The silence of the hallway rattled around inside John’s head.

  His boots echoed over polished stone. He clenched his fists. He shook from the memory of Thariel’s smirk. He should have wrapped his hands around his throat. Thoughts of killing Thariel remained with him as he followed Ambassador Vel’Sem toward the Arbiter Lounge. He felt like he was walking toward something irreversible.

  Rage calcified inside of him. It curled into a repeating thought. Next time, I’ll kill him.

  Ambassador Vel’Sem remained composed. His elegant robes whispered as they brushed against the walls as the passages narrowed. They stopped at the checkpoint where an older man with amber skin and stark white eyebrows sat behind the clerk’s pedestal with perfect posture.

  “Halt. Neither of you are Arbiters. State your purpose.”

  “Greetings, Steward Kensington,” Vel'Sem said. “We’re invoking Article Sigma-Four.”

  “Temporary Arbiter access?” said Kensington. He gazed suspiciously at John. “For the human? What’s your name?”

  “Commander John Drayton.”

  “Oh…I’ve heard about you. I watched the footage of the attack on New York City. I’m sorry for your loss. You are not alone in this fight.”

  “Thank you. I’m hoping you can show me something to give us an edge in this fight.”

  Kensington raised a single brow. He glanced back at the wall behind him. He tapped the holopad. It responded with a soft chime. “You have a twenty-four hour pass. Failure to return Arbiter equipment is subject to penalty.”

  “What does that mean?” John said.

  “That depends on the Arbiter who finds you,” Vel'Sem said. “Penalties range from a small fine to incredible amounts of torture in a dark room.”

  “Oh.”

  The mahogany gun shelf behind Kensington was filled with EM rifles of sleek design from several manufacturers. Once he pressed a button under the desk, the gun shelf slid sideways which revealed a mighty vault door of supercharged steel alloy. The vault door groaned and opened like the mouth of an ancient beast. Cold air spilled out and smelled of polished steel. John and Vel’Sem stepped past Kensington and down the marble steps into what the Arbiters called the Hall of Honor.

  Dim golden lights flickered from the ceiling and barely illuminated the armored corridor. Turrets lined the upper rafters. Between them, statues of Arbiters stood frozen in reverence, cast in silver and steel. Each was clad a unique suit of power armor—sleek propulsion rigs with layered kinetic shielding and angular helmets etched with different family crests. Some statues bore swords while others held long rifles. Instead of combat armor, a handful of Arbiter statues bore sleek professional attire with crisp ties. Most were human, but not all. One looked half-insectoid with four little antennae and six eyes.

  John’s breath fogged in the cold. He felt small.

  At the end of the hall, another vault door unsealed. Light spilled into the room like liquid sapphire. Inside, ten suits stood inside crystalline coffins with ruby red shielding. Each one looked distinct and powerful. Some were brutish and hulking frames like fortresses. Others looked agile and birdlike, built for maneuverability and flight.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  When John saw the suit in the center, he already knew it was his.

  “That’s your Griffin Wing,” Vel’Sem said. “You would never catch me flying around in one of those but they’re perfectly suitable for someone like you.”

  “Someone like me?”

  “You’re a natural born warrior. You’re not afraid of getting your hands bloody. Me, on the other hand…I solve most of my disputes by signing contracts over dinner with a glass of chardonnay."

  “Is that so?”

  “There’s a couple of reasons I prefer shuffling documents and handshakes instead of rifles and magazines. I did that in my younger years, twelve thousand years ago, and I’ve learned that war is overrated and senseless. Unfortunately, there are few in the galaxy who agree with me.”

  “I’m sorry, did you just say that you’re twelve thousand years old?”

  “This is my fifty-seventh host body, John. It’s holding up quite well, don’t you think?

  John nodded in agreement, unsure what else to do. In reality, the thought of wearing that many flesh suits made his insides clench with disgust. But he reminded himself of his place and cultural customs of the time and retained a tight military posture.

  “Your Griffin Wing is like a host body,” Vel'Sem said. “But in many ways, it’s much better. Care to try it on?”

  Vel’Sem stepped beside the suit and tapped on the holopad. The crystalline container hissed open with a sigh. The Griffin Wing’s black carbon-alloy surface shimmered black like glass. It was dusted with something that shimmered. The chest plate was etched with golden filament in the shape of stylized wings. Its shoulders flared like a predatory beast poised to strike. The helm was angular and regal, like a war mask made for a king. Behind it, the folded propulsion frame extended like the suggestion of wings. It was beautiful. And for the next twenty-four hours, it was his.

  “The Griffin Wing is built for intense atmospheric conditions like volcanic planets, but it can also maneuver quite well in the void of space. Before you can activate the Griffin Wing, you must connect to its neural weave. But I warn you—the merging is not pleasant for humans. It’s…intimate. It can be painful. You will never forget it.”

  John stepped closer. The suit looked back at him.

  Ambassador Vel’Sem folded his hands. “There’s another surprise en route. It’s a gift. It’s a rare weapon you can use in conjunction with your Griffin Wing to fight the Hyperions.”

  “A weapon?”

  “Another surprise.”

  John stared at the suit like it was a mirror. “I’ll try it on…but this doesn’t mean I’m some intergalactic hero. I’m just going to walk around a little bit. Like trying on some new shoes.”

  “You must choose to be something more, Commander. You must take the first steps as all Arbiters do.”

  John saw the shadow of his outline in the reflection of the Griffin Wing. He saw an Arbiter. His heart raced. Could he really do it?

  A rumble spread through the ground as if a fist of God slammed into the planet. Ambassador Vel’Sem looked shaken.

  “What was that?” John asked.

  Ambassador Vel’Sem looked at the holo screen which materialized above his wristband. His lip quivered. “Thariel is attacking the surface of Prime Viridian. They’re attacking the capital. The Hyperions have just declared war on the Dependency.” He looked at John. “We’re at war.”

  ###

  Author’s Note:

  This episode is published here up to the 75% mark.

  The remaining chapters—including the climax and aftermath—are available in the complete episode on Amazon.

  https://www.royalroad.com/amazon/B0GCBV6R12

  Thank you for reading and supporting the series.