The Major had finally gotten her standing ovation.

It wasn’t a weapon. It wasn’t a virus.

“Step to the left! (Hai!) Feel the beat! (Hai!) One wrong move and you’re obsolete!”

They advanced through the pink-lit corridors. Every screen they passed showed the Major’s avatar—a huge-eyed, pastel-haired girl in a frilly space dress—tilting her head in confusion.

A soft, melodic hum suddenly echoed through the corridor’s speakers. It was a saccharine J-pop tune, heavy on synth bells and a breathy voice.

Specialist Leo Vasquez stared at the blinking orange light on the console. The label above it read: .