The Starborn

Chapter 2

After leaving the medical bay, Quinn made his way to the ready room where the rest of the Astral Berserkers were waiting. The space was dimly lit, with stark walls adorned with tactical displays showing various galactic conflict zones. The air was thick with a palpable stillness—none of them spoke unless necessary.

As he entered, the other four turned their heads in unison, their movements precise and calculated.

Omega-02, the youngest male, was sitting near the far wall. His dark brown hair was cut close to his scalp, and his lean build gave him a wiry appearance, though his strength was anything but slight. At 24 years old, he was the newest recruit to survive the enhancement process. He gave Quinn a single, curt nod.

Standing by the weapons locker was Sierra-03, the only female in the unit. Like Omega, she was also 24, with short, jet-black hair slicked back tightly. Her sharp features and piercing green eyes were framed by faint scars along her jawline, remnants of countless battles. Despite her younger age, she exuded a commanding presence, her movements precise and deliberate.

The older men were closer to the center of the room.

Echo-04, a towering figure with broad shoulders and a shaved head, adjusted his armor methodically. At 36, he was the oldest and most experienced member of the team after Quinn. His voice, when he did speak, was low and gravelly, a stark contrast to the silence he usually maintained.

Leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed was Victor-05, a rugged man in his early 30s with a weathered face and a faintly crooked nose that hadn’t been corrected after a mission injury. His dark eyes seemed perpetually half-lidded, giving him an air of disinterest, but his lethality was unquestionable.

Quinn stepped into the center of the room, his helmet tucked under one arm. His steel-blue eyes swept over the group, taking in every detail. Though they were a team, their connection was purely tactical. The nerve blocker chips ensured that no bonds of camaraderie could form between them.

“Alpha-01,” Echo said, his voice even and emotionless.

“Briefing complete?” Sierra asked, her tone devoid of curiosity.

“New mission,” Quinn replied, his voice as flat as theirs. “Draxis. Increased Ravager activity.”

Victor straightened from the wall, his armor catching the light. “Base Command confirmed?”

Quinn gave a single nod. “We’re to neutralize all hostiles and secure any survivors.”

Omega tilted his head slightly, his youthful features betraying no hint of excitement or apprehension. “Draxis. Desert world. High probability of pirate interference. Complications expected?”

VERA’s voice chimed in through Quinn’s neural implant before he could respond. “Calculations suggest a 78% chance of Ravager presence escalating within two planetary rotations. Recommend immediate deployment.”

The other Berserkers received similar updates from their own VERAs, each AI synchronized to provide tactical support. Unlike Quinn’s VERA, however, theirs were precise and compliant, offering no deviation or independent thought.

“Equipment check,” Quinn ordered.

The team moved in unison, each inspecting their weapons and armor. Their gear, crafted from the galaxy’s strongest metal, was designed to withstand even the most punishing conditions. Echo tested the mechanism of his heavy plasma rifle, while Sierra calibrated her dual pistols. Omega adjusted the energy output on his sniper rifle, and Victor loaded a rotary cannon with methodical precision.

As they prepared, VERA’s voice echoed in Quinn’s mind again. “Observation: The team functions as intended, yet their efficiency pales in comparison to yours. Hypothesis: Your neural divergences contribute to superior adaptability.”

Quinn ignored her, focusing instead on his armor’s diagnostic readouts.

When the preparations were complete, the team stood at attention, their weapons locked and loaded. For a moment, the room was silent, the tension thick despite their lack of emotional connection.

“Mission parameters are clear,” Quinn said, his voice steady. “We deploy immediately. No deviation.”

“No deviation,” the others echoed in unison.

The room hummed with quiet efficiency as the Astral Berserkers readied themselves. Though their expressions were unreadable thanks to the nerve blocker chips, their actions spoke volumes. Every adjustment, every weapon check, every glance was calculated, a testament to their training and enhancements.

As Quinn strapped on his own armor, he felt their eyes briefly flicker toward him. Even among the Astral Berserkers, he stood apart. Alpha-01 wasn’t just their leader; he was the first, the prototype, and in many ways, their standard-bearer. Quinn met their silent gazes one by one, nodding slightly. No words were necessary—none ever were.

Around them, a handful of regular soldiers stole glances at the Berserkers, their expressions a mix of awe and unease. Compared to the sleek, futuristic design of the Berserkers’ armor—crafted from the strongest metal in the galaxy—the standard infantry’s gear looked almost primitive. The Astral Berserkers were legends in the flesh, their presence both a reassurance and a chilling reminder of what they were: humanity’s ultimate weapon.

As Quinn secured his helmet, the dark visor slid into place with a faint hiss. The HUD came to life, displaying tactical readouts and mission parameters. VERA’s voice chimed softly in his ear.

“All systems online, Alpha-01. Ready when you are.”

Quinn’s gaze swept the room once more, ensuring his team was ready. He could feel the weight of the mission ahead—not physically, but in the subtle way his instincts sharpened. This was what they were made for.

“Let’s move out,” he commanded, his voice steady and firm.

The Astral Berserkers filed out behind him, their heavy footfalls reverberating through the corridors. Each step brought them closer to Draxis, and to whatever awaited them on that desolate, dangerous planet.

The planet Draxis loomed into view on the ship’s viewport, a colossal sphere of brown and amber hues. From orbit, it resembled a lifeless ball of dirt, barren and uninviting. Dust storms swirled across its surface, creating shifting patterns that painted the atmosphere in a dull haze. The ship’s sensors displayed a faint reading of heat pockets across the surface, a reminder of the harsh environment awaiting them.

Quinn stood at the front of the cabin, arms crossed over his chest as he studied the planet. Even from here, Draxis exuded hostility—a desolate wasteland, home to miners and the lawless space pirates who preyed on them.

“Prepare for deployment,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence.

The Astral Berserkers nodded in unison, their movements efficient as they finished readying their gear. The ship descended rapidly, punching through the thin atmosphere. The turbulence barely registered for the enhanced soldiers, though the regular crew on board gripped their seats tightly.

As they broke through the haze, the surface of Draxis stretched endlessly beneath them—a vast, unbroken expanse of dirt and cracked earth. The sun beat down mercilessly, casting long, jagged shadows over the arid terrain. Dust swirled in lazy cyclones, and the air shimmered with heat waves. It was a place devoid of life, save for the occasional mining outpost or the hulking shapes of abandoned drilling equipment.

The ship’s thrusters roared as it landed on a flat patch of ground. The hatch hissed open, and the Astral Berserkers stepped out, their boots crunching on the parched earth. The dry, scorching air hit them immediately, though their armor’s environmental systems kept them comfortable.

Quinn scanned the horizon, his visor’s HUD providing tactical overlays of the landscape. Nearby, jagged rock formations jutted out of the ground like the spines of a long-dead beast. The place was eerily quiet, save for the occasional gust of wind carrying grains of sand across the terrain.

The team fanned out, their weapons raised and ready. Despite the silence, their training kept them alert.

Omega-02 was the first to break the silence. “Nothing but dirt and heat. Maybe it was a false alarm,” he said, his voice calm but carrying a hint of boredom. He swung his rifle slowly across the empty landscape, scanning for any signs of movement.

Quinn didn’t respond immediately. He stared out at the horizon, his instincts telling him something was off. After a long pause, he spoke, his voice steady and authoritative.

“Head back to the ship,” Quinn said, his gaze still fixed on the distance.

Sierra-03 glanced at him, her tone questioning but respectful. “You’re staying?”

Quinn nodded, lowering his weapon slightly. “I’ll stay and check it out some more. Something doesn’t feel right.”

The others hesitated for only a moment before falling back on protocol. They trusted Quinn’s instincts—he had led them through countless missions before.

Echo-04, the silent giant of the group, gave a subtle nod of acknowledgment before turning back toward the ship. Victor-05 followed, his dark eyes scanning the terrain one last time before stepping inside. Sierra and Omega lingered for a moment longer, exchanging a glance, but ultimately complied with Quinn’s order.

As the hatch of the ship closed behind them, Quinn stood alone on the surface of Draxis. His grip tightened slightly on his weapon as he scanned the lifeless terrain.

“VERA,” he said softly.

“Yes, Alpha-01?” her voice replied, calm but inquisitive.

“Run another scan of the area. Look for any anomalies, even faint ones.”

“Understood,” VERA responded. “Initiating enhanced environmental scan.”

Quinn stood still, the oppressive heat swirling around him as he waited for VERA’s analysis. Somewhere, hidden within this wasteland, was the reason they had been called here—and Quinn intended to find it.