Condition Evolution 3: A LitRPG / Gamelit Adventure by Kevin Sinclair (early readers .TXT) 📗

“Yeah, I get that about you guys. Thanks for your understanding about where I’m coming from, and I’ll try my best to acknowledge your culture as much as I can within the Uprising. Only, if we recycle Veiletian bodies in the future, I’ll have to find a way to divert you from the FSU. I’ve a bad history with that kinda shit, and I’m not going back to it.”

Hwista laughed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Captain Shaun, but I do trust you. If there’s anything that needs doing that your human emotions make difficult, please let me know. If it is the right course of action, I will carry out whichever task you see fit.”

“Wow. This isn’t how I saw this conversation going, but thanks Hwista. Now go on and take over from Miraek. I get the feeling they could do with a break.”

“I will, but I doubt it. They would have taken rest as they needed it. Veiletians do not have sleep cycles. We can rest for seconds and minutes at a time. As long as we hit a certain time scale, over 40 or so hours, we are fine.”

“Really? That’s fucking brilliant. Wish I could do that. Once my head hits the pillow I’m basically dead for eight hours, and if I don't get those hours I’m unbearable.”

“You have my sympathy, yet you seem to navigate your shortcomings very well.”

“I try. Oh, and thanks again Hwista.”

With that, they turned and left. I had to admit the conversation both eased my conscience and made me nervous as hell about the Veiletians. Those fuckers were cold as ice. Still, they balanced the crew out nicely, along with the Torax, who had none of that coldness. They were fiery and emotional, but when you’re laser-proof and can shoot fire, you can do as you damn well please.

I sat in my extremely comfy chair mulling over our people, what we were trying to do and how well it was working. As well as the fact that last year I was a fat-ass on a couch who’d almost given up on life. Ogun had royally screwed me at the same time as he had elevated me into an existence that was like living an amazing book or movie. I knew how bad life could be, and that I'd been given an unbelievable second chance. Those Fystr could go fuck themselves. Gus was right; only one person had brought this on and it sure as shit wasn’t me. But I was going to end it, someday, somehow.

When the time for the memorial ceremony came, we all moved to the Uprising’s loading bay, which was the only place that could hold the whole crew comfortably. There was a big screen showing each other ship’s loading bay, too, so when I spoke, everyone would hear me. Astrid and Rufus would also be speaking.

I said a fuck-ton of words, but honestly, I don’t want to bore you with them. It was morose, and I didn’t really know any of the fallen that well, which means you didn't know them either because I’ve never spoken about any of them before. Let’s just say it was really sad and the dead got a dignified send off. Although the thought that I was now breathing in our recycled warriors was strange.

C20

It was a Stupid Idea Anyway!

Beler 3103 lay near the outer limit of the Perseus system. I think we all took a collective gasp when we saw it. I could barely get my head around the fact that an artificial structure could be so vast; it was essentially a planet, with arm-like projections reaching into space both horizontally and vertically, giving it a feeling of further enormity. And to top it all off, there must have been a thousand ships in orbit.

We had the Seshat lead us in, as it was Rufus who had negotiated the deal for the contract and who knew most about the situation we were entering. I was really fucking nervous about it now. I hadn’t spoken to Rufus about what had happened at the supply station, but I wasn't exactly pleased about it. As horrible as it was, I just didn’t trust him anymore. He was either an incompetent idiot, or he wasn’t working with the Uprising’s best intentions at heart. I hadn’t brought it up with anyone yet, I just wanted to keep watching him for now.

Thankfully, nothing went awry; we weren’t attacked out of hand, which was a relief. We called up a joint meeting between the ships to hear what Rufus had found out from his contact with the fleet.

“I’ve spoken with Fleet Admiral Mollissan. Beler 3103 has been retaken from enemy aliens. They attacked from what is known as the Dark Sector, whatever that is, sir,” he said, overly respectfully, probably because of our altercation over Fystr amnesty. He needed to do a seamless job here, or I would be putting someone else in charge of the Seshat.

I pushed that from my mind for the moment to ask: “What exactly is the Dark Sector, then?”

“I didn’t ask because it was spoken as if I should know. I didn’t want to appear ignorant. I intend to ask some of our alien crew members. Perhaps you could do the same?”

“Yeah, I will. I thought the Galactic Empire covered everything that wasn’t controlled by the Fystr?”

“As did I. It seems we don’t know everything this galaxy has to offer. What I have learnt is that we are on the border of the Dark Sector. Beler 3103 has always laid in Galactic Empire territory, until a recent attack by the Dark Sector aliens. The Empire retaliated quickly and reclaimed it.”

“So do they even need us now?” I was confused. This was a seriously odd scenario.

“Yes, they’re expecting a fleet from the Dark Sector to retake the station. So they’re building their current fleet up, making it large enough to