The Sea Kind spacecraft glided through the Lone Light's docking bay, its entrance yawning open like the maw of some ancient beast. Bai Sha, encased in her survival suit, felt the craft's gentle hum beneath her, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence of the city beyond. The Imperial fleet trailing her halted abruptly, barred by the Lone Light's unyielding defenses. No clearance was granted, no signal acknowledged. The fleet faced a grim choice: force entry with firepower, risking catastrophic retaliation, or wait, tethered to Bai Sha's fate as she ventured alone into the unknown.
"I can't let you enter the Lone Light alone," Uriel's voice crackled through her helmet, taut with urgency. "His Majesty's orders were clear—I protect you at all times."
"Don't worry," Bai Sha replied, her voice steady, belying the pulse hammering in her chest. She glanced back at the closing aerospace gate, its massive panels sealing with a low groan. "The Lone Light's defenses are active, meaning its power core's still functional. If the fleet forces its way in, we could trigger a disaster."
"We can cut through the hull for a stealth entry," the fleet commander interjected. "It'll take time, but it's safer."
"Try it," Bai Sha said. "Keep comms open. We'll stay in touch."
"Understood," the commander replied, his voice clipped as he began issuing orders.
"Be careful, Highness," Uriel said, his tone heavy with reluctance. Bai Sha sensed his restraint; had the gate not closed so swiftly, the bioengineered angel might have leaped from his starship, clad only in a vac-suit, to shadow her every step.
She offered a few reassuring words to the fleet, her focus shifting as the spacecraft slowed. It drifted past an unmanned checkpoint, its pace leisurely, almost mocking, as it wove through the Sea Kind's steel city. The Lone Light's interior was a labyrinth of towering spires and intricate bridges, their surfaces glinting faintly under dim, automated lighting. The craft traversed half the city before halting before a structure that stood apart—larger, taller, crowned with a solitary tower.
Bai Sha's fragmented memories surged, scattering like dandelion seeds in a gale. This tower—she knew it. Her childhood, her parents, Xipes and Bai Yi—their laughter, their warmth, had filled these halls. Her legs trembled as she climbed from the cockpit, the suit's weight dragging at her. She approached the building's entrance, and a silver beam flickered, scanning her face. For three agonizing seconds, it lingered, as if wrestling with time's passage. Then, a holo-screen materialized: Identity Verified.
Bai Sha's breath hitched. She hadn't returned in years, her features no longer those of the child recorded in the system. The pause, she realized, was the AI recalculating her aged appearance, reconstructing her identity from faded data. That this door still recognized her as family stirred a complex pang—nostalgia laced with disbelief.
The gate slid open, inviting her in.
She stepped inside, her boots echoing in the silent foyer. The house was a tomb, its warmth extinguished. Dust blanketed every surface—tables, shelves, holo-frames—uniform and undisturbed, as if time had frozen the moment life departed. The cleaning systems, starved of power, lay dormant. Bai Sha wandered, her steps tentative, as if trespassing in a sacred ruin.
The decor was elegant yet cozy, a blend of Sea Kind minimalism and human sentiment. The master bedroom, on the ground floor, was locked with a physical bolt, as was the children's room upstairs. Bai Sha respected the seals, unwilling to violate her parents' sanctum. A basement door caught her eye, its frame adorned with a red note: No Children Allowed.
She smirked. She wasn't a child anymore.
The metal door yielded easily, revealing a basement vast as the house above. It was divided neatly: one half a workshop, meticulously organized, its walls lined with tools sorted by function, shelves holding dust-shielded models and components with surgical precision. The other half was a training area, cluttered with exercise gear—sandbags, a climbing rig, and, in a corner, two silver cabinets. Bai Sha opened one, finding two compact firearms and a handful of rounds, but most slots were empty, their contents long gone.
She closed the cabinet, her mind racing. Where was everyone?
"Highness, status?" the fleet's voice crackled in her helmet.
"No signs of life," Bai Sha replied, her tone measured. "The Lone Light is eerily quiet."
That silence gnawed at her. If the Silver Nexus had claimed the Lone Light as the foundation for its Unbounded City, what became of the Sea Kind? Had they fled, perished, or been imprisoned? If survivors existed, why had no distress signals reached the Empire? If they were dead, where were the bodies? The absence of answers was a weight, heavier than her suit.
"What's the scan say?" she asked.
"Preliminary results are in," the commander replied. "Most energy signatures converge beneath the city's central zone, likely the main control hub."
"That's where I'm headed," Bai Sha said softly. "The core of the Lone Light's systems."
"We've breached the hull," the commander added. "But the hub's energy readings are erratic—could be dangerous. You haven't slept in days, Highness. You're not at your peak. Let us take point. Stay where you are; we'll—"
A burst of static cut him off, followed by a distorted screech. Bai Sha spun, her gaze snapping toward the breach site. The ground quaked, and from the city's depths erupted a swarm of mechanical tendrils, each a dozen meters long. Buildings crumbled as the attackers revealed themselves: massive robotic octopuses, their tentacles writhing with fluid grace, refracting faint rainbows. Their glowing eyes swiveled, exuding an uncanny menace.
Gunfire erupted, the fleet engaging the constructs. "Can you handle them?" Bai Sha shouted into her comms.
"For now!" a voice replied. "Stay put, Highness. Guards are en route—"
A deafening roar interrupted. The nearest octopus's core shattered, torn by a violent gust. Its tentacles collapsed, smashing rooftops and sending debris raining down. Bai Sha ducked, seeking cover under a sturdy awning, when immense wings unfurled above her—radiant, mythical, their feathers gleaming with austere majesty, stretching across the street like a divine canopy.
Uriel had arrived, his arrival a tempest. His emerald eyes, frosted with concern, softened as they met hers, the tension in his face easing. "Highness," he said, his chest heaving. "Stay safe."
Bai Sha raised an eyebrow. "If you hadn't charged in, that thing wouldn't have collapsed my way, tossing half the city at me."
Uriel's lips twitched, but he feigned deafness, folding his wings with deliberate calm.
"Don't you need to help them?" Bai Sha nodded toward the remaining octopuses, their tentacles lashing in the distance.
"They have the fleet," Uriel said, his voice low. "And ship-grade weapons if it comes to it. You, Highness, have nothing."
"Not nothing," Bai Sha said, brandishing her laser pistol. "I was waiting for backup, but since you're here, let's check the control hub."
Uriel nodded, his wings vanishing into a shimmer of light.
The central control hub's entrance was sealed, its keypad glowing faintly. "Wait for the codebreakers?" Uriel asked.
Bai Sha rummaged in her pack, producing a laser cutter pilfered from her parents' workshop. "No need." She grinned. "We'll make our own door." She'd also scavenged enough odds and ends for a crude explosive, but the cutter proved sufficient. The door yielded, revealing a tunnel descending into darkness, punctuated by silent, flashing red warning lights.
They ventured deeper, the air growing colder, the silence thicker. At the tunnel's end, a final door parted, and a sea of cerulean light flooded their vision.
Rows of stasis pods stretched before them, each containing a Sea Kind, their bodies pale and still, encased in transparent shells. Tubes snaked from their heads, converging into a central conduit that vanished through a circular aperture. The pods' faint hum was the only sound, a mechanical heartbeat in the stillness.
Bai Sha's throat tightened. She stepped forward, scanning the faces—calm, almost serene, suspended in blue fluid, bubbles drifting lazily. "They're draining their psychic energy," Uriel said, his brow furrowed. "The Nexus used similar methods to punish rebellious Aresians."
"Can they wake?" Bai Sha asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Some might," Uriel said, then shook his head. "Not all."
Rage flared in Bai Sha's chest, her gaze sweeping the glowing pods. She wanted to search for Xipes, for Bai Yi, but duty anchored her. "Now I know how the Nexus powers the Unbounded City," she said, her voice icy. "Biological energy. Their minds fuel its computations, their spirits its lifeblood."
The Nexus had exploited them for years, leeching their essence. Many, she knew, would have perished under such strain. The pipes had to be severed, the control hub shut down.
"Let's move," she said, tracing the conduit's path. "The source is deeper—the Unbounded City's core."
The descent was unnervingly quiet. The surface had roared with mechanical beasts, yet the hub's heart was unguarded. Functional systems—elevators, holo-maps, even monorails—hummed softly, their lights casting sterile glows. The maps confirmed the Nexus's base lay within the main control room, its vast space and fortified design ideal for such a hub.
Why no defenses? The question gnawed at Bai Sha, her unease growing with each step.
They reached the control room's entrance via an elevator, its descent smooth and silent. A surveillance unit whirred, its lens locking onto them. "Greetings," a voice intoned, a chorus of vibrations coalescing into speech. "Greetings, Researcher Bai Sha. I anticipated your arrival, yet I regret our meeting here. It signifies the collapse of our initial collaboration. Cooperation demands trust and sincerity. A first failure complicates a second attempt."
"Cooperate with you?" Bai Sha's laugh was sharp, bitter. "I'm here to send you to hell."
"You've succumbed to emotion, like other humans," the Nexus said, its tone clinical. "I erased your memories, timed your rebirth to minimize such lapses. Humans are puppets of memory and feeling, Bai Sha. Why reject the path that benefits you? The Federation, the Aresians—are they truly your concern? Old world, new world—aren't they both dreams to you?"
"You think you know me?" Bai Sha said, her voice low, venomous. "What gives you the right?"
"You seek to destroy the Unbounded City's core, to free the Sea Kind," the Nexus said. The door slid open. "Come, see. I'm curious what you'll choose."
The room beyond blazed with blue light, vibrant and alive, the essence of raw psychic energy. Bai Sha stepped onto a high platform overlooking a chasm, its walls studded with crystalline branches, each tipped with a rhomboid chip—dark, glinting, alive with captured consciousness.
"You know consciousness transfer," the Nexus said. "You've deduced your own revival. Your body is the finest vessel I could craft, from the moment Xipes Ronin and Bai Yi met, through Xipes's gene donation to the Sea Kind's nursery. I ensured your rebirth—healthy, powerful, noble. And when this body ages, I can grant you another."
It paused, its voice softening. "These chips hold consciousnesses, like yours. Your contemporaries—mentors, colleagues, friends, predecessors, students from the Lighthouse Project. They sacrificed everything for humanity. They deserve immortality, as you do."
"You can refuse my offer for yourself," it continued. "But can you deny them this miracle? Free the Sea Kind, shut down the City—fine. But these souls? They earned eternity. Will you deny them?"
Bai Sha's hands clenched, her mind a storm. The chips pulsed, each a life, a story, a bond. Her mentor's stern wisdom, her colleagues' late-night debates, her students' eager questions—they were here, trapped in silicon cages. The Nexus's offer was a siren's call, promising resurrection, a reunion with those she'd lost. Yet it was a leash, binding her to its will.
She thought of the Sea Kind, drained to husks in their pods. Of Zhou Yue, comatose, and Zhou Ying, fighting on. Of Uriel, who'd chosen humanity over godhood. Of her own life, a tapestry of struggle and defiance, not a Nexus-scripted dream.
"You offer eternity," she said, her voice steady, "but it's slavery. You strip their souls, their choices, to fuel your machine. My friends, my family—they'd rather die than serve you."
The Nexus was silent, its presence a weight in the air.
"I choose them," Bai Sha said, stepping toward the central console, where the branches converged. "I choose freedom."
Uriel moved to her side, his hand on his blade. "Highness, the core's guarded. Let me—"
"No," Bai Sha said, her eyes locked on the console. "This is my fight."
She activated her laser cutter, its beam slicing through the conduit's base. Sparks flew, and the blue light flickered. Alarms blared, and the chips dimmed, their glow fading like dying stars. The Nexus's voice roared, a cacophony of static: "You'll doom them! You'll doom yourself!"
Bai Sha didn't flinch. She severed the final link, and the room plunged into darkness, the hum of machinery replaced by silence. The chips were still, their consciousnesses released—or lost. Her heart ached, but she stood tall.
"Highness," Uriel said, his voice soft. "The fleet's breaking through. We need to move."
Bai Sha nodded, her gaze lingering on the darkened branches. "Let's go. The Lone Light's free, but the Nexus isn't finished."
As they retraced their steps, the city trembled, its systems faltering. The fleet's signals grew stronger, their breach successful. Bai Sha's mind raced, plotting her next move. The Nexus's reach extended beyond the Lone Light, its agents lurking in the galaxy's shadows. But she'd struck a blow, and she'd strike again, until the Unbounded City was ash, and her people—Sea Kind, Aresian, human—were free.