"Hi everyone, I’m working on a short story. I might just keep it for myself, or I might post more later, but here is a brief introduction. I’d love to hear your thoughts, any criticism, and perhaps some advice. Thank you for any feedback!"
Erik woke exactly four minutes before his alarm's mechanical tone was set to trigger. The room was shrouded in a darkness broken only by the faint, bluish light filtering through the thick glass of a window carved directly into the Alpine massif. In Nova Roma, the sun never showed its face until it had crested the surrounding peaks, but Erik had no need for it. His senses, honed by years of rigorous discipline at the Academy, registered every tremor: he discerned the sharp contours of the metallic furniture, heard the muffled bustle in the kitchen, and felt the subtle, rhythmic vibration of the geothermal pumps deep beneath his feet.
When he entered the dining room, the aroma of synthetic coffee and fresh bread from his brother’s supplies already filled the air. It was a rare moment of family unity—the calm before the storm they all anticipated.
Augustus, his father, sat at the head of the table. He wore loose domestic attire—a stark contrast to the rigid, dark grey uniform of the 4th Reconnaissance Unit, which usually acted as his second skin. His face appeared as if hewn from granite; motionless and marked by a scar, a memento of a skirmish with the Outcasts ten years prior.
"Are you prepared for the examinations, Erik?" Augustus asked, without lifting his gaze from his cup. "Today marks the end of your theory. Ten years at the Academy have culminated in this week."
Klaudia handed Erik a bowl of porridge, letting her hand rest on his shoulder for a moment. Her palms were sterile and clean, smelling of disinfectant from the central infirmary. "The Triumvirate requires your mind, son," she said softly, though Erik detected a strange tremor in her voice. "We are proud of you, but in the wilderness... in the wilderness, knowledge of biogenetics will not suffice if you are not cautious."
Erik merely nodded in silence. He looked at his brother, David, whose palms were covered in hard callouses and whose shoulders were scorched by salt and the aggressive sun. David was the one who truly knew the world beyond the walls—aboard the ships that plied the dead waters of the Mediterranean.
"The sea is restless, little brother," David remarked, fixing his eyes on a piece of meat as if searching for a map within it. "South winds bring the scent of searing heat from Libya. The coastal tribes there worship satellite wreckage as fallen gods. At least I don't have to study Latin declensions like you. I face real monsters, not just grammar."
Augustus abruptly set down his cutlery. The atmosphere in the room grew cold. "The world outside is becoming more than just a restless sea, David. My patrols returned from the province of Frankia yesterday. We found temporary settlements. But they are not Outcasts. Only gnawed bones and tracks in the snow that belong to no known species. It is something raw. Something... hungry."
Erik froze. He knew exactly whom his father was referring to. The Nasaery. The degenerate descendants of those intended to colonize the stars, who instead learned to kill in the darkness.
"Enough talk," Augustus said, rising as his presence instantly filled the room. "Erik has a more important day ahead. Dress yourself. I shall drive you to the Academy personally."
The transport module hissed quietly through the magnetic tunnel. Once the doors closed, Augustus’s expression softened slightly.
"They are considering your placement in the officer school, Erik. In the ambush simulation, you displayed an aggression that has been absent from the records for five hundred years. You achieved record scores."
Erik watched the flickering lights of the tunnel. "Aggression is supposedly undesirable, Father. They teach us self-control."
"It is undesirable for civilians. For us, it is a tool for survival," Augustus snapped. "The final trial awaits you. A month in the wilderness. Statistically, three out of five do not return. But mark my words—there is always one who chooses not to return. They choose the freedom of the Outcasts."
Augustus leaned toward his son. "Should you encounter them, mention my name. Tell them you are the son of Augustus Heraklion. We have a secret pact with them. We require their raw materials; they require our medicines. It is a foul bargain, but it keeps us alive."
The module came to a halt. Augustus placed a hand on the nape of Erik’s neck. "Prove to them that you are my son. The world outside is hungrier than the textbooks claim."