"Pass me those space-chips, Allen," I said, settling into the pilot's chair. Nolan chuckled next to me, tweaking the navigation console as Oliver hovered around the periphery, eating his third protein bar. The ship was a low hum, stars blurring by the viewport like spilled glitter.
Mark looked up from his handheld game. "Why's it so quiet. Feels like we're waiting for something." Tech Jacket just shrugged, cleaning his armor in the corner. I was expressionless, but I felt relief flood over me. Conquest wasn't coming. Not after I'd lobotomized him with my laser vision. To the Viltrumites, they believed Conquest was busy preparing Earth to be invaded, but his body was being used and experimented upon by Cecil.
"Relax, Mark," I said to him, throwing him a space-chip. "It's just your imagination. Long flights mess with everyone heads." I saw him catch it, his forehead still creased. Nolan nodded wisely – he knew the dynamics of silence in deep space more than any of us. Oliver drifted in, crumbs drifting off his protein bar. "Yeah, big brother," he sang in, "Sovereign's right. It's probably just... space boredom."
I settled in, covering my smile. Of course I'd bond with them so quickly. Allen trusted me like a veteran combatant, Nolan was looking to me for advice on Viltrumite strategy, even Tech Jacket had begun divulging schematics. But they had no idea why. Each joke I told, every word I spoke – it was my subconscious operating. Like the development of gills in water or wings in a state of freefall. My power didn't just allow me to fight and live; it allowed me to bond.
My fingers brushed the coarse hair above my lip. The mustache. It had started as stubble during the first week out, thickened into something undeniable by the third. Nolan had raised an eyebrow once, Allen had snorted, but nobody commented outright. I'd grabbed the ship's laser razor yesterday morning, stared at my reflection in the polished bulkhead… and put it down. New space look, I'd thought, almost laughing at myself. Why not? It wasn't like Conquest needed a clean-shaven face where he was. It was just strange fighting Viltrumites with the very symbol of what they represented.
Allen straightened, cracking his knuckles in the still hum of the vessel. "Okay, listen up," he bellowed, thumping a screen. "Talescria's on the horizon. ETA… thirty-seven minutes." Happiness flowed through me – solid ground, clean air, perhaps a beverage that wouldn't make me hesitate to drink re-cycled sweat. "At last," I muttered, massaging the bridge of my nose. "My ass is fused to this seat."
Mark snorted and stopped playing. "Seriously? Why didn't we just fly there? We would have been on the ground before Allen was done with his third bag of space-chips." Oliver vigorously nodded to his right, crumbs falling from his mouth. Nolan slowly shook his head, the expression of a man who'd heard too many teenager complaints about interstellar travel time.
"Because," Allen growled, pounding the viewport where Talescria's blue-green sphere was expanding in frantic urgency, "not everybody's a fan of vacuum exposure twelve consecutive hours straight, kiddo. And, also," he affectionately patted the ship's console, "Ol' Bessie here's equipped with the finest snack dispenser in three sectors. Try finding that flying through an asteroid field." Tech Jacket finally stepped out of his polishing, his helmet visor casting the planet's light. "He's right. My suit's climate control is top-notch, but even I like a chair that doesn't go to the other end and try to freeze your kidneys."
**
The descent was gradual, gravity tugging gently as we entered the atmosphere. Talescria below was not just a city-planet; it was a living circuit board. Spun crystal spires stretching towards the heavens were connected by shining transit tubes pulsing with anti-gravity traffic. Boulevards had streams of light flowing through them, and entire districts glowed with neon vegetation that shifted color like mood rings. "Home sweet home," Allen sighed, a hint of pride seeping into his voice. Oliver squished his face against the viewport, eyes bulging. "Whoa. it's like a rainbow exploded inside a computer!"
Allen guided Bessie into a huge docking bay swarming with ships from a hundred worlds – insectoid freighters, sleek Coalition fighters, even a lumbering Gargantian ore-hauler. The airlock sighed open, admitting a blast of noise and scent: ozone, alien spices, and the low thrum of hundreds of engines. Coalition soldiers in streamlined armor paced the gantries, their symbol – a fist closing around a star cluster – proudly on their shoulders. Nolan scanned the bay, his posture subtly shifting to "evaluation mode." "Efficient," he said, noting the interlocking fields of fire from the ceiling turrets. "They've hardened this place up since my last... visit."
Thaedus met us at the foot of the ramp. His tall artificial beard was even more ridiculous in person. "Omni-Man," he formally nodded to Nolan before turning to me. "Sovereign. Your kill on Conquest... impressive." His eyes lingered on my mustache a moment too long. I just smiled. "Had to match the intimidation factor, Thaedus. Beard envy?" Allen choked back a laugh.
Thaedus did not laugh. "This way," he snarled, turning abruptly toward a bank of glittering transit tubes. "No time for pleasantries. Viltrumites hit the Tarvaxian Rim yesterday." We trailed him, footsteps echoing on the polished alien alloy decking. Coalition soldiers snapped salutes as we walked, eyes tracking Nolan and Mark. Allen strode beside me, voice low. "Tarvaxian Rim? That's deep in Coalition territory. Aggressive move." I nodded, my own gut tightening. Conquest's demise bought time, not exception. Nolan's jaw clenched beside me. "How many dead?" Thaedus didn't face us. "Three colonies. Glassed. Survivors... few."
We then flew towards Thaddeus's office, the consequences of his words dropping like heavy weights. "This isn't a skirmish," Thaedus stated factually, not changing the flight path after banking around the corner of a skyscraper. "It's a full-blown war. Expect months in the trenches." Nolan snarled, a noise like grinding stones. "Understood." Allen's jaw tightened, but he nodded tersely. "Where do you need us?" Thaedus didn't slow down. "Frontlines. Yesterday." He cut a curt gesture toward an enormous troop carrier already warming up on a neighboring launch pad, bay doors open wide. "You're the only assets we've got that Viltrumite fists won't pulp instantly. No briefing. Gear up en route." Mark exchanged a tense glance with Oliver – no time for fear, no time for doubts. Survival was the mission now.
The subsequent months merged together like a brutal rhythm: Drop. Battle. Slaughter. Live. Do it again. We hit colony worlds that were being assaulted – jungles choked with smoke, frozen tundras tacky with alien gore, desert metropolises shattered into glass craters. Coalition soldiers died by the thousands around us, brave but soft targets for Viltrumite shock troops. Our team was a storm of bloodshed. Nolan tore through teams like tissue paper, his face a grim mask. Mark and Oliver fought back-to-back, learning ruthless efficiency in the fire. Allen was a wrecking ball, his strength multiplied by sheer anger. Tech Jacket's arsenal whirred and flared, cutting swathes through the enemy ranks. And me? My fists broke helmets, my lasers seared flesh, my subconscious working instinctively – altering its tactics in mid-blow to exploit a weakness, dodging blasts before my conscious mind had even registered the threat. We weren't heroes; we were exterminators.
My body was… boundless. No Viltrumite punch rattled my bones for longer than a fraction of time. I could absorb plasma shots that reduced Tech Jacket's armor plate to ash, the energy spreading as benign heat across my skin. Allen would growl, hoisting a wrecked Coalition cruiser on his shoulders; I'd just grip the twisted hull and send it flying aside like scrap metal. No weakness whispered in my veins, no ethereal pain like Kryptonite. Pure, unadulterated power coursing through my veins, ready to meet whatever approached. Nolan watched me one time, when I caught a Viltrumite's fist half-way through a swing and crushed it like damp clay. His eyes narrowed, thoughtful, but he said nothing. He did not need to. I was not Superman playing nice; I was Sovereign, made for war.
We crouched together by a dim campfire on some anonymous asteroid outpost, wolfing down nutrient paste with a slightly charred plastic taste. Allen shoveled his down like a machine. Nolan stared into the flames, his face creased in exhaustion. Mark toyed with his ration pack, Oliver slung over his back, resting. Tech Jacket gingerly scrubbed char marks from his shoulder cannon. "Next rotation," Allen growled, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "Back to the Rim. Intel says their focusing near-" His communicator shrieked, a piercing emergency alert that bolted Oliver upright. Allen tore it from its holder, his face pale as he listened. "Say again?" He spoke in a stiff, tight voice. He looked up, eyes wide with shock. "Talescria. They're hitting Talescria. Now."
The ride back was a gut-wrenching blur. Bessie screamed along hyperspace tunnels, engines screeching at the thrust. No jokes, no chatter. Just the oppressive quiet and the mad crash of the ship being shoved to its limit. Allen gripped the controls, knuckles white-knuckled. Nolan sat with eyes fixed out the viewport, jaw clenched like stone. Mark paced, radiating tension. Oliver was white-knuckled as well. Tech Jacket twice-checked all the gun systems. I just sat back, tapping my fingers on the armrest, feeling the familiar thrum of anticipation beneath my skin. Home. They were hitting my new home.
Talescria filled the viewport as we came out of warp. Not the glittering jewel we'd left. A dozen districts spewed smoke, leaving ugly grey smudges against the neon sky. Geysers of energy fire lit up the lower city like lightning storms. The telltale sonic booms of Viltrumites bursting through sound barriers could be heard dimly even within the hull. "Bay's breached," Allen bellowed, already fighting the yoke hard over. "We go out the front door!" The main hatch explosively ejected its bolts, slamming open with force, as Allen slapped the emergency atmospheric seal override.
No time to think. Nolan shot out first, his red blur flying straight into the densest cluster of sonic booms. Mark and Oliver followed close on his heels, Oliver's red uniform flashing along beside Mark's blue and yellow. Allen then relinquished control of Bessie's stick, sending himself off on a burst of effort. Tech Jacket's thrusters engaged with a piercing whine, propelling him after Allen. I lagged behind last, clinging to the ship by only a beat, feeling the vibrations of distant blows along Bessie's metal. My thoughts murmured paths, angles, weak areas in the Viltrumite cluster in sight from where I was. Then I transitioned. Not a flash, but a silent, sharp onset that had the air stumbling behind me. I caught up to Allen for an instant, keeping pace with his harsh pace.
We plunged into the chaos surrounding the Coalition Command Spire. The air was filled with ozone, burning metal, and the coppery flavor of blood. Below, Thaedus was a whirlwind of despair. His beard was burnt, his uniform torn. Kregg was huge and grinning with wicked delight, batting aside Thaddeus's fists as though they did not even exist. Anissa moved like a ghost, darting in with dazzling quickness each time Thaedus fell to his knees, her blows shattering the asphalt beside his head. Thaedus was bleeding from a gash above his eye, his limbs slowing. He was seconds from being ripped in half.
"Allen! Kregg!" I snarled, already altering course. Allen didn't hesitate, roaring as he slammed into Kregg like a comet, tackling the Viltrumite mid-swing and sending him sideways through a ferrocrete wall. Dust exploded outward. Nolan was already battling three near the spire's base, Mark and Oliver supporting him. Tech Jacket's repulsors glowed, holding another Viltrumite against a warped transit tube. Anissa's head snapped towards Allen's blow, a spark of annoyance flashing across her face. That was my opportunity.
I hit her low and hard, jamming my shoulder into her ribs before she could react. The air blasted from her lungs in a startled grunt. She staggered, eyes wide – shock, then fury. Her fist whipped towards my temple, faster than sound. My head snapped sideways by instinct, the shockwave ruffling my hair. She hadn't gotten back up before I slammed a knee into her gut. She doubled up, gagging. Then my fist, connecting with her jaw hard enough to send her stumbling backward. She fell, sliding through debris, scrambling up again right away, wiping her lip on the back of her hand. Her eyes narrowed, reconsidering me. No humor in them now. Just clinical appraisal. But I'd noticed it – the spark of uncertainty. She hadn't expected this.
"You're strong," she spat, circling me cautiously. She feigned left, then struck right with eye-searing speed. My arm flashed up, catching her wrist inches from my throat. Her knuckles grounded beneath my fingers. "Stronger," I corrected, twisting savagely. Her arm snapped like brittle firewood. She shrieked, a raw, angry sound, stumbling backward. I didn't hesitate. My other fist struck her stomach, lifting her off the ground. She doubled over, retching, eyes wide. I grabbed her broken arm and slammed her into the ferrocrete before she fell. Pavement cracked beneath her. She spat blood, struggling to rise. Conquest had been difficult. This was... easy.
Her good arm flailed about for leverage, eyes darting towards the sky – flight. Not going to happen. My boot descended on her shattered wrist, pinning it to the wreckage. She shrieked again, pure agony now. "Where do you think you're going?" I growled, stooping. Her face was pale, twisted in pain and fury. "You need a lesson in loyalty." My fist connected with her jaw. Her head snapped back, eyes rolling white. She collapsed, unconscious. I scooped her up like a sack of wheat, her broken arm dangling loosely. One Viltrumite princess, captured. Perfect.
Silence fell around us. Tech Jacket reloading was a sound that rang out like it was deafeningly loud. Nolan ripped a Viltrumite apart limb from limb at the foot of the spire, spraying blood, then stopped mid-stroke. Mark had a soldier slammed against a melted transit tube, fist raised. He blinked, slowly lowering it. The Viltrumite he had in his hands looked past him, eyes wide in surprise. Kregg roared from the cloud of rubble Allen had buried him in, a shout suddenly cut off. The sonic booms overhead ceased. The hammering weight of imminent violence simply vanished, replaced by the snap of flames and the cries of the wounded.
Kregg exploded out of the wreckage, choking for air, coughing debris. His gaze locked on Anissa dangling limply in my arms, her broken arm bent at a horrible angle. Sheer anger distorted his face. He didn't roar. Didn't charge. He just shot himself upward like a missile, slashing through the smoke-choked air with a sharp crack. Into the swirling Viltrumites above. Nolan cursed under his breath, a low, gravelly expletive. "Regrouping," he growled, wiping blood from his chin. Allen sank beside me, breathless, his eyes tracking Kregg's withdrawal. "Cowards," he growled, but some of the tension in his shoulders eased. The immediate threat was retreating. We have won... for now.
Thaedus limped towards us, clutching his bleeding side. His eyes were not on Kregg's escape, or on Anissa's outstretched form. They were on a small, amphibious Coalition officer trying desperately to melt into the shadows next to a wrecked comms terminal. The officer flinched under Thaddeus's stare. "You," Thaedus spoke in a harsh croak, his voice thick with hurt and betrayal. He didn't scream. The breathed accusation hurt more. "Commander Vek. Intel Oversight." Vek bristled, bulbous eyes wide with terror. Thaedus didn't need proof. The coordination of the attack, the precision of the strike on Command. it was insider all over. "Why?" Thaedus gasped, the word like lead.
Vek slumped, smooth flesh paling. "They... they showed me," he stuttered, shaking fingers gesturing weakly toward the sky. "The fleets. The reserves. Even if you succeed here, even if you kill Kregg. They'll fall back to Viltrum." He shuddered, a wet, clicking sound spilling out of his throat. "Then they'll return. Not with shock troops. With everything. The entire Empire. Talescria... the Coalition.... dust." His voice dropped to a terrified whisper. "We can't possibly survive. Zero. I just... wanted to live."