Mars Time: 18:32, March 2, 2295

  ISV Polaris, In Transit

  The cargo bay smelled like machine oil and old metal.

  Xin liked it immediately.

  "Down here," he told H?kon, adjusting the little Diabolisk's grip on his shoulder. "This is where they keep the important stuff."

  The Genbu sat in its cradle at the center of the bay, magnetic clamps holding the armored transport secure against the deck. Even in the dim utility lighting, Xin could see the scorch marks along its flanks from the siege. Acid pitting near the wheel wells where Skuggr bile had eaten through the paint. Three parallel gouges across the rear hatch where Bone Fiend claws had tried and failed to breach the plating. Someone had repaired the damage, but the scars remained.

  "Big Turtle sleep," H?kon observed, his scales shifting to a curious beige as he studied the dormant vehicle. "Why Big Turtle sleep?"

  "It's resting. Like we should be." Xin ran his hand along a support strut, feeling the vibration of the ship's systems through the metal. "We'll need it when we get to Venus."

  The guest quarters were two decks up, comfortable and climate-controlled and nothing like the industrial guts of a working starship. After the launch, after watching Mars shrink to a rust-colored marble through the observation deck windows, Xin had felt restless. He needed to move. To explore. To understand the vessel that would be their home for the next three weeks.

  His backpack hung on his shoulders, the worn canvas familiar against his spine. It had been his field bag during his Rigger days, tool loops sewn along the sides, a faded ZenFusion contractor emblem barely visible on the flap. Most of the tools were gone now, replaced by H?kon's things. Catalyst-U capsules in a padded case. The coloring book with its new cover and linings. Snacks for the journey.

  Across the bay, a maintenance worker in stained coveralls was running diagnostics on one of the cargo clamps, his movements efficient. Xin watched the man for a moment, remembering. Three years ago, that could have been him. Calibrating equipment on some corporate freighter, checking his Nucleus Watch between tasks to see if his rating had ticked up or down.

  The worker didn't look up as they passed. Just another day on the job.

  The deck plating changed texture as they moved toward the engine section. Heavier here, reinforced against vibration. Xin noted the conduit routing overhead, traced the power lines with his eyes. Whoever maintained this ship knew their work. Clean junction boxes. Proper cable management. No jury-rigged patches or exposed wiring.

  "Pappa." H?kon's claws tightened on his shirt. "Pappa, feel?"

  Xin paused. "Feel what, buddy?"

  "Hmmmm." The little Diabolisk pressed his belly against Xin's shoulder, his small head tilting. "Feel good. Warm-warm sound touch HAW-koon."

  The fusion drives. H?kon could sense them somehow, through the deck, through Xin's body, or through whatever connection his Lunar psionic attunement gave him to the ship's systems.

  "Ah. That's what makes us go," Xin said, gesturing toward the bulkhead ahead. "The engines. They push, we move. Right now they're pushing us toward Venus."

  "En-gines push. We go." H?kon's scales were flushing from beige to bright azure. "Magic?"

  "More like science." Xin found himself smiling. "But—science is a type of magic. Just with more rules."

  They found a viewing alcove near the drive housings, a small window set into the bulkhead for maintenance inspections. Through it, Xin could see the blue glow of the fusion chamber, contained and powerful. The light pulsed in a steady rhythm, like a heartbeat.

  "HAW-koon like engines." The little Diabolisk's scales settled into a satisfied navy. "Engines feel like safe."

  Xin thought about his apartment in Silver Orchid. The way the walls shook when the building's ancient heating system kicked on. The single room where he and H?kon had lived for three years, eating scrambled eggs and instant noodles, counting every Atomic Dollar.

  "Yeah," he said quietly. "Me too, buddy."

  Voices echoed from the main corridor behind them.

  "Silver Man here." H?kon's head swiveled toward the sound, scales brightening with recognition. "Silver Man talk, not fight."

  "—the Space Rovers are prepped and ready for deployment." Thomas Mendoza's voice, steady and practical. "Just give the word and I'll have my boys power them up."

  "You still use Digital Era antiques like these?" A different voice. Deeper. Yorkshire accent. "In the Covenant, we have Perun siege tanks. Fusion-powered, laser drills mounted on top. No shells, just beams."

  "Hey, I respect that." Thomas sounded amused. "But the Alliance doesn't fix what isn't broken. Why use fancy lasers when good old kinetic rounds do the job just fine?"

  Xin turned as the two men came around the corner.

  Thomas walked with the easy confidence of a career soldier, his posture relaxed but alert. He had the kind of clean-cut good looks that belonged on recruitment posters: short light brown hair in a neat fade, strong jaw, blue-gray eyes that seemed to assess everything without judgment. His sleek silver armor had blue LED accents running along the arms and torso, and those bionic prosthetics gleamed under the utility lights, every joint and servo visible, clearly mechanical but moving with unsettling fluidity.

  Beside him, Marcus Thorne cut a different figure entirely. Where Thomas was polished, Marcus was weathered. Long wavy brown hair fell past his shoulders, and a full beard framed his face, giving him the look of a knight who'd actually seen combat rather than just trained for it. His silver armor was more medieval in style, layered plates over chainmail, with a prominent gold medallion bearing the Cross of Zori displayed on his chest. Leather straps crossed his torso, and his intense blue-gray eyes carried a brooding quality that made Xin want to stand up straighter.

  Marcus noticed Xin first. He lifted his chin in acknowledgment. "The Rigger."

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  "Seems like the Alliance is bringing a lot of firepower," Xin said, nodding toward the equipment crates stacked along the far wall.

  "Twenty-four Vanguards, myself included." Thomas stopped beside the nearest Space Rover, resting his prosthetic hand on its hull. "Delegate Pompeo wants us ready in case things get nasty with the Imperium."

  "Here I thought the enemy was Skarn and his Fenris Horde." Marcus's tone was mild, but there was an edge beneath it.

  "Intel suggests they're affiliated. Though of course, the Reds won't admit it." Thomas shrugged. "Politics. You know how it is."

  "Aye. I know exactly how it is."

  H?kon had been studying Thomas throughout the exchange, his scales cycling through curious beige to something brighter. His small head tilted one way, then the other.

  Then his face lit up.

  "Ma-reen Man!" he announced, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar word. "Pappa, Pappa! Ma-reen Man look like movie!"

  Thomas blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

  "We saw an Alliance film once," Xin explained, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. "One of those superhero ones. He's been talking about space marines ever since."

  "HAW-koon remember! Ma-reen Man have shiny arms, fight bad things, save people!" H?kon's tail wagged against Xin's back. "This man look same-same!"

  A grin spread across Thomas's face, genuine and surprised. "Well, I'll be damned. First time anyone's compared me to a movie star."

  "Silver Man strong too," H?kon continued, apparently pleased with the attention, now pointing at Marcus. "Silver Man fight bad things. HAW-koon see! HAW-koon remember!"

  The siege. H?kon had watched from the Genbu's viewport as Marcus held the defensive line, his shield catching blow after blow while the Constables regrouped behind him.

  "This little guy's got good taste in heroes." Thomas was still grinning.

  Marcus cleared his throat, but there was a warmth in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "Just doing what needed doing. Nothing special about that."

  "HAW-koon think special," H?kon said firmly. His scales had settled to a contented navy blue, as if the matter was decided.

  An awkward silence followed. Xin shifted his weight, unsure what to say.

  "Well." Thomas clapped Marcus on the shoulder. "We should finish the inspection. Lots of equipment to check before we hit Venus." He nodded at Xin. "You need anything, just ask. We're all on the same team here."

  "Thanks. I appreciate it."

  The two men continued down the corridor, their voices fading as they discussed ammunition counts and deployment protocols. Xin stood there for a moment, processing the exchange.

  Intel suggests they're affiliated.

  The Imperium and the Fenris Horde. Working together. If that was true, then Venus wasn't just Imperium territory. It was enemy ground twice over.

  "Pappa?" H?kon's voice was soft. "Pappa do thinking-face."

  "Just planning ahead, buddy." Xin adjusted his grip on the little Diabolisk and started toward the crew quarters. "Come on. Let's go see our room."

  Mars Time: 19:09, March 2, 2295

  Associate's Suite 2, ISV Polaris, In Transit

  The suite was nicer than anywhere Xin had lived in twelve years.

  He stood in the doorway, H?kon craning his small neck to take in the space. The bed alone was larger than his entire kitchen back in Silver Orchid. The walls were clean white instead of yellowed paint and water stains. A viewport dominated one wall, showing the stars wheeling slowly past as the ship adjusted its heading.

  His suitcase sat at the foot of the bed where Diego's crew had delivered it. The deep green ZenFu DS model, modified with follower protocols and expandable compartments. Everything he owned in the world, packed into one container.

  "Big room," H?kon breathed. "Big room for Pappa and HAW-koon?"

  "Just for us. Yeah."

  Xin crossed to the bed and unlatched the suitcase. The layers folded open, revealing the neat compartments he'd organized back on Mars. Preserved food in one section. H?kon's snacks in another. The coloring book with its new bindings, the polished box of crayons, his quantum laptop humming on standby. The cylindrical Zephyrium crystals glowing faintly in their padded slots.

  He started unpacking.

  The Catalyst-U capsules went into the room's small refrigeration unit first. Forty of them, enough for over five weeks. Then the coloring book and crayons, which H?kon immediately claimed and carried to the bed with satisfied chirps.

  "HAW-koon draw here. Is okay?" The little Diabolisk settled onto the pillow, his scales bright azure. "Soft-soft place for drawing!"

  "That's fine. Just don't get crayon on the sheets, okay?"

  Xin's clothes barely filled a quarter of the closet space. Deep olive shirts, black pants, the beige puffer jacket. Toiletries arranged on the bathroom counter. His quantum laptop set up on the desk beside the swivel chair.

  While Xin worked, H?kon discovered the chair.

  "Pappa! Pappa look!" The little Diabolisk had climbed onto the seat and pushed against the desk, his strength impressive for a tiny form that could fit in a mug. The chair spun slowly, and H?kon's scales cycled through startled beige to delighted azure. "HAW-koon go round-round!"

  "Careful, buddy."

  "Round-round!" Another push, faster this time. H?kon spread his tiny arms for balance, his tail curling up. "Magic chair, Pappa?"

  Xin couldn't help but laugh. "It's called a swivel chair."

  "Swih-vel chair." H?kon tested the words, still spinning. "HAW-koon like swih-vel chair. Swih-vel chair go round-round like engines go push-push."

  "Hey, they're all physics." Xin shrugged with a smile. He finished arranging his things and stood back, looking at the room.

  This was it. Everything he owned, laid out in a space meant for someone with more. The empty closet. The half-used drawers. The backpack leaning against the desk, still packed with H?kon's supplies.

  A year ago, he'd been a Rigger with a 3.7-star rating, taking whatever jobs the algorithm threw at him, wondering if he'd ever save enough to leave Mars. Now he was on a starship bound for Venus, part of an official mission for the Prefect of Xing Hong, sleeping in quarters that probably cost more per night than he'd made in a week.

  "Pappa sad?" H?kon had stopped spinning, his scales shifting toward a concerned gray-blue. "Pappa stand, not moving."

  "I'm not sad. Just thinking." Xin sat on the bed's edge. The mattress gave beneath him, soft and supportive, nothing like the worn padding back home.

  "What give Pappa thinking-face?" H?kon climbed down from the chair and crossed the room, his small claws clicking on the deck. "HAW-koon wish know."

  How did he explain it? The years of scraping by. The jobs that went wrong. The ratings that dropped no matter how hard he tried. And now this, all of it, changing so fast he could barely keep up.

  "I'm thinking about how we end up places we never expected," he said finally.

  H?kon considered this. Then he climbed into Xin's lap and pressed his small head against Xin's chest.

  "HAW-koon not know big room would be here," he said, his voice soft. "But HAW-koon know Pappa work. Pappa try, find good things for HAW-koon." A pause. "So good things find Pappa back!"

  Xin's throat tightened. He wrapped his arms around the little Diabolisk, careful of the delicate scales, and held him close.

  "Yeah, buddy. I hope so."

  They sat there for a while, the ship humming around them, the stars turning slowly past the viewport.

  "Okay." Xin straightened, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "Time for your medicine."

  The routine was familiar now. He retrieved a Catalyst-U capsule from the refrigeration unit, its green-and-white casing cool against his fingers. A small bowl from his supplies. A bottle of purified water.

  H?kon watched from the bed. "Doctor Lady magic pill."

  "Yep! Magic pill. Magic because I don't understand how it works. Yet." Xin crushed the capsule slightly between his fingers, feeling the compounds release inside the casing. He emptied the contents into the bowl, added exactly two hundred milliliters of water, and stirred until the mixture turned a faint, luminescent green.

  "Here you go."

  H?kon padded over and lowered his snout to the bowl. He drank in small, careful laps, his scales gradually flushing from silver to warm gold as the supplement took effect. Contentment. Trust.

  The Catalyst-U would boost his Aether capacity, calm his mood, and keep his strange Jokull biology stable for another day. It would keep his scales healthy and vibrant, his mind sharp and growing. No matter how many Atomic Dollars a month it'd cost, it was worth every coin.

  "Good?" Xin asked.

  "Good-good." H?kon licked his chops, showing rows of tiny teeth. Then his head tilted, his luminous blue eyes studying Xin's face. "HAW-koon guess. Pappa go see Sky Lady now?"

  Xin hesitated. "You want to come?"

  "HAW-koon always wish see Sky Lady." His tail curled around Xin's wrist, scales still gold. "Sky Lady make Pappa smile different!"

  Xin felt heat rise to his cheeks. "You noticed that, huh?"

  "HAW-koon see. HAW-koon know." H?kon replied firmly.

  "Alright." Xin reached for his backpack, checking that H?kon's supplies were still inside. Crayons. Coloring book. A few snacks for the road. "Let's go see Sky Lady."