Chapter 28
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The Ensign
The three vessels sailed lifelessly through the deep black of the void. Their hulls, a patchwork of converted transports and one true military vessel, displayed scars of battle. Missiles silos jutted from the metal carcasses like broken teeth, and beneath the hulls, twisted metal lay wrenched and destroyed.
Jacen’s Pirates—the name daubed in fresh red paint along the hull—loomed like a spectral threat against the backdrop of space. Inside the command post, the men huddled around flickering candles, the only source of light in the dimness of the room. Shadows danced on their faces, and the stench of death hung heavy in the air.
“This is a threat I wasn’t expecting,” the captain said, his voice heavy with weariness. He adjusted his cap, revealing a bloodied bandage over his right eye and a stump where his right hand once was.
A tremor passed through him. “Damn it… damn it all,” he muttered. “It seems the kids from the academy have caught wind of our whereabouts.”
The men stirred, nursing their wounds in the dim light as the fallen lay around them.
“We need to alert Jacen, Captain,” a soldier implored, his voice tinged with desperation.
But the captain silenced him with a look. “Private Moreno, you know Jacen cares little for his foot soldiers. We are expendable to him.”
A murmur rippled through the group. “We’re dead,” one man muttered. “Lost everything... It’s a miracle we’re still breathing…”
“What do they want?” Private Moreno demanded, his voice cutting through the gloom. “Those rich kids from the academy, what the hell are they doing out here?”
A sneer echoed through the room as a man pushed himself off the floor. His receding hairline and rugged beard gave him the air of someone older than the rest, though he couldn’t have been more than his late twenties. His pallid complexion verged on pink.
“Those kids from the academy just wiped out two of our transport ships,” he said.
“Ensign…” the captain warned.
But the man pressed on. “They butchered us out there. Kids, yes, but they’re better equipped and better trained than we are, that’s for damn sure.”
The captain glanced between the two men and sighed. “They were flying Mercury colors,” he stated, his voice heavy with concern. “And they had one of their aces with them. She’s the one who wiped out our escape shuttles, both of them.”
He paused, his gaze dropping to the burns on his wounded arm.
“I thought Mercury was broke!” snapped the private, his frustration boiling over. “They live in their squalor, stacked on top of each other like dirty rats.”
The captain couldn’t help but snicker at the private’s outburst. “Seems like their prayers have been answered. They’ve got good gear now… I don’t know how we’re going to fight against that.”
“And what were Commander Jacen’s orders?” questioned the ensign, his voice tinged with unease.
The captain chuckled. “To continue reaving and sacking cargo, especially from the planets. He wants us to raid planetfall.”
The ensign’s eyes widened in disbelief. “This is suicide… they’re just sending us to our deaths.”
“You think that’s the worst?” The captain gestured around the room with his stump. “This had to be planned… those weapons they were using need platforms. They knew our route.”
The room fell silent as the gravity of the situation sank in. The captain nodded, rising to his feet and making his way toward the lit-up white screen. It displayed a sequence of numbers before coming to life with a focused image.
“What is that?” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I’ve heard of that…” the ensign spoke up, pointing at the mech on the screen. “They’ve deployed another Mercurian Paladin, but this one looks like a whole new generation.”
The captain’s eyes widened in shock. “A 3.0?” he echoed, the number rippling through the crowd.
“What kind of firepower does it have?” he asked, his voice tinged with dread.
“That’s a different model from what we were fighting,” Moreno chimed in. “This one is lighter…and is that the gun they were using?”
The captain buried his head in his remaining hand. The mech's design was eerily human-like, its joints strangely flexible, allowing it to wield the gun with ease.
“This one is more custom…” Travis observed. “The standard ones were heavier, but this one… it’s leaner. And it seems to have a visor or something around its head.”
"Like a command antenna," the Ensign remarked, his voice heavy with concern. "They had laser rifles, shields, assault rifles, bazookas... these kids were kitted out. Their government really wants us out for something... what did we do?"
Moreno rolled his eyes. "It's almost like we're pirates, Ensign."
"Watch your tone with me, boy," the Ensign spat, each step heavier than the last as he approached, glaring down at him. "...Also, wizard! This isn't part of Mercurian Space. The Oceana Sector used to be part of the Martian Empire, but everyone knows what happened with them."
A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by the captain's sudden realization. "We aren't the first to tread down this path. I know another band came down here to do some raiding but intercepted some rich kids."
Moreno's and the Ensign's eyes widened in unison. "Do you think it's a coincidence?" Moreno questioned.
The Ensign snickered. "One of their buddies could've gotten killed... maybe they're coming for revenge?"
The captain pointed at the screen again. "What I'm worried about is that ace and her gun."
"Moreno," the Ensign called out. "You're a rich boy from one of those MilWorlds. Tell us where that gun is from."
Moreno's fingers clenched into fists, but he knew better than to test the Ensign's wrath, especially after all of this. His sigh was heavy and loud. "It's an H.C.M.P... Heavy Caliber Mobile Platform. They're a deadly piece of weaponry."
He paused, turning to face the men. "It's a Warcasket-operated sniper turret, if that's what we're going to call it. It's packing a round that's primed and shot from a high-powered electrical generator. Its speed and velocity alone were able to rip through mechs and through the command ship. I don't know how those Mercurians got their hands on that stuff."
"Enough complaining," shouted the Ensign. "Now, Moreno... tell us the weak spots on this thing."
Moreno continued to speak, his tone heavy with a mix of dread and urgency. "The barrel needs to be changed after a couple of shots, but we're just lucky this isn't a Martian Heavy Calibur... I heard that they were playing around with lasers. They would rig up their heavy caliber guns to generators and they could shoot beams."
"So... it's all rigged to the generators then?" questioned the captain.
"And the barrel changes. We can clip their ace down, but the rest are still going to be a problem," the Ensign stated firmly.
The captain didn’t speak, only shuddering from another tremor racking through him. "We have to focus on what we know right now... killing her is cutting off the head of the snake. Who knows, maybe they had a bad roster for House Mercury this year, this isn't even their lands, sending their men to the fringes of space."
"...and if it isn't?" The Ensign questioned.
The captain chuckled darkly, a sound filled with equal parts resignation and defiance. "Then we won't live to see the next."Top of Form
Henryk
"At least you have walls now," Sirine's voice came out in a hum, a soft melody that seemed to linger in the air like the echo of a distant memory.
She was perched on his bed, her gaze fixed on the slightly repaired ceiling as if searching for secrets hidden within its worn surface.
"Yeah, it's pretty nice," Henryk replied, his voice tinged with a hint of pride. "I've got a bunch of cool stuff now."
Sirine's warm cyan eyes sparkled as she picked up his music player, a relic of a bygone era. "This is an old one," she remarked, her fingers tracing the contours of the device with a delicate touch.
Henryk felt a flush creeping up his cheeks as he watched her, captivated by the way she seemed to illuminate the room with her presence. "Y-you like it?" he stammered, his words stumbling over each other in his eagerness to impress her.
She began tapping her head to the rhythm of the music, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. Henryk couldn't help but notice how the melody seemed to dance in perfect harmony with her movements, creating an enchanting symphony that filled the room.
"Give me all of you..." she sang softly, her voice wrapping around Henryk like a warm embrace. He felt his heart race at the sound, his breath catching in his throat as he struggled to find the words to respond.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
But before he could gather his thoughts, Sirine erupted into laughter, the sound echoing off the walls like the ringing of bells. "You're horrible!" Henryk exclaimed, his embarrassment only fueling her amusement.
"Well, you have most definitely changed since we've last met, Henryk," she teased, nudging him playfully with her foot. "You're not as scrawny anymore... told you all that height was wasted on a scrawny piece of bones."
Henryk couldn't help but grin at her words, feeling a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the room's temperature. With Sirine by his side, even the simplest moments felt like magic.
Henryk's cheeks flamed crimson under Sirine's gaze as she gestured around the room. "You know, there are clubs and houses that would kill to have this kind of setup for their parties."
"Well... Sirine, princess of the academy," Henryk retorted. "Tell me, why is someone of your prestige going out partying?"
She rolled her eyes, a world-weary expression clouding her features. "Because it's the only fun thing to do around here. My father never lets me leave the planet, and he's already planning my marriage."
Henryk's eyes widened in surprise. "But you were trying to escape..."
Sirine let out a heavy sigh. "Henryk, I really don't want to talk about that. It was a stupid mistake. Thank you for saving me."
She paused, her tone softening. "But seriously, you need to do something about this room. It's going to be your home for the next few years, with missions and classes and everything. I want the best for you."
Approaching Henryk, Sirine's fingers trailed lightly across his face, lingering on a bruise. "You're hurt again."
"Training," Henryk replied curtly. "We're gearing up for a mission... the Oceana Sector is buzzing."
Sirine's eyes widened with concern. "Are you really going to..."
"I intend to make my family imperial citizens, to elevate our colony to prestige," Henryk declared.
Sirine's finger jabbed at his chest, her expression intense. "...and where do you fit into all of this, Henryk? You're not just a soldier; you're a human being. I've heard that the Knights of Mars were meant to be more than just warriors – scholars, artists, innovators."
Turning towards her, Henryk's eyes bore a haunted look, filled with shadows of past traumas. "All I've seen here is violence, Sirine."
His hands rose to his head, memories crashing over him like a tidal wave. "I think I've changed..."
His thoughts raced back to Piper, the party, Jace's attack, the brutal retaliation. He recalled the accusing stares, the fear in his own heart as Neptune hunted him through the forest... the mob ready to lynch him. How could he face his mother after that?
They had come for him because he was different, because he was born with a gene that society deemed wrong. But who were they to decide his fate?
He was stronger, they were weaker, a part of the next generation, poised on the cusp of something new.
"I don’t want to talk about this anymore," Henryk spoke, turning away from her.
"That’s okay," she replied with a smile, draping her long, slender legs over the edge of the bed. He caught the movement from the corner of his eye, her smile coy as the music still hummed in her ear, the rhythm of a rap verse echoing softly.
"This is really good, Henryk," she murmured, her words drifting through the air. "I know it’s offhanded, but don’t forget that you're talented and..."
"Don’t," Henryk interjected sharply. "I think I am talented in more than one thing."
Sirine's eyes widened, and Henryk found himself staring down at his hands, trembling slightly. "What would’ve happened if you were born in the 19-… no, the 1800s?"
Sirine furrowed her brow in confusion, her movements causing her bust to sway as she crossed her arms. Henryk's cheeks reddened, and he quickly averted his gaze. Oh how he wanted her.
"That depends on multiple factors," Sirine replied, her tone curious.
"Right," Henryk said, awkward and still red faced, his voice uncertain. "But what would’ve happened if a medieval peasant... grew up on a feudal world, never touched a weapon before, but only on rare occasions developed a frequency with it? Now, that peasant, utilizing that or similar weapons, is strangely good at..."
"Are you saying that you are good in combat with melee weapons?" Sirine interrupted, her interest piqued.
Henryk hesitated, then glanced at his hands. "I don’t know how good I am. But even the Sons of Mars, with their enhanced strength, seem to notice it as well. I wanna get my hands on one of those Templar swords... I think it would be kind of rad." A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he spoke.
BriTop of Form
Bri found herself ensnared in another dream, a captive of the subconscious, naked and submerged underwater, a silent observer in the vast expanse of a black and white void. Muffled whispers echoed from beyond an imposing barrier, teasing her senses as she drifted. Suddenly, her descent was halted by the rough touch of stone underfoot, a great black door looming before her.
Surveying her surroundings, Bri noticed a shimmering gray darkness enveloping her, undulating like an endless sea. Her fingers grazed the rough surface of the door, sending a tingling sensation coursing through her body. "I feel all tingly," she murmured to herself, a sense of trepidation creeping into her mind. This dream state was no sanctuary; she knew she could still be harmed, haunted by the memory of the encounter with the enigmatic stranger.
Behind that black door lay secrets, deeply personal and profoundly private. Memories flooded her mind: the unsettling events at the party, the Earthians trafficking Plutonian plasma weaponry, the enigmatic Henryk, and the encounter with the mysterious alien creature. The irony of discussing privacy while grappling with her own secrets was not lost on her as she hesitantly crossed the threshold into the darkness beyond.
Meanwhile, Senior Witch Esava and her conclave were gathered, their breath heavy with exertion in the dimly lit chamber of their ancient abode. The stone floor bore witness to the colorful array of their robes, a stark contrast to the swirling darkness that enveloped them. As Bri approached, unseen by the gathered witches, she marveled at their power, their collective energy shaping the very fabric of the dream realm.
Three witches, wielding formidable magic, their unity evident in the swirling tempest of darkness that writhed around them. How had they conjured such potent sorcery? Bri could only watch as the scene unfolded, the reality of the dreamworld bending to their will.
Her gaze shifted, and she spotted Himari, her friend, drawn into the center of the ritual. The dream began to falter, its grip weakening, but Bri strained to catch the fragments of conversation that filtered through the fading haze.
"We’ve got it," Himari exclaimed with palpable excitement.
Esava's smile was tinged with fatigue as she cautioned, "Be wary of the dark, Himari. Even now, its influence may linger. Remember, our actions are always in service of the greater good. Do you understand?"
Himari nodded solemnly, and Bri watched as they exchanged words, the weight of their responsibility evident in their expressions.
As Esava rose to her feet, Bri's attention was drawn to an object in her hand—a doll. Confusion gnawed at her mind as she struggled to comprehend its significance.
"So, the spell was a success," Himari murmured, her voice filled with uncertainty as she approached Esava.
The Senior Mage's gaze lingered on the doll before she responded, her tone heavy with solemnity. "Indeed, it appears so."
Bri listened, her mind racing with questions, as the dream began to fade, slipping away like grains of sand through her fingers.
Esava's smile was as serene as the calm before a storm. "Honestly, this spell may be one of the cleanest we've ever performed. Every ingredient, every chant, every prayer—all in perfect harmony. And now, we hold sway over Jace, the future king of Venus."
Himari's eyes widened with curiosity. "But how does it work, Esava? How?"
With a subtle flourish, Esava raised the doll, inviting both Himari and Bri to peer over her shoulder. Bri had only heard snippets about Jace through conversations with Himari, but as she observed the doll's features—dark hair, pale skin, and those unsettling buttons of purple—it felt as though the doll's eyes were staring back at her, void and eerie. Yet, it was the doll's flawless appearance that truly unnerved her.
"Careful, Himari," Esava warned, her voice laced with caution. "This doll now holds a degree of control over him. Your efforts provided the seed, so it's only fair you know. We have the power to manipulate him in countless ways. Whisper thoughts into his mind, sow darkness into his heart...the possibilities are endless." She chuckled softly, her fingers tracing the plush Venusian fabric, a perfect match to Jace's own attire.
As the dream began to fade like melting candle wax, Bri caught the last fragments of their conversation.
"With this...we'll have control over Venus and its sectors," Esava murmured, her words carrying the weight of destiny.
Henryk
"It's mighty kind of you to offer to walk me back home," Sirine said, her voice soft and alluring, as she cast a cute smile in his direction. Her cascading white-silver locks danced around her like a ghostly halo.
"Careful!" Henryk's shout cut through the air as he swiftly grabbed her waist, pulling her close just as a loose staircase threatened to send her tumbling.
"H-Henryk..." Sirine's voice stuttered against his chest as they both regained their footing and continued down the stairs, faces flushed with embarrassment and something more.
"Sorry 'bout the state of this place," Henryk grunted, his tone laced with frustration. "You should see the house my family and I got. Spacious, nothing like these cramped apartments."
Sirine's smile was like a ray of sunshine breaking through the gloom. "I bet it's beautiful, Henryk."
Henryk's cheeks burned crimson at her words. Was it gratitude for saving her that made him feel this way? Or perhaps it was her captivating presence—her ample curves, flawless skin, and that mesmerizing hair, like strands of starlight. How could he not be drawn to her, to the fantasies she ignited within him?
As they reached the ground floor, a cacophony of sounds drifted from the kitchen. "Is everything okay?" Sirine inquired, concern etching her delicate features.
"August has some folks over for DND," Henryk explained dismissively. "They're a bunch of nerds, but hey, to each their own."
"Maybe you should join them," Sirine suggested gently.
Henryk scoffed. "Me? Play DND? Not my scene, sweetheart."
Sirine's expression darkened. "They're your housemates, Henryk. You hardly talk to anyone—maybe it's time you gave it a shot."
Henryk bristled at her words. "Whose fault is that? I didn't start any fights," he retorted, raising his hands defensively. "And look where that got me."
But Sirine wasn't having it. "Henryk Brown, sometimes you act like such a boy. No man is an island. I don't want to hear you talking about your housemates like that."
"Sirine, wait—" Henryk called out as she stormed toward the door, but she was already gone.
"Sirine..." Henryk's voice trailed off into the empty space, his realization sinking in like a stone. "Oh, God...I was being such an asshat." Leaning against the wall, he let out a heavy sigh. Then, a creaking sound drew his attention, and he turned toward the source, his heart heavy with regret.
"Henryk," he began, his voice trailing off as the distant whistle outside seized his attention, signaling Edward's arrival.
"Cheer up, Henryk!" Edward's exuberant voice echoed through the room as he bounded in, practically dancing on air with a wide grin plastered across his face. "What's got you in such a rut?"
Henryk let out a long, heavy breath. "Nothing," he replied tersely, rising from his seat and making his way toward the stairs, but Edward intercepted him.
"Come on, Henryk. Don't you want to hear the good news?" Edward's hands were outstretched, his excitement palpable.
Henryk paused. "Honestly, I just want to pack up my stuff... and sneak into the music building to cook up some beats, you know?"
Edward scratched his head. "It's a real unique thing you're doing with the music," he offered.
"Thanks, I guess," Henryk muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Listen, Henryk. It's been a long time since we've truly spoken to each other," Edward said, his tone earnest. "You're a good guy, but don't get lost out there."
Henryk's eyes widened at the unexpected sincerity. "Well... maybe if we actually had human amenities, then we'd all be doing better," he retorted sharply.
Edward's expression faltered, a shadow crossing his features. Henryk immediately regretted his harsh words.
"I've been doing wrong by you guys," Edward sighed, his melancholy palpable. "And if you had joined us at a different age, things would've been different. I can't promise you much right now, but if you help me, Henryk, I will give you more than all the other great houses combined could ever offer you or your kin."
Henryk fell silent, but then a smirk crept onto his lips as he extended his hand. "Then, a deal is a deal, brother," he said.
"Brother, huh?" Edward regarded him for a moment before grasping Henryk's hand firmly. "Good then. Listen, everything is going to start changing," he said, releasing Henryk's hand and guiding him toward the kitchen. "We're finally going to start moving around here."
As they embraced, Henryk couldn't help but smile. What a man to follow, Edward Wolfsheim, their informal House President.
Later, years, amidst the backdrop of a great party and his own music, Henryk would point to Edward through the crowd. "Sirine," he would call out to her, his voice slurred with drink and breath laced with cannabis. "Ah, that's my Ed. The man we're all going to hell for."
Raising his drink toward the chaotic abyss of the universe, Henryk and Ed contemplated what it truly meant to be a father's son.