“So, you endured the whole thing. You know, fainting is always an option. You really are stubborn.” It was the day after the pain tolerance training, and Lysander Spero had come to see me. His tone hovered somewhere between praise and mockery—probably a bit of both. “I managed,” I answered shortly, taking a sip of water. My mouth was a furnace, my throat raw. A fine tremor ran through my fingertips, and every few steps, my balance would betray me without warning. The aftereffects of the training clung to me like a shroud. It would take several days of rest and treatment before I was whole again. “Haha, that eye patch suits you. For a moment, I thought a space pirate had boarded the station.” Lysander’s gaze settled on my face. “Once my nervous system recovers, I’m scheduled for a mechanical eye implant. A better model than yours, apparently.” Lysander visited often during my recovery. He spoke in a relaxed, gentle tone, a faint smile on his lips. He seemed more like a future administrator than a soldier of the Aegis Phalanx. Still, his incredible skill was undeniable. The gap in ability between cadets was becoming stark. Lysander and I were at the top; that wasn't arrogance, just fact. In most exercises, we traded first and second place. In terms of overall scores, he was likely a hair ahead of me. The forced rest made me antsy. I wanted to be back in training. As soon as I had recovered enough, I hurried to get the mechanical eye implanted. The doctor suggested replacing my remaining biological eye as well, but I refused. The Legatus is paying for the surgery out of his own pocket. I’d overheard it. Gouging out my eye had been an impulse on his part, and I’d heard he was personally covering the cost. ...Well, a man like the Legatus probably has money to burn. Comes from an impressive family, too. Even so, I hated the feeling of being in someone's debt for no reason. It wasn’t done with malice. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who interpreted the Legatus’s actions that way. “The Legatus seems to have taken an interest in you. You’ve definitely caught his eye.” That’s what Lysander had said, too. I could feel the Legatus’s attention on me. Because of that, losing an eye didn’t bother me. In the end, it just meant I got a better one sooner than planned. My biological eye was something I would have discarded eventually anyway. Bzzzzzzzz. For two days, a high-pitched whine from the mechanical eye robbed me of sleep. By the third day, it was gone. My brain and nervous system had finally begun to adjust to the new implant. “You’ve adapted much faster than expected. I suppose that’s what makes you one of the Aegis Phalanx’s prized talents?” The doctor chuckled, bringing a precision scanner to my right eye and observing the intricate dance of the new pupil. Once the examination was over, I faced the mirror. Bzzzzzz. The moment I focused, the mechanical eye activated, its rim glowing with soft light. A virtual interface bloomed across my retinal display, overlaying my vision with augmented data. Activate Ballistic Trajectory Prediction. It was the most critical function. With no firearms in the room, there were no trajectories to calculate, but the sheer flood of information into my brain was enough to trigger a splitting headache. My brain was expanding, forging new neural pathways to accommodate the implant. It would take time to master its full potential. “Take one of these a day before bed until the system has fully adapted.” The doctor, who had been observing me, handed over a bottle of pills designed to aid neural cell formation. “Thank you.” “Don’t thank me, thank Cassian. I’m just here for the money.” Cassian—it was strange to hear the Legatus’s given name. We only ever addressed him by his rank. Thanking the man who’d gouged out my eye. It sounded insane, but the gratitude I felt was genuine. Anyone else would think I’d lost my mind. Our training was now in its third quarter of the second year. So far, we had lost two cadets from our starting forty. Barring death, most who entered the Aegis Phalanx’s brutal four-year program saw it through to the end. Attrition was rare. That didn’t mean it was easy. The Guard prided itself on being the most punishing unit in the Ascendancy. Cadets were expected to master the full spectrum of skills required of both frontline combatants and command-level officers. An Aegis Phalanx was an elite, a soldier who could be dropped into any situation and become an immediate asset. “Only those who pass the initial screening are brought here. Almost no one drops out. The ones who couldn't hack it probably paid to have their results doctored.” Lysander spoke without taking his eyes off the target, pistol leveled. The pupils of his own cybernetic eyes were likely linked to his firearm, displaying an aiming interface. Swish. I drew my own weapon. Around us, the sporadic pop of other cadets’ gunfire echoed through the range. While the Aegis Phalanx favored melee combat, marksmanship was not neglected. We were expected to be masters of every weapon and piece of equipment in the August arsenal. “Is that really possible? Manipulating the selection results?” I asked. Lysander’s grin widened. “There’s no proof, but I have a gut feeling. This Ascendancy has been drowning in rank and class for too long. The whole meritocracy thing? It's a fading illusion. With enough coin and the right name, even a fool can pass for a genius.” “That’s dangerous talk, Lysander.” I warned him, a knot of unease tightening in my stomach. Could a citizen of the Ascendancy really say such things? Even if he was from a renowned family… Worried? I let out a bitter, silent laugh and squeezed the trigger. It seemed I’d grown attached to Lysander. Me, an orphan, worrying about the heir of a noble house. “And to prove my point… Cole, people like you, the ones with no backing, they never fail the advanced soldier program. They can't be bought or bullied. Only the truly exceptional make it. It's almost funny they have a special name for you lot: ‘irregulars.’” Of course, with his background, he could afford to be so candid. If I held such views, I’d never dare speak them aloud. In truth, the thought had never even occurred to me. Could nobles be incompetent? The idea was alien. Nobles were superior. Commoners, especially those from the gutter, were incompetent. The Ascendancy gave every citizen a fair chance through the selection process. To fail was to prove your own inadequacy, condemning yourself to a life of mediocrity. I’d been taught that my whole life. I was living proof of it—a boy from the lowest class who had seized his chance and risen. “Cole, I know what you’re thinking. But you only got this chance because your talent was too great to ignore. Letting someone like you fester outside the system is a risk. They know a spark like you could become an uncontrollable fire. It’s safer for them to bring you into the forge and try to shape you.” The crack of gunfire half-swallowed his words. He fired again, a rapid staccato. Each round struck the exact same point, leaving a single, ragged hole in the target. “…And when an irregular from the dregs like you succeeds, it lets everyone else tell themselves that if they fail, it's their own fault. It keeps them believing in the system.” The more he spoke, the more dangerous his words became. A deep, instinctual part of me recoiled. Nothing he said fit into my view of the world. “If I reported your exact words to headquarters, not even the name Spero could save you.” Lysander finally turned to look at me, his smile unwavering, his finger still working the trigger. Even without looking, his aim was perfect. “I know you won’t. If you were really going to report me, you wouldn’t have warned me first. Thanks for worrying, Cole.” He spoke as if he were reading my mind. And it annoyed me, because he was right. The Kallos Ascendancy had two long-standing rivals. The Bellato Federation and the Holy Korynthian Covenant. Both were nations that had settled on the planet Novus long before the Ascendancy arrived. “Opportunists who mistake cowardice for wisdom.” That was the official line on the Bellato Federation. “Hypocritical zealots, preaching peace and justice with one hand while sharpening a sword with the other.” The Holy Korynthian Covenant was seen no more favorably. They were perhaps a fraction more tolerable than the Bellato, but only a fraction. The Ascendancy scorned Bellato and considered Korynthian an enemy. But there were others we held in even greater contempt. Bellato and Korynthian, both descended from the same Terran roots as us, could at least find common ground for cooperation. They were, after all, still human. But alien species, those with no shared ancestry, were not even worth acknowledging. It was rare to see an alien within the Ascendancy’s borders. If one became the victim of a crime on our soil, they received no protection, not even the right to self-defense. To us, this discrimination felt natural. Aliens had always sought to deceive and exploit the Ascendancy. Extend a hand in friendship, and they would only sever it at the wrist. I had heard and learned this a thousand times. But I had never met an alien, or for that matter, anyone from Bellato or Korynthian. Today, I would see a Korynthian for the first time. It would not be a pleasant introduction. There would be blood. Not ours, but theirs. “Cole and Lysander will act as platoon leaders for this exercise. If any trainee has a problem with that, stand and be dismissed.” The Legatus spoke from his perch on a large rock, with Lysander and me flanking him. Before us, the other cadets stood as still and silent as statues. No one moved. No one objected. “Beyond that canyon is a Korynthian outpost, illegally occupying our territory…” The Legatus pointed a finger toward a ridge hidden from view. He let the words hang in the air before delivering his final order. “…No prisoners. Kill them all.” This, too, was part of our training. Without another word, the cadets formed up around Lysander and me. Our only arms were a melee weapon of choice and a single sidearm each. The handguns we were issued were so weak they couldn't punch through even light combat armor. They were for putting a bullet in your own head, or someone else's, at point-blank range—nothing more. We moved along a narrow cliff path, the silence so complete I could hear the breathing of the man in front of me. After half an hour, we paused for a short break. Wordlessly, the platoon rotated watch duties. “Cole, see that?” Lysander murmured, taking a pull from his canteen. “Our esteemed senior is watching from a distance.” I followed his gaze to the forested ridge across the canyon. Focusing, I could just make out a silhouette shifting in the deep shadows. The blurred shape was unmistakable: a Phalanx, the full-body mechanized armor of the Aegis Phalanx. It stood among the trees like a titan of steel. Officially, it was there for our protection. But it served another purpose: surveillance. Surveillance… What exactly were they watching for? I shook my head, pushing the thought away. After the break, we resumed our march. Soon, the outpost came into view, perched on the canyon’s edge. Its front was fortified, but the rear, which met the cliff face, was open and exposed. They would never expect an attack from the cliff itself. Crkk. We began the climb, bare hands finding purchase on the sheer rock. The fight was about to begin. Kill them all. No prisoners. The Legatus’s order echoed in my mind. When Lysander and I reached the lip of the cliff, we raised our heads just enough to scan the outpost. The other cadets clung to the rock face below, awaiting our signal.

Chapter 3: The Cost of Strength