Chapter 8

  The room I was in was dim, not dark per se, more of a pleasant sort of moody that only would become a problem when you tried to focus on small details, but that wasn’t an issue. Space was literally right there. Who could get hung up on little details when all of the cosmos was bare before you.

  The glass I was looking through was curved slightly, allowing me to step forward and attain the feeling of being surrounded by the stars. I didn’t do that, though. Tutorial instilled paranoia had me taking the more cautious approach to things lately. I forced myself to look away from the starscape and hunt for an exit, finding only a heavy metal airlock type door behind me with a blue ‘5’ on the left side. There were no controls evident anywhere, no touch pads or switches, just smooth metal bulkheads and solid blue paint. There were no vents to be seen either, but the air was moving all the same, preventing the room from feeling stuffy. Detect Iron told me there were little gaps between the plates of the floor and ceiling that allowed for air flow.

  Still… space. I’d never been to space. It’s not that I was never given the chance to go. I’d had a few. Opportunities for Outers kids were scarce but not non-existent. In fact, I was pretty sure I remembered our school scraping together enough money to tour Proxis’ orbital station once. I hadn’t attended. The accident had robbed me of the desire to do much of anything for months after the fact. After that, I’d thrown myself into other pursuits.

  Now I was being presented with a panoramic view of just… everything, billions of stars so vivid against the vast curtain of black. There was a cluster of faint pink nebulas that took up a good fifth of the window too, a rare thing to see for a guy that grew up in atmo. There was a flash, then a series of blinking blue lights from a cluster of shadowy objects almost under my feet. There was an answering series of flashes from another sector of space on my left.

  No way. Those are running lights on ships.

  I leaned forward to get a better look, to see what shape they were, what model, if they were atmo capable… anything. The excitement of getting to see honest to Constance marvels of engineering in action pulled my body forward as surely as a jump point pulled on my insides, but a big gray box of text appeared in front of me as soon as I took a single step, a box not from the System but directly on the glass.

  I blinked and moved my head, trying to see around the box to get a peak at the ships, but the thing’s intrusive presence made me lose track of the craft I’d spotted. The child-like wonder I’d been experiencing faded in the face of.. Whatever this was.

  The Concordat welcomes you to Sabium, Chosen.

  What is the nature of your visit?

  Several options appeared underneath the window in rounded bubbles, blinking slowly as if begging to be touched.

  Commerce

  Communication

  Experience

  Other

  Each word was accompanied by a little pictogram that helped convey its meaning. Commerce had a little coin icon while communication had an archaic paper letter with a single folded corner. Experience, however, had a little goblin stick figure with long ears and Xs over its eyes.

  Considering how I was an honorary goblin and one of my best friends was a goblin, I didn’t find it as cute as it was obviously intended to be.

  There was no mention of this school I was meant to attend. Though it probably had something to do with experience and the getting thereof, I got the impression that the learning experience was more comprehensive than that. What’s more, it was exclusive. They wouldn’t put that on the first page of their welcome program, I guessed.

  I reached out and poked ‘Other.’ There was a gentle ‘boop,’ and the display changed.

  What name will you be using for your stay?

  The phrasing struck me as odd. What name would I be using? Why not just ask my name?

  Context, Ryan. What do we know?

  So far, I knew this place was a school. A school in space. Nett had mentioned it was ‘the belly of the beast’ too, whatever that meant. A school in space meant I was on a ship or an installation.

  Mr. White had mentioned the Families and how they played a huge role in this place… together. Given what I knew, that was unusual. Even though they liked to put on a unified front for the general public, it had long been common knowledge that the Families were as divided and dysfunctional as any other sufficiently large group of people. Their infighting had gotten so bad, the worst of it had even graduated from Net conspiracy theory to accepted truth a full generation ago. Trade wars, extortion, blackmail, even assassinations weren’t unheard of when it came to Chosen conflicts. There was even a section of my History textbook dedicated to it all, which, I was sure, rankled the Families that still cared about their public image.

  The Families were, conceptually, powerful bloodlines of Exotics whose sole purpose was walking the path to power to elevate humanity and bring prosperity to all mankind. In practice, they were cartels with political, economic, and social power that the CA had precious little control over.

  And this school is meant to be a place for all of them…

  Maybe using a pseudonym was considered normal here, a way to keep yourself from being targeted by rivals.. That could work to my advantage. However, would the school even see me if I didn’t give them my name? How would they know to accept me?

  Wait, did they even know I was coming?

  White would have to contact the CA who would then contact this school, and I didn’t think White had an opportunity to do that yet. I was literally the first guy off planet with a data can-

  A sudden realization hit me, and it hit me hard.

  Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

  The data canister I currently had in my inventory was the only communication that had left Proxis in the past 24 hours, the entire contents of the planet’s data net including all interplanetary communication, and I’d just sabotaged the jump so that no one else was getting out for weeks.

  Did we just completely screw ourselves, Ryan? We might just have screwed ourselves.

  Suddenly, laying low and using an adopted name didn’t sound so bad, at least until word arrived that I belonged here… whenever that would be.

  I tapped my finger on my chin, thinking. I’d always liked old Earth mythology. Maybe I could…

  The program didn’t seem amused.

  Checking availability…

  Are you sure you wish to use this name?

  This question will not be asked again, and you are expected to use this name for any communications for the duration of your stay.

  A kernel of doubt tried to sprout in my mind, but I squashed it immediately. The name I’d picked was cool. I was just reading too much into a mindless questionnaire.

  Please wait. Transport in progress.

  Suddenly, the room lurched, and the starfield rotated in front of me. I stumbled slightly only just catching myself before I fell on my face. Mechanical whirring came from the ceiling and the walls. My view spun, the stars shooting past until they reached a new, set orientation, only this time they took a backseat to something equally wondrous.

  I had been mistaken. I wasn’t actually on the space station. The space station was out there, massive, truly massive. The amount of time and material it had to have taken to build this thing was impossible for a single man to truly wrap his head around.

  It was a cylindrical thing, much longer than it was wide, its proportions resembling a couple of soda cans taped together in the middle. The edges of the cylinder were flared like satellite dishes, their lips curving upward until the end appeared concave. The top and bottom of the station were a patchwerk of white painted metal broken up with the occasional ring of glossy solar panels that looped around the girth of the structure. Meanwhile, the center, where the two halves seemed to meet in a tangled knot of tubes, support girders, and thick, insulated conduit, encircled a shining orb that flickered and pulsed strong enough to have me shield my eyes.

  The pod I was in approached the station at a quick pace. The structure rapidly grew in my field of view until it took up the entire thing, and I started to see individual windows dotting the white surface that I previously took to be perfectly smooth. Other blemishes appeared as well, ragged holes and black smudges where something had done damage to the structure. Bug-like construction tugs flitted to and fro on segmented legs or using their tiny propulsion thrusters to maneuver. Their forward mounted welders sparked and flashed as they worked.

  Before long, the surface of the station resolved into a hangar bay wreathed in blinking lights. My pod turned, showing me the stars again until I felt the pod touch down on solid ground. There was a hiss from behind me, as the door’s hydraulics released their locks.

  The quiet that I’d grown accustomed to in my time here was suddenly gone, replaced by a cacophony of activity. Metal clanked, people shouted, heavy boots clomped over metal decking, and unseen welding torches hissed while the air smelled of acrid fumes and exhaust.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  The metal door clanged as it reached its apex above me.

  Blinking at the sudden brightness, I took a tentative step outside. The hangar bay was a big one, big enough to hold multiple ships, three currently. An angular, winged thing with a pointed nose and what looked like missile mounts hanging from its underbelly squatted on the deck like a bird of prey, jets of white steam venting from its maneuvering thrusters. Meanwhile, two boxy transports were disgorging themselves of passengers, rough looking people that gave off a military vibe, though none of them wore ‘uniforms’ per se. Support crews clomped by in high visibility vests and belts, dragging mech-barrows along with heavy looking equipment piled in the back.

  None of them paid me any mind. In fact, they all seemed to do their best to keep from making eye contact with me at all or look my way. No one seemed ready to give me directions either. My pod, one of several lined up on the deck next to one another, no longer had the blinking text box on the glass, so that avenue for information was out.

  An angry voice cut through the rest of the din, high, bordering just this side of shrill.

  “I don’t care what your orders are. We have travelled for a week to get here, and now this. I don’t care what you have told the others. I am a Nova. You see that, yes?”

  My eyes fell on a crowd of… well, we’ll call them people, but to clarify, these people were an odd bunch. First of all, they were all men, massive dudes that looked like they spent all their time in the gym, all bulging arms and wide shoulders. I knew their sex because they all wore red and black form fitting bodysuits that left little to the imagination except in the parts they’d covered with similarly black and red armored plating, mostly the vital parts like the upper torso, thighs and head. All of them were armed as well, with multiple axes hanging from their belts.

  “I understand that, sir, but the Academy’s rules are clear,” a clearly tired and frustrated male said from somewhere behind the bodybuilder club. Mention of the Academy drew me nearer, though I really didn’t want to get caught up in whatever this was.

  Once I got close enough the armored figures at the very back of the gaggle turned as one to look me up and down, hands on weapons and identical no nonsense expressions. In fact, their expressions were… exactly identical. Uncannily so. They all had chiseled jaws, thick, imposing eyebrows, and heavy lidded eyes. They even wore the same contemptuous sneer.

  Once they looked me over and made sure that, on no uncertain terms, I knew I was beneath them, they turned back to observe the drama at the front of the crowd. The way they did it all in sync was also off putting.

  Did they grow these guys in a vat or what?

  The high strung voice split the air yet again.

  “An Audit!? This is ridiculous?!”

  “I admit, it has never happened in my lifetime, sir, but it is explicitly written into the charter. Once the audit’s called, we are obligated to carry it out. I’ll also reiterate that I’m not in charge of when it’s enforced,” the tired man replied, his voice strained.

  “Don’t lecture me on the charter, dullard. I have Family that helped write the damned thing!”

  I stood on my tiptoes, trying to see over the others, but I didn’t make it past their shoulders. I wasn’t a short guy, but these giants had me beat in pretty much every dimension. With a little jump, I caught a brief glimpse of a blonde crown of hair attached to another largely proportioned guy, leaned over a collapsible desk. He was mean mugging a lone security guard in padded patrol gear and wearing a lieutenant's insignia. The look on his face was the picture of professional indifference, but his posture said he was an inch from throwing up his hands and filing for early retirement.

  The security guard seemed to fail at suppressing a frustrated sigh. “Yes, sir. I wouldn’t attempt to lecture you. As for how we are handling this, currently enrolled students have priority, as they may be in the midst of time sensitive studies or quests. Then will come new hopefuls like yourself. Until this can be sorted out, all we can do is direct you to your Family’s holdings.”

  “My Family does not bother with holdings on this station, moron. How am I to find lodging for myself and my servants? Much less my sister.” He gestured to a much smaller figure in the middle of all the burly hatchetmen, and the gaggle parted for her. This girl, the big dude’s sister, was also blonde with long, straight hair that she wore in a braid, but where her brother was blocky and severe, she seemed demure, some of the hard edges a bit softer, more graceful and feminine, accentuated by the flowing dress she wore. If one could get over the size disparity, it wouldn’t be a huge leap to guess they were related. She, however, did not speak. In fact, her mouth was set in a tight line, and her gaze bore a hole in the floor.

  “In that case, if you are still opposed to bunking in the guard barracks, I might suggest you get multiple rooms on deck 12 or 13. Of course, that is up to you. I wouldn’t think to tell you what to do,” the security guard ground between his teeth before adding: “Sir.”

  The big blonde seemed to feed off the other man’s frustration. He towered over the guard, leaning into his space. “I suggest you mind your tone, or perhaps my Family will find themselves with cause to purchase holdings on this station afterall. It would only be a matter of time before you’d be reporting to me.”

  The lieutenant craned his neck to look into the blonde’s eyes. “I will keep that in mind, sir, though if you’ll refer to your history, you’ll find our Families have already… collaborated.”

  That seemed to strike a chord between the two.

  “Ah, Marshals,” the lead musclehead sniffed haughtily, straightening up and raising his chin. “Of course. I suppose wherever there are menial tasks to be done, there you people are. Has the Academy fallen so far that we need to resort to rock farming upstarts for security? What would a real Family do with your contract, I wonder?”

  The Marshals. They were already here? Why? Were they here for me? No, that couldn’t be. This guy was working a job. Plus, I was first off the planet with the exception of Philipe… unless I was just assuming that. It was possible they sent multiple couriers out into the multiverse when White sprung me from captivity. If they discovered me, what would they do?

  I looked back at my pod that had brought me to the station. It didn’t look like a ship. In fact, it had clamps on its roof that looked like it would connect to a crane or some other kind of lifting mechanism. Not something I could hijack to get back to the jump point. Given enough time, maybe I could find a tug or-

  The lieutenant took the insult in stride but only just. He steepled his fingers and spoke between clenched teeth. “We do what needs to be done, Mr. Nova, including mixing it up with the rabble and spoiled fruit dropped from tangled family trees. Perhaps you should consider dropping the pretense and just rent a single room,” he said, emphasizing the final words with a slight tilt of his head and a glance back at the rest of the Exotics.

  The big Nova’s gloved hand slammed down on the collapsible table. The material snapped in half, sending papers, pens, and data sticks flying into the air, and the world held its breath.

  Everyone involved knew that a tipping point had just been reached. Hands reached for weapons.

  The security guard sensed this too. He’d pushed too hard, bruised the wrong ego. Fear widened his eyes, and his hands trembled as he stood from his ruined work table. He put up his hands to call for calm or perhaps to shield himself from what was coming. It was too late, though. Things had gone too far. Axes slipped from the gathered throng’s belts.

  “Now, Marshal. Perhaps you’d like to restart our conversation starting with an apology. This time, I suggest you consider your position in relation to mine,” The Nova’s tone was dangerous, quivering like a wire under tremendous tension. He took a long step forward, remaining in the lieutenant's personal space even as the other man backed away.

  I really didn’t want to take part in this. I took a quick step back, willing Stealth and Gray Man to-

  The security guard’s head twisted, zeroing in on the incongruous motion.

  “You,” he said. He had the look of a man grasping for a lifeline. “Can I help you?”

  Everyone turned my way, seven identical faces, one demure woman, and one desperate law man.

  Suddenly, I was very aware of how filthy I was.

  The security guard repeated the question. “Can I help you, sir? Are you alright? Do you need a healer?”

  “Uh-” was my reply, my eyes darting from face to face, finding no friends or a way out.

  The big blonde scoffed. “There’s nothing wrong with him that wouldn’t be cured by a bath… or several. Wait your turn little man,” he said, dismissing me and turning back to his prey.

  The security guard was undeterred, however. He was a drowning man, and I was a piece of driftwood. He beckoned me. “W- We’ll get you all taken care of, sir. If you’ll come this way, uh…” He slipped a datapad out of his pocket and tapped on it, his hands still shaking, eyes darting through lines of text. “We’ll get you processed and on your way, Mr… uh- Mechromancer?” He grimaced hard enough that it must have caused him physical pain.

  Again, everyone turned my way. This time, their gazes held judgement.

  My cheeks burned. Hearing it said out loud was, admittedly, less cool than it looked on paper. Someday, I was going to have a proper supervillain name. I’d workshop it.

  An arm shot out to block me from coming forward, even though I had no intention of doing so.

  “Uh.” I cleared my throat nervously.

  Please, System, help me out here.

  What I’d told the gate guard on Proxis popped into my head. I was transporting cargo, officially, wasn’t I?

  “Yes. I’m… uh… Mr. Mechromancer. I’m a… sort of… merchant,” I said hastily. “I sell stuff… and also buy stuff.”

  Smooth. There’s that high Deception skill going to work.

  The look on the security guard’s face fell even further into despair, leading me to believe I had said something wrong.

  The beach bod brigade all laughed, while the leader shook his head, grinning cruelly as he turned back to the lieutenant. “Hear that? He’s not enrolling. So, he can wait for his betters.”

  A towering presence sidled up to me. “You want to live? Piss off,” one of the meat slabs said. Holy hell, they even sounded identical.

  The security guard wasn’t ready to give up yet, though. “Come on then- Sirr. We can offer you a stall and storage space for your goods. I’ll show you-.”

  There it was. He wasn’t just using me as a distraction. He was, in a way, calling for help. No, I didn’t want to get involved, but, then again…

  The blonde Nova’s face turned red. I wasn’t quite sure, but I thought I saw him cast a quick glance over at his taciturn sister before he spoke again. “Did you not hear me? We’re not done here.”

  “I have to attend to other arrivals. Please,” the security guard begged. His eyes flitted over my way again, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly, but that was the only indicator that he regretted throwing me to the wolves.

  “What new arrivals are those?” the leader asked flatly.

  Suddenly, a pair of strong hands landed on my shoulders, squeezing the outside and lifting up slightly until I was forced to get on my tiptoes. The meaty Nova had a strained look on his face as well as a good dose of surprise. I didn’t blame him. I was a heavy guy.

  Behind the guy that grabbed me, something metal and plastic shattered under the weight of a heavy blow.

  “Nova or not, I can put all of you in the cells if you go around assaulting Chosen.” the security guard protested, his voice bordering on a shriek.

  “No. You really can’t. I hope you’ll take this as a learning experience, Marshal. Lambs should cower in the presence of wolves.”

  His tone promised terrible things. Things I couldn’t abide, even if I was stepping up to defend a probable enemy. “He’s just doing his job,” I shouted, staring into my helmeted goon’s eyes while angling my head so that everyone could hear me. “Leave him alone.”

  The goon that grabbed me gave me a contemptuous shove, not hard by my standards but enough to get me to notice and reroute my train of thought, but when I didn’t move or look sufficiently intimidated, the big guy seemed to take this as a personal affront. So, mouth open, brows furrowed, he did what any big, strong tough guy would do. He hauled back with a fist and hit me with a big, stupid right hook.

  His armored glove hit my metal forearm with a clang, glancing off to the side harmlessly. His vacant, slightly affronted expression became even more so. Then he tried again.

  This one, I caught on my palm, but he’d put some oomph into his second attempt. Even though I’d technically ‘blocked’ it by catching it in my prosthetic, my bones rattled around in my core as the force of the blow travelled through my body. My boots slid back an inch or so on the deck, and my whole body tingled like I’d just had a full body massage via meat tenderizer.

  What really threw me for a loop, however, was the System message.

  Consume Glyph of Growth(Major)? Y/N

  What? Glyph of… Did I just catch a spell?

  But that’s when the second fist made contact with my jaw, not from the meathead in front of me, but from the guy’s brother who had joined the fight.

  Boomph. Fist met face. Hard.

  You take 22 damage (bludgeoning).

  You are stunned.

  My vision flashed, and the world spun on its axis. Did space stations spin? Some of them did, right? I needed to look that up. It certainly felt like it was spinning.

  Wow. I was in space. Having a fight. I was in a space fight. That should have concerned me, but, for some reason, it didn’t. It was a problem for future Ryan.

  You take 30 damage (bludgeoning).

  You take 28 damage (bludgeoning).

  Everything became a whirling merry go round of cruel laughter and blunt force trauma.

  Hey. Thanks for giving In my Defense a chance. New chapters will be posted Tuesdays and Thursdays, eventually ramping up depending on the amount of interest we can generate here.

  As of right now, Patreon is about 30k words ahead of Royal Road. Additionally, patrons have the dubious honor of access to my audio tracks where I do silly voices and pretend to know what I’m doing.