The Blitzkrieg loomed like a massive black metal slab inside Dock 131 of Banedog’s Backyard Station—a sleeping giant with a presence casting an intimidating shadow over the surrounding vessels. The station’s usual traffic—freighters, barges, and corvettes that docked here regularly—paled compared to the 20-kilometer Titan-class vessel. Its massive hull was lined with armored plating, built for war, and made every onlooker assume for its size, to be capable of acting as a mothership to an entire fleet. From the observation platforms of the station, station workers, dockhands, and engineers paused to watch in silent reverence, their eyes tracing the massive contours of the Blitzkrieg's form.
Dock 131 was buzzing with even more activity, drones zipping to and fro, hauling cargo, and performing maintenance as Ubel's droids meticulously prepared for the next phase of operations. In contrast, Ubel was completing the receiving process of the deals he had made. The scent of machinery and fuel, and the hum of various activities created a constant background noise as he was still discussing with his business partners. Then as he finished with the first, he was greeted by another group of smugglers, their faces familiar yet constantly shifting with the station’s transient population.
"Ubel," a trader whom he remembered to be Lorik called out, extending a hand. "Good to see you in one piece. Heard about the commotion in the cantina."
Ubel shook Lorik’s hand, nodding.
"Well, it's never quiet around here. Enough about that, let's get to business."
They moved to a set of large crates, the goods Ubel was set to transport. Various droids buzzed around, efficiently loading the cargo. Ubel watched closely, ensuring everything was in order.
"Everything seems to be in order," Ubel said, glancing at the manifest. "I'll get these to their destinations as agreed.”
“Half of the payment will be wired once delivery is confirmed." Lorik nodded, satisfied. “Let’s meet again in the future.”
After finishing with Lorik, Ubel moved on to meet other partners. The station was a hive of deals and whispers, each corner hiding another secret transaction. He met with two more traders, finalizing deals to transport their goods across the system. The atmosphere was tense but familiar, the life of a smuggler and transporter always walking the line between profit and peril.
Finally, as he completed his last deal, Ubel turned, casting a final look at Banedog’s Backyard Station.
"See you later," he muttered, knowing that this place would always be a part of his chaotic life. Whether he wants it or not.
Ubel returned to back to Blitzkrieg, heading towards the bridge, now joined by his command droids. He opened the ship’s comm channel, issuing meticulous commands. Then he arrived at the bridge and was welcomed by a flurry of activity, but not from humans—his crew of droids, programmed to be efficient, executed tasks with machine-like precision.
In the ship’s bridge was a large central holo-display that was being projected with real-time information about the ship’s status, traffic data from the station, detected elements from its pulsing scans, and the docking procedures for the freighters that were being brought on board. Ubel’s visual holo display flickered with a wealth of detailed information—pressure levels, hull integrity, fuel consumption, gravitational alignments, and the energy signatures of the various ships in proximity. Now they can focus on the phases of receiving his three prizes.
Each phase of the operation was being carefully monitored by his dozens of droids and drones. The hum of the ship's powerful cores thrummed faintly beneath his feet, a sound he’d come to associate with control and power.
"Docking drones, begin the receiving process of the three combat freighters," Ubel commanded. His voice echoed through the ship’s communication channels, which the droids acknowledged instantly.
“Docking sequence initiated. Preparations underway,” a sleek, humanoid droid at the command console reported in a robotic monotone. The droid’s metal fingers flew across the holographic console, issuing commands to the automated systems of the Blitzkrieg.
"Good," Ubel said, his tone smooth and calm, though his mind was constantly analyzing every detail. Everything needed to run perfectly. "Make sure those freighters don’t scratch my baby girl on their way in."
The droid's head tilted slightly, continuing to monitor the incoming vessels. The three freighters—captured previously with Ubel's former crew—were coming in at a slow and steady pace, guided by Ubel’s fleet of drones. The upper docking bays of the Blitzkrieg, designed to receive large ships, hummed with activity as it prepared to accept the incoming vessels. One by one, the freighters lined up for docking, each carefully maneuvering into position under the guidance of the droids. The docking bays of the Blitzkrieg yawned open, revealing cavernous holds capable of storing entire fleets of smaller vessels. The first freighter gently aligned itself with the magnetic docking clamps. And with a low hum, the first step of the docking procedure was completed.
His fingers moved quickly, sending commands to a series of drones tasked with running final diagnostic checks on the three ships’ structural integrity before they docked. After receiving confirmation that all was clear, he started the next phase.
“Bay 4, clearance set for Freighter One,” a synthesized voice from the ship's system confirmed.
“Freighter One, prepare to initiate the docking procedure. Engage thrusters to docking velocity,” Ubel commanded through the holo-interface. A large screen displayed the freighter’s current status and approach path.
“Thrusters engaged. Adjusting approach vector,” came the response from the droid captain controlling the first freighter. The vessel moved with careful precision, its hull glinting in the station’s artificial light as it approached the Blitzkrieg. Dozens of massive clamps extended from the docking bay to receive the hull of the freighter. The ship inched closer, every movement deliberate and calculated. Droids on the freighter and Blitzkrieg worked in tandem, guiding the freighter into the dock with mechanical precision.
"Secure the clamps," Ubel ordered, watching as the freighter was finally pulled into place, its stability secured.
“Freighter One docked successfully. Beginning cargo transfer,” another droid reported. Hydraulic arms within Blitzkrieg’s docking bay had extended and connected to the freighter, initiating the automated process of loading its assigned goods from the cargo bay. Crates of shells, ammunition, food, golems, vehicles, and equipment were carefully being loaded in the freighter.
Ubel turned and nodded to one of the droids that he temporarily assigned to be bridge officers.
"Signal the start for Freighter Two. Let’s get this done efficiently." He clapped his hands as he oversaw the process.
As the second freighter approached, Ubel noticed movement on the station’s surveillance systems. Numerous observation drones and bug-like spy probes belonging to various factions hovered nearby, taking in the spectacle of the Blitzkrieg’s operations. Ubel smirked. He knew they were watching—interested parties, no doubt curious about the ship’s capabilities and cargo.
“If they want a show, let’s give them one,” Ubel muttered under his breath, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. He loved that Blitzkrieg was finally getting attention. He tapped the floor lightly and spoke. “Surprise them, my girl.”
The second freighter docked with the same flawless precision as the first, the automated systems guiding it seamlessly into place. The droids continued their work, managing the delicate process of loading the goods for the second freighter.
“Freighter Two docked. Beginning cargo transfer.”
Finally, the third freighter approached. The docking sequence continued without issue, and soon, all three freighters were securely docked within the Blitzkrieg’s massive bays. Ubel glanced at the holo-display, satisfied.
Once all three were docked, Ubel surveyed the scene. The interior of Blitzkrieg’s upper docking bays was massive, allowing for several more dozens of freighters to fit with room to spare. Each ship was now carefully being loaded by drones with crates of valuable cargo with seamless coordination.
“All freighters are secured, and their respective cargo is now being transferred,” the droid at the console confirmed.
“Excellent. I want a full record of the inventory to every ship.”
Then he initiated a communication with the station’s Control Center, preparing to transfer the necessary credits to cover docking fees of Blitzkrieg and the three freighters earlier. And also pays off the port fees of the ships belonging to the Demonic Monkeys as what he had promised to his former crew.
"Control Center, this is Ubel of the Blitzkrieg, requesting permission to undock," he said, his tone calm and authoritative.
“Blitzkrieg, this is Control Center, your departure request is noted, but before clearance is granted, the outstanding fees must be settled. That includes docking charges, port taxes, and maintenance surcharges for your ships.”
“Yeah, yeah… hit me with the bill, SCC. What’s the damage?” he lazily asked as he scratched his head impatiently.
“The docking fee and charges for Blitzkrieg is 150,000 credits. While the rest of your ships will run you for 10,000 credits per ship, bringing the total to 200,000 credits. Additionally, port taxes are 5% of the total docking fees, amounting to 17,500 credits. That brings your grand total to 367,500 credits.”
He quickly processed the transfer of payment with the exact amount.
“Control Center, the credits are sent. Now, let me get out of your hair,” Ubel spoke into the comms, his tone as casual as if he were paying for a meal.
A moment later, a voice crackled through the comms.
“Confirmed, Blitzkrieg. Payment received and processed. You’re now cleared for departure. Safe travels, Blitzkrieg,” replied a calm but slightly awestruck voice from Station Control.
The station’s gates groaned open, their locks disengaging to permit the behemoth-like vessel’s exit.
“Begin the Blitzkrieg’s undocking procedures,” Ubel commanded as he turned back toward the control panel.
“Disengaging docking clamps,” the droid officer reported. The station’s docking arms retracted with a resonant clank, releasing the Blitzkrieg from its hold.
As the Blitzkrieg started to float up after being released, its exhausts began to fire a deep, resonant hum reverberated. Then the ship’s massive engines hummed to life, their energy building as power was diverted to the thrusters. The station’s personnel watched as the titanic vessel began to pull away from Dock 131, its sheer size was awe-inspiring even to the most seasoned spacefarers.
Ubel watched the status indicators, ensuring everything was proceeding smoothly. From the bridge, the droids relayed information on fuel status, and trajectory, and calculated possible course to Uranus and Neptune. Ubel reviewed everything with a practiced eye, ensuring that every detail was also perfect.
With that, the Blitzkrieg began its slow, majestic departure from the station.
He gazed out at the swarm of ships that were slowly making their way into the station, dwarfed by the Blitzkrieg’s size. Some ships moved out of the way, their captains cautious and eager not to end up in the shadow of the massive warship. It was a spectacle of order and chaos; the vessels and freighters maneuvered with care, while the Blitzkrieg lumbered forward with the grace of a celestial behemoth, effortlessly clearing its path.
As the ship moved away from the station, Ubel caught sight of small crowds of people watching from viewports. Some held up holo-recorders, capturing the moment for posterity, while others simply stood in awe at the monstrous ship. He grinned.
As the ship slowly moved away from the station, Ubel stood at the viewport, watching the lights of Banedog’s Backyard fade into the distance.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Let’s give them a farewell they won’t forget,” Ubel mused, a sly grin forming on his lips. He knew the spies watching would report back to their factions about what they had witnessed, but he didn't mind. He welcomed it. It kept things interesting.
Then he spotted another ship, a corvette which was loaded with one hundred and twenty outlaws that he had personally recruited to be his new human crew.
“This is Captain Ramos of the vessel, Reconcord.” A man’s voice rang on Ubel’s coms. “Commander, you took your time.”
“Well, my girl takes a lot of time to finish her makeup. You know how girls do their thing.” Ubel joked. “Maintain 100-meter distance captain. As you are now my new crew, I will show some magic.”
He nodded at the droid as his signal to begin.
"Course plotted. Initializing Accompany Warp sequence," the droid officer announced. The ship’s engines rumbled with power, ready to send the Blitzkrieg and companion ship into the vastness of space once more.
Ubel took a final glance at the holo-display, making sure everything was in place. "See you later, Banedog's Backyard," he muttered.
“3… 2… 1… Warping.” The space suddenly rippled, causing a maw to swallow the Blitzkrieg and Reconcord, leaving the station—and all its watchers—shocked to see that both disappeared with no light trace left behind.
––––That should have been what happened.
But the countdown was stopped before it even reached its last two seconds by a ringing alarm, notifying them of the disturbance in space that disrupted the warping procedure. This confuses Ubel as Blitzkrieg should be able to warp without any problem even if there are ships nearby. But before he could find an answer, one of his droids interrupted his thoughts.
"Commander, we’ve got company. We’re receiving multiple FTL signatures on the scanner," the monotone voice of a droid came on the bridge, snapping Ubel out of his reverie.
"Multiple ships dropping out of FTL jump. They’re on an intercept course." Another droid added,
"Already?" Ubel raised an eyebrow, his amusement quickly replaced with intrigue. "That’s a bit early for party crashers."
His demeanor shifted instantly, his eyes narrowing as he studied the readouts.
“How many?” he asked.
“Our scanner has not picked up the accurate number yet, but from our calculations and the number of FTL pulses, we detected twenty-one ships. It appears to be an unauthorized jump in close proximity to Banedog’s Backyard space.”
He saw that the signals were unregistered, which meant they weren’t adhering to the station's traffic control.
"Control Center, this is the Blitzkrieg," Ubel spoke into the comms. "We’re detecting several FTL signals. Can you confirm their origin?"
A moment later, a static-filled response came through, their voice tinged with confusion and worry.
"Blitzkrieg, we have no record of any scheduled FTL jumps in the vicinity. Those signals are not part of our traffic."
He leaned forward again to the 3D holo display that mapped out the vicinity of the Banedog’s Backyard’s space. Then he saw several more signal blimps and his concern deepened. Ships that ignored station control were either incredibly confident or recklessly dangerous. He turned to his droids.
"Get the drones on those signals. I want eyes on whatever’s out there." A moment later, drones were launched from the Blitzkrieg, small, nimble machines designed for reconnaissance and scouting.
Ubel’s mind whirred with possibilities. Random jumpers, newbie outlaw fleet, or—his thoughts paused, darkening as the droids linked the incoming signals to something more familiar.
“Captain,” another bridge droid interrupted. “The FTL signatures match a previously encountered signal type.”
“Who?”
“This signal matches the same fleet we encountered, Union of Great Terran Republics Navy.”
Ubel’s grin widened as realization dawned.
“Of course. I wiped out a patrol, didn’t I?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “I guess they’ve decided to take it personally.”
As if on cue, the darkness of space was punctuated by the sudden arrival of more ships, materializing from their FTL jump one after another. These weren’t just patrol ships or scouting vessels and it was growing larger by the second. Their scanners then finally completed the scanned 3D silhouettes of these ships and showed a diverse cast of warships.
Battleships, destroyers, and frigates. Bearing the colors of the UGTR.
“A full deployment of a naval fleet,” Ubel murmured with a glint in his eye. “Shit! This is too much!”
Although he was complaining, his wide grin contradicted his words. Then his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden broadcast over his ship's comms. A female voice, authoritative and cold, rang through the bridge with unmistakable authority.
“This is Fleet Admiral Semiramis Natu of the United Galactic Terran Republic Navy. The ship, Blitzkrieg is ordered to stand down and surrender immediately for your crimes against the UGTR. You are charged with attacking civilian ships under our protection and destroying UGTR naval assets. Failure to comply will result in your immediate destruction.”
"These guys again? Geez.” Ubel leaned back in his command chair and sighed heavily which echoed throughout the bridge. But there was a glint of dangerous anticipation in his eyes. “Fleet Admiral, huh? They sent someone important this time. This is going to be another exhausting distraction.”
The name Semiramis Natu was unfamiliar to him, but that didn’t matter. Whoever she was, she had a full fleet at her disposal, and that made her a threat worth paying attention to.
And even though didn’t take it seriously, his new crew did.
“F-f-fuck!” he could already hear through the static, their panicking and chaotic arguments. He thanked himself for not putting a proxy doll on that ship. “Commander Ubel, we apologize for the contract termination but we are going to fight the UGTR. We didn’t sign for these kind of situations.” As Captain Ramos finished his statement, he cut off his coms from Ubel and Reconcord immediately turned back in great haste back to Banedog’s Backyard.
Ubel breathed heavily and sighed as he scratched his chin.
“Well, what did we expect from outlaws? And it seems these Terrans are really serious in taking me down this time.” His scanners confirmed as much—the UGTR ships were jumping into the system, one after another, a massive armada forming before his eyes. They weren’t just here for a skirmish; this was a full-fledged assault fleet.
"Get me a tactical readout," Ubel ordered. "Prepare for evasive maneuvers. We need to stay mobile."
On the bridge of the Blitzkrieg, Ubel’s droids reported the growing numbers of UGTR ships, each one more heavily armed than the last.
Meanwhile, chaos was also erupting within Banedog’s Backyard. The sight of the UGTR fleet multiplying outside the station sent waves of panic through the rogue factions that called the station home. The station’s comms lit up with frantic chatter. Some feared a possible UGTR invasion of the rogue station, while other vessels who were still outside the confines of the station, scrambled to find ways to enter for shelter. They were all convinced that a battle was about to erupt.
On the station's lower levels, mafias and gangs were organizing their forces, trying to secure key points and ensure the UGTR navy wouldn’t find a foothold on the station.
Back on the Blitzkrieg, Ubel’s tactical display lit up as more UGTR ships popped into view, forming a blockade between him and the asteroid belt ahead.
“Tch, they think numbers will scare me,” he clicked his tongue.
As the UGTR ships finally completed their jumps, a terrifying scene in front of him and the outlaw station, unfolded.
More than two hundred vessels were in formation, awaiting orders to begin their assault. Ubel laughed, exhilarated by the challenge.
"In the end, this may become truly one hell of a show for our audience in Banedog’s Backyard.”
His fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrest as the droids worked diligently to figure out the problem.
"How about FTL Status?" he asked.
"FTL drive sequence interrupted," one of the droids responded, its robotic voice flat but efficient. "Attempts to initialize FTL Jump have failed. Investigating further."
Ubel leaned back in his chair. He had his droids tested to start an FTL after failing to Warp as he wanted to confirm some that was bugging him. His eyes glanced at the vast 3D schematic hovering in front of him, the vast expanse of space mapped out with precision. Blitzkrieg was an immense ship, and with its Warping and FTL capabilities, it could outrun almost anything in this cluster. So why was it stuck now?
Finally, one of the droids spoke again.
"Report." it said, "We detected an anomaly. From our calculations, an unknown tool or entity was creating spatial disturbances that were preventing the FTL drive from initiating. The affected space is at least 300,000 kilometers in radius. Unless we move out from this restricted bubble or find and disable this device, we cannot enter into warp or initiate a jump."
Ubel's eye twitched as he absorbed the information.
Another large 3D schematic of space in display flickered to life in front of Ubel. The map showed the massive bubble surrounding both Blitzkrieg and Banedog’s Backyard and the UGTR fleet—a bubble approximately 200,000 to 300,000 kilometers in diameter, pulsating with strange, unreadable energy. This disturbed the long-range scan that gives a quantum level of calculations that were meant to predict the movement, pattern, and gravity wells of the planets, stars, and celestial bodies in space. A tool that was essential for a safe FTL jump or Warp as no one wanted to jump or warp and then find themselves in the middle of a black hole or a supernova. But this was the reason why Ubel still has not moved or initiated. He wanted to be sure of what kind of situation he was in. Thankfully, the inactivity of the UGTR fleet also gave him enough time to investigate.
"Without FTL, we can travel at the maximum Vector Travel Speed of this vessel—500 meters per second will be required to escape the bubble in the shortest time," the droid continued.
"How long?" Ubel raised an eyebrow.
The droid's synthetic voice whirred as it calculated.
"At Blitzkrieg’s maximum speed of 500 meters per second, the estimated time to reach the edge of the spatial disturbance is approximately seven days."
Ubel chuckled.
"Seven days just to crawl out of a bubble?" He leaned forward, his grin widening as the excitement stirred in his chest. He rubbed his chin, as his mind was racing, piecing together the situation.
The droid's earlier phrasing had struck something that he didn’t want to believe.
Bubble.
The word rang in his head, sparking a memory from his previous life, his past life as a player in Pitch Black Void.
There were two mods that had this function in the game, which were called Interdictor Warp Scrambler Bubble and Sticky Field Bubble—specifically made by frustrated players that their enemies could always escape by warping or jumping when the tide of battle turned against them. It was a way to force engagements, to ensure that fights had proper consequences.
The Interdictor Warp Scrambler Bubble mod was created and designed to trap enemy ships, where it creates a field of space that jams the ability of ships to calculate safe jumps or warps. This mod was reflected as a Ship Module that was attached to ships that were part of a squadron or fleet to force a battle on their unsuspecting enemies or targets.
The Sticky Field Bubble mod creates several artificial gravity wells that disable FTL travel for ships inside its bubble. This mod took the form of mines, missiles, or bombs. These two mods prevent their prey from warping or escaping in the middle of battle or ambush. It’s one of the favorite mods by pirates, raiders, or mercenaries who dislike prey that could escape easily. But this would also be a favorite addon by role-players in their private RP servers where they would fight in fleets against fleets, denying each other’s ability to escape and locking both fleets in a deathmatch that only the victorious could leave the bubble. At the same time, this was exploited by players for its ability to ambush by taking out ships that were already in FTL, forcing a battle.
The latter was preferred also by most players, due to how there is little to no risk when using this mod while the former had a risk of losing control over the battle if the Interdictor Ship got destroyed.
“I guess it also depends on what type of role play they were going to do.”
But the vanilla game didn’t have this feature, and Ubel was one of the few players who had personally enjoyed the freedom of warping whenever he felt like it, finding creative ways to hunt down fleeing enemies.
But this... this was different.
He stood up from his chair, pacing as his thoughts tumbled together. This shouldn’t be happening. Ubel hadn’t installed the mod in his game, preferring the base mechanics of warping at will. He always enjoyed the thrill of the chase, outsmarting his prey by being creative with his hacks using his neuromancy and ambushes rather than relying on tricks that bore him. So, he hadn’t messed with any mods that would restrict warping or jumping.
"But how is this even possible?" Ubel muttered to himself, rubbing his chin. "Unless..." His eyes widened with realization, a crazed grin spreading across his face. "Could it be... the procedural generation?"
He glanced at the schematic again, then out through the massive observation windows of the bridge, where the sleek silhouettes of UGTR warships loomed in the distance, their formation tightening.
This wasn’t just the game that he knew anymore.
Ubel’s pulse quickened as an exhilarating realization began to dawn on him. The game’s procedural generation system, or ProcGen as players called it for short, had already blown his previous life—Kiryu’s mind with how complex and expansive it had become. Planets, factions, characters, entire systems—it had created all of that. But what if it had gone beyond what even he had known? What if ProcGen was now creating technology that was never meant for a specific faction to be in the game?
Had it begun evolving?
A grin stretched across his face, wide and twisted. The idea that the game’s procedural system could be generating new things beyond his knowledge and what he added thrilled him. It was as though he had stepped into a universe that was growing on its own, beyond any script or code he had ever encountered. His mind flicked back to the UGTR fleet. Was this their doing? Had the procedural system evolved the UGTR into something more dangerous than he could have anticipated?
What else had the game built?
He licked his lips, unaware of the slight drool forming at the corner of his mouth. The thrill of the unknown, the idea that the ProcGen was creating things even beyond his control, sent a surge of adrenaline through his veins. His mind was now in a whirl of possibilities, each one more thrilling than the last. He could feel his pulse quickening, his chaotic, mischievous nature bubbling up inside him. He loved this. The unpredictability, the possibility of new challenges—consequences be damned. This was why he lived in the game. Why he thrived in this game.
His eyes flickered to the holographic display of the UGTR fleet that was now moving to encircle his ship, cutting off all possible escape routes. To any other captain, it would have been a death sentence.
It was a textbook of strategy.
Turning to the droids, he gave his next command with unbridled enthusiasm. If the UGTR was using this technology against him, then it was time to test his own ship’s capabilities—properly this time.
"Initiate Apocrypha Stage 3.”
The droids immediately began working, their hands a blur of motion as they initiated the advanced systems of the ship. It was a mode he rarely used and one that always came with risks. But the risks were what made it fun.
The entire bridge shifted in hue, the soft blue lights turning blood red. Across the ship, massive layers of armor began to realign, revealing more cannons and missile bays that had been hidden within the ship's colossal structure. Energy crackled along the length of the Blitzkrieg, as if the ship itself was awakening, its dormant power surging to the surface.
Outside, the Blitzkrieg's entire hull began to hum with new energy. Its engines, now fully charged, roared to life, sending pulses of power. Massive cannons aligned with precision, targeting the nearest UGTR ships, while layers of defensive shields shimmered into place.
“Hahahahahaha! Finally! I get to test my girl!” he yelled in exhilaration. He didn’t care about the outcome. Winning, losing—it didn’t matter. He loved throwing wrenches into the cogs of perfectly tuned machines.
Chaos was Ubel’s playground.
Then he gently patted the armrest of his seat.
“Girl, let’s show them why you were designated as an Apocrypha Titan Class."