Day 185. Year 988. 41st Millennium
Planet: Opel III
Hive Kathion
The Hive Spire
The ascent to the absolute apex of the Hive City had begun. The gargantuan transit lift—plushly lined with reflective golden alloy plating, polished crystal-glass paneling, and decorated with sickening opulence—carried them upward toward the Hive Spire. This was an isolated, heavily fortified domain reserved strictly for the ruling class, high-born nobility, and the most powerful figures of the planet.
The higher the lift climbed, the more the stale, soot-choked air of the lower Upper Hive receded. It was rapidly replaced by pure, heavily filtered oxygen pumped through advanced ventilation grids, bringing with it the faint, delicate aroma of high-grade incense and synthetic floral perfumes. It was a level of luxury Eric was entirely unaccustomed to. Far from relaxing him, the unfamiliar, high-class environment only caused his anxiety to spike.
The weight of his current predicament combined with the sheer alien nature of his surroundings left him incredibly tense. In stark contrast, the Colonel stood beside him completely unfazed, showing not a single hint of nervousness about ascending into the sacred territory of the Spire.
When the lift doors finally hissed open, revealing a sweeping, cavernous Spire concourse, Eric couldn't stop himself from scanning the surroundings. Here, the grand Gothic architecture wasn't crumbling, decaying, or hastily patched over like it was in the Lower Hive; nor was it a rare sight hidden behind industrial pipe-works like in his residential sector.
In the Spire, the imperial grandeur was everywhere. The massive structures resembled ancient, fantastical fortresses woven seamlessly into Imperial architecture. Flawlessly polished marble pillars were carved with intricate devotional reliefs, while gleaming statues of Saintly Angels and the God-Emperor stood immaculate without a speck of dust. The ambient lighting was bright yet remarkably warm. Everything here was curated to look absolutely perfect.
The crowds here weren't dense like on the lower levels. Only scattered gatherings of high-born nobility, administratum officials, and wealthy citizens dressed in lavish, flowing vestments strolled across the plazas. Then, Eric caught sight of something else...
_No way... am I losing my mind?_ Eric thought to his core, staring wide-eyed as a vehicle resembling a vintage, early-20th-century Mercedes-Benz—retrofitted with powerful commercial aircraft thrusters instead of wheels—soared gracefully above the high-altitude transit lanes.
For a brief moment, his lingering anxieties faded, replaced by sheer wonder at the marvels of the Spire... until he noticed the eyes.
Nobles, high officials, and wealthy high-born citizens clad in extravagant, loudly colored silks and ruffled fabrics froze in their tracks as they passed, turning their heads to look at him. Eric stiffened under their collective gaze. The sheer disgust in their eyes was unmistakable; they looked at him as if he were a pile of wet, rotting refuse that had been left to fester in a dark alleyway for weeks.
Eric subtly ground his teeth, pulling the collar of his soot-stained grey trench coat tighter around his throat. Even though he tried his best to act natural and blend into the background, the metallic stench of dried blood, stale sweat, and four days of accumulated Lower Hive grime clung to his skin. It practically screamed to everyone in the vicinity that he was nothing more than a stray dog from the lower depths who had accidentally wandered into paradise.
_This feels absolutely miserable_ he grumbled inwardly for the hundredth time. He had thought Beryon Le Bon's condescension toward the lower classes was bad, but the sheer, effortless arrogance radiating from these Spire denizens made Le Bon look downright charitable. This crushing feeling of inferiority, combined with the dread of his upcoming meeting with Vann, made his stomach churn violently.
Memories of the Sanguinalia festival night rushed back to haunt him. He remembered Vann's deceptive, charming smile and the warm, friendly facade that had tricked him and his friends into lowering their guard—right before Vann violently tore off the mask in that dark alleyway, forcing Eric into submission and saddling him with a life-debt that could never be repaid.
Now, Vann was no longer just a cunning, silver-tongued childhood friend. The man was a newly appointed General commanding the local Planetary Defence Force (PDF) stationed right here in Hive Kathion. He was an individual wielding supreme authority—calculating, cold, completely unpredictable, and entirely willing to shatter anyone who stood in the way of his ambitions.
Eric tightly balled his fists inside the pockets of his trench coat, his heart hammering against his ribs in a volatile mix of residual anger and fear. *Why does he want to see me now? The first contract was completed successfully, wasn't it? Did I screw something up? Or does he have another suicidal mission lined up for me?*
For the first time since surviving the ordeal below, Eric felt completely out of his depth. He had absolutely no idea what kind of expression to wear or what his first words should be when forced to face Vann as his official, de facto master.
"Don't be so rigid, Erica," Colonel Drago muttered softly, maintaining his lead. "It's merely a brief debrief. This sort of thing happened frequently back when he was still running the gang. To put it in terms you'd understand... consider it his unique way of showing appreciation. You should be pleased."
"I wish it were that simple, Colonel..." Eric replied in a hushed, strained whisper, inhaling deeply to steady his nerves.
He was no longer the naive civilian who could be easily terrorized into submission in a dark alleyway. He had pulled triggers, watched people die, and navigated his way through the lethal crossfire of the criminal underworld. A rational voice in his mind told him that panic would solve nothing. He had to endure and adapt, just as he had done every single day since waking up in this wretched universe.
_Vann's unique way of showing appreciation..._Eric mused bitterly. The Colonel's attempt at reassurance only fueled his paranoia. What did "appreciation" even look like coming from a sociopath like Vann?
Eventually, Colonel Drago brought him to a halt before a set of colossal, solid hardwood double doors carved with the likeness of the twin-headed Imperial Aquila. A pair of PDF sentries clad in carapace armor flanked the entrance. They snapped into a crisp salute for Drago before hauling the heavy doors open.
The atmosphere inside the sprawling office was utterly silent and frigid, a stark contrast to the bustling opulence outside. Three to four heavy bookshelves lined the walls, meticulously organized. Massive tactica maps detailing the geography of Planet Opel III dominated the walls, while one entire side of the room consisted of reinforced crystal-glass windows, offering a breathtaking view of the Hive City stretching endlessly below.
And sitting at a massive wooden desk cluttered with paperwork right in the center of the room... was Vann Korvax.
He wasn't wearing his full combat armor. Instead, he wore a tailored dress uniform that closely resembled that of a high-ranking historical French officer, far more ornate and distinctive than anything worn by standard PDF commanders. His handsome features, etched with a natural cunning and absolute authority, were focused entirely on a ledger in his hands. Then, his single remaining eye flicked up to perceive his visitors.
Vann's gaze swept coldly over Eric from head to toe—taking in the tattered, filthy trench coat, the soot-smeared face, and the rigid posture Eric was using to mask his deep anxiety. It was a purely clinical, calculating evaluation, devoid of any warmth, affection, or human empathy.
To Eric, it felt exactly like a mechanic inspecting a tool that had just been returned from a stress test.
Eric swallowed hard, the lump in his throat feeling like lead. Any lingering hope of immediately returning to the safety of his hab-unit evaporated on the spot. He forced his vocal cords to remain steady, bracing himself for whatever next trial this man was about to inject into his already complicated life.
"Welcome back, Erica. Congratulations. Your performance during this contract exceeded my baseline projections by a small margin," Vann said. His voice was utterly detached, formal, and deadpan. Yet, Eric couldn't deny that Vann's commanding aura perfectly suited his rank as General.
"Thank you, Lord General," Eric replied formally, his voice trembling slightly despite his best efforts to conceal his immense tension.
"There is no need for such rigidity in my presence. Tell me... can you deduce why I have summoned you here today?" Vann asked, leaning back into his leather chair while keeping his piercing gaze locked onto Eric, studying the young woman before him with absolute scrutiny.
"Uh... I would assume you called me here to discuss the specifics and the outcome of the mission in private, My Lord," Eric answered, his voice wavering with anxiety. He couldn't understand why a part of him had foolishly hoped Vann might actually just praise him like the Colonel had suggested. He wisely chose not to utter that thought aloud, knowing it would be foolish to assume any kindness from the man.
"That is partially correct, but it does not encompass the entire truth," Vann said, resting his elbows on the desk and interlocking his fingers.
"I am well aware that you are a resilient individual capable of surviving the realities of the Lower Hive on your own. Yet, you managed to execute a highly problematic assignment with nothing but basic combat training. It reassures me that my initial investment in you was correct."
Hearing those words, Eric ground his teeth, a spark of resentment flaring up in his chest. He knew full well—both from observing Vann and from hearing his inner circle speak—that this bastard viewed him as nothing more than a tool, a disposable pawn on a grand chessboard. Everything Vann had ever done for him... pretending to be his close friend, saving his life, granting him Upper Hive citizenship... it was all a calculated play for political and tactical leverage.
Hearing that cold reality confirmed straight from Vann's mouth once again filled him with bitter resentment, even if it was masked under a layer of professional military discipline.
"In the standard cycle of operations, the deployments you face in the future will be exponentially more hazardous than your initial assignment. However, I recognize your inherent potential. Focus on your training, maintain optimal readiness, and refine your capabilities. Do not disappoint me."
"Understood, My Lord," Eric replied, striving to keep his tone as flat and compliant as possible, though a deep dread about his future took root in his mind.
In truth, he had mentally accepted his grim reality ever since Vann had first dropped his mask and revealed his true nature, but that realization did nothing to make the incoming horrors any easier to stomach.
"As for a minor commendation for the successful completion of your maiden deployment, I deem you worthy of a reward," Vann stated. He drew a physical cash ledger from his desk, smoothly penned his official signature, and authorized a draft for the sum of $100,000$ Calf He then neatly folded the slip and slid it into an envelope.
Despite the thick, suffocating tension of the meeting, Eric's heart skipped a beat at the sheer scale of the sum. That amount of currency was equivalent to nearly ten months of hard, grueling labor at his accounting firm. It went a long way toward dulling the emotional ache of his predicament.
_Even if I'm trapped under his thumb and forced to risk my neck doing wetwork I despise... at least the hazard pay is astronomical,_he reasoned.
"Thank you, My L—" Eric began, the gratitude slipping out instinctively. But before he could finish the sentence, Vann raised a hand, cutting him off mid-word.
"Do not rush your departure just yet. I possess one final token for you." Vann reached beneath his desk drawer and produced a small glass specimen jar filled with what Eric recognized to be agricultural seeds. However, they looked entirely unlike any flora he had ever seen, indicating they were undoubtedly xenos in origin.
"I am quite certain you will find this to your liking. This particular strain requires minimal hydration. Ensure it is preserved and cultivated with care," Vann instructed, placing the seeds into the envelope before sliding it across the desk toward Eric.
"Thank you, My Lord," Eric replied, reaching out to secure the envelope and slipping it deep into the pocket of his trench coat.
"You need not offer gratitude for such trivialities. You are dismissed to your quarters for mandatory rest. May the God-Emperor preserve you," Vann said, waving a hand in dismissal before crossing his thumbs to form the sign of the Aquila over his chest.
"May He preserve you, My Lord."
With that, Eric turned and practically marched out of the office, letting out a massive, ragged sigh of relief the moment the heavy doors clicked shut behind him. The oppressive, suffocating atmosphere of the room instantly vanished, replaced by an intoxicating sense of relief he hadn't felt in days. Right outside, leaning against the polished corridor wall, Colonel Drago was waiting for him.
"How did it go, Erica? Everything went smoothly, I presume?" the Colonel asked, a genuine note of paternal concern in his voice as he stepped forward, looking as though he had been genuinely worried Eric might have faced a harsh reprimand or worse.
"Everything went well, Colonel... though it was incredibly suffocating," Eric answered honestly, tailoring his words just enough to maintain his feminine facade.
"Excellent. Well then, you are free to return to your quarters and rest," the Colonel said, pivoting on his heel to walk down the opposite corridor from where they had arrived. It was a clear indication that the old soldier's destination lay elsewhere.
Eric froze on the spot, a sudden wave of panic washing over him. Although he had tried his best to memorize the route through the Hive Spire on the way up, it was his first time ever setting foot here. The sheer distraction of the flying vehicles and grand architecture had shattered his focus, leaving his mental map completely blank. If he attempted to navigate his way back to the mag-lev lifts to reach the Upper Hive alone, he would get hopelessly lost within minutes—or worse, be arrested by Spire security forces under suspicion of being a lower-hive intruder.
"Uh... Colonel!" Eric called out loudly before the older man could disappear around the junction.
The Colonel halted, glancing back over his shoulder at the young woman who remained glued to the floor, refusing to take a single step forward.
"Is there an issue?" the Colonel inquired, his tone laced with amusement. A single glance at Eric's stiff posture told the experienced soldier exactly what the problem was: she was completely lost.
"This is... my first time inside the Hive Spire. I'm terrified I'll lose my way, Colonel," Eric admitted truthfully, his voice tinged with embarrassment but carried by a firm necessity. "Would you... mind escorting me back to the main transit lifts?"
"Very well," the Colonel chuckled softly, turning back around to stride down the hallway they had originally traversed. Without wasting a single second, Eric quickly fell into step right behind him, keeping as close to the old soldier as possible.