- John York -
John was disoriented. For the past six months, he had been searching for signs of Katherine on any planet that had traces of Orks. However, he had almost no information up to this point.
‘She was my responsibility. How can I be an Heir if I wasn't even capable of this?’ He tormented himself over what had happened.
Though of high quality, his unkempt beard and wrinkled clothes were just some of the signs of his mental state.
He was washing his face in his bathroom, trying to shake off the sleep from his last night. The meetings and missions didn't seem to end, especially with the beginning of the Tenth Wave; Mars was in full swing. Its industries were essential for producing weaponry for the front line.
Although the Orks had begun deep attacks into human territory, they ended up retreating to adjacent planets like GL581 and others that were more distant from humanity's original solar system.
‘What do they want with this attack?’ Many generals and Heirs asked themselves. With each past Wave, the Orks seemed to have a clear objective; this time, they appeared to be searching for something, attacking many different planets at once and then stopping their advance.
As John changed into the Yorks' casual uniform, someone knocked on his suite door.
"Come in," he replied.
John stuck his head out of the bathroom, trying to see who was entering.
It was one of his personal guards. "Sir, excuse me, you're being called to the communication room."
To this day, John finds it amusing that he has guards. He was one of the strongest Rangers in humanity—perhaps the strongest. Still, he always had to walk around with two guards.
‘If I'm not able to stop whoever is trying to assassinate me, they certainly won't be able to.,’ he thought about the irony. ‘I'm really too tired if I have time to think like this.’
John shook his head before replying. "Sure, I'm on my way."
‘Where was the communication room again?’ he wondered.
It had been a long time since he had used this transport ship. In recent years, they have always had access to teleporters, but due to the new security level caused by the war, militarized zones do not allow the use of teleportation.
‘Someone needs to figure out how to create one of those machines that only allow the transmission of human beings,’ John thought as he walked through the ship's corridors.
People moved aside in the corridors wherever he passed, and when it was impossible to avoid him, they saluted or bowed to the Heir.
To John, all this was just uncomfortable; his dream since childhood was to be a Ranger and help his parents. He hadn't imagined that the way he would end up helping was not as a Ranger but as the Heir of the family.
‘Perhaps the last of the lineage,’ he thought sadly.
As soon as he reached the steel door, he paused momentarily to take a deep breath. He didn't know what kind of communication he would receive, but he needed to be prepared for the worst.
The communication room had been built in a circular format; around it were control panels that ensured the ship could contact any of the empire's planets at any time, as well as some channels unknown to civilians.
Upon entering, John could hear conversations among the communication officers.
"Ork fleet sighted near Olympus."
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
"Combat fleet or reconnaissance?"
"We don't know yet."
"Do we have anyone stationed at the border?"
"At GL581, there's still a battalion."
"Have them prepared to retreat if necessary."
"Understood."
John didn't need to act in cases like this; he was simply there for a transmission.
In the center of the room was a bay of hologram projectors. These were used when communication between one or more ships was needed.
While the officers continued their tasks, the Heir approached the projector bay. One of the officers approached him to report. "Sir, we've received a communication request from the New Earth Army. Do you prefer a private communication?"
John waved his hand indifferently. "It can be right here. Let's just resolve this."
As soon as the hologram was initiated, the heir could see the long table used at the NEA's main base. Seated along it were five generals, one for each Ranger division.
"Your Excellency, the Emperor asked us to report to you the developments in the search for your sister," one of the generals explained the reason for the call.
"Sebastian, for God's sake. I don't need this 'Your Excellency' bullshit formality; we trained together. What I want is information. We've been on this search for six months, and it doesn't seem like we're any closer than when we started," John replied calmly but quite thoughtfully.
Sebastian was seated at the start of the table, close to the projector. He wore a yellow medal symbolizing his division—not that it was necessary—since he kept his vibrant yellow armor activated most times.
John had known him since their days at the Ranger Academy. He still had the same dark brown hair, cut to be practical, but every time, he would go to the mirror to make it slightly messy. On the front of his armor, he had the number "33" stamped in black. It was one of the few Ranger Armors that featured a customization.
Sebastian had a charismatic face; even with austere and angular features, he always got along well with others. It was no wonder he became one of the youngest generals.
"Um," the general cleared his throat and shifted in his chair as if uncomfortable before continuing. "John, the Emperor asked us to have your word that the York army will position itself and defend Olympus once this search mission is completed before we are allowed to inform you."
The generals couldn't feel the effect of those words since they were in another location; however, all the officers on the ship could sense a titanic amount of Energy being released rapidly. The veins in John's neck throbbed with anger at what had been insinuated.
One of the officers close to John had to grab his arm before collapsing, overwhelmed by the amount of Energy expelled.
Only then did he manage to take a deep breath and realize that his team was again being affected by his emotions.
"Sebastian, I will ignore what's implied in this question out of respect for our friendship. However, let the Emperor know that his disrespect will not go unnoticed," the Heir replied without giving a concrete answer.
Sebastian smiled upon hearing his friend's response; he knew John would react this way. He just hoped he wouldn't do something reckless in his anger. Although they had trained together, the general knew that a Unique Ranger had power between 20 to 200 times greater than a standard Ranger. He needed to be careful because a snap of John's fingers would be enough to make two battalions disappear without a trace.
The other generals expected a similar reaction; however, one of them was more dissatisfied than the others.
"Without a direct response about your movements, we cannot give you your information. John York, what is your answer?" a woman seated near the end of the table repeated.
The moment the other generals heard the words coming out of her mouth, they all turned to her, trying to understand how she had made one of the most foolish decisions of her life.
Unfortunately for everyone there, Quinn was the most recent to rise to the rank of General. She wore a scarlet armor that outlined every contour of her body. Each piece of the Ranger Armor was almost an extension of her slender frame.
She had a face marked by combat, with a thin scar just below her left eye, which she never wanted to remove using VAT. Her eyes were dark and intense; even in her youth, she carried a hard expression, leaving no room for diplomacy.
"Girl. For you, it's 'Your Excellency, John York, Heir and Senator. Golden Ranger.' Know well that if you wish to remain alive, learn some lessons in diplomacy, for I will not bow to any general. And if I do not obtain the information I desire, you can be sure that I will be the first to step into the Imperial Palace and reduce it to dust." John's eyes seeped all the anger and madness of what he had just promised. However, there was not a drop of fear.
"You're cra—" As the young woman stood up from the table to protest what he had just said, another general intervened.
"Silence." Wiz was the oldest general at the table, one of the few who could wear his white hair to symbolize his prowess. He had witnessed more Waves in his lifetime than anyone in that room.
"I apologize on behalf of my colleague, John." Wiz bowed his head before continuing to speak. "Sir, we've found signs that seem to be what you're looking for."