The starship's command deck pulsed with a frenetic rhythm, its air thick with the hum of machinery and the urgency of impending action. Beyond the transparent walls of the captain's office, Dead Omen Star loomed, a crimson orb wreathed in violet tempests, its surface a battleground where two Starbug Queens vied for supremacy. Bai Sha stood poised at the edge of the platform, her gaze flickering between holographic displays and the bustling crew below, her mind a whirl of calculations and half-formed memories. The question of whether the Red-Feather Sparrows could be subdued by the Creeping Rose's concentrated gas hung unanswered, a gamble requiring immediate proof.
No xenobiologists accompanied the fleet, a logistical oversight that forced reliance on distant expertise. Communications officers established a stable interstellar link, connecting to a cadre of scholars light-years away. Guided remotely, the fleet conducted a hasty experiment, exposing a captured Sparrow to the Rose's gas. The results, relayed by a Starbug specialist, were unequivocal. "The specimen exhibited rapid changes within seconds: initial agitation, followed by irrational behavior, rendering it unresponsive to the Queen's commands. Finally, muscular paralysis stripped it of all offensive capability." The scholar's tone was clinical, tinged with urgency. "High-concentration toxins can effectively neutralize Sparrow activity. Ideally, we'd account for more variables, but time is short. This is our best conclusion."
With the hypothesis confirmed, attention shifted to application. The fleet's munitions experts huddled with the scholars, devising gas-based ordnance. Designs required precise calculations to ensure the payloads delivered the desired effect, balancing volatility with stability. Bai Sha, choosing not to interfere, retreated to a quiet corner of the captain's office, her silhouette stark against the glowing displays. She sank into thought, her mind drifting not to the battle below but to the enigmatic memories that had surfaced in the Rose's toxic haze.
Those visions—metal bridges spanning cloud-choked voids, airships gliding with an elegance alien to both Empire and Federation—gnawed at her. As a mech engineer and part-time mechanic, she was attuned to technological nuances, her instincts sharpened by years of study. The bridges' latticework, the airships' propulsion, bore no resemblance to the Empire's modern or historical designs. She dismissed recent eras, focusing instead on older records, sifting through the Empire's sprawling technological annals. The visions' aesthetic—poetic, romantic, weightless—hinted at a distinct lineage, though too vague to pinpoint. Her professional eye, honed by rigorous training, urged her to cross-reference archives, to trace whether these artifacts shared a common root with any known style.
For a fleeting moment, every historical reference seemed a potential clue, each rabbit hole promising answers. The effort overwhelmed her, a throbbing headache blooming at her temples. Exasperated, she bundled her notes and sketches, transmitting them to her mentor, Jiang Gui, with a plea for insight.
Jiang Gui's voice, groggy and laced with irritation, crackled through the comms. "It's five-thirty in the morning here. Are you doing this on purpose?"
"The early bird catches the worm, Teacher," Bai Sha teased, her tone coaxing.
"I didn't sleep until three-thirty," Jiang Gui grumbled.
"Your schedule's a mess, and I can't predict when you're asleep," Bai Sha countered, undeterred.
Despite his complaints, Jiang Gui never shirked when Bai Sha sought his counsel. She sent him her crude hand-drawn sketches of the bridges and airships, their lines shaky but evocative. Jiang Gui's laughter was merciless. "Your artistry is abysmal." Yet his analysis was swift and incisive. "These don't align with the records you referenced. You'd have seen that yourself."
Bai Sha hesitated, her question forming, but Jiang Gui preempted her. "Nor do they match Federation tech—too vast a gulf." His tone shifted, curiosity piqued. "This is intriguing. Could it be an undiscovered civilization? But these aren't relic rubbings—they're your sketches, unmistakably your hand. I could consult others—"
"No need," Bai Sha interrupted, her voice soft but firm. "Keep this confidential, please."
Jiang Gui paused, respecting her wishes. He pivoted smoothly. "Heard about the Queens on Dead Omen?"
"Yes," Bai Sha said, rubbing her brow. "Two. One's still incubating."
"Incubating means formed, just not hatched," Jiang Gui mused. "Queens are rare materials, you know. Legendary mechs owe their status to such components. Even if not legendary, a heritage-grade mech is feasible."
Bai Sha's mood, dampened by her fruitless search, lifted at the prospect. "You're suggesting…?"
"I'm suggesting nothing," Jiang Gui said bluntly. "Queens aren't that rare—I've handled them. They come to me, not the other way around. I'm not desperate." He lingered on "not," then baited her. "But if you secure quality materials, I might teach you something new."
Mech engineering was steeped in tradition, with masters guarding proprietary techniques. Heritage-grade mech designers might share blueprints for study, but most kept them private. Legendary mechs, bound by confidentiality clauses, remained sealed until their embargo lifted. Bai Sha's curiosity flared—what "new" techniques could Jiang Gui impart?
Her talent earned her accolades as a prodigy, but Jiang Gui was unimpressed, insisting she master fundamentals through relentless practice. "Knowledge crystallizes through experience," he'd lecture. "The Federation's mech tech lags because their lifespans are too short." He believed rigorous training would elevate her swiftly, but her duties—military exercises, royal obligations—left little time for his tutelage. "Report to me after the exercise," Jiang Gui said, ending the call. "Show me your progress. The second-year team rounds don't involve you."
The exercise's mishaps weighed on Bai Sha. She hoped future rounds would avoid such catastrophic failures. Shaking off her reverie, she rose, her movement drawing the room's attention. The officers, mid-discussion, fell silent, their eyes tracking her.
"I'm fine," Bai Sha said, waving them off. "Continue."
The captain hesitated. "Would you like to rest? The lounge has food, drinks, sleep pods—"
"I want to kill that Queen," Bai Sha said, her tone casual but resolute. "Have you finalized the vanguard list?"
"Yes, the list—" The captain faltered, his voice dry. "Pardon, what?"
"I want to join the team hunting the Queen," Bai Sha clarified, her gaze earnest. She was less interested in glory than in harvesting the Queen's components. "No need to alter the plan. I'll be a regular vanguard soldier."
The vanguard comprised elite troops, but Bai Sha's skills matched theirs, her royal status notwithstanding. The captain's face twisted in distress. "That's beyond our authority. We'd need His Majesty's approval—"
Bai Sha arched a brow, unimpressed. A tall officer, his insignia marking him a rank above the captain, interjected, his voice low and direct. "You can review the plan first." Less deferential than the captain, he summoned a holo-image. "This is the Queen."
The screen flickered, revealing a swarm of Red-Feather Sparrows, a crimson cloud of snarling beasts. At its heart loomed the Queen, its molten-hued feathers shimmering, its golden claws gleaming with destructive power. A single swipe could shatter a small fighter craft.
"We won't give the Queen a chance to fight," the officer explained. "The vanguard is bait, drawing its focus. The starship's Rainbow Fusion Cannon, our heaviest weapon, will deliver the killing blow. The cannon's charge time is long, and its range is short. We must strike true, or the vanguard—and our ships—face grave risk."
Bai Sha mentally calculated the cannon's thermal output. If executed flawlessly, it would reduce the Queen to ash. An impeccable plan, save for one flaw: her materials would be incinerated. She clutched her chest, a theatrical wince of dismay.
The officer blinked, startled. He'd expected fear or retreat, not this apparent heartache, as if Bai Sha mourned a loss. In the brief silence, her wrist computer chimed. She answered, seeing Cecil Ronin's face.
"Stay put," Cecil barked. "I've sent Uriel. He's nearly there—"
The captain's office door slid open, admitting a figure in pristine white, his golden hair cascading to his waist, his eyes like twin pools of emerald light. Uriel's presence illuminated the dim room, his voice soft as a mountain breeze. "Greetings, Your Highness. I'm here to protect you."
The officers exchanged puzzled glances, question marks practically visible above their heads. Bai Sha, however, lit up, striding to Uriel with familial warmth. "There are two Queens on Dead Omen. One's incubating, under control. The other's this." She pointed to the holo-image. "Can you kill it? Without turning it to ash?"
Uriel's eyes twinkled, reading her intent. "If that's your wish, it's done. Any organs to preserve?"
The officers' confusion deepened, their silent queries multiplying.