Chapter 3 - Unexpected Upgrade

  The strange liquid hit Darius square in the chest with enough force to knock him off-balance and send him crashing to the floor. He barely had time to react before the thick, metallic fluid soaked through his jacket in seconds, chilling his skin underneath. His breath hitched sharply, more out of reflex than pain, as the cold sensation spread.

  It didn’t burn, at least – not in the way he had expected. No scalding heat or sharp agony tearing through his body. Instead, it was a bizarre tingling, like a wave of pins and needles surging from the point of contact and radiating outward. Every inch of him felt like it had fallen asleep at once, and though it was uncomfortable, it wasn’t exactly unbearable.

  Still on the ground, he pushed himself back, flinching from the mess of liquid that had already melted into his skin. His heart raced as he braced for the worst – his mind conjuring wild images of bubbling flesh, melting skin, or hell, maybe even turning inside out like some bad sci-fi vid. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable.

  But nothing.

  No searing pain, no grotesque transformation. Slowly, he cracked one eye open and glanced down at his arms. They looked the same. His skin wasn’t glowing or sprouting any alien appendages. He was… fine.

  Scrambling to his feet, Darius backed away from the console that had just vomited its strange payload onto him. His hands instinctively brushed over his clothes, as if he could somehow wipe off whatever had just seeped into him. But it was gone, leaving no trace except the lingering tingle in his skin.

  “Okay, I’m fine,” he muttered, more to convince himself than anything else. “Nothing to be worried about. Probably just… a coolant leak or something.”

  Even as the words left his mouth, his brain rebelled at the thought. Coolant doesn’t usually attack people. He grimaced and tried not to think about all the exotic forms of cancer that could be developing inside him at this very moment. Whatever that liquid was, it was probably about as safe as hugging a reactor core.

  “Maybe I should get health insurance,” he snarked to the empty room. The sarcasm was a flimsy shield against the rising tide of panic, but it helped him feel a little more in control.

  Weirdly – though “weird” was becoming par for the course today – the consoles that had been leaking the fluid now looked spotless. Not a drop of the strange substance remained, as if the ship had spat it out at him and then cleaned up after itself. The sight only made him more uneasy.

  He stood in the middle of the room, tense, waiting for the next shoe to drop. When nothing happened after a few moments, he let out a shaky breath.

  “Okay then,” he muttered, his voice shaky. “Maybe that was… a one-off?”

  And then the lights flickered.

  Darius groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation. “Ah, come on! Seriously?”

  His frustration barely had time to settle before the ship’s power cut out completely, plunging him into a void of pitch-black darkness. The hum of the engines died, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake. His heart pounded, each beat a deafening drum in his ears.

  He froze, standing perfectly still in the reactor room’s inky blackness, questioning all of his life choices. If the power didn’t come back on soon, he’d be stuck in here, and suffocating in a reactor room because of a power fluctuation was not how he imagined going out. It would be the perfect, tragic capstone to the worst day ever.

  How long had it been? A minute? Two? It was hard to tell.

  Suddenly, the lights blinked back on, startling him so much he nearly jumped out of his skin. The harsh, sterile brightness was almost painful after the suffocating dark, but he didn’t care. The ship hummed back to life, the faint vibrations of the engines returning, and everything seemed back to normal, like nothing had ever been wrong.

  Everything except… the door.

  The door was open.

  Darius didn’t need to be told twice. He bolted out through the doorway into the corridor beyond. He didn’t look back as the door to the reactor room hissed shut, ignored the solid thunk of the deadlock engaging – the same deadlock that should have stopped him from entering in the first place. Nope, nope, nope. Not dealing with this. Not my problem.

  It was a good thing no one else was around to see him flee, because it definitely wasn’t one of his more graceful moments. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. He’d made it this far without melting into a puddle of radioactive goo, so that was a win in his book.

  The corridor stretched out in front of him, empty and quiet. Darius slowed his pace as the flickering lights from earlier had returned to a steady, normal brightness.

  Huh. Everything looked fine now – no lights sputtering, no mysterious doors opening on their own, no strange fluids creeping up his arms. Just the soft hum of the ship’s systems, the steady glow of the overhead lights, and the faint vibration beneath his feet.

  He let out a long breath, trying to convince himself that it was just a glitch. Yeah, that had to be it. Some kind of software malfunction causing the lights to flicker and the doors to act up. The officers must have decided to shut off the power to do a hard reset of all systems simultaneously.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” he muttered under his breath as he rounded a corner. “Stupid software glitch. Happens all the time.”

  Feeling a little more at ease, he continued down the hall at a more reasonable pace. If everything was back to normal, there was no point in sprinting through the ship like he was being chased by ghosts. Besides, the last thing he needed was to run into one of the crew while looking like a lunatic.

  As he approached the central area, he could hear the familiar murmur of voices ahead. A few of the workers had gathered there, exchanging casual conversation as they made their way back from whatever routine maintenance they’d been assigned. Darius spotted Finn among them, leaning against the wall with his usual relaxed smirk.

  Finn’s grin widened as Darius approached. “I see you managed to escape the dastardly haunted doors.”

  Darius shot him a glare but didn’t stop moving. “Funny. Real funny.”

  “Eh, not my best work, to be honest,” Finn shrugged, falling in step beside him. “Manage to find anything that would explain the malfunctions?”

  “Nah. Probably just a software glitch – everything seemed to be working fine after they restarted the power.”

  Finn winced, leaning in closer conspiratorially. “Yeah, about that. Let’s just say… that wasn’t a planned power cut.”

  Darius looked up at his friend sharply. “What do you mean, it wasn’t planned?”

  Finn leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I mean, no one pulled the plug on purpose. The ship just... shut down. Completely.”

  Darius felt the blood drain from his face. Ships didn’t just lose power like that, especially not ones like this. A random blackout in a mining rig, sure. But a military-grade warship? That was a whole other level of bad. Shipwide power failures could lead to any number of catastrophic problems – suffocation as the life support failed, reactor overload, even structural collapse if the artificial gravity or inertial dampeners went offline. The fact that it happened without warning or any deliberate cause sent a chill down his spine.

  Because he wasn’t blind to the fact that the ship had only shut down after the strange liquid had… attacked him. And the random power fluctuations had cleared up afterwards as well. Not to mention how he had practically been led to the reactor room – the reactor room that he never should have been able to get inside at all.

  Then again, he certainly wasn’t about to explain the whole “metallic fluid that crawled into my skin” thing to anyone. Not only would they probably not believe him, but there was little doubt they would end up blaming him for everything. Which was more likely – a random liquid causing everything before launching itself at him, or a disgruntled worker with a criminal record (light as it may be) causing trouble?

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  He forced a shrug, trying to look more relaxed than he felt. “Weird. Maybe some leftover battle damage from the Xenos or something?”

  Finn raised an eyebrow. “Could be, yeah. Listen, you alright? You seem a little… jumpy.”

  Darius winced. Finn always had been able to read him better than anyone. “Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing.”

  Finn hummed, unconvinced, but seemed willing to let it slide for now. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go talk to the officers. Apparently, they’re calling in an Imperial specialist to check this out. They’re rounding up everyone now – I reckon they’re gonna have a little meeting to tell us we’re leaving until they figure it out.”

  “Right,” Darius said, a little too quickly. “Sounds like they’ve got it under control.”

  Finn shot him a sideways glance but didn’t press. “Well, don’t go getting yourself fried or anything. I’ll let you know if we hear more.”

  Darius gave a weak grin. “Yeah, I’ll try not to.”

  As Finn wandered off to talk with the officers, Darius hung back, staring up at the ceiling, mind racing. The mention of an Imperial specialist was… not fantastic for his chances of getting out of this without an addition to his criminal record.

  Assuming that the strange liquid did have something to do with the glitches, it wouldn’t take long for them to track him down to ask a few… pointed questions. Hell, he was shocked they hadn’t already come to drag him away – there was no way they didn’t have cameras or a security system watching the more sensitive areas of the ship.

  Of course, he could always hope that those systems had been affected by the glitches and somehow hadn’t caught him being where he shouldn’t, but let’s face it, he just wasn’t that lucky.

  Forcing himself to move, Darius turned and followed the other workers filtering back toward their usual assignments. For most, it had been nothing more than an interesting opportunity to wander around an Imperial warship before returning to the drudgery of their day jobs.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to shake off the creeping dread settling in his gut. Work on another ship. Normal maintenance. A reset of the day.

  He could feel the tension slowly easing as he walked, the hum of the ship’s systems fading into the background like static. Yeah, just another day. Nothing to worry about.

  Denial may not be the healthiest of coping mechanisms, but hey, it had gotten him this far.

  * * *

  Darius shouldered open the door to his apartment, wincing reflectively as it crashed into the wall. He’d meant to fix the stupid soft-close hinges ages ago, but somehow it had never made it high enough on his to-do list to actually be done. His boots scuffed against the worn flooring of the small, cluttered space he called home.

  Home, of course, was a generous term.

  The one-room apartment was a chaotic mix of functionality and neglect. Clothes were scattered across the floor, tossed over the back of the lone couch that sagged under the weight of too many years of use. A small table in the corner was littered with empty takeout containers, a half-finished synth-coffee sitting beside a pile of outdated datapads. Darius had meant to clean up.

  At some point.

  Probably.

  He let out a long breath, tossing his jacket onto the couch as he kicked off his boots, one landing with a thud against the wall. Not like anyone would complain. His neighbours were either too busy or too indifferent to care, and the thick concrete walls of the complex absorbed most of the noise anyway.

  The rest of his day had been blissfully free of anything out of the ordinary – no Imperial warships, no software glitches, no… nothing. Just hours spent patching the coolant system of a dilapidated old salvage ship that should have been sent to the scrapyard decades ago.

  Darius shuffled over to the kitchenette, opening the fridge with a grimace. As expected, it was mostly empty. A couple of protein packs and a sad-looking piece of fruit were all that greeted him. Sighing, he grabbed a pack and tossed it onto the counter, then turned to the small stove, flicking on the burner. He may not have been the greatest cook, but even he could manage to heat up a pre-made meal without burning the place down. Most days, anyway.

  As the food warmed, he leaned against the counter, staring out of the single window that looked over the lower streets of the city. The neon signs from the shops below flickered in time with the hum of the city’s machinery, casting faint, erratic shadows against the walls. The apartment complex was old, crammed between two towering industrial buildings, and the streets outside were always alive with noise and movement—miners, technicians, and factory workers all trudging through their day-to-day routines.

  The best thing that could be said about it was that the owner didn’t bother anyone as long as the rent was paid on time.

  The burner beeped, pulling him out of his thoughts. He grabbed the now-warm meal and flopped onto the couch, sinking into the cushions with a tired grunt. The food wasn’t great, but it was enough to keep him going, and that was all that mattered tonight. He’d deal with everything else tomorrow.

  Darius had barely started picking at his food when a soft chime echoed in his ears, a faint vibration tingling at the base of his skull—the telltale sign of an incoming call on his augs. He hesitated, glancing toward the far wall as if he could see through it to the source of his interruption. For a moment, he considered ignoring it.

  There were very few people who had any reason to contact him these days, and the vast majority of them preferred sending messages instead of calling. Not to mention that with the sort of day he’d been having, it could really only be one person.

  But she’d just keep calling if he didn’t answer. With a sigh, he tapped the interface in his vision, accepting the call.

  “Hey,” he muttered with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, the word barely leaving his lips before Lyra’s voice came flooding through.

  “Darius, hey! How are you doing!” Her voice was bright, almost annoyingly cheerful.

  “Uh, yeah, you know. Same old, same old,” he said, idly stirring his rapidly cooling meal as he searched for something to say that would make his boring life seem a little bit interesting. “Actually, I did some work on an Imperial warship today, so that was pretty cool.”

  “Wow, that’s neat!” Lyra was much better at pretending to be interested than he was.

  “Yeah, well… it’s just some power fluctuations. Nothing too exciting,” Darius shrugged, even though she couldn’t see him. “But you know how it is.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” There was a slight pause on her end, a subtle hesitation before she spoke again. “Things have been a little crazy here, too.”

  Darius resisted the urge to ask what ‘here’ even meant these days. He didn’t keep track of her postings. “Crazy, huh?” he asked instead, taking a half-hearted bite of his food. “Good crazy or bad crazy?”

  “Good,” she said, her voice brightening again. “Actually, really good. I got a promotion.”

  He blinked. “Oh.”

  “Yeah,” she continued, almost breezily. “It’s a big step up—more responsibility, new projects. Really exciting stuff.”

  “I bet,” Darius muttered, setting his fork down. “Good for you, congratulations.”

  “Thanks,” Lyra replied, though the word felt light, almost perfunctory, as if she’d anticipated his lukewarm response.

  Silence settled for a moment, the kind that made Darius shift in his seat. It wasn’t like he wasn’t happy for her—he was, in his own way. But it was complicated. Lyra had always been the one to take a different path after everything that happened. She’d thrown herself into the Empire’s good graces, climbed the ranks. It was her way of protecting the family, of making herself and, by extension, the Kallan name, too valuable to cast aside.

  It was very different to the path Darius had taken. The reason he hadn’t seen their parents in years. The reason he was stuck on this dusty backwater, keeping his head down, while she worked her way up into the circles of people he couldn’t stomach thinking about.

  “Big step up, huh?” he said finally, more to fill the silence than anything. “New projects must be... intense.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, her voice brightening again. “It’s... well, I can’t really go into it, you know how it is.”

  “Right,” Darius said, his eyes flicking to the window as the neon lights outside flickered and buzzed. ‘Classified,’ he thought. Everything was classified with her these days. The kind of work he used to joke about, before it all felt too close to home. “But it’s good. That’s what matters.”

  “Yeah, exactly. It’s good.” She paused, as if waiting for him to say more. When he didn’t, she added, “I know we don’t get to talk much, but... I wanted to let you know. It’s important to me.”

  Darius leaned back into the couch, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “I appreciate that.”

  “I just...” Her voice softened, a thread of something more vulnerable slipping through. “I don’t want to lose touch, you know?”

  He closed his eyes for a second, letting out a slow breath. “Yeah. Me neither.”

  They both let that hang in the air for a beat. Nothing more needed to be said; there were no promises to make. They both knew how things stood.

  “Well, I should go,” she said, her voice slipping back into its usual upbeat tone, though not quite as bright as before. “Work doesn’t stop just because I got promoted.”

  “Of course,” Darius said, offering a small, invisible smile. “Take care, Lyra.”

  “You too, Darius.”

  The call ended with a soft chime, leaving him alone with the cold meal and the dim glow of the city outside. He stared at the cold food in front of him for a while, the knot of mixed emotions still tangled in his chest.

  He was proud of her. He really was. But that didn’t make any of it easier.

  Darius leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and rubbed his face with both hands, trying to push away the lingering feelings that always seemed to hang around after they talked.

  He didn’t know what to do with them. Didn’t even know how to start unpacking all the tangled history between them. Instead, he shoved it all to the back of his mind, where he kept everything else that was too complicated to deal with.

  With a sigh, he pushed himself off the couch, intending to clean up the half-eaten meal that now looked even less appetising. But before he could take a step, a sharp static flickered in his vision, and his augs cut out.

  “Great,” he muttered, blinking as the familiar empty feeling washed over him. No HUD, no interface, nothing. Just dead space where his augs should be. Again.

  He stood there for a second, waiting for them to reset, already bracing himself for the annoying reboot sequence they sometimes got stuck in. But nothing happened. They stayed dead.

  “Seriously?” Darius groaned, tapping the side of his head, as if that would magically jumpstart the faulty implants. “You piece of junk…”

  Before he could think about troubleshooting, the augs suddenly flared back to life. A surge of static filled his vision again, then lines of code began flashing too quickly for him to follow. They flickered, froze for a second, then started displaying a loading bar which quickly filled.

  “What the hell…” he muttered, frowning. His augs were old. Second-hand. They didn’t get software updates anymore. He hadn’t seen a system update in years—why would something be loading now?

  Before he could think any more about it, the program finished and displayed a single line of text in the centre of his vision.

  {Personality engram successfully loaded.}

  His augs flickered again, froze for a second, then stabilised. There was a sharp burst of distortion from his auditory implants that had him wincing in pain.

  {Darius Kallan,} a voice, cold and detached, cut through the static.

  {You are in danger.}

  (mostly) sane. On a probably unrelated note, those voices are telling me there are 25 advance chapters available on .