Dowron says nothing. But I can feel his breath tighten across the room.
I lean in closer to the mic.
“They will call this a hoax. They will threaten to scrub it. To silence it. But the truth is already out. This feed has been copied. It has beenshared.This isn’t a message. It’s a reckoning.”
I pause. Let that sink in.
“I don’t care if you believe me. I care that you listen. And if you’re brave enough—if you’re angry enough—I care that youact.”
The transmission light flickers.
And I finish.
“We aren’t safe. We never were. But maybe—just maybe—we still have time to befree.”
I kill the feed.
The console goes dark.
Dowron lets out a slow breath. “You’re braver than I gave you credit for.”
“I’m angrier than you thought,” I say, standing.
“You just lit a powder keg.”
“Good.”
Withinhours,it begins.
Protests on Lusan Prime. Explosions in the Combine’s data banks on Orellis. Lawmakers demanding hearings. Civilians pouring into streets with signs and fire and purpose.
They call it the Broadcast Burn.
One feed turns into hundreds. The file spreads like blood in water. Anonymous nodes keep it alive even as the Combine scrambles to cut the signal.
They can’t.
It’s too late.
The fracture’s started.
I stand in the command deck, Dowron beside me, and watch a hundred holos of a galaxy waking up. Screaming.Fighting back.
But even in that chaos, even in the righteous noise…
There’s silence where Valtron should be.
No contact.
No updates.
No pings from the Fold.
No body.
Just black.
Just the space where he used to be.
