*beep!
With another sharp beep, the datapad mounted on Gelhyne's arm shifted.
The screen that had moments ago been displaying Rox's own information flickered before dissolving back into its default projection.
A hologram of a planet hovered above the device, its pale blue light casting a faint glow across Gelhyne's armored forearm.
Probably this planet we're standing on now,
Rox thought idly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied the image.
She leaned forward a fraction, more out of curiosity than interest, her arms crossed as she shifted her weight onto one leg.
Gelhyne's finger pressed against the screen once more, and the hologram rippled outward, expanding in a burst of translucent light.
The planet unfolded to reveal a broad map, its surface dotted with multiple colored markers that pulsed faintly.
At the very center blinked a green checkpoint, the word Camp highlighted beside it—where they currently stood.
Around the camp sprawled several blue markers, steady and unblinking, each labeled Explored.
They stretched outward like a web of already-secured territory, neat and orderly, showing how far their reach had spread.
But beyond the safety of blue lay the red.
Jagged points scattered across darkened sections of the land, each one marked with bold text: Potential location.
They glowed faintly, ominously, highlighting places untouched, unexplored, and therefore dangerous.
Rox tilted her head slightly as her gaze lingered on the red markers.
Gelhyne's voice continued steadily as her finger tapped across the hologram.
She spoke with practiced authority, laying out her strategy:
groups of scouts would advance into the uncharted zones, each supported by squads of soldiers, combing through the wilderness piece by piece until the ruin they sought was finally uncovered.
Her words were precise, her tone clipped, each order spoken as though carved in stone.
To Rox, however, the precision carried no weight.
The longer Gelhyne spoke, the more her voice seemed to stretch into monotony.
The details—checkpoints, squad distributions, escort rotations—blurred into a dull hum that buzzed against Rox's ears.
She fought the urge to yawn, her eyelids lowering slightly as her mind drifted.
Irritation welled in her chest.
The complexity, the endless droning of logistics, grated on her nerves.
Does she ever stop talking?
Rox thought, shifting her arms tighter across her chest.
To her, the grand "plan" was nothing more than a long-winded explanation that drowned out the only thing that mattered—
finding the ruin.
*Sigh!
Rox let out a loud, exaggerated sigh that cut across the hum of voices, sharp enough to make heads turn.
The sound filled the tent and snapped Gelhyne mid-sentence.
Her eyes shifted immediately, narrowing as she regarded Rox with a faint trace of annoyance.
"Why do we even need to do all these?"
Rox asked bluntly, her tone careless as she leaned her elbow on the table and propped her cheek against her palm.
The faint tilt of her head, coupled with the boredom dripping from her voice, made it seem like she was enduring a lecture at school rather than sitting in the middle of a war camp.
Gelhyne's eyes flickered.
"What do you mean—?" she began.
"I can just find the ruin for you with my ship."
Rox's tone was swift, confident, and absolute, a smirk tugging faintly beneath the shadow of her helmet.
She tapped her finger lightly on the table before adding,
"I'm sure my ship will be capable."
The words rippled through the chamber.
Silence fell at first, heavy enough that the faint crackle of the camp lights outside became audible.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke, each person processing what Rox had just claimed.
Then the murmurs started, small voices rising one after the other, their disbelief and intrigue buzzing through the air.
"Your ship is the Nightjarr, correct?" Gelhyne finally said, her voice steady but sharpened as her gaze fixed on Rox.
She waited for the subtle nod before continuing.
"I've heard of the ACE series of spacefighters. Manufactured by the Corvi Empire—built for the best of the best. And the Nightjarr…"
Her words trailed for a moment, as if testing the sound of it.
"It is specialized. Designed for stealth, infiltration, and scouting deep into hostile territory."
"Mhm," Rox answered with a smug little smirk, leaning back slightly as if the murmurs in the room amused her.
"Well, yeah—stealth is one thing. But scouting isn't really my expertise."
She leaned forward again, her tone shifting, playful yet teasing.
"Still, I could do it. Your wish is my command afterall, my lady."
The mockery in her words made a few shoulders stiffen, but Gelhyne didn't waver.
She held Rox's gaze firmly, her voice cold when she replied.
"Fine."
Her eyes narrowed, locking like steel on the helmeted pilot.
"Change of plans. We'll leave the scouting to Rox. We'll decide our next move once she returns with her report."
*clap!
"Perfect," Rox replied instantly, clapping her hands together once in mock enthusiasm.
Rising to her feet, her figure cast a sharper silhouette in the glow of the projector light.
The others still seated had to tilt their heads upward to follow her movements.
"Since the sun seems to be setting, I'll go retrieve my ship—since you all dragged me here in the first place!"
Her words dripped with sarcasm, but behind the half-playful bite, her movements were purposeful,
almost urgent.
Deep inside her helmet, unseen to the others, her expression was deadly serious.
Her pace was not that of someone stretching her legs—it was of someone racing against time.
Gelhyne's eyes lingered on her longer than the others, suspicion rising at the faint tension in Rox's posture.
She gave no outward sign, but her fingers moved to a small switch on her datapad.
With a press, the holograms collapsed, the planetary map dissolving back into nothing.
"Very well," Gelhyne declared, her voice clear and commanding.
"Since nothing further is to be discussed… this meeting is adjourned."
Rox didn't even wait for the words to finish leaving Gelhyne's lips.
She turned on her heel and strode out of the chamber, her steps brisk, almost too brisk.
Urgency clung to her like smoke.
From behind, Gelhyne's eyes followed.
And when she too moved, her steps were measured, silent, weaving through the crowd with precision.
She slipped into the throng of soldiers and scholars outside, her presence barely noticed as she shadowed Rox with calculated distance.
Rox pressed forward through the sprawling encampment, weaving between tents, carts, and supply crates.
The chatter of soldiers, the scratching of scribes, the metallic clatter of engineers working on equipment—all of it blurred into meaningless noise as her body screamed in protest.
The farther she walked, the hotter it became, an unnatural fire spreading through her veins.
"Haah… Haah…"
Her breathing grew ragged, her chest tightening with every step.
Within the confines of her helmet, sweat clung to her brow as her body burned, as though her very blood had ignited into flames.
She staggered briefly at the camp's edge, the shadows of the outer walls stretching across her frame.
Her hands shook as she rummaged through the folds of her cloak, fingers desperate as she fumbled through pouches and straps.
Finally, she grasped a small metallic cylinder—the injector.
Relief flickered briefly in her trembling grip.
But the burning in her body was too much.
Her hand spasmed, and the device slipped through her fingers.
*Clatter!
The injector hit the stone and rolled, bouncing lightly as it spun further and further from her reach.
Her eyes widened beneath the visor.
"No—"
she rasped, staggering forward, but the injector continued its path until it stopped at a pair of boots.
Gelhyne.
She bent down slowly, fingers wrapping around the device as her sharp eyes locked onto Rox.
Rox's voice trembled with strain as she half-fell forward, her hands clenching desperately.
"Give that… to me…" she hissed, each word broken, her breath ragged.
Her body shook visibly, her strength draining as the fire inside her continued to burn.