"Head to Area B17,"
the man responsible for distributing the uniforms said calmly, placing Drov's outfit on the platform in front of him.
Drov took his white uniform, striped with gray, and headed to the changing area.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror. The suit was like a second skin, clinging to his body and highlighting his sculpted muscles. Fortunately, there was a gray cloth piece, like a skirt, covering his lower torso.
"Not bad," he thought narcissistically, admiring his appearance. To him, he was the one adding value to the suit, not the other way around.
He left the room and headed toward the place he had been told about earlier, "Area B17." When he arrived, he saw that he was the last to arrive.
Four young men and one young woman stood there. Without a word, he joined them, forming a line of three facing three, led by a middle-aged man with a thick mustache and strange yellow eyes.
The man placed his hands behind his back and looked indifferently at each of the six youths before speaking in a deep, cold voice:
"Congratulations. You are now elite soldiers of the Viltrumite Empire..."
Upon hearing this, everyone straightened up, even Drov was no exception. The man continued
"Soon, you will be sent to the farthest corners of our empire. You will bring order, you will bring obedience, you will bring strength..."
Then he added, with eyes filled with reverence:
"You will bring glory to our empire."
" Every mission ..."
****
Drov cast one last look at the flourishing planet before entering the massive spacecraft.
He gave a cold glance at the purple slave who was transporting supplies to the ship, then continued walking toward the command center, where three Viltrumite youths had gathered behind a middle-aged man who was likely the general in charge of them.
The general cast a brief glance at Drov, who did not dare make eye contact with him, before waving his arm in command.
"Engage."
The slaves under his command operated the ship, launching it into the dark expanse of space, passing through burning asteroids entering the planet's atmosphere.
He turned to face the four youths and said:
"We have seven days before reaching the first destination. Until then, you are dismissed."
The four nodded and left the command room. Drov chose a random room and entered it. The door closed automatically behind him.
Suddenly, his vision blurred, and he began seeing things doubled, like someone cross-eyed. He supported himself against the cold steel wall of the room.
Then, he suddenly felt something wet above his upper lip. He raised his other hand, touched the spot, then pulled it away.
"Blood?" Despite his blurred vision, he clearly saw the blood on his palm. He was confused, he was bleeding for no reason!
"Why did my nose suddenly start bleeding like this?" he wondered in confusion and doubt. The word "illness" had never once crossed his mind, as he had never encountered anything like this before.
He struggled to open his room's door and staggered toward the command center. He passed another room with its door open, from which someone's arm was protruding.
Supporting himself against the ship's walls, Drov moved forward and clearly saw who the arm belonged to. His eyes widened as he looked at one of the three youths lying face down on the floor, blood pooling beneath him.
Suddenly, the entire ship began to tremble, and loud alarm sounds blared. Ignoring the fallen youth, Drov continued toward the command center.
When he opened the door, he was met with a scene that confused him even more.
All the slaves were on the ground, some torn in half, others missing their heads.
Drov ignored it all and rushed toward the general, who was sitting in the captain's chair.
"general, what is happening?" he asked, staring at the pale-faced general who was bleeding from the openings of his face.
The general, whose previous aura of authority had vanished, barely managed to speak
"Cough..." He coughed up a large amount of blood, staining Drov's uniform.
"Someone poisoned us..."
As he spat those blood-filled words, he stared at the screens displaying the ship's rooms, where all three youths had already collapsed in their own blood.
"Hurry… return the ship to its course before it is destroyed… and kill all the slaves here, they have poi..."
The general stopped mid-sentence. His head fell to the side, and the light vanished from his eyes.
"Sh*t,"
Drov cursed as he saw the general, who had been fine just minutes ago, die.
"Did one of those insects poison us?!" Drov said, tasting the metallic flavor of blood.
From the general's last words, it seemed that one of the slaves on the ship had poisoned them, which was why the general had killed all the slaves here.
What neither the general nor Drov knew was that the slaves aboard the ship were merely innocent victims. They had nothing to do with what was happening.
If Drov were to return to the Viltrumite planet now, he would see that billions there were experiencing the same symptoms.
The ship's violent shaking pulled him out of his dark thoughts. The ship was still moving at light speed, and due to the lack of control, it had veered off course.
Unfortunately, Drov was in no condition to pilot a spacecraft. He moved toward the control panel, intending to activate the autopilot, but collapsed unconscious before he could.
His outstretched hand struck the surface of the control panel, just an inch away from the autopilot activation button.
****
"Disgusting creature."
Drov, still slightly disoriented, stared at the corpse of a being that somewhat resembled him in physical structure. He had never seen a creature so similar to a Viltrumite before.
He looked at his torn uniform with a dark expression, then opened his mouth and spat a mouthful of blood onto the creature's corpse before ignoring it.
The scenes he had experienced before waking up here replayed in his mind.
"Someone poisoned us?" he thought with narrowed eyes, recalling the general's words.
Whoosh!!
A slight pain in his back disturbed him. He reached behind and pulled out the object that had slightly pierced his back.
"A Bone?"
he wondered in confusion, staring at the small, blood-stained piece of bone in his palm.
As if sensing something, he moved instinctively to the side. In the place where he had just been standing, a sharp white bone shot through like a spear.