The pliers‑like tip of his finger brushed across the dagger’s smooth, warm blade 🕵️. Collector Colin raised an eyebrow. This was an item he’d salvaged that morning from the abandoned advance team’s survival pod, designated K‑72. Remarkably, the 3D‑printed material still maintained perfect phase stability. The dreamy, macaron‑hued gradient of the blade hardly resembled military gear; it looked more like a designer’s whimsical creation. Only when he ran his terminal over the faintly etched crystalline patterns on the blade did a hidden quantum signal suddenly unlock 🔍—and a holographic projection instantly filled the entire compartment. In the projection, half of the female general’s mech had already dissolved, and she held a dagger identical to this one, coughing into the camera: “If anyone receives this signal, it means the ‘Star Devour’ virus has breached the quarantine zone. The material of this dagger can neutralize the virus’s phase interference, and its handle contains the virus’s genetic sequencing sequence…” The projection cut off abruptly. Suddenly, Colin felt an unfamiliar tickle at the back of his neck. He reached into his pocket—and there, without his noticing, the dagger had taken on a faint silvery sheen. When he’d first entered port, he’d been sure he’d undergone triple disinfection ⚛️. Clutching the dagger against his chest, he sensed a steady warmth radiating through his palm. Gazing out at the endless swirl of waste‑studded stardust beyond the viewport, he noticed that the once‑bustling collector‑channel on his communicator had fallen eerily silent, leaving only an automated relayed message: “Please locate the sequence and send it to…” with an empty address field. Lowering his gaze to the blade’s gradient pattern, he saw the pale green tip shimmering with an uncanny glow in the dim light ✨.