Page 52 of Stars in Nova

The mess was filled with the murmur of voices, the clatter of cutlery, and the occasional bark of laughter.

Beyond, the core situ room was ringed with walls where maps and charts were pinned.

A holo flickered, displaying a rotating three-dimensional map of the cavern system and the contested surface above.

Soldiers stood before the displays, gesturing as they discussed strategies and troop movements.

Past the armory was an expansive chamber repurposed as a training ground.

Stone targets lined one wall, etched with scorch marks from countless practice sessions.

Troops drilled while squad leaders hovered, monitoring their progress, shouting to keep them on their toes.

In one corner, recruits sparred with wooden staffs, their strikes precise as they honed their hand-to-hand combat skills.

The barracks were modest but functional.

Rows of cots, each with a simple trunk at the foot for personal belongings, lined the walls. The scent of sweat and damp fabric lingered in the atmosphere.

Soldiers sat on their beds, some sharpening blades or mending gear, others writing letters or staring at holo-pictures of loved ones.

Despite the harsh conditions, there was an air of camaraderie, a silent strength that bound them together, the ambiance infused with an undercurrent of hope and defiance.

The Vaelorii shared quiet jokes, their laughter spreading to card tables and game boards and their voices rising in playful banter.

In another corner, a young recruit strummed a makeshift stringed instrument.

His haunting melody carried through the cavern.

Reminding them the garrison wasn’t just a base but a testament to the Vaelorii’s moxie.

Deep under the surface, they forged their resolve, preparing for the battles ahead.

Samira entered the engineering lab and arsenal depot, a sprawling space carved from the rock. Its walls were lined with improvised workstations and salvaged cyborg parts.

The armory was a hive of precision and purpose.

Rows of racks held sleek laser rifles and modified blasters designed to amplify the Vaelorian’s fluid kinetics.

Soldiers queued up to check out equipment, their voices blending with the sharp metallic clicks of weapons being calibrated.

Samira approached a long-haired, elfin female.

The woman wore a utility jumpsuit and sturdy boots, and her skin was covered in stunning aqueous ink. She examined a device under a microscope beside a pile of wires and metallic components.

Sharin was the army’s head engineer. Constantly on the move, she barked orders as her team worked on creating new prototypes.

Disassembled firearms were spread across her workbenches, their intricate parts exposed.

Samira locked gazes with her close friend and smiled.

‘How’s it going?’ Samira murmured, hoping for a breakthrough.

Sharin scowled, her face smudged with soot, her narrowed eyes betraying her frustration. ‘Fokk, Sam, not well. The mask is beyond me. Whatever kinetic tech it’s built on, it’s like nothing I’ve seen before. It’s dormant, but every time I try to wake it, it resists.’

Samira’s shoulders sagged.

The Rider’s artifact had been her last desperation—an artifact of immense potency that could play havoc with the control software binding the cyborgs to Marius’s will.

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