Voidborn - A Sci-fi LitRPG

Malan pulled himself out of bed an hour before his next shift only by the virtue of considerable willpower. Dagger-sharp pain in his left side drew a hiss through his gritted teeth, and he had to focus on breathing just to get himself upright. Once he’d made it there, the slow stagger to the bathroom adjoined to his quarters wasn’t much better.

Fortunately, several years of putting up with Beric’s bullshit had taught him through painful experience to keep the med-salve within comfortable reaching distance, as reaching for the handles of his medicine cabinet felt rather beyond him.

Sitting himself gingerly on the hard plastic of a small stool before the mirror, he began to painstakingly apply the translucent sapphire gel to anywhere injured by Beric’s attentions. Cool relief shot through his body any place the gel made contact with him, followed by the curious tingle of his wounds beginning to heal at an accelerated pace.

Sadly, the relief in his side was only skin deep—the salve wouldn’t touch anything deeper, so his broken ribs were something he’d simply have to struggle through. The reduction in general bruising, cuts, swelling and pain, however, were enough to allow him to pull on his blue uniform and neaten his messy mop of chestnut hair enough to be presentable to other humans.

Injuries sufficiently hidden, Malan left his quarters rubbing the sleep from his eyes to begin the cycle of his life once more. Monotonous task after monotonous dull task, punctuated by short sharp instances of pain when he finally snapped from Beric’s prodding.

Malan liked to think he was too self-aware not to know how ridiculous his life might seem, knowing that he himself chose it. Five years ago, after all, he had been on track to become an engineer on board a UGC vessel, exploring the stars. He’d thought he had the know-how, the ability. He’d been excelling at the Academy, and captains had already begun vetting him for a spot on their crews.

And then the Jauda had happened, and he had been shown for what he really was. How much all that potential was actually worth. He’d left the Academy before he could be kicked out, and he’d run from what was left of his home the moment an opportunity could present itself.

He was also self-aware enough to know he was getting worse rather than better. His provocations of Beric were becoming more frequent, and more dramatic. Worse still, they felt like highlights, rather than rock bottoms. Brief moments of excitement and tensions that lit up the otherwise bleak grey abyss that had smothered his life.

The gentle hiss of the automatic doors leading to the mess hall snapped him from his stupor, and he straightened himself before entering, trying to hide the deep throbbing in his side from the others.

The mess hall was only really a hall in name. In reality, it was a fairly large, open communal area. An open kitchen lay on one side with a handful of group tables, and on the other, several worn black couches sat before a large monitor. His eyes swept across the room quickly, barely noticing the scattered, tatty posters hiding the dull white of the ship’s walls, instead focusing on the occupants actually present.

Immediately, he narrowed his eyes slightly. Normally there were two or three of the crew here when he arrived. There was almost never all of them. Today though, they were all present. He veered instinctively toward the kitchen space, where Talia leant back against one of the work surfaces with her usual coffee in hand, eyes locked on the monitor on the opposite side of the room.

Thaddeus too, had abandoned his usual morning browse of the news on the data tablet that lay forgotten on the table before him. Instead, the older man peered at the monitor through rounded glasses running his hand thoughtfully through a thick, almost entirely white beard. Beric had ignored his entry completely from the couches, and the Captain, Elena, had regarded him only momentarily from her own couch about as far from Beric’s as she could get, before returning her attention to the monitor at the centre of the room, playing the Coalition news.

Malan shuffled up beside Talia, raising a quizzical eyebrow at her. “Morning. Busy in here this morning. What’s happened?”

The slightest of smiles touched his lips as Talia slid a coffee towards him and ran a concerned eye over him. “You look awful, Malan. Cleaning the sensors is no fun, but it doesn’t leave you looking like that.”

He grimaced. “Just Beric being an asshole. Nothing to worry about. Now what have I missed?”

“Beric’s an asshole to everybody. The rest of us don’t end up looking like we lost a bar fight,” she looked expectantly at Malan for an answer, but when he refused to oblige she rolled her eyes and turned back to the monitor. “Anyway. As for what you missed? Only a Syndicate raid being repelled by the Starbound on Eden IV.”

Malan couldn’t help it, his jaw dropped and his eyes immediately snapped towards the monitor playing security footage of the raid. Sure enough, there they were. What the newscaster said was two-dozen Syndicate battleships being carved apart by three spectacular vessels.

They moved like no other ship Malan had ever seen, turning freely and weaving in and out of Syndicate fire like dancers. The smallest pair, Queco and Tiamat were slender craft that moved ahead of the larger third, their bows designed to resemble the jaws of great serpents. From within those jaws came jagged lances of golden light that carved the lighter Syndicate ships apart like paper, cleaving a path for the larger.

Queco and Tiamat were Void Knight class Starbound, perfectly specialised for fast-paced space combat against other fighter class ships. However, the Syndicate force was helmed by a battle cruiser that could potentially out gun the two infinitely smaller craft. This is where the final member of the trio, Aeolus, came into play. The Aeolus was an Astroblade Vanguard, built for daring close quarters attacks that did devastating damage.

The smaller pair strafed the Syndicate vessel, twisting in and out of the way of its heavier guns and destroying several of them in the process as the Aeolus’ wings lit with terrific golden energy. The hulking craft built to resemble a Gryphon of ancient Terran mythology swept towards the Syndicate craft at surprising speed.

“Holy shit,” Malan hissed as the light from the monitor flickered throughout the room from the explosion of the Syndicate craft, signaling the end of the attack and covering Malan’s flinch from a sharp burst of pain behind his eyes.

“It is a rare privilege to catch a glimpse of the Starbound at work,” Thaddeus said solemnly, to a scoff from Beric.

“Funny that it only seems to be a privilege people on worlds that turn a decent profit get to enjoy, eh?” Beric sneered, as the faces of the three Starbound pilots flashed across the monitor.

After seeing them in action, it was almost a surprise to be reminded that each was only a singular pilot.

“That’s enough, Beric,” said Elena, arms crossed atop her well-pressed uniform and brown eyes hard.

“Of course, you’re right,” Beric said, a sly edge to his tone. “It would be remiss of me to ignore they also protect the Coalition Higher—”

“I said enough.”

This time, the ice in her voice was palpable, and even Beric realised he’d gone too far, head dropping immediately. Malan’s eyes slid to the service patches on the right arm of her uniform, and the faint scar beneath her right eye. Reminders that Elena Vasquez was the captain for a reason, and not to be trifled with.

“There are currently less than twenty Starbound—barely one for every three systems in the UGC,” she said, voice low, but laced with iron. “Humanity owes them its survival, even stretched thin as they are, and I owe them mine. There will be no slander of them on a ship I captain.”

Beric could only nod timidly as Elena’s eyes surveyed the room, almost daring one of them to challenge her, before she finally seemed mollified. “Talia, Beric. Meet me on the bridge for today’s briefing in thirty minutes. Thaddeus, I’ll need those personnel reports today. Malan, continue your progress on the sensor arrays. Once you’re done, you’ll need to perform a complete check of the waste outlet systems before the end of your shift today, they’re overdue.”

She gazed back around the crew as they each silently acknowledged their orders, Malan with a pained nod, before leaving them to finish their breakfast before the day’s work.

“Malan, are you okay?”

He jolted as he felt Talia’s hand rest gently on his arm, and forced a smile onto his face to meet the dark-haired girls concerned frown. Of all the crew, she was the only one also in her early twenties, though far senior in position, and this seemed to be enough for her to decide that she needed to look after Malan somewhat.

Malan liked her, but not for any of those reasons. Talia reminded him of his sister, something that made spending any time with her both a blessing and a curse.

A response was on the tip of his tongue, when a snigger from Beric caught their attention.

“I wouldn’t waste your time on him, Talia. Pride’s probably smarting watching the news is all. After all, he was tested and failed. Isn’t that right, shithead?”

Malan froze, the blood in his veins like ice and panic threatened to overwhelm his more logical brain. Fuck. He’d taken things too far with Beric last night. Let on too much how little Malan really feared him. The beating had just been the prelude—now that bastard was really letting him know how far he’d crossed the line.

Thaddeus had sat up straight and turned to stare, and Talia was looking at him through her striking blue eyes with barely disguised wonder.

“Is that so?” Thaddeus asked, brows knotted. “I hear to even be considered for testing, one must be extraordinarily capable. Even those who fail go on to have spectacular careers in the UGC. It begs the question of why are you here, dear boy?”

“Not to mention you have to be able to see Celestial Energy to be compatible with the Starbound, which is incredibly rare,” Talia added, and Malan couldn’t help but notice an odd intensity in her voice, and in the slightly wide eyed stare she was sending his way.

Malan took a step back, beginning to feel a little like a cornered rat, his mouth working silently as he tried to formulate a response that wouldn’t give much away, or provoke too much interest. But deep down he knew that opportunity was already lost. People with the potential to be Starbound were unbelievably rare, and even failed applicants generated huge amounts of curiosity.

One of Thaddeus or Talia would look up his records as soon as he was gone. Not out of malice of course, simply harmless curiosity. Then they would find out what he’d done. And then his time on the Miotov would be over. He would have to run again. Once the rabbit was out of the hat, there was no other way things could pan out.

Beric simply stood, fat fingers in pockets, grinning madly at Malan’s panic. At his fear.

Something in Malan shifted, a long suffering dam breaking at last under unimaginable strain. This was his fault. Beric was a thug, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d known what he was doing when he spoke. And now he was just enjoying the pain and suffering he’d caused. Enjoying Malan’s fear and shame.

The ice in his veins turned to roiling lava, and furious heat flushed through him. Fuck it. If he was going to have to leave anyway, it might as well be because he’d ground Beric’s face into bloody paste. His hands curled into fists, teeth gritted, and the smile slid away from Beric’s mouth.

“Try it shithead, I’m three times the size of you.”

Talia glanced between the two of them, concern writ large across her face. “Malan, Beric please, you’re—”

But blood was thundering in Malan’s ears at the thought of finally giving Beric just what he deserved. He lunged forward, ignoring the sharp stabbing of his ribs as he hissed, “three times my size, but not an ounce of it is muscle, you fat fu—”

He was cut off by an enormous shuddering that sent him stumbling to the side, the shrieking of grinding metal ringing through his ears followed immediately by the blaring of alarms.

Elena’s voice cut through it all on the comms, all steel and composure. “All crew to evacuation positions, I repeat all crew to evacuation positions. Our sensors have picked up on an imminent Abyssal Rift forming upon R18-34C’s moon. Distress signals have been sent. All crew to evacuate immediately.”

The ship’s comms channel clicked closed, and for a moment, the entire room was frozen together, united in abject horror. Then, Beric muttered a solitary curse, before he and Thaddeus burst into movement, scurrying for the doors. Talia for her part, began to run as well, but Malan only barely noticed.

Instead, his mind kept replaying Elena’s voice saying Abyssal Rift over and over again, alongside the sound of the Jauda’s crew screaming themselves hoarse as they were torn apart. Malan fell to his knees, the pain in his head reaching a searing fever pitch as memories he fought for years to repress overwhelmed him. Bloody, dismembered bodies. That awful, inhuman shrieking.

Tears streaming down his sisters face, and the unbearable, unspoken accusation in her eyes.

“Not again,” he mumbled, rocking as he sat on his knees. “How can this be happening again?”