"What's happening?!"
Ragnar's voice blasts through the static-choked channel—
a crack of fury too raw for the distortion to silence.
"Admiral..."
The commander coughs out the words like smoke.
"We ran into hell. Automated defenses—burning our drones down, one after another.
And worse... they've landed troops. Enemy infantry is already inside.
They're hunting us."
Ragnar goes still.
His eyes drill into the holographic map,
mind grinding like a scorched engine,
searching for paths—
for bloodlines in the steel.
But what seethes in his chest isn't fear.
It's wrath.
This isn't just a battle now.
It's a reckoning.
A trial for their war—
and for him.
He breathes out slow, teeth clenched.
"Captain. We still have time.
The corridors are mined. They won't move fast.
While they crawl, we charge the control deck.
Cut off the head."
His voice grows sharper. Iron, not flame.
"You hear me?
We are androids.
We are free.
Victory is close.
Hold your ground. Move!"
He cuts the channel.
Turns to Veronika.
She says nothing—she doesn't have to.
Her eyes carry more than words ever could.
There's no hope in them.
No despair.
Only acceptance.
The kind that walks toward fire with eyes open.
She raises her weapon.
No hesitation. No flair. Just clean motion.
"Let's move," she says.
Her voice isn't loud. But it rings with something deeper than orders—
a thread of hope, steady in the smoke.
The squad rises.
No one speaks.
As if behind them lies the end of the world,
and ahead—
the meaning of why they lived at all.
Everything trembles.
The walls. The floor. Even the air.
Dust rains from the ceiling.
Reflected fires burn on their visors.
But their steps are measured. Rhythmic.
They don't walk.
They carve their path through chaos.
This is the final battle.
All the past—boiled down to this corridor.
This scorched air.
This pulse hammering in their skulls.
**
Meanwhile, in orbit—
The battle dissolves into slaughter.
The android battle platforms are dying,
clinging to the breach like honor guards clutching their fallen banner.
Every frame on the monitors—
a flash of agony.
Aspida is gone.
The last shot never fired.
Only one path remains:
straight through.
To the end.
"The enemy's closing the breach!"
The voice over comms is sharp with dread.
Captain Shivigal waits.
He sits still—
but his eyes…
they know.
"Keep firing," he says.
"But we're losing platforms, sir—catastrophic losses!"
It's no longer a report.
It's a gasp.
Like a dying body twitching.
"What's happening?!"
Shivigal frowns.
There's pain behind his stare.
"Their drones collapsed inward, sir.
They sealed the gap.
Activated a defensive field.
They're crushing us.
It's a wall now... and we can't break through.
Captain… we're out of time."
Silence.
His fists clench—knuckles bone-white.
His jaw trembles.
And outside the viewport—
death draws clean lines in geometry.
The bridge goes still.
A moment stretched across eternity.
"Cease fire."
His voice is ash.
But inside—bitterness simmers.
"We retreat."
"Captain!"
The officer cries out.
"From 161 platforms—only 86 remain. Ships: 102 out of 300..."
"We've lost."
Flat.
Quiet.
Like a gunshot in a silent chapel.
This isn't a crisis of faith.
This—
is the burial of truth.
Here it is: the line.
Not between victory and defeat—
but between meaningless death
and one last chance.
**
"And what about Ragnar? Veronika? The androids still inside the station?"
A voice from the shadowed edge of the bridge.
Not fear.
Worse—
recognition.
"Are we leaving them behind?"
Shivigal closes his eyes.
And for one breath,
he carries the weight of a dying army on his shoulders.
"We're not abandoning them.
We're just...
too far to reach them now."
His voice is heavy. Raw.
"The only thing we can do—
is save what's left.
The spark.
The chance."
"If we die here—
that dies with us too."
He turns toward the viewport.
Out there—
the stars.
Too many to remember.
But one he sees clearly—
a barrier of enemy drones.
Glowing like a predator's maw.
And in the reflection—
faces.
Ragnar.
Veronika.
They're not numbers.
Not just names.
They are flame.
And as long as that flame still burns—
this war
isn't over yet.