The local marketplace hummed with early morning energy. A cacophony of merchants called out their wares, crowds of customers were haggling over prices, and the occasional distant exhaust hiss of rattling railcarts full of products wound through the narrow lanes between the market stalls. Quinn navigated the crowd with ease, weaving past bustling vendors until he reached a familiar stall decked with hanging baskets full of trinkets and the vexing chirps and whistles emitted by many small avians and mammals within their tiny cages, swinging in the light breeze.

  The scent of ripe citrus and spiced berries mingled in the air with the tang of metal. Behind the stall stood a tall, lean Mimixi merchant in a loose-fitted swirl of fabric loops. His sleek gray and white speckled fur shimmered in the sunlight, tufted and ring-pierced ears twitching as he spotted Quinn approaching. His tail flicked lazily behind him, a sign of mild amusement.

  “Back again, Whitlocke?” the Mimixi purred, his sharp-toothed grin playful. “Your father was here not but an hour ago. You’re both creatures of habit, you know that?”

  Quinn smirked. “I know what I like, Dzhason. And as they say, like father, like son.”

  The Mimixi chuckled, motioning toward an array of colorful fruits. “Let me take a wild guess. The wandermelon, the crysmiberries. You engineers and your predictable tastes. Oh and so you know, they won’t be back in season until after the Hahtin Festival so get them while they’re in stock. These are my last shipment until then.”

  While the market was always full of traders and merchants, the goods available there fluctuated with the seasons across the trading planets. Many new planets had been opened up as resource hubs in recent decades by the Zanaio Cartography Corps, a polarizing entity on the galactic stage. The now-titanic organization was founded by Denasius the Crystalmancay, the colossal gem-like species with a predisposition for collection. She had escaped from a crime syndicate and dedicated herself to exploring the galaxy with her new-found freedom. By gathering other disgruntled members and servants of the syndicate she slowly formed the ZCC, which sought to explore new worlds, document their discoveries, and plant their flag wherever they went. Many starnations, following their lead and relying on their exploration, established trade relationships with other ZCC affiliated and friendly worlds made accessible by the efforts of the once-criminals.

  Quinn rolled his eyes but reached for the exact fruits Dzhason had predicted—a wandermelon, its spined rind glowing faintly in the shade of the stall, and a handful of crysmiberries, shimmering like tiny constellations. Their electric tang always gave him the jolt he needed in the mornings.

  A brief haggling session ensued, the Mimixi’s purr growing deeper as he secured a slightly better deal than Quinn had intended. He deposited them onto the counter, and with a final playful flick of his tail, Dzhason handed Quinn his purchase, neatly wrapped in waxed paper stamped with a winking cat motif.

  “Pleasure as always.” he said, winking a sharp-pupilled eye.

  Quinn just shook his head, pocketing the box of berries and tossing the wrapped melon into his bag before marching quickly toward the coach station at the edge of the market.

  The brass-trimmed coach hissed as it settled onto its wheels, gears engaging with a satisfying clunk. Quinn climbed aboard, finding an open seat among students, scholars, and city workers all making their way toward the academic district across the river. The seats were cushioned but worn, the scent of old parchment, oil, and grease a now-permanent part of every thread.

  He unwrapped and peeled open the wandermelon, its juice dripping as he took a bite. The tart flavor jolted his senses awake. He adjusted his satchel and scanned the cabin, his eyes briefly settling on a tall human man with brown hair, dressed in a white double-breasted coat with a high collar, a waistcoat, and an ascot, seated a few rows ahead and facing him.

  Quinn recognized the man, Nicholas Slate, though they had never spoken. A quiet observer in classes, always watching and learning, staying late in the academy’s labs. His work had also been at the top of the list of new Unity sponsored projects announced for the upcoming presentation event at the RRA. Quinn narrowed his eyes slightly, having an inexplicable sense of foreboding.

  The coach lurched forward into motion, steam venting in rhythmic bursts as the city began to blur past the windows. With a deep breath, Quinn straightened in his seat as the windows began to lightly rattle. He was looking forward to another day of good work.

  The workshop greeted him with its familiar embrace of oily tools, metal shavings crunching underfoot, and the lingering heat from the forge as he strode to his workstation. Yesterday’s cleanup had been thoughtfully delegated to today’s Quinn. He shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves before fastening a thick leather apron over his tunic. His workspace, crowded with tools yet methodical, lay before him—brass and steel components, rods, gears, and half-assembled mechanisms neatly arranged within reach. He rolled his eyes as he picked up a gold foil wrapped coin of chocolate from his workspace, popping the contents into his mouth and tossing the waste into the forge.

  “Someday Reid will stop leaving his things everywhere.”

  He retrieved the schematics from the safe, unrolling the blueprints on his workbench and running a calloused hand over the intricately sketched workings. He double-checked his measurements, adjusting a few dimensions before committing to the first cuts. The cutting torch hissed to life, its blue flame licking at the steel as he carved rods into precise lengths. Sparks rained down as he adjusted pieces with small cuts, the rhythmic grind and screech of metal filling the workshop.

  A steel plate glowed cherry-red in the forge’s embers. Quinn gripped it with tongs, transferring it to the anvil. His hammer rose and fell in steady, measured strikes, shaping the metal into the support frame’s structure. The clang of metal on metal echoed through the space, interspersed with the occasional hiss of steam from a pressure valve. This was not the first iteration and he knew it would probably not be the last, but for now it was the best.

  Joss arrived just as Quinn was filing down welds on a newly replaced strut and beginning a new pinion, his satchel thudding onto a nearby workbench. He rubbed at his temples, shaking off the last remnants of sleep.

  “How’s it coming along?” Joss asked, scanning the partially assembled frame.

  Quinn wiped a streak of oil off a newly installed access arm and gestured to the structure. “Frame’s done. Cross-supports are reinforced for the higher rpm and vibration dampening. I tested the load tolerance, should hold, even under high-velocity oscillations.”

  Joss nodded approvingly, running his fingers over the polished steel. “Looks solid. Any issues?”

  Quinn shrugged. “Had to recut one of the beams. Alignment was off by a hundredth of a degree. But it’s fixed now.”

  Joss smirked. “One hundredth? You’re slipping, Whitlocke.”

  Quinn huffed, tossing a rag at him. “Yeah, yeah. Your turn now, let's see that program running.”

  With a chuckle, Joss moved to his workstation, where stacks of parchment, brass punch cards, and a mechanical computation console awaited him. He flicked a switch on the console. The steam-driven computation engine whirred to life, gears ticking into motion as Joss punched the first sequence onto a brass card. The machine processed, spitting out a thin strip of translated code.

  Joss grabbed the input cables and secured them in the sockets of the new frame just as Quinn slotted the retrieved Adeios capsule within. Flipping open his notes, Joss murmured calculations under his breath, his fingers tracing logic pathways on the schematic as he mirrored the movements into the panel interface. He squinted at the returned content in confusion.

  Quinn, watching from the workbench, raised an eyebrow. “First attempt working?”

  Joss frowned, scanning the output. “Not yet. Secondary read path isn’t recognizing priority shifts.”

  Quinn leaned in. “Might be a timing issue in the mechanical relay.”

  The structure was a meticulously engineered open-sided metal cube, reinforced with a network of circular rings interconnected by radial beams that extended outward to the cube’s perimeter, forming a pattern reminiscent of a solar flare or intricate web. Within this geometric framework, an array of precision-controlled access arms were strategically positioned to transmit and receive signals based on programmed motor controls over carefully strapped and coiled cables. These arms interfaced with the central cylindrical core, which housed the Adeios sample. The dark, void-like substance was suspended within a luminescent green liquid, their newest iteration of coolant.

  Joss nodded. “Let’s pop it out and check.”

  The lab door swung open before they could begin, revealing Haru and Reid. Haru held a folded parchment, her brow furrowed. Reid jokingly saluted as they walked in.

  “Please tell me you two have good news,” Joss said.

  Haru exhaled. “Depends on how you define ‘good.’ We found out more about how the project details leaked.”

  Quinn straightened. “And?”

  Reid folded his arms. “Not a break-in. It was mostly overheard. Some other students pieced together fragments of a conversation. They found some notes in the trash.”

  Joss groaned. “Great. So we really do need to be more careful.”

  Haru nodded. “But for now, let’s focus. We still have work to do.”

  Quinn exhaled and turned back to the workbench. “Alright. Full benchmark tests. Let’s push this thing to its limit.”

  Reid cracked his knuckles. “Looks really good Quinn, time to see if it holds?”

  With a unified nod, the team set to work, the rhythmic hum of machinery and the hiss of steam filling the lab as their project took another step toward completion.

  An hour later, Lillian stood in the entrance of Lab V7. She had been working on her new research project, reaching out to poverty support organizations and interviewing citizens. The discussion with her Unity contact had been terse, suggesting that her efforts would be better served continuing her existing research into mercury poisoning of local industries. The project’s research had found evidence that Unity sponsored investigators had been involved in stopping a catastrophic pollution event, but she had been stifled as she had attempted to directly interview witnesses. She had welcomed a break from the frustration for the visit to the lab.

  Today was the first full day since her acceptance of the invitation that the team had all been scheduled to be in the lab together, and they had agreed to meet for Lillian’s official welcome to the group. She scanned the room, a symphony of controlled chaos, several half-built machines humming with power, wires snaking across the floor, and blueprints stuck haphazardly to every available surface. The faint hiss of steam from a pressure valve sounded from somewhere in the back. This was a place of invention, of unfiltered ambition, and for the first time in a long while, a feeling like she belonged. Her breath caught as she surveyed the lab before her.

  Joss, Quinn, and Haru greeted her first. Joss, always the energetic one, clapped her on the back like they were old friends, while Quinn simply offered a nod and a small smile. Reid stood a bit further back, his expression more reserved but welcoming. Lillian could see the skepticism in his eyes, considering her as another variable in their tightly wound machine. She stepped up, extending her hand to him. "I’m ready to work."

  Reid’s expression softened and he shook Lillian’s hand. “Pleased to have you aboard Lillian! We have high hopes for Trial Night.”

  “Glad to have your skills here.” said Haru, shaking her hand next. “We are all hoping for a good result in the Trial Night exams and I already know you’re going to make a big impact here. We can discuss strategy for the exams later, however.”

  Lillian’s eyes were wide as the team took turns showing her the major components of the prototypes, explaining features and projected use. Immediately, she understood that the project existed beyond the horizon of Trial Night. She asked occasional questions for the sake of clarification, mentally calculating the incredible potential for a device with such massive storage capacity. She imagined the books, articles, research documentation, and historical manuscripts which could now be digitally preserved and distributed with such high density. She could simply overcome how little they knew about the exams by bringing along what could function as a personal research library!

  “This… is all amazing. How did you all come up with this? Is it working?” Lily asked, stammering.

  “Mostly, we’re still in the chemical identification stages for Adeios. I actually would really appreciate your assistance on creating the charts for that!” said Reid, whirling and grabbing a notebook littered with loose papers.

  “The applications for Trial Night alone are staggering,” Lillian said, her excitement growing as she turned to the others. “Think about what I can do for us. While the other teams struggle with fragmented notes and unreliable memories, we could have the entire archive of our research at our fingertips! Strategies, rumors, and anything else we could find useful. If that is all accessible in real time, it’s not just limited to pre-loaded information storage. This isn’t just an advantage, this is a paradigm shift!”

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Quinn smiled, leaning against a cluttered workbench. "Well, looks like we’re on the same page with you thinking THAT far ahead. We’re officially a team!"

  A wave of excitement rippled through the group, though it was quickly tempered by the reality ahead. Trial Night loomed only months away, the singular event that would determine their success or failure at RRA. They had no time to waste.

  Lillian quickly established her role within the team, pulling out her leather-bound notebook and systematically drafting a comprehensive plan to document their progress. Her structured approach was met with immediate approval, as it became clear that she was not merely taking notes but implementing a strategic framework. Deadlines, milestones, and contingency plans took shape as she asked precise questions and meticulously recorded key details. Her method brought a level of organization and foresight that had been missing, transforming their efforts into a more disciplined and efficient endeavor.

  The hum of conversation filled the Academy’s Dining Hall, the usual evening rush tapering off as the night wore on. Most students had already cleared out, but Lillian, Quinn, Joss, Haru, and Reid remained, their trays mostly empty save for a few half-eaten sandwiches and cooling cups of tea. The burning adrenaline of productivity from earlier had faded, leaving only exhaustion in its place alongside the satisfaction of a productive day, but none of them had called it a night just yet.

  Lillian stirred the dregs of her tea absentmindedly. “So… Trial Night. I’m flattered that you wanted me as your fifth for the team.” She sighed, leaning her chin on her palm. “But honestly I don’t have much information on the trials myself. Based on what I’ve put together, we have mostly hearsay and rumors with very few firsthand accounts. What do we actually know?”

  Quinn exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. “Not many facts. The Zais told us that well-rounded students rise to the top.”

  Joss, slouched in his chair, smirked. “Typical. Every year, graduates love to hype it up like it’s some grueling gauntlet of mind games and near-death experiences.” He lifted a hand lazily. “Could be half of that. Could be none of it. Should be fun honestly.”

  Reid tapped his fingers firmly against the table. “From what I’ve gathered, it’s a mix of physical and mental challenges, designed to push participants to their limits.” He glanced at Haru. “You scrounged some notes from past contenders, those are at home, right?”

  She nodded, adjusting her glasses. “It’s never exactly the same, but there are patterns like I said earlier. Expect basic combat trials, problem-solving exercises, environmental hazards, and at least one puzzle-based segment that requires working as a team.”

  Lillian arched a brow. “And by combat trials, you mean…?”

  Quinn smirked. “Anything from one-on-one duels to group combat, depends on how cruel they’re feeling this year. Maybe it’s capture the flag again, or rugby. Something the Ventures kids are likely to be basically frothing at the mouth for.”

  Lillian groaned. “Great. I can run, and Annabelle has taught me basic self defense, but other than that I’m probably useless for any fighting.”

  Joss chuckled. “On the bright side, at least you won’t be going in blind. I actually came across some notes from Lance written during his trial prep. Evidently it coincided with his discovery of Adeios. Anyway, he mentioned fending off the Mavens tracking his team. Apparently one of his team members was a Biological Science major and had brought along a falcon for some reason. The whole thing reads as kind of a wild and chaotic jumble of encounters with Mavens, fending off Astators, and annoyingly pedantic puzzle proctors.”

  Reid leaned forward, serious now. “We should start training accordingly. Stamina training, reaction speed drills, code-breaking practice.” He shot a look at Quinn. “You up for helping with combat training?”

  Quinn shrugged, stretching. “As long as I get to knock some sense into people. It’s been a few years since the Ventures boxing tournament.”

  Lillian rolled her eyes. “Let’s aim for ‘training,’ not ‘murder.’”

  Haru, who had been quietly scanning her notes, suddenly spoke up. “We should also consider our competitors.”

  Joss groaned dramatically. “Ugh, yes. The wonderful world of overly ambitious try-hards.”

  Reid ignored him. “We already know Unity-sponsored contenders are in. They’ll have state-of-the-art gear, refined strategies, and corporate backing.”

  Lillian put down her tea. “Not only that, I was told Unity was going to record their sponsored participants.”

  Quinn scoffed. “Which means they’ll probably be underestimating everyone else, seems like everyone being recorded by a camera suddenly thinks they’re the main character.”

  Haru continued, “There are also the independent challengers, former prodigies and scholarship students with something to prove. And then…” She hesitated.

  Lillian frowned. “What?”

  Haru sighed. “Then there’s Lysa and Derik.”

  A silence fell over the table.

  Joss made a face. “Ugh. Them.”

  Quinn’s expression darkened. “We don’t know much about them, but it seems like at the very least they don’t play fair.”

  She set down her cup, looking at each of them. “Then we’d better make sure we’re ready for whatever they throw at us.”

  “For now, let’s continue to gather information and see what we can learn.” said Quinn, looking around, “Besides that, I guess train according to your strengths and look to help others with their weaknesses.”

  Reid smirked and gestured at Quinn’s snacks. “And your weakness is apparently chocolate coin candy and random berries, Mr Whitlocke.”

  Quinn furrowed his brows and gestured protectively at his stash of candy and fruit. “Hey, people keep leaving candy around the lab. It’s not my fault that I have to clean it up. Also, crysmiberries are incredible, you’re all just jealous of my good taste.”

  Lillian had taken the summons with grace and curiosity. Now, she had neither.

  For two hours, she had been planted in a stiff-backed chair beneath the glaring clinical lights of the stark white Unity training hall, listening amongst others in a dozen rows of seats as the speaker at the podium droned on without pause. The woman’s voice, a flat, practiced monotone, listed Unity’s triumphs in exhaustive detail, seemingly never stopping for breath.

  “…agents of Unity worked with researchers to locate polluting sites near the rivers. When our operatives secured evidence, we published the findings, forcing these reckless manufacturers into the light, exposing their blatant disregard for public safety…”

  Lillian fought the urge to shift in her chair. The way they framed it sounded noble. But she had spent enough time sifting through independent reports to know the full picture wasn’t that simple. Unity’s “exposés” weren’t just about rooting out corruption—they were about controlling the narrative, placing themselves as the sole force for justice, and painting local industries as villains, whether they deserved it or not.

  She wasn’t the only one unimpressed.

  From a few rows ahead, she caught the voice of an Astator she had studied under speaking low but distinctly.

  “…Can’t believe they’re still pushing this angle. Even the reports I’ve seen in the small papers show half those claims didn’t hold up under scrutiny.”

  Another voice, unfamiliar but clipped, responded. “Doesn’t matter. Perception trumps truth. The right message at the right time, and people stop asking questions.”

  Lillian pretended not to hear, but she was listening.

  Her fingers tapped a slow, unconscious rhythm against her knee as she silently repeated their words. If screened attendees had reservations, then Unity’s messaging wasn’t airtight.

  A figure slid into the seat beside her. Lysa Krennik.

  Lillian tensed. A coincidence? Not a chance.

  Lysa’s expression was cool, her gaze sweeping over Lillian before settling on the stage again. When she spoke, her voice was smooth and practiced, with a measured warmth that didn’t reach her eyes.

  “You should be paying closer attention, Lillian.”

  Lillian tilted her head, feigning indifference. “There’s not much I haven’t already heard repeated a dozen times already, seems like I’ve gotten the point already, loud and clear.”

  Lysa gave a light chuckle. “I suppose you have.” She paused for a short moment to straighten her skirt and cross her hands in her lap. “You know, opportunity is rarely extended twice.”

  Lillian knew better than to take the bait. “I don’t recall asking you for one.”

  Lysa sighed, as if mildly disappointed. “We’re capable. Smart. I imagine that’s why Unity took an interest in us in the first place. Why fight it?”

  Lillian exhaled slowly, keeping her expression neutral. “You make it sound like I should be grateful.”

  Lysa smiled. “Aren’t you?”

  Lillian didn’t answer.

  As the speaker at the podium continued, Lillian heard another conversation nearby, quieter.

  “…Her father’s company is still in negotiations with Unity. If she keeps pushing back, they might reconsider their contract entirely.”

  “…That one? Her work is promising, but she’s got the wrong friends. She'll never last here long-term if she doesn’t start prioritizing the connections that matter.”

  “…A shame. If she just aligned herself properly, she wouldn’t have to worry.”

  Lillian’s stomach tightened.

  The casual tearing down of students based on family ties and corporate affiliations sent a chill through her. Unity’s involvement wasn’t just about “uplifting” talent—

  it was about control. Submission. And those who didn’t fit into their vision? They were expendable.

  Lysa watched her reaction carefully.

  Lillian straightened her shoulders, forcing her pulse to steady. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

  Instead, she turned to Lysa and offered a small, polite smile.

  “I appreciate the advice,” she said evenly. “But I’ll make my own choices. It takes everyone’s perspective for true Unity, doesn’t it?”

  For a brief moment, something flickered behind Lysa’s eyes. Amusement? Annoyance? It was hard to tell.

  Then, she simply nodded. “Of course.”

  Lillian faced forward again, her focus sharper than before.

  She had always known Unity’s influence was suffocating. But today, they had confirmed something she had only suspected before.

  Lillian folded her arms tightly across her chest, her back straight, her expression carefully schooled into neutrality. Across from her, Margaret Kain sat behind her polished desk, her neatly clasped hands resting atop a thick stack of reports.

  The office was pristine, the Unity insignia discreetly worked into the decor, a subtle reminder of exactly who held the reins here. The sleek and modern clock ticking away on a shelf and the buzz of the same lights found throughout all of their facilities set a sterile tone of brutal effectiveness and efficiency at any cost.

  Margaret tilted her head slightly, watching Lillian with an air of cool patience. “This is an opportunity, Lillian.” Her voice was smooth, persuasive. “A chance to secure your future.”

  Lillian didn’t shift. “I wasn’t aware my future was in jeopardy.”

  Margaret gave a small, knowing smile. “Everyone’s future depends on the choices they make. And right now, the Royal Academy is at a crossroads.”

  Lillian bit back her retort. She knew exactly what Margaret was getting at.

  The RRA, the standard of academic research in the region, was hesitant about fully endorsing Unity’s involvement in handling the mercury contamination crisis.

  They had already allowed Unity to intervene in certain sectors and to take contracts for updating systems, but pulling their support for longstanding manufacturers and local companies? That was a different matter entirely.

  Margaret continued, her voice smooth as glass. “Your petition for leadership at RRA could help steer them in the right direction.”

  Lillian exhaled slowly. There it was. A polite request. Disguised coercion. Margaret didn’t need to say the rest outright. Lillian was still officially backed by Unity. If she wanted to maintain that social backing, if she wanted to present at the seminar, if she wanted to keep her research sponsorship, then she would have to be an advocate for Unity.

  Lillian chose her words carefully. “You want me to push for them to withdraw support from the local manufacturers.”

  Margaret’s expression didn’t shift. “I want you to advocate for progress. The academy has always sought cleaner materials. Unity is merely providing a pathway to that future. Sign the petition for Unity’s supervision over the showcase presentations.”

  Lillian clenched her jaw. She had spent time gathering independent reports on the crisis. Yes, the mercury levels were undeniable. But the full closure of local operations, without any protections or transition plans for workers, would leave entire regions without economic stability. And Unity knew it.

  Lillian inhaled, holding her stance. “And if I don’t?”

  Margaret leaned back in her chair, unruffled. “Then I suppose the RRA will progress without you.” A pause. “And so will Unity.”

  Lillian’s pulse thrummed in her ears. She wasn’t na?ve enough to think this was just about a single petition. This was a test. If she pushed back, refusing to align herself with Unity’s interests, they would make sure she felt the consequences.

  Margaret studied her for a moment longer, then gave a small, satisfied nod.

  “You’re a bright woman, Lillian. I trust you’ll make the right choice.”