God’s Gonna Cut You Down

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Chapter 1.

Diego wedged himself behind a support beam, his scarred cheek pressing against the cool metal as he struggled to catch his breath. Hungry and trembling from exhaustion, fatigue weighed him down; days of hiding in the sprawling corridors of the space station had taken their toll. His pursuers closed in, but his legs refused to move.

Years ago, the Kraal attack decimated intergalactic society, leaving Arcadia’s Orbital-1 Serenity—a once-bustling transit hub—as a refuge for a few brave survivors. But that sanctuary ended days ago when the Kraal returned, bringing a fresh wave of terror. The creature appeared without warning, stretching out of corners, culling most of the station’s population within hours. People vanished in its wake, their bodies disintegrating at its touch, leaving only their belongings behind. Among the lost were Diego’s parents.

In the aftermath, the community turned on Diego, blaming him for the Kraal’s return. The worst part? He wasn’t sure they were wrong. He feared that, perhaps, he had unwittingly lured the Kraal to Serenity.

Accusations of being a void-tainted mutant had haunted him his entire life. The scars disfiguring half his face and arm made him a target of fear. They were eerily similar to those of the growlers—ghoulish, mindless people twisted by the void storms. His left eye, with its unsettling violet-flecked shimmer, only fueled the whispers that he was touched by the void, a harbinger of doom.

For years, his parents had shielded him from the community’s wrath, but Diego knew he possessed a rare ability—a gift his mother had called his sentido dotado. By stretching his senses, he could detect void terrors even through walls, and with a technique he called “masking,” he could hide himself from them. He couldn’t explain how he did it. It was as natural to him as running or playing a guitar—instinctive yet draining, and prolonged use left him with pounding headaches and nausea.

As he refined his gift over the years, Diego learned to mask not just himself but also those around him. Although a target of scorn, he had been their secret guardian. Yet, when the attack came, his efforts to protect everyone failed. The memories of that day tormented him, replaying endlessly—his desperate attempts to shield those around him, all for nothing. The failure left a wrenching ache that refused to fade, a heavy weight of responsibility, and he couldn’t escape the gnawing question: did the Kraal return because he had lost control of his gift?

When the attack subsided, Diego found himself among the shell-shocked survivors fleeing to the Bravo Ring of Serenity Orbital. Accusations soon followed, and Diego became the perfect scapegoat. Using his masking ability, he fled from the angry mob, wandering through a space station built for tens of thousands, now home to only a few hundred.

Alone and disoriented, his head pounded, and nausea teased his throat—familiar symptoms of overusing his gift. A numbing sense of loss gnawed at him. Back on Charlie Ring, he never had to worry about his next meal, let alone finding a safe place to sleep, free from the threat of prowling void terrors.

Hiding in his cramped niche, Diego clenched his trembling hands, consumed by self-loathing. What was the point of this gift if it had failed him when he needed it most? Why couldn’t he control it when it mattered—when it could have saved his parents?

Voices echoed through the dim corridor, heavy with accusation. Diego’s pursuers were close, and he felt the weight of it all pressing down on him. Maybe it was time to give up.

That final memory before the attack haunted him: he had been mustering the courage to confess his feelings to Anna. But his resolve had crumbled when he saw her laughing with her friends. How would she react? It was one thing for her to be friendly to a freak like him, but to be sweet with a freak? That was an entirely different scenario.

***

Years before.

With each step toward the classroom, Diego’s heart grew heavier. It was another day of mandatory communal service—a monthly ritual imposed upon all the children on Serenity Orbital. Their task this time: learning how to maintain lighting and power systems.

For Diego, it was a dreaded ordeal he yearned to escape, thanks to one boy: Raphael. Even though Diego stood taller than him, Raphael’s relentless torment continued unabated. The bullying had become so severe that Diego’s mother had withdrawn him from school.

Memories of past taunts flooded Diego’s mind, churning his stomach with anxiety. Unfortunately, his mother had seen right through his attempt to feign illness that morning, leaving him with little choice but to go. He didn’t know who would be there, as only a handful of his schoolmates were chosen each time.

Raphael’s boisterous voice echoed down the corridor. “Hey, Anna, check this out!” A loud crash followed by laughter sent a stab of cold fear down Diego’s spine, and his feet became heavy.

After summoning his courage, Diego entered the room to find Raphael sprawled on the floor, surrounded by scattered chairs. Sporting a cheeky grin, Raphael basked in the attention. His ever-present sidekick, Julian, helped him to his feet. Two others, less familiar to Diego, completed their cohort—a girl he’d only seen in passing, who must be Anna, and another guy, Miguel, whom he had shared classes with before.

But Raphael’s demeanor shifted when he spotted Diego, his grin morphed into a malicious smirk. “Well, well, if it isn’t Diego, the void terror! Beware, folks, a growler walks among us! Better clear the way!”

Julian joined in. “Diego, you ever look in the mirror? Or are they all broken in your house?”

Diego’s cheeks burned as he scanned the room for support, finding none. While the others didn’t actively join Raphael’s taunts, their lack of intervention reminded Diego of his isolation.

With gritted teeth, Diego forced himself to ignore Raphael. He’d get through this day, just like countless others before. Taking a seat, he steeled himself for what lay ahead.

To his surprise, fate seemed to take a turn for the better when Diego found himself paired with Anna. At first, she appeared hesitant, and Diego braced himself for her refusal, but then she joined him with a smile.

Together, they worked in relative silence, focusing solely on the task at hand. However, to Diego, the absence of conversation didn’t matter much. What truly mattered was that Anna didn’t flinch away from him at every interaction.

Instead, she treated him with a kindness he hadn’t encountered before. Her mere presence was a soothing balm, lifting his spirits with each passing moment. And as if that wasn’t enough, she smelled delightful—a blend of flowers and strawberries that filled the air with a sweet fragrance.

At lunchtime, Diego approached the worktable, now cleared for their meal, his heart hammering with apprehension. Just as he reached for an empty seat, Raphael kicked it away, sneering. “Sorry, amigo, seat’s not available to growlers.”

Diego’s jaw clenched, Raphael’s words a suffocating blanket. His eyes stung as he turned away, his chest tightening.

Anna’s voice rang out, and in just a few simple words she wielded more power than Raphael’s actions ever had. “You know what, Rafe? You’re a jerk.”

Her statement hung in the air, resonating like a divine proclamation, a heavenly clarion to his ears. In that moment, Anna transformed before Diego’s eyes into a visiting angel. The table fell silent, every eye turning to Anna in astonishment.

Caught off guard by her unexpected rebuke, Raphael’s expression shifted from amusement to confusion. “Hey, what do you mean, doll?” he protested weakly, his bravado crumbling under Anna’s unrelenting gaze.

She huffed impatiently. “Why are you always so mean to Diego?”

Raphael squirmed under Anna’s scrutiny. He gave a dismissive wave, attempting to brush off her accusation. “It’s all in good fun. Diego knows I’m not serious, right?”

Scowling, Diego clenched his fists at his sides, his silence the only answer.

Miguel retrieved the chair Raphael had kicked away, made room between him and Anna, and quietly offered, “You can sit here if you want.”

Diego hesitantly joined them, his heart doing backflips despite the fear that this was all an elaborate prank.

***

“There he is!” a voice called out, flashlight shining into the corner. Diego lifted his arm to shield his face from the glare.

They had found him.

Alcalde Carlos Garcia, the Prophet of Bravo Ring and leader of La Familia, declared with a self-righteous tone, “Bring him to the lift. We’ll send him down immediately.”

Diego offered no resistance as they roughly seized him, his thoughts turning in confusion. Where were they sending him?

Someone spoke into a radio, and soon an announcement echoed over the intercom declaring his capture. The few survivors who witnessed his procession through the halls did so with detached indifference, if not outright scorn.

Upon reaching the heart of their newly barricaded and secured plaza on Bravo Ring, Diego found an even larger crowd. Everyone had gathered to witness the punishment of “the boy who had summoned the Kraal destroyer.”

Diego glanced around, hoping to catch sight of Anna. He needed to know she had survived Charlie Ring’s destruction. He hadn’t seen her when he fled, but the scene had been chaotic as each section fell to decompression. His chest tightened with every passing second that he couldn’t see her.

Miguel was in the crowd, at least. Since their day of communal service, he had become a friend. So why did Miguel look away now? His averted gaze cut deep, adding to the weight of judgment bearing down on Diego. With nothing left, he lowered his head and shuffled into the waiting maintenance lift.

Dressed immaculately, Alcalde Carlos Garcia presented a striking figure amidst the disheveled crowd. His demeanor exuded an unsettling sense of control, commanding those around him to listen. His sienna-toned face bore weathered lines. A meticulously groomed silver mustache, fashioned into elegant handlebars, adorned his upper lip. Long, gray hair cascaded down his back, framing his imposing figure with an air of wisdom.

Alcalde Carlos spoke with authority, declaring that Diego would be banished to the lower rings, leaving his fate to God's will. The words faded into a distant murmur as the reality of his sentence finally settled in Diego's mind. The lower rings? Weren’t they off-limits? How would he survive down there alone?

Turning his attention to Diego, Carlos offered a kitchen knife no sharper than a spoon. “Take this for your protection, son,” he said, his voice solemn. “You are on God’s errand now. Find and destroy the Kraal in the lower rings. I’ve received revelation that this is something you can do for us. We believe in you.”

Diego accepted the knife, feeling the chill of the bakelite handle against his palm. He clenched it tight and turned his gaze to find Miguel. But his friend was nowhere to be seen.

Carlos leaned close, taking Diego’s hand in a firm grip and whispering quietly so only Diego could hear, “Best you use this knife wisely. We don’t need another growler. Understood?”

The words echoed in Diego’s mind, sending shivers down his spine. Diego’s stomach churned with a sickening mixture of fear and disbelief. He still couldn’t comprehend that they were actually sending him down to the lower rings. For as long as he knew, the lower rings had remained sealed—they were too dangerous, overrun with growlers and abominations.

Carlos adjusted Diego’s collar, then placed his heavy hands firmly on Diego’s shoulders. After the attack and days of fleeing and hiding, Diego must have looked ragged in his standard-issue blue jumpsuit, especially next to the impeccably groomed Alcalde Carlos.

With a sudden move, Carlos snatched Diego’s passkey from his wrist. Diego’s heart lurched in panic—without it, he’d be locked out of numerous doors on the orbital. He lunged to grab it back, but Carlos moved with surprising agility for someone his age, slipping the card into his pocket and out of reach.

Diego longed to cry out, to express his outrage and demand justice. A surge of emotions welled up within him—anger, frustration, and a grave sense of betrayal—but they were quickly smothered by a wave of resignation, leaving him feeling numb and defeated.

In the face of Carlos’s authority and the lack of support from friends, Diego stood in silence, his mind swirling with confusion. They were actually sending him down there. He was only thirteen, what were they expecting of him? It was a horrible dream he couldn’t wake up from.

Carlos backed out of the lift, his voice resonating so everyone could hear as he uttered the solemn words, “God be with you.”

The door rattled closed in a grinding clatter, sealing Diego off from the others. His heartbeat thundered in his chest. The lift lurched into motion, descending into the depths of the orbital.

Chapter 2.

With each passing moment of the lift’s journey, coils of dread twisted within Diego. After what felt like an eternity, its metal doors cycled open in layers, revealing the abandoned corridors of Delta Ring. Diego’s hand tightened around the hilt of his knife, his knuckles white.

He hesitated at the threshold, his chest rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths, each sending white puffs in the air—stark reminders of the cold vacuum of space beyond the orbital’s walls. With the Ring locked down, the environmentals ran at only a minimal level.

Taking careful steps, he ventured out, his senses on high alert for any hint of danger. The rattling of the Maintenance Lift’s doors closing behind him echoed through the stale air. Startled, Diego whirled around, hammering at the button to reopen them, but they remained stubbornly shut. He needed a passkey to get through doors like this.

The chill quickly seeped through his clothes, and a shiver came over him. The lightweight jumpsuit that had sufficed on the climate-controlled Bravo Ring now provided little protection—he needed to locate warmer clothing soon.

Turning around, Diego cautiously entered the plaza, hoping to find something of value in one of the ancient shops. His footsteps echoed in the desolate chamber, and dust hung in the air. Dim maintenance lights cast feeble illumination, their flickering bulbs clinging desperately to life.

Scattered benches, abandoned kiosks, faded advertisements, piles of clothing, and the occasional planter boxes cradling the skeletal remains of trees littered the space—a haunting reminder of times long past.

The unsettling stillness was punctuated by the occasional scuttling of void rats and the distant cry of a growler echoing from somewhere in the back halls of Delta Ring.

Tattered storefronts with broken windows flanked the plaza. Billboards evoked hints of another time, displaying slogans like “Embark on an interstellar journey with Quantum Quest Travel Agency” or another featuring a girl in a skirt proclaiming “Wear Tomorrow’s Fashion Today at Bobby Soxers!”

The promenade stretched beyond the plaza in both directions—a mall-like public corridor that circled at the heart of each of Serenity Orbital’s rings.

Diego surveyed his surroundings, weighing his options carefully. The residents of Serenity Orbital had primarily inhabited the Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie Rings for the past two decades, bringing many alterations and changes over the years. The stores, diners, and offices in those areas had been stripped and repurposed countless times. So it left him feeling a bit disoriented to find everything in Delta Ring in an earlier state, like a time capsule.

The plaza’s shops presented a varied selection of pre-arrival amenities, including a café, convenience store, an information booth, a Starlight Inn, and even a Serenity Link transit entrance.

However, what drew his eye was the Atomic Pizzarama across the way, its dusty sign featuring an anthropomorphic mouse striking a rock-n-roll pose while strumming a guitar.

Diego paused, remembering the hours spent huddled with Miguel as they pored over the pages of a tattered comic book. It chronicled the galactic escapades of Remy and his intrepid friends, the iconic mascots of Atomic Pizzarama.

In the comic, Remy and his companions embarked on daring adventures across the cosmos, their journeys taking them to distant planets and on thrilling roller coasters that defied imagination.

But now, as Diego stood before the dilapidated facade of the Atomic Pizzarama, he had to remind himself that survival took precedence. Where would he find food, water, and shelter from the terrors lurking on this Ring?

Rubbing his hands to warm them, he glanced left and right while considering the promenade loop as it curved away in both directions—all he could see were potential hiding spots for the growlers; and he knew they were there—he could sense them with his gift, even exhausted as he was.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, as if unseen eyes followed his every move. Clutching his knife in front of him, he crept across the plaza and into a diner. A pile of clothing nearby caught Diego’s attention. Similar heaps littered the plaza, scattered into corners or laying in piles here and there.

A jacket mixed in with other clothes beckoned to Diego. He reached for it, only to feel a rising ache envelop him as memories of the Kraal’s attack flooded his mind—people fading away at its touch, leaving behind only the garments and abandoned gear they were wearing. At that moment, he realized he stood amidst a graveyard, the clothing serving as silent tributes to the fallen decades before.

A wave of cold, heavy sorrow gripped Diego’s heart, flooding him with memories of his lost parents and the others who fell at the Kraal’s touch. He took a steadying breath and decided to leave the jacket behind despite the chilling cold creeping into his bones.

His stomach growled, reminding him of the meals he’d skipped. Surveying the cafe, he ignored the overturned tables and chairs and made a beeline to the kitchen.

Unfortunately, his search yielded nothing of value—only dried remnants of old meals, long rotted away, leaving shadows and dust on the plates and trays that once housed them, all piled alongside empty Pop-A-Cola bottles.

Even the water refused to flow from the tap. But they were on an orbital space station, not planetside—surely, the water just needed to be turned back on somewhere, right?

He returned to the plaza, mentally reviewing the layout of Charlie Ring. He had grown up there, and knew the rings were supposed to be mirrors of each other. If he could get into the Ring Operations Center here, would he be able to turn on some of the systems, like the heating and water? It was the one place still operational on all the rings, managed by the robots. However, he wasn’t sure how they’d react to his presence. Perhaps he should try to get into a biosphere instead?

Every Ring on the orbital featured biospheres as part of its recycling and environmental systems—lush green havens that provided the lingering occupants with fresh produce and natural oxygen. Yet, he felt it unlikely that he would find a fully functional farm brimming with ripe produce down here, considering Delta Ring’s state of lockdown.

No. Diego felt that searching for emergency rations and preserved food was the better path for now. Besides, getting into the biospheres was usually through a series of doors, all of which had access controls, and Carlos had taken his passkey.

The sight of a public drinking fountain reminded Diego of his dry throat. He cautiously approached, only to find the button seized up from disuse. A firm slap broke it free, and he watched with mixed feelings as black, sludgy water flowed out. It was great to see running water, but was this even safe to drink? Fortunately, with each passing moment, the flow improved, gradually clearing up.

Eyeing the murky liquid swirling in the drain, Diego decided against taking a sip, hoping to find cleaner options elsewhere. The functioning fountain did, at least, offer a glimmer of hope—proof that some systems still remained operational.

Noting the Serenity Link Transit Terminal, Diego wondered if it worked the same in lockdown as it did in the upper rings, and cautiously made his way across the plaza. With its network of tubes weaving throughout the orbital, the Link system served as versatile elevators capable of traversing in any direction, even spanning across each of the orbital’s rings.

Back on Charlie, he could take it to destinations like Alpha and Bravo—it was what he had used when fleeing the collapsing environmentals of Charlie Ring. But passage to Delta and Echo rings had always been locked out. A spark of hope ignited in him as he realized the transit system might allow him to leave Delta Ring, even if it wouldn’t let him set it as a destination.

Approaching the doors, he expected them to slide open automatically, but they remained stubbornly shut—a cold reminder of his lost passkey.

Struggling with hands numb from the cold, Diego wedged his fingers into the door’s gap, forcing them apart. A dim interior greeted him. Only a single, feeble light remained functional, barely illuminating the space. The dark chamber extended beyond, with benches lining the walls and a bank of lockers down the center. It opened into a broader area on the far side.

Diego crept further into the dim interior, noticing that one of the three pod doors lay open in darkness, and his skin prickled—something was there. He crept forward, his eyes adjusting to the gloom as he crouched near a locker.

Then, he heard it—a faint skittering of claws against the floor, accompanied by the unmistakable hiss of void rats. Their purple-glowing eyes bobbed in the shadows as they scurried toward him. His heart hammered as he quickly backed away. Void rats were mutated abominations close to a meter in size that could spit toxic acid—creatures he simply didn’t want to face.

Relief flooded through him as the Transit Terminal doors slid open this time, granting him escape to the promenade. Finding a secluded spot, he kept a wary eye on the terminal entrance.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he waited, his heartbeat thumping out each second in his ears. He should have recognized their presence sooner, but exhaustion had dulled his gift. He felt stretched, unable to think. He needed to find somewhere safe to rest.

Fortunately, the doors did not open again—the rats had not pursued him.

Diego mentally reached for his gift, gritting his teeth against the sharp pain of using it while so exhausted. But he had no choice, he had to find a safe path forward.

Clenching his eyes tightly, he strained to detect any other void-tainted creatures nearby. Gradually, he began to sense their presence more strongly in one direction, so he chose to go the other way, darting between alcoves in the dimly lit corridor.

Most of the facades along the promenade were sealed shut, without even glass fronts, like the Skyway Lounge. But there were also offices, a chapel, a handful of stores, and even a Travel Agency—the latter caught Diego’s attention.

Cautiously, he entered the office to find the remnants of its former life: a cluttered desk displayed ancient brochures and a faded sign boasted of exotic destinations, from a theme park named “AstroWorld,” to the upcoming Z-Ball tournament in the intergalactic Atom Games, 25 years before.

Diego ventured into the back area and discovered evidence of a makeshift home. His pulse quickened when he spotted a human skeelton resting on a worn, threadbare mattress. He stared at the remains, fighting back a shudder.

Fear and curiosity battled within him. The Kraal’s touch usually disintegrated its victims, leaving no trace, so this was his first time seeing human remains, and it sent a chill down his spine. He didn’t know what had finished this person off, but it had clearly been some time ago. This stark reminder of his inevitable fate made the air feel colder and the shadows seem deeper.

After a moment, he pressed on, eager to leave the haunting scene behind him. Returning to the promenade, he spotted cans of paint strewn across the floor ahead, leading toward a promising storefront: “Rocket Ace: Sports and Hardware.” Diego moved carefully as he entered, mindful to avoid the loose cans that would make noise if disturbed—best not to attract undue attention.

Inside, Diego found a store in disarray, with shelves toppled and inventory scattered—evidence of previous scavengers. He rummaged through the aisles, passing over items of little immediate use like steel wool, twine, kitchen storage containers, and dried bottles of glue.

Diligent searching turned up some useful items. He found a clutter of flashlights but no batteries, a multi-tool knife, a travel blanket, and a heap of utility overalls. Choosing the smallest pair, he rolled up the pant legs and tied them with twine. The added layer, combined with the blanket, helped ease the chill.

Finally, he discovered a box of emergency rations, and his stomach growled at the sight. The instructions said to add water, but he didn’t want to wait and immediately tore into a brick of instant noodles. Even with dry lips, he managed to work up enough saliva to chew and swallow what he could, followed by pouring its powdered seasoning packet into his mouth. He repeated this process with two additional noodle bricks.

With his hunger at bay and his stomach satiated, the tension between his shoulders began to ease, and he allowed himself to continue with less urgency.

Venturing into the sports section, Diego discovered relics from a world he had only heard of in stories. A pile of game masks lay under a faded sign that read, “The best Z-ball players choose Blammo!” He passed by awkward leather gloves, deflated balls, and odd plastic disks—all useless junk. But the sight of a bat branded “Top Slugger” brought him to a halt. He gripped it tightly—this was no toy; this was a weapon he could use for survival.

Amidst the wreckage, he found a toppled rack of protective gear, which he thought might be valuable if confronting void rats and growlers. He sifted through the array of pads and helmets, tracing the contours of the unfamiliar equipment as he tried to discern their purpose. Some pieces were too big and bulky for his frame, while others left him scratching his head in confusion.

One sign in particular left Diego puzzled: “Every man needs an Athletic Supporter!” His curiosity piqued, he tore open one of the packages, revealing a curved plastic cup with brittle rubber straps that had seen better days.

He turned the cup over in his hands, wondering about its purpose and why every man needed one. More importantly, he wanted to know what protection it might offer against the growlers and other terrors lurking about. Perplexed, he glanced around, hoping for some clue about the gear’s purpose. Then his eyes fell on the back of the package, featuring a comical silhouette of a guy getting kicked between the legs.

Smiling at the humor, he pondered the scenarios needing such protection. But, more importantly, how did it work? Intrigued, Diego fastened the cup over his pants, adjusting the straps until it felt snug. As he stood there, a wave of self-consciousness swept over him at needing to wear something down there, and his cheeks flushed.

However, curiosity won out in the end, and he decided to put it to the test. Making a fist, he delivered a gentle tap on the cup between his legs—and then a stronger one. With a grin, he picked up the Top Slugger bat and delivered a final whack. A sense of satisfaction spread across his face—okay, so yeah, it did help.

But! It was incredibly uncomfortable, and he didn’t know how much use it’d be in defending against growlers. With a shrug, he removed the cup and left it on the shelf.

The sudden clatter of an empty paint can rolling across the floor jolted him back to the moment. His heart pounded in his chest as he cautiously peered over the shelves.

Two growlers entered, one male and one female, their forms twisted and burned-looking, their clothes in tatters.

The Kraal had come from beyond time and space, unleashing unspeakable horrors upon the universe. In response, the Union of Stars government had resorted to nuclear devastation, hoping to eradicate the threat. This desperate action not only failed to fend off the attacks, it created the void storms, which continued to spawn a multitude of mutated abominations—unspeakable horrors found only in the worst of nightmares, such as the mutated, savage and mindless people known as growlers.

Diego backed away, barely remembering to grab the bag with his newfound gear.

“We’re coming,” one growler hissed through gnarled lips.

“Run! Flee!” the female added, moving in his direction.

Panic built within Diego as he crept to the back of the store and realized he was trapped. He’d learned to use his ability to sense void-tainted things and keep well away from them, so he had never been this close to a growler before. Their presence was a nauseating rot pressing on his mind.

Even with them approaching, his thoughts tumbled and churned in his mind, a chaotic whirlwind of emotion that surged, threatening to engulf him. His parents were lost to the Kraal, his friends had turned their backs on him, Anna was nowhere to be found, and now, here he was, exiled to the depths of Serenity Orbital. It wasn’t fair.

He closed his eyes, trying to ignore his raging emotions and summon his gift, hoping to mentally nudge the growlers away, if not mask himself from them. However, like had happened so often recently, trying to grab hold and control his gift felt like reaching for a handhold and finding only empty air.

He didn’t know if it was exhaustion from not even sleeping since the first attack, but he just couldn’t focus, and even this attempt sent a stab of pain through his head.

Furious at his lack of control, Diego bolted across the store, hoping to find an escape route. But the growlers were faster, cutting off his path and herding him into a cramped stock room at the back. Diego’s breath came in panicked gasps as he scanned for a way out, but it was a dead end.

He dropped his bag and gripped the Top Slugger with both hands, struggling to keep from trembling as he braced himself for the inevitable confrontation. Could he survive a fight with two growlers? Not only were they terrifying, with their muttered urgings for you to flee, but they were supernaturally strong.

“There!” one grunted, its voice echoing through the cramped space as they entered the long stock room.

A grim realization washed over him as he recognized the futility of trying to fight them. He was just a little kid against two adult-sized growlers. His fingers relaxed and the Top Slugger slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor. Despite feeling utterly drained, he had no choice but to try for his gift again. It was his one last desperate attempt at survival.

Diego took a deep breath and struggled against his storming emotions, working to find a sense of calm, summoning all his willpower to help, bolstered by a bit of desperation, and adrenaline. This time, he could just barely feel his gift and he seized the few threads he could grasp, concentrating and holding tight.

He snatched his newfound gear and ducked behind a shelving unit, praying it was large enough to hide him. With a deep breath, he activated his masking. Relief washed over him as he felt the familiar mental blanket envelop him—in a shimmer, colors around him faded, the world dimming as if shrouded in murky water.

The growlers surged forward, but Diego knew they couldn’t see him. Taking a calculated risk, he bolted toward them, heart hammering in his chest. He closed the gap swiftly, veering to the side at the last possible moment. They thundered past, their frenzied movements carrying them to the back of the stockroom.

Diego quietly crept out of the store, reminding himself to be more vigilant. He couldn’t maintain his mask for long, and already, he could feel his strength faltering with each pulse of his heart.

Through trial and error with his parents, Diego had explored the extent of his gift’s capabilities. They had found the masking most intriguing, not only because he could hide from void terrors but also from other people. It wasn’t just about becoming invisible—though that was the most extreme use of his masking, and it took the most effort. The simpler application was to become innocuous, easy to overlook, and just an unremarkable part of the background—his typical strategy when hiding from void terrors.

He had also learned there were limitations. If someone became aware of his presence while masking—by hearing him or noticing the slight shimmer when he moved invisibly—they could suddenly see him. His father had said this meant it wasn’t a physical power but an alteration of other people’s perceptions.

Understanding this, Diego pressed on with extreme care, despite the mounting pain, until he had escaped The Rocket Ace store. He finally released his gift, gasping for relief. His reprieve was short-lived, however. The growlers in the store were still following him, and worse, more were closing in.

He hurried into a jog, only to have his heart sink as a wall loomed into view just beyond the slow curve of the promenade, blocking the corridor. The pressure zone blast doors were lowered. They divided Serenity Orbital’s rings into four sectors, each marked by painted stripes on the floors—red, green, blue, and gray. His escape route had been cut off. But why was it closed? Was the area beyond compromised?

He rested a hand against the cold steel of the blast door while fighting back the rising panic gripping his chest. He couldn’t double back—the guttural cries of the growlers came from that direction, growing louder with each passing moment. His evasion was clearly short-lived.

Diego ran to the bulkhead controls on the wall, his fingers hovering over the buttons as he realized he had no idea what to do. Desperation took over, and he randomly stabbed at a few buttons. Nothing happened—the panel didn’t even light up or respond to his touch.

“Run!” came the cry of a growler as it saw him.

With a quick scan of his surroundings, Diego’s eyes fell upon a nearby trash disposal hatch. His parents’ warnings about the dangers of the orbital’s recycling system echoed in his mind. They had often reminded him that the disposal system could easily recycle any biological matter, even small children—but he pushed the warning aside.

He made a beeline for the hatch, hoping they were wrong and that he could somehow escape deeper in the system. Yanking it open, he dove through the narrow opening, dragging his bag behind him.

The system reacted instantly, a red warning light flashing as an iris door closed off the shaft, leaving barely any room for Diego to fit inside. Outside, an automated warning repeated its message: “Emergency—living matter detected in the recycler.”

“Mierda,” he hissed, using his father’s favorite curse, as he realized the alert would draw every growler within earshot.

Soon, Diego felt a tug on the hatch, and he strained to hold it in place from the inside. He braced himself, muscles trembling with exertion as he fought to maintain his grip on the short screw posts. With each passing moment, he sensed the growlers multiplying, and he knew this was a dead end—it was only a matter of time until he lost his grip, and they had him. His fingers burned from the effort of grasping the cold metal, but he refused to yield.

Chapter 3.

A cheerful voice echoed through the hall outside the chute. “Hello, peaceful visitors! Please vacate the area. We wouldn’t want anybody to get hurt, now would we?” The pressure on the hatch door eased, and Diego took a deep breath, wondering who had arrived. Could it be there were other survivors down here?

The commands continued, punctuated by electric zaps and angry snarls. The chipper voice seemed surreal, considering the grim reality around him. As the creatures retreated, Diego strained to hear more, his heart pounding from the close call.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he cautiously cracked open the hatch, peeking through the small gap. A robot rolled up, exclaiming, “Oh goodness gracious, what have we here?” It quickly opened the front of the chute, revealing him crouched inside, scowling.

Diego eyed the bot warily, immediately recognizing the multi-functional Unitron model. This one, built out as a peace officer, seemed to be configured with a friendly demeanor. Like all Unitrons, it rolled on three sturdy wheels, had two articulated arms, and a rounded head with large, friendly optics. A screen beneath the optics displayed a reassuring smile. Scratches and dents marring its blue-and-white metal exterior hinted at its age if not the battles it had endured.

“Would you look at that?” The robot chirped in a friendly voice, its optics twinkling pleasantly. “A living boy where he shouldn’t be! How about we get you out of there, and could you provide identification?”

With the growlers out of sight, Diego reluctantly stepped out, pulling his bag behind him, stammering, “I don’t have any.”

The robot paused. “Are you a lost child?”

“I’m not! I just don’t have my passkey, I . . . lost it.”

“Oh my! Let’s get this straightened right up! What is your name and that of your parents?”

His eyes narrowed, and he tried to change the topic, not wanting to explain his situation. “Why are you here?”

The robot paused, “Oh, I’m sorry, did I forget to introduce myself? My name is Officer Chip. I’m here to help the citizens of Delta Ring, of course. Now, would you please identify yourself?”

Feeling exhausted, angry, and untrusting, Diego set his jaw. “No.”

Chip processed his response with a series of whirs and clicks. “Very well. For now, I’ll refer to you as Vagrant 37A2! Unfortunately, we have rules around here, little buddy, and you broke one of them by interfering with the operations of the recycling chute. How about we handle this with a gentle reminder this time? A wee little citation for a minor slip-up, which we know you won’t repeat, am I right?”

A buzzing sound emitted from its chest as it printed a ticket and handed it to Diego. “You have thirty days to identify yourself at the Delta Ring Citizen Help Desk and pay the fine. Now, you probably didn’t know it, but Delta Ring is under lockdown. It is best if you leave until reactivation, okay?”

“But how?” Diego protested.

The robot processed his question, responding with, “How what?”

Diego struggled to keep from throwing his arms up in frustration. “I can’t leave here even if I wanted to! The Link doesn’t work, I’m locked in, and Charlie Ring is all shutdown. Everybody is on Bravo now.”

Chip paused, processing the new information while playing a pleasant tune. “You’re absolutely right!” it agreed. “My sincerest apologies. Correction: You should head to Bravo Ring!”

Diego growled. “But I said I can’t leave!”

Chip wheeled away, gently chiding. “No need to upset the apple cart, Vagrant 37A2. Now, please move along!”

Diego blinked, grabbed his newfound gear, and chased after the security bot. “Can’t you help me? Where can I stay?”

Chip spun around to face him, the simulated cheeriness fading, “Please refrain from following me.”

But Diego refused to give in. He waited for the robot to move on, then trailed behind.

After a few meters, it spun again. “I said, please stop following me! You don’t want a second citation, now, do you, little buddy?”

“For following you?” Diego sputtered, unable to summon any other words. Exhausted, drained from everything that had happened, his mind numb with fatigue, he waited until the robot moved on, then followed once more. This pattern repeated, much to Chip’s clear annoyance. Eventually, it relented, allowing Diego to follow as it navigated along the promenade, past the plaza he had first encountered, and into a network of dimly lit back hallways.

As they approached two doors labeled “DROC,” the robot halted, pointing to a line on the floor. “Friendly visitors are not allowed past this line. Do you understand? Crossing it is a no-no!” With a gesture, it pointed to a security turret mounted on the ceiling. “We wouldn’t want you to get a boo-boo!”

Diego rolled his eyes, bristling at Chip’s condescending tone, wondering just how young it assumed he was. Despite his irritation, the looming turret kept him in check. Reluctantly, he nodded in agreement, even if he wondered at the robot’s ineptitude. How could Chip claim to maintain peace yet offer no assistance? And why did the robots leave this ring in such disarray? Better yet, why didn’t they get rid of the growlers?

He called out, his voice echoing along the corridor. “Why won’t you help me?!”

But Chip didn’t react and rolled into the DROC without a backward glance. As the door cycled shut, a wave of fatigue crashed over Diego. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had slept.

With a heavy sigh, he dropped his bag to the ground and curled up, using it as a makeshift pillow. He hoped the robots would provide some semblance of safety while he slept and wrapped the blanket tightly around him. Despite the cold seeping through his clothes and the unforgiving hardness of the floor, Diego finally surrendered to sleep.

***

Sometime later, an urgent biological need dragged him awake, his body sore and aching. The corridor remained deserted, save for the watchful gaze of the security turret tracking his every move.

The overhead lights had dimmed, marking the station’s nighttime cycle, but Diego barely noticed. His only priority was finding the head. Grabbing his gear, he jogged through the halls, a wave of relief washing over him when he found a functioning public restroom.

With that settled, Diego returned to the plaza near the maintenance lift. He scavenged a few empty Pop-A-Cola glass bottles from the café and carried them to the drinking fountain. As the water filled each bottle, his gaze drifted to the Atomic Pizzarama across the way. There was something strangely captivating about it, and for a moment, he could almost hear the echoes of music and laughter from a time long past.

Unable to resist its allure, Diego snapped caps onto the bottles, tucked them into his bag, and crossed the plaza. The Pizzarama was sealed by a rolling gate, so he gripped the cold metal bars, his eyes scanning the shadowed interior.

The once vibrant colors of the walls and floors had faded, their surfaces now marred by cracks and stains. Rows of empty tables and chairs were scattered haphazardly in the main dining area, some overturned, others broken.

A large stage loomed at one end of the room, its curtain now ragged and faded. On it stood a motley crew of animatronic figures, their oversized mechanical eyes staring out into the emptiness. Remy the mouse took center stage, frozen mid-performance as he strummed his electric guitar. Nearby, a dilapidated arcade area beckoned, its machines shrouded in dust and cobwebs.

Despite its run-down state, a sense of longing stirred within Diego as he imagined what this place must have been like in its heyday. He found himself yearning for that simpler time, when his biggest concern would have been snagging the last slice of pizza.

The lights overhead subtly brightened, signaling the start of the daytime cycle, though many flickered weakly or remained broken. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away, focusing on more pressing matters. Still feeling stiff and sore from the uncomfortable night on the floor, Diego considered the Starlight Inn.

The neon sign, once carving bright lines of electric light across the facade, now lingered darkly. Layers of grime obscured the windows, offering only a murky view of the lobby within. As Diego approached, the door began to slide open, but it shuddered and groaned, stopping after just a few centimeters. He gripped the edge and pulled hard, muscles straining until it finally gave way, retracting into the wall with a grating protest.

Diego’s feet stirred up dust in the cramped lobby. A worn mica counter stood to one side, behind which sat a motionless Unibot attendant.

“Hey,” he called out, waving his hands and expecting it to spring to life, but it remained unresponsive.

Furrowing his brow, he climbed onto the counter and nudged it with his finger, leaving a mark in the dust on its dome.

Still no response.

Not that it would have mattered. A sinking realization settled in his chest as he noticed the room rates listed on a sign—even if the attendant bot sprang to life, he’d still need money.

Undeterred, he turned his attention to the door leading deeper into the hotel. But despite his best efforts, it remained stubbornly sealed.

With a resigned sigh, Diego admitted defeat and pressed on. What he needed was to just get into the living quarters. But could he do that without a passkey? He recalled seeing an entrance to Delta Ring’s living quarters near the Rocket Ace and headed in that direction.

Diego approached the doors with trepidation. Of course, as he had expected, they didn’t open automatically when he approached. Furthermore, much like the inner door at the Starlight Inn, these also stayed firmly closed, refusing to budge despite his efforts to pry them open.

Leaning against the doors, Diego struggled to contain his mounting frustration. If Carlos hadn’t taken his passkey, could he have gotten into the Living Quarters? Or did he need to have a registered berth down here?

He stepped back, a flicker of hope igniting within him. If he couldn’t gain entry, perhaps it meant the growlers were also kept out? Safety might wait beyond those doors, and he needed to find a way inside. Staring at them sullenly, he resolved that his next priority was figuring out how to unlock doors.

Because he had already explored this part of the promenade the day before, he retraced his steps and headed in the opposite direction, clutching tightly to his Top Slugger in case of danger.

Diego navigated through a quiet stretch of the promenade until he reached Woolwards Department Store. Inside, amidst the ransacked shelves and scavenged aisles, he discovered what felt like a treasure trove of clothing—socks, shirts, and everything in between. He rummaged through the various shapes and sizes, eagerly layering up with new clothes until he finally felt warm again.

His search for useful items halted when he saw a trio of mirrors clustered near the changing room. He froze, his reflection staring back at him, revealing a face marred by scars and disfigurement. Mottled skin traced a jagged path along his left cheek and down his arm. His left eye shimmered in violet, its iris barely discernible.

This was the other side of his gift—a haunting, sinister specter, reminding him how horrible he was with every reflection. No wonder people shied away from him; who wouldn’t be afraid? How many nights had he spent wishing it away? Diego would gladly relinquish his gift in an instant if it meant he could be normal.

His fingers trembled as he reached up to touch his scarred cheek. His mom had always told him how handsome she thought he was, but he knew better. Even if she liked his brown curls and claimed he had a nice jawline, nobody could ignore the mottled skin. This was his reflection, yet Diego wished it belonged to someone else because it was the face of the boy everyone despised—the boy who summoned the Kraal.

They were right to banish him below decks. Maybe he was to blame. This was where he belonged, down with the other void terrors. The thought gnawed at him, a festering wound poisoning his soul.

Disgust and rage welled up, boiling like molten lava. His pulse pounded in his temples as a storm of emotions broke free. With a surge of fury that eclipsed reason, he clenched his Top Slugger with both hands and unleashed a primal howl, swinging it at the mirror.

The glass shattered into a thousand glittering shards, a clamor of destruction that echoed the turmoil within his soul.

And he didn’t care if the growlers heard.

But one mirror wasn’t enough to quench the fire burning inside him. Seeing the same face staring back from the second mirror, he moved on to it, and then the next. Fueled by self-loathing, anger, despair, and grief, he prowled the store, smashing every mirror he found.

Diego’s rage only ebbed away as the last mirror fell to the ground in a shower of glass. In its place, a cold numbness enveloped him.

Sinking to his knees amidst the glittering shards, his chest huffed as he drew in a shuddering breath, fighting against the sobs that threatened to break free. But he refused to cry. The other boys had called him a crybaby. That was then, not now. After a minute, he clenched his jaw, rising to his feet and wiping his cheeks.

The numbness seeping into his heart fueled his resolve as he marched back to the Rocket Ace sports store. With single-minded focus, he grabbed a Z-ball mask and pulled it over his face. This mask would do more than protect him from an enemy’s blows—it would hide who he was. As he secured it in place, the turmoil within him began to ease.

Diego tapped into his gift, extending his senses as he set out to explore every nook and cranny of Delta Ring that he could access without a passkey. He crept cautiously between alcoves and abandoned establishments, searching for anything that might aid in his survival.

After passing a bank of televid booths, most with cracked and ruined terminals, Diego neared “The Peppermint Club,” and he slowed, sensing a congregation of growlers within.

Closing his eyes and concentrating, he called upon his gift to mask his presence. The world around him shimmered—sounds muffled as if underwater, and colors became diluted.

With careful steps and a hammering heart, he crossed in front of the entrance without attracting attention. Beyond that, the promenade expanded into an elongated plaza, with a sign indicating the “Delta Ring Operations Center (DROC)” over a double-wide entry door to one side.

Diego narrowed his eyes, recognizing similarities to the CROC facility on Charlie Ring. Furthermore, unlike the entrance in the back hallway, these doors lacked a protective turret.

He approached, expecting the doors to remain sealed shut. Yet, to his surprise, they open silently, revealing a small waiting area beyond. Rows of benches and chairs lined the room, and to the side stood a barricaded counter next to a room beyond.

With no one manning the counter, Diego stepped carefully past it. Three cylindrical doors lined the wall, and a red line etched into the floor marked a clear danger zone. A soft chirp caught his attention, and he looked up to see a turret mounted on the ceiling, its mechanical eye locked onto him.

Diego’s stomach growled, a not-so-subtle reminder of his missed breakfast. Eyeing the turret warily, Diego recalled Chip’s warning from the back halls and hesitated, wondering if it was safe to continue. Unwilling to take the risk, he dragged a chair from the waiting room to the red line. Taking a seat, he rummaged through his bag and assembled a makeshift lunch while mulling over what he had learned so far.

It didn’t make sense that the robotic maintenance crew didn’t do their job and keep things clean, let alone take care of the growlers. And why did Chip arrive when he had last night? He didn’t show up when the growlers were chasing him, only when he climbed into the trash chute.

Diego pulled the wrinkled citation from his pocket, wondering if that was all the orbital cared about—keeping its systems running smoothly. Did they turn a blind eye to scavengers and vermin as long as they didn’t interrupt the orbital operations?

“Where are the robots when you need them?” he muttered.

Recalling his futile attempts to get answers from Chip the day before, Diego suspected that any other robots would likely dismiss him as well. He needed a different approach. Frustration boiling over, he crumpled the citation and hurled it at the turret.

It remained indifferent to his outburst, just as Chip had. A fiery anger ignited within Diego. If the robots only responded to threats against the station, then he’d make himself a threat.

His heart pounding with anticipation over his next move, Diego retrieved a few empty Pop-a-Cola bottles. He carefully positioned himself, ensuring his feet stayed behind the line, and silently prayed that the robotic defenses wouldn’t retaliate.

With a determined swing, he hurled a bottle at the turret. It shattered with a sharp pop, sending shards of glass across the floor.

To his relief, the turret responded with only a brief beep.

Diego exhaled, the tension easing from his body. Hefting a second bottle, he launched it, then a third—still no reaction.

Frustration gnawed at him as he clenched another bottle. He had been sure this would provoke a response.

Just as Diego wound up to throw the bottle, one of the cylindrical doors cycled open, and Chip rolled out, waving his arms frantically. “Whoa there, little buddy! Let’s not make a mess! What’s got you so riled up, my friend?”

Diego planted his feet, declaring. “I need to talk to you.”

Chip’s optics brightened. “Well, why didn’t you say so? You should ring the bell, my good pal, not go all smashy-smashy! We’re here to help, right?”

Diego’s eyes thinned, “The bell?”

Chip wheeled over to the waiting room. “Yep! Right there on the counter, waiting for a friendly ding!” Chip demonstrated with a gentle tap, “See, it’s easy-peasy!”

Diego suddenly felt foolish. Flustered, he waved his hands dismissively. “Forget it. Just—I need to get an assigned cabin in the living quarters on Delta Ring!”

“Ohh, I’m super sorry to say this,” Chip began, “but Delta Ring is in lockdown, so we can’t process that request right now! But hey, no worries—let’s keep things moving along, shall we? We wouldn’t want you to get another citation, Vagrant 37A2!”

Chip retreated to the room beyond the counter, humming a little tune as he rolled over the broken glass and retrieved the crumpled paper Diego had tossed. With a perky chuckle, he handed it to Diego. “And speaking of citations, don’t go losing this now! You’ve got twenty-nine days to make restitution—plenty of time to get everything squared away!”

Diego blinked, his mouth agape. “Restitution?”

“You were a bit of a public nuisance, my friend, so there’s a little fine you’ll need to pay! No biggie!”

“Pay a what?” he squeaked, only now processing what it had told him the day before.

“As a first infraction, it’s just 72 dollars!” Chip chirped, his voice as cheerful as ever.

The concept of money left Diego bewildered. While he’d heard of cash, for his entire life on the orbital, his small community had only traded in goods and services, never using currency.

Diego tried a different approach, frustration creeping into his voice as he gestured toward the promenade. “What about all the growlers?”

Chip paused, as if thoughtfully considering Diego’s request. “Hmm, I’m afraid we don’t have any family registered by that name!”

Diego groaned, clenching his fists. “I’m talking about the things out there—the growlers wandering around! They’re monsters! They attacked me!”

“Oh dear!” Chip offered in a bright tone. “I can see why that would be upsetting! We’ve tried to kindly relocate those vagrants a few times, but they just love it here so much! Since they aren’t a threat to Serenity Orbital, we let them stay. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“But they’re dangerous! You should do something about them!” Diego exclaimed, his arms waving in frustration, “Kill them, eject them to space, something! Anything!”

Chip backed up, his optics flaring in surprise. “Oh, goodness gracious! Are you sure you’re feeling well? Rest assured, we would never harm them, just as we would never harm you!” With a cheerful thumbs-up gesture, Chip added, “Everyone’s safety is our top priority!”

Diego sighed in defeat, realizing he wouldn’t get anywhere with Chip. “I just need somewhere safe to stay and supplies and things,” he muttered.

“Well then, you’re in luck!” Chip’s tone shifted into an enthusiastic pitch. “Have you checked out one of our super cozy hotels? The Starlight Inn is top-rated! And for supplies, Woolwards has everything you could ever need! Just head down the promenade to the left, and you’ll find it. They’ve got it all!”

Diego’s brow furrowed as frustration boiled at the suggestions to visit places he’d already found lacking. With a huff, he gathered his belongings and returned to the promenade, continuing his exploration.

However, his progress soon came to a halt. Just as at the opposite end of the promenade, his path forward was once again blocked by a massive blast door. So far, he had only been able to explore the Blue and Gray sectors—Red and Green were sealed up tight.

Diego scrutinized the heavy bulkhead door with a growing sense of unease, wondering if Delta Ring had suffered a catastrophe similar to Charlie Ring.