The cabin.
The metallic walls exude a damp, viscous cold.
As if the steel itself has absorbed too much despair.
The light is dim, smudged across the ceiling—
as though it fears disturbing the lifeless silence.
The hum of the hull vibrates in their bones.
Like the breath of a beast carrying them through a timeless void.
Outside—the abyss.
Black. Bottomless. Starless. Hopeless.
**
Alex and Yulia sit against the wall.
Shoulder to shoulder.
Not shackled—but not free, either.
Inside, chains.
They are not just prisoners.
They are hostages of their faith.
Their guilt. Their past.
Alex stays silent.
The stubble on his jaw casts broken shadows.
His shoulders droop, like an android who no longer believes in the weight of his own actions.
Yulia's eyes are closed.
But her breath is short.
As if she's counting engine pulses instead of time.
As though searching the hull's vibrations
for any trace of meaning.
A sign.
Something alive.
**
Sh-shk.
The door slides open.
Almost soundless—
but in this silence,
it's a blast.
A rectangle of light slices the floor.
In it—a silhouette.
Maria.
She enters quickly.
But not in a hurry.
Every step measured,
like a scout returning from the field,
not a commander from her desk.
In her hands—a tactical tablet.
On it—a platform map,
etched with precision lines,
dotted with red like pressure wounds.
Her eyes—cold.
Focused.
Ice at the edge of cracking.
"We found something for you to do,"
she says.
Her tone—almost playful.
Like she's brought a gift,
with a bomb inside.
"I think you'll like it."
Alex doesn't lift his head.
Just slightly turns his face.
A glance from beneath his lashes.
Dark.
Burned out.
"Alas.
Can't right now.
Terribly busy,"
his voice—dull,
like dust in a dead archive.
"Come back in a few hours.
Maybe I'll feel like losing again."
Yulia gives a faint smile.
A lightless grin.
Like an android who died, but no one bothered to switch off.
Maria scoffs.
Returns the smile—thinly.
More out of habit than humor.
"Ha-ha. Charming."
Her voice wrapped in cynicism.
"Fine. Enough poetry.
The attempt to breach the platform failed.
They were waiting.
The shield's impenetrable.
Losses are significant.
Your task:
make contact with Ivor.
Coordinate a new plan.
Platform destruction remains the priority."
She says it flatly.
Routine.
But beneath, a hope for cooperation.
Yulia opens her eyes.
Clear now.
And—for the first time in a long while—a spark.
"So you're cornered,"
she says calmly.
Like a diagnosis.
"And now you come to those you tried to erase yesterday.
Well…
Now it's our turn to name the terms."
Maria freezes.
Her lips press into a white line.
Not anger.
Hurt.
As if someone struck her faith.
"Are you serious?"
Her voice trembles.
Not with fear. With restrained fury.
"Release you? After everything you've done?
You're a walking threat.
We already have enough enemies."
Yulia doesn't look away.
"Yes. We did harm,"
her voice is quiet,
but each word lands with precision.
"We weren't ourselves.
Kairus had us on a leash.
We found the Desert of Forgetting.
We walked out.
We are different now.
N.E.P.s.
Not puppets."
Maria blinks.
A glitch.
As if someone tugged a cable inside.
The tablet lowers slightly.
"I...
I believe in Hanaris.
I don't even know what you're talking about..."
Alex lifts his head.
His gaze—scorched.
But within the darkness—a flicker.
Hope. Almost. Barely.
"Then I'll put it simpler,"
his voice—soft. Almost gentle.
But behind it, unwavering resolve.
"We're not your enemies anymore.
But if you want help—
you'll have to release us.
One condition.
Or we stay here.
And watch you drown."
Silence.
Thick.
Like oxygen in a chamber
right before the system fails.
Maria doesn't move.
Her inner conflict almost audible.
Like something essential is breaking—
but deep inside.
Her eyes dart.
From Yulia. To Alex.
Down. Back at them.
Pause. Inhale. Exhale.
Then—motion.
She slowly raises the tablet.
Presses something. Without looking.
"I'm sorry,"
her voice—dry, like ash.
"I can't decide that alone.
Not now."
She turns.
Leaves.
Each step heavy.
Like an android not exiting a room—but a cage.
Sh-shlok.
The door seals.
**
The cabin sinks back into gloom.
Only the engine's hum.
Only the breathing of two.
Once enemies.
Now—perhaps, the last chance.
For salvation.
Or the end.