Tanwen’s exit ramp descended painfully slowly. Beneath his groundsuit’s sleek, black helm, Malan licked at dry lips and tried to distract himself by focusing in on the changes his suit had experienced since he’d worn it last. It was still made up of the strange flexible alloy that had encased him on Mykeser, only now its jet black panels were trimmed in fiery amber.

  The panels and material certainly had the feel of being sturdier, more resilient, and yet had lost none of their flexibility; and the suits muscular enhancement capabilities, whilst not feeling significantly greater, definitely felt more responsive to his own thoughts and natural movements. His reaction times were quicker. More instantaneous.

  His gauntlets had changed too. No longer blocky attachments to his wrists, but curved, rounded arm guards, each possessing more refined versions of the weapons he’d used before. He’d never seen them, but his connection with Tanwen gave him an almost instinctual knowledge of his own equipment’s capabilities.

  Without ever activating them, he knew his melee attachments would now produce a trio of plasma blades from each fist; or that his ranged weapons could now be overcharged for greater power at a small risk of overheating.

  As the metal ramp thunked against the landing pad floor, Malan wished he’d thought to test them out before arrival. He didn’t expect to use them whilst here, of course, but he hadn’t expected to have to use them on Mykeser, either.

  “Ready, Malan?” Tarai muttered from behind him.

  Malan grimaced behind his darkened helm but nodded. His auditory inputs were currently registering the sound of the hangar and processing it into usable data—namely that since landing, the number of people on the hangar gantry pointing and gossiping had more than doubled now word of his arrival had spread.

  “You’d think they’d have better things to do,” he grumbled, and Tarai laughed softly.

  “How long has it been since the last new Starbound? Decades? If you were working here as one of them, would you have missed it if you could possibly help it?”

  “Not on your life.”

  “Then cut them a little slack. They stare and point because this is a big deal to them. Most people never live to see a Starbound, and if they do, it’s because that Starbound is the reason they or their loves ones have survived the worst day of their lives. Naturally, some will snipe and gossip, but that singular fact is at the core of every single reaction.”

  “I get it, I really do. It’s just a very different feeling, actually being at the centre of it all. My focus had always been on the actual meat of the job, other people’s reactions had never really been a factor. This was going to be challenging enough, even without all of these extra eyes.”

  Tarai lay a hand on his shoulder. “Today, we won’t be in a public arena for very long, and I will be doing a good amount of the actual talking—all you need to do is take everything in and keep up an appearance of confidence. You will get used to it, but until then, you’re gonna have to grit your teeth and bear it. This attention isn’t going anywhere.”

  He sighed, but squared his shoulders anyway. “I know. Really, I do. I think I just needed to get it out of my system before we did this. Thanks for listening to me complain.”

  “Just doing my job,” Tarai said with a slight grin. “Shall we?”

  “My Dad always used to say it’s better to do a task than live with the fear of it. There’s enough people out there that would to control me, without adding my own fear to that list.”

  An image of his sister flashed through his mind alongside the impulse to reach out to her, and was followed immediately by the gut-twisting fear of what her reaction to that might be. He quashed it by taking his first step forward onto the landing ramp, and trying to focus fully on his own surroundings, regardless of how his brain whispered accusations of hypocrisy at him.

  One fear at a time.

  The chorus of muttered whispers grew into a storm of noise as he finally emerged into a haze of flashing camera lights, pointing fingers and breathy, excited conversations. The walkways above were filling still with ever more people, each coming to lay eyes on the new Starbound, steal a picture of him, or perhaps even provoke him into a response.

  Malan kept his eyes locked forward, directly at the cleared central staircase, even as cries of Starbound and a thousand indecipherable questions echoed together around him. He was glad for his helmet’s visor hiding his face—and his discomfort—all of a sudden, and he used its cover to begin to scan the walkways above for any threats.

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  It was hard to pick out individuals. The crowd was heaving, and only a dozen security officers on either walkway stopped the crowd from spilling down onto the central staircase and into the hangar. This was fortunate, as two figures emerged from the hallway at its peak, and begun to walk down the stairs before him.

  The first held his hands in tight fists. His short cropped, black hair was peppered with grey, and his face appeared carved from hard rock. His military fatigues gave him away as UGC navy, well-pressed and charcoal grey; but the plethora of well-polished medals and awards adorning his right breast signposted his importance about as clearly as possible.

  The other seemed to almost float down the stair, his trailing violet-trimmed, shimmering black robes hiding his feet as he walked. His hood shielded his eyes and prominent facial features, but even beneath its cover, Malan could see a crooked, slightly hooked nose and the vaguely wrinkled and weathered skin of an older man.

  Malan didn’t recognise the latter, but the former he recognised immediately. General Kieran Vos. A hero of several Abyssal Incursions but, significantly, he was currently the ranking officer that worked most closely with the Starbound. If the UGC had a job for him, it would be Vos that issued the commands. Just about everybody in UGC space knew this man’s face, as he was also the one who would debrief the press after an operation involving Starbound became public knowledge.

  To Malan, however, he was the man that had commanded the relief mission to the Jauda. It had been his men that had helped him carry his sister onto their ships, and his men that had destroyed each and every one of those creatures after they’d been gone. Vos himself had never spoken a word to him personally, but he’d been told the man was also the one who had ordered the almost total press blackout in the weeks and months, and that his and Isolde’s name be redacted from public records.

  As they drew close, he noticed the other man quicken his pace, stepping across the General and reaching out a willowy hand for Malan shake with a wide smile.

  “Honoured Starbound. It is my greatest pleasure to welcome you to the Celestial Nexus, the spiritual home of those who serve within your ranks. I am hoping we can be of great help and support to you from this time forward.”

  Malan nodded and shook the man’s hand back, though his eyes narrowed beneath his visor. That was an awful lot of words to say so little.

  “Sorry,” he said, breaking his silence. He was aware Tarai may want to take responsibility here, but he found himself oddly rankled by the pseudo courtesy. Plus he figured if he was being addressed directly, it was fair game for him to speak for himself. “To whom am I speaking?”

  The man let go of his hands and dipped his head. “Apologies for my rudeness. I am Varesh Kain.”

  Another incomplete answer. Malan didn’t know whether it was intentional or not, but Kain was giving him nothing more than he absolutely had to. He felt Tarai shift from just behind him, and realised that there was every chance she would be able to tell him more later, so instead he simply turned his attention to the General.

  If Kain’s little step in front had irritated the man, he wasn’t showing it. That wasn’t to say he didn’t look irritated—the man looked as though he was chewing glass—but as far as Malan was aware, he’d always looked like that.

  This time, it was Malan’s hand that extended first, and the general eyed it as though Malan was trying to hand him a live grenade. “General Vos. I always hoped I’d meet you properly. I wanted to be able to thank you for your actions on, and after, the Jauda. Me and my family appreciated it.”

  The general’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but he recovered quickly and shook Malan’s hand, albeit a little harder than was strictly necessary.

  “You give away your identity too easily.”

  “Perhaps. I do not know you personally, but your actions have meant a lot to me. At the very least I owed you my name.”

  Despite not being able to see his eyes, Vos held his gaze for a half-second longer. The man towered above him, and Malan supposed that should have been intimidating. Perhaps it was his new-found power, but he didn’t feel smaller than the general in the slightest.

  “Perhaps,” Kain interrupted smoothly, his age not harshening a voice smooth as butter even a small amount. “We should take our dealings somewhere more private? We have much to do and little time in which to do it.”

  Where the General had been unphased by either of Kain’s interruptions, the older man’s expression and tone had soured somewhat after seeing the difference between his own and Vos’ interaction with him.

  “Fine by me,” Malan answered, simply. “Lead the way.”

  Kain shot him an ingratiating smile, and began walking them up the stairs, talking idly about how pleased the Nexus was to have him, and how special it was that he had come from outside ‘Ascension’, the Nexus’ own training Academy in a tone that one could easily interpret as backhanded.

  Malan only half listened. Instead, he was focused on the prickling of static running across his skin, up his arms and down his back. He knew the feeling. He’d felt it on the Jauda, and when he’d first bonded with Tanwen. Most recently, he’d felt it immediately before seeing the Namhai for the first time in person.

  Celestial energy.

  He shifted, trying to surreptitiously look around, and found the source quickly, his blood running cold. The far, left-side corner of the walkway above blazed with a light that he knew only he could see. Waves and waves of power, so blinding he could barely see what lay behind it. He didn’t have to see, he could feel the source of it, and knew it immediately for another Starbound.

  A man leaned against the wall in the very epicentre of the light, hooded so only small, vicious smirk remained beneath.

  Malan’s next step faltered as he took in the full scope of the power on display. It dwarfed anything he’d ever seen before, far outstripping his own. He blinked as Vos put a hand to his back, steering him onward up the stairs, and on a second look the man, and the light, were gone.