“You have a nurturing heart, strong and passionate.” Those were the words Lora’s husband spoke to her on their wedding night, just before sharing the warmth of their bed. Lora remembered them every day, even after all these years. The feeling of her dearest husbands hands cupping her breasts, and his tongue dancing over her pink nipples, always brought color to her cheeks.

      It seemed so long ago, almost like another lifetime. Yet even now, as Lora stood in her private suite aboard the Star of Argon, remembering those words provided her some comfort. It had been some time since she had taken a lover, or any man for that matter. Each time she let another man touch her, Lora could only think of the one she lost. It made things…awkward, to say the least.

      As leader of the Rookson Mercenary Company, Lora was afforded one of the suites on C-deck. It was the most glamorous lifestyle she ever experienced. Even the air smelled cleaner than the rest of the ship. The rest of her mercenaries were situated below, in one of the lower decks. 

      A large viewport allowed Lora to see into the great beyond, but the stars held little interest for her. After spending years of her life trapped on void stations, the mysticism they once held was long gone.  

      It took her a moment to summon the energy to begin the dismantling process for her armored suit. The task always brought painful memories to the surface. Memories she could not avoid, only relive over, and over again. A red blip on the collar of her breastplate lit up, as several locks disengaged. The red light sent a shiver down her spine. Lora’s mind wavered, and she couldn’t help but remember Tnacia Prime. 

      Tnacia Prime, it was the first disputed world in the garden cloister to become a war zone. The Great War was the first interstellar conflict between all of mankinds colonial empires. Since the Great Migration, and subsequent loss of contact with Mother Earth, the colonies shared mutual boundaries with one another. 

      For hundreds of years, thanks to the guidance of the Nephilim and the technology gifted with them, the colonies experienced an age of expansion and growth. Yet, with the disappearance of the Nephilim, this age dissolved into a distant memory.

      Terraforming grew costly and difficult, leaving few worlds suitable for human life. Mankind had to bleed for every breath of clean air, and every cup of fresh water. Human’s had to get used to growing under grey, green, or brown skies. It wasn’t long before old earth became a legend, and the comforts of growing under a blue sky turned into a distant dream. 

      This all changed for the worst with the discovery of the Garden Cluster. The cloister was a collection of superheated gasses, and a graveyard for ancient stars. This created a nursery for new stars, and solar systems. The region was home to over a dozen life-bearing worlds; each comfortably within the habitable range of their parent stars, and each applicable for easy terraforming. 

      These worlds sparked an interstellar dispute among the reigning interstellar powers. The Tyrian Collectives clashed with the Empire of Sihnon Ariel, and together they dragged every other confederacy with it into catastrophe. Millions of souls were marched onto vast warships duelling amongst the stars. Mankinds ultimate achievements, and greatest technological capabilities, used for its oldest talent. To bring war amongst themselves. 

      In a way it was inevitable. 

      Lora was born on a tiny mining world of Flottenhast. It was a modest settlement featuring an abundance of oil, and raw ore. Below its crust, were layers of endless minerals ripe for mining. Its oceans were nitrogen rich, and its landmasses were hard stone. If it wasn’t for its natural resources, few would bother to explore what this canyon world had to offer. Yet despite its hard edge, the people of Flottenhast were known for their enduring backbone, and straight forward manner.

      Women weren’t typically allowed to work in the mines, yet Lora found little choice in the matter after her father died. The foreman, her fathers boss, took pity on her by allowing her to work on settling her fathers debt through the mines. It was preferable to selling herself as a whore among the cities many brothels. 

      For over a year Lora Rookson, heir to one of the poorest families on Flottenhast, worked tirelessly under the earth. 

      Eventually she found a man. A handsome, and charming, fellow by the name of Marcus. He admired her, and always took over her late night shifts just so she could have a moment to rest without the foreman knowing. 

      They married, and their love quickly bore fruit. Their child was only three years old when the draft came. First her husband was summoned to war. 

      He never returned.

      After three years there was still no resolution to the war that forced every human colony to pick a side, and double their investment. By then, most of the garden worlds were soaked in ash, or basking in radiation. Things had devolved from fighting a war for green new worlds, to simply projecting military control.

      Lora was drafted in the third wave of conscription. Her child died of severe malnutrition only months earlier. Lora had nothing else to live for, so she didn’t protest while being marched into the grand marshaling yard amongst a crowd of other drafted citizens. All the young men had already been carted off world, leaving nothing left but the women, along with the extremely old. Flottenhast was being bled dry, its once expanding cities quickly turning into ghost towns. Lora couldn’t help but wonder if there would be anyone left by the end of this war.

      Boot camp nearly killed her, and had it not been for a small collection of over protective men, Lora had no doubt she wouldn’t have left unscathed. There were several women who elected into breeding programs just to escape the pressures of military service. Later, Lora would come to believe they had made the right choice.

     For three short weeks Lora was drilled, and hardened into something terrible. Killing was a monstrous art to master, it was one that took out a piece of her soul. Once completing basic training, Lora was assigned to the ‘special training divisions.’ Apparently, according to genetic testing, her genes were perfect for a special type of augmentation. She was given no choice in the matter, her rights now belonged to the core.

      Lora’s body was rebuilt, through physical training, surgical alteration, and chemical augmentation. She now stood taller, broader, and far stronger than her counterparts in service. The changes were so extensive, it took time for Lora to learn how to use her new physique. For a few days, Lora felt like a child re-learning how to walk.

      The Trench Levy of Flottenhast were not so famous as to be mentioned in the victory leaflets, or given special attention on the war time vids. They were a quickly raised conscription force, meant to act as auxiliaries in a greater war-zone. Millions like them were lost in mere hours each month. Even those who had been given to the ‘special training divisions’ rarely lasted longer than the initial few days of deployment.

     Lora Rookson’s regiment lost half its number on the initial drop from the atmosphere. Tnacia Prime was covered in trench lines, creating a web of defensive emplacements soaked in ground up body parts. The front lines changed every minute throughout the world, and there was seemingly no end to the conflict. 

      Within a week, Lora’s regiment was wilted down to only a few platoons, none of which were at full strength. She had gotten used to the taste of blood intermingled in the air. It was better than the taste of metal that sometimes accompanied nuclear fallout. It was in those moments she was grateful for her newly enhanced physiology. Only those like her hadn’t dropped dead from radiation poisoning, or suffer from sudden tumorous growths.

      Lora served for years, in the dirt and mud of that dying world, before the final armistice was declared. By that point Tnacia Prime was the oldest battleground in the Great War, and it was long forgotten in the grand scheme of things. It was a warfront that no longer determined the fate of the war, and its forces were lost in an endless meat grinder of death, and butchery with no caring for who would ultimately win. 

      They hadn’t even learned of the cease-fire until three months following the armistice. By that point Lora was the sole surviving non-commissioned officer in the regiment, she only held the rank of brevet corporal. She hadn’t even made sergeant when the entire command staff had ceased to exist. 

      The skies were forever red and orange from the constant fallout. Space debris rained down constantly, making it so their armor was always battered and bruised. As the news circulated down the ranks, it took an additional week for the enemy to disengage. The tragedy of which meant thousands more were lost for nothing.

      Lora Rookson expected they would be quickly taken off world, but alas the Tyrian Collectives governing regime, whom their world had sided with, disintegrated in real time. It would be months before her men were relieved. It was then that they discovered their regiment had formally been disbanded. No longer considered active soldiers, they had to purchase their own way off world. All the survivors sold what little they had, or their bodies in Lora’s case, to afford safe passage.

      They were taken to the orbital station above, where they got to look down on the wasteland that was no longer suitable for colonization by any of the powers that fought in the Great War. It was ironic in a way, even tragic. 

      Another year passed before Lora, and what was left of her regiment, were given backpay for timed served. By that point, Lora had already had a second child. To survive, she sold temporary breeding rights to a S’Hykri warlord who wanted an heir, and just so happened to be trapped on the station with them. There were so many soldiers trapped on the station, and not enough food to feed them all. Without her womb, Lora knew she wouldn’t have earned the money to survive.

      The warriors of S’Hykri were perhaps the most uncivilized peoples in colonial space, and seen often as barbaric. Vast armies of S’Hykri mercenaries served as the backbone of the Tyrian Collectives war-machine. They had made quite the impression on Tnacia Prime, often serving alongside Lora’s regiment with ferocious tenacity. 

      Lora liked how they were naturally taller than herself, even with her enhancements, and prone to courageous feats of daring. It also helped that their home brewed alcohol was strong enough to overcome her strengthened metabolism. 

      It killed her to let him take her child, leaving her cold and empty. The money that traded hands was enough, not only for herself, but for the fourteen survivors of her regiment to eat until finally given delayed payment for time served. 

      Even after receiving backpay, they were resigned to remain on station for some time. Lora’s enhanced physiology made it so she was quick to bare a second child, and then a third for other S’Hykrian soldiers who found her red hair striking, and her blue eyes a blessing from the gods, or so they believed. 

      Five years came and went before Lora saved enough money to start a new chapter in her life. One where she wouldn’t have to sell her own children to eat. With the funds at her disposal, she hired all fourteen men of her old regiment, and together they formed the Rookson Mercenary Company. 

      They took the first job they could find, and acquired a loan from one of the S’Hykri banking clans that took up ownership of the area. Her many past dealings with S’Hykri leaders had afforded her not only healthy children, but good standing with their financial backers. With money in hand, they travelled off the station looking over the desolate world of Tnacia Prime, and fought for private interests.

      In the years since, Lora had protected dignitaries, guarded convoys, and even fought small skirmishes on the outer colonies. Under her command, they hadn’t lost a single man. It wasn’t glamorous work, but at age 40 Lora was living comfortably compared to so many she had left behind. One could never tell just how old she was, for she could easily pass for someone in their early twenties. Despite her youthful appearance, Lora could feel the weight of her years in the tension of her joints. She truly had no idea how long her body would last, or if it would age the same way at all. 

      On occasion Lora would flirt with the idea of returning back to her homeward of Flottenhast, if only to see if anything had changed, but she feared all she would find was bad memories. She never found her husband, more than likely he was one of numberless corpses lost in the death fields of Tnacia Prime. 

      It wasn’t her idea to take up a job to serve as additional protection on board the Star of Argon. The assignment had just fallen into her lap after surviving a skirmish for a regional warlord. Compared to fighting someone else’s distant battles, it seemed a vacation. They got to eat well, sleep well, and have their choice among comfort liaisons. Once they arrived on Sinmore, Lora already had another contract lined up. 

      If all things ended well, in a few years Lora could purchase a nice parcel of land on a moon and lay low. Maybe she would try marriage again, this time she would get to keep her children! Or maybe…some of her distance offspring would seek her out once they had grown, and she could bask in their own life stories. 

      It was stupid to dream of such things, but Lora knew such dreams kept her sane. Without them, she would probably be amidst the bones of Tnacia, or worse.

      Lora rubbed her eyes as she sat on her bed. It took a moment for the memories to fade away, they left a bitter taste in her mouth. Removing her armor was always a chore, it was a relic from the war, and made for practicality against both firearms, and oncoming space debris. It wasn’t made to be easily removed. After years of practice, Lora was able to remove all the layers in thirty two minutes. Getting it on took longer, her record was thirty eight. 

      She often wore it for long stretches of time, until its filters needed to be cleaned, or its power cells replaced. It was built to house a soldier for long periods of time in a warfront. Lora had been wearing it for the past week. The possibility of an actual fight on board the ship excited her, and now she felt disappointment. 

      Carefully, she yanked off the armor panels, and detached the security seals one at a time. The torso piece came off in layers, followed by the arm panels and back armor section. She wore nothing underneath. Her fair skin kissed the recycled air, causing her nipples to flair and itch. Her hair had grown long, and messy. She had it cut short for so long, Lora wasn’t sure how to style it. 

      Sitting half naked on the small bed of her personal room on C-deck, Lora started undoing the seals to the waist section when a ring captured her attention. She looked out of her window, at the carpet of constellations, half expecting to see another raider vessel come into view. Lora could feel the spike of adrenaline racing through her veins as she looked for any star that might’ve been moving. Instead, she found nothing except the empty void. 

      She sighed, and leaned forward. Her breasts swayed in the crisp air, and her bangs draped over her eyes. The pickaxe emblem of her former regiment stared back at her from the armor’s shoulder pauldron, which was laying on the ground. With the regiment officially disbanded, nothing stopped her from using the old seal as her company logo. 

      Slowly, her heart rate relaxed. Goosebumps covered her shoulders and chest, and her hands were balled into fists. Eventually, Lora looked at her tablet sitting on the small desk alongside her. It was streaming an active series of data for her to review. The ringing had been a reminder for something on her calendar.

      Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the title in bold letters. 

      Apparently, it was her birthday…

      Lora couldn’t help but wonder, how long had it been since she celebrity her own birthday?