Chapter 38: Corporate Blood Money

The command elevator surged upward with a metallic screech, the floor plates vibrating beneath their boots. Phoenix leaned back against the steel wall, catching her breath as the crimson light in her eyes settled into a steady, predatory gleam. Killian stood at her left, his massive frame still radiating heat, his knuckles white around the grip of his star-iron greatsword. On her right, Valerie casually leaned against the railing, twirling a high-caliber round between her gloved fingers with lazy precision.

"Try not to shoot the holoscreen this time, Val," Phoenix drawled, throwing her a wicked glance. "We need to actually hear their offer before we reject it."

"No promises, Boss," Valerie smirked, sliding the round back into her tactical belt. "Depends on how annoying their voices are."

The elevator doors hissed open, revealing Outpost 79’s main war room. Soren and Toby were huddled over the central holotable, frantic fingers flying across flickering holographic keyboards. In the corner, Jax had Vice-Headmaster Sterling bound to a reinforced steel chair with heavy carbon-fiber cables. Sterling looked like a battered ragdoll—his expensive silk robes torn, his left eye swollen shut, and cold sweat dripping down his greasy forehead.

"They're waiting, Boss," Soren said, pressing a key to patch the incoming signal into the main projector. "High-security encrypted line straight from the High Council spire."

The central holotable flickered, and three towering, blue-tinted projections materialized above the map.

In the center sat Grand Marshal Vance—a scar-faced, stone-cold veteran with silvered hair and eyes like polished slate. To his left was Director Vane of the Academy Financial Board, thin-lipped and pristine in a high-collared velvet suit. To his right projected the shimmering emblem of the Imperial Directorate.

"Phoenix Wraith," Grand Marshal Vance began, his deep voice carrying through the speakers with heavy, booming authority. "You’ve turned Sector Seven into a war zone and taken a senior member of the Academy Board hostage. Do you have any idea what kind of death sentence you've signed for yourself and your disgraced squad?"

Phoenix strolled up to the holotable, stepping right through the projected light of Director Vane’s face. She leaned over the edge of the console, resting her chin on her hand, a lazy, razor-sharp smile cutting across her lips.

"Save the speech, Vance," Phoenix purred, her tone dripping with casual disrespect. "You don't give a shit about Sector Seven, and you care even less about this sniveling coward sitting in the corner."

Jax gave Sterling’s chair a heavy kick, making the Vice-Headmaster shriek in terror. "P-Please! Vance! Pay them! They're absolute monsters—they crushed the entire garrison in five minutes!"

Director Vane adjusted his monocle, his expression cold and unimpressed as he looked down at Sterling. "Vice-Headmaster Sterling's tactical failure at Sector Seven has cost the Academy billions in lost infrastructure and dark-matter assets. He is... expendable."

Sterling’s face turned ghastly white. "Vane! You bastard! I’ve served the Board for twenty years!"

"Shut the fuck up," Killian growled, stepping into the holotable’s light. His broad six-foot-four frame blocked out half the projection, his stormy blue eyes locking onto Grand Marshal Vance with terrifying intensity. The dark star-iron on his chest gleamed under the console lights, sending a clear message: Squad Outcast wasn't playing games.

Vance’s cold eyes shifted to Killian, narrowing slightly. "Cadet Killian. A promising Vanguard soldier, throwing his life away for a rogue defect."

"I am where I belong," Killian replied coldly, resting a heavy hand on the pommel of his greatsword. "And if you want your Vice-Headmaster breathing by sunrise, you’ll listen to the Boss."

Phoenix chuckled, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the console surface. "Here’s the deal, gentlemen. You’re going to deliver ten dark-matter cores, five crates of military-grade star-iron ingots, and full amnesty clearings for everyone in Outpost 79. You drop them at the Sector Seven drop point by dawn, or I send Sterling back to the Spire in a body bag. Piece by fucking piece."

Director Vane sneered, leaning forward in his holographic chair. "And what stops us from dropping an orbital kinetic strike directly on Outpost 79 the moment we drop the supplies?"

Before Phoenix could speak, Valerie stepped up, resting the long barrel of her anti-materiel sniper rifle right on Phoenix’s shoulder. She aimed the barrel directly at Vance’s projected head.

"Because the second an imperial ship enters our airspace without clearance," Valerie said, her voice smooth, icy, and completely deadly, "I punch a dark-matter round straight through your orbital relay’s primary power grid. You'll be blind in Sector Seven for a month. Try us."

Silence stretched across the war room, heavy and suffocating.

Grand Marshal Vance stared down the three of them—Phoenix’s lethal confidence, Killian’s unbreakable wall of muscle, and Valerie’s sharp, unblinking sightline. A slow, dark grimace crossed Vance’s scarred face.

"Ten dark-matter cores," Vance grunted, his voice tight. "And five crates of star-iron. The drop will be made at 0500 hours. If Sterling isn't alive when the automated transport returns, there won't be a hole in this wasteland deep enough to hide you."

"A pleasure doing business with you, Marshal," Phoenix winked.

She slammed her palm down on the console, severing the connection and cutting the holoscreen to black.

The room erupted into cheers. Jax let out a wild war whoop, tossing a combat knife into the ceiling beam, while Toby and Soren high-fived over the workbench.

"Dawn's in four hours, Boss," Killian said softly, stepping up right behind Phoenix. His broad chest brushed her shoulder, his heavy, warm presence settling over her like a cloak. "What are your orders until then?"

Phoenix turned around slowly, her dark eyes flashing as her gaze drifted from Killian’s hard, expectant jawline over to Valerie, who was casually leaning against the doorframe, a filthy, promise-filled smirk playing on her lips.

Phoenix reached out, grabbing Killian by his leather collar and pulling him down for a hard, lingering kiss that left him breathless, before cutting her eyes back toward Valerie.

"Orders are simple," Phoenix purred, her voice low, raspy, and full of trouble. "We rest, we reload... and we finish what we started in the garage."