Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hematite station. It orbited Saturn and held a population numbering in the tens of thousands. It was an old colony station that had been around for a couple hundred years. Both its proximity to Earth and position near the system's outskirts made it a great location for trade and commerce.

The people that chose to live there did so comfortably. There were many places of leisure, theatres, markets, even a baseball arena that had been a main selling point during its construction.

One of these people was a boy by the name of Julian Guerrera. Short black hair sat atop his head while his blue eyes stared at the screen in front of him. The animated character on screen ran around a corner and jumped up to a window for a better view of the surrounding area as his fingers manipulated the controller in his hands.

“Tom, push Main. There's about thirty of them trying to take it.” He spoke into his headset.

“Sure, and leave you to deal with the fifty at Eighth by yourself? No way. We’d be throwing the match.” Tom, Julian’s friend, argued.

The two kids continued playing their game, blasting demonic creatures back to where they came for an hour. In the end, they were overrun and ran out of lives. They had one last glorious last stand at the only objective under their control as they slowly ran out of ammunition.

As the loading screen faded into the mission menu, Julian's attention was drawn away by a knock on his doorframe. He turned his head to his bedroom door, a woman with brown hair and blue eyes was in the doorway with a patient look. “Time to turn off the game, kiddo.”

“Moooom! Just one more game? Pleeease?”

She chuckled. “No can do, your dad’s already set to go. We’re going to be running some errands.”

“Alright.” The boy sighed, accepted his defeat, turning back to his headset for a moment. “I gotta go Tomas, see you later?”

“Sure dude. Maybe we can do an online match next time?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Julian exited the call and shut off his console.

Mother and son walked through their spacious home to the front door where an older man with brown eyes and black hair was leaning against the wall on his phone, putting it away when he saw his wife and son round the corner.

“Hey Julian. Did you win this time?” The man asked with a curious grin.

“Nah, they overwhelmed us again. I unlocked the rocket launcher though, so that’ll come in handy for the next try.”

“Well that's good. Do you have any of the money you earned from Mr and Mrs Lexi? One of our stops today is the market so you might be able to buy something for yourself.” Julian’s father recommended.

The boy’s eyes lit up and he rushed off to go retrieve his earnings. His mother leaned over to her husband. “Jacob. You do know he’s probably just going to buy sweats with whatever he brings, right?” She said with a slight laugh.

The man just smiled. “No, he told me that he’s saving up for something. He’s been pretty tight lipped about it so I doubt it's just candy, Martha.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “What do you think it is?”

“No idea.” He shrugged.

Julian returned in short order and the family left their home. They trekked through the corridors of the station Julian had called his home for all twelve years of his life, stopping first at a hydroponics bay to buy produce.

Next, Martha and Julian visited a general store while Jacob stopped by his work to pick up some important files. Jacob was an accountant for the station's judicial branch. It paid well and had full benefits, allowing him and his family to live comfortably.

Finally, they stopped at the market. It was a regular family outing they all enjoyed. They walked through the lanes, mostly looking at everything being sold. The senior Gurreras rarely bought anything here, but Julian had his mind set on something.

He walked all the way to the other side of the large space, right next to the wall-spanning window that had a great view of the docks, and set off in the direction of the stall he was after with his parents following behind.

He came to a stop in front of a stall with a Worker Drone manning the till, not an uncommon thing, and many rows of merchandise from ‘Demon Defence’. He was glad he thought to grab a magazine the other week to see if it would be in this market.

“Hi!” He greeted the Worker at the till.

“Hello young man!” the Worker greeted back, matching his enthusiasm. “What can I help you with today?”

“I’d like to buy two Eric Evisorator hats and an Aron Annihilator poster, please!” Eric was Julian and his fathers favorite character while Aron was his mother’s. She vaguely remembered him asking her about that and she just said one at random. She didn’t really care for the game but wasn’t going to discourage her son.

“Certainly! That will be… 42 dollars and 87 cents.” The Drone said, looking to the adults for the money but was surprised when the kid pulled fifty dollars from his pocket and placed it on the counter.

The kindly Drone ducked under the counter and came back up with the requested items, placing them on Julian’s side of the counter.

“Have a wonderful day, sir.”

Julian collected his items, and began walking back to his parents. “You too!” When he reached them, he handed them their respective items.

“You got these for us?” Jacob asked his son quizzically, to which he was given a nod.

“Yep! I’ve been saving for a while now, and I wanted to do something nice for you both.” He started to twiddle his thumbs sheepishly. “Do you like it?”

His parents looked at him endearingly. “Of course!” His mother spoke first. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Julian smiled brightly and gave her a hug. He was about to do the same to his dad, but stopped when he saw the man's attention was elsewhere. Julian followed his gaze out the giant window and into the docks.

There was a huge ship that was speeding towards a docking pad. Much faster than was normal. It looked important, dwarfing most other ships by a long shot and its dark coloring made it look quite imposing.

Many other people, as well as some Worker Drones, stopped what they were doing to watch the abnormal sight. It wasn’t going fast enough it was going to slam into the station, but the crew was cutting it close.

“...Dad?” Julian looked to his father for reassurance.

“It’s alright, Julian. Let’s… let’s get home.” His father had a bad feeling about that ship. He recognised it as a military transport of the Extrasolar Navy. If it was here, and screaming into the docks like that…

Maybe he should get some things together. Just in case.

. . .

The Guerreras got home and put away most of what they’d bought. Jacob had disappeared into his office shortly after they returned, citing that he had something important to do. He went to a filing cabinet and pulled out some important documents like birth certificates, banking details and the like.

He hoped that his bad feeling was misplaced, he really did.

“Maybe I should tell Mar-” His train of thought was derailed by a loud crackle from the PA system.

The neglected speakers were grainy with age but the message that followed the shrill three tone alarm was clear enough to understand. “Attention all crew and residents of Hematite Station, this is your Commander speaking. It has been brought to my attention that the station must be evacuated of all souls, effective immediately. Please pack only what is strictly necessary and make your way to the designated evacuation ships.”

Jacob was both glad and horrified his gut feeling had paid off. The warning to pack only what was ‘Strictly necessary’ rang in his ears, and he cast a look over to the safe in the corner. He kept a pistol in the house in case he ever needed it to defend from a home invader, something that was very rare but he felt safer at night knowing it was there, he was certain that would count as a necessary item.

He quickly unlocked the safe and retrieved the gun, tucking it in his waistband after ensuring the safety was on but making sure it was hidden from sight, and stepped out of his office to meet his wife and son.

“Dad? Was that a drill?” His son asked, fear evident in his voice. The last time the entire station was evacuated was when a terrorist group had threatened to detonate the reactor about fifty years ago.

“No, it wasn’t. But it's okay! Let's just get our bags packed, yeah? Only the essentials, like what the Commander said.” He said, casting a look to his wife. He was met with a masked look of fear, undoubtedly she saw the same thing on his own face.

“O-okay, dad. I’ll be quick.” Julian promised and speed walked to his room.

He dug the two largest bags out of his closet and began filling them with clothes and keepsakes. His new hat stayed on his head but he packed one of the others, a small lizard plushie he had been given before he could even remember named ‘Terry’ and a pocket knife from his late grandfather.

Jacob and Martha had retreated to their room and were hastily packing their own things. A muffled sob interrupted Jacob’s packing, he looked over to see Martha with a hand over her mouth and eyes screwed shut.

“Oh, Marty.” He wrapped her in a hug.

“This is our home, Jake.” Her fear and sadness made her voice tremble.

“I know, but I’m sure it will be fine. They didn’t say what’s going on, we’ll be back here soon.” He tried to assure her. Truthfully, he had no idea when or even if they’d be back. But his family needed him to be strong right now, so he’d do his damnedest.

He felt bad doing it, but he separated from the embrace. “We need to finish packing. I’d like to be out of here as soon as possible before people start getting… violent.”

Martha nodded and set back to her own packing.

Twenty minutes after the announcement, the Guerrera family was out the front door and marching down the corridors with a large group of people. They followed the instructions of people in high-vis gear to one of the military vessels. Luckily for them, there was enough room and they were taking families first.

“Name.” A mean looking man in uniform demanded.

“Jacob, Matha, and Julian Guerrera.” Jacob gestured to everyone as he labelled them.

“Head over to seats thirty-five through thirty-eight. Follow the instructions given to you and do not deviate. Comply with orders or you will be detained for the safety of everyone.”

Jacob gulped and nodded. Julian clutched tightly to his mother’s arm as they followed the soldiers directing them. They sat down in their designated seats and a young looking soldier came over to help them.

“Hey there, folks.” He spoke calmly with a smile. “Could you all do me a favor and place all your bags under your seats or at your feet? Do that for me and I’ll get you secured.”

The Guerreras did as told and the soldier started pulling the overhead restraints down. When he got to Julian he took note of the boy’s fright, he decided to try and remedy it.

“Is that an Eric Evisorator hat?” He asked with enthusiasm.

Julian looked up at the soldier but avoided eye contact. “Y-yeah. Do you know about Demonic Defence?”

“Know it? Heh, I’m practically an expert! Could you do me a favor and put your arms down at your sides? This thing is pretty much like the seatbelts on a roller coaster and it's the law that you have it on.”

Julian gave the man a tiny smile, barely distinguishable from a grimace but his frown disappeared so the soldier took that as a win. The boy put his arms to his sides and the soldier did up the restraints. “What’s your name, little guy?”

“Julian. What's yours?”

“I’m Private Samson Crawford, it’s nice to meet you Julian. If this ride starts getting a bit bumpy, which it shouldn’t, but if it does I would like you to pretend it's just like a roller coaster. Hold onto this big part over your chest, but no shouting please. I saw some kids smaller than you and I don’t want them getting scared, do you?”

Julian shook his head and Private Crawford smiled. “Thanks Julian, be good for your parents now, I’ve gotta help more people.” He waved to the boy as he walked away. He didn’t miss the silent ‘thank you’ he got from Julian’s parents and gave them a bow of the head.

It didn’t take much longer for the ship to be filled to maximum capacity. The outraged crowd outside was cut off as the doors closed. Only a handful of the soldiers that were on board before stayed inside the ship, most going back onto the station.

“Attention passengers, this is Captain Matthews speaking. We are now en route to the Proxima system. Please remain calm during the voyage, you will be given lodging, food, and any medical attention you may need when we land.”

. . .

When the transport landed, the passengers were quickly escorted out onto a landing pad. Soldiers and medics collected names from everyone and instructed them where to go. The Guerreras were directed to a mess of tents, some of which were still being put together, and told to stay in the one designated as theirs.

The people around them held confusion, fear, and apprehension on their faces. Nobody knew what was going on, nobody knew why they were here.

Throughout the day, the ships never stopped landing and departing. Jacob asked more soldiers than he could count on his hands, none of them had answers for him as to what was going on.

He suspected that some kind of attack took place or was about to take place, but who was attacking was lost to him. There were far more people being flown into the refugee camps than there were on Hematite station if the ships flying overhead and presumably landing a few kilometres away were any indication and everyone they dropped off seemed to be from stations from the Sol system. So that begged the question.

Just what was attacking, and what was being attacked that this many people needed refuge?

“I want to go home.” The sad voice of Julian brought Jacob back to the present. His little boy was curled up on one of the cots they were given with his knees to his chest.

“Oh, buddy.” He kneels down to be at eye level with his son. “I know. I want to go home too, but the nice people here are just trying to keep us safe.”

“Safe from what?”

Jacob hesitated. Martha jumped in before Julian started to worry more. “Honey, why don’t you start unpacking some of your things? It’s getting sort of late here.”

“Okay…” The solemn tone and nod of the boy’s head breaks both parents' hearts.

It takes the better part of an hour for the family to get settled. They moved the two cots they were given together and laid down, huddling together to find comfort in their proximity.

The ships never stopped. Coming and going through all hours of the night, making sleep difficult. But eventually, they drifted off into the embrace of sleep.

. . .

Two days had passed by and things were largely the same. Transports flying in and leaving after depositing their passengers and the soldiers having no answers to give when asked what was going on. Jacob was surprised none had taken the pistol from him. Whether it was because they weren't checking refugees for weapons or didn’t care if they had any, he didn’t know. And it unsettled him.

Right now, he was with Julian. They were on their way to one of the food stations to get something for him to eat. They waited in the long line for thirty minutes before it was their turn to be served. A small package with instructions on the side.

The food inside didn’t look the most appetising, but upon following the instructions and giving it back to his son, the look on the boy’s face said it tasted just fine.

Jacob sat with his son and looked around while he ate. There were many people under the tent they’d found shade to eat under, every one of them looked unhappy. He couldn’t blame them. He wasn’t fairing much better, but he wasn’t going to let his son know that.

“Julian? JULIAN!”

Both father and son looked up to see another boy running towards them. It was Tomas.

“Dude!” Julian cried in happiness as his friend ran over and hugged him. “I didn’t think I’d see you again!”

Tomas pulled away. “Me neither!”

“Tomas!” A flustered woman came running over. “I told you not to run- Jacob?”

The man smiled gently and nodded. “Hello Britny. I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Same here. What tent are you in?”

“20463, you?”

“25221, we must be close by.”

“Yeah. Would you like to come over for a bit? I’m sure Martha would love to know you’re doing okay.”

“Maybe in a bit. I’ve gotta talk to some of the people in charge and get an order of insulin placed for Tomas. We’ve only got so much and no one’s told me how long we’re staying.”

“Thats understandable.” Jacob agreed, looking over to find Julian with a genuine smile on his face as he talked to Tomas. The other boy had a smile of his own that matched Julian's.

“Huh.” Britny marvelled at the sight. “I don’t think he’s smiled once since we got here.”

“Julian hasn’t either.” Jacob said.

“... maybe that stop at the office can wait a bit.” Britny said to herself.

. . .

On the third day, something changed. A portion of the soldiers seemed on edge, a few of the more higher ranking officials disappeared into a building and hadn’t come out, and rumors were starting to spread.

Earth was under attack, the Workers were revolting, there was something coming to Proxima but no one knew what it was for sure. The revolting Workers? An enemy military coming to take control?

Julian had overheard some of these rumours, despite his parents attempts to keep him in the dark, and couldn’t wrap his head around some of it. Why would the Worker Drones revolt? They were just robots. If they were revolting, why hadn’t the Workers helping around the camps done anything violent? Actually, there seemed to be less and less of them around as the days passed.

And the whole Earth being under attack? That wasn't possible. Who could lay siege to an entire planet? When he told Tomas, he hadn’t been able to come up with anything real that could feasibly do that. His talk of ‘secret orbital bombardment weapons’ being shot down immediately.

The thoughts had plagued Julian as he fell asleep on the third night in the refugee camp, and they were distant echoes as he was shaken awake.

He looked around, groggy and eyes blurry from sleep. It was his dad.

“Son, get up! We need to go!” He looked scared.

Now awake, Julian could hear the sound of distant explosions, gun fire and the ever present sound of ships. But now they sounded different, lighter, faster. Julian picked up on shouts and the thunderous sound of tens of thousands of feet scrambling around outside.

“D-dad? What’s going-”

“Come on!” His father hoisted the boy to his feet and shoved a bag in his arms. Julian saw his mother with a bag of her own, she looked just as scared.

A siren screeched to life as they exited their tent, only adding more mess to the confusion and sensory overload that Julian was experiencing. All around them, people ran, children cried, animals whined, soldiers shouted. Flashes of orange lit up in the distance, painting the clouds above, loud booms following seconds after.

The sirens abruptly cut just for a moment as the voice of a man replaced the droning note. “Attention, this is an evacuation notice. All refugees must make their way to vessels capable of interplanetary travel immediately. Please move calmly and quickly and follow the instructions of the soldiers around you.”

No one listened.

The family was pushed and shoved by the crowd as they moved away from… something. They didn’t know where they were going, they didn’t know if anyone else knew either. The crowd threatened to separate them several times due to the force the mob generated, but they held strong. The knowledge that, if they let go for even a second, they may never find their family again rang through both Jacob’s and Martha’s mind.

After what felt like an eternity of arms, legs, and bodies, the mob thinned and the family was able to move in the direction they wanted. Jacob led them to Britny and Tomas’ tent, they were still hastily packing their things.

“BRITNY!” Martha shouted over the sirens. “WHAT'S TAKING YOU SO LONG?”

“EVERYTHING WAS UNPACKED!”

“IT DOESN’T MATTER!” Jacob shouted. “WE NEED TO GO, NOW! TAKE ALL THE BAGS YOU’VE GOT PACKED AND COME WITH US!”

Britny and her son quickly scooped their bags up and followed after the Guerreras as they trekked through the crowds. They had to find one of the many landing pads scattered around the outskirts of the camp.

They managed to stay together as they moved. Many people were yelling and fighting, both mothers kept close to their sons to comfort them and Jacob pulled his pistol from his waist band. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to either of them.

Eventually they reached the landing pad. There were a handful of ships, some of which were allowing people aboard while others were initialising their take off procedures.

Jacob led both families towards them, making sure none of them fell behind as they ran. “Please God, let them have room for at least Julian and Tomas.” He silently prayed.

A loud boom over head cut off his train of thought. The families and several people around them stopped running to look up to find the source. There were several orange glows in the clouds above that were steadily getting brighter and a new screeching that was getting louder.

At their apex, the glows suddenly dissipated and the clouds broke apart as several objects rocketed through them. Jacob had just enough time to pull his shocked family away before the objects made contact.

Julian was thrown back, dust and debris obscured his surroundings and some got in his eyes. He rolled to a stop on his back, everything was sore. He grunted as he sat up attempting to check where his parents were.

There was the sound of a hydraulic door, something he was familiar with as he lived on a station his whole life, to his left. He turned his head in time to see a shadow dart around in the dust cloud, it had yellow lights attached to it.

Another shadow, some few metres away stood up. “Hello? Did anyone see what that was?” A person spoke.

The shadow with lights froze for a moment, turned and skittered forward. The person screamed as the shadow leaped onto them. Sounds of tearing meat and breaking bones came from that direction as the person continued to scream.

Julian’s eyes widened in horror and he slowly began crawling away backward. The dust was starting to dissipate.

The screaming turned gurgled and died down, leaving Julian worried. He watched, what he could now tell as its head, pull up from the body. It seemed to scan its surroundings, coming to a stop when the wide yellow X plastered across its visor landed on him.

Julian was frozen with fear as it instantly leaped forward and ran on all fours towards him. It leaped into the air, arms outstretched and-

Bang!

Its visor shattered and its head was thrown back as a bullet carved through its head. It landed short of Julian and came to an unceremonious halt near his feet. Julian stared, wide eyed at the thing at his feet as the lights on its head flickered out.

It was a Drone, but it was wrong. It was too tall, too fast, its arms ended in cones, it had a tail with a glowing canister, and it had a mouth of fangs covered in blood.

Arms wrapped around his body and hoisted him up. He felt himself get carried away and someone was talking to him, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was as if there was a ringing that droned out every sound besides his breathing.

A hand, his mother’s he realized, covered his eyes and broke his line of sight on the Drone.

The ringing started to lower in volume, he could just make out the sound of his father’s voice. “Hurry! We’re almost… oh god, it’s getting up again! Go, go, go!”

The families rushed towards a ship other people were filing into, it looked like a medium sized personal craft hoping to outrun the Drone that was staggering back to its feet. Jacob began shouting and waving when they neared, hoping to catch the attention of the woman outside that seemed to be guiding people inside. She had a rifle slung over her shoulder that he hoped she was more proficient with than he was his pistol.

It worked. She turned her head and straightened up upon seeing the Drone running after them. She waved her arm to the side, signaling for the families to run to the side. They did as told, leaving a clear line of sight for the woman to take aim.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Two bullets hit the Drone center mass and a third landed in its head. It crumpled to the ground again, leaking oil profusely out of the wounds.

“Thank you!” Martha cried to the woman when they approached. “That thing… my husband shot it before. It just got back up!.”

“Don’t worry about that now. Y’all want on my ship?”

Jacob nodded. “Please, if you have room.”

Before the woman could respond, every siren within earshot stopped blaring and started broadcasting a voice. “Attention all personnel and refugees. There is a planet wide alert to evacuate to space and flee the system, we are under attack. Do not travel to Sol. Repeat, we are under attack, leave the system immediately, do not enter Sol.”

The families and woman stared at the nearest siren in horror. Were these Drones the cause of this? Were they in the whole system? There wasn’t time to question it. “Damn straight I got room here. RHODY!” The woman turned and shouted up the ramp. A purple eyed Worker Drone in red overalls poked his head out of the door.

“Yo!”

“Three new ones with a couple young’ns! Can you find ‘em a spot?”

“Right away! Follow me.”

The families loaded into the ship and the woman closed the ramp behind them. They followed the Drone to a large storage room with seats that look like they fold out from the floor. There were several other people there, as well as more Workers helping people with their seat belts. Everyone looked scared or nervous.

The families were buckled up and one of the Workers produced a radio. “Cap’? We're all set down here.”

“Roger that.” The woman's voice came through the radio and everyone in the cargo bay felt the ship lift off the ground.

As the ship ascended and broke through the clouds, the captain gasped. There were thousands of pods falling through the atmosphere. They didn’t take much effort or skill to dodge, but the fact that there were so many sent a chill down her spine.

She, as well as many other ships, broke through the atmosphere without issue. She grouped up with a few others and together they jumped to Faster Than Light speed in a random direction.

Their one mission in mind: survive.

Chapter Text

The few weeks that had passed since the small fleet of ships left Proxima had been chaotic. No one knew what was going on, tension was high, and some ships had broken off to find their own way. They were disorganized and people were scared.

There was nowhere to go, every single channel, official and unofficial, was broadcasting similar messages of attacks by unidentified Drones armed to the literal teeth attacking planets, cities, stations, and ships.

“Where are we going to go? What are we even gonna do?” Someone asked. People from all over the four ships were in a fleet-wide video call.

“Before we go anywhere. We need to figure out who’s going to be the one calling the shots.” Another put forward.

“I agree, we've gotten virtually nowhere with the way things are being done.”

“Oh, and I suppose that you want to be the one calling all the shots?” Somebody jabbed back.

“No, we should take a vote of some kind.”

“...That’s going to take a lot of planning and preparations to make sure no one fixes the numbers.”

“No one’s really a politician here. Nobody with the money or power to bribe people to do that.”

“We should still take all the necessary steps.”

The statement was responded to with various sounds of agreement from the call’s participants.

“Alright, it's settled. Tomorrow, we’ll begin the preparations to figure out who will properly lead us.”

Days passed. The people of the fleet made plans, distributed means of voting, and around a dozen people stepped forward to lead. Of all the possible candidates, only a few actually seemed like they were leadership material.

After the votes were cast, a new leader had been elected. A man with greying hair, soft eyes, and stern face. He was named Richard Archer, and he used to be the head of a construction team before he sought refuge in space. This fact gave people the reassurance that he knew how to properly lead people and manage tasks.

The first decision Archer made was to search for an alternate means of housing for the fleet. They only had a handful of vessels, which made space cramped and overpopulation a very serious issue. People had to resort to makeshift tents inside the cargo hauler and a spacious personal craft.

. . .

“This is a terrible idea.” A Worker, going by the name of Greg, complained. “Did anyone even listen to the broadcasts? Or was I the only one that archived them?”

A couple months had passed since Archer’s goal had been announced. In that time the fleet had managed to find three other ships to join up with them. Thankfully, one of them had actual integrated weapon systems. Its presence gave the people courage to know there was something to defend them if the unknown Drones attacked them, they had been given the moniker of ‘Death Angels’ due to their ‘Halo’ of lights and silvery bladed wings.

“Put a sock in it, Tinnie.” The ship’s captain snapped back. “I don’t remember anybody asking you.”

“I don’t care! I’ll talk all I want, because I know you can’t space me, you’ll need as many hands as possible if you want this plan to work.” Greg fired back. “The Angels hit spots like this when everything started. This place could be crawling with them, and then the fleet would be down a whole ship, a big one too.”

A planet took up most of the screen of the viewport. It hadn’t been majorly inhabited before, due to its lack of any significant atmosphere. It was however home to several planetside mining operations, with all the various ores and minerals that could be excavated from its soil being shipped out to wherever they were needed. And when the rarer ore started to run thin, it made it the perfect location for a shipyard.

It was tiny from the current perspective of the cargo hauler, but up close it would be massive. Just like their prize. After investigating a derelict ship that the fleet had come across, they had discovered the location of a shipyard in its data banks and with it, a cruise ship. It was over a kilometre long and just over half a kilometre wide and tall.

It would be able to hold everyone, with a lot of room to grow.

The obvious problem with a ship of that size, you need a lot of people to crew it. And that was if it was even flightworthy. They had taken as many abled bodied people and Drones as they could and filed them all into the cargo hauler, the biggest ship they had.

The plan was to sneak into the shipyard, find the one they were after, maybe siphon some fuel from surrounding ships if they had time, and get the hell out.

“Well then lets hope they fucked off to eat everyone someplace else, hm?” The captain said, notes of restrained anger evident.

Greg rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. If this worked, it might not be a good idea to push the man further lest he pay for it.

The captain put the ship into full throttle and it silently rocketed towards the ship yard. The next half hour passed in tense silence, the human at the console to the captain's right watching the sensors like a hawk for anything that would suggest a contact.

Another five minutes passed without problem and they were within the borders of the superstructure. Ships in various states of disassembly were parked in docks all across the tunnel, the shipyard was like one big cylinder.

The captain was notified of small impacts on the exterior of the ship. Upon bringing up the cameras, a chill went down everyone's spine.

There were bodies, lots of them, both Drones and humans were left frozen and drifting aimlessly throughout the interior of the dock, all of them were ripped apart. Something that managed to catch Greg’s eye was the body of a Drone, but it wasn’t a Worker.

“Holy shit!” His exclamation drew everyone else’s attention to a spot on the viewport.

There was the body of an Angel floating near the walls of the docks, a hole blown clean through its chest.

“Th- they can be killed?” The young woman watching the sensors asked, astonished.

“I… I suppose so.” The captain marvelled at the sight. Its visor was dead, as was its light-headband. “We’ll swing back for it if we have time. It’ll be good if we can figure out how to actually take them out.”

They pressed on through the docks, coming to a stop when they saw their target. It was powered off like every other ship, but it appeared to be in far better condition on the outside at least. The captain manoeuvred his ship over to an airlock and prepared to dock.

“Attention all soon-to-be crew, we are about to dock. I need all weaponized personnel ready at the airlock for possible Death Angel presence. I don’t know how long we’ll have to get this thing up and running, or even if we’ll have a time limit, so I want to be out of here as soon as possible.”

He gave them a minute to prepare and finalized the docking sequence. The ship lurched and a groan echoed through the ship as it clamped into place. The bridge crew grew quiet as they watched the thirty or so people and twenty Drones walk through the airlock on the cameras.

Once the last of them had departed, the crew of the hauler switched to their new directive. If those men, women and Drones managed to get that behemoth of a ship up and running, it was going to need a lot of fuel. Both for the lightspeed and sub-light engines. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to get more of the rest of the fleet.

. . .

The halls of the shipyard were filled with the sounds of a hundred boots on steel decking. Seven armed humans led the formation, followed closely by the Worker Drones and then the rest of the humans, as they marched through the pitchblack halls on their way to the new ship's airlock.

They didn’t have much with them, only enough tools so that every third body was empty handed, three large capacitors on two-wheeled dollies for anything that needed power, flashlights for just under half of them. And of the guns the armed humans had, two were just meager pistols.

The trek was made in tense relative silence. The broken bodies of humans, Workers, and the very occasional Death Angel painted a haunting picture.

“Alright! We’re here!” One of them shouted after reading the door number. “Drones! Get this door open!”

Several Workers rushed forward with a capacitor and powertools. They unscrewed the control panel and connected it to the power source. After fiddling with the controls, the doors swished open.

“Go! Go! Go! Everyone in!” The man with a gun shouted, taking up position on the outside with one other man to make sure no Angels descended on them, while the other five rushed in before the group to make sure it was safe.

Flashlight beams cut through the impossibly dark corridors of the cruise ship, casting twisted shadows that didn’t help the highstrung nerves of the people inside.

They all split up as their plan suggested, some heading towards the engineering section, some heading towards the bridge, and others scattering throughout the ship in search of serious damage to be made note of.

“Over here!” A french accented Worker called as he ducked into the engineering room. The machines inside seemed to be in good condition.

“Shit!” Someone exclaimed, shining their flashlight on the remains of a human who had been stung by an Angels tail. The acid had eaten through the floor, and with it some thick cables.

Looking in the direction the cables went, they found what looked like the reactor. Everyone prayed the cables weren't important. They swiftly got to work, the people who actually knew how to work the machine telling the others what to do.

After an hour, the reactor started to hum. All present parties looked between each other and hoped with all they had as someone flipped the start up switch. The pitch changed and the lights flickered on.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they could be out of here within the next hour?

A woman unclipped the radio from her belt and pressed down on the button. “Hey, we got the power going in engineering. How’s it looking everywhere else?”

There were mixed responses from all across the ship. But the important one came from the bridge crew. “Negitive. No power coming to us. Can you fix it?”

The small group looked at the hole in the floor and frowned.

“... yeah, maybe. I’ll get back to you.” She put her radio back on her belt. “Edgar!”

The French Drone rushed over to the woman. “Oui?”

She pointed at the severed cable. “I need ideas. I’m not an electrician.”

Edgar looked around the room and at the resources available. “...We could take zat power cord and strip it. Use all ze wire to make a temporary fix? We have tape right? Could use zat in place of ze rubber insulator.”

The woman nodded and looked at everyone in the room. “You heard him, let's get to it! We need to be out of here ASAP!”

. . .

With damage noted, controls set, and emergency power restored, the colossal ship’s thrusters powered on. Pilot flames the size of houses ignited, the reactor pitch shifted as the power draw became bigger, and the walls shook as thrust moved the ship into the middle of the tunnel.

“It’s alive!” The Drone in at the comms station celebrated, many other people joined him on both ships as they watched it move away lazily from the docks.

As the bridge crew of the hauler watched through the viewport, the captain noticed something off. He inputted some commands into his controls and the screen started to magnify on a spot on the docks.

The crew’s noises of complaint died on their tongues as they all looked on in horror. There were a pack of five Death Angels crawling across the walls of the docks and they were starting to unfurl their wings.

“Get out of there!” The captain yelled into his microphone, moving his ship to intercept. “Angels! Repeat, you’ve got Angels incoming!”

There were sounds of panic from the other side and the ship’s thrusters increased in brightness. The only reason the occupants of the other ship weren't blinded was because of the auto-tint the cameras compensated with.

“Sanders! Get your ass on the gun!” ‘Gun’ was being generous. It threw small objects at high speeds, but it could only slow Angels down. Hitting their anti-grav thrusters or piercing their visors and temporarily knocking them offline.

The hauler shot into place between the assaulting Angels and the freshly commandeered ship, lining up the ‘gun’ side with the attackers. A particle field glimmered to life and the door opened in front of Sanders. It took her a minute to find the monsters, but when she did she levelled the iron sights on them.

The machine ‘thwomp’ed, and a handful of loose screws, nails, and other small metal things rocketed into space. Sanders quickly poured another handful of scrap from a bucket at her feet into the basket and flipped the switch again to charge it. When she looked back down the sights, she tensed as three of the five Death Angels were now focused on her.

She fired once more just as a hail of bullets rattled against the hull of the ship and the room she was in. Pain erupted from her leg and abdomen and she fell to the floor. Blood oozed from her new wounds and slicked her hands.

“Fuck…” Her voice broke, she reached for her radio. “Cap, I got shot!”

“Danmit. I’ll send someone to help you, did you stop the Angels?”

She looked out the door again, two of the Angels on the way to the hauler were drifting limply. “Two are out for a bit. There's still two on the way to-”

More bullets sprayed into the room, though thankfully Sanders wasn’t hit this time.

“Sanders?”

“...There's still two on the way to the new ship!” It might be manageable. Yes, they were killing machines, but that ship was big. Maybe there wouldn’t be many deaths?

“Then shoot them!” The captain ordered.

“But sir, I’m-”

“I know you’re hurt, but we can’t let those things into that ship. Stop them.”

Sanders winced as she pulled herself up to her feet, placing a hand over the wound in her stomach and grabbing a handful of scrap. After charging it and loading the ammunition inside the ‘gun’, she took aim at the two Angels nearing the ship.

Thwomp!

The debris scattered as it barreled through space, creeping nearer and nearer towards the Death Angels like silent throwing knives. The sharp pieces of metal collided with the Angels, sending both tumbling off course. One had its anti-grav engine pierced and the other had the same done to its visor, knocking it offline.

Sanders hastily tried to reload the ‘gun’, watching the last remaining Death Angel get closer and closer. She finished charging the ‘gun’ and looked down the sights. Only to see the Angel leap through the field.

Greg ran up to the door, medkit in hand, ready to attend to Sanders but froze in his tracks. There was an Angel biting into her while she screamed and weakly attempted to fight it off. Unwilling to see his friend die, he swung the medkit with as much force as he could into the creature’s head.

A loud crack echoed through the room as the kit shattered, sending supplies everywhere. The Death Angel was rolled onto its back and dazed from the impact, Greg didn’t give it time to recover.

He reached over, digging his fingers into the thin metal of a cheap vent cover, and lunged at the beast. He swung with everything he had and then some. He could practically feel the motors in his arms strain and wear down as he hit the Angel’s head again and again and again and again.

He didn’t get off free, a chunk being ripped from his side as it retaliated with its claws. But it wasn’t enough. Greg didn’t stop until he saw the beast’s CPU. He took a few seconds to catch his breath, noticing the heatwaves emanating from the beast’s overheated internals, but quickly got up and dragged the things across the floor and towards the particle field.

His core cycled faster as he saw the Death Angels’ unnatural healing beginning to work. He needed to hurry. He tossed the body into the void and limped his way over the ‘gun’. He recalled the dead body of the Angel from before and leveled the sight on the beast’s core. It regained consciousness and righted itself just in time to give Greg a clear shot.

Thwomp!

Its visor and headband lights died instantly. Its chest caved inwards and sprayed the deep red oil-blood mixture that filled its body into the surrounding space. Greg immediately reloaded the ‘gun’ and aimed at the Death Angel again, but it didn’t regenerate. They could be killed.

Greg fell to the ground in a mix of relief, pain, and exhaustion. He looked down to his side and grimaced at the amount of oil he was bleeding. His eyes hollowed as he remembered his friend was hurt.

“Megy!” He yelled, crawling over to her broken, bloody and burned body. “Megen, come on, talk to me.” He cradled her body, placing two fingers on her neck.

Nothing.

“Shit.” Greg pushed down his sorrow and reached for his radio. “Cap, Megen’s dead. One of the Angels got her.”

“God damnit! Close the door, drop the field, and get back up here, the new ship’s on the move. The other Angels can’t catch up.”

“But sir, what about Megan?”

“Sanders is dead, Greg. We’ll deal with her body later.”

Greg balked at the captain's uncaring words. He let a sob escape his lips and set the human’s body down. Tears swam in his eyes, blurring his vision as he looked one last time at her face.

“I’m sorry, Megy. I should’ve been faster.”

The hauler weaved its way around the larger ship, manoeuvring to travel in front of it and act as a guide to find its way back to the rest of the fleet. The large faster than light engines of the cruise spooled up, a noisy whine rang the ears of all near them as the large machines strained under the subpar conditions.

The bridge crew of the cruise ship initiated the handshake between the ships’ systems, the cargo hauler moving to match the larger ship’s speed and heading. The smaller ship disappeared from view and the cruise ship jumped into the FTL an instant later.

. . .

The people rejoiced when the answer to their overcrowding problem materialised into view next to the small fleet. Richard wanted to issue some sort of celebration, a day for everyone to enjoy the uplifting hope this ship brought to them. But there was still much work to be done.

The skeleton crew had sent over an exhaustive, extensive, and certainly incomplete, list of problems and notes they had made in the short time they had been aboard. There were inoperable systems and electrical lines, much needed maintenance on most of the sections explored, and more.

The maintenance logs had shown the reason behind it being sent to the shipyard was due to it being mothballed, which certainly explained why it was in the state it was.

And so the people got to work. The few bodies that were scattered near the entrances were given respect and spaced along with the one fatality of the mission. Fuel was syphoned from two of the ships they could store inside of the cruise ship, it would allow it to run for longer and save on fuel. There was no sense in flying more ships than necessary. In less than a week the ship was properly mapped, stocked, filled with people, and ready to travel.

Finally, the people could celebrate. Music played over the PA system. The halls echoed with cheers from both humans and Drones big and small. For the first time in months, the people could more easily ignore the bleakness and despair that had become the universe, at least for a little while.

. . .

It had been one year after the fleet had gained their prized ship, quickly christened ‘The House’, and the fleet had grown. Before, there were only seven ships, two being stored in makeshift hangers that had since been retrofitted and renovated, now there were twelve.

Things had been relatively peaceful for the growing fleet, but peace could never last during the apocalypse.

Two weeks ago, they’d been spotted by a formation of Death Angel ships, all of which had been destroyed by the 'Star Skimmer', their only ship with weapons, while they moved on the defensive. There had been no loss of life, though one of them did get uncomfortably close to burrowing into The House.

Richard Archer had decided it was safer to relocate, lest the Death Angels return with more firepower or overwhelming numbers. And so they travelled, sustaining FTL speeds for two whole weeks as they searched for a new place to lay low, when the forgotten comms station of The House crackled to life.

“Attention unidentified fleet, state your designation, affiliation, intention, and power down any and all weapons.”

The young man, who took the position because nothing that wasn’t a Death Angel lure ever came through the speakers, sat up straight.

“Uh, captain?”

“Yes, Fisher. What is it?” The captain of The House said in a bored tone.

“Th- there’s a message  that you should hear. It sounds important.”

The captain similarly sat up straight and frowned. “Let's hear it.”

After the press of a button, the massage was repeated alongside a new addition.

“Unidentified fleet, cease propulsion and reverse momentum. You are entering a militarized perimeter.”

The captain's eyes widened. “Shit! Zero our momentum, tell the others the same!” He ordered the helmsmen. Within seconds, all ships in the small fleet came to a stop.

“Fisher, see if you can-”

“Captain!” The Drone looking over the sensors called with a panicked look. “Three signatures, one of them big, just jumped in. They're surrounding the fleet!”

“Fisher! Open a channel. We need to talk to these people, now!”

The young man’s fingers stumbled over the buttons, but he quickly sent a call request to the largest ship. After a long minute, it was accepted.

The screen lit up with the picture of a man in military garb. His eyes held both authority and the look of long ago witnessed horrors.

“This is the United Solar Fleet’s Ship; Herald's Call, who are you and how did you find us?”

“We’re just survivors. We recovered this cruise ship and have close to two hundred souls aboard, please don’t shoot. We weren’t trying to find you, we are relocating after an attack from the Drones that are killing everything.”

What could only be the captain of the USFS Herald's Call looked to someone offscreen and ordered the weapon locks to be disengaged. The ship was brought up on The House’ view screen, the two smaller ships were only a hundred or so meters long each, but the Herald’s Call had to be about five to six hundred. And it looked old, as if it were taken from a museum.

“You’ve taken a cruise ship?” The military captain asked.

“Y-yes. We’ve been fortunate enough to acquire and recycle lots of resources. I could get you in contact with our leader and we could make a deal for our safe passage out of here?”

The military captain held up a hand. “Payment won’t be necessary.” He said with a faint undertone of annoyance. “If you could get us in contact with your leader, that would be much appreciated. We have our own leaders that will want to hear from you. Maybe we can even form an alliance? Pool our resources. You seem to be in the market for protection and we’re looking for space to expand and live.”

The captain of The House nodded with a smile. Having more weapons to defend themselves with would be a great boon for the fleet.

“I’ll get you in touch then. He’s probably much more suited for diplomacy than me.”

This could be the start of a very beneficial alliance.

Chapter Text

It had been two years since the two fleets had joined forces and it was proving to be beneficial to both sides. The fleet being escorted suffered from overpopulation and had even stricter rationing than The House’s fleet did.

But with the access to fresh supplies, the people could now breathe a bit easier with more room to live, food to eat, and power available. The children could even be given something resembling a proper education.

On the other side, the refugees of The House’s fleet could breathe easier now that the weight of their defenselessness had been lifted from their shoulders. Before, the only ship with weapons was one owned by a man with dubious morals who most likely had it for those same dubious reasons.

When faced with a Death Angel attack, their tactics before had been: run scared and shoot over your shoulder. But now that they had four new ships, all designed for combat, they could have an early warning before an attack arrived, the basis for proper tactics, and reassurance that their only means of self defense wouldn’t cut and run if things got too dicey.

Something they had learned over the years was to not trust the broadcasts. They had followed them a couple of times in the past when hearing talk of a safe place, more survivors, or similar enticing promises. But what they were instead met with, were Angels laying in wait. They had even been ambushed by raiders using the same tactics on one occasion.

Both had been dealt with accordingly.

Now, after the merging of the two groups, the fleet now numbered over twenty ships strong, counting the few that were kept in The House’ newly constructed hangars. They had even managed to snag another large ship relatively recently, though it was nowhere near the size of The House. It was a newer model ore hauler ‘affectionately’ dubbed ‘The Boxtruck’ by its inhabitants because even after living spaces were constructed the interior wasn’t designed with comfort in mind.

The combined fleet's leadership had decided to move most of the Workers aboard the ship, assuming that the machines wouldn't be bothered with the look and feel of the bare metal walls. In reality, they did in fact care. But many believed that their protests and complaints would fall on deaf ears. Those beliefs were proven correct to the ones who complained anyways.

It wasn’t all bad for them onboard, it was a place where they could be themselves for the most part. Only a few humans lived on the ship with them, almost the inverse to The House.

Things had been good for the fleet recently, the last Angel attack was almost eight months ago. While reassuring for some, who believed they had found a good place to hunker down, it left a sense of dread for others. The lull in activity also breeds a sense of purpose in its people. People like Julian.

He was sitting at the dinner table with his mother and father, absentmindedly poking at his food. He’d been looking for any way to apply himself lately. The last three years had changed him, gone was the scared little boy desperately clinging to his parents for safety, replaced with someone who had a drive to help keep others safe any way he could. Even if the mere thought of the Death Angels still terrified him.

While, yes, he was only fifteen and couldn’t join the security team yet, he could still aid the fleet in other ways. The salvage crew, or Scrappers, was an integral part of the fleet's newly forming society. They would take one of the hauling ships, load it with a team of Scrappers and strip the derelict ships or stations they found for materials and useful data. After it is picked clean, the parts would be taken back to the fleet where they are sorted, recycled and distributed wherever needed.

It wasn’t much, but he’d have to wait another three years before he could join security. The only thing stopping him now was telling his parents.

Julian sets his fork down, letting the semi loud clack grab their attention. “Mom… Dad… I’d like to apply to be a Scrapper.”

Both parents heard the conviction in his voice and felt the weight of his words. Scrapping was dangerous, there had been a dozen names added to The Wall since they had started doing it, and they wouldn’t be the last.

“Are you sure?” His father asked. “That’s a big job.”

Julian nodded. “I’ve thought about it a lot, dad. I want to do something for the fleet so someone else doesn't have to. I want to stop others from getting hurt.”

“By getting hurt instead?” His mother asked. She was not happy her son was taking such a dangerous job.

“No, mom. I know how capable I am, but I don’t know how capable others will be.” He reached across the table to hold her hand. “I don’t want to get hurt, hell the prospect of going out there scares me too, but I can’t just sit inside all day anymore. I need to help people.”

His parents looked at their son, at the determination and courage that he held within his eyes, and then at each other. They shared an unspoken conversation, they would let their son do his part.

“Okay.” Jacob permitted. “Tomorrow I’ll take you to get signed up.”

Julian smiled despite the apprehension that welled within him. He got up and rounded the table, quickly bringing his parents into a hug. He felt so relieved that he would be able to help people, save some even.

. . .

The House was a big ship, there was no denying it. So big in fact that sometimes it felt too big to be a ship instead of some kind of building, the renovations to the loading docks and shuttle hangers made that feeling even more present.

Right now, parked in Hanger-2, was a small ship. The fleet had used a tugboat to moor it inside during a scrapping mission. It was a meager seventy metres long, thirty meters wide and only ten tall. When a ship was brought inside the hangars from one of those missions it could be thoroughly scrapped, almost no part of it went to waste.

Teams were almost constantly working on disassembling them, there was still the remnants of one on the floor being looked over by three people in the next spot over. But on the new one, there were about thirteen working all over it. Some on the top, some hanging in harnesses off the sides, and a silver eyed Drone with short black hair was working with the rest on the inside.

The Worker was by herself in one of the sections in the ship's dark insides, the only light being that coming from her visor and the headlamp she wore. She could hear the sounds of powertools, footsteps, chatter and the distinct sounds of the other people cranking the windup handles on their own headlamps. At the reminder, she removed hers and charged it for about thirty seconds.

Ace wouldn’t say that she hates her job, Robo-god knows the other Workers her age would, but she also wasn’t happy with it. Workers weren’t allowed on the security force and she was only fifteen, both things stood in her way of obtaining her dream job.

She recognized it wasn’t glamorous or pretty one hundred percent of the time, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to do what she wanted. She wanted to protect people, lookout for both humans and Drones when they needed it.

Resurfacing from her daydreaming, Ace got her headlamp situated back on her head and looked back to her work. A mess of pipes sat in front of her that needed to be removed from their resting places.

She made short work of the first one, removing each section until it disappeared into the wall. The second one gave her a bit of trouble, however.

Ace cried out in shock as, what was evidently a hydraulic line, gushed liquid out of the broken seal. She was covered head to toe in the fluid in an instant. She wiped her eyes clear and let out an angry huff.

She stomped out of the cramped space she was working in and found the other people working. They were mostly human.

“Hey, frenchie! What-...what happened to you?”

“Wasn’t zis ship supposed to be drained? Zere was still a pressurized hydraulic line!” She cried out.

“Chill out, don’t get your circuits in a twist. You aren’t hurt are you?” The human didn’t notice the light scowl from a couple others around him.

Ace bit back the harsh words she wanted to say. “...No.”

“Great! So why don-” The rude man was interrupted by an authoritative voice.

“Excuse me.”

Every head turned in the direction of a man in a security uniform. He had a hand wrapped tightly around a tablet, an expression of mild discomfort or annoyance that seemed to have settled permanently on his face and a sneery sounding voice.

“You, Drone, you’re name Ace?”

A pit of dread formed in her artificial stomach. What did security want with her? “Um, oui.” She nodded.

The uniformed officer looked back at the tablet and nodded. “Good. You have been chosen for the next scrapping mission. Report to the office at 1400 tomorrow… do make sure you’re cleaned up.” With that condescending remark, he turned on his heel and made a swift exit of the dark ship.

Ace’s eyes were hollow. She was picked to go outside the ship? The prospect made a part of her feel excited, but an equal part of her felt nervous. There were many perils to be wary of on the retrieval missions.

Ensuring your tether is firmly attached so you won’t drift into the endless void, maintaining proper communication with your team so you don’t get lost, and of course there was the ever looming threat of a Death Angel being left behind and silently taking out the whole team.

It had only happened once before, but they had since learned from their mistakes. An armed escort was now sent along with the Scrappers in hopes that they would be able to stop the silent killers before too many personnel were lost.

The rest of the day was a blur to Ace, her mind elsewhere. This was good, right? Great, even. She was a bit closer to her dream, helping people more directly by bringing in the materials they needed instead of cutting them off the large things the Scrappers brought in.

But she couldn’t deny that she felt a looming sense of dread. Was this what the others felt all the time? Like a candle was slowly burning through a rope that held back an axe? The storm cloud over her head followed her all the way back home, and her parents could see it immediately.

Edgar and Colette heard the front door of their small living space open and saw the troubled look their daughter walked in with. Seeing she was on her way to her door, they intercepted.

“Ace, chèri, what’s wrong?” Her mother asked, catching a whiff of a foul smelling substance that she now noticed was staining her overalls. “Did ze humans spray you wiz somezing?”

Ace rolled her silver eyes. “No, Maman. It was just a charged hydraulic line.” She waved her mother off.

“Zere is still somezing bozering you.” Her father observed, moving to place a hand on Ace’s shoulder and to fix her with a reassuring stare. “What’s wrong?”

Ace looked down to her feet. “It shouldn’t be somezing I’m worrying about. It’s stupid.”

“But it’s still getting you down.”

“...One of ze official looking humans came to tell me I was selected to go on ze next mission… out into ze wreck.” Colette’s silver eyes hollowed and Edgar’s widened.

“But, you’re only fifteen!” Her mother cried in outrage. “It was bad enough zat you’re on ze scrapping team to begin wiz, mixing humans wiz Workers never goes well, and now zey are sending you out to space?!”

“Maman, stop!” Ace regained her mothers attention and quelled her building temper. “I signed up for zis. I knew zis was always a possibility. I’m not backing out.” She didn’t notice her father’s approving smile and nod.

“I’m not upset about being chosen… per se. I’m just… worried.” She crossed her arms. “A-and maybe a touch scared.”

“Well, I could go wiz you?” Her father suggested, but Ace shook her head.

“As much as I want you to, I zink it’s best I do zis wizout one of you. I’ll never be able to do my dream job if I never get out from under your wings.”

Colette had some words to say, but Edgar beat her to it. “Zat is very insightful, but don’t forget you’re not old enough to go out on your own yet.” He said with a chuckle.

Ace rolled her eyes again. “Papaaa, you know what I ment.”

He chuckled again. “Oui. Oui, I do. I won’t go wiz you, but promise me you’ll listen to ze team lead?”

“And zat you’ll find somewhere safe ze second anyzing happens?” Her mother asked.

“Yes, Maman.”

“Good. Why don’t you go get yourself cleaned up? I’ll get dinner ready.”

Ace nodded and did as told. She felt much better for the rest of the ‘night’.

. . .

“Alright! Listen up and listen well!” The team leader spoke. He was a gruff old man with a scragally beard and the voice of a chain smoker. “We have reached the location of the wreck and are moving into docking position. Everyone check your seals. Nobody wants to deal with your eyeballs getting sucked out of your skulls, I don’t even think we have the resources to deal with that.”

At once, every human in the cramped room of the shuttle started checking their suits for misaligned mechanisms. The Worker Drones among them did the same, but with far less urgency. The only reason they had helmets in the first place was so that their radios would work.

After checking her seal, Ace watched on as the humans paid careful attention to their suits, taking note that some took the time to help others. One of which looked no older than she was. He had blue eyes, black hair, and she could detect a sense of purpose and duty around him. He wanted to be here.

She was pulled from her people watching by the team lead. “Alright, looks like everyone’s ready. For the newbies with us, wait for the armed personnel to walk through first, we don’t need you getting chomped by any Angels that could be waiting on the other side of that door. Once that's done, remember the routine; identify, report, export.”

Several heads nodded and everyone readied themselves. The light above the team lead turned red and a hissing filled the room as the atmosphere was emptied. The sounds around Ace began to muffle until the only thing she could hear was her own simulated breathing reverberating inside her helmet.

Silently the four armed men, one of which was fidgeting nervously, at the foremost of the shuttle raised their weapons as the team lead opened the door. Flashlights flickered on and the dark abyss was partially illuminated.

Loose objects floated around the outside of the airlock but the first hallway looked intact. That could be a good sign. After the guards walked through and signaled the room was clear over the radio, the Scrappers walked inside. They slowly spread out through the ship, the new members like Ace getting used to the ‘sticky’ feeling their mag-boots gave them as they walked.

An hour elapsed as the scrappers located, identified, and reported several different interesting or valuable points and objects on the ship. All things considered, this looked to be a slightly better than average haul.

The fuel tanks were half full, the light speed fuel was three quarters, the electronics were fried by whatever had finally done the ship in, and there was a good amount of materials able to be stripped from the walls, ceiling and floors.

There had been only one moment of panic when a Scrapper had come across a Death Angel pod burrowed into the side of the ship. It explained the lack of atmosphere around them. And after being broken into, they found that none of the beasts were inside.

Spurred on by the frightening sight and the uneasy feeling it generated, the Scrappers got to work removing everything they could.

Spread thin throughout the ship, power tools spun, cut and snapped through materials and those materials were taken to the Scrapper ship for storage. Close to three tonnes of assorted scrap was secured within five hours of their arrival.

One man was gently bobbing his head to music he was listening to through smuggled earbuds. The loud drums drowned out all sound, not that his sense of hearing would have helped him inside a corridor devoid of air. Too engrossed in his work, he failed to notice the soft yellow glow inside a nearby vent getting brighter and brighter.

Razor sharp claws sliced through the vent cover and the wide, golden X of a Disassembly Drone quickly scanned the open space. Having no difficulty spotting the lone human with a flashlight crouching by a removed section of wall, it made its move.

Smoothly, so as not to cause vibrations in the floor and wall, it pulled itself from the vent and drifted towards its target. Before the target could even know it was in danger, the Drone plunged its stinger into the back of the human’s neck.

It jerked and spasmed for but a few scant seconds before the nanite acid melted the human’s spinal cord, severing its connection to the brain. When the only movement from the body was the mixture of blood and glowing acid being pushed out of the suit by the escaping air, the Drone began to eat.

After a few bites, it quickly returned to the thrill of the hunt. Humans rarely travelled alone, especially in space, and the Disassembler’s overheating mind knew this. There would be much more to eat around here now.

. . .

“All teams, report status.” The team lead spoke through the radio. For the next minute, he stared lazily at a clipboard with names as one by one, the teams of Scrappers gave him the all clear. There was a slight hiccup when two teams reported a combined total of three unaccounted for members.

The old man rolled his eyes, silently cursing them. It was a common occurrence for people, especially the younger among them, to sneak things like earbuds and small speakers into their helmets and suits to make the job less boring.

“Ugh, goddamnit. You.” He pointed at a human who had just walked into the Scrapper ship carrying a large piece of sheet metal. “What’s your name, son?”

The young man quickly got the attention of a Worker and shoved the sheetmetal in its direction to be secured properly. “Julian, sir. Julian Gerrera.”

“Gerrera. I don’t feel like stopping all the work around here for this so I’m gonna get you to go looking for some people. They probably either have earbuds in or some other stupid fucking way of drowning out the radio they’re wearin’ and I need that put a stop to.” He unclipped a tablet from his belt and brought up the crew manifest.

“Their names and pictures are highlighted. Find them, report it to me, and return this. After that, get back to work.”

“I’ll… do my best, sir.” Julian gave the old man a salute and trudged out the door. “How am I supposed to find three people in a ship this size? Well, the missing people will probably be near their teams, so it's best to start there.” He thought.

After radioing the offending teams, Julian quickly found his way to one's location. He started with the team that was missing two members, a Drone and human woman. He turned back on the proximity setting on his radio and started to call their names. It felt a bit weird to talk at normal volumes when he was calling for someone, but yelling wasn’t going to do anything except blow out someone’s eardrums.

He kept his head on a swivel as he walked, looking for the red dot on his HUD that would tell him if he connected to somebody. He was about to toggle his radio on again, when a voice broke through the speaker next to his ear.

“-uck! IT'S AN-!”

Julian’s heart tried to jump out of his chest when he heard the scream. His panicked eyes spotted the red dot signalling the location of the distressed person.

“Hey, what happened? You alright?”

When Julian didn’t receive a response, protocol kicked in. He flipped his radio to the broadcast channel. “This is Julian Gerrera, I’m in section… G, Level Seven. I need medical personnel and possibly armed assistance. I heard someone scream and now they’re no longer responding. I’m moving to assess the situation.”

Julian’s magnetic boots thundered down the hallway, heart beating like a drum in his chest. He knew that seconds were precious in an emergency, especially in space where the air in your very lungs could be getting ripped out by the hard vacuum.

“Negitive Gerrera! Maintain current position. You know there's an Angel pod here.”

Julian didn’t listen. He was the closest one. If that person’s suit was breached, he was possibly the only one who could save them.

As he neared the person’s location, he noticed small red circles appearing on his helmet. “Blood.” He realized in horror. He continued on, slightly slower and far more cautious.

He followed the crimson droplets, watching them get denser as he got closer. Spotting the flow moving around a corner, Julian got an idea. Turning off his flashlight, he expected to be plunged into pitch blackness. Instead, he spotted a static yellow glow around the corner. It was just out of sight behind the blood and the architecture as if it were… waiting.

Eyes wide with fear, he slowly reached up to the side of his helmet, depressing the button and whispered as if the Death Angel could hear through vacuum.

“Confirmed Ang-”

The hallway was lit up, Julian’s shadow being cast onto the wall in front of him. He swiftly turned around, only to be blinded by whoever was there.

“Kid?” The beam was pointed at the floor to reveal one of the armed men. “W-what the hell are you doing here without your light on? I almost shot you! The team leader said to stay-”

The man’s eyes widened, shoulders squaring. Julian didn’t need to look back to know the Angel had rounded the corner. It undoubtedly saw his shadow.

Julian ran forward, not knowing how close the killing machine was to him due to the lack of sound around him. His heart sank as, instead of raising his weapon to fire, the man turned on his heel and began running away.

“NO!” Julian cried desperately. “SHOOT IT! HELP ME!”

“Fuck that! I wanna live!”

Julian couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. This man was supposed to protect people. He wasn’t even…

“Shit!” He pressed the button on his helmet. “Confirmed Angel presence! One unit giving chase!”

Trying his best not to let both feet leave the metal deck plating, Julian pushed himself faster and faster down the corridor. It seemed he was better at it than the guard, as he was gaining on the cowardly man.

“Understood, armed personnel are on their way. Just hold on, kid.”

There were several small vibrations in the floor, and Julian could just make out several small pieces of debris skittering past him. He began to zig-zag as the Death Angel sprayed bullets in his direction.

Stealing a look back, the boy saw the Angel tumbling awkwardly through the corridor. The recoil from its machine gun making it nearly impossible to aim correctly. The beast’s face was covered in red and black liquid, fragments of something he willed himself not to pay attention to clung to its teeth. It was catching up.

Julian focused back on the task of running away. He was gaining on the guard by a large margin. His lungs and muscles burned as he willed himself to go faster. If he could get close enough, maybe he could grab his gun.

When Julian’s hand finally wrapped around the weapon he was pulled off his feet as the guard panicked and flailed around. The boy’s mass and added velocity from the man’s thrashing ripped the rifle from it’s owners hands, but now Julian had nothing to anchor himself to.

“Sorry, kid!” The cowardly guard said dismissively, making no move to aid Julian as he tumbled in the frictionless space.

He slammed into the roof, glancing off of it and continuing down the corridor, but he didn’t let go of the gun he held to his chest. He needed to keep a hold of it, or he was dead for certain.

Angling his head to look back the way he came, he saw the killing machine leaping from surface to surface, slowly gaining more momentum. His body threatened to freeze when he saw its full attention was now on him, but he just barely managed to keep himself together.

Hitting the wall now, he wheezed as his shoulder took the brunt of the impact. He hit the outcropping hard enough it sent the flimsy door of the PPE cupboard flying free of its resting place.

When he could just make out the silhouette of the guard running past him, he knew he was running out of time. He was losing too much momentum, the Angel was going to catch up with him and if he hit his head he could get a concussion, or worse, lose consciousness.

Julian attempted to take aim with the rifle but he was getting dizzy from the constant spinning. He tried to fire a spray of bullets, but the trigger didn’t move. Giving it a quick check, he found the safety to be on.

Another impact. It didn’t hurt as much this time, but he lost more momentum.

Flipping the switch, he tried again. He felt the gun push against him as a spray of bullets exited the barrel. The speed of his spin slowed slightly and its axis changed. The Death Angel jerked slightly, but there was no other effect. With renewed vigor, spurred on by the pain the bullets brought, the machine swapped its hands to claws, dug into the plating beneath it, and launched itself forward towards its helpless prey.

Julian hurriedly tried to aim again. He was in a good spin now, he could keep his eyes on the Angel, but it didn’t make aiming any easier. After only a second or two, made as long as an eternity from the adrenaline flowing through his veins, he got a clear-

His feet and back erupted in pain as he connected hard with a wall and his remaining momentum came to a dead stop. He grit his teeth and shut his eyes from the shock, there was the feeling of a crash next to him and they swiftly opened again.

It seemed the Death Angel had been too focused on him and had miscalculated its trajectory. The Angel seemed dazed from the impact, giving Julian enough time to react.

He had bounced off the wall, which seemed to be the bend in the corridor, and was too far away to anchor himself again. However, Death Angels were made of metal. Swiftly planting his foot on its torso, he got the leverage he needed to bring the other down onto its head and grasp its cone shaped arm in the process.

The beast’s head was jerked sharply to the side from the strike, but it didn't seem to have much effect. Planting both feet on its head, Julian gave himself a clear shot. The beast regained its bearings and slashed at him.

As razor sharp metal hit flesh, so too did lead hit circuitry.

Julian clutched his left leg and yelled in fright and pain, gun flying free from his hands. Crimson ichor blew past the gaps of his fingers as the air escaped the breach.

“Wait, what?”

There was only a cut in his suit. How deep he couldn’t tell, but his leg was still there. Angels can normally severe limbs with little issue, how did..?

His magnetic boots were still planted on its head. If these killing machines were anything like the Workers, they must be weakened by magnetic fields near their CPUs.

He was brought back to the situation when movement caught his eye. The Angel’s healing was getting to work. He kicked off of it towards where more guards, who would hopefully choose to do their job, should be coming from.

He winced as his leg protested from the exertion, but it didn’t stop him from properly finding perches on the floor again. He limped down the new escape path as fast as he could, looking over his shoulder only once to see the Angel’s X return to its visor.

“-id’s dead. I couldn’t help him.” The voice of the guard spoke through Julian’s radio.

“Damn…What about your gun?” A new voice asked.

“I let go of it so I could go faster.” The guard lied.

The new voice sighed. “Do you have any idea how hard those are to get? You can’t just-”

“Bastard!” Julian hollered, moving through a doorway to be faced with the man from before as well as three other guards. “You left me to die!”

“Kid? You’re-”

“The Angel’s behind me. I shot it in the head but it knows which way I went.”

The guards looked between the boy and disarmed man incredulously. The one who seemed to be the leader moved to act. “Kid, get behind us. Kaleb, saying you’re in deep shit is the understatement of the goddamn millenia. Stand next to the kid behind us. And. Don’t. Move.”

“I also got a breach. The Angel cut me.” Julian said, following the leader’s orders and limping to stand behind them.

With a wordless command, the leader directed one of his men to tend to Julian while the other flanked her superior’s side. They took aim with their guns and after a handful of seconds the Angel appeared in the doorway. Its body was pelted with a hail of silent gunfire, all aiming for the glowing insignia they knew to be on its sternum.

With barely any time to register what had happened, the killing machine was dispatched. Globules of oily blood splattered onto the walls around it, some lazily floating in the humans direction.

The man tending to Julian finished applying a patch to his suit and gave him a pat on the shoulder, inadvertently making flinch. It seemed, now that the adrenaline was dwindling, Julian had hit it harder than he thought.

“That’ll stop the air from escaping, but we still need to hurry and get you to the ship. It's too hard to tell how bad the cut is.”

Julian nodded and the guards made a formation with one taking up the rear, one slinging his arm over her shoulder so he wouldn’t need to walk, and the leader walking in front as they led the boy and soon-to-be ex-guard back to the ship.

“What happened, kid?” The leader asked, keen to get the real story this time.

“Um, the guy in charge told me to find the missing people that didn’t report in, he thought they just couldn’t hear their radios. But I guess I don’t need to say what the real reason turned out to be.”

The leader nodded and the woman helping him walk spoke up. “How did you manage to only get away with a cut? I’ve heard Death Angels can tear a man apart in seconds.”

“I think they’re like Workers, weakened by magnets. I had my boots on its head.” He explained.

The team made a mental note of that. If there was anything they could use to give themselves better odds against the genocidal death machines, they’d take it.

Back at the ship, Julian was tended to properly and the ex-guard was confined to a small room. They didn’t have proper punishments yet, not that there had been anything like murder in the fleet yet, but this was one of the more serious crimes the fleet would have to deal with.

After a head count was taken, it was discovered the Death Angel had killed six people total. Four humans and two Workers would not be making it home. The rest of the work was made with a somber and tense atmosphere. Nobody wanted to work, but they didn’t have a choice. The fleet needed these resources.

The best thing they could do now was to get the job done and mourn when they got back. It didn’t help much.

. . .

When the doors of the ship opened inside one of The House’ hangers, he was met with several people. Families and friends waiting to make sure they weren’t the ones who would be left with an empty seat at the table, fleeting memories, and a hole in their heart.

He watched many people file out of the ship and reunite. Wives and husbands embracing their significant others, parents looking their sons and daughters over and lightly scolding them while holding back tears of relief. He even saw a silver eyed and short haired Worker Drone run up to and cling onto two older Drones.

As he was helped down the ramp by one of his co-workers, Julian heard a familiar voice.

“Son!” He looked up to see his father pushing his way through the crowd. “Thank the lord!”

“Dad!” Julian smiled as he sped up, almost stumbling as he limped on, only stopping when his fathers arms wrapped around him.

“Oh, my sweet boy.” Jacob sounded on the verge of tears. “Th-they didn’t say the names, only that there were four de-” The older man’s voice hitched. “...Your mother and I were so worried.”

“Where’s mom?” Julian asked, pulling away slightly to look around.

“Th-they wouldn’t let us both off work. I t-tried to get her to go, but she insisted it was me.” Jacob explained, eyes widening when he noticed the bandage on Julian’s leg. “What happened? Did it get you?”

Julian frowned slightly. “Yeah. I was sent to go look for people who didn’t call in. Turns out an Angel got them. I figured out they probably get weakened by magnets though! And I managed to shoot it in the face.” The boy started out somber but got more prideful when he got to the last two points.

His father didn’t look all that happy, however. “They sent you to go looking for missing people? What about the guards?”

“I… I think they were busy helping scrap stuff or patrolling."

“That doesn’t matter, whoever told you to go looking should have at least sent one of them with you. I’m going to have some words with management. This is how you get people killed.” His father said sternly.

Julian supposed his father was right, but it was an accident. Was it really this important to go to the higher ups? He was brought out of his pondering by a sigh from his father. “That can wait for tomorrow. Let's get you home. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Julian shook his head. “Not really. My back is sore and my shoulder is bruised, but the worst was my leg.”

His father nodded and slinged one of his son’s arms over his shoulder. On their way out of the hangar, they were stopped.

“Excuse me? May I have a moment of your time? It’s important.”

Turning around, the father and son were met with a tall, burly man.

“Oh, it's you! That’s the guy who saved me, dad.” Julian explained.

“Really? Thank you so much. I don’t know how I can repay you.” Jacob said earnestly.

“That isn’t necessary, I was just doing my job. I wanted to ask you something, but I understand if now is a bad time.” Jacob looked at his son, who shrugged, and gestured for the man to go on. “Your son showed exemplary bravery today as well as a capacity for excellent skill. I would like to ask that he consider joining the security service when he is eighteen years of age. I could put in a good word with the person in charge of selecting new members when he applies.”

Jacob looked shocked and Julian was delighted. He could have a better chance of joining security? He’d joined the scrapper team two months ago to do his part and help others, but he could do that even better if he was on their service.

“I recommend you think about this for some time. It's a very dangerous job, as you saw today, but it pays well and we are always looking for good people who will do the right thing. Unlike others.” Julian caught his meaning.

“We’ll… certainly think about it.” Jacob said. He wasn’t the happiest at the prospect of his son going into more danger, especially after today. But it was obviously what he’d been working towards when becoming a scrapper.

The man nodded gratefully. “Thank you, that’s all I ask. If you need to reach me, ask for Omari. I’ll leave you to get home now. I hope you recover well, Julian.”

“Thank you, sir. This means a lot.”

When Julian got home, his father spent the rest of the day with him. His mother got home soon after that and gave him a near crushing hug. After checking his injuries and ensuring he knew he was safe, she recommended they play a board game to cheer up a bit. However, Julian was unable to focus while they played Cribbage. one fact replacing over and over in his head.

He was going to join security.

Chapter Text

Six years since being forced into space by ravenous Drones of unknown origin, the Worker Drones were finally getting some amount of widespread respect. The humans in charge of the fleet had made the decision to allow Workers on the security force. The true reason behind the decision was because they were seen as more expendable, so the rumors said, but Ace didn’t care about that. She could finally fulfil her dream.

Her mother didn’t approve and her father was hesitant, but ultimately they let her go. She had put on her best clothes and went out the door. She walked at a brisk pace through the corridors of The House, eyes drifting over the children's drawings that lined the wall.

It had become a sort of unspoken rule not to get rid of the proof that innocence and joy could still be fostered within the fleet, so long as none of them covered important signs and no one made something obscene.

Walking past the drawings of ships blasting away dark grey cylinders that had the frowning faces of Death Angels poking out of the top and others of ships with smiling humans and Workers holding what could loosely be described as baskets full of what was presumably scrap up to a large crowd, Ace continued on her way to The House’s gymnasium. It was a holdover from when it was still a cruise ship and today it would serve as the training grounds to weed out who would be fit for duty.

The corridors of the house were packed, humans and Workers moving to and from jobs constantly in order to keep the fleet going. Everyone was a cog in this giant machine, whether they wanted to be or not. Survival demanded it.

Nearing her destination, Ace noticed that she was in a small crowd of people who seemed to be heading to the same place. Determined, anxious, and excited faces were worn as they stared ahead, wondering if they’d make the cut.

The group of machines and humans filed into the large room, taking seats as they saw fit as a small group of humans in uniforms stood at the far end of the rows watching them with a steely gaze.

Once every seat was filled, a woman walked forward and addressed the crowd. “Welcome, everyone. Before we begin I’d like to take the time to thank you all for applying to be part of our fleet’s Volunteer Security Force. Lord knows the people need the morale boost.” Many people nodded along.

“However, just because you’re here doesn't mean you’re going to get in.” She reminded them, casting a stern look at every face. “You still have to prove you can be relied on and trusted to hold your position of authority and duty.”

Ace sat up straighter as the instructor went on. She needed to succeed here, to prove that even though she was a Worker, she could save and protect lives.

The instructor went on for a bit longer, explaining what was expected of them and what they were to expect from this class. When she was finished, she directed everyone into a series of small rooms off to the side. One by one, they were all taken into the rooms. Inside, they were all asked a series of questions.

Why do you want to join? What do you want to do with your potential job? What are your goals in life? What goals do you want to reach as a member of security?

Ace had been forthright and truthful with all of her answers. She wanted to protect people, human and Drone alike. She wanted to make a difference, people's days a bit better if possible, and save lives if the time called for it. She wanted to prove that Drones could be just as dependable as humans, make their lives easier, and hopefully bring them up from the low class they were seen as.

The last one had given her a moment of pause. It was slightly differently worded, but she felt it had a whole new meaning. Did she really have any goals other than save and protect? Were those valid goals? She supposed raising through the ranks would help with that, but would that make her seem unfit?

“... I… I want to do ze best I can. Zat is my goal.” She finally answered.

When all the participants were brought back out and seated, the instructor addressed them once more. “Alright! For the next part I’ll need Drones and humans seperated. This is a physical exercise examination to see how well you can perform in the line of duty.” A few groans murmured through the crowd but a stern look from the instructor quieted them down.

As the beings separated and the humans formed a new group near the equipment, Ace felt a frown tug at her features. “Zis isn’t fair. Just because we’re stronger zen ze average human doesn’t mean we have the skills to properly use it.” She held back her complaints, silently hoping this wouldn’t come back to bite her in the future.

After each human was tested, they all returned to their seats. Many were exhausted and sweaty, grateful for the air conditioning the room had. The instructor conversed with her team, looking over the crowd every now and then. Finally, after half an hour of deliberation and tense silence, she turned back to the crowd to speak.

“Now I will call the names of those who’ve passed these tests. If your name is called, stand up.”

Ace began to worry as name after name was barked out; Smith, Jonson, Gerrera, Hope, only humans were standing up. Luckily, her worries were quelled when the Drone names started to get called afterward. She waited with bated breath as the names were called, she cursed them for not going alphabetically.

Finally, near the end of the list, she heard her name. “Ace Bisset!” Feeling her core skip a cycle, she stood up with a smile. She felt as though she was light as air. She got the part! She got the-!

“Thats it for names. If your name was not called, I apologize. However, just because your name was called, does not mean you’re part of security.”

Ace’s eyes hollowed as sounds of frustration and bewilderment flowed through the group.

“You have merely been selected for proper training. Firearms Maintenance and Handling, Physical Training, Less Than Lethal Weapons Training, and a course on how to subdue opponents will all await you.”

Shoulders sagging, Ace felt the weight of disappointment descend on her. She would have to wait more? She let a puff of air escape her lips, maybe it was a bit naive to expect that was the culmination of what their training would consist of. It did seem a little lacking.

“You will all be logged into our database and will be informed when your training begins. Thank you everyone for attending, I hope to see you join our ranks soon. Dismissed!”

Everyone filed out of the room, some heads hung while others held high. Ace took note that the percentage of Workers to humans that were selected for proper training seemed to lean greatly. She rolled her eyes. “Of course zere would be more of us. We’re ‘expendible’.” She wanted to gag at the thought.

Not letting the fact get her down, she made her way back home and found her parents waiting for her.

“Honey! Did you get ze position?” Her father asked, coming up to her side immediately.

“Ehh, sort of? It was more of a way to weed out who was eligible. Ze real training is supposed to start soon!”

“Zat’s wonderful for you, chèri.” Her mother joined them, giving her daughter a hug. “We should celebrate ze occasion."

Ace smiled brightly. “Oui! Please!”

. . .

Weeks of training followed. Shooting practice on the outside of The House’s hull with simulated rounds, ingraining the way the weapons they will handle were built into their minds, the humans trained their bodies to easily lift and wear all the gear they would be equipped with in case of an Angel attack.

Many participants failed or left, both humans and Workers. But finally, after all their hard work, those that made it to the end were rewarded for their efforts. Standing in line, posture perfect and faces steely, each new member received a badge with their name on it.

They were finally part of security.

Ace couldn’t keep the proud smile from spreading across her features when her badge was clipped to her vest. After all this time, her dream was coming true.

After the celebration for the new members, they were each instructed to go home and rest for their first shifts the next day. Ace wasn’t confident she’d be able to get any with the excitement she felt, but managed to slip into sleep mode for long enough to feel adequately rested.

It didn’t take her long to reach the security office in the promenade of The House. She walked in, scanned her new badge on the reader, got changed into her uniform in the locker room, and reported to the head officer.

He was a tall human of African descent, ‘Omari’ she read on his badge. She snapped to attention when standing before her superior. “Ace Bisset reporting for duty, sir.”

Omari nodded. “At ease. It's good to have you with us, Ace.”

“I’m happy to be here, sir.” Ace said, relaxing her posture slightly.

Picking up a tablet, Omari gave Ace her first directive. “I’m going to have you and a human man by the name of Duncan go patrol through the House, Boxtruck, and two of the cargo haulers today.” He told her, handing off the tablet to her so she could see her route for the day.

“If anyone asks for help with something, give them a hand. If you see anything suspicious, report it and await further instruction. Other than that, just follow your patrol route.”

Ace nodded and looked around. “Um, where is Duncan, sir?”

Omari looked around and sighed. “Damn, newbie.” He depressed the button on his radio. “Duncan, report.”

There was a moment of silence before footsteps thundered through the halls as a young man with red hair and green eyes came running into the lobby from the direction of the break room. “Uh, right-right here, sir!”

“Didn’t I tell you to wait here in the lobby?”

Duncan fidgeted nervously “Well, yes but I figured the other guy wasn’t going to be here for a minute so I got something to eat while you were giving everyone else their orders.” He quickly explained.

Omari looked at him displeased. “... Don’t let it happen again. You’re going on a patrol with Ace here. She’s got the tablet with your route.”

Duncan looked over to Ace and his eyes narrowed slightly. “Right. Okay.”

Ace’s eyes narrowed back. She hoped he wasn’t going to one of those kinds of humans.

“Well! We best get a move on then. C’mon, walking buddy!” Duncan waved her along as he started walking, not bothering to look at the map Ace had. Quickly following along, Ace opened her mouth to raise that point. Before she could get a word out, Duncan turned and took the tablet out of her hand.

“Ah! Thanks bud. Would have been helpful if you’d given that to me sooner.” He read over the snatched tablet as he continued walking.

Ace stared in disbelief. What gave him the right to act that way? How had he gotten through training? She kept her thoughts to herself, hoping this man’s faults ended at bigotry towards Drones and that he would at least be helpful to those in need.

They followed their route through The House, running into no issues. Duncan never seemed to stop talking, or complaining more like. They were at the end of their route in The House, at the threshold of one of the large tubes the fleet had constructed so people could walk from ship to ship instead of taking a transport and using precious fuel, and he still hadn’t stopped.

“-Which is like total bullshit! Sure, we’ve only run into one broadcast that wasn’t a trap set by pirates or Angels, but they’ve gotta run out eventually, right? Those guys running the place are idiots!... Are you even listening to me?”

Having largely tuned the man out in favor of doing her job and keeping a lookout, Ace only knew Duncan was addressing her when she felt a rough tap on the side of her head. She whipped her head around and glared at him, but he was undeterred.

“These guys are stupid, right? I mean, any proper tactician would know that the fake broadcasts aren’t going to last.”

Staring at him blankly, Ace got an idea. “(I have the feeling you’re not cut out for this job.) J’ai le sentiment que tu n’es pas fait pour ce travail.”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “What?”

Ace didn’t let the smile behind her eyes show. “(I said you're probably not going to last long on security.) J'ai dit que tu n'allais probablement pas durer longtemps en matière de sécurité.”

Duncan blinked at her and scoffed. “French… of course your fucking French.”

Ace was taken aback by the insult to her place of manufacture. She scowled at the man and turned back to the road ahead. They were half way through the tunnel by now.

Duncan’s eyes widened and he looked back to the shorter Drone next to him. “I-I mean- I’m not racist or anything, you just probably can’t… understand me… all this time and you haven't heard a word I've said!” He growled in frustration. Ace let a subtle smirk grace her lips.

The rest of the walk through the Boxtruck was made in heavenly silence. They stopped for a moment when Ace spotted someone that needed a hand moving some crates, Duncan didn’t offer any aid, but the route was uneventful until the halfway point.

They were passing through the residential section when the human half of the duo spotted something that piqued his interest. “Oh! The one good part about this place!” He exclaimed, breaking away from his counterpart towards the cafeteria. This was the only one in the fleet that served cold dairy desserts.

With no room for livestock or crops and no way to obtain them, the fleet grew cell cultures that they fed into machines in order to ‘print’ the ingredients for their foodstuffs. The Boxtruck was the only one outfitted for ice cream, smoothies, yogurt and similar items.

Ace cleared her throat sharply and fixed the man with a hard stare. Duncan turned around with a look of annoyance. “Listen, bolts for brains, nothing's going to happen. Nothing ever happens around here. If Angels drop in to say ‘hi’ the military ships will deal with it, and we’ll move. No biggie.” With that, he walked off towards the cafeteria.

Ace glared at the young man as he shirked his duties, unbelieving of his poor conduct. “Fine. I’ll go tell ze officers and get zis sorted out. He’s too much of a liability.” She thought, backtracking through The Boxtruck and House and walking straight to the security office.

She reached the lobby once more to see Omari had left. Seeing a person at the front desk, she walked over. “Excuse me.”

The male Worker looked up from his computer. “Yes, can I help you?”

“I need to speak with officer Omari.”

The desk clerk nodded. “He’s in his office. I’ll let him know you’re on your way.”

“Merci.”

“Not a problem.”

Ace made her way through the left door and found her way to the head office with little issue.

Knock, knock, knock

“Enter.”

Ace walked in to see Omari with a displeased expression. “Back so soon. Is everything… Where's Duncan?”

Ace stood at attention, hands clasped behind her back. “Duncan abandoned his post and was being… difficult, sir.”

Omari heaved a heavy sigh. “Of course he did…” The large man stood, holding half his face with a hand. “I’ll get you someone reliable and have Duncan dealt with.”

“Merci, sir.”

Following behind her superior, Ace came to a stop at another office. This one had a handful of people working inside on computers. Most of them looked like they had been here a while, but there were a few new recruits like her.

“Gerrera.” Omari called to a young man whose head rose from a computer screen.

“Sir?”

“How about you take a break from desk work? I’ve got a Worker here in need of a ‘walking buddy’, and I think you’ll be put to better use there.”

The young man’s face lit up. “Yes, sir! I can be ready in five minutes!"

“Good man.” Omari nodded, then turned to Ace. “Wait for him in the lobby, once he gets to you go ahead and continue your patrol. I’m going to get Duncan sorted out in the meantime.”

Ace nodded and did as told. True to his word, the young man entered the lobby after five minutes. Something tickled Ace at the back of her mind, he looked familiar but she couldn’t quite place it.

The young man with black hair and blue eyes smiled as he walked up to her. “Hi, names Julian!”

Looking back on Omari’s description of the man being reliable and Julian’s cheeryness when speaking to a Worker Drone, Ace decided to do away with the language barrier trick. “Bonjour. My name is Ace.”

“Good name. Do you have the map?” He asked, motioning for them to get moving.

“Oui. Right here if you care to take a look.” Ace offered, pulling out the tablet and handing it to him when he outstretched a hand.

Following the Worker’s lead and scanning over the map, Julian chose to start some small talk with his new walking buddy. “So how long have you wanted to be part of security?”

Ace placed a hand on her chin. “...about four years maybe? Definitely I can confidently say trois- err three years. How about you?”

“About the same I think. I started as a Scrapper and when a mission went sideways Omari recommended I join security when I’m old enough, and here I am.” He recounted.

Ace looked over to the man quizzically. “‘Went sideways’? Is zat the mission where ze Death Angel managed to kill six members of ze team?”

“Yeah, yeah it was.” Julian confirmed grimly.

The Worker gave her human counterpart a look up and down. “Were you ze kid zat got his leg cut off?”

Julian sputtered as a laugh escaped him. “Cut off? No! ol’Lefty’s still here.” He patted his leg to prove it wasn’t metal. “It only nicked me. I actually managed to figure out they get messed up from magnets like you guys do, though.”

“Huh. Zat’s how zey found out?”

“Yep!” Julian popped. “Makes sense in hindsight, though. They definitely seem to have been an upgraded model of Worker.”

Ace nodded a bit absently, a thought crossing her mind. “I don’t mean to intrude but… what was it like? To see an Angel up close like zat?”

Julian blew air out of his mouth. “Terrifying. Especially because I couldn’t hear it and the guard that was supposed to help me ran off. It was relentless and, as crazy as it might sound, it felt sadistic with the way it went from focusing on him as the main threat to me as the easy meal when I ended up floating down the corridor.”

“I’m… sorry you had to go through zat.”

The frown that found itself on the young man’s face went away when he looked back to his partner. “Don’t sweat it. I try not to let it bother me.”

They talked for a bit more while they walked, making mention of hobbies, interests, and finding they had similar goals for their job. They enjoyed each other's company.

The rest of the shift was a breeze. They looped their route eight times, stopping during break to find something to eat, in the second cargo hauler to assist an elderly man with a task, and a few times when some people decided to air their grievances about anything and everything to them.

It seemed stupid entitlement followed everywhere, even in the apocalypse.

“You know,” Ace started. They were back at the security office now, putting away their gear before going to their respective gendered locker rooms and clocking out. “It’s nice to be able to work wiz someone who doesn’t zink like ze majority of people seem to.”

Julian looked at his co-worker with confusion after getting his helmet unstrapped. “How do you mean?”

“You know. ‘Buh! Ze Workers are just machines for us to order around! Buh!’.” She waved her arms around in a mock attempt to look scary.

“Oh! That… Yeah, no problem.” He looked around the vacant armory, checking to make sure no one was around, before leaning closer to Ace. “To be honest, it's kinda weird to see you guys act so person like and then not treat you like living beings.”

Ace gave a pleasant smile to his admittance. “Well merci, Julian. I do tend to zink of myself as one.” She said playfully to which he snickered.

“If you want, I can see if I can get Omari to pair us up more often? You’re pretty cool to talk to.”

“Zat would be nice! You’re much better for conversation zan Duncan.”

They finished depositing their gear and gave their farewells to each other when they reached the lockers. After changing back into her casual wear and walking through the threshold of the security office, Ace released a breath. “Today has been a good day.”

Making her way home with a bright smile and a pep in her step, Ace found her residential block and rounded the twisting corners with ease; she could probably do it blindfolded. Something that was out of the ordinary was the trollies filled to the point they were at risk of tipping that were lined up a few metres past a doorway not too far from her house.

She spotted her parents along with what was obviously a human couple taking the boxes inside of said doorway. Her smile was replaced with a frown as she assumed the norm of this kind of situation and she walked over to assist her parents with the completion of the task.

“Oh! Ace!” Her mother greeted her happily when she noticed her daughter's approach.

Ace’s frown faltered for a moment upon hearing the happy tone her mother held, were they not being ordered to help? “Ehh, bonjour Maman. Where's Papa?” She asked, scanning the hallway.

“He’s inside helping move some furniture. A new family is moving in and asked for some help.” She explained, interrupting Ace as she opened her mouth to speak. “And no, it was ze regular kind of 'ask'.”

“Zat explains your cheeryness.” The younger woman poked, to which her mother huffed in slight amusement.

“Hello?”

Both Drones turned to the source of the new voice. A woman with brown eyes and blonde hair was in the doorway looking quizzically at the new arrival.

“Ah! Ellen, zis is my daughter, Ace. She just joined security!” Colette explained, Ace offered a small wave.

Ellen’s expression brightened. “Oh! It’s wonderful to meet you, Ace.” The human woman offered a hand to which Ace shook.

“It is nice to meet you as well, Ellen. You’re just moving in, I take it. Where from?”

Ellen sighed. “From the section they're using to ‘expand the storage areas’ or… something. At least it wasn’t as bad as when the Angels first struck, we can actually bring all our stuff with us this time.” She complained, the Bisset’s knowing the feeling all too well.

“Anyhow,” Ellen changed the subject. “Your parents were quite helpful. If you ever need any company, I’m sure we can-”

“Hi.” A young voice interrupted Ellen. A boy was peeking out from behind her, he looked to be about seven years old.

“Oh, hello.” Ace greeted the little one.

“Rick, sneaky little… When did you get here? I thought you were playing inside.” Ellen asked.

“Well, I was, but then I got bored.” He explained, turning his attention back to Ace, zeroing in on the badge clipped to the breast pocket of her shirt

“You’re a security guard?”

“Yes! I just got my badge officially yesterday.” Ace explained. She reached up and unclipped her ID. “Would you like to take a look?”

The boy looked up to his mother and she nodded and motioned for him to go ahead. Rick walked forward and took the plastic item, staring at it with wonder. “Woah… can I hold your gun?”

Both Drones’ eyes hollowed and his mother’s eyes widened at that request. “Um, no. Zat's not allowed, copain- I mean, buddy. Plus I don’t have it wiz me.” Ace quickly explained. “Zere’s rules I need to follow, and you should too.”

“Oh. okay.” The boy sounded disappointed, but his energy quickly returned. “Is it hard to be a security guard?”

“It… can be, yes.”

“Does that mean I could be a security guard if I try hard enough?”

“Well, I…” She looked towards his mother with an awkward smile, who simply gave her a look that read ‘go ahead, it’ll make him happy’. “... I don’t see why not. You’ll have to wait till you’re older, though.”

“Really?!” If Rick’s face could physically brighten, they would have been blinded by a star. “I want to be just like you when I grow up, Ace!”

“C’mon, buddy. Let's let the nice Worker Drones keep helping us move in.” Ellen attempted to corral her son. “Maybe your dad or the other guy brought in another box with some of your toys in it.”

As the mother and son disappeared back into their new home the mother daughter duo left outside moved to pick up some more boxes. It would be nice to have some friendly neighbours to look forward to seeing.