The darkness of death did not last long.

  Instead of the eternal void, Riven heard a hiss. It was the sound of hydraulic seals depressurizing. Cool, sterile air rushed into his lungs, replacing the phantom stench of rotting insect meat and sulfur.

  Light flooded his vision. The canopy of the pod rose, and Riven slumped forward, the harness catching him before he could introduce himself to the floor. He was no longer in the ruined city; he was back on the Silent Verdict.

  “Rewind it,” a female voice demanded. “Go back to the impact against the nest. I didn’t know a tank could break through the Hive Nest Wall.”

  “It only worked because he blew it up first,” a deep, gravelly voice added.

  Riven blinked, his eyes adjusting to the glare. He felt like he had been put through a blender set to ‘puree.’ He fumbled with the chest release, unbuckling the harness with shaking hands.

  He looked up.

  The Simulation Bay was no longer empty. A semi-circle of figures stood in the center, bathed in the blue light of a massive holographic display that Riven hadn’t noticed before. It hovered above the control console, currently freezing a frame of a Tank Ravager smashing through a resin wall.

  There were six of them, all dressed in the same matte-black DAIR undersuits as him. Without the helmets, the squad’s heritage was obvious. Scales of varying colors shimmered on their necks, jaws, and arms, marking them all as Lesser Drakeons.

  “He lives!”

  The woman who shouted who looked like she could bench press three Rivens for a warmup. She was tall, easily six-six, with a mane of fiery red hair and crimson scales that framed her face like jagged war paint. She bounded over to the pod.

  “You!” She pointed a finger at his face, a grin stretching from ear to ear. Her voice loudly echoed in the space. “You absolute maniac!”

  “I...” Riven croaked, his throat dry. “What?”

  The woman laughed, grabbing his arm and hauling him out of the cockpit like someone grabbing groceries. “That was insane! I don’t think I have ever seen someone voluntarily ride a tank!”

  “Vex, give the man some air,” Phillean’s voice cut through the noise.

  The Sergeant stepped through the group. He looked relaxed, his arms crossed over his chest, the black scales on his jaw catching the light. He looked proud, like a man who had just won a bet.

  Riven steadied himself against the side of the pod. “Sergeant. Respectfully. How was I supposed to win? I barely survived, and when I got the Queen I stood zero chance against that.”

  “Yeah, she does that,” Phillean said, nodding toward the screen where the replay was now showing Riven frantically shooting the tether. “It’s the Battle of Hive 409. It’s a standard Inquisition training scenario. Usually, we run it as a full seven-man squad with dragons. Solo runs without dragons are more a hazing ritual.”

  “A ritual designed to humble us, and make us rely on our air-born partners,” a wiry woman with blue scales along her arms said. She was leaning against the console, tapping the screen to replay the moment Riven blew up the fuel truck. “It usually ends at the plaza. Not many get past or away from the fifty warriors.”

  “Wait,” Riven frowned, looking between them. “So I wasn’t supposed to win?”

  “Win?” The wide, granite-skinned man snorted. It was a sound like rocks grinding together. “Kid, the last rookie we had was Vex and she lasted four minutes. You just spent lasted fifteen minutes and took out the Queen’s anchor.”

  Vex slapped Riven on the back, hard enough to knock the wind out of him again. “You beat the high score, newbie! Look at the leaderboard!”

  She pointed to the corner of the holographic display. A list of names scrolled down. At the very top, highlighted in gold, was PVT. HOLT.

  Right below it was SFC. PHILLEAN.

  Riven’s eyes widened. He looked at Phillean. “Sergeant? I... uh... sorry?”

  Phillean chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize for being competent, Holt. I’ve been trying to sever that tether solo for damn near three years. But I usually get killed by the floating scythes before I can drop her.”

  “Phillean gets grumpy when he misses,” Vex whispered loudly, leaning in toward Riven. “He threw his lance at the wall last month.”

  “I dropped it,” Phillean corrected smoothly, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “And I was one shot away from putting her on the ground.”

  He walked over to Riven and extended a hand.

  Riven took it. The Sergeant’s grip was like iron.

  “You have good instincts, Hammer,” Phillean said, his voice dropping the joking tone. “You used the environment around you. You adapted to the escalation in threat. But most importantly you didn’t freeze when facing a Ravager. That’s what I need in this squad.”

  “Even if I died?”

  “We all die in the sim,” Phillean shrugged. “The trick is making sure you don’t replicate that in real life and that you make the enemy hurts before you go down.”

  “He rode a Tank,” the blue-scaled woman said, still shaking her head as she watched the screen. “I still can’t get over the fact that the rode the Tank like a hoverboard.”

  “I asked it nicely,” Riven offered.

  “You screamed ‘Move it or lose it’ and hit it with the side of your lance,” Vex corrected, grinning. “It was like poetry in motion.”

  “Alright, fan club, settle down,” Phillean clapped his hands once. “The show is over. Holt, get out of the suit. Halloway just restocked the ship with fresh supplies.”

  Riven looked around the circle. They weren’t looking at him like a Dust Born. They weren’t looking at him like a charity case valedictorian. They were looking at him like he was one of them.

  “Steak?” Riven asked, his stomach suddenly grumbling as the adrenaline faded.

  “It’s real steak,” Vex promised, grabbing his shoulder and steering him toward the exit. “Come on. I need to tell you about the time Brick tried to punch a Behemoth.”

  “I slipped,” The grey stocky man grumbled, following them out.

  “Yea,” Vex waved him off. “Whatever you say little guy.”

  “I will crush you.” The man responded, “Let’s settle this in the sim.”

  “Another time.” Vex waved him off. “I’m hungry.”

  Vex turned Riven into the hallway and they began navigating the corridors of the Silent Verdict, and for the first time, Riven truly appreciated the architecture of the ship. The hallways were cavernous, built with vaulted ceilings and reinforced floors designed to accommodate creatures that weight as much as a tank.

  Two dragons could easily walk side by side here without brushing shoulders, a design choice that made the human walking down the center feel like children wandering through a giant’s castle.

  The oppressive, sterile silence of the ship melted away the further they went. The hum of the engines was replaced by the low thrum of conversation and the rhythmic clanking of silverware. And then, there was music. It wasn’t a military march or a solemn hymn to the Resonance. It was upbeat, synth-heavy Terran pop music thumping through the speakers, bubbly and completely at odds with the deadly warship they were standing on.

  “Is that… Star-Crossed Lovers?” Riven asked, recognizing the track from speakers the nobles had at the Academy.

  “It’s Halloway’s playlist.” Vex grinned, “He makes sure we are not only fat, but also happy before and after all our missions.”

  They rounded the final bulkhead and entered the mess.

  It was assault on the senses in the best possible way. The smell of roasted meat, garlic, and spices hit Riven like a physical wall, making his stomach roar in protest. The room was warm, paneled in dark wood that softened the harsh lighting of the ship. It was crowded, but not just with Lancers.

  At the far end, other squads were already eating, their dragons sitting beside them.

  Riven pause taking in the chaotic harmony. Massive reptilian heads dipped into specialiezed feeding troughs while their Lancers laughed and ate beside them. A sleek, green Kinetic dragon was currently using a single claw to delicately pick a piece of gristle out of its teeth while its Lancer argued with the guy next to him.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Come on, rookie.” Vex said, shoving a plate into his hands as they passed the buffet line. “Grabe the steak and you can ignore the green stuff. That’s just for show.”

  Riven loaded his plate, his eyes scanning the room until he found the Hammers.

  They had claimed a massive, circular table near the back. The seating arrangement was peculiar. The humans sat at the table, while their massive partners loomed behind them, their long necks allowing them to interact with the group without crushing the furniture.

  Riven saw Astrix immediately. She was smaller than the other behemoths, but denser, her matte black scales drinking in the light. She was crouched behind an empty seat, her silver eyes shimmering with amusement as Riven approached.

  You took your time, she projected, her voice cool and clear in his mind. But it seems as though it was productive.

  “I was busy dying,” Riven muttered to her, sliding into the seat next to Vex.

  “Alright, listen up,” Vex said, tapping her fork against her plate. She pointed it at Riven like a baton. “I know may have read about how the military works, but this is the Inquistion. We operate differently than most of what you may have heard, but it works and that’s why we do it.”

  She pointed her fork across the table to the pair sitting opposite them.

  “That’s the Boom Wing. Brick and his partner Bastion.”

  Brick, the granite-skinned man, was eating with mechanical efficiency of a strip-mining excavator. He didn’t look up. Beside him sat a dragon that looked like a living boulder.

  “Dull looking, and dull sounding, and overall just a dull guy.” Vex dodged the spoon that was through at her from said dull individual as she continued, “I can count the number of time Bastion has spoken on my hands, but every time it has saved my life. Next to them is Tora and Havoc.”

  Tora, the sharp featured woman with blue scales, waved a knife lazily. Her dragon, Havoc, was a cobalt blue warrior with a tail that ended in a heavy, spiked club.

  “Tora likes, well really, loves explosions,” Vex went on. “Havoc is basically a delivery system for Tora’s bad decisions. They work well together because when we need a hole in a wall, Brick makes it. And if we need to the wall to stop existing entirely, Tora handles it.”

  Riven nodded, trying to keep up. He looked to right of Vex.

  “That’s Control Wing,” Vex gestured to the pale man rubbing his temples. “Sylas and Halo.”

  Sylas looked at his food with grimace, one hand rubbing his temples. Sitting beside him was a pearl white dragon with eyes glowing with a soft light. The dragon had a literal halo made of its scales floating above its head. That was definitely a Radiant class dragon, too extra.

  “Sylas always looks like this, just has these chronic migraines. Halo’s job is to broadcast a psychic static to jam the Ravagers from communicating” Vex explained, “And the nervous guy next to him is Kaelo, and his dragon Viper.”

  Kaelo was looking at the ventilation duct as if he expected a bomb to drop out of it. His dragon, a long, serpentine creature with forest green scales, rather than sitting beside Kaelo was coiled around his chair like a constrictor snake.

  “Kaelo’s job is to make sure nothing stops Sylas from making sure the Ravagers stay confused.” Vex continued.

  “And that leaves us,” Riven said, looking at the empty space on Vex’s other side.

  “The Strikers,” Vex grinned, her canines flashing. “We are the tip of the spear. We go fast, we hit hard, and we look damn good while doing it.”

  A shadow fell over the table.

  Riven look up. Standing behind Vex was a dragon that looked like it had been forged in a volcano. It’s scales were a deep, violent crimson, jagged and rough like cooled lava. Riven could feel the heat through his suit that the dragon radiated off its body in waves.

  It lowered its massive head until it was level with Riven, it’s large golden eyes staring in his.

  “And this,” Vex said, leaning back and patting the dragon’s snout, “is my partner. Raze.”

  Riven blinked with slow, golden eyes. And Riven felt something pressing up against his mind, as if knocking or brushing. Riven opened up the door.

  It is a pleasure to meet you, Riven, Raze projected. The voice in Riven’s head was deep and resonant. Vex has been quite excited to finally have a wingman who can keep up with her.

  “Uh,” Riven blinked, looking from the terrifying dragon to the grinning redhead. “Pleasure to meet you too, Raze.”

  And don’t listen to Vex all the time, Raze added, dipping his head slightly. The potatoes are quiet excellent tonight.

  “Now that you are done with your little introduction Vex,” Phillean said to Riven’s left. “I have some important information for all of you. In around four hours we are headed to the Fringe. A science outpost has been overrun by a Ravager nest. We are to go into the lab, retrieve all data that was lost, and extract.”

  “How long is the mission.” Tora asked while taking another bite.

  “There are four stops along the way where we will be recharging for around a week each time.” Phillean answered. “During that time we will practice together in the Sims and get ready for training.”

  “Four weeks?” Riven asked, a frown creasing his brow. “Sergeant, if this is a data retrieval… and it’s overrun… doesn’t mean we have to go deep into Ravager territory?

  Phillean nodded, his expression serious. “Intel says the server is in the heart of the Hive. Stealth squads can’t get close enough to the Queen’s chamber without being sensed. They need a sledgehammer to crack the defenses open so we can grab the drive. That’s us.”

  Riven swallowed hard. The heart of the real hive. He had barely survived the simulation, and that was without the smell, the heat, and the real fear of death.

  “I’m a rookie, Sergeant,” Rive said quietly. “I don’t know if I’m ready to take out the heart of a nest.”

  “You aren’t” Phillean said bluntly. “Not yet. That is why we have four weeks. We will be running drill every time we drop out of FTL. By the time we get to the Fringe, you won’t be a rookie anymore. You’ll be a Hammer.

  “The other two squads will secure the outer perimeter of the outpost, but we are going into the center to get the data,” Phillean finished. “For now, finish up dinner and head back to your rooms, into your pods and seal up for the night. It’ll happen overnight so you all shouldn’t even feel it.”

  “Understood, Sir,” the squad chorused, the clatter of silverware ceasing instantly.

  The heavy wooden chairs scraped against the floor as the Hammers rose in unison. The relaxed atmosphere of the dinner evaporated, replaced by the professionalism of soldiers preparing for a mission. Riven wiped his mouth and stood, falling in step beside Vex as they cleared their trays and headed for the exit.

  The corridors outside the mess hall were quieter now. The thumping pop music had faded, leaving only the low, omnipresent hum of the Silent Verdict’s engines. The group split at the primary junction; Vex and Riven turned one way, with the rest going the other.

  Their dragons followed closely. Raze took up nearly half the width of the corridor, his crimson scales radiating a heat that Riven could feel even through his undersuit. Astrix moved silently beside him, her claws near silent in comparison to Raze on the deck plates.

  “So,” Vex said, breaking the silence. She walked with a loose, predatory stride, her hands clasped behind her head. “I heard you were Dust Born? You realize that makes you a unicorn in the Inquisition. Usually, they only recruit from the High Families or the crazy adrenaline junkies from the core worlds.”

  “I noticed,” Riven said. “The lack of family crests on my armor usually gives it away.”

  “That’s why we all have Hammers instead of crests. We are all on the same level here, other than rank which is earned solely through merit. And it’s not a bad thing to be dust born,” Vex grinned, glancing sideways at him. “Nobles are usually stiff and fight by the book. You fought out of the box. Riding a Tank? Using a fuel truck as a bomb? That is the kind of fighting that keeps you alive.”

  It was certainly... unorthodox, Raze projected. The massive red dragon’s said. Most Lancers attempt to outmaneuver the heavy armor of a Tank. You simply decided to become a part of its heavy armor. It was quite refreshing to watch.

  “See?” Vex nudged Riven with her elbow. “Raze likes you. And he usually thinks humans are too squishy to be interesting.”

  You are squishy, Raze corrected. I simply admire that you do not let your fragility stop you from throwing yourself at large objects.

  “Thanks, I think,” Riven muttered. He looked up at Raze. “Your partner has a very unique way of giving compliments.”

  “He’s a poet,” Vex laughed. “A giant, fire-breathing poet.”

  Riven is adequate, Astrix projected, her voice cutting in cool and sharp. But that ascent was dangerous. If you had fallen off, or a Flyer had taken you, or the Flyer you hijacked had dropped you, you would dead.

  Riven frowned at the black dragon. “But it worked. I didn’t die.”

  You were close, Astrix countered. You were more lucky than skilled at that point.

  “She’s a ray of sunshine, isn’t she?” Vex chuckled. They stopped in front of a heavy blast door marked with Vex’s name. “Alright, Riven. This is me. Last piece of advice. The cryo-fluid tastes like blue raspberry and battery acid, so keep your mouth closed when it fills up.”

  “Noted,” Riven said. “See you on the other side.”

  Vex disappeared into her room with Raze trailing behind her. The corridor suddenly felt very empty.

  Riven walked the last few meters to his own door. He palmed the lock, and it hissed open. The room was dim, illuminated only by the soft blue standby lights of the cryo-pod and the nesting pad.

  He stepped inside, and Astrix brushed past him, her sleek body moving like liquid shadow. She curled up on a heated nesting pad on the other side of the room, resting her chin on her front paws.

  Riven walked over to his bed to sit for a second before getting into the pod. He felt the fatigue now. The adrenaline of the simulation and the excitement of the dinner were wearing off, leaving his limbs heavy.

  Then he felt it.

  A sensation, like fingers rifling through a drawer in the back of his skull. Images flashed behind his eyes that he hadn’t summoned. The jagged skyline of his home colony. The smell of the filtration units in the orphan ward. The feeling of hunger he used to have when rations ran low.

  Your childhood was very... monochromatic, Astrix’s voice echoed in his head, thoughtful and detached. Grey sky. Grey dirt. Grey food. It explains why you are so drawn to the flash of explosions.

  Riven froze. He slammed his mental shields up, squeezing his eyes shut.

  “Stop,” Riven said aloud, his voice hard.

  The rifling sensation paused. Astrix lifted her head, her silver eyes blinking slowly.

  Stop what?

  “Stop looking,” Riven snapped, turning to face her. “You’re doing it again. You’re digging through my head like it’s a public library.”

  We are bonded, Astrix projected, her tone holding confusion. To fight effectively, I must understand you. Your memories provide the context behind who you are. If I know what you fear, I can protect you from it.

  “It’s not about protection,” Riven argued, stepping closer to the massive creature. “It’s about privacy. Just because we’re bonded doesn’t mean you get a free pass to watch the highlight reel of my life whenever you get bored. Those memories are mine.”

  Astrix tilted her head, the silver pools of her eyes swirling.

  You humans are strange, she mused. You crave connection, yet you build walls. In the void, there are no secrets. But... if this barrier is important to you, I will respect it.

  Riven exhaled, the tension draining out of his shoulders. “Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

  He turned back to the pod and hesitated, his hand resting on the glass latch.

  “You mentioned your brother,” Riven said quietly, not looking at her. “Back at the Academy. You said he was a Lancer in the Inquisition. How exactly did you end up here? It feels like there was a process to get here that we… at least myself, just skipped.”

  The silence that followed was heavy. The bond between them went dead. It was as if Astrix had pulled a plug.

  That is a story for another time, Astrix projected finally. Her mental voice was flat, devoid of the curiosity she had shown a moment ago. The jump is approaching. Sleep, Riven.

  She lowered her head and closed her eyes, effectively ending the conversation.

  Riven watched her for a moment, sensing the wall she had put up. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who wanted privacy.

  “Fair enough,” Riven whispered.

  He opened the pod and stepped inside. The glass hissed shut, sealing him in. A moment later, the vents at his feet opened, and the thick, viscous cryo-fluid began to rise. It was freezing cold. Vex was right; it smelled like chemical fruit.

  Riven took a final breath as the blue liquid rose past his chin. He let it fill his lungs, the panic flaring for a second before the sedatives washed it away.

  The world blurred. The blue light faded to black. And then, there was nothing.