When the Flying Scarecrow still didn’t respond, the turrets on the General Graham rotated to face it. A final warning arrived.
Countdown: 5 seconds! Cut engines immediately. All crew are to surrender to the boarding guards!
This time it worked. With two seconds left, the recon ship powered down. The docking bay indicator on that side switched to green.
Once the ships locked together, Cole’s crew watched a wave of robots pour out of the transport ship, rifles raised. Little White—now wearing a uniform—hunched in a corner and pretended to be just another terrified crew member. Two civilian officials sprinted straight for the control console to inspect and copy flight logs. The rest were mixed teams of humanoid robots—Destroyers and Avengers—escorting armed human guards.
“Who’s the vice-captain?” one human guard shouted.
“I’m.” Royce stepped forward.
“Your captain, Cole, is suspected of colluding with the enemy and treason,” the guard said. “I’ve been ordered to escort you to the General Graham for detention—and to seize your ship.”
“I believe time will prove us innocent,” Royce replied.
He raised his hands first. The other eleven followed, hands up in surrender.
The guard ordered them into a line. A tall guard began searching each person. After each search, two robots would clamp on cuffs and march the prisoner onto the transport ship.
When it was Little White’s turn, the tall guard’s gaze turned greasy. He wrapped an arm around her slim waist, then let his hands roam far too freely. Little White had already loosened her hair and kept her head lowered so she wouldn’t be recognized. The guard took her silence for fear—and pushed further.
Little White clenched her jaw, forcing down the urge to tear him apart.
The man kept testing the edge of death.
Just as Little White’s restraint was about to snap, Echo—standing behind her—couldn’t take it anymore.
“Hey! What the hell are you groping? We’re not even criminals yet. Show some respect. Or else—”
“Or else what?!” the tall guard snarled. He spun and drove a fist into Echo’s gut, dropping him hard. Then he leaned in, spitting rage. “Respect? You think I can’t shoot you right now and call it an accident…?”
Little White was ready to explode—
—but Notebook and Farmer were both flashing her frantic signals: don’t.
So she swallowed the fury and let the robots march her toward the transport ship.
Once everyone was aboard, the transport ship detached from the Flying Scarecrow and flew to the General Graham. The distance was under a kilometer; they arrived almost instantly. When Little White stepped onto the flagship, there were only three minutes left until Blin’s scheduled strike.
Another group of robots and human guards waited for them. Along the corridor, every so often, an Avenger stood posted with a rifle.
Following the lead guard’s directions, the prisoners lined up and moved forward.
Little White had to admit Wyatt’s idea was brilliant. This way, they’d be “escorted” directly to Cole’s sector. Rescuing him would be effortless.
They hadn’t even gone thirty meters when Little White noticed an Avenger on the side of the corridor staring straight at her.
She met its red optical eyes for a split second—and her systems jolted. She immediately looked away. Avengers could report suspicious behavior to Ogen at any time.
Of course, it happened anyway.
The Avenger raised its rifle and walked straight toward her, voice flat and mechanical.
“You. Stop. Step out of line.”
Little White sighed quietly. Today’s luck really was trash.
She acted compliant, stepped out—
—and when the rifle barrel nearly touched her head, she snapped her cuffs apart. She dropped low, seized the gun barrel, and wrenched.
The Avenger fired on reflex, but the shots tore into one of its own nearby. Before it could process what had happened, it hit the floor with a clang and its weapon was gone.
“Everybody down!” Little White shouted.
She opened fire in a furious sweep. Three Avengers had their heads blown apart instantly. Return fire crackled down the corridor. Little White rolled flat along the floor, scooped up an FBZ rifle, and dropped two more.
Cole’s inner circle seized the moment. A few of them snatched guns from wrecked bodies and joined the firefight. The corridor erupted into chaos—shouting, muzzle flashes, ricochets.
“Hold them for me!” Little White yelled. “I’m letting Wyatt in!”
She spun and cut her way back toward the docking bay. After she terminated several robots in quick succession, her magazine ran dry. Then two human guards appeared ahead, each holding a large-bore repeating shotgun—enough spread to blanket the entire corridor.
Little White moved like lightning. When they fired the first shot, she was still over ten meters away, using a robot wreck as a shield. By the second shot, she was gone—already five or six meters from them.
One guard suddenly heard a crisp click at his belt. He glanced down—
—and felt his soul leave his body.
Two grenades had been hanging there. One was now just a fuse. The other was now just a grenade.
Next second—
Boom!
And the next—
Boom!
As the two men were blown into shredded meat, Little White hurled another grenade down the corridor. When it detonated, the enemies clustered near the transfer bay were basically wiped out.
She sprinted to the airlock. A human guard was still alive by the wall—missing a leg and screaming.
It was the tall creep from earlier.
He tried to raise his weapon. Little White kicked it away, then yanked the dagger from his chest harness and drove it in again and again—until he made no sound at all.
After that, her anger finally drained.
She tied back her hair, pulled the handle, and opened the outer airlock door.
Through the glass, the battlefield outside looked completely different now. The blackness of space was filled with violent flashes. Warships were turning hard—some firing, some burning, some exploding. Carriers were frantically launching fighters. Far away, a vivid purple beam burned across the void like a god’s fire.
Little White realized what it was.
A laser pillar from the Genesis.
Two figures slipped into the transfer bay, blocking her view—Wyatt and Big Blue.
Big Blue carried a coffin-sized crate on its shoulder. Wyatt signed quickly: Blin and Bit had launched the full counterattack.
Little White slammed the outer door shut and opened the inner hatch.
Wyatt stepped in and asked immediately, “How’s it going? Did you get Cole?”
“No. Something went wrong—I got spotted as soon as I came aboard,” Little White said, frustrated.
“As long as you’re fine.” Wyatt’s voice went flat. “Then we assault.”
Up ahead, gunfire suddenly intensified, mixed with frantic shouting. Cole’s people couldn’t hold back the rapidly increasing defenders anymore; they were retreating toward the transfer bay.
Seeing how few of them were left—and how many were wounded—Wyatt drew its twin pistols and charged. Big Blue slammed the crate to the ground and flipped it open.
It was packed with weapons and gear.
Little White reclaimed her twin blades, quiver, and headset, and rushed forward. Cole’s soldiers swarmed the crate, snapping on armor and grabbing guns with practiced speed.
Wyatt, Big Blue, and Little White cleared a wave of enemies—long enough for the squad to finish arming up.
It had been less than a minute, but for them it was a massacre: Vice-captain Royce, Farmer, Magician, and Turkey were dead. Notebook and Zero were gravely wounded. Everyone else was drenched in blood.
But they were clearly veterans of brutal wars. No one panicked. Aside from those treating the wounded, they all looked to Wyatt and waited for orders.
Wyatt assigned tasks fast.
“Little White—take everyone who can still fight and go rescue Cole. Big Blue—you and the wounded hold here, and cover our people when they board.”
“Understood,” Big Blue said.
“Okay. And you?” Little White asked.
“I’m going to find that bastard…”
Wyatt didn’t wait. It sprinted alone toward the ship’s island.
…