Well, someone else has risen through the ranks and earned the rank of Admiral. Stand proud, stand tall, hold your chin up high, for you are an Admiral the greatest Naval force Humanity has ever produced!
May your fleet glide through the cosmos and show every maggot just how great Humanity is! Spread our name, spread our glory, and rise, Admiral Hawai661! For it is an honor to have you amongst our ranks, and in your Honor, an additional chapter shall be published publicly, and I shall expedite the Finale of Book 2 and write it in your honor.
Along with Admiral Hawai661,we honor those who've stepped into our ranks and give proper recognition to every new warrior who joins our cause.
This Royal Navy has expanded and welcomes the following courageous souls: Alexander and Matthew Dusome.
As your Fleet Admiral, I, Crimson_Reapr, welcome you, honor your commitment, and thank you for your service. May our power reach beyond the edges of charted space, and may ruin fall upon all who stand against humanity's strength.
---
3rd Person POV: Aurelia Lopez
FlashbackLocation: Celestine Prime
Date: March 14, 2955 (Thirty Years Ago)
The view from the spire of the Titan Logistics Tower on Celestine Prime was not just a view, but a statement of theological import. From the 200th floor, the clouds were not a ceiling, but a carpet that adorned the megatowers. The golden sunlight of the capital world bathed the office in a perpetual, Midas-touch glow, reflecting off the polished mahogany desk where Aurelia Lopez sat, signing the death warrant of a competitor.
Aurelia was beautiful in the way a diamond is beautiful. She was hard, sharp, and capable of cutting glass. At thirty-two, she was the youngest Vice President of Acquisitions in Titan's history. She wore a suit of crimson silk that cost more than the annual GDP of a small mining colony, and her dark hair was pulled back in a style so severe it pulled the skin of her face taut, accentuating her predatory cheekbones.
"The acquisition of Aether-Link Transport is non-negotiable," Aurelia said into her G-comm unit, her voice crisp and devoid of hesitation. "I don't care if SIGS owns a majority stake in their parent shell company. I want the shipping lanes, I want the docking permits, and I want their fleet absorbed into Titan's roster by the end of the quarter. Offer them ten percent above market value. If they refuse, drop it to ten percent below and leak the safety violations regarding their reactor cores to the press."
She tapped the disconnect button, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied sigh.
Aether-Link was the last holdout. Once Titan absorbed them, they would have a complete monopoly on the inner-system freighter lanes. It was a coup that would secure her promotion to Senior Executive. It was the game, and she was winning.
"Excuse me, Ms. Lopez?" A voice called out from behind her.
Aurelia turned her chair. Her assistant, a nervous young man named Timothy, stood in the doorway, clutching a datapad like a shield.
"What is it, Timothy?" Aurelia asked. "I have a lunch reservation at The Gilded Cage in twenty minutes."
"There is... a gentleman to see you," Timothy stammered. "He doesn't have an appointment. Security tried to stop him, but he has a Code-Red clearance from the Commerce Guild."
Aurelia frowned. "Code-Red? Who is it?"
"He says his name is Victor Vance," Timothy stated. "He represents SIGS."
Aurelia rolled her eyes. "SIGS. Of course. They're sending a negotiator to beg for a better price on Aether-Link. Send him in. I could use a little entertainment before lunch."
Timothy nodded and stepped aside.
The man who walked into her office was not the polished, silver-haired titan of industry that Victor Vance would one day become. In 2955, Victor Vance was thirty years old, hungry, and possessed the lean, desperate energy of a wolf that hadn't eaten in days. His suit was expensive but ill-fitting, slightly too tight across the shoulders. His hair was slicked back with too much oil. But his eyes... his eyes were the same cold, dead beads of black glass that would one day terrorize boardrooms across the galaxy.
He prowled his way in and didn't wait for an invitation to sit. He walked straight to her desk and placed his hands on the mahogany, leaning in close.
"Ms. Lopez," Vance said. His voice was smooth, but it lacked the refined rasp of age. It was higher and sharper. "You are making a mistake."
Aurelia didn't flinch, picking up a stylus and twirling it between her fingers, looking him up and down with amused disdain.
"Mr. Vance, is it?" Aurelia started. "You'll have to be more specific. I make very few mistakes, and when I do, I usually fire the person responsible for them."
"The Aether-Link acquisition," Vance said. "You're pushing too hard. That subsidiary is a strategic asset for Starship and Inter-Galactic Solutions. We use their lanes for... sensitive transport. We cannot allow Titan to absorb it."
"Then you should have run it better," Aurelia countered, her smile razor-thin. "Business is survival of the fittest, Mr. Vance. Titan is the shark. Aether-Link is the chum. If SIGS wanted to keep it, you shouldn't have let their stock price dip below the threshold of a hostile takeover."
Vance's knuckles turned white as he gripped the desk. "This isn't about stock prices. This is a warning. Back off. Withdraw the tender offer. Let the deal die on the vine, or else..."
Aurelia laughed. It was a genuine, bubbling laugh of disbelief. She stood up, matching his height in her heels. "A warning? From who? You? You're a mid-level fix-it man for a company that makes overheating vents and second-rate jump drives. You don't warn Titan Logistics. We own the supply chain. We own the food you eat, the fuel in your shuttle, and the clothes on your back. If I want Aether-Link, I will take it. And there is nothing you, or your Board, can do about it."
Vance stared at her. For a moment, the mask of corporate civility slipped entirely. She saw pure, unadulterated hatred in his eyes. It wasn't just business now, she had bruised his ego. She had treated him like a bug, and Victor Vance was a man who believed he was a god in waiting.
"You think you're untouchable," Vance whispered. "You think because you sit in this tower, you're safe. But towers fall, Aurelia. And glass breaks."
"Get the fuck out of my office," Aurelia said, her voice dropping to a bored monotone. "Before I have security throw you out. And tell your bosses the price just went down by five percent."
Vance smiled, and it was a terrifying expression, a baring of teeth that conveyed zero warmth. He then stood up straight and smoothed his jacket.
"Enjoy your lunch, Ms. Lopez," Vance said softly. "I hear the Gilded Cage has excellent veal."
He turned and walked out.
Aurelia watched him go, shaking her head. "Amateurs."
She checked her reflection in the window, adjusted her hair, and went to lunch. Three days later, the acquisition of Aether-Link by Titan Logistics had begun to be discussed.
One Month Later, April 18, 2955
The hover-car glided silently over the sprawling suburbs of Celestine Prime. It was late, nearly 21:00 hours. The acquisition had been finalized that afternoon. The papers were signed. Aether-Link was now a Titan subsidiary. Aurelia had spent the last week in marathon meetings, restructuring the entire division, firing the old management, and integrating the logistics software.
She was exhausted, but it was the good kind of exhaustion. The kind that came with a ten-figure bonus and a bottle of vintage champagne chilling in the back seat.
"Home, ma'am?" the automated driver asked.
"Yes. Home," Aurelia said, leaning her head back against the leather seat.
She closed her eyes, picturing what waited for her. Her estate was located in the Elysian Hills, the most exclusive district on the planet. It was a sprawling modern mansion of white stone and glass, surrounded by manicured gardens.
But the house wasn't what mattered. What mattered was who was inside.
Darius, her husband and an IUC Navy Captain, was currently on a month-long shore leave. He was the only man who had ever been able to handle her intensity, mostly because he had faced down pirate fleets and found them less intimidating than her pre-coffee moods.
And the girls. Lucia, her serious, bookish eleven-year-old. Camilla, the nine-year-old artist who drew on the walls. And Belen, the baby, eight years old and full of chaotic energy. They were her anchor. The reason she fought so hard in the boardroom was to ensure they never had to fight for anything in their lives.
The car descended, the gates of the estate recognizing her bio-signature and swinging open. The driveway was long, lined with bioluminescent trees that glowed a soft purple in the night.
The house was dark, which caused Aurelia to frown as the car came to a stop. Usually, Darius left the porch lights on. Usually, the living room was a blaze of light where the girls played video games before bed.
"Maybe they went out for dinner," she muttered to herself, though she knew Darius would have messaged her.
She grabbed her bag and the champagne, stepping out of the car. The silence of the estate was heavy and oppressive. The crickets weren't chirping. The wind wasn't rustling the leaves. It was as if her home had become a vacuum of sound.
"Darius?" she called out, her voice echoing slightly in the open courtyard, but no one answered. She walked to the front door and found it unlocked. That was wrong. Darius was military, and he had a habit of locking doors like he was securing a bulkhead.
She pushed the door open. "Darius? Girls? I'm home! I brought bribes!"
She stepped into the foyer. Her heels clicked loudly on the marble floor. The house smelled... strange. Not like dinner. Not like cleaning supplies. It smelled of copper. Sharp, metallic copper, mixed with the faint, ozone scent of a discharged energy weapon.
"Darius!" she called again, louder this time, a thread of panic weaving into her tone.
She dropped her bag, but still held the champagne bottle by the neck.
She walked toward the living room. The hallway was shadowed.
"Lucia? Belen?"
She reached the entrance to the living room, a sunken area, dominated by a massive, wall-sized screen that was currently dark. The furniture, white leather sofas and glass tables, were arranged perfectly.
But there was something on the floor. Dark shapes. Shadows within shadows.
Aurelia's hand trembled as she reached for the light panel on the wall.
"Surprise," a voice rasped from the darkness.
It wasn't a human voice. It was a synthesized, digital approximation of a human throat, layered with static and cold mechanical precision.
Aurelia froze. She didn't hit the lights. Instead, she looked at the reflection in the black glass of the giant TV screen across the room. The moonlight filtering through the skylight illuminated the reflection perfectly.
Standing behind her, in the shadows of the hallway she had just walked through, were two figures. They were tall. Seven feet of matte-gray plating and exposed hydraulics. Their heads were angular, sensor clusters glowing a faint, menacing red where eyes should be.
Simulacrums.
Military-grade combat androids piloted by human minds. They were a product only used by corporations due to the inhumane act of having a human slave in a body that never broke down as long as it was maintained. These were Assassins.
And in their hands...
Aurelia's breath hitched, and her heart stopped beating. The champagne bottle slipped from her numb fingers and shattered on the floor.
The Simulacrum on the left was holding something by the hair. Two somethings.
The severed heads of Lucia and Camilla. Their eyes were closed. Their expressions were slack, peaceful, as if they were sleeping.
The Simulacrum on the right held Darius and Belen. Darius's face was frozen in a rictus of rage, his mouth open in a silent shout. Belen... Belen looked surprised.
"No," Aurelia whispered. The word didn't have sound. It was just air escaping her lungs. "No. No, no, no."
The Simulacrum on the right tossed the heads onto the white sofa. They landed with a soft, wet thud, staining the pristine leather with crimson.
"We warned you," the mechanical voice said again. It sounded amused. "Mr. Vance was very clear with his warning. And yet you still went through with the acquisition."
Aurelia screamed. She let out a sound torn from the bottom of her soul, a primal, animalistic wail of grief and denial that shattered the oppressive silence of the house.
Her instincts kicked into overdrive, and she turned to run. She didn't have a plan, she just needed to get away from the eyes of her dead children.
She needed to wake up.
This was a nightmare.
This wasn't real.
She scrambled toward the foyer, her heels slipping on the spilled champagne and the glass.
She only made it three steps before the Simulacrum moved with a speed that defied its bulk. It blurred, and a cold, metal hand clamped around her throat, lifting her off her feet as if she weighed nothing.
Aurelia clawed at the metal arm, her nails breaking against the alloy. She kicked, she gagged, staring into the red optic sensors of the machine.
"Please," she choked out. "Please."
"Please, what?" the Simulacrum asked, tilting its head. "Please negotiate? Please restructure? There are no more deals, Ms. Lopez. The acquisition is cancelled."
The second Simulacrum walked over. It moved slowly, clearly savoring the moment. It looked at the shattered champagne bottle.
"A celebration," it mocked. "For a job well done."
It reached out and grabbed Aurelia's leg.
"SIGS sends their regards," the machine said.
Then, with a casual, brutal motion, it twisted.
*CRACK.*
The sound of her spine snapping was louder than the scream she tried to make. Pain, white-hot and blinding, exploded in her lower back, and then she felt nothing. The sensation in her legs vanished instantly. She hung there, limp, a broken doll in the grip of a monster.
The Simulacrum dropped her, causing her to hit the floor hard. She tried to move her legs, to crawl, but they were dead weight. She dragged herself a few inches with her arms, her fingernails scratching grooves into the marble.
The Simulacrums stood over her, watching her struggle. They were laughing. A digitized, stuttering sound of static and cruelty.
"Look at her crawl. It's fucking pathetic," one said.
"Burn it," the other ordered.
The first Simulacrum raised its arm. A wrist-mounted flamethrower ignited with a whoosh.
It didn't aim at her. It aimed at the sofa. At the heads.
"NO!" Aurelia shrieked, dragging herself forward. "DON'T! PLEASE!"
The fire engulfed the white leather. It engulfed her family. The smell of burning hair and flesh filled the room instantly, choking her.
The Simulacrum turned and fired a stream of napalm at the curtains, at the walls, at the ceiling. The fire spread with terrifying speed, licking up the expensive tapestries and melting the art.
"Leave her," the leader said. "Let the house finish the job."
They turned and walked out the back door, disappearing into the night as silently as they had arrived.
Aurelia lay on the floor, the heat searing her skin. The smoke was getting thick, black, and oily. She coughed, her lungs burning. She looked at the sofa, now a pyre.
"Darius," she whispered, tears streaming down her face, evaporating in the heat. "Girls. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
She closed her eyes, waiting for the fire to take her. She wanted it to take her. She didn't want to live in a world where this had happened.
The roof groaned, and a beam came crashing down, blocking the hallway. The heat was unbearable.
There was a lapse of consciousness in her memory until she heard sirens.
"We have a survivor!" a voice shouted through a rebreather mask. "In the foyer! Get the stasis-lift!"
"No," Aurelia tried to say. "Let me go."
But strong hands grabbed her. She was lifted onto a grav-stretcher. An oxygen mask was pressed to her face.
As they carried her out of the burning inferno that had been her life, she looked back one last time. Through the flames, she saw the reflection in the TV screen again. The reflection of a woman who had thought she was a shark, only to realize she was just bait.
One Year Later...2956
The hospital room was cold, its walls a sterile white.
Aurelia lay in the bio-bed, staring at the ceiling. She had been here for eleven months.
The doctors had saved her life. They had fused her spine, rebuilt her nervous system with synthetic grafts, and grafted new skin over the burns on her arms and back. It was a miracle of modern medicine.
It had cost forty million credits. Her savings were gone. Her insurance had capped out after the first month. She had liquidated the estate, what was left of it, to pay for the reconstructive surgeries.
She was broke. She was alone. She was physically whole, but she felt like a ghost haunting her own body.
She heard the door open, but didn't bother to look, expecting a nurse with pain meds. Instead, a man in a gray suit walked in. It was Timothy, her old assistant. He looked uncomfortable as he held a datapad.
"Ms. Lopez," he said softly.
"Timothy," she rasped. Her voice was different now. The smoke had scarred her vocal cords, leaving her with a lower, huskier timbre. "Did you come here to bring me flowers?"
"I... no," Timothy said. He didn't make eye contact. "I'm here on behalf of the Board."
Aurelia turned her head slowly. "The Board?"
"Titan Logistics has reviewed your... situation," Timothy recited, sounding like he had rehearsed this a thousand times. "Due to the adverse publicity surrounding the fire, and the... questionable nature of the events leading up to it... the Board feels that your continued association with the company is a liability."
He placed the datapad on the bedside table.
"You are being terminated, effective immediately. The severance package is... minimal, due to the 'conduct unbecoming' clause in your contract."
Aurelia stared at him. "Conduct unbecoming? My family was murdered. My house was burned down."
"The police report listed it as a 'gang-related retaliation incident'," Timothy said, sweating. "There were rumors... rumors that you were involved in illicit dealings. Titan cannot have that stain on its reputation."
Rumors. Started by SIGS. Planted by Vance. He wasn't content with killing her family. He had gone out of his way to destroy her name.
"Get out," Aurelia whispered.
"I'm sorry, Aurelia," Timothy said. "I really am."
"GET OUT!" she screamed, grabbing a water pitcher and hurling it at him.
Timothy fled, leaving Aurelia to sit in the silence of the room. She was alone and bankrupt, and now she had just been fired.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed. They worked, thanks to the servos implanted in her spine, but they felt heavy. She stood up and walked to the window. Below, the city of Celestine Prime bustled on. The golden sun shone. The smaller ships landed and took off.
Her world had been crushed, but the world just kept on spinning, not caring for her pain.
She left the hospital three days later with nothing but a small bag of clothes and a heart full of ash. She wandered the streets of the lower districts, the places she used to look down on from her tower. She slept in shelters and ate synthetic gruel.
She thought about buying a gun. She thought about walking into the SIGS headquarters and taking as many of them with her as she could.
But she was weak. She was broken.
One night, in the pouring rain, she found herself standing in front of a small, dilapidated chapel. The neon cross above the door flickered, and the words below it read "Sanctuary of the Lost."
She walked in and was immediately hit with the warmth and smell of incense and old paper.
A priest was there, an old man wiping down the pews. He looked up at her. He saw the scars on her arms and the emptiness in her eyes.
"We have soup in the back," he said simply.
Aurelia sat down in a pew, looking at the statue of the deity on the altar, a figure with open arms.
"Why?" she asked the statue. "Why them? Why not me?"
The statue didn't answer. But the silence of the chapel felt different than the silence of her house. It wasn't empty. It felt heavy, as if it was waiting.
She stayed for the soup.
She stayed for the night.
She stayed for a week.
And then she started helping.
She washed the dishes, swept the floors, and helped the other lost souls who came in, the addicts, the runaways, the orphans. And as she worked, she felt something strange. A tiny spark in the ashes of her soul.
What she felt wasn't happiness. She doubted she would ever be happy again. But she now had a purpose. She had come to the realization that the corporate world, the world of Victor Vance, of Titan Logistics, of SIGS, of Aurelia Lopez, was a disease. It was a machine that ate the people who played its game and spat out money in return.
It was a world she no longer wanted to be a part of. So she changed her name. Aurelia Lopez had died with her family in the fire, and Sister Elara had been born in the rain. Sister Elara was the spark that was born from the work she had found herself doing.
So she joined the order. She took the vows of poverty and service, and when the order asked for volunteers to run a facility on a station orbiting the Empire's second crown jewel, she volunteered to go. The Orphanage would be in a station called Mechanicus Station, in the distant Novellus system, a place that would mean leaving your family on Celestine Prime behind. A place no one with family wanted to go to.
It was a perfect place for a new start.
End Flashback
Present DayMechanicus Station - The Orphanage
Sister Elara blinked, the memory receding like a tide. She looked down at her hands, the hands that had once signed million-credit contracts and now planted carrots in a small patch of synthetic soil.
She looked at Mark Shephard, the giant of a man who had been watching her with wide eyes and a look of horrified respect on his face.
"So you see, Mark," Elara said, her voice steady again. "I know Victor Vance. I know what he is capable of. He didn't just kill my family to stop a merger. He did it because he could. He did it because I didn't respect him."
She reached out and squeezed Mark's hand. "You embarrassed them today. You hurt them. And Victor Vance... he never forgets a slight. He will come for you. And worst of all, he will come for Lyra..."
Mark's face hardened. The shock was replaced by the same cold resolve she had seen in the footage of the raid.
"Let him come," Mark said with a steely resolve. He paused for a few seconds, the silence between them was heavy. His eyes slowly softened as he spoke again, "I value your experience, and I'm sorry for your loss, truly. But your past self and I are not the same. I will make sure to burn all those who wish my loved ones and me down to the ground... not to mention, I don't live in a glass house."
Elara smiled softly. "No. You don't. But build your exit, Mark. Build it strong, build it quick. Because when the fire comes... You will need to be able to escape as quickly as possible."
"I will take care of that," Mark promised. He stood up, signaling to his security team to disperse and maintain watch over the Orphanage. "Thank you for the warning, and for... telling me... Aurelia."
"Go," she smiled as she waved him off. "And bring more of those pizzas next time. The children loved them."
Mark walked away, giving an order to one of the private security officers to go buy pizza, and pulling out his G-comm to send him a transaction.
Elara watched him go. She reached into the pocket of her habit and pulled out a small, worn locket. She opened it. Inside was a holographic picture of three smiling girls and a man in a uniform.
"I tried, Darius," she whispered to the picture. "I did more for him than I could for us. Lord, please watch over him... and watch over the little one."
She snapped the locket shut and stood up. She watched the running children, and a gentle smile spread on her lips.
---
For advanced chapters, you can head to my Patreon at
https://www.patreon.com/cw/Crimson_Reapr
Crimson_Reapr is the name, and writing Sci-fi is the way.