The middle-aged man found himself staring directly into Lyra’s piercing crimson eyes. Those eyes didn’t just look at him... they seed to cut through him like sharp blades.
He tried his best to remain composed, keeping a polite smile on his face, but there was a silent force pressing down on his chest like an invisible weight.
And strangely enough, he knew that pressure wasn’t coming from Lyra herself, nor from the towering Tyrant unit standing beside her like a tal mountain. No... it was sothing else.
In his many years working as a seasoned rcenary, he had developed a certain sixth sense, a gut feeling that had saved his life more than once.
He could usually tell where danger was coming from, who was hiding a knife behind their back, or when a room was a trap. But right now, his instincts scread in every direction. There was no single source. It was as if the room itself, the very air, was watching him... waiting.
He subtly shook his head, pushing that chilling sensation aside, and decided to answer Lyra’s question. His response wasn’t a full lie but it wasn’t the whole truth either. Like any skilled diplomat, he picked his words carefully.
"The reason is simple, Commander," he said while clearing his throat softly. "We’ve attempted to explore this region of the planet multiple tis using high-altitude stealth drones...."
"However, each ti we got close to this sector... the drones were automatically shut down. So kind of electronic counterasure. Very advanced, I might add."
He paused, watching for Lyra’s reaction before continuing.
"It wasn’t until just last week that we noticed sothing different. For the first ti, our drones weren’t shot down. That’s when we saw you leading troops, commanding these large combat machines."
He motioned subtly toward Tyty. "And soon after, a new destroyer-class warship appeared in orbit. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that soone new had taken control of this outpost... and soone powerful."
This ti, he did his best to sound respectful, diplomatic, and just a little impressed. He deliberately left out so key facts, of course, like how many drones they had lost or how much they already knew about her arrival. It was standard practice. Never show all your cards in a negotiation.
Lyra listened in silence, her expression turned unreadable. After a few monts, she gave a small nod.
"Mmm, I see..." she murmured. "Well then, since we’ve checked that off the list, let ask you one last thing. If there are multiple groups and organizations scattered across this planet, why did you choose us to approach?"
The question was simple but dangerous. It was sharp, strategic, and not sothing Lyra had thought of herself. In fact, this key question had been sent to her a few seconds ago via a secure ssage from one of the bot maids standing quietly behind her.
She looked no different from any other synthetic maid... but beneath that soft synthetic skin was the sa reinforced exoskeleton as the Tyrant units. She was an Imperial Maid, one of Cleo’s creations that was tasked with watching over and protecting Rex’s inner circle, especially those closest to him... including his future children.
The middle-aged man gave a small, almost appreciative smile.
"The answer, Commander, is fairly straightforward," he said while shifting in his seat. "It’s because out of all the factions we’ve been watching... you’re the only ones who didn’t just survive the infected wave... you crushed it. Wiped the floor with them. That kind of performance proves that you’re not working with whoever’s controlling the mutated monsters."
He straightened his posture as he finished his explanation, trying to show both sincerity and logic in his reasoning.
Lyra remained quiet again, her gaze narrowed slightly as she analyzed his tone, his words, and even the twitch of his fingers. She was learning fast and it showed. After a few long, silent monts, she finally responded; her voice was calm but firm.
"Very well. Then let’s get down to the real point," she said while resting her chin on one hand, her elbow on the armrest, while lazily crossing one leg over the other. "Tell ... what exactly do you want from this alliance? And what do you offer us in return?"
As she shifted into this relaxed posture, the black bodysuit she wore that was tight and built for power armor use outlined her long legs. The sight was enough to completely distract Martin, who had said nothing until now.
His eyes were fixed on her like a moth drawn to a fla. Sadly for him, it was the wrong fla to stare at for too long. anwhile, the middle-aged man remained composed, but a thin bead of sweat began to roll down the side of his face. He knew how high the stakes were.
"What we ask for," he said carefully, "is military assistance. We need reinforcents to help defend our outpost and our scavenger convoys. These mutated attacks are becoming too frequent, too organized. We can’t hold out on our own much longer."
He then motioned slightly to the holoscreens, as if reminding her of the images they had just seen.
"In exchange for your support, we offer a 30% share of all profits from the salvage and trade goods we collect. We’ll also provide you with detailed intelligence... everything we’ve gathered about the mutated creatures, the waves, and most importantly, the unknown enemy that commands them."
He finished speaking, then sat perfectly still, waiting. The sweat on his brow wasn’t from the heat; it was from nerves.
Now everything depended on Lyra’s next words.
"Very well, rcenary," Lyra said as she rose from her chair; her tone was calm and final.
"We have a deal. I’ll dispatch a company from my Blood Legion, two hundred Aegis units and one Captain-class Tyrant unit. Any further contact or communication should go directly through the Captain in command of that force. And paynt,"
she added with a sharp glance, "is to be made in Imperial Electronic Credits. Nothing else will be accepted."
As she stood and stretched her small but honed body, there was a casual grace in her movents that were refined yet dangerous, like a dagger wrapped in velvet. Her silver hair fell over her shoulders like a curtain of moonlight, slightly ssy from her earlier nap, but that only added to her strange charm.
With the negotiation concluded, one of the silent maid bots stepped forward and politely escorted the visitors out of the fortress.
Lyra didn’t follow. Instead, she made her way upstairs to the highest level of the Kaelzar outpost, her personal quarters, which doubled as an observation room. The walls were made of reinforced transparent alloy, letting her gaze down over the dusty wasteland outside and the departing convoy of rcenaries.
She pressed her gloved hand against the thick glass and winced slightly. It was hot... hotter than usual. "Say... what’s the temperature outside right now?" she asked, her tone half-curious, half-concerned.
Behind her, standing with perfect posture and hands neatly folded in front of her, was one of the Imperial Maid bots. Her synthetic skin was pale and flawless, her black and white uniform spotless. She hadn’t moved or spoken since Lyra entered the room.
"It is approximately 45 degrees Celsius, your Excellency," the bot replied softly, her eyes still closed. "There is a 70% probability that it may rise to 50 degrees later today. If you intend to go outside, I would advise equipping your power armor to avoid damage to your body."
Lyra nodded slowly, but her eyes remained fixed on the horizon. "You know... I lived on this planet for a few years before joining the Legion. But this... this is the first ti I’ve ever felt the heat beco this severe. And that’s strange, considering this world usually has a perfectly balanced climate. Sa temperature, day and night, no seasons, no changes..."
Her voice trailed off, and her gaze grew distant. The silence that followed was heavy. Unspoken mories pressed against her chest like a weight. She didn’t need to say more since the past she referred to was known only by a selected few. The pain of that day... the day this planet nearly took everything from her.
The silence was broken by the soft hiss of the reinforced door sliding open. Tyty, her loyal second-in-command, entered the room with his usual quiet precision. His towering tallic form cast a long shadow across the floor.
"Commander," he said with his steady, robotic tone. "The rcenaries have finished preparations and are now leaving the area. Do you have any further instructions?"
Lyra turned her head slightly to look over her shoulder. "No... nothing else for now. Thank you, Tyty," she said softly. Then, pausing, she added with a hint of curiosity, "But... why are they leaving by land? Why not just use their transport ships? It’s much faster."
Tyty looked in the direction she pointed, watching the convoy of heavy armored vehicles slowly moving out across the desert.
"They claim it is because the mutated infected react violently to any airborne movent," he explained. "Transport ships attract the attention of the infected from dozens of kiloters away. Ground vehicles, however, are quieter and less visible. According to their report, they rely on pre-cleared drone routes for safe passage."
Lyra blinked and nodded slowly. "Clever... Not bad for rcs," she murmured, then turned toward the device in her room that prepared and equipped her power armor. As she walked, her mood shifted slightly. Her expression grew focused.
"That reminds , Tyty... have we found what Cleo sent us here for?" she asked while checking the device’s status.
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