? UFS NewsNet // Standard Broadcast Loop – Segment 11A ?

  “Breaking news tonight from Delta-Space: a Federation national traveling aboard the Aurora’s Promise has been detained under suspicion of collusion with an unnamed foreign affiliate operating beyond Corporate Sphere charter. According to onboard security logs, the individual in question engaged in encrypted data exchanges with a private signal routed through Epsilon bandwidth—raising alarms from both Federal and OmniForge authorities.”

  “Sources close to the investigation have confirmed that the passenger, whose identity has not yet been released, is currently being held in isolated stasis and will be questioned by Federation adjudicators upon arrival at a neutral processing station. The Aurora’s Promise, a high-profile vessel operating under a joint-trade corridor, remains in transit. Neither Federation nor Corporate spokespeople have issued formal statements.”

  “This marks the second intelligence-related incident involving the Aurora’s Promise in as many months, raising further questions about security protocols aboard high-priority transit vessels.”

  “We’ll bring you more as this story develops. For now, passengers aboard the Aurora’s Promise are advised to remain calm, cooperate with shipboard protocols, and avoid speculation.”

  The Aurora’s Promise cut through Delta-Space, its hull flashing under star detonations’ erratic glow, eddies rattling the ship like a warning from the void’s restless depths. Inside, plasteel corridors gleamed, minimalist for corporate envoys clutching humming data-pads, their whispers of trade deals laced with nervous glances.

  Genetically engineered ferns, their leaves faintly pulsing with bioluminescence, framed holo-displays of distant worlds, lavender air masking gravitic stabilizers’ hum—essential in a layer where distances shrank drastically, making transit fast but treacherous. A faint ozone tang clung to the air, betraying the ship’s overtaxed recyclers.

  Three figures sat at an obsidian table on the observation deck, drawing wary glances from passengers muttering of ghost blades and bounty nets. The Onryo—fugitive Espiritus from the Federation’s scrapped Project Iron Wraith—blended into the Aurora’s corporate sheen, their polished suits hiding augmented strength and neural implants. Weapons and flickering spectral figures marked them as deadly, a paranoid norm for Espiritus like Lila O’Connell, the ship’s stabilizer, whose presence was vital despite her unremarkable classification.

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  Lila’s aura, while nominally a documented stabilizer, had proven surprisingly resistant to the Onryo’s own pressure. Not overtly threatening, but solid. Present. It didn’t submit the way weaker Espiritus usually did in the proximity of more powerful auras. The Onryo had noticed—but said nothing. Not yet. They were used to stabilizing weaker Espiritus during layered travel. This wasn’t their first shared berth.

  Miyamoto Saito sat, eyes closed, his lean frame in a black suit calm. A worn katana, its scabbard etched with faded kanji, hung at his hip beside an antique coilgun, its grip smoothed by years of use. Spectral Oni warriors, their horned masks glinting like frost, flickered in his aura, keeping others at bay.

  G?tz von Berlichingen, broad in a strained suit, flexed a steel prosthetic fist, its servos humming faintly. His boarding blade and rifle, a weapon intended to be used with an light exo suit and firing smart munitions, matched his spectral Germanic warrior, a brute of iron and fury.

  Julie d’Aubigny, wiry in a high-collared dress, hid laser pistols but openly wore a rapier, its filigreed hilt catching the light. Her spectral dancers, trailing wisps of ghostly silk, swirled in half-formed routines.

  Miyamoto’s sharp gaze drove off nearby onlookers. “The station job was clean,” he said softly, voice cutting through the deck’s low hum. “Kael’s hack sent the Federation chasing ghosts in Beta-Space’s debris fields.” His implants scanned for electronic listeners, a faint pulse at his temple betraying the effort. “But we’re not safe. The Federation’s close, and the Aurora only allowed all three of us a single berth because our harmonized auras reduce the risk of dangerous anomalies.”

  Julie leaned forward, her rapier glinting as she tossed her hair with a theatrical flourish, utterly unworried. “Oh, Miyamoto, this is a grand corporate liner! No Fed cutter dares pursue us, and ambushes in patrolled space? Pure fantasy! And we owe Kael for this berth—it’s not easy getting past corporate vetting.”

  G?tz’s prosthetic fist clenched, servos whining faintly, as he rumbled with a smirk, “Keep dreaming, Kestrel. Pirates’ll gut anything for a price.” His Germanic warrior flickered, axe glinting, as Julie shot him a glare for the nickname.

  Saito’s eyes narrowed, his Oni warriors pulsing faintly. “Patrolled space means nothing when bounties are high,” he said, voice low and sharp.

  A klaxon blared, red lights pulsing. “General quarters! Gamma Layer breach detected!” the comm roared, its warning of a pirate ambush chilling for a liner in patrolled space. As the Onryo sprang up, a flicker caught their eyes near the ship’s core: an unusual man, his details indistinct, prepping for battle with a 4-meter-tall crimson spear. It was barbed, cruelly wide near the tip, narrowing to a death-point shaped like a reversed fang—like something meant not only to kill, but to twist and ruin on the way out. It pulsed with eerie menace, red gravity rippling along its shaft.

  Miyamoto stood, Oni warriors flaring, their masks casting jagged shadows across the deck. “To the bridge. Protect Lila.”

  The Onryo moved, weapons ready, as screams echoed through the Aurora’s gleaming halls, the ozone tang sharpening with the acrid scent of fear.