“I’ll be honest Captain, I could have put a whole squad out of commision for three days with the amount of toxes I pulled out of that girl’s blood. She should not have been conscious, much less be able to walk here on her own strength.”
“But she will be fine?” Thane asked, to which the face in the corner of his eye nodded. Thane noticed some wrinkles in Mella’s face he hadn’t seen before. His ebony-hued skin was starting to lose its’ shine, and his short black hair was grayer now than it had been when the Exemplar took its’ current posting. Thane wryly thought that his best way to measure time these days was to witness his comrades grow old.
“She’s already gone again.” Mella said, turning away to focus on a task Thane couldn’t see. “Said she was going to take a shower. Rest assured, she won't even be hungover.”
“I thought you had good news for me.” Thane said, but his attempt at humor did not put a smile onto Mella’s face.
“She should be fit enough to sit through a meeting. If you wish to summon her too, that is.” The Auxilium Prime said.
“No. Valk has earned herself a time-out.” Thane said, shaking his head. “A mere warning does not suffice for such a transgression.”
“As you wish." Mella said, bringing what looked like a burnt-out circuit board to his face. He inspected it for a second, then brought up a soldering pen and pressed it against the surface. ”I assume our Duelist and Annihilator will also be attending?”
“Lachlan is already on his way. I am going to get Despair now.”
“Not responding to your hails again?”
“As long as she is making good use of her time I will not reprimand her for it. I gave her my word.”
“Yeah, well, she’s giving us medics something to do. I won’t be the one to complain about her either.” Mella said, his lips finally curling up.
“I am approaching the Web now. Notify the others we will be joining in twenty minutes.”
“Aye Captain.” Mella nodded, and his feed disappeared from Thane’s lenses.
The Captain-emissary found himself in front of heavy double doors made of steel, the hydraulic rails which normally moved them unpowered. Apparently being able to open these doors of your own strength was considered some sort of rite of passage to the dwellers of the Web.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself, then placed his hands against the doors and pushed them open, the stink of sweat, oil, and alcohol and the booming of electronic music rushing to meet him.
The Web carried such a different atmosphere from the rest of the Exemplar of Valor that Thane found the transition somewhat disorienting. As if he’d stepped through a portal connecting Harir’s flagship with an underground fighting ring on a backwater planet.
Then again, a fighting ring was exactly what the webs were.
The space had been originally intended for use as a fighter hangar, but around eighty years ago Runoran military doctrine had shifted to wildly different tactics, rendering fighter craft and the hangars which supported them practically obsolete.
This had left the Exemplar with two abandoned spaces, each as large as a small housing block.
The starboard hangar had found new purpose as a secondary shuttle bay, but the port hangar had been left unused for nearly half a decade.
Then, eventually, a group of younger soldiers and technicians started to make the space their own. A place where they could feast and drink and duel each other away from the sterile and pompous halls normally intended for such events. More importantly, it was away from their superiors, parents, and any other kind of supervisory force. The abandoned hangar soon became a hub for the youth made for them and by them.
After decades of growth, the hangar was filled to the brim with dozens of suspended platforms and walkways connecting various bars, fighting cages, and dance floors to each other both horizontally and vertically like an amalgamation of repurposed steel and minepols.
The form of construction was what lent the Web its name, though Thane saw little connection between these shoddy structures and the well-organized webs common to the arachnid family.
In truth, he would have had the buildings taken down decades ago if Harir hadn’t been so enthusiastic about them. Back then the Captain-Emissary had been convinced there would be some kind of catastrophic collapse or accident sooner rather than later, insisting that the ship’s youngsters make use of the designated facilities for the sake of safety.
Time had told that he was –in fact– mistaken, and the Web had since solidified itself as a cornerstone of the Exemplar’s shipboard culture. Despite that, and despite the fact that those who frequented the Web back when he voiced his concerns were now among the ship’s seniors, there was a persistent sense that he wasn’t supposed to be here.
The Web was occupied by about two thousand youngsters, from the well-seasoned party-goers nearing the end of their adolescence to the meek, younger teens just starting it. Thane stood out like a sore thumb in this crowd, yet he managed to make his way through mostly unnoticed. Those that did pick up on his appearance took a quick step back or covered their faces so as not to be recognized.
“It’s Lord Thane.” One of them hissed to his friend, both of whom couldn’t be older than fourteen. The boys quickly retreated, hiding themselves behind the bodies of others. Though spooked, they still stole peeks at him, their awe at his reputation fighting their fear of being called out by a figure with authority.
Thane couldn’t help but smile under his helmet. They were so entrenched in their belief that this pastime of theirs was rebellious in nature that they had forgotten that the Web was sanctioned by the Oracle himself. He gave a polite nod in their direction and made his way further up, heading to the largest and most central suspended structure where the bulk of the crowd had gathered.
He could hear the signs of battle before he saw them. A dull clanging of blades ringing out at a pace and consistency such that it could have been confused as part of the music. There was a fight going on in the central cage, and from the sounds of it, it was a heated one.
Thane already knew who he would find before he laid eyes on the cage. Despair stood alone, facing three others. All were wearing segmented warskins, all held hefty close combat weapons. The stink of blood hit Thane in the face and he turned away from the action to see how a fifth combatant sprawled out on the opposite side of the cage with two medics tending to him.
Something ancient and vast shifted inside Thane as he saw and smelled the wounded warrior’s blood. Like a monstrously large snake falling upon its prey it slithered around him, constricted him, hissed in his ear.
“Spill their blood.” It urged him. “Kill them all.”
Thane bluntly ignored the predator on his shoulder and turned his head to watch the fight at hand. He knew that to engage, even if only to deny it, would only feed the monster. When it came back, and it would, his words would have only made it stronger.
For now, the beast tossed him aside in rage and crept back to its lair. Thane knew the monster existed merely in his head, but that knowledge didn’t alleviate the feeling of being watched by a pair of hungry, vengeful eyes.
The clang of metal on metal dragged him back to the present as he watched the team of three attack their lone opponent.
An ax and a polearm swung in Despair’s direction with a strength and speed no mortal could have matched, the whining of synthetic muscles only overshadowed by the whooshing of vortexes as their blades cut the air.
Despair stepped aside as smooth as a ripple in a pond, then brought her own blade up and went for a horizontal slash at her polearm-wielding opponent who had overstepped by half a centimeter.
The fourth combatant, this one wielding a mace and energy buckler, stepped in to guard his comrade, blocking the path of Despair’s blade with his shield. His reflexes were good, but Thane was the only one who saw that Despair never planned for her attack to hit in the first place.
She canceled out the momentum of her zweihander in a display of raw strength that seemed completely at odds with her small frame, then reoriented it and turned her broad strike into a piercing thrust, stabbing the unsuspecting ax-wielder through the shoulder.
The Tidebreaker recoiled with a shriek of pain and brought his weapon up in a defensive stance, but Despair was already behind him. She expertly slashed her blade across his back, cleaving his skin’s power pack in two, then dashed forwards and leapt over her remaining two opponents without missing a beat, striking at them from mid-air.
The polearm-wielding Tidebreaker narrowly managed to parry an overhead swoop meant for his head with the haft of his weapon, though the impact severely dented it, bending the shaft to the point of near-uselessness.
The Tidebreaker didn’t hesitate for a moment and snapped his own weapon in half, now wielding his severely diminished polearm in one hand and a weighted steel staff in the other.
A buzzer sounded, signaling a time-out. The medics had apparently decided that the ax-wielders' wounds were too severe for him to continue fighting and now entered the ring.
Despair slowly circled the two remaining fighters and dragged her blade over the naked decking, leaving a trail of sparks in her wake. Until the buzzer rang again, the fighters were not allowed to attack each other. The rules said nothing against intimidating your opponents, though.
A wave of murmurs went up around Thane. He assumed them to be remarks about the spectacular fight at first, but the augmented ears of his relic picked up on the mention of his name and rank.
Looking around, Thane found himself at the center of attention. The crowd took an instinctive step away from him, leaving him an island of solitude where everyone else was packed awkwardly tight together.
He glanced up at the ringmaster’s booth, finding that the announcer was staring at him too. The young woman tentatively reached for her speakers to announce his presence, but he waved her off. He was already disturbing the normal order of the Web as it was, no need to throw oil on that fire.
He made for the booth and nodded to the crowd as they parted to let him through, greeting some by name. He was greeted back, but he could tell the kids were more nervous than usual now that he intruded on their domain.
“Lord Equerry!” One of the bolder girls shouted to him. “Are you here to fight as well?”
Another wave of murmurs went up, more excited and energetic this time. Thane pretended to not have heard it.
“My Lord, how may I be of service?” The announcer asked, keeping a better air of cool about her than most, but she couldn’t fully hide how tense she was.
“I would like to borrow Despair from you.” Thane said. “But please, by all means, let her finish the fight. I have no intention of cutting the show short.”
The announcer smirked at that, her shoulders loosening as if a burden had been lifted from them. Thane could only wonder what kind of scenarios had gone through her head when she’d noticed him.
“I don’t think you’d have cut it short by much, my Lord. Ishar and Peroj are fine combatants. Both of them could top the leaderboard a few years back, but two against one against the Duelist Prime? That’s hardly a fight.”
“We shall see." Thane said, nodding, then turned back to the fighting cage as the buzzer sounded a second time and the fight recommenced.
The announcer had been right, the continuation of the fight was indeed short. Despair now held a range advantage over her opponents, and she was significantly faster. She was running circles around Ishar and Peroj in the most literal sense of the saying, ducking and weaving and feinting and swinging her blade over and over again.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Knowing that they were on the losing hand, the mace-and-shield wielding Peroj went for a desperate attack on Despair’s legs, leaving himself fully open just to give Ishar a chance at winning. It would have been a noble sacrifice, but Despair picked up on the plan before Ishar did.
She again halted her momentum in a way that should have been impossible if not for the warskin she wore, causing Peroj’s attack to go wide. With his comrade now between himself and his enemy, Ishar was unable to capitalize on any openings the gamble may have given them, and Despair finished them both off with a swift one-two swipe of her blade.
The buzzer sounded once more just as a fanfare of triumphant music blared out of the cage’s speakers, reinforced with the chorus of a hundred young voices screaming in adoration of Despair.
Replays of the fight lit up on four screens surrounding the cage and the announcer quickly went over the highlights, her voice quick as a auctioneers’ as she struggled to keep up with the fighter’s movements, even when the replays were rolled in slow-motion.
“And that brings Despair up to two-thousand-eight-hundred-and-fifty-three victories to a hundred-and-twenty-two losses. She’s just seven matches away from four-hundred wins in a row. Duelist Prime for a reason, right or not?” She nearly shouted, her voice echoing throughout the Web.
The crowd whooped in response, a chant of Despair’s name rose up from their ranks, but the Duelist prime stood motionless at the bottom of the pit, inspecting her blade.
“Now, unfortunately, the rest of Despair’s matches today will have to be canceled. Her duties as a Prime call. But not to worry folks, we still have other exciting fights coming up!”
As Thane had expected, the crowd’s cheers quickly turned to cries of disappointment. Their numbers gave them the courage to protest him where on their own they would never have dared to.
Looking down into the cage, he signed for Despair to meet him outside. He then had his skin hijack the Web’s speaker system. A wave of static followed as the ancient relic melded with new tech, but then his voice boomed from everywhere in the repurposed hangar.
“I have no intention to lecture you on duty and responsibility today.” He began, overshadowing even the loudest of the bunch.
Thane noted the faces around him went sour as soon as he started speaking, and many of the youths cast their eyes down. In these kids’ experience, when someone said they weren’t going to lecture them, that was often exactly what they did. Thane was well aware of that.
“You have all been told of our virtues a thousand times before. Instead, I wish to make a promise to you.” He continued, a small smirk setting on his face. He saw a few of the youths start to whisper amongst one another, undoubtedly trying to guess what he might say next.
“As apologies for interrupting your scheduled program, I myself shall participate in the fighting cages before the week’s end. One match against the Duelist prime, ten more matches against brave challengers. How do you like that deal?”
The crowd was struck with silence for a few moments, then burst out in excitement like Thane had rarely witnessed. They jumped and thrashed just to have an outlet for their energy, and Thane found his name was now the one being chanted.
He waved his hand, then started making his way back to the exit as the announcer breathlessly repeated his words. The crowd parted for him once more, but their attitudes had changed. Where first they avoided him, they now clamored to get his attention, yet he waved them all away. Maintaining a good relationship with all groups and generations aboard the ship was one responsibility. Not becoming too familiar with them was another. Before long he found himself back on the suspended walkway leading to ground level, leaving the crowd behind.
Despair stood at the door he had entered through. The many segments of her carapace armor were in the process of being peeled off, leaving her in the beige bodyglove worn beneath it.
Thane had never been one to underestimate people, yet the short and lean young woman in front of him in no way gave the impression that she was his equal in martial might.
Well, perhaps she was not quite that good, but she undoubtedly had the potential to catch up to him within her mortal lifespan.
After all, Despair was a mere twenty years old. She was the youngest Tidebreaker to ever reach the rank of Prime, and Thane believed she would grow greater still.
Her mop of short hair –originally a dirty blonde, now dyed deep black with a number of golden accents– stuck messily to her face from sweat and the compression of a helmet.
Despair had a small, pointy nose, a sharp chin, and a set of cheekbones which were only accentuated when she smiled, which was not often.
Thane was treated to the sight of them now. His eyes met hers and he smiled back at her, his futile expressions still persisting after centuries of having his face be invisible.
“So, finally making the big leagues, old man?” She asked, her eyes twinkling in a rare display of mischief “Think you can handle a fight in the cages?”
“If your fight was anything to go by, I could win it with my eyes closed.” Thane responded, expressing his smile through his voice, to which the girl next to him scoffed.
“It’s because of those old-gen skins. I feel so slow and cumbersome in them.” She said, wiping a strand of hair away from her eyes. “I’ll convince them to let me use my own skin one day.”
Thane smirked at that. If an outsider –even an academic soldier– had witnessed the fight, they would have been awestruck by how fast Despair could move. But she was right, friendly duels like the cage fights were fought using obsolete weaponry. Thane agreed that it made the fighters look sluggish in comparison to their usual capabilities, but to have the fights be a little slower was better than to let his Tidebreakers accidentally kill each other.
“If those old suits are that bad for you I cannot imagine how gruesome having to move with your own muscles must be.” He teased her. “You are not working up Stuck skin, are you?”
The Web’s attendants collected the final parts of the old warskin Despair had used and packed them neatly in half a dozen suitcases before they left, leaving the Captain-emissary and the Duelist prime alone.
“That’s easy for you to say, Cap.” Despair responded, her smile fading slightly. “You haven’t done anything unpowered in over a hundred generations. If there’s anyone suffering from Stuck skin, it’s you.”
“Well, if you crave something more exciting, why not bring your warskin for our match? Perhaps the Shuntblade as well?” Thane asked. He could tell the prospect excited Despair, but she shrugged indifferently nonetheless.
“I just said they won’t allow field weapons. They’re just too dangerous.” She muttered in disappointment
“I will convince them.” Thane promised. “I will be bringing my best suit. It seems only fair that you do, too.”
“Thanks, Captain. I’m looking forward to it.” She responded, flashing the Equerry a melancholic smile which told him she still wasn’t entirely convinced.
“I just wish we weren’t stuck doing Veil inspections four light-years away from the nearest inhabited system. I long for dirt on my boots and alien blood on my blade.” She said, echoing exactly what Thane had started to taste among the crew at large. Spending half a year without any meaningful action had not seemed that long to him, but apparently it was long enough to brew dissent within the crew.
Thane ran a quick scan of their surroundings, considering the locations of the closest recording equipment and bystanders and cross-referencing them with the acoustic profile of the Web.
“You may be getting your wish sooner than you think.” He said once he knew for sure that there was no-one else within earshot.
“Follow me." He continued, pushing the heavy steel doors he had entered through open and leading them into the ship’s more conventional corridors. “We are already running late“
One of the Exemplar’s many functions was as a strategic command center. As such it was equipped with a great number of tactical rooms and conference chambers meant to coördinate planet-wide, system-wide, or even sector-wide operations.
Some of these facilities were built like amphitheaters, meant to facilitate a thousand attendees at once. Thane was sure there would be need for them in the near future, but for now he had opted to hold the meeting in Briefing chamber 11, a smaller room meant to support a dozen people at most.
With Despair and himself included, they only counted six.
Grand-Commander Miran sat opposite from the door, nose-deep in holographic ship schematics projected by a floating computer core in front of her as she routed a number of commands to recipients Thane couldn’t quite make out. Mella, the Auxilium Prime, was engaged in deep conversation with a middle-aged man with a bald head and a broomhandle mustache Thane recognized as Eli, an expert on the Arcel sector and advisor to Miran.
The final person in the room was Lachlan, the Annihilator Prime. He lounged casually, taking up two of the chamber’s comfortable leather seats as he munched on a log of breadstick, occasionally dipping it into a small container of gravy he had placed on his lap. A small entertainment feed was displayed on one of his eyes.
Thane motioned for Despair to take a seat, then closed the door behind them and commanded the room’s computer to run confidentiality protocols.
The wall panel switched from its normal interface to a dull amber as scanners set into the walls probed every item and signal present in the chamber, checking for hidden bugs and verifying whether the objects present had authority to be there. Thane felt a slight tickle on his skin, his skin’s way of telling him he was being analyzed by X-rays, beams of infrared and bundles of electromagnetism.
After about ten seconds, the wall panel flickered three error messages, one for each anomaly it had detected.
Unsurprisingly, the first entry warned that an unidentifiable suit of advanced armor was present. Thane whitelisted it without a second thought.
The second anomaly was an outgoing high-clearance datastream accessing critical systems within the ship. Thane looked up to Miran and the screens she was working from, then whitelisted that, too.
The third and final error was caused by a persistent incoming feed requested by someone with high clearance. Thane gave the room the command to cut that datastream off.
Immediately, Lachlan threw his hands up in frustration, flinging breadcrumbs in a wide arc around him. The projection on his retina now said “CONNECTION LOST” in big, bold letters.
With the potential risks to confidentiality addressed, the panel went from amber to a soft blue to indicate the room was secure.
“I’ll cut right to the chase.” Thane said, drawing the attention of Eli and the three Primes. “A little over two hours ago, our sensors picked up a dramatic increase in Veil activity; A probable sign that a dangerous prophecy is nearing a critical stage. The prophecy in question, A million eyes, is associated with a foundry system in the Arcel sector; Sindrion.”
At his mention of the name Sindrion, a holoprojector sprung into action, displaying the neutron star and three rocky planets orbiting it in the middle of the room.
“Around the same time as we learned of this, our Lord-Oracle decided to withdraw. He is without doubt aware of this development, yet in his absence I will be assuming command of the Exemplar.”
The others nodded. This did not surprise them. Thane’s seniority spoke for itself: If someone had to take charge of the ship, he was the only true candidate.
“Lord Miran and I have already discussed our best course of action. We might not be the only Kinsworn to pick up on the prophecy, nor are we the closest. The Catalyst of Fate might already be on its way, and the Victory Eternal may have already arrived. We cannot, however, afford to wait for confirmation on this. The Grand-commander and I agree that the situation is volatile enough to warrant the redeployment of the Exemplar of Valor to the Sindrion system.”
He could see the expected glimmer of excitement in his team’s eyes. Despite the dire circumstances, this was the exact news they had been waiting for.
“Currently, the system is in full preparation for a Baknian incursion.” Thane continued, highlighting the three semistable wormholes of alien design, each of them anchored to a planet’s L3-point.
“Historically speaking, the Baknian have posed little threat even to smaller systems. As the largest producer of warstructs in the sector, Sindrion should have no problem fending off the attack.”
He paused for a moment, looking around the room to consider the other’s faces. They nodded in agreement to his words. The reports of former Baknian attacks -how they all failed, to be exact- had reached everyone’s ears.
“That said, there is a good chance this event will serve as the catalyst for the prophecy.” He said, choosing his next words carefully. “That is why we must take control of the defense of Sindrion on both a political and military level. It is our best chance to recognize the border conditions of A million eyes.”
Thane suppressed a sigh. He knew that was only the first step of the plan. The easier one, at that. He might be able to find this savior the prophecy spoke of, yet without the Lord Oracle’s insight even that accomplishment could be in vain. That was a problem for a later time, though.
“That is why I called you all here today. I want full insight on Sindrion’s inner workings, as well as your interpretations of the prophecy at hand. Every eventuality will have to be planned for. Therefore–”
The Captain-emissary was interrupted by the chime of a high-priority message originating from Miran’s levitating computer. A message appeared on one of her screens, and the Grand-commander quickly read through it.
“The chief engineer reports that all external sensory equipment has been retrieved and that the shiftcore is spooled.” She explained. “The engine room awaits your command for transit.”
“Give it.” Thane said, giving a nod of approval.
“Aye, Lord Equerry.” She responded, then opened a dual feed to the ECR and bridge.
“This is Grand-Commander Miran. I am authorizing a level-twelve breach-and-transit. Target destination: Sindrion system. All haste. I repeat, all haste.”
After the command was acknowledged and confirmed, the feed closed with a click. The crew of the Exemplar worked quickly; not two minutes after the order was given the breach alarm resounded through the ship, reaching even those in the secure conference chambers.
“Attention, Kinsworn of the Exemplar of Valor. This is the bridge speaking” Came the voice of second mate Yahet over the intercom.
“Please prepare for a long-lasting, high-intensity shift transit. Guidelines suggest the use of metabolism boosters and to increase your nutrient intake by 40% for the duration of the transit. Remember that tunnelsickness can happen to anyone. If you experience symptoms like inflammation or sudden headaches, do not hesitate to consult your medical expert. The breaching sequence will commence in five minutes. I repeat, five minutes until breach. Bridge, out.”
Yahet’s voice cut off with a hiss of static, and the breach alarm sounded again. Thane knew the guideline instructions would be spread to personal domes as well. At least this was something the ship and her crew were prepared for.
“Well then.” He said, turning back to the other attendees of the meeting as the whine of charging breach capacitors steadily increased, sending the slightest of reverberations through the walls and floor of the ship.
“We have nine days until we reach Sindrion. Let us plan our approach.”