Chapter 161: Taking Control
Xavier didn’t speak when the guards came for him. Just stood up when they ordered and let them drag him across the hallway. The cold cuffs dug into his wrists. The corridor smelled like cheap steel and sterilized sweat.
They brought him to a grey room. Lights were too bright. One chair. One table.
And the commander was already waiting.
He leaned forward with a grin.
"Let’s not waste time. Who’s the traitor in my team?"
Xavier scoffed and sat down. "You’ll kill me if I tell you."
The commander smirked. "I’ll kill you either way. But if you tell me, I’ll make it quick. Clean. No pain."
Xavier looked him dead in the eyes. "I don’t mind pain. And I don’t really care about dying either."
The commander’s smile twitched.
He opened his mouth to say something—but then—
BWWWWAAAAAH!
The alarms blared.
Lights turned red.
A voice cracked through the intercom—"Code Red! Prison Block—escape in progress!"
The commander shot to his feet. "What?!"
A guard’s voice answered through his comms. "The girls. They’re gone! We don’t know how—they just vanished—"
"Impossible!" the commander growled. "Lock the ship down! Deploy all units! I want those two found—alive!"
The guard acknowledged the order.
The commander turned to Xavier, eyes blazing. "You planned this."
He slammed a fist across Xavier’s face.
Blood hit the floor.
Xavier grinned, lip bleeding. "Looks like they didn’t need my help."
The commander stood still for a second, then stormed out.
He didn’t leave any guards behind.
Xavier waited five seconds. Then he turned slightly and bit into the side of his cheek.
Click.
A small device hidden between his gum and molars popped out. Just a black pellet the size of a button.
He twisted it with his tongue, spat it into his palm, and pressed it against the cuffs.
A tiny blue spark.
Click. The cuffs fell off.
Xavier stood up.
Walked toward the door.
The guard outside blinked, confused.
Xavier raised his hand.
CRACK.
The guard’s head twisted sideways with a sick snap. He dropped without a sound.
The gun clattered to the floor. Xavier picked it up.
’Seven use left...’
He looked down at the dead man. "Let’s make ’em count."
Then he disappeared into the hallway.
Xavier moved fast. No wasted steps, no stops, no overthinking.
He dragged the dead guard inside, stripped the body of armor, ammo, and a sleek auto-pistol. Loaded. Two mags clipped to the belt.
He took it all.
Three corners down—two guards appeared from the left. They shouted.
Xavier dropped to one knee and fired twice.
Pop. Pop.
Two bodies hit the floor.
He didn’t slow down. Picked up one of their rifles, slung it over his shoulder. Grabbed a flash grenade from the other’s vest. Four rounds left in the rifle. He checked everything.
Another hallway. One guard. This one reached for the alarm.
Xavier threw the flash grenade, covered his eyes, and stormed through the light.
When the merc stumbled blindly, Xavier kicked his knee backward, cracked his skull against the wall, then took his shotgun. Two shells inside. He kept it.
Every shot mattered now. He counted them with every pull of the trigger.
He ducked into a side room, cleared it in seconds, and found a small locker filled with sidearms and shock blades. He strapped one to his belt and kept moving. The lights flickered red. The alarms were still blaring. That meant Reva and Lyra were still loose.
He stepped into the central corridor. The core section of the ship. Power lines. Supply routes. Crew traffic. Everything connected here—and that’s when he felt it. The pressure in the air. The kind that came before a fight.
He stopped.
Four mercs stood at the far end. Not like the ones he’d slaughtered. These wore tighter suits. Military-grade armor. Their helmets had extra sensors. Their posture was calm.
The elites.
Xavier narrowed his eyes.
They didn’t bring their mechas. They couldn’t. Not inside the ship. Too cramped. Too risky. That gave Xavier the edge.
But only for a second.
He stepped forward. He didn’t speak. He just pulled the pin from a stun grenade and rolled it down the hall.
It popped loud. One of the mercs staggered back. The others adjusted fast.
Xavier fired.
The first shot clipped a knee. The second hit nothing. The third tagged a shoulder. The fourth—
Blocked.
The merc threw something. A knife? A flashbang? Xavier ducked and charged. No time to waste ammo now. He slid under a punch, drove the shock blade into the first elite’s thigh, and twisted hard. Blood sprayed. Screams followed.
Another one grabbed him from behind. Xavier slammed his head back, elbowed the bastard in the gut, and spun with a kick that cracked something. The third pulled a gun. Xavier tackled him into the wall. Gun went off—missed. Xavier didn’t.
He fired three times.
Only one merc left. The quiet one.
This one moved like he wasn’t human.
Meanwhile...
In a dark hallway three levels up, a vent clattered open and two figures dropped out.
Reva landed first. Quiet. Precise.
Lyra followed, panting but sharp-eyed, holding a bloodied blade.
"Left," Reva said, already moving.
"Console room?"
Reva nodded. "We take the ship."
They didn’t stop.
Reva pulled open a panel and jammed her fingers into the wiring. Sparks flew. The lights down the corridor shut off. She turned to Lyra. "Cover me."
Lyra didn’t need to be told twice.
She stepped forward, took position, and waited. Her eyes glowed faint gold. Her ears twitched. She was already shifting. Faster. Stronger. Her tail flicked once.
Footsteps. Reva heard them too.
The footsteps weren’t fast.
They were careful.
Three mercs. Maybe four. Spread out. Trying to corner them.
Lyra tilted her head, ears twitching. "They’re flanking."
Reva didn’t answer. Her eyes were locked on the console. Wires everywhere. Burnt connectors. Fried circuits. She whispered under her breath, "Who the hell designed this trash wiring...?"
Lyra took a step forward. Then another. Her grip tightened on the stolen blade. Her stance was low. Focused. The hum in the hallway told her they were using light dampeners.
"Cowards."
The first one peeked around the corner, rifle up.
Bad move.
Lyra lunged.
The blade went in under his chin before he could scream. The second turned and fired—too slow. She kicked the body into him, dodged left, then carved a clean slice across his thigh. He dropped. She didn’t stop. She jammed the blade into his chest and twisted until he stopped moving.
Blood splattered her face. She barely blinked.
The last one tried to run.
She chased him. Fast. Silent.
He made it five steps.
The thud of his head hitting the floor echoed longer than his scream did.
Reva didn’t even look back.
"All clear," Lyra said, breathing slow and steady.
"I’m almost in," Reva said. Her voice was calm. Too calm. "They used a secondary lock system. Military grade, but nothing I can’t crack."
She tapped the last wire, sparked the terminal, and then slammed her palm on the manual override.
The console lit up.
Blue lines danced across the screen. Internal ship map. Engine controls. Prison logs. Weapon systems.
Reva grinned. "Got it."
Lyra leaned in. "Where’s Xavier?"
Reva tapped through the ship’s internal cams. Most were static. A few still worked.
One showed blood in the hall. Bodies. Bullet holes.
Another showed a broken door.
Another... Xavier. Fighting someone. Still alive.
"There," Reva said, pointing. "He’s close to the core. He’s—"
A new alarm blared.
Red lights washed over everything.
"Lockdown initiated," the ship’s AI announced. "Internal reactor stabilizer disconnected. Meltdown in twelve minutes."
Lyra’s ears flattened. "That bastard commander is gonna blow the ship."
Reva’s fingers flew across the keys. "Not if I take control first."
"Make it fast."
"Already done."
The lockdown symbol disappeared.
Systems unlocked. Life support. Doors. Hangar. All green.
Reva cracked her neck. "We can control everything now."
"What about the mercs?"
Reva’s smile was cold. "Let’s turn the ship against them."