The darkness inside the salvaged sphere felt heavier after the flash of the transmission. Only the soft, blue glow of the Lunara filter remained, highlighting the sheen of sweat on Lyra's face and the deep shadows under Orion's eyes. The time stamp on the console, counting down to potential fleet arrival, mocked them: 4.5 Cycles Remaining. Lyra couldn't sit still. She checked the seal on the door, adjusted the power flow, and then, for the fifth time in as many minutes, she ran a diagnostic on her now-useless pulse rifle. She was a creature of kinetic energy, and inaction was corrosive."We must conserve energy," Orion said quietly, not looking up from the comms screen where he was monitoring for any outgoing pirate chatter. "Rest, Lyra. You gave everything you had to that climb. I have secured the system against residual signal bleed.""I can't rest," she admitted, her voice low and ragged. "I just sent a transmission that will be classified as High Treason by the Solari High Command. My commission chip is attached to that metadata, Strategist. They know it was me."Orion finally looked up, his gaze steady. "And my command tag is attached as well. If the Lunara see a message that prioritizes Solari lives over a strategic advantage, I will be executed for Collaborative Sedition without trial. We are equally compromised, Firebrand."
"There's a difference," Lyra argued, running a hand through her hair. "I was fighting for the light, for truth. You were fighting for shadow and calculation. You calculated this risk. I acted out of... desperation.""And which one of us is currently more human?" Orion countered, his voice sharp but devoid of anger. "You acted to save innocent lives—not just Solari, but the civilians on that colony ship. I calculated that by saving those lives, we preserve two critical fleets that would otherwise be destroyed by opportunistic scavengers. In the end, Lyra, we both chose to preserve resources that transcended our war."He paused, then gestured to the small, dark star-map in his hand. "You asked why I kept the Lyrae map. Because the war requires us to be functional, disposable components. I keep this to remember that there was a time when I was Orion, the analyst who designed observatories, not Strategist, the architect of death. Our life under the Lunara is quiet, methodical, and safe, but it is a life devoid of all spontaneity and light. We are efficient, but we are not alive."His confession was a shock. It was the crack in the unassailable façade of the enemy."The Solari aren't much different," Lyra whispered, sinking down opposite him, her knees almost touching his. "We are light, heat, and fire. We are told to expand, to bring order, to burn away the doubt. My father was a logistics major, he managed the fuel supplies for the Ascendant Fleet. He told me that my duty was to be bright, and never show a single shadow of doubt. I left my home to escape the pressure, only to find the same dogma on the battlefield."She looked at him, truly seeing the man, not the uniform. "I realized on that ridge that if I brought the Solari here, I would be ending the one person I had ever been completely honest with—the only person who hadn't demanded that I be a perfect fire."A heavy silence descended. They sat in the small sphere, two people from opposite ends of the galaxy, confessing the deep loneliness and ideological fatigue that their respective totalitarian empires had inflicted upon them. They had more in common with each other than they did with the command structures they were supposed to be dying for. "The unified lie," Orion said softly, finally defining their bond. "It is the most honest thing we have done in our lives, Lyra.""It's still a lie," she murmured."No. It is a compromise of truth," Orion corrected. "A strategic necessity to achieve a greater peace—even if only for five cycles." Lyra felt the raw, powerful heat of her core fighting against the cool, quiet logic of his. She looked at the blue Lunara filter light, then at her Solari-built power cell. The two opposing systems were fused, running perfectly, their combined functions keeping them both alive.Then, the silence broke.A new signal registered on Orion's screen. It was not the chaotic noise of the pirate fight, and it wasn't the confirmation of their joint-transmission. It was a single, high-frequency ping, repeating every fifteen seconds. The signal was weak, but it was closing fast. Orion's eyes widened, his usual calm shattered by genuine alarm. He slammed his hand on the console, tracing the origin. "Not a fleet," he hissed, leaning close to Lyra. "It's too close, and the signature is singular. Solari, Lyra, but not a rescue cruiser. It's an Interceptor-Class Stealth Fighter. Fast, deadly, and designed for silent, deep-penetration scouting."He pulled up the tactical readout. "It detected the residual energy signature of your crash and is moving to investigate before the fleets arrive. Lyra, they're going to be here in less than half an hour. And if a Solari scout finds a downed Lunara Strategist with the Solari Warrior who transmitted the warning... there will be no trial. Only a clean, efficient execution."He looked at her, his face grim. "We have to assume they are not here for rescue. We have to assume they are here for confirmation—and elimination. We must leave the shelter, now." Their moment of reflection is violently interrupted. A Solari scout, armed and stealthy, is about to descend on their location.