Most of the attention, however, remained fixed on the massive unit in the center of the formation: The Apex Bio-Transfer Pod.
The men leading the vanguard couldn't seem to stop themselves from glancing back, their eyes darting to the pod's digital readouts every few steps. The Obsidian Sentinels flanking it maintained a highly specific, almost paranoid distance.
They didn't look like guards protecting a valuable asset.
They looked like they were terrified of what was inside.
Everything about their formation felt wrong. Their marching cadence, their grip on their weapons, their tactical hand signals—none of it matched the standard protocol for the ship's security detail.
When the procession rounded a corner in the Logistics Spine, the guard on the rear right instinctively angled his body, using his own back to shield the pod's life-support interface from view. He wasn't bracing for an attack; he was hiding the interface from anyone who might be watching.
Julian Lancaster calmly set down the weapon modifications he had been inspecting. A sharp, predatory glint flashed through his normally placid eyes.
The Obsidian Sun High-Value Auction had already officially commenced.
All standard cargo routed through the Logistics Spine should have been secured in the holding areas hours ago.
So why was a heavily guarded transport team rolling out from the direction of The Sanctum Vault?
Julian's gaze locked onto the towering transfer pod.
Its armored hull was completely blank. Every single item slated for the auction block, regardless of its starting bid, was required to bear a unique identification sequence.
But this pod had nothing.
No registration markers, no auction seals. It was a ghost.
Yet, the casing itself was unmistakable. It was the highest grade of biological containment available on the international market.
The pod was designed to completely sever external signals and maintain a hermetic seal Even without an exterial power source, it could sustain a subject's vitals for a minimum of forty-eight hours.
Equipment of that caliber was never used for standard pharmaceuticals.
The fact that the team was actively
avoiding the main transit routes, slinking through an abandoned access corridor toward the
backstage area only confirmed his Suspicions They were terrified of being seen.
This wasn't a standard delivery.
Julian adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his mind rapidly connecting the dots The ship was currently powder keg of rumors, with whispers running rampant about a specialized asset hidden in the vault.
Was this it? Was the ship's administration panicking over the leaks, trying to stealthily relocate the asset under the cover of the auction's chaos?
Julian tapped his fingers thoughtfully against the metal table.
Whatever was sealed inside that pod, it warranted an escort of terrified Obsidian Sentinels and the most expensive life-support system money could buy.
A secret transfer straight from the vault, bypassing all official auction protocols... it was too perfect.
His instincts screamed that this covert operation was deeply tied to the Black Sun syndicate—the very organization he was trying to tear down for Serena.
Since someone had already gone through the trouble of lighting a match and starting the rumors.
It was only right that he threw a little gasoline on the fire.
If he stoked the chaos, the cracks in their defense would inevitably show.
And then, he would strike.