Kaixin Greiz hoisted Salmer's lifeless body into his mech's storage bay, then gripped the bloodied key to Seven Kills and slid into its cockpit. The air inside was heavy with the iron tang of blood and the faint chemical bite of coolant. Bai Sha, after memorizing the coordinates Salmer had scrawled in his final act, watched as Kaixin activated the cockpit's self-cleaning system. A hiss of pressurized foam erased the blackened bloodstains and cryptic symbols, leaving only sterile metal. Flecks of detergent clung to Kaixin's armor, glinting under the port's flickering lights.
Bai Sha ran a quick diagnostic on Seven Kills. The Legend-class mech was a shadow of its glory. Neglected for over a decade, its components were outdated, its frame unrefined by proper maintenance. Salmer, adrift in the Federation, had likely found no mech-smith skilled—or bold—enough to touch a machine of its caliber. For a high-performance rig, Seven Kills was in sorry shape, far from its peak. Yet it was Kaixin's now, a mantle of responsibility as heavy as the mech itself.
Kaixin tested the controls, the mech's limbs responding with a sluggish grace. He adapted quickly, his movements growing surer. Turning to Bai Sha, he said, "Thank you, Your Highness. I know you held back."
Her restraint against Salmer had been for his sake alone—to spare him the sight of his uncle's death before the truth was clear.
"No thanks needed," Bai Sha said, her voice steady. "We're all chasing the same truth."
They were one step from unraveling it.
Her comms crackled, and Oros, leading the mercenaries against the garrison, came online. "Boss, what's the situation?"
"Boss" was a novel title for Bai Sha, and she suppressed a smirk. "We found our man. He's dead."
Oros hesitated. "And…"
"No cure," Bai Sha said, crushing his hope. "There never was one."
Oros gasped, but before he could respond, Bai Sha issued new orders. "Mission's changed. The target's Qiu Zha, Xiao Yang's security chief. I want him alive."
Oros nearly choked. "What? Kidnap the chief? That's not what we signed up for!"
Storming the port anonymously had already pushed the mercenaries' courage to its limit. Targeting a named official like the security chief was another beast entirely. Then he paused, realization dawning. "Wait, the chief's not called Qiu Zha."
"The current chief's a Nexus plant, likely using a false identity," Bai Sha explained. "His real name—or codename—is Qiu Zha. I need him alive for intel. We know too little about the Nexus. Controlling him shifts us from reactive to proactive."
"Makes sense," Oros said, unconvinced. "But how do I sell this to my men? I can't ask them to take that risk."
"Then we'll handle it," Bai Sha said. "It'll take longer. Your job is to keep the garrison distracted—don't let them guess our real target. Thin their lines, and they'll crumble." She patched Ya Ning into the channel. "Work out the tactics with him."
Oros wavered. "What if Federation reinforcements arrive?"
"They won't outpace ours," Bai Sha said coolly. "I've signaled nearby Imperial fleets. Stir up enough chaos, and they'll swoop in, claiming 'humanitarian aid' to suppress the 'pirates.' When they arrive, you and your men board your ships and bolt. The Imperials will fire blanks, nothing serious. I'll handle the fallout."
"Got it," Oros said. With the port's gates wide open, the Imperial fleet's entry wouldn't be an invasion. The Federation's sluggish response was their own fault.
"Speaking of," Ya Ning interjected, monitoring enemy channels, "Xiao Yang hasn't sent a distress signal."
"Qiu Zha was too cocky about Salmer handling us," Bai Sha said, glancing at the signal station's distant glow. "Or his fake identity means he can't afford to escalate."
"Let's pay him a visit," she said to Kaixin. "He's tied to our past, yours and mine."
The disaster eighteen years ago had scarred the Ronin and Greiz clans forever.
In the port, mercenaries and garrison troops clashed in a bewildering melee. Both sides fought with confusion. The garrison, timid and disorganized, defended halfheartedly, as if waiting for a savior. The mercenaries, holding the port's perimeter, loitered without advancing—an oddity for a blitz. Pirates should've broken through, pillaging the wealthy districts, not lingered at the gates, risking a Federation counterattack.
The garrison grew baffled. At first, they assumed the "pirates" awaited reinforcements, but no new ships arrived. Why weren't they moving?
The mercenaries were equally frustrated. "Keep holding?" one grumbled. "We're sitting ducks!"
"It's the client's and boss's orders," a calm mercenary said, inspecting his rifle and loading fresh rounds. To avoid exposing their legion's identity, they'd bought unmarked weapons with their client's deep pockets. "Follow their lead."
"This feels like a trap," another mercenary leader muttered, suspicious. "Lure us here to wipe us out?"
"That's nonsense," Oros's strategist countered. "We're not worth that much. Our bounties combined don't match the cost of these guns. Why waste resources framing us?"
The leader fell silent, stumped by the blunt logic.
Still, some problems gold couldn't solve. Oros's strategist exhaled, his mind racing. He trusted Oros's judgment, but the escalating chaos demanded an exit plan.
"Incoming!" a scout shouted. "A full-scale war fleet's heading for the port!"
"Why didn't you warn us sooner?" the mercenary leader roared into his comms.
"They didn't use Federation jump gates," the scout protested. "I'd have caught it otherwise." He paused, awestruck. "It's an Imperial fleet—Imperials are coming!"
The mercenaries' faces paled. What cursed day was this? They'd hit a Federation fringe star's port, only to draw an Imperial armada? Imperials rarely meddled, even when Federation planets faced catastrophe. Why the sudden charity?
Suspicion thickened. Then Oros's strategist received a private message: From Leader: It's our people. Don't panic. Fire blanks, play along, then evac. Mission complete.
The strategist blinked. He knew Oros was Imperial, but this stretched comprehension. All he could do was trust.
Ya Ning's voice cut into the command channel. "Don't engage. Retreat now."
He directed the mercenaries to their ships, plotting escape routes. Despite some grumbling, his paths were flawless—not a single ship was downed. The Imperial fleet fired beam cannons, but their aim was comically off, grazing hulls without touching critical systems. The mercenaries fled like startled hares, too panicked to notice, their minds on survival.
A soot-smeared mercenary slapped his forehead. "Wait, did we forget the client?"
The group froze.
"And our boss," a soldier from Oros's legion growled, slamming his knee. "I checked every ship—Oros isn't aboard! Strategist, say something!"
The strategist removed his tactical glasses, wiping them with a serene air. "The boss won't die."
The port descended into pandemonium. As mercenaries withdrew, Imperial soldiers flooded in, sowing chaos. The garrison initially mistook them for allies, but the Imperials' actions baffled them. "Search for pirate remnants!" their officers barked, yet they ignored visible pirates, scouring buildings instead of aiding the garrison. Their "encirclement" was porous, letting pirates slip through while they rummaged with theatrical zeal.
The garrison's commander gritted his teeth, bitterness rising. Relying on Imperials was a fool's hope. "Where's the security chief?" he snapped. "Contact him! This isn't about Xiao Yang's pride anymore—get the Federation military here! Pirates and Imperials are trampling us!"
"Yes, sir!" His aide fumbled with the comms, then faltered. "Sir, the chief… he's offline."
"Offline?" the commander sputtered. "Dereliction? Desertion? Is he suicidal?"
As if to confirm the chief's flight, a soldier reported: the control room was empty save for a dead guard slumped at the console. The chief was gone.
Qiu Zha darted through the port's hidden tunnels, his white security chief's uniform discarded for a plain military jumpsuit. He slid down a silvered conduit, descending into the undercity. The moment he'd learned of the Imperial fleet's approach, he'd known his cover was likely blown. Perhaps they sought Salmer, but he wouldn't gamble on it.
Before fleeing, he'd used his authority to report the pirate breach and Imperial incursion to the Federation, hoping to spark conflict between the Empire and Federation. It'd be a perfect distraction—if he could escape Xiao Yang.
His plan was set: pilot a private ship out during the chaos, hide in the civilian districts overnight, and blend into the exodus. He'd ordered the civilian ports reopened. Tomorrow, panicked citizens would flood the ports, seeking refuge on other stars. He'd assume a new identity and vanish among them.
Qiu Zha activated his optic, logging into his alternate identity. To avoid tracking, he'd use it to operate the ship's systems. As he worked, a polite tap-tap sounded on the ship's window—calm, courteous, and chillingly out of place. His instincts screamed danger.
He slammed the controls, igniting the engines. The ship lurched upward, only to jolt as something seized its tail. The rear monitor revealed a silver-purple wolf-mech, jaws clamped on the ship's hull.
Qiu Zha cursed. "Salmer, you lunatic?"
Realizing his error, he softened his tone. "I can take you, but not your mech. Agree, and I'll open the hatch."
A deafening clang shook the ship. Red warning lights flared, error signals flooding the console. The tail was critically damaged.
"Madman!" Qiu Zha roared, frustration boiling. He opened the hatch, stepping out to confront Salmer.
A frigid gust hit him, laced with the sharp scent of machine oil. Metal sliced the air—a spear, its tip aimed at his eyes.
"Going somewhere, Mr. Qiu Zha?" The voice was unmasked, unmistakable.
Qiu Zha's eyes widened, disbelief surging. A silver flash darted before him—a small white bird, its black bead-like eyes expressionless.
Qiu Zha froze.
The bird's wings flared, growing impossibly large, shimmering with silver-blue light. With a single flap, it sent him crashing against the ship's hull. He hit with a dull thud, blood trickling from his skull.
The wolf-mech released the ship, startled. The blow, deceptively light, had been brutal.
Kaixin shook off the ship's tail. "Your Highness, you didn't kill him, did you?"
"Not quite," Bai Sha said. "I know my strength. Besides, the fleet's medics will patch him up. He's not dying yet."
The port's chaos roared on, a symphony of gunfire and collapsing steel. Bai Sha's spear remained steady, pinning Qiu Zha's gaze as he slumped against the ship, blood pooling beneath him. Kaixin's wolf-mech loomed nearby, Seven Kills' silver-purple frame a silent testament to the Greiz legacy. Ya Ning and Jingyi flanked them, their mechs scanning the tunnels for garrison stragglers or Nexus operatives.
Bai Sha's mind raced. Capturing Qiu Zha was a coup, but his words in the tower—The master's moving—gnawed at her. The Nexus was steps ahead, its plans opaque. Qiu Zha, a pawn or a linchpin, held answers: the lab's contents, the virus's spread, the Nexus's true aim. She needed him talking, not bleeding out.
"Kaixin, secure him," she ordered. "Jingyi, check the ship for traps or trackers."
Kaixin hesitated, his eyes lingering on Qiu Zha's crumpled form. The man had been Salmer's shadow, the Nexus's leash on his uncle. Rage flickered in his gaze, but he nodded, binding Qiu Zha's wrists with mag-cuffs from his mech's kit.
Jingyi's whip cracked as she swept the ship's hull with her optic. "Clean so far. No explosives, no signals. He was ready to bolt."
"Good," Bai Sha said. "Ya Ning, signal Oros. Tell him we've got the target. They can pull back fully."
Ya Ning's saber hummed as he opened the comms. "Oros, we have Qiu Zha. Evacuate now. Imperial fleet's covering your exit."
Oros's voice crackled back, strained but relieved. "Copy. We're out. Good luck, boss."
Bai Sha turned to Qiu Zha, who stirred, groaning. His eyes, clouded with pain, met hers. "You… Ronin," he rasped. "You're too late. The Nexus… it's already won."
"Keep talking," Bai Sha said, her spear tip grazing his throat. "What's in the lab? What's the Nexus planning?"
Qiu Zha's laugh was wet, blood flecking his lips. "You think I'll spill? The lab's a graveyard. Virus strains, test subjects—nothing you can use. The Nexus doesn't need me anymore. It's moving to phase two."
"Phase two?" Bai Sha pressed, her voice cold. "Explain, or I let Kaixin carve answers out of you."
Kaixin's mech growled, its jaws snapping inches from Qiu Zha's face. The man flinched, his bravado cracking. "You don't scare me, Greiz pup," he spat. "Your uncle was a fool, and you're no better."
Kaixin's claws twitched, but Bai Sha raised a hand. "Focus, Kaixin. He's baiting you."
Qiu Zha smirked, sensing weakness. "The virus is spreading—core worlds, fringe stars, everywhere. The Nexus doesn't need a cure. It needs chaos. When the Empire falls, it'll rebuild… under its control."
Bai Sha's blood ran cold, but she kept her expression neutral. "And the lab? Why guard it if it's useless?"
"It's a lure," Qiu Zha said, his voice dropping. "To draw you in. The Nexus knows you're hunting it. Every move you make feeds its plan."
She tightened her grip on the spear. "You're lying."
"Am I?" Qiu Zha's eyes gleamed, feverish. "Go to the lab. See for yourself. But you'll never leave."
Jingyi's whip lashed the ground, impatient. "He's stalling. We've got him—let's move to the lab now."
Bai Sha nodded, but doubt gnawed at her. Qiu Zha's confidence was unsettling, his words too precise. Was the lab a trap, or was he bluffing to delay them? Either way, they had no choice. The coordinates Salmer left were their only lead.
"Load him into the ship," she ordered. "We're heading to sector seven."
Kaixin hauled Qiu Zha aboard, securing him in the ship's hold. The man's taunts faded to pained silence, his strength ebbing. Bai Sha climbed into her mech, the white bird—her psychic familiar—perching on its shoulder, its eyes scanning the dark.
The undercity tunnels were a labyrinth of rusted pipes and flickering neon, the air thick with mildew and ozone. Bai Sha led the way, her mech's sensors mapping the path. Ya Ning's tactical feed updated in real-time: the Imperial fleet had secured the port, driving off the garrison. Oros's mercenaries were gone, their ships vanishing into the void. The stage was theirs, but the clock was ticking.
"Stay sharp," Bai Sha said over the comms. "Qiu Zha's people might be waiting."
Jingyi's voice crackled. "If this is a trap, we're walking right into it."
"Then we spring it," Bai Sha said. "The Nexus wants us to hesitate. We don't."
Kaixin, piloting Seven Kills, was silent, his focus absolute. The mech's outdated systems groaned, but his skill compensated, its movements fluid despite the wear. Bai Sha glanced at him, sensing the weight of his uncle's legacy pressing down. Salmer's death had forged him anew—grief into resolve.
The tunnel opened into a cavernous chamber, its walls etched with Nexus sigils that pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. A sealed vault loomed at the center, its doors heavy with encryption locks. Bai Sha's optic scanned it: no guards, no traps, but the air felt wrong, heavy with an unseen menace.
"Ya Ning, hack the vault," she said. "Jingyi, cover him. Kaixin, watch Qiu Zha."
Ya Ning's mech interfaced with the vault's controls, his fingers dancing over a holographic panel. "Complex encryption," he muttered. "Nexus tech. Give me a minute."
Jingyi's whip coiled, her mech circling the chamber. "Quiet so far. Too quiet."
Kaixin stood guard over the ship, Qiu Zha bound inside. The man's breathing was shallow, his face pale. "He's fading," Kaixin said. "We need answers before he's useless."
Bai Sha nodded, her bird familiar flitting to the vault, its eyes glowing as it probed for hidden defenses. "Ya Ning, status?"
"Almost there," he said. "Ten seconds."
The vault's locks clicked, a low hum rising as the doors parted. Darkness yawned within, broken by faint blue lights—cryo-tanks, their contents obscured by frost. Bai Sha's sensors picked up traces of bio-signals, faint but active.
"Test subjects," she whispered, dread pooling in her gut. "Qiu Zha wasn't lying."
Jingyi peered inside. "Virus strains too?"
"Likely," Bai Sha said. "We need samples, data—anything we can analyze."
Kaixin's voice cut through. "He's awake."
Qiu Zha, slumped in the hold, stirred, his eyes glinting with malice. "You found it," he rasped. "Too bad it's a tomb."
Bai Sha spun, spear raised. "What's inside?"
Qiu Zha's laugh was weak but venomous. "The Nexus's failures. Mutants, infected, half-dead. Touch them, and you join them."
Ya Ning emerged from the vault, holding a data slate. "He's not entirely lying. Logs show experiments—virus variants, mental manipulation. No cure, but there's research on containment."
"Containment?" Bai Sha seized the slate, scanning it. The Nexus had tested ways to stabilize infected minds, not cure them. Partial success, at horrific cost—most subjects were vegetative or rabid.
"We take it all," she said. "Download everything. Grab the viable samples."
Jingyi hesitated. "If this is a trap—"
"Then we're already in it," Bai Sha said. "We can't leave empty-handed."
Ya Ning worked fast, copying the lab's archives. Bai Sha entered the vault, her bird familiar lighting the way. The cryo-tanks held distorted forms—humanoid, but wrong, their features melted or warped. One stirred, its eyes opening, blank and predatory. She backed away, spear ready.
"Kaixin, prep the ship," she called. "We're leaving soon."
Qiu Zha's voice echoed from the hold. "You'll carry the virus with you. The Nexus planned this."
Bai Sha ignored him, helping Ya Ning secure the samples. The chamber's sigils pulsed faster, the air growing colder. Her optic pinged: an energy spike, deep in the vault.
"Ya Ning, what's that?"
He checked his sensors. "Power surge. Something's activating."
Jingyi's whip cracked. "We need to go—now!"
A low rumble shook the chamber. The vault's rear wall split, revealing a hidden chamber. A massive mech, its frame sleek and black, stirred within, its eyes glowing red. Nexus sigils crawled across its hull, pulsing in sync with the walls.
"A guardian," Bai Sha said, gripping her spear. "Kaixin, get Qiu Zha to the ship. Ya Ning, Jingyi, with me."
The mech roared, its cannons charging. Bai Sha's bird flared, blinding it with a silver-blue pulse. She lunged, her spear striking its joints, sparks flying. Jingyi's whip lashed its sensors, while Ya Ning's saber slashed its power lines.
Kaixin dragged Qiu Zha to the ship, the man's taunts fading. "You can't stop it," he mumbled. "The Nexus sees all."
The guardian mech swung, its fist grazing Bai Sha's mech. She rolled, countering with a thrust that pierced its armor. Ya Ning severed a cannon, and Jingyi's whip disabled its optics. The mech staggered, then collapsed, its sigils dimming.
"Move!" Bai Sha shouted, grabbing the data slate and samples. They sprinted to the ship, the vault trembling behind them.
As they boarded, Qiu Zha's eyes met Bai Sha's, a faint smirk on his lips. "You're marked now," he whispered.
She ignored him, sealing the hatch. "Kaixin, fly us out."
Seven Kills' engines roared, the ship lifting from the tunnel. The port was a warzone, Imperial troops clashing with the last garrison holdouts. Bai Sha's optic pinged: Zhou Ying's message from the Capital Star. Lab data critical. Return immediately.
She glanced at Kaixin, his face set, and Qiu Zha, fading but alive. The Nexus's shadow loomed, but they had a foothold—data, samples, and a prisoner. The fight was far from over.
On Youdu Star, Emperor Cecil read Bai Sha's update: Lab secured. Returning with intel. The Nexus's endgame was unfolding, and his niece was its fulcrum—hero or martyr, only time would tell.