Mako sat up on his bunk. He could already feel the heaviness that came with 1.2Gs on Argyra. He lifted his arms and put them back down. He stood up and hopped a couple times. He couldn’t jump with his full strength. Even with the increased gravity, his cybernetic legs would crash him headfirst into the ceiling. He made a few short lunges. He would have to set up some basic gravity training to get the defense forces used to this gravity.

He looked in the mirror. He was in his tactical gear. It was a relatively tight fitting, black material that held defensive plating. Since this was, so far, a generic scenario, he has on general purpose kinetic resistant plating. It is generally accepted as the standard uniform for the colony defense forces. The plating was dark blue. His name was on the right side of his chest plate and insignia of the Oracle, a profile of a veiled woman holding a crystal ball, was on the left.

His eyes drifted up to his face. He had a light olive complexion with black hair. It was currently short on top with the side and back shaved. It wasn’t his preference, but he wore a lot of helmets and therefore, practical. He had an aquiline nose and eyes with gold irises. The eye color, of course, wasn’t natural just as his eyes in total were not natural, but he felt they were interesting without being too flashy or distracting. He had some exposed implants on his face.

Black lines, about half a sen, wide extended from the top of his cheekbones, one end disappearing into his hairline, and the other end went down to either side of his nose and ended with a sight jagged downturn. And on each side of his face in the corners of jaw line were 2 vertical lines also about a quarter of a sen wide and 2 sens long. The outer lines were slightly longer than the inner ones. These were external sensors for his onboard array. They gave him some additional visual options and sensitivity and didn’t alter his appearance too much.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror. He suddenly felt alien and out of place. Who was he to be standing on this precipice? He was about to land on a new world and begin a new civilization? He was just a guy from the worst part of Oceania. A literal street urchin.

He still remembered the day he dashed through the streets clutching a bag of food given to him by a kind shopkeeper. The shopkeeper took pity on him, a scrawny kid who offered to do any work they might have. Most folks turned him away for being too small. But that day, maybe the shopkeeper had some extra food to spare or maybe he just felt generous. Mako didn't question it; he took the food and ran off before the shopkeeper changed his mind.

Then, Chavo and his gang found him. They surrounded Mako and snatched the food away. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last. But that moment made Mako realize he couldn't rely on others for help or even to leave him alone. Well, Chavo couldn't take anything from anyone anymore. He'd died long ago after living a pathetic life as the biggest bully in a back alley in the depths of Oceania. You can only push people around for so long before they push back.

Mako had joined a mercenary company when he was barely old enough to sign the contract. It was more like indentured servitude—slavery in all but name—but he signed up for the chance it offered. An escape from a miserable existence and a certain premature death.

They gave him genetic therapy, training, and implants, all at a steep cost. But within a couple of years, he'd grown into a man, towering above the sickly, malnourished child he'd been. Though no one from his past would recognize him now, and vice versa. And he turned out to be surprisingly good at his job.

Mako had always been good at weighing risks and knowing when to be cautious or bold. And when everything else failed, luck seemed to be on his side. Maybe his rough upbringing in the back alleys had its perks after all. Should he thank Chavo for that? Chavo can rot.

His successful missions not only earned him enough to pay off his contract but also made him moderately wealthy. Yet, despite having resources now, he found himself unsatisfied with his life, his work, and the people around him. So, signing up for a one-way ticket off the planet was an easy decision.

His life on Earth had only ever left him disappointed in people. He often found them petty, short-sighted, and too often, cruel. One moment they'd thank him for saving their lives, and the next, they'd attack their neighbors over food. The worst part? There was no reason for anyone to go hungry. Corruption and politics always got in the way of logistics.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

He has had mentors he appreciated and commanders who had honor. Yet his work had usually meant he was a tool of oppression. Too many times, he encountered people on the worst day of their lives, and all too often, he had been the cause of their suffering.

He attached his sidearm to the holster on his right and headed toward the Control Center. As Mako approached the Con, he heard voices echoing down the hall.

“What do you mean ‘no one can log out’?” Achilles' voice rang with irritation. Apparently, he would be the acting Expedition Archon.

“We cannot log out.” Another less familiar voice restated. “I noticed some irregularities with the scenario and tried to ask RETA some questions for clarification. She refused to answer. Which is alarming in itself. I asked her if there was any imminent danger and she said no. I thought I would just verify for myself that everything was ok, and I could not log out.”

“RETA, emergency log off.” Achilles growled.

“Denied. All participants of the scenario must remain inside until the scenario end conditions have been met.”

“Who ordered this?”

“This condition is part of the scenario.”

Achilles sighed and looked down in thought. His eyes met with Booster’s. “In your opinion, are we in any immediate or imminent danger?”

Booster looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. “RETA, are you still monitoring ship systems and diagnostics?”

“Affirmative.”

“If there is any real danger to the ship or crew will that alter the scenario parameters and permit us to log out?”

“Affirmative.”

“How long will the scenario last?”

“Approximately 6-9 months.”

Booster looked back to Achilles and shrugged, “We should be able to last that long and even longer without any hands on the ship.”

“I do not like it.” Achilles punctuated each word.

“I don’t know that we have much choice. There are no alternate or manual measures for ejecting from a capsule from the inside when RETA is online.”

“Can we take RETA offline?”

“Maybe. There are a few emergency commands that might work, but not without potentially causing more problems that could take some time to fix.”

By this time, Mako had entered the room and said, “While it’s not optimal, I think it’s foolish to break anything when so far nothing is actually broken. We should move on with the scenario while formulating possible options should they become necessary.”

Inside the con, a sophisticated array of control panels, holographic displays, and communication consoles line the walls. A few of the stations already had operators but the real bustle wouldn’t happen until tomorrow. The air is alive with the hum of machinery and the crackle of communication channels as personnel coordinate supply deliveries, review planetary surveys, and map the immediate area.

Achilles grimaced. “Fine, fine.” He worked some tension out of his neck while he thought for a moment and looked at Booster. “Get a task force together and assemble some potential solutions.

Booster nodded, “I’ll brief Flywheel on this. He is the best cypher we have in our instance. Well, one of the best.”

Achilles nodded again, “Do that. I want a list of options in 72 hours.”

Booster acknowledged both Achilles and Mako and left the room.

Mako went to a terminal and brought up the list of everyone in their instance. “We are a bit light on Archons in this instance. Me, Ceridwen, and Odysseus. Plenty of Deputies though.”

A dark-skinned woman walked into Ops. She had silver eyes that upon closer inspection, one would see no typical pupils or irises, but an array of black dots spread over the entire eye. Those eyes, that managed to carry an air of mischievousness, were set off with her rich, dark skin, high cheek bones, and full lips. Her hair was done in Bantu knots, and she wore a standard jumpsuit as she carried a cup of coffee over to her station.

“Mosquito.” Mako glanced at her. “We need survey drones in the air.”

She smiled over her cup. “Drones are already in the air. I just went to get some coffee.”

“Feeding the combined signal to the hub? Is anyone watching the feeds from the drones?”

“Ceridwen has a bunch of her people monitoring the feeds and noting points of interest.” Mosquito nodded. She headed back to her station.

Achilles looked around distractedly rubbing his hands down the front of his chest as if he was smoothing out his shirt.

Mako looked at him and tilted his head. “Why so tense?”

Achilles stopped moving and focused on Mako trying to come up with that answer. “I don’t know. It’s a mix of excitement and anxiety. All the scenarios up until now didn’t matter as were still hoping to find something.” Achilles smoothed back his hair. “I feel like this all seems too good to be true and I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Finding out that we cannot log out just adds to this sense of.... foreboding.”

Mako nodded and shrugged. “It’s still just a scrum. I don’t want to sound dismissive, but we’ve already done the insane in real life. We’ve spent years shooting through space in a metal box wrapped around a spatial distortion reactor. I like our odds.”

A black screen with a gold border popped up in Mako’s vision blocking his head ups display and it populated with yellow characters.