The base was nestled in the hollow of a crater. It was one of the largest on the asteroid, and the construction spread across its entire surface. Peter was surprised by the size of the compound.

Sarthak 6 had once been a Gnorlian mining colony, but it was abandoned after its resources were depleted. Now, the archmaster of the Outer Expanse had offered the rebels to use it as their new base of operations.

Val was too distracted by the stranger to focus on the place. While the others were similarly intrigued, Peter had insisted on visiting the empty structure—this was the reason they had come all the way here, after all. When _Starrider_ landed on the airstrip, the rebel leader headed out with Mrill, Kesh, and a few others. While she waited for them to return, Val decided to have another chat with Rickert.

She found him sitting in the recreation hub, staring at the starry sky through the window.

“I’d have thought you’d have had enough of them by now,” she said.

“It is not the stars I look at,” he answered with a sad smile, though he did not turn to look at her. “I see beyond.”

“I don’t understand.”

He remained quiet for a moment, then gestured toward the sky.

“Space is endless. It defies comprehension. And yet, it encompasses everything. We are but specks in such infinity. My life was out there. My world, my people, everything I once knew. All gone now. Like dust in the wind. Who even remembers any of it? Only me.”

Val frowned as she sat across from Rickert.

“How can you even speak our language?”

The stranger laughed, though there was little humor in it.

“And that is the greatest mystery of all. Despite the vastness of space, despite all of infinity, my pod kept traveling through the same galaxies, over and over. As if I was cursed to see it all disappear, to see it all die.”

“This doesn’t explain—”

“I could pick up radio communications when I came close enough to human settlements,” he said with a shrug. “I heard your language evolve. We share the same ancestors, too, and that helped.”

“How could you have survived so long? And how did you even get into that pod?”

Rickert sighed. “It’s a long and painful story, Val. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Please. I need to understand.”

His head turned, and his eyes finally met hers. Once again, she was struck by the depth of his sorrow.

“We were at war,” he started. “Nothing surprising, I suppose. There is always a war somewhere, isn’t there? This hasn’t changed in a million years. It would be funny if it weren’t so depressing. My regiment was sent to invade Hryunh...” He paused and frowned. “I imagine this means nothing to you. How could you make sense of anything if you don’t even know the basics?”

Val glanced through the window at the abandoned base. “The others went to explore. They’ll be gone for a while. We have time.” She looked back at him. “Start at the beginning.”

He grimaced. “It’s more complicated than you would think. But I shall try.” He went quiet for a moment as he considered how to tell his story. “I suppose I should start by explaining the structure of the UNC—”

“The UNC?”

“The United Nations of Cadrina. The nations in question were really groups of worlds, each group ruled by its own set of politicians. These only answered to the prevosts who oversaw all of the UNC. You might think this prevented conflicts between nations, but you would be wrong. They were quite common, and the prevosts did little if anything to stop them.”

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“Why?”

The man shrugged. “Politics. Corruption. Your guess is as good as mine. Either way, it was not unusual for some of these conflicts to turn into all-out war—as it did between Druan and Hryunh, two of the largest nations in the UNC. Like many of my peers, I did not believe in this war, but was dragged into it by circumstances... or by birth, I should say.”

“How do you mean, by birth?”

He leaned back in his seat. “In Cadrina, every child’s future is decided at birth. Based on parents, social class, genes...” Seeing Val’s grimace, he smiled. “It started as a way to fight against unemployment, not to mention crime. If everyone had their path set in advance, you could make sure everyone was taught all the skills they needed to learn and ensure they’d always have work. You could keep tighter control on industries, making sure none ever lacked employees. And so I was meant to be a soldier. The UNC cared little for individual tastes or talents. Everyone was supposed to comply, because it was the only way our society could function. It was our responsibility not to break the system, and they made sure we never forgot how this burden rested upon our shoulders.”

“And I thought the Imperium was bad,” muttered Val.

Rickert shrugged. “It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. I mean, people _wanted_ to be valuable. And despite the pressure, the system also made you feel like you belonged, like you had an important part to play. And you did, to be honest, because things were designed in such a way that the whole thing could fall apart if anyone strayed.”

“A disaster waiting to happen.”

“Yes and no. There were safeguards in place, we just weren’t aware of them. In retrospect, it makes sense. With all the wars, soldiers died. Nations couldn’t wait twenty years to replace the fallen. There had to be a constant flow, especially in some of the more dangerous industries—such as the military.”

“So, how do you fit into all this?”

“I was posted on Ars Olind, a world of the Druan nation. Nine months after my dispatch, the war took a turn for the worse. Our rulers decided it was time for more decisive action and they sent my entire battalion, along with hundreds more, straight into Hryunh. The mission was to eradicate the opposition by all means necessary. You must understand, our wars were always fought in space. But things had gotten so out of hand, they wanted those worlds wiped clean. We were to land and kill everyone—even civilians.” He paused, his gaze lost in the stars.

When it seemed like he would not speak again, Val cleared her throat. “Did you do it?”

Rickert glanced at her. “You think I had a choice? You think _any_ of us did? We were conditioned to obey. There could be no doubts in our minds. Doesn’t mean we liked it, but there was no way around it.” He shuddered. “But that’s not relevant.” A small laugh. “None of it is anymore. It happened so long ago, it almost feels like it never happened at all. And yet, here I am.”

“You still haven’t told me how—”

“I’m getting to it.” He shifted in his seat. Leaned forward, eyes now staring at the floor, elbows on his knees. “It was brutal. It was nasty. Millions died. Billions. Even more wounded. A slaughter, really. If those bred to be soldiers gave us a challenge, the civilians were helpless. Some of those worlds did not even have any military forces on them. We went through those in a couple of days, butchering everyone. Until we reached Varlhev. One of the most populated and better-defended places in all of Hryunh. By the time we got there, they’d heard of our exploits and were expecting us. We were met by a formidable fleet. The clash was epic. We never made it to the surface of the planet. For each of their ships we destroyed, they obliterated ten of ours. It was not so much that they had greater numbers—though perhaps they did—rather that our actions had so enraged them that they hit us with everything they had, and they were relentless.

“To cut a long story short, I was wounded when my ship got shredded. Those of us who made it to the medlab were spared the gruesome fate of our brothers when the hull was ripped apart and their bodies fed to the stars. A medlab is sacred, you see. Among our people, regardless of the horrors we commit upon each other, we never touch a medlab. The rooms are built as self-contained and self-sufficient structures that can separate from the ship and float away. There were thousands of them floating among the wrecks of Druan ships. The Hryunh vessels ferried us to the border and let us drift back to our worlds, as the medlabs were programmed to do.

“I was in bad shape. By the time I made it back to Ars Olind, my wounds had festered and my fever had made me delirious. Only a medpod could save me, though it would take time—years—to do its work. They put me in just before the Hryunh forces struck back. I didn’t see it happen, as I was in a coma at the time, but I later read the reports. My pod was in a space station in orbit around Ars Olind. It was torn away when the station blew up and sent spiraling out through space. I only woke up after I was fully healed. And the pod kept me alive all this time.”

Rickert fell silent, and Val watched him quietly for a moment.

“How did you not go mad?” she asked.

He gave her another sad smile. “Who says I didn’t?”