The mention of the MVM awards sent a renewed ripple through the crowd.
Thea could feel the shift in the atmosphere, tension crackling as Recruits sat forward in their seats, hanging onto every word.
Alpha Squad was no exception.
She glanced around at her squad mates, each of them visibly stiffening with anticipation.
Thea’s thoughts turned to Lucas.
‘He needs this,’ she thought. ‘If he wins one, he’s safe. He won’t have to deal with Rachel and whatever nonsense challenge she’ll throw his way.’
Thea clenched her fists, the small mountain of medals in her hands cool and grounding. She silently pleaded for his name to be called, the unspoken hope shared by the rest of Alpha Squad as well.
Major Quinn began listing off the Recruit-level medals, her tone crisp and formal.
The first went to a Marine from the Empyrean.
The second followed swiftly after, awarded to someone aboard the Hegemon.
The third and final Recruit medal was handed to a Marine from the Ascendant.
Thea’s heart sank as reality crashed down.
Lucas’ name hadn’t been called, and now the chances of him avoiding a challenge from Rachel were now nonexistent. She turned her head toward him, catching the faintest flicker of frustration in his otherwise composed demeanor.
‘He knows what’s coming,’ she thought grimly.
It wasn’t just Lucas that had her unsettled, however.
Thea realized with a jolt that Sovereign Alpha, despite their dominance across the ceremony, had only earned a single MVM medal throughout the entire Assessment.
‘How is that possible?’ she thought, stunned.
They had cleaned up in almost every other category.
This was supposed to be the ultimate recognition of individual merit, the category that most accurately reflected their best efforts and achievements. And yet…
Her thoughts were interrupted by Karania’s eyes locking onto hers.
Thea recognized the look instantly—it was a “Just wait and see.”
Karania’s knowing expression carried no trace of worry or doubt, the same ever-present, quiet confidence radiating from her.
Thea’s brow furrowed as realization dawned.
‘Of course,’ she thought. ‘Karania must think she’ll get one for her work as a Medic. And why wouldn’t she?’
It made perfect sense.
After all, Karania’s performance during the Assessment had been nothing short of extraordinary. The recordings the UHF had at their disposal were bound to be able to truly showcase her genius-level capabilities, and if anyone deserved an MVM medal, it was her.
Thea leaned back in her chair, her heart still heavy with the knowledge of Lucas’ looming challenge, but she held onto the faint hope that Karania’s instincts would prove correct.
‘If nothing else, at least one of us deserves a win here,’ Thea thought, her gaze snapping back to the stage as Major Quinn prepared to announce the next set of winners.
The Two-Star Platinum Medal went to a Corporal from Kaon Squad aboard the Empyrean of Light, and Thea felt her anticipation tighten further.
Then, as if on cue, Major Quinn’s rapid-fire cadence slowed, her deliberate pause enough to signal to the hall that something significant was coming.
The room quieted, anticipation gathering in everyone’s eyes.
“Now… getting to the Two-Star Palladium Medal,” Major Quinn began, her voice rich with intrigue, “I must admit, I was extraordinarily surprised to see the name and ship attached to this award, despite the already downright ludicrous amount of awards that have gone into directions I had not even begun to anticipate correctly.”
She paused, letting the tension build, her gaze sweeping across the sea of Recruits.
“You see, a first Assessment is just that: An initial evaluation of your potential. While undoubtedly important and potentially defining for the first years of your careers, the UHF does not actually expect any of you Recruits to perform extraordinary feats or obliterate established statistics in your first outing.”
A ripple of murmured agreement spread through the hall, only to quiet again as Major Quinn’s eyes came to rest on Alpha Squad.
Her smile widened ever so slightly, and Thea felt her pulse quicken.
“But then again,” the Major continued, “there has also never been an Alpha Squad with such a high initial PV in the history of the UHF. So perhaps we shouldn’t be too surprised to welcome, yet again, one of Sovereign Alpha’s own to the stage. Please, give a thunderous round of applause for the statistically greatest Recruit Medic the UHF has ever had the pleasure of calling their own: Karania Faulkner, recipient of the Two-Star Palladium MVM Medal!”
The hall erupted into cheers and applause, and Thea joined in without hesitation.
She had already braced herself for Karania’s name to be called and was unsurprised to see her friend rising from her seat before the Major had even finished the announcement.
Karania’s confidence and poise were, as always, utterly unshakable, and her calm stride toward the podium only reinforced that impression.
“Let’s go, Kara! Fuck yeah~!” Thea screamed, her voice cutting through the roar of the crowd.
Genuine happiness surged through her, mingled with unbridled awe and pride.
To Thea, Karania wasn’t just a brilliant medic—she was a true force of nature.
Her sheer excellence radiated from her like a beacon at all times, elevating everyone around her. It wasn’t just that Karania excelled at everything she did; it was that she did so with an unrelenting purpose that inspired those around her.
Thea couldn’t help but feel humbled—and lucky—to count someone like her as a close friend.
Watching her ascend the podium, Thea’s thoughts were crystal clear on the matter.
‘The UHF doesn’t just need someone like her—they’re blessed to have her.’
Karania wasn’t just an outlier in Thea’s mind; she was a phenomenon—the kind of person who came around maybe once in a millennium, if that.
And Thea, standing in the same squad as her, felt her own path forward illuminated by the sheer brilliance of Karania’s existence.
It wasn’t just that Karania excelled—it was that she downright redefined what was considered possible, dragging everyone around her into the gravitational pull of her unwavering determination.
If anyone else had uttered the words Karania had spoken earlier in the ceremony—unilaterally declaring war on the very concept of mortality—Thea would have dismissed them as insane, arrogant, or joking.
But Karania? The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, not for a single fraction of a second.
With Karania, the impossible didn’t feel impossible at all.
Her ambitions might have sounded straight up absurd when spoken out loud, but Thea believed, deep in her bones, that Karania would find a way to make them work.
Whether through sheer willpower, unmatched intellect, or some entirely new, unimaginable means, Karania Faulkner would find a way to make death itself quake at her name.
That wasn’t a hope—it was a fact, etched into Thea’s very Soul the moment her friend had made her declaration.
The road ahead for Kara was undoubtedly long, unfathomably complex, and impossibly demanding, but Thea had already decided she would be there. No matter how draining the journey, she would stand beside her, witnessing every step of her dream’s evolution.
More than that, she would help however she could, supporting her friend’s mission to bend the very fabric of reality to her will.
Because that was who Karania was—she wasn’t just a dreamer. She was a realist, through and through. So, if she said that death would end, then in Thea’s mind, death’s days were numbered.
It wasn’t bravado or empty ambition; it was simply fact.
Greeting Karania with a grin so wide it almost hurt, Thea leaned back slightly, letting the rest of Alpha Squad rush to congratulate their friend first.
There was no urgency in Thea’s mind—she sat right next to Karania, after all. They had all the time in the world to talk later, and Thea knew that when the initial flood of congratulations subsided, she’d have her moment to express just how proud she was.
Karania accepted each nod, pat on the back, and playful comment with her usual grace, her calm demeanor tinged with a faint smile that told Thea she wasn’t entirely unaffected by the outpouring of support. She might have seemed unshakable, but even someone as exceptional as Karania could feel the weight of her squad’s admiration.
When Karania finally turned toward her, Thea didn’t hesitate, leaning in for a tight hug, her grin as wide as ever. "Guess it’s hard being the greatest medic the UHF has ever seen, huh?" she teased, her voice light but filled with genuine admiration.
Karania chuckled, her tone laced with amusement as she retaliated by lightly prodding Thea’s sides, tickling just enough to force her to squirm. "Not as hard as being the squad’s resident overachiever, I’d imagine. What’s it now? Five medals? Six?"
“Like you don’t know the exact number,” Thea shot back, rolling her eyes but unable to hide the warmth in her voice. She couldn’t exactly argue—Karania was right.
It was almost comical to think of herself as anything other than an overachiever at this point, what with the growing collection of medals clutched in her hands.
The combined weight of them felt almost as surreal as the accolades they represented.
As Thea moved to sit back down, Karania held out her hand with an exaggerated, expectant look. Her expression was so over-the-top that Thea couldn’t help but laugh, the tension of the moment dissipating further.
“Right, of course,” Thea muttered with a grin, taking Karania’s hand without hesitation.
Before Thea could fully process what was happening, Karania abruptly yanked her forward with surprising strength, pulling Thea off balance. Her body turned awkwardly as Karania switched positions with her, leaving Thea stumbling slightly to catch her footing.
“What the—?!” she yelped, her voice rising in confusion. A panicked thought shot through her mind—’Don’t yell! Don’t get Psychically-slapped by Major Quinn!’—and she barely managed to cut herself off before her voice carried across the hall.
Karania, as composed as ever, smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief.
"It’s your turn now," she said cryptically, brushing a nonexistent speck of dust off her shoulder. "I was just the appetizer."
Thea blinked, confusion painting her features.
“What… What does that even mean?” she asked, her voice edging toward frustration.
Karania didn’t answer.
Instead, she gave Thea a long, knowing look—the kind that spoke volumes without saying anything concrete—and then calmly sat back down in her chair, crossing one leg over the other with a smug expression.
Thea exhaled sharply, muttering under her breath as she tried to sit back down herself, but before she could, Karania stretched out her hand and gently but firmly pushed her away.
"Nope," she said, her voice lilting with amusement. "I told you, it’s your turn. You really should get going."
Her smirk widened, practically daring Thea to figure it out.
Frustration bubbled to the surface.
"Kara, what the fuck are you—?" Thea started, but the words died in her throat as Major Quinn’s commanding voice rang out, cutting through the din of the hall.
“Now,” Major Quinn began, her tone carrying an almost playful gravitas, “if Karania Faulkner’s award is an outlier, then I really don’t know what to call this one; yet the brass will simply have to find a name for it, since it is reality.”
Thea froze, her heart skipping a beat as her eyes froze at Karania’s.
Her friend’s smile simply grew wider every moment.
“Anybody with a rough understanding of how the MVM Award is judged,” Major Quinn continued, her voice resonating with authority, “should know what I am about to say by now, but I will spell it out for everyone else in the hall as well: For the first time in UHF history, a Recruit hasn't just won the Two-Star Palladium MVM Medal, but another Marine, from the very same ship and Drive, has also won the Two-Star Crysium MVM Medal. A statistically almost impossible happenstance, yet we are privileged enough to bear witness to it.”
Thea’s mind reeled as the horrifying realisation crashed down on her.
‘No way. No fucking way. That’s not fucking possible. I couldn’t…!’
“Without further ado,” Major Quinn announced, a genuine smile spreading across her face, “let us all welcome back to the stage for one final award; considered the Most Valuable Marine in the entire Assessment: Thea McKay, from our very own Alpha Squad.”
The room erupted in ear-splitting applause and cheers, but Thea barely heard it.
Her gaze still frozen on Karania, who was now leaning back in her chair, arms crossed, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.
"Told you," she mouthed, before pushing Thea away from the seats towards the podium with her feet.
The room’s applause was deafening, but to Thea, it was nothing but a muffled roar, like the sound of distant waves crashing against the shore. Her legs carried her forward almost on instinct, her steps mechanical as her mind struggled to process what was happening.
‘The Most Valuable Marine.’
The words felt alien. Impossible.
How could she—how had she—beaten every single other Marine in the Assessment?
Her mind wrestled with the question, trying and failing to justify it.
‘It can’t be right. There were others. Marines with more experience, more knowledge. Hell, even Kara should’ve been the one to get this, not me.’
But the competitive side of her wasn’t having any of it. ‘Why not you? You worked your ass off. They didn’t just hand this to you—you fucking earned it. This is the UHF, a meritocracy through and through, as even Karania keeps reminding you. So why wouldn’t it be you? You’re carrying a mountain of Medals with you, right now, that prove the very logic that Major Quinn pointed out earlier as well: If it wasn’t you, then who the fuck else would it have been?’
With every step, her doubts were met with defiance.
The competitive blood inside of her veins was practically on fire, burning away any and all cracks in her resolve.
If the UHF brass had chosen her, it wasn’t by accident.
They had watched everything, judged everything—and, yet, she had still come out on top.
So why wouldn’t she accept this outcome? It was the only logical one left.
Even the usual suffocating anxiety from being the focus of thousands of eyes didn’t settle in.
She felt… numb.
The shock had dulled every other sensation, leaving her moving as if through a fog. She was aware of the applause, of the way her name had begun to ripple through some parts of the crowd, but none of it felt real.
Her steps were steady, almost detached, as she ascended the podium once more.
Major Quinn greeted her with a genuine-looking smile, her presence as commanding as ever.
In her hand was the blue-hued Crysium Medal, shimmering under the lights. Thea’s gaze flicked from the medal to the Major’s face, searching for any sign that this was some sort of elaborate joke.
But all she saw was pride—and something else.
Respect.
Behind them, the screen came alive with recordings of her most defining moments in the Assessment.
The footage began with the first ambush, Thea infiltrating alongside Arrow Squad on the opening day, her sniper rifle firing with unerring precision, each shot resulting in a dead Stellar Republic Soldier, regardless of the situation she had found herself in.
Then came the massacre in the forest.
A nightmarishly injured version of herself, one she could barely even remember, hunted down a squad of fully Integrated Soldiers with brutal efficiency, making use of her armour’s camouflage, her Nanobot Swarm’s auditory features to confuse them and sheer, raw willpower to continue moving despite the severe wounds she had clearly already sustained.
The scene shifted to the eastern front, where she had destroyed the Anti-Armour Cannons atop the Wall alongside Lucas. The recording lingered on after the double-shot that took out two of them in the span of a single second; their massive explosions in the distance a sight to behold.
And then came the service tunnels.
Thea’s chest tightened as she watched herself in the footage, her face pale from exertion, eyes wide yet laser-focused.
The recording captured the exact moment she had abandoned all hesitation, placing her full trust in her Psychic Powers and [Sensory Overdrive].
It showed her stepping out from behind Lucas’ shield, Gram raised, firing in what appeared to be erratic and random directions.
Each shot, however, found its mark without fail—cutting down enemies hidden behind cover, disrupting their formations, and neutralizing their most dangerous threats before they even had a chance to act.
Her movements were impossible to follow; even for herself.
She weaved through the chaos like a specter, sidestepping bullets, lasers, and even shrapnel with a preternatural grace.
The recording slowed to highlight moments where her body bent or twisted seemingly an instant before danger even manifested—a Soldier’s laser painting her form only for her to duck before the trigger was pulled, debris from a grenade flying past her harmlessly as if the blast had already been calculated into her steps.
Every motion was deliberate, every decision executed with such precision that it seemed as though she were operating seconds ahead of reality, her actions dictated by a force beyond mortal comprehension.
The hall seemed to collectively hold its breath as the scenes unfolded in excruciating detail.
The tension was palpable, every set of eyes glued to the screen, the weight of what they were witnessing sinking in.
Some Recruits leaned forward, whispering in barely audible tones:
“Is she even human? How do you react that fast…?”
“This is fucking unreal… What am I even watching…?”
“I didn’t even know this was possible… She’s a Recruit, like us…?”
Others simply sat in stunned silence, their eyes glued to the screen, mouths slightly agape.
Major Quinn turned to her once more as the recordings came to an end, extending the Medal toward her. “Congratulations, Recruit McKay. The UHF proudly recognizes you as the Most Valuable Marine of this Assessment, awarding you the Two-Star Crysium Medal for your efforts. Your actions have not only shaped the Battlefield as a whole, but also redefined what the UHF thought was possible for a first-year Recruit to achieve. Well done; you’ve truly earned this.”
Thea’s hands trembled slightly as she accepted the Medal, the weight of it grounding her in the surreal moment.
As she shook Major Quinn’s hand, the roaring applause hit her like a wave, louder and more powerful than anything she had ever heard before. The sheer volume of it seemed to vibrate through her very core, as if the entire hall was amplifying the crowd's energy directly into her chest.
“Alongside the medal,” Major Quinn’s voice carried effortlessly over the cacophony, her tone measured yet proud, “as per usual, there are rewards. For the Two-Star Crysium MVM Medal, you are hereby awarded an additional 8,000 Credits, a 100% Sales Voucher for any piece of equipment inside the Sovereign’s stores, and an Advanced Skill Voucher, usable for any ‘Advanced’-tagged Skill Course inside the System Store.”
Major Quinn finished the announcement by turning to her with a small but unmistakably proud smile, gesturing for Thea to leave the podium. “Well done, Recruit McKay. You’ve earned every bit of this.”
As Thea made her way towards the podium stairs, a strange, unfamiliar calm settled over her.
The usual anxiety that typically clawed at her chest with every step was conspicuously absent. Instead, she felt the fire inside her, blazing with unrelenting confidence, bolstered by the literal and metaphorical weight of the half-dozen medals she now carried.
For the first time in what felt like forever, it wasn’t fear that dictated her movements, but something entirely different—purpose.
Each medal in her hands felt like a physical affirmation of her triumph, a tangible reminder of what she had fought so hard to achieve.
Her steps were sure and deliberate, her back straight, and her chin held high.
Where she had faltered under the weight of others’ eyes just minutes before, now she met them head-on.
Thea could feel the gazes of the Recruits around her—some filled with awe, others with envy.
And this time, she didn’t shrink beneath their scrutiny.
Instead, she challenged them.
Her fiery stare met theirs, and one by one, they looked away first, unable to hold their ground against her.
The thought raced through her mind, undeniable and electric: ‘I am the best Recruit aboard this ship; if not this entire Drive.’
She had achieved what she had set out to do from the moment she had first stepped onto the Sovereign. Her chest swelled with pride, a rare warmth blooming within her that mixed seamlessly with her hard-earned triumph.
She was not simply part of the UHF now—she had carved her name into its history, even if she was far from done.
But then, as she reached the first steps of the podium stairs, her gaze caught something—a rare few eyes among the crowd that were not filled with admiration or respect, but with disgust.
Disdain.
A bone-chilling cold rolled through her, but it wasn’t fear.
It was something sharper, something that cut through her newfound clarity like an icy blade.
‘After all this? After everything I’ve done…? Everything I’ve proven here on this very stage…? You still look at me like that?’
The fire in her chest roared, consuming the cold entirely, leaving only an unshakable, blazing determination in its wake.
Without a second thought, Thea turned on her heel, taking deliberate, quick steps back toward Major Quinn.
Her medals clinked softly in her hand as she walked, each sound a tiny reminder of her efforts, sweat and tears over the past months, years... her entire life.
She stopped just short of the Major, every eye in the hall locked on her now, the applause having turned into a surprised silence, deafening in its intensity.
Thea drew in a deep, steadying breath as the words formed in her mind, each one fueled by the fire in her chest.
She didn’t falter, didn’t question herself as she stepped forward.
Her voice cracked through the charged silence like a whip.
“Major Quinn,” she began, her tone carrying a sharpness that commanded the room’s attention. “Using my earned rights as the holder of the Two-Star Crysium MVM Medal, I wish to issue a Challenge. While I am already part of Alpha Squad, a winner of an MVM Medal, and thus immune to being challenged, your rules said nothing about a Medal holder issuing a challenge themselves. Is this correct?”
Her words hung in the air for a moment, sending ripples of murmurs through the hall.
Major Quinn arched a single brow, but remained silent for now.
The other Recruits, their gazes snapping between Thea and Major Quinn, seemed equally stunned, whispers racing through the crowd like wildfire.
It wasn’t just bold—it was straight up audacious, a direct challenge not merely to a peer but to the very structure of the ceremony itself. Coming from someone who had already achieved the near-impossible, it carried an electric tension that silenced even the faintest murmurs.
“I guess that would be correct, based on the rules I’ve laid out, yes,” Major Quinn replied after a moment, her voice measured but tinged with curiosity. There was a hint of hesitation, as if even she wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the situation. “You may issue your Challenge, Recruit McKay.”
The permission was like a spark to kindling.
The fire in Thea’s veins surged once more, emboldened by the weight of the moment, and she turned sharply to face the gathered assembly. Her eyes swept across the sea of faces, locking onto the thousands of gazes that were now fixed squarely on her.
Thea drew in a deep breath, her voice sharp and deliberate as she began. “Every single one of you has spent the past few hours watching me stand up here again and again. You’ve seen the recordings. You’ve heard Major Quinn herself list the feats I’ve accomplished, seen the awards I’ve been given. Time after time, I’ve proven myself to the UHF—not just once, but over and over, in every category they’ve deemed worthy of recognition.”
She raised her hands, the medals clinking softly as she held them up for all to see.
The podium lights caught the shimmering blue hue of the Two-Star Crysium Medals, casting a radiant glow across the room.
“These,” she continued, her voice unwavering, “are not just Medals. They’re proof. Proof that I am the best damn Recruit in this hall. That the UHF—a Faction built on merit, on skill, on results—has judged me worthy of them. Every one of these is a testament to what I’ve done, what I’ve fought for, what I’ve bled for, what I’ve died for.”
The room seemed to hold its collective breath, the silence punctuated only by the faint hum of the ship’s systems.
“And yet…” Her voice turned colder, sharper, cutting through the air like a blade. “Despite all of that—despite the Medals, the recordings, the recognition—there are still those among you who simply can’t seem to accept it. Maybe it’s because I’m a Midworlder, born from the dirt and the ashes of a place none of you have ever even heard of, or thought about existing in the first place. Maybe it’s because I’m a Cyan, someone you see as less-than-human, simply because I was born from the corpse of my very own mother. Or maybe it’s just because the idea of someone like me being better than you—actually better, with the proof to back it up—burns you to your very core. Maybe it is all of the above.”
She took a step forward, her gaze burning as it swept across the room, meeting face after face. “I know you’re out there. Innerworlders, Coreworlders, maybe even some Midworlders like me, who simply can’t stomach seeing one of their own rise above. You hide it behind your polite applause or your fake fucking smiles, but I can feel it. I can see it in your eyes, in your body language and in the words you whisper to your neighbours. The disbelief. The sheer disdain. The refusal to accept that I deserve to be standing here.”
Thea lowered the medals slightly but didn’t drop her arms, her voice rising with renewed fervor. “This is the UHF. This is a meritocracy. Your bloodlines, your upbringing, your family’s honours—none of that matters here. What matters is skill. Results. And I’ve proven, beyond any doubt, that I belong here. That I belong in Alpha Squad. That I deserve every single one of these Medals. But if you still can’t accept it—if you really think I don’t deserve to be here—then let’s settle it right the fuck now.”
She raised the Two-Star Crysium Medal high, its blue light glinting brilliantly under the podium’s glow. “I am laying down the Two-Star Crysium MVM Medal’s Challenge. To every single person in this hall. To every single Recruit in here, without exception. You think I’m not worthy? You think Alpha Squad doesn’t belong to me? You think a Cyan like me has no place in the UHF? Then step the fuck up. Approach me of your own accord. Ask to be challenged, and I will oblige—without hesitation.”
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Thea’s voice was a whip-crack now, every syllable ringing with unyielding defiance. “Put your credits where your fucking mouths are. Prove me wrong, if you can. Because I promise you this: You will experience firsthand why I am the very best this Drive has to offer.”
Slowly, her tone shifted, her voice growing quieter, yet losing none of its edge as it carried effortlessly throughout the hall. “During the opening ceremony, right after Integration, Major Quinn showed you firsthand how I reacted to a shot I didn’t expect—I dodged it. I’m offering you the same chance now: A free shot.”
She took a deliberate pause, taking a page out of Major Quinn’s book, the tension in the hall thick enough to cut.
Her next words were even colder, sharper, delivered with a ferocity that made the temperature in the room feel like it had dropped several degrees. “But know this, in your very bones: This time around, I will know the shot is coming—and I won’t just dodge it.”
With that, she turned back around to Major Quinn and gave her a quick bow, before storming off the podium, into the utterly stunned sea of Recruits below, making her way back towards Alpha Squad’s seats.
Thea's steps felt heavier with every stride off the podium, her mind a whirlwind of emotions as she made her way back through the utterly stunned sea of Recruits.
The hall was alive with a cacophony of whispers and murmurs, an electrified hum rippling through the crowd as everyone processed what had just occurred. Major Quinn’s authoritative voice rose above the din, her words firm and deliberate as she attempted to restore order.
“Recruits, quiet down. While this was definitely an unexpected development, this ceremony is not yet over,” Major Quinn called out, her tone sharp enough to cut through the chaos.
It took several moments, but the whispers began to die down, leaving only a subdued buzz of residual astonishment lingering in the air.
Thea reached Alpha Squad’s row, her legs threatening to buckle beneath her.
She collapsed into her seat, dropping her medals into her lap and burying her head in her hands. The cool metal pressed against her forehead, offering some relief to her burning face, but it did little to quell the storm raging inside her.
‘What the fuck did I just do? What did I even say up there?’ She thought, panic blooming in her chest. Her breathing came shallow and quick, and she forced herself to focus on the rhythmic, grounding chill of the medals against her skin.
Around her, Alpha Squad was utterly silent, the kind of stunned silence that only comes when something entirely beyond comprehension has just unfolded.
Corvus was the first to break it, leaning forward slightly, his brows furrowed in both confusion and reluctant admiration. “Thea,” he started, his voice low, as if unsure how loud he should be. “That… was... definitely a statement.”
Isabella, sitting on Thea’s other side, let out a short, incredulous laugh.
“Statement? That wasn’t a statement, Corvus; that was a fucking declaration of war!” she said, her tone equal parts amused and stunned. “I mean, what the fuck, Thea? Did you just… Challenge the entire hall? If I had known this was even an option, I would’ve tried harder on the MVM Medal thing!”
Karania, as always, seemed more composed, but even her expression was one of mild disbelief.
“You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?” she said, leaning slightly toward Thea. “That was… bold, to say the least. You realize what you’ve done, don’t you?”
Thea groaned, still pressing the medals against her forehead, and mumbled, “No… Maybe? I don’t know! What the fuck was I thinking?”
Desmond, who had been sitting quietly in a rare moment of speechlessness, finally found his voice. “You weren’t thinking, Thea. That’s the only explanation. But hey, at least it was entertaining as fuck, I guess,” he quipped, though even he sounded a little unsure of how to process what had just happened.
Lucas, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “You just put a massive target on your back, you know that, right? But I’ll give you this much—nobody’s going to forget your name anytime soon.”
Thea groaned louder, pushing the Medals harder against her forehead as if she could will herself invisible. “Oh, fuck… What did I even say up there? Why did I do that?”
Karania gently reached out and placed a hand on Thea’s shoulder, her voice softer now. “Because you’ve been fighting to prove you belong here since the moment you arrived. And you just made sure no one in this hall will ever dare question that again.”
Thea peeked through her fingers at Karania, whose expression was one of genuine pride.
“Or,” Isabella added with a smirk, “they’ll all line up to get their asses handed to them. Either way, it’s going to be fun.”
Thea groaned again, louder this time, as if the weight of her impulsive declaration were a physical thing bearing down on her shoulders.
“Whatever’s going to come of this, you can’t take it back now,” Karania said, her voice calm and measured, though the faintest trace of amusement lingered.
She continued patting Thea’s back, the gentle gesture doing little to calm the storm of thoughts raging in Thea’s mind. “So let’s just take it one day at a time. And, as Isabella said, if anyone does end up accepting the Challenge? Then you’ll beat their asses anyway. It’s just like you said: You were the best Recruit in this entire hall, so there’s really nothing to worry about, is there?”
“Yeah, sure,” Thea muttered, her voice muffled as she kept her face buried in her hands. “Just the tiny issue of having to face down the entire fucking Drive now…”
Isabella let out a laugh, sharp and unapologetic. “Don’t be so dramatic, girl. Half of them are probably too scared to even think about it. Hell, some of them might even want to line up just to shake your hand instead of fight you. You’ve got them all in a chokehold right now, and you don’t even realize it.”
Before Thea could muster a response, Major Quinn’s authoritative voice sliced through the chatter of the hall like a knife.
“Recruits, settle down. We are now at the final segment of today’s ceremony: The Leaderboards,” she announced, the command in her tone enough to snap the room back to attention.
Even Alpha Squad’s whispered conversation ceased as they turned their focus toward the stage.
Major Quinn gestured toward the screen behind her, which came alive with a sleek, glowing interface that displayed the words UHF Assessment Leaderboards in bold, sharp letters.
“The Leaderboards are, in many ways, distinct from the awards we’ve just presented,” she began, her tone shifting to one of practiced explanation. “While the MVM Awards celebrate extraordinary peak performances and highlight Marines who have achieved truly remarkable individual moments, the Leaderboards encompass everything. Every action, every decision, every contribution—no matter how large or small—is calculated into these scores.”
The screen shifted, showing a complex grid of names, ships, squads, and numerical rankings being filled one by one. Everyone instinctively leaned forward in their seats, the tension in the hall building once again as everyone waited for the results to populate.
Major Quinn continued.
“Unlike Medals, which focus on specific achievements with, sometimes, very stringent criteria, the Leaderboards reflect the consistency of all performance throughout the entire Assessment. They include elements that may never show up in a Medal but are no less critical to the success of the UHF’s operations: Every shot fired, every meter traveled, every life saved or lost—it’s all here. The Leaderboards are the truest representation of a Marine’s overall contribution to the Assessment, and the scores represented on them, are what determine your overall ranking as a Marine going into these next few months.”
Thea sat up straighter, her previous anxiety momentarily overshadowed by a growing curiosity.
This was it—the culmination of everything.
While the Medals had been a tremendous honor, this was the scoreboard—the ultimate metric of a Marine’s worth in the field, the definitive measure of their contributions and performance throughout the entire Assessment.
Major Quinn’s voice rang out as she elaborated on the rules. “The first six names on the Sovereign-specific Leaderboard will represent those among you who meet the requisite score thresholds to issue Challenges to the current Alpha Squad members ranked below them. For example, if you place second here, you will have the right to Challenge every member of Alpha Squad ranked third and below—excluding, of course, those who have secured immunity through MVM Awards.”
The hall seemed to collectively hold its breath, the weight of her words settling heavily over the gathered Recruits.
The very structure of Alpha Squad could shift in an instant depending on the results of this board.
Thea exchanged a glance with Corvus, who sat a bit further to her left.
His expression was as unreadable as ever, but his usual stoicism now carried a sharper edge, a quiet anticipation that mirrored the tension running through every member of their squad. His hand rested on his knee, fingers tapping in a slow, deliberate rhythm, a subtle tell that even he wasn’t entirely immune to the weight of the moment.
Isabella, meanwhile, was bouncing her leg with barely-contained energy, while Desmond and Lucas looked like they were trying to play it cool but failing miserably.
Karania, as always, appeared serene, though her faint smirk suggested she already had a guess about how this would play out, a quiet confidence radiating from her posture.
The screen flickered again, and the Leaderboard’s top ranks began to populate one by one, each name accompanied by a ripple of anticipation through the hall.
Major Quinn’s commanding voice carried over the murmurs, giving context to the names and numbers that started appearing in the top-10.
Her cadence was calm but deliberate, drawing the room’s full attention.
“At rank 10, coming in with a total score of 43,358 points, is Yonbu Langri from Arctic Squad.”
Polite applause filled the room, though no cheers emerged for the name. It seemed Yonbu wasn’t widely known, or perhaps he simply hadn’t made a strong impression on his peers.
“At rank 9, with a total score of 44,091 points, is Desmond Reimart from Alpha Squad.”
The entire Alpha Squad instantly turned toward Desmond, whose eyes immediately shot up to the ceiling as he muttered a resigned, “Fuck.”
A small chuckle rippled through their ranks, though the reality of his position clearly weighed on all of them—he was going to be easily Challengeable.
“At rank 8, with a total score of 44,816 points, is Lucas Callahan from Alpha Squad.”
Lucas gave a small shrug, seemingly unsurprised by his placement, though his jaw tightened slightly. Desmond turned to him and muttered, “Ah, good. At least I’m not alone.”
“At rank 7, with a total score of 46,318 points, is Isabella Itoku from Alpha Squad.”
Thea felt her chest tighten as the third Alpha Squad name was called, this one catching even Isabella off guard. Isabella’s eyes flickered toward the screen, her usual bravado replaced by a rare moment of uncertainty.
By now, Thea’s earlier confidence had been replaced with a growing sense of panic.
The dominance Alpha Squad had shown during the medal ceremonies didn’t seem to be translating to an equally dominant performance on the Leaderboard.
Three of their members were already in positions that made them Challengeable.
“At rank 6, with a total score of 46,403 points, is Jin Shizo from Arctic Squad.”
“Who?” The thought seemed to ripple through Alpha Squad in unison as they exchanged baffled glances. Nobody seemed to know anything about this Marine, much less how he had climbed so high on the board without winning a single medal.
“At rank 5, with a total score of 47,944 points, is Tiberius Soren from Wano Squad.”
‘That guy again…’ she thought, a sentiment echoed in the furrowed brows and frustrated looks of Isabella and Corvus.
“At rank 4, with a total score of 49,112 points, is Corvus Leander Sylarion from Alpha Squad.”
A ripple of nods passed through Alpha Squad, but nobody spoke. It was clear to everyone now: The top three were not going to be dominated by Alpha Squad members.
“At rank 3, with a total score of 52,871 points, is Rachel Veronica Masters from Beta Squad.”
Thea’s stomach churned at the mention of Rachel’s name, a flash of anger threatening to take over.
She forced herself to breathe, unwilling to miss the next announcement.
“At rank 2, with an astonishing total score of 97,748 points, is Karania Faulkner from Alpha Squad.”
The entire squad’s eyes widened, even Isabella’s usually sharp tongue momentarily silenced.
The number was staggering. Karania, predictably, offered only a shrug, her smirk growing just slightly as she sat, serene as ever.
‘That’s an absolutely insane score. What the actual fuck…?’ Thea’s mind reeled at the figure, struggling to comprehend it. But then Major Quinn spoke again, her words ringing with finality.
“And finally, at rank 1, which should not surprise anyone in this hall by now, with a truly unbelievable 103,649 points, is Thea McKay from Alpha Squad.”
The hall erupted into applause and cheers, a mixture of awe and disbelief washing over the crowd. Thea sat frozen, staring at her name at the very top of the board.
It wasn’t just a win. It was a landslide.
As Major Quinn finished speaking, the Leaderboards shifted, morphing into three separate scoreboards displayed side by side.
The first was the Sovereign-specific Leaderboard she had just presented.
The other two were labeled Recruit Leaderboard and Assessment Leaderboard, representing rankings for all Recruits and all participants in the Assessment, respectively.
Thea’s eyes were immediately drawn to the Recruit Leaderboard, the competitive fire in her sparking back to life.
‘Did I make it…?’
Her gaze locked onto the first few names, and her chest tightened with excitement.
Recruit Leaderboard
#1 - Thea McKay - 103,649 points - Sovereign Alpha
#2 - Karania Faulkner - 97,748 points - Sovereign Alpha
#3 - Hammr Strong - 67,547 points - Empyrean Alpha
#4 - Kar’al Rodun Imahara - 64,981 points - Ascendant Alpha
#5 - Malea Felsch - 63,311 points - Empyrean Alpha
Her heart skipped a beat as she confirmed her position. ‘Easily first,’ she thought, barely able to suppress the grin tugging at her lips.
Her attention then shifted to the far more daunting Assessment Leaderboard, her eyes scanning for her name. Unlike the Recruit rankings, the competition here spanned Marines of all ranks and experiences, and she expected to barely make an appearance, if at all.
Her stomach twisted with anticipation as she scrolled mentally through the ranks, her excitement building until—there it was.
Assessment Leaderboard
#13 - Thea McKay - 103,649 points - Sovereign Alpha
“Fuck me…” she whispered, her voice barely audible beneath the cacophonous amount of murmurs and talking in the hall. A big grin broke across her face, unrestrained joy and pride flooding through her.
She had done it.
Not only had she topped the Recruit Leaderboard, but she had also secured a place in the top 15 of the entire Assessment.
Thea’s mind raced as she considered the feat.
These weren’t just Recruits she had outscored; these were seasoned Marines, veterans who had already been through more battles than she could even imagine facing in the next few years.
Her eyes flicked to the top of the Assessment Leaderboard, already suspecting who held the number one spot.
And sure enough, there it was:
#1 - Joseph Orin Venn - 121,447 points - Bow Squad
Thea chuckled to herself.
‘Staff Sergeant Venn getting first isn’t exactly news, now, is it?’
The man was practically a legend in the UHF already, despite being merely T1. Practically every single person she had met inside the Assessment had either known about him or had directly interacted with him before and they had all shared the same thoughts: He was an absolute master, when it came to owning Assessments and getting high scores in them.
But then, a new thought struck her.
‘Where’s Vi?’
Her gaze darted across the ranks, scanning frantically for her friend’s name. It didn’t take long to find it.
#7 - Viladia Cassiopeia Sortal - 116,817 points - Arrow Squad
Thea exhaled, relief and pride mingling as she took in the number. ‘Of course, Viladia’s up there,’ she thought, the grin on her face widening. ‘She’s always been a beast.’
In the next moment, Major Quinn stepped back up to the podium once more, her commanding presence immediately cutting through the lingering murmurs in the hall.
The screen behind her faded to the UHF emblem, replacing the leaderboards. She raised a hand for silence, and the room complied, the energy simmering down to a quiet hum.
“If I could have just a few more moments of your time,” she began, her voice carrying the same authority that had guided them through the ceremony. “First, let me commend each and every one of you for your performance in this Assessment. Whether you’re walking out of this hall with a Medal, a new rank on the Leaderboard, or just the experience itself—every single one of you has proven that you have what it takes to be here, aboard the Sovereign, part of the UHF.”
Her words were met with a smattering of applause, though the room remained largely quiet, every recruit hanging on her words.
“With the conclusion of the Assessment,” Major Quinn continued, her tone softening slightly, “you’ve all earned a break. As such, I’m officially announcing a full week of downtime for every Recruit aboard the Sovereign.”
The announcement was met with a deafening roar of cheers and applause, easily rivaling the celebration from the Crysium Awards earlier.
Recruits leapt from their seats, whooping and hollering in relief.
For a moment, the rigid lines of rank and squad dissolved into a single, unified wave of excitement.
Major Quinn allowed the applause to roll for a moment with a satisfied smile on her face before raising her hand once more, the room slowly settling into an excited buzz.
“Use this time wisely,” she advised, her tone once again steady and firm. “Rest, recharge, and familiarize yourselves with your surroundings. Because once the week is up, the real work begins.”
The screen behind her flickered, now displaying a list of upcoming schedules and classes.
“Following your time off, you will all be required to attend two primary sets of classes; with many more optional ones that will be presented during them as well. The first: System 101. These sessions will be critical in teaching you how to utilize the full extent of the System’s capabilities, from basic and advanced Abilities, over different System-specific mechanics down to the nitty-gritty details of Builds. If you thought your performance in the Assessment was impressive, just wait until you see what you can accomplish once you’ve unlocked the System’s true potential.”
The room buzzed with interest, nods and whispers spreading through the crowd.
“The second set of classes,” Major Quinn continued, “are the General-UHF Classes. These will provide you with an in-depth understanding of how the UHF operates, both aboard the Sovereign and beyond. You’ll learn more about Rank mechanics, mission structures, inter-fleet cooperation, and everything else you’ll need to thrive in the Marine Corps going forward.”
She paused, her gaze sweeping the room as if ensuring every single Recruit was paying attention.
“These next steps are what will truly define your journey in the UHF. Take them seriously. And once again, thank you for your incredible work during the Assessment, for your trust in the UHF, and for your tireless efforts to strive for greatness, no matter the odds. You’ve made us all proud; and most of all: Me.”
Major Quinn took a deep breath, then bowed deeply before the assembled Recruits.
For a moment, there was silence—then the hall erupted into applause once more, the thunderous noise carrying a palpable sense of camaraderie and respect.
Even the most stoic Recruits couldn’t help but join in, clapping until their palms burned.
Straightening, Major Quinn offered one last nod. “This concludes the ceremony. You are dismissed, Recruits.”
The room was alive with motion as the Recruits began to disperse, conversations sparking up immediately as squads gathered to celebrate, speculate, or simply revel in the week of freedom ahead.
Thea stood and turned toward the rest of Alpha Squad, who were already rising to join her.
They fell into step together, weaving through the crowd toward the exit, sharing their thoughts, bantering or just sighing in relief that the ceremony was finally over.
As they walked, Thea glanced at the medals clutched in her hands, their weight grounding her even amidst the chaos.
She looked at her squadmates—Isabella’s grin, Lucas’s stoic demeanour, Desmond’s muttered curses about “more classes,” Karania’s serene confidence—or maybe smugness, and Corvus’s quiet calculating glances—and felt a surge of camaraderie inside her.
This was her new family inside the UHF; one she would defend until her last breath, no matter what.
‘This is only the beginning,’ she thought, her grip tightening on the Medals in her hands.
‘Like the Major said: The real journey starts now.’
POV: Major Atlas Daxton
Overseeing the rapid Integration of a few thousand Midworlders had undeniably been a penal assignment.
Of that, Atlas was absolutely certain by now.
It was the kind of job that no one wanted but someone had to do—a thankless task buried in bureaucracy and bloodshed.
Not only had it been a logistical nightmare to round up Midworlders scattered across random planets in the Kuigon Sector, but then there was the nightmare of transporting them to the nearest viable Battlefield.
There, he’d been forced to argue with stubborn local commanders to deploy Unintegrated soldiers—a demand they always pushed back on, calling it a waste of resources for one of the UHF brass’s so-called “experiments.”
And as if that wasn’t bad enough, he then had to sit back and watch those same soldiers get slaughtered within days, their deaths just another set of numbers in a report.
“Haa…” Atlas exhaled heavily, his chair creaking as he leaned back to stare at the latest battlefield reports on his display.
The glowing red figures stared back at him like a taunt.
“6,472 Unintegrated Midworlders deployed and only 43 successfully Integrated…?” he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief and frustration. “This is even worse than usual…”
The weight of those words hung in the air as he leaned forward again, his elbows resting on his desk.
“Are you sure these numbers are right?” he asked sharply, his question directed at the silent scribe who had just delivered the updated reports and spliced them into his datastream.
The scribe, as expected, gave a curt nod in response.
Mute by design, they weren’t meant to do anything but process and transport data—a precaution implemented by InfoSec to eliminate the risk of verbal leaks.
Atlas found the practice overly paranoid and, frankly, irritating, but he wasn’t about to argue against the UHF’s most annoying department.
“Fine, fine,” he muttered, waving the scribe away with a dismissive hand as he swiped the screen clean of the grim statistics.
He needed a distraction—anything to take his mind off the thankless drudgery of this assignment.
He opened a new feed, this time pulling up the latest reports from the Sovereign that he had received from Zephyr.
The Assessment had concluded a little over a day ago, and he was itching to see how things had played out. His eyes darted over the data, scanning for the highlights.
There was the usual flood of numbers, mission breakdowns, and performance analyses, but a few lines caught his attention and drew a smirk to his face.
Then he reached the Awards and Leaderboards section.
He froze, reading through the names and scores carefully. When the final rankings sank in, he threw his head back and roared with laughter, the sound echoing through his empty office.
“Hahaha! Of fucking course! Yes! This is the fucking best!” His fist slammed down on the desk in front of him, sending a stack of datapads skidding to the edge. His grin stretched from ear to ear. “I knew banking on your pupil was the right choice, old man!”
His hands moved quickly now, swiping the detailed report into a streamlined message. He attached the list of awards and final Leaderboard scores, then added a short, pointed note.
[Subject: You Owe Us All A Drink—Or Ten]
"Look what your pupil’s gone and done, James. Time to take some responsibility for the monster you’ve created, don’t you think?"
With a satisfied smirk, he pressed the “send” button, only for a glaring red InfoSec warning to pop up on his screen.
ALERT: You are attempting to send UHF-internal documents on an unsecured line. This action might constitute a Court Martialable Offense. Are you sure you wish to proceed?
Atlas rolled his eyes, muttering, “Unsecured my ass. Who gives a fuck…”
He jabbed the button to override the warning with his biometric signature, selecting the ominously worded option: Ignore Warning and Send Anyway (Biometrics required).
The message zipped away into the GalacticNet with a soft ping, leaving Atlas staring wistfully out of his office window. The endless expanse of space glittered before him, cold and unyielding, yet somehow comforting in its vastness.
“Your pupil’s making bigger waves than you probably ever imagined, James…” he murmured, his voice low and contemplative.
A faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
PoV: Councillor Seraphina Lumis
Pouring over the desk stacked with datapads, Seraphina struggled to contain her bubbling excitement. Her foot tapped incessantly against the polished floor, a sign of her giddy energy, and a rare grin split her usually composed face.
“This is even better than we could have hoped for!” she exclaimed to the empty room, her voice carrying an almost childlike enthusiasm.
She kicked her feet lightly, a habit she hadn’t indulged in since her days as a young cadet in the Marines, the datapads in front of her glowing softly with lines of data that felt almost too good to be true.
The results of the recent Assessment were nothing short of cosmic in their implications, but what truly set her heart racing was the performance of her assigned Prime Subject: Thea McKay.
The young recruit hadn’t just met expectations—she had obliterated them, tearing through every benchmark and preconceived notion with the precision of a sniper’s bullet.
The sheer unpredictability of her rise had left everyone scrambling for explanations, but Seraphina reveled in the chaos of it.
“Every once in a while, the galaxy hands you something like this,” she murmured to herself, running her fingers across the sleek surface of a datapad. “Thea McKay… You’re one hell of an outlier.”
For centuries, the UHF had seen its fair share of remarkable Marines, especially in the last few decades, with the Allbright System accelerating the development of raw talent to unprecedented levels.
Yet, Thea felt somehow different.
She wasn’t the strongest or the most inherently powerful.
She wasn’t even the most obvious candidate for stardom or the one that performed the best.
And yet, Seraphina couldn’t shake the feeling that Thea possessed a quality that transcended raw numbers—a potential that wasn’t quantifiable by any current metric.
“Her upbringing must have been a factor… General Harbinger really knows how to find gems in the rough,” Seraphina mused aloud, her fingers dancing across the datapads as she continued reviewing the girl’s performance.
The numbers alone painted a dazzling picture.
Thea had smashed her Assessment scores, nearing all-time records for UHF Recruits across the entire faction. What made it even more impressive was that she had done so without prior System training or formal development of her Psychic Powers.
“With the right guidance, she could be a cornerstone in the UHF’s future operations,” Seraphina said, leaning back in her chair. “She’s the kind of Marine we need more of—a force multiplier waiting to be unleashed.”
Yet, not everything about the report was ideal.
A few anomalies in the data gnawed at the back of her mind.
“Sovereign,” she called into the air, her tone sharpening with purpose, “provide a full analysis of the current status of Prime Subject Thea McKay and any relevant correlating factors.”
The Sovereign’s neutral, precise voice filled the room almost instantly. “Prime Subject Thea McKay has exceeded initial expectations by 43.74%. Prime Subject has exhibited accelerated growth, not previously shown in projections, as a direct result of interactions with Subject Karania Faulkner. Confidence metrics for the Prime Subject have increased by 173.2%, surpassing acceptable variance thresholds. This level of deviation warrants further analysis and additional simulations to determine causation and potential risks. Subject Karania Faulkner’s influence has been flagged as potentially problematic due to its unpredictable nature and direct impact on the Prime Subject’s behavioral growth.”
Seraphina’s brow furrowed as she processed the Sovereign’s assessment.
She waved her hand, signaling the AI to continue.
“Go on,” she said, her tone a mix of curiosity and caution.
“Subject Karania Faulkner has been classified as an anomaly within the current Recruit cohort. Her predictive capabilities and decision-making processes are outside the expected upper-limit for Recruits of her tier. The correlation between her presence and Prime Subject Thea McKay’s enhanced performance is statistically significant but currently unquantifiable without further longitudinal studies.”
Seraphina leaned forward, resting her chin on her interlocked fingers as she studied the information before her. “So Karania’s influence is a double-edged sword… interesting.”
Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “I take it your gamble backfired, then? Pushing the Majors and other AIs for that particular addition of Subject Karania Faulkner’s?”
The Sovereign’s voice replied without hesitation, its tone as neutral as ever. “The Subject’s reactions were far outside expected parameters. The intent behind the addition was sound: To remind the Subject of its status and create conditions conducive to measured control going forward. The strong emotional reaction, however, went far beyond what calculations had shown the Subject to exhibit, even in the worst-case scenarios. Additional data will be required to refine predictive models and circumvent similar deviations in the future.”
“Is that so…?” Seraphina mused, her tone both contemplative and edged with mild irritation.
Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk as she made a mental note to review the exact moment that had gone awry. It wasn’t like the Sovereign to fail in its calculations—especially not this drastically.
Her gaze darkened slightly as she added, “No more pushing the Subject’s buttons for now. Without knowing the exact outcome ahead of time, it’s too dangerous to prod at her further. I can’t shake the feeling that your actions might have inadvertently caused the Subject to actively push the Prime Subject’s growth, creating precisely the precarious situation we’re now facing. We cannot risk underestimating the Subject again. I do not like the sensation of things spiraling out of control… So no more additions of that nature for now.”
She exhaled, her tone sharpening as she leaned back in her chair. “Continue with the rest of the report.”
“Prime Subject is likely to continue acting outside of expected parameters as long as Subject Karania Faulkner’s involvement is not stopped,” the Sovereign’s monotone voice continued where it had left off earlier.
“Conversely, calculations do show that the Subject’s involvement could lead to massively accelerated growth potential in the Prime Subject. However, this makes any decision regarding intervention difficult to justify without further, extensive simulations. Simulations including Subject Karania Faulkner have proven consistently inconsistent in result, as her unique mental capabilities exceed current simulation parameters. Access to a Prime Data Server is required for accurate simulations involving the Subject.”
Seraphina frowned, her finger tapping anxiously on the datapad.
‘Back to the Apex again…?’ she thought, gnawing lightly at her lower lip.
‘How am I supposed to justify that to the brass this time?’
She had already pushed the boundaries of her authority by granting the Sovereign limited access to the Apex’s Prime Data Servers during the Assessment.
The Void Daemon incident had provided the perfect cover to mask her decision, but pulling the same trick twice? That wasn’t going to fly.
She let out a slow breath, trying to center herself before addressing the AI again.
“What are the potential outcomes if we simply… ignore Subject Karania Faulkner’s involvement with the Prime Subject?” she asked, her voice betraying a mix of curiosity and caution.
“Outcomes vary significantly,” the Sovereign replied. “Subject’s disposition toward me remains tentatively hostile. Subject has made several attempts to inform Prime Subject of my existence, though she has not disclosed her full intentions or allegiances. Prime Subject’s calculated and simulated developmental trajectory will deviate drastically if Subject Karania Faulkner is allowed to remain near the Prime Subject for an extended duration.”
The Sovereign paused before delivering the breakdown. “The most likely outcome is a 31.43% probability of moderate accelerated growth. The second most likely outcome is a 28.14% probability of massive accelerated growth. The third most likely outcome is a 16.9% probability of slower growth. The fourth most likely outcome is a 4.7% probability of a schism between the Prime Subject and the UHF, resulting in critical failure of the current objective.”
Seraphina grimaced at the numbers. Her mind whirred, trying to calculate the potential fallout.
‘Those are not good odds. A more than 20% chance of outright unfavorable or catastrophic results? That’s unacceptable… isn’t it?’
“What percentage of potential growth acceleration are we talking about, Sovereign?” she asked, grasping for more data to help her make sense of the gamble.
“For the first outcome: 61.59% accelerated growth. For the second outcome: 238.41% accelerated growth.”
Seraphina’s eyes widened, her breath catching as she leaned back in her chair. She took a moment to regain her composure, feeling her pulse hammering in her ears.
‘What the fuck? Two hundred thirty-eight percent growth? That can’t be right…’
“Sovereign, run the numbers again on the second outcome,” she ordered sharply.
“Calculations updated. The second outcome now results in 238.58% accelerated growth, reflecting developments in the past 4.7 seconds.”
Seraphina blinked. “It went up by 0.17%… In less than five seconds? Why?”
“Prime Subject and Subject Karania Faulkner are currently conversing,” the Sovereign explained. “The interaction is fostering further emotional bonding. Prime Subject exhibits a strong propensity for forming deep emotional attachments, which has a direct correlation with accelerated growth.”
“Of course…” Seraphina muttered, rubbing her temples. “It’s always about emotions with these damned Recruits. Fuck!”
She exhaled heavily, closing her eyes for a brief moment before opening them, her decision solidifying in her mind. “Sovereign, new orders: Do not interfere with Subject Karania Faulkner's actions until further notice.”
The Sovereign immediately confirmed. “Understood. Orders have been updated.”
Seraphina's lips curled into a wry smile, tinged with both apprehension and excitement, as she leaned back and stared at the ceiling, whispered to herself, “We’re taking the damn gamble.”
POV: Runepriest Anrake Vedun
Anrake felt the subtle shift in reality as the Interlocutor’s Void-Drive tore through the delicate fabric of existence, spitting the ship back into real-space after its week-long trek through the endless, formless expanse of the Void.
Official doctrine insisted that the transition was imperceptible, regardless of the ship’s size or make, but Anrake had always known better.
“You can’t simply connect the Void and the Material Universe without creating ripples,” he mused, a quiet chuckle escaping him. The younger engineers—whether specializing in space travel, void manipulation, or the myriad intersections of those disciplines—still had so much to learn about the universe’s deeper truths.
Anrake himself had once believed he understood it all, his confidence as vast as the cosmos.
But years of humbling experiences had stripped him of that hubris.
Now, as a Battlefield Psyker of the highest echelon, he had a unique appreciation for just how truly insignificant even the greatest minds and powers were when faced with the endless unknowns of the Void.
If anything, his talents had only granted him enough perspective to see the edges of his own ignorance—a sobering revelation that never truly left him.
His thoughts were interrupted by the soft chime of his room’s comms system, a familiar tone signaling an incoming communication. Without moving a muscle, he extended a strand of his Psychic energy, effortlessly flicking the activation button.
The physical act of touching anything felt unnecessary for something so trivial; his hands remained massaging his temples, soothing the dull thrum of Void-induced strain.
“Venerable Runepriest,” came the formal and overly tense voice of Captain Sona, “I am calling to inform you that we have successfully exited the Void. We are currently within the Kuigon Star-Sector, en route to quadrant F-574, X-110, to rendezvous with the IGS Sovereign as per your request.”
Anrake sighed audibly, the Captain’s stiff deference grating on him more than it should have.
No matter how many times he encouraged informality, every interaction seemed cloaked in excessive reverence. Suppressing his irritation, he adopted his usual tone of friendly politeness and replied with a flick of his mental energy.
“Thank you for the update, Captain Sona. Please convey my regards to the bridge crew and the rest of the ship’s staff as well. The journey has been thoroughly relaxing,” he said, his voice smooth and disarming.
Before Sona could respond, he cut the connection with another casual flick of energy, turning his attention back to the glowing data slate before him.
The latest report had just filtered in through the UHF’s Galaxy-wide Communication System (GCS), its dense lines of text crawling with information that he had been awaiting with far more anticipation than he liked to admit.
His eyes scanned the document, dissecting its contents with a blend of curiosity and professional detachment, though a genuine smile tugged at his lips the moment he saw the sender’s name.
“Zephyr Quinn…” he murmured, the name rolling off his tongue with a fondness tinged by wistful remembrance. It felt like only yesterday that he had mentored the young, sharp-eyed, fiery-tempered “she-daemon” in the ways of a Psyker.
Yet, time had a way of slipping through his fingers.
It had been over fifty years since he’d last seen her, and instead of being a fresh, young Recruit, now she was a full-on Major, a commanding force and the Proprietor of an entire Star-Sector.
“You grew up so quickly, didn’t you?” he mused aloud, his chuckle resonating softly in the stillness of his quarters. The thought struck him then, not for the first time, just how ancient he had become without even realising it.
The passage of decades no longer carried the same weight to him as it once had, yet seeing how far Zephyr had come brought with it a warm reminder of all that could change in a single lifetime.
He opened the message, reading through its meticulously detailed lines.
Zephyr had written with her characteristic precision, weaving together a summary of the recent Assessment’s outcomes, the challenges posed by certain Recruits, and, amusingly, an entire section dedicated to her hatred for paperwork—a sentiment Anrake wholeheartedly shared.
He was convinced by now that, if anything was ever going to cause him to fall to the Call of the Void, it was going to be the never-ending, incessant paperwork that the UHF loved to make him do.
Attached to the message was a comprehensive report, including the list of Awards and the final Leaderboards of the Assessment. Zephyr had specifically flagged these, asking for his evaluation of a certain promising individual.
Since it was her request that had drawn him to the Sovereign in the first place, Anrake didn’t hesitate.
He opened the files and began reading, his grin widening with every line.
Names and achievements scrolled across his screen, painting a vivid picture of the chaos and triumphs of the Sovereign’s Recruits.
“You’ve found me a worthy pupil, then, have you, Zephyr…?” he mused aloud, his grin now fully toothy and predatory. The excitement in his voice was undeniable, a rare break from his usual composure.
Closing the reports, Anrake pivoted to the Sovereign’s crew list. “Very well. It seems I’ll spend more time aboard this ship than I initially planned. Humor Zephyr and leave at the first opportunity? No, I don’t think so. This will require a bit more of my attention, I think...”
A familiar energy coursed through him as he began scanning the roster, a habit he had maintained for centuries.
He made it a point to know every name and every face aboard any ship he stepped foot on.
With around four hours left before their arrival, there was ample time to commit each Marine’s and Crew member’s name to memory.
As he worked, a giddy anticipation stirred within him, bubbling up in a way he hadn’t felt in well over a century. Perhaps 150 years. Maybe even 200. He couldn’t even remember.
‘A new, promising pupil, the end of the thousand-year war, and the mysteries of the universe beyond the Bubble, all converging at once. If that isn’t a sign of things to come...’
END OF - THE ALLBRIGHT SYSTEM - ARC 1
Thank you for reading; I hope you have enjoyed this journey so far.
The story continues in Volume 2 with Thea’s full first year as part of the UHF Marine Corps.
I hope you will be continuing along for the ride in the coming years as well.
Thank you for your support and your valuable time. ??
Patreon!
discord.
discord, regardless of whether you're a Patreon supporter or just an avid reader of TAS!
