A Judas of the Past

“Everyone has a role to play. Even those who only serve to defy, destroy, or use you. Without them, there would be no motivation for glory. Without them, there would be no heroes.” – Dr. Ace Gunpool, founder of BioMech

GLAD Academy, Sector 3 Training Grounds

“Every cadet has two options in life.”

 A sandy eyed cheetah, pale and predatory, scanned the rows of trembling recruits like she was measuring prey. 

“Option one: failure.”

Her slender tail flicked side to side, her boots clipping the metal deck in sharp, measured strides. “

It is the easier of the two options,” she went on, circling. “It is the option many of you will succumb to by choice or force.” 

If any recruit had been full of hope or determined will at the beginning of today, they would by now have thought better of their idiocy. 

“Option two, the path of victors and legends, is a grueling, treacherous hellscape. It is filled with strife, pain, and sacrifices. Those of you who survive long enough to reach such levels will be amongst a small percentage of those who came before you.”

She stopped pacing, long enough to stare directly at them. The silence hung like a blazing sun, too bright for them to stare back.

 “Forty thousand new recruits arrived today. Before you stepped into this auditorium, we had already dismissed seventy-five percent. Of those left, only five percent will persevere long enough to place a soldier’s uniform onto their shoulders.” 

Her face became even more stern, if that were even truly possible.

“Of those few, it is unlikely even ten percent will be alive five years later. We will spend more time, energy, and credits burying our dead than we will on most other measures combined. That means of the two hundred or so who make it into the ranks of officers, you will have shown your merits. However, you will still likely fail to make a scratch within a dent when it comes to true revery.”

Her voice matched the vibe her face had set.

 “Yet, the council urges us to pluck and measure each of your feathers. For once in a rare lifetime, we will find someone worthy of the glory we all strive for.”

A slender hand sporting nimble, furry fingers prodded Reck in the side. 

He nearly yelped, but right before the biggest blunder of his very short military career, he remembered where he was, and clamped his lips tightly. His eyes snapped sideways, full of fire, already high on emotion with his gut twisted to knots, he felt no desire for confrontation. 

“What was that for?” he hissed, his voice low but biting.

Twenty rows back from the officers, Reck had been fixated on the massive projector screen hovering above. Every syllable rolling from the cheetah’s tongue had landed with weight. Only when he tore his eyes away did he realize how deeply he’d been absorbing every word. 

“Do you think she is pretending to be pretentious or that she really buys the drivel she’s attempting to sell us?” 

Reck wondered why anyone would speak in such a way about an enlisted comrade. Had this rat been dropped on its head? Reck almost replied, then thought better of it. What if this was a ploy? 

There were always rumors of secret tests. Plants among the cadets only posing as first-years. Some claimed that failure to report or respond to insubordination was its own trap. 

Straightening his spine, Reck squared his shoulders and turned his focus back to the screen, willing the tension from his jaw. 

But the second time the rat’s flimsy fingertips drummed his torso, it wasn’t shock he felt. He felt a rage.

It coursed over every scale, settling behind his tone like a wick ready for ignition.

“If you have a problem with the way she speaks,” Reck said, voice steady and low, “you should reevaluate the position you are in. I’d suggest returning your uniform to the nearest drop-off post. Then, I would assume any soldier would happily assist you in relieving yourself from duty.” 

He didn’t add that they’d likely do so in a manner that was both unpleasant and life-shortening. That part was implied. 

Reck had strived every single day of his life for this moment. This place. This chance at a uniform. Anyone who failed to grasp the magnitude, thinking this was just another job, had no place among those who’d die for something greater than themselves.

“Sorry,” the rat mumbled. “Was only trying to make a little light-hearted conversation.

Reck ignored the apology. Either the rat would come to terms with the seriousness of this place, or he’d perish long before Reck bothered to learn his name.

2.

“Imagine starting your day like any other,” General Soder said, “only to find the highest-ranked general in GLAD’s military infiltrating your own ship.” He laughed once, dry and sharp. “If I ever tell this story, my comrades will laugh in my face for its grandiosity.” 

Gold swallowed the lump preventing his response. Then, he realized he just had nothing to say. There was truth to General Soder’s statement. 

No one would believe this without outright proof. 

Unfortunately, Soder would have all the evidence he needed when he hauled Gold and Arker before the council.

“You know the thing I hate most about impromptu meetings?” Arker asked, slicing through the silence.

“I am hoping the answer has something to do with how much it spoils such a hairbrained attempt,” Soder said, shaking his head slowly, long whiskers bouncing with every motion. “Without a shred of a chance at it succeeding, I might add. Though, I have a sneaking suspicion you’re going to say something else, confirming your naivety.” 

Gold focused his attention on Soder’s vibrantly pink nose. It twitched, tasting the air like some scavenger. As always, the rat tasted the air in ways only a bottom feeder could. 

How Soder had sniffed them out was a mystery. But judging from Arker’s rigid posture, she hadn’t expected this encounter anymore than he had. At least that much had gone his way. Even so the results wouldn’t change. On his march to the void, he could rest easy knowing his intuition about following Arker’s plan hadn’t been completely foolish.

“Well,” Arker said, shrugging one shoulder, “I agree it does spoil the initial plan. Your presence here wasn’t part of the blueprints for plan A. However, as you know, as far back as first year cadet training, we were instilled with a heavy emphasis on always having a plan B.” 

Soder’s nose stopped twitching. 

His eyes, which had been casually sweeping the chamber, snapped toward Arker, locking in. Her own eyes gleamed. She smiled, a wide, disarming grin, and gave a subtle wink, as if she had expertly trapped him in some invisible web only her eyes could see.

“You are on my ship…” Soder began, voice tighter now.

Then came the pop.

A thunderclap of light and sound swallowed them.

3.

Three months may not have been an eternity, but every painstaking day felt like it could be Reck’s last. Every fiber in him strained under the tension of rigorous training. From before sun-up to well past sundown they were drilled into withered husks of flesh and bone. Though the concept of a time measured by a single sun was little more than a borrowed story from some ancient religious text.

Reck slipped onto the bench of a mostly empty cafeteria table. With any luck, he’d avoid contact with anyone. Three bites into his half-soggy, half-stone sandwich, a meek voice interrupted him.

“Would you mind if we sat together again? There is no room anywhere else in here, and I’d honestly rather sit with someone than alone, if you can spare me some company?”

Reck gave a vague lift of his chin to show indifference. 

Most of the first-year cadets had weeded out by now. The cheetah officer’s words, about how few would last, proved to be eerily clairvoyant. Despite that, the mess hall proved to be too small to find solace or solitaire.

Sitting in silence lasted only long enough for Reck to snatch another bite. With his mouth full, the rat across from him took advantage.

“I see you in training,” the rat said. “You look so determined. I wish I had the same stamina.”

Reck remembered the day they met. There had been a certain air of entitlement. An unearned sense of destiny, like he’d been chosen, preordained for greatness. He’d dismissed the cheetah officer’s warnings as folly, ensured he’d outshine the rest. 

Now, here he sat. Duller each day. Diminishing. 

And still, he returned daily to this table. To Reck.

Reck spared him no pity. He was like all the others here. They would harden…or burn out. There was no middle ground. 

Reck swallowed the stale concoction the kitchen dared called nutrition. Meager though it was, the calories kept him semi-functional. Without them, holding onto his seat would be harder come tomorrow.

“Well, if it isn’t Limbless and Meek. You know, you two actually make the perfect pair.”

Reck didn’t need to look up to know the source of the insults. Cadet Eager’s voice grated like rusted gears.

“Rat boy here’s the limbs of the operation” Eager sneered, “if only he could spare one for you huh, Limbless?”

Not all the suffering came at the behest of the training officers. As it would happen, they were only one of the obstacles Reck faced daily. Being limbless left him with few advantages, none, really, aside from an unshakable drive to slither out of the burden of his circumstances. The condition of his birth had left him with a steep climb. The motivation it brought gave him all he needed to get to the top of that mountain. 

However, if there was ever any risk of him forgetting his impairments, Cadet Eager would always be there to remind him.

“Thank you for that astute observation,” Reck replied cooly, dropping the rest of his sandwich onto his plate. It was mostly crust now, jagged, bone-dry, and more likely to tear the roof of his mouth than nourish him. “Maybe you will be recruited into research and discovery with a brain like that.” 

“Hilarious!” Eager squawked, using the tip of his feathered wing to mock slapping his boney leg. “Your mere existence is a stain on the name of GLAD. In my estimation, you will get your soldier tags at about the same time you magically sprout limbs.”

Tilman and Holland, his ever-loyal lackies, roared with squawking laughter, their much smaller wings clutched around their white plumage in a dramatic display of hysterics. 

More than anything else about first year training, Reck hated them. All three of them equally. Like the vultures they were, they circled those they believed weaker, feasting on the scraps of their dignity.

Their antics always drew the eyes of the mess hall or training grounds.

In their minds, they believed rank came from how many cadets they could get to cower.

Reck had no intention of cowering. 

“I would inform you of my estimation,” Reck said, casually flicking his gaze to the crusted leftovers, “but by the time you registered what it meant, I would be a general and you would be still sitting here drooling.” 

Eager lunged.

Reck noticed the shift too late, there was no chance for dodging. But just as the distance between them vanished, a familiar voice rang out. 

“On your feet, Cadets.”

Training Officer O’Paul strode into the mess hall, boots clicking with purpose.

Had he arrived two seconds later, Reck had no doubt he’d be on the floor under Eager.

O’Paul’s voice carried as he moved past without breaking stride. “Today we start testing your mettle against the pod racers. Congratulations, you’ve survived long enough to start the real training.

4.

Silence. Not the kind preferred by someone destined for their bunk and yearning for the sweet release of sleep. This was the kind that made it feel like the entire world had been vacuumed of sound and substance, leaving out light. Gold shielded his eyes by pure instinct alone. His body failed to register anything else. A shoulder pressed into his chest. His armor absorbed the blow, keeping him upright. A sharp ringing vibrated through his er canals. 

In the moments that followed, Gold had no certainty whether he was alive or dead. Nothing made sense. His vision was useless, and his hearing reduced to dull, aching pressure.

There were stories, from as far away as the planet of dragons, called Sincho, to the depths of the water worlds of Wavea, about life flashing before one’s eyes at the moment of death. Gold had always wondered what he would see. A childhood memory? A great victory? A lover’s embrace? But if this were it, if he was truly about to leave this life behind, he was disappointed to find his mind a blank slate. 

There were no grand memories. No loved ones. Not even a regret. 

There was nothing. 

Although, one thing did fit. There was a light. But unlike the myths, Goldn had no urge to go toward it. With his every fiber, he wanted nothing more than to remove himself from its pull. 

The moment the thought sunk in, the world crashed back into him like a freefall. His senses returned with the force of a thousand-pound vengeance. He stumbled backward. He might have been grateful to find his mech legs worked again, had his skull not been splitting with the siren like roaring pulsing through it. 

From somewhere that sounded impossibly distant, a voice reached him.

“We can still get away. You have to get moving!”

Gold didn’t hear it clearly, the words drowned in the static, but he recognized the wide eyes, agape mouth, and the adrenaline-swollen frame. Arker was screaming.

His vision remained blurry, black dots floating like a swarm of gnats, but he could still read her lips.

Years of training overtook him. Habit. Survival instinct. Muscle memory. Whatever it was, it kept him alive. Pure will surged through him. Gold gripped Arker around the waist, hoisted her up, turned, and sprinted for the far wall. 

Those who hesitated, gave into the calls of death. They would be buried and forgotten. Gold refused to be amongst their ranks. He had worked far too hard to go out in such a trivial way.

Arker screamed.

No thoughts made sense in the garbled chaos of his brain. With a single motion he tossed Arker into the ducts. Then he followed, leaving behind whatever chaos she’d just unleased. 

5.

Fatigue was too soft a word for the wreckage that had become Reck’s body. Over the last eleven months, the officers made it their mission to break every cadet into fragments. Those who survived the conditioning, as they called it, were lucky.

 Reck didn’t feel lucky. Anyone who convinced themselves this was lucky had been hit too many times in their heads.

“Those of you who stand before us have reached the shadow of the final trial” the cheetah officer said. Her voice was even, nearly bored. “Come tomorrow morning, the final selection begins. Retrieve a sliver of Luminalium and bring it back to this station, and you will be transferred to second year training immediately. Die trying, and you will be added to the ledger of Almosts. Return empty-handed, and you’ll be reassigned to planetary law enforcement. Which, if you ask me, is a fate worse than the Almosts.” 

Reck had grown so accustomed to her brand of foreboding that it had become strangely soothing. If he could hear her voice, it meant he was still alive.

Luminalium would change everything though. Anyone who retrieved even a grain of it would be allowed to keep it. In second-year training, cadets would learn how to refine it and to mold armor, weapons, or tools of survival. 

Reck would use it to forge the limbs he was not afforded upon birth. Then, no one will have any reason to shun or pity him.

“Only one more sleep,” Meek said from beside him.

Reck hated the nickname. It had been Eagar’s doing, of course. But the rat only answered to it now, like some badge of honor. He claimed he would reveal his real name only when he’d proven himself. As noble as it seemed, Reck shuddered to think how much influence Eagar had. 

“Yeah,” Reck replied. “One more.” 

The cadets were dismissed, sent off to their last night on the station no matter the outcome. Reck wanted nothing more than to return to his pod, give it a last once over. But the officers forbade it. They drilled into them how this time was better used to clear their minds, rest their bodies, and prepare themselves. Reck doubted a single cadet would sleep a wink, but they were probably right. Stressing over every potential catastrophe would leave them mentally fatigued in a time when they needed all their faculties. 

“You should think about sitting this one out, Limbless.” 

Reck grimaced. Of course. Eagar. As if summoned by hatred alone. 

Reck thought about walking away. But, if knew anything, it was that Eagar wouldn’t limp off into the background just because Reck wanted him to.

“A front row seat to your failure is something I could never miss,” Reck said, spinning around. “The only question I have is this: will you falter and join the book of Almosts. That would be a marvelous end. However, I think better still would be seeing you cower, sent off to some backwater planet to patrol their streets like the pathetic sack of sh…”

Eagar’s wing moved fast; silver and gray.

 But as fast as Eagar was, Reck pushed himself every single day to prevent moments just like these. 

A quick duck and roll to his right left Reck right behind Eagar. With a burst of strength, he drove his head into Eager’s chest. A loud squawk shot from Eager’s hooked beak as the air escaped his lungs. 

Reck didn’t get a second strike.

 Talons sank into his sides. Sharp pain radiated through his scales. He hissed as the claws tore through his uniform. He should have known Eager’s lackies would be nearby.

“Don’t kill him!”

Meek came around the corner yelling as if he could save anyone. With three steps Eagar grabbed him, slammed him hard into the wall, and pinned him with a booted talon.

“We won’t kill either one of you,” Eagar said, looming over Reck. “I want to watch what is to come more than I’ve ever wanted to see anything else. Tomorrow morning, the stain of such a pathetic cadet will be struck from the annals of time. I will make it my purpose to scribble atop your name before the ink dries. You deserve nothing and that is what you will receive.” 

Eagar let go of Meek and leaned closer to Reck. “I am only saddened by one thing. Your pod will block the last look upon your face as your miserable life leaks away. But nothing can be done about it. I will suffice with the thought that for the rest of my storied existence, I was the one who prevented you from blemishing something so precious.”

Then with a theatrical flair, he spit in Reck’s eye, turned and walked away; his lackies in tow. 

Reck heard Meek sobbing a few feet away. Out of all the friends he could have made here, he was saddled with the weakest. How Meek had made it this far was a testament to those who believed luck ruled the world. 

Reck stood, hauling Meek up by the collar, he sat him on his feet. Then he made his way to the mess hall. If nothing else, Reck would fill his stomach for potentially the final time.

6.

A dozen soldiers aimlessly roamed the hanger, rifles out, searching for the source of the explosion. 

Soder must have told no one where he would be. Odd. Soder had always been a schemer. He worked by nibbling, plotting, and scurrying as needed. To act so brashly? It wasn’t like him. 

But that mystery would have to wait. Right now, survival took precedence.

Arker’s hand wrapped around Gold’s collar, yanking him from his thoughts.

“You can die later. On your own time. Right now, we have to get back to your ship!”

She moved fast, trying to blend speed with stealth. The combination was never meant to go together. Two soldiers spotted her before she made it halfway.

Gold cursed and moved to intercept. The race to escape had officially begun.

 While the soldiers were distracted by Arker’s pitiful attempts to persuade them of her dockworker credentials, Gold slipped behind them. His movements were swift, efficient enough to surprise even himself, given how long it had been since he’d done the dirty work personally. 

A flurry of precise strikes sent the soldiers to the grated floor at his feet, unconscious.

 The guns they carried found their way into Gold’s hands. He handed one to Arker and kept the other.

“Use them only if you must,” he said, his voice low. 

He doubted Arker even heard him as she again raced across the hanger floor without regard for the noise she made in her pursuit. 

Gold gave up any notion of this going off without a hitch. It mattered little anymore if it did anyhow. Soder was still alive, of that much Gold was certain. Even without seeing him stumbling through his ship’s halls, he knew Soder would find a way out of any predicament. Even if there was absolutely no reason he should survive, that rat would live forever.

7.

The instructions were simple. Each cadet would strap into their pod. Communication would be limited to emergencies on a one-way frequency with the command station. Reck knew no assistance would be provided, but the information given may help future cadets. No rescue missions had ever been recorded. The promise of communication was meant to give the cadets a smidge of hope.

He tapped the outer casing of his semi-hexagonal pod, slightly rounded and narrow at the tip. It was all that separated him from the elements of Lumineera. GLAD loved planets like this one, not for their pristine weather, or serene landscape views though. No, the reverie was for the fuel it provided. Lumineera was the name given to every planet that could produce Lumin, or its sister element, Alium, which was slightly lesser in potency. 

The planets claim to fame may have been its resources, but they were also known as highly volatile battlefields. The sheer ferocity of the planet’s airstream made it impossible to breathe. More than that, even a second’s touch would sheer flesh from bones. Without functioning oxygen recyclers, cadets had maybe thirty minutes to live. There would be no hope for anyone unlucky enough for such a fate. The trip back to the training station alone was a three-hour journey. 

“I wanted to let you know I have always appreciated your generosity toward me,” Meek said, coming in behind Reck who had lost himself in his last inspection. Not that it would have been much different even if he had been listening. Meek had an uncanny ability to become eerily quiet when he wanted to.

“We watched each other’s backs. Cadet training makes it nearly impossible to get through it alone. I think it was designed that way on purpose. If we plan to be soldiers someday, we must learn to live with one another, even when we have so many differences among us.”

Reck wasn’t sure if he would call Meek a friend. There wasn’t much time to think about such things during the grueling hours of training. However, Meek had been a constant, always nearby, always listening. He had been there for every beating, and near beating, Eager and his goons had decided to entertain themselves with. Now they would file into their pods alone, reliant on no one.

“All the same, I appreciate you getting me through,” Meek said. “I don’t know how what I need to do will turn out, but I do hope you find a way to get through this.”

The phrasing struck Reek as odd, but he nodded. “You too.”

He slid his tail through the tiny vacuum release slot, disengaging the hatch. Then he hoisted himself into the cockpit using the custom rig he’d built to compensate for his missing limbs before sealing the pod. 

The station faded. Seconds later, it came back with the help of the ultrasonic radar systems. A series of infrared, ultraviolet, and seismometers flashed readings onto a series of screens around Reck. A single antenna extended from the pod’s crown; Reck’s only source of communication with the outside world. A few more slaps of his tail activated the advanced artificial intelligence navigation system (AAID). In proper ships, AAID would speak to soldiers, integrate improvement on intelligence systems in real time, and provide seamless navigation across the universe while continuously probing for new information. In a cadet pod, it got you to the surface. After that, cadets were expected to survive on their own. 

GLAD, in its infinite wisdom, wanted soldiers who could adapt. Anyone could read a screen. But what if that screen went dark? That’s when heroes emerged.

Fully up and running, Reck waited for orders. The minutes of solitude ticked by, slow and cruel. When Officer O’Paul finally gave them the go ahead, Reck froze for nearly ten seconds before muscle memory overrode fear. He wrapped his tail around the release gear and launched. 

8.

Gold barely registered anything as he made it within sight of his ship. Arker appeared to be fairing no better as she stumbled behind him. Her vacation planet made her softer than a baby’s cheeks. He could at least feel good about fairing better than she had. Not that it was much. 

Letting his own ship fuel him, he tucked his head and used the last remnants of energy in his reserves. 

The ship’s cool metal outercoat flooded him with relief that almost overwhelmed him. Then, he reminded himself that his life would be no safer inside or outside the ship if they didn’t get moving. 

Entering the code to drop the ramp, Gold pulled himself up the stairs. Arker made it but fell to the entrance floor as the stairs slipped back into the side of the ship. Gold tapped three buttons on his communication interface. A small voice greeted him from elsewhere.

“General Gold, what can I do for you?”

Out of all the people on this ship, Gold enjoyed the company of Navigator Ene the most. While her subservience could use an extra polish, she did her best to make up for it with an ever-present sense of calm indifference to any emotional concern displayed by others. In a way, Gold envied her unwavering ability to mind her own business, have her own thoughts, and always giving her two cents in a blunt and fact-based way. Though sometimes he did ponder slipping her out the evac system just to observe how she would respond.

“I need the ship out of this hanger,” Gold said.

“When?”

“Yesterday,” Gold confirmed.

“Well, time travel is a bit beyond our capabilities, but I will have us in open space within the next two minutes. Should I announce the sudden departure to station control, or is this a better left to our radar cloak?”

Ene may ask questions later, though Gold doubted it, but for now, she would do her job.

“Cloak us and get going!” 

Gold failed to mask his panic and tried to cover it up with half-hearted anger. If Ene noticed, she again said nothing. A minute and a half later, the ship lifted and jettisoned into the vastness of space.

9.

A year of training. In the moment, it felt like an eternity. But here, in the silence of space and the shadow of what was to come, Reck wished there had been more time. 

Since birth, the world let Reck know he was different. His parents, teachers, and even peers had suffocated him with one of two basic responses. They pitied him, showering him with false purpose. Or they touted their advantages, towering over him. It was hard to choose which was worse. 

Reck tried to block those thoughts from creeping in. Right now, wasn’t the time. But doubt crept in like vapor through a creak seal. Everything he’d learned suddenly felt insufficient. A single year couldn’t be enough. Not to learn all he needed. Why did GLAD believe any young cadet had any right to be out here like this? What kind of self-serving fools would do this to another person? 

Reck took a deep breath. This was something he’d signed up for. No one forced him to be here. As he recalled it, plenty of people dissuaded him from such folly. Even his own family stood against him. They insisted he didn’t need favor of those that would always see him as lesser. Reck spat at the idea of hiding under a rock to avoid the rays of the truth. 

If he refused to fight for himself, then he deserved nothing more than ridicule. The only way to overcome hardships was to slay them. After, he would use the Lumin to make himself anew. When he walked into the second year of training, he would be just like everyone else.

His pod jolted violently, yanking him sideways. Reck braced, tail locking him into place. 

The atmosphere here promised one thing to everyone; there would be no mercy. Limbs or not, it would devour any who refused to take it seriously. Someday, Reck would be exactly the same.

Sifting through the various controls, Reck stabilized. A few cadets would have lost their lives upon entry, he denied Eagar, or anyone else, the satisfaction of him being one. 

Four minutes separated him from the surface now. As he descended, the gases slowed his velocity significantly while also heating up the outer materials. Inside everything remained calm. Only the instruments showed the turmoil surrounding him.

Waiting on the sensors, Reck flicked on automatic control. A short pulse emitted, pushing back against the heavier gases outside. The rapid slowing sent Reck to the back of his seat. 

The first test was to stay conscious as pressure controlled the descent. If slowing failed, or if the pilot passed out, they would join the names on the list of. Anyone who had not taken the time to check, double check, and then triple check their systems would be shaking the hands of their maker, should one truly exist. 

When Reck felt the pressure release from his spine, he inhaled deeply through his nostrils, calming himself. The easy part was over. Now, all he had to do was cross the southern geysers, slip through the mountain pass, and extract Lumin from a pulsating band of crystals nestled within a hollowed cavern. 

Easy enough, he thought.

Ensuring all cameras and radars had survived entry, Reck pressed forward.

 ‘In the southern barrens, the surface will open without warning. The fissures and cracks may immediately appear harmless. Soon enough, hopefully with you outside their radius, transparent gases will combust into firestorms. There are no detectable patterns. Your only hope is to watch for shimmering air. Sparkling ripples may be your only saving grace. I hope this helps you all understand that life balances on a very fine edge.’

Those words, spoken what seemed so long ago, were looped through Reck’s thoughts like racing ships. With every fiber, he set his concentration on the ground cameras.

 Six times he avoided massive eruptions. One of those times, he escaped by the fork of his tongue, seeing the shimmering air only at the very last second, barely managing to roll his pod clear of the blast. In that same span, he watched as six fellow cadets were consumed by the merciless terrain. 

Surviving the barrens should have felt like a victory. But, as the jagged silhouette of the mountains rose before him, Reck knew better than to celebrate. 

The threat of fireballs may have been behind him, but it would be fatal to underestimate the passes. 

He let his hard work and preparation take over. Staying as calm as possible, Reck listened to the sensations of the radars. Having complete faith in his skill as a pilot, Reck let all other thoughts go. The mountains would take the better part of two hours to navigate, but he couldn’t afford to become rushed. Staying locked in, focused, and calm would be his only hope.

And when he finally emerged from the shadows of the peaks, it was again like the time never existed at all.

Reck took another long, deep breath as his pod settled in the open air. A few miles ahead, still unseen by the cameras attached to his outer pod, there would be a deep cavern filled with opportunities, not all of them good.

10.

The first thing Gold did was strip out of the ill-fitting hangar guard uniform. Safe in his quarters, he allowed himself several minutes of quiet panic, just long enough to bleed it from his system. Only then did he venture out to find Arker, who waited for him on the same couch the pelican occupied several hours before, if time could even be trusted anymore.

“What was your plan if you got caught?” Gold asked, pondering if a glass of whiskey would be more harmful or soothing.

“Well,” Arker said, leaning back with a faint smirk, “I’ll be the first to admit I have never been much for planning my demise. I guess you could say it is a large reason why I ended up as a banished officer and you rose to be the cream of the crop. I suppose you have a plan though, right?” 

Gold sighed. Forgoing the whiskey was the right choice, but it wasn’t an easy one. Everything in him ached for the numbing burn. He longed to forget. Forget about the planet the council wanted him to erase. Forget the cryptic pelican. And most of all, forget the disaster Arker walked him into. 

Instead of giving into his urges, he grabbed a glass and filled it with water.

“Step one of my plan,” he said, voice low, “is to leak something out to the public I never wanted to be known. However, I fear without it, there may be no recourse to convincing the council this was a battle of generals and not a slap in their faces.”

Arker sat up slightly, intrigue painting her expression. “What needs to be said?” 

Gold didn’t answer right away. He took a long drink of the water, letting it cool the fire rising in his throat.

11.

Drop the line, control the line, keep it steady, hook the Lumin, then bring it home. A simple mantra. Every cadet who made it this far had muttered the words at least a hundred times. Over and over, they recited it, tempering their nerves, prepping their gear for the caverns below, pretending this was just another exercise. 

But Reck knew better.

 There was always more to it than that. 

He’d realized a long time ago, nothing in life would ever be easy.

Hitting the button to open the hatch below the pod, Reck closed his eyes, inhaled slowly to ease the promise of tremors, and then with a nod to himself, confirmation or delusion, he couldn’t say, he pressed the release button.

The hatch below his pod opened with a hiss.

His hook lowered into the hallowed caverns. If all went well, it would latch onto a vein of Lumin and return to the pod through the same narrow channel it had descended. That was at least the hope.

Reality, however, promised more volatility. 

He would have to avoid bumping into one of the other pods as they lined the rum of the caverns. Any of their hooks could create a tangle, leading to probable death. Any sudden jostling would turn this highly reactive material into a bomb. Thus, creating a new crater and adding a few hundred more names to the list of the Almosts. 

Until the Lumin was sealed in his pod’s holding chamber, which was heavily reinforced but not fool proof, Reck was walking a tight line peering down at the precipice of death.

And one thing was for certain; death didn’t like to lose.

Reck began the process swiftly, hoping to avoid being here when the other cadets arrived. All those long hours of training after everyone else retreated to the mess hall, or their bunks were paying dividends. The tracking radar was clear. The closest pod showing ten minutes away. 

Reck let the hook plunge rapidly for two hundred feet into the yawning mouth of the abyss. Then, with practiced skill, and nimble reactions, as any deft set of fingers, Reck’s tail eased the line, pulling it within his full control.

 Within minutes, the cameras attached to the line began to flicker with signs of success. Amid the shadows, faint pulses of iridescent yellow glimmered on the screen, Lumin. 

Reck double checked his radar. Once. Twice. A half dozen times.

He was still all alone.

 Seven minutes after his hatch opened, his monitors confirmed moveable clusters. His heart leapt, but he kept his tail steady. Every second counted. Attaching the Lumin took finesse. Hauling it up took precision. A single slip and he wouldn’t live long enough to regret it.

By the time he attached, secured, and began hauling the sliver of life changing rock back to his pod, he would be joined by at least fourteen other cadets vying for their shot at glory. The radar dots flashed like sparks from a fuse. Hopefully they’d have the sense to steer clear. With any luck, they’d target spots hundreds of feet from him. 

If everything held, if no one made a stupid mistake, Reck would be halfway back to the station with only his thoughts before they were completed. 

Reck’s hook was less than a foot from the Lumin when he heard the first crackle from the antenna inches above his head. 

He froze. 

For a moment, he waited for an official transmission, a rare alert from the station. When nothing came, he thought it must have been an error. He returned to the task, tail tightening around the controls, he tapped in the pre-sequenced codes. These commands would carefully extract a pre-programed weight, just as outlined by the GLAD first-year cadet handbook. 

The hook began its automated routine, carefully preparing to extract the glowing shard. That was when the second disturbance came, louder this time. Accompanied by a voice.

“Do you honestly believe you would make a good soldier?” 

Reck’s body stiffened.

It was Eagar. Of course it was Eagar.

 Nothing in life had ever been easy, Reck accepted that. But why did it always have to be so unforgiving at the same time?

“How did you open a channel?” Reck asked, trying his best to keep his mind clear.

Eagar’s laughter echoed through the pod. Then, for almost ten seconds, there was silence. 

The hook continued its steady motion, doing what it had been designed to do by Reck’s personally written code. All that kept him alive right now was the hours of vigorous coding work and error corrections.

“I asked you a simple question, Limbless. Do you truly believe you can protect yourself, let alone others who will depend on you?”

Eagar’s voice was calm, almost reasonable. Did Reck believe that he had what it took? 

“I got here first. I will be the first to return. If you were better than me, it would have been you here, not me.” 

He tried to sound confident. Though, something gnawed at him. Nothing on the radar showed another pod within his immediate vicinity. Reck surmised that if Eager could hack the communication systems without the station knowing, then he likely could do the same with the radar. Another thought also tickled the back of his mind. What if Eager hadn’t hacked the systems at all? What if the officers agreed with Eager? What if all this had been for nothing?

“What a sad assumption,” Eagar replied, voice like a cutting blade. “I almost feel sorry for you.” 

A tremor rocked Reck’s pod. He checked his system, no errors. The Lumin was still secure. Atmospheric pressure read stable. All radars were clear of concern. 

Maybe it was just his nerves.

“You see, if we allowed an embarrassment such as yourself to accomplish this feat, then what other vermin would believe themselves capable? Could you imagine the flood of pitiful defaults that would encourage? They would drown out the good name GLAD has worked so very hard to establish.”

Reck’s voice dropped. “The council themselves gave the okay for my training.” Reck defended himself despite knowing it was better not to humor the conversation. 

“The council had no choice but to turn their eyes away. What would headlines say about their lack of compassion? Those with no experience in what it takes to keep people safe, stir convictions of selfless grandeur that will eventually get them killed without men like me. If they refuse to see the shadows for what they are, then I will be the light that guides them. Even if the council cannot publicly deny you, I will take the initiative to act out their true desires. And I will be celebrated for it.” 

Another jolt. Harder this time.

“You on the other hand, will be erased. Not even a footnote to remember you by.”

A third shake rattled the pod so violently Reck’s containment alert briefly flashed yellow. Any further instability and the Lumin would rupture before it reached the seal chamber.

“Lucky for you, Limbless, you won’t be around to feel bad for yourself. Don’t worry though, secretly, I will remember you forever. You will be my greatest accomplishment. I will have single handedly saved the very essence of GLAD, all because of you.” 

Reck prepared for another disturbance, but nothing came. Only the soft hiss of the cooling systems and rhythmic tick of the hook as it pulled into place beneath the pod.

Reck closed the hatch. He had what he came for. Once he was back on the station, even Eager’s hatred would pale in comparison to the elation. 

Now, all that remained was to get off this planet.

***

Sometimes, what is thrust upon a person defines them more than anything they choose. Actions forced often outshine actions planned. Great legacies are not built by a roadmap; they are forged in the chaos of circumstances. A new route made from nothing, forking from the path of expectations and dreams. 

This is how the legend of General Gold truly began. 

While much of his illustrious career has been littered with vague recounting of likely overexaggerated tales of grandeur. One story was purposely forgotten. We are now proud to release it to you, our reader. Coming straight from a source with firsthand knowledge. You are about to find out what truly happened on the fateful day General Gold made it his fate to become the most powerful man, outside the council, this side of the Great Starlight Reefs.

***

12.

Reck backtracked over his previous trail toward the mountain pass. Once there he would zip through the peaks, finding himself back in the geyser fields. 

All was going according to plan, outside of the small intrusion by Eagar. It was overall better than expected.

Reck’s nerves slightly calmed, finding himself cautiously optimistic. 

There were still obstacles to overcome, but with each passing moment, the thrum of success grew louder. Soon enough, it beat like a drum. 

He allowed himself, just for a moment, to glimpse into the future. The officers would claim him worthy of second-year training. His Lumin would be stashed into a transport vessel. Before anyone, including Eagar, could say a word to the contrary, Reck would be on his way. For the first time in his life, he would be seen as a peer, not a burden.

Then the voice came back.

“Scared you back there, didn’t I? You were certain I would make my move there, weren’t you?” 

Eagar laughed, as if he had just performed the funniest comedic act in history. “I told the others you would wet yourself in the caverns. I wish I could have seen your face. I will have to take consolidation in seeing your radar signal vanish into nothing.” 

“I am so far ahead of you, Eagar. The only thing you will see of me is my name at the top of the cadet training list for arriving back at the station first.” 

Reck’s jaw clenched. Part of him wanted to press forward, say nothing. That part lost.

“You’re still behind me, Eagar. By the time you get back, I will be the one you’re saluting.”

“Poor, Limbless. You cannot even fathom what is about to happen to you. I guess now is as good a time as any to put you out of your misery.” 

Before Eager’s voice faded, there was an explosion from somewhere outside Reck’s pod. Shockwaves pelted him from the side. Whatever happened showed no signals on the radars. 

Even as Reck corrected his pod, he felt another hit. Harder this time. The shield wall flickered. Reck stabilized again, narrowly missing a jutting peak. Not only did he have to contend with whatever Eagar was doing, the mountains were in play now too. 

Reck forced his attention to the external cameras. 

“Run, run, as fast as you can, you will never outrun your fate!”

Eagar sounded like a man possessed. His normal arrogance expanded by a thousand, creating a swollen frenzy. And despite his best efforts, Reck failed to silence the turbulence within himself. 

The truth was, no matter how much he wanted to curse himself, he hadn’t a lick of real combat training to support him. First-year training had nothing to do with fighting. It taught discipline. Obedience. Mental resilience. But not combat. Not anything that helped him here.

Reck took some small solace in his practiced ease as he zipped between daunting peaks. This he could do without sacrificing mental prowess. All the sneaked preparation hours paid off now, granting him just enough energy to wrestle back control of his nerves. 

For several minutes, there were no more unexpected jolts. Just the mountains and silence. 

Maybe, Reck dared to hope, whatever was assaulting him had been disrupted by the terrain. Even an experienced pod pilot would need to focus and ensure that no rocky fingers pulled them to their doom.

Reck’s luck reserves proved to be leaking at an alarming rate, however. 

Just as the calm began to settle, the pod shuddered again. Every molecule of Reck’s body vibrated, leaving his very essence humming. The symphony of frequencies thrummed as if being beaten by a very motivated band of drummers. Millions of people paid for rides like this every day, but Reck knew this exhilaration was no thrill. 

Reck checked the cameras once again, only more mountains. Yet, his internal sensors blared with the detection of motion. 

“No need to fight this, Limbless.”

Eagar’s tone was measured. A calm that would be hard to associate with insanity.

“The faster you give in, the less you will suffer. Wouldn’t it be easier to just let go? You have had to know from the beginning how this would all end, right? No one can truly be so naive as to believe this would have turned out any other way for you.”

Reck ignored Eager this time. 

Every ounce of concentration was fully invested into staying stable. Each evasive maneuver became harder as the peaks grew like a forest of trees. 

Eager’s voice droned on, but Reck tuned him out. There were no advantages in letting Eager batter him with insults and self-assured philosophies. 

There was an opening ahead. Two narrow peaks separated by only a smidge of open air. It was tight, and extremely dangerous, but Reck took a calculated risk. 

If there was a pod behind him, unseen on the cameras, it would take a master pilot to follow him through without warning. 

A slight relaxation on the controls allowed Reck to appear he had given up. He half expected jubilation from Eager, but the constant barrage had paused, likely due to a need to catch his breath.

Waiting until the last moment, Reck tensed, making his tail and sternum as ridged as possible, then with a sudden twist, he rolled his pod. It all happened in a flash. There was no room for error. Failure led only to Eagar celebrating his victory. 

The moment passed, leaving the peaks behind. Reck straightened his pod and allowed his body to relax slightly.

It took a few seconds, but Eager’s voice roared back to life.

“Stop! You are not going to succeed!”

The transmission crackled, Eagar’s words were drowned in static and rage.

“This only ends one way, and it will not be your way!” 

Reck almost felt like giving Eager a spoonful of his own treatment by laughing but thought better of it. Who knew what a determined Eager was capable of. Feeding his obsession only invited more danger. 

Instead, Reck navigated the remaining gaps without worry, pushing his pod slightly harder than normally recommended. He wasn’t trying to be reckless, but he wanted to be done with this place. 

When the last peak slipped past his camera, Reck felt a smidge light. Two obstacles down. One to go. 

But of course, Eagar wasn’t finished.

“Do you understand how much you put at risk? Are your limbs not the only missing features of your body? Do you also lack a brain? Is there no ability to think within your skull?” 

Eagar had regained a slight semblance of composure. At least enough to speak intelligible sentences once again. Reck kept any replies to himself. 

All recent events considered, he should have known better than to believe himself up only against the geysers. If Eager gained control of the communication systems and a weapon, then he obviously wasn’t about to let Reck just waltz back to the station’s landing pad. He’d risk everything to prevent Reck from becoming a second-year cadet. 

Reck had no weapon to fight back. That meant he needed strategy.

He’d been forced to live outside the box his entire life. His lack of limbs forced him to be unconventional daily. To live in such a way made him resilient. It was either that or lay down and die. That had never been his style. He wasn’t about to start asking for the world to be easier on him now.

He studied the terrain ahead. Shimmering vapors masked him to either side. Any flanking maneuvers risked quick incineration. Though, it wasn’t a perfect shield. His top and bottom were still exposed. Well, if they wanted to test their mettle against him, he would put them through the ringer. If they desired his end, they would have to work for it.

Reck threaded his pod between the vents, tracing narrow lanes through the unstable air. There was no time for fear. No room for doubt.

There was a chance this could all still end well for Reck, maybe even better than he ever hoped for. With all his focus on stopping Reck, it was unlikely Eagar had completed his own extraction. That would be quite a happy ending.

Two signals flickered on Reck’s radar. It appeared Eager’s cloaking device only had so much reach. The comfort of seeing his enemies glow on the screen was fleeting, but it helped. 

The two signals were gaining on him. No one should have been moving so recklessly unless they were desperate.

“Are you sure you won’t just give yourself up?” Eagar’s voice joined him again. “Make it easy for everyone?” 

Reck ground his teeth, feeling the points of his fangs curling against the roof of his mouth. 

“So be it then.” 

Reck saw the first pod fade to the left and the second to the right. What threw him off was a third pod now trailing directly behind the others. That must have been Eagar. He was finally done hiding.

Whatever happened next, Reck would need to have his full focus to respond.

As the two pods from his sides drew in closer, missing the shimmering vapor by inches on either side, Reck prepared. He nested himself right between the two active fields, leaving his attackers with few options. If they came closer, which they were obviously trying to do, they would leave themselves at the mercy of an unforgiving geyser below. Knowing this, they eased and followed at a slight distance, forcing him to stay within the center of the two fields. 

“Can I tell you just how much this next part has gotten me hyped?” Eagar’s voice slithered through like comm like a vulture circling its prey. “I wasn’t sure if they would go through with it in the end, but seeing it come to life now, I can almost smell their passionate greed from my vantage point.”

Reck had no idea what Eager was spouting off about and didn’t want to find out. The third pod closed in fast, so close now that if Reck could have extended out his entrance door he’d have been able to touch it with his outstretched tail. 

Then came the impact. 

A jolt to the tail end of his pod. Light, but deliberate.

Reck had anticipated it. He held firm, keeping his pod level before lowering the nose, allowing him to dip closer to the surface below. This threw the third pod off and its speed faltered, giving Reck a little breathing room, but not much.

“Hey, Meek. Why don’t you tell Limbless what made you see the light. Maybe it will help him see it for himself.”

A moment of silence was filled with Reck’s confusion, then Meek’s voice came over the same intercom as Eager’s had been.

“I am not interested in playing your game, Eager. I already told you. I am doing this for me, not for you. Whatever you want from this is not what I want. I will do this for me. Reck, no offense, I am not like you. I must do what is best for me. That just so happens to be what is worst for you.” 

Reck inadvertently slowed. Maybe he had never considered him a true friend, but Meek had been the closest to a companion Reck had ever had. 

Meek, who Reck guessed was in the pod directly behind him, took advantage of the lapse in Reck’s defenses, and came down right on top of Reck’s pod, sending him careening toward the surface. There was no time to correct. He bounced off the hard surface, hard, and skidded to a halt. 

There was too much damage to restart, and no reasonable method for him to eject long enough to fix the damage. 

This was it. Eager won. 

Oddly, there was no gloating for almost a minute.

“I hoped watching you fail would be enough,” Eagar finally said. “But I want more. Meek, finish him off.” 

Reck watched helplessly as Meek’s hanger door opened, dropping the retrieval hook. Instead of trying to grab the pod Reck sat defenseless inside of, it made straight for the side of the pod where a breach had presented an entry point for the hook’s sharp edges. 

A few surgical movements later, and the Lumin that Reck had risked his life to retrieve was no longer his. The hook carried it away, depositing it neatly into Meek’s containment locker. 

Reck watched the hatch close on his external cameras. Powerless to do anything about it.

“I told you; this isn’t about you Eager,” Meek said, his voice flat. “You do whatever you want, I got what I needed from this. You can find your own way now.”

And just like that, Meek’s pod vanished into the sky above.

Reck almost chuckled. Meek had stolen the ultimate prize without ever facing a true threat from the planet. The whole thing was exactly how Meek had lived his entire life. His motto should have been: ‘Just let it fall into your lap’. 

A scream tore through the comm. 

Eager, now fully unhinged, barked at his lackies to finish the job, but there was no reply. Their pods didn’t move an inch. An obvious shield of shimmering air remained on both sides of Reck, and apparently their bravery faded in the face of the geyser’s wrath. 

Reck was amused that even their stupidity had its limits. 

“Fine,” Eagar screeched. “I will do it myself.”

The cameras revealed Eager a few minutes after the radars found him. He came from high above and from the direction of the mountain pass. Maybe he was a little less crazy than Reck gave him credit for. It was likely he had been busy extracting his own Lumin after all. 

When Eagar was directly above, his hook dropped.

Reck readied for pain. This would probably be a slow, cruel death. But strange as it was to say, he wasn’t afraid. There was nothing to do about it. Whatever came would be out of his control, therefore, the inevitability of it made him feel almost at ease.

Eager lowered closer to Reck’s pod. Reck could see a slight glow on the radar confirming Eager had indeed achieved exhuming a piece of Lumin for himself. 

There should have been some feeling coursing through Reck. An adrenaline boost from the fear that should have swelled in his chest. But there was nothing. 

With clarity of mind came a last thought of life. Reck opened eyes. He hadn’t even realized he had closed them. His tail was wrapped around the deployment toggle for his own hook. 

Had Meek not turned him to the side in his extraction process, it would have never been possible for Reck to open his hanger door. But, since Meek had ripped the doors open for him, the hook was now exposed and capable of detailed movements. 

Reck went to work. Within a breath, the hook was freed. After another it shot straight for the underbelly of Eager’s pod. 

Surprised by the attack, Eager couldn’t evade. Reck had aimed straight for the containment locker, hoping the hook had enough momentum to pierce the armor. Eager responded, changing the trajectory of his own hook. It worked, mostly. Instead of hitting the locker, Reck’s hook was deflected into the side of Eagar’s pod. 

The impact caused Eagar to roll, twice.

Unfortunately for Eager, that was all it took to put him directly into the path of the geyser’s fury. In a flash, Eager was extinguished. Another Almost. 

Reck felt no satisfaction. He felt nothing at all. It was odd knowing he would now be left to his own demise when his pod’s oxygenation failed. 

“That was some impressive moves there, Cadet.” 

Unfamiliar. Calm. Distinctly female.

Before Reck could respond, a beam locked onto his pod, pulling it from the planet’s surface. He rose with speed toward the skies of Lumineera.

Three hours later, he was deposited onto the decks of the training station. No fanfare. No honor. No cheering. Just the silence of his failure.

He wasn’t sure this fate was any better than suffocating. 

Reck popped his hatch open. 

There were no officers awaiting his return triumphant or otherwise. It was completely barren of anything aside from his rescuer’s pod. 

As the hatch opened to that second pod, Gold was surprised to see a golden viper pulling herself from the cockpit.

“My name is Arker,” she said. “I believe you owe me a few favors.” 

Reck glanced around, still seeing no one else.

“I believe I will soon be almost as useless to you alive as I would have been dead,” he said, his voice sounded scratchy. He cleared his throat. “I lost the Lumin. Meek took it.” 

Arker shrugged, slipping from her pod and approaching his. 

“Well, isn’t it a good thing I brought my own for you then.” 

With a smile, Arker placed her hands on his pod. 

Suddenly, Reck wasn’t so certain that this was a rescue after all.