Rixon walked the hallway of the shipping dock, anxiety radiating from him as the time finally arrived. His clothes felt menacing and dark, a costume for someone he wasn’t yet. A long black coat, black chest armor, black boots. He was in his youthful body, so he stuck out his chest, trying to fill the jacket out, trying to look like he was already a killer.

  He saw Zay up ahead, talking with a couple of women from the crew.

  "Woah, look at that," Zay said, a blunt in his mouth. "That there looks like my baby cousin. I think he's ready to catch a body and join the industry, ladies. Guess our mission has truly begun."

  Rixon walked up the hangar door and gave his cousin a single nod, careful not to break the tense energy he’d built up inside.

  Zay smirked, like he’d been ignored. "Now look at him. I wonder how long that cold look is gonna stay on your face. ‘Cause when the blood sprays, that look will drop. And guess who’ll have to come play your protector? Me."

  Zay closed the hangar door and moved to the foyer of his ship. When Rixon stepped in, he understood. His cousin wasn’t some mere pirate. His crew was about three hundred deep. A hundred and fifty here on the ship, another hundred and fifty back at the station in command.

  Zay was debriefing the crew on the approach, on what to watch for, but Rixon didn’t hear a word. He was too busy psyching himself up, trapped in his own head.

  He tried convincing himself that maybe if he was with his squad….Ilonus, Hedio, Excelius, just maybe, he wouldn’t be batting an eye. Just as they had pushed him through fifty-two-hour simulated gunfights in bootcamp. But here, he was alone. No one to have his back, no one to share the burden of taking a life.

  He was still sitting against the wall, pretending to listen, when he heard the magic words.

  "We deploy in five! Suit up, check your equipment. It’s go-time. And make sure your air masks are sealed."

  Rixon whispered, confused, snapping out of his daze. "Air mask?"

  Jenasa was suddenly beside him, holding one out. She’d caught his confusion. "Don’t worry, yours is right here. I got it while Zay was talking. Just don’t die today. He already worries for a hundred and fifty people. If you die, a hundred and fifty will have to put him back together."

  "He won't have to worry," Rixon said, taking the mask. "I’ve trained for this my whole life. I just ask one thing of you. Protect and train my sister. I feel like time will slip from me, and I might not be able to give her all of me."

  He put on his thinly armored mask, black and gold swirling design, and fitted the air mask over it.

  Jenasa turned her head, her face still. "No."

  "Wait, what? Why not? Seems up your alley. I’m not asking you to babysit." Rixon attached his pistol to his side, throwing the sword hilt strap over his head.

  "Because you will give all of you for that young woman," she said, her voice cold as always. "Everyone on this ship wishes they had someone to give all of themselves to. Right now, that’s your older cousin. He does his best. What you walked in on the other day was an example of it."

  Rixon was caught off guard. "Wow. Didn’t expect the philosophy. Noted. I’ll do my best."

  "Focus on doing your best right now. It’s go-time." Jenasa walked off, attaching her own mask.

  Go-time it was.

  Rixon’s palms were sweating under his gloves. His rifle felt heavier than it did yesterday.

  Zay herded the crew to the hangar side door. They dropped out one by one, using small air-thruster packs to move through the void toward the space yacht. Rixon went last, Zay jumping with him to keep him close until the breach.

  The yacht came into view. A dome on top, music blasting, cheers leaking into space. It was white with a gold trim that gleamed under the station lights.

  Zay’s orders were lost to the vacuum. Rixon just focused on floating behind his cousin.

  They reached the access point, it was a mini dock on the yacht’s underbelly for smaller transports. The hangar door was huge and made them look like little space ants in comparison. Jenasa moved to a smaller maintenance hatch. She placed a temporary, targeted EMP on the hull. The device flared, and the party music inside stuttered, then played on. But Zay and Jenasa’s faces turned rushed. They’d tricked an alarm, not avoided it.

  Two younger crew members vacuum-sealed the edges of the hatch, creating a makeshift airlock bubble. Jenasa placed silent charges. A flash, a muffled thump, and they were in, floating upward into the yacht’s artificial gravity.

  Rixon grabbed the ledge of the floor above and pulled himself up. The crew was already checking weapons, masks off. They wore blues and purples, a ragtag look, but they moved like a single organism. Looks were deceiving.

  Zay floated up. "With me," he said, and they followed.

  In the first main hall, two riflewomen ran flanking Zay, weapons shouldered and ready. It looked strange to Rixon until four security guards rounded the corner. The women dropped them in seconds.

  One knelt, the other stood, their fire precise. The third and fourth guards were falling before they even raised their weapons.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  They left a trail of bodies, reaching the door to the main foyer deck.

  Zay looked at the women. "No one dies. If one of you dies, a piece of me does too."

  Then he looked at Rixon. "And you. You know how to kill. Don’t overthink it, or I’ll kill you myself."

  Behind his mask, Rixon’s eyes were wide with determination and fear. He fidgeted, waiting.

  Zay cracked the door. Jenasa’s arm flashed and with it a flash grenade sailed through.

  "Remember," Zay said, his voice low and final. "No one lives. Not a feminine or masculine species. All die."

  The world exploded in white. The door swung open. Rixon was shoved forward, one of the first out.

  Blasts flew past his head, coming from behind him. People were being gunned down. He froze, just for a second, until a blast zipped past from the other direction.

  He ran for cover behind a bar. He rose, fired over it, and missed. With every shot, he wondered what it would feel like when one finally landed.

  Then something charged him from behind the bar, a feminine Legzla, skin rough and wooly, four arms outstretched. She tackled him, and the air left his lungs in a painful crush.

  As she raised a weapon, he yanked his pistol free and shot her twice in the head.

  The weight of her body settled on him without touching him.

  The warmth of her life leaving.

  The sudden, total stillness.

  He’d killed someone just doing a job, just trying to survive.

  A fist coming out of no where punched him hard in the chest. Zay.

  "Great kill. But didn’t I say I’d kill you if you overthought it? Get up. These four-armed bastards won’t stop coming."

  Rixon forced himself up, ribs screaming. He put his rifle on the bar ledge and started shooting. One after another. Each time he killed, he glanced at the faces around him; they displayed smiles, focus, and fear.

  He even caught himself falling into a rhythm: shoot, drop behind cover, breathe through the adrenaline and repeat.

  A tap on his shoulder. Zay.

  "Showtime. The execs are in the lower deck. Girls are about to push. We run on their advance. Ready to run like hell?"

  "Advance three quarters!" someone yelled.

  The women charged. Some forward, some covering. Zay grabbed Rixon by the collar and hauled him toward the door where Jenasa waited.

  As Rixon broke through the doorway, leaving the war behind, he saw them. Legzla on the floor, dead, or gasping, reaching out. Reaching for a boy who just wanted to live.

  In the hallway, Zay pulled up a ship hologram. But before they moved, Rixon’s stomach heaved. He stumbled to a trash can and puked.

  He stood up, wiping his mouth. Zay punched him in the chest again, a hard thud. "Move."

  They ran. Rixon’s heart hammered like he was still fighting.

  At the exec room, Jenasa set charges. The door blew. Inside, the executives stood behind a shimmering force field.

  Zay dropped his rifle, pissed. He drew his sword, the metal pure Delisus.

  Rixon pulled out his own sword, unretracting the shield from his arm brace.

  Zay smirked, proud. "Now that’s a sword, cousin." He turned to the Legzla. "You dirt monsters crossed the boss. Your lives are forfeit."

  The field dropped. The execs drew blades.

  Zay smirked again. Fast as light, he drew his pistol, slid on his knees, and shot three of them in the shoulder. Jenasa followed, throwing electric javelins from her rings. They crackled with plasma, taking the injured three down.

  Rixon moved like a late shadow, watching their skill, trying to match it. He dodged, but still got cut. He found himself burying his sword in the chest of execs. With his bruised ribs, every breath was fire. He had to breathe through the pain and at the same time depend on his adrenaline to get him through the action and task of survival.

  He started aiming for limbs, avoiding heads as he felt he couldn’t stomach seeing the gruesome things that is taking place.

  Five left.

  Then one charged him, a masculine Legzla, full of deadly force.

  "She thinks she can send a boy to destroy me?" They roared, blows raining down on Rixon as he parried and blocked with shield. "I will kill this boy and everyone he holds close! She thinks this will satisfy her?"

  Rixon’s arm weakened. The force bore down. He dodged, confused. Why go after what he loved? They’d just met. He’d already lost so much.

  The Legzla swung hard, a final blow that sent Rixon flying. He slammed into Zay, who caught him.

  Zay’s whisper was in his ear. "You’re not done. Finish him. Finish the day. Oyricy is waiting."

  A shove. Zay turned and took a head off another foe.

  Rixon heard it, his sister’s name, a scream in his mind.

  He rushed the Legzla.

  And a swing of the sword’s hilt met his face. The world crumbled. All adrenaline, all fight, left him.

  He was on his back. The Legzla stood over him, swung down with all its might. Rixon blocked it with his shield at the last second, the impact pinning his arm to his chest. His ribs shrieked.

  All he could give at that moment was a scream.

  Zay’s head snapped around. He tried to shoot, but another Legzla jumped in the way, taking the bullets.

  Jenasa, fighting two, missed a throw.

  Rixon’s free hand scrambled, found his sword hilt. He swung blindly, the blade sticking in one of the Legzla arms.

  The pressure on his chest was crushing. He screamed again, a raw sound, and just kept whacking at the arms above him.

  Swing after swing.

  The pressure eased but he kept going and realized after a while that the Legzla was dead, all its arms chopped away.

  He lay there, breath sobbing. Then everything went dark.

  Zay picked him up and carried him off the ship.

  ‘Success. But at what cost?’

  That was all Rixon could think, floating in and out of consciousness as they moved him.

  He woke up in a medical bed. His sister was asleep in a chair beside him, social glasses on her face, empty food containers around her.

  The door opened. Jenasa and Zay walked in, stopping when they saw he was awake.

  "Well, Rixy," Zay said softly, taking his chart. "You did well. We’re off to see the boss. We’ll talk more. But when she wakes," he nodded at Oyric, "she’ll want all your time. You’ve been out a full week."

  Rixon just nodded as felt speaking might wake her.

  Jenasa gave him a careful side-hug, a silent wave, and they left.

  Alone again, with his sister sleeping beside him.

  Rixon laid back.

  He stared at the ceiling, and the tears came, silent. He relived every moment.

  The weight, the warmth leaving, the stillness, and the end.

  He felt this was the only time no one was watching, and he did not have to show strength. So he let his tears fall without making noise.