Talos Station

Station entrance -

"This forsaken night is bound to be as icy as the grasp of death itself," the young guardsman growled through chattering teeth as he maintained his lonely vigil at the station entrance. The once-majestic structure, now a decaying relic of a forgotten era, groaned and creaked under the weight of time, a grim reminder of its former glory. The metallic echoes of its age-old machinery reverberated through the desolate corridors, a haunting serenade to the past.

While other orbital stations took their place as guardians, this forsaken outpost stood apart. It wasn't a bulwark against impending danger; it served as a spectral sentinel, tasked with the somber duty of observing a lifeless world locked in its endless orbit.

"I never imagined my first duty would be on this wretched post," the guardsman muttered, his voice dripping with bitterness, his eyes fixed on the barren, gray orb that filled the view from his lonely watchtower. "I yearn for the end of my shift, for in this desolate place, the only warmth is the flicker of the dying stars."

"Indeed," the other guardsman replied, his tone laced with a morose resignation. "Unfortunate doesn't even begin to describe it." With a practiced motion, he inspected his gear, then gripped his knife, its edge dulled by the relentless monotony, and set to work sharpening it, the harsh scraping sound a cruel melody in this desolate place.

"Relax, young one," he continued, his gaze briefly meeting the lad's, recognizing the spark of youthful enthusiasm that had somehow found its way into this forsaken station. "You'll wear yourself down, and in this forsaken abyss, you might as well let the melancholic hum serenade you to eternal sleep. This place has a way of crushing the spirit, and I've seen far too many eager boys turn into weary, hollowed men." With a weary sigh, he returned to the grim task of honing his bayonet, a reflection of the relentless grind that was life on this forgotten outpost.

As he continued to methodically sharpen his weapon, the seasoned guardsman turned his attention to the young recruit, a shadow of curiosity in his tired eyes. His voice was a low, gritty rasp as he inquired, "Tell me, lad, what twisted fate led you to this forsaken graveyard? Was it the whims of those high command vultures, or perhaps just plain bad luck that guided you to this purgatory?"

The young guardsman's voice carried a spark of idealism, a stark contrast to the grim surroundings. He paused in his sharpening, a glint of determination in his eyes, as he shared his naive aspirations. "I joined this wretched service because I craved to be more than a speck in the void, to carve my name into the cosmos itself. My old man, he used to say that if you don't stir the cauldron of existence, you're condemned to an empty life."

His voice wavered with the hopes of a youth yet untarnished by harsh reality. "I yearned to cast my gaze upon the stars, to face the alien horrors that dwell on distant, forsaken worlds. When I received orders from that lord sergeant, I thought my dreams were finally manifesting. But alas, this decaying crypt is my cruel destiny, a taste of action more bitter than any drill could prepare me for." His enthusiasm now seemed tragically misplaced in this desolate corner of the universe.

The guardsman halted his sharpening, his gaze locking onto the boy with a bittersweet smile, an echo of lost youth in his eyes. "A lofty goal you harbor, lad. Venturing from one forsaken rock to another, facing horrors beyond reckoning—it has a romantic allure, especially to young blood such as yours." He paused, letting the words hang heavy in the frigid air.

"Your dreams," he continued, his voice now laden with the weight of experience, "they take me back to the days when my own company and I, we battled pirates from the accursed Thracian sector. It wasn't a stroll through the abyss, I assure you. There was bloodshed, terror, and scars that time cannot erase." A distant look clouded his eyes as he began to recount a tale that was far from a pleasant one.

The young guardsman's eyes gleamed with an eager curiosity, and he couldn't contain his interruption. "You really faced off against pirates?" he asked, his voice tinged with a blend of trepidation and fascination. "What was it like, sir? I've heard whispers about those Thracian sector marauders. They're said to be the scum of the cosmos, ruthless and savage. Rumor has it they'd willingly sacrifice their own crew to fuel their diabolical engines. Is it as grim as the tales tell?"

The air grew colder, and a haunting silence hung between them as the older guardsman prepared to recount the horrors he had witnessed in the abyss of space.

Before the seasoned guardsman could respond, a steel pipe ruptured with a deafening explosion, unleashing a cacophony of screeching metal and hissing steam. The unexpected chaos was further amplified by the blaring wail of emergency sirens that sliced through the chilling stillness of the station, its piercing cry an eerie prelude to dread.

Both guardsmen snapped into action, their eyes darting through the dim, labyrinthine passages that seemed to stretch into infinite shadows. In a heartbeat, they assumed defensive stances, weapons at the ready, ready to confront the unknown horrors that lurked in the haunted depths of this forsaken outpost.

"What in the abyss was that?" the young guardsman demanded, his trembling hand clutching the rifle, its barrel pointed into the oppressive darkness that loomed down the corridor.

The seasoned guardsman's gaze pierced through the eerie gloom, and he met the young recruit's fear-filled eyes. The aftermath of the explosion had cast a pall of dread over the young lad, a stark reminder of the unforgiving and unpredictable nature of their desolate existence in this grim, forsaken outpost.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

"Considering the ancient state of this accursed scrap heap, I'd wager it was one of those decrepit pipes," the seasoned guardsman muttered, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "I heard word from the lord lieutenant about an impending inspection, but don't go placing any hopes on it, lad. This forsaken station has seen more commanders than I've seen cycles of the dead planet below. Some were good, but most... like the one in charge now, they're the kind you'd pray to the void to avoid."

He fixed the young guardsman with a searching gaze, the gravity of their situation etched into his weary expression. "Kid, have you got your comms equipment?" he asked, a hint of urgency tainting his words. The young guardsman hastily checked his gear and nodded in response. The silent tension grew thicker, a foreboding harbinger of the grim future that might unfold in this forsaken place.

"Very well, I'll venture into the abyss to investigate," the seasoned guardsman declared, the grim acceptance of his fate apparent in his tired eyes. "Chances are it's just a minor malfunction, but don't cling to hope. While I'm gone, contact the bridge and request some techsmiths. With luck, they'll arrive by the time I return, and we can lead them straight to the source of this chaos."

As he prepared to depart into the shadowy corridor, he turned his gaze to the young lad, a touch of reassurance in his solemn pat on the shoulder. "Stay vigilant, keep your training close, and discipline that trigger finger. If anyone passes through here, demand identification. With that, you should stand a fighting chance."

The young guardsman nodded, his understanding clear in his unwavering gaze.

With those parting words, the guardsman faded into the dark corridor, the distant echo of his receding steps a melancholic reminder of the grim journey that awaited him in this forsaken station.

Station Bridge -

The deafening wail of the emergency alarms reverberated through the corroded veins of the station, its ancient structure trembling from the shockwaves of the blast. Servo drones, long dormant, jolted to life, their metallic limbs clanking as they scurried to assist the beleaguered station crew.

"Alert! Structural emergency detected!" the operator's voice boomed over the chaos. "Anomalous material impact confirmed, southeast section, approximately 5 kilometers from the entrance."

The Vice-Commander, his face etched with grim determination, rushed to the central console. His fingers danced across the alert logs, disbelief contorting his features as he uncovered a nightmare. The station's point defense system, a last line of defense against the abyss, lay dormant, an unsettling silence in the face of danger.

Fixing his gaze upon the drone attending the console, the Vice-Commander's voice was commanding, a reflection of the dire circumstances. "Give me the damage report, now." The station's fate hung in the balance, its grim reality laid bare for all to witness.

"Affirmative," the drone droned in a dispassionate tone, its mechanical appendages awkwardly grappling with the worn center console. Age had left its mark on the gyro stabilizers, their feeble attempts to maintain balance a cruel testament to the station's deteriorating state.

Just as the Vice-Commander awaited the critical damage report, the station's proximity alarms wailed anew, a relentless chorus of warning.

"Sir!" the operator cried out to the Vice-Commander, a tremor in their voice mirroring the imminent dread. "Void shift detected! Inbound vessels approaching!" The abyss, it seemed, was eager to unleash more of its relentless horrors upon this beleaguered outpost.

"How many?" the Vice-Commander demanded, his voice edged with a frigid dread as he loomed over the operator.

The operator hesitated for a fleeting moment, their fingers trembling as they scanned the incoming data.

The Vice-Commander, plagued by disbelief and grim realization, hurried to the operator's side, his breath catching in his throat.

"What?" he choked out, his words laden with an eerie sense of foreboding. "I've received no word from high command about any vessels. This is a dire turn of events." The shadows of uncertainty deepened within the station's cold, unyielding heart.

As the ominous void shift expanded, and a multitude of blips began to populate the display, the grim reality became painfully clear. This was no ordinary fleet; it dwarfed the might of the Terran navy.

The Vice-Commander, watching the nightmarish tide of incoming threats, felt a cold knot of dread settle in the pit of his stomach. He understood that this engagement would exact a toll too steep for the crumbling station to bear.

With a grim determination, he hastened to the vox relay and seized it, his fingers clenching the device like a lifeline in the storm. The echoing void threatened to swallow them all, and he knew the desperate measures that lay ahead.

"General quarters! All hands to battle stations!" The Vice-Commander's voice, laced with a desperate urgency, thundered through the corroded intercom. "This is no simulation! I repeat..."

His commands were drowned out by the blaring alarms, both ancient and newly issued. The entire station stirred from its slumber, roused into a grim reality by the cacophonous symphony of impending doom. In the heart of this forsaken outpost, the specter of battle had arrived, and all souls within were now wide awake, their destinies bound to the impending abyss.

In the grim shadows of the station, the crew scrambled to their posts, their hearts pounding in rhythm with the blaring alarms. Amidst the chaos, orders were lost in the deafening symphony of panic as the officers barked commands, their voices drowned by the relentless klaxons.

As the crew desperately converged at their stations, the vice commander, a hardened figure with a gaze as cold as the void, approached the vox array. He locked eyes with the operator, a silent understanding passing between them, and forcefully seized the transmitter.

"Alert the defense fleet," the vice commander growled.

"Understood, sir," replied the operator, a tremor in their voice.

"This is Talos station, Captain, do you read?" The vice commander's words cut through the oppressive static, but only a prolonged silence answered, casting a shroud of unease over the vice commander's stoic visage.

As the vice commander’s voice crackled over the vox, desperately summoning aid, the adjutant’s gaze remained fixed on the central console. His voice trembled with urgency as he reported.

"Sir! Multiple void signatures detected! Auspex confirms we are entirely encircled!"

"Damnation!" spat the vice commander, his eyes burning with a cold fury. "Hand me the vox relay! These fools dare to launch an unprovoked assault."

With a swift motion, the adjutant seized the vox relay and thrust it into the vice commander’s grasp.

In the command center, chaos reigned. The blaring klaxons and the incessant tremors rattled the crew's nerves. The lower decks, a hive of disarray, struggled to assemble in response. Alerts screamed through the ancient station's malfunctioning comms, amplifying the confusion. Guardsmen, paralyzed by the cacophony and their officers’ indecision, fumbled for direction.

The lower decks erupted into a frenzied ballet of half-formed strategies and frantic preparations. Orders barked like gunfire, metal clanged, and the roar of engines igniting sent a discordant symphony through the corridors. Fighters, interceptors, and transport ships sprang to life amidst the pandemonium, their preparations a stark contrast to the encroaching darkness that closed in from all sides.

As the lower decks frantically mobilized for the impending engagement, Vice Commander Valk Thorne gripped the vox relay with a grim resolve. His voice cut through the static and chaos as he broadcasted a challenge to the encircling enemy fleet.

“This is Vice Commander Valk Thorne of Talos Station, Terran Union. Identify yourselves immediately.”

The command center fell into an uneasy silence, the vice commander’s demand echoing through the void. The crew, their faces illuminated by the dim glow of the central console, held their breath as they waited for a response.

The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive, like the stillness before a storm. Each heartbeat felt like a thunderclap in the tense quiet, magnifying the crew’s apprehension. The emptiness of the void seemed to mock their desperation, amplifying the gnawing fear that something far worse than they had imagined was looming just beyond their sensors.