Alarms blared, their menace echoing through the steel corridors of Meridot Prime, a remote outpost of Terra Co. in Sector five. Soon, the sound of thousands of steel feet joins the symphony of terror, shaking the station to its core.

  “Out of the way!”

  Tall warriors decked out in iridium-plated mecha armor stomp out onto the docks, charging forward through the crowd without a care for the civilians scrambling away. Those not fast enough are trampled into red pulp, adding briefly their screams to the ambient chaos.

  Not me, though. I’ve always been fast. If I have a saving grace, this is it. As soon as the alarms sounded, I climbed the service ladders, earning myself a front row view of the carnage. Nasty, but it beats being down there, dodging killers. I watch in disgust as the column disappears into the battleship loading bays. Not one of these “peace knights” stopped or made the slightest effort to avoid casualties on their way to their battle stations. And all I can do is watch, so I do, always. Stand your ground and you'll die, just like those poor buggers a few feet down below.

  According to officials, “A single second delay could doom us all. Please keep the space docks clear at all times.”

  As if we had a choice.

  As for the knights themselves, blooding their armors ahead of battle is considered a good omen, or so the rumor goes. I believe it. The only time I’ve seen a knight step slightly out of formation was to bump a girl who’d nearly gotten away. Poor thing fell down and the next shithead in shining armor popped her skull like a grape. Sick bastards the lot of them. Worst part is, no one knows who they are. Without their armor, they could be anyone. A friend? A neighbor? A brother even?

  Some claim they are machines, that there are no drivers. They are wrong. Knights are humans, just like the rest of us. I've seen a broken armored mecha once, the inside had space for a man, and it was soaked in blood.

  Through the glass dome, battleships are launching into the darkness, sleek metal lances tearing ahead of the long bright trails of their rocket boosters. The station rumbles from the aftershocks. I'm not going to lie, it’s beautiful, glorious even. I hate how cool they look. Evil shouldn’t be beautiful. Whoever they are fighting, I hope they lose. I follow them with my eyes, trying to make out their destination. Nothing in sight, of course. There never is. Their battles always happen far, thousands of parsecs away. At least, that's what they say on the news.

  For all their tales of glorious battles in defense of the empire, the only space dragons anyone’s ever seen are on holovids and they don’t look any more real than their cartoon counterparts from the children programs. Does anyone really believe that shit?

  The truth doesn't really matter. They could be eating children live on the 7 o'clock and we still couldn't do anything. Knights are virtually indestructible, a single one of them can crush a thousand rebels without breaking a sweat.

  Down below, cameramen and news reporters scramble to get the footage. Bet they'll call it a terrorist attack. Gore sells and truth is strictly optional.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  A few years ago, I caught them red handed, got an holorecording of the whole thing. Clear as day. Posted the whole thing online. I was sure it’d change everything.

  God, I was stupid back then, but at least, I had sense enough to use a fake account. Guess what? Nobody cared and nothing happened. People in power either know what’s going on, or they really, really don’t want to know. Some so-called expert claimed my video was a deep fake and that was that. The hoi polloi swallows it whole, no questions asked. I don’t blame them. Beats admitting they are slaves. We all are, but they don't know about it. Instead, they remain ignorant—normal people living normal lives.

  These days, I’m smart enough to mind my own business. I stopped trying to convince people, but I know. I've stepped into too much fresh blood to pretend it ain't real.

  Ignorance is bliss. Deep inside, they have to know. Yet, they seem happy enough. How do they do it? The wrongness eats at me, but there’s nothing I can do. Or if there is, I’m too stupid to figure it out. Maybe I’m too stupid for the same reason they’re too ignorant:

  If I knew what to do, I’d have to do it.

  Below, med evac teams are sorting through the bodies looking for survivors with valid insurance tags. Can’t be many of them around here. Mecha armor weighs tons and the jagged patterns of their steel boots shred through meat and bones in exactly the way you imagine. If you get trampled... Best you can hope for is a quick death.

  I check my watch. Five minutes to go before disposal bots wipe the scene clean. I climb down and check out the corpses. No one I knew. Couple stall owners I’d seen before, but only in passing. They were old. Never talked to them. I breathe a sigh of relief. Sounds selfish, but in the end, you only really care about your own.

  My rambling thoughts are interrupted by a bright flash above. I look up. All I can see is a blinding light covering the entire dome shield, crackling with blueish energy. I’m seeing spots, my balance falters and I fall, ass to the floor.

  Was that...

  As if on cue, the alarms stop. Everything stops. No more sound. Everyone's frozen, petrified.

  Outside of the station, a gaping maw opens, like a thousand feet-wide chasm. Three rows of sharp teeth the size of swords are staring right at us. A fearsome, primal display but my eyes are drawn further back, to the sickening blueish glow expanding into a giant fireball at the back of the creature's throat. Terror grips me. I want to run, but there’s nowhere to go.

  Of all the things I thought would kill me one day, a dragon never even made the list. Knights, at least, I could conceive of fighting. Without armor, they are just men. What do you even do against… that?

  I stare in awe at the glorious figure floating outside of the station. How can this even be real? Calm seeps into my bones. It feels... As if the creature’s mere presence was payment enough for everything I’m about to leave behind. So peaceful. Deep inside, I should feel something. I know I should, but I don’t. My pitiful, miserable life seems so insignificant. It never mattered, not really. I'm glad it is over…

  What's freaking wrong with me? A surge of anger rises within and my head clears from the comfortable fog of certain doom. I’m about to die. Fine. But I don’t have to like it. I get back up and stare straight at the beast, in defiance. No one else raises. Somewhere behind me, a woman sobs softly.

  I might be the only man still standing in the entire station.

  Can't believe dragons are real. Is that how it ends?