1 The Terror of the Stars (1/2)

Space.

A place of literally endless wonders.

It doesn't matter where one is, one will always have the ability to look up and gaze at the stars of the night sky.

To wonder if one will ever one day reach the stars.

Miles was one of those lucky enough to reach the stars.

And what he discovered was that the 'space beyond' was not as 'wondrous' as he originally thought.

In the middle of an irradiated wasteland, a fierce battle was taking place.

Behind the cover of his 'portable shield,' Miles was able to ignore the constant enemy fire and instead kept all of his attention on one of his comrades.

One of his comrades that was currently dying.

”Come on! Come on! Stick with me!”

As the sounds of explosions and fighting continued on in the background, Miles was fervently attempting to keep his comrade alive and conscious.

He already gave him stim-packs but for 'that' sort of injury, stim-packs won't be enough to save him.

”Just stick with me! The medics will be arriving shortly!”

When his comrade heard Miles's pleas, he only gave a short chuckle before he responded.

”I know you... love me... but this is a bit over the top don't you think?”

After Miles's comrade said that, he went to chuckle only to cough up blood instead, staining his previously pristine white exo-suit in the process.

Seeing, this Miles couldn't help but grit his teeth together in what he felt to be a mix of joy, fear, sadness and anger as he replied to his comrade.

”Come on Clayton! This isn't the time to be joking around! This is serious!”

”But this is the perfect time to be joking around. If you aren't going to do your job properly, why should I?”

Clayton spoke as if his pair of missing legs and the large hole which pierced both his exo-suit and chest were none existent. Although missing legs could be easily 'remedied' by a pair of prosthetic cybernetic legs, one still had to remain alive for the procedure to succeed.

There was no point in giving a pair of legs to a dead body after all.

And judging from Clayton's current state, he probably won't even last another hour.

Despite his cybernetic enhancements, there was nothing one can do about a punctured vital organ in the midst of battle. Especially in an irradiated wasteland like this one.

If anything, the cybernetics which kept Clayton 'alive' were more likely to be prolonging his pain rather than actually saving him.

With whatever was left of his strength, Clayton placed his hands on Miles's shoulder.

”Listen, I'm not the one that matters here. You know how important your role is. If you let me slow you down now, then what is the point of being here in the first place?”

Although Miles knew that Clayton was correct, he just couldn't accept it.

Miles knew the risks of the mission, and Clayton knew them as well.

It's just that he did not really account for how he would feel once things truly turned south.

And it would seem that Clayton noticed these emotions swirling within Miles as well.

With a weak voice, Clayton firmly urged Miles to leave him.

”Please, if you really cared about me, then you would leave me. The medics will pick me up and I will see you when this is over. That much I can promise.”

Although Clayton spoke with sincerity and confidence in his voice, all Miles had to do was look deep into Clayton's eyes to see the truth.

Clayton was lying.

Clayton knew he was going to die and so did Miles.

And with that in mind, Miles opened up his mouth in an attempt to respond.

”But-”

”Miles you know that he's right.”

Just before Miles could refute Clayton, he was instead interrupted by a voice originating in his head. Or more specifically, the communication chip that was imbedded into his head that allowed for instantaneous communication on a limited scale.

That 'voice' in his head actually belonged to Alessia, another one of Miles's comrades and a member of his team, the 'Nova Squadron;' an elite team of B+class psionics which existed to deal with only the gravest threats to the United Planets of America.

While gritting his teeth together, Miles spoke both to Clayton and Alessia at the same time.

”But I can't just leave him here in the middle of nowhere to die!”

However, the response he got from both of them was just heartbreaking as everything that Clayton said before.

”But that's exactly what you're going to have to do.”

Soon after Clayton and Alessia gave Miles their response, the former proceeded to point his finger in the direction behind Miles before speaking up.

”Either way, the enemy doesn't give a fuck about you or your feelings or what you 'can't' or 'can' do. Look.”

When Miles heard this, he immediately turned around only to notice that the sounds of fighting has completely disappeared.

Both from his side and the enemy's.

Although he knew it was a risk, Miles recalled the portable cover back into his arm only to find that the 'battle' has paused entirely.

As if there was never a battle in the first place.

The silhouettes of the enemy's forces appeared to remain passive and docile, as if they were waiting for something.

And when Miles took a glance at his allies; the 'United Planet's Military,' they similarly appeared to remain passive and docile. There was no doubt that either they were ordered to cease fire from command or they were completely awestruck but some amazing sight.

And it didn't take long for Miles to realise what this 'amazing sight' was.

Bordering near the horizon he saw it.

A large bolt of continuous bright green lightning that seemed to originate not from the clouds of the sky but from the grounds of the wasteland instead.

That green lightning was characteristic of one psionic and one psionic only.

Cynthia; the first True Synth.

The first real, functioning 'True Synth' since the original 'Synth genocide' and subsequent prohibition of the creation of Synths thousands of years ago.

However, to people like Miles, Cynthia was known with another moniker.

'The Harbinger of Doom.'

”Shit, Alessia are you seeing this?”

”You think I don't? I'm coming over.”