Intergalactic conquest with an AI

Chapter 133 Aftermath (2)

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—"

She paused, her voice faltering slightly an odd thing for someone who claimed emotions were beyond her.

"It'll hollow you out, Rex. I've seen it happen to others like you."

Rex tilted his head, his tone almost defensive.

"And what does that have to do with the twins? You think I should just... what, forget everything? Move past all the reasons it feels wrong?"

Cleo hesitated for a moment, something uncharacteristic for her.

"I'm not saying you should forget your past or your responsibilities. I'm saying you should stop closing yourself off from the connections that might actually make your existence meaningful."

She turned back toward the repair drones, commanding them with a flick of her hand.

"Like it or not, Nyra and Lyra are more like you than anyone else you've known. They might not be immortal, but they'll be here longer than most. And unlike you, they aren't afraid to reach out."

Rex scratched the back of his head, his voice carrying a hint of frustration.

"I get what you're trying to say, Cleo. But it's not that simple. I'm not like you, okay? You don't feel things the way I do. Hell, you just admitted you don't even fully understand human emotions."

Cleo's projection flickered slightly, and for the briefest moment, her neutral tone softened.

"You're right. I don't understand everything about human feelings. They're messy and illogical."

She paused, turning to look at him directly.

"But I've been with you long enough to know this: if you keep running from them, if you keep running from yourself, you'll never be anything more than a soldier waiting for the next battle."

Rex stared at her for a long moment, then let out a low laugh, though it lacked much humor.

"You've really thought this through, huh?"

"I had a lot of time while you were getting shot at,"

Cleo replied dryly.

"And don't pretend this hasn't been on your mind, too. You just don't like it when someone else says it out loud."

Rex exhaled, the golden halo behind his back dimming slightly as his energy receded.

"Fine. You win this round, Cleo. But let's drop it for now, alright? I've got enough to deal with without trying to untangle my 'messy human emotions.' Give me the damage report instead."

Cleo nodded, her usual tone returning.

"Fair enough. The Cleopatra sustained significant damage to the hull and engines. Wormhole traveling is currently impossible until we stabilize the core and repair the outer plating. I estimate another twenty hours before we can even consider heading back to the trading station."

Rex's body began to shrink back to his normal size as the energy surrounding him dissipated completely. He leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair.

"Twenty hours, huh? Alright. Plenty of time for you to figure out how to explain all this 'emotional stuff' better next time."

Cleo's projection smirked faintly, a rare expression for her.

"Don't count on it, Rex. Human emotions are your problem, not mine."

Rex chuckled, shaking his head.

"Yeah, yeah. You win this time. Just... let's focus on fixing the ship."

As Cleo returned to her repair duties, the hangar grew quiet again, save for the hum of the drones. Rex glanced at the faint glow of the engines in the distance, his mind far from the repairs.

For all her bluntness, Cleo had a point, one he wasn't sure he was ready to face.

After days of travel, the

Cleopatra

finally emerged from warp space, its massive form shimmering into view against the backdrop of the bustling trading station. The station had grown considerably over the last five years.

It was now a sprawling hub of activity, three times its original size, with sleek defensive towers bristling with turrets of various calibers, ready to take on anything from nimble fighters to imposing warships.

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.