"We need to talk," Meus said quietly. "About the code your uncle was using."
Well, shit.
I closed the door behind me, mind racing. "What code?"
"Imperial family cipher." Her eyes never left mine. "Left thumb for consonants, right for vowels. The one only royals and their closest guards are supposed to know."
Double shit. "And you know this how?"
"I'm your personal guard, Raven." Something flashed in her eyes—hurt? "Did you think the Emperor would assign someone who couldn't recognize danger signals meant for you?"
Of course. Meus would know the code. She'd been trained to protect me, which meant understanding every communication method available to the royal family.
"What did you see?" I asked carefully.
"A spy warning. Rodriguez's name." She moved closer. "The question is: why didn't you tell me?"
"Marcus's message said trust no one new."
"And I'm new?" The temperature dropped ten degrees.
"You know what I mean."
"Do I?" She crossed her arms. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you don't trust me at all."
Before I could respond, my communicator chimed. Zek's voice came through, oddly formal.
"Captain, sorry to interrupt. We have a... visitor. Says he's here to see you specifically. About Victor."
Perfect timing. "Name?"
"Calls himself Vault. Grokkies are holding him in Diplomatic Suite Three."
The name hit like a physical blow. Vault. In the game, he'd been Victor's right hand—until the final act, when he'd betrayed his master to help the player. A complex character with shifting loyalties and a penchant for cryptic information.
He shouldn't be here. Not yet. Not for years.
"I'll be right there," I said, eyes meeting Meus's. "This conversation isn't over."
"Clearly." Her professional mask slid back into place. "Shall I accompany you?"
"Always."
---
Diplomatic Suite Three was Grokkies luxury—living plants, water features, and enough security measures to stop a small army. The being waiting inside made me freeze in the doorway.
Vault was humanoid but unmistakably alien—tall, lean, with features too perfect to be natural. His face was completely expressionless, like someone had described human emotions to him but he'd never actually felt them. Eyes like liquid mercury, unblinking and unreadable.
His species had a name in the game—the Leruis. Notorious liars with perfect poker faces. Emotion readers who revealed nothing themselves.
"Lord Raven Vex'thara." His voice was almost hypnotic. "Your reputation precedes you."
"Wish I could say the same." I kept my expression neutral, knowing he could read micro-expressions better than any lie detector. "What does Victor's second want with me?"
A flicker of something crossed his features—gone so fast I might have imagined it.
"Direct. Refreshing." He gestured to the seating area. "I have a proposition. A game, if you will."
"I don't play games with strangers."
"Three questions." He held up three fingers. "You ask, I answer truthfully. Then I do the same."
Meus shifted beside me, hand near her weapon. "Sir, this is—"
"Interesting," I finished for her. "Very interesting."
I took the seat opposite Vault, studying him. In the game, he'd been a complex character—seemingly loyal to Victor until the final act, when he betrayed him to help the player. But that was supposed to be years from now, not days into my new life.
"Where is Marcus?" I asked, watching for tells that wouldn't come.
"Planet Utopia, in the Forgotten Sector." No hesitation, no expression.
I kept my face blank despite my confusion. Utopia wasn't in the game. "Doing what?"
"Is that your second question?" Vault's voice carried amusement though his face showed nothing.
"No. Where is Victor?"
"Currently en route to the Void Nexus, seeking an artifact called the Devil's Heart." Again, no hesitation. "It's quite valuable."
The Devil's Heart. In the game, that was endgame content—a cosmic artifact that could rewrite reality. Victor shouldn't be after it for years.
"And lastly," I leaned forward, "who are you to Victor, really?"
"His second in command." Vault remained perfectly still. "For now."
That matched the game. Vault served Victor until the opportunity for betrayal presented itself. But something felt off—he was giving information too easily.
"Satisfied?" he asked.
"Hardly." I crossed my arms. "But it's your turn."
"Actually," his mercury eyes gleamed, "I'm surprised you didn't ask about Rodriguez. Or the other spies in your unit."
I kept my expression bored. "Should I have?"
"Perhaps." He produced a data tablet from somewhere in his immaculate clothing. "But I have something better to show you. Coordinates to Planet HD207 in the Outer Rim."
"And why would I care about a desert planet?"
"Because Valor's daughter is there." Not a single muscle moved in his face. "Hiding something her father stole. Something Victor wants."
"And you're telling me this because...?"
"Because I'm betting on you, Lord Raven." He stood, towering over us. "Victor thinks you're a pawn. I think you're something else entirely."
The way he said it made my skin crawl. Like he knew. Like he could see through the transmigration somehow.
"Bring water," he added, heading for the door. "Lots of it. The desert there is... unforgiving."
---
"That was..." Meus searched for words as we left.
"A trap," I finished. "Obviously."
"Then why consider it?"
"Because obvious traps sometimes hide real opportunities." I pulled up star charts on my personal device. "HD207 is real. And if Valor's daughter is there..."
"You're actually going to trust him?" Meus looked incredulous.
"Trust? No. Use? Absolutely." I studied the coordinates. "Besides, what choice do we have? Marcus is supposedly on a planet that doesn't officially exist, Victor's chasing cosmic artifacts, and we have a spy in our unit who doesn't know we know."
"Two problems," Meus said, falling into tactical mode. "First, how did Vault know about Rodriguez? Second, why tell us?"
"Three problems," I corrected. "How did he get here? Who let him in? And why now?"
The station's lights flickered as my frustration grew. The technology connection responding again.
"Sir?" Meus noticed, of course she did.
"It's nothing." I forced calm. "Gather the team. Tell them we have a lead."
"All of them? Including Rodriguez?"
"Especially Rodriguez." I smiled, and it wasn't a nice expression. "I want to see what he does when we change the game."
---
I found Lyra in my quarters, studying Marcus's message on a private screen.
"Planning a desert expedition?" she asked without looking up.
"News travels fast."
"Vault isn't subtle." She turned, expression serious for once. "He's playing you."
"Obviously."
"No, not obviously." She stood, moving close enough that I could smell her perfume. "He's not working for Victor. He's working for someone else."
"And you know this how?"
Her smile was sharp. "Because I've met Vault before."
She pulled out a data tablet, fingers dancing across the interface. An old military yearbook materialized—Imperial Special Operations, dated fifteen years ago.
"Operation Blackstar," she said, zooming in on a group photo. "Classified mission to the Void Nexus. Officially, everyone died. Well apart from Victor who died and died again."
"Consciousness transfer". I stared at the image. There, standing in the back row, was Vault. Unmistakable despite the Imperial uniform. And beside him...
"Victor Kronos," I whispered, recognizing the silver-haired figure.
"Yes." She swiped to the next image—a mission roster with most names redacted. "And him."
She pointed to a blacked-out name at the bottom of the list. Only the first letter remained visible: "R."
"Who is that?" I asked, though something in my gut already knew.
"That," Lyra said quietly, "is the real puppet master. The one Vault actually works for. The one who's been orchestrating everything from the beginning."
"Does he have a name?"
"Several, I imagine." She closed the tablet. "But I think you already know one of them."
The game timeline wasn't just disrupted—it was shattered beyond recognition.
And I was starting to think the real villain wasn't Victor at all.