First came the light.Then, the roar.And after that, the screams.
By the time the city realized it was dying, it was already too late.But Dossian had known long before.
Something deep in his gut had twisted when the radars caught faint activity at the edge of the system. Not enough to justify an official alert, but enough to keep him uneasy, enough to make him curse the instinct he had never learned to silence.
That morning, the Plaza of the Pact on Tau Ceti IV was alive with celebration. Beneath the vast artificial dome that sealed the capital, a golden tide of banners and lights swayed in the filtered sunlight. Thousands had gathered to honor a thousand years since the planet's annexation to the Universal Government, a millennium of progress, unity, and peace. Or so the story went.
From the outer rim of the plaza, near the security line, Dossian watched the first rays of light scatter across the dome. The city shimmered with metallic grace: polished towers of steel, avenues drawn with geometric precision, statues of past leaders gazing upon manicured plazas. It looked like harmony incarnate. But Dossian knew better. The surface was always cleanest where the rot ran deepest.
Monumental holograms painted the interior of the dome, fragments of history made spectacle. In one, the ancient planetary parliament signed the Integration Treaty, surrendering its sovereignty. In another, a fleet of Universal Government ships descended through the clouds, their formation as elegant as it was menacing. To the crowd, these were symbols of destiny fulfilled. To Dossian, they were ghosts wearing the mask of progress.
Swarms of small drones hummed through the air, streaming the ceremony live to every corner of the system. Each one scanned the faces below, logging every smile, every nervous twitch, every deviation from the programmed joy.
The orchestra's music floated above the crowd, a solemn, deliberate composition meant to evoke pride and continuity. But beneath it, the murmur of the multitude grew like static, a rhythm of laughter, whispers, and footsteps echoing through the square. Families clustered around food stalls, children waved tiny flags, and civil servants exchanged polite, hollow greetings. Some smiled out of conviction, others out of habit.
From his post, Dossian could see the central dais rising like an altar. At its heart stood Planetary Delegate Loran Vek, projected in immaculate holographic detail. His ceremonial uniform gleamed beneath the artificial light; his voice carried the calm certainty of a man who had never been contradicted in public. Around him, officers and dignitaries filled the stage, some murmuring quietly, others raising glasses, all basking in the glow of their own creation.
Vek's hologram flickered once before his voice rolled through every hidden speaker in the dome.
"Citizens of Tau Ceti IV, today we celebrate a millennium of unity, a millennium of stability. A thousand years ago, our ancestors made a choice that would shape the course of our history. They joined the Universal Government not by force, but by faith. Because they understood that true strength lies not in isolation, but in shared progress."
Applause thundered through the plaza. Vek smiled, basking in the sound before continuing.
"We have built a society where the chaos of the past no longer belongs. While other worlds fall to division, we thrive. While the separatists spread their lies and violence, we stand firm in peace. Tau Ceti IV is a beacon of order, a jewel among the stars."
The crowd cheered, flags waved, and holograms shimmered with pride. But from where Dossian stood, something felt wrong. There were faces that didn't move, hands that didn't clap, eyes that stared straight ahead, refusing to join the euphoria.
Vek raised his hand toward the dome, his voice climbing with conviction.
"And that is why we will never surrender what we have built. The enemies of peace may try to break us, but today we prove they cannot. Tau Ceti IV stands unbroken. The Universal Government stands unbroken. Long live the Union!"
The crowd erupted in thunderous applause as the dome came alive with projections, fleets sailing through the heavens, children smiling, colonies prospering.
But for Dossian, the celebration had the taste of dread.
He watched it all with the patience of someone who no longer trusted peace. His walk was steady, deliberate, his gaze sharp and trained. His ceremonial uniform glittered with medals, tokens of loyalty that no longer held meaning. He had learned long ago that stability wasn't preserved by speeches or ceremonies. It was preserved by vigilance.
Events like this, he thought, were always the prelude to disaster.
Around him, the Planetary Delegate's Guard held their positions at every access point. Some stood at the edges of the plaza, others on rooftops, watching the crowd from above. The setup was tight, efficient. But Dossian knew efficiency was a lie written by optimists. Most of the soldiers were barely out of training, too young to know how quickly order could unravel once the shooting began.
A group of children darted past him, laughing, pointing at the sky. One boy, no older than eight, stopped before a hologram showing the signing of the Integration Treaty. The blue light flickered across his face as he whispered something to his mother.
Dossian watched them for a long moment. A knot tightened in his chest. These children had never seen war. They believed the world had always been this way. They thought stability was a right, not a privilege.May Yahweh keep them here, he thought. And may they never learn otherwise.
After a final sweep of the northern sector, he crossed the restricted line where Rear Admiral Gaius waited. The man looked calm, almost bored, the posture of someone who believed in the perfection of his own plan.
"Any movement, Colonel?" Gaius asked."Nothing of note," Dossian replied, eyes fixed on his tablet. "Everything's stable. It'll be a long night, but a quiet one."
Gaius nodded, satisfied. Dossian hesitated before adding,"I heard a rumor. They say Rodrick Viulk and Robert Santiago are here."Gaius looked up, his expression sharpening."Viulk arrived earlier. Santiago hasn't shown yet, but he will. Tau Ceti IV has always been one of his favorite stages."
Dossian's jaw tightened. Santiago was everywhere these days, his shadow stretched across every celebration."And Viulk?" he asked. "What's the Black Spider doing here?"
Gaius sighed, glancing toward the glowing plaza."Viulk's a symbol. Men like him don't need reasons. Maybe he wants applause. Maybe he wants to remind the crowd that monsters can wear medals too."
Dossian said nothing. Everyone in the galaxy knew Rodrick Viulk.The Black Spider. The Exterminator.The myth every young soldier wanted to believe in. The legend that every veteran feared becoming.
Official records painted him as a hero who had secured the Universal Government's rise. But the stories whispered elsewhere spoke of something far darker. A man no longer entirely human, shaped by war until he became a weapon himself.Gaius was right. Heroes like Viulk were best admired from a distance.
And now, he was here.
Dossian nodded. "Understood."Gaius smirked. "Just drink enough to look social, stay sober enough to shoot straight, and if anyone talks to you, put on your serious face. That's all the job requires tonight."
Dossian let out a quiet laugh. Gaius patted his shoulder with good humor.
He returned to the outer ring of the plaza, where the guards held their positions among the pillars. Moving through them, Dossian's gaze swept each soldier with the precision of habit. He looked for tension, unease, the tiny fractures that showed before things broke.
Private Reis Zinerman, one of the youngest, was slouching."Soldier," Dossian said calmly. "Straighten your back. You represent the Universal Government. Try not to look like a child doing it."Zinerman straightened immediately. "Yes, sir."
As Dossian turned to leave, the young man raised his fist to his chest, striking the polished emblem of his uniform with a dull, metallic thud."Long live the Union," he said.
Dossian gave a small nod before walking on.
Dossian had long ago learned that fear didn't always show in a soldier's eyes. Sometimes it revealed itself in the way they breathed, in how their jaws stayed clenched without realizing it, in the subtle tension of fingers resting on the trigger.
And it was in those small details that he found David Lupers.
The soldier stood near the security cordon. Unlike Reis, his posture was rigid, like a steel rod driven into the ground. He had served under Dossian in previous campaigns and had always proven to be reliable and precise. But something was off.
Dossian noticed the faint tremor in Lupers's hands as they hovered over the rifle hanging from his chest. Not much, but enough for a trained eye to see. His breathing was shallow, his gaze unfocused, avoiding the eyes of anyone who passed. Strange behavior for a man assigned to a ceremonial post.
Dossian approached quietly, careful not to startle him."Nervous, Lupers?" he asked with a faint smile, keeping his tone casual.
The soldier tensed before turning his head. His expression was forced, a mask of composure cracking at the edges."No, sir. Just… too many people. I don't like crowds."
Dossian nodded slowly."It's only a protocol event, Corporal. In a few hours, you'll be back at the garrison. Stay focused and you'll be fine."
But even as he said it, he knew something wasn't right.
He had seen fear on soldiers' faces before. He could recognize the nervousness before a battle, the adrenaline that wound them tight like springs about to snap. But this wasn't that. This wasn't fear of combat. And it certainly wasn't discomfort with crowds.
It was something deeper.
He held Lupers's gaze a moment longer, waiting for him to speak, to give the slightest clue about what was clawing at him from inside. But the soldier only nodded stiffly and turned back to face forward, his knuckles white from gripping the weapon too hard.
Dossian considered pressing him, asking what was wrong, but instinct told him not to.
With a small shake of his head, he moved on, resuming his patrol. The unease stayed with him.
When he finally spotted Rodrick Viulk among the guests in the restricted zone, that unease deepened.
Viulk stood motionless amid the crowd, the posture of a predator at rest. While other dignitaries mingled and smiled, his presence was a fracture in the illusion of festivity they tried to sustain.
He was no war hero.He was not a retired commander basking in legacy.He was a machine built to survive.
His very existence in the plaza felt misplaced, as if a man like him belonged not at a celebration, but on a battlefield, among the smoke and the dead.
Dossian walked toward him without hesitation, aware of every step.
Of course Viulk noticed him before he spoke. He turned his head slowly, those cold eyes slicing through the air like a blade against stone.
He looked less like a man than a relic of war. His body, still imposing despite the years, was a lattice of hardened muscle and scars that told his story more clearly than any record could. Deep lines ran across his face, old wounds carved into flesh like cracks in stone. A thick scar crossed from temple to jaw, twisting his expression into a permanent scowl.
His hair, short and uneven, had once been dark, but now was streaked with silver, a silent testament to time and violence. His beard followed the same pattern, rough and heavy, flecked with white strands through worn black. He was an old wolf, shaped by winter.
But it was his eyes that unsettled most. Steel-gray, emotionless, sharpened by years of blood and survival.
For a moment, Dossian felt as though he were the one being measured."General Viulk," he said firmly. "It's an honor to meet you."
Viulk didn't answer right away. His gaze lingered a few seconds longer before his voice emerged, rough and metallic."Honor?" he repeated, tasting the word.
Dossian held his posture."It's a historic day, General. I didn't expect to see you here."
Viulk narrowed his eyes."Sometimes it's good to breathe a little fresh air."
His tone carried no emotion. It wasn't cynicism. It wasn't arrogance. It was emptiness.
Everyone knew Viulk hadn't been doing well. His scandals made the news weekly. Yet seeing him in person was something else entirely. Far from the shining hero of propaganda, he seemed detached from everything human, like a monument eroded by its own legend.
Before Dossian could respond, something shifted among the security guards.
Small, discreet gestures. Movements that didn't belong to any standard protocol. They were subtle, but too deliberate, too synchronized. These weren't men sharing casual camaraderie. They were signaling.
A chill ran through Dossian's gut.
He looked back at Viulk, who watched him with that same unblinking calm, his eyes tracing every flicker of unease in the plaza."Enjoy the celebration, Commander," Dossian said evenly, though his mind was already elsewhere.
"I doubt it," Viulk replied.
Dossian turned and made for Gaius."Something's wrong," he murmured, leaning closer. "I saw some strange exchanges among the security detail."
Gaius frowned but nodded. With practiced precision, he slid his fingers across the surface of his tablet, bringing up the security logs. Dossian knew he'd take the warning seriously, but also that it would take time. And time was the one thing Dossian suddenly felt he didn't have.
A shiver ran through his spine. Instinct wasn't infallible, but it had saved his life too many times to ignore. And that same instinct was now screaming at him that if he didn't act, it would be too late.
He gave Gaius a final glance, then turned sharply and began pushing through the crowd. The music, the laughter, the speeches—all of it blurred under the weight of what he felt building beneath the surface.
Then he saw it.
At first, just a detail. A soldier leaving his post near the central dais. Then another. And another. They moved naturally, too naturally. Soldiers that disciplined didn't abandon positions without orders, especially not during a public ceremony of this scale. And worse, they weren't repositioning. They were heading toward the side exits.
Dossian quickened his pace. There was no time to alert Gaius or anyone else.
He broke from the plaza into one of the maintenance corridors running beneath the perimeter. The security lights flickered irregularly, casting long, shifting shadows along the metallic walls.
His pulse was rising. He didn't know why, but his body did.
Then someone struck from behind.
An arm locked around his neck like a steel vise. Dossian twisted his body, slamming his head backward into the attacker's face. The impact drew a grunt of pain. He spun, driving his elbow hard into the man's ribs.
The attacker stumbled but didn't fall. His uniform was torn, filthy, stripped of insignia. Yet a faint glint on his arm caught Dossian's eye—a symbol. Two crossed blades behind a broken chain, the mark of rebellion and defiance. At its base, inscribed in old dialect, the words: "Only in rebellion lies freedom."
Not a Government soldier.A separatist.
Dossian didn't hesitate. He struck with the butt of his pistol, catching the man's jaw. The body collapsed to the floor with a muffled cry.
He ran.
The corridor opened into a maintenance chamber lined with electrical conduits. And there, in the center of it, stood Lupers.
The soldier's back was to him, shoulders tense, perfectly still."Lupers!" Dossian shouted, his voice echoing off the metal walls.
The man turned slowly, as if the motion itself required enormous effort. His face was slick with sweat, his expression that of someone trapped inside an impossible choice.
But Dossian wasn't looking at his face.
He was looking at his hand.
A detonator.
The cold that spread through him felt almost physical."Put it down," Dossian said, his voice low, steady, careful. Any hint of threat could be the spark that ended them both.
Lupers's breath came shallow and uneven. His eyes were glassy."I can't," he whispered.
"Yes, you can." Dossian took a slow step forward, never breaking eye contact. "You don't have to do this."
Lupers's lips trembled. For an instant, it looked as if he would speak. But he didn't.
"Why?" Dossian asked softly.
The soldier's hands shook. His eyes stared past Dossian, past the corridor, into something only he could see."Because someone has to," he said.
There was no anger in his voice. No despair. Only a terrible weariness.
His finger twitched.
Dossian fired.
The gunshot collided with another sound.
A click.
For a heartbeat, the world stopped.
Then everything exploded.
The first blast threw Dossian backward, slamming him against the wall with crushing force. Heat seared his skin, and a high-pitched ringing swallowed all sound. Through the haze, he barely registered the second explosion.
The dais.
The heart of the celebration. The place where the Planetary Delegate had stood moments earlier vanished in a column of fire and shrapnel.
Bodies were flung through the air like dolls. Screams tore through the plaza, smothered by the thunder of destruction.
The lights flickered and died. The holograms that had shown a thousand years of unity faded one by one, their brilliance replaced by smoke and flame.
Dossian tried to move, but his body wouldn't obey. His hands scraped the scorched floor, his vision blurred, his mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood.
Through the smoke, shadows moved. Voices shouted orders, distorted, desperate. He couldn't tell who was friend or foe. Only gunfire and screams echoed as one.
His body grew heavy. His head tilted to the side, consciousness slipping away.
The last thing he saw before darkness took him was the artificial sky above, burning.