The rescue officer's brow furrowed as he reviewed Sino's footage. He activated his wrist-mounted light-computer, filing a report to his superiors and forwarding copies to the Starbug Prevention Institute for expert analysis.
Baisha produced her bottle. "This too."
"What's this?" the officer asked.
"Extracted from the purple tumor—starbug remains, maybe neural residue," Baisha said, eyeing the faintly iridescent liquid. "Might help identify it."
Starbugs often decomposed rapidly post-mortem. The officer, wasting no time, secured the bottle in a cryo-case, affixing a label and pressing a wrist button. A round, silver robot dropped from the sky, tucked the case into its hollow abdomen, and vanished into the forest.
"I'm alerting the Institute to sample the site," the officer said, glancing at the fallen tree. "Per protocol, if this is a new starbug, you'll face a forty-eight-hour quarantine until the Institute's verdict."
Baisha and her team exchanged looks.
"Hold on," Cen protested. "We just saved people. If anyone's the first victim or discoverer, it's those Xizhou cadets. We're in the middle of the selection—two days locked up ruins everything!"
"I'm sorry, but rules are rules," the officer said, shaking his head. "If the Institute confirms this starbug's genetics, Greenstar might be sealed entirely, canceling the selection."
Cen faltered. "A new starbug warrants that?"
"Absolutely," Sino said gravely. "Every new starbug signals genetic shifts. At best, it's about countering them; at worst, if we're careless, they could upend the balance we've fought to maintain."
Cen rallied. "Then halt the selection! A new starbug's urgent enough!"
"We don't know if it's new," the officer countered. "Even if it is, the Institute will assess its threat level, name it, and grade it. If it's low-risk, the selection continues."
Cen slumped. "So we eat this loss?"
Baisha, pensive, pulled up their Greenstar terrain map. "There's another site we need to check."
"Where?" the officer asked.
Baisha projected the map, circling the mangrove grove. "Here." She recounted their findings: the seeds from the blood ant queen's abdomen, now red fruits encasing tiny ant shadows, like amber fossils. "Mutant animals hatching from plant seeds or fruits—sound familiar?" She nodded at the fallen tree. "Those seeds parasitized the queen, but it's the same pattern."
This wasn't an isolated anomaly. The phenomenon likely riddled Greenstar.
The officer's frown deepened as he relayed the intel. "This complicates things," he said. "I recommend halting the selection until risks are cleared."
His superiors responded. "The four academies' representatives and instructors are on Greenstar," he continued. "We'll consult them—they'll prioritize student safety. Worst case, we escalate to His Majesty."
Emperor Cecil, who'd attended the selection's opening, had left for Youdu Star last night. Given his investment, pausing or relocating the event was minor compared to losing cadets due to oversight.
A minute later, new orders arrived. The officer opened a multi-channel comm. "By high command, the selection is suspended. Rescue and security teams will eliminate threats and evacuate students."
Baisha and her team shared a glance: Everyone's benched now.
"Since we're clearing the field, join the rescue convoy," the officer said, adjusting his brown cap. "Once the starbug's graded, we'll push for your points."
The "tree" wasn't on the kill list, but points were secondary. The real question: What are these starbugs doing?
They seemed to consume Greenstar's native mutants, "re-hatching" them via seeds or fruits under their control. But was it mere consumption, replication, and domination?
Aboard the rescue airship, Baisha's team returned to the dormitory complex, confined to a top-floor lounge. Soon, the building buzzed with returning cadets, their complaints echoing. The academies cited "venue issues" without specifics, and staggered evacuations—spanning four hours—sparked fairness debates. How to compensate the time gap?
Yet cadets were adaptable. Within two days, grumbling gave way to relaxed chatter, the dorms alive with rare leisure.
Meanwhile, at Greenstar's Starbug Prevention Institute base, Baisha's samples drove researchers to the brink.
"She gave us so much," one expert groaned, waving a report. "The footage shows it devours and copies mutant genes. Guess what? Its genes switch between plant and animal! Is that even allowed?"
"It's ultimate genetic mimicry," another said coolly. "Not unprecedented."
This mimicry broke evolutionary boundaries, toggling between plant and animal forms. "It replicates consumed creatures, creating controlled proxies," the expert added. "It's a genetic factory."
Each starbug material promised research breakthroughs and profits. But first, they needed to test its threat level. Could consumed genes mutate further during "devour-copy-control"? If so, it could unravel the Empire's mutant database, built over years, and spike combat difficulty.
The first expert stared at the sample, torn between awe and dread. "Love its uniqueness, hate its implications."
"Enough," another snapped. "Experiments await."
They cultured the starbug's cells, which showed aggressive fusion tendencies. Baisha's observations—seeds cannibalizing each other for nutrients—held true. Fusion birthed stronger entities.
If Greenstar teemed with these, they might merge under a dominant leader. With roots spanning the planet and mimicry prowess, any grass or bird could be their agent.
This starbug could conquer Greenstar entirely.
An enemy controlling a planet's every living thing—how do you fight that? Short of obliterating the planet, no solution existed.