"No," she said, her voice firm yet gentle, leaving no room for doubt. "You are not being cruel. You are being a leader. You have given them a chance, a foundation. To carry them further would make them dependent, and it would weaken us at the very moment we need to be strong."

"Your duty is not to all humanity scattered among the stars. Your duty is here, to the people who have sworn to follow you."

Her holographic hand dropped, but her gaze remained locked on his. "You are protecting a future, Rex. Not just managing the present. There is a profound difference."

The simple, unwavering certainty in her voice cut through the noise in his mind. The tension in his shoulders eased, just a little. In her synthesized eyes, he didn't see judgment, but resolve. She was his partner, his advisor, and in that moment, the anchor he needed.

A bitter, weary smile touched Rex's lips before he shook his head. "Let's keep focusing on building our own strength. If the data in your banks about the Void invasion is even half-true, we'll be fighting them sooner than we'd like, whether we're ready or not."

His simple, grim assessment was enough to end their philosophical debate about morality. Facing an unknown, cataclysmic power required more than just beautiful words; it demanded cold, hard steel.

Cleo nodded, her posture shifting from contemplative to command-ready. "You're correct. We focus on the mission. The foundries and shipyards will operate at maximum capacity, as we agreed." She turned to leave.

"Cleo, wait." Rex's voice softened her retreat. He rubbed the back of his neck, a surprisingly vulnerable gesture. "Thanks... for what you said before. I needed to hear it. I might look like this on the outside, but I still have a bit of a chicken heart, don't I?"

Cleo paused, and when she turned back, the professional mask had melted away, replaced by a beautiful, genuine smile that reached her eyes. "Even the bravest of us do, Rex. That's what makes us different from common machines." With that silent understanding between them, they parted ways.

Years bled away, and the galaxy's war against the Void forces settled into a brutal, grinding stalemate. For some megacorps, it was a relentless nightmare, their rigid hierarchies cracking under the pressure. But from the chaos, two powers rose as beacons of resistance.

The Free Colonies, after suffering sudden, devastating losses, found an unlikely savior in their new Overlord. He used his formidable authority not to conquer but to unite, forcing a fragile truce between the squabbling warlords and binding them against the common enemy swallowing their dominion.

Meanwhile, the Syndicate's superior armadas and bleeding-edge technology began to make shockingly easy work of the Void's scout fleets, proving that this galaxy could, indeed, fight back. The other corps weren't far behind, some performing better than others, but collectively managing to hold a defensive line with only "acceptable" losses... a cold, corporate term for countless lives.

But far from the galactic front lines, in the warmly lit living room of their family mansion, a different kind of crisis was brewing.

The air in the room was thick with a silence more unnerving than any battle report. Seated on the plush sofas, Cleo, Rex, Yssera, and Lyra formed a silent council, their attention fixed on Nyra.

"So," Rex finally said, the single word cutting through the quiet. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Can you... repeat what you just said, Nyra?"

With a somber expression, Nyra slid a single, formal piece of paper onto the low table in the center of the room, the gesture feeling like the drop of a gavel.

"It seems," she said, her voice dangerously calm, "the college director has summoned the parents of little Michael." She let the weight of that sentence settle before delivering the blow. "Because he hit another student. The son of this planet's Minister of Education."

A fresh, heavier silence descended. It was Lyra who broke it, her voice a careful whisper. "Sister, what was the motive? Why would Michael punch someone?"

After reading the document, Yssera let out a low, knowing chuckle. "It seems they tried to bully him for being human," she said, a sly smile playing on her lips. "They never guessed that little Michael might look human but is... far from it."

Rex let out a long, weary sigh, the sound of a man who dealt with interstellar invasions only to be summoned by a school principal. He pushed himself up from the sofa. "Very well. Nyra, you will go first and see what is going on. If I get the sense they want to make a bigger problem out of this, I will step in and... take care of it."

"Okay, I got it... husband." The word caught in her throat, and a warm flush crept up her neck. Even after all this time, it still felt new on her tongue, a secret and powerful title. Lyra shot her twin a teasing grin before linking her arm with Nyra's.

"Come on," she said softly, "let's get you ready. We can't have you facing the academic inquisition looking less than formidable."

An hour later, a sleek, armored vehicle slid to a silent halt before the college gates. When the door opened, Nyra stepped out, looking like a vision of composed and beautiful authority.

"Madam," one of the guards greeted her, his tone immediately shifting to one of respect. "Are you the parent of a student?"

"Indeed, I am. Your director requested my presence." Nyra's voice was cool and even as she presented the paper with its official barcode. The guard scanned it, and after a moment of verification, he gave a sharp nod. "Very well, Madam. Please, allow me to escort you."

As she followed him, Nyra took in her surroundings. The college wasn't merely a school; it was a sprawling citadel of learning, an architectural marvel that covered the landscape like its own island nation. But its grandeur faded into irrelevance as they reached the director's office.

The scene that greeted her was a tableau of accusation. Her son, Michael, stood small and alone in the center of a vast, opulent room. Surrounding him were the director and a panel of stern-faced authorities, their collective gaze pressing down on him as if they had already pronounced him guilty.

"Michael."

Nyra's voice, calm and clear, cut through the heavy silence. All eyes turned to her as she stepped inside, her slow, deliberate footsteps echoing on the polished floor as she crossed the immense room to reach her son.

Michael looked up; his face was a mask of shame and frustration. "I'm sorry..." he mumbled, his gaze dropping to the floor again, unable to hold her stare.

Nyra didn't speak to her son. Instead, she moved to his side, her presence a silent shield. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, a simple, grounding weight that spoke more than any words could. Then, she lifted her gaze to the director perched high above them like a judge on a bench.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked, her voice firm and clear, cutting through the room's stifling formality. "Why is my son being treated like a common criminal?"

The director cleared his throat, the sound dry and dismissive. "Ehem, Miss Nyra. While this may seem... excessive from your point of view, your son's actions were unequivocally criminal."

"Therefore, he is being treated as such." His tone wasn't mocking; it was laced with a profound annoyance, as if this entire affair was a distasteful chore interrupting his day.

A cold, knowing smile touched Nyra's lips. "Oh? Then do enlighten everyone present," she said, her face an unreadable mask. "What, precisely, did my son do to earn such a label?"

The accusation did not come from the director but from a teacher hovering near the aggrieved octopus-headed child. "Your son is a savage and a criminal, Miss Nyra!" the teacher spat, his tentacles writhing in distaste.

"But what else can we expect from a human? They are just slaves! Allowing one into this college was a stain on our pristine reputation, and now this... this creature has assaulted another student! Truly barbaric!"

Nyra's eyes flickered from the furious teacher to the coddled child, taking in the familiar, alien features of the planet's dominant species. She let out a soft, almost pitying sigh.

"Have you even bothered to ask why my son felt the need to hit the... seafood?" she asked, her voice dripping with feigned innocence as she gestured toward the student.

The gasp that rippled through the room was sharp and collective. Even the director jolted, his composure cracking. "Miss Nyra! That is a profoundly disrespectful term! Now we see from whom the boy learned his appalling manners!" he roared, his face flushing a darker hue.

At this, Nyra didn't just scoff; she laughed, a sharp, melodic sound that held no warmth. "Ha! And this... individual," she gestured contemptuously at the teacher, "can call my son a slave? And you," her finger now pointed directly at the director, her eyes blazing, "you condone such blatant disrespect? You are nothing but a double-faced fish, hiding your prejudice behind a title!"

"GUARDS!" the director shouted out, his fish-like features contorted in apoplectic fury. "Seize this insolent woman and her brat! Take them to detention and summon the planetary authorities immediately!"

As the guards advanced, their heavy boots echoing on the polished floor, Nyra didn't flinch. A serene, almost anticipatory smile graced her lips. She didn't need to be afraid.

"Ho?"

A voice, serene yet powerful enough to make the very air vibrate, washed over the entire colossal campus. It was a sound that felt like it came from the foundations of the world itself.