Chapter 133 Aftermath (2)

Words : 1089 Updated : Sep 25th, 2025

Rex leaned against a wall, his massive frame casting long shadows in the flickering hangar lights. He tossed a piece of debris onto a nearby pile while the maintenance drones buzzed around, cleaning up the aftermath of the battle. Fighter ships were circling outside, waiting for the hangar to be cleared so they could land. The scent of scorched metal still hung in the air. "Mmm, what do you mean what I'll do with them?" Rex asked, glancing at Cleo's holographic form as she shimmered into view above the maintenance station. He spoke casually, but there was a faint tension in his voice. Cleo, perched on top of the Cleopatra 's main cannon in her shimmering projection, tilted her head slightly. Even in her virtual form, she managed to look vaguely amused, or maybe that was just Rex's imagination. "Rex, don't play dumb with me. You're not as dense as you pretend to be," she said, her voice cool yet edged with just enough intrigue to push the conversation forward. "Even I can see it; those twins don't just look at you with respect. There's... something else." Rex paused, letting out a long sigh as he tossed another piece of debris aside. "Cleo, " he muttered, "what do you want me to say? You already know the answer." Cleo raised an eyebrow, her holographic form shimmering slightly as she commanded drones to patch the Cleopatra 's fractured hull. "I want to hear your answer, not mine. But if I had to guess, you'd try to dodge the question again. Am I wrong?" Rex stopped what he was doing, turning to face her fully. His towering form made even Cleo's holographic presence seem small. "Fine. If you must know, I can't; I won't accept their feelings. It doesn't feel right." His voice was calm but carried the weight of something unresolved. "I saw them grow up, Cleo. Their father left them in my care. How would it look if—" "You're not their father, Rex," Cleo interrupted, her voice sharper than usual. For a moment, the steady hum of the repair drones filled the silence. "And besides, that's not what this is about. It's about you. Don't you think I haven't noticed? Your sense of responsibility is your armor, but it's also your prison." Rex crossed his arms, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. "What's your point?" Cleo shifted her posture, as if trying to find the right words. She didn't often dip into philosophical territory, but when she did, it was hard not to listen. "Rex, you're not like them anymore," she said quietly. "You're... different. You'll outlive them. Unless something kills you, and let's face it, that's not exactly likely, you'll still be standing here centuries after they're gone." Rex's expression darkened, his gaze dropping to the floor. He didn't respond. Cleo softened her tone, though it still carried the weight of her logic. "What I'm trying to say is... you can't keep thinking like a mortal. You'll only end up hurting yourself. The pain of losing the people you care about—" Around it, patrol teams zipped by in tight formations, their engines leaving faint trails of light in the dark void. But the real sight to behold was the endless stream of merchant traffic. Ships of all shapes and sizes came and went, their hulls glinting under the artificial light of the station. They moved like ants in a massive colony, a continuous flow of trade that underscored the station's importance in the region. The communication channels buzzed with chatter, negotiations, and docking clearances. When the Cleopatra emerged, it was as if time froze for a moment. Conversations stopped, pilots paused mid-trajectory, and even the patrols slowed to a crawl. Despite the ship's visible battle damage and scarred, some plating bent and scorched, it radiated an almost otherworldly beauty. Its sleek design, faint golden glow, and elegant lines made it look more like a masterpiece than a vessel meant for war. "Hey, look at that! " one dockworker shouted, pointing through the observation window. His voice carried through the station's main promenade, where dozens of merchants and engineers had gathered to watch ships come and go. "What the hell is that? " another merchant asked, craning his neck for a better view. "It doesn't look like anything from the megacorps. No logos, no fleet markers... nothing." "Yes, and look at the damage. What kind of monster could leave a ship like that limping back?" A third chimed in, his voice filled with both awe and concern. The chatter quickly spread, and soon a small crowd had gathered near the observation deck. Everyone was talking at once, speculating about the mysterious ship. "Could it be a prototype from one of the outer colonies?" "Maybe it's black market tech. That golden glow doesn't look natural." "Or maybe it's alien. That doesn't look like anything I have ever seen." Among the crowd stood a young man, tall and dressed in the grease-streaked overalls of an engineer. His sharp green eyes flicked toward the ship, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. It was hard to miss him; he carried himself with the confidence of someone important, though he didn't flaunt it. This was the grandson of the station's old administrator, a skilled engineer in his own right. Hearing the murmurs around him, he strode toward the group, hands tucked into his pockets. "You're all pretty fascinated, huh?" he said, his voice cutting through the noise. "I don't blame you. Not every day you see something like that." The dockworkers turned to him, their curiosity shifting toward his confident tone. " Oh? You know something about that ship?" one asked eagerly . "What is it? Who does it belong to?" The young man chuckled, taking his time as he walked up to the observation window. He let the question hang in the air for a moment, drawing their attention further. Then, leaning casually against the railing, he nodded toward the Cleopatra. "They're not megacorp. Not pirates. Definitely not black market." His voice lowered slightly, as if sharing a secret. "That ship? That's the Cleopatra. And if you don't know her name, you should. She's the pride of Admiral Rex's fleet." There was a collective intake of breath.

Chapter 133 Aftermath (2)

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