"Scan on my pad. And I heard them confirm it." Xylon showed the saved waveform. "We need to get this to someone with real authority. Captain Solara."
"Captain Solara is in a tactical briefing with the wing commanders. It will last another hour. Elian will have time to clean up, to move the cores, to dispose of you." Torin's voice was low, fierce. "We must act now. There is a procedure. If a Chief Engineer declares an immediate, catastrophic security breach, he can trigger a lockdown of specific sectors, including all storage and logistics bays. It requires verification from one other senior officer, or… from an external authority with command rank."
"Astraxion," Xylon said.
"She is not a Valtheris officer. But she is a Commander of the Aetherion Imperium, on official duty here. Her authority, coupled with my technical declaration, could force a lockdown. It would bypass Elian's diplomatic clearance. It would freeze all movement in those bays, including the Sigma-7 shipment."
"Then we need to meet her when she lands. Intercept her before Elian can."
Torin nodded. "The primary flight deck is on Level One. Her skiff is scheduled to return at 1030. We must be there."
Xylon checked the chrono. 1025. Five minutes. "Let's go."
They moved swiftly, taking the central elevator down to Level One. The flight deck was a vast, open space at the mountain's peak, shielded by a transparent, curved dome of reinforced crystal. The wind howled outside, but inside, the air was controlled and calm. Valtheris personnel in flight suits moved around sleek, needle-like skiffs docked in their berths.
Torin and Xylon positioned themselves near the debriefing area, a raised platform with data-terminals. They waited, watching the main landing approach.
At exactly 1030, a sleek Imperium skiff, distinct from the Valtheris designs with its darker hull and golden accents, glided smoothly through the atmospheric shield and settled onto its assigned pad. The hatch opened.
Astraxion emerged. She still wore her flight suit, a form-fitting gray and blue garment with the Stromveil crest on the shoulder. Her silver hair was tucked under a flight helmet she now removed. Her purple eyes scanned the deck, professional and sharp. She saw Xylon and Torin waiting, and her gaze narrowed slightly, recognizing the tension in their posture.
She walked toward them, followed by a Valtheris flight officer who was thanking her for the observational data. She dismissed him politely and stepped up to the debriefing platform.
"Commander," Torin began, his voice formal but urgent. "Chief Engineer Torin, reporting a Class-One Security Breach under Inter-Nation Joint Protocol 7."
Astraxion's expression became instantly serious. Protocol 7 was for imminent threats to outpost integrity. "Explain."
Xylon stepped forward, handing her his data-pad. "Visual and scan evidence of ten corrupted Aether cores, designated Sigma-7, stored in Bay 3. They are being prepared for transfer to an agent of the Draxmor Iron Confederacy for sabotage purposes. The Valtheris liaison, Elian, is complicit. I witnessed the transaction and was fired upon by the Draxmor agent when discovered."
Astraxion's eyes flicked over the scan, the waveform, the notes. Her face, usually so soft with sleepy kindness, hardened into a mask of cold command. She looked at Torin. "You authenticate this technical data?"
"I do, Commander. The dissonant signature is unmistakable and matches known patterns of weaponized core corruption."
"And your recommendation?"
"Immediate lockdown of Storage Bays 2 through 5 on Level Five, and all associated logistics channels. Quarantine the Sigma-7 materials. Detain Liaison Elian and any personnel associated with the transfer manifest."
Astraxion didn't hesitate. She turned to the nearest Valtheris deck officer. "Lieutenant. On my authority as an Aetherion Imperium Commander operating under joint observation protocols, and supported by the Chief Engineer's declaration of a Class-One breach, I am invoking Protocol 7. Initiate sector lockdown of Level Five storage and logistics. All movement in those bays is frozen. Security teams are to detain Liaison Elian and secure Bay 3."
The lieutenant, a young woman with sharp green eyes, looked stunned. "Commander, I… I need to confirm with Captain Solara—"
"You have my confirmation and Chief Torin's," Astraxion interrupted, her voice not loud, but carrying the absolute weight of command. "Protocol 7 requires immediate action to prevent catastrophic loss. Delay is a violation. Execute the order."
The lieutenant swallowed, then nodded. She rushed to a command terminal and began inputting the codes.
Almost instantly, a low, resonant alarm pulsed through the outpost, not blaring, but a steady, urgent thrum. Lights on the status panels across the flight deck flashed amber.
"Lockdown initiated," the lieutenant reported. "Security teams dispatched."
Astraxion looked at Xylon. "Are you injured?"
"A cut. Nothing serious."
"The agent who fired on you?"
"He was gaunt, dressed in civilian clothes, armed. He mentioned a team would collect the cores within the hour. They may already be here, in the outpost, waiting."
Astraxion's mind was clearly racing, assessing tactical angles. "If they are Draxmor operatives, they will have escape plans. They will not surrender quietly." She turned to Torin. "Chief, secure your engineering stations. Prevent any unauthorized access to core stabilizers or dampening field controls. If they cannot get the cores, they may try to destabilize the outpost itself as a diversion."
Torin nodded grimly and hurried off.
Astraxion motioned for Xylon to follow her. "We need to go to the security command center. My authority will be challenged there, but the evidence must be presented directly."
They left the flight deck, moving now with purpose through the corridors. The amber lockdown lights cast a nervous glow. Personnel were milling, confused, asking questions. The usual orderly hum of the outpost was fractured.
As they reached the central elevator bank to go to Level Four—the security level—the elevator doors opened, and Captain Solara stepped out.
The Valtheris commander was tall, athletic, her short golden hair perfectly ordered, her green eyes sharp. She wore a captain's uniform of sky-blue and silver. Her presence was immediately commanding, a wave of authority that quieted the nearby murmurs.
"Commander Stromveil," Solara said, her tone cool, analytical. "I have received a report of a Protocol 7 invocation under your name. Explain this unilateral action."
Astraxion stood straight, meeting Solara's gaze without flinching. "Captain Solara. Evidence has been uncovered of a severe security breach involving corrupted Aether cores intended for weaponized sabotage by a Draxmor agent, facilitated by your liaison, Elian. My aide," she gestured to Xylon, "was fired upon while gathering this evidence. Chief Engineer Torin has authenticated the threat. Protocol 7 was the necessary response."
Solara's eyes flicked to Xylon, taking in his dust-covered suit, the cut on his cheek. Her expression remained guarded. "Elian has served this outpost with distinction for five years. He has a flawless record. Your aide is a foreign national with no Aether signature, a statistical anomaly. This is a serious accusation."
"It is a serious crime," Astraxion countered. "The evidence is on this data-pad. The cores are in Bay 3, slated for immediate transfer. The lockdown has frozen that transfer. I recommend you review the evidence personally and interrogate Elian immediately."
Solara hesitated. The conflict was clear in her stance—the loyalty to a trusted subordinate versus the rigid duty to outpost security. Finally, she said, "Come to the security center. Both of you. We will review the data there, with Elian present."
It was a compromise, but one that kept Elian in the room. A risk.
They followed Solara to Level Four. The security command center was a room with multiple holographic displays showing outpost schematics, sensor feeds, and personnel locations. Several Valtheris security officers stood at consoles.
And there, standing near the central display, was Elian.
He looked composed, but his eyes held a frantic, trapped energy. He had been brought here, presumably by the security teams, but not detained. He still had his diplomatic stature.
"Captain," Elian said smoothly, "this is a misunderstanding. The Sigma-7 cores are defective units scheduled for proper disposal. My external contact is a certified recycler from the Imperium. The alleged 'weapon fire' was a malfunctioning servo-unit in the bay, which startled Mr. Enderwood. He misinterpreted the situation."
Solara looked at Astraxion. "You see? There is an alternate explanation."
Xylon stepped forward. He couldn't let the lie stand. "The contact was not an Imperium recycler. He was a Draxmor agent. He mentioned payment transferred to an account on Draxmor. He confirmed the cores were primed for resonance destabilization to create artificial Aether storms. He had an energy pistol, which he fired at me. The servo-unit does not fire energy bolts."