Ghostlines - Episode 1 3D Render, Digital Artwork by emarukk

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Ghostlines - Episode 1

3D Render by emarukk

The Navy HQ corridor exuded an aged, recycled aroma, a blend of stale air and re-circulated breaths, mingling with the cool tang of steel and the faint, dusty trace of numerous reports. The concrete walls, rugged slabs embedded with pebble-stone aggregate, bore the smooth patina of decades' worth of uniforms brushing past them at hip height, each mark a silent testimony of time. Under the narrow, somber windows, wooden slats of retrofitted paneling emitted a low, constant hum from archaic temperature control systems, half-functioning relics that born a rhythm of pulse-cooled, filtered air, uneven and measured. Overhead, diffused white lighting throbbed softly behind frosted lenses, bestowing an austere, colorless glow reminiscent of a meticulously preserved tomb upon the space.

This place did not resemble a modern command center; rather, it evoked the aura of an aged museum chronicling In-Worlds' formative history. The building itself squatted modestly among towering office blocks, sprawling factories, and expansive trade towers, nestled deep within the pulsating arteries of Portauthor's bustling docks. Unassuming and unmarked, it was lost amidst a labyrinth of form and function, yet the profound silence within its walls revealed more than any overt display of power.

Dominating the pristine white marble floor, a stark red carpet unfurled like a vivid bloodline stretching from one end to the other. Here, Admiral Kade Korpela stood in a relaxed yet resolute military posture, his hands calmly clasped behind his back. His face, a landscape etched with the lines of hard-earned experience and quiet concern, was partially dominated by a single gold-blue cybernetic eye that swept the corridor with calculated indifference. He spoke nothing, for words were unnecessary, as he silently observed each summoned crew member emerging from the stairs one by one.

Beside him, Lieutenant Zakarus Arian cut an imposing figure, as if chiseled from cold armor and the weight of past regrets. Beneath his meticulously tailored coat, the subtle hum of cybernetic enhancements resonated through his metal-veined neck and servo-stiff shoulders. His right eye, now casting a faint blue glow instead of its former emotive spectrum, pulsed in precise, predatory intervals at the faintest hint of motion. Meanwhile, the memory coins affixed to his collar, each marked with an arrow insignia, lay unlit and somber, waiting for their moment.

To the Admiral's right, Chief Petty Officer Kaori Smith stood with her back turned to a prominently displayed poster, a stark reminder of their current plight and the subject of breaking news for the past hour. The vivid announcement on the poster declared: VERDANTIA: Garden of the Outer Ring. In irony, Verdantia, though not located in the outer ring, was emblematic of profound significance. The image portrayed a smiling cartoon girl, her innocence highlighted as she held burgeoning sprouts emerging from rich soil, a vision designed to inspire both school groups visiting that part of HQ and young conscripts whose future lay in the ministry's hands.

Yet on this day, HQ was steeped in an eerie, oppressive silence as a partial lockdown took hold. Only military personnel patrolled the hallways, moving purposefully in an environment otherwise abandoned to an unnerving quiet. Marine units clad in heavy power armor ventured through the building, their formations further reinforced by the looming silhouettes of large, armed drones.

Amid the methodical arrival of Unit 867, the soft, constant whir of small security drones interrupted the ambient noise. Two spherical drones drifted down the hall, their oversized camera lenses scrutinizing every passerby with clinical intensity, as though seeking out any hint of rebel agitation. In this guarded place, it mattered little whether the drones functioned as mere surveillance tools or as silent messengers, their vigilante presence ensured that nothing, and no one, escaped observation.

Then, Chief Petty Officer Ganzt Rossi made his entrance, clad in body armor, his uniform a rare sight in the Navy, patched with an urban metro camouflage pattern. The armor plates bore the scars of countless missions, and his boots thudded heavily on the tile floor before the sound was muted by the carpet. Underneath the rugged exterior was a man who resembled more of a figure from rebel propaganda than a typical navy soldier. Rossi was an electronic warfare specialist, his dark skin marked with intricate augmentation lines that hinted at both technology and mystery. Cogignator terminals glimmered subtly on his temples, reflecting the light with an otherworldly sheen, while his left eye was a stark white, cybernetic, and meticulously engineered for terminal connections. His hair, disheveled yet kept in check by a simple headband, added to his unconventional appearance. Without offering an explanation or pausing for a ceremony, he strode forward with purpose and gave a curt nod.

"Reporting in, sir. Assignment closed." His voice was directed at the Admiral, who was already well-informed of Rossi's recent whereabouts.

Korpela didn't so much as lift a brow in response. "Good. Stand easy," he intoned, following his words with a deep, steadying breath that hinted at the burdens he carried. There was a subtle hum, a vibration of the weight settled upon him. Rossi, seeking relief, kicked a wooden panel and leaned his hands against the wall, savoring the refreshing coolness of the filtered air that replaced the oppressive, heavy smog outside, a mixture of burned coal and jet fuel that still lingered in his senses. Stationers always complained about their recycled air, but they had no idea what it was like to breathe in Porthauthor's polluted atmosphere.

Then, the hero emerged, a master of the void named Oleg. His arrival sent ripples of surprise through the gathered crowd, with Kaori feeling the shock more deeply than most. Unlike his typical flamboyant entrances marked by broad, mischievous grins, a clanking metal flask of vodka in hand, and the blare of a Military Police escort, today, he came in a vastly different manner. His stride was slower and measured, exuding a disciplined, almost militaristic quality that contrasted sharply with his usual carefree swagger. Eschewing the officer's uniform he so rarely bothered with, even when circumstances demanded a parade dress, he instead donned his life-seen service attire. A uniform whose black fabric had faded over time, lending him an air of worn dignity as if he had sprinted through the very arteries of the war itself.

Oleg paused, his eyes momentarily locking onto Kaori. Gone was the habitual automatic flirting smile he once reserved for every female in sight. Instead, his gaze was fixed intently on a poster nearby. As he absorbed the information, his usually impassive face tightened with an unexpected strain. With remarkable speed, he rubbed one eye using his finger and thumb in a delicate, almost reverential motion, a gesture that could be interpreted as both a casual wipe and a signal laden with meaning. His shoulders rose imperceptibly as he drew in a sharp, silent breath, and the usual barrage of words and incessant, air-consuming banter was conspicuously absent.

Meanwhile, Ganzt and Kaori exchanged looks of astonishment, their expressions blending curiosity, concern, and silent demands for explanations. Before either could speak further, Ganzt's gaze shifted to a digital display broadcasting breaking news from the past. Although this news had dominated broadcasts for the last hour, disaster had happened long ago. Although Verdantia was not very far, even the fastest Jumpile courier could deliver the message in 30 hours. This meant they were totally oblivious to current events in deep space. All they had was nerve-breaking guessing and waiting for the next courier with news to edit and broadcast. The text inside a striking red box read clearly: "Follow tightly; new information arrives frequently." Below, another message box, detailed events from the past: "Battlegroup Frost Claw is leading SAR operation, but Verdantia commander has written off the station." A muted yet excited anchorwoman appeared on screen, her voice weaving through images of Verdantia and outlining events with cautious urgency. Even as only fragments of the message registered, Ganzt pieced together enough to understand the gravity of the situation.

While Ganzt stared at the news, Kaori studied Oleg as she absorbed his transformation. His normally unflappable features were now shadowed in sorrow and worry, a strong incongruity that betrayed a personal connection to the unfolding events on Verdantia. All her attempts to unravel the mystery from their past casual discussions failed to surface any hint of the turmoil he now carried. Close by, Zakarus remained motionless, his gaze locked on Oleg as if sifting through the same torrent of thoughts that haunted Kaori.

Then, in a soft voice that carried the calm authority of a man who had once hurdled over the void amid rapid cannon fire and landed unscathed on a deck strewn with enemies, Korpela broke the silence. "Good. We're all here. Let's proceed for briefing," he announced, his tone a gentle command that belied the fierce battles he had survived, each word a testament to his resilience as he left behind the scars of death and burning wreckage.

With measured steps, the Admiral strode past Kaori. Zakharus trailed him without hesitation. His movement was like a ritual marking the transition toward the next phase of their mission. Ganzt adjusted his heavy field suit and moved with a determined gait. Kaori lingered, watching Oleg, who still stood transfixed by the poster's message. Even the drone, its motor whirring and lights pulsing in a steady rhythm, paused to fix its unblinking gaze upon them.

Finally, Kaori reached out, gently touching Oleg's arm, and murmured, "Let's move. We are called."

PROFILE

Digital Drapery CoWed, Apr 23

Karma: 6,623

Ah yes, the Navy HQ-where the air is 30% recycled oxygen and 70% quiet judgment. Every panel, every corridor, every softly flickering light screams "we budgeted for drama, not comfort."

Admiral Korpela standing like he's about to issue a monologue that ends wars and starts novels. Zakarus brooding so hard the floor probably filed a complaint. Kaori caught between official duty and wondering who greenlit that cartoon poster during a galactic crisis.

Then enters Rossi, looking like someone who hacks satellites before breakfast and wins bar fights by existing. His uniform says "navy regulation," but his energy says "rebel icon accidentally promoted."

And Oleg-dear spacefaring Oleg-storms in with all the silent intensity of a man who once dated destiny, ghosted fate, and now regrets nothing except showing up sober. The silence was so loud I could practically hear his backstory pacing behind him.

By the time that poster gets its third dramatic glance, I was fully expecting it to start offering plot twists of its own. Even the drones looked like they were trying not to get involved emotionally.

You could cut the tension with a laser-scalpel and still not reach the bottom of what these characters are carrying. Absolute masterclass in mood. Honestly, if this is Episode 1, I'm both terrified and extremely invested in whatever classified chaos is coming next.

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