Sanctuary under the banner of the Sunstone Jaguars was a suffocating privilege.
The new safehouse was not a hidden hole in the wall but a sterile, state-of-the-art military bunker buried deep within General Tarik's primary command complex.
The air was filtered, the surfaces were polished chrome, and the silence was absolute, broken only by the low, constant hum of military-grade hardware.
For Ryu, who had known only the chaotic symphony of the Outer Sector, the silence was more deafening than any noise.
They were afforded every resource—advanced training simulators, unlimited rations, a fully stocked medical bay for Joric—yet the truth was as cold and hard as the plasteel walls around them: they were prisoners.
Their freedom was a currency they had traded for protection, and the interest on that debt was growing steeper by the day.
Kiera stood before a holographic map of the Core Sectors, a brilliant, three-dimensional latticework of power and influence that filled the center of their new 'operations room.' Her face, illuminated by the map's cold blue light, was a mask of intense concentration.
"Tarik is not a general; he's a king on a chessboard, and we are his knights," she said, her voice low and tight.
She pointed to a flashing red node within the Jaguar's own territory.
"Our intel led him to General Kaito, a Vanguard mole within his inner circle. Twenty-four hours ago, Kaito was one of the most respected commanders in the Jaguar military. Now, according to the official report Tarik so graciously shared with us, he has died in a 'tragic and unforeseen' shuttle malfunction during a training exercise."
She zoomed in on the report, highlighting a single, heavily redacted line.
"The shuttle's logs were wiped by a powerful magnetic pulse. No witnesses. No survivors. It's not an investigation; it's a message. Tarik isn't just fighting the Vanguard; he's using their own methods against them. He is a butcher, but a brutally effective one."
Joric, who had been meticulously decrypting fragmented Vanguard communications from a nearby console, snorted without looking up.
"He's a clan general. What did you expect? A strongly worded letter? They see the world as a game board, and we," he gestured vaguely at the three of them, "are now his most valuable, and most unpredictable, pieces.
Our very existence proves the Vanguard's conspiracy, which makes us a powerful weapon against his rivals. But that weapon can also be turned against him if we are ever captured."
The unspoken truth hung in the air: if it ever became strategically convenient, Tarik would eliminate them without a second thought to cover his own tracks.
Their alliance was not built on trust, but on a temporary alignment of violently opposing interests.
This gilded cage was more dangerous than any Outer Sector alley, for the bars were invisible and the zookeeper was a master of political assassination.
Kiera traced another line on the map, connecting the Jaguar territory to that of the Onyx Serpents.
"He's cleaning his own house while simultaneously leaking just enough information to the Serpents to make them tear themselves apart. He's not trying to win a war; he's trying to inherit an empire. By the time the dust settles, he plans to be the only real power left standing."
The weight of their devil's bargain settled upon them like a shroud.
They had escaped the fire of the Vanguard only to find themselves in the Jaguar's meticulously controlled laboratory, specimens in a far larger, far more ruthless experiment.