If he left now, he might never see Anara again. If he waited, they all might die. There was no right choice. Varen’s mind was in turmoil—the decision was his alone.
The ground trembled as the pirates slammed against the final blast door. On the command panel, he could see them—waves upon waves, rushing forward like a relentless tide. It was now or never.
The engines roared to life, the Void Ship breaking free just as the blast doors gave in.
Varen exhaled, watching the ship disappear into the void. He knew this was the only way he could live with himself. At least they’re safe.
CRACK.
A rifle struck the back of his skull. Stars exploded in his vision.
Then—darkness.
His consciousness flickered back, dragged into reality by the echo of distant footsteps.
The air was thick, humid—oppressive. A dull ache throbbed at the back of his skull.
Where…?
The cold bite of metal shackles answered before his mind could.
“You finally up?” A gritty voice.
Varen groaned, shifting slightly. The shackles at his wrists clinked. A soldier stood in the dim light, arms crossed, one eye missing—the other watching him like a hawk.
“They knocked you out good. What’s your name, kid?” The man’s tone left no room for argument.
His head pounded. His vision swam. “Varen,” he mumbled, more out of reflex than intention.
“Alright, Varen. I’m Telo.” The soldier leaned against the wall, eye still studying him with curiosity. “Anyways, who’s this Anara you’ve been mumbling about all night?”
Varen’s throat burned. The words barely came out. “Anara... is she safe?”
“You should drink some water first.” Telo extended a bottle toward him.
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Varen snatched it and drank desperately, gulping the liquid as if it might bring clarity. His mind was hazy, tangled in the aftermath of his capture.
After several seconds, he finally lowered the bottle, exhaling sharply. “Thanks… I’m not sure—where are we?”
“We’re in the Bunker.” Telo’s voice was hushed, careful. “We’ve got a group planning a breakout soon. You in?”
Varen opened his mouth to answer—
CLANG.
The heavy stomp of boots silenced him. A pirate guard entered.
His armor was battered but distinct—black plating, scratched sigils, a crimson claw emblazoned on his shoulder. Something about that symbol gnawed at Varen’s memory.
Telo stiffened beside him, voice a low hiss. “Redd Claw.” His hands curled into fists. “They don’t just raid. They take.”
Varen’s chest tightened. He knew that name. Everyone did.
Whispers across the outer colonies spoke of a pirate group far more organized than the usual marauders. Some called them mercenaries, others slavers—but no one questioned who backed them.
The rebels.
It wasn’t just a rumor. Every colony the Redd Claw touched was left stripped—of resources, weapons, and people. And now, they were here. On Arun.
Varen exhaled slowly, the weight of his choices pressing down on him.
His friends were in danger because of him. He needed to fix this.
“I’m in,” he murmured. Nothing else needed to be said.
Telo nodded once, but before he could reply—
A crowd formed.
Heavy boots stomped against the bunker floor as pirates dragged a prisoner forward. Bloodied. Shaking. His wrists held tight by two ruthless pirates.
A gun cocked.
Then—
BANG.
The shot rang out like a thunderbolt, the plasma crack still humming in the air.
A pirate—battered black armor, red claw sigil still slick with old blood—lowered his pistol. He sneered.
“This is what happens when you forget your place.”
It happened too fast. Too calm.
Varen barely had time to process it before—
A prisoner lunged.
He was young, barely older than Varen. Too young.
His face twisted in fury, eyes burning with pure hate. His breath came in ragged gasps, fingers trembling as they clenched around a jagged shard of glass.
“You killed my father,” he snarled. The words tore from his throat like a war cry.
He lunged.
The glass flashed under the dim light—aimed straight for the pirate’s throat.
But the pirate was faster.
A single step back. A cold smirk.
BANG.
The boy froze mid-stride. His grip on the glass slipped.
A single hole, dead center in his chest.
He didn’t fall forward. Didn’t stumble. Just collapsed, like a puppet with its strings cut.
Silence.
A heartbeat stretched into eternity.
The pirate exhaled, lowering his still-smoking gun. He scoffed, nudging the corpse with his boot. “Idiot.”
Varen’s body locked up. His pulse roared in his ears.
MOVE.
A voice screamed in his heart.
MOVE.
His legs tensed, ready to lunge—to tear the pirate apart, to make him pay.
But Telo was faster.
A firm grip yanked him back, holding him down.
“Not yet.” Telo’s voice was steel, cutting through Varen’s rage. “Not yet.”
The moment passed.
The fire in his heart still raged, but he knew he couldn’t die before fixing his mistake.
Then—
ALARMS BLARED.