Jin Mo took a sip of his sweetgrass juice and asked, “Ferdinand, what do you think of those people?”
The man addressed, Ferdinand, was the commander of Jin Mo’s hired mercenary team, the "Oakleaf Squadron." Towering and stone-faced, Ferdinand’s chiselled features were accentuated by a two-inch scar slashing across his brow, his steel-grey hair standing stiffly upright like wire bristles. His imposing frame and disciplined presence exuded a sense of security that had made him a point of fascination among certain women in the Farr Quadrant.
However, Jin Mo’s appreciation of Ferdinand had nothing to do with his looks. Ferdinand possessed a rare combination of qualities: sharp analytical skills, unyielding caution, and remarkable tactical acumen. Coupled with his steadfast sense of justice, Ferdinand was a man Jin Mo trusted implicitly. Jin Mo often wished Ferdinand would agree to stay under his command permanently—a wish Ferdinand repeatedly declined. It was Ferdinand's prudent leadership that had guided their convoy through countless dangers unscathed.
Ferdinand sat with the posture of a soldier, his back ramrod straight, his gaze unyielding. Once seated, he could remain perfectly still for hours, something that earned Jin Mo’s admiration.
After a long moment of thought, Ferdinand replied, his voice deliberate and steady. “That boy—they call him ‘Master,’ don’t they?—is likely a scion of some powerful family. The three of them are careful, though not without peculiarities. The two bodyguards appear skilled, perhaps beyond what they let on. According to their story, their ship sustained catastrophic damage from a meteor impact. Yet, I inspected their vessel myself. It has reinforced plating, which is highly resistant to such impacts. Oddly, I found no meteor fragments near the supposed breach site.”
Jin Mo’s brows shot up. “Do you think they’re lying? Could they be plants from the pirates?”
Ferdinand shook his head slightly. “Unlikely. I found dozens of corpses on their ship, all equipped with mechs—high-grade ones, at that. These were highly skilled warriors, no doubt about it. And yet, they all perished.” His tone grew graver. “The mechs are strange, though.”
“Strange how?” Jin Mo leaned forward, curiosity piqued. A mech that Ferdinand found noteworthy was no small matter.
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“They’re advanced models—no doubt about that. Imagine over fifty elite warriors, each outfitted with high-grade mechs. Their collective power would be formidable. But the odd part is this: once a mech pilot dies, their mech’s core typically resets, reducing the machine to a baseline ‘white mech’ state. These, however, didn’t reset. Instead, they entered some kind of self-protection mode, locking out all access.”
“Self-protecting mechs?” Jin Mo’s eyes widened in disbelief.
Ferdinand nodded gravely. “That kind of technology is used only by certain influential families or high-ranking military forces. It’s incredibly rare.”
Jin Mo’s face paled. If these mechs were tied to the military or one of the major houses, their involvement could spell disaster for him. “And the ship?” he asked hesitantly.
“It’s just as strange. No manufacturer’s insignia, no registration, no serial numbers. The design is unlike anything available on the open market. And while it lacks any visible weapons, its construction surpasses all current civilian spacecraft.”
Jin Mo’s heart sank. “Are you saying this could be a military vessel? That’s impossible! Military-grade ships have been outlawed for centuries! Even the military isn’t allowed to produce them anymore. Surely, this isn’t—”
“Technically, no,” Ferdinand interjected, “because it lacks weaponry. But it’s dangerously close to crossing that line.”
Jin Mo let out a shaky breath, trying to calm his nerves. “For the love of the stars, Ferdinand, stop scaring me like that. My heart can’t take it.”
Ferdinand allowed himself a faint, humourless smile. “There’s one more thing.”
Jin Mo groaned, slumping forward. “Stars above, will you let me survive this conversation?”
Ignoring the plea, Ferdinand continued, “The damage to their ship does seem to have been caused by a powerful impact. But here’s the catch—there’s no trace of any debris except fragments of the ship itself. Whatever hit them either vaporised completely on contact or left no discernible residue. And it’s not just that.” Ferdinand’s voice dropped, his tone now bordering on ominous. “Fifty elite warriors, dead in what seems to be an instant. Yet, somehow, three people survived. The odds of that are… troubling.”
Jin Mo’s face turned an ashen shade of grey. “Troubling? No. This is a nightmare!” He buried his face in his hands. “Why did I save them? Why couldn’t I have just left them there?”
Ferdinand placed a steadying hand on the table. “What concerns me most is the possibility of pursuit. If whatever—or whoever—attacked that ship learns there are survivors, it’s unlikely they’ll let them walk away. And if it was some kind of natural phenomenon…” Ferdinand trailed off, his eyes narrowing. “Well, let’s just hope it doesn’t happen again while we’re still in its path.”
The ship sailed silently through the void, its occupants lost in their grim reflections. Beyond the impenetrable darkness of space, what awaited them? Jin Mo and Ferdinand no longer dared to speculate.