The Micro-Matrix Beneath the Engine Compartment, the Liaison Office Chief's Thunderous Counterattack
The alloy passageway leading out of the Bridge stretched out before Gwen Stacy Stacy, deep and quiet.
She took a step, the sound of her high heels clicking on the deck being the only rhythm in this chaotic space.
On the Throne, the wild laughter on Hark's face had not completely faded, but the heat in his eyes had quickly cooled, turning into a cold calculation. He raised his rough mechanical hand, and towards his adjutant beside him, he made a slow, silent horizontal cut across his neck with his thumb.
The adjutant grinned bloodthirstyly, silently retreating and disappearing into the shadows at the edge of the Bridge. His hand was already pressed on the emergency control panel that sealed off all exits of the flagship.
Gwen Stacy's back was slender and solitary, as if she were completely unaware of the impending murder behind her.
Just as her figure was about to touch the shadow of the tunnel entrance.
"Bang--"
A deafening roar.
The heavy blast-proof gates descended from the sky, sealing off the Bridge exits. Immediately afterwards, the same heavy metallic clanging sounds echoed from all the surrounding passageways.
The "Bone Shredder" was transformed into an airtight steel cage.
The bandits, who had just been feigning cheers, instantly turned their smiles into ferocious grins. They turned around, their various and unevenly matched energy weapons aimed at Gwen Stacy in the center of the Bridge, and the six obedient clerks behind her who had remained meek and submissive throughout, as if they were invisible.
"Little girl, your performance is over."
Hark rose from his Throne, looking down at his prey, his electronic prosthetic eye flashing the predator's red light once more.
"Now, hand over the Star Map. I might consider making your death less gruesome."
Gwen Stacy stopped and slowly turned around.
Her face showed no fear or panic as expected, not even a hint of surprise. Her calmness made it seem as if she wasn't in Extremis, but rather presiding over a dull departmental meeting.
She raised her hand and looked at the Personal Terminal on her wrist.
"According to the Management Committee's administrative procedures, all external cooperation negotiations must be fully recorded and archived." Her voice remained that bland, bureaucratic tone. "Chief Hark, is this part... also included in the 'negotiations'?"
"You're about to die and you're still trying to pull the rules on me?" Hark was enraged by her composure. "Take her down!"
He hadn't finished speaking.
Gwen Stacy's thumb gently pressed down on an inconspicuous program icon on the edge of her Personal Terminal screen.
The movements were gentle, as if he were simply closing a file.
There were no alarms, no instructions.
In an instant, the entire flagship "Bone Shredder" seemed to have its heart gripped by an invisible hand.
A silent, destructive energy surge erupted from beneath the thick lead-mercury shielding layer at the bottom of Gwen Stacy's Shuttle's engine room. This was not a violent energy explosion, but a Directed Electromagnetic Storm precise to the microsecond and aimed at a specific frequency.
On the Bridge, all the bright lights flickered violently for a moment, then went out completely.
A string of garbled characters appeared in Hark's prosthetic eye, flashed red light a few times, and then went completely dark. His vision went black, and the whole world plunged into the chaos of monocular vision.
The energy weapons in the hands of the bandits emitted short, sharp electrical groans, and the charging lights at the muzzles quickly dimmed and went out, turning them into piles of useless scrap metal.
Control consoles, monitors, security systems... all electronic devices simultaneously went silent.
The Bridge was plunged into absolute darkness and deathly silence.
Only emergency red lights, after a brief delay, flickered on ghostly, illuminating everyone's faces with a blood-red and distorted glow.
The bandits hadn't yet recovered from this sudden turn of events.
In the darkness, six dark figures moved.
The six attendants who had been following Gwen Stacy like office worker puppets suddenly transformed into killing machines the moment the main lights went out.
They made no unnecessary movements, no shouts.
In an instant, one of the men closed in on Lieutenant Hark, who was restarting the control panel. His elbow struck Hark's neck plexus with lightning speed, and the man collapsed to the ground without uttering a sound.
The two formed a standard combat triangle, back to back protecting Gwen Stacy, and now held two High-Frequency Vibration Blade, standard issue for the Management Committee, that gleamed with a cold, eerie blue light.
The other three, like death itself shrouded in shadow, moved through the chaotic bandits with an eerie gait incomprehensible to ordinary people. Their movements were textbook-perfect special tactics of the Management Committee —chokeholds, wrist breaks, and joint dislocations. Every strike was aimed solely at paralyzing combat effectiveness, precise, efficient, and utterly devoid of any human touch.
There were no gunshots, only the muffled thuds of bones dislocating and suppressed groans of pain.
It all happened in no more than ten seconds.
When one of the armored soldiers forcibly took over the Bridge's backup power supply and restored stable lighting, the situation had completely reversed.
More than thirty fierce interstellar bandits lay sprawled on the ground, all conscious but unable to move due to excruciating pain and dislocated joints.
In the center of the Bridge, only three people remained standing.
Gwen Stacy Stacy, and the two armored warriors on either side of her, each wielding a vibrating blade and breathing steadily.
Hark stood frozen in place, his one intact eye staring wide-eyed at the scene before him, filled with disbelief and horror. His mechanical arm remained in the commanding posture, but a cold, silenced kinetic pistol was already pressed silently against the back of his head.
The one holding the gun was the young "clerk" who had been standing behind Gwen Stacy, head down, and looked the most harmless.
Gwen Stacy walked slowly to Hark and straightened her perfectly wrinkle-free suit.
"Chief Hark, according to Article 3 of the supplementary provisions of the Management Committee's ' Interim Outsourced Personnel Management Regulations,' if a contractor engages in any conduct that endangers the safety of the employer, we have the right to unilaterally terminate the contract and take necessary countermeasures."
She raised her eyes and looked at the burly man who was two heads taller than her. There was no triumphant gloating in his eyes, only the usual, programmed indifference.
"I hereby declare the contract terminated."
Hark's apple bobbed, and cold sweat trickled down his forehead. He could feel the muzzle of the gun pressed against the back of his head; that cold, physical, kinetic touch of death terrified him more than any energy weapon.
"Who... who exactly are you?" His voice was dry and hoarse.
"The Liaison Office is just responsible for going through the motions," Gwen Stacy replied casually.
She had no interest in explaining further, but simply turned her head slightly and said to the armored soldiers behind her with guns, "Find out who the mastermind is. He only has one chance."
The soldier flicked his wrist, and the muzzle of his gun struck Hark's skull hard.
"Say it." A cold, hard word.
Under the pressure of death, Hark's psychological Defense Line collapsed instantly. The ferocity of the interstellar bandits was incredibly fragile in the face of the cold violence of the Management Committee, a state apparatus.
"I'll talk! I'll talk!" he almost shouted, his voice trembling with tears, "It wasn't me! Someone paid a fortune for my hands! I was just doing my job for money!"
"Who?"
"I don't know his name!" Hark protested urgently. "We only communicate through encrypted channels! He ordered me to intercept your ship, preferably kill you, or capture you alive and send you to T-03 Defense Zone!"
"The person you contacted, was it someone from the Internal Affairs Inspection Office?" the soldier pressed, his voice devoid of any emotion.
"No! Absolutely not!" Hark shook his head frantically, as if afraid his head would explode if he hesitated even a second longer. "It was that woman who contacted me at first, but the one who gave me the final orders and paid triple the price was someone else!"
His code name!
"Code name..." Hark shuddered, as if the name itself carried some forbidden power. He lowered his voice and whispered rapidly:
His code name... was ' The Clockmaker '.