Outer Sector Outpost 7, Imperial Periphery
The witching hour approached, that deep span of the cycle when even military outposts experience a lull. But tonight, Outpost 7 pulsed with a different energy. The arrival of the 7th Battle Group's lead elements meant overlapping shifts, unfamiliar patrols, and diagnostic sweeps as Navy personnel integrated with the existing garrison structure. It was controlled chaos – precisely the kind Valerius intended to exploit.
He moved through the service corridors, keeping to the shadows, his light combat armor's systems running on minimal power to reduce his energy signature. The portable energy dampener, secured beneath his chest plate, emitted a low-frequency field designed to mask localized energy spikes – essential for handling the unstable core later. His Spatial Sense was pushed to its limit, mapping corridors ahead, sensing the energy signatures of approaching personnel long before they came into visual range.
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Valerius didn't hesitate, melting into the designated tunnel entrance just as two crisp Navy uniforms rounded the far corner, their helmet lights sweeping the main corridor. He held his breath, pressing back against grimy conduits, until they passed. The Navy patrols were more thorough, less predictable than the garrison routine he had memorized.
He continued his route towards the Low Security Wing, utilizing service ladders and rarely used access ways identified by the System. The target, Secure Storage Unit 7-C, was located in a less-trafficked area primarily used for holding confiscated, non-critical materials.
Reaching the corridor outside 7-C, he paused, extending his senses. Empty. The nearest patrol was two sections away. The diagnostic pulse on the local sensor net was scheduled to begin in five minutes, creating a brief window of increased background noise.
He approached the storage unit door. Standard magnetic lock, basic energy field deterrent. Child's play for the System.
'System, override lock mechanism and energy field, Unit 7-C. Mask intrusion signature.'
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With a soft click and a barely perceptible shimmer, the door slid open. Valerius slipped inside, the door hissing shut behind him. The storage unit was small, dimly lit, filled with containers of various sizes holding confiscated junk – deactivated weapons, scrap metal, mundane supplies seized from pirates.
Following the System's location data, he found it in a reinforced plasteel container marked with hazard warnings: 'Unstable Plasma Core – Handle with Extreme Caution – Containment Field Nominal (Degraded)'.
He carefully opened the container. Inside, resting on dampening foam, was the core. It pulsed with a sickly yellow light, the energy within visibly swirling, unstable. Even through his armor and the ambient dampening field, he could feel the raw, barely contained power radiating from it – hot, angry, potent. His Wargod senses screamed caution.
<
Working quickly but deliberately, Valerius activated the portable dampening case he carried. It unfolded, creating a localized, reinforced energy field. Using integrated manipulators on his gauntlets to avoid direct contact, he carefully lifted the unstable core from its failing container and placed it within the portable case. The case sealed with a solid thunk, its internal field immediately working to stabilize the core's erratic energy fluctuations. The angry pulsing subsided slightly, contained but still undeniably volatile.
He secured the case to his armor's utility harness. The weight felt significant, both physically and metaphorically. He now carried a miniature, unstable sun, a source of immense power and immense danger.
'System, monitor core stability within dampening case. Alert on any integrity drop below 50%.'
<
Now for extraction. He opened the door slightly, scanning the corridor with his Spatial Sense. Clear. He slipped out, resealing the unit and reactivating its basic security field, leaving no immediate trace of his entry.
He retraced his steps, the added weight of the core a constant reminder of his prize and its peril. He nearly ran afoul of another Navy patrol near Maintenance Tunnel 9-Alpha, forcing a hasty detour through a cramped ventilation shaft identified by the System at the last second. He emerged covered in grime, his heart pounding, but undetected.
Finally, he reached the relative safety of his quarters, sealing the door behind him. He placed the dampening case containing the core carefully on his desk. It sat there, humming faintly, a dangerous promise.
He had done it. Under the very noses of the newly arrived Navy contingent, during the height of transition and alert, he had secured the power source he needed. The risk had been enormous, the execution flawless thanks to the System and his own burgeoning Wargod senses.
But the core was another secret to keep, another danger to manage. Tapping its energy would require the shielded environment of the decommissioned testing bay, another infiltration, another risk. And time was still a factor. The Navy investigation, Kaelen's suspicion, the mystery of Chimera – the pressures were mounting.
He looked at the pulsing core, then felt the steady power within himself. This was the path. Dangerous, solitary, fraught with peril, but the only way to gain the strength needed to face the coming storms and ultimately seize the destiny he craved.