Chapter 2:

“Who’s there?” Garen’s voice cut through the night, sharp but edged with weariness. His hand hovered over the blaster, muscles tensed. It had been a long time since anything had threatened him other than a wild creature.

Outside, the two marines flinched at Garen’s sudden voice, echoing through the cabin walls. Hands darted to their rifles before they realized it wasn’t an attack. Private Kees, nerves frayed, nearly dropped his energy rifle. “Dammit,” he muttered, his fingers tightening around the weapon. His face twitched with embarrassment.

Corporal Dreen shot him a hard glare, unimpressed. From the porch, Colonel Conus Taylen snapped his attention to the marines, motioning for them to stay alert. Dreen gave a sharp nod but kept his focus on Kees. He’s going to make me look incompetent, Dreen thought.

Inside the cabin, Garen remained still. If they didn’t respond soon, he wouldn’t hesitate to fire. Whoever they were, they had the upper hand for now, but out here in the forest, Garen knew the terrain favored him—if he could just make it to the trees. His eyes flicked toward the small back window, mind racing. Are they planning an ambush? He quickly mapped out escape routes, calculating where he could take cover if things went south.

Could it be raiders? There had been reports of raids in the system, but they usually targeted trade or passenger ships. Surface raids were rare—there wasn’t much value to be found on the ground. Still, it wasn’t impossible.

But the raiders here weren’t human—at least, not the ones Garen had heard of. And if it were raiders, they wouldn’t have announced themselves. They’d have kicked in the door by now. His thoughts drifted back to Klamarez’s call earlier. What if something had gone wrong? The realization hit Garen—it likely had. Whatever this was, it had to be connected.

Outside, Colonel Taylen stood rigid, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. His chest tightened with tension. This wasn’t his first mission—far from it. He had faced dangerous situations before, but standing at the door of General Garen Rivers, a living legend, was different. The stories hadn’t prepared him for the reality of meeting the man.

He’s just a man, Conus told himself, forcing his nerves to settle. Just a man you’ve read about for years.

A distant howl pierced the silence of the surrounding woods, causing the marines behind Conus to exchange uneasy glances. He ignored it, his focus unshaken. What was that?

Taylen adjusted his stance on the porch, straightening his back as he faced the cabin. “I’m Colonel Conus Taylen, Rhyus Defense Fleet,” he called out, his voice steady, though a hint of tension slipped through. “I was told I could find General Garen Rivers here.”

Inside, Garen frowned.

Colonel Conus Taylen? The name was unfamiliar. Why send someone he didn’t know? Maybe he’s connected to someone I do.

“Who sent you? Who’s your CO?” Garen’s voice cut through the night, sharp and unforgiving.

“Admiral Amar Lavont,” Conus replied, his tone firm, though hopeful. Surely, Lavont’s name would ease the tension.

Inside, Garen’s grip tightened on his blaster. Lavont. Too many years had passed, but the bitterness remained.

Lavont hadn’t just been a superior—he’d been a mentor. A friend. Together, they had planned and led countless operations. Lavont had seen potential in him from his academy days.

But their last encounter still burned in his mind—heated words, accusations, betrayal. I thought I buried this, Garen mused. You should’ve come yourself, Lavont.

That respect had turned cold. Despite the years, the final conflict still haunted him. Leaving the RDF hadn’t just been about Lavont, but he was a part of it. When Garen walked away, he hadn’t just left the military—he had left behind who he once was.

Garen stared at the door, wishing the colonel would just leave. Finally, with reluctance, he opened it. Conus straightened as the door swung wide, bracing himself. Face-to-face with the man whose reputation loomed so large, Conus felt the weight of his mission settle on his shoulders. Garen wasn’t what he had imagined.

Garen stood in the doorway, his expression cold, far from welcoming. His eyes swept over Conus and the marines, sizing them up like potential threats. The blaster in his hand remained ready, his finger hovering near the trigger.

The marines exchanged uneasy glances. This is General Garen Rivers? The legends had painted a different picture. Here stood a weary man, hardened and distant—nothing like the hero they had expected. Their grips tightened on their weapons, arms rising instinctively.

Conus kept his hands away from his own weapon, raising one to signal the marines to stand down. Garen smirked, unimpressed, but didn’t lower his blaster.

Failure wasn’t an option. Lavont had entrusted Conus with this mission, and if Garen agreed to return, he would lead the upcoming operation—one that would begin as soon as they reached Rhyus. General Garen Rivers at the helm. That was all Conus knew, and the thought of serving alongside the legendary general thrilled him. But this wasn’t just about following orders—Conus needed this mission to succeed. His career, perhaps even his future, hung in the balance.

Now, staring into Garen’s cold, distant eyes, that hope felt like it was slipping away.

Conus had served the Seven Worlds for years, starting in the Rhyus Defense Fleet before transitioning to the Rhyus Strategic Intelligence Agency (RSIA)—the covert branch responsible for espionage and galactic security. Lavont, now head of the RSIA, had personally selected Conus for this mission. But there was a complication: Conus wasn’t allowed to reveal his RSIA affiliation or the true nature of the mission until Garen agreed to return.

This isn’t the best way to rebuild a broken friendship, Conus thought, irritation simmering beneath his calm exterior. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. Lavont should’ve known better, but Conus couldn’t question his orders.

Garen Rivers wasn’t just a name—he was a legend across the Seven Worlds. War stories often turned into exaggerated myths, but Garen stood apart. He was one of the true heroes of the war.

Meeting him should have been an honor. It is an honor, Conus reminded himself. He just wished it were under better circumstances—more honest ones.

But what had truly made Garen Rivers a legend? He wasn’t just a skilled fighter or pilot—his tactical brilliance set him apart. The war with the Vorcons had raged for over two decades, and Garen had been on the front lines for nearly all of it. The Vorcons didn’t just conquer—they dominated, turning entire systems into battlegrounds. Their invasions were slow, methodical. Instead of quick strikes, they embedded themselves deep within the planets, waging brutal urban warfare.

The Vorcons thrived on resistance. They didn’t just overpower their enemies; they prolonged the conflict, savoring the struggle. Their massive armadas encircled planets, systematically wearing down any defense. Though they could have crushed worlds swiftly, they preferred to dismantle their opponents piece by piece, making examples of their conquests. Those who survived were enslaved.

The war hadn’t directly reached the Seven Worlds of Rhyus or the Vorcon Empire itself. It played out in the star systems between them—territories the Vorcons sought to control. The Seven Worlds fought to push them back, liberating planets already under occupation.

For Rhyus, it wasn’t about expansion but preserving stability and ensuring a safer future. At first, the Seven Worlds weren’t directly threatened, but as chaos spread, they had no choice but to intervene.

Garen’s reputation grew with every campaign. His mastery of the scalar falcata became the stuff of legends, with tales of him cutting down Vorcon elites. On the ground, in the air as a vertapilot, or commanding from the capital battle cruiser Riftkin, Garen excelled in every role. He didn’t always win, but his victories were decisive. Stories circulated that his very presence on the battlefield could shift the tide in the RDF’s favor.

But now, standing in the doorway across from Conus, Garen hardly resembled the man from the stories. He looked worn, cold, and distant—far from the legend he had once been.

The marines outside, stationed by the tracked vehicle, exchanged uneasy glances. Living in isolation for so long—was Garen still the hero they had heard about? From their vantage point, dimly lit by the faint glow of the cabin’s fire and the pale moonlight, all they could see was a shadowy figure framed in the doorway.

Garen’s eyes moved from Conus to the marines. If not for Lavont’s name, he would have sent them away without a second thought.

Lavont had sent them for a reason, and for now, that alone kept Garen from slamming the door in their faces. Still, all Garen was prepared to do was listen—and even that wouldn’t last long.

Garen stepped back, gesturing with his blaster for Conus to enter. Conus didn’t hesitate; he sensed this might be his only chance to present Lavont’s proposal. As Garen closed the door behind him, he cast a cold glance at the marines, leaving them to face the chill of the night.

Inside, Garen flicked on a small lamp near the entrance, casting a soft glow throughout the cabin. The light illuminated Conus’s face, allowing Garen to get a closer look. What immediately drew Garen’s attention was the light gray synthetic skin covering the entire right side of Conus’s face. It extended from his skull, down his neck, and disappeared into his uniform. The difference between the synthetic skin and his natural complexion was sharp and jarring.

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Flawless, Garen thought, noting how seamlessly the synthetic components merged with Conus’s body. Yet, it intrigued him how the artificial side contrasted so distinctly against his natural one.

Conus’s augmented right eye scanned the room with a faint glow, as if processing information. His right arm, concealed beneath his long sleeve and a gloved hand, made a soft mechanical whir when it moved. Garen quickly realized the arm was also augmented. Is he fully synthetic? Garen wondered. No, his left side seems natural. Could he be some kind of hybrid? Have I been gone that long?

From what Garen could tell, Conus was still human—but with augmentations far more advanced than anything he had ever seen. I didn’t realize this level of enhancement was even possible.

Conus stood unnaturally still, his posture perfect.

Garen briefly wondered, Did he choose these augmentations, or were they forced on him? There had to be a story, but he pushed the thought aside for now.

Silence stretched between them.

Garen didn’t move, waiting for Conus to speak, studying the younger man, letting the tension build.

“General Garen Rivers,” Conus finally said, his tone respectful, his smile faint but polite.

Garen kept the blaster in hand. He’s ready to strike at any moment, Conus thought. Shouldn’t the uniform be enough to show I’m not a threat?

Conus had expected some form of recognition, maybe even a hint of relief—he had assumed the general would welcome someone from the RDF. But all he saw in Garen’s eyes was cold detachment. Is this what years of isolation have done to him? Conus had hoped to see the legendary figure from the stories, but all he found was suspicion.

Garen’s rugged appearance surprised him. The gray streaks in his thick beard and unkempt hair gave him a weathered, hardened look. He seemed healthy enough, but Conus couldn’t help thinking, What does he do out here all alone?

His gaze drifted to the wooden Falcata mounted on the wall. A wooden sword? He frowned. The legendary General Garen Rivers, known for wielding a scalar Falcata, now had... this? A wooden weapon? It didn’t match the image at all.

Conus’s augmented eye flicked to the blaster. It’s the same one from the war, he realized.

What’s he staring at? Garen wondered, growing impatient. He sighed and finally holstered the blaster, figuring it might be making the colonel uneasy.

Garen’s expression darkened, suspicion deepening. “Lavont sent you all the way out here? Why?” His voice cut through the quiet, sharp and direct.

“Admiral Amar Lavont requests your presence at RDF Headquarters on Rhyus to discuss a mission,” Conus said, keeping his composure.

“Headquarters? A mission?” Garen muttered.

“Yes, General,” Conus replied.

“You know headquarters is on Rhyus, right?” Garen’s tone carried a hint of sarcasm.

Conus caught it immediately. “Yes, General Rivers.”

“And what makes you think I’m just going to leave my home and travel all the way to Rhyus?” Garen asked, his voice hard. “It’s a long way, Colonel.”

The word headquarters felt foreign to Garen, like it no longer had anything to do with him. He stared at Conus, shaking his head slowly.

“What’s this really about?” Garen asked.

Conus’s eyes flicked to a book beside Garen’s chair—The Nalore: A History. “It concerns the security of the Seven Worlds, General. Lavont needs your help,” he replied, keeping his tone steady despite the urgency simmering beneath.

“Yeah, sure he does.” Garen scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Lavont needs my help?

“Listen, Colonel, I don’t have time for this. Unless you and your friends outside plan on chopping wood tomorrow, you’d better leave. And don’t expect dinner—I’ve got one plate, one fork, one glass. You get the picture.” He waved toward the door dismissively. “Find someone else. Good night.”

Conus stiffened but held his ground. “We don’t have time for this, General,” he said, urgency creeping into his voice. “Lavont needs you back. The Seven Worlds need you back. This is important.”

Garen’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as irritation flashed across his otherwise impassive face. Once, words like duty, honor, and the drive to protect might have stirred something deep within him. Back then, he might have agreed without hesitation. But now, they only triggered bitterness.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Colonel. Ten years in exile, and now I’m supposed to save the Seven Worlds?” Garen’s voice sliced through the room. “I’m not here because I have to be. I’m here because I choose to be. And it’s not a good time.”

Conus felt the weight of Garen’s words hit him like a punch. This isn’t the man I expected, he thought. Garen seemed hollow. Is it just bitterness?

He had braced for resistance, but not this level of detachment. How naive he’d been, thinking this would be easy—especially with Garen’s history.

“I apologize for the timing, General,” Conus said, though Lavont’s final order echoed in his mind: Don’t leave without him. It now felt like an impossible command.

“There’s never a good time for this,” Garen muttered. “I’m not interested.”

“General Rivers, if you could at least hear what Admiral Lavont has to say—” Conus began.

“Where is he, then?” Garen interrupted, already knowing the answer.

Garen rubbed the back of his neck, frustration simmering. His patience was wearing thin as he studied Conus, who seemed to be choosing his words carefully. Garen hated this feeling—playing the role of the resistant recluse—but felt a flicker of sympathy. He knew what it was like to follow orders, even impossible ones. If Lavont had sent Conus Taylen all the way out here, it meant Lavont fully trusted him. Lavont doesn’t give his trust away lightly.

Garen exhaled, his stance relaxing slightly. Poor kid, he thought. Lavont sent him on an impossible mission. But I’m not going back.

“Listen,” Garen began, his cold tone softening just a little. “I’ve moved on, Colonel Taylen. This might not look like much, but I’m comfortable here. I’ve built a new life, and I’ve got work to do. Living out here isn’t easy.” His voice carried a finality that was hard to argue with. Garen sighed. “Tell Amar I’m dead. You found me that way. And please, Colonel, don’t come back.” He gestured toward the door. Conus could see Garen meant it, though a defeated look lingered in his eyes.

Garen can be stubborn, Lavont had warned. The words echoed in Conus’s mind.

“This is an important mission, General,” Conus said, his tone firm.

Garen stared at him for a moment before responding. “I’m sure it is. I doubt you’d be here otherwise. But tell me—what’s so urgent that I need to leave now?”

“I don’t have all the details,” Conus admitted, barely concealing his frustration. “But Lavont will brief you when you’re back on Rhyus.”

“That’s a poor way to get my interest,” Garen replied dryly. “This isn’t your failure, Colonel.”

Conus blinked. “No?”

“No,” Garen said, his voice cold but certain. “It’s Lavont’s failure. He should’ve known better. He does know better.” Garen’s mind began to drift, memories of Lavont tugging at him. Conus opened his mouth to respond, but Garen cut him off.

“Vorcons?” Garen’s tone sharpened. It has to be. “Has the Vorcon Empire declared war again? Is that what this is about? I’m sure the RDF will manage just fine without me. I’ve done my time, given my service. If that’s all this is about, others will step up. It’s all behind me now.”

Conus stiffened. “That’s not exactly what this is, General,” he said, his voice trailing off, distracted.

Garen noticed the shift immediately, eyes narrowing as he watched Conus closely. He’d seen that look before—something had rattled the Colonel.

Both men froze.

Conus blinked and whispered, “Did you hear that?”

A heartbeat passed. Then another.

Garen shook his head, body tense, gaze locked on Conus. He took the Colonel’s reaction seriously.

They listened intently. For a moment, nothing. Conus closed his eyes briefly, focusing as if to sharpen his hearing. Garen stood motionless, waiting for something to break the silence.

“Could it be the marines?” Garen asked, though his gut told him otherwise. His eyes remained on Conus.

Conus’s expression tightened. “No, I heard something else—movement. Not them.”

“That could be a lot of things, Colonel. These woods are full of creatures,” Garen said

Then, a different sound cut through the stillness. A high-pitched whistle, faint but unmistakable. Fast. Close.

A cry rang out. Corporal Dreen.

Both men’s eyes widened in recognition.

“Silenced energy weapons,” Garen muttered, drawing his blaster.

Conus paled. We’re under attack.

“No one should’ve known we were here,” Conus whispered, disbelief creeping into his voice.

Garen cracked the door just enough to peer outside, blaster raised. Corporal Dreen lay motionless, twisted unnaturally in the dirt. Private Kees knelt beside him, panic on his face, checking for signs of life. Without warning, a muffled blast split the air. Raw energy hit Kees, smoke curling from the wound in his chest.

It was over before Garen could shout a warning. Kees collapsed, dead before he hit the ground, a smoking hole in his chest beside Dreen.

Garen’s eyes narrowed. Shadows moved beyond the treeline, down the path leading to the clearing around the cabin. He couldn’t see them clearly, but the distinct sound of silenced weapons and the flash of white-blue energy left no doubt.

“Vorcons,” Garen muttered, pulse quickening. He gently shut the door, securing it. His heart raced, but outwardly, he remained composed.

Conus stood frozen, disbelief washing over him. This wasn’t supposed to happen. His mind spun.

“You’re sure it’s Vorcons, General?” Conus asked.

“You expecting someone else?” Garen shot back, already moving, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

Conus didn’t respond, though the question echoed in his mind.

Conus quickly grabbed his scanner. “Four humanoid life forms nearby,” he reported, his voice steady while his hand instinctively reached for his blaster.

“Just four?” Garen asked, eerily calm. Conus glanced at him, momentarily stunned by his composure. He moves like he’s done this a thousand times, Conus thought, unsettled by the contrast between Garen’s calm demeanor and the imminent danger.

Garen’s confidence was contagious. His movements were swift and fluid, like a soldier slipping back into long-buried instincts. He strapped on a holster, grabbed a handful of grenades, and clipped a personal shield to his belt, then to his forearm, tightening the strap. Hope it’s charged enough, he mused.

“Time to move,” Garen said, his voice low and firm. “We’ll go through the back window. Any life forms that way?”

Conus checked the scanner. “Nothing in that direction.”

A distant explosion rumbled, followed by another, louder blast.

“Sounds like your ship’s been hit,” Garen observed, his tone cold and detached. “Probably destroyed by now. Try your REM link.”

Conus pulled the device from his belt. “Transport R-97,” he called. Silence. He tried again. Still nothing.

Garen shook his head. “What the hell is going on, Colonel?”

“I don’t know, General. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone else here,” Conus replied, frustration creeping into his voice.

“You’re telling me.” Garen cast a quick glance toward the window. “Let’s get out of this alive and figure out the rest later.”

“I can’t get any response from my team,” Conus said, his frustration deepening.

Garen’s eyes narrowed. They’re all dead. “We stand a better chance in the forest.”

Without another word, Garen slid the back window open and climbed out. “Come on, Colonel,” he whispered. Conus followed without hesitation.

The night was dark, with only the faint glow of the two moons filtering through the thick canopy of trees.

Crouching low, weapons drawn, they moved swiftly along the cabin’s perimeter, slipping into the dense cover of the woods. Conus stayed close to Garen, darting from tree to tree, using the foliage for concealment. They paused behind a thick Otay tree, their breathing shallow and controlled.

Garen scanned the darkness. Shadows shifted at the forest’s edge—tall, slender figures moving. As they drew closer, their shapes became clearer: humanoid forms, clad in black armor, fully covered, standing between six and seven feet tall.

Both men remained perfectly still.

A sinking realization hit Conus: his entire team was likely gone. Now, it was just him and General Garen Rivers—stranded, outnumbered, without a ship or backup. He’d have to rely on the very man who had made it clear he wasn’t coming back. Conus didn’t know what Garen was thinking, but one thing was certain: he had no choice but to trust him.