Navarro’s eyes widened as he beheld the shining, blood-stained figure. Their armour was dented all over and the blood made it seem as if the engraved eyes were crying. One arm hung limply, while the other clutched a longsword.

  The figure’s head turned towards him, the knight’s blazing silver eyes meeting Navarro’s own. His eyes narrowed as the knight pointed his sword at him.

  The Terran officer looked around. Most of the natives in between had run away or died, giving the knight a clear path to him and his soldiers.

  “What are you waiting for?! FIRE!” Navarro screamed, a bit of panic worming its way into his voice.

  The report of the EM rifles saturated the air, harmlessly hitting a silvery energy shield in front of the now-walking knight.

  Though slightly slowed down by the barrage, the knight continued picking up speed, quickly ending up in a sprint.

  Navarro took a step back, before raising his own sidearm towards the approaching enemy.

  The knight moved faster than should have been possible, even for a healthy man.

  He unloaded his pistol’s ammunition while walking backwards, but the man did not slow down.

  The knight was suddenly engulfed in an explosion, forcing Navarro into a crouch.

  Unfortunately, before he could breathe a sigh of relief, the blood-stained warrior emerged from the fiery cloud, his eyes still locked on to the Terran officer.

  Before Navarro knew it, the chosen was right in front of him, his sword already swinging.

  He barely managed to raise one armoured hand to block, which saved his life.

  Though the bones in his arm shattered, the alloy held. The impact threw Navarro to the ground, where he promptly fell unconscious.

  Colonel Navarro opened his eyes with a sharp intake of breath. His mind felt groggy, but his arm didn’t hurt and he recognised the tent he was in as the one in their main encampment. An IV was inserted into his uninjured arm.

  “Fuck,” he whispered.

  “Fuck is right,” a voice answered.

  Navarro whipped his head around, his eyes landing on Ashwood. The man sat on a stool, fully armoured, helmet excepted, one hand holding a real book. Navarro could barely make out the symbol of an eye on its cover.

  “Ashwood,” he spoke, controlling his voice, “What happened?”

  The man’s blue eyes zeroed in on his, before closing the book and putting it aside, “We won, though the price was heavy. Shortly after you got knocked out, a sniper managed to kill the Chosen. The locals are very unhappy with us though.”

  “What snipers?” Navarro muttered, “Wait, how are you here?” He continued, raising his voice. The machine-loving colonel had been left in this very camp before the assault but with minders attached. He shouldn’t have been in this tent with him.

  “Oh, haven’t you heard?” Ashwood spoke calmly, “The Admiral has unfortunately passed. Quite the masterstroke from our enemy, if I say so myself.”

  Navarro opened his mouth, before closing it again.

  “With you unconscious,” Ashwood continued, “Command fell to me, naturally. You’ve left me quite the mess.”

  “What? What the fuck are you talking about,” Navarro tried to sit up, but whatever drugs the medics pumped into him made him too weak to even do that.

  “He was on the Bastion!” Navarro continued, all but shouting, before he paused, “You. Do you really think anyone will believe you that these primitives smuggled an assassin there?”

  The traitor chuckled, “An assassin? There was no assassin, I am afraid.”

  “Then how?!” Navarro shouted.

  “The Bastion… Well, there is no Bastion, not anymore.”

  “Impossible,” he refuted instinctively.

  “Its destruction was quite similar to the fate of Cerberos, all observers agree,” Ashwood continued leisurely, “How the natives managed such a thing, well, who knows? Perhaps they can teleport or some such, it is hardly inconceivable at this point.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Navarro blinked, “The necklace,” he spoke without thinking.

  Ashwood’s eyes narrowed.

  The wounded officer grimaced as realisation dawned. Ashwood came here to interrogate him and he had already succeeded.

  “This is treason,” he mustered, but the rebuke was weak even to his own ears.

  Ashwood moved his hand in a so-so gesture, “Our oaths are to the people of the Republic. If the government is holding our nation back, is it not our duty to act?”

  “I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses,” Navarro spat, “There were over three thousand people on the Bastion! You are nothing but a deranged, toaster-fucking murderer!”

  He tried to get up again but only succeeded in sitting up before he had to rest his back against the wall, his feet still on the bed.

  “It’s war,” Ashwood shrugged, “Over five thousand died in the assault you ordered, hardly any different.”

  “Killing your own people isn’t any different from killing enemy soldiers?!” Navarro rebuked.

  “Enemy soldiers? I meant our allies.”

  “Not our people,” Navarro gritted out.

  “Semantics. None of this would have been necessary if your ilk were willing to give up control peacefully anyway. To follow the will of the people.”

  Navarro mustered up his best sneer, “That thing has been manipulating ‘the people’ for a long time now. It’s a machine, it doesn’t care. We can't just surrender the fate of our race to it.”

  Ashwood raised an eyebrow, “Yes, that is the appeal, Navarro. You still don’t understand? She cannot be bribed nor can she be manipulated, she has no favourites and no family. She is an expert in every single field and for the few tasks she’ll have to delegate, she is more than capable of making sure her appointees are just and noble. And, above all, she is immortal,” he paused, “The perfect ruler,” he added with a faint note of reverence, “Who else is more qualified to steer humanity’s future?”

  The wounded Colonel’s sneer intensified, “And so you’d place humanity at the mercy of an emotionless machine, because what, it’s convenient?”

  “Convenient is one way to describe it. Not completely incorrect, I suppose,” The healthy Colonel shook his head, “You’ve never been to one of her habitats, have you? They are wondrous places. No homelessness or starvation. Orphans are cared for, and those with health issues, whether physical or mental, are provided help. Crime basically does not exist. They are as close to a utopia as you can get. Is wanting to share that with others so wrong?”

  “And the price?” Navarro raised his voice, “All-encompassing surveillance with no real freedom!”

  Ashwood scoffed, “I’ve been to quite a few worlds by now, surveillance and freedom are really the best you’ve got? Do you think that the good people of say, Nova Venetus, have more freedom, or suffer under less surveillance?”

  Navarro ground his teeth, preparing a rebuke, but Ashwood’s voice stopped him in his tracks, “In any case, the time for debates has passed.”

  “What are you planning to do with me?” Navarro demanded.

  Ashwood tapped his fingers on the frame of Navarro’s bed. A few seconds later, a huge Terran soldier with a medic patch entered the tent, the symbols on his armour marking him as one of Sterope’s.

  “Unfortunately,” Ashwood began, “Your injuries were more severe than was initially suspected. Your heart gave out before anyone noticed,” he nodded to the medic.

  Navarro eyed the expressionless giant, before tearing out the IV out of his arm in one quick motion.

  Ashwood sighed, “You got beaten up pretty badly by the Chosen and no one counted your bruises, you know? Don’t make this harder for yourself than it has to be.”

  Navarro ignored him, his eyes flitting from the medic to the tent, searching for something he could use as a weapon.

  He found nothing.

  Not that he was strong enough to walk anyway.

  The medic approached, revealing a syringe. He pushed the plunger slightly to expel any air along with a few drops of liquid.

  Then he reached for Navarro with his other hand. The wounded Colonel did his best to evade, but in his drugged-up, injured state only managed to prolong the inevitable by a second or two.

  The medic’s hand grabbed him by the throat, though Navarro barely felt the giant’s touch. However, even without applying any strength, Navarro found himself utterly trapped, unable to budge the giant’s hand by even a millimetre, despite pulling with both of his arms with all the strength he could muster.

  Kicks and punches didn’t even make the man flinch either. Unfortunately, from his position, Navarro could not reach the medic’s eyes or anything truly vulnerable. Still, he did his best to scratch and claw at any exposed skin within reach, not that it had much effect.

  “Colonel,” the medic intoned tonelessly, “Hold his arms or I might miss the vein.”

  Ashwood grimaced but did as he was told.

  Navarro redoubled his thrashing.

  Before Ashwood managed to secure both his arms, Navarro managed to scratch his face, his small victory eliciting a vicious grin.

  Ashwood hissed, before sighing and nodding to the medic.

  The syringe was mercilessly plunged into Navarro’s neck. He could do nothing as the medic slowly emptied its undoubtedly deadly contents into his bloodstream.

  “This will be your legacy,” Navarro hissed, “A murderer. Traitor! FILTH!”

  “Perhaps,” Ashwood admitted, as both he and the medic stepped away from the bed, releasing Navarro.

  Even the little strength he had was already leaving him, causing Navarro to slouch, but his eyes still burned with hatred.

  “But I doubt it,” Ashwood continued, his figure looming over Navarro as he touched his blood-stained cheek.

  “To the victor, the spoils.”