Aedan's heart violently leapt into his throat, and dread mercilessly twisted his gut as he fought a rising panic.
He couldn't believe it. He'd been so careful. So meticulous. So thorough... But reality was cruel.
Reality was pain, and suffering, and misery. And it was here to collect its due.
His jaw tensed hard enough for his teeth to creak, his hands clenched into shaking fists as utter disbelief, and unrestrained rage contorted his face into a scary tableau. Scorching hot fury burned his throat, his mouth went bone dry, and red crept into his vision.
The flood of emotions was so intense and overwhelming that it frightened him into a small semblance of clarity. He grabbed the split second with all his willpower, forcibly shut his eyes, and started silently counting as he shakily fell into a practiced breathing exercise.
Inhale for four seconds, hold for seven, and exhale for eight...
The first two cycles were excruciating, his lungs screamed for air, and every heartbeat jackhammered in his chest like a galloping horse. His racing heart slowed around the fourth cycle, and his lungs no longer felt like they were on fire.
The fifth cycle brought about a qualitative change in his bearing: his heart rate fell into a soft and steady rhythm. His face smoothed out as all traces of panic vanished beneath an emotionless mask that smoothly settled over his features. He took a slow, deep breath with closed eyes as a cold peace permeated his soul.
An unbidden memory surfaced as he greeted the sensation like an old friend.
----------------------------------------
He was sixteen, uncontrollably shaking and hyperventilating as he lowered a smoking sidearm, its firm weight feeling like one of the heaviest things he'd ever held.
The stench of burning flesh and ionization hung heavily in the air.
He wanted to vomit. He wanted to look away. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t stop looking at the lifeless eyes staring back at him. 'Why?' they asked- a look of uncomprehending sorrow and terror permanently etched onto the paling face beneath them.
Bile churned in the pit of Aedan's stomach, and, unable to resist any longer; he went to turn aside to hurl away from the body. Some part of him felt he owed the woman at least that much. But before he could, a hand roughly clamped down on his shoulder in an iron grip. The sudden, intense pressure caused him to yelp in equal parts surprise and pain. His urge to vomit vanished, suppressed only by his fear.
"Look!" an old, gravely man's voice angrily rasped over his shoulder.
Aedan involuntarily flinched at the voice and instantly fell still. Then, finally, he reluctantly looked back at the motionless woman.
One of her legs spasmed. Aedan gagged.
The hand jostled him, "Look, and learn. You must understand death. To accept its presence," the old man lazily lectured.
The pressure on Aedan's shoulder increased two-fold, causing tears to spring to the corners of his eyes. He clenched his jaw until it hurt more than the pain in his shoulder. He wasn't about to make a sound in the old man's presence. Aedan had been through worse... lived through worse... pain. The pain he could deal with. But this? This was a different sort of pain. He'd never murdered another person. He'd killed animals for survival- food, water, and shelter. No. He was no stranger to death… To killing. He'd killed for others’ entertainment and training. But that had been simple math. It had been either him or them. Life or death. He hadn’t thought any deeper than that. There wasn’t a need.
Gazing at the lifeless woman, he felt wrong- overwhelmed with a strong need to submit himself for punishment. An invisible weight pressed down on his shoulders. He felt dirty. Like there was an irrevocable stain on his soul, he suddenly felt lost. Directionless. He needed to know what to do with these emotions. Was it wrong to feel how he felt? Would… this feeling ever end?
"Do you see it?" the old man softly asked, his frigid tone uncaring of the innocence it was brutally dissecting.
"How fragile... how insubstantial... how pointless," the voice coldly snorted, the venomous words eating away at the foundation of everything Aedan thought he understood. It hurt. Something inside of him hurt at those words. A profound sense of discomfort swept through him.
"Her life was empty," the old voice smoothly wove an oddly nihilistic comfort around the throat of Aedan's struggling consciousness... and then squeezed, "Do not burden yourself with the taking of it."
Aedan didn't know when, but he had started trembling.
The old man didn't stop him. However, he did pause before continuing in that same tone. Devoid of either inflection or tone. Dead. "Emotions are chains. They will restrict every second of your miserable life until they get you killed."
"And morality is for historians," the voice scoffed, its tone brimming with derision—a pause.
The hand's pressure on Aedan's shoulder diminished. "So turn it off. Let go. Release the voice that pleads; that begs for justice; that demands the best of you. It is nothing. You are nothing. Even I, am nothing. Life... is meaningless." The hand withdrew, leaving Aedan rooted in place, his gaze fixated on the body. A frenzy of conflicting emotions in his reddened eyes.
"Again," the old voice commanded.
Aedan's eyes tore away from the body in time to see a doorway open at the opposite end of the chamber, admitting two matte-black armored figures with exquisite shoulder pauldron ornamentations depicting golden, roaring lions.
Honor Guards! A chill traveled down Aedan's back at the sight of the two approaching hulks.
The Honor Guards dragged a man between them beneath his armpits. His wrists were bound behind his back and ankles together. They came to standing attention before Aedan and paused. One of the guards took up supporting the listless man while the other roughly moved the woman's corpse out of the way. The other guard released the man, who collapsed to the floor like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
He lay there, groaning and unmoving.
The Honor guards then pounded a fist to their chests in synchrony, the sound ominously echoing throughout the spacious chamber. They then turned on their heels and marched through the same door.
"And this time, Five," the old voice rasped, "I want to see you let go."
Tears threatened to spill from the corners of Aedan's eyes as he stared down at the man lying bound at his feet.
The sidearm shook in his hand.
Some faint footsteps and the swish of a cape sounded as the old man turned his back on Aedan and walked away. "You will continue until I am satisfied with your performance," the voice spoke out from some unknown distance. "And don't be concerned with ammunition or volunteers," Aedan could hear the old man smiling, "-there are plenty of both."
----------------------------------------
Aedan's eyes slowly opened, and his cold gaze latched onto the approaching fleet of familiar ships. Their arrival only meant one thing: an end to the precarious life he’d established for himself.
There was only one thing to do now. Survive.
The beginnings of a feasible plan unraveled in his mind’s eye, and without waiting another moment, he took off. The thuds of his footfalls started slow, gradually coming closer and closer together as he picked up momentum until his arms and legs were pumping in a blur as he bounded down the open corridor. His fast and hard breaths mixed with the song of adrenaline pounding in his ears and the blaring DPS reverberating through his helmet until it became a jumbled jigsaw puzzle of competing noises.
He dismissed multiple diagnostic warnings one after another to keep his field of view relatively clear, one final message informing him that his microgravity generator was nearly overheating because of how fast he was running and had less than half of its power supply remaining.
His jaw clenched with focus after acknowledging the last prompt, and his eyes narrowed with determination as his figure darted past flashing emergency lights and sealed routes.
His mind, however, raced faster than his feet. He didn’t like the expected conclusion. Not at all. But there was little he could do to prevent it. He could only react to the situation, biding his time until he could seize the initiative.
A short, pre-recorded emergency message from the station’s A.I. suddenly began repeatedly playing over his disabled communications module, warning him that continued disregard of the navigational markers indicating the nearest designated evacuation hangar would result in contract forfeiture and subsequent legal action.
He ignored it without hesitation, opening his eyes and mind to process any critical suit functionality warnings while quickly closing everything and maintaining a constant pace.
A flickering ‘Hazard: Maintenance Area Ahead’ hologram along the wall streaked past his peripherals as he was halfway through a corridor curving further out toward the station’s exterior.
He arrived at the end of the hall, its structure tapering down to accommodate the unfinished framework of a descending clamber tube. He grabbed the upper support railing without pause and practically threw himself feet-first down the tube, descending two to three rungs at a time as he intermittently dropped and used his upper body strength to grab the rungs. His shoulders fiercely burned within seconds, and, glancing down, he gauged the remaining distance to the bottom before releasing his grip and dropping.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
His suit’s FFA (Free Fall Arrest) system rapidly engaged after registering two or more meters of free fall conditions, initiating a nanosecond power transfer surge to his microgravity generator from every other onboard system. The transfer overclocked the small generator for the barest hint of a moment, resulting in its output quadrupling and noticeably slowing Aedan’s descent so that when he slammed down into a low crouch at the tube’s base, his knees remained unbroken.
Without losing another second, Aedan was already up and moving, though slower than before, forced to temper his frenzied pace as he fluidly maneuvered through the chaotic maintenance zone of the Lower Cluster. The already convoluted layout of the room became that much more difficult to navigate under only the glow of emergency lights.
He was ducking beneath some automated scaffolding when he nearly lost his footing as the surroundings trembled, forcing him to grab onto anything nearby to stabilize himself until it passed. A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes as he pushed off the crisscrossing scaffolding with a growl to vault over a workbench, knocking off containers of adhesives and sealants strewn across its surface.
The objects gently floated to the floor in his wake as he wove around protruding machinery, uneven cargo containers, and neatly arranged squares of kinetic suppression tarps covering half-assembled industrial-grade drills and saws until he finally reached the area below the upper landing. Craning his head back to get a better look, his eyes narrowed. He quickly looked around the available room and spied a moderately sized container. Rushing to its side, he activated the Omnitool.
Its holographic azure glow sparked to life as it illuminated a small space around him.
His expression turned grim as his experienced eyes noted significant differences; only three-quarters of the usual quantity of matrices were active, which should've stabilized the drain on his suit’s power supply. But, even then, the glow was dimmer than usual.
He was running out of time. And as though to punctuate his thoughts, a few warning messages appeared across his HUD; low oxygen and power.
He dismissed the warnings with a glance, he wasn't surprised. Maintenance suits weren't meant for acrobatics and sprinting, and neither were microgravity generators. Some of his onboard systems were already on their last legs, which only made him move with more urgency despite the danger. Because when they went down, he was going to be moving that much slower to avoid spacing himself once he got 'outside' again by accidentally jumping too hard or turning a corner too fast.
He placed the palm of his left hand on the cargo container's M-pad and keyed the distribution feature, which synced the container's external sensors to the Omnitool.
He slowly moved away, and with a whirring groan and the creak of stiff metal, the container lifted itself a few centimeters off the ground and slowly followed behind him at a snail's pace.
Weak, thrumming pulses traveled down his left arm as the Omnitool's already weakened power supply and processing speeds barely kept up with maintaining a steady connection.
A powerful tremor suddenly ran through the station, throwing Aedan off his feet and severing the Omnitool's connection with the cargo container, which dropped to the floor and skidded in place with an ear-rending metallic screech.
The sound was muted only by the absolute madness of every piece of construction equipment in the room jostling or crashing into something. And then it was over.
Aedan punched the floor hard enough to make his knuckles ache before picking himself up with a frustrated look. He dismissed a small flood of warning prompts and raised his left hand, examining the flickering Omnitool with a critical eye. Overheated connectors, fused circuits, and sputtering electrochemical regulators were some of the more glaring issues immediately visible.
The Omnitool deactivated with an azure flash and a frustrated arm wave before he looked at the dropped container. By some minor miracle, it had landed relatively close to where he needed it, which probably saved his life. He fucking hated luck.
The words: 'Incoming Transmission - Audio Only' appeared across his HUD. ‘And speaking of luck,’ Aedan mused, starting the search for another moveable cargo container.
The message's appearance pushed the constant drone of the emergency DPS into the background. It cleared out the rest of his HUD to make space for an audio tab recorder window displaying the caller's identification credentials.
"You despicable, low-life son of a bitch..." Brence's voice filled Aedan's helmet, boiling with barely restrained anger.
Aedan's expression, however, didn't change, and he continued trying to find nearby cargo containers he could manually sync to without the Omnitool and program them to travel to the staging area beneath the upper landing. Unfortunately, most of the nearest ones' power supplies were long inert. The rest were probably the same, but he kept trying.
"I thought we had an understanding... I went out of my way. I showed you leniency, and you promised me nothing would happen- you promised!" Brence's voice grew louder with every word until he was roaring, causing the speakers to crackle. "And now, there's a Fringer fleet outside the station threatening to-"
"This wasn't me," Aedan coldly interjected with a grunt as he hefted a small container against his side and hoisted it up to drop on top of the larger container. He'd quickly decided to stack smaller containers on the one he did manage to move into position. So, he stood back and examined the remaining distance. He needed one more, and then he could make it to the ledge by disabling his microgravity generator. The thing was about to give out anyway. He started hunting for another small container, scouting past corners and peering at high-shelving units.
"What?" Brence asked, his tone laced with incredulous disbelief.
Aedan didn't bother replying and instead pushed aside a shelf full of heavy hardware boxes to peer closer at the more distant shelves and spaces, hoping to spot what he was looking for.
"You- how-" Brence sputtered, cutting himself off as he couldn't properly vocalize his anger. "You expect me-"
"It's the Fifth Sophresian Fleet of Delta-Z.U.R," Aedan factually spoke, rummaging through a tool supply locker he'd stumbled onto, looking for a handheld chemlight that might help him navigate this mess. Unfortunately, he was running out of time, and Brence couldn’t be trusted with all the information.
Aedan’s best bet was to allay any suspicions about himself and quickly and quietly get off this station before it was boarded. Once free and clear, he could pilot a small shuttle over one of the planet's poles. The electromagnetic field variations should reliably confuse any sensor sweeps of the planet and allow him to lay low until the fleet had plundered everything of value and moved on.
"Sophresians!" Brence growled with realization. "So you do know what's going on?" He asked, no longer shouting but still harboring a burning ember of certainty at Aedan's involvement. He wouldn't believe anything otherwise- there were too many coincidences.
On the other hand, Aedan had finally found another container small enough to carry back to the loading area and sturdy enough to support his weight. He hefted the box and held it at a comfortable chest height before pulling up one of the few still-functioning interface menus on his HUD and engaging the hydraulic lock-lift mechanism in his shoulders and elbows.
Whir-snick, Whir-snick! The hydraulic locks positioned along the sides of his suit's upper extremity joints clicked into place, removing tremendous strain on Aedan's upper body as he returned with the container.
"I have some idea," Aedan absently replied, his mind already focusing on his next steps once he reached the upper landing.
There was a route that would take him deeper into the Lower Cluster, and if nothing significant had changed, he would reach one of the few major maintenance access lifts that would bring him to the Central Cluster in mere seconds compared to the five-hour hike it would take on foot. Once there, he would use some of the lesser-known routes to get closer to Hangar Bay Seven, which was undergoing major life support repairs and structural maintenance due to coolant leaks in the flight observation command deck.
He'd worked with a small team on some of those carbon dioxide scrubbers in the life support module, and he knew there were still three shuttles parked on the flight deck. He'd need to bypass the flight controls and open the hangar doors, but only after initiating a diagnostic check on the shuttle to ensure the cabin was pressurized and the fuel line was full. Otherwise, he should be good. It sounded easy enough. And Aedan was just experienced and determined enough to pull it off. But every second he spent in the lower section because of his faulty equipment meant less room for error once he neared the end of his plan. There were way too many places where everything could fall apart.
"Explain," Brence commanded.
Aedan condescendingly smirked to himself but still shared some of his thoughts. As loath as he was to admit it, he was entirely at Brence’s mercy.
The press of a button was all it would take for a kill signal to depressurize his suit.
"They're here for the Thealium," Aedan said plainly, arriving at the larger container and disabling the hydraulic locks. He then freely raised the box over his shoulders and carefully placed it beside the other small container.
"The- but how- that would mean-" Brence's voice faltered as he fell into thought.
"Someone's been talking, Section Head," Aedan sniffed, bending down and jumping up to grab the larger container's edge with both hands. He heaved himself up to waist height and threw a leg over the edge, pushing himself onto the large container with a huff and standing. He patted himself down, checking for any tears in his suit pants. He couldn't hear the hiss of escaping oxygen, so he assumed all was well.
"We don't know that! What even makes you think it’s a possibility?" Brence was rightfully furious; he couldn't imagine a corporate employee who would leak intelligence to Fringers. It didn't make sense.
Employee wages were based on the productivity, output, and importance of the materials or products produced at their respective facilities. An employee purposefully opening their workplace to a raid meant losing their routine salary until a corporate core repair team cleared the facility for production again. The process could take up to a year, especially considering a station's distance from the nearest star base and the quality of its products.
Thealium could easily be sold for a tidy profit considering its durability, but even assuming the raiders upheld their end of the bargain and split a small percentage of the cut with whoever informed them about the pending shipment transfer, the amount wouldn't even come close to how much that informant would make just by working for half a year as they usually would.
Aedan’s brow furrowed at Brence’s outburst. He felt like he was dealing with a child.
The Section Head was a career military man who’d undoubtedly seen his fair share of tragedy, betrayal, and bloodshed. Yet, there wasn’t a logical reason for him to be acting this way. So… there must be something illogical influencing him.
A sharp glimmer passed through Aedan’s eyes. "Occam's razor, Brence. You're asking the wrong questions." Aedan replied, decidedly dispensing with any semblance of formality as he focused on hefting the second smaller container and stacking it on top of the first. Once done, he pressed down on it with considerable force, the box’s surface tension held and without exhibiting even the slightest bend.
“That’s- wait, how do you know about the shipment? Those docking schedules are classified.” Brence suddenly questioned, seemingly having caught up in the conversation.
Aedan couldn’t help but snort with amusement, “It shouldn’t come as a surprise…” he said, starting to climb onto the smaller boxes, “-that despite what my regularly updated psych profile says…” he got his feet beneath him on top of the box and started to rise, “-I haven’t only recently started making friends.”
“Fine,” Brence growled, then sighed, “let’s assume-“
“What do they want?” Aedan suddenly asked, balancing atop all three stacked cargo containers.
The only thing left to do now would have been to deactivate his microgravity generator and jump with all his strength.
But an interesting notion gave him pause- what if there was a better solution? If the fleet was here just for a raid run, all Brence needed to do was send a small squad of mineral runners out to intercept the fleet and offload the Thealium shipment. Though they’d probably take the pilots hostage, demand additional ransom, and steal the ships. Still, it was a small price to pay compared with the station being aggressively ransacked and the potential loss of hundreds of lives as the raiders rushed to beat the corporate fleet’s response time with little regard for any collateral. It would also save Aedan the trouble of becoming a black lister on the corporate payroll after a body count was done and the inquisitors noticed a missing shuttle and checked the flight recorder or examined any surviving security footage- assuming the shuttle bay survived intact.
In any event, Aedan didn’t want to take the chance if there was any other option. He didn’t like what he turned into when his back was against the wall.
“Mm- what?” Brence stuttered, then heard what Aedan asked, “Oh, they haven’t made any demands yet.”
Aedan’s eyes narrowed, “At all?” A bad feeling prickled the back of his neck.
“None, I’ve even tried hailing them multiple-“ Brence’s voice was suddenly drowned out by an alarm that sounded on his end.
“Oh holy sh-“ Brence’s frantic shout was cut short as the suit’s communications module instantly snapped offline in a horrific burst of static.
Then every other onboard system in Aedan's suit winked out of existence as his HUD went blank.
And that was the last thing Aedan processed before an immense shockwave threw him clear into the air, and everything turned upside down.