Chapter 114

Promises

A few days later, everyone on the ship gathered in the cargo bay for a second time.

Last time had been to go to war. This time it was to show respect for those who’d paid the price.

Carmen stood at the front, the crew assembled in loose ranks facing her. Grimnir remained near the back, present but letting the crew take point. Even Spencer had come, watching quietly from near the bulkhead.

“We’re here to honor Bradley Jones and James Carter,” Carmen began, her voice carrying across the bay. “Both served with distinction. Both died protecting this ship and everyone on it.”

She paused, her gaze sweeping the assembled crew.

“Bradley will be returned to Earth, to his family. That was his wish. James wanted something different. He told me once that if anything happened, he wanted to be released to the stars. Said he’d spent his whole life navigating them. Seemed right to stay.”

Carmen’s expression softened. “I had the privilege of working with both of them on multiple deployments. Bradley knew his systems better than anyone I’ve served with, and he was always reliable. Even under fire. As for James, well, he could always beat my course estimates by a day or more. We made a game of it during each deployment. He was the sort of guy that always triple-checked his math. Not because he doubted himself, but because he’d say that space didn’t forgive rounding errors.”

“More than that, they were good people. The kind you could be proud to serve alongside.” Carmen fell silent for a moment. “I’m honored to have known them, just as I’m saddened by their loss. But I also know that without them, without their sacrifice, the rest of us would not have made it through.”

She invited others to speak. Several crew members stepped forward to offer brief words about courage under fire, small kindnesses remembered, and the competence that kept them all alive. Even the Chief Engineer grunted out that Bradley had been ‘a good lad who knew his business.’ It was probably the highest compliment the man could give.

Then Yuki moved to the front, one hand braced against a support strut as she passed. Felix had healed the worst of the damage, but she still looked pale and exhausted.

Not even superhuman healing was free.

She stood there for a moment, gathering herself, then spoke about the trust between pilots and navigators. About friendship forged through jump calculations and combat maneuvers. About how James was supposed to see The Nexus with her, the same as they’d made it everywhere else.

Her voice caught near the end. She wiped at her face with the back of one hand.

“Would you like to perform the launch?” Carmen asked quietly.

“Yes, Captain.”

Carmen handed her the tablet. Yuki’s thumb hovered over the screen for a moment. Then she pressed.

The exterior airlock cycled. Through the reinforced viewports, they watched as the coffin holding James’ body launched, slipping away from the ship toward a distant blue star that glowed faintly in the darkness.

It would reach it eventually. Not in their lifetime, or a hundred lifetimes after. But it would get there.

When it disappeared from view, the crew remained still a while longer. Watching the darkness where it had passed.

After a long moment, Alexander stepped forward.

“Before we go, I need to say something. It’s not the best time to discuss it, but there may not be a more appropriate time either.”

Everyone’s attention turned to him.

Alexander looked across the assembled crew.

“Carmen and I talked before the invasion mission,” he said. “She pointed out something I’d been too caught up in my own problems to see clearly. Most of you didn’t sign up for combat. You joined because you needed work, or wanted a chance at power, or just wanted a fresh start somewhere the corporations couldn’t reach you.”

He paused, letting that settle.

“She asked me what happens after. If you helped us. Whether Grimnir would still look out for you and your families when things went wrong. Whether you’d matter to someone with actual power instead of just being collateral damage in someone else’s fight.”

Petra wiped her eyes and wrapped an arm around Yuki. Several other crew members shifted, the words landing.

“I told her that anyone who fought alongside us could consider themselves part of Grimnir for as long as they wanted,” Alexander continued. “That still stands. But Bradley and James dying made it clear to us we need to be more specific about what that means. And you need to hear it from us directly.”

He paused, gaze moving across the assembled faces.

“You have each earned your place here. As long as you want to continue working with us, you can. While I don’t expect you to need to risk your lives like this again, we all know how the world is changing. And I can’t guarantee it won’t happen.”

Alexander took a breath. “But beyond just simple job security, I want you to have the certainty that your families and loved ones will be looked after. That we will honor our word to you even if the worst should happen. Anyone who falls serving with Grimnir, their families, or anyone they designate, will continue to receive their full salary and benefits for twenty years. We’ll work out the exact details with Carmen, but that’s the framework. And if there should ever be a day that you need our help, the help of a bunch of supervillains, you’ll have it.”

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Dan straightened, exchanging a look with Davis.

“This isn’t charity,” Alexander said. “This is the deal. You put your lives on the line for us. It means that we’ll do the same for you. That’s part of what Grimnir stands for. This starts now, with Bradley and James.”

Carmen gave him a small nod.

The silence held for several seconds. Then Yuki spoke up from near the front, her voice quiet but steady.

“Thank you. James would have appreciated that.”

A few others murmured agreement.

Alexander nodded once, then moved back. The grief remained, but the uncertainty that had weighed on the crew since the battle had eased.

Carmen stepped forward. “Crew dismissed. Return to your stations.”

The crew began to disperse. Some lingered, talking quietly among themselves. Others headed back to their duties. Life returning to the ship in small increments.

Grimnir remained near the back as the space emptied. Spencer still stood by the bulkhead, expression unreadable as he watched the crew file out.

Once most of the crew had left, Alexander crossed the cargo bay toward him.

“Spencer,” he said. “It’s time you and I had a talk.”

***

Alexander’s workshop looked like a bomb had gone off.

The entertainment room that had once been Gabriel Santiago’s personal luxury space was barely recognizable. Workbenches covered in half-assembled components lined one wall. Metal plates, wiring, circuit boards, and tools scattered across every surface. The long table that had probably hosted expensive dinners now served as an assembly station, its polished surface scarred with welding marks and scratches in just the first week of changing owners.

One expensive leather sofa remained, shoved into the corner and buried under discarded prototype parts. The rest of the furniture had been either repurposed or stored elsewhere.

Alexander leaned against one clear section of the workbench, watching Spencer navigate the chaos toward the surviving sofa. His cousin moved carefully, avoiding a tangle of power cables snaking across the floor.

“Didn’t take you long to make yourself at home,” Spencer said, brushing metal shavings off the sofa cushion before sitting.

“It’s functional.”

“It’s a disaster zone.”

Alexander shrugged. “Augustus and Talia spent two days inscribing and enchanting plates. I spent two days installing them, resizing armor, and preparing extra drones. We didn’t have time for organization.”

Spencer’s gaze moved across the room, taking in the evidence of frantic pre-invasion work. His expression was thoughtful.

Alexander studied him for a moment. “I’m still not sure what to think about you. About your path powers.”

“That’s fair.”

“The ritual. It would have killed us if it had completed. Would have consumed every person in that city before reaching the ship. I was inside it for seconds, and it started peeling layers of flesh away.”

Spencer’s expression darkened.

“Good thing we picked up that healing power for Felix before we left,” Alexander said.

The silence stretched for a moment.

“I trust Augustus. Which means I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. That your influence didn’t make the mission harder to compensate. Didn’t get some of my crew killed,” Alexander said finally. “Even if he and I need to have a talk about keeping secrets.”

Spencer leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Go easy on him. I’ve been friends with Augustus for a long time. He was in a really awkward position.”

“How so?”

“Think about what you’d do in his place. Protect your old friend’s secret? Or tell your new friend?” Spencer paused. “Even if you’re his boss, that’s a tough thing to consider.”

Alexander’s jaw tightened. “I’m not his boss.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow.

“We’re friends,” Alexander said. “Part of a team. I might direct the plans most of the time, but that doesn’t make us anything other than equals.”

Spencer smiled. “Same with me and The Royals.”

Alexander let that settle for a moment. “Why did The Queen help us so much? What’s your plan?”

Spencer was quiet, studying him. When he spoke, his tone had shifted to something more serious.

“Let me ask you something first. Do you think you’re a supervillain?”

“Yes.”

Spencer blinked. “Really? Just like that?”

Alexander nodded. “We break the law when it’s convenient. We’ve killed, some in self-defense and some with intent. I don’t think we’re bad people, but we’re definitely supervillains.”

Spencer considered that. “I guess that’s fair. But here’s the real truth. You’re a supervillain because powerful people said you are. They made it real. In a perfect world, you wouldn’t have had to defend yourself against Santiago. Against Flashpoint. Going after people like Mercy and Ripper and Pandora should make you a hero.”

Alexander listened.

“That’s why I built The Royals,” Spencer continued. “To bring people together who are willing to cross the right lines to make things better. To prepare for what’s coming.”

“And what is coming?”

Spencer closed his eyes. “I’m not a prophet myself, obviously. I can’t see the future. But the people who do? Most of them are bloody crazy because it keeps changing. Daily, sometimes in minutes. Most things aren’t fixed.”

“Most things?”

“Yeah.” Spencer’s laugh was dry. “Most powerful organizations have seers on payroll. You’d probably be surprised to learn most of them were math professors and accountants. People good with patterns and probabilities.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow. The one he’d met had struck him as a drug addict, not a professor.

“They figured out years back that something was coming,” Spencer said. “Something big. And it did. The System revealed itself and started all this chaos. But that’s just the first fixed point they see. There’s a second. And a third.”

Alexander waited.

“The second fixed point involves Earth itself. The invasions might be part of it, or maybe they’re just the beginning. Either way, everything changes. Corporations, governments, nations. All of it.”

Spencer gestured vaguely. “That’s partly why we set up the station. Why King has been busy on Mars for the past half decade working with others to build habitats and make things ready. Why do you think the mega-corps are building their own utopias? Same reason.”

Alexander processed that. Planetary upheaval. Everything they knew, upended. Mars habitats. Corporate exodus to other worlds. It painted a picture he didn’t particularly like.

“And the third?”

Spencer’s expression shifted. The casualness dropped away entirely. When he met Alexander’s eyes, there was something almost apologetic in his gaze.

“Demigods. Deities. Ascendants. Divines. Pick whatever term feels right.” He paused. “Waging war across Earth. Or maybe multiple Earths. The seers aren’t entirely clear on that part.”

Alexander felt something cold settle in his chest.

“And we know who some of them are going to be. Or are supposed to be. The Star Eater. The Grand Architect. The Lost Prophet. The Eternal Flame. The Broken Crown. The Pinnacle of Man.”

He paused for a moment, then continued. “The Dragon Lord… The Machine God.”

The workshop fell quiet. Just the low hum of the ship’s systems and the faint buzz of power running through nearby equipment.

Alexander’s hands tightened against the edge of the workbench.

Spencer met his gaze. “We didn’t know who any of them were, just their titles. Until Benny met you.”

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