Intergalactic conquest with an AI

The envoy's frown deepened, clearly unimpressed. Before he could respond, Nyra leaned against the hood of the car and added, "Oh, and tell your boss to get ready. We're about to kick off the operation she promised to help us with."

Her blunt words earned a sharp glare from the envoy, who adjusted his gloves with an air of irritation. "Charming as always, Miss Nyra," he said with his voice laced with sarcasm. "I'll pass your message along. Rest assured, we humans always keep our word, unlike... certain individuals who think arriving hours late is acceptable."n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Lyra stepped out of the car with a sigh, shaking her head at her sister. "Nyra, could you try not to antagonize everyone we meet? Just once?" She said with her voice, carrying a mix of exasperation and amusement.

"Why bother?" Nyra replied with a smirk while glancing at the envoy. "He's already got a stick so far up his ass that nothing I say will make it worse."

The envoy's face twisted with disgust, but he quickly composed himself. "Enough of this nonsense," he snapped, clearly eager to move on. "Where's the boy?"

At this, Erik nervously stepped out of the car's backseat, his eyes darting between the twins and the envoy. He looked like he had a thousand questions but was too overwhelmed to ask any of them.

Nyra gave him a gentle nudge forward, her tone unusually playful. "Go on, kid. Time to meet your new friends."

The envoy's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Erik with his gaze cold and clinical. "So this is the child," he said with a tone devoid of warmth. "He doesn't look like much."

"Hey!" Nyra snapped, stepping between the envoy and Erik. "Watch your mouth. That 'kid' has been through hell. Show a little respect."

The envoy raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by her sudden defensiveness. "Respect? For a slave boy? Let's not overstate his importance," he said while turning to Lyra. "You metahumans may have your eccentricities, but don't forget who you're dealing with."

Lyra's expression darkened, her crimson eyes flashing dangerously. "And you shouldn't forget who made this operation possible," she said coolly. "Without us, you wouldn't even be on this planet right now. So maybe you should show a little respect."

For a moment, the envoy seemed taken aback, but he quickly masked his surprise with a haughty sniff. "Very well," he said curtly. "The boy will be taken into our custody. I'll ensure he's delivered to a safe location as agreed."

Erik glanced nervously at the twins, unsure of what to say. Nyra walked toward Erik, her mischievous grin softening into something more genuine. "Hey, don't worry, kid," she said, ruffling his hair. "You're in good hands. Just stick with them, and you'll be fine."

"Are... are you sure?" Erik asked hesitantly, his voice trembling.

Lyra nodded, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Yes, we're sure. They'll take care of you. And if they don't..." She glanced at the envoy, her eyes narrowing into a subtle but unmistakable threat. "We'll know."

The envoy cleared his throat, clearly eager to end the interaction. "If you're done with your sentimental goodbyes, we'll be leaving now. We have more important matters to attend to."

"Yeah, yeah, take good care of him, or you'll have us to deal with," Nyra said, waving him off. "Now go. We've got our own plans to deal with."

As the envoy led Erik toward the shuttle, Nyra leaned back against the car, watching them board. Once the shuttle ramp closed and its engines began to hum louder, she turned to Lyra with a sly smile.

"So, what's next?"

Lyra checked her holo-display, pulling up a map of the planet. A series of red dots marked their next targets, key facilities owned by Nexun Dynamics that they were about to dismantle.

"Next," Lyra said with a small, dangerous smile, "we take the fight to them."

Nyra cracked her knuckles, her grin widening. "Good. It's been too quiet lately."

The twins climbed back into the car, their next destination already locked into the GPS. As the shuttle carrying Erik ascended into the atmosphere, the twins sped off into the night, leaving nothing but dust and chaos in their wake.

"Captain, we've got a call from the military!" A city guard burst into the office of the Captain of the City Guards, panting as he delivered the news.

The captain, a portly man with a greedy glint in his eyes, immediately perked up. "Oh! They probably want to inform me that they've taken care of those pesky terrorists," he said with a smug grin, rubbing his hands together like a man counting his profits before they even arrived.

"Hurry, connect me with them! I want to ask if we can handle the... cleanup."

It was no secret among his subordinates what "cleanup" meant. The captain had been salivating over the thought of confiscating the sleek supercar the supposed "terrorists" were driving, surely a vehicle fit for someone like him in his deluded imagination.

After a few clicks on the communication terminal, a holographic figure of the military defense forces commander appeared before the captain. The commander stood stiffly, his posture sharp and his expression unreadable.

"Ah! Commander, nice to see you again!" the captain said, practically oozing fake charm. "So, did you apprehend the terrorists?"

The commander nodded curtly, his tone firm and professional. "Yes, the situation has been handled."

"Oh, excellent! Excellent! I knew you'd take care of it." The captain's grin widened as he leaned forward, practically licking his lips.

"And since I know you elite soldiers don't like to get bogged down with menial work, let me take the burden of the cleanup off your hands. The city guards will handle it, and you can move on to more important tasks!"

The greed in the captain's voice was so obvious that even the most clueless observer would notice it. His eyes practically glowed with avarice as he imagined the car, his car shining in his personal garage.

The commander let out a long audible sigh. For a moment, the silence stretched, and the captain's grin faltered slightly as he noticed the cold, unblinking expression on the commander's face.

Then the commander spoke, his voice colder than ice and sharper than a blade. "Captain of the Guards, under the authority of military law, you are hereby under arrest for fabricating false information, wasting military resources, and mobilizing the defensive forces for personal motives."

The captain's jaw dropped, his grin vanishing as panic began to set in. "W-Wha—What are you talking about!? I didn't lie in any of the information I gave! You—you must be mistaken!"

He stammered, his voice rising in desperation. Then his tone shifted, becoming accusatory. "Now I get it! You're all in on it! You're working with those criminals! This is a conspiracy! I'll take this to the mayor!"

He spun around and began furiously punching buttons on his desk, attempting to contact the mayor, but the call wouldn't go through. Each failed attempt only made him more frantic.

The commander watched him coldly, his expression unchanging. "It's useless," he said flatly. "Your corruption has already been reported to higher authorities. If I'm not mistaken, the military police should already be at your location."

As if on cue, the doors to the captain's office burst open, and a squad of soldiers clad in black tactical armor stormed inside, their rifles trained on the captain.

The captain froze, his face draining of color. "W-Wait! What is the meaning of this?! This is theft! Treason, I tell you!" He shouted, his voice cracking as he backed away, his legs trembling uncontrollably.

One of the soldiers stepped forward and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him toward the door as the captain continued to shout. "Unhand me! This is a mistake! A terrible mistake! Do you hear me?! I'm the Captain of the City Guards! You'll regret this!"

The commander's holographic form remained impassive, his voice firm as he issued his final order. "Take him to the military prison."

The captain's protests faded as he was dragged out of the office, his shouts echoing down the hall. Moments later, the sound of a transport ship taking off from the roof signaled the end of his career and likely his freedom.

Back at the military command center, one of the commander's officers stepped forward, his face a mix of irritation and disbelief. "Sir, are we really going to do what those... criminals told us to do?"

The officer's tone was laced with disdain, and the others in the room murmured their agreement, their pride clearly bruised by the events that had just unfolded.

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The commander turned slowly to face his subordinate, his expression unreadable. "Yes," he said simply.

"But, sir!" the officer protested, his voice rising. "They humiliated us! They manipulated us into doing their dirty work! We can't just—"

The commander cut him off with a sharp glare, his voice steely. "Do you have any idea who or what those 'criminals' are?"

The officer faltered, his indignation giving way to uncertainty. "I... I know they're powerful, sir, but—"

The commander stepped closer, his tone low and grave. "They're not just powerful. They're dwellers. Do you know what that means?"

The officer swallowed hard, his bravado crumbling. "They're... from the underground city," he muttered.

"Exactly," the commander said. "And every time we've faced them, we've been wiped out. You've seen the footage. You've read the reports. These aren't enemies we can fight with numbers or firepower. If we had engaged them directly tonight, we would all be dead by now."

The room fell silent, the weight of the commander's words sinking in.