The journey back to the base was silent, as always. The Imperators disembarked from their vessel, their boots hitting the cold metallic floor of the hangar with mechanical precision. They moved in sync, not out of coordination but out of habit. For a century, their days had become an unbroken loop of monotony: wake up, eat, train, mission, return. The routine had etched itself into their existence, leaving no room for deviation.

The facility’s endless corridors were as familiar to them as their own weaponry. Every turn, every flicker of the dim lights, every sound of distant machinery—they could navigate it blindfolded. Today, however, something felt different.

As they reached the debriefing hall, they were greeted by Halvex—or at least, what had once been Halvex. His form was now entirely mechanical, his body replaced with sleek black and chrome plating. Not a single trace of organic material remained, save for the faintest flicker of his neural patterns projected onto a glowing faceplate.

“Welcome back, Imperators,” Halvex spoke, his voice still carrying the same calculated intonation they had heard for decades. But Sahaad narrowed his eyes. Something was off.

The voice was perfect, but there was an artificial edge to it that even Halvex’s previous augmentations had never possessed. It was too clean, too precise. With his enhanced senses, Sahaad could hear undertones—subtle changes in pitch and rhythm that betrayed an imitation. This was not Halvex, at least not the one they had known.

Sahaad’s mind raced, but his face betrayed nothing. He understood the truth: humans, even augmented ones like Halvex, did not live as long as Imperators or Praetorians. The man who had overseen their creation was long dead, replaced by someone—or something—designed to carry on his legacy.

“Imperators,” the new ‘Halvex’ began, his mechanical body standing tall before them, “the time has come to end the Entil threat once and for all. The high council has authorized a full-scale invasion of the Entil home system. The cradle of their civilization, the last bastion of their resistance, will fall.”

The squad listened without reaction, their faces as cold and impassive as ever.

Halvex continued, displaying a holographic projection of the Entil system. “Their homeworld is fortified nearly as heavily as Sol itself. It is a fortress, surrounded by orbital defenses, fleets, and planetary batteries. A direct assault would be suicidal. However, there is a weak point: Laxos.”

The hologram shifted, zooming in on a distant, frozen planet on the edge of the system.

“Laxos is the farthest planet from their star, but it houses the main defense array. It controls the shield network and automated weapons that guard the inner system. Without it, the Entil will be vulnerable to a full-scale invasion. Your mission is to infiltrate Laxos, disable the array, and pave the way for humanity’s final victory.”

The Imperators absorbed the information without a word. To them, this was just another task in the endless war. But Sahaad’s thoughts lingered on the unsettling presence of the false Halvex. If they could replace their creator so seamlessly, what else could they replace?

"Imperators," Halvex began, his voice unnervingly calm. "Upon the successful completion of the Laxos mission, you will no longer be considered rookies. You will be fully fledged Imperators, recognized as the Federation's most elite force. This promotion has been long overdue, delayed only by the arduous nature of our campaigns."

The squad remained silent, absorbing the words.

"With this rank," Halvex continued, "comes great responsibility—and great honor. Once the defense array on Laxos is neutralized and the Entil home system is open for invasion, you will be reassigned to Earth. There, you will serve as permanent guards to the Federation's most critical assets. Your station will be eternal, your duties unyielding."

Sahaad exchanged a brief glance with Zara, but neither spoke. The promise of Earth as their new station brought no comfort. It was simply another battlefield, albeit one without the void of space or alien jungles.

Halvex’s glowing eyes turned toward each of them as if studying their reactions. "Upon your return, you will receive your new armor and weapons. These upgrades are the pinnacle of Federation technology, crafted to reflect your rank and your victories. They will mark you as the best humanity has to offer."

Zara tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "So, the Laxos mission is the final test," she said, breaking the silence.

"Indeed," Halvex replied, his tone unwavering. "Failure is not an option. The Federation has invested centuries into you. This is your destiny, Imperators. Achieve it."

Sahaad felt the weight of the words settle over him. It was as if the room itself grew colder, the gravity of the mission pressing down on them. He glanced around at his team—Zara now a mask of focus; Ji, stoic and composed; Nate, his fingers twitching ever so slightly, likely from anticipation rather than fear; Sia, remaining calm, but her eyes twinkled with slight excitement.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Sahaad finally spoke, his voice calm and commanding. “Understood. When do we depart?”

“Immediately,” Halvex replied. “Your vessel is already prepared. Failure is not an option. Dismissed.”

As they walked through the sterile corridors toward the armory, Zara fell into step beside Sahaad. Her footsteps, though as precise as ever, carried a faint hesitance. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them a reflection of the hundred years of quiet that had become their norm. Finally, she broke it.

“Sahaad,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. “Are you… doing okay?”

He glanced at her, his sharp features unreadable under the harsh fluorescent lights. “I’m fine,” he replied curtly, though there was a flicker of something behind his eyes—a depth that betrayed more than his words.

Zara studied him for a moment, then looked ahead. “Sometimes I wonder if this war will really end. If the Federation will stop once the Entil are gone. If extinction really is victory.”

Sahaad stopped abruptly, turning to face her. His expression was hard, almost unreadable. “You know as well as I do, Zara. The Federation will never stop. The Entil are just one chapter in an endless book of wars. There will always be another enemy. Another mission. Another battlefield.”

She met his gaze, searching for something in his words. “You really believe that?”

He nodded, his voice steady. “Yes. And you do too. Change… might be possible. But not for us. Not in our lifetime.”

Zara let out a soft exhale, almost a sigh, and then, to Sahaad’s surprise, a rare smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. It was faint and fleeting, but it was there. “Maybe you’re right. But I’ll tell you this—it’s nice to know you’re still here. Still… you.”

Sahaad frowned slightly, unsure of her meaning.

She continued before he could respond. “The others—they’ve become like machines. Automatons. They follow orders, execute missions, and nothing else. No thoughts, no doubts, no… humanity. But you—you’re still Sahaad. You still think. And it’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

For a moment, Sahaad felt the weight of her words settle over him. It wasn’t praise; it was acknowledgment—a recognition of something he hadn’t realized he’d held onto. He gave a small nod, the closest he could manage to gratitude.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

Zara chuckled softly, a rare sound in the grim halls of the facility. “Don’t thank me. Just… don’t lose it, okay?”

Sahaad didn’t reply immediately, but as they resumed walking, he felt a strange sense of resolve.

The armory was a cold, sprawling chamber of machinery and weapons racks, bathed in the faint blue glow of overhead lights. The metallic hum of the automated assembly lines and the distant hiss of steam created an industrial symphony that filled the space. For centuries, the squad had made this room their second home, donning the same familiar gray steel armor that bore the scars of countless battles.

This time, however, the mood was different.

Sahaad stood at the forefront, staring at the gleaming rows of freshly repaired armor. Each piece seemed to radiate finality, as though the very metal knew it was the last time it would encase them. He ran his fingers along the edge of a chestplate, its surface smooth yet marred with faint etches—battle-worn symbols of their years of service.

"One last time," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

The squad moved with practiced efficiency, their silence heavier than usual. Zara buckled her armor without complaint, the slight wince on her face as she adjusted the straps betraying her discomfort from previous injuries. Nate examined his gauntlets, ensuring the mechanisms for his plasma-heater rifle were intact, while Ji methodically checked his boots, tightening every strap to perfection. Sia turned on her power, feeling the familiar humming of the armor and her face plate blinked to life as it displayed all vital signs.

When they were fully equipped, Sahaad turned to face them. "This mission is unlike anything we've faced before. Laxos isn’t just another target—it’s the beating heart of their defense. If we fail here, the Federation's assault on the Entil homeworld collapses before it even begins."

His voice hardened. "We’re going in heavy. Forget standard loadouts—we need to punch through defenses that could withstand an entire fleet. Grab artillery-grade weapons and as many explosives as you can carry. I don’t want us scratching the surface; I want us to leave a crater they’ll feel from orbit."

The squad moved to the heavy artillery racks, where the Federation's most devastating tools of war lay in wait. Ji hefted a high-impact rail cannon, its sleek frame designed for precision strikes against fortified targets. Nate swapped his standard plasma-heater rifle for an enhanced version with extended fuel capacity, designed for sustained fire. Zara selected a particle disruptor, its charge capable of disintegrating dense materials with a single shot. Sia selected the plasma cannon, discharging a massive volley of superheated plasma. Sahaad chose the simple heavy gravity sniper, a weapon that had never failed him before.

Sahaad lingered near the explosives, selecting charges with calculated precision. Detonators, breaching explosives, and timed charges—all packed carefully into his gear. The squad followed his lead, loading their packs until they were armed like walking arsenals.

"Remember," Sahaad said, his voice cutting through the room, "we don’t stop until the defense array is down. The Entil know we’re coming, and they’ll throw everything they have at us. But we’re not rookies anymore. We finish this."

The squad nodded in unison, their movements synchronized by years of training and shared purpose.

They took one last look at the gravity hammer that still remained in the armory, before turning their heads.

They left the armory, their footsteps heavy with the weight of their gear and the mission ahead.

For a fleeting moment, Sahaad glanced back at the racks of gray steel armor they had left behind. It was the end of an era, one marked by blood, sacrifice, and relentless duty.

As they marched toward the drop ships, he couldn’t help but feel the symbolic weight of the moment. This was it—their final mission as rookies, their last stand in the armor that had defined them.