The Arkvault's elder section feels like a second skin now—glowing markets, tentacled chefs flipping synth-steaks, our home a sleek haven with space windows framing distant stars. I'm Alex, sprawled in regular clothes, a jacket and shorts, sipping a fizzing drink from the dispenser. Fiona's beside me in a long tee, tossing me a grin as she sharpens her staff's edge. Dmitri's across the room in a tank top, polishing his spear, while Lyra, our Veltari teammate, lounges in a crop top and pants, her green skin catching the light, silver hair tied back. Our bracelets hum with S-level access from yesterday's data heist, unlocking ship secrets like a cosmic cheat code. Squad Zero's ready for anything, but the elder's call pulls us to his office.
His metallic voice crackles through our bracelets: Squad Zero, my office. Now. We teleport, landing in his holo-screen-packed room, the 13th Elder's optics glowing like twin moons. "The 5th Elder's proof is ours," he says, holding the data chip we snagged. "Today, we confront him."
I lean forward. "Confront? Like, call him out?"
Fiona's eyes narrow. "Or something sneakier?"
Dmitri grunts. "What's the play, boss?"
Lyra smirks, flexing. "Hope it's fast. I'm itching to move."
The elder's smirk is cold. "We negotiate. He supports my council votes, or his pirate dealings go public. You're my muscle—look tough."
I crack my knuckles. "Easy. Like flexing for a gym crowd."
Fiona chuckles. "Don't overdo it, Coach."
We change to fighting clothes and teleport to the 5th Elder's territory, a glitzy sector with gold-trimmed corridors and holo-statues of alien beasts. His office is a fortress—marble desk, starfield ceiling, guards with laser staffs. The 5th Elder, a wiry figure with scales like shattered glass, glares as we enter.
"13th," he hisses. "Why the entourage?"
Our elder raises the chip. "Your pirate trades. Locations for alloys. I have proof."
The 5th's eyes flicker. "Lies."
"Check it," our elder says, tossing a holo-projection. Pirate comms flash—coordinates, resource deals. The 5th's scales pale.
I whisper to Fiona, "He's sweating. Well, scale-sweating."
She stifles a laugh. "Shh. Let's look intimidating."
Dmitri's shield hums low. "Got it."
Lyra's stance shifts, ready to sprint. "Say the word."
The 5th Elder snarls. "What do you want?"
Our elder leans in. "Your vote. Every council meeting, you back me. Or this goes to the 16."
A tense pause. The 5th nods. "Deal. But no leaks."
Our elder's optics gleam. "Done. You stay elder—for now."
We teleport back, the elder grinning. "Power's mine. The council's balance shifts."
I high-five Fiona. "We just tipped the cosmic scales."
She winks. "Teamwork."
Two days later, our bracelets ping: Guild summons. Urgent mission. We teleport to the Guild hall, its holo-screens buzzing, aliens haggling over missions. In regular clothes, we stride to the receptionist—a clawed alien with a floating holo-pad.
"Squad Zero," I say. "What's the job?"
She scans our bracelets. "Habitat-429. Bulky aliens—strong, low-IQ—revolted. Destroyed the teleporter, armed themselves. Convince them to surrender or defeat them."
Fiona raises an eyebrow. "Convince? They sound stubborn."
Dmitri grunts. "I'd rather fight."
Lyra smirks. "Let's try talking first. I'm persuasive."
I nod. "Like a team huddle before a big game. Let's roll."
We take a shuttle to Habitat-429, a rocky, industrial zone with shattered machinery and smoke. The aliens—Graxons, ten-foot hulks with boulder-like muscles—brandish plasma clubs, roaring.
I step forward, hands up. "Hey, big guys! Let's talk. The Arkvault's home—why trash it?"
Their leader, a scarred Graxon, snarls. "Ship no good! We leave!"
Fiona tries, voice calm. "You can't leave without a teleporter. Work with us."
He roars, swinging a club. "No talk! Fight!"
Dmitri's shield flares. "Fine. Let's dance."
Lyra darts forward. "I'll scout their weak spots!"
The Graxons charge. I dodge, raising an earth-flux wall. "Like blocking a linebacker!" My power fist slams one, cracking its hide. Fiona's staff shifts to bow mode, arrows pinning another. Dmitri's spear unleashes a fire-wind vortex, toppling two. Lyra's Veltari speed weaves through, kicks dropping a Graxon.
"Last chance!" I shout. "Surrender!"