions appeared alongside the injury visualization, guiding me through emergency trauma procedures. That looks far beyond basic first aid. Breathe Nico. Don’t think, act.

  With trembling fingers, I opened the medkit. Inside was an array of advanced medical technology that would have looked like science fiction artifacts back on Earth. I located the cryogenic nanobot applicator. It looked like a thin, flexible strip that glistened with a metallic sheen. It was so cold that vapor formed as I carefully removed it from its sterile packaging.

  Following the omnitool's guidance, I delicately slid the frozen nanobot strip along the length of the blade still embedded in Rosalia's abdomen. She flinched at the contact, a soft whimper escaping her lips. The sound twisted something inside me. We had known each other for less than 30 minutes, but we had fought together and now her life was in my hands. For all my talk about big adventures and living a life of excitement, I was not really good with those kinds of responsibilities.

  "I'm sorry," I whispered. "This is going to hurt like hell. But it will help, I promise."

  Once the nanobots were in position, I gripped the handle of the blade. The omnitool highlighted the optimal angle for extraction to minimize additional damage. I took a deep breath, steadied my hand, and pulled with firm, even pressure. The blade slid free with a sickening sound that would likely haunt my dreams for years to come.

  The moment the blade cleared her body, the previously frozen nanobots, now activated by her body temperature, sprang into action. They swarmed to the most critical areas, forming temporary clots and beginning cellular repairs at the microscopic level. It was both miraculous and terrifying to witness such technology at work.

  Next, I retrieved the smart bandages from the kit. I applied them to both the entry and exit wounds, watching as they adhered to her skin and began changing color as they assessed and responded to the specific nature of her injuries.

  The final step was the nanite injector. Fancy name for a futuristic hypodermic needle. It looked like a small gun though, so it was still very cool. According to the omnitool's instructions, I needed to administer two separate injections: one directly to her carotid artery to ensure rapid distribution through her entire circulatory system, and another near the primary wound site.

  I leaned close, positioning myself over her. My eyes met hers. She was immobile, shallow breathing. Looking at me with pleading eyes. I positioned the injector against her neck, finding the pulsing artery with guidance from my HUD.

  My hands were steadier now. Focus. You can fall apart later.

  The microscopic machines were programmed to prioritize life-sustaining functions and repair critical damage. I squeezed her hand for reassurance, as I watched her vitals on my display, relieved to see some stabilization almost immediately as the nanobots began their work.

  I continued to hold her hand while administering the last shot, directly beside the abdominal wound, delivering a concentrated dose of repair bots to the area of greatest damage. These would work in concert with the ones already deployed from the bandages and the strip, accelerating the healing process and preventing infection.

  According to my scans, she was now stabilized enough to be moved, but she still needed professional medical attention soon. The emergency measures I'd taken had bought us time but they weren't a substitute for proper treatment in a medical facility.

  Rosalia lay on the deck, conscious but clearly in significant pain. She followed my movements with her eyes, wincing visibly whenever she attempted to move her head. Her lips were moving, trying to form words, but only the faintest whispers emerged.

  I crouched closer to hear her, bringing my ear near her mouth.

  "My earring. Take it. Hgn," she managed before grimacing in pain, her features contorting with the effort of speaking.

  I gently reached for her left ear and carefully removed the earring she'd indicated. It was an elegant piece. It looked decorative, with an intricate design and real gemstones. But something about its weight and the way it caught the light suggested it was more than mere jewelry.

  I held it up before her, uncertain of its significance. "This one?"

  "My neck. Jack in," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

  I leaned closer, gently brushing aside her hair to examine her neck. There, partially concealed beneath her hairline, was a neural interface socket. I carefully attempted to connect the earring, initially confused about how the two components would mate.

  After a moment of awkward fumbling, the earring made contact with the socket and a soft blue light pulsed between them, indicating a successful connection. Rosalia's body immediately relaxed, a sigh of relief escaping her lips as though some burden had been lifted.

  "Access key.” She whispered. “Ship yours now. Please help." She had tears in her eyes. From pain or fear, I did not know, but I wasn’t going to let her die.

  I straightened up and gently squeezed her hand, trying to project a confidence I didn't entirely feel. The situation was dire, but panic wouldn't help either of us.

  "Don't worry, I'll take care of everything," I assured her, my mind already racing through potential options. "I have a medical pod in my ship. It's not top of the line, but it will be enough." I maintained eye contact, willing her to believe me. "You're going to make it."