Jacob got up from the bed and started going through his usual routine, bathroom-training-breakfast. After he finished in the bathroom, he went to the training room for his morning routine. He didn’t know if it was really morning, but he did have a clock on one of the walls which showed that it was 06:20. The lights in his rooms always turned on at 06:00 and shut off at 22:00. So he used those times for night and day.
And then when he was finished with his routine, something happened. The wall in the main room slid open, and Jacob was looking at a figure, the first living being he had seen in decades. The figure was dressed in a black armor suit that covered its entire body, with a dark blue coat over it. There was a symbol etched on the armor’s chest, the back of a hand with an open eye drawn on it.
Jacob stared in shock as the figure approached him. Then, as it stopped in front of him, a voice spoke out of the armor.
“Jacob Kelly, I am here to give you a choice. You can stay in these rooms, spending eternity here as punishment for your crime. Or come with me, and start atoning for the deaths you caused, by serving the people of the Empire.”
Jacob’s heart pounded in his chest. He looked at the figure. He knew nothing about what the choice meant. But he did know that he owed it to those he’d killed to do something more than simply survive in an endless and pointless existence. He steeled himself, and gave his answer.
Year 112 of the Empire — planet Thorsius; Clan Gudólfr territory
Nkiruka held her brother’s body in her arms, his lifeless eyes pointed upwards, staring into nothingness. All around her, chaos reigned. People were covered in dust, blood, and debris. Nkiruka closed her brother’s eyes, the movement bringing her attention to the gash on her arm and red blood flowing over her dark skin. Somehow, the pain seemed far away, insignificant compared to the horror in front of her. A few meters away, she saw the body of her caretaker, the person that had raised Nkiruka and her brothers and sisters. Around her were the bodies of her remaining siblings.
Her family group numbered seven. All were born from the progeny centers, all had different biological mothers and fathers, and yet they were a family, raised in the progeny programs by their caretaker. And now, on the day that they had finally reached their maturity, when they were to set off into life to find their paths, their lives had ended. Nkiruka looked at the faces of her family; their bodies somehow didn’t seem real, their shapes twisted, red, and ugly. Her mind couldn’t reconcile the mangled flesh with faces she had grown up with.
The courtyard was filled with the dead. Wails of those still alive echoed all around her, mingling with the cries of pain from those injured but still alive. Then people wearing armor with the symbol of the Hand of the Empire came. One of them gathered her up and took her to a med-car, which carried her to the hospital. Her mind was still filled with the images of her siblings and her friends as the medical personnel put her to sleep.
Hours or days later, Nkiruka woke dazed from the drugs, hearing voices of people talking just outside of her room.
“I can’t believe that this is happening here,” a female voice said. “This is Gudólfr territory, not the damned occupation zone.”
“I know, but ever since the Emperor allowed those from the occupation zone to join the Clans as individuals, we’ve been having an influx of people. And with all the resentment that the Erasi left behind, it was bound to happen,” a male voice spoke.
“The Lord Sentinel should’ve just destroyed them all.”
“You don’t mean that. They are people, like us. Only a small percentage have turned to terrorism.”
“I know, but seeing kids dead, it gets to me, you know?”
“Me too. The Hand will catch them, they always do.”
“Yeah, but there are too few of them, they don’t always get them in time.”
“Maybe… go… if…” The voices grew muffled as the people walked away.
Nkiruka gazed at the ceiling, thinking about what they had said. She and her brother had wanted to join Clan Warpath together. They had been preparing for the tests, and now she couldn’t imagine doing that without him.
One image kept showing up in her mind, one of people dressed in armor moving through the wreckage—Agents of the Hand. There were too few of them, the voice had said. Perhaps Nkiruka could join them, find and punish the people that had killed her family.
Year 563 of the Empire — Colony world Santis; Clan Kazalir territory
Vasily was dying. Blood spilled from his stomach as he sat propped against the rock where his murderers had left him. He was so stupid. He knew that he was stupid. He should’ve listened to Robert when he told him that they should wait for the Hand, but no, he’d wanted to be a hero. He’d grabbed his hunting rifle and gone after the pirates. So stupid. And he had even convinced Robert to come with him, and now his lifeless eyes glared accusingly at him from the forest floor. The pirates had played with him, forcing Vasily to watch as they had broken all of his limbs before finally killing him.
And now, Vasily was going to die on this backwater planet alone in the forest, and probably feed some animal after. He shouldn’t have agreed to come here, not to a world so close to the occupation zone. He’d wanted excitement, and starting up a new colony had seemed like a good opportunity.
He heard something coming, and dread gripped him. He knew that he was going to die. His legs were broken and his stomach was cut open. However, he did not have a desire to be eaten by an animal while still alive. The noise came closer and closer, until finally he could see what it was. It did not look like any of the animals from this world he was familiar with. It stood upright, with large wings spreading behind it and a black bone-like carapace growing out of its skin to cover most of its body. Its head looked eerily similar to that of a human.
“Help,” Vasily managed to rasp out. His mouth was dry and his voice cracked.
The being stepped closer and knelt in front of Vasily. One of its hands moved toward him, and two fingers pressed against his wound, making him hiss in pain. The being pulled his hand back and looked at his blood on its fingers, and Vasily saw the blood seep into the fingers. Then its completely white eyes turned to Vasily, studying him.
“I am sorry,” the being said with emotion, and Vasily felt a pressure build up in his head. For a moment, it was as if he was not himself, as if something was taken from him, and then it was gone. “I am sorry, Vasily,” the being said again, its voice sounding familiar, and its body started to shift. The carapace retreating inside its body, his wings curling and collapsing on themselves, his features changed. And after it was finished, Vasily was looking at himself.
“Your wounds are too great to fix, but your death and your life will help my need,” the other him said. His hand moved over Vasily’s chest and started glowing with orange light. “This will hurt only for a moment.”
Vasily felt heat, and pain only for a moment, and then there was nothing.
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