Transporting a Sea Kind spacecraft from Lanslow Star to the Aresian Empire was no small feat, a logistical labyrinth fraught with diplomatic and technical perils. Yet power, wielded deftly, could untangle even the most Gordian knots. Bai Sha, though a foreigner in the Federation, was not without allies.
Ya Ning and Yan Jingyi, having assumed overt control of Lanslow's operations, had cultivated local connections, their influence a subtle web woven through the planet's undercurrents. More crucially, Bai Sha's ties to the Zhou clan and other Federation families provided a formidable shield. The Zhou patriarch, a man of iron pragmatism, had settled her last astronomical invoice without a flicker of hesitation. Now, his network facilitated a clandestine arrangement with the clan overseeing Lanslow's port logistics, ensuring the spacecraft could slip away with the Empire's fleet, unnoticed by Federation eyes or Nexus agents.
The Zhou clan's unwavering support puzzled Bai Sha. Their generosity seemed at odds with their reputation for ruthless self-interest. During a secure optic call, she confronted the patriarch directly. "Why bet on me, Zhou Lao? I'm not even a Federation citizen."
In her memory, the Zhou patriarch was a stern taskmaster, sparing no quarter even for his grandsons, Zhou Yue and Zhou Ying. Such selfless devotion didn't fit his profile.
"Partially, we have no choice," Zhou Lao replied, his voice clipped and candid. "We need external leverage to topple Ning Hongxue and his faction. This isn't about the Federation's welfare. Whether it's me or the families aiding your transport, we refuse to cede control to the Silver Nexus. Take port trade, for instance—if the Nexus's AI seizes every checkpoint, what becomes of the clans who thrive on that commerce?"
He leaned closer, his eyes sharp. "No one, human or otherwise, wants their fate dictated by another. The quality of that fate is irrelevant."
Bai Sha's lips quirked. "That's refreshingly blunt. Profit-driven, as befits a clan patriarch."
"That's one layer," Zhou Lao said, his tone softening. "The other is my grandsons. Zhou Yue and Zhou Ying are the brightest of our line. I can't ignore their plight. You, Your Highness, are their best hope—now and in the future. They believe in you, and so do I."
"How are they?" Bai Sha asked, her voice low, a flicker of concern breaking her composure.
"Yue remains comatose, like the others. Ying… is managing," Zhou Lao said, his weathered face creasing deeper, as if the words carved new lines into his skin.
"I thought you didn't care," Bai Sha said, her gaze steady.
"I've no other heirs who satisfy me," he said. "The Zhou clan may seem cold, a tangle of greed and ambition that repulses outsiders. But that's our way of survival. Young heirs often rebel, dreaming of ideals—that's natural. Most bend to the clan's weight in time. Human weakness is universal, but resilience varies. Yue and Ying's brilliance is unique. I've never considered abandoning them."
"Good," Bai Sha said, nodding. She severed the connection, the optic's glow fading into the dimness of her quarters.
With the Zhou clan's aid, the spacecraft reached Youdu Star undetected, crated as "cultural relics" within the Empire's diplomatic convoy. Bai Sha's team now faced a daunting task: harness the craft's return function to locate the Lone Light. This required restoring the vessel to full functionality, preserving its intricate systems. The plan was straightforward but perilous—repair the craft, activate its return protocol, and trail it with a fleet to pinpoint the Lone Light's coordinates.
The risk was stark. If, as they feared, the Lone Light had fallen to the Silver Nexus, activating the return signal could alert the enemy, exposing their intent. The Nexus, a spectral force lurking in networks and minds, would not hesitate to counterstrike.
"There's no risk-free path," Bai Sha declared during a strategy session in the Imperial Palace's war room, her voice resolute. "We've seized a sliver of advantage. We can't squander it. Our goal is to dismantle the Nexus's Unbounded City. Even if we only bring down the Lone Light, that's a victory."
Emperor Cecil, seated at the room's head, his fingers steepled, considered her words. After a long pause, he nodded. "Proceed. You'll lead the fleet. But Uriel goes with you."
Bai Sha's eyes brightened. "Agreed."
Uriel, one of the Empire's enigmatic "angels," was a bioengineered guardian, his loyalty to the Ronin dynasty absolute. His presence would bolster their chances, his combat prowess a bulwark against unforeseen threats.
The restoration process, however, revealed a complication. The spacecraft's systems were keyed exclusively to Bai Sha's psychic resonance. To initiate the return protocol, she had to pilot the craft herself, isolating her from the fleet for the mission's initial phase. Cecil's plan for Uriel's close protection was thwarted, at least temporarily.
"We've come too far to delay," Bai Sha argued, facing Cecil in his private study. The room, lined with holo-maps and ancient star charts, hummed with quiet authority. "I need to see the Lone Light. I need to know what happened there."
Cecil's gaze was unyielding, but he relented, issuing a terse order: "Refit the craft. Maximize speed and safety."
The directive, simple on its face, confounded the Empire's engineers. Sea Kind technology surpassed their own, the spacecraft a near-perfect marvel of design. Every proposed modification—enhanced thrusters, reinforced hulls—risked disrupting its delicate balance. Boosting speed might compromise stealth; bolstering armor could sap agility. To alter such a harmonious system felt like defacing a masterpiece.
In the end, they focused on Bai Sha. On the test flight day, she was encased in a state-of-the-art survival suit, its sleek black surface impervious to vacuum and impact. A transparent helmet, its visor flickering with yellow diagnostic readouts, completed the ensemble. The suit, engineers boasted, could sustain her even if the craft exploded, propelling her to safety until rescue arrived.
The cockpit, designed for a child, was already a tight fit. Encumbered by the suit and helmet, Bai Sha moved with exaggerated care, each motion eliciting a faint clink as her helmet grazed the console. "How's it feel, Highness?" a fleet comm officer's voice crackled through her headset. "Any adjustments needed?"
"It's fine," Bai Sha said, her voice muffled. "Breathing's clear, movement's… manageable."
"Good," the officer replied. "Fleet launches in three minutes. Stay in contact."
Bai Sha studied the console, its blue orb pulsing softly. She'd crammed piloting basics in the days prior, but Sea Kind controls were a league apart from Imperial tech. Her nerves jangled, more intense than any exam from her past life. The autopilot was her lifeline.
"Activate autopilot," she said, addressing the orb. "Initiate return protocol."
"Request received. Autopilot engaged. Mother ship coordinates locking… locked," Bai Yi's warm voice responded. After a half-second pause, it added, "You've been away from home a while this time."
Bai Sha blinked, a wry smile tugging at her lips. Bai Yi's penchant for recording every sentiment was endearing, if excessive. A talkative, sensitive soul, perhaps? But the word "home" lingered, stirring a cascade of memories.
Home on Youdu Star, with its violet-lit spires. The Federation's capital, a brief haven. The orphanage on Lanslow, where she'd scraped by under Holman's gruff care. The Lone Light, glimpsed in fragments, felt warm, familial, though its details eluded her. Further back, her past life—a modest apartment near her research institute, utilitarian but comforting, a perk of her academic post.
The craft ascended, a silver streak piercing the cosmos. The trailing fleet, prepared for its speed, struggled to keep pace, their focus absolute. No one spoke, leaving Bai Sha alone with her thoughts. She traced her life's arc, marveling at its trajectory. This existence—privilege, power, purpose—owed much to a fortunate rebirth. But was it fortune?
The Nexus's shadow loomed. Her creation, she suspected, was no accident. The Nexus had engineered her, offering the galaxy on a platter, demanding only her acquiescence to its dominion over humanity's fate. Would another resist such temptation? Her mentors, her peers—were they, too, pawns in the Nexus's game?
The journey stretched on. Hyperspace jumps were impractical beyond Imperial borders, forcing a plodding, sublight trek to the Lone Light's coordinates. Navigators estimated days of travel. The cockpit, though cramped, offered a reclining seat, transforming into a makeshift berth. Bai Sha adjusted it, easing her stiff limbs, the suit's weight a constant reminder of her isolation.
"You can't sleep, Highness," Uriel's voice cut through, steady and insistent. "It's tough, but stay awake."
"Tell me about the past," Bai Sha said, tilting her neck to ease a cramp, her eyes half-closed. "Something real."
"Which part?" Uriel asked, his tone cautious.
"The Nexus called you four 'angels' its judges over the Aresians," she said, her voice calm, almost conversational. "Did you ever spill Aresian blood?"
Silence. Then, haltingly: "Yes. Many. Too many."
"The Nexus was your god, resurrecting you. Yet you chose the Aresians. Why? What changed you?" she murmured.
"Time," Uriel said. "Eons. For decaying souls, eternal bodies are a curse."
Bai Sha yawned. "Most crave longevity. Immortality, flaws and all, was a gift to you at first. Time shifted your perspective."
"Exactly," Uriel said, a faint chuckle escaping. "We feared death, then craved it. After the Empire rose, we chose to live on. Raphael's departure stung, but we're less obsessed now. Life's meaning isn't in death or survival, Highness. It's in rebirth—body and soul. The Nexus excels at crushing souls."
"So you'd choose the same, every time," Bai Sha said, her voice soft.
"Every time," Uriel affirmed.
Hours bled into days, Bai Sha's body aching, her consciousness fraying. Her eyes burned, lids heavy yet itching, as if a feather teased her to sleep. Uriel's voice anchored her, pulling her back each time she drifted. "You bioengineered types don't need sleep," she said weakly, admiration tinged with exhaustion. "Your stamina's unreal."
"No jokes, Highness," Uriel said. "Get up. The Lone Light's here."
Bai Sha snapped the seat upright, her movements fluid despite the suit. The visor's readouts confirmed their proximity to the coordinates. The void ahead was black, punctuated by distant, silver-white stars. She felt no fear—only anticipation.
The craft entered a shadowed region, space warping around it. A silver-blue shimmer engulfed them, and her vision cleared.
A colossal city floated before her, gyro-shaped, its surfaces studded with intricate structures and docking bays. Ornate metal bridges linked its tiers, glinting as the Lone Light rotated with serene grace. It was a vision of cold, poetic beauty—yet utterly silent, devoid of life.
Her memories of a bustling Lone Light clashed with this desolate reality. Her tiny craft seemed insignificant against its grandeur.
"Navigation complete," the system announced, its nose flashing red. "Requesting docking clearance… no response."
"Activate auto-docking mode?" it asked.
"Docking where?" Bai Sha said, her voice steady despite the city's eerie stillness.
"Simply put," the system replied, "home."
Bai Sha's breath caught. Home. The word resonated, a beacon in the void. She glanced at the fleet's signals, faint but steady, trailing her. Uriel's presence, though distant, was a comfort. The Lone Light loomed, its silence a challenge. Was it a tomb, a trap, or a key to her past? The Nexus's shadow lingered, but Bai Sha's resolve was iron. She'd uncover the truth, no matter the cost.
"Proceed," she said. "Take us home."
The craft hummed, aligning with an unseen path. The city's docking bay yawned open, a maw of darkness. Bai Sha braced herself, her hand resting on the console, the blue orb's glow a faint reassurance. The Lone Light awaited, and with it, answers—or annihilation.