Jack faced the porthole and watched a distant star give its last flare after exploding — a little ember struggling to die in the dark. Suddenly, he felt that light was like himself: no matter how brightly it burned, it could not hold back the endless black. It was as if the infinite darkness itself had shivered.
He remembered when he left home and saw Lin Mingmei’s eyes full of expectation — the longing, care, and maternal tenderness of a mother for her daughter. He said nothing, only squeezed her hand hard, then left.
A hovercar pulled up beside him. Jack saw that Nya was driving; he opened the door and climbed in. They rode in silence. One focused on piloting, the other watched the rising sun. The pale yellow sunlight warming the skin felt comforting.
When they arrived at the base, and Jack reached for the door, Nya leaned over and murmured, “Bring the safe one back.” Her cheek brushed his, soft as a petal.
On the flagship Valkyrie, he moved through a non-military section for the first time. The last time he’d been aboard this ship en route to Vespertine, he’d stayed in the mech bay — he’d never seen the flagship’s inner decks. Before him now marched many female soldiers of different skin tones; male soldiers were only seen here and there, usually in maintenance areas. Curious looks followed him as the women passed — it was rare to see a burly male like him aboard.
In the past two days, Jack had STARK-2 secretly download some of the ship’s data. The vessel had only 84 personnel; over 90% were female. Command, engineering/maintenance, hangar teams — navigation, fire-control, and covert systems were controlled by an upgraded Janus quantum core. STARK-2 only managed to pull basic hull info and some powerplant data before the ship’s monitoring security nearly caught him; he backed out fast.
The Valkyrie’s total volume is roughly 1.2 million cubic meters, with 11 decks. The bottom three decks house the fusion core, fuel storage, and engineering. The middle eight decks contain the main hangar and living quarters. Jack’s last stay had been in the mid-level hangar. One thing puzzled him: the ship had no visible thrusters or exhaust ports.
As Jack watched Nya and her hovercar grow smaller outside the porthole, he felt the light around him warp; the hull gave a low hum. In space, the sensation continued — the light seemed to penetrate his skin. He tried to recall his last trip on this ship; after a long search, his memory surfaced: to eavesdrop on crewmembers, he’d closed his eyes and fallen asleep.
That curiosity is why he’d had STARK-2 download core ship files — a mechanic’s curiosity beats almost everything. Sure, he had his tastes, but this mission weighed on him and left no headspace for admiring sights.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
STARK-2 teased him: “Fatty, not even one woman on this ship stirs you? Doesn’t fit your character at all.” Jack stared at STARK-2’s little Y5 Mini black Chevrolet and zoned out for a moment.
In the past year, he had lived through too many stories: thirteen escapes, the entanglement with Nova in the OURO lab, the battlefield ties with Nya and Meadow — from mechanic to behind-the-scenes hero to mech soldier — it all felt unreal. For the first time, he sensed invisible hands manipulating his fate.
A blink from the Chevy’s headlights snapped him back. He shook his head and pushed his worries away, then went to the communal bar and took a seat.
A woman in uniform approached. “What’ll it be?”
“Is there a drink that’ll knock me out?” Jack asked.
“This is a warship, not a city nightclub. But if you can drink a glass of wine and not get stung by that little critter over there, your tab is on the house tonight.” The woman nodded toward a round, furry ball with several black, shiny spikes.
Jack immediately declined and paid his credit points. She set down the steak and red wine and left, whispering something as she walked away. Jack only caught the first word: “coward.” After that, he stopped listening.
When she reached a secluded corner, she glanced back at Jack and whispered, “Interesting — such a hulking man, braver than women? How did the butcher die by his hand?”
Jack finished his steak and wine and felt a little lighter. He went to the mech storage. He would only use “Loki” if absolutely necessary — that mech carried too many secrets, and the Imperium would be wary of its performance after clashes with the Tartarus Legion. Bringing out Ronin would better disguise who he really was.
He called to the RONIN: “Old Three.”
“I’m here, Jack, brother.” The RONIN’s system display showed a smiling face; the voice chimed in a cute SEER tone, affectionate.
“How’s it feel in here?” Jack leaned against the mech.
Old Three crouched to Jack’s level and responded, “Lonely here, brother. When will you take me out for some air? Another drink? The Queen said you shouldn’t drink too much — it’s bad for your health.”
“Old Three, you believe I’ll eject you into star coordinates?”
“Bro, drinking helps blood flow and stokes the male hormones. You fancy that woman? Want me to help you with a plan?”
“Old Three, are you afraid of death?”
“For me, there is no feeling of death. You power me on, and I ‘live’; you shut me down, and I go offline. If you jettison me into space, I become a pile of scrap. That would be death.”
“I’m very afraid of dying. I just want to be an ordinary man, but fate’s goddess keeps pushing me into danger. Maybe my life is already at an end — I just seem to sense the process.”
“Who isn’t like that, brother? Humans keep asking where they come from, where they go, what life means — for millennia. You’re not the first or the last. Maybe on a higher level, you and I are the same, brother: unlucky ones pushed forward by code and fate.”
— — —
In an Imperial underground base, Rook studied Cyril Vane’s data board. One of the men listed in the files: Silas Grey, a mechanic, tall, solidly built.
(End of Chapter 133)
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