Oh, little pilot, if only you knew how valuable your life is, or how important every life is in this chaotic universe.

I’m sorry that you have had to endure this harsh period of the Empire. It has lasted too long. “One of the many, many of the One”, “Defenders or life, the surviving seed.” You repeat to yourself even though it lacks the meaning it once had. Your usual suit feels more burdensome than usual, even its enhancements feel sluggish.

I know you wish the Empire would change its ways to imitate the best aspects of its enemies, while retaining its core foundations. But this is not the case, and you should be thankful for that. The ways of your pains and loyalty have put important eyes on you.

Oh little pilot, as you prepare for another mission against the machines, your little mind tries to silence the anxiety of another result below expectations. It’s been tiring, I know, this Supreme General has been a tragedy.

I know how frustrating it is. Lately you fight every fight against an enemy your Empire could crush; yet, here you are risking your life in another mission with the bare minimum to complete it. But you know that spreading the resources too thin against the machines could be dangerous. Or at least, that’s what your leaders claim.

Oh human of the Empire, you have so many enemies: the Federation, the Monarchy, the Pirates, the Machines, and their serfs. How dreadful is to watch humanity so painfully divided!

But it will come, one day, when those divisions will fall, and all of you will finally embrace unity. You won’t get to see it… but I promise, the day will come.

Meanwhile, don’t hate them! They are as misguided as your are. Enjoy the treaties that have put in place a finicky peace among you. Don’t even hate those machines, they are not worth your disdain.

On a brighter side, I enjoy your love for the synchronization period with your Oracle. Such a chaotic way to establish a deep connection with a stranger. I would never! To share my thoughts and feelings with someone else, like that? No, I can’t. With me, many, many think and feel the same; even some of your peers find it almost unbearable.

Well, you do know how important that Oracle link is. After all, it gave to the Empire the edge over the machines when your augmentations couldn’t match their raw capabilities. A remarkable development that earned to humanity its freedom, and to the Empire its long existence.

Valiant pilot, you review your next mission. You confirm that this operation will follow the scant strategy established by the Grand General. You, on your bulky vehicle and three other pilots on nimbler crafts, all with their respective Oracles, have been entrusted to destroy a laboratory station. A glorified name for a factory of dangerous materials or devices.

Three great carriers and the thousands of swarm vehicles will get in your way. There are many enemies, yet, your only concern resides on the defensive systems of your target.

You know well that a direct hit of those weapons can destroy your vessel, and they will be focused on you. During saner times you could count with another heavy vessel that distracts, and causes havoc on the enemy defenses, while you focus on delivering the finishing device. But now, all you have is yourself, a handful of lighter ships and meager five seconds of firepower from your cannon.

With the faster ships unable to assist you in doing any sort of damage to capital war machines. And your main canon offering barely enough firepower to pierce through your target’s hull. Oh, and a single explosive apparatus whose effectiveness depends on its placement inside your target. This is going to be another mission that depends on luck rather than skills, or technological advantage.

You are worried. What if your enemy’s technology has advanced enough to disable the usual method to pierce its surrounding curtain. Then, you worry that a poor performance could harm your Oracle’s score. Now you care little about your own… and you wonder.

Ah, but the Empire is known to have the best Oracles of humanity. An advantage that your technologically superior adversaries respect enough to ensure peace between the human powers. It is indeed truly remarkable the way your Oracles not only negotiate the requirements of battle, but also allow their pilot’s mind and body to perform at their very best for prolonged periods of time.

The mission is starting. One long jump and you enter the battlefield. The machines were starting the process of moving to a different location, but its defensive forces are fully deployed. You were expected Pilot. It seems that the Empire couldn’t even bother to send their sneakier spies. Those are costly!

Of course, that doesn’t change the mission or its objectives. You remain unfazed, not without noticing that your enemies were expecting a bigger force.

After seven short jumps you are in position to penetrate your target. Each jump carefully designed with the help of your Oracle to minimize exposure to enemy attacks. No time, no energy, no thought wasted. Each jump, to a seemingly random location, could have not been improved. Not even by the most capable observer. Not even with all the information at hand.

Wondrous! Only limited by your vessel, you wouldn’t believe how rare this is. No wonder your enemies fear the teamwork of the Empire’s oracles and pilots!

Enough of well deserved praises! Now it comes the part you fear the most: piercing the station’s outer protection.

First, you change the way your vessel’s defenses work. Rather than deflecting incoming attacks, now they actually absorb them. Then, you have to wait for your Oracle to predict the exact moment when your inverted shield can merge with the target’s one.

You are vulnerable, incredibly so. And now you have to avoid all the station’s attacks and the few escort ships that managed to bypass your team’s efforts.

Your squad’s size is taking a toll on the reasonableness of this endeavor. It’s almost surprising how often the pursue of efficiency produces only spectacular failure.

As you evade everything thrown at you, a thought forms in your mind. What if the rumors are correct? That the machines figured it out a way to make impossible the shield fusion. But, before your mind could accommodate it, your Oracle announces the exact moment when the shields will synchronize.

With no doubt, you do another very short jump at the precise moment… and you have successfully pierced your target’s main protection. If your Oracle was wrong, or if you doubted her for a moment, you would be dead, but you wouldn’t mind.

I can’t praise your lack of self worth.

But, that was the most difficult part. Now it’s time to pierce the hull.

You quickly navigate the surface of the structure. Since there is nothing designed to stop an intruder in such situation, you can approach the entry point almost at your own leisure. You have, maybe [three second] while the swarm reorganizes to overwhelm you.

As you approach the to-be-entrance, your Oracle makes sure that the established plan will work. After all, if you pierce the wrong place, you risk an ineffective deployment, or worse, hitting something that could obliterate your ship.

Good news! Your partner confirms that the Laboratory’s structure follows the same design the machines have used before for this sort of super structure. Nothing surprising here, your enemy doesn’t like change.

You activate your main weapon. It melts at a fast pace everything in front of it, hull, inner walls, everything. The powerful cannon leaves behind a hole large enough for you to enter. Following the fresh path, you start making your way into the Laboratory. Your objective is located near the center of the pyramidal structure, it is a small area used to store residual materials, byproducts of whatever the machines are creating.

The operation goes perfectly, the area is big enough to maneuver your ship, and gives the necessary room for the explosive device to initiate detonation unimpeded. With one of the main energy generators of the station at a convenient distance, the explosion could cause a second reaction that would ensure the complete destruction of the laboratory.

Wasting no time, you release the bomb, an entire segment of your vessel, as you put your ship in position to return from where it came from. Mission accomplished, what a relieve! Now comes the optional part… coming out of this alive.

Oh little Pilot, with the approval of your Oracle, you start the retreat. But, of course, to ensure a successful explosion, the weapon you left behind will activate before you have completely left the premises. It’s up to you to be far enough to not be caught by its effects. Efficiency!

Backtracking on the hole you made is usually easy. You still have enough life on your main weapon to remove obstructions, or incoming enemy vessels. The shield is not longer a concern, either it was taken down to allow the escorts, or will be taken down once the device explodes and disconnects the power for it.

Now is your chance! Your Oracle lets you know that your allies made an excellent job delaying the swarm. Your plan is simple, you are going to take advantage of the area opened in the shield for the swarm to enter and hunt you down. It’s safer this way. Many have lost their lives waiting for the shields to go down after the main explosion.

As you proceed your main weapon turns your little enemies and their attacks into nothing. However, and unlike your short jump engine, it can’t renovate its utility and it’s nearing the end of its life. You have less than [1 second] left…

Your exit is successful, your enemies’ preference for sheer power, rather than a faster management of gaps on its shields, has been exploited longer than you could imagine. But then, it’s not like they have many options. Their technology is way behind anything humanity currently has.

However, something is wrong. The device was successfully activated, but there has been no explosion.

Your Oracle warns you to leave the area as fast as possible. She is not certain what happened either, but she deems that the mission has been completed. This is rare, but with nothing else for you to do, you signal the rest of your squad to leave the premises at once. Each Oracle shares the location for an intermediate point, where you can initiate the return to the new location of your base.

A couple of fast short jumps, one to help one of your squad members, and then a long one, and you are out of the battle. As you wait for the confirmation from your base to return, you and your Oracle use the time to quickly review what happened. In total, the mission took [14 seconds], the device did activate but it resonated with the power generator of the research station.

That’s new. You have heard rumors of this event, but this is the first time you know of it actually happening.

You begin to research any new information about how and why it happens. Suddenly, a surviving scanner, one of those that inadvertently announced your impeding arrival, confirmed that the station, and everything [~51 658 kilometers] around it, have been erased.

Yes, the station and its entire escort destroyed in an instant, mere [seconds] after your departure. It’s a thought that would send shills down your spine if it wasn’t suspended in your suit.

Of course, the phenomenon is not understood, much less repeatable. Definitely for the best, but when it does happen, the rumors spread quickly to all the galaxy.

Now, the Empire will be quick to send everything it can to collect as much data as possible, and with that, a sizable force, with actual capital ships, to keep away anything that may approach it. For this, it does have the resources!

“It is what it is”, you think. And soon after, your are informed that you should start returning to your base. With no obligations left, your Oracle begins the process of disarming what is left of your weapons and disconnecting from your consciousness. The later is painless, but definitely unsettling.

While you aren’t particularly bothered with having a stranger share your thoughts, or the empire distrusting its own veteran pilots with armed weapons on its safe areas, knowing that you are finally alone brings you a welcome respite. Meanwhile, your suit, the one regulating and enhancing your bodily functions to perform at the expected level, and avoid the collapse of your body under the tremendous stress of these missions, runs a quick test to ensure you are ready for the very long jump ahead.

With everything in order, you start with a series of steps meant to deceive any attempts of pursuing you, even though it’s unnecessary given the circumstances.

A short jump here, some random maneuvering to nowhere, and repeat several times. You dance in the middle of the nothingness that was chosen as your retreat point. Alone in the endless darkness you enjoy this moment of peace. This is the only time the Empire gives you to be truly on your own and your ship. This is a good moment of silence.

You think of your Oracle. You respect her capabilities and imagine her certain future as one of the navigators of a capital ship. But, many would find her privileged position unjust. You have to fight your enemies face to face, while she is secure [millions of kilometers] away, at your base. You risk your life, she a temporary lower performance score. She will be showered in honors, you will be lucky to end with a modest retirement.

All is fine to you but, you do have to quickly drown a sudden thought potentially exposing her lack of concern towards your person. It’s just not worth your time, after all, she is an excellent Oracle.

Then you think about your future. You are still far from an honorable retirement, thanks to your recent evaluations.

“Perhaps it’s impossible for me”. You think, and the image of a not too distant future patrolling supply routes in dangerous areas confronts you. Poorly maintained, and obsolete ships, mediocre Oracles, barely superior than mere intuition, and no exit other than an inglorious death against vastly superior equipped criminals.

A new thought begins to form. The implant on your brain warns you about treasonous thoughts against the Empire.

Oh, what a monstrous practice of your leaders! But at least it warns you. Long ago a fully formed thought could be reason enough to be executed. Little pilot you wouldn’t believe how much blood was lost to gain this meager concession.

After enough dancing you activate the funny little trinkets designed to erase your steps from anyone trying to track you. Small explosive devices capable of disrupting even the fancy processes capable of reconstructing images of the past.

In any case, the coordinates arrive, it’s time to return “home”. A long jump to another intermediate point, then a final, really long one to your base.

No welcomes. Just the usual mechanical indications to quickly store your vehicle in the designated place.

Unsurprisingly, the station is preparing for departure. The recent happening requires to realign priorities. Most likely you will be doing patrolling missions on the places left exposed by the sudden relocation of the Empire’s forces. For reasons long forgotten, the Empire doesn’t like to have the same elements involved in an area more than once. “Empathy, perhaps?” The joke earns you another warning from that stupid thing in your head.

You lose manual control of your ship as soon as it is aligned to the designated port of the station, an orifice just big enough to allow the entrance of your vehicle. Everything is now automated.

Ah! Your vessel truly is a brilliant example of the Empire’s disregard for anything other than efficiency, and a deeply flawed interpretation of it, at that: a mere cylinder with rounded ends, both of them with large orifices for the propulsion and main weapon. If it wasn’t for the large gap left behind by the explosive device, and the four protrusions, near the end of the vehicle, dedicated to your secondary weapons, it would impossible to discern what end is what. Some seemingly randomly placed tubes and cables decor the otherwise bare surface.

Oh yes, secondary weapons, your weakness. It is meant to be a nuanced solution for nuisances, but for the most part, they are the nuisance themselves. Their location and effectiveness should count as sabotage! To actually use them you would have to adjust your routing in ways that not only would compromise your mission, and, even when used correctly, they are so painfully under-powered that several hits are required to take down the most fragile of your enemies. Despite this, the Empire’s performance review will evaluate how you use them.

Then, there is that irritating yellowish tint of the hull of this class of the Empire’s vessels. I understand that all cloaking methods, that are actually effective against your enemies, are reserved for critical missions. But those never happen, and yellow? I know it’s the color of that material, but couldn’t the Empire spare some tint to make it bearable?

Anyway, the ship stops in a semi cylindrical room, of a more tolerable orange tint. All walls are covered with tools designed to “disassemble” the entire vessel, or to be more precise, to completely tore it apart.

Simply put, this thing doesn’t offer any kind of method for maintenance, everything is put together with a single thought in mind: it is meant to work, once. Naturally, the ship provides no methods to evacuate it. Classic Empire’s efficiency. At the end of each mission, it will be reforged, or rebuild, after replacements and updates take place.

Absolute insanity.

As the innards of the ship are exposed, it’s possible to see the melted down area that once was your main canon, the main power source, and of course, yourself.

Your mortal body resides suspended, encased in the amorphous blob. Hundred of wriggling cylindrical appendages extend to the different interfaces on the ship. As a tool approaches you, all “arms” retract, finally giving a near perfect spherical form to the “suit”.

After cutting down some harnesses, you are finally released from your ship. Immediately you are placed on a cup-like device, slightly bigger than your protective ball.

Inside the device, the seemingly viscous substance that forms your suit melts away, exposing your body. The process continues until every single drop of the substance is absorbed by the station. Your humanity is exposed, while the substance pours from every orifice of your body.

You are well formed. You seem healthy, even strong. But, your life functions are at their bare minimum. A requirement to use this “armor” of yours.

Soon after, a passage opens below your body, transporting you to your next destination.

It’s a short process, and you remain unconscious the entire time. Nothing extraordinary, though. Health checks, disposal of waste, cleaning and reestablishment of your regular biological functions, everything is done by machines in spaces barely big enough to host a human.

Meanwhile, your vessel is completely torn apart. Every component is recycled or adjusted depending on the condition. Not before running an extensive review to evaluate its performance. Unfortunately, this evaluation is also used to discard any malfunction that could affect your own review.

You wake up on your room. An area big enough for a chair that doubles as a bed when reclined, and a few compartments for your personal belongings, approximately half of your body’s volume in size.

If it wasn’t for a garment covering your genitals, you would be completely naked. Thankfully, the temperature of your room is comfortable for such vestures. On your forehead a golden medal, a flat round medal, with a fist in the middle, the symbol of the Empire of Mankind, works as your interface for all the devices on your base. However, unlike the implant on your brain, this one is easy to remove if you wanted to. After all, according to the Empire, the inner and outer beauty of the human race can’t be spoiled by gadgets, or marks of any kind… except that horrendous thing on your head.

An image is projected directly to your eyes. It shows a lot of data about your performance, your score, the evaluation that took place, the expected improvements and additional information.

You care little about the data. You already know what is there: a failed score that will be bumped to something barely passable thanks to the evaluations of your Oracle and the other team members. Of course, you evaluate in the most positive way the performance of your teammates.

It’s lovable how everyone in every team of the Empire has to come together to undo the damage that a painfully misguided system inflicts.

However, it’s not the same for everyone, the Oracles often score far higher than the pilots, and everyone else involved.

Anyway, even though you barely glazed over it, you do notice how they actually punished you for leaving the area before confirming the elimination of the target. The tragedy of this insanity somehow only manages to make you do a quick calculation to confirm that there was no way to escape the zone that was annihilated. The fact that the presented simulation conveniently failed to acknowledge this “detail” bothers you. But, it’s been this way for a few years already.

Suddenly, an urgent news breaks out in the Empire’s network. A huge event, expected by countless. The Supreme General announces his resignation over the latest figures of suicides among the Empire’s forces.

The figure of pilot’s alone exceeded the one million casualties in the last [year]. Ten times more than the acceptable figure!

Of course, the Supreme General is a lifelong position. The only way out is death, and death it is for him.

A small speech regretting his decisions, a heartfelt apology to the Emperor, an announcement regarding his recent command to exterminate all the generations of his own family, and, to end it all, he blows his head with a handheld weapon. What a gruesome way to end your own life.

Soon after, the Emperor’s speech begins. First, he reminds the population about the importance of the human life, and that honor, or efficiency, are not above the worth of life.

You have heard this discourse a few times in the past. The previous one, a man with good thoughts that brought much glory to the Empire, saw his demise at the hands of envious smaller men, including the recently deceased one. Intrigue after intrigue, eventually made a hole in his armor. Love for women was his demise.

Oh, suddenly another piece of good news. The new general announces that the evaluation system, one of the major causes of so much suffering, is going to be reverted to what it was before the former supreme general took his position. Not only that, the empire will reevaluate every single score from the last [5.3 years] under the new (former) system.

You wait a few moments and the new scores are updated. You are surprised, even amazed. Your new evaluation makes you a candidate for a privileged retirement. And you could apply as soon as your deployment ends in a few [months]!

A strange emotion feels your slumbering heart. Something you haven’t felt in a long time. Hope? Joy? You can’t spend time trying to figure it out. It has to be extirpated as soon as possible, otherwise the burden of emotions could make home and get in the way of existing as a pilot of the Empire.

This entire situation makes you hungry. You leave your room and enter a long hallway. It’s completely empty, just a highly illuminated white corridor with doors on both sides. Each with a number to help distinguish one from another.

Your current home, a strategic carrier class cruiser, counts with one of the largest living areas of any of the Empire’s capital ships. It has to be, after all, it is meant to hold the pilots for all the vessels required for any mission where the Empire can’t compromise a large ship; or it needs additional forces quickly.

Oh Empire of Mankind. You bring shame to your so called surviving seed. Defenders of life? What a joke. You strongly believe in having your talents near the action, but do little to ensure their safety. Yet, you recognize the risk and keep your valuable Oracles at a safe distance. Hmm… Fair enough, I guess. it does give your pilots a clear advantage, even with your lagging technology.

Your stupid Pride is a disease. What an obnoxious sin. If you were more humble you could embrace the Pirate’s ways, and offers, and simply adapt the technology they have acquired in different ways. You could become unstoppable! But then, perhaps this is for the best.

However, you could use some help with those high performance suits of your pilots. Specially considering that their main issues are not longer a problem for the other standard suspension capsules used by the rest of the crew. They even provide a respectable enhancement to the abilities of its user. But I guess not enough for your liking.

Still, for this very reason your pilots need time outside their suits. And so do they need living spaces not needed by the rest of the Empire’s crewmen. Solving the former issue could eliminate this requirement, oh fool Empire.

But then, you haven’t solved the lack of safeguards in case something goes wrong with your large vessels. It’s almost sadistic how you refuse to implement the most basic evacuation protocols for your people. Your so called efficiency truly lacks humanity, Empire.

Pilot, for a moment you wonder how it works for the pilots of the Federation. Since they operate in an entirely remote way, they don’t really need those specialized suits like yours, nor they need the time out of them.

How they do it? You often ask yourself. Their remote controlled vessels perform very well. Even though they are not in the battle, and they risk nothing, they are more than competent. You are amazed, for a moment, about the advances of the Federation’s technology. How they overcome so many challenges to give their pilots a degree of safety impossible in the Empire. Perhaps the way their Oracles connect to their pilots is what makes the difference. You think, just to appease the thing in your head.

Of course, Oracles are rare and few in comparison to pilots. No human organization would jeopardize their lives, even if the optimal configuration would require to have the pilot and the Oracle inside a combat vessel. Not even Pirates would dare to do so, even if they suffer the worse of their kind.

Well, with the exception of the Empire’s capital ships, no Oracle is ever exposed to danger.

Anyway, at the end of the hallway you find one of the dinner areas of the ship. Just as before, a clean, white zone, with cabinets filled with tools and equipment that provides the nourishment for your body. There you find two pilots, one of them is a member of your recent mission.

Endearing as it is, you are a little bit disappointed. After all this years, you still expect to see your Oracle in a more casual way, even though, you know very well that it is almost impossible. As it is for the rest of the Empire, the crew of the warship can stay inside their capsules for the duration of their deployment. With their body safely sustained, they really have no urge to leave those devices. Not to mention that entering and leaving the required suspended state is awkward and time consuming.

Your humble hopes are precious. All you want to do is to finally meet her, and thank her for all the great work she has done. How wonderful!

Unfortunately, in the dinner room, there is no word spoken. Eat and rest. That’s all there is in your heads. However, you remembered who is this female that fought along your side.

She is a promising pilot. At only [23 years] of experience, she has achieved what others require twice, or even more to reach. You respect her commitment to the Empire’s systems. A commitment that ensures her higher scores than the rest of pilots of equal, and even more years of service. Sometimes even more than you, pilot.

Oh, little pilot, if only you knew how admired you are. Among the ones that fight with you, that woman considers you a role model. Even though she holds her emotions, just as you do, she wishes to tell you how inspiring you are. How amazing you are by rejecting the expectations of the Empire, for the safety of the pilots and the success of the mission. How, after more than [243 years] of service, you remain committed to the well being of the empire, giving it what it needs and not what it demands.

But I guess you are correct, you do know better. Establishing relationships with fellow pilots never ends well. So, you finish the bland, but abundant, nourishment the Empire provides to its pilots. Nothing remotely interesting, or even appetizing. Just a substance that is easy to conserve, transport, serve, consume, and absorb. I have to recognize that it is quite efficient for what it is.

Oh well, I guess “it is what it is”. Everyone finishes their meal in silence, only a small gesture of acknowledgment each time someone retires.

It hurts to see, I have to say pilot.

Your return to your room as your head is filled with questions about whatever mission is to follow, and a little bit of morbid curiosity about the underlings of the disgraced general.

Oh yes, the Empire has no issue with any kind of vitriol falling into its fallen servants and their orbiters. Even worse, it is often encouraged, hence it usually gets horrendous. Unsurprisingly many would rather take their own lives than endure the harassment campaigns from their fellow citizens.

In this matter, you are different pilot. You don’t take part on the lynching, but you do find some solace on the united voices attacking those whose actions created so much suffering and death. Justice is justice, I guess, even when served late.

Anyway, once in your room, you request information concerning the current status of the base: where is headed and what kind of missions to expect. As you wait, you quickly browse the discussions among fellow pilots regarding the former and new Supreme Generals: disdain for what was, hope for what is to come. There are no surprises here, after all, it’s what is allowed.

Now you are preoccupied. You are very likely going to be sent to patrol an area with potential pirate presence. This is not good. Under the same class of vessels the pirates enjoy significant technological superiority. While their Oracles are often atrocious, they retain their lead with their numbers. The only safe way to guard this troublesome areas is with capital vessels that outclass anything the Pirates could risk.

The next mission is formally announced. You have [12 hours] to prepare. You decide to sleep. The apprehension is not enough to stop you from falling asleep almost immediately. After all, your operations impose a tremendous amount of stress on your mind; the stress that would drive to madness untrained humans.

As your base is about to reach its destination, you are kindly awaken by a soft alarm. Supposedly. the sound mimics the pleasant noise made by creatures that once inhabited the lost cradle of humanity. The once dim room is starting to light up. You open one of the compartments next to your bed. There you reach for a small container holding tiny patches that held a powerful sedative. After applying the patch on your neck, a path is opened above your head. Little after, your body is taken inside the opened way. Meanwhile, as the sedative is starting to work, you mentally prepare for what is to follow.

While most of the process is done with you on varying degrees of little to no consciousness, there is part that troubles all pilots, to absorb, and then be absorbed by the rest of your suit. Everything that is you rejects this process. And it’s something that doesn’t get easier. Even though many efforts have taken place to ease the procedure, it remains a daunting task for those who have to endure it.

Unlike other methods to keep the mind conscious, while the rest of the body remains almost inert, the Pilot’s suit demands a much deeper invasion of the body. Unfortunately, said intrusion has to be done in a semi-aware state. Hence its traumatic nature.

You know this is necessary, the performance from this suits demands that kind of connection, however, this kind of connection also risks an irreversible absorption, where pilot and suit become one. A death one, at that. So it has to be done swiftly and somewhat awake to reduce the possibilities of this tragedy to happen.

Fortunately, once the procedure is done, everything negative ends instantly. Generating a temporal euphoria that empowers the pilots for the first minutes of every mission.

However, that elevated feeling won’t do any good in this mission. You will be waiting. You will be waiting for the best possible outcome: that no pirate will show up.

But, if they show up, you know what will happen. You have seen this missions in the past. Some even have come to consider it the Empire’s method of culling pilots. While the skill, experience and discipline of the Pilots may make a difference, most of the time it is a matter of luck if the involved survive or not.

You have seen both extremes at that. How the best of the best fell, or how the ones lacking the most survive.

There is no glory to be had. Specially when the Empire considers those enemies to be mere nuisances, not an actual adversary. Oh, how wrong your leaders are. With their stolen and unregulated technology they are remarkably powerful for their size. But perhaps worse than that, they are wickedly smart. After all, it’s strategy, and not fear, what keeps them from seeking any escalation with any of the three major human powers.

In any case, a minimal force is being deployed. It’s a regrettable situation that it’s going to take some time before the Empire completely revokes the absurdly “frugal” strategies that have compromised so many lives.

Remarkably, if you were capable of betraying the Empire, the pirates would receive you with open arms. But the moment you would try to do so, the thing on your head will attempt to kill you. If that fails, your very own vessel will self-destroy. And if that somehow is not enough, destroying you becomes your squad’s number one priority. Even your Oracle would become your enemy!

So it’s impossible… or at least, that’s what the Empire forces you to believe.

With no words, no discourses, no nothing, you and your team depart towards the designated area.

“This is stupid.” It’s your first thought as soon as you arrive. Your mission is to protect the wreckage of an old Empire capital ship. Anything of value in this thing was looted long before you were even born.

The idea of the entire mission is to wait for and protect the team dispatched to properly dispose of the floating rubbish. All because of a rumor that claimed that a new technology would allow some materials of this kind of vessel to be repurposed by pirates.

“Pointless, absurd.” Your Oracle mirrors your thoughts.

Even if the rumors were true, the annoyance, at best, caused to the pirates wouldn’t justify the invested resources. Of course, some leaders inside the Empire do share your position. Meaning, you will be waiting for awhile for a team to be dispatched.

Time passes. Your squad is hiding in the wreckage. Since there is no action, your suit is operating under a certain mode that has no risk of absorbing your body. Returning to full operating capabilities takes less than [4 seconds], a small risk.

A sudden thought comes to your mind. You have heard of this before. This is a trap. The pirates are not interested in the wreckage. They want the Empire to spread its resources, and when possible, to try their new tools on compromised Empire forces.

Your Oracle seems oddly distracted in some thoughts you can’t decipher, but she returns to you as soon as you reach the conclusion. She agrees.

You immediately request permission to retreat. The automated system denies it. You try again, this time requesting a human, presenting your concerns and evidence, in the form of historical records the Empire’s systems quickly recovered for you.

The answer is going to take a while. Unbeknownst to you, there is a huge confrontation in the area of your previous mission, the same area you accidentally destroyed.

As you wait, a signal appears. Your enemies are here.

A quick look at the newly arrived confirms your supposition. This is not a recovery team. Only vessels that could be categorized as fast combat units conform the unit, and they are more than you.

You immediately request, once again, permission for a retreat. No response. Then a request for help. None available. Request to broadcast on emergency channels? Denied.

It seems that there is no other option than to fight.

As you are about to give an obvious order, your higher ups are alerted immediately by the thing in your head.

Now you get and immediate answer: you are there to protect the suspended pile of garbage, so you must fight. To be certain you will obey, all of your squad’s long jump capabilities have been disabled.

A second plan formulates quickly. Those who are willing, will cover for those who could try to get as far as possible from the area. Hopefully some pilots could be saved. Of course, you get another message from the higher ups. You are about to be labeled a traitor.

However, the plan fails instantly. Everyone wants to cover the attempt of a retreat.

New and last plan. Fight to survive, ignore the wreckage. The retreat may come in time.

You are now, officially, a traitor of the Empire. But, you must still complete the mission. Your punishment will be processed once the mission is over.

Death is the only outcome for you. Even if you survive this operation.

With no time to contemplate the absurdity of the situation, your recovery from the stasis period is finished. As soon as your enemies detect the presence of the Empire, you are the first to lunch to face them.

As it is usual for the pirates and the Empire interactions, there are no communications, only violence.

You Oracle is disheartened, and horrified. But that doesn’t distract her from the mission.

The battle begins immediately. The Pirate’s superior technology is evident, however, the definitive element of the early comes from your own talent. You truly are an amazing pilot.

Your experience, discipline, and of course, your superior Oracle, are putting to shame the superior numbers, speed, shields and weaponry of your enemies. Your allies, trained under your shadow, and following your brilliance, fight as if inspired by the divine.

Yes, the combat is flowing in your favor.

Almost as following a mastered sequence, every single movement is meaningful. Oh Pilot, how powerful you are!

Indeed, the arrogant confidence of your enemies, now a frustrated anger, is now becoming overwhelming dread. Yes! Almost as if a god came to this realm to destroy them in humiliation and fear.

Behold Pilot, some of your enemies are fleeing! Two lost their lives. Meanwhile your team is battled, but still in combat fitness.

Reinforcements arrive. It is well known that the Pirates respect the lives of their own far more than the Empire its own.

I guess it’s remarkable how the Pirates imitate the Empire’s processes, that is, remote Oracles and in-presence pilots. Added to this, their stolen, or experimental, technology is often more than enough to win small skirmishes, such as this against their enemies.

Ah!, but that technology is also no small source of problems, and it is showing its worse face right now.

As the reinforcements join the battle, the battle returns for a moment to its early stages.

My dear Pilot, you noticed. Yes, your Oracle’s ugly thought on the corner of her mind.

Even with the latent risk of doom, you two keep fighting in an immaculate way.

The battle returns to a more comfortable position for your team, as the newly arrived begin to feel the weight of your leadership and impossible fighting superiority.

Then, it happened. Your Oracle misguided you, her lead was going to end in certain death. You escaped only because your instinct put your very own intuition above hers, until now, flawless direction.

She is in shock, her guiding stops. You are alone.

You make a series of evasive maneuvers while communicating the circumstances to the rest of your team.

While your skills and intuition are far beyond whatever the enemy pilots could offer, the new reality is that their vessels and Oracles may match your tremendous capabilities.

For now, you have a few seconds until your enemies start to notice that something is off with you.

The intuition shaped by [hundreds of years] of combat, and the nurture of the mere contact with an Oracle, is proving miraculous. You are surviving. Just a few hits, here and there that failed to compromise your vessel’s performance.

Meanwhile, your Oracle’s mind is in a chaotic state. If it wasn’t for your superhuman focus, available thanks to your suit, her thoughts would have had overwhelmed you.

More reinforcements arrive.

The pirates are compromising too many resources for this battle. There is a good chance that one of their fallen comrades was someone important… or maybe, they found something valuable.

The battle continues, the first casualty of your team is here. A young pilot with an equally inexperienced Oracle. They fought well. The Oracle, after his recovery, will see more fighting in the future.

At this point you are trying to figure it out why there is something serious wrong with some of your enemies. While some perform at the level you would expect from a pirate, others are, to put it kindly, confused.

Too many accidents, too many openings, too many errors. There is something, and you think you must figure it out now, if you want someone to escape.

Unfortunately, it would be impossible for you to realize that the pirates were testing a substance that enhances their Oracle’s performance. And it actually does, but it also creates a gap between the pilot and the Oracle. The disorientation you noticed is the result of an Oracle seeing too far in the future, leaving their pilots empty handed at the heat of the moment.

Two more of your squad members are not longer part of this chaotic universe. The overwhelming numbers, and the lack of you as a disruptive force, have vanished the chances of a miracle.

A “I’m sorry”, comes from your precious Oracle. Her first coherent thought since her mistake. She repeats herself several times.

You answer her, “You did well, thank you for everything. I hope your life will be filled with peace and joy.”

Following this, two direct hits shock your ship. One overloads its already overworked shield, the second pierces the hull. Your suit has been heavily damaged. My dear Pilot, this is the end of your life. A proud, loyal, yet sensible, warrior of the Empire.

Precious Pilot… I know better, but I’ll cry and mourn you.

Those pirates. They wanted to capture you, and make you one of their own. They have the technology, but didn’t have the skills to subdue you. Yes, they came to test a useless substance, and found a treasure in the form of a pilot of the Empire. After the fight, the pirates tried to revive you, but that was not possible.

Your Oracle? She will be broken for a while. But she will return stronger. With a much stronger control of her emotions and subconscious. Ready to be part of the crew of one of the Empire’s capital vessels.

If you could, you would have smiled when you noticed that thought in her corner. A painfully humane emotion that had no right to cost your life: She didn’t want you to retire.

Do know this, she will certainly remember you, and make you proud for the rest of her life.

The Empire will continue sacrificing the lives of precious humans. But it won’t be in vain. One day humanity will be reunited.

At the end, the mission was a massive failure, none survived. At the very least, you were deemed completely right in the way you proceeded. Hence, every charge against you was dropped.

On the other hand, a hard heartened bureaucrat was made responsible for this lost. In other words, the mission claimed an additional life.

Oh Empire of mankind, how long until you finally drop the shackles of you dammed founder.