One by one, Dr Medea called out the cadets using a device on her wrist. Some of the chosen were stricken with terror, attempting to flee before the officers guarding the exits caught them. Forced into line beside me and the other unfortunate souls, they joined the two idiots—Sam and Zero.
"You two are idiots," I whispered harshly to them.
"Well, sorry for trying to help," Sam huffed, his cocky attitude unshaken.
"We barely know each other. You had no reason to help me. How were you going to assist, Sam? We take the exam separately. There's no way for you to help me. All we can do is watch each other die."
"I still know you better than anyone else," Sam replied, his voice as unfazed as ever, even with death looming. "Plus, if the worst gets chosen, why shouldn't the best be too?"
I scoffed audibly, rolling my eyes, while Zero asked, "How long did you know you were signed up for the Constellation program? We only heard about it today."
"A few months. Traveler told me," I answered.
Zero shook his head in disbelief. "And you didn't run away? What's so special about the Constellation Knights? Do you know anything about them?"
"The best way to describe a Constellation Knight is a demigod of war. Unique, forged from lost technologies of the past. In the three thousand years of the Empire's history, only fifty are known to exist since the first was made one-thousand years ago. Each one possesses unique traits, some lost to time, others captured from enemies of the Empire—or vice versa." I explained, my voice carrying the weight of history.
Sam whistled in awe as the last of the thirty cadets, selected for the program, lined up at the far end of the group. Dr Medea stepped aside from the microphone, and Marshal Haslein, with a commanding voice, instructed the remaining cadets to follow the officers into a corridor, leading them out of the hall.
Minutes later, the hall emptied, leaving only the officers, Dr Medea, and Marshal Haslein watching over us. The thirty cadets, now lined up, were growing increasingly anxious, each one silently praying it was all just a bad dream.
"Officers, direct the children to follow me," Dr Medea ordered, and four officers began ushering us up a flight of stairs behind the theatre's curtains.
The stairs seemed to stretch on forever—rising, then straightening, before rising again until we were nearly at the ceiling.
As I looked over the railing, I saw the cadets below entering the hall, unaware of our presence. They approached a pedestal, placing their hands on it, and were each assigned a number. The number, I realized, corresponded to the knight they were about to link with—and most succeeded immediately. But one child faltered. Before he could scream, electricity surged through his arm, frying his brain in an instant.
The body was quickly dragged away by the officers, but no one seemed to be deterred. They watched, some in quiet fear, others in grim acceptance, as each new cadet succeeded in their link.
We reached the end of the path, and Dr Medea unlocked a door leading us into a sealed vault room. As we filed in, she began a five-step unlocking process, making us wait until the doors finally scraped open, revealing a large, circular room. It was filled with empty podiums, except for six distinct mech's that stood tall, filling the vault with an eerie silence. Forty-four empty spaces remained.
"Welcome to the Star Crypt, cadets." Marshal Haslein stepped forward, while Dr Medea activated a system on the central podium. "From here, the process is simple. Dr Medea is fine-tuning the neural testing pad. Once you place your hand on it, a preliminary scan of your mind and body will be sent to the Constellation Knights. Regardless of the result, you will then attempt to link with the knight whose affinity is highest."
Nervous energy rippled through the group. Cadets shifted on their feet, breathing shallowly, eyes wide. We all knew there was no escape. The officers, towering over us with their adult strength, would force us to comply.
"It's ready. First volunteer, front and centre," Dr Medea demanded, but no one moved.
With a snap of her fingers, an officer grabbed the boy at the end of the line and dragged him forward. "Wait, there has to be a better way!" the boy pleaded, struggling to break free, but it was futile.
The officer placed the boy's hand on the affinity pad, and a wave of light scanned through his body before a synthetic female voice echoed out.
[Results: 0% 3% 1% 0% 0% 0%. Please go to: CK-43, Ophiuchus]
A bright light illuminated the mech on the second pedestal from the left—an intimidating, snake-like knight.
The boy froze in terror, unable to move. Feeling deaths gaze land on him from the serpent knight's inactive visor.
Dr Medea nodded in approval, and the officer drew a pistol, aiming it at the back of the cadet's head. "Attempt to link, or die anyway."
"Y-yes, sir." The boy's hand trembled as he reached for the mech's large metal finger, but nothing happened. Seconds passed in dead silence before he collapsed, lifeless, his body immediately whisked away by the officers.
"Next!" the Marshal barked, and a new cadet was dragged forward.
The process repeated. One cadet after another failed, their bodies slumping to the ground, while the pile of lifeless corpses grew.
"Next!"
No one scored higher than 5% on the affinity pad. Then, there was one mech that remained unchosen—a hulking figure at the far right. No one had even come close to linking with it.
"Next, cadet!"
"Your turn," the officer growled, pulling me from my daze.
Placing my hand on the tablet, I felt a foreign wave surge from the top of my cranium, cascading down to my toes before flowing back into the pad.
It was probably too late to think this now, but I couldn't help feeling a quiet sadness that I never had the chance to see the ocean. To walk on a beach barefoot. To witness the wonders of the empire. Now, I understood why Traveler had often complained that I was never curious enough.
Being a soldier didn't mean I wasn't allowed to live for myself—it meant I had to protect the beauty in the universe so I could one day witness it with my own eyes.
[results: 0% 0% 0% 0% 0% 31%]
[Please go to: CK-14, Andromeda.]
"...What?" The atmosphere in the star crypt shifted, filled with disbelief at the results, as a spotlight focused on the towering knight on the rightmost pedestal, its massive metal hand extended toward me.
Doctor Medea watched me closely, her gaze sharp, but I could feel the worry and uncertainty welling up from within. Despite my apprehension, I stepped forward.
The knight's armour was a striking dark platinum, with broad shoulders that resembled wings. Gold ornaments adorned its head like a crown, while green lines of paint traced down its silvery chest and limbs, giving the mechanical giant an almost ethereal, fairy-like design. But despite its graceful appearance, it was anything but welcoming. The battle-worn scratches and rust on its body spoke of its age, though it was meticulously maintained, hiding all signs of decay.
Tentatively, I reached out my fingers and placed my hand against its cold, scarred metal.
Without warning, my consciousness was swept away into a mystical world, where endless snow fell from a murky sky, blanketing a field of vibrant flowers. Each delicate petal kissed by the frost shimmered beneath the swirling white.
It was breath-taking—like something from one of the fairy tales Traveler used to read to me during our breaks from training.
Amid the sea of flowers, I spotted a broken knight. Just like the one whose hand I held. It knelt in the snow, its chest torn open, two shattered swords resting at its side. The damage was ruinous—every inch of its frame scarred by years of battles, a testament to its long, hard existence.
Drawn by an unspoken sense of duty, I approached the knight, stepping through the snowy flowers before sitting down just before the imposing knight.
As I sat across from it, I couldn't help but wonder what stories it had lived through. Its battle-worn body was a silent chronicle of sacrifice and resilience.
A quiet but profound sense of responsibility emanated from the knight, and in that moment, I knew what I had to say. "Thank you... for everything you've done."
Slowly, the rusted knight raised its cracked head, its broken glass visor dark and dirty. Snowflakes fell from its massive frame as it stirred to life with its core's hum. A turquoise light flickered within its shattered visor, spreading through its form. The azure glow melted the surrounding snow, and the knight extended the same hand it had offered me in the real world, light spilling from the cracks in its armour.
I took the trembling hand in both of mine. The knight shuddered as if surprised by my touch, then raised its head slightly, its cracked visor studying my face, as though searching for something.
I wasn't sure if the mechanical knight had ever intended to harm me, but in that moment, I understood something profound. Despite its glorious, seemingly indestructible armour, the knight saw itself as broken.
Just like me.
"I know you're tired," I whispered. "I have no right to ask this of you... but please, help me be kind. Help me protect what's beautiful in life."
The blue light within the knight flared, brighter and brighter, until it enveloped the entire winter garden in a blue inferno. My vision was consumed by the brilliant teal blaze, and I felt myself being hurled back to reality.
I blinked rapidly, disoriented, but alive. The knight's platinum fingers now wrapped firmly around my palm, unyielding to let me go.
[cadet-903 of Fallen Moon has successfully linked with CK-14, codename: Andromeda.] The AI voice echoed across the crypt. [Congratulations, star pilot. Diagnostic connection will commence.]
As the computer's voice reverberated, the giant knight's body shifted, its large parts folding and rearranging with a series of mechanical clicks and whirs. Transforming into a much smaller, condensed form—a card-like shape, twice the thickness of my hand, with translucent wings on its shell.
It resembled an iron beetle, its legs and head absent, leaving only the smooth, worn armour.
The surreal transformation left me in awe. But when I glanced around, I realized that the rest of the star crypt's inhabitants seemed just as stunned as I was.
"The fairy knight finally got a new pilot after two hundred years," Doctor Medea murmured under her breath. She approached me, guiding me to stand beside the wall where the marshal stood, a quiet authority radiating from her. "Stay here for now, little girl. And don't lose this. Understand?"
I nodded, clutching the device to my chest, feeling the weight of both the object and the odds that had been defied—an unthinkable stroke of luck.
Satisfied with my response, Dr Medea turned toward the others. "Continue with the aptitude tests!"
Sam was the next to step forward. He quickly placed his hand on the tablet, clearly inspired by my success. The light scanned through his body.
[results: 5% 8% 19% 13% 8%. Please go to: CK-17, Draco.]
"Let's keep this momentum going!" Sam cheered, gripping the dragon-like armours clawed hand with enthusiasm. A moment later, he slumped, and everyone assumed he had failed. But then he gasped, coming back to life as the system confirmed his success.
[cadet-1 of Fallen Moon has successfully linked with CK-17, Draco.]
Doctor Medea's eyes widened, but it wasn't over yet. Zero confidently stepped onto the affinity pad.
[results: 9% 6% 12% 20%. Please go to: CK-44, Ara.]
Zero wasted no time and grabbed the bulky knight's hand. Moments later, he too succeeded in linking with the constellation knight.
[cadet-10 of Fallen Moon has successfully linked with CK-44, Ara.]
Zero and Sam exchanged competitive glares, but I was just relieved they hadn't gotten themselves killed in their reckless attempts to comfort me.
The field marshal, now sweating, wiped his brow, a grin slowly forming. "What kind of monsters has Tatelov been training?"