Ambling through the music-filled hall, I slipped between clusters of nobles dressed in lavish suits and over-embellished gowns, my steps careful to avoid stepping on any trailing skirts.
I spotted Samuel and the others and made my way toward them.
He let out a whistle the moment he saw me. "Good for you, Firefly. First time in the palace and you're already the Empress's official escort. What's next? Courting her little brother?"
"Urgh!" I recoiled, cringing. "You're still not over that? It's been three months."
"Absolutely not," Sam grinned. "You'll never live that down as long as I'm breathing." He gave me a once-over. "You look good, though. Better than me in my primitive getup."
He puffed out his chest like a rooster, showing off the reptilian grey suit stitched with bones. Twin halves of a dragon's skull were mounted on his shoulders—impressive, if a bit theatrical. His outfit screamed dragon.
"You sure?" I lifted my arms uncertainly. "I feel so... exposed in this thing."
"At least you're not dressed like a farmer," Alex muttered.
I turned to him and tried not to laugh. Dressed formally, yes—but the boy had a wheat stalk sticking out of his chest pocket like some kind of rustic accessory.
"You both look great," I offered. "Compared to the rest of the Empress's guests, I'd say we're only mildly underdressed."
"Speak for yourself," Sam grumbled, glancing around. "Still, you're not wrong."
Everywhere I looked, the nobility had outdone themselves in ways that defied practicality. A woman drifted by wearing a veil of chainmail and a face net. An old man in a cloak made entirely of fresh flowers. Then there was the woman in a skin-tight black bodysuit covered only by strips and ribbons in fluorescent colours.
Freya sighed beside us, the pale blue fabric of her uniform-dress flowing with the motion. "I have no idea what you're all complaining about. Have none of you learned to enjoy fashion?"
"Not in the slightest," Alex said flatly.
"If it's comfortable, that's all that matters," I said without remorse.
"It just needs to keep me warm," Sam added.
Freya gasped, scandalized. "You three are unbelievable! Especially you, Firefly!" She stomped her foot and twirled in her outfit, dramatic as ever before reaching for my hand, I instinctively pulled it back. "Clothes are about accentuating your body! Making yourself shine so brightly people go blind from your beauty! Why are you all so boring?"
"This feels more like a comic convention," Alex mumbled, brushing the wheat stalk out of his face. "I like anime and all, but outfits like this should stay in 2D."
I didn't know what a comic convention was, but it seemed to strike a nerve. Sam burst out laughing. "Hahaha! You're so damn right, Alex! Ehehehe~—"
Freya slugged him hard in the ribs, cutting off the laugh into a wheeze.
"Okay, okay! I'll stop. I'll be nice for your royal nerdiness—hee! Pahaha!"
"You're so childish." Freya rolled her eyes and took a drink from a passing tray, ignoring the continued snickering from Sam and Alex.
I avoided the alcohol, remembering the drinking contest with Her Majesty after our lunch escape. I was lucky my AKP metabolism burned it off so fast—I still hadn't recovered from the embarrassment of having the Empress watch over me until I sobered up.
Scanning the hall again, my gaze found Zero. Still with Minister Whalen and General Foster.
Curious, I asked, "Sam, do you know why Zero is with your father and that man?"
His laughter tapered off, and he nodded. "Yeah. Zero joined my dad's battalion. They arrived together. My father was... let's say, thrilled. As for the old guy? That's Minister Whalen. He's part of a subsidiary family under Marquis Illeniast from the Greyrot quadrant. Technically, nobles aren't supposed to fraternize with Constellation Knights, so it's weird seeing them talk so openly."
"It's because Minister Whalen is Mister Foster's main sponsor," came a sudden voice from behind.
We turned to find a nobleman dressed in a dark, silk kimono embroidered with drifting cherry blossoms. He had a neatly kept goatee and an air of composed authority.
"In formal terms," he continued, "they're merely discussing battalion finances. But anyone with eyes can see it's more than that."
Sam stiffened beside me and nudged my arm. "The Marquis Sakainta. Bow."
We obeyed instantly, following Sam's lead.
"Good evening, Marquis Sakainta," Sam said, his tone courteous but cool. "It's our pleasure to be in your presence."
"You humble me, Star Pilot," the Marquis replied, bowing in return. He and Sam straightened in sync. The rest of us rose a moment later, slower and far less coordinated.
"You know the etiquette well, Sir Samuel," Sakainta said. "Your compatriots, however, still have much to learn."
"Please forgive us, my lord," Sam said smoothly. "We're soldiers. We know nothing of refined interaction."
The smile on his face wasn't real. I'd seen that kind of performance before—like the assassin Oscar in the park. Cold charm stretched like a blade beneath velvet.
"Stop staring at me," Sam whispered, "and focus on him."
I blinked and turned my gaze toward the Marquis—only to find him already watching me, amusement lighting his eyes.
"You're certainly more fit for the battlefield, Pilot Firefly," he said, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. "Your efforts during the Ishimura defence didn't go unnoticed. Losing that checkpoint would've been a disaster for the Empire's military." He patted once, then withdrew.
On my shoulder where his hand had been, he left a delicate origami cherry blossom. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.
I plucked the paper flower from my scarf, turning it between my fingers, a little stunned by the brief encounter.
"I think he likes you," Alex said casually.
Freya squinted at the Marquis's back as he disappeared into the crowd. "If he does, that was a weird way to show it. A fragile lady like Firefly should only be—"
"I will punch you." Freya immediately backed away as I lifted a fist. A curl of hair then fell over my eye, and I blew it aside with a sigh. "It was kind of him to say thank you. I'm just a soldier. He has no authority over me—that's all it should be."
"That's right—but what's this about an Ishimura?" Sam asked, brows raised.
"On the way to Duradel-VXI with my fireteam—where Alex's battalion was besieging—I assisted a Sakainta warship defending a warp tunnel. We captured two of the three Freiheit ships before they could escape. The Ishimura was on its last legs when I got there, seconds from retreat. I helped save the defence by escorting the EMP bomb carriers to the enemy battleships."
Sam and Freya both blinked, astonished.
"You never mentioned that before... did you?" Alex said, looking faintly betrayed.
"How else do you think I got the enemy signal-ID to sneak us past the orbital defence?"
Sam let out a scoff, finally shaking his head. "Now it makes sense. You saved the Sakainta Noblesse Legion's reputation doing that. That cherry blossom Marquis Sakainta gave you—it's a symbol of his favour. It means if you need help, he'll repay the debt... as long as it's within reason."
"You sure know a lot about nobility, Sam," Freya noted.
"I grew up as one," Sam said flatly. "Well—minor noble. My dad's a Constellation Knight and the general of a battalion. Technically, our family is a subsidiary of House Sy'phinetes, since my father married into one. The Duke used to be my de-facto boss, back before I joined the Knights. I'd probably have ended up in the Sy'phinetes Noblesse Legion myself... if Draco hadn't chosen me."
Sam flinched suddenly, head recoiling slightly—Draco was screaming into his earpiece again, probably reminding Sam just how lucky he was not to have been vaporized on day one.
"Pilot Firefly." I turned to my right as Marshal Fraser approached, bowing in greeting. "The Empress is calling for you. Please come with me."
"Of course. I'll see you all in a bit." I waved to the others and followed Marshal Fraser across the hall toward the base of the throne.
Kneeling before the Empress, I spoke with reverence. "My Empress, you called for me?"
Seated in majesty atop her gilded throne, Empress Lucione took a sip of golden wine before placing the glass on a nearby table. "It's almost time for the first dance," she said. "I was wondering... do you know how?"
Lifting my head, I tilted it slightly—my expression said everything. I hadn't the faintest idea what dancing even meant.
The Empress's guards sighed in unison. All except Marshal Excav, who looked visibly delighted by my confusion. Before he could speak, the Empress waved a hand to silence him. Her smile curved slightly.
"Then this will be very fun for us both."
Recognizing my cue, I stepped forward and offered my hand.
The Empress stood and stepped down from the throne. "Madam Firefly," she said, taking my hand, "would you like to be taught how to dance?"
"It would be my privilege and honour to learn from you, Your Majesty."
With her hand in mine, I escorted her toward the centre of the hall. As the orchestra's song faded into silence, she whispered:
"Follow my lead and the music's rhythm. Act on my cues. Imagine you're walking through a minefield. Do try your best to keep up."
'That didn't bode well.' Internally, I groaned. "My best will be done, Your Grace. I won't disappoint."
The music ceased entirely. The nobles backed to the walls, clearing the grand dance floor for the two of us. We stood opposite each other under the crystalline lights of the palace ceiling.
We bowed in sync, then moved. My right hand met her left. My other arm curled gently around her waist. Her free hand rested on my shoulder with practiced ease.
The orchestra struck up again. Trumpets rolled out a regal rumba as the Empress pushed me into motion.
One step per chord. A spin every third trill of the accordion. Step, spin, step again. The floor became a theatre of rhythm and tension. Her movements were smooth and commanding. I followed with a focus I usually reserved for battle.
"You're getting better by the second," Empress Lucione said, voice low and delighted.
I lifted our interlocked hands, and she turned gracefully, her back to my chest.
"I was expecting you to fumble and trip," she continued with amusement. "There was a whole little story in my head—how I'd lift a fallen star from the darkness in a moment of royal mercy."
"If the Empress wishes, I can still arrange that," I offered as I spun her back around, face to face.
She laughed softly, eyes glowing. "No... this is a much better outcome."
We pressed palms and briefly separated, circling each other. The air between us shimmered with momentum.
"How have you gotten so adept at dancing so quickly?" she asked as we reconnected and began to sway.
"You're a good leader, Empress Lucione. That—and the minefield advice helped. It's not too far off from piloting Andromeda, really."
She chuckled, and a sparkle lit her features. "That means more to me than you know, Firefly. Just one more minute, then you're free to rest."
The rumba slowed, becoming something deep and resonant. With practiced ease, we matched its descent, our final steps drawn-out, each movement a reflection of the song's closing breath.
As the last note faded, we parted. We bowed deeply to one another.
Then applause erupted from the walls of the ballroom—hundreds of clapping hands echoing through the chamber.
The Empress extended her arm. I offered mine.
Together, we returned to her throne.
Nods of approval followed us—fellow Star Pilots, nobles, and even Marshal Excav, who joined in the applause with a rare expression of pride.
The next song began, light and cheerful, and couples started filtering onto the floor to dance.
Freya dragged a reluctant Sam out first. I laughed as I saw her spinning him with the force of a typhoon. A younger girl approached Alex, and though he tried to politely refuse, she eventually wore him down. He was pulled out beside Sam and Freya, visibly unsure of what to do with his limbs.
It was an amusing show. I wanted to watch them longer, but... I just needed some quiet now. A moment to myself.
Heading down a corridor from the grand hall, I slipped out onto an open terrace and finally allowed my shoulders to relax. The pressure of countless watching eyes faded as I leaned against the cold stone banister, taking in the sparkling city below—Trigrata glowing with a thousand festival lights under the open, star-smeared sky.
A slow breath left my chest, tired and heavy. I felt like I could sleep right here, under the stars.
"Andy... I never want to do anything like that again."
[You will be safe for at least seven years and six months, Pilot, until the next ordainment,] Andromeda replied with mechanical calm.
I groaned louder this time, huffing into the night.
[You performed admirably, Firefly. Apologies for not being of further assistance.]
"Don't be sorry, Andy." I reached into my blazer and lifted the beetle gently into my arms, hugging him close to my chest. "You've always helped me the best you could. I'm the one who woke you up six months ago, asked you to help me be kind. You always do what I ask."
Andromeda didn't respond with words. Just a quiet, contented stillness as we looked out over the city together, letting the silence carry us for a few minutes longer.
Then, the terrace doors creaked open behind me.
Zero stepped into the night air, two champagne flutes in hand. "So this is where you vanished to."
He joined me at the banister, taking in the same view, his presence calm but heavy. "Wanted to say... you danced well. With the Empress."
"Thanks." I didn't believe the compliment, and didn't try to pretend I did. My eyes stayed fixed on the skyline, not ready to come down from the moment just yet. "We didn't get to talk much yesterday. How've you been, Zero?"
"Rough." He handed me a glass and set his own beside him on the ledge. "Every mission I've had since graduation's been about killing people. Not soldiers. Civilians. Ordinary people who were scared. Who chose Freiheit out of fear."
He stared at his hand like he could still see the blood on it.
"Are we doing the right thing, Firefly?"
I didn't have an answer for that—not one that would help.
Zero pressed on. "Do you know why Freiheit resists the Empire? It's not just to defy authority, or destroy humanity. They believe Freyt has the power to save the galaxy. That if we erase the old systems—the thrones, the marshals—we can guide humanity toward something better."
The words made my blood burn. Hypocritical, sanctimonious blasphemy. I didn't know everything about Freiheit, but I knew enough. They'd rejected every offer of peace, spat on every attempt at cooperation. If they really wanted to save the galaxy, they wouldn't have lit the match that started this war sixty years ago.
But still, Zero looked haunted by the lives he'd taken. "What do you think of them? Of Freiheit. Of the Empire. Do they... seem any different to you?"
"They do," I said, my voice firmer than I expected. Zero flinched, as if he hadn't expected me to answer at all.
"Freiheit's soldiers have no soul. The humans I've met among them were feral, mindless. The AIs—intelligent or not—mocked me for needing a body. They aren't heroes, Zero. They're lost. So lost they believe their delusion is righteousness."
"...How is the Empire any different?"
"There's compassion here," I said. "Real compassion. I've seen Empire soldiers pull each other from fire, throw themselves in harm's way to protect one another. Sure, there are monsters among us. There always are. But a few flaws on a masterpiece don't stop it from being beautiful. Look at this city, Zero. Look at what humanity has built. Has any machine, any follower of Freiheit, created something so full of light?"
He said nothing. Just sipped the drink he'd brought and stared out into the shimmering skyline.
"...I guess you're right," he murmured at last. "Machines don't know what beauty is. Only people do." He lifted his glass, tilting it toward me. "Shall we toast, then? To beauty?"
I smiled and picked up the glass he'd left for me. "To the beautiful people."
We clinked our glasses together and took a sip.
But something was wrong. The taste wasn't right. Metallic. Wrong.
[Pilot, your internals have been compromised!] Andromeda blared into my hand. [A stream of microbots was embedded in the drink!]
I dropped the glass instantly, shattering it against the stone. My eyes snapped to Zero.
He looked back at me calmly. Too calmly.
[Executing mental attack countermeasures. Stay strong, Pilot!]
I moved—tried to open my mouth, tried to force myself to vomit, to purge the machines out—but Zero's hand seized my arm, his grip iron-tight. Panic surged up my spine as I stared at him.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, almost like he meant it. "I wish we had more time, Chief Freyt."
A voice approached from behind.
"It's no trouble," said Minister Whalen as he stepped onto the terrace, bald head catching the light. The same man Zero had spoken to back in the hall. "You care for your sister. I understand. Soon, she'll see the truth. Just as we do."
His hand reached for me, and I couldn't move—couldn't think. He seized my face in his steel grip.
And then—The machines within my body moved. Rushing through my nerves, past Andromeda's defences, into the core of my mind.
A blink later, I wasn't inside myself anymore.
I was between his fingers.
Held. Owned. Like a puppet attached to strings.
"You have a very important role tomorrow, Andromeda's pilot," Whalen whispered. His voice echoed like a command written into my bones. "Empress slayer."