AN: I'm almost done with the Book 1 Finale. I should have it uploaded to my Patreon in about an hour. So, currently 12-13 Advanced Chapter on Patreon. Check my page out, its Crimson_Reapr.
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The airlock began to decompress with a hiss that echoed throughout the corridors of the Strathos' Shepherd, the indicator lights along the hatch shifting from red to amber, and then finally to green. Mark stood at the forefront of the inner airlock door of the Cargo Bay in his modified suit. His hands hung loosely at his sides, his rifle strapped to his back, and his facial expression clearly radiated the aura of someone composed, though his eyes indicated that his mind was elsewhere, running rampant with possibilities.
'I swear to God if they try to spew some shit and impound my ship,' he thought to himself, his fists subconsciously clenching. 'I haven't killed anyone yet... scratch that, I haven't been face-to-face when killing someone, but I swear I'm going out fighting if push comes to shove.'
He wasn't too worried about a firefight, after all, Eidolon Reach wasn't that kind of station, or so that's what Marcos had told him. 'What was that saying again? If you want peace, prepare for war or something along those lines. It never hurts to be ready for anything, especially with the uniquely uncomfortable feeling that comes with being scrutinized by bureaucrats with too much time on their hands.'
As he was lost in thought, the airlock door slid open with a hydraulic hum, and ten figures stepped through first. They were dressed in the dull gray uniform of the Station Security, their armor clean but clearly worn, their badges slightly faded from the passage of time. They noticed that Mark was armed, though he wasn't holding his weapon in his hands. This prompted one of the guards to raise his rifle at Mark, who simply kept his hands by his side, his face blooming with annoyance rather than fear. The other security guards inspected the surroundings of the cargo bay before giving the all clear.
After a few seconds, a woman in a black coat, carrying a datapad pbrimming with sensor readouts stepped through the airlock. Behind her were two dockworkers with portable scanners, their eyes practically shining as they looked around the ship, but once their eyes landed on Mark's towering frame, that look of awe turned into fear.
Mark raised an eyebrow as he addressed the security officer standing before him. "You really plan to keep that rifle pointed at my face the entire time?"
The officer turned his head to the side and then back to Mark before another officer who had been inspecting things came over. He positioned his hand on the barrel of the first officer's rifle, forcing him to lower it. "Sorry about him, new guy, still kind of jumpy."
Mark simply nodded as his eyes trained on the second officer, a middle-aged man with a regulation-trimmed beard and tired eyes, his nameplate read Lt. Harven Strall. The man gave Mark a cursory once-over, eyes flicking from his relaxed stance to the rifle strapped to his back and the peculiar and unfamiliar armor he wore. But who was he to judge a person's body armor or style?
The man let out a loud whistle before addressing Mark, "I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you're the Captain of this ship, Mark Shephard, correct?"
Mark smiled amicably as he looked down at the man, "Oh, what would you say gave that away?"
Strall chuckled softly at Mark's rhetorical question, but his tone remained professional. "I hope you can understand that this is standard protocol, especially for new vessels or unregistered builds. And when you take into consideration the weapons that are already visible from the exterior, things kind of... tend to attract attention."
Mark nodded slightly. "I wouldn't blame you. The Shepherd's… unique."
"Yeah," the lieutenant muttered, glancing around the spacious cargo bay. "That's one word for it. We're just prioritizing the safety of our station above anything else."
The inspection officer stepped forward, her boots clicking softly against the Shepherd's polished floor plating. Her eyes scanned everything around her, taking in every panel seam and every glowing indicator. She raised her datapad and read the results out. "Thermal and EM signatures seem pretty stable, unusually so for a ship this far out. And your hull integrity is at… one hundred percent? I'm sorry, that can't be right. I think my scanners are glitching out."
Mark smiled faintly once again as he looked down at the woman. "As I informed your station's traffic control, she's brand new."
The woman frowned at the information, but kept whatever thoughts bubbling in her head to herself. Behind her, the dockworkers released a pair of small metallic spheres that floated upward, bathing the corridor in soft blue light as they began sweeping the cargo bay and its walls for contraband and radiation anomalies.
Strall stepped closer ot Mark, gesturing to the door that led to the rest of the ship. "We'll need to see the bridge, engineering compartment, and your cargo manifest. We'll also have to verify your crew and passenger identities."
Mark nodded in acknowledgement and motioned toward the corridor. "If you'll follow me, this way."
They made their way through the ship's corridors, which were a good 3 meters wide, its seamless passageways lined with soft golden illumination. Every surface gleamed faintly, and every door seemed to open with deliberate grace rather than mechanical force.
The officers exchanged quick, wordless looks as their already formed ideas were reinforced. This wasn't the kind of ship that appeared in the outer rim. First of all, its weapons were threatening, to say the least, and now everything their eyes were bearing witness to told them that this ship was expensive. Not just in monetary value, but in the technology and minds required to build it.
When they entered the bridge, one of the dockworkers actually stopped mid-step, jaw slack. The panoramic screens filled the room in a smooth curve, displaying a perfect 360-degree image of the station outside. Every star was shown in crisp definition, and every reflection behaved with exact fidelity, as if it were actual glass rather than screens.
"Jesus…" the worker murmured. "No windows at all?"
Mark kept his hands by his side, his posture relaxed. "Well, screens are simply more efficient, and they allow for stronger hull integrity."
The worker's head snapped to Mark, "Screens are simply more efficient? That's the reason? This must have cost a fortune, having to wire all of the screens and connect them to the cameras. There are just so many things required to make this possible, and your reasoning for it is that it's more efficient?"
Mark simply shrugged. It was true, screens were more efficient, though they were far more complicated. Strall whistled low under his breath, admiring the bridge as well. "This setup… Are you ex-Navy?"
Mark tilted his head, his face showing consideration for a moment. "Eh, you can say I was. In a past life."
The inspection officer crouched by one of the side consoles, her scanner flickering in her hand. "There are no external ports except for refuel and docking interface, the internal systems seem to be spotless, and there isn't a single trace of illicit data loops or black-code encryption. Jeez, the coding itself is starting to give me a headache."
"Meaning?" Strall asked.
"Meaning this is a legit top-of-the-line vessel, and whoever built this knew what they were doing." She straightened, and her eyes narrowed slightly. "However, the data doesn't match any corporate shipyard template in the registry at all. This vessel's architecture, its fiber routing, and material composition are… proprietary. I'd almost call it experimental."
Mark said nothing, simply waiting patiently, weighing what to say.
Strall turned to him again, curiosity mixed with skepticism marred his face. "You said she's new. Mind if I ask where you had her built?"
"I could simply tell you how that information is classified, but it wouldn't hurt to give you a vague answer. It was privately fabricated a few systems away from this one," Mark replied smoothly. "A friend of mine handled most of the core construction, and I did the rest."
The Lieutenant raised a brow. "Your friend must be one hell of an engineer."
Mark nodded, gave a heavy sigh, and sucked his teeth as he answered. "Tch, that he was..."
After nearly an hour of examination, sensor sweeps, and a few hushed exchanges between the officers, they finally moved on to the engineering deck, where they were greeted by the massive blue glow of the Shepherd's reactor chamber that cast soft reflections along the polished walls. The hum of the reactor was deep and low enough to be felt in the chest rather than the ears. The reactor itself pulsed rhythmically, contained in a transparent cylinder etched with faint geometric patterns.
Strall's team stopped at the doorway, and one of the dockworkers actually muttered, "Holy shit."
The inspection officer began running her instruments again, but her readings were erratically fluctuating before returning nonsensical numbers. "This can't be right… the magnetic flux ratios are-"
Mark interrupted her gently. "Don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure that the containment field is causing some interference with your scanners. I assure you that if you had a scanner of a higher grade, then you'd be able to see that it's stable."
The woman's brow remained furrowed as she stared at the numbers. "Still, I've never seen a reactor configuration like this."
Mark smiled faintly. "Well, how many vessels resembling this one do you get coming around these parts?"
He waited for her to answer, but one of the dockworkers responded for her. "Well, the closest ships we've gotten to this are vessels from the Navy, and every once in a while, a Vickie vessel, but we are not allowed to inspect those. Don't want to mess with foreign relations and the like. Say, what class of ship is this? Never really seen anything as angular as her."
"She's a heavy frigate," Mark said while nodding to himself. It made sense they wouldn't be able to inspect military vessels, but Mercenary and other civilian vessels were free game.
Eventually, the inspection wound down, and the team regrouped in the Cargo Bay. Strall looked like a man who had seen too much and understood too little. He tapped at his wrist console, reviewing the data feed from the inspection officer.
"So we have anomalies, no contraband, a stable reactor, and armaments registered that teeter on the edge of civilian tolerance limits." He looked up at Mark, meeting his gaze. "You've got one hell of a ship here, Mister Shephard. Can't say I've seen anything like her."
"Yup, you could say she's one of a kind," Mark replied.
Strall hesitated before continuing. "You understand we'll be submitting this report to IUC Customs for verification. If any of this doesn't check out…"
Mark waved him off, "Yeah, yeah, I know how it goes. You'll find I'm clean."
After a pause, Strall sighed, visibly deciding that there wasn't any point in pushing things further. "Alright, Mister Shephard. You're cleared for disembarkation. Your passengers are free to offload and make use of station amenities." He paused and extended his hand toward Mark. "Welcome to Eidolon Reach."
Mark shook Strall's extended hand firmly.
"Enjoy your stay," Strall said to Mark before turning to his team and addressing them. "Pack it up."
The sound of boots faded as the inspection crew filed out, and the airlock hissed closed behind them. Mark let out a long breath and leaned against the bulkhead.
"Marcos," he said quietly.
The AI's holographic form flickered into being beside him, a cigar sitting snuggly between his thumb, index finger, and middle finger. "Well, that could've gone worse. Nobody asked about the alien-core reactor, so I'm calling that a win."
Mark chuckled under his breath. "I trust you stayed quiet?"
Marcos shrugged and tilted his head. "Mostly. Thought about spooking the tech lady when her scanner shorted out, but I restrained myself. Personal growth, you know."
Mark shook his head. "Ani sure had a knack for creating such a colorful personality, such as yourself."
"Now, I can't really tell, but I'm 98% sure that you meant that as a backhanded compliment," Marcos said, grinning.
When the security feed cleared them for open transit, Mark gathered the survivors. The girls waited patiently near the primary corridor, a cluster of soft chatter and nervous laughter echoing against the metal walls.
Marie stood near the front, her eyes bright with anticipation. "We're really here," she said quietly.
Mark nodded. "Alright, ladies, Eidolon Reach isn't much, but it's civilized space, and they will be able to reach out to the Navy. So, all things considered, you should be relatively safe here until the Navy picks you up."
"Thank you," the girls said softly, their expressions sincere.
Mark gave them a short nod and turned toward the airlock. "Alright, everyone. Let's move."
The transition from the Shepherd's sterile corridors to the station's main terminal was almost jarring. The air of the station was thicker, tinged with recycled oxygen and the faint metallic tang of industrial maintenance. The lighting was also harsher and more utilitarian. Voices echoed around them as hundreds of people moved through the station, some in a sprawling dome filled with merchants, travelers, and workers moving between destinations.
The group drew eyes. Twenty-four mostly young women, with most still wearing their torn or dirtied clothes, following a man who carried himself with the calm precision of a soldier.
It wasn't long before a woman in a gray uniform and a tablet in hand approached them. "You must be the survivors reported from the Shepherd. Traffic Control forwarded your file to me."
Mark nodded. "Yup, that's them."
The woman smiled softly at Mark, "Good. Follow me, we've arranged access to the communications hub. It should let you reach your families and IUC central."
The group nodded in unison and followed her through the station. The hub was located in the upper ring, a large circular room filled with soundproofed booths and holographic terminals. Bright screens lined the walls, streaming live data of ship arrivals, jump coordinates, and civilian broadcasts such as the news.
The moment the women entered, the atmosphere shifted, and several immediately rushed toward the nearest open terminals, their hands trembling as they activated the communications uplink.
It didn't even take a minute before soft sobs and laughter filled the air. Faces appeared from holographic projections as parents, siblings, and even lovers answered their calls. The sound of disbelief, followed by overwhelming joy, echoed around the room.
Mark stood silently near the entrance, his arms folded. His memories started replaying in his mind, and something he hadn't really given much thought to soured his mood. 'I wonder how my parents, friends, and the rest of my family reacted when they found out an idiot texting and driving took me from them.'
He shook his head as he watched one of the younger women collapse into a booth seat, tears running freely as she spoke to her mother. Another clutched a pendant as she kept repeating "I'm alive" through hiccups of relief.
His eyes then drifted to Marie, who was nearby, speaking quietly with a man who appeared on her screen. He was older, maybe in his sixties, wearing dirty overalls and a dirty white t-shirt under it. Her voice was steady, but her shoulders trembled just slightly, and the man had a broad smile on his face, though it was clear he was barely able to hold himself together.
Marcos' voice came softly through Mark's earpiece. "I guess it pays to do good, eh, Captain?"
Mark frowned at the voice before he responded softly, "Marcos, how are you getting all of this?"
Marcos chuckled in Mark's ear before answering, "Well, Cap, human cybersecurity is laughable, and that's being kind."
Mark said nothing for a while as his gaze lingered on the faces, watching as they laughed, and the flood of human connection filled the sterile hub.
After nearly an hour, the calls began to wind down. The station attendants were patient and efficient as they then began to help the survivors connect with the IUC's Central Liaison Service.
The holographic emblem of the IUC, a stylized ring encircling a star, flickered into view at the main console, and a calm voice came through the speakers. "This is Admiral Ren Varis, IUC Command. We've received confirmation of the survivors from the Navy's Research Vessel, the Vanguard Horizon. I would like to speak to the captain of the ship that rescued them."
Hearing the Admiral's request, Mark stepped forward and stood by Marie as he came into view of the camera. "That would be me, sir."
The Admiral's face brightened slightly as he took in the appearance of Mark and how he pretty much dwarfed the tallest of the girls there. "I would like to thank you for your act of heroism in rescuing these ladies from a fate that many would consider far worse than death. A retrieval vessel with two escort Corvettes has been dispatched from one of our nearest bases and should arrive within seventy-two hours. In the meantime, Eidolon Reach's administration will ensure their safety and comfort."
Mark nodded at the Admiral before answering. "Yes, sir... I wouldn't really call it an act of heroism, sir. I only came across them because the pirates thought it would be a good idea to beeline it to my ship after I executed an emergency jump. If it wasn't for them attacking-"
Admiral Ren Varis smoothly interrupted Mark. "Take the compliment, son. Whether it was intentional or not, you still chose to bring these ladies to safety after the engagement with the pirates. We're grateful for your assistance, and we would like you to help escort the transport vessel back to the base. We would like to award you for your actions."
"Understood," Mark replied.
Varis' gaze softened just slightly as he shifted topics. "Your ship, the Strathos' Shepherd, doesn't appear in our records. I'm guessing it was built independently?"
Mark hesitated for a second before answering. "She's experimental, sir. I haven't had the chance to register her, but she's all mine."
Varis regarded him with quiet scrutiny before finally nodding. "As I said before, you've done the Empire a service, Captain. Apart from the compensation for your assistance, we'll get the paperwork sorted for proper registration of your ship once the survivors are safely retrieved."
Mark inclined his head as he spoke, "Thank you, sir."
The hologram flickered once before fading. When the call ended, Marie turned to him, smiling faintly through tired eyes. "Looks like this whole ordeal is finally over."
"For you," Mark said softly.
She tilted her head. "So, what do you plan to do after escorting us back?"
He glanced toward the viewport beyond the hub, where the Shepherd's sleek hull gleamed under the hangar lights. "I'm not too sure. I'm planning on going to the inner parts of the empire, maybe set up my own engineering or ship repair shop. Though it's frustrating, I guess you can say that it is also therapeutic."
Marie hesitated as if to say something, then nodded. "I think I'll do the same, look for an engineering firm to take me under its wings in Celestine Prime. If you ever find yourself in the area, then shoot me a message. I'll take you out for dinner, it's the least I can do."
Mark smiled faintly. "I'll hold you to that."
She smiled back, then pulled out a device from her pocket that resembled a phone, though transparent in nature, and handed it over to him. "Here, give me your contact information so we can stay in touch."
Mark grabbed and froze.
"What's wrong?" Marie asked.
Mark's lips thinned, and he slowly closed his eyes, a chuckle managing to escape him. "I forgot, I don't have any social media or anything like that. Do you know if they sell these here?"
Marie chuckled as well, grabbing the device from Mark's hands. "This is one of the most basic G-Comm Mobiles that the attendants gave us. They only work locally, with a range of maybe two systems, but I'm pretty sure they should sell some of the more advanced models that allow contact across multiple systems, as long as you're within a system or two from a G-Comm beacon."
Mark nodded and thanked her, watching as she turned around and went to join the rest of the girls who followed one of the station's attendants. "Well, time to buy a G-Comm Mobile, I guess."
But he just stood there for a long moment after they'd gone. The noise of the station filled the air before turning to find one of the attendants.
But he just stood there for a long moment after they'd gone. The noise of the station filled the air as the sense of being alone washed over him. He then turned to find one of the attendants.
As he searched for one, his earpiece crackled to life with Marcos' voice coming through. "Hey, Cap, I don't know if you didn't notice, but according to the data I gathered on human behavior in the past hour, she's totally into you."
Mark chuckled as he softly told Marcos to shut up.