Alliance reinforcements arrive faster than anticipated. Their response time is surgical. Additional units flood side corridors, and the station’s internal layout shifts dynamically, rerouting paths and sealing intersections behind us.
“Unit three pinned near docking sector,” a voice crackles over comm.
“Casualties?” I demand.
“Two confirmed lost.”
The word lands like a physical blow, but I do not let it slow my stride.
“Hold your position,” I order. “Reinforcement inbound.”
“Negative,” the warrior replies through gritted breath. “We hold.”
The feed cuts.
I do not allow myself to linger on the silence.
“Inner detention wing ahead,” Rethan says through comm. “Multiple biometric locks.”
The corridor narrows, and the air grows colder. The hum of automated systems intensifies as lockdown protocols cascade through the station.
“Full emergency status,” Rethan continues. “They are sealing the core.”
“I see it,” I reply.
Another blast door slams down ahead of us, thicker than the last, reinforced with internal shielding.
“Captain,” one of my warriors says quietly, “extraction window collapsing.”
I step forward, placing my hand against the sealed barrier. I can feel the vibration of mechanisms engaging behind it.
“Fall back,” one of them suggests. “We’ve done enough damage. We can regroup.”
I turn slowly toward him.
“She is on the other side of this,” I say evenly.
“And if we lose the cruiser?” he presses.
“If we retreat now,” I answer, “we lose more than the cruiser.”
Silence stretches between us, heavy with understanding.
“Clear space,” I order.
They step back.
I plant my boots against the deck and drive both hands into the seam of the blast door. The metal bites into my palms, the resistance immense. I pull.
The sound that tears through the corridor is primal—metal shrieking under strain, bolts snapping one by one.
Alarms spike to piercing intensity.
“Structural integrity failing,” Rethan warns through comm.
“Then move,” I reply through clenched teeth.
The seam widens fractionally.
