Fifty of us stood in rigid rows, staring straight ahead. We were the survivors. The ones who hadn’t washed out of the simulation. But looking around at the bruised faces and bandaged limbs, I didn't feel like a winner. I felt like merchandise.
"Attention!"
The command echoed from the speakers. A sleek platform rose from the floor, and a senior officer stepped forward. He was a thin, severe man in a pristine white uniform that looked like it had never seen a speck of dust, let alone a battlefield. He didn't introduce himself. To him, we were just numbers, and to us, he was just a suit.
"You are no longer cadets," the officer announced, his voice smooth and cold. "You are assets of the Northern Nation. And as of tonight, you are deployed."
He tapped a console. A massive holographic grid appeared in the air behind him.
"The fleet requires resources. Fuel. Metal. Power. You have been divided into five combat units. Each unit has a specific directive and a specific target."
I scanned the lists frantically, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Team 56... Team 57...
My eyes found the bottom of the list.
TEAM 58
- Valor, V. (6 previous missions.)
- Sterling, R.( 4 previous missions.)
- Jameson, C.
- Hayes, B.
- Thorne, A.
- Davenport, K.
- Williams, L.
- Wood, A.
- Lennon, T.
- Zed
"Valor?" Becca whispered beside me. "We're with Vance Valor?"
"Is that good?" I whispered back.
"He's a legend," she hissed. "Why is he lumped in with us?"
"Take note of your assignment," the officer said, checking his watch like he had somewhere better to be. "Report to your designated briefing rooms immediately to meet your Commanders. Dismissed."
The rows broke apart. The room dissolved into chaos as fifty soldiers scrambled to find their new squads.
"Room 304," Alicia said, reading the fine print on the screen. "That's us."
We made our way through the crowd. We found the rest of our list waiting by the door. There was Lexie, a girl with sharp eyes; Aaron, who stood apart from the group, glaring at the floor and muttering to himself like he was arguing with a ghost; Theo, a lanky guy nervously adjusting his gloves; and Zed, who was watching everything with a bored look on his face.
And then, the two names Becca had spotted.
Vance Valor was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He was tall, with messy dark hair falling over eyes that were striking but exhausted. He had a jagged scar running from his jaw to his ear, but his expression wasn't cold—it was calculating. He was scanning us one by one, assessing us with the focused intensity of a mechanic checking an engine before a race.
Ray Sterling stood next to him, spinning a coin over his knuckles and grinning like he was at a party rather than a military briefing.
We filed into Room 304. It was a small, soundproofed chamber with a single table.
We waited. The air was thick with tension.
Then the door hissed open.
A man walked in who made the officer in the main hall look like a paper doll. He was a mountain of muscle, with a face mapped by scars and a prosthetic eye that whirred faintly as it focused on us.
"Sit," he growled.
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We sat. Instantly.
"I am Commander Williams," he said. His voice sounded like gravel grinding in a mixer. "I don't care about your scores. I don't care about your potential. I care about the mission."
He tapped the table. A hologram materialized in the center of the room—a rotating image of jagged, glowing white crystals.
"Team 56 is going to the gas giants. Team 57 is retrieving heavy metals," Williams said. "But you ten... you have a different priority."
He pointed at the crystals.
"Planet Eighty-One. This is your target. The Science Corps calls it The Aether."
The room was silent, staring at the strange, glowing rocks. Against my better judgment, I raised my hand.
Williams’ mechanical eye swiveled toward me. "Speak."
"What is it used for?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.
Williams stared at me for a long moment. "It is a power source."
"What kind of power?" I pressed. “We mainly use nuclear fusion as a power source. We don't need crystals for that."
Williams’ expression darkened. "It is a high-yield energy source required for... specialized systems. That is all you need to know, Soldier Jameson."
"But—"
"It powers the future of the Northern Nation," he interrupted, his voice dropping an octave. "And your job is not to analyze it. Your job is to secure it. Is that clear?"
"Crystal clear," a voice drawled from the back.
Williams’ eye twitched. He looked at Ray. "Do you have something to add, Soldier Sterling?"
Ray stopped spinning his coin. He leaned back in his chair, feet resting on the legs of the table. "Just wondering if we get hazard pay this time. Or are we doing this for the glory of the Nation again?"
Alicia gasped softly. You didn't talk to Commanders like that.
Williams glared at Ray, but surprisingly, he didn't execute him. He just sighed, looking suddenly very tired. "You get to stay alive, Sterling. That's your pay."
"Fair enough," Ray shrugged, winking at Theo, who looked like he was about to pass out from terror.
Williams turned back to the group. "Good. The environment is toxic. The locals are hostile. Intelligence suggests a survival rate of..."
"Let me guess," Ray interrupted again. "Zero percent? Ten percent? Come on, Commander, give us the odds. We're betting on it."
"Twenty percent," Williams snapped. "And if you interrupt me again, Sterling, I'll drop you without a parachute."
Ray mimed zipping his lips.
"Your transport leaves at 0600," Williams finished, handing a data-pad to Vance. "Destination: The Stellarion. Bring me the Aether, or don't come back. Dismissed."
Williams turned and marched out.
The door clicked shut, leaving us in silence. The statistic hung in the air. Twenty percent.
"Well," Ray said, clapping his hands together. "He seems fun."
"He's a Commander," Alicia said stiffly, shooting Ray a dirty look. "He demands respect."
"He demands a drink," Ray laughed. He looked at Alicia, grinning. "Relax, Princess. If he was going to kill me, he would have done it three missions ago."
Alicia bristled at the nickname.
"Enough," a deep voice cut through the bickering.
Vance pushed off the wall. He walked to the head of the table, his presence immediately silencing the room. But when he looked at us, his eyes weren't cold. They were steady.
He looked at Theo, who was shaking. He glanced at Aaron, who was staring at the floor. Then he looked at the white streak in my hair.
"Forget the percentages," Vance said quietly.
"Easy for you to say," Becca muttered, crossing her arms. "You're a legend. We're just fodder."
Vance turned to her. Becca held his gaze, defiant, her hand drifting toward her belt.
Vance smiled—a small, genuine thing that transformed his scarred face.
"I like that," Vance said, nodding at her. "Hold onto that anger, Hayes. We're going to need that fire where we're going."
Becca blinked, surprised by the compliment. Her hand dropped from her weapon. "Oh. Thanks."
Vance turned back to the group. "Williams looks at numbers. I look at people. And I see a team that survived the Final Training."
He placed his hands on the table, leaning in, his voice dropping to a confidential rumble.
"We aren't just a list of names anymore," Vance said. "We are Team 58. That means we watch each other's backs. Ray watches the perimeter. I watch the lead. You watch each other. Nobody plays hero, and nobody gets left behind. Got it?"
I looked at him. For the first time since the briefing started, the knot in my stomach loosened. He wasn't promising we wouldn't die—he was promising we wouldn't die alone.
"Got it," I said.
"Understood," Katherine whispered.
"Good." Vance stood up straight. "Get some sleep. And don't worry about the Commander. Ray annoys him, but Ray is also the best shot in the sector. You're in good hands."
"The best hands!" Ray called out, wrapping an arm around a startled Theo's shoulders. "Come on, kid. Let's go on a little walk. Stick with me, and I'll tell you all about Vance and mine's last mission."
Theo looked at the arm draped around him like it was a live snake, but he looked too terrified to argue.
"Sure," Theo mumbled, sounding like he had absolutely no choice in the matter.
As they filed out, Ray dragging the recruit along and Alicia fuming behind them, Vance stopped next to me.
"Jameson, right?" he asked.
"Yes."
He nodded at my white streak. "Distinctive. I won't lose you in a fight."
"I don't plan on getting lost."
"Good." He patted my shoulder—a heavy, reassuring weight. "Stick close to me tomorrow. We'll get through this."
He walked out, and for the first time, I felt something I hadn't felt in years.
Hope.
"He's... not what I expected," Alicia said, walking up beside me. She sounded impressed.
"No," I agreed, watching Vance stop at the door to hold it open for Katherine, offering her a quiet nod as she passed. "I think we might actually have a chance."