Warning! Warning! Cooling systems overloaded, temperature rising, beginning purge of atmosphere for crew safety.

The ship shudders violently as another round of railgun slugs slam into the frontal armor. The air is incredibly hot as I finish putting on my EVA suit. One of the bridge crew falls onto the floor, flesh instantly cooking to the metal as the ship begins quickly heating up. They lose skin as they peel from the floor, the good sailor they are they keep moving to their station. The ship vibrates violently as all weapons fire forward at the abominable vessel in front of us.

I continue to bark orders, designate targets, and check with different weapons crews and other systems on the ship. My screen tells me the entire ship is in bad shape as the atmosphere rapidly disappears immediately making my suit's cooling system's job much easier without a medium for the heat to transfer. I open a channel for all nearby ships shouting,

"Any callsign come in! This is the USS Starwish, we are being shredded!"

The line stays silent as expected. Only a minute ago my last fleet mate went silent. I check the side and rear cameras of the Starwish and see empty and dark vessels drifting in orbit over the green world below me. In front of me is another field of destroyed vessels, enemy and friend alike, and in the middle of it is the giant jellyfish-shaped vessel. Small firing ports open in the large "head" and nearly relativistic slugs come zooming out toward my ship having already been in flight for at least a second before it was visible.

The entire vessel shudders again as armor and weapons systems are atomized by the impossible slug. I watch as two of the twelve 16-inch gun turrets go completely offline, just as the ship is shaken by a cataclysmic ammo explosion as the relativistic slug does create enough heat to ignite the propellant. Thankfully all the nuclear shells have been expended already, even though it probably wouldn't matter. I look and check how fucked I am and find that the actual fusion reactor has plasma leaking into multiple crew compartments across the vessel. I am able to mentally shut off the flow to the ruptured pipes removing the flow of power to another few reaction thrusters.

I start shouting orders once more, telling the gunners to focus on enemy propulsion and weapons, hoping the cripple the vessel that outsizes my 750-meter-long fast battleship by a multiple of ten or more. I watch as the last of the onboard VLS tubes run out of missiles, all nuclear weapons expended across the entire vessel, and defensive missiles exhausted. Immediately the sound and visual of drones swarming my vessel fills all screens. The CWIS and a few laser point defense weapons are being overwhelmed as yet another massive volley of slugs rips through the Starwish. I check my screen to see what is happening planetside and see nothing but messages for evacuation or air support. Visuals show massive flashes of light planetside and I have to turn off communications as the screams of the soldiers and marines distract me.

Then the great ship I am facing opens thousands of VLS hatches mounted radially creating multiple rings along its immense bulk. Quick readings reveal almost all of them are nuclear and I prepare for the flash that is coming as literal thousands of nuclear weapons come toward me, then they veer away and turn toward the planet.

Horror fills me as I watch the missiles enter low orbit before every single one of the easily four thousand nuclear weapons finds an empty spot, and then they drop into the atmosphere. On top of this overkill, multiple of those relativistic slugs are fired from radially mounted weapons. There are thousands of flashes across the world followed by debris being launched into orbit as kill vehicles moving at a minor percentage of the speed of light damn near penetrate the core of the planet. It takes less than forty seconds for the entire atmosphere to fill with ash and debris as the planet is destroyed. I watch as all of the forces planetside are killed, all remaining civilians obliterated... the world has broken...My home...

I look up at the massive vessel responsible and burned into my mind are the many blue rectangles painted onto it... the flag of the United Nations Central Authority...

I awake with a start and stare at the flag on my wall. I sigh, get out of bed, and say to myself,

"I guess I did forget to work out for a hot minute."

I was so caught up in preparing for another first-contact scenario I forgot to work out, when I am not physically tired my mind wanders to places it shouldn't while I sleep. I quickly change and head to the small and rather pitiful gym the Catfish has on board. Most Navy vessels over 200 meters tend to have a small gym of some sort, usually only stocked with cardio machines and the like rather than weights. Smaller ships tend to have pullup bars in the bunk rooms for strength and cardio is up to the captain. Marine vessels have fully stocked weight rooms, and the Catfish's marine quarters do have a single-weight bench with over a ton of plates.

I fire up a treadmill, put it on a 25-degree incline, and begin jogging after putting a 45 lbs weight vest on. My heavy steps fill the room with thunder and through my neural link play some music. I try not to think about my early career and how my home was obliterated, instead, I get deep into thought about what I learned about from the Shipmaster, specifically what he called Mana. Considering the AI doesn't screw around because it literally can't, Mana is the correct translation. Mana has two definitions in my understanding, the bread from the sky in the Old Testament, and magic energy from video games and the like. I can't wrap my mind around it but I have two theories.

One is that technology and sciences developed differently in our societies and the term Mana was the term used in a more backward era and it stuck in their language. This is like cells within our bodies; the term comes around with a random description that just stuck. Maybe that is what they call radiation or something? The second theory is that these folks have created some technology that is truly indistinguishable from magic and if these people are somewhat more advanced than us then maybe that is the case. A singularity drive and the Alcubierre drive are practically magic if you look at them from a 21st or 22nd-century perspective.

"Are you on a call with someone?"

I nearly jump out of my skin and look to see Shariah in workout gear standing in the doorway. I also realize I have been discussing the situation with myself out loud. I shake my head and reply,

"Nope, just talking to myself."

She giggles and answers,

"So long as you aren't replying it's all good."

I shake my head with a laugh and turn my music down as she takes the treadmill next to me. I keep my steady pace, already breathing hard. I really have gotten out of shape during this mission.

We run in silence for the most part, we both listen to our own music, and Shariah watches some show on the screen built into the treadmill. I notice her take some glances at me and the treadmill I am running on. Then she exclaims,

"What the fuck are you? A robot?"

I look down at my treadmill's timer and see 2 hours 5 minutes and reply,

"No? I'm rather out of shape. Can't you see me breathing hard?"

Admittedly she is breathing even harder than me despite only having run for thirty. The gears turn in my head for a second before I gently facepalm and respond,

"Ah, my file is in fact classified but here is a hint, my kind was modified a long while ago to be... very good at anaerobic exercise and have a generally quite efficient metabolism meaning I have far greater stamina than most, plus I only need about 4 to 5 hours of sleep to be happy and healthy. Although I do prefer my 8 hours of beauty rest."

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

I look over at Shariah and angle my head downward looking up at the woman while fluttering my eyes. She shakes her head as her breathing begins growing more ragged. I also note she is moving a little quicker than me on her treadmill. Makes sense, my kind was bred for stamina and overall endurance rather than outright performance. I once again notice wondering eyes, but not at any of my meaty bits, instead at my metal hand. Through strained breaths, she asks,

"Is that the hand she took?"

I nod and respond with a laugh,

"Nah, it's the other one!"

She shakes her head and notes that I am wearing a long sleeve shirt and she wonders,

"So what's with the long sleeves? Good stamina but no bicep definition?"

I laugh at the joke and respond,

"Nope, my skin melted and stuff when my suit got breached, I released my medical records so you should know this. I don't really care about my nasty grafts, it's more for the others ya know?"

She nods and asks me carefully,

"So... you're in your sixties... are you from one of the types who have a... well very long lifespan?"

I shake my head and respond flatly,

"Classified, but I only live to about eighty or ninety, just like everyone else. My kind just degenerates rapidly in the last two years of our lives. I will forever be in my mid-twenties until my body simply shuts down and I age fifty years in about a week. It's not a pretty sight."

She shudders for a moment thinking about it before telling me,

"Well I hope your workout was good because there is an unfortunately mandatory meeting onboard the science vessel soon."

I shrug and respond,

"Damn... have fun."

Then my neural link pings me, letting me know I am expected at this meeting."

I swear and ask,

"Why the hell do they need me? This operation is no longer a military matter."

Shariah can't catch her breath to respond and she turns off her treadmill and catches he breath for a moment before replying,

"Yes, but as the military escort commander, it was decided to require your presence at strategy meetings. Basically, it was agreed you need to be well informed about when and where we go and the bigger happenings. Of course, you are not required to have any input unless it is a safety issue as in this civilian committee we formed...or council... whatever you want to call it, we elected you as the security head."

I bow my head with a long breath and respond,

"Okay, it's in three hours. I have time."

She stares at me like I grew a second head before leaving without saying goodbye. I continue my workout for another hour before calling it quits, deciding I don't need to exhaust myself yet because any meeting like this is going to be mental torture.

The short shuttle ride is uneventful and the docking is the same. The science vessel is quite different than a military one, the interior is far more cozy, like a warm and friendly hospital, still white and sterile but not super harsh. I think it has something to do with the lighting. There are lots of pictures and photos on the walls and murals of landscapes and the like making it much nicer than the dark gray, black, and bare metal of military vessels. I walk through the halls, my hands clasped behind my back as I inspect the ship. I am able to navigate as my neural link displays a navigation HUD in my vision.

Eventually, we make it to meeting room 1 in the vessel and it looks fairly normal. A long, wooden table with rolling chairs. I then take note of those present as Shariah may have made my shuttle fashionably late as she kept noticing small mistakes in her makeup or something. I have no idea, it's stupid to me, especially since this is a work meeting. I already know two of the others from previous deployments, and one of them is glaring at me and I can only smile.

A very unfortunately named man stands up with a big grin and with an almost stereotypical German accent says,

"AH! Commodore Hollander! It Is great to see you again mein friend!"

I shake his hand and respond,

"It's great to see you again too Dr.Joesef Mengele. What are you doing here?"

The short, balding man beams up at me through his heavy glasses and responds proudly,

"I am ze head of Ze Biological sciences for this expedition!"

No shit, he is actually one of the best bio scientists I know, we met way back in the day when he got drafted and was a medical technician on a vessel I helped command. A suited man approaches, interjecting in my greeting with my friend. He is what could be best described as a silver fox kind of man, clearly he is some sort of diplomat. He holds out his hand and introduces himself with a winning smile,

"I am Jackson Lionel, I am the legal head of this whole operation."

I was wrong, worse than a diplomat, a lawyer. I greet him with my name and rank and then another scientist-type approaches and it's a short and rather heavyset black woman who greets me with,

"I am Dr. Whittney McCormick. I am the head of the technology department for this expedition. I'm here to figure out how their stuff works."

I smile and nod as I shake her hand. Then the one who is scowling at me approaches, a very sharp-featured blonde woman. She literally looks as if she were chiseled from stone, and from experience she is just as warm and cuddly. She holds out her hand and I salute her saying,

"Nice to see you again Lieutenant Kelly."

She grimaces and with a cold and cruel smile responds.

"And it's nice to see you again, Doctor Hollander."

We both laugh dryly and Shariah asks confused,

"Doctor? Lieutentnat?"

Dr. Ureil Kelly responds,

"It's just me and Commodore Hollander here greeting each other with the ranks we no longer hold... or at least no longer go by."

Shariah looks between us confused and I answer, mostly to Uriel,

"My file is classified. As you know."

Shariah stares a hole through me and I sigh and answer,

"I guess this isn't classified but I did get a doctorate at one point... the university no longer exists and hasn't for thirty years so it's questionable if I still have it. It was in interstellar studies, focusing on ship management and piloting. I'm an old man in a young man's body, you gotta remember that."

Shariah nods not accepting it entirely but greets Uriel before asking her,

"And how do you know the Commodore here? You both seem well acquainted. I'm sensing a deeper relationship?"

This makes both Uriel and I lock eyes with one another a look of mutual disgust between us. I motion for Uriel to take over and say,

"You're the more level-headed one."

She nods serenely and responds,

"We both come from the same planet, actually growing up with one another. With different genetic lineages, my family immigrated in only a year before my birth. Then we also served on the same vessels, twice which is quite strange and the Commodore and I have never... well we never got along. Politically, religiously, and morally we can't agree on anything that's worthwhile.

Our relationship is closer to that of either childhood rivals or estranged siblings at best and worst."

I nod, I couldn't describe our long relationship better. She isn't like me, biologically she is truly in her early thirties and looks it too, she simply ages at half the rate of normal humans, and can live to 200 easily. Shariah then asks,

"Will this be a problem in the future? I can have the Commodore send a representative instead."

I shake my head and Uriel responds with a sigh,

"No. We will behave. We have been able to deal with everything so far and we will do our work. We may not look it but we are old and wise with decades of experience. "

I then say,

"Dr.Kelly, can you please state your role on this council so introductions can be finished and we can get this over with?"

She nods and responds,

"I am Dr. Uriel Kelly, I am the head of the Abiotic sciences aspect of this mission. Commodore... I will be in your care."

My gaze locks onto hers as the corner of her generally stoic mouth turns upward. I hiss quietly,

"Please... let's not mention that..."

There is no response and we all take a seat.

The meeting ended an hour ago and I am sitting in a lounge with Uriel and Josef. Josef and I are sipping on large steins of a deep brown wheat beer he brought, and Uriel nurses a fine scotch on the rocks. We sit around as music quietly plays in the background before Josef speaks,

"It feels so odd. All three of us are all in ze same room drinking again. About ten years now, no?"

I nod and Uriel responds,

"And it's been ten years too soon. Although I am glad you two seem to be doing well, despite Barnabas being an arm lighter... and now a metal one heavier."

Josef chuckles and I shake my head. Uriel then asks,

"Barnie, you've met the aliens and have experienced more about them than anyone else. What can I expect?"

I cringe at hearing my nickname, that only she calls me, no one else, but I answer,

"Feudalism and strange radiation. Hurts like a bitch when it gets on ya, melted all the skin on the right of my body and I had to get some new muscles, bones, and tendons remade to replace my hyper-cancer-filled ones. They are different looking, but not overly so. Nothing Lovecraftian as far as I can tell. They definitely rely on social ranks to judge your worth so act as if you're some sort of hot-shot noble. Think like a lord or lady or something. I don't really care, but I think it will lubricate operations properly.

So stay in safe environments and suits, be respectful, act like you are a feudal lord, and everything should go well. Of course, I'm always here to bail you all out."

They both nod and Uriel asks in a tone far more... scared than her normal flat demeanor,

"Are you sure you can handle these aliens? If necessary?"

I take a long drink and say in a near growl,

"Heaven and Earth couldn't stop me. You know that answer already, after all...

You two are the reason I am known as the Eater of Worlds..."

Josef raises his stein and we gently clank our drinks together the mood back to a quiet and polite one as Josef and I catch up with Uriel listening content with my answer. It's nice though, sitting in a room like this drinking with my two best friends in the entire universe. The two I would do anything for. Maybe it's the good beer Josef brought but I say to them,

"I really missed you guys..."