They rode across scorched ground, where darkness had already seeped back into the soil, as if the plasma storm had never happened.
The Iron Wraith rumbled low beneath Zeros, cutting through the dense flesh of the atmosphere—
when Phoenix suddenly said:
“Zeros.
I’ve located a radio beacon.
Move toward it.”
A marker flashed before Zeros’ pupils—a point, like someone stabbed a knife into the dark.
Without a word, he turned the bike and shot in that direction.
A few minutes later, the fog parted—
and something opened up ahead.
A hole.
Not just a burrow—a nest.
The Skotophagos entrance:
wide, scorched by plasma,
edges melted like glass,
frozen into cold, dead waves.
Zeros slowed down and stopped at the entrance.
The Iron Wraith’s light cut into the darkness.
A tunnel stretched inward, its walls claw-scratched.
And among those marks—
something alien.
Metal.
Broken, crushed into the rock,
buried under layers of dried darkness.
Every so often—
a faint beep.
Barely alive.
Like the heartbeat of something already dead.
It was a probe.
Next to it lay a shattered container—
a ribbed metal shell,
definitely not local:
clean surfaces, factory joints, markings.
Zeros leaned closer, lighting the tunnel’s depth.
“Hm.
So that’s how these assholes got here.”
Phoenix responded instantly, voice tightening—analysis mode:
“Scanning object…”
A second. Another. Then something changed in his tone—
recognition.
“Confirmed.
Identification code: Q-5689Z.
Probe belongs to Quince™ Corporation.”
For a moment, everything went still—like the ship itself had exhaled.
“It was launched… fifty-eight years ago.
Mission objective: genetic delivery of a biological sample.The container inside the nest is a transport capsule.
High probability…
it carried the original Skotophagos.”
The Iron Wraith hummed quietly beneath Zeros—
like even the metal was putting things together.
Blindy, watching through the hologram aboard Z-P-N-E-S 2.0, was so stunned he forgot to breathe.
“Wait—WAIT…”
He leaned closer, eyes wide, trying to glue the pieces together.
“SO… YOU’RE TELLIN’ ME—
these dense fuckers—
are a corporate delivery?!”
A short, stunned pause. Then his brain tried to fix it.
“Huh… yeah… yeah, that makes sense… right?
RIGHT?”
He nodded too fast.
“Total sense—yeah—
that’s—yeah—”
Phoenix answered dryly:
“Yes, captain.
Confidence level: 98.99%.
High probability that Quince™ imported Skotophagos to Erebus.”
Phoenix paused briefly—
that subtle moment where an AI adjusts its conclusion,
making it clear: not certainty, but inference.
“Biased analytical hypothesis:
the likely objective was to clear the surface of native life
to enable extraction of Pyrolytic Vitreum.”
Phoenix’s voice dropped slightly—engineering caution creeping in:
“However…
control over the process, judging by mutation patterns and population scale,
was lost.”
Zeros looked down—at the container, the probe, the fused armor traces.
He slowly stepped off the Iron Wraith and moved closer to the nest,
staring into the thick darkness.
“Yeah.
Don’t be modest, Phoenix.
I’m sure you’re one hundred percent right.
Those corporate assholes pulled this exact stunt.
As always.
And sent us to clean up the aftermath…”
Phoenix replied evenly, with that dry politeness he maintained even under pressure:
“And… considering your tendencies—”
A short pause, almost respectful—
“—toward destruction…
it is likely they expected you to finish
what their biocontainer started.
Clear the region—
either of the monsters,
or the native luminous species.”
His voice deepened slightly:
“What remains unclear…
is the intended outcome.
Did you eliminate their ‘error’—
or, given that you have NOT destroyed the Virtixes—
did you, instead,
interfere with their plan?”
Uncomfortable pause.
“I believe we will find out soon.”