Manhattan, New York

  “Those damned Teleopeans!” The O’Niel’s voice cracked through the marble chamber, sharp as breaking glass. His jeweled rings flashed as he hurled a wineglass across the room. Red droplets spattered the pale carpet, the glass shattering against the far wall.

  A subordinate knelt before him, trembling, eyes fixed on the floor. “My Lord—we failed,” he stammered, voice barely more than a whisper.

  O’Niel’s face twisted, veins standing out at his temples. “You useless trash!” he roared, his fury ricocheting off the gilded ceiling. “It was only a juvenile—and you sent over a hundred people and still couldn’t kill him! What good are you?!” He jabbed a finger at the man, who flinched as if struck. “Get out! I don’t want to see you!”

  “Yes…” The man scrambled to his feet and fled, nearly tripping over the hem of his robe in his haste.

  “A bunch of useless idiots!” O’Niel spat, his voice hoarse. He snatched another glass from the cabinet, hands shaking. Damn it. The warship was only missing one thing—energy.

  He poured himself a brimming glass of red wine, the bottle clinking against the rim. He drank in one long, desperate swallow, as if the alcohol could drown his frustration.

  A voice, clear and unhurried, drifted from behind him. “Actually, there are plenty of energy sources in this world you could choose from, Fenreiga.”

  O’Niel hand jerked, wine sloshing over his knuckles. He spun, eyes wide, the glass trembling in his grip.

  A woman stood in the doorway, poised in a tailored pink suit. Her face was neat, delicate—almost serene. But her gaze was sharp, and the faint smile on her lips was anything but gentle.

  “How did a human get in here?!” O’Niel’s voice cracked, panic threading through his bravado. His security was supposed to be airtight—how had she slipped past?

  The woman’s laugh was soft, almost musical, but it sent a chill down his spine. “Have you never heard one of your humans’ sayings?” she asked, stepping forward, heels silent on the thick carpet. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

  Her smile deepened, polite as a blade. The Frereigan felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck.

  “Unfortunately for you—or perhaps fortunately,” she added, her tone light, “I’m here to propose cooperation, O’Neil.”

  Secret Research Site, Unknown Location

  Several hours had crawled by since the world was irrevocably altered. Yan Qing had not taken a single moment to rest since he first laid eyes on the project brief. The directive before him was clear—seize and stop the alien machines.

  Those were the exact words: seize and stop.

  Not destroy.

  The distinction gnawed at him. Yan Qing felt a deep, bone-weary disappointment with the entire initiative. The limitations imposed by the objective rankled, the lack of resolve in the plan sapping any hope he might have harboured for a decisive solution.

  He stood at the center of the war room, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tie discarded somewhere behind him. His jaw was tight, eyes rimmed red from exhaustion, but he never looked away from the shifting projections that hovered above the table—cross-sections of Earth’s mantle, magnetic field decay curves, energy extraction signatures.

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  The air was thick with tension, heavy with the scent of stale coffee and fear. Government officials and military brass lined the walls, their faces drawn and pale in the blue glow. Some clutched notepads with white-knuckled hands; others simply stared, hollow-eyed, at the data.

  Yan Qing’s voice cut through the silence, clipped and precise. “This configuration isn’t a weapon in the conventional sense. It’s an extractor. A forced conversion system.”

  A general, arms folded, brow furrowed, leaned forward. “In plain terms, Professor.”

  Yan Qing didn’t hesitate. “It eats planets.”

  The words landed like a blow. Silence pressed in, heavy and absolute. Someone shifted in their seat; a pen clattered to the floor and was left there.

  He continued, voice steady but his hands trembling at his sides. “The machine drills into the planetary core and converts matter directly into usable energy. What happened in Los Angeles wasn’t collateral damage—it was load imbalance. The system’s just catching the exponential curve.”

  A senior advisor’s voice trembled. “And you’re certain?”

  Yan Qing didn’t look up. “I’ve run this model seventeen times. The variance is negligible.”

  He finally turned to face them, eyes dark and unblinking. “If it reaches full operational depth, Earth’s core won’t explode. It will collapse inward.”

  That was worse. A murmur rippled through the room, fear and disbelief mingling in the air. Someone coughed, the sound too loud.

  “So how do we stop it?” a voice demanded, brittle with desperation.

  Yan Qing exhaled, slow and tired, shoulders sagging. “I need a working sample.”

  The room froze. Across the chamber, Chen shifted—just a subtle movement, but Yan Qing noticed. Their eyes met for a heartbeat.

  “I can find one for you next time,” Chen said quietly, his voice low and steady.

  Every head turned. Yan Qing closed his eyes for a moment, bracing himself. He’d expected this.

  “We’ve been destroying every Fenreigan machines we encountered,” Yan Qing said, keeping his tone even, but his fists clenched white at his sides. “And I still think that’s the better choice than what I’m doing here.”

  An official—Mrs. Greens—waved her hand, impatience flickering in her eyes. “I understand your concern, Professor. But please remember the order we’ve been given here.”

  Chen’s eyes narrowed, voice cold. “You’re not keeping those machines for safety—you want their power. But you can’t guard them all. Sooner or later, Fenreiga will strike, and your greed will cost you your planet. As a non-spacefaring race, you should reconsider.”

  The words hit the room like a shockwave—conversation died mid-breath, chairs scraped and stilled, and every head turned, eyes wide, to stare at the alien. For a heartbeat, the air itself seemed to vibrate with the force of what had just been spoken.

  “With respect, sir,” Mrs. Greens said, not looking at Chen, “we’ll need to keep this discussion within established human oversight frameworks.”

  Yan Qing’s temper snapped. He stepped forward, placing himself between Chen and the official, his voice tight with anger. “Mrs. Greens, there’s no need to be rude. Chen was willing to help before any of you realized what was at stake. What’s the use of any so-called potential energy source if there’s no planet left to use it?”

  Chen raised his eyebrows, surprise flickering across his face. He’d always known Yan Qing as mild, easy-going. He’d never expected to be defended like this. The thought alone sent a gentle warmth blooming in Chen’s chest, radiating through him even as chaos raged all around.

  Mrs. Greens opened her mouth, ready to retort, but seemed to remember her orders. She forced her words down, lips pressed thin. “Well, I’m just making sure you follow the orders,” she said, voice clipped. “I’m expecting to present the result in a week.”

  Yan Qing turned to her, voice tight, jaw clenched. “You know what, I’m requesting to review this so-called order. Destroying the machine is for the better of all of us.”

  Just because alien technology could solve the energy crisis didn’t mean it justified destroying the planet.

  “I’ll put your recommendation forward to the President,” Mrs. Greens replied, her tone the practiced neutrality of someone who had no intention of doing so. Yan Qing’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek.

  “I’m so sick of bureaucratic bullshit,” he muttered, just loud enough for those closest to hear.

  The room fell quiet again. The only sound was the faint hum of the projectors and the distant, muffled footsteps of someone in the hallway.

  “Please, Professor, you know this requires committee review anyway,” someone offered, as if that would settle anything.

  Yan Qing let out a short, humorless breath. “Exceptional.” He threw his hands up, sarcasm and exhaustion mingling in the gesture. “Well, sorry, but I think I’m finished here for the day.”

  He turned and walked out, shoulders rigid, the door swinging shut behind him. Chen lingered for a moment, gaze sweeping the room, then followed, his footsteps echoing in the silence they left behind.