The starship's command deck was a hive of activity, its sterile corridors echoing with the clatter of boots and the hum of machinery as the Empire's fleet concluded its operations on Dead Omen Star. The Red-Feather Sparrow Queen had been vanquished, its corpse a treasure trove of rare materials, while the subterranean lairs of the Creeping Roses had been purged with meticulous precision. The Rose Queen, less fortunate, had perished before hatching, its remains reduced to ash by the fleet's relentless bombardment. Yet the campaign had yielded an unexpected bounty: the stockpiles of toxic gas, originally harvested for munitions, now filled Bai Sha's reserves to brimming, far exceeding her initial expectations.
Xino, ever cautious, hovered nearby, his eyes darting nervously as if fearing Bai Sha might commandeer the gas for some reckless experiment. But her attention was elsewhere, wholly consumed by the Red-Feather Sparrow Queen's corpse, a prize of incalculable value. She stood amidst a cluster of Starbug experts, their voices a low hum of technical jargon as they debated the intricacies of dissection. The process was delicate—some organs demanded immediate extraction to preserve their potency, while others required aging under controlled conditions. Only seasoned hands could navigate such complexities, and Bai Sha, though no xenobiologist, listened intently, her mind cataloging every detail.
The corpse was a coveted resource, and the experts, their fields overlapping, vied for a share. Initially, they negotiated with strained civility, citing seniority and expertise, but the discussion soon escalated into a veiled quarrel. Their voices, soft yet sharp, clashed in a flurry of esoteric terms—biomolecular degradation, synaptic preservation, exoskeletal tensile strength—each arguing their claim would maximize the specimen's scientific yield. Bai Sha, her patience thinning, cut through the din with a single, icy declaration. "Enough. This Queen is mine—all of it."
The scholars froze, their protests dying in their throats. Who could defy the Crown Heir? Her gaze, predatory and unyielding, swept over them like a wolf eyeing prey. They relented, their ambitions curbed by her authority, and the Queen's remains were secured for Bai Sha's private vault. She strode from the captain's office, her spirits buoyant, only to find her team gathered in the lounge, their faces clouded with discontent.
"What's wrong?" she asked, resting a hand on Cen Yuehuai's shoulder.
"The Federation's cheating again!" Cen Yuehuai spat, her teeth gritted. "They claim we abandoned the field without the organizers' approval, making us forfeit. Meanwhile, they stayed longer on Dead Omen, so they're calling themselves the victors."
"Stayed longer?" a student scoffed, his voice thick with indignation. "They were trapped by bugs! They called for rescue! Doesn't that count as abandoning first? Their distress signals went out before we fully withdrew!"
Jiya's laugh was cold, her eyes glinting with disdain. "They played it clever. Most of their team requested rescue, but a few didn't. Those holdouts moved with the group and were evac'd, but the system never logged their withdrawal. Technically, they stayed in the game."
The Federation's argument hinged on this loophole: those few students, unrecorded as withdrawn, were "forced" from the field by "unavoidable circumstances," not voluntary retreat. The Empire, by contrast, had evacuated proactively without formal clearance, a breach of protocol. The organizers were now embroiled in a heated debate, both sides poised to unleash legal experts to dissect the rules. The Empire team had anticipated the risk of forfeiture, but the Federation's cunning maneuver—exploiting a technicality amid chaos—ignited their fury.
"See it for what it is," Bai Sha said, her tone calm but firm. "They outplayed us this round. If they win, so be it—no regrets. Every Empire student survived, no fatalities. The Federation paid a steeper price—many of their team won't leave Shadows of the Galaxy lost forever on Dead Omen. Playing tricks in that chaos carried risks. Rescue prioritized those logged in the system, tracking their positions in real-time. Skipping the distress call meant gambling with being overlooked."
Her words, pragmatic yet laced with empathy, quelled the team's rancor. The lounge fell silent, the students' anger giving way to reflection. To resist the red "request rescue" button amid the Sparrows' shrieks demanded courage, a calculated risk. The Federation's gambit, however ruthless, had earned its reward.
"We'll let this one go," Xino said, his nonchalance a balm to the team's wounded pride. "It's two-to-one overall. As long as the second-years don't choke in the elite team rounds, we're still ahead."
"You hear that, second-year starters?" Xino called, his voice rising as he turned to a corner of the lounge. "No losing next time! If the Federation catches up, you're the ones who'll look like fools!"
Kaisin Grez, dozing nearby, stirred at the noise, his dark brows knitting. "Why're you yelling at me?" he muttered, his voice rough with sleep. "I'm not a second-year."
"But you're on their team roster," Xino shot back, leaning in, his golden hair catching the light as he grinned. "Team rounds need coordination, got it? You've gotta gel with the others."
Xino's words hinted at Kaisin's need to mesh with his second-year teammates, a recurring issue. Kaisin Grez, heir to a storied family, was fiercely independent, bristling at authority. His senior teammates, unable to rein him in, frequently voiced concerns, warning of shaky cohesion in the upcoming rounds. Surprisingly, Xino had taken it upon himself to bridge the gap, and Kaisin seemed to listen, if grudgingly.
"When did those two get chummy?" Bai Sha asked, intrigued.
"During your coronation," Jiya replied. "They talked for ages, probably hashed out some understanding."
Initially, the team had dismissed Kaisin's aloofness, confident their opponents in the second round were manageable. The Federation's upset in the third round, however, had upended their complacency. "No need to worry," Cen Yuehuai began, aiming for optimism. "Grez is pretty—" She stopped as Xino, mid-conversation, inadvertently struck a nerve. Kaisin straightened, his ruby eyes flashing with a wolf's wariness, his posture rigid. Xino, caught off guard, stepped back, hands raised in mock surrender, the air between them chilling to frost.
Cen Yuehuai sighed. "Can I take that back?"
Bai Sha, more earnest, said, "Kaisin Grez needs to learn to be a team player."
"We've tried the usual—throw them into combat, let the heat forge bonds," Jiya mused, her amber eyes glinting. "It worked for us, but Grez? No dice. They fight hard, but afterward, it's like nothing happened."
"Grezes aren't known for being loners," Bai Sha noted. "Their spirit is the wolf—pack fighters, born for teamwork."
"Exactly," Jiya said, her voice low, calculating. "The Grez clan thrives on hierarchy—lower ranks obey the alpha, no questions. Kaisin's their heir, bred to lead, not follow. His pride's not a flaw; it's his nature. But he's too used to being the top wolf. He clashes with the team's commander, won't bend."
Forcing the second-years to cede command to Kaisin was impractical. As a freshman from Xizhou Military Academy, he'd earned his spot through sheer talent, leapfrogging grades. Yet that same brilliance isolated him, the team's dynamics leaving him adrift. Should they mandate obedience to Kaisin, or let him drift? A fractured team, even against weaker foes, risked defeat if their flaws were exploited.
Bai Sha's head throbbed, the dilemma knotting her thoughts. Jiya, ever the instigator, leaned in, her smile sly. "What's your plan, Your Highness?"
"If my uncle were here," Bai Sha sighed, "he'd say, 'I'll tame that wolf into a dog.'"
"That's the answer I wanted," Jiya said, dipping in a mock curtsey, her grin gleeful.
"I knew you two clans don't get along," Bai Sha said, half-amused. "Didn't realize you'd revel in his downfall."
"Historical baggage," Jiya shrugged. "Your family's not exactly cozy with his either."
Their banter was cut short as every wrist computer chimed in unison, signaling the match's end. A holo-screen in the lounge flared to life, displaying the organizers' announcement on the interstellar network: The Federation team has won this joint exercise. Amid virtual confetti, the Federation's anthem blared, its triumphant notes filling the room.
Boom. Boom-boom!
The sound of cannon fire erupted, shattering the silence. The Empire students snapped to alert, the lounge plunging into tense stillness. It took ten agonizing seconds to realize—the Federation fleet, still orbiting Dead Omen, was firing celebratory salvos, reveling in their victory.
The Empire team stared, dumbfounded, their pride stung anew. Bai Sha's gaze locked onto Kaisin Grez, her resolve hardening. "In the face of a common foe, we stand united."
She stepped forward, her presence commanding. Kaisin's wary eyes tracked her, sensing a storm brewing. The young Crown Heir, her deep blue eyes unwavering, closed the distance, her white boots striking the metal deck with deliberate cadence, each step a challenge. Through those vibrant eyes, Kaisin glimpsed the silver-blue Xuan Bird, its power an unyielding force, and felt the weight of her intent.
What was she here for? To demand his submission for the team's sake, or to cast him out?
In his guarded stare, Bai Sha's voice rang clear, brooking no refusal. "You. When we disembark, you're coming with me."
Kaisin's brow furrowed. "Where?"
"To eat with the team."
Kaisin blinked, his defenses crumbling in confusion. "…What?"