Chapter 62: The Warning
The problem with deleting a mountain is that people tend to notice.
The Concordia plaza had gone very, very quiet.
Not the good kind of quiet either. Not the “wow, that guy just gave an irrefutable argument, and now everyone’s reflecting on the lesson” quiet. No, this was the other kind. The kind where several hundred people stare at you like they’re collectively decided you’re an idiot.
In fairness to them, a mountain had just stopped existing.
And I had a feeling my ‘natural causes’ explanation didn’t get through to them.
Pity.
Across the plaza, Janey slowly dragged a hand down her face like she was trying to wipe the last five minutes out of reality.
Athena stood a few feet away with her arms crossed, staring out through the dome toward the distant horizon where the dust cloud still hung in the sky. The look on her face suggested she was mentally reviewing every life choice that had led her to standing next to me during an orbital laser incident.
Gaige, meanwhile, leaned forward with her hands on her knees, squinting at the drifting cloud like an art critic examining a very impressive explosion.
“Okay,” she muttered appreciatively. “Still cool.”
Angel didn’t look up from her datapad.
Her fingers moved calmly across the interface, pulling telemetry from Helios like this was just another Tuesday and not the moment my space station erased a geological landmark.
“Confirming data,” she said quietly.
A few seconds passed.
Then she glanced up.
“The mountain is still gone.”
Helpful.
Behind us, the crowd finally started making noise again.
At first it was just whispers. Nervous little murmurs spreading through the plaza as people looked between the sky, the horizon, and—most concerningly—me.
Then the questions started.
“Was that Helios?!”
“Are they attacking the city?!”
“Is the dome gonna get hit next?!”
“Should we evacuate?!”
Someone yelled something about orbital bombardment and suddenly half the plaza started talking at once.
Great.
Panic was spreading through the crowd in that wonderfully chaotic way mobs have, where one guy shouting something stupid immediately causes thirty other people to start imagining worst-case scenarios.
Which, admittedly, was not entirely unreasonable given the circumstances.
The former Meriff’s guards—now technically unemployed mercenaries with guns—looked around uncertainly before their attention drifted toward me.
One of them stepped forward.
“Uh… sir?”
Oh no.
No no no.
I knew that tone.
That was the tone people used when they expected leadership.
Which meant something terrible had happened.
They thought I was in charge.
I exhaled slowly through my nose.
Because here was the thing: running a city required responsibility.
And responsibility was exhausting.
Still, the crowd was getting louder.
People were arguing. Someone was already trying to start a stampede toward the oxygen terminals like the dome might pop any second. A couple of the guards were trying to keep order but they kept glancing back at me like nervous interns waiting for the CEO to tell them what the plan was.
Unbelievable.
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Okay,” I muttered to myself. “Fine.”
I stepped forward and raised my hands.
“Everybody relax!”
That got some attention.
Not all of it—crowds are famously terrible listeners—but enough that the shouting started dying down.
“Nobody’s getting orbital-lasered today.”
A few people still looked skeptical.
Which, again, rude.
“Look,” I continued, gesturing vaguely toward the horizon where the mountain used to be, “that was clearly a… one-time atmospheric event.”
Athena slowly turned her head.
Janey stared at me.
Gaige snorted.
But the crowd wasn’t really paying attention to them. They were watching me, trying to figure out if I was confident or just making things up.
The answer was technically both.
A guy near the front raised his hand nervously.
“So… uh… who’s in charge now?”
Oh for—
I waved a dismissive hand.
“No one.”
He blinked.
“No one?”
“Correct. Congratulations.” I spread my arms magnanimously. “You are now a socialist collective.”
The crowd stared at me.
“You’re welcome.”
Silence.
Then someone in the back yelled, “That’s not how cities work!”
“Sure it is,” I said. “You guys vote on stuff. Maybe form committees. It’ll be great. Very empowering.”
A former guard stepped closer.
“Uh… sir… the Meriff’s dead.”
“Tragic.”
“And the Legion’s in orbit.”
“Also tragic.”
“And the oxygen grid’s still unstable.”
I gestured toward Angel.
“Already fixing it.”
Angel gave a small confirming nod without looking up from her datapad.
The guard hesitated.
“So… someone needs to give orders.”
“No they don’t,” I said cheerfully. “You’ll figure it out.”
Then Claptrap rolled forward.
And immediately ruined everything.
He popped up onto the crate he’d been using earlier like a tiny yellow town crier.
“ATTENTION CITIZENS!”
Oh God.
Claptrap raised his arms dramatically.
“ALL HAIL THE NEW MERIFF!”
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Then someone in the crowd repeated it.
“All hail the new Meriff!”
Another voice joined in.
“All hail the Meriff!”
And then, because mob psychology is the worst invention in human history, the whole plaza picked it up.
“ALL HAIL THE MERIFF!”
I stared at them.
“…you’ve got to be kidding me.”
The chant got louder.
“ALL HAIL THE MERIFF!”
I pointed at them accusingly.
“Fuck all of you.”
The chanting did not stop.
Which was extremely rude considering I had just very generously tried to not take power.
Janey leaned over slightly.
“You could just say no.”
“Oh yeah?” I gestured toward the crowd chanting my new job title. “You want to go explain that to them?”
“…fair.”
I sighed.
Fine.
Fine.
If the universe was going to keep handing me responsibilities, I was at least going to do them correctly.
I turned toward the guards.
“Alright,” I said briskly. “First thing—stabilize the oxygen grid. Anyone with engineering experience reports to Angel and the girl currently vibrating with excitement.”
Gaige perked up immediately.
“Oh hell yes.”
“You,” I pointed at another group of guards, “start patrol rotations. The Legion might try something stupid and I don’t want a panic riot while we’re figuring this out.”
They nodded quickly and hurried off.
Good.
See?
Leadership.
Disgustingly effective.
I pointed toward the far side of the plaza.
“And somebody clear space near the transit hub. We’re building a Fast Travel station.”
That got confused looks.
Janey blinked. “You can do that?”
“Of course I can do that,” I said. “Hyperion built half the network.”
Angel glanced up from her datapad.
“Dad might be able to reconnect Concordia’s node through Helios’s old routing systems,” she said. “If the station’s infrastructure is still intact.”
That got my attention.
“Wait. Really?”
“Possibly.”
“Angel,” I said reverently, “have I mentioned recently that you’re my favorite child?”
“I’m your only child.”
“Which really helps your odds.”
She went back to typing.
Nearby, guards started moving with actual purpose now. Citizens clustered around the oxygen terminals while Angel’s rerouting stabilized the system district by district. Athena quietly organized security patrols without needing to be asked. Gaige had already stolen three maintenance panels and was halfway inside the city grid like a caffeinated raccoon.
The plaza slowly shifted from panic to activity.
Which, if we’re being honest, was a pretty solid turnaround considering we’d started the day with a corrupt sheriff and ended it with a deleted mountain.
I folded my arms and watched the operation with quiet satisfaction.
“See?” I said. “This is why I like infrastructure.”
Janey snorted.
“Most people don’t respond to orbital superweapons by reorganizing city management.”
“Most people lack vision.”
She was about to reply when every screen in Concordia flickered.
The terminals around the plaza buzzed.
The holographic displays above the transit hub sputtered.
Angel froze mid-typing.
A second later—
Every monitor in the city snapped to life at once.
…
The thing about being trapped in the office of the most powerful man in Hyperion during a hostile military takeover was that it sounded way cooler than it actually felt.
Rhys had imagined this office a hundred times before he ever stepped foot in it.
In those fantasies he was usually standing confidently behind the giant executive desk while important people nodded respectfully at his brilliant corporate insights. Maybe Jack clapped him on the shoulder and said something like “Kid, you’ve got executive potential.”
Those fantasies had not included barricading the door with office furniture while a paramilitary force seized control of the station and a superweapon accidentally deleted part of a moon.
Reality was a little less glamorous.
The conference table still blocked the door. The decorative Hyperion cube statue remained wedged underneath it like someone had tried to weaponize modern art. Red emergency lights continued flashing across the gold-trimmed walls of the office, giving everything a dramatic “corporate apocalypse” vibe.
And somewhere out in the hallways, Helios Station continued having the worst day in its entire operational history.
Rhys hunched over the wall console again, cycling through system menus that were about as helpful as a motivational poster during a meteor strike.
Access denied.
Access denied.
Access extremely denied.
“Okay,” Rhys muttered, poking another command into the interface. “That’s fine. Totally fine. I didn’t need access to the station’s primary systems anyway.”
The console rejected him again.
Very politely.
Vaughn grunted behind him.
Rhys glanced over his shoulder.
Vaughn was in the middle of another squat set in the center of the office, tie swinging back and forth like a tiny surrender flag as he dipped down and stood back up with rhythmic determination.
“Thirty-four,” Vaughn announced through clenched teeth.
Rhys watched him for a second.
“…you’re still doing that.”
“Stress management,” Vaughn said, lowering into another squat. “Also leg day.”
“Thirty-five.”
“We are actively hiding from a military occupation.”
“Thirty-six.”
Rhys turned back to the console.
Honestly, Vaughn’s coping mechanisms were starting to make more sense the longer this went on.
Behind him, the comm speaker crackled again.
Professor Nakayama had not hung up.
Unfortunately.
“…such perfection,” Nakayama mourned dramatically over the line. “Such immaculate cheekbones…”
Rhys closed his eyes for a moment.
Right.
The clone.
Earlier—during what Rhys now classified as The Worst Ten Minutes of His Career—they had learned two very important things.
One: the Lost Legion had stolen Nakayama’s clone of Handsome Jack.
Two: the clone’s DNA had probably allowed them to bypass the security systems on the Eye of Helios.
Which had resulted in the station firing a giant orbital laser and deleting a mountain.
Naturally, Nakayama had taken the loss of the clone very personally.
“My beautiful creation…” Nakayama continued mournfully. “Gone. Stolen by barbarians who will never appreciate its symmetrical bone structure…”
“Thirty-seven,” Vaughn said.
Rhys rubbed his temple.
“Professor,” he said patiently, “we’re still under attack.”
“Yes, yes, that’s terrible,” Nakayama replied absently. “But my clone—”
“You made a backup, right?”
“…no.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
Rhys leaned closer to the console and pulled up the station’s broadcast network.
At least that still existed.
Sort of.
The system feed flickered across the screen in unstable bursts as Lost Legion signals began overriding the remaining Hyperion channels. Camera feeds from across the station flashed into view—armored soldiers moving through corridors, security checkpoints being locked down, Legion banners being slapped over Hyperion insignias like someone redecorating after a very aggressive office takeover.
Okay.
That was bad.
But at least it meant the station still had power.
Which meant there was still a chance of doing… something.
Rhys opened another command interface.
“Thirty-eight,” Vaughn said.
“Vaughn.”
“What?”
“If the Legion breaches this office, are you planning to squat them to death?”
“…forty.”
Rhys sighed.
He tapped another command into the console.
A moment later the station’s internal broadcast network flickered again.
The image scrambled.
Then stabilized.
The screen went black.
For a second nothing happened.
Then a symbol appeared.
Rhys immediately recognized it.
The Lost Legion insignia burned across every display in the office—sharp, angular, and extremely unfriendly.
Behind him, Vaughn stopped mid-squat.
The room went quiet.
Even Nakayama inhaled sharply over the comm line.
“Oh no,” the professor whispered.
Rhys didn’t look away from the screen.
“Oh no what?”
Nakayama’s voice dropped to a dramatic whisper.
“She’s going to talk.”
The black screen flickered.
The Legion insignia faded.
And then Colonel Zarpedon appeared.
Rhys had never met her.
But he knew who she was.
Everyone in Hyperion knew who she was.
Commander of the Lost Legion.
Decorated officer.
Formerly one of Hyperion’s most loyal military leaders before… well.
Before this.
She stood in the center of the broadcast frame wearing full Legion armor, the crimson insignia stamped across her chestplate. Behind her hung the interior of Helios’s command deck, now very clearly under Legion control.
Her posture was rigid.
Controlled.
Military to the core.
But the thing that stood out immediately was her expression.
Rhys had expected a villain speech.
You know the type. Dramatic threats. Maniacal laughter. The whole “we have taken your station and now we rule everything forever” routine.
Instead—
Zarpedon looked exhausted.
Not weak.
Not scared.
Just… deadly serious.
Her eyes scanned the camera for a moment like she was making sure every single person watching understood the weight of what she was about to say.
When she spoke, her voice carried across the office speakers with crisp, controlled authority.
“Attention all personnel aboard Helios Station.”
The broadcast signal spread through the network, overriding every other channel.
“This is Colonel Zarpedon of the Lost Legion.”
Rhys felt Vaughn slowly stand up behind him.
Zarpedon continued.
“Helios Station is now under Legion authority. All Hyperion employees are ordered to stand down immediately.”
Her gaze didn’t shift.
“This is not a negotiation.”
Somewhere deep in the station, distant alarms continued wailing through the corridors.
In Jack’s office, nobody spoke.
Even Nakayama had stopped breathing loudly into the microphone.
Zarpedon folded her hands behind her back.
“If you surrender peacefully, you will not be harmed.”
Her voice remained calm.
Professional.
Completely free of the usual conqueror theatrics.
“We have not come here to slaughter civilians.”
Rhys blinked.
That was… not what he expected.
Zarpedon’s expression hardened slightly.
“We have come here to stop Handsome Jack.”
The words hung in the air like a loaded gun.
Behind Rhys, Vaughn shifted uneasily.
Nakayama finally whispered into the comm line.
“…oh dear.”
On the screen, Zarpedon leaned slightly closer to the camera.
And the seriousness in her eyes deepened.
“Jack believes Helios is his weapon.”
Her voice dropped a fraction.
“It is not.”
A faint tremor of something darker passed through her expression.
“It is the only thing that might save us.”
Rhys felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Because that—
That was not the tone of someone delivering a standard military coup speech.
Zarpedon looked directly into the camera.
“As of this moment,” she said quietly, “the Eye of Helios is under Legion control.”
Rhys glanced instinctively toward the office window.
Far outside, the massive weapon array beneath the station glowed faintly in the darkness.
Zarpedon continued.
“And if Jack attempts to activate the Elpis Vault…”
Her voice did not rise.
It didn’t need to.
“We will destroy the moon.”
The words landed in the room like a dropped grenade.
Vaughn blinked.
Rhys blinked.
Even Nakayama sounded stunned.
“…I’m sorry,” Rhys said faintly to no one in particular.
He looked back at the screen.
“Did she just say destroy the moon?”
…
The first thing I noticed when the screens in Concordia flickered was that everyone immediately looked at me.
Which was unfair.
Yes, technically I owned the giant space station that had just deleted a mountain. And yes, it had recently been seized by a hostile paramilitary force. But I still felt like people were jumping to conclusions.
Across the plaza, every terminal display snapped to life at the same time.
Public kiosks. Transit monitors. Oxygen station screens. Even the giant holo-display above the square that usually advertised vending machine deals suddenly lit up.
The image stabilized.
And there she was.
Colonel Zarpedon stood in the center of the broadcast frame in full Lost Legion armor, the crimson insignia across her chestplate bright against the dark metal. Behind her was the command deck of Helios.
My command deck.
Which, I had to admit, looked extremely occupied.
The plaza went quiet again.
Not panic quiet this time.
Listening quiet.
Which was arguably worse.
Zarpedon looked directly into the camera. Her posture was rigid, perfectly controlled, like a soldier delivering orders in the middle of a battlefield.
What she didn’t look like was victorious.
No smug grin.
No “I’ve conquered your space station” energy.
She looked calm.
Focused.
And that immediately made me suspicious.
People who steal orbital superweapons are supposed to gloat. It’s practically tradition.
Instead she just spoke.
“Citizens of Elpis. Hyperion personnel. This is Colonel Zarpedon of the Lost Legion.” Her voice carried clearly across the plaza. “Helios Station is now under Legion authority.”
A wave of murmuring rippled through the crowd.
Which, again, rude. I had literally just explained the situation five minutes ago.
“The Eye of Helios is operational.” Zarpedon continued.
Claptrap’s optic widened. “Ooooo.”
Athena’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Zarpedon didn’t raise her voice.
She didn’t threaten anyone.
She simply kept talking.
“This is not an act of conquest.”
That line got a few confused looks from the people around the plaza.
Yeah. Same here.
Zarpedon folded her hands behind her back. “We have seized Helios for one purpose.” Her eyes locked onto the camera. “To stop Handsome Jack.”
Several hundred people slowly turned to look at me again.
I lifted both hands. “What?”
Zarpedon kept going.
“Jack intends to open the Vault on Elpis.”
Now the crowd really started murmuring.
Because the thing about the word Vault was that it carried a certain reputation in this universe.
Usually involving monsters.
And explosions.
And extremely questionable life choices.
Zarpedon’s voice hardened slightly. “That Vault must remain sealed.” She leaned forward just a fraction. “If Jack opens it…”
The plaza held its breath.
“Pandora will be destroyed.”
Not threatened.
Not damaged.
Destroyed.
The word echoed across the plaza like someone had dropped it out of orbit.
People started talking again immediately.
Janey blinked up at the screen. “…okay, I feel like I missed a meeting.” Yeah, she definitely did. But the lore’s pretty straightforward.
Athena crossed her arms. “That sounds like propaganda.”
Gaige tilted her head, studying the display with open curiosity. “Wait, wait, wait. Vault on a moon that blows up a planet?” She grinned slightly. “That’s awesome.”
Claptrap rolled forward, optics glowing. “Did she mention the giant laser again?!”
Meanwhile I just stared at the screen.
Then I snorted.
“Oh wow,” I said, waving a dismissive hand at the broadcast. “Classic.”
Janey looked over. “Classic?”
I gestured toward the screen. “Yeah, the old ‘ancient vault will destroy the planet’ speech. It’s like Vault Hunter folklore at this point.”
Athena raised an eyebrow. “You’ve heard this before?”
“Oh please,” I said. “Every time someone finds a Vault there’s always a guy in a robe somewhere yelling about how opening it will unleash cosmic doom.”
I ticked them off on my fingers.
“Destroy the planet. Summon a god. End civilization. One time a guy told me it would ‘unravel the fundamental threads of reality.’”
“That one sounds fun.” Gaige snorted.
“Right?” I said.
On the screen, Zarpedon kept speaking.
“If Jack attempts to access the Elpis Vault, we will destroy this moon before allowing it to open.”
“You can do that?!” Claptrap gasped.
“Look, she’s clearly insane.” I leaned back slightly and folded my arms.
Athena tilted her head slightly, still watching the broadcast. “Or she’s trying to stop something.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Me.”
Angel hadn’t said anything.
That was the first thing that made me glance over.
She stood a few feet away from the crowd, datapad in hand, watching the screen with that distant analytical focus she got when she was processing information faster than normal human brains could keep up.
Her fingers moved slightly across the pad as she pulled data from the broadcast.
Signal strength.
Thermal readings.
Probably biometric scans too, knowing her.
The plaza noise faded into the background while she studied Zarpedon.
Then Angel spoke quietly. “She believes it.”
“What?” I blinked.
Angel didn’t look away from the screen.
“Her heart rate is elevated but stable. Stress markers consistent with urgency, not deception. Vocal pattern analysis suggests sincerity.” She tilted her head slightly. “She believes what she’s saying.”
“Crazy people believe crazy things.” I waved a hand dismissively. “Just look at Claptrap.”
Claptrap spun toward me. “Why am I your example?!”
Gaige leaned over with a grin. “Because you got a few screws loose.” She snickered. “Heh. See what I did there?”
Claptrap puffed up indignantly. “I am a product of my programming!”
Athena glanced between Angel and the broadcast. “You’re certain she believes it?”
Angel nodded slowly. “Yes.”
That was… mildly inconvenient.
Because there were really only two options here.
Option one: Zarpedon was lying.
Option two: Zarpedon genuinely believed opening the Vault would destroy Pandora.
And honestly?
Neither option made her any less crazy.
I gestured toward the screen again.
“Look, if the Vault actually destroyed planets, Pandora would’ve exploded like six times already.”
Zarpedon finished her message.
The broadcast signal flickered slightly as the transmission prepared to cut.
Her final words carried across the plaza with cold certainty.
“Jack. Do not open the Vault.”
Then the screens went dark.
Silence settled over Concordia again.
The crowd looked nervous.
Athena looked thoughtful.
Janey still looked confused.
Gaige looked intrigued.
Claptrap looked like he wanted to ask more questions about the laser.
And Angel was still staring at the blank screen.
I clapped my hands once.
“Alright!” I announced. “Good talk everybody. Crazy lady in space says opening the Vault destroys the planet.”
I shrugged.
“Guess we better go open the Vault.”
…
The moon was quiet in a way Pandora never was.
Lilith had expected Elpis to feel different, but she hadn’t expected this. No screaming skags. No distant bandit gunfire. No psychos shouting about meat bicycles at three in the morning. Just the crunch of boots over gray dust and the faint hum of the oxygen rigs built into their suits.
And Roland breathing steadily beside her, like the world hadn’t gone completely insane in the last seventy-two hours.
Up ahead, Concordia rose beneath its massive dome of shimmering energy. The shield caught the distant sunlight and scattered it across the surface like glass. City lights glowed underneath it—warm and alive in a place that otherwise felt like someone had taken Pandora, sucked out the oxygen, and left the rest.
Lilith slowed as they crested the ridge.
“There it is,” Roland muttered.
Concordia stretched across the basin, industrial towers and habitation blocks stacked together beneath the protective dome. Ships drifted lazily around the docking platforms like lazy fish in an aquarium.
For a moment, Lilith just stood there looking at it.
Moon base.
So cool.
Roland stepped beside her, helmet turning slowly as he scanned the horizon.
Then he froze.
“…there was a mountain there, right?” he said slowly.
Lilith followed his gaze.
About two miles away, the landscape had been rearranged in a way that felt… aggressive.
Where a mountain should have been—where Lilith distinctly remembered there being a mountain—there was now a massive crater. Not a landslide. Not erosion.
A crater.
Like someone had reached down from orbit and punched the moon.
Roland stared at it a few seconds longer.
“…I’m pretty sure there was,” he continued carefully. “Unless we’ve been stranded long enough that I’m hallucinating and—”
He checked the timer on his wrist.
“…nope. It’s been three hours.” Roland gestured vaguely at the geological war crime in the distance. “So somehow a mountain just blew up, and I didn’t notice until right now. Is that weird?”
Lilith sighed.
“Jack’s been busy.”
Roland let out a slow breath.
“…why am I not surprised?”
They started walking again.
The dome loomed larger as they approached, its shimmering barrier humming faintly overhead. The outer gates were built into a reinforced airlock system—steel doors thick enough to survive a meteor strike, guarded by a handful of Concordia security officers who looked bored in the particular way of people stationed on a moon where nothing interesting ever happened.
Until today.
One of the guards glanced up as Lilith and Roland approached.
Then he blinked.
Then he blinked again.
“Oh—uh—hold on,” the guy said, fumbling for his radio. “Stop right there.”
Lilith stopped about ten feet from the checkpoint and folded her arms.
Roland stood beside her with the patient posture of someone who had spent far too many years dealing with security protocols.
The guard stared at them.
More specifically, he stared at Lilith’s arm.
The glowing tattoos didn’t really help with subtlety.
“…is she glowing?” another guard whispered.
“Yes,” the first guard whispered back.
“That seems bad.”
“That seems very bad.”
Roland lifted a hand slightly. “Relax. She’s not here to melt anybody.”
Lilith tilted her head. “Probably.”
The first guard looked like he was reconsidering every career decision he’d ever made.
“You’re… uh… you’re a Siren,” he managed.
Lilith gave him a friendly smile.
“Good observation.”
“And you’re—”
The guard squinted at Roland’s face.
Then his eyes went wide.
“Oh.”
Another pause.
“Oh.”
The radio in his hand clattered slightly as he grabbed it with both hands.
“Control? Yeah, hi. This is Gate Two. I’ve got… uh…”
He looked between them again.
“I’ve got Roland. Like. The Roland.”
The radio crackled with confused static.
“…what?”
“And a Siren.”
Another pause.
“…what?”
Lilith rubbed the bridge of her nose.
Roland gave the guards an apologetic shrug.
“Long story.”
The airlock doors eventually opened with a heavy mechanical groan.
Inside the dome, Concordia buzzed with life. People moved through the streets, vendors shouted from market stalls, and the neon glow of bar signs reflected off the metal walkways.
Lilith barely noticed any of it.
Because across the plaza, Jack was arguing.
Very loudly.
Athena stood across from him, arms crossed, posture rigid in that disciplined soldier way she had. Gaige leaned against a railing nearby, listening with the delighted curiosity of someone watching two extremely competent people disagree about something complicated.
Angel hovered beside Jack, calm as always.
And Claptrap sat in the middle of it all like a small yellow chaos engine.
“—I’m telling you,” Jack was saying, pacing across the plaza with animated hand gestures, “every Vault comes with one of those speeches! ‘Oh no, don’t open the ancient alien superweapon!’ ‘Oh no, the universe will explode!’ It’s practically a marketing strategy at this point!”
Athena’s voice stayed cool. “You’re dismissing the possibility too quickly.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jack shot back, “should I immediately believe the heavily armed cult leader who just invaded my space station?”
“She wasn’t ranting,” Athena replied. “She was warning you.”
“And people warn me about Claptrap all the time,” Jack said. “Hasn’t stopped him from existing.”
Claptrap puffed his chest plate out proudly.
“Thank you!”
Jack pointed at him.
“That was not a compliment.”
Lilith couldn’t help it.
She smiled.
Somehow—somehow—the universe had tried to kill him about twelve different ways in the past week, and Jack was still standing in the middle of a plaza arguing with a Spartan about apocalypse prophecies.
The man was impossible.
One of the people near the plaza entrance noticed them first.
Then another.
Then someone shouted.
“Roland?!”
Jack turned.
For a moment—
Everything stopped.
The plaza noise faded into a strange, quiet bubble.
Jack just stood there staring at them.
Then his face split into a grin so wide it probably violated several safety regulations.
“Well I’ll be damned.”
Lilith didn’t even realize she’d started walking faster until Roland matched her pace.
Jack met them halfway across the plaza.
Then he pulled both of them into a hug.
Not a polite one.
The kind that knocked the air out of your lungs.
“Holy crap,” Jack laughed, squeezing both of them. “What the hell are you doing here?!”
Roland grunted slightly under the impact. “Good to see you too.”
Lilith wrapped her arms around Jack and squeezed back.
For a second, everything else—the war, the robots, the moon, the Vaults—faded into the background.
He was here. She was here.
Jack finally stepped back, still grinning like someone had just handed him a winning lottery ticket.
“Okay, but seriously,” he said, pointing at Roland, “how the fuck did you get here? We haven’t even gotten the Fast Travel system set up, yet.”
“Scooter built a rocket.”
Jack blinked.
“…that explains nothing and raises several new concerns.”
Lilith laughed.
Athena approached more cautiously, studying Roland with professional curiosity.
Gaige waved enthusiastically. “Hey! New people! Wait—no, old people. Hi again!”
Claptrap rolled forward dramatically.
“You’re welcome,” he announced.
Everyone looked at him.
“For what?” Jack asked.
Claptrap gestured toward the gate behind Lilith and Roland.
“For allowing them entry into the city! Without my generous administrative approval, they would still be standing outside! Possibly suffocating!”
Lilith raised an eyebrow.
Roland looked at Jack.
Jack stared at Claptrap.
“…you were unconscious twenty minutes ago,” Jack said flatly.
Claptrap paused.
“That is irrelevant to my leadership role.”
Gaige snorted.
Jack rubbed his face.
Roland glanced around the plaza. “…so,” he said slowly, “anything interesting happen while we were on the way here?”
Jack opened his mouth.
Athena folded her arms.
Gaige leaned forward eagerly.
Angel tilted her head slightly.
Across the horizon, the distant crater where a mountain used to be sat quietly beneath the gray Elpis sky.
Jack spread his arms.
“Oh, you know,” he said. “Just the usual.”
…
The reunion eventually turned into what all reunions inevitably turned into on Pandora.
A tactical briefing disguised as people standing around talking.
We’d migrated to the edge of the plaza where a couple of crates made decent seats. Athena leaned against a railing nearby with that calm soldier posture she always had, Gaige sat cross-legged on the ground fiddling with something mechanical that occasionally sparked, and Claptrap had positioned himself in the center of the group like a tiny yellow dictator presiding over a council meeting.
Angel stood beside me, quiet and observant as always.
Roland finished explaining the situation back on Pandora.
And by “explaining,” I mean he delivered the entire situation like a military report while everyone else processed the fact that Sanctuary had apparently become the weirdest city in the galaxy.
“…so Brick’s running things for now,” Roland concluded, folding his arms.
I nodded slowly.
“Okay,” I said. “That sentence alone raised at least fourteen follow-up questions.”
Roland shrugged.
“He’s actually doing alright.”
That somehow made it worse.
“Right,” I muttered. “Sure. Brick. Acting mayor. Totally normal governance structure. No notes.”
Lilith leaned against the crate beside me, watching my reaction with an expression that was just a little too calm.
Which should have tipped me off immediately.
Roland kept going.
“Tina’s there too.”
I blinked.
“Tiny Tina?”
“Yeah.”
“The explosives prodigy Tiny Tina?”
“The same.”
“How did she end up in Sanctuary?”
Roland rubbed the back of his neck. “Her parents were killed during the Claptrap situation.”
The humor drained out of the air for a second.
Pandora had a way of doing that.
“Brick took her in,” Roland added.
I let out a slow breath.
Of course he did.
Brick adopting a tiny demolition expert felt like the universe assembling a weapon system.
“Well,” I said after a moment, “that’s either going to end in heartfelt found family bonding or a crater the size of a small country.”
“Probably both,” Gaige muttered without looking up from the device she was tinkering with.
Claptrap raised one wheel proudly.
“As the city’s most respected robotic leader, I would like to point out that none of these problems would exist if people simply listened to me more often.”
Everyone ignored him.
Roland glanced at Lilith.
Then he gestured toward her slightly.
“You should tell him.”
That sentence instantly activated every emergency alarm in my brain.
I turned to Lilith.
“Okay,” I said carefully. “Those are the four most dangerous words in the English language.”
She didn’t answer right away.
Which made it worse.
Lilith rubbed the back of her neck and looked away for a second.
Now I was extremely concerned.
“Is Sanctuary on fire?” I asked.
“No.”
“Did Brick start a war?”
“…not technically.”
I stared at her.
“Those words are doing a lot of heavy lifting.”
Lilith sighed.
Not dramatically. Just… the kind of sigh someone makes when they know they’re about to drop a grenade into a conversation.
Then she looked at me.
“I’m pregnant.”
My brain did something very interesting at that moment.
Specifically, it shut off.
Not gradually.
Not politely.
Just—
click.
Lights out.
The last thing I remembered was thinking:
Oh.
That’s—
And then the world went sideways.
…
When consciousness returned, I was staring at the sky.
Which was weird.
Because I had definitely been standing up a second ago.
Several faces hovered above me.
Angel.
Athena.
Gaige.
Roland.
Lilith.
Claptrap’s square yellow frame rolled into view a second later.
Everyone stared down at me.
I sat up immediately.
“I did not faint.”
Athena folded her arms.
“You fainted.”
Angel tilted her head slightly.
“You fainted.”
Gaige grinned.
“You fainted really fast.”
I pointed at the ground beside me. “That was a strategic recline.”
Roland rubbed his chin. “You fell straight backward.”
“Strategically.”
Lilith crossed her arms, watching me with that amused expression she got whenever I was being particularly ridiculous.
“You hit the ground pretty hard.”
“Momentum,” I said defensively.
Claptrap raised one wheel.
“For the record, I remained conscious the entire time. A clear demonstration of my superior robotic durability.”
Gaige snorted.
“Buddy, you passed out for twelve hours when someone unplugged your charging cable wrong.”
“That was a software update!”
I ignored them.
Mostly because my brain had finally rebooted enough to process the earlier statement.
Pregnant.
Lilith.
Pregnant.
Which meant—
Oh.
Oh no.
I looked at Lilith.
Then at Angel.
Then back at Lilith.
“Wait,” I said slowly.
Angel smiled faintly.
Lilith raised an eyebrow.
“Oh no,” I muttered.
A child.
Another one.
The first time had involved corporate conspiracies, alien technology, and raising a Siren while working for one of the largest megacorporations in the galaxy.
This time I was on a moon.
My space station had just been hijacked.
A rogue army of robots had recently attempted to overthrow civilization.
And a heavily armed cult leader was currently threatening to blow up a planet if I opened a Vault.
Honestly?
The orbital death laser suddenly seemed like the manageable problem.
I ran a hand through my hair.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Okay. This is fine.”
Everyone watched me.
“This is good news,” I continued.
No one spoke.
“I mean, yeah,” I added, gesturing vaguely at the moon, the war, and the general state of the universe, “the timing could be slightly better.”
Lilith smirked.
“Slightly.”
“But!” I raised a finger. “On the bright side, statistically speaking, I have already survived multiple apocalyptic scenarios.”
Roland looked skeptical.
“That’s not how statistics work.”
“Details.”
I looked at Lilith again.
Then down at the ground where I had apparently “strategically reclined.”
Then back at her.
“…I’m gonna need a minute,” I admitted.
Gaige leaned toward Angel and whispered loudly, “Ten bucks says he faints again.”
“I will not faint again,” I snapped.
Claptrap rolled closer.
“If you do faint again, may I record it for archival purposes?”
I pointed at him.
“You’re on thin ice, toaster.”
Lilith laughed.
And despite the war, the moon, the lasers, the Vaults, and the incoming existential nightmares…
For a moment, everything felt strangely okay.
Which probably meant something catastrophic was about to happen in the next week.