The three months of training had begun.
Every day was brutal. We were taught how to pilot space warcrafts with precision, trained to fight in various gravitational fields, and given intense lessons on the enemy we were preparing to face. The aliens we would battle were called Alcrians—humanoid beings, nearly indistinguishable from us in form but with skin the color of the deep ocean and eyes like glowing sapphires.
The war raged near Jupiter, where mysterious wormholes had suddenly opened. The front lines were chaos, and soon, we would be sent to join the fray.
Throughout the training, I was challenged many times by other recruits—fueled by envy, pride, or both. I defeated each one. Yet the one person I truly wanted to fight never acknowledged me. The white-haired man from before. He kept his distance, not out of fear, but disinterest. And that made him all the more frustrating.
Our instructor, RadHawk, was merciless. He pushed us beyond our limits, ordering daily drills that would break ordinary men. We had to endure a hundred punches from him each day—his fists were like meteors, cracking ribs and spirits alike. For me, he made it a hundred and fifty. He said it was to build endurance. I knew it was something more.
After three months, the training ended.
Final evaluations began. We were tested in simulators on how well we could maneuver through asteroid belts and enemy blockades. We engaged in combat against each other to measure strength and technique. We were also given intricate logic puzzles to assess our strategic thinking.
I dominated every challenge—except one. In the IQ test, I placed fourth.
"Everyone assemble!" RadHawk's voice boomed across the camp.
We gathered before him, hearts pounding.
"Based on performance," he announced, "I will now reveal the six elite soldiers chosen from Batch 16.
"Powell, who achieved the highest IQ score."
A lean boy with sharp eyes stepped forward.
"Austin, the finest space warcraft pilot this batch has produced."
A broad-shouldered youth with confident eyes nodded.
"Claire, a soldier with superb adaptability to all gravitational fields and excellent combat skills."
A poised girl with short hair stepped forward.
"Griffith, the man with iron endurance and battle-tested reflexes."
A towering man with scars on his forearms walked up.
"Sai, exceptional in every category."
The white-haired man finally stepped forward.
"And finally, Judas. The youngest of all, but with talent and potential surpassing many."
I stepped forward silently, fists clenched.
I felt the stares of hundreds of soldiers as RadHawk's eyes landed on me.
"These six," he continued, "will serve under the William family. Their captain will be Isabella Williams."
So, it begins, I thought. To be commanded by a daughter of the very family I got to interact with. How poetic.
We were taken to a private chamber where our new captain awaited us.
When the doors slid open, a girl stepped in. Her skin was pale, almost glowing, and her presence lit the room like starlight. She carried herself with poise and calm.
"So, you are the six assigned to me," she said with a soft smile. "I've heard of your strength. I'm honored to lead a team like you."
Before we could respond, RadHawk reappeared, looking grim.
"Madam Isabella, there's no time for pleasantries. You are to leave immediately for your first mission."
"What?" she exclaimed. "But I've only just met them! I haven't even briefed the team!"
RadHawk handed her a datapad. "Orders from above. The mission is urgent. You'll find the details here. Now move."
With that, he turned and disappeared.
We scanned the mission file. We were to travel to the Moon to investigate possible Alcrian activity. No further information. No strategic objective. Just observation.
"This is strange," I murmured.
"What do you mean?" Isabella asked as we boarded the transport toward the spaceport.
"It's too soon. You were just appointed. There's no proper mission briefing, and the details are... vague."
She frowned, considering it. "Maybe it's a simple recon job?"
"Then why send an elite team for that?"
She fell silent.
The seven of us arrived at the spaceport—a massive structure where hundreds of sleek spacecrafts were docked, each humming with energy. Our assigned vessel was a mid-sized combat shuttle, capable of orbital jumps and light weaponry.
We boarded in silence, unease growing in our chests.
Inside the spacecraft, Isabella took her seat at the captain's console. She looked around nervously.
"This is my first mission," she admitted. "I'm... not sure I'm ready."
"Then call me Isabella," she added with a soft laugh. "There's no need for formality."
I leaned closer and whispered, "Are you not suspicious?"
She glanced at me. "Suspicious of what?"
"The timing. The mission. All of it. It doesn't add up."
"You're overthinking," she said, but her voice trembled.
Suddenly, the control panels lit up. The engines powered on. No one had touched anything.
"What the hell?" Austin said, leaping from his seat.
"We didn't start this!" Claire shouted.
The shuttle lifted from the pad, engines roaring to life.
"We're being launched!" Isabella cried, struggling to override the controls. "I don't have command!"
The ship breached the atmosphere, heading straight for the Moon.
It was then that we knew. This wasn't a mission.
It was a trap.