INTERGALACTIC

CHAPTER FOUR

Gigi Munroe stepped out of the command deck, exhaustion heavy on her shoulders.

“Good work, Gigi, on the rescue of Emma Hunnington,” Lieutenant Marcus said with a nod.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. You’re dismissed.”

She made her way through the steel corridors of the starship toward her quarters, desperate for rest. But when the door slid open, she froze.

Cornelius was already there, lounging in her chair as if it were his own, casually chewing on an apple.

“Why do you think Emma Hunnington was kidnapped by the Kryss?” he asked, his voice carrying the lazy drawl of his deep Mexican accent.

Gigi’s eyes narrowed. “Because they’re an evil alien race. That’s reason enough. What matters is—she’s safe now, in the hands of the Intergalactic Federation of Light.”

Cornelius raised an eyebrow, crunching into his apple. “I don’t think so, amiga. You saw what I saw back in that bunker. The cloning tech… things we couldn’t even begin to understand.”

Her lips tightened. “What are you implying? That the princess of Earth—the one we bled and fought to save—is just a clone? That the real one is still out there?”

“I didn’t say that.” Cornelius smirked, apple juice dripping down his fingers. “I just think it’s… suspicious.”

“Get out of my room,” Gigi snapped, her voice sharp with irritation.

“Fine, fine.” He rose slowly, as if savoring his victory, and walked out still eating his apple, each bite echoing in her mind long after he was gone.

Gigi collapsed onto her bunk, troubled thoughts circling like predators. But before she could unravel them, her comm device blared.

“Cadet Munroe, your presence is required in the war room.”

She cursed under her breath. Only five days had passed since the rescue, and she hadn’t slept properly since. Nightmares of the cursed bunker haunted every attempt at rest.

When she entered the war room, Julius was bent over the starmap of the galaxy, its shifting constellations casting cold light across his stern face.

“Miss Munroe,” Julius said without looking up, “we have a mission—should you choose to accept it. The infamous mathematician Thomas Baker, also known as the Maker, has gone missing. You are to find him and bring him back to New Earth.”

Gigi stiffened. “The Maker? The herald who predicted the Three-Thousand-Year War? The one the Kryss nearly assassinated?”

“Yes.” Julius’ gaze finally met hers. “Our sources say he is on Pluto, building a machine that could destroy Earth itself.”

Her voice faltered. “Why would he predict the end of the world… and then try to make it happen?”

“Are you questioning my judgment, cadet?”

“No, sir,” she said quickly, swallowing her doubts.

“Good. We leave at 0100 hours.”

---

Pluto

The descent into Pluto’s atmosphere was like entering a nightmare. The planet was shrouded in violent lightning storms and endless snow, its air thick with sulfur. Dark clouds loomed above the frozen seas, and the wind carried a howl that gnawed at the bones.

The locals—stoic, fur-wrapped figures with faces half-hidden by frost—welcomed the star troopers into their domes. They offered hides, cuts of meat from the icy waters, and their harsh, clear vodka.

“Give us a moment,” one of the servants said. “The Maker will see you shortly.”

Inside the warmth of the dome, Gigi waited. Then, at last, a short, bespectacled man in a mink coat shuffled forward. His eyes were sharp despite the years etched across his face.

“Gigi Munroe,” he said with a faint smile. “As I live and breathe.”

“The Maker.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “They treat you like a god here.”

“I am but a mathematician,” he replied evenly.

“The Federation sent us to rescue you from the Kryss,” she said coldly. “But you don’t seem like a man in distress.”

“Ah, the Federation of Light…” His smile faded. “They’ve tried to shut down my project—Lazarus. Cut my funding. Sent bandits to sabotage us.”

“And why would they do that?”

“Because of fear, Gigi. They fear what they cannot understand. The war I predicted has already begun.” His voice grew heavy, ominous.

Be that as it may, the Council expects your presence,” she said firmly.

“I have no quarrel with politicians,” the Maker murmured. “And I will surrender. But only if they tell you the truth of what is really happening in this solar system.” His eyes darkened, glinting with secrets. “I knew your mother before she passed. A fierce warrior, indignant like you. Always shielding the weak. I pity your subordinates, Gigi—the secrets they keep from you will destroy you.”

Her heart stuttered, but she didn’t let it show. “Enough. If you surrender willingly, we leave at once.”

The Maker bowed his head. “Very well. We leave at once.”

---

The ship lifted from Pluto’s frozen wasteland and cut through the void toward New Earth. Gigi stood at the viewport, her reflection pale against the stars.

Cornelius’s warning echoed in her head. A cloned princess.

The Maker’s words clawed at her thoughts. The war has already begun.

Questions spiraled, each heavier than the last.

What did the Council truly want with the Maker?

Would they execute him as a heretic?

And if the Federation was hiding secrets from her—was she fighting for the wrong side all along?