An approving murmur moved through the crowd. This plan actually sounded okay.

  “Now I know this all relies on a lot of things working out. That we can actually get in and out of the Empire’s facilities on Erebus with the prototype. That once we have the device, that it actually has the desired effect on the Horror. Without doubt, there will be complications, but you don’t need me to be there holding your hands. Doug is a great strategist; Raith is good, too. I have faith in all of you and your abilities. I know you can execute this plan and adapt to the complications you encounter along the way.”

  Louder, more positive affirmations spread throughout the crowd now, inspired by Zavis’s confidence in them.

  “It is a Hail Mary plan, but it’s the only plan we’ve got right now. And as I always told you in the days of the Empire, I can’t guarantee anyone’s safety, but live or die, I promise your actions will have a positive outcome and your deeds will be remembered.”

  “Mate, if Tynan and his Empire are back, then the Insurgency is back too. And if we’re back, then we do what we do best, which is fucking up the Empire and their schemes!” said Arty.

  “Aye!” Doug said. “Here’s ta fuckin’ up da Empire!”

  The crowd cheered, and Zavis smiled.

  “That’s the spirit. I must go now; I fear my hiding place may be secure no longer. Good luck to all of you!”

  The transmission ended, and the hologram faded away.

  “Alright, ye Insurgents – ye heard da man, let’s get organised!”

  [)
  As Doug, Arty, and the other insurgents discussed who would be part of the strike teams, I made my way back to the observation lounge. There was still chaos in my mind and pain in my soul. Being in the presence of so many people was overwhelming; too much noise, and too many eyes looking at my wounds and scars. As I entered the room, I couldn’t help but be captivated by the looming darkness of the Horror above Gaia. Quickly, I turned away, not wanting to let its oppressive sight bring me down further. I sat down and leaned against the wall, staring at the back of the observation lounge. An eerie light show danced across the surface, the shadows cast by the Horrors’ planetary consumption. I closed my eyes and exhaled, letting my head rest against the wall as I soaked up the silence. In my mind, I pictured Amorina and Emma, smiling and laughing, playing in the sunlight on the farm.

  Alone.

  The image glitched, and a chill ran down my spine as darkness replaced the bright scene. Amorina and Emma’s frozen, contorted bodies were floating in the void, their faces twisted into expressions of terror.

  “No!” I snapped, opening my eyes, replacing imagination with reality.

  Family gone. Friends gone.

  Tears welled up in my eyes and ran down my face. The insidious thoughts seemed to multiply with each passing moment, and with every additional thought, the dark sentiments became harder to ignore. My reservoir of guilt grew and grew – how much could I take before the dam broke?

  Arm gone. Alone. Home gone. Your fault.

  My body trembled, and I clenched my fist, willing the darkness away as the noise inside my head increased.

  Wife dead. Family gone. Alone. Daughter dead. Son lost. Alone. Your fault. It’s all gone.

  “Stop it!” I cried as I started hitting myself in the head. “Stop it!”

  You let the Empire live. Your mercy killed her. Alone. Your choices conjured horrors. You lost your home. Alone. You destroyed your family. It’s all your fault.

  “Stop it!” I yelled as I leapt to my feet. “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

  I stood there, huffing and shaking with rage, as I slowly realised that my mind was silent now.

  “Argh!”

  I wiped the tears off my face and turned towards the window. I needed to distract myself, to focus on something else to keep my thoughts quiet and drowned out. I’d intentionally avoided looking at the Horror when I’d entered the lounge, but now it was perfect for drawing my attention.

  “Are you having a good feed?” I muttered as I stared out the window at it.

  The monstrous machine had successfully sucked up Gaia’s ocean, and its tentacles were now burrowing into the planet’s surface, seeking mineral deposits as it had done on Akka. I watched with a heavy heart as it ripped apart my home, as it destroyed the only home I had ever known, or ever wanted. As I watched, more tendrils moved down and others returned. Questions began to surface.

  Who built the Horror? Why did they build it? Why was it so big? Where had it come from?

  These questions reminded me of the far smaller device that I had buried in the ground on Gaia. In particular, I recalled the one-sided monologue I had with it; that it wasn’t good or evil – it simply was. It’d been built with certain capabilities, but the harm or benefit it caused all came down to the operator that commanded it and told it what to do.

  “Is that what you are?” I whispered. “Are you just a machine that’s been told to do bad things?”

  The Horror continued with its destruction, completely oblivious to my questions. As I watched it work, I couldn’t imagine what good use case it could possibly have, but maybe, just maybe, whatever aliens designed and built this device had intended it for some altruistic purpose, and maybe it just fell into the wrong hands after the fact.

  “Not that it matters … you are destined to be destroyed. Not here, not today, but one day. We will outlast you and build weapons capable of ripping you apart. Maybe all this death is your fault, maybe it isn’t – but your demise will be a consequence of your capability.”

  I noticed a sudden flash of light to my left and instinctively turned my head towards it. There was a large chunk of wreckage, probably from one of the large capital ships, that was coming around from the left on its recently acquired orbit. As the object twisted and turned, its torn and jagged edges reflected the light of the stars across the night sky.

  I watched as it travelled along its course and suddenly realised that, by chance, it was on a collision course with the Horror.

  “Now, this will be interesting.”

  The ship wasn’t as heavy or as large as the asteroid we’d thrown at the Horror, but the Horror was busy devouring a planet, whereas before its undivided attention had been on the incoming attack. I watched as the wreckage crossed my field of view, passed in front of the trinary stars. I looked over at the Horror – there was no change in behaviour.

  Is it really oblivious to the incoming threat?

  “Come on … hit the fucker!” I said, willing the wreckage on.

  Moments later, the wreckage collided with the Horror, punching a hole straight into its side.

  “Whoa!” I yelled, slapping the glass in front of me in celebration.

  Paying attention to what was taking place, I realised light was radiating from the hole in the Horror, whose swarm had veered from its world-consuming mission to search the surrounding area for its unseen aggressor.

  “What the fuck?” I gasped as I watched the light coming out of the already healing hole.

  Suddenly, I recalled something that had been said during our first encounter with the Horror – one of the crew had said the Horror was outputting 342 yottawatts of power. I remembered thinking how that wasn’t much less power than what Sol put out.

  “It’s a fucking Dyson sphere!” I exclaimed.

  Now the Horror’s size made sense, and to a degree, so did its capabilities. This machine had access to more power than all of humanity had ever used. I felt a novel respect for the technology before me, knowing it had access to a level of power unparalleled in human history. As the gap sealed and extinguished the light emanating from within, the door to the observation lounge opened up behind me.

  “Everything alright in here, mate?”

  I turned around to face Arty.

  “Yeah … yeah – I just realised that thing is … incredible.”

  Arty raised an eyebrow. “The planet-destroying machine is incredible?”

  “I mean … it's terribly incredible … or ah … incredibly terrible, I should say.”

  “Un hun.”

  “You know what, let’s just forget this chat happened.”

  “That works for me, mate.”

  We both nodded awkwardly for a few moments, and then I asked. “So … you came in for something?”

  “Yeah, right. We’ve ah, made a bit of a plan, mate, and wanted you to come and join us so we can run it past you.”

  “Gotcha. Lead the way.”

  As Arty turned and headed out of the room, I followed, taking one last glance at the Horror over my shoulder as I walked.

  Incredible.

  [)
  As it happened, the plan was much simpler than I’d anticipated. The Insurgency would split into two groups; the first group, and the larger of the two, would stay onboard the current vessel. They would observe and, if possible, follow the Horror should it move, acting as a beacon for when the second team returned with the prototype conversion device.

  The second, smaller team would board what was essentially a warp-capable dropship, which sounded very dodgy, but who was I to argue? This ship would make the eight-month journey to Erebus, land on the planet, hopefully undetected, and enable the strike team onboard to infiltrate the Empire’s facility. This all sounded great except for one key detail.

  “What do you mean I’m not on either team?” I exclaimed.

  “I thought it kinda obvious, laddie,” Doug replied drily. “Yer missing a fuckin’ arm!”

  “I will have you know that I am still rather capable, even if I am short a limb!”

  “I dinna say ye were incapable. I’m just sayin’ yer not capable enough to be on a team!”

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it! Put me on the strike team. You know my appearance is an asset. Well, at least the facial part of my appearance is. Bring me along – you know it’ll come in handy.”

  “If I put ye on the team as ye are, you’ll be a cripple. We dinna have the resource to make ye an arm, and we dinna have the time to go get one.”

  “I know, it’s fine – getting a new arm can wait. The mission comes first.”

  Doug scowled. I knew he knew I was right. He just didn’t want to admit it.

  “Come on, mate. The lad speaks the truth, and he knows the risks. Let him on the team,” Arty interjected.

  “Fine. But if it goes sideways because the laddie doesn’t have an arm, I’ll be tellin’ ye I told yer so!”

  “I’ll take those terms, mate. Raith, you’re on the strike team with six other fellas and me. They’ll compliment us with various tactical and technical abilities.”

  “Great, thank you. When are we leaving?”

  “Right now, laddie,” Doug said, pointing across the hanger to a ship. “That wee bucket o’ bolts is gonna ferry you right into the heart of enemy territory.”

  The group started walking towards the ship, and I quickly followed suit, eyeing the vessel wearily as we got closer. Its worn exterior was tired, its paint long ago burned away by interstellar travel.

  “That one’s yours, laddie,” Doug pointed at a cryopod as we stepped into the ship’s cargo hold. “And that one’s yours,” he added, tapping Arty on the shoulder.

  As we walked towards the pods, I turned to Arty.

  “Are you sure this ship is, well, operational? Safe? Secure?”

  “Definitely, mate.”

  I nodded as I stopped in front of my pod. The icons and letters had faded off all the buttons; the fact that it even had buttons meant that these pods were ancient, relatively speaking.

  “Arty … these are archaic. Are these safe to use?”

  “Yeah mate. Used them just the other day. Still right as rain.”

  I scowled and gingerly climbed into the pod. As I settled in, I could now look out and see the other Insurgency members already being frozen. With the power draw on the ship increasing, the vessel groaned, and the lighting flickered.

  I leaned forward and glanced over at Arty’s pod.

  “You are absolutely, unequivocally, one hundred percent sure this ship is safe?”

  “For the hundredth time, mate – fucking yes! It’s safe! I helped put it together myself.”

  “That … are you a mechanic?”

  “Well, not technically speakin’,” Arty replied.

  “Are you a warp engineer? Or a ship builder? Or anything remotely related to putting ships together?”

  “Well … no.”

  “Then saying that you helped put it together doesn’t reassure me!” I snapped.

  “Alright, mate – calm your horses! Look at it this way, if I didn’t trust this ship, I wouldn’t be getting onto it, okay?”

  That, admittedly, was somewhat reassuring.

  “Okay, okay. This is fine.”

  “Just lie back, relax, okay? We’re gonna be just fine.”

  The door to the cryopod closed, and immediately, the temperature dropped. The oral ingestion mask lowered itself onto my mouth and the extremely sour liquid poured into me, streaming down my throat and into my lungs. As my eyes grew heavy, I made one last plea to the universe for safe passage and slipped into that dark, dreamless sleep.

  [)
  As I spewed up a lungful of cryofluid, I mused on how much I hated this part of the experience. I was never sure which was worse – the beginning when it felt like you were drowning in the cryofluid, or the end when you had to expel all the liquid you’d previously ingested. I usually thought that whatever was happening at the time was the worse one, and as more fluid came up, I stayed consistent, concluding that it was the worst situation.

  “How’re you doing, mate?”

  I looked over to see Arty wiping fluid from his mouth.

  “Just peachy,” I mumbled, hurling once more. “Just fucking peachy.”

  Arty chuckled quietly.

  “I’m sorry to say it never really gets better, mate. You’d think they could at least make the liquid taste nice, but no – apparently that’s too hard.”

  I nodded, sitting back and taking a few deep breaths, the feeling of nausea finally passing.

  “I assume we made it to Erebus?”

  I watched as Arty slowly got to his feet and walked over to the ship's cockpit.

  “It would certainly seem so, mate. And I told you the ship would be fine, didn’t I?”

  “Yes … yes, you did.”

  I got up and walked over to the cockpit as well, where Arty and the pilot were sitting.

  “Eva, right?”

  The pilot glanced over her shoulder at me. “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “Did you have any trouble landing? Did you detect any signs that we might’ve been detected?”

  “No trouble at all. Not a fuckin’ peep out of anything. It’s like they never thought anyone other than themselves would ever come here.”

  I smiled. If only she knew that’s exactly what the Empire had thought.

  “Excellent. Are you both happy with our position here?”

  “Yeah, mate,” Arty replied. “Go get the others ready, and we’ll keep watch as planned.”

  “Copy that.”

  [)
  The surface of Erebus was extremely barren; respirators were required to traverse its surface. In a landscape of rock and dust, the metallic, illuminated structures of the Empire base stood out like a sore thumb, only adding to Eva’s comment from earlier. Our target was a bright red emergency exit hatch. Three of the strike team members were already at work on it, illuminated by the bright blue light of the plasma torch as they cut their way through the metal.

  “How’re we looking, Watchdogs?” I said into my intercom.

  “Knock it off, mate. I fuckin’ told you, we weren’t gonna use callsigns,” Arty snapped.

  “Ah come on! Using callsigns actually makes it feel like a spy mission!”

  “Why does it need to feel like a spy mission? And besides, mate, there isn’t even anything to hide from. We haven’t seen any sign of foot patrols, drones, or any other automated security, for that matter. In fact, the locked door is the most secure thing we’ve encountered yet!”

  “Yeah but … callsigns?”

  “No!”

  “Okay, fine,” I sighed. “Raith out.”

  I turned toward the squad and asked, “How are we looking?” just as a circular section of the hatch fell inward.

  “Pretty good I’d say, Raith,” said the cutter – a tall, dark-skinned Martian named Volker.

  “Nice work, team. Let’s get inside.”

  One by one, the squad members jumped down into the hatch, the sound of their landings echoing off the walls, until I was all that remained.

  “Ah, well. Here goes nothing,” I said, stepping into the void.

  I dropped about two metres, landing in a dim concrete corridor.

  “Are you okay?” asked Jesse, a short, Terran woman.

  “Yeah, I’m good thanks, Jesse. Is everyone else okay?”

  I glanced around and got five thumbs up.

  “Excellent. Alright, let’s move out.”

  We followed the corridor for a few minutes until it opened out into a large underground hangar. We were met with the sight of a dozen completed frigates and the hum of machinery from another four under construction. It was hot and dry inside the hangar, and the air smelled of hot metal, oil, and sweat.

  “Blimey,” Volker breathed.

  I shuddered at the sight. I had witnessed, far too closely, what three Empire frigates were capable of, never mind an entire fleet of them. And who was to say there weren’t more hangars, also filled with frigates, or perhaps bigger ships, like cruisers?

  “We should keep moving,” Jesse urged. “We can’t afford to get spotted here.”

  “Agreed. Do we know which way to head?” I asked.

  “I think we should head this way,” Volker said, pointing down the right side of the hangar.

  “Okay … lead on!”

  [)
  The hanger eventually connected with the central complex, and one storeroom full of unconscious loyalists later, we were walking inconspicuously through the hallways. We’d tucked the left sleeve into the left pocket of the uniform to hide my missing limb, and it seemed to do the job, judging by the number of folks we had passed by without raising suspicions. Between the abundant signage, our ah … borrowed uniforms, and access cards, we were quickly closing in on locations where the prototype could be.