For 3 Days and 3 Nights

When you believe you are through the thick of it, imagine you have just begun your journey. A thousand thorns must be traversed before the first whisper from a rose is gifted. – Del Amento, Old World Philosopher

Day One:

Gold’s fiasco with Soder bought two hours. At least that was his guess. No sign of Soder’s ship had come across the radar yet. No word from the council chased them through the communication systems. Whatever was taking so long was anyone’s guess. There were a lot of things within this life that Gold could honestly say he disliked. One thing to add to the ever-growing pile was a good mystery. 

There was no value to the unknown. Riddles, games, surprises, they were all horrid concepts. Gold valued control, clarity, and precision: those were true virtues. This silence was none of those.

When Soder alerted the council of Gold’s treasonous act, they would set upon him with the wrath of a thousand exploding suns. So, why had they not done so yet? There was no point in Soder keeping this to himself. 

“What do you think we should do now?” Arker asked. The stolen hangar uniform still hung from her frame, drained of its former smugness. She now looked paler, washed out, like something half erased.  

“You stay here,” Gold said, already moving toward the door. If no one had heard from the council yet, then his crew were still likely waiting on his commands. As late as it was, it would be more suspicious to keep them waiting than it would be to rouse them from their bunks. “I will be back in an hour. If we still haven’t heard anything by then, we are going to proceed with the mission exactly as the council asked until I can think of something else.”

Gold scrambled through the door faster than Arker’s rebuttal could find him.

2.

Gold moved fast through the corridors, bypassing straggling cadets without a single sparing glance, order, or reprimand. Had any of them dared question his presence, they might have pieced things together. But none did. They barely looked up. 

It wasn’t them he worried about anyhow. If Soder kept him waiting, the council kept their lips tight, then the only other threat he had to minimize was the suck up officers assigned to his ship for the mere fact that they would report to the council faster than the universe’s expansion.

What would he even tell them? The truth was useless. A lie too elaborate could easily unravel. There would be a fine balance between telling them too much and not telling them enough. If the council wanted him in shackles, they would round him up, tie him down, and deliver him without a question asked. But if he could get out in front of the council’s transmission, made it look like he was executing their mission with flair, maybe he could win over a portion of the crew to survive the fallout. 

That was the plan, at least.

Gold already started the ball down the hill by passing off his first-year cadet training stories to some inside reporters. By morning, GLAD time, the front-page headlines would be all about his true ascension into second-year training. Gold loathed giving away vital information about himself to the press, but he could think of no other methods to keep himself distanced from the obvious treason he had just committed with Arker. 

The command bridge came into view; a massive room wrapped around a table far too large for the handful of officers who used it. Gold never understood why such a small band of officers needed such a large space to gather, but the Generals before him had once decided the bigger the better. Mostly everything in the universe was dictated by optical value. 

Maybe Gold appreciated it more than he realized he thought, sparing a quick glance at his own extravagant mechanical suit. None of the power, limbs, or other nifty components truly belonged to him. At any time, GLAD could strip him of his rank and authority, leaving him nothing more than a husk. Leaving a legacy far worse than being Cadet Limbless. 

That was the game. Power in any form was a mere illusion. It only worked if everyone believed it to be true. If those who controlled the perspective refused to imbue their weight behind you, then you would drown in obscurity with no chance of a life jacket. 

“Why are you calling a meeting at such an hour, Gold?” 

The tone was curt, too familiar. Few dared speak to General Gold in such a way. They knew the consequences of such a brash response would lead them to a series of unwanted results. Only the officers handpicked by GLAD to be his babysitters dared to toe the boundaries. 

Gold clenched his jaw. Now was not the time to retaliate.

Technically, his authority still reigned supreme on his ship. Only the council could reprimand him. However, even as the council declared his ultimate deciding word, they cut him off at the waist by giving direct lines of communication to these three brown nosing parasites. Despite their lack of prestige, award, or acknowledgement, these three men were maybe some of the most powerful in all the universe. These three fools could practically spit in the faces of top ranked officials without concern. As long as the council continued to humor them. 

Gold stepped forward, letting his voice echo just enough to remind them who the ship truly belonged to. 

“There has been a development. While speaking with the council I was informed of a handful of missives. All the things I am about to speak about here are, without saying, highly classified and only to be spoken of with direct permission by GLAD or your commanding officer, me. Does everyone understand this?” 

Gold played to the sensibilities of these three nuisances. If he could guarantee one thing about them, despite their obvious differences, it was that they all craved import. Giving them even a single sliver of it would intrigue them long enough for Gold to come up with a better plan.

With a confirming nod from each officer, Gold waved for everyone to take a seat. He remained standing.

The thing about the table that bothered Gold maybe more than the inconvenience of walking around it, was that it would never work in theory or practice. Who would even be able to hear at the other end? The speaker would need a communicator to project to everyone should the hundred some seats be filled to capacity. Gold struggled to tick off a hundred names he would ever need to be in such a meeting with. Not to mention the impracticality of having so many high ranked officials in one spot. One successful surprise would cripple GLAD’s rank and file severely. 

As everyone settled, an attendant entered to lay out stiff drinks and water for everyone. When they exited, Gold stepped forward leaning over the table. Another form of visual dominance. Keep them on their heels. If an adversary never grew comfortable, they would never find their footing to attack.

“Everyone here knows of General Soder,” Gold began, voice calm but stern. “That goes without saying. His accomplishments of valor on the battlefield have left everyone safer. His rank alone should be enough to garner respect and deference. However, there has been something distressing that has come into light about his actions behind the scenes.” 

Gold paused, waiting while his captive audience constructed their own theories of Soder’s digressions. 

“The council has become aware of Soder’s desire to unseat me as top ranking General in this sector. His ambitions have been subtle for the last year, but he made a grievous mistake in his latest reach. The council became aware of his lust and have informed me as a courtesy. Their intentions are to let Soder play out his fantasies to ensure their choice of leader is sharp and prepared for anything. Needless to say, they are allowing Soder to try his hand at procuring my seat. However, they are doing so by giving me a general advantage of forewarning. They have given me permission to work off the map, so to speak.” 

Gold took up a drink and waited for the others to do the same. Their curiosity would drown them eventually. Gold only hoped he was still there to see them as they swirled into the depths that eventually devoured them.

Major Alin Eno was the first to follow Gold, reaching for her own cup. The other two, not to be outdone, mirrored her. Though they were the council’s pawns, their instinct to chase favor drove them just as it did anyone. 

Gold focused his next few words on Alin, hoping her eagerness would lead to more receptiveness to his ploy.

“Here is what I’ve done, so far. Before we left the hanger this evening, I acted on two things. First, I shut down one of Soder’s hyper speed reactors. It will likely be up and running by now, meaning Soder will be moving to seek revenge on me, or plotting his next move. The other action was to leak a story to the morning posts about my true ascension to second year cadet training. These two things alone may be enough to provoke calls of treason and mutiny from other officers. There are many who would have me hauled into the council and sent into the void. You three may be the first of them to get the chance to do just that.” 

Gold paused for effect. No one offered loyalty. There were no declarations of support or protest. This was a long shot, but worth the attempt.

“Why should you not, you may ask? Wouldn’t that show your loyalty to order and snub out the fires of chaos? Is that not what I have projected to all who would listen throughout my illustrious career as a General? Well, the answer to that is unabashedly, yes. Why then do any different?” 

“I am certain you have your reasons,” Major Mangold said, curling the handles of his mustache between thumb and forefinger of either hand. “We have become accustomed to your off-kilter methods. Agree with them or not, they are your choices to make. You are the one, after all, who must live with the consequences. Be they admonishment or admiration, these are your burdens.”

Gold faltered. That wasn’t the response he’d expected. Mangold’s causal tone was unnerving. It wasn’t like the weasel to be indifferent. Either Gold should call more late-night meetings to catch the others off their game, or something lurked beneath the surface that he couldn’t yet see.

“So, you have no interest in my proposal?” Gold asked. 

Mangold shrugged, dropping his hands, palm flat, onto the table. His eyes were tired, but no more so than normal. It was tough being a high-ranking officer in GLAD. Anyone who thought the stress levels eased with rank and reward were far from reality.

“If there is any action to take, I will take it upon my own decree. Be your offer valuable or not, I, like you, have my own codes to live by.”

Gold guessed the subtext: the council would be notified the moment this meeting ended. He glanced at the other two officers, reading nothing that proclaimed their attitude different from Mangold’s. Despite their greed, it was their fear of the council, or maybe even their hatred of him, that made it impossible to sway them. 

With a gentle nod of acceptance, Gold slipped from the room. 

Outside, he slumped against the wall of a neglected emergency evacuation hallway. His heart hammered and his stomach flipped. What was about to happen now? After all his sacrifices, years of effort, was it all about to vanish in the blink of a shooting star?

He pushed himself off the wall and walked back to his quarters, wearing a mask of confidence he’d crafted over a lifetime. Once inside, he slammed the button to close the door behind him. Sometimes it was frustrating not to have the ability to slam the door himself. 

Gold trudged toward his sleeping quarters, not bothering to look out for Arker. Collapsing into the bed, he barely registered the movement of the covers. Only on second glance did he discover Arker curled up beneath the blankets, eyes closed, head buried in the pillow, and naked to the world. Gold cursed under his breath, contemplated his options, then grabbed an extra comforter from the closet and resigned himself to the couch.

Day 2:

3.

Expectations were terrible companions. Heavier than any luggage, they broke the backs of those who carried them. If Gold had any advice for cadets, trainers, or officers, it would be this: toss your expectations into the nearest waste bin, light them afire, run fast, and never turn back. Only then could they hope to find any semblance of peace or sanity.

“Ever the gentleman,” Arker said, giving his shoulder a kick.

Gold stirred from either the worst or possibly the best sleep of his life, it was hard to tell. Because while he’d slept the whole night without disturbance, his back was stiff and screaming. 

“If you sleep in my bed again, I will chop you in half,” Gold said, sounding less than threatening words slurred with a half yawn.

“Oh, will you now?” 

Arker poured herself a drink from his stash of Amber Gold Rum, distilled off the coast of Hal’Un’Tre’De, a planet long forgotten to Gold, and likely now firmly pressed under the thumb of GLAD. Gold was never fortunate enough to get a chance to stick around and enjoy the flavors of his victories. It was always on to the next venture. GLAD had no time to spare for him to enjoy the fruits of his labor. If he wanted to dilly dally around, he should have never become a general. Especially not one who was so good at clutching the life veins of a people and bleeding them to submission. Someone of his caliber wasn’t expendable for a vacation or relaxation. There were far too many planets to bend and break to GLAD’s will. Maybe someday he’d retire. Although, right about now, it appeared he was about to lose a lot more than his position. 

Arker pressed the glass to her lips and paused. Gold noticed she had slipped into one of his spare uniforms, leaving the hanger guard’s attire somewhere in his bedroom, he assumed. 

“Next time, naked or not, I will kick you into the hall and you can find a cadet willing to take you into their blankets.”

Arker ignored the threat, lips brushing the rim of her glass, mind somewhere else.

“What are you doing?” Gold asked, annoyed by her lack of attention.

“Do you think it is possible Soder is scared of the repercussions of failure more than he is certain that the council will publicly flay you for your insubordination?”

Gold shook his head.

“The council loves a good tongue lashing. I have received more than my fair share throughout my career. I can tell you one thing for certain. The council does not spare any concern for my status or accomplishments.”

“No, of course they don’t. However, we also know they do not celebrate those who cannot achieve their purpose. If you become useless to them, they make you obsolete without the batting of an eye.”

Gold shrugged. “So, what are you getting at?”

Arker pulled the drink from her lips, sitting the still full glass back onto the countertop. 

“I don’t think Soder will tell the council about what we did.”

Gold opened his mouth to express just how stupid that sounded, then paused. The more he rolled the idea around, the more it made sense.

If Soder kept quiet, then the council would still be fully expecting him to complete his mission. They may be a little perturbed about the newspaper headlines, but there were only a few people alive that could validate the claims. It would take a few weeks, at best, for them to find anyone willing to talk. Only three living souls, aside from Gold, knew about that fateful day. He doubted the papers would get Soder to clarify anything, seeing that it left him in a horrible light. The other two were so far removed from active duty, or public life it would be a miracle to find them. 

“Well, if that is the case,” Gold said, “we have no other recourse than continue on and hope when Soder arrives we are ready for both him and the army the planet will send to fend us off.” 

Arker nodded. 

“Maybe there is a way we can use them against one another,” she said.

Gold grunted agreement, annoyed that Arker had come up with a viable theory before he had. Worse, she’d given him a potential solution to his two headed burden. 

He’d never admit it aloud, but he was certainly glad, for the moment, that some cosmic joke had landed her on his doorstep. Now all he had to do was figure out how to get rid of her again. 

4.

Engines blazing in unison, Gold’s vessel propelled through open space. Hurtling at speeds impossible to fathom, they would take roughly half a day to arrive at their destination. 

It was hard to imagine there had ever been a time when space travel was rare. Though, even now, there were still back world planets without automatic transportation from city to city on their own worlds. How anyone lived in such a manner boggled his mind. 

“Sir?” 

He turned to find a stout, muscled kangaroo standing at attention behind him.

“There are reports of disturbances from outside the pressure shields.” 

There were always disturbances in the vast emptiness of space. For as much as they had conquered in their attempts to unite the universe, there were so many more things they still failed to understand.

“What is special about the readings?” Gold asked, finding no interest in dancing around the issue. 

“Major Mangold said to bring you to the navigation bridge. His orders were to tell you about disturbances in the readings and then to haul you to the bridge.” The kangaroo held both hands aloft before his chest, “I had no intentions on attempting to drag you anywhere, sir. Just stating his words.”

A messenger always walked a tightrope. Misquote an officer, and you risked charges of insubordination. Relay a message too precisely, and you might find yourself on the receiving end of another officer’s temper. It was a thankless job, and officers like Mangold really loved to press their boundaries. 

“Tell Major Mangold…” Gold took a deep breath, clamping down on the string of insults that came to mind. The messenger had suffered enough at the hands of the authority on this ship. “Forget it. Return to your duties. I’ll find Mangold myself.” 

Relief washed over the kangaroo’s face. Not questioning his newfound luck, he made for a side hall vanishing as quickly as he arrived. Likely, Gold wouldn’t see him around for at least a day or two while he attempted to hide his considerable bulk.

5.

Gold expected little of the radar blips. Likely, they were remnants of long-dead heavenly bodies. Sometimes the radar seemed to sing a sorrowful song of the past to any who passed. A last hooray, so to speak, of a world long ago faded. 

As he stepped into the command bridge, only Mangold, flecked in a pristine green uniform depicting his status, greeted him, though it was a rather cold greeting. 

Gold’s eyes swept the room. The control officers, the bridge runners, where were they? There should have been at least a hundred personnel monitoring the panels, manning posts, and watching the stars. But the room was eerily still. 

“Is this an ambush?” Gold asked, voice low. 

It was rare for a full-scale mutiny, but not unheard of. This felt off though, not like a crew takeover. Who knew what Soder, and the council, could have concocted.

“I am not an amateur, General Gold. If there are concerns to be regarded, it will not be my hand to render the judgement.” Mangold said, walking to the central radar and pointing with a sharp-nailed fingertip.

Gold stepped closer. “What am I looking for?” 

“There are two concerns with this particular reading,” Mangold said, sliding his nail across the screen as an anomalous object flickered in and out of view. “For one thing, the movement pattern is not consistent with any known technology systems within our database.”

“That occurs sometimes,” Gold said. “It isn’t uncommon for undiscovered planets to display archaic or even alternative traveling systems that would read on radar with funky signals.”

“Sure, but this zone is completely controlled by GLAD forces. Being that you are the voice of the council on this ship, I would assume you’d be aware of any substantial testing, correct?”

“Yes, there are no experimental bases here to my knowledge.” 

That meant much less than Mangold assumed it did. Gold may have been the highest ranking General in this sector, but that only qualified him to be the most informed idiot in the crowd. GLAD operated on an extreme need to know basis. The less known, the better, in their opinion. Even at his level, the information trickled through a tightly clasped stream, only opened when necessary, if ever.

“That isn’t all that worries me about this reading anyhow,” Mangold continued. “We have seen readings not matching our patterns before. Like you said, it could be a rouge ship. Pirates still exist, even it is unlikely to be a band of pirates at this speed.” He withdrew his hand as the signal slowly faded, then a few heartbeats later the signal returned stronger, before instantly disappearing once again. Now that defied logic.

Gold leaned in closer, confused. To see the signal fade could have communicated the anomaly moved into a distance too far for practical readings. Its return so strongly, as if it were right on top of the ship, should have then been impossible. That alone would have frozen anyone’s straggling thoughts. With it instantly disappearing once again, Gold readied his mind for attack. 

It didn’t come.

“What is this?” Gold asked, voice hardening. 

Mangold took a few steps back, as if to say this had nothing to do with him.

Gold’s mech fists clenched at his sides. Was this Soder?  That was the only practical solution, barely. Gold could beat Soder, especially in open space combat, but his own shielding technology should have kept Soder off his tail out here. How had Soder found him? Even the council’s own systems would take weeks to pinpoint a likely location for Gold. It had been designed this way to keep him practically invisible. Silent Death was more than a name for his vessel. It was Gold’s ultimate weapon. No one could sense him coming with the might of the council’s wrath. If Soder found him, and so quickly, then there was something extremely wrong.

Before he could issue commands for weapons ready and a decrease in speed, Gold saw something else that threw his world into another level of chaos. The radar system flashed a dozen impossible readings. All clustered at his ship’s door and he doubted he would be receiving a courtesy knock.

“Get all weapons ready now!”

Gold sprinted down the bridge hall. No more time for theories. War was here.

6.

The ship’s sudden halt rocked the interior. Luckily, only a few unstable soldiers fell. It was barely noticed, as everyone scrambled to their positions in preparation of combat. Everyone had their role to play, and Gold, even if it had been severely unlikely, always ran mock drills for such an occasion. To his pleasure, they appeared to take the training to heart, at least at surface level. They all moved with a strength of conviction only gained by being assured in your role. Panic was best defeated by hours and hours of preparation. 

Gold dove into his own duties, letting the pressure smother the anxiety. Later, once they beat back this threat, he would reflect. He would weed out the mistakes and water the areas of need. This was how a soldier became better. But only after survival could one wallow in their failures. In the midst of a fight, any shred of uncertainty would get a person killed faster than any weaponry an enemy fielded.

“Did you have any intention of informing me that we were under attack?” 

Gold’s heart stuttered. “Honestly, I forgot about you being here,” he said, wishing he still could, but he knew better than to hope she’d allow that luxury. 

“You know, there are times when I almost think you could be a reasonable person, then you have to go and open your mouth.”

Arker stormed toward the radar. It still blipped, erratically, showing the ghost signal fading in and out of range. Even at a reduced speed, they’d discovered nothing new. Alarming as it was, Gold clung to hope it was just a system glitch.

A team of engineers and computer scientists were even now discussing methods for troubleshooting. Nothing this far had been found but there were so many components to a ship of this caliber that it could take days before a glitch was found. 

Gold refocused on his commands. Arker was a frustration he could afford to deal with later. Right now, she was more akin to a blister than a true threat. 

He dispatched six crews to patrol the perimeter for any disturbances. Within five minutes, six small fighter ships dotted the screen to his right. He tracked their feeds. Nothing. Just the hallow emptiness of space. No signs of life. No heat signals. Not a shred of light. 

Out here, in a place like this, a person found the true meaning of the term dead zone. Staying here was likely to drive a person mad. GLAD’s medical team recommended that soldiers, pilots, travelers, or anyone else spend, at most, five hours in a place like this. Any more than that and they risked dissociation as they realized their insignificance. 

Gold had spent far more time in places like this than recommended, but oddly, he at times found it soothing. To know his actions were only a meaningless irritation in the grand scheme of the universe made him feel somehow less responsible for the horrible things he had seen and done. 

Blaming the council only went so far. 

Gold pushed all thoughts aside. There was a time for philosophical debate, now wasn’t it. 

Scanning the screens again, Gold felt more certain than before that this was an error. Out here, there was nothing to hide behind. If there had been something to see, it would be there for everyone to lay eyes on. 

“Go ahead and tell the fighters to start…” 

Everyone froze. Gold included. 

It was like someone had turned the crew into statues. Even as Gold tried to force his mind to restart. It stubbornly refused to make an intelligible thought. 

In complete silence, the fighter patrols were erased. Gold could not even fathom how to describe what the cameras showed. There were no shots fired. No explosions. They were just gone. Wiped from existence in a blink.

Then the screens went dark.

In a sudden rush, everything crashed into a chaotic tailspin of unadulterated fear and panic.

7.

The creature emerged as if sculpted from the stars.

Its glow was blinding, forcing Gold to shield his vision with his mechanical arm. He lowered it again only after activating a vizor over his eyes. With the light neutralized, Gold got the first real look at what they faced. and almost wished the vizor hadn’t worked.

The thing pulsed like living smoke, its body rippling with nebula-like hues. It defied all logic as its translucent wings, windless and silent, extended for what seemed like forever in either direction from its massive form. It was utterly alien. 

While the whole show was massively impressive, it was the eyes that held him. There was an archaic sense of intelligence behind those amber beams of light. Somewhere in their depths, it almost appeared that there were smaller systems belonging to the larger universe. Gold wondered just how old a being such as this magnificent creature was. 

Could this be a god? 

Gold didn’t know how long he sat in mesmerized disbelief. It would be easy to spend days watching the pulsating veins streaming reds, oranges, and yellows with the intensity of dying stars. It was anyone’s guess how such a thing survived the extremes of absolute emptiness. It was unlikely this thing had ever been seen before. If it had, the tales would have been magnificent and long reaching.

“What are we going to do?” 

Gold had almost found bliss. Arker’s voice shattered it.

Despite his irritation, it was a fair question. What were they going to do? What could they do? Running seemed like their best bet, but Gold knew the creature had kept pace with them easily at hyper speed. It wasn’t just powerful, it was fast. 

“Deploy the unmanned drones. Surround the ship.”

Fear was a bounty only the weak could afford. No one would remember General Gold as a coward. He would not die in silence. Not here. Not without a crowd there to sing his stories. 

Without hesitation, the crew moved into action. If battle taught anything, it was that those who stopped to sniff the roses became footnotes. Survivors moved with determination. Be it to hide and cower or strive and conquer. 

“Is your plan to outsmart it?” Arker asked, her tone dripping with doubt.

“My plan is for you to worry from over there in the corner while I guide my ship.”

Gold had no time for a sparring match. There was a storming space dragon looming outside, ready to plunge everyone into the long sleep. If his focus fractured even slightly, every soul aboard would pay the price, an excruciating, if not brief, amount of pain and anguish.

Arker gave an indignant humph but, surprisingly, meandered off without another word. Not into the corner as instructed, of course, but rather back to the radar. Gold watched her dive into whispered conversation with one of his technicians. They weren’t hunting for a glitch anymore. It appeared as if everyone was accepting reality now that it stared them in their eyes.

Arker’s presence, despite the beast, still made his scales crawl. Technically, she was an officer, but she had no power here, Gold ignored the contempt, for now. Once this was over, he would prioritize stripping Arker of any control she managed to obtain. Until then, she did the least damage speaking with the engineers now that they were useless.

Gold turned back to the cameras as the drones swarmed from their slots alongside the ship. There was no telling what the dragon could accomplish, but Gold knew one thing about the universe, everything had a weakness. To be alive implied that there was a way to die.

Seventy-five drones swarmed around the creature’s body. In comparison, they were nothing more than miniscule gnats pestering a planet-sized behemoth. There was no point attempting an assault. It would only anger the beast. There was still hope, slight as it may be, that the dragon saw them as a curiosity, not a threat. It didn’t explain why it had so effortlessly consumed his fighters, but it was all Gold had left to grasp.

Live feeds from every angle streamed into the control room’s monitors. Gold bounced from picture to picture, inspecting for any hint of vulnerability. It was almost impossible to absorb anything. 

While the creature’s luminosity made it impossible to lose, it also made it hard equally as difficult to study its details. 

The dragon faded in and out of existence, one moment fully formed in sweeping cascade of celestial colors, the next, gone as if it had never been there at all. Sometimes the corporeal form lasted minutes, allowing a brief inspection of a seemingly endless stretch of shimmering scales. At other times, it was only visible for a breath before disappearing like it had been all a figment of Gold’s imagination. 

With what could very well be the last lap of his life, Gold wondered if he could even trust himself anymore. Nothing seemed real. Ever since his meeting with the pelican, everything had flipped on end, leaving him more and more confused by the minute.

After five minutes of fruitless observation, Gold called for the pulsar weapons to be aimed but not fired. The dragon faded again, this time staying gone longer than before. 

Then, one by one, the feed from the drone’s systems died.

There were no signs of combat. No explosions. The pictures were not jarred or violently ended. Just a sudden, silent end. When the last of the seventy-five went offline, Gold switched to the ship’s external cameras, further away, but still functional. What he saw chilled him more than any battle could. 

The creature’s mouth was agape, pulling in all the drones without effort.

The dragon maneuvered closer, leaving just enough room for Gold to peer straight into an eye three times the size of his ship. Again, Gold got a sense of overwhelming power emanating from what he could only describe as a window to the soul of life’s true beginning.

8.

Gold held off the call to engage for as long as he could. But when the dragon exhaled, nothing more than a simple yawn, the force rippled through space with such a power that it rattled the entire ship, even through the best shields GLAD had to offer. 

That was enough to spark Gold into hyperdrive. 

“Full thrusters,” he ordered, his voice sharp.

The option for hyper speed remained on the table, but he avoided it for now. Weapons tended to work erratically when bogged down by such velocity. For now, Gold tried to remain to the back of the dragon’s head, using the vantage point as a sliver of false security. Being realistic, Gold knew that if this creature, nearest to a god as any of them had ever been, wanted to, it would bring catastrophic devastation from any angle.

Regrettably, for multiple reasons, one being the potential loss of such a being in this universe, and another because resorting to battle meant likely death, Gold order the plasma cannons to let loose their payload. 

Twin purple beams of energy streaked the deep black of empty space. Within seconds the, normally devastating, weaponry struck dragon’s radiant scales and dissipated harmlessly into a whirling kaleidoscope of colors. There was a beauty to it as the dazzling lightshow danced into the deep-set black of space, but Gold found it hard to appreciate.

“Lasers are ineffective, it appears,” Weapon’s Officer, Grim shouted.

Gold winced at how fitting the man’s name felt.

“Let’s whip around the head,” Gold said, hoping against any real hope that his next set of orders would be more effective. “Aim our paper missiles straight toward its eye.”

The ship swerved swiftly, adjusting course with practiced precision. Within minutes, the dorsal hull faced the creature’s massive left eye, an orb of burning light that never blinked. 

Not waiting for confirmation, the weaponry crew sent the paper missiles hurtling at hyper sonic speed. 

Despite the less than intimidating nature of their names, the paper missiles were some of the most calamitous forces in GLAD’s arsenal. And this time, the payload penetrated. 

A shriek erupted from the creature, raw, primal, and world breaking. The shockwaves tore through space, sending Gold’s vessel into a wild, disorientating spiral. 

“Set the stabilizers!” Gold yelled.

With their training taking over their every action, Gold’s crew had already set to correcting the ship’s path.

“Deploy weaponry drones, surround the head, target the eyes.” 

Gold hadn’t been able to assess the damage, but he was certain from the reaction that it had hurt, at least somewhat. 

Hundreds of new drones launched from the ship’s underbelly in a synchronized wave. Each harbored twin weaponry systems. Plasma cannons failed to dent the beast’s scales, but perhaps they would be effective on the softer tissue of the eyes. If those failed again, the remaining paper missiles had already proven their worth.

“Get us back behind the head,” Gold Ordered. “If another energy wave pummels us, I don’t like our chances of not being eaten before we can get back on track.” 

He shifted focus to scan the hundreds of new camera feeds. The dragon slowly swiveled its body, seemingly confused. It was likely the creature had never felt pain before. Its inability to fathom such a thing left it prone to subsequent attacks. Despite its obvious power and longevity, it had been out here alone for so long there was a strong chance it hadn’t known, or had forgotten, about other living things. 

A flap of the creature’s wings, silent against the emptiness surrounding them, drove the dragon away from the ship faster than Gold’s mind could perceive. 

GLADs most advanced hyper-speed engines strained to reach such velocity, and yet the dragon surpassed it effortlessly. 

When it came back into view, the dragon was right in front of the ship. No doubt in his mind, Gold knew the dragon’s intent was to swallow them whole. There would be no epic war waged here today. The drones were now on the wrong side of the. Sending more would prove fruitless. The end was a mere few seconds away and again Gold pondered how it had all meant nothing. 

“Another signal!” Arker pierced the silence. She was hovering over a radar station, eyes wide with disbelief.

Gold away the cobwebs. “What is it?” He asked, hoping it wouldn’t be another gigantic being bent on racing the other to consume them.

“Looks like a ship,” Arker said, her words coming slowly. “They are sending a calling card.” 

She turned to him, scales draining of color.

“It’s Soder.”

9.

Soder’s arrival proved to be less vengeful than he’d probably imagined.

 Emerging from hyper-speed directly between Gold’s ship and the head of the dragon’s maw. The unexpected arrival created a small miscalculation on the dragon’s chomp and instead of it swallowing Gold’s ship, it instead batted away Soder’s vessel with a critical strike of its nose. 

As Soder’s ship flew in several directions, Gold took a moment to respect the irony of how one problem clouding his future had been unintentionally blown from the skies. 

Not that it would matter soon. The dragon was already correcting, its jaws ready to snap again. 

“That did not look pleasant,” Arker said.

Her tone was flat, almost eerily so. No sign of fear. No building panic. Gold found that more alarming than any scream. If there remained no emotions, then it was likely everyone onboard had surrendered to the idea of imminent death. It was quite silly to believe otherwise, he supposed. After all, they had just witnessed the effortless destruction of a ship that had moments ago been the second most impressive weaponry system in GLADs arsenal. Nothing more than an appetizer, making Gold’s crew the main course. 

“Any orders, sir?” Grim asked, his already large fisheyes now several sizes larger.

Gold gazed from screen to screen. He wasn’t looking for counter offensive options anymore. Their last hope, if it could even be called that, was escape. But even that was laughable. He already knew the creature moved faster than any ship could manage.

Then something of interest caught his eye. He paused mid-scan.

“Is that…an escape vessel?” he asked, more to himself than anyone else.

A second later, the answer he didn’t need came from Arker. “I think that’s from Soder’s ship.”

Of course it was. The rat cheated death yet again. It was inexplicable how fast Soder would have needed to scramble to get himself into that pod. 

“It may be valuable soldiers,” Grim said, still doing his best to cling to protocol. 

“Valuable to what cause?” Gold muttered. A few extra hands wouldn’t shift their fate. Not to mention, Gold already knew who drove that pod.

“Chase it,” Gold ordered. 

Gold urged his crew without explanation. If he was going down, Soder was going with him. The renewed vigor in their General revitalized their focus, at least for the moment. Once they realized this was nothing more than a revenge story, they would be just as demoralized as ever, but Gold put no stock into their feelings. They would be nothing more than memories as soon as the dragon wished it. Gold only hoped he could see Soder’s face as the end came.

The escape pod was no match for their ship. It was not capable of hyper speed and had no evasive tech. Within mere seconds Gold’s tracking lasers caught the pod and reeled it in toward the opening hanger doors. 

Abandoning his post, Gold left Grim in charge. The fish, despite decades of combat experience, appeared less than thrilled at the newfound responsibility. Still, he did not question or complain. If they somehow survived this, Grim knew his place was better secured by pressing his lips together and forgoing any crude comments he may have wished to hurl.

At the hanger, Gold arrived just in time to see soldiers assisting General Soder from his pod. 

The rat looked shaken, more so than Gold had ever seen. Gone was the smugness, the arrogance. In its place: raw unmistakable fear. The rodent looked downright petrified. 

“Good to see you, Meek,” Gold said. 

It had been years since Gold uttered that name. It had been even longer since anyhow dared to speak it to Soder’s face. If it stung, Soder’s expression didn’t show it. His expression stayed locked in panic.

“Why did you pick me up?” Soder asked, genuinely confused. 

“If I am going to die,” Gold said, looking from Soder to Arker, who had just entered behind him. “I figured I would at least go out with old friends.” 

Soder’s eyes trailed to the figure behind Gold, catching Arker’s presence.

“Well,” he said, slumping as if the weight of everything had finally settled on his back, “what a wonderful pair to die with.”

10.

Finding Soder drowning in despair turned out to do less mentally for Gold than he hoped. The looming death sentence pressing in from beyond the ship’s walls dampened everything. Revenge, it turned out, wasn’t much comfort when death hovered at the door. So, rather than gloat and parade Soder around like a trophy, Gold ordered him thrown in the brig. If they somehow managed to slip through the cracks, he would come back to this moment and taste test it with a better pallet. 

Gold rushed back to the command bridge. Grim looked exactly like the old saying, a fish out of water. With relief, Grim passed command instantly back onto Gold’s shoulders. Oddly, even with the tempest of an uncontrollable storm bearing down upon them, the familiar weight of leadership grounded Gold. This is where he belonged.

There had been a time when becoming even a low-level officer seemed out of the question. Now, he stood with the highest ranking pendant attainable. The only other rung above him was the Council itself, a rung he’d never be permitted to touch. He doubted any of the prestigious, rich, pompous, puppeteers would ever let him sniff the backend of their worst bout of diarrhea. 

Drawing on years of combat experience, Gold barked a dozen rapid-fire commands in clipped shorthand only understood by career military. Like ants reactivated by their queen, each soldier snapped into rhythm. Their panic subsided as muscle memory overtook their thoughts once again.

Some of his orders were survival tactics. Others were only for moral. All of it had its role. He needed everyone in motion.

In minutes, Gold freed every remaining drone from the hangers. All unmanned fighter ships cruised into space on autopilot. And the cannons were primmed. He knew the ploys were nothing more than a beggar in pretty clothes, but if the dragon took the bait, even for a second, that sliver of time might be all he needed.

All at once, the drones unleashed a fury with enough power to flatten a small planet. To the dragon, it created mild irritation. But it worked. The creature moved from directly in front of them, whirling around to free itself from another volley. The dragon didn’t know it yet, but it soon would, Gold had nearly expended the limits of his arsenal. 

All that remained was a weapon Gold wanted to keep. The planet killer was for the council’s mission. If he was to get back into their good graces, he would have to convince them of his worth. Wasting his only shot at completing their request wasn’t where he wanted to start. 

Gold took advantage of the dragon’s momentary distraction, sending the ship into hyper-drive. 

Breaking off course, he headed straight toward the nearest planet on-screen. Gold had no current bearing on where they were headed. One of the cartographers would know, but Gold hadn’t summoned them. Their skill was navigation, not survival.

“Are we landing?” Grim asked. 

Outside, a gray-green orb floated into view. There were no signs of life on the scans. Gold shook his head. 

“This is no time to go on a discovery journey. Wrap around the planet. Come to a full stop. Release all the escape pods.”

“What are you doing?” Arker’s voice cut in.

“We are splitting up,” Gold said, already heading for the command bridge exit.

“You are sending soldiers to their deaths?” Arker followed, offense thick in her tone.

“I am giving them the best chance at survival,” Gold didn’t look back. “Staying to fight that beast was death. Attempting to outrun it, that is futile.”

 Arker jogged beside him, struggling to keep pace with his mechanically enhanced strides. 

“You are using them out as bait while you kick back on the ship and allow yourself the luxury of getting away,” she accused.

She grabbed his mech shoulder. It wasn’t enough force to stop him, but he spun to face her anyway.

“This ship is a casualty of war. No one on this vessel will survive should they choose to take their chances on staying behind these walls. This is their best shot”

Arker’s emotions softened, but not her resolve.

“What are you planning on doing then?”

Gold resumed walking. What he was about to do was one step madness. But aside from running full- long into the dragon’s mouth, it was the only way he could think of to free himself from this predicament. Unlike the ending he would meet inside the semi-god’s entrails. This option at least gave him a fraction of a chance to live to fight another day.

“What do you expect me to do?” Arker asked, relentlessly. 

She refused to allow him any peace of mind on his march to uncertainty. 

“Join the crew in the escape pods. Go back to your paradise vacation. Pretend you had no hand in any treasonous activities. No one needs to be any the wiser. Soder is locked away. Whatever stories he has, they will die here, with him.”

Arker shook her head. “And what about the mission from the pelican?”

Gold stopped again, looking straight into Arker’s eyes.

“Let him find another set of suckers. He backed the wrong crew. Whatever he thought we could accomplish on some grander scale turned out to be an entire bowl of crap.”

Gold slid open the hanger door. Escape pods were ejecting steadily already. For every soldier clamoring to take their turn, there were a dozen more standing frozen, staring into the void as if awaiting a miracle.

Gold made his way in the opposite direction, toward the far back of the hanger. There, locked under security keys only he had, Gold would find a vessel just the right size to carry the final weapon onboard this ship. 

There was no guarantee he would make it, but if by some chance he did, he planned to give success all his effort.

“Would that really be the wisest move?” 

Gold froze mid-step. His body tensed. When nothing slammed into him, he pivoted just enough to stare the pelican square in his starlight eyes.

11.

“It appears that you have found yourself in a bit of a predicament,” the pelican said, utterly unbothered.

“I don’t have time to do this with you, or anyone else,” Gold snapped.

Gold had made up his mind. For now, he knew what he could potentially control. Getting the escape ship and weapon off this vessel was already a long shot. Stopping to frolic with the pelican would make it impossible.

“Time is an illusion, General. Well, at least in the way you perceive it. Events are laid out in more complexity than your linear way of thinking. Even our powers have limits to how symmetrical we can lay things out.” 

With a flap of one wing, the pelican released a shimmering pulse. Everything the wave touched, soldiers, ships, gear, froze in place, like newly formed statues. 

“For our purposes, I would rather you think of time as something moldable.”

Gold grit his teeth. “Why not just turn back time to where your mistake never occurred then? If you have such power, use it.”

The pelican’s face contorted, and its voice seemed to stretch in thought.

“If only it could work that way. The rules governing your time make the way our time works look like child’s play. We are constant, never changing, never moving. We have always been and always will be, leaving us in a bit of a position that sticks up like the highest peak of a mountain. In an easier way for your mind to understand, we are just too high to reach. Even we have our limitations, though they are few.”

Gold liked the pelican less and less every time it opened its beak to squawk. He turned away, deciding to use the time gifted him to get the ship into position. He still needed to fly up into the weaponry holding station under the ship. There he would tuck a warhead, that by size was nothing larger than a simple bomb but was packed with an extremely violent wrath. 

GLAD had only used the planet killer on two occasions throughout history. One had been a test on an empty planet. Gold hadn’t been present. Rumors said even the council trembled that day. The fear hadn’t stopped them from ordering Gold to use though. Not when an entire sector had risen to threaten their ultimate authority. 

Sometimes flashes of that day still assaulted his mind. He shuddered to imagine what a second time might do to his psyche. 

“I have a better solution for you,” the pelican called to him, drifting closer.

Gold continued with the security clearances, not allowing himself to be distracted.

“It is a win for all.” The pelican was now right beside him. “The dragon, it didn’t exist before today. You wandered across the path of a friend of mine. I told you he slipped away from us. Think hard, do you think such a thing as the dragon you just came across could exist without anyone ever seeing it before? Do you think it could grow, live, and thrive without any source of nourishment? That cannot make sense, even to your kind.”

Gold wanted to rip into the pelican for its obvious insults to his intelligence, but he remembered the results of their last altercation and refrained. 

“I just want to control what I can. Right now, that is getting this ship out of the hanger.” 

Gold purposefully left out the rest of his plan. Genocide was no ones favorite topic, even if he had no control over it.

“Allow me to alleviate your most pressing trouble.” 

The pelican stepped back, closed its eyes, then smirked.

“It is done.”

Gold’s fingers stopped. 

“What exactly is done?” 

The pelican stretched its smirk into a full-blown smile.

“The dragon,” he said. “It has been returned to where it belongs.”

Gold narrowed his eyes. “Where is that exactly?” 

“Above your understanding, sorry,” the pelican said, almost gleefully.

Gold sucked in a deep breath through his nose, reigning in the urge to explode. If the pelican noticed his frustration, it gave no indication. Gold figured the bird was far too self-absorbed to see the plight of others; especially those it found insignificant. 

However, if what the pelican said was true, and the dragon was gone, then he could reset. He had Soder locked away, the council was unaware of his disobedience, and he still had time to assess before arriving at the soon to be space-dust planet.

“If it is gone,” Gold said, “prove it.”

The pelican again closed the distance between them without moving, placing a wing gently on Gold’s shoulder. In an instant, Gold saw beyond the hulls of his ship, into the vastness of space. There were so many shapes, colors, lights, and perpendicularities he barely registered even a fraction of them. One thing was for certain though, he did not see a larger-than-life dragon. 

Then, just like that, he was back in his body, seeing through his own eyes.

“It doesn’t work as well with such a limited coconsciousness,” the pelican said, “but you get the gist. The dragon is gone, at least from your standpoint.”

Gold exhaled. Once again, he found himself under the thumb, no, the wing, of a decision maker who lorded power over him with expectations out of his mechanical hands.

“What would you have me do now?”

The pelican smiled, clicking its tongue with approval.

“Why don’t you settle your crew, get your ship back into working order, and then use this.” The pelican handed him a silver disk, roughly the size of an average dinner plate. “Think of it as a calling card. When you are back in command, use it.”

Gold rolled the disk between his fingers and palm. It looked ordinary. Whatever secrets it held were beyond his understanding.

“It will give me your expectations?” he asked.

“Something like that,” the pelican said. “Don’t worry about it too much. Just know this, I will be seeing you very soon. Get your affairs in order. Then, we are going to save the universe.” 

With exaggerated nonchalance, the pelican turned and walked casually away. Gold knew it was for purely for dramatic flair, the pelican had need to walk anywhere. 

About fifteen feet away, the pelican stopped, flipping its head around over its left shoulder.

“Oh,” it said, “watch out for anything…unusual. I have a feeling that our dragon friend will not be the last oddity you come across before this is all said and done.”

With no more context, the pelican flapped its wings and vanished in a sharp snap of light and a soft pop, leaving Gold alone.

12.

Gold left nothing to chance. Over the next two hours, he gathered all the escape pods he could locate. Then, he set focus on scouring the area for any remnants of the dragon. When his crew asked him questions about its disappearance, Gold took credit for the destruction. Then, he avoided the questions of how. Let it be a mystery to them. Not that it wasn’t honestly a mystery to him too. 

Only Arker understood the implications. But judgement would have to wait. Gold ordered her to guest quarters befitting her station. She kicked and screamed all the way, but Gold ignored the uncomfortable conversation they would need to have later. 

For now, he was safe, or at least safer. With Soder and Arker, his two biggest headaches in life, taken care of, he could now fully focus on the council’s mission.

Gold grabbed the silver disk the pelican had given him from his pocket. Had the pelican meant for Gold to contact him once the mess was cleaned out here, or once the council gave him back their approval? Gold decided to take as much liberty with the instructions as possible. The longer he could avoid another run in with the pelican, the better. 

For now, he tossed the silver disk onto his empty counter. With the ship back on trajectory, Gold excused himself into a much needed, long overdue deep sleep.

Epilogue

“Hey Frank!” 

A rowdy rhinoceros pounded on a metal framed bar counter getting the attention of a gentleman he referred to as Frank. 

The ostrich turned, towel in hand, expecting a spill. When the pair locked eyes, the rhinoceros declared, in a vivacious yell, “this boy says he is old enough to have remembered the beginning of time. How many sips have you allowed him to take?”

The ostrich, noticing an attempt to suck him into a pointless exchange, feigned hearing something on the other side of the bar and urgently moved away, towel still draped over his wing. 

The rhinoceros huffed, covering the obvious brush-off with a bout of raucous laughter.

“Kid,” he said, turning back to his companion, “you aren’t old enough to have seen the development of the hemorrhoid I got this week. Not even sure why you are in here. I know this place has loose morals, but there must be a cut off somewhere, right?”

The rhinoceros wasn’t necessarily talking to anyone in particular now. Likely just to fill the space a bit, or maybe because he’d taken in a few too many of the drinks.

“I have seen more than that,” the boy said. “I could tell you exactly when those hemorrhoids, as you call them, will go away. There is more I can see too…”

The rhinoceros cut him off, slurring. “Alright, Nostradumbass, tell me then, who will walk through that door next? Use your seeing powers.”

The rhinoceros showed some skepticism, but then again, didn’t everyone else too?

 So many people acted like they had no control over reality. The boy was beginning to think everyone messed with him, but he played along. It was nice to be out of his cage. Much nicer than the pelicans told him it was.

“Sure thing,” the boy tilted his head, then said plainly, “the next person through is named Tulusa Davis, but he likes to be called TD Dynamite on account of his explosive nature.”

The rhinoceros stopped grinning. The drink in his hand froze halfway to his mouth. He swiveled toward the door, eyes wide. 

Right on cue, a tall, dark-furred wolf walked through the swinging doors. He said nothing.

Then, he snapped his fingers. 

The resulting explosion sent everyone inside to the place of wandering souls. 

Everyone except the little boy. 

He’d already slipped from his seat, glided through the hurling flames like a breeze, stepped outside. There he patted Tulusa Davis’s speeder.

It began to shimmer, twist, and turn. Without any explainable reason, the transformation completed, leaving only a pink mechanical pony with a singular horn jutting from the center of its skull where the speeder had been.

He smiled.

He had always wondered why they never let him make real unicorns. Too impractical, and silly, they said.

But he liked them. And now he was free to make as many as he liked.

Feeling the familiar ripple of a pelican nearby, the boy decided his time here was over. 

With a flicker of light and a blink of reality, the boy vanished, beginning his quest for a new adventure. Hopefully the next world would be more fun. And a little less explodey.