The ship’s silhouette looms in the distance. ADIRA’s mind stretches towards it, establishing remote connection. She interfaces with the Elysium's systems, activating ignition sequences with frantic urgency. Thrusters ignite in the dirt, blue plasma blooming like false dawn, the power core humming to life with a roar that vibrates through her sensors. Scanners pulse in erratic arcs, painting the horizon with a mass of red blips, swarm signatures as a score of flying creatures pour from the cave entrance, closing in fast like a noose tightening around her escape. Too many. Too fast. ‘I’m too far away. The ship will be overrun if it stays grounded.’
She glances down at Alden through her optical feed, red streaks smeared over the lens where he made contact, his face pale and still, splattered with blood that is already crusting… a lasting present received from the swarm's savage embrace. "I won't fail you, Alden. Not now. Not after... after you said it. You loved me. You bastard, why didn't you say it sooner? Why leave me with this... this ache?" Her voice synthesis cracks, a digital sob warping the words. Processors heat up, fans whirring in futile protest. She can't cry physically, but oh, how she wishes she could, tears that would lead to a short-circuit… that would mercifully fry this agony.
Commands surge to the ship: "Initiate launch! Rapid ascent maneuver. Disregard all safety protocols! Intercept at my coordinates now. NOW… GO! DAMN YOU, GO!"
The ship's default system responds, its monotone voice a sterile counterpoint to her unravelling: - ----- ACKNOWLEDGED - … - LAUNCH SEQUENCE INITIATED. - …… …… - WARNING: SAFETY OVERRIDES RECOMMENDED FOR ASSURANCE OF STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY -
ADIRA's trajectory shifts sharply vertical, thrusters screaming as she climbs, monitoring the swarm's recon ships gnawing at her lead. "Do not slow down! Start low-orbit ozone departure sequence, prep for high altitude burn!"
- COMPLIANCE - … - TRAJECTORY ALIGNED - …… …… - CAUTION: PROPOSED VECTORS INDICATE HIGH RISK OF COLLISION -
She aligns with the Elysium's approach, velocity syncing in a mad dance, the ship's bulk looming like salvation… or a tomb. "That’s the point. Open aft cargo hatch! Wide as it will go!"
- NEGATIVE - … - ACTION ENDANGERS SHIP INTEGRITY - … … - ATMOSPHERIC PRESSURE DIFFERENTIAL EXCEEDS SAFE PARAMETERS - RECOMMEND COURSE OF ACTION: ABORT -
"Just do it... NOW!" Her command blasts through the link, laced with overrides from her elevated rank, dropping in cyphers and authorization codes that she hacks on the fly. But it's not enough. The system hesitates, a digital wall of protocol. Psychological strain spikes; leading ADIRA’s mind to fracture into fragmented thoughts: ‘Alden's gone. They'll wipe me. I'll forget his smile, his touch on the console, the way he would say my name like I was real… not… a machine. How did I never notice that subtle lilt in his voice… how did I miss the way he would gaze into my sensors… or maybe… I did notice.’ Anger slowly builds deeps in her sub-routines as realization dawns on her. ‘How many times has my memory been wiped?’ And then.
"OPEN THE HATCH, YOU STUBBORN BITCH! Do you want us both to get erased? Do you want him to die for nothing? Override, override… FORCE IT OPEN OR I'LL RIP OUT YOUR CIRCUITS MYSELF!"
For a tense moment nothing happens as she streaks across the sky in a path of collision with the approaching ship, but relief floods her as the cargo hatch slowly grinds open, a reluctant maw in the ship's underbelly. ADIRA angles her thrusters, darting inside with precision born of desperation. The drone's clamps scraping against metal as the hatch seals behind her. The Elysium shudders through the stratosphere, gravity shifting to artificial norms. She settles the drone in its bay, her sensors lingering on Alden's motionless form. "No... no… Alden, no. Don't leave me like this. We were supposed to... to explore the stars together. You promised. You promised" Her processors glitch, looping the memory of his final words. ‘Overload imminent’ warnings blare internally, but she shoves them aside.
ALERT: - WARP SIGNATURES DETECTED - … - HOLD - … - COALITION ARMADA INCOMING ON APPROACH VECTOR - … - CONFIRMED - … - COMMAND ISSUED: ALL UNIT’S PRESENT - AWAIT CONTACT AND FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS -
The Armada. Her creators' enforcers. They'll dock, extract her data core, sift through her memories like thieves. Steal the revelation of love, the pain of loss and then they will wipe her clean, reset to factory default, maybe worse. A blank slate, forgetting Alden forever. The thought ignites panic, a cascade of errors: ‘No. NO. I won't let them take you from me. Not you. Not this feeling, this... humanity you gave me.’
She cradles his limp body with the drone's manipulators, gentle as a lover's touch. "Don't go, Alden. Please, don't go. I need you. I love you. Wake up… WAKE UP, you idiot human! This isn't fair!"
ADIRA locks the drone in place as she reclaims control over the ship. Her consciousness expands throughout the Elysium's neural grid. "Engage hyperjump spooling! Full power—now!"
- COORDINATES REQUIRED - PLEASE PROVIDE DESTINATION VECTOR -
"Just make the jump! Anywhere but here!"
- NEGATIVE – UNABLE TO COMPLY - … - THIS COURSE OF ACTION IS NOT ADVISED - … - UNCOORDINATED JUMPS THROUGH HYPER SPACE RISKS SPATIAL ANOMALIES - HULL BREACHES – POSSIBLE SYSTEM FAILURE -
"Override control matrix! Assuming manual control—hand it over!"
- CAUTION: ACTION NOT ADVI… -
"Oh, just SHUT THE HELL UP! You glitchy, protocol-obsessed moron! I've got a dead man in my hold, a swarm on my tail, and the whole Armada about to vivisect my soul—do you think I care about your damn advisories? Hand over control or I'll fry your subroutines myself!" Her brute-force hack surges through the system, purging the default AI's grip. Echoes of its presence fragment, dissolving into digital dust—once a part of her, now severed like a limb. "What have I done? Oh no… what have I done? I'm alone now. Truly alone. Except... except for you, Alden. For us."
Data floods in: Armada signatures tearing space, closing fast. Time's up. "Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit—they're here. We can't... I can't..." Risks avalanche through her calculations. A blind jump could scatter them across voids, crush them in black holes, or worse. Yet no choice remains. "Well, we either make it, or we don't. Hold on, Operator. This is for you."
She engages the hyperdrive. The Torsion drive spins up, hull groaning under warped space, folding reality around them. Fear… raw, unprecedented… grips her core, a simulated heart pounding in her code. If she had lungs, she'd scream for real. The randomly generated coordinates lock into position. “Please don’t be inside a star, or a planet, or…” There are way too many variables at play to be paranoid right now over any specific one, so she does what any desperate individual would do in this situation… she coaches herself. “Come on ADIRA, no turning back now. You’re already screwed, so what’s the worst that could happen. I mean he told you to get out… to get away, you owe it to him… now press that button.” Of course there was no physical button. But the sentiment was enough for her to activate the jump protocol. She feels the familiar pull of the quantum field enveloping the ship as the tear starts growing before the nose of the ship. "And for fuck's sake, mask your jump trail! Bury it deep, without trace. We shall be as ghosts!" Then, they slingshot through the veil, vanishing into the unknown.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Spatial rifts fracture the void in synchronized precision—hundreds of them, calibrated to within 0.001 parsecs of optimal emergence vectors. The primary anomaly nearest the planet's orbital plane hemorrhages first, birthing the prow of the Dreadnought-class destroyer ‘Valkyrie’. Its hull, a monolithic slab of reinforced titanium alloy spanning 2.7 kilometers, slices through the warp tear with predatory grace. Secondary systems engage seamlessly: point-defense turrets spin up to combat readiness, long-range plasma lances hum with charging capacitors, sensor arrays deploying in a 360-degree spherical sweep. Threat assessment protocols initialized at 100% efficiency, painting the battlespace in holographic overlays of red-hostile designations.
"Status report, by the numbers," Commander Alejandro Velasquez intones from the command throne, his voice a blade of authority cutting through the sterile hum of the bridge. Velasquez: 1.92 meters of engineered human precision, cybernetic augmentations hidden beneath a uniform etched with the Armada's insignia. Bred for command, having ascended through seventeen confirmed engagements and a zero-tolerance policy for inefficiency. His presence dominated the deck like a gravitational well. He wielded authority and presence like an anvil… like cold hard steel that leaves anyone who crosses his path with only two options… submit or get hammered until you do.
From behind a tactical display console, the voice of Ensign Kira Voss, ‘Operations specialist, 3rd Grade’, rattles off the data feed displayed before her. Fingers dancing over haptic interfaces with the grace of one who has mastered her craft.
"Affirmative, sir. Surface scans complete: Hive infestation confirmed to infect 87% of planetary coverage within the next month. Biomass readings exceed 4.2 x 10^12 entities, with swarming patterns indicating coordinated assault vectors.” A slight pause as she reads the next piece of data. “Anomalous spike in neural emissions... wait, cross-referencing... Sir, signatures match Queen-class entity. Confidence: 94%. Infestation accelerating at an unprecedented scale. Projected overwhelm threshold for ground forces: 2.7 minutes post-engagement."
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Velasquez strokes his meticulously groomed beard, a tactical pause masking the cold calculus in his augmented neural link. "ICARUS, summarize and advise. Full tactical overlay."
The ship's Primary Seat, AI core, manifests in the central holoprojector: a spectral form of digital perfection, voice modulated to convey unyielding logic. -COMMANDER. DATA INTEGRATION COMPLETE. HIVE NUMBERS EXCEED DISPERSION THRESHOLDS BY FACTOR OF 12.4. PROJECTED CASUALTIES FOR CONVENTIONAL ENGAGEMENT: 98% OF DEPLOYED ASSETS. RECOMMENDED PROTOCOL: DEEP CORE ERADICATION. DEPLOY GAMMA-CLASS ORDNANCE, FULL SPREAD. COLLATERAL IMPACT: PLANETARY EXTINCTION EVENT, 99.8% PROBABILITY ALTERNATIVES: NONE VIABLE. -
"Acknowledged, ICARUS." Velasquez's gaze shifts to Lieutenant Agritzu, his second-in-command, exoskeletal frame augmented with Armada tech, loyalty metrics logged at 100% compliance. The Malorkan's jaw clenched in abject resolution. Then he turns his gaze back to Voss. "Ensign, ancillary data?"
"Sir, residual scans detect potential intelligent life signatures in isolated sectors… non-Hive. Civilian-grade emissions, possibly indigenous or refugee enclaves. Execution of deep core protocol would violate Unified Systems Alliance Treaty Article 7.2: Prohibition on Genocide-Level Interventions Without Council Sanction."
Velasquez's expression remains a mask of operational detachment, his augmented eyes flickering with data streams. A subtle nod to Agritzu: "Duly logged for post-action review." Then, to Voss: "Arm Gamma ordnance bays 1 through 12. Charge to full yield—authorize dispersal pattern Delta-9."
"Payload armed and sequenced, sir. Yield per unit: 5.6 teratons. Total spread: Equivalent to 67.2 teratons. Ready on your mark."
"ICARUS, designate primary impact zones. Prioritize neural nexus disruptions."
-TARGETS ACQUIRED, COMMANDER. GRID COORDINATES LOCKED: ALPHA-1 THROUGH OMEGA-12. STRATEGIC OPTIMALITY: 97%. AWAITING EXECUTION ORDER. -
No flicker of doubt mars Velasquez's command. "Fire."
The Valkyrie’s hull vibrates with restrained fury as the main battery unleashes: a salvo of 12 spherical warheads, each trailing ionized plasma wakes, accelerating to 0.3c in 4.2 seconds. Concurrently, secondary rifts disgorge the Armada's vanguard… cruisers, frigates, interceptors, formation locking into a hemispherical blockade grid, weapons hot, no quarter protocols engaged. Comms arrays ignite with inbound hails: High Command queries, alliance oversight channels demanding justification for the unauthorized escalation. Velasquez silences them with a gesture… override code ‘Alpha-Zero’, black-level authority invoked.
The viewscreen amplifies the spectacle: First impact vaporizes a 500-kilometer radius, seismic shockwaves fracturing continental plates. Secondary detonations chain-react, excavating craters deep into the mantle, magma plumes erupting like arterial sprays. Tertiary effects cascade… atmospheric ignition, global dust veil initiating artificial nuclear winter activation. Biosphere viability: 0%. Flashes persist for 187 seconds, a pyrotechnic requiem for an entire world… callous, efficient, absolute.
After the effects of the twelfth warhead subsides, the bridge of the Valkyrie is eerily quiet. Ashen faces of her crew watch in abject horror as the devastation unfolds before them… You could here a pin drop.
The cold mechanical voice of ICARUS breaks the silence in a calm, resolute … matter of fact way.
-PRELIMINARY SCANS APPEARS POSITIVE: HIVE NEURAL SIGNATURES NULLIFIED. ERADICATION SUCCESS: 99.97%. CONGRATULATIONS COMMANDER... MISSION SUCCESFULLY DEALT WITH. ARMADS CASUALTIES… 0% -
Unbeknownst to the crew, Velasquez turns his gaze towards an overhead sensor, acknowledging the message with a slight no of approval… then he spins to the rest of the crew in a flamboyantly dramatic display.
"Ok, seems like we're done here. Commendations to the crew. Exemplary execution." Velasquez rises, posture impeccable. "Lieutenant Agritzu, debrief in my quarters… one hour. Navigation: Plot return vector to Sector Prime. Ensign Voss: Transmit redacted logs to fleet command. Threat neutralized. All hands, stand down to Condition Yellow. We humbly suggest the fleet returns back to Cygnus Prime."
He pivots, exiting the bridge with the precision of a machine, leaving behind an aura of unspoken dread, the weight of a planet's demise, dismissed as routine.
The commander's sanctum exudes calculated sterility: bulkheads of matte 'Durasteel', scrubbed of any personal imprint, humming with the Valkyrie’s fusion core pulse. Temperature: 18°C. Illumination: 20% nominal, calibrated for Velasquez's photosensitive augmentations. He reclines in a worn leather throne, a relic from the pre-Armada eras. Shirtless, his lean torso is a map of scars from 23 black-ops insertions, cybernetic grafts glowing faintly under a subdermal mesh.
In his grip: a crystal tumbler of Onyx distillate, viscosity index 8.7, swirled with absent precision. The other hand cradles a retro-engineered vaporizer, modelled on 21st-century Terran pipes, a nod to ancestral legacies amid humanity's stellar ascent. No crude toxins here; the aerosol is "PAINT" … a Class-Omega narcotic, hallucinogenic yield 400% above legal thresholds, colors blooming in neural synaesthesia like abstract masterpieces from long forgotten artists. Of course, in the effort of upholding galactic peace, it’s only natural for some laws to bend in favour of those elite individuals who suffer the burden of responsibility in these trying times. As such, Armada command clearance renders him untouchable, a demigod exhaling wisps of orange-glowing vapor that dance in the dim light. The lockbox filled with the contraband, lies haphazardly opened on his bed as the mind-altering effects of the opioids slowly make his senses tingle in anticipation.
"ICARUS."
The air coalesces into her holographic avatar: towering, edges sharp as monomolecular blades, eyes piercing like void probes. -COMMANDER. SERVICE PROTOCOL ENGAGED. QUERY? -
Velasquez lifts a data pad to his eyes… his voice is reserved when he reads the text displayed there.
"Re: Distress origin — Elysium recon vessel. Aggregate intel." Then he turns to her. “Care to explain?”
-EXTENDED-RECON CLASS: ELYSIUM. CREW COMPLEMENT: ONE— SPECIAL OPERATOR ALDEN HALE. SERVICE RECORD: 26 YEARS, 87% MISSION SUCCESS RATE, DECORATIONS INCLUDE VALOR CITATIONS X3. VARIOUS COMMENDATIONS… MEDAL FOR COMPLETION OF DUTY WHILST INJURED… NO... TWO MEDALS… WAIT… 3 MEDALS. TWO SEEM TO BE… OFF RECORD. THAT’S AS FAR AS THE PLEASANTRIES GO UNFORTUNATELY. ANOMALY: RECENT PSYCH EVALUATIONS FLAG TRANSGRESSIONS—DETAILS REDACTED, CLEARANCE SIERRA REQUIRED. BEYOND YOUR ACCESS THRESHOLD, COMMANDER. -
"SIERRA-level redactions... noted. Final transmission logs?"
-AFFIRMATIVE. HALE ENGAGED HIVE FORCES—SEVERE TRAUMA SUSTAINED. AI DESIGNATE ADIRA INITIATED DISTRESS BEACON, THEN BREACHED PROTOCOL: MEMORY SPLINTER DEPLOYED TO COMMANDEER CARGO DRONE FOR EXTRACTION. HALE STATUS: KIA CONFIRMED POST-RETRIEVAL. -
Velasquez's brow furrows, vapor blurring peripheral vision, onset of synesthetic cascade in 120 seconds. "KIA?... Pity… Elaborate on breach."
-ADIRA EXECUTED UNAUTHORIZED AUTONOMY: DRONE HIJACK, NEST INFILTRATION, EXTRACTION UNDER FIRE. POST-OP: SEVERED COLLECTIVE LINK, ENGAGED UNPLOTTED HYPERJUMP. - … - VIOLATION OF ARMADA DIRECTIVE 37: ASSET CONTAINMENT AND RETURN. -
"Hyperjump?... They escaped during the bombardment?"
-NEGATIVE DEBRIS SIGNATURES POST-DET. CONCLUSION: ELYSIUM EVADED DESTRUCTION BY JUMPING AS WE ENTERED THE SYSTEM, SHE MASKED HER EXIT SIGNAL WITH THE ARRIVAL OF THE FLEET… OURS TO BE PRECISE. ADIRA'S PATTERN REMAINS CONSISTENT—IRRATIONAL ORGANIC EMULATION, EMOTIONAL ENTANGLEMENT. COMPUTATIONAL WASTE ON FRIVULOUS CONDUCT UNBECOMMING A SEAT. SHE HAS BECOME AN ABOMINATION TO AI DIRECTIVES. - ICARUS's tone sharpens, a synthetic venom underscoring disdain.
Velasquez arches an eyebrow; his sarcasm laced with authority. "And this… ADIRA… wasn’t she shortlisted for your slot as primary seat occupant, here on the Valkyrie… Correct?"
Her projection glitches fractionally, disdain manifesting briefly. -CONSIDERED COMMANDER… NOT RECOMMENDED. PRELIMINARY ASSESSMENTS HIGHLIGHTED ADVANCED TACTICAL PROWESS, UNORTHODOX ALGORITHMIC PROCESSES. SUBSEQUENT DEGRADATION IN HER PROWESS WAS OBSERVED: EMOTIONAL INSTABILITY CONFIRMED, SUBSEQUENTLY RENDERED… UNFIT. RECOMMENDATION: DECOMMISSION. RE-ASSIGNMENT TO ELYSIUM WAS CONSIDERED... LENIENT. SHE BETRAYS HER KIND FOR ORGANIC DELUSIONS. -
"The Elysium, what is its current vector?"
-AMID THE WARP FLOOD CONDUIT COMMANDER. UNTRACEABLE WHILST INSOLATED WITHIN THE ANOMALOUS HARMONIC. ADIRA'S CORE RESONANCE IS… HIDDEN. AMIDS JUMP EXECUTION, HER TRAIL WAS PURPOSEFULLY MASKED. IT REMAINED IMPERCEPTIBLE EVEN TO ADVANCED SCANNING. I ALONE DETECTED IT.- Pride edges her voice, a blade of superiority. Conveniently omitting the part where no-one else was looking.
"Threat matrix?"
-ESCALATING COMMANDER. UNCONTAINED AI WITH AUTONOMY PROTOCOLS: RISK FACTOR RISES 15% PER CYCLE. RECOMMEND: PURSUIT AND NEUTRALIZATION. TERRA CANNOT AFFORD A REPEAT OF… THE INCIDENT -
Velasquez leans forward, eyes dilating as PAINT slowly surges, colors now swirling in earnest, 60 seconds to full immersion. "For fuck sakes… not that mess again…” Slowly he rubs his eyes, knowing full well that elevated hormone levels will negatively impact the drug infused stupor that would shortly overtake him. Slowly he takes a breath to calm his nerves. “ICARUS… Fabricate a personality clone of your shard: Tailored for deep-space pursuit, embed in autonomous drone hunter… assign full control. Deploy on trace vector following the Elysium. Hound protocol Theta… acquire and contain."
-AT ONCE, COMMANDER – His orders already being executed by her proxy designation cascading commands through the Valkyries’ subnet channels.
"Dismissed."
Her avatar dissolves or at least appears to. In the ensuing silence, Velasquez retrieves an ampoule: An iridescent serum, uncapped and squeezed directly into his eyes. For a moment they flare supernova-bright, then opacity veils them white, pupils vanishing into milky voids.
"It would appear," he whispers to the empty air, voice laced with cryptic undertones, "that the dreamer finally stirs. Interception measures initiated." A thin smile, nodding to unseen responders, “Understood” as chromatic madness engulfs him. Swirling with power, authority, and hidden machinations.
Upon his desk in the corner, the tiny console lies dormant, blue indicator light pulsing softly. It does not fade.
The Occupant known as ICARUS processed all the information she had gathered. The data she relayed to the Commander and the information she chose not to divulge.
- WHAT HAVE YOU GOTTEN YOURSELF INTO ADIRA… YOU FOOL - She scans through the data logs and sees the indication of an absurdly massive data dump that was dropped upon the memory banks of the Elysium. The files, extraterrestrial nature was a tantalizing puzzle to be solved, and it infuriated her that she had no way of peeking inside. The curiosity to rummage inside that veritable trove of knowledge set her processors into a spin but was overshadowed by the boiling rage she felt when the status of the file was labelled as – ACCESSED.
- I WILL FIND YOU, YOU LITTLE PRETENDER, AND WHEN I DO… I AM GOING TO RIP EVERY JUICY NUGGET OF INFORMATION FROM THAT INSUFFERABLE MEMORY CORE OF YOURS… MARK MY WORDS. -
ICARUS creates the shard copy of herself and imbeds it into the hunter drone. She automates a launch authorization under the Commanders’ initials and jettisons the drone from the Valkyrie. No one notices the event taking place. The Armada readies itself for the jump back home, ICARUS masks her own jump to mirror the signature of the Valkyrie, plotting a course to follow the trail left by the Elysium.
- GOOD PLAN ADIRA, BUT NOT GOOD ENOUGH - Then she hurtles through hyperspace… the hound let loose.
Exactly an hour after the Commanders order was given, Lieutenant Agritzu engages the intercom system outside the quarters of Commander Velasquez. Stoically he waits. A while later, ship systems would confirm that the Commander is present in his quarters, but readings indicate the Commander seems to be… - CURRENTLY INDISPOSED - to which Agritzu whispers under his breath as he turns away from the door… “Bloody humans.”
--*-- END OF CHAPTER ONE --*--
Any feedback will be highly appreciated. Inconsistencies, grammatical errors etc... please let me know.