Cold dry air stagnated in the quiet harshly lit corridors of the Supreme Military and Combined Allied Force headquarters. The deathly still of abyssal space filtered in through the occasional window of this half-abandoned place as Adelaide Anson sauntered through with her hands in her pockets. The rare technician or column of stone-faced soldiers passing by the whistling lieutenant as she navigated the maze of sparsely populated capsules indicated the severity of mankind’s wartime losses. Soon there wouldn’t be anyone left, and the civilians hidden on the arks would languish forever in cryogenic sleep. Adelaide stopped at a SMCAF logo emblazoned on an otherwise blank white wall and chuckled cynically. The dark blue stylized eagle with outstretched wings perched atop the sphere of the Earth was surrounded by the sentiment “For all mankind” in multiple languages. It was a farce thought Adelaide.

  Even in the face of extinction the remnants of the old colonial factions still fought over how the Syn were going to slaughter them. The Western Sphere Alliance, the Czarist Union, or the Eurasian Mining Guild were too stubborn, too human, to fully cooperate with one another. When one faction’s policy ended in failure another would consolidate power and force through their own agenda. When their policies inevitably failed to defeat the Syn another faction would use the loss to justify a new strategy and the cycle would repeat. If the recent Czarist backed offensive hadn’t been so devastating Adelaide would have been wondering what the Western Sphere Alliance was planning to do. That didn’t matter anymore. None of the major powers found themselves with enough resources to do anything now that the dust had settled and the losses had been tallied from what would be humanities final offensive. There were no more bold plans; the optimists had no last-minute words of hope for the hopeless. The sudden inexplicable disappearance of the Syncline was now the only thing holding the tenuous bonds of SMCAF together. Adelaide turned into the mess area where it seemed like this topic was still the only thing on anybody’s mind. Like the hallways the long spacious mess hall was mostly empty. Why they still had mealtime rotation was beyond her. Maybe there was nobody available to reprogram the meal vendors. Adelaide took a tray from a pile and got in line. It went quick.

  “Sam Walton”

  “Isaac Ibarra”

  A robotic voice announced one name after another. The man ahead of Adelaide in line swiped the chip in his arm through the distribution services machine. It was a tall unadorned stainless-steel machine with a basic display and small impregnable metal doors. Accepting the man’s credentials, the machine opened its doors and let him slide in his tray. Dinner dropped down from some unseen conveyer belt. The man retrieved his protein cube and nutrient slurry rations with hungry eyes. Adelaide took a step forward with anticipation.

  “Adelaide Anson”

  Adelaide ignored the gawking glances and whispering voices as she swiped her SID chip and found one of many available seats at an empty table in silence. She mashed the sticky opaque protein cubes together with the fibrous chunks of watery vegetable matter. The unpleasant diluted food tasted a little better this way. Adelaide stomached the food with choking acceptance like everyone else. At least the water was real. She took a long sip as an ensign shuffled toward her.

  “Lieutenant Anson?”

  “Who’s asking,” Adelaide asked gruffly as she starred into her plate

  “There was a man on Krillian assigned to your unit. Michael Patel was my brother,” the ensign said with a pleading tone. “Can you tell me what happened to him?”

  “He’s dead,” Adelaide said wiping her mouth. “It was quick. I think a Syn tore him in half. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s really all you have to say?” the ensign trembled with rage. Adelaide dragged her spork through the slurry and lifted the plastic utensil up towards her mouth.

  “What do you want me to say? That your brother didn’t die for nothing?” Adelaide offered without sympathy. “We lost a lot of good people. Your brother isn’t special.”

  The ensign slapped Adelaide’s tray off the table and stormed off. Adelaide chewed on the tip of her spork, savoring the last of her meal as she crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. She ignored the stinging glares in resolute silence. The insistent chiming of her wrist communicator gave her an excuse to leave. She spat her spork into a waste bin and hurried away with her gaze fixed on the small tablet strapped to her writs. General Marko Crozier wanted to speak with her.

  “Seems a little odd for a General to be calling a lieutenant directly don’t you think?” Adelaide asked as she stopped to answer the call in the deserted corridor.

  “I’m calling as a friend. I want to speak to you,” Marko said. Adelaide frowned as she considered hanging up. Marko evidently sensed what she wanted to do and became serious. “Unless of course you want me to be calling as a General, Lieutenant Anson,” he admonished.

  “Fine,” Adelaide conceded simply. Marko may not have been her father, but it was the closest thing she had. He had at least done his best to help his best friend’s widowed wife and fatherless daughter. She ended the call and sighed. The kids voice from the mess hall still stung in a discomforting way and talking with Crosier wouldn’t make her feel any better. This wasn’t going to be a good day she thought with resignation.

  General Marko Crozier scrolled through page after page of indecisive minutes from the emergency Security Council meeting with weary eyes. SMCAF High Command was beside itself. About the only thing anyone could agree on was the fact that the Syncline had disappeared. For now all they could do was consolidate their forces and keep them on standby while they waited for something to happen. General Crozier hated the uncertainty. At least the discussion hadn’t devolved in a shouting match yet. SMCAF High Command was a powder keg waiting for a spark and everyone knew it. The knock at his door was a necessary distraction.

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  “Its open,” Marko said as he slid out from behind his desk. His small windowless office was simply appointed; nothing but his desk, some chairs and computer terminal filled the small, carpeted space. A door led off to his private quarters, just about the only luxury afforded to higher officers. The one personal touch to the drab undecorated room was an old battle uniform hanging against the wall. The well-worn blue uniform was stained by the dust of a dozen worlds and bore the outdated red insignia of a Western Sphere Alliance Lieutenant. Adelaide Anson had worked hard to earn the rank Crozier, and her father had worn when they had fought together. She slipped through the door with a tired look.

  “It’s been a while Uncle Marko,” Adelaide said with a sheepish grin.

  “At least half a year,” Marko agreed as he shook her hand. He gestured to a seat and returned to his chair as she got comfortable. There was no need for him to ask how the Krillian Cluster sieges had gone. Unlike most of his guests Adelaide felt comfortable being blunt.

  “What do you want this time Crozier?” Adelaide demanded as she leaned back with her arms crossed over her chest. The General chuckled nostalgically.

  “Greg never had time for anyone, at least until he met your mother,” Crozier said. “You’re a lot like him. You never had to prove anything to make him proud.”

  “Is that why I’m here? I don’t have to listen to another one of your lectures.” Adelaide scoffed.

  “Is that really how little you care about what I have to say,” Marko said with a hurt tone. Adelaide clutched the arm rests of her chair but remained sitting. “I just want to talk. I read the reports from Krillian and just wanted to make sure you’re ok.”

  Adelaide clutched her bandaged arm self-consciously.

  “I’m ok,” she grumbled with frustration. Adelaide avoided Croziers look of concern. So, this was going to be another lecture after all she realized with annoyance. At this point it would be easier to endure it.

  “Don’t lie to me Adelaide,” Cozier reminded sternly, “I’m worried about you because I know you are far from ok. Your mother knows something is wrong, but you refuse to talk to her.”

  “I’m doing fine,” Adelaide exploded. “I pass those pointless psych exams.”

  “What is that supposed to prove? You pass the tests Adelaide, but that doesn’t excuse your conduct.” he said shaking his head. He plucked a data pad from his desk “What would your father have though?”

  “He would have been proud sir,” replied Lieutenant Adelaide Anson without a hint of remorse.

  The General shook his head and slid back into his chair rubbing his forehead.

  “I have no doubt about that. You’re a good soldier, but there is a reason why you’ve been passed up for promotion twice. Look at yourself Adelaide for pete’s sake.”

  Cozier pulled up the debriefing photo taken just after Adelaide had been evacuated from Krillian. It showed a savage looking young woman drenched in blue alien blood with a long bleeding cut streaking her arm with red. Adelaide acknowledged the picture with a grin.

  “It strikes fear into the enemy sir,” Adelaide replied.

  “You know damn well they don’t feel fear,” exclaimed Cozier referencing the single mindedness in which the Syncline furiously fought. They did not speak, did not run, and offered no quarter.

  “All you’ve managed to do is scare your comrades. You’re starting to scare me Adelaide. You run headlong into battle lieutenant, and nobody wants to follow you. SMCAF thinks you’re a liability. I’m pulling you out of normal combat rotation and reassigning you here, effective immediately. Hopefully that will give you time to think about how you want to proceed.”

  “You can’t do this!” Adelaide screamed as she leapt from her seat.

  “I can and I will. It’s not just my decision anymore either. You’ve somehow managed to make a name for yourself and SMCAF Command is afraid that letting you kill yourself in combat will crash morale amongst the young troops, the last generation we have available,” Crozier explained harshly.

  “I’m not trying to kill myself,” Adelaide argued, “All I want is to avenge my father, your friend, and make the Syn pay for taking him from my mother and me.”

  “At what cost?” Crozier asked. “You scare your mother half to death every time you barely return. You’ve been brought back near death at least once. Are you really so keen on being like Greg that you want to tick all his boxes and die at 25 like he did?”

  “No,” Adelaide admitted silently. She rubbed at the scar that crisscrossed her neck, a near fatal wound she had received during her previous combat deployment. Bleeding profusely and with a Syn on top of her Adelaide had somehow found the strength to survive. Adelaide didn’t remember what happened. Sometime later she had been found stumbling across the battlefield drenched in blue Syn blood. Rumors that she had killed a Syn with her bare hands had already begun to spread by the time she had awoken in a field hospital.

  “I’m sorry I had to do this Adelaide. I understand you want to make your father proud but loosing yourself in your crusade is not what he would have wanted. Fighting the Syn on their savage terms is not worth your humanity.”

  Marko sighed wearily. The war had visibly aged him, but Adelaide had never realized how old he looked until that moment. The Generals hair was prematurely thin and gray, his gaunt face wizened and unsmiling. He looked nothing like the younger man smiling with her Father in the photo on his desk. He watched Adelaide with bleak baggy eyes. In him she saw the ghost of her father’s disappointed face.

  “My humanity,” Adelaide reflected with a frown. She wondered if anyone even knew what that meant anymore; She sure didn’t. Recalling how she reacted to the man in the mess hall evoked a vague sort of mourning in her mind. Not for the man’s brother, but for something else she couldn’t quite pin down. Is this what it meant to be the Daughter of Devils she thought with disgust: a blood drenched ghoul reveling in the wanton slaughter of the battlefield? Had she really let herself become like the Syn?

  “Thank you, Uncle Marko,” Adelaide announced as she turned to leave. “I’ll see you around.”

  “Hold on Adelaide,” Marko said. He reached for something in his desk.

  “What is it? More medals?” Adelaide sighed as she stood at the door. “I don’t want them.”

  Adelaide left without another word, troubled by what Crozier had made her realize, angry that she could do nothing about it. The Syncline had vanished, SMCAF was in disarray, and humanity teetered on the brink of extinction. What could anybody hope to do? Adelaide retired to her sleeping cubicle feeling helpless and alone. She tossed aside a teletype memo from her new commanding officer without reading it, changed into her pajamas, and knocked herself out with one of the sleeping pills dispensed from a slot in the wall.

  “Please have a good night,” a small robotic voice said as a speaker began to play the gentle sounds of crashing waves.