Baisha, Sino, Cen, and Yu Yan signed up for the volunteer team with a shared glance of resolve. After verifying their student IDs, their light-computers chimed, confirming registration. A line of fine print flickered on Baisha's screen, and she read it aloud: "Due to the Devourer Starbug's high threat level, this cleanup operation is restricted to cadets with 2S-grade or higher mental strength. Academy mentors will review applications, selecting the best candidates. Please await notification."
"Didn't expect volunteering to have such a high bar," Cen said, tilting her head back, her braid swaying. "Makes sense, though—Xizhou's 2S-grade cadets got taken down by it."
"Are they awake yet?" Sino asked, his voice low.
Baisha shook her head, her expression grim. "Not yet. Severe mental drain and toxic gas exposure. The Starbug Prevention Institute wanted intel, but they're still out cold—nothing to extract."
Cen's eyes narrowed, her mind turning. "The timing's too perfect, don't you think? We land on Greenstar, and bam, a starbug mutates? Do they evolve that fast?"
"Starbug mutations are random," Sino said, his tone measured. "But only those with extraordinary traits get flagged as 'novel.'"
New starbugs typically emerged on frontlines, where dense swarms clashed with humans, spiking mutation rates, or where relentless combat drove evolution—humans grew stronger, so starbugs adapted or perished. Greenstar, however, was no warzone. A routine training ground for the four academies, its starbug population was tightly controlled, culled regularly to prevent overgrowth. Beyond selections, the planet lay dormant, guarded by a skeleton fleet. No human-starbug survival contest existed here.
Yet a mutation had occurred, defying the odds.
Cen's laugh was sharp. "You buying this as pure coincidence?"
If Devourers had overrun Greenstar, most cadets would've been doomed the moment they touched down.
"Let the higher-ups lose sleep over it," Sino said, flashing a grin as he stood, heading for the lounge's sleek icebox, its chrome surface glinting under the soft lights. "We're just students. Drink, anyone?"
The top-floor "quarantine suite" was a misnomer—a sprawling penthouse originally meant for conferences, hastily repurposed for their stay. Tianquan spared no expense for its cadets: plush furnishings, a panoramic holo-window cycling starfields, and a synthesizer churning out gourmet meals. These past days, confined but pampered, they'd lived better than in their standard double dorms. Part of Baisha didn't want to leave.
But quarantine was over. They parted ways, returning to their respective rooms, the suite's warmth fading behind them.
Meanwhile, on Youdu Star, Emperor Cecil Ronin sat behind a polished obsidian desk, his fingers gliding across a light-computer's interface. Reports scrolled past—diplomatic briefs, military dispatches—but his gaze lingered on one, flipping back and forth, his eyes like still pools hiding a storm. His brow remained furrowed, unyielding.
Wei Li, his advisor, sat nearby, finalizing Privy Council matters. After transmitting a file for Cecil's signature, he leaned back, his voice gentle but resigned. "The Institute's developing a Devourer-killing agent, and no academy cadets died. You can ease up a bit, Your Majesty."
"Ease up?" Cecil's eyes flicked to Wei Li, sharp as a blade. "Her first trip off Tianshu Star, and she runs into a high-threat mutant starbug? You call that coincidence?"
"We've vetted everyone we could," Wei Li said, his tone careful. "Greenstar's a standard academy training ground—high security, tight oversight. All ships and personnel entering are logged. Nothing stands out."
The Devourer's stealth was the issue. Despite constant monitoring of Greenstar's starbug numbers, no one had spotted the anomaly. Even if someone had planted the Devourer, the Institute's analysis of the cedar tree specimen suggested it had rooted no more than three days—coinciding with the selection's influx of cadets and staff. The Empire's security teams scoured records, but no clear leads emerged. Proving deliberate sabotage was impossible.
"No one's that clean," Cecil said, his voice low, edged with menace.
Wei Li hesitated. "There are a few we haven't fully cleared."
"Who?" Cecil demanded.
"The Xizhou cadets felled by the Devourer," Wei Li said cautiously. "You know Xizhou's profile—some Grez clan ties, murmurs against the crown. But that doesn't mean they'd risk their lives planting a starbug."
If they had brought it, what was the gain? They'd nearly died.
"Their belongings?" Cecil asked.
"Checked, but their mechs were wrecked in the fight, and most personal items were destroyed," Wei Li said, shifting in his seat, a faint sigh escaping. "We'd need them awake to dig deeper."
Cadets' gear was screened for contraband upon arrival, not cataloged exhaustively. Only the cadets themselves could clarify what they'd carried.
"Let them wake, then," Cecil said, his smile cold. "We'll talk."
"We can't push too hard," Wei Li warned. "Grez clan's already prickly—overzealous scrutiny could inflame them."
Cecil's expression turned scornful. "The Grez fools couldn't pull this off, but that doesn't rule out someone setting them up. Inflame them? Let them prove their innocence."
Wei Li massaged his brow, conceding. "No one likes being a suspect."
"Borrowed knives kill just as well," Cecil said, his smile mirthless. "If I wanted to pin this on them, I wouldn't need truth."
Wei Li fell silent, abandoning persuasion. The investigation would proceed, like it or not.
Baisha's role in the rescue softened the optics. Perhaps the Grez clan, indebted to her, would temper their defiance.
The next morning, Baisha stirred from sleep, her light-computer's chime pulling her from dreams. Her volunteer application had been approved. At seven, Greenstar's sky hung gray, a restless dawn. She and Cen stepped onto the dormitory's open plaza, where a gusty wind whipped their hair into chaos.
"Great, a windy day," Cen grumbled, taming her braid and yanking down her flapping collar.
Following their map, they reached a squat, slate-gray building, its facade unadorned save for a security panel. They climbed the steps, verified their IDs, and entered a bustling hall. Cadets milled about, their chatter a low hum. Cen scanned the crowd, spotting Sino and Yu Yan. The four regrouped, their presence a quiet anchor amid the chaos.
Their mentor, Tisiya, strode in, her auburn hair coiled tightly, her features sharp as cut glass. Beside her was an unfamiliar mentor from another academy, his uniform crisp. "Quiet," Tisiya commanded, her voice slicing through the noise. "No nonsense. This mission demands obedience and precision. Your safety protocols are on your light-computers—study them."
Baisha opened the file. The task: blanket designated zones with a Devourer-killing agent to halt its fusion spread. No live captures—those were left to Imperial soldiers. The Institute, in a feat of speed, had engineered a tailored suppressant, likely adapted from existing starbug-killers. Lab-tested but unproven in the field, it demanded caution. Even if it worked, Devourers could retaliate.
Baisha signed the protocol. Two blinking drones zipped to her, their red scanners mapping her frame. With a soft whir, they wove a fitted isolation suit, its fabric lightweight yet reinforced, sealing with a sleek helmet. The cadets, suited up, boarded 2S-grade mechs—emergency deployments gleaming with fresh alloys—and followed their mentors to a fleet of shuttles.
Through the shuttle's viewport, Greenstar's surface was a lush emerald, vibrant and deceptive, hiding the Devourer's creep. Then, a clang rocked the lead shuttle as a massive green vine surged skyward, slamming into its hull.
Cadets leapt from the struck craft, blades flashing. One drove a knife into the vine, sliding down its length, carving deep gashes. Their other hand wielded a spray gun, pumping suppressant into the wounds. The vine convulsed briefly, then went limp, crashing to the earth in a cascade of splintered green.