Xaleyp looked to Mian, studying her closely, as they both stood there behind the Director, and she stared back at him, one eyebrow cocked. After several long seconds, she jerked her head towards the lift, and they both walked away. With each step, Xaleyp was expecting the Director to call out to him, tell him that there was more or something, but nothing came.

The lift door opened at once, allowing them access. They stepped in, and it hissed shut before they had the chance to turn around. As the engines whined, the pair of them stood in a somewhat awkward silence, neither one of them wanting to be the one to break it. After several long moments, they were stepping off the lift and walking back down the hall. Mian turned to go down the first intersection, and Xaleyp stopped, trying to decide if he wanted to follow her and stop her.

He cared for her and trusted her, then she turned around and stabbed him in the back. The anger wanted to lash out and yell and scream and let the whole galaxy know his frustration, but the look in her eye when she apologized, the way her shoulders slumped as she walked away from him now, made it hard to stay mad at her. Part of him wanted to forgive her, to have her back at his side as a friend. Nothing really changed about her, the Director was right about that much. She was still Mian, that mysterious girl he met at Vertyn by a stroke of luck.

No, not luck, no matter how much it seemed that way. It had all been planned, every last movement of that play, right down to the moment they escaped. There was no luck involved in their month of knowing each other. Did he really know who she was?

Taking a deep, calming breath, he kept walking past the intersection and found himself back at his quarters, the door hissing open at his approach. The light inside came on, bathing the room in its incandescent glow. He laid down on the bed, a rollercoaster of emotions running through his head and body.

A few days ago, he had been happy to discover that Mian hadn’t died on Arcadia, that she was alive, then that was quickly replaced by the hatred of their entire relationship being a lie. Then, he had been ecstatic to be on the Starkiller, ready to get revenge on the person who killed Lina, just to have the rug pulled out from under him and told he was essentially a pawn to be used how Siatia saw fit. His mind could hardly keep up with the different feelings inside him.

A chime came through on his CAM to alert him to a message from the Director containing the four profiles of the soldiers that would accompany him and Mian on Arcadia. He briefly looked over the names—Tyler Hudson, Finnegan Crowley, Adric Zechiel, and Evangeline Plenskach—and tried to commit them to memory, though his storage chip would have no issues reminding him. Regardless, he didn’t even want to think about the mission—all he cared about was revenge, and how the Director denied him that small satisfaction he once promised.

Xaleyp spent most of the next two days in hyperspace alone in his quarters, which did not upset the Director, who was more than happy to let him do as he please as long as the mission succeeded. His quarters had its own private bathroom, and a replicator in one wall allowed him to get food without having to travel throughout the ship. A few times, he received a message from Mian asking to talk to him, and, once, she even knocked at his door. He ignored each of the attempts, not quite ready to forgive her yet. Perhaps later, he told himself each time she redoubled her efforts.

Instead, he decided to take a look at the different profiles of people he would be working with, studying each carefully as if he knew what to be looking for. Each was accompanied by a picture so he could recognize them.

Tyler Hudson, ex-special forces and one time specialist at a technology company based off Hyperia, recruited by Siatia for sensitive computer work, reserved for only the highest priority missions. He was well-built and light-skinned with a thin mohawk of brown interspersed with dark blue through the center of his head, and the subtle coarseness of the beginnings of a beard.

Finnegan "Scarecrow” Crowley, a heavy hitter who accompanied Hyperion forces on dozens of drops in the middle of very unfriendly territory and lived to tell the tales. He had dark skin and tight black curls of hair spiraling around his head, as well as a small goatee and mustache kept neatly trimmed, without a single whisker out of place.

Adric Zechiel, a private military contractor who helped defend strategic pipelines and supply lines around the Hyperion Empire, eventually working his way to Siatia where they recruited him for something called the Vanguard Ascendancy. He had plain brown hair cut close to his head and a clean shaven chin, and his olive-skinned head was somewhat square looking.

Finally, Evangeline Plenskach, an ex-Arcadian military grunt with a rather too pristine history before being honorably discharged and finding her way to Siatia. What gave him pause about her, however, was the fact that he instantly recognized the girl in the picture. He sat bolt upright and stared blankly ahead, focusing on his CAM harder than ever. It was her, the girl from his vision in that forest on Eratu. How did his brain create her there, and why was she here now, coming on this mission with him?

Slowly, he laid back down, staring at the image his CAM implanted in his mind. It was her, that much was without a doubt. Every platinum blonde hair, every freckle, those icy blue eyes, everything was exactly as he saw it in the forest. But the question remained, tickling at the back of his mind: Who was she? Everything in his life was without coincidence, carefully planned and plotted by some higher power wanting a semblance of control over him, and, in his mind, it was not a accident either that this girl showed up in his vision and again to accompany him on the mission. There had to be something important about her.

He started a query in his CAM for her name and came up with a handful of service records detailing different missions she was involved in with Arcadia. They were incredibly brief, with most of the information redacted, and provided no real insight into who she was. A news article, titled “New Explosive Device Testing Ends in Success,” mentioned her by name for just a moment, then immediately moved on, discussing the firenanite technology Xaleyp experienced up close and personal. Nothing that had any direct relation to him or led him to know anything about her.

A message came through from the Director, interrupting his train of thought. He tried to ignore it, but it incessantly renewed its notification every few seconds until he finally looked at it.

“We’re almost there. Please meet me in the hangar.”

Xaleyp’s heart sank as he considered the message, thinking back to the last warning the Director gave both him and Mian. He didn’t believe him when he said it, but did he actually mean it when he said he would throw them out of the airlock?

Xaleyp found his way back to the lift, passing dozens of people now scurrying about from place to place and creating a cacophony of noises. When he got on, he was alone, and the sounds stopped at once. He hadn’t been to the hangar since they arrived on the ship, and he had no idea what to expect from the Director.

When he got there, a trio of men were waiting for him. One was the Director, facing away from him, in his standard purple vest and white shirt, and the other two were dressed similarly, one in crimson and the other in a dark blue. Both of the latter were wearing black glasses that shielded their eyes from view, leaving Xaleyp unable to tell whether or not they saw him approach.

They were standing outside a different transport vehicle at the base of the triangular heavyset doors he noticed before. It was larger and sturdier than the previous one, with a pair of wings in the front and back. Engines were mounted as pairs in several nacelles, with one on each wing and a total of four across the top of the center. From the rear, a ramp descended the couple meters to the ground, and a door was slid open at the side, where they waited. It also appeared to have a form of autocannon hanging from the front nose. Two technicians were working on the inside, making sure that all systems were working properly.

“Xaleyp, so nice of you to join us, though I would appreciate a response to ensure you received the message next time.” The Director turned on his heel to face Xaleyp, a sly smile on his face. “Like I said, we’re almost to Siatia, and you’re our guest of honor.”

Xaleyp’s eyes flickered to the large doors for a moment, trying to see if there was any indication that it might be opening soon. The Director must have noticed the movement of his eyes, because he laughed and shook his head.

“No, that’s not why I called you here. Trust me, if I wanted to throw you out, you wouldn’t have to be wondering—you’d know it. No, I want you here because these two agents and myself will be escorting you to meet with the Chancellor.”

“The Chancellor?” Xaleyp asked, somewhat confused. “Why am I meeting with them?”

“He’s the one who approved our prisoner exchange outside of normal means, so it’s only fitting that he meets his prize.”

Xaleyp felt a sudden searing on his face, and a knot formed in his stomach. Is that all he was to these people, a prize to be paraded around, like a purebred dog? He wanted to call the Director out on the words but thought better of it. It wouldn’t do him much good. He was here on the Starkiller now, relatively safe from danger. They would learn their lesson eventually, once he was in control. Regardless, he was used to meeting supposedly important people. The Emperor of Hyperia, the Emperor of Arcadia—or the Praes Dominion, whatever the hell he called it—the Director of the Celestial Order. How would meeting a president be any different?

“It is my honor,” Xaleyp said, bowing his head slightly towards the Director. Even if he didn’t mean the words, it was good to keep up appearances. Desiring nothing more than to change the subject, he gestured to the transport behind the Director. “What kind of ship is this?”

“A Helios-Two Dropship.” The man shrugged as he glanced from the front to the back of the ship. “Standard military transport, nothing too special.”

As the Director finished, the carrier dropped out of hyperspace with a slight shift, catching Xaleyp by surprise. He staggered sideways but quickly recovered. Moments later, a grinding sound filled the hangar as the doors began to slide open, disappearing into the sides of the carrier to be replaced by a shimmering blue plane. Directly in front of them was a large, blue giant star with a surface that looked almost like lava was gently shifting over it. Visible only by the massive number of them was the beginnings of a Dyson swarm, the solar sails orbiting around the large star in two different patterns that crossed in the middle. Off to one corner, he could see a planet growing ever closer.

“That’s our cue,” the Director said, stepping up into the dropship. He turned and helped the others in.

To Xaleyp’s left, a row of seats ran down either side of the ship, each with an over-the-shoulder restraint waiting for an occupant. An assortment of equipment hung from the walls by the now closed ramp. To his right, a series of steps led up to a set of seats for the pilots. As he sat, the harness clamped down on him, holding him in place. The sliding door was closed by one of the agents with a hiss. A small glass window in the center allowed him to see out.

As they neared the planet, it appeared it was one giant city, the shadowed side’s lights criss-crossing over the entire surface, some in large, distinct circles of concentration, others in scattered dots. Some thin, wispy clouds covered small portions, but otherwise the glow was left uninterrupted. Outside the planet, a pair of space stations were surrounded by swarms of ships awaiting entry, from freighters to fighters to frigates and everything in between. It was not unlike what Xaleyp saw outside Arcadia, but with a distinct difference, seemingly more organized.

The dropship ignored them all, instead zooming past and towards a section of the planet that had particularly distinct rings on the surface. For several moments, nothing could be seen out the window aside from fire of compressed gases. Finally, it cleared, and Xaleyp could see the city below. He wanted to press his face against the glass to see the surface growing larger and larger until finally the ship broke through the atmosphere and revealed the millions of buildings making up the surface’s urban sprawl. It was a city more massive than he ever saw before, and he found it difficult to keep his mouth closed with the excitement running through him. Towering skyscrapers jutted into the air, connected by different bridges and tunnels through countless layers and with the traffic of thousands of cars and small ships flying throughout. Everywhere he looked was more of the same soaring metal—each somehow distinctly different with its own feel and nature—and it almost seemed to glisten with the sparkling lights in the darkness.

They passed over all of it, streaking high overhead and heading for a massive building resembling a coliseum that dwarfed those around it. Other large freighters and frigates were gently disappearing into the side as they while others were leaving, shooting out the opposite end with their engines glowing brightly as they shot away from the city.

As Xaleyp sat there, basking in the sights of the spaceport and all of the ships inside passing by with the top opened to the sky above, a hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to see the Director staring at him, a thin grin on his face.

“Welcome,” he said, “to the Ecumenopolis of Siatia.”