“What’s going on?!”

“Seems obvious enough to me…” Phoenix said in response to Danielle as Kaoné gently returned her floating platform to the coast, with everyone jumping off onto the rocky beach and then turning to face the waterborne research facility in the distance — which was currently being ravaged and clawed at by a large silver dragon.

“Shouldn’t we be doing something about this?” Twy questioned as she anxiously looked to Kaoné and Rebehka. “Or at least, getting out of here? Or helping people evacuate?”

“The research center has containment shields all around it for exactly this kind of situation,” Kaoné responded, though her uneasy attention remained focused on the distant silver dragon. “But… how was there a critical infection without us being made aware?”

“The shield must’ve silently gone up earlier today…” Rebehka mused. “…Kaoné, can you try to establish contact with them?”

“Oh! Right…” Kaoné immediately fabricated a small handheld comms device in her hand. “I hope someone’s still alive, in there… hello? Is anyone there?…”

As the Dean attempted to make contact with anyone who may have been left inside the facility, the rest of the group turned to look back at the dragon, which was easily visible even from their position on the coast nearly two kilometers away.

“Another one…” Rebehka muttered to herself, “…I can’t believe it…”

“Why is it here?” Danielle questioned, looking cluelessly at everyone present. “That’s a… metallic dragon or something, right?”

“Well, that’s the Infection Research Center, right?” Twy said. “I guess things got a little out of hand, or something…”

“That shouldn’t be possible, though,” Rebehka countered. “I’ve been to the research center before, several times. Their containment systems were incredibly robust. So why…?”

“We gotta rescue anyone who’s left inside, though, right?” Sky insisted. “We can’t just leave them there!”

“Oh, I do believe you can.”

“What…? You—!” Rebehka’s lip curled as she turned to look at the woman who now approached the group — the woman wearing purple and crimson powered armor over three-segmented legs that looked like an ‘N’ when at rest, with light skin and light blond hair that was shaved on the sides of her head, but long and straight enough on the top and in back to be tied into a thick waist-length braid. As the woman came to a stop just next to the group, Rebehka snarled at her, “what the hell are you doing here, Major?!”

“Oh, how your words wound me!” Major Nil’kin Dralis replied, her tone oozing with feigned shock. She then planted her hands on her hips as she stared down Rebehka, saying, “simply put, I found it rather suspicious that you and the other Deans left Nimalia so suddenly, and with such small groups, too. You claimed to be leaving to train these Earthians, but…” Nil’kin glanced toward Twy, Sky, Phoenix, Kestrel, and Danielle, before scoffing and shaking her head. “I think we both know that you don’t actually care about them that much.”

“Don’t assume that I share your lack of empathy,” Rebehka shot back.

“So you consider it ‘empathy’ to use these Earthians as a mere cover for investigating the infection, all on your own?”

When Rebehka faltered and failed to respond, Phoenix crossed her arms and turned to give the Dean an irate glare. “So you were using us?” she pressed. “Just like on Oriciid’kas, huh?”

“I— we weren’t using you,” Rebehka quickly replied. “I genuinely believed that you would benefit from seeing Oriciid’kas in the state that it was, and here, I did genuinely want to help train the four of you!”

“—Is the cover story you provided to everyone else,” Nil’kin countered. “Just to try and keep me and the Knights off your back. You even routed through a Nimalian Fortress World, just to try and avoid me! Tsk, tsk, tsk… isn’t dealing with the infection the entire reason you contracted with the Chaos Knights, in the first place?”

“Again — I wasn’t the one who signed that contract,” Rebehka argued. “It was Archoné Ledkia who did that, without my consent. The mission of the Knights quite clearly does not align with my mission at the Academy.”

“And yet, here we are…” Nil’kin commented, her gaze drifting to the silver dragon in the distance, which was now bashing against the containment dome in an apparent effort to break free. “…Your ‘research’ imperative has resulted in yet another Critical Infection incident. How many people have to die before you realize that your mission is pointless?”

“Didn’t they cure an animal, back on Oriciid’kas…?” Twy pointed out uneasily.

“Exactly!” Rebehka said. “Even after that, you still don’t see the progress that we’ve made, Major?”

“Curing one stupid cat isn’t ‘progress’,” Nil’kin spat. “While you were doing that, a Critical Infection occurred on Oriciid’kas, and now another, here on Karania! How do you intend to deal with that, hmm?”

“The last time I saw one of those dragons, we had to blow it up with a spaceship,” Danielle remarked.

“…Same for Oriciid’kas, technically…” Twy admitted. “Will we have to do the same, here…?”

“Sure, maybe, but we still gotta see if there’s anyone alive in there, right?!” Sky questioned. “They gotta have protective shields and stuff in there, right? And we have shields, too! That should protect us for long enough to rescue anyone trapped inside!”

“Bah,” Nil’kin scoffed. “That just sounds like a good way to create openings for the infection to escape that facility!”

“Not if we do this carefully,” Rebehka countered. “But this whole point is moot if there aren’t even any survivors. Kaoné, have you been able to get in touch with the research center?”

“I’m trying…” Kaoné said, while focused intently on the comms device in her hands. “There’s some kind of interference… I’m trying to get through it, but—“

«—block breached! Emergency, emergency! Can anyone hear us?!»

“I’m here, I can hear you!” Kaoné quickly replied as the rest of the group crowded around the comms device in her hands. “It’s Kaoné Densalin! I’m here with Rebehka Tchiréon!”

There was a moment of silence. Then, «Densalin? Tchiréon? Thank the skies, we’re saved!»

“Don’t celebrate until this is over,” Nil’kin interjected. “Major Nil’kin Dralis of the Chaos Knights, speaking. What protections and containment procedures does this facility have?”

«Chaos Knights? What…» The voice on the other side trailed off; faint chatter could be heard over the comms connection, though the actual words spoken couldn’t be made out against the alarms sounding in the background. Eventually, a new voice came on, one of a stern, yet stressed older woman. «Head Researcher Ziodek, speaking,» she declared. «Tchiréon — is this Knight with you?»

“…Yes,” Rebehka replied, though the frustrated strain was easily evident in her voice. “Kaoné and I have a handful of student Chaotics with us, as well.”

«The Earthians that you mentioned?»

“How does she know about us…?” Sky questioned in confusion.

“…Yes, the Earthians,” Rebehka continued, pointedly ignoring Sky’s question. “We all have protective shields, so a rescue might be possible, but we need to know how bad it is over there!”

«You can see the dragon for yourself, so I don’t think I need to tell you that things are bad,» Ziodek replied. «…A few hours ago, there was a flicker in the main generator. It cut power to the facility for just a couple seconds, including the containment blocks.»

“A couple seconds?” Phoenix responded incredulously. “And this is the generator making sure the infection doesn’t get free?”

«We have redundancies. Well… had. There are secondary and tertiary generators on separate, redundant circuits, to keep the containment shields powered in the case of a primary generator failure. The problem is that all three generators flickered at the same time.»

“That shouldn’t be possible…” Kaoné said. “The odds of that happening are… astronomically low!”

“Were they sabotaged?” Danielle suggested.

«That question is impossible to answer at the moment,» Ziodek replied. «The power failure released all of the infected specimens that we had, here. I immediately activated the containment procedures, including the emergency beacon, but no one’s responded to us until now.»

“There was some kind of interference,” Kaoné said. “I had to fabricate and extensively modify a comms device just to establish contact.”

“Is the infection jamming your comms, or something?” Twy asked.

«It’s a possibility. Once free, the infection was able to spread very rapidly. Half of the researchers…» There was a poignant pause before Ziodek continued, «…the infection was able to claim half of the facility, aided by frequent ‘flickers’ in the power generators. The only generator that remained online the entire time was the emergency circuits. It’s the one powering the containment fields right now, and protecting the core lab. That generator wasn’t designed to last, however.»

“How is that possible?” Rebehka questioned in disbelief. “All three main generators failed, repeatedly, and at the same time, before the infection ever even had the chance to reach them?”

«I find it suspicious, as well, but as I said, we aren’t equipped to investigate, right now. What remains of the research team is locked in the core lab. We don’t have reliable sensors on the rest of the center, so I can’t tell you what kind of dangers you’d face there.»

“Faulty generators… certainly a convenient excuse,” Nil’kin retorted. “Head Researcher, when was the last time you updated this facility?”

«The secondary generator was replaced a year ago, and both the primary and tertiary generators were serviced within the last five — though at different times, and by different technicians,» Ziodek replied. «However, none of the wiring or circuitry has been changed since this facility’s construction ten years ago.»

“No major renovations? No system overhauls?”

«No. And all maintenance work has been carried out by trusted, NSD-certified contractors.»

“A mole?” Kestrel suggested.

“It’s always possible…” Rebehka mused, “but if there was… why would they do this? Why would someone voluntarily sabotage an infection research facility? If they were corrupted, they most certainly would’ve been detected before going on the job, or even while on the job, so…”

A moment of silence passed as everyone present turned to look at Nil’kin. Upon noticing their stares, the Chaos Knight responded with a scoff. “As if the Knights would stoop to such half-measures,” she declared. “Even if we had a mole on the project, their job would’ve been to entirely ruin the facility before it even opened, not cause a Critical Infection incident that could put an entire planet at risk!”

“R-right, sorry…” Kaoné responded sheepishly, and then returned her attention to the research center in the distance. The silver dragon seemed to have settled on gnawing at the facility’s structural supports; a small portion of the large, waterborne facility had already collapsed into the waters. “Whatever we’re going to do, we need to do it fast!”

“Right!” Rebehka began crafting a large platform of ice under everyone’s feet. “Ziodek, we’re on our way! Everyone, follow my lead, and once we get to the research center, stay together. Got it?”

“How typical, trying to save a doomed facility,” Nil’kin said. “Would you really risk setting that dragon free, just to save a handful of researchers trapped with the consequences of their own actions?”

“They aren’t—!”

«While I can’t understate how much we would appreciate a rescue,» Ziodek said, «don’t risk setting the infection free on Karania, Tchiréon! Even in a worst-case scenario, the contents of the research center’s databanks is backed up on servers in Kani, so our research won’t have been in vain.»

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rebehka countered. “We’re coming!”

“I’m not,” Nil’kin said as she jumped off of the ice platform, and then raised her voice to shout towards the comms device still in Kaoné’s hands. “Head Researcher Ziodek!”

«…Yes?» came Ziodek’s response.

“May you find peace in the stars.”

“What—?!” Rebehka started, beginning to turn toward Nil’kin — only for an underwater flash of light in the distance to draw her attention back to the research center. The silver dragon’s wings flared as it withdrew from the structural supports of the facility, its attention directed at the waters below… just in time for a razor-thin horizontal line to wipe upwards over the facility, completely erasing both it and the dragon assaulting it. Then, just as quickly as the line had appeared, it disappeared into nothing, leaving the waters around where the facility had once stood to surge as they filled the thousands of liters of water that had just been erased alongside the building.

“What? No!!” Kaoné exclaimed, her eyes wide with horror.

“What— what just happened?!” Sky questioned. “Was that… was that some kind of self-destruct?!”

“Normal explosives are far too dangerous to use when dealing with the infection,” Nil’kin explained coolly. “After all, you can’t guarantee that you’ll destroy every last nanite, and the ones that survive end up getting flung far, far away. That’s why these kinds of facilities have developed something new: a ‘Subspace Shunter’, they call them. They anchor a Subspace Drive underneath the facility, and when the building must be destroyed, the Drive is launched vertically into the air — and then commanded to open a window to Subspace. Since such windows are always stationary relative to the Drive that opens them, the created window inherits the Drive’s vertical velocity, causing it to ‘wipe’ over the building and eventually swallow the Drive itself as the planet’s gravity brings it back down. Only then, once the facility is entirely in Subspace — and thus, any nanites within entirely separated from realspace — do the conventional explosives detonate. A truly ingenious design, to be quite honest… isn’t it, Dean Tchiréon?”

“Meant to only be used as a last resort!” Rebehka snapped; the ice platform that she had created shattered in her fury, the shards whipping up to swirl around her as she turned to glare at Nil’kin. “Ziodek, those researchers — they still had a chance!”

“Wait… are you saying that you activated the self-destruct? From here?!” Phoenix exclaimed.

“I am an Electrotechnic,” Nil’kin replied. “Two kilometers would normally be too far for me to do anything… but luckily, due to the Chaos Knights’ work to fight the infection, I was able to get my hands on the original blueprints to Karania’s Infection Research Center. From there, all I had to do was follow the blueprints from afar to trigger the shunter.”

“You… you killed them!” Kaoné responded in disbelief.

“No, I merely accelerated their inevitable fate,” Nil’kin declared, and then turned to glare haughtily at Rebehka. Sparks began flying, wreathing the Dra’kis’s body in response to the sharpened ice shards that continued to circle Rebehka. “You’re the ones who killed them, Densalin and Tchiréon!” Nil’kin shouted, “it’s your misguided attempts to ‘cure’ the infection that has resulted in its continued spread! And if you think you can silence me, then feel free to try!”

“We already proved that it’s possible to cure the infection — twice!” Kaoné cried, “what more do you want from us?! Do you really want that badly to just watch people die?”

“I don’t wish death on anyone!” Nil’kin retorted. “But if killing just a few now will save untold billions in the future, then it would be irresponsible to stay my hand! I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, Tchiréon — your desires to ‘save’ everyone will be the doom of us all!”

“You—!” Rebehka snarled, the air all around rapidly cooling as her furious expression centered wholly on Nil’kin. “…Overdrive:—!”

“Overdrive:—!” Nil’kin quickly responded, only for both her and Rebehka to be preempted by Kaoné.

“Overdrive: Conflict’s Judge!!”

“Ngh—!” Nil’kin winced as the pistol on her hip let loose chaotic sparks before falling to pieces, while her own sparks ceased. She then held her hand up to her head, clutching it in pain and frustration. “You… Densalin…!”

“What… are you doing?!” Rebehka snapped, mirroring Nil’kin’s pain and grimace as her ice shards collapsed haphazardly to the ground, as if she had lost focus on controlling them. “…Damn it, Kaoné! The Major is clearly—!”

“Out of line, I agree!” Kaoné responded; while she easily stood shorter than everyone present, her presence at that moment was more commanding than the grimacing, wilting forms of Nil’kin and Rebehka. “But this is not the place or the time for a fight, much less the kind that the two of you were about to start! What good will come of you two killing each other?!”

“A… lot of good, from where I stand…!” Nil’kin snarled, only for her grimace to strengthen as she collapsed to her knees. “…Ngh…! …I… ha ha! I have to give it to you, Densalin. I didn’t think your Overdrive… was so effective…!”

“You only feel that much pain because your aggression — your desire to fight and kill — is too strong,” Kaoné countered. “All the more reason to stop you!”

“And me?!” Rebehka questioned, furious. “She killed Ziodek, Kaoné! And all of the rest of the researchers!”

“I know!” Kaoné insisted. “…I know. But we can’t let our emotions get the best of us. Fights started in anger are never fights with a good outcome! And fury is never a good reason to dirty your hands with the blood of someone who should be your ally!”

Silence followed, as Rebehka and Nil’kin continued glaring at Kaoné — who confidently stared back, unwilling to back down. Eventually, Rebehka and Nil’kin turned to look at each other, with deep breaths and a moment of calm working to lower their tensions, even if only slightly.

“…Get out of here,” Rebehka growled, her glare on Nil’kin. “The Chaos Knights are no longer welcome at the Academy!”

“Oh? Weren’t you the one who said that it was Archoné Ledkia who contracted us, not you?” Nil’kin retorted.

“I’ll take whatever stupid punishment he wants to try and hand out, but you’ve crossed a line! I should’ve expected this would happen, one day… I should’ve gotten rid of you sooner!”

“Still can’t face the fact that I’m right, can you? Hmph. Very well.” The Dra’kis got back to her feet and began backing away, still glaring at Rebehka as she shouted, “you will regret this, Tchiréon! One day, you’ll see that you can’t save everyone. One day, you’ll see that you’re just sacrificing this galaxy’s future to sate your own guilty conscience!”

With that, Nil’kin stormed off, leaving Rebehka, Kaoné, and the Earthians to stare after her. In the wake of her exit, Kaoné released a deep, wary sigh, and then turned back to Rebehka. “…Are you alright?”

“No. I’m not alright,” Rebehka snapped back, only to shift her attention to the Earthians, and then to the distant coastal waters, where the research center had once stood. In its place now was no more than open coastline, as if a building had never been present to begin with. More silence followed, with none of the Earthians sure of just how to respond to what had just happened — but it was Rebehka who eventually broke the silence after a long, weary sigh. “…Sorry.” She turned around to offer Kaoné an apologetic smile, only for her face to drop again. “…But I need some space to cool down. I’ll… be back soon.”

“…That was… uh…” Sky eventually spoke up after Rebehka left, using her Cryotechnism to skate across an ice path into the distance — opposite the direction that Nil’kin had left. “…That was… something?”

“That Dra’kis lady kinda reminds me of Mote,” Danielle commented as she turned back toward the city to try and spot Nil’kin. “…Uh, in a bad kind of way, though…”

“What the fuck…” Phoenix muttered in disbelief. “I mean, I feel like Nil’kin had some points, but at the same time, that was… we were about to go and save those researchers, right? Why the fuck did she go and activate the self-destruct before we could even try?!”

“It was… really cold-blooded…” Twy added, and then passed Kaoné a doubtful glance. “Are we really going to just let her go? She… we just watched her… that was…”

“Don’t think that I’m just letting her walk,” Kaoné replied. “I’ve already alerted the local authorities, and protocol in Kani is to disallow Gate travel for at least 24 hours, if the research center ever activates its self-destruct. So the Major won’t be going anywhere.” She then turned to look out over the coast. “…I merely figured that attempting to arrest Nil’kin at the height of tension would’ve been a bad idea. There’s a chance that one or both of them might’ve gone Berserk if I didn’t de-escalate…”

“I guess you have a point…”

“Will the Major actually face any trouble, though?” Phoenix pressed. “How do we know her bosses won’t swoop in to protect her, or something?”

“’What ifs’ are no excuse to take justice into your own hands,” Kaoné declared. “They’re no excuse to put blood on your hands. And anger — the kind of raw fury that you might feel in moments like these — is never a good emotion to control your decisions.”

“I mean… you’re not wrong, but, like…” Sky fidgeted uneasily, as if possessed by energy she didn’t know how to direct. “This… nothing about this feels right!”

“Unfortunately… that, too, is part of living in this world of ours,” Kaoné responded. She then took another deep breath. “…Well, I think it’s fair to say that today’s lessons are over. I think we’ll be cutting this trip short, as well… I’m sorry that you all had to get involved in this.”

“…Right…” Phoenix muttered as she and the others began following Kaoné back towards the city of Kani. “…Let’s just get the hell out of here…”