In the dimly lit confines of Aquarius's laboratory, Oliver leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the figures before him.
“Is it enough?” Oliver queried as he watched the two scientists. Each was wearing the same worn-out overalls and carrying a plain white mask; their only difference was the inscription on each mask—one had a D1 inscription and the other a D2.
Daedalus-1 and Daedalus-2 exchanged uncertain glances. They scratched at their heads in unison.
“Only 10%?” Daedalus-2 asked, his tone laced with skepticism.
“Ten percent was a feat in itself,” Oliver countered. “We're talking about technology that might belong to the Sovereigns themselves. Besides, it's not like I could ask them to pause their battle while I scanned it a bit more.”
“Right. But this is the first time [Insight] has behaved like that, isn't it?” Daedalus-1 pressed.
"Yes, first time," Oliver confirmed.
“We'll need to dive into the data,” Daedalus-1 elaborated. “You're describing a hybrid armor. Some blend between Artificial Armors and genuine Ranger Armor. It's been attempted a dozen times across the labs. From black-market to imperial R&D, but the Artificial variants always buckled under the strain. They melt or shatter. For one to not only endure but be usable in combat? That's revolutionary.”
Oliver strode to the central table. The chamber fell into silence around him, broken only by the sporadic whirs and beeps of consoles and servers.
It was well past working hours on Aquarius when Oliver finally returned from the summit. Yet, he didn't dare waste a moment. Luckily, Daedalus-1 and Daedalus-2 were still awake, working under the Mecha’s shadow.
The table’s surface shone with blue-tinted glass. Along the edges, ports blinked softly. They were ready to connect to data streams, neural links, and Energy lines from all kinds of devices.
Oliver grabbed one of the cables, its flexible cover twisting like a metal snake, and plugged it into his Gauntlet. The connection linked his mind to the system. Bits of data from his memory began uploading, sending fragments of the Onyx Armor’s schematics to Command Center’s central server.
Within seconds, the transfer finished with a soft chime, and a glowing hologram appeared above the table. It displayed blueprints, energy maps, and cross-sections in a bright blue light. The Daedalus leaned in, their faces lit by the glow, hands moving through the projection to spin, zoom, and examine every detail. They studied the hybrid tech with sharp, focused attention while Oliver stood quietly waiting for their input.
“Impressive,” Daedalus-1 murmured, scratching his face beneath the mask.
“That makes more sense now,” Daedalus-2 said, nodding slowly as his eyes scanned the data.
“I tried to study it, but it was beyond me,” Oliver admitted, leaning against the table with his arms crossed. Over the past three years, he had improved his hacking and engineering skills. But even that wasn’t enough to match the Daedalus.
“It's simple in theory but nearly impossible to copy,” Daedalus-1 explained, pointing at the glowing schematics floating above the table. “From what we can tell, they’re adding an implant to regular Ranger Armor, using Artificial Armor technology as firmware to improve the pilot-suit sync.”
“But we don’t have enough data even to try building a prototype,” Daedalus-2 added, folding his arms.
"Agreed," Oliver said, his thoughts racing. "But why push for that much just to improve control? What advantage does it give?"
“You say that because your armor syncs at maximum Synchronization,” Daedalus-1 explained, his tone patient yet laced with the thrill of a theoretical breakthrough. “But not every Ranger bonds so flawlessly. And what if, instead of capping at a hundred percent, you pushed beyond? Overclocked the system into realms uncharted?”
"Beyond?" Oliver echoed.
“I'm theorizing,” Daedalus-1 admitted, eyes glowing with excitement as he studied the projection. “But if you’re facing a Sovereign, why limit yourself to a Z-Crystal’s steady power? You could, for example, burn through it fast, in days or even hours, trading endurance for explosive strength.”
“I can’t imagine anyone surviving that,” Oliver said as he pictured Rangers burned out, their suits collapsing in violent overload.
"Maybe not," Dedalus Two replied, a spark of excitement breaking through his usual caution. "But think about the value. A team trapped, facing a Red Ork or worse, a Titan, outmatched and desperate. Crank the power, drain the crystal, and go out in one devastating strike."
“Sure,” Oliver said slowly, his mind racing, “but that would take a constant flow of Crystals. It would take fleets to move shards from mining sites to the front lines.” He glanced at the Daedalus. “Could we even try building a prototype?”
“With the amount of Daedalus we have? Not a chance,” Daedalus-2 shot back without hesitation. “We're still wrestling with this beast.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the colossal Mecha lurking in the shadows. “And that's on top of overseeing the factory lines.”
Oliver paused for a moment, scanning the holographic schematics one more time.
“Find more data,” Daedalus-1 said, breaking the silence. “Send spies into Lot's territory. Steal blueprints, intercept shipments. With more data, we might be able to replicate this.”
"Will do," Oliver replied with a tired nod, exhaustion tugging at him after the long week. "I’ll let you get back to it. If I find anything else, I’ll share it."
The Daedalus waved, already turning their focus back to the massive Mecha, tools appearing in their hands.
Oliver strode toward the massive vault doors. Behind him, their voices carried faintly through the air.
"Starting test number 103."
"Initiating. Power output at 30%."
He had barely stepped through the threshold when a deafening blast shook the floor. Sparks rained down like falling stars as alarms screamed to life, and a panicked voice shouted through the chaos.
"Shit! Shut it down!"
A week had passed since the Senate’s meeting collapsed into chaos. However, its impact still echoed through the Empire. Oliver kept a close watch on the holographic leaderboard, its glowing rankings showing which Great Houses had thrown their power into the war.
“We're still far behind,” Oliver said to Command, his steady voice cutting through the quiet hum of the chamber.
Inside the translucent tank, the old Command, long past its lifespan, had been replaced. The new Command. Oliver knew by the different serial number #1332. Bubbles drifted through the nutrient fluid, warping the figure’s calm features.
“No problem,” the new Command replied, its voice smooth and even. “From your report, time is still on our side. Once the six return from their mission, we’ll send them to reclaim Ork worlds. It could be useful; our Z-Crystal reserves are running low, and raiding them could refill our storage.”
Oliver was about to ask about the six, when the soft whine of the elevator broke the quiet. Access to this level was locked down tight, impossible to enter without the proper clearance. He turned, expecting Thalos to appear.
"We’ve got a problem. Need you in comms, now," Thalos said as the doors slid open, his figure emerging in the elevator’s light. Unlike the last time Oliver had left, this time his face was marked with a bit of sunscreen. He wore a thin white shirt and floral shorts. In addition, there was a small necklace with a surfboard pendant hanging from it.
“Copy that. En route,” Oliver said, sparing a final glance at the tank. He offered a casual wave. “Catch you later, Command.”
“Likewise,” the entity replied, its eyes closing as the tank’s monitors dimmed, slipping into standby mode.
Oliver and Talos stepped into the elevator, the doors closing with a soft hiss. The grav-lift carried them quickly upward. When the doors opened on the second floor, they expected chaos. Technicians rushing between consoles and chatter filling the air. Instead, everyone stood still. People stood frozen, their heads turned toward a single chamber where flickering lights spilled from the open doors, casting a blue and amber glow over the hallway.
Pushing through the silent crowd, Oliver and Talos made their way forward, the others stepping aside with quiet respect.
The communications room was massive. Its curved walls projected dozens of different screens, each one showing a different location within the empire. Along the arc of the room sat the Hermes team, operators plugged into neural links and haptic controls, their headsets streaming constant feeds from probes and outposts.
At the center of it all, Oliver stopped. Every operator turned toward him, their attention shifting to the holographic projection dominating the far wall. “What's the visual?” he demanded, his presence commanding the room.
The Hermes turned their chairs to behold Oliver standing behind them.
“Sir,” Hermes-1 intoned. “A diplomatic vessel is inbound. They're approaching fast.”
“Which Great House?” Oliver asked.
“House Lot’s,” Hermes-1 confirmed.
Oliver clapped his hands twice. The sharp crack broke the paralysis, jolting the room and the corridor beyond back into life.
“Let's move, people! Stations, now!”