USD: 1 Day after Cadre-S Graduation

Location: Van Biesbroeck’s star, Meltisar, MIL-1A Elevator, Tram 36 Tube to Main Transit Hub

Elis’s eyes shot open, her vision blurry and the dull ache in her head making it difficult to focus. She coughed violently as she inhaled deeply, the scent of burned metal and death permeating the air around her. The sharpness of the pain in her leg forced her to wince as she tried to find a more comfortable position.

With sheer determination, Elis pushed herself off her side and into a sitting position. The stinging sensation in her leg revealed that a piece of shrapnel had sliced through her skin.

Frustrated by the pain, she attempted to move her injured limb but found it unwilling to cooperate; instead, it twitched and spasmed uncontrollably. Reluctantly, she used her arms to adjust herself.

Memories of the tram crash resurfaced in Elis’s mind. It had either crashed or exploded—she wasn’t sure which—but everything after that was hazy. She recalled being alerted to the emergency when panicked passengers from the front had crowded into their compartment.

The tunnel flickered with eerie light from dying fires and deep blue glows emanating from several dozen I-fields holding back breaches in the station’s hull. A pang of urgency coursed through Elis, knowing she was unequipped for their failure if something went wrong; more wrong.

Dragging herself out from under a smooth piece of wreckage that lay over her body, Elis’s heart raced at the realization that without this protective barrier, she would have been crushed by the immense pile of debris atop it.

Her eyes scanned the area desperately, coming face-to-face with an upside-down corpse tangled in wires and tubes—the lifeless face inches away from hers. This grisly sight explained the smell that assaulted her senses earlier.

Elis noticed no sign of her wheelchair or rescue personnel on location. Inhaling deeply, she mustered as much strength as she could and shouted for help. Her voice emerged as a garbled, half-hearted cry.

To her surprise, there was a faint response.

Turning her head toward the direction of the call, Elis’s hope sparked anew. Although it wasn’t much, it gave her a purpose and direction to inch her way towards.

Elis’s anger and frustration swelled within her as she struggled with her uncooperative legs. The debris and wreckage surrounding her formed an obstacle course that seemed near impossible to navigate. Wincing in pain, she felt a sharp pinch as a jagged piece of metal scraped her unprotected skin.

“Fuck,” she cursed under her breath.

Forcing herself to stop, Elis realized that continuing to move would only cause more harm than good. It was better to wait for a rescue; surely, MIL-1A’s advanced technology meant their arrival should be imminent.

Surveying the area, she found a piece of metal that wasn’t sharp, blood-soaked, or smoldering—nor did it lie in the path of any fires. She dragged herself towards it and pulled herself up into a sitting position, leaning against the cold metal surface for support. Despite having recently completed physical therapy sessions, fatigue overcame her all too quickly.

Waiting for rescue went against every fiber of her instincts, but, given the circumstances, what other choice did she have? Continuing on would only lead to more pain and injury.

So she waited.

And waited some more.

Her frustration reached a boiling point when a loose piece of metal clattered loudly against the ground. Elis shot it an irritated glare, as if it alone was responsible for all her problems—only to freeze as something caught her eye.

A black, pulsating tendril slowly snaked its way across the floor, weaving through pieces of debris like an insidious vine. As it slithered beneath various objects, smaller offshoots branched outwards from it, encasing items in its dark embrace. Farther down the rail system lay several objects completely consumed by the tendril’s influence—now nothing more than blackened husks of their former selves.

Elis watched in horror as some of the blackened husks collapsed under their own weight. The wreckage shifted, spewing out small clouds of the ominous substance which settled upon fresh material, spreading the tendrils even further.

Patches of holes formed amidst the destruction, carving an increasingly unstable path through the hull. The I-Field worked overtime to maintain integrity, bridging more and more gaps.

Terrifyingly, the sinister growth seemed to accelerate as it continued its merciless advance.

Elis’s mind raced back to a training video she had seen long ago—before NAIs became commonplace and nanite technology was heavily restricted due to rampancy issues.

A research station in that video had been entirely consumed by a rogue experiment. Every horrifying moment had been documented before a military intervention obliterated the threat with high-energy lasers and D-fields used to plow the material into the local sun.

Panicking, Elis yelled for help and desperately scooted herself away from the encroaching danger. But it was futile; the tendrils were already faster than her frantic retreat. As she struggled, she couldn’t help but imagine some of that dreadful dust infiltrating her lungs.

Just when all hope seemed lost, a beam of light pierced through the darkness and landed on Elis. A man’s figure appeared further down the tunnel. “I’m coming! I’ll help you! Hold on!” he shouted with determination in his voice.

Elis’s relief upon seeing the man was short-lived.

As she paused to catch her breath, the man reached the halfway point between them, his emergency light revealing the rampant nanites on the move. His eyes widened with shock and fear as a piece of metal groaned and collapsed nearby, spewing a cloud of nanite-laced dust.

Without hesitation, he turned and fled. Elis reached out toward him, trying to cry out, but her voice emerged as nothing more than a garbled grunt. Determined to escape the nightmarish tendrils closing in on her, she dragged herself down the tunnel.

Fear fueled her actions, driving her to ignore the increasing cuts and abrasions on her legs as she forced herself away from the encroaching danger. Abandoning any semblance of dignity, she let out desperate cries for help between each lurch forward.

Exhaustion set in as Elis struggled to measure the distance she had covered or how long she had been moving. She fought through burning muscles and searing pain—sensations she had learned to push through before.

It wasn’t enough.

Glancing back, Elis saw one of the faster tendrils snaking its way directly toward her; it was dangerously close to reaching her foot. That spurred another burst of speed as she grabbed whatever objects were within reach and tossed them in its path, hoping to slow down its progress. But that extra push waned quickly, and she knew that time was running out.

Elis refused to surrender to the encroaching nanite tendril, even as dark thoughts of futility gnawed at the back of her mind. Desperation fueled her every movement, but it seemed as though her efforts would be in vain.

The nanite tendril drew dangerously close, less than a meter away from her when a strong hand suddenly grasped the collar of her shirt and yanked her forward.

“I didn’t think you made it,” came a familiar voice.

It was Fred. Relief washed over Elis like a wave crashing onto the shore.

Once they had put enough distance between themselves and the relentless nanite growth, Fred knelt beside Elis and lifted her into his arms.

Breathing heavily, she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his chest. Gratitude swelled inside her, but when she tried to thank him, all that emerged was an unintelligible garble.

Somehow, he understood. “You’re welcome.”

USD: 1 Day after Cadre-S Graduation

Location: Van Biesbroeck’s star, Meltisar, MIL-1A Elevator, Main Transit Hub

Thea’s gaze fell on Alex, and her optimism crumbled as she realized the Meltisar navy’s AGAI creation had infected Alex too. A wave of frustration and anger washed over her at the thought of having wasted two of her three precious scarabs. These scarabs, crafted by Moneta herself, were designed to convert any non-Psi individual to the Corpo side without putting Thea at risk.

She had used them on the lower-ranking NAI out of caution, considering their circumstances. Despite proving that her caution was warranted, Thea couldn’t help but curse inwardly at the waste of one of her most valuable resources.

The AGAI infection had rendered the scarabs inert with its bizarre Omega code. Thea suspected that the princess was infected as well, which would explain why both she and Alex possessed blue nanite fields. Thea couldn’t fathom why they were aiding Meltisar with the AGAI or gauge the extent of their involvement.

Thea focused her thoughts on the nanites coursing through her body. Responding to her will, they surged around her good arm, enveloping it in a swirling mass of microscopic machines. The nanites worked rapidly and in unison, weaving together a form-fitting sheath around her limb.

As the transformation continued, the nanites near her hand extended outward, molding themselves into an elongated blade attachment.

Regardless of what had occurred, what Thea needed to do was clear.

“I don’t want to fight,” whispered Alex, barely audible above the commotion as the princess and AGAI clashed in the background.