Relative temporality: Ta6Lo63000

Zone: Sector I, outside of Zone “I”

Location: An alpha++ level prison system

Control: Security Institution, Sub-Institution of Order, Prison Department

Affiliation: Universal Administration [AU]

Cèllia Dimba bit into the little stellar ring-shaped cake with delight. Taking advantage of being alone in the control room, she let out a delighted trumpet with the help of her trumpet nose and waved her six ears in contentment.

She really, really loved her job. When her family learned that after her administrative exam, she had applied to the prison department, they were very worried. In the end, she had been assigned to a high-security facility, which had reassured them.

Here, all the prisoners were in stasis. She didn't have to walk through aisles full of small-time criminals, but nevertheless fearsome. In a prison of this type, she would have had to hang out with murderers, spreaders of fake news or incitement to hatred, religious fanatics, small-time terrorists, crooked politicians, identity forgers or bad guys who hadn't paid their taxes despite multiple reminders. Yes, really, she was very happy to find herself surrounded by criminals who had caused millions of deaths or endangered the entire universe: at least they weren't free to move around.

The computers suddenly issued a minor alert. Jumping, she shoveled the rest of her cake into her mouth in one go and turned to the screens. A ship was approaching. It was small… rather average in size, even. Its identifications were authorized, but no ship had been announced.

She used the mirror function of her smart-bubble to check that no crumbs remained stuck in her fur, then turned it off, reassured by her presentable appearance. She activated the communication that the local AI had prepared. This machine was quite limited in its initiative, like all local systems: it was one of the rare prisons relying on 100% biological personnel rather than on war robots and artificial intelligences advanced enough to demand citizenship and bonuses on public holidays.

A Ham, a female Hom, sat on the ship's command chair. She seemed uncomfortable as she sat down. Maybe she was going through a certain period?

Dimba turned her attention back to a digital plastic sheet on which the station's identifier was written. She recited it then announced that the access codes were valid, before asking to specify the name and reason for her interlocutor's visit.

Learning that it was an inspector, she nodded: yes, that made sense, only inspectors could come unannounced... Maybe the president or ministers too? She wasn't sure. The software confirmed the inspector's identity, so Dimba authorized the landing.

Once the communication was cut, she got in touch with the warden to inform him of the arrival of an inspector, then let him manage the panic of checking that everything was in order: it was not her problem. Turning back to the base's surveillance screens, she found her favorite “programs”. Spying on the private lives, especially the sentimental ones, of her colleagues was really entertaining. She picked a new cake. This one had a schematic star shape.

Really, she loved her job!

Vajhesa walked whistling down the corridor, her rifle slung over her shoulder. She was on patrol, but that just meant she was going to be walking through austere corridors with clean metallic reflections. The prisoners were behind these sliding walls, very far from each other and plunged into an eternal stasis. Frankly, if she didn't need to justify her pay, she wouldn't even patrol these corridors.

Normally, there had to be two in each patrol, but the colleague who should have come with her had pretended to have a stomach ache and hadn't come. Of course, this was serious professional misconduct in a prison that unofficially had the alpha-omega security level... But, in reality, the superiors were not narrow-minded and understood that these security measures were excessive. The fortress was surrounded by powerful shields, high-performance scanners, and weaponry capable of repelling a Zcarbb fleet, or even slowing down a Hogloo fleet: no one could enter the premises to free the prisoners, and none of them could free themselves.

“Oh! Vajh!”

Surprised, she turned around and was happily surprised to see Ruyoz coming towards her. She waved her long tail to greet her colleague and member of the same species.

“Ruyoz? What are you doing here?”

“Ah, it's Glemowome. She told me she couldn't come on patrol with you because she had a cold and didn't want to pass it on to you. So, she offered me to replace her.”

The cold? Wasn't that a stomach ache? This one really was unbelievable! Unable to keep her lies coherent for long. Vajhesa knew what the latter had in mind: she loved playing the role of matchmaker. In this case, it was a bit useless: even if they had not yet confessed their mutual feelings, Vajhesa and Ruyoz were perfectly aware of it, making the pleasure they felt in being together last longer without having gone any further for the moment. There was no point in rushing too much and both loved to let their relationship develop gradually.

Sliding on their long serpentine tails, they advanced through the corridors, cooing quietly while bantering about this and that.

Arriving in front of an armored door ending the corridor, they greeted the guards on duty. One of them gave them a disgusted look but refrained from any comment: as a fungoid, he had a bit of trouble supporting the notions of romance present in other species and felt uncomfortable in front of this couple. The other guard, a human, was warmer. After opening the door for them, he nevertheless added a warning:

“Watch out: in this direction there is an inspector who arrived not long ago. The boss has not yet warned everyone because he is first dealing with the sectors closer to the hangar. Be careful to behave professionally.”

“Come on,” Ruyoz joked, “we are very professional.”

“So,” their interlocutor replied with a smile, “try to have merciless looks instead of gentle ones.”

The two lovebirds stifled a snicker and quickly rushed through the door, continuing their patrol. However, once the door had closed, they adopted a slightly more serious attitude: an administrative inspection was not to be taken lightly.

Warden Poulan wiped one of his foreheads with one of his many tentacles. His second head was focused on the retransmission of the surveillance screens. He saw the inspector and two soldiers from the secret service, probably. The guards were greeting the arrivals in a completely formal manner and the holo-chess game in the hangar had been cleverly hidden in time: nothing to worry about on that side.

There had already been an inspection this year: why a second one? And a surprise on top of that? Had something gone wrong last time? No, not to his knowledge…

Blowing out of both heads, he tried to calm himself down. Everything was going to be okay. He couldn’t call everyone at once: the inspectors loved to check the message log for all the staff and they would understand the fact that he had warned his subordinates of their arrival, as if he had things to hide.

Yes, it was true that there was a certain relaxation of discipline. However, since there was no chance that anyone could break through the defense systems, then the security systems, there was nothing to fear anyway…

Perhaps he should go in person to meet the inspector, to welcome her? It would be more polite than waiting for her in his office. He got up and left the room, requisitioning the ten regulatory guards in the neighboring guard room for his movements within the prison. Usually, he moved alone, but here he would not have that leisure.

Ourdan Ferocia groaned as he looked at the time on his smart-bubble. What the hell was that idiot Caurian doing? Okay, he didn’t really consider him an idiot, but if the announced inspector ever came by while he was alone guarding the door, he would be asked where his comrade was and why he hadn’t reported his absence. It would be very bad for his record, not to mention Caurian’s.

Ferocia chewed nervously on the butt of his gun, then quickly removed it from his mouth and wiped the drool that had dripped onto its fur. Even if it was an instinctive habit of his people, he really should learn to control this instinct that commanded him to bite something when he was nervous.

A figure slowly approached in the corridor. A quadruped reptilian, but with a secondary torso at the front that was equipped with four arms. Finally: he was there.

“Hey Caurian! Can't you move a little faster? In case you don't know, there's an inspector coming by. How much time do you spend in the bathroom?”

“Sorry... Ourdan Ferocia... there were... complications.”

“Why are you calling me with my last name? And I don't want to know about your complications in the bathroom. Get back to your post and look serious. You were lucky not to have crossed paths with the inspector in this direction: that's where he's going to come from.”

Caurian took up position in front of the door without arguing.

“Well,” thought Ferocia, “at least he's already put himself in serious mode. There, it's solved: everything's going to be fine now.”

Ralgue Kropilan, the prison’s deputy warden, strode along, unwittingly outpacing his unfortunate colleague Ysspar. Very small in stature, this person slightly resembled a rat, although ten times larger, but he was far from matching the great strides of Kropilan, who looked more like a crocodile mounted on ostrich legs.

Having urgently registered as an “irregular patrol” and having recruited the little guard to accompany him, the deputy warden quickly checked that everything was in order in the sectors close to the inspector. Of course, the warden checked everything from the surveillance systems, but sometimes nothing replaced being on site and observing situations with one’s own eyes. Sometimes, details jumped out at you that would not be visible from a distance.

“Hey, Kropilan,” Ysspar protested, “don’t walk so fast!”

“What are you complaining about: you have combat armor, so use its abilities a little more to catch on me.”

“No, but relax: everyone in this area has been warned of the inspection. Even if they have relaxed a little, there are only serious people here. We have all passed the necessary psychological tests.”

The deputy warden stopped, his fingers nervously moving on his long snout. When his colleague had caught up with him, he apologized and explained his state of mind:

“Sorry Ysspar, I know I shouldn't be so nervous... But I have a bad feeling. It's stupid, it's just a feeling, but...”

“I know,” the little being cut him off gently, “it happened to me too during my studies: before each test. But tell yourself that everything is ready: what could go wrong?”

And the door opened.

Lying in a pool of blood, guard Ourdan Ferocia had been shot at point-blank range. His colleague, Caurian Glimarc, was still pointing the smoking barrel of his weapon at the corpse. When they arrived, he turned an expressionless, glassy-eyed gaze in their direction and calmly explained himself while turning his weapon towards them.

“Ah, come quickly: Ourdan Ferocia is very ill. Call the infirmary…”

Ysspar cursed in his native language as Kropilan collapsed, his body pierced by the traitor’s shots. His own weapon was already reacting to the threat and several rays of concentrated light had already pierced the assailant’s body after overloading his shields.

Mais, Glimarc ne s’effondra pas. Se jetant à couvert du cadavre de son supérieur, Ysspar poussa une nouvelle série de juron.

But Glimarc did not collapse. Throwing himself under cover of his superior's corpse, Ysspar let out a new series of curses. What was happening? He had destroyed several vital points?

His combat screens then transcribed something monstrous: Glimarc's body seemed to recompose itself at the holes, sucking up the blood spilled on the ground and leaving the corridor clean... Then, Ferocia stood up. His head, tilted at an improbable angle, straightened out and the holes in his body, then those in his uniform, disappeared.

Ysspar's screens crackled and then went out, leaving him in ignorance of what was happening behind his macabre shelter. Then the aiming systems of his weapon gave up the ghost.

With a new flurry of curses, he switched the weapon to manual and began to fire continuously as he came out of his hiding place. Several rays ricocheted off his shield, but the monstrous killers collapsed without having pierced his.

“They... They're dead this time?”

But no: the bodies were getting up. Worse: they were talking:

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Ysspar Oftheclansppaaaaaa, why are you attacking us?”

The surviving guardian shuddered to the tip of his tail. He had always loved horror movies, but living one was not at all, not at all fun!

He spat blood, looking in surprise at the blade protruding from his chest. Turning his head, he saw that Kropilan had gotten up and used his service knife to stab him. As life slowly drained from him, he saw a monstrous jelly, like vomit, flow from his killer's mouth... But it wasn't vomit: the thing moved as if it had a life of its own and flowed into the gaping wound in his stomach... Then he died.

Vajhesa paced nervously in front of the cafeteria. Ruyoz had been in there for at least three hours… well, no: more like a minute, but she was waiting for him so impatiently…

In the end, she should have gone with him to get those energy drinks. But at that moment, she had received a frantic message from the warden. He was simply calling to see if everything was okay and to say that he would soon be passing through this corridor to greet the inspector, but that everything was fine and that there was no reason to stress, right?

Vajhesa had preferred to stay at the back to reassure the warden, while her very dear friend went to get her a drink: in any case, he knew her tastes.

“Ah, finally you're here!”

Ruyoz finally came out of the room... Well, objectively, he hadn't spent more time there than necessary, but it was still a relief to find him. They started walking towards their patrol positions, in order to be ready to welcome the warden or the inspector, depending on who would be the quickest to reach this point.

“Well, so are you passing me my drink, or are you hoping to make me ask?”

“Oh... the drink? I forgot.”

“Very funny, she smiled, I love it when you try to take me for a ride...”

“I have something for you... close your eyes.”

Vajhesa smiled and closed her eyes, her heart pounding. Either he was just bringing her can of drink, or it was some other gift, but he would surprise her either way… No: he probably wasn’t going to declare his love to her… not in the middle of a surprise inspection… But that possibility was still exciting, although impossible…

There was a loud noise from a gun and she felt a liquid prick her skin. He hadn’t blown up her can, did he? She was going to be soaked for the inspection!

Opening her eyes, she was struck with horror. Ruyoz’s head had disappeared into a bloody hole that had repainted the walls with a sinister red paint. Turning her head, she saw Glemowome pointing a large-caliber weapon, still smoking. Her friend was shaking a little under the weight of the weapon or for some other reason.

As if in slow motion, Vajhesa contemplated the body of her beloved collapsing to the ground, then the surroundings, devoid of other explanations for this sudden death. Pushing her tail against the wall, she leapt into the air. She would not have time to grab her rifle, so she drew the two pistols she wore on her belt and machine-gunned her former friend, now her worst enemy.

As she fell back on her target, Glemowome was already on the ground, pierced on all sides, dying. She still seemed conscious: by a vague reflex, Vajhesa had forbidden her weapons to directly touch the vital parts. But the murderer was dying, slowly.

With tears in her eyes, the guard looked at her former friend who was bleeding out.

“Why?” she moaned. “Were you jealous me? He’s not… wasn’t even your specie… Why? You were jealous of our happiness then? ... Tell me at least why...”

Spitting blood and trying hard to speak, Glemowome murmured:

“Not... Ruyoz... was... already dead... Hogloos... his corpse... look... his hand... protocol... Hogloo parasite...”

Looking back at the remains of her beloved, Vajhesa saw that his hand was firmly gripping a combat knife. Why would he hold something like that? Did he know he was going to be attacked? No, he would have taken a ranged weapon then… Why hadn’t his shield worked? Was it already discharged?

“Ruyoz already dead!” Glemowome gurgled in a last-ditch effort to make herself understood. “His body, the Hogloos, control… Wanted… to kill you… to also control… your corpse…”

The survivor was beginning to understand, but it was too horrible…

“Not your fault,” the dying woman continued, “that you killed me. But, avenge me… Avenge Ruyoz… Avenge us…”

And she stopped moving. But Ruyoz, him, stood up.

With horror, Vajhesa saw the corpse of her love come to life, without its head. Strange tentacles were coming out of the hole, lunging at her. She threw herself aside. Not having time to program her weapons properly, she grabbed Glemowome’s and fired at the headless monster, throwing it back against the wall. She then changed the settings to emit deadly radiation, specially designed against Hogloos designs. She fired and fired these invisible rays, until the tortured body finally collapsed for good.

Then, she cried. She cried for Ruyoz. She cried for Glemowome. She cried until her lacrimal system dried up.

Warden Poulan was very satisfied: the closer he got to the hangar, the more serious the guards seemed, impeccably professional. Finally, his subordinates were good at handling the situation: it was reassuring.

However, he still hadn't come across the inspector. Was she still in the hangar, waiting for him? If that was the case, she was certainly someone very disrespectful... She didn't give that impression on the screen, though.

Opening his communicator, he called Dimba. This gossip knew everything that was going on... Well, it was also her job, but she took particular pleasure in knowing everything that was going on in the fortress. When a volunteer was needed to read private mail, incoming or outgoing, as was the procedure, she was always the first to show up...

“Dimba, is the inspector still in the hangar?”

“Exactly, Mr. Warden. I'll send you the image.”

Poulan frowned and his two heads looked at each other for a brief moment. Dimba called him by his first or last name every other time, never by his title. Was she also overzealous because of the inspection? In any case, the image clearly showed the inspector questioning the hangar guards.

Nervously, the warden quickened his pace.

Cèllia Dimba scratched her third ear. Something was bothering her.

She listened to the new talk of the two lovebirds. They exchanged banalities, but not the usual ones. Usually, Vajhesa and Ruyoz had more careful turns of phrase, often rich in innuendos, without ever going too far. Here, what they were saying seemed to come straight out of a silly novel, concocted by an artificial intelligence with only a stereotypical idea of romance.

Irritated, she looked at the other screens.

The warden and the inspector were near the cafeteria, exchanging completely banal remarks during inspections. There, at least, it was normal.

Glimarc had finally returned from the toilets. Too bad there were no cameras in these places: she really wondered what he was doing there... At the same time, given all the food he ate every day, it wasn't so surprising that he stayed there for so long each time...

Kropilan went from one station to another, dragging behind him the poor person who had had the misfortune of being near him when he had decided to start his tour...

She returned to the two lovebirds.

Really: something was bothering her.

Pressing the communicator, she called them:

“Hey, lovers, when is the wedding again?”

The answer was slow, then they answered her:

“This is not the time to talk about it: we are in the middle of an inspection.”

Definitely: this was not their usual reaction.

Turning to the general alert button, she hesitated. If she was wrong, how would she justify herself? “Oh, the lovers didn't say the usual things and didn't answer me as I expected, so I imagined that there was something abnormal...” No: she would be transferred to a lower security position, far from this tranquility, right in the middle of the riffraff...

But, could one really blame her for being too cautious? She would press and find a new, more realistic excuse later.

She lifted the security glass and pressed the alert button.

Nothing happened. Opening her eyes wide in terror, she rushed to the door, but it refused to open. Feverish, she returned to her screens and launched all the refresh protocols, antiviruses and secondary surveillance systems...

When the real images appeared on the screens, she immediately regretted it.

Moving as if in a horrible nightmare, without really feeling the world around her, Vajhesa found herself in her quarters. The path was short, but she had already encountered three others… monsters?

Pointing her weapon in a threatening manner, she had immediately triggered a sort of counterattack instinct in these things. Where a guard would have amplified its shields, pointed its weapon and asked what was happening to her, these things began to shoot while asking why she was attacking them with the voices of the deceased.

Still trembling with horror, she chased away this return to reality to return to this sort of nightmarish dreamlike trance that allowed her to forget the events.

She threw the weapon on her bed: the radiation mode had almost completely discharged it. Then, she typed in the secret combination of the cupboard of her bedside table. There, were her most precious belongings. Some traditional weapons of her people, a necklace containing a scale from each member of her family, some gifts offered by Ruyoz and a small bottle.

This bottle contained a drug that strengthened the senses, which she kept for... for... it didn't matter anymore. Although not addictive, this drug was illegal because ingesting too much of it generated a state of frenzy that caused the death of its user in a few hours.

Vajhesa emptied the bottle in one go.

Her body was overcome by a shiver then arched in all directions before she managed to resume a normal posture, still trembling. Her eyes were dilated to the extreme and her brain worked faster than the slightest of her movements, capturing all the sounds, smells, vibrations of the surroundings.

Grabbing two traditional daggers of her people, made of impure Stabilizium, she tried to control the trembling of her hands… no: it didn’t matter: it would even increase the force of her blows.

Sliding at full length in the corridors, marking the ground with dagger blows to accelerate even more, the hissing and furious creature rushed in the direction of the fighting.

“Hosssssglosossssssss or nossssss, I’m gossssssssing to ksssssssssill himssssssss!”

Poulan stared at the massive door that separated him from the hangar. A mysterious presentiment told him not to go through it... Nonsense: it was just stress.

What would they blame him for? Why a surprise inspection? And why hadn't she come to meet him? Forcing him to come all the way in person proved that the inspector was either a novice or tasked with conveying a message of discontent.

Turning his head toward someone arriving from a secondary corridor, he smiled:

“Ah, Kropilan, my faithful second! You've arrived at just the right time.”

The deputy warden had a slightly strange look: he must also be suffering from the aftereffects of stress. At the same time, the guards accompanying him also looked tired.

“Oh, you thought about taking your own protocol escort? All the better, all the better. It's not obligatory for the vice-director, but you might as well be zealous, eh?”

“Yes, Mr. Warden.”

“Relax: you don't want to appear so stressed in front of the inspector.”

Poulan smiled at his own statement: who was he to say that when he had spent the last few minutes in the most intense stress? But now, he was ready for anything.

Turning to the two hangar guards, who also didn't have a very alert look, he ordered:

“Come on, open this door, let's get this over with!”

“No, no, no!” Dimba moaned as she observed the warden’s bad posture.

She had regained the use of most of her cameras and rewatched so many horrible moments that she knew how each of the guards accompanying Kropilan had met their deaths, swelling his sinister escort. They were already positioning themselves to assassinate those of the warden’s escort…

Meanwhile, a number of cameras seemed scrambled. These were the real images they were transmitting and they would probably have to be repaired. It was almost certain that the Hogloos who were attacking were over there.

Besides, she could see many of these zombies rushing over there. Yes, really many… Perhaps there were some survivors who were putting up a fierce resistance?

Was she going to be the only survivor of this base? One day, her poor little starving corpse would be discovered, locked in her control room of a base infested with horrors…

And that damn button that didn’t work!

Full of rage, she began to tap, tap, tap that general alert button, as if that would change anything. Her eyes filled with tears had trouble following what was happening. She vaguely saw the doors opening and the warden entering this room full of zombies, while those who followed his escort were preparing to commit a final carnage…

As the warden entered the room, he raised his eyebrows, or at least what he was using for these expressions. Where had the inspector gone? And why were all the soldiers throwing their weapons to the ground and rushing towards… Towards another access door?

Suddenly, that door opened and a strange tube shot into the air. A metal tube ridden by a small green creature with big ears, quite similar to the former president from what he could see, as well as two Homs who were machine-gunning his subordinates.

As the general alarms suddenly sounded, he saw a crowd of guards, many covered in fatal wounds, chasing this tube… which looked a bit like a stasis tube surrounded by its security system…

Poulan turned to his guards to order them to attack and saw that Kropilan and his men were already ahead of him and rushing forward. Oddly enough, they had thrown down their weapons. Were they planning to attack with their bare hands?

The trio of terrorists, mounted on their strange vehicle, entered the inspector's ship, the doors of which immediately closed. A voice echoed in the air:

“Alert on all frequencies! Hogloo attack in progress on the prison! No: I don't have time to read you this damn identification code! There are people dying there! And besides, you can read it in the data I'm transmitting! Oh! Boss! No, I'm not talking to you! Warden: you and your escort are the last ones still alive! The others are zombies! Get out of the hangar! You, send the army, the galaxy-fleet, everything you can with the anti-hogloo parameters! I disabled part of the system that prohibits teleportation: with an alpha+ priority you should be able to…”

Suddenly, three other terrorists burst into the corridor as their ship left without waiting for them. The first was a Hogloo, visibly very angry, followed by a sort of cyclops and a bipedal bull, all three heavily armed.

Then, the guards began to attack them… Not to attack the terrorists, but the warden and his escort!

Poulan let out a cry of terror as a guard collapsed, strangled with bare hands by several others. Without waiting, those who accompanied him obeyed the voice, having recognized Cèllia Dimba, machine-gunning the crowd of… zombies?

Holed on all sides, the rebel guards got up to continue their attack.

Taking him by the shoulder, one of the survivors tried to drag his dazed superior towards the door.

Suddenly, a strange creature appeared in front of them, knocking them back. The hissing beast moved at high speed along the ground, with a metallic noise, leaving behind fine holes in the neo-steel floor.

Vajhesa was living her last hours. She knew it: if the enemies didn't take care of it, the drug would kill her. Regularly planting her knives in the ground, she crawled at an incredible speed, zigzagging to contain her excess of movements and avoid crashing into a wall. She even sometimes climbed along the walls, without really understanding how she did it.

However, her brain was working like never before, overheated by the excess. She saw every detail of the landscape and analyzed it, each of her own movements seemed to go in slow motion as she headed towards the hangar, the probable place of the origin of all this horror.

She abruptly passed through the wide-open door, frightening the warden and one of their colleagues in the process, who fell backwards. No time to apologize, nor the will: she had Hogloos to kill before she died.

Rushing into the pool of zombies, she let her blades twirl with an ease that surpassed her best training results. The blades made of Stabilizium, even impure, cut through energy shields and flesh without any problem, even causing permanent damage to the Hogloo parasites that controlled those unfortunate bodies.

As she had cleared the area around her, she saw other zombies collapse, slaughtered by her surviving colleagues. Good: they were supporting her assault.

Her mad gaze turned towards the Hogloo and she hissed in rage. There was definitely one! He was going to pay for the murder of Ruyoz… and the others!

Poulan was shaking, still sitting on the ground. Three of his guards seemed still alive, while two others were not for long, fighting hand-to-hand to hold back the monsters who were once their colleagues and friends.

He saw Vajhesa who was fighting the Hogloo warrior hand-to-hand, her Stabilizium daggers penetrating the monster's armor, while the latter's claws easily pierced the woman's scales.

“D... Dimba!” he stammered into his smart-bubble. “Si... situ... tuation?”

“Poulan? The base is invaded. Galaxy-fleet is sending elite battalions, several ships too. Should be here already.”

Suddenly, silhouettes in heavy armor materialized everywhere. Their weapons projected powerful radiation that destroyed the cells of the zombies' bodies, making them collapse into necrotic piles of inert flesh.

Several disintegrator cannons were aimed at the three terrorists present.

The bull and the cyclops immediately dropped their weapons, raising their hands in surrender. The Hogloo threw back Vajhesa's decapitated corpse and stood up to the soldiers...

Or rather, he tried to stand up: the young woman's Stabilizium daggers had deeply damaged several of his joints and their regeneration seemed slow, or at least not instantaneous.

Considering the situation, the Hogloo sighed and retracted his claws. Closing his fists, he raised them in the air in surrender.

It was all over.

Cèllia Dimba turned off her screens. The situation was resolved and she didn’t want to see these horrors anymore. She programmed an emergency call for the nurses to take her away, then she let herself fall to the ground, slowly letting herself faint. She didn’t want to think anymore, think anymore…

And yet, her tears flowed without stopping. As the paramedics teleported and carried her away on an antigravity stretcher, she moaned:

“Why? I like happy endings: why aren’t there any happy endings?”