New Potential Story #2

* Author Note *

Started writing this one on a whim, not sure where exactly it's going, which could potentially be exciting. It will likely have LitRPG elements that show up in the first ten chapters. I don't want to give too many spoilers if this ends up getting picked. Let me know your thoughts or if you're interested in the comments. Thank you!

*End Author Note*

Chapter One – The Runt

“Sir, I’ve already told you, I need the authorization marks in order to release a prisoner in transit.”

I push the paperwork in front of the woman again.

“Sir, as I said three times, it’s missing the seal of approval on indexes twelve and thirteen.”

My mood couldn’t be more sour as I press it forward one last time. I don’t want to be here right now. There are a hundred places I’d rather be, some of which are considered active war zones.

The woman stands and slams her hand on the paper, “It’s not fucking signed properly you goddamned brute!”

Her office goes quiet and stares at her. I blink at her, somewhat surprised that she mustered the fortitude to curse me out. Not just for the fact that I tower above her and most natural born humans, but because above all, I’m an Alpha Uncaria. Once known as the highest order of soldiers in the Empire. They don’t make our kind anymore. It was deemed that we’re all walking and talking war crimes. A sentiment that I can hardly disagree with considering I’m here to pick up an unruly soldier.  

A look at her wrist shows me a metallic band, the kind that people wear to remember those they’ve lost. Three names are etched in it. With the ages, I’d guess, her mother and father, and maybe her brother. The anger in her eyes doesn’t fall away, even as her career goes up in flames in real time. She doesn’t have neural implants, meaning she likely came from an outer colony. There are scars on her neck though, ones that show she was given the standard growth synthesizers for low grav colonies.

Likely a mining colony on the outer rim of this sector. Hellish circumstances. A place of frequent rebellions where my kind come swift and heads fall swifter. My head tilts at the anger in her eyes mired in sadness. My kind probably killed those she wears on her wrist. A story I have heard too many times to count.

We were the Emperor’s elite force for nearly a millennia. Our hands know blood.

Such brazenness, I can relate to it, respect it even.

“Alpha Uncaria…” a stocky man says, eyeing my name plate now, “Lycan…” he blinks, looking at me squarely, the color drains from his face, “Lycan as in…”

“The commander of the Alpha Uncaria, yes, the very same.”

He swallows and bows deeply, then turns a halfway glance at the woman and motions for her to do the same.

She doesn’t. I don’t care either way.

Her hand is shaking as she points it at me, “I’m not scared of you, monster.”

I analyze her body with my Heta corp scanners, she’s either lying or she normally has a heart rate over one hundred and fifty. I examine her physique, there is no excessive weight on her body, and she appears toned, in the manner of someone who exercises.

Lying.

A trait the Alpha Uncaria breed out with prejudice. We do not tell lies.

“I want to pick up my soldier and be done here.”

“Of course, sir,” the man says, scrambling to grab the paperwork, his eyes fall on the missing authorization marks. A short glance at me and his eyes fall flat on it again.

Sweat beads from his brow as I ask, “All is in order?”

“Of course, Sir Lycan.”  

“Good, I will wait near the shuttles.”

“Understood, sir.”

He bows and grabs the woman by the arm, scolding her while pointing to the paperwork. My enhanced hearing tells me that he means to have it verified and given an exception to policy. Good. I don’t want to be here any longer than I need to be.

Finding my way to the shuttle bay, I stare out at the large metropolis of Heden Prime, a trade world in the Aldaren family’s pocket. One that the last Uncarian frequents. She grew up here. The trouble maker that I’m here to collect. A street urchin. Breaking her habit of lying was no easy task. She is the youngest amongst us. The last of our kind since the high senate revoked our branch of service.

“Sir!” a familiar voice yells across the landing pad, “You really came for me!”

Mythra. I sigh looking at her uniform. Torn and tattered, bloodied and stained. Yet her face does not bear bruises or cuts. So there is some pride.

When she arrives she musters a salute, one I return before my hand rests at my side again.

“Did Darius come too, sir?”

“No.”

“Does he know?” she asks coyly with a measured half grin.

Barely out of trouble and she’s already smiling, it makes me mutter, “To be young again.”

“Young?” she sneers, “Sir, I’m over thirty.”

My datapad authorizes on the shuttle door, opening the side entry, “When you’re over two hundred, I’ll stop calling you young, girl.”

“Over… Maleka’s taint, how old are you, sir?”

“Old as the hills and twice as dusty. Get on, we’re late.”

She leaps in a single bound into the side bay door. Something in my youth I could have done as well. The body betrays as you age though. Especially after the senate removed our rejuvenation centers. Our kind used to stay young for hundreds of years.

Politics… the oldest word for bullshit.    

It was after the death of princess Alara that the Emperor’s power began to wane. So too did his sanity. With seventy one assassination attempts during the revolt of Galstad it’s a wonder how he managed to survive. His heir, Altonius the despot has run the Empire into the ground in only a century. Truly the worst.

Alara was different. She was going to give power back to the people. She was going to expand the empire and form a true republic. One we could all be proud to be a part of.

Now… it’s just filth. Those who seek money and power for the sake of it. There is no beauty in it. No reason for the Alpha Uncarians to even try to remain a stalwart force that is loyal only to the emperor.

No, our time is over. The walls are closing in and we have no one left who is worthy to serve.

“Sir, are you alright?” Mythra asks.

I nod.

“Well, you’ve been staring off doing that old man reminiscing face for the last few minutes, instead of… well, you know, starting the damn autopilot on the shuttle, sir.”

She waits for me to turn before she gives a wide toothy grin. I knew her mother well. She reminds me of her. Even the sass is the same.

“It doesn’t start itself, sir.”

I stifle a groan as I swipe the command for it to engage toward our destination.

“Command accepted, welcome Commander Lycan.”

Mythra turns to look at me coyly, “Sir, mind if we listen to some Xanthian boomjab?”

“Yes.”

“Yes I can or yes you mind?”

“I mind.”

“Oh come on, sir, boomjab ain’t half bad, if you let it be.”

“I don’t mind boomjab per say. I just mind the sounds they make.”

She raises an eyebrow, “Sounds like you don’t like it then, probably because you’re old.”

My head turns, “Boomjab was around before I was born.”

“Xanthian boomjab wasn’t, been less than five years since Xanthia got incorporated into the Cornak syndicate.”

I roll my eyes, making sure to put in a lock for this Xanthian garbage.

“Alright, what about Crutha stingpuck, fancy a game?” she asks, stretching her neck, “Bet you a couple beer rations, sir.”

“Pass.”

She sighs, leaning back in her chair, “Well what the hells are we going to do for the next six hours?”

“You should be reflecting on making your commander come and get you from an outer world when you didn’t even have leave.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

“Indeed.”

“Deep shit?”

I sigh, “Just shit.”

She smiles and pats my shoulder, “Thanks, sir.”

“I’m not sure what Darius will do though,” I warn.

She swallows, “You’re going to tell him? I thought you said just shit… that’s deep shit, sir.”

I shrug, “Forgetful I guess. Maybe I’m getting too old.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m sorry I called you old, sir.”

I let out a weathered chuckle, I miss spending time with this unruly runt. Mostly I miss her mother. And I suppose part of me feels guilty for not following up with her child until she found the Alpha Uncaria. I knew of her existence, but I didn’t know her circumstances. Vempra’s eggs were donated when she first enlisted. It was the standard for Alpha Uncaria. The process… it leaves you sterile.  

She even named all of them. At the time it was allowed. Now, they don’t even make us anymore. We’re obsolete… the last of our order.

“Sir, you’re doing that thing again.”

I sigh, shaking my head, “Listen to your damn boomjab and let me reminisce in peace.”

She grins widely and then frowns, “Sir, you’ve locked out boomjab and… and even wrote a note that says it’s garbage.” She squints at me, “Is that how you really feel?”

“Some… most is.”

“I see,” she says, deflating a little.

“Well go on then, change my mind.”

She inflates again, grinning, “Sounds like a challenge?”

“It is.”

She howls as is our custom in the last brigade. My brigade. There is sorrow in that thought. There were many brigades when I was younger. Before we failed to keep the Princess safe. Before the Empire turned to shit and ash.

The music blares in a disorienting fashion that pisses me off.

Maybe I am old. My head shakes as I transfer control to her and head toward my private quarters. She smirks and sticks out her tongue as I go.

Unruly little shit.

Still, it makes me laugh. I shouldn’t, but I do. Because her mother would have done the same.

When I reach my quarters, I put the dampeners to maximum. Not even a whistle or a piston of a sound breaches the barrier of solitude in here. It’s a special design, one that the last commander requisitioned. His splicing was rather unfortunate, giving him super hearing. Always wore ear plugs. Said they didn’t help though. I remember him when he was a cadet.

A complete moron. But he was loyal to a fault. That served him well. Above all Alpha Uncaria respect loyalty to the order and to the Empire… or at least we did. Before it became a festering wound.

When did the order fall so far that we couldn’t pick ourselves back up? Was it on my watch or was it before that?

I think on this every day and every night. It is all that occupies my old fraying mind. My idle fantasy is wishing I could go back to change it all. Go back to before they killed the shining hope of our empire. The last light before the endless night.

My wrist buzzes but I ignore it. Probably the runt trying to get me to listen to more… it buzzes again. I ignore it.

Again… my eyes peer downwards. Before I can finish opening the message, my door pries open. The servos scream in protest and sparks laden with smoke shower the air.

“Who the fuck ignores priority messages!” Mythra yells with wide eyes.

“Who the fuck breaks their commander’s door?”

“Not the time, sir, come, you’re needed, the Emperor has sent you a personal envoy request. He’s waiting on the secure channel.”

My heart nearly skips a beat. The emperor sent me a request… how long since I heard those words?

More than a hundred years.