The ship's onboard system displayed the pirates' intended destination. Without hesitation, the crew decided to follow suit.
"Shouldn't we head to Ripton instead?" Spam suggested cautiously.
"No," Paps replied, his voice distant, as if thinking aloud. "This mission was suspicious from the start. How did the pirates even know we were transporting a nullfire core? We didn't even know."
"You think Sern had something to do with this?" Naté asked.
Paps nodded.
"That's ridiculous," Naté scoffed, chuckling nervously. "He must know an explosion won't kill us. And why would he want us dead?"
"It makes sense," Paps said, his expression grim. "If the explosion doesn't kill us, the cold will. And if that doesn't, we'll be stranded—drifting in space for eternity."
Spam shifted uneasily. "He does want us dead," he admitted. "Jole—the Mistress—warned me about the possibility. I just didn't think he'd blow up our ship."
The room fell silent as the weight of his words sank in.
"You knew?" Naté asked, his voice laced with disbelief.
"I get why you didn't tell us," Paps said calmly. "If Sern wants us dead, we're dead. You probably had a plan to fake your death."
Spam exhaled sharply. "Yeah, not gonna work now."
"We might still die," Paps said, "but we bought ourselves a few days. We can buy more if we deliver the cargo to its destination."
"I still don't understand why Sern would want us dead," Naté said, shaking his head.
"You mean you don't understand," Emac interjected. "You were reporting on us. That's the real reason he sent you here."
Naté paled as realization dawned on him. Had he said something—something that made Sern decide to eliminate them all?
"It's not your fault," Spam said. "We knew this day would come. Whether you reported or not, nothing would have changed."
Paps and Emac nodded in agreement.
Then, they told them the truth.
It all started years ago when they joined the Bakanna. Spam had been training under Raith Alzani for a year. Paps and Emac joined months apart. Before them, Raith had another student—Sarakiss—who had vanished on a mission.
Raith spent years searching for the truth. Eventually, he learned how she had died. And for some reason, he blamed Sern.
"How did she die?" Adam asked.
"He never told us," Paps admitted.
Spam, however, sighed. "I know how she died. And I know why he kept it from us. She was part of an experiment. They infused a nullfire core into her. Most of the Primes have undergone the same procedure. That's why they're so strong."
Paps frowned. "I get why he didn't tell us. Back then, we were weak. We might have volunteered for the experiment ourselves."
He continued the story.
Raith also believed Amoneht was involved.
"That's absurd," Naté said. "Amoneht, the god, killing a member of the Bakanna?"
"It might have been the rant of a grief-stricken man," Emac said. "But to the Bakanna, it was blasphemy. Everyone turned on him."
"He later claimed Amoneht wasn't a god at all," Paps added. "He believed he had a body somewhere on the planet."
Something had changed. Everything escalated.
Paps turned to Spam, searching for answers.
"I don't know anything about that," Spam said quickly. "Jole… the Mistress would have told me if she knew."
"You don't have to keep hiding it," Emac interjected. "We know you two are together."
Spam tensed.
"Really?" Naté said, raising an eyebrow. "You and the Mistress? I just can't see it."
Paps ignored the tangent and continued his story.
"We were ordered to kill him."
Adam and Naté waited in anticipation. Naté was about to ask if they did—but he already knew the answer. The way Paps and Emac lowered their heads said it all.
"We fought him, all of us," Paps said. "But he was too strong. He escaped. Sern and the others—those who weren't injured—went after him. He didn't harm us deliberately, but we still hunted him. Chased him to a planet called Devil's Fruit."
"A death trap," Emac muttered. "Lush green forests, thick with life—but everything there was poisonous."
"If you know his nickname, you can probably guess how that went," Paps added.
Naté frowned. "Wait—his nickname?"
"They called him Tree Hugger. He was Dressavian," Emac said.
Naté's eyes widened. "Wait, Dressavian? We have some of them in the Dome. They're peaceful. They wouldn't hurt a fly to save their skin."
"I guess he was different," Emac said darkly. "He hurt more than flies. Anyone who got too close—he grew trees through them."
Naté swallowed hard.
"In the end, he got away," Paps said.
Silence settled over the group before Emac continued.
"Sern blamed us. Accused us of letting him escape on purpose. He thinks we sided with him then—and that we still do. Especially after we ran into him on that mission months ago."
"So, you and The Mistress—how did that happen?" Naté asked after a stretch of awkward silence.
Spam smirked. "If you must know, I'm not dating The Mistress. I'm dating Jolene." He said it with a touch of pride.
Emac and Paps immediately burst into laughter. Adam and Naté exchanged confused looks.
"What's so funny?" Adam asked.
Emac wiped a tear from his eye. "You actually believe that? Where do you think she gets all her information? Her splits go around sleeping with people just to collect intel."
Spam's expression darkened. "Jolene is not a split. She's the prime. The others? They're dating the copies." His voice carried a hint of anger.
Emac only laughed harder. "She's with you for the pillow talk, man. I hear the real Mistress is still a virgin."
Naté frowned, considering the logistics. "Wait… how would that even work?"
Spam smacked him on the head. The group erupted into laughter.
Ripton looked like an ordinary mining planet at first glance. But for a mining colony, the level of security was unusual. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter, each equipped with high-grade weaponry.
Spam eyed one of the security officers carrying a T2 pulse rifle and frowned. "What do they mine here that requires firepower like that?"
As they walked past, a man with a potbelly approached. "What happened to the old crew?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.
Without a word, they handed him the core. He examined it briefly, then gestured toward a room.
They carried the core inside and set it on the counter.
"How much do you want for it?" a man behind the counter asked, barely looking up.
Naté smirked. "How about we take a peek in the back, and you get to keep it for free?"
The man studied them for a moment, then chuckled. He lifted the counter, making way for them to pass.
Beyond the counter, the facility opened into a vast industrial space. Machines roared, conveyor belts whirred, and the air was thick with the scent of burning metal. Yet, despite the chaos, they couldn't immediately tell what was being produced.
Then they saw them.
On the factory floor, monstrous figures took shape—creatures of shifting darkness, their forms barely contained by the restraints that held them in place.
Nullborns.
Legends spoke of them as relentless killers, beings that had annihilated entire Bakanna colonies. But even without knowing the full extent of their horror, one look was enough to sense the danger.
A flicker of movement—then a Nullborn appeared before them in an instant, vanishing and reappearing in a wisp of black smoke.
"Who are they?" it rasped.
A factory worker hesitated before answering. "Lord Vagaborn, they delivered a Nullfire core, and they wan—"
"Where is the core?" a new voice cut in.
A tall figure strode into view—Lord Vagaborn. Without waiting for an answer, he seized the core from the counter.
A scream echoed through the factory.
Without thinking, they followed the sound.
Strapped to a harness was Kooky. They recognized her instantly—Kooky, from Gallium. She was being lowered from the restraints, her body trembling as she looked around. Then her gaze landed on Spam.
"You came for the procedure too?" she asked weakly.
Spam hesitated, then nodded with a reassuring smile.
Meanwhile, Paps turned, his expression shifting as he locked eyes with a tall man standing nearby. He had deep brown skin, striking green eyes, and fiery red hair. A ring glinted in his right nostril.
"Raith?" Paps muttered.
Adam and Naté stared. He looked nothing like they had imagined.