GALACTIC 3

The galaxy once moved in harmony with the Zodiac Matrix — a living web of constellations that whispered daily instructions into every life-form.
Horoscopes weren’t predictions here; they were updates — reality-codes deciding what an entire civilization would become by morning.

Then Beluga vanished, and the feeds began to twist.
EgoTron, self-styled god of narrative control, hijacked the Matrix and turned destiny into entertainment.

Caught in the crossfire was Maui, a swaggering pilot who’d always flown solo — until his crash-landing on Feed Station 12 dropped him into the middle of a cosmic script rewrite. As the alarms blared, twelve figures stepped through the smoke:

Sol the Leo, radiant and theatrical.
Long the Dragon, cool precision wrapped in authority.
Ramses the Aries and Hu the Tiger, rivals forged in fire and motion.
Castor and Pollux the Gemini, two minds arguing inside one luminous suit.
Vita the Virgo and Feng the Rooster, engineers of opposite perfection.
Shu the Rat, thief who could unlock destiny itself.

Together they were the Zodiac Alliance — living embodiments of the signs, their moods bending reality itself.
When EgoTron corrupted their archetypes, the constellations flickered and warped: Sol’s confidence faltered, Long’s discipline cracked, and even the stars stuttered under the weight of ego and control.

Only Maui — the Unwritten Sign — moved outside the pattern.
His unpredictability made him both threat and savior, the one variable EgoTron couldn’t script.
In that chaos, pilot and Zodiac Alliance forged an uneasy orbit — twelve forces of fate circling one man who refused to be written.
The moment would become the first fracture in EgoTron’s rule, the spark of a new balance: Control  Chaos  Collaboration — the first ripple of a universe learning to read its own story.

It began, as all stories do now, with an ambush.

CHAPTER 1 — AMBUSH AND AFTERMATH

The belt glittered like broken mirrors around a dying sun.

Maui drifted between the shards in his hover-cruiser, throttle humming, sunglasses on despite there being absolutely no atmosphere to justify them.
“Beluga, you seeing this?” he asked.

Nothing.
Static.

Then —

“I warned you… oh wait, no I didn’t. Boom.”

The comms cracked — and the universe blew itself apart.
A white-blue shockwave rolled through the asteroid field, flipping his cruiser end over end.

Maui swore, yanked the controls, dodged a tumbling mountain.
“Beluga! Break left!”

“Relax, Maui. Not my first void-rodeo.”

The line fizzed. Another explosion. Silence. Radar flat-lined.
“Beluga?” He already knew.

A second channel clicked in — cool, measured, female.

“I-on-1 to Maui. Get down here. Now.”

The Stellar Runabout cut through atmosphere like a flaming coin. It hit rust-red dirt in a skid that would’ve killed a lesser ego.
Maui climbed out, steam rising off the hull. I-on-1 waited, visor glowing arctic blue. Beside her floated E-Go, a jittering holo-cube of caffeinated conscience.

“Telemetry shows an intercept code from Feed Node Twelve,” E-Go reported.
“They jammed Beluga mid-signal.”

Maui’s jaw set. “Then we go get him.”

“Impossible,” I-on-1 said. “EgoTron owns the skies.”
“So we fake our own death,” E-Go pulsed.

Maui grinned. “Finally — an AI with style.”

The Runabout blasted skyward — and immediately pretended to die.
It slammed through Feed Station Twelve’s docking bay in a blaze of sparks and very real pain.

“Crash sequence complete,” E-Go chirped. “Believability 97 percent.”
“It was supposed to be fake!” I-on-1 shouted.
“No one does fake like you, buddy,” Maui coughed.

A hatch opened. Out waddled a bureaucrat with a mustache heavy enough to have its own gravity.

“Greetings, unscheduled arrivals. Please submit Form X-77-B for Unexpected Crash Landings.”
“Got a clipboard that doesn’t melt?” Maui pointed to the burning hull.
“No forms? Highly irregular.”

The lights turned orange. The walls spoke.

“Always predictable, Maui.”

EgoTron.
Oh-Orange Inflated-Ego Lord-God of the Feed, ruler of trending tragedy.

“Your friend is alive — for now. He’s learning how stories really work.”

Screens merged into a single glowing O.

“He’s streaming us,” I-on-1 murmured.
“Let’s change the channel,” Maui snapped.

Drones dropped from the ceiling like applause made of knives.

The left wall detonated in gold fire.
A man in a shimmering jacket burst through smoke, hair perfect, grin weaponized.

“Looks like the stars aligned for a heroic entrance!”
“Fantastic,” Maui muttered. “The universe sent me sequins.”

The right wall hissed open. A second squad advanced — sleek, dark, disciplined. Their leader’s stare could have filed steel.

“You are late,” she said. “And loud.”
“Both true.”

Sol the Leo stood center, charisma wrapped in gold plating.
Opposite him, Long the Dragon — command distilled into stillness.

Behind them, the constellation of chaos aligned:

Ramses the Aries cracked his armored fists; Hu the Tiger cracked hers louder — rivalry achieved in one heartbeat.

Castor and Pollux the Gemini argued inside a glowing tech-suit.

“I’m boosting the signal!”
“You’re boosting my headache!”

Vita the Virgo and Feng the Rooster judged from the sidelines.

“Servo alignment off by two degrees.”
“Four. Substandard manufacturing.” A drone collapsed. They nodded approvingly.

Shu the Rat slipped through cross-fire, pockets mysteriously heavier.

“Backup?” I-on-1 asked.
“Or a circus,” Maui said.

Sol-Leo drew his blaster. “Zodiac Outlaws — on me!”
Long-Dragon sighed. “Jade Contingent — contain the idiots.”

Then — mayhem.

Ramses-Aries and Hu-Tiger became a one-punch meteor storm.
Shu-Rat skated under lasers, whistling.
Castor and Pollux fought each other and the firewalls simultaneously.
Vita-Virgo and Feng-Rooster provided commentary like sports analysts for perfectionism.

When the last drone fell, Sol spun dramatically. “Well—”
Long cut in. “—An adequate warm-up.”

“Beluga’s signal pinged here,” I-on-1 said.
“Where is he?”
“The Archive,” Long replied. “Where truth is stored until it breaks.”
“Sounds expensive,” E-Go muttered.
“Got the key,” Shu-Rat waved a stolen card.

The floor rumbled. EgoTron’s voice thundered.

“Unscripted. Unlicensed. This ends now.”

A blast door dropped.

“E-Go!” Maui shouted.
“On it!”

They ran — twelve misfits moving in sync for once — and slid beneath the closing door as it sealed behind them.

The corridor was dark, metal sweating heat and sarcasm.

“A hero’s path is never easy,” Sol-Leo said.
“It would be easier without narration,” Long-Dragon shot back.
“I got through first,” Ramses-Aries grinned.
“Only because I let you,” Hu-Tiger retorted.
“I disabled the sensors!” the Gemini twins chorused.
“You’re all my favorite problem,” E-Go whispered.

Shu-Rat jammed the card into a terminal. “Archive’s forty levels down. Lifts locked.”

“Then we climb,” Maui said.
“Maintenance shaft behind here,” Vita-Virgo scanned. “Eighty-seven percent clear.”
“Thirteen percent lazy engineering,” Feng-Rooster snorted.
“Can you open it?” I-on-1 asked.
“Obviously.” Whir. Thunk. Bolts fell like rain.

They dropped into the shaft one by one — a ladder descending into orange-lit gloom.

Maui led, hands burned but steady. He was done waiting for orders.

“A true leader goes last to protect the team,” Sol called down.
“A true leader does what’s useful,” Long answered.

The shaft shuddered. A rumble rose from below. Orange light swelled.

“He’s flushing the system!” E-Go shouted.
“Hatch twenty meters down!” Vita yelled.
“Too slow,” Long warned.
“Then we fall,” Hu grinned — and let go.

Ramses followed, laughing like a supernova.
“Insane!” Shu cried, jumping after them.

They hit the hatch hard, braced.

“Jump!” Hu bellowed.
Maui released the ladder. I-on-1 followed.
“Release is stuck!”
“Locked. Fixed.” Zap.

The hatch slid open. They tumbled through as orange energy filled the shaft, sealing it with fire.

Silence.

Cold blue light. Rows of server towers rose like cathedrals of memory.
At the center, suspended in a beam of light — Beluga.
Unconscious. Wired into the Feed.

EgoTron’s voice echoed:

“Welcome to the final act. The audience is waiting.”

“Good,” Sol smirked. “I love finales.”
“Try not to upstage your own death,” Long murmured.
“This time,” Maui said, stepping forward, “we rewrite the ending.”

The server lights flickered — heartbeat fast, camera-ready