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/B0GRX317RF

  Thank you for reading and supporting the series.

  ###

  The war changed shape.

  After the tragedy on Eurynome, the crew of the Hemingway left behind not just scorched tunnels and a ruined colony—but the answer to defeating Thariel and driving the Hyperions out of the galaxy once and for all; Thariel has not one host body, but nine others they must destroy to stop him.

  The Foretold Reckoning, long thought lost, was discovered alive and fused with Braccari fungus. In the heart of the ship, they found something worse: Laureline, a dormant Hyperion. She whispered truths and revealed that the ambush on Eurynome had not been chaos meant to distract them, but a series of controlled horrific experiments orchestrated by Thariel to try and secure an alternate Hyperion host form other than Elysians or humans. Thankfully, their research failed.

  Thariel’s attack on the Hemingway and the failed extraction of his Hyperion ally, Laureline, left behind nine dead crew members and a broken vessel. John ordered the Hemingway repaired which would take four weeks. During that time, he authorized the transfer of Laureline into Dependency care offered by Galactic Councilor Lord-Ka who claimed to have ‘means and methods’ for extracting intelligence from the Hyperion. He didn’t know where they were taking her. It was better that way.

  As they waited for a revelation of information to locate Thariel's remaining hosts, John and the rest of the Hemingway assisted survivors of Eurynome. They pulled frightened people from the once Braccari infested exoplanet and assisted with transport missions to various starbases where survivors reunited with their families.

  Arbiter John Drayton left the Eurynome battlefield haunted. He bore fresh wounds beneath his armor, both physical and invisible. For weeks, John and the rest of the Hemingway crew ran evacuation missions in Dependency shuttles for all seventeen thousand survivors, most of which barricaded themselves deep inside the tunnels and lived off stale rations and water dripping from the cavern walls. During that time, Arbiter Drayton’s science team collected Braccari samples and studied them. They needed every advantage they could muster; those efforts were led by Dr. Halven Derat who remained inside the ship, insisting there was no better lab in the galaxy as he tested Braccari Queen DNA samples. Once the survivors were saved, Arbiter Drayton ordered a full evacuation of Eurynome and reclassified the planet as too hostile to inhabit.

  Once the plating on the Hemingway was replaced and its shields recalibrated, Arbiter Drayton entered the primary command deck. His command team filled their seats. “Selathe, set course for Sneem.” Dr. Derat’s work, studying the Braccari, led to manufacturing hundreds of doses of fast-acting medical serum for the front line marines. John believed it was the perfect opportunity for their team to do some good for the soldiers fighting in the war. At the very least, it gave them something to do until their next major lead on the location of Thariel’s second host.

  Their next destination: the Jubokko System. The solar system spiraled around a massive yellow star called Helusii, home to nine wildly divergent worlds. John clenched the rail at the edge of the deck. His eyes trailed away from the shifting fire of the Meridian Gate which receded behind them. Ahead lay a great battle raging in the solar system—a defining moment in the war with the Hyperions and their legions of Elysian soldiers. He could almost hear the echoes already. He breathed slowly and forced away the images of Braccari claws. He didn’t have room for ghosts in his mind, not right now.

  “Commander,” Sasha said in his ear. “Dr. Halven Derat requests your presence in the medical bay. He says it’s urgent. He’s…awfully excited.”

  “Excited?” John murmured. “Never a good sign.” He pushed off the railing. “Tell him I’m coming.”

  Inside the medical bay, frosted panels and suspended terminals hummed with diagnostic readings which framed the central operating space. The scent of ozone mixed with a sweet and earthy undertone filled the space. Rows of machinery gleamed under subdued golden light which cast down on the white alloy floor.

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  Dr. Halven Derat stood near a containment pod. His long Ytheron frame bent over a sealed biotray. The thought-sacs on either side of his elongated skull pulsed in irregular rhythms—a chaotic, twitching dance of bioluminescence in hues of blue and green. Unlike other Ytheron, who glowed in steady and logical intervals, Dr. Derat flickered with the erratic energy of a mind fighting itself. John believed he was mentally arguing with himself.

  “You’re just in time. Watch closely, Arbiter,” Derat said without looking up, voice laced with breathless focus.

  John approached. He folded his arms as he eyed the biotray. Inside, a sliver of twitching Braccari tissue pulsed faintly. It was alive.

  “This is the Queen’s spinal node—or what was left of it. Adaptive immune properties unlike anything recorded,” Derat explained. “I introduced it to the old Serum 9 strain. It didn’t reject it. It revised it.”

  John’s eyes narrowed. “You edited it somehow? Like a script?”

  “No…but sure.”

  “So what is it?”

  “A faster acting compound,” Derat said, straightening with a vial in his hand. The pale violet liquid inside glowed with the color of lightning. “It has twelve times the regenerative rate. Serum 9-12x.

  John stepped closer. “And you understand how it works?”

  Derat hesitated, then shrugged. “I understand enough to measure and realize its effects. Some mechanisms remain theoretical.” The tone in his voice shifted from excitement to reverence. “It’s clear there is a cascade effect. Structural mimicry. I examined enzymatic reweaving. The cellular scaffolding behaves as if it remembers its form. It has self-correcting architecture. That’s as simple as I can explain it.”

  Before John could press him further, the cryopod disengaged with a hiss. Commander Rhea Morgan stepped in, limping. Her thigh was wrapped in a bloody gauze, her face calm but tired.

  “Commander Morgan?” John asked. “What happened to you?”

  “Training accident,” she said, breath catching slightly. “A Cortari rookie got jumpy on a supply run and he caught a blade from an Elysian Screamer. And since he wasn’t there to watch my back, I took a scrape. But I got him good in the end. I even saved the Cortari’s meatbag.”

  “Oh…thank God you could save the meatbag.”

  Rhea smirked.

  Dr. Derat turned toward her, all clinical. “Perfect timing. You agreed to participate in my trial?”

  “I did,” she said. “I’ve injected worse things to heal battlefield scars. Do it.”

  Derat didn’t hesitate. He injected the serum into her thigh. She didn’t even flinch. The moment stretched. Within seconds, the wound reacted. Veins shimmered. Muscle strands flexed and re-wove themselves like symbiotic vines. Flesh knit together, pulled smooth, pinked. The skin sealed, unscarred. Rhea blinked and flexed her leg as if testing reality.

  “Warm,” she said.

  John didn’t speak. He stared at the place the injury had been.

  Derat beamed. “Functionally healed. Now you understand why private backers are lining up. I even have a few Malkrathi investors. Of course, all profits fund the Dependency war effort. Anything to stop the bloodshed. Dependency High Command is thrilled. We’ve been invited to the Feast of Graushorn. The tickets are in your inbox, Arbiter, if you’re interested. It’s not really my kind of event.”

  John lifted a brow. “Feast of what now?”

  “It’s a diplomatic gala held inside the hollowed body of a living space-beast—a Graushorn. Think of it: nobles and executives discussing war funding over plasma-roasted geese and Vellian Wine. We earned a table and a set of private suites. Well…you earned a table. The lab is where I prefer to be.”

  “Thanks Halven. I’ll have Sasha investigate this…Graushorn.”

  “On it, Arbiter,” Sasha chimed in his ear.

  “I hope you do,” Derat said. “The Graushorn is a fascinating creature. It’s been alive for millions of years, circling the stars and feeding off their energy.”

  John picked up one of the vials of Serum 9-12x. “You made this from the DNA of the Braccari Queen? Are you sure you know what you’re making?”

  “My work is already saving lives. It’s redefining biology.” Derat grabbed the vial from John, carefully, and placed it back into the cooler. “However, you are the Arbiter. Not me. This is your ship. As one of your officers, I hold a certain level of autonomy, but you are in command. If you want me to divert resources and attention elsewhere, I will for the good of the mission.”

  “If something deadly comes out of this, we’re on the hook for it.”

  “Understood, Arbiter.”

  John turned toward the exit. But before leaving, he turned back to Dr. Derat. “I’m sending final approvals. Complete the shipments. We’ll fly the next batch to the front lines personally. You said that we’re here to save lives and you’re right. There isn’t much we can do with Thariel on the run…but we can do this.”

  “Thank you, Arbiter.”

  “The perks of a science wizard are already making me feel better,” Rhea said, stretching her leg.