2163 Alpha.
The name barely captured the awe of what loomed before them.
Gilbert stood beside the viewport in the observation deck, still cradling his recovering arm. The entire squad was gathered in silence, watching the massive celestial structure slowly come into view as the White Horn's fleet slowly neared.
This wasn't just an asteroid—it was a fortress.
Twice the size of Ceres, 2163 Alpha had been engineered from the cores of several colossal asteroids—melted down, fused, and reforged in orbit. Its surface shimmered with layered alloy plating and embedded gravite veins, a vast exoskeleton of metal and purpose. Colossal heat-dissipating fins radiated from various sectors, pulsing like the gills of some massive mechanical beast.
"Dragon's Den…" Chen Mei whispered under her breath.
The name wasn't poetic—it was literal. This was the lair of one of humanity's most feared and revered legions.
Dominating the asteroid's surface was a yawning, circular crater—a hangar bay so vast it could fit three capital ships side-by-side. The entrance rim was ringed with weapon batteries, docking arms, and electromagnetic cranes the size of skyscrapers. Inside, even more structure sprawled—platforms stacked upon platforms, suspended walkways, reactors, weapon forges, and housing units, all bathed in artificial lighting and soft blue solar shielding.
Dozens of support craft zipped around like insects in a hive—some ferrying personnel, others running supply lines or performing hull checks on the outer perimeter.
And surrounding it all…
A fleet.
A steel phalanx of warships hovered like guardian blades. Frigates, destroyers, cruisers—all positioned in formation, forming a wall of mobile defense. In the center of it all floated the pride of the First Division:
The Crimson Aegis.
A Celestial-class dreadnought fortress ship—sleek, black with red sigils etched into its sides, bearing the full emblem of the Dragon Legion.
Kean whistled low under his breath. "That thing could blot out the sky of a moon."
"More than that," Anastasia said. "The Crimson Aegis is nuclear-fused and fusion-fold enabled. It's one of only three ships in the P.F.E. that can extinguish all life on a planet within minutes."
"It's also where General Solon commands," Vivian added, crossing her arms. "He's the right hand man of Dragon and the oldest living war commander. Fought the first Styx incursions."
Gilbert didn't speak. He couldn't. His eyes were locked on the view. On the den. On the impossible weight of what it meant to be summoned here.
He had dreamed of seeing this place once—back in the Academy days when all he knew of war were simulations and stories.
"Alert: Vessel docking at Bluescale Hub 2. All personnel prepare for docking and debriefing."
The station-wide announcement echoed through the hull. Gilbert and the rest of 5A9 gathered their limited belongings, packing up as the pilot craft guided their fleet into formation. Outside, the hulking form of Bluescale Hub 2 loomed into view—a mid-tier Hub-Class station, stretched across kilometers of reinforced alloy, rotating slowly to simulate gravity across its inner rings.
As docking clamps locked with a metallic hiss, their ship shuddered slightly. The boarding corridor extended.
They followed the route data projected onto their halo watches, moving in single file as they disembarked, falling into formation with the rest of the company. Other units arrived from adjacent ships, converging in rows along the dock. The air smelled of recycled ozone and sterilization chemicals, overlaid with the faint hum of the station's reactor core.
At the forefront of the formation stood Aisling's and Askel's squads, already in full armor—alert, composed, and far better. A sharp contrast to freshly disciplined 5A9's weary but determined appearance.
Major Cade stepped ahead, leading the formation forward. They boarded the mag-rail cars stationed nearby, sleek metallic trains with glass-domed tops. With a hiss of pressure and the flicker of grav-stabilizers, the cars accelerated through the station's inner loop.
As the cars cut through the inner habitat layers, the recruits watched the bustle of orbital civilian life blur past.
Market rows with colorful stalls, vending synthetic fruits and alloy trinkets. Housing blocks, stacked like honeycombs, where families gathered in lounge domes. Artificial parks with leafy trees, soft light from simulated suns, and children laughing as they chased drones.
Even in space, life went on.
By the fourth layer, the scenery shifted. The doors opened to the military zone—sterile, reinforced, and unmistakably rigid. Drones hovered overhead, and automated turrets lined the ceilings.
Here, they disembarked and moved into checkpoint lines. Each soldier passed through a brief ID scan, a biometric sweep, and a rapid equipment cataloging process.
Only once cleared were they allowed past the armored gates and into the heart of Bluescale's military command sector.
Gilbert's squad made their way to their assigned quarters—compact living units, each designed for a single squad. Sergeants received private rooms, while the rest of the squad shared a communal space. The units were organized by platoons—5A9's unit was positioned right beside Askel's and Aisling's. Altogether, the company was quartered in the same wing, stacked efficiently to maintain cohesion during deployment.
Despite the limited space and unfamiliar hum of machinery, the quarters felt oddly similar to their old barracks back on Earth.
Beep.
"Knight 141, your company is on stand-down until further notice.""Well," Gilbert said, standing in front of his squad, "I guess we have some time until the mission. Let's use this chance to recalibrate and get used to life in space. Tomorrow, we'll be running zero-gravity combat simulations."
He offered a small smile. "Until then, you're all free to do what you like."
Kean was the first to spring to his feet. "Well then, ladies and gentlemen, I saw an augmented duel ring on our way in. I'm going to give it a run. Anyone care to join me?"
"I'll give it a go," William said, standing and stretching.
"Ladies?" Kean asked with a grin.
"I'm heading to the armory," Anastasia replied, not even glancing up from the schematics she was studying on her halo watch. "Our armor still needs space modification and recalibration."
"I'm going to check out the choir I saw in the civilian zone. And Mei's coming with me," Vivian said, stretching as she grabbed Chen Mei's wrist.
Mei gave a resigned sigh, but allowed herself to be pulled along. "She didn't even ask," she muttered as they left.
"Adam? Gilbert?" Kean asked, turning to the last two.
Adam stood silently, adjusting his blindfold before moving to the wardrobe. As he passed Gilbert, he paused for just a moment.
"Gallery. Sky deck," he said simply, then kept walking.
Gilbert gave him a nod. "I've got some things I need to sort out."
"You guys are no fun," Kean muttered, throwing up his arms before turning to join William.
Everyone changed into their duty dress uniforms—standard for off-duty movement within a station. Vivian's and Chen Mei's uniforms stood out, subtly interwoven with gold thread and nanofiber patterns. They shimmered slightly under the light. The others' uniforms were more utilitarian—made from practical, recycled materials. William's, while not as advanced as Vivian's, still had the fine finish of high-grade fibers.
As the others filtered out of the quarters in pairs and groups, Gilbert lingered. Once alone, he stepped into his private room and tapped his halo watch, initiating a call.
The screen stayed dark—no hologram, no video feed. The people on the other end didn't have halo tech.
Then came a familiar voice, warm and matronly.
"Hello, Gilbert."
"Hello, Matron… how are you?" he said softly.
"I'm doing well, little one," said Matron Mardgery, the woman who'd raised him and the others like her own. "I received the letter from your friend—along with the small child. Don't worry, we'll take good care of her. Though, there was no need for the extra caretakers. Don't you trust our skills anymore?"
Gilbert laughed nervously, raising his hands in mock surrender even though she couldn't see him. "That wasn't my doing, I promise. It was my friend—Aniela. I had no idea she would arrange that."
"I know, I know," Mardgery chuckled. "I'm only teasing. It's not every day you boys call, you know. If it weren't for Anastasia, I wouldn't have a clue what any of you are doing."
Her voice softened.
"That little thing… she's terrified. Shakes every night like a leaf. I think she'd love to hear your voice."
After several seconds, a small voice crackled softly from the speakers.
"Hello…" it said, barely above a whisper.
"Hello, Lorelai. It's me—Gilbert. Do you remember me?" he asked gently, trying to match the warm, comforting tone of the matron.
"Gilbert? Where are you?" Lorelai asked, her voice gaining a flicker of hope.
"I'm on a mission," he replied, forcing a smile into his words.
"Can I come?" she asked, innocently but with urgency.
Gilbert paused. The silence lingered a few seconds longer than it should have as he struggled to find the right answer.
"I'm sorry, little one," he said softly. "You can't come. It's too dangerous."
"They said you were a Knight," Lorelai said, her voice starting to tremble. "I read that knights always have missions… does that mean I'll never see you again?"
A faint sob echoed through the line.
"Please don't abandon me."
Gilbert closed his eyes, exhaling deeply as the weight of her words hit him. He sat up straighter and gently placed a hand over the speaker as if it could reach her.
"Lorelai… don't cry. Do you see the stars in the sky?" he asked.
"Yes…" she replied, her voice quivering but trying to steady itself.
"Every time you feel lonely, just look at those stars—and know I'm among them, fighting for you. As long as the stars accompany the night sky… I will never abandon you."
"Really?" she whispered.
"Really," Gilbert said. "And the place where you are now—that's where I grew up. The people there took care of me and my friends. They're the best in the world, and I know they'll take care of you too."
There was a pause. Then a familiar voice chimed in—wry, warm, and comforting.
"You heard him, little one. We'll take care of you," said Matron Mardgery. "And you, Gil—you sound more mature than the mud-tracking little runt who used to storm the house playing 'knight' with a stick."
Gilbert chuckled quietly, his eyes softening.
"I'm still playing knight," he said. "Only this time… the toys are real."
His voice trailed off slightly as his gaze drifted to the ceiling, his thoughts somewhere far beyond the room.
"Okay… goodbye, Grandmother. Say hello to Aunty for me. I love you."
"Goodbye, my grandson. Start calling more. And tell Adam and Kean they better call too. I love you."
The line disconnected.
Gilbert remained seated for a moment before he lay back on the cot, the hum of the station thrumming faintly through the walls, the weight of stars and promises pressing down on his chest
For the first time in a week, something felt whole again.