The universe tore itself apart in silence. One moment, the bridge of the exploration vessel Icarus was a sanctuary of calm efficiency, the hum of the stasis drive a lullaby against the velvet black of deep space. The next, a violent shudder ripped through the deck plates, and the world dissolved into a cacophony of screaming alarms and fractured light.
Red alert strobes painted the bridge in frantic, bloody strokes. Consoles erupted in showers of sparks, their dying screens flashing with incomprehensible error codes. Through the forward viewport, where moments ago there had been only stars, a swirling vortex of shadow and violet energy pulsed—the unmistakable signature of a Shadow ambush.
"Report!" The captain's voice was a strained bark, cut short as a secondary explosion ripped through the ceiling, sending a rain of molten metal onto the command chair.
Haruto's world was pain and pressure. He felt his station collapse around him, the force of the blast throwing him against a bulkhead with bone-jarring force. His vision swam, the panicked shouts of his crewmates fading into a dull, roaring echo. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was the amorphous, non-Euclidean shape of a Shadow vessel eclipsing the viewport, a predator blotting out the sun.
Consciousness returned not as a gentle dawn, but as a system reboot. A single, pure tone cut through the fog in his mind.
"Akari…?" Haruto groaned, the name a ragged whisper. Every muscle screamed in protest as he pushed himself up. He was in the med-bay, or what was left of it. The lights were dead, save for the emergency strobes that cast long, dancing shadows across buckled walls and overturned medical beds.
**
Haruto staggered to his feet, his hand instinctively going to the sidearm holstered on his thigh. It was still there. "Define suboptimal, Akari."
**
The words hit him harder than the explosion. Sole survivor. A hundred and fifty souls, his friends, his comrades… gone. A cold knot formed in his stomach, but his military training clamped down on the grief, locking it away. There was no time for mourning. Not yet.
"Course and position?" he asked, his voice steady now, devoid of emotion.
**
Twelve minutes. Not enough time to grieve. Just enough time to survive. "Is there a viable escape vessel?"
**
"Better than zero," Haruto muttered, already moving. The med-bay door was fused shut. He drew his plasma pistol, set it to its highest intensity, and carved a molten rectangle around the lock. The metal glowed cherry-red, then slumped away. He kicked the door open.
The corridor beyond was a nightmare of twisted metal, exposed wiring spitting arcs of blue energy. He ran, Akari feeding a route directly into his mind's eye, a glowing green line overlaid on the wreckage.
**
He saw it a second later—a hairline fracture in the outer wall, spiderwebbing under the immense stress. The air around it began to thin, a low hiss growing into a deafening roar. Haruto poured on the speed, his legs pumping, the stimulants Akari had administered singing in his veins. He threw himself past the fracture just as the metal gave way, a section of the hull ripping outward into the void, taking a chunk of the corridor with it.
He skidded to a stop, his back pressed against the far wall, the vacuum just meters away. He didn't look back.
**
He reached the pod with three minutes to spare. It was a small, cramped sphere designed for one, its interior lit by a single, flickering emergency light. He strapped himself into the crash harness, his hands flying across the pre-launch sequence with practiced ease.
"Akari, transfer your core programming to the pod's local network," Haruto commanded, his fingers keying in the final commands. "I'm not leaving you behind."
**
The transfer completed just as the Icarus began its final death rattle. The escape pod's launch clamps fired with an explosive bang, ejecting the small craft into space. Through the tiny porthole, Haruto watched his home, his world for the last three years, tear itself apart as it hit the upper atmosphere, a man-made meteor streaking across an alien sky.
Then, his own descent began. The pod shuddered violently, the compromised heat shielding glowing an angry orange. G-forces crushed him into his seat, and the world outside the porthole became a blur of fire. Alarms blared inside the tiny cockpit.
**
The last thing Haruto knew was a cataclysmic impact, the shriek of tortured metal, and then, once again, the merciful release of darkness.