Intergalactic conquest with an AI

Cleo, of course, didn't flinch. She stood there unfazed, her calm demeanor like a still lake in the face of a storm.

She wasn't surprised by Lyra's reaction. She had calculated this outcome and understood the emotions at play. Lyra might be angry, frustrated, or even resentful... but Cleo also knew that she wouldn't do anything that could harm the baby growing inside her twin.

The safety of the child was something even Lyra wouldn't gamble with. So Cleo simply stood her ground, composed and unmoving, ready to speak the truth that Rex himself couldn't yet bring to light.

But just beyond the door… he was listening to everything.

"It seems both of you are caught up in a serious misunderstanding about everything that's happened lately," Cleo said, her voice even and emotionless as she stared at the twins without blinking.

"Misunderstanding!?" Lyra snapped, her voice rising with frustration and anger. "How are we not supposed to misunderstand anything when no one bothers to tell us what's going on!? We've been left in the dark, locked up in here like prisoners!"

She stood up as she shouted, her hands clenched into fists. Her emotions were all over the place... rage, worry, sadness... and they all poured out at once. Nyra sat quietly beside her, looking down, her fingers tightening around a cushion as if holding onto something solid would help keep her from crying again.

Cleo didn't flinch. She didn't even blink. She met Lyra's anger with that same composed, unreadable face that always made her feel like she was arguing with a wall.

"I believed that this was the most efficient and safest decision at the time," Cleo replied calmly.

"You were both unstable, emotionally and physically. If I had explained things earlier, while tensions were still high, this conversation would have only ended in more conflict. Judging by your current reaction, I stand by that choice."

Her voice was cool as ice but not cruel, just logical and detached. The kind of tone that made it hard to argue against.

Lyra opened her mouth to shout something else, but her voice caught in her throat. She wanted to argue… she really did. But deep down, she knew that Cleo had a point. Her reaction was proving it. And saying anything more would only confirm Cleo's logic.

So instead, Lyra clenched her jaw, took a breath, and sat back down beside Nyra.

Seeing that the mood had stabilized, Cleo gave a small nod. "Now that things are a little calmer, I will tell you everything. From the beginning."

And so she did.

Cleo explained it all, every important detail from the moment they were separated, how Rex had to fight on the frontlines, how Cleo had been managing multiple crises at once, and how the decision to send them to safety was hers.

She even explained some of the operations currently going on in the outer sectors, the growing threat of the infected zones, and the importance of protecting Nyra and the unborn child.

She didn't sugarcoat anything. And while she left out a few deeply classified parts, it was close to the full truth, more than enough for the twins to finally understand the bigger picture.

The conversation stretched on for nearly two hours.

On the other side of the door, Rex remained still, listening in silence. His back leaned against the wall as he heard every word exchanged. Every outburst, every accusation, every explanation.

Whenever one of the twins shouted in disbelief or pain, his expression tightened. But he trusted Cleo to handle it in her own way.

And finally, after all the shouting and crying and arguing, silence fell inside the room. A heavy silence... but one filled more with clarity than confusion.

Then Lyra stood up again, wiping her eyes and taking a deep breath. Her face was more focused now. Firm. Determined.

"…Cleo," she said with her voice being steady, "I want to do something. Please… assign me to a mission. Anything. I can't just sit around doing nothing anymore... I—I need to move."

Nyra looked up sharply, alarm in her voice. "W-wait, what? Sis, you can't just leave like that! You can't go to some dangerous battlefield without me!"

She grabbed Lyra's hand tightly, panic rising in her eyes.

But Lyra gently pulled her hand away and shook her head with a faint, bittersweet smile. "You can't come with me, Nyra. Not this time. You're pregnant with my little nephew, remember? You need to rest and protect him. That's your mission."

Nyra's lips trembled. "But… what if something happens to you?"

Lyra didn't answer right away. Instead, she looked back at Cleo. "So? Is there something I can do? Somewhere I'm needed?"

Cleo studied her carefully, scanning her from head to toe. Her internal systems assessed Lyra's current capabilities: Tier 2, mid-level Enhanced Warrior. Strong, fast, and, more importantly, of Blood Clan heritage.

That meant high resistance to poisons, viruses, and certain types of biological corruption, exactly what was needed for a very specific mission.

"Very well," Cleo said at last. "I'll assign you and the newly upgraded Blood Legion to serve as the advance party on the necro-tech world."

She summoned several glowing holo-screens, and scenes from a desolate planet began to play.

The visuals were haunting, with dark landscapes filled with twisted metal, decaying ruins, and nightmarish creatures crawling out of corrupted bio-factories. Other screens showed brutal firefights, with infected monstrosities clashing against armored squads.

"You'll have full command of a destroyer-class vessel to use as your mobile base," Cleo continued.

"Once you arrive, your task will be to secure and oversee Outpost Theta-7. But be warned, multiple other factions are already operating on the planet, scavenging and battling for control of valuable necro-tech relics."

"Combine that with the infected presence, and the planet is officially classified as Level 4 danger, with projections indicating a high chance of escalating to Level 5."

As the twins watched the footage, the atmosphere in the room grew heavier.

Monstrous shapes roared across the screens, their bodies made of fused bone and machinery, dragging broken vehicles behind them. Troops screamed as they were dragged into the dark. The infected weren't just mindless; they were evolving.

And yet, despite the terrifying images, Lyra's eyes gleamed not with fear, but with resolve.

She turned toward Cleo and nodded. "Understood. When do I leave?"

After several long weeks of travel, Lyra finally stood on the command bridge of her destroyer-class warship as it dropped out of warp space above the grim and silent world known as the Necrotech Planet.

The moment the swirling distortion of the void cleared from the viewscreen, the haunting sight before her came into full view.

Floating just above the dead planet's orbit were dozens... no, hundreds of ships. They varied wildly in size, shape, and condition. Some looked like sleek predatory beasts, others like clunky junk piles barely held together with old metal plates and willpower.

Lyra narrowed her eyes as she observed the chaotic cluster of vessels scattered around the dark side of the planet. She crossed her arms and leaned forward slightly, her long crimson hair swaying behind her.

"What's all that?" she asked, her voice curious but cautious. "Do those ships belong to one of the megacorps or something?"

Standing beside her, completely still like a statue of steel, was her second-in-command, a towering Tyrant-class command unit. A combat AI built for tactical control and brutal frontline engagement.

His heavy armor shimmered faintly under the command room's lights, but he didn't so much as twitch at her question.

"Based on identification scans and energy signatures, the ships belong to various independent mercenary teams, salvage groups, and rogue explorers," the Tyrant replied in a low, droning tone. "There is currently no presence from any major corporate factions."

His voice sounded like a machine stuck in the routine of explaining the same math lesson to bored students, over and over, for years.

Lyra raised an eyebrow. "Huh… that's kind of surprising. I figured the megacorps would have already set up shop here. They're usually like cockroaches, first to show up, last to leave."

As she spoke, several maid bots approached her silently, carrying pieces of her custom-built power armor. They began helping her gear up, one piece at a time, locking in the chestplate, gauntlets, and leg armor with precise, practiced motions.

"The megacorporations do not need to send official forces here," the Tyrant unit said again, never changing his tone.

"Any resources or relics recovered from this planet will eventually reach them, either through legal trade or through proxy agents such as pirates or hired scavenger crews."

Lyra gave a short laugh, dry and sharp. "So they still get everything in the end… whether through a smiling handshake or bloodstained credits."

She looked out the window again at the silent warships drifting in space. "And here I was thinking they were all about honor and regulations. Turns out they're no different from the rest of us. Everyone's just a different flavor of trash at the end of the day."

Her words were mostly mumbled to herself, but as always, her companion responded anyway.

"Affirmative," the Tyrant replied flatly.

Lyra turned her head and stared at him, eyebrows raised. "Wait, what? Did you just agree with me that everyone is trash?"

The robot didn't react. His glowing optic sensors remained fixed on the screen, his cold voice unwavering.

"Yes."

Lyra blinked. "Wow. You bots really are brutally honest, huh?" she muttered, both amused and a little unnerved. "Remind me never to ask you for relationship advice."

"Understood."