A few days had passed, and Sol had spent most of that time holed up in his base, a secluded, overgrown ruin hidden deep in the abandoned sections of the ship. It had become a second home to him, a place where he could prepare without the prying eyes of those who wanted to use or destroy him. He had been running light training drills, sharpening his reflexes, fine-tuning his abilities, and making sure everything was in place for the inevitable chaos he was about to unleash.
The explosives from Lloyd had arrived, neatly packed and well-maintained, but Sol had never been one to simply use something off the shelf. He had spent hours carefully dismantling and modifying them, adjusting their triggers, ensuring they could be detonated remotely, and even adding some extra flair that only he would find amusing. If he was going to cause a mess, he might as well do it with style.
Between training and prepping, Vera had kept him updated on DreamCorp's movements. The corporation was making some big plays at the upcoming stop, though the exact nature of their interest remained murky. She had managed to secure a detailed map of the station, highlighting key points—DreamCorp's established bases, supply routes, security checkpoints. Sol had studied the information meticulously, memorizing every key location. If he was going to strike, he needed to know the terrain better than his enemies.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden shift in the atmosphere. A deep, resonating chime rang through the ship's massive corridors, followed by the smooth, automated voice of the announcement system:
"Attention all passengers and crew. We are now approaching Zenith-5. Estimated docking time: twenty minutes. The station will be our port of call for the next seven standard days. Please ensure all personal belongings are secured, and for those disembarking, follow the designated routes. Security checks will be enforced upon exit. Have a pleasant stay."
Sol let out a slow breath, stretching his arms as he listened to the announcement echo through the walls of his hideout. It was finally time. The calm before the storm was over. He stood, brushing the dust from his hands before glancing at the modified explosives lined neatly on the table. A small smirk tugged at his lips.
"Showtime."
The ship's massive thrusters hummed as they adjusted for docking procedures, the artificial gravity momentarily fluctuating. Outside his hidden den, the rest of the ship was stirring—passengers readying to depart, merchants preparing to set up shop, and mercenaries and criminals alike plotting their own business ventures. Zenith-5 was a hub of opportunity and danger, a melting pot of every kind of person the galaxy had to offer.
And in the middle of it all, Sol had plans to turn the city upside down.
"System, status update," Sol murmured, stretching his fingers as he stared at the explosives he had been tinkering with.
[Affinities: Illusion - 17%, Plant - 15%, Time - 14%]
[Threat Analysis: DreamCorp presence confirmed at Zenith-5. Multiple high-risk operatives detected. Probability of conflict: 87%.]
Sol smirked. "Well, aren't they eager? Any notable movements?"
[Scanning…]
[New data received: DreamCorp operatives spotted deploying enhanced surveillance drones. Likely objective: Tracking and identifying key threats.]
He exhaled, rubbing his chin. "Guess I'll have to play nice and avoid their sensors for a while. Let me know if any changes happen."
[Affirmative.]
---
Meanwhile, in another sector of the ship, Lloyd sat in his private quarters, letting out a long, weary sigh. His fingers drummed against the armrest of his chair as he stared at the data feed on his terminal. Reports, messages, and encrypted notes flooded his screen, all whispering about the same thing—DreamCorp's movements and the underworld's growing interest in Sol.
He had already given strict orders: none of his men were to leave the ship. Not this week. Not with whatever storm was brewing. Lloyd wasn't a coward, but he wasn't a fool either. He knew when to sit back and watch the fire burn from a safe distance.
Across the underworld, whispers of Sol's impending actions spread like wildfire. Information brokers scrambled to uncover his whereabouts, gangs and crime syndicates debated whether to align with him or sell him out to DreamCorp for favors. There was money to be made, alliances to be forged, and enemies waiting to be exploited. But one thing was certain—Sol wasn't going to stay quiet, and every major player in the sector wanted a piece of the action before it was too late.
---
On another part of the ship, Elise sat in her office, frowning deeply. She hated this feeling—this gnawing sense of uncertainty. She had been trying to contact Sol for days, wanting to get a sense of what he was planning. She knew him well enough to understand that he wouldn't just sit by idly. But he had ignored every attempt to reach him, offering only a single response—a simple winky face.
And for some reason, that made her even more nervous.
Elise rubbed her temple, exhaling sharply before glancing at Asha. "Send out orders," she said firmly. "No one leaves the ship this week. Tell them to stay low, keep their heads down. Whatever Sol is planning, we don't want to get caught in the middle of it."
Asha, who had been equally uneasy, nodded immediately. "Understood. But… do you really think it'll be that bad?"
Elise's fingers tapped against her desk, her mind running through every possibility. "With Sol?" She shook her head. "I don't know what he's planning. But I do know one thing. That damn winky face means trouble."