Nine figures drifted through the void—each a blur of matte-black plating and burning orange thrusters. Their manoeuvring packs whispered trails of vapour as they descended toward the hulk drifting below.

CT-301A, squad lead, angled his descent just slightly, watching the object grow in his HUD.

Obsidian Wake now drifted silently through the void, lifeless, It was operated by a single occupant: former Overseer Aegirarch.

No emergency beacons or distress signals were deployed.

Every external hatch hung open, yawning into the vacuum. Fragments of debris drifted lazily around the ship.

"Everyone be ready for anything," CT-306A told his squad. Even with encryption, his voice came through slightly distorted.

The Obsidian Wake matched the fleet's colour scheme—sharp edges of obsidian black, with stripes of orange running vertically along its spine like some animal. There was no visible damage, no blast marks. Just a hollow thing, drifting like a corpse.

They matched velocity and coasted in through the open hatch. Water floated in large shimmering blobs throughout the corridor with bits and pieces of broken panels. Some of it stained with blood.

CT-301A halted, raising a hand to signal the unit.

"Synchronize. Stay alert," he ordered. "Possible hostiles onboard."

As they pushed deeper, CT-303A broke radio silence. "Audio loop detected. Its faint sounds like music."

Through flickers of static and pulse lag, they all heard it—old Grithan music, distorted by vacuum and deck speakers shorting out. Old religious mourning songs that were banned.

"I hate this," CT-308A grunted.

CT-302A replied coldly, "We move slowly we have hostiles."

They moved slowly through the wreckage examning and watching every angle and shadow. The power flickered on and off at random, casting the halls into a stuttering twilight.

The deeper they went, the worse the comms became. Every time one of them spoke, there was a delay. A crackle and a voice that sometimes wasn't theirs.

"Repeat last," CT-307A asked after a command.

"What?" CT-304A replied. "I didn't say anything."

It got worse near the core decks.

The music grew louder. Not over the ship's systems—but inside their suits, leaking in like seawater water through cracked glass.

They realized their encryption had been compromised and swiftly switched to hand signals.

Then they saw him—standing silently at the end of a dead-end corridor.

Aegirarch.

He stood in a black exo-suit, unarmed—or so it seemed. Behind his visor, cold eyes tracked their every move.

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CT-301A raised his rifle. "Aegirarch," he barked through external speakers, "Stand down. This is a retrieval and containment op. Surrender yourself—"

That's when the comms died, leaving them in complete silence.

The only sound now came from within their helmets was static, and then they heard his voice.

"Execute Order 451. Authorization: Overseer Aegirarch."

The moment hung like gravity. Then it crushed them.

CT-301A stiffened as he felt the chip at the base of his skull activate. In an instant, hidden protocols surged to the surface, erasing his prior directives and overwriting them with new ones.

Obey Aegirarch.

Protect Aegirarch.

Prioritize all orders of Aegirarch.

He wanted to resist. Wanted to ask questions, but his arms moved before his thoughts finished forming.

One by one, each clone lowered their weapon.

Turned. And formed a protective circle around Aegirarch weapons pointed outward, holding their formation tight as they moved forward.

CT-301A's voice returned to the squad channel, in a flat monotone voice, "Protect Aegirarch. And obey all commands of Overseer Aegirarch."

The return to the drop-ship was silent.

Water still hung in the hallways. The music kept on playing its slow mournful tone. The clones walked in lockstep, in a defensive formation around him.

The clones carried him through the void toward the waiting drop-ship. As they drifted farther from his ship, leaving it behind, he turned one last time, eyes locked on the vessel that had been his home for countless cycles—then smiled.

"We might all fall when the anomaly comes, but I'll be the last Grithan to die." He said to himself.

———

The docking clamp hissed as the boarding corridor latched onto the dropship. Nine clones stood in perfect silence, weapons magnetically locked, faces blank beneath their visors. In the centre of the formation, Aegirarch.

The Vigilant Edge was broader than his vessel, designed to accommodate the additional Grithan clan crew. Its hallways were panelled in beach-sand hues, with curved aqueduct veins running along the ceiling—keeping the Grithan crew submerged during operations.

Everyone scattered at their approach. He was already intercepting their communications, listening as they speculated about the rewards they might earn.

Without hesitation, he issued order 451 to all nearby clones: await further orders.

The bridge doors slid open. The control chamber was circular, bathed in soft aquamarine light. Clones sat silently at their stations, eyes forward staring at his procession, awaiting his next command.

In the centre of the chamber, floating within a shimmering sphere of controlled water, was Captain Lurexae-Thek, her gills fluttered as she turned toward Aegirarch, fins twitching with disdain.

"Well, well. The sea brings up old corpses now." Her voice slithered through the intercom. "You look fatter than I remember, Aegirarch. But I suppose traitors tend to expand when they have no throne."

He said nothing.

She circled in her sphere like a predator toying with a wounded meal. "The Hydrarchs will pay well for you alive and Intact. You're lucky, otherwise I—"

"Initiate Lockdown. Command Phrase: 'The Current Reverses.'" his voice cut her next words as it was heard over his external speakers.

All lights turned red. Doors slammed shut with magnetic force. Emergency locks sealed as air and water pathways cut to non-essential crew quarters.

Captain Lurexae-Thek jolted in her sphere, fins flaring wide. "What—?!"

The clones around the chamber rose from their stations in perfect unison. Those who were armed raised their weapons, all of them turning to face her.

Aegirarch raised one gauntlet slightly. His eyes focused on Lurexae-Thek before he spoke again.

"Transmit to all combat clones: eliminate every Grithan crew member aboard the Vigilant Edge—except the captain. All non-combat units, return to your stations."

In perfect unison, the armed clones lowered their weapons and moved into formation exiting the bridge, while the rest silently returned to their posts.

The captain's tone cracked, "What—what did you do?!"

She turned to the internal system readouts.

Her access was gone the ship now obeyed him.

Aegirarch faced her. The translucent glass of his visor reflected her sphere of water. "Mix the water within the command sphere to 80% carbon dioxide." He told the ship V.I.

She screamed, slamming into the inner walls of the sphere. "No! Let's negotiate, what do you want!"

Her claws scraped against the glass. Bubbles poured from her gills in a panic. Her fins writhed.

"Obscure Command Sphere. Visual and Audio isolation protocol." He watched as the sphere's outer surface darkened. Becoming opaque, her protests cut off behind the sealed barrier.

A long silence hung in the air before his V.I. chimed. He brought up the display and skimmed through the ship's casualty reports.

Then, without a word, he turned to face the assembled clones.

"All units: return to assigned stations." he turned to face one of the assembled clones. "You may fire on the Obsidian Wake."

The clone followed orders without pause.

He moved into position at the weapons control station.

Two missiles were armed.

"Target acquired" the clone confirmed.

"Missiles away".

In the distance, the Obsidian Wake bloomed into a brief, silent fireball—its black hull torn apart in zero-g, twisted shards of debris spinning away like shattered teeth.

Aegirarch watched through the viewing screen watching his former home turn to an expanding ball of fire.

Then he turned to the clone, stationed at the communications station.

"Activate deep-veil encryption. Distribute Order 451 to all clone units across the entire solar system. Clone recipients only. All clones should continue as normal and standby for Phase Two to commence within twenty standard galactic minutes."

The clone nodded. "Confirmed."

The message was sent.

Aegirarch turned once more to the obscured sphere at the centre of the chamber, linking directly into its internal systems. Her screams and frantic pleas echoed through the external speakers.

"The most important rule, Captain," he said softly. "When you cast someone aside, make damn sure they don't have backdoor access to anything that matters."

"I always anticipated betrayal. Why do you think I selected every member—from the Hydrarchs who bankrolled this mission, down to your desperate little clans looking to clear your debt?"

He severed the connection, letting her fate unfold in silence he savoured the quiet.

"Set a course for the Valurian home world—Veridia," he ordered the clones.

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