The CreaseWing dropped us into open space near Concordia GG, the Dreadnaught currently housing what remained of F567 company. What was left of the Ortheon II was being hauled into place and tied to an open-cargo space platform–a flat surface with a massive engine underneath, that would help drag the shattered wreck in the fleet's wake until we reached the SFC main hub where repairs could finally begin.
From what I saw of the wreckages scattered across the void, it was unclear whether enough transportation platforms would be available to tow all the damaged spaceships. The battle had been brutal and the fleet bore its scars.
The three of us flew onwards without pausing toward the open portal looming ahead. Concordia GG waited to receive us with open arms.
Nearing the battleship, I saw repair crews illuminated by wielding torches swarming over the Dreadnaught's outer armor, checking for damage. At first, I thought the damage was extensive--yellow sparks danced along the ship's hull like fireflies. But taking a closer look from our approaching angle, the battle scars were mostly superficial, though the crews worked with the urgency of a ship still on high alert.
At the portal’s entrance, the battleship’s scanner processed our information and provided directions on a small built-in screen against the wall. We were directed to a hold reserved for companies that had lost their original vessels.
Once we removed our helmets, it wasn’t long before we navigated the well-lit corridors of the battleship, our steps echoing against the metallic walls mixed with the hum of repair crews rushing around the ship.
—-
“Tommy! Amon!” Ella’s shouting overwhelmed the constant chatter present in the hold. Her loud call turned some heads our way, but they turned right back and ignored us after realizing we were strangers, merely new faces added to the already recent mix of companies.
About three hundred Marines populated the open space, some already resting on thin mats while others huddled close to each other, speaking hushly in small groups.
Even then the massive hold looked partially empty. It was three stories high, with open corridors and metal staircases running along the sides. Glancing up, I noticed a few differences from the typical Ortheon II utilitarian decorations. Customized SFC banners hung from the ceiling displaying company insignias and images of Concordia GG’s high command.
“Ella!’ Tommy shouted back brimming with relief, and we all rushed to meet her. A strange, involuntary smile crept onto my face--it felt alien after everything we had endured. When Ella jumped to hug Tommy who had rushed ahead of me I pulled them both into a tight embrace.
"Amon, too tight!" from the muffled voices that broke from under me, I understood I might have not been controlling my strength.
With a bit of guilt and an embarrassed laugh, I eased my grip noticing Gardenia loitering a few steps away. She looked subdued since we hadn’t built quite as much familiarity with her.
But near-death experiences made up for it so I beckoned her forward and when she took an uncertain step I grabbed them all, bringing their heads to my chest.
It was a few moments until I gave them back their freedom.
Finally catching her breath, Ella huffed, “Thank the lord you are alive! I w-wasn’t sure.. I didn’t know. What would I do without you?” She said shuffling her messed-up hair and then peeking behind us in search, “Is Nik with…?”
“Dead,” I said instinctively before my brain caught up to my mouth.
“I see,” she said, lowering her eyes. A shadow crossed her features, one I saw mirrored on Tommy’s, but then Ella breathed out a long sigh. “I’m so happy to see you made it. There had been no news after we were separated…and when the battle ended we were brought here. The F567 is certainly done for. Only 5 of us made it, excluding you all, and they are all from Gardenia’s cohort.”
We lingered for a few minutes catching up, but soon exhaustion hit us, and we found an empty spot to lie down and rest.
A day passed in limbo. We were given mealbars, but no further instructions or updates except to stay put. The bustle of crew activity notified us that the fleet was gradually preparing to depart, fixing up any damage that could be quickly mended and scavenging for any worthwhile materials from the battle's expanding debris fields. The Overlord cloud puss had long since dispersed into nothingness.
When the engines finally lit up, I felt the faint tug of acceleration through the ship’s artificial gravity. Unfortunately, that was the only way of knowing that something was happening. I lost access to the mainframe when the Ortheon II turned to scrap.
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I believe what was left of it was being towed at the fleet’s tail. Maybe some of the items I had stocked in the cabin and hidden elsewhere around the Dreadnaught would have been preserved, but there was little chance I’d see them again. Possession and theft of materials would be rampant until the battleship was operational and properly crewed. The chaos of personnel shuffling would make any theft difficult to pin down.
Forget the Dreadnaught, I didn’t even know what would happen to the F567 now that only 8 out of the 100 Marines survived. The staggering battle's losses had everyone including the high command waiting to arrive at the main hub where a semblance of normality may yet appear and reorganization of the entire SFC would commence.
I expected mergers between the companies, as we, the survivors, were burdened once more with filling the vacuum of loss.
—-
I looked myself over the common bathroom mirrors. A rough, hollow face looked back at me. Below my eyes, black bags weighed down my eyelids. I looked like shit. But I hadn’t slept much either.
Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw the death of my friends. I saw Overlords chasing them, chasing me, and I was unable to do anything to help as I fled sluggishly inside the dreamscape.
I threw water on my face, more like pushing it against my skin in an attempt to wash away the tiredness of the last few weeks.
With a towel, I cleaned up the wetness and went out to meet up with what remained of my friends.
“Have you seen Tommy’s new stash?” Ella giggled at me with a mischievous look as we sat on a long bench.
“I saw it,” I said knowing exactly the cause of this latest disaster. “He got the idea from a crewmember on the light vessel that picked us up at the end of the battle.”
“Did his look as out of place?” Ella asked pinching her nose.
“No, it actually looked kinda good on him, but for Tommy…I can’t say I approve just yet.” I snorted.
“What are you two talking about?” Tommy asked coming up to us in the partially empty commons of Concordia GG. He held a tray with three plastic cups filled with a pink cocktail.
“Nothing,” Ella blundered quickly, too quick to prove her innocence.
Tommy’s new mustache jumped up as he perked his lips. “Oh, really now? I must say this doesn’t sound like nothing at all!”
“Haha, do that again, please,” Ella said laughing, pointing one hand at his blank face.
“Do what again?” Tommy asked a little confused. The mustache did another little dance when he brought the lower lip forward to brush against the protruding hair.
“This exactly, hahaha,” Ella replied barking.
“What is she talking about, Amon? Help me here buddy, please,” Tommy pleaded with me and I couldn’t hide the mirth off my face.
“Tommy, listen. I know you were impressed by that guy, that Oly, but really? The mustache isn’t for everyone you know,” I said trying to save my best friend’s looks.
“Oh, you are talking of this?” Tommy said, realizing at last, pointing at the offending novel feature on his face. “I think you are just jealous. You may drink your worries with this tasty cocktail I brought you.”
“Is it any g..? No, I won’t ask, just give it to me,” I said reaching for the cup. There weren’t many options offered and I had already tried most of them. Three weeks of traveling back to the main hub were coming to a close soon.
We had been traveling slower on the return trip, avoiding leaving behind the damaged vessels of the fleet. The journey back provided ample time to cope with some of the emotions after the battle.
Yet it was still difficult when I saw our reduced group; when I expected a snide remark from Nik or a hearty laugh from Ginny, the loss was almost too much to handle.
It was a raw feeling, something commonplace in the SFC, especially after a battle, but never to this extent. This was a disaster that the merc company might not have survived if not for the backing of House Arthas. I’d counted 27 different companies in the hold we resided in. If the combat troop losses weren’t over 70% they should be at least that much.
At some point, when we neared our destination the four of us made our way up to the highest level, the viewpoint of the battleship. It was not as filled with Marines overlooking our destination as usual, and not because of our reduced numbers. I suspected most Marines were afraid to accept the new reality returning to the hub would bring. As we traveled through space, life was held in stasis only until normality assumed its rightful reign when we finally arrived.
Before us, through the viewing window of Concordia GG, the SFC main hub received us in mourning. Drone projections painted the universe in contrasting colors, where light and darkness mixed revealing a picture of sacrifice and honor. The light show was elegant and well-executed.
But I scoffed at their meager attempts to console us.
The funeral ceremony that followed soon after disembarking the battleship was grand, grander than ever before. Multiple outsider guests attended, having had the time to arrive due to our delayed arrival. They sat on a dais of honor catering to their station in the House Arthas elite as if they had fought and won the battle alongside us.
The ceremony was set in a vast square large enough to hold thousands of people and was filled with attendees even further out into the streets between the buildings, gathering not only the remainder of the fleet’s crews but also the families and people living on the main hub.
As we stood still, in organized ranks listening to the comforting words of a general, spitting empty words one after another, I surveyed the stage on the opposite side of our formation.
Elegant fabrics worn in stylish modern suits and dresses decorated with shiny expensive jewelry, and a few military uniforms burdened with medals introduced the guests to my eyes. And there in the middle of it all, on a throne of luxury and power, the princess herself, Seraphina Arthas sat looking rather bored.
My emotions stirred, a fierce anger overcoming my otherwise cool demeanor. I glared at her slender form, older now, fuller than the teenager I remembered so many years ago. She had developed into a woman of unparalleled beauty. Her rosy lips were surrounded by porcelain white skin, and blond voluminous cascading curls fell behind her back hiding behind the open maroon dress she wore. A black mesh covered half her face, draping down her head in an elegant display of mourning.
Yet her eyes were cold, lazily picking at interesting targets among the gathered crowd. There was no emotion there to offer solace for the lost troops. A retainer standing behind her offered her a drink in a crystal glass which she took without acknowledging his presence.
I stared at her impassive face for a long time. I was certain her arrival here had nothing to do with me. Reorganizing the SFC was an important affair for House Arthas and the presence of one of the main bloodline solidified that things would run smoothly to their wishes.
The humongous flagship she had arrived in, named Prime Unity, was also a troop carrier. Something that I realized late might be present to prevent any dissident behavior from occurring. The Marines were not exactly calm, despite the mood stabilizers. A revolt wouldn’t be out of the question before the high command could once again reorganize the merc company to operate smoothly.
Lost in thought, I was startled when Seraphina suddenly stood up and approached the podium with calculated graceful gliding steps. The general noticing her approaching form cut his words short and after introducing her in a hurry fled to his seat.
I listened with hate to her condolences, hiding in plain sight inside the Marine formation. But the second part of her speech gave me another jolt. One of surprise. Involuntarily I gulped air feeling at the same time the hair on my body pringle.
“The future is rife with opportunity. The sacrifice of so many has paved the way for the SFC to rise again, to grow stronger, and to venture further out than ever before. Brave soldiers of the SFC, you will journey through systems and galaxies that House Arthas and the SFC have long since abandoned. The Milky Way Galaxy awaits you. The old Terra, a long-forgotten memory of the civilized universe, is standing by your path and the first colonies..! The first colonies will shelter and repopulate your ranks. Go forth troops, for the glory of the SFC, and for House Arthas!”