Reborn in The Legendary Mechanic

The holograms flooded the room with soft light, making me feel disconnected from reality. Data lines, blueprints, and complex formulas hung in the air like ghosts of completed labor. The last lines of code fell into place, completing what had become the center of the world for me these past weeks. I leaned back in my chair, feeling the tension subside, leaving behind only fatigue.

- The BlackWall protocol has been finished and is ready for use, - Eridian's voice came through. His tone was cold and precise as always, but behind those words was a huge amount of work.

- Is everything ready? - I asked, though the answer was obvious.

- All phases of development have been completed. Data has been transferred and payments have been confirmed. 

I nodded and swiped my hand to close the hologram. Even in the emptiness of space, the speed at which the factories were working would have amazed anyone. Under normal circumstances, it would have taken months, if not years, to produce such complex systems. But money, as always, decided everything. The three billion enas transferred as an additional fee opened the door to "miracles".

- The factories have already begun assembly. They will complete the orders in fourteen days, - Eridian continued. 

- Good, - I muttered, more to myself than to him.

Everything Eridian and I had planned was out of my hands now. Engineers and automated assembly lines on the other side of the galaxy were busy implementing my plan. Even if I wanted to, nothing could be changed.

The Black Wall Protocol had become not just a safety net for me, but a symbol of my entire philosophy. If something went wrong, nothing I created would fall into the wrong hands. No technology, no data, no chance to use my creation against myself.

- The destruction will be total, - Eridian said, as if he'd overheard my thoughts. - From the code to the physical shell.

- And if someone tries to interfere? - I asked, staring at the fading projections.

- Any attempted tampering would activate the protocol. The mechanisms will start self-destructing in 0.004 seconds.

I chuckled briefly. It was a simple idea, but it took some work to realize.

The room suddenly felt too cramped. It's done. All paid for. Now all that was left was to wait. And this waiting, this strange idleness, was beginning to piss me off.

- What now? - I asked, looking at the empty table in front of me.

- I recommend physical activity, - Eridian said. - Your form is optimal, but you need a mental release.

- Thank you for your concern, - I grinned, feeling my irritation give way to fatigue.

- Concern? No, just statistics. If you want to be effective, work on your body and mind. Mercenaries still use the training room.

Mercenaries. I thought about their daily workouts, how they take every opportunity to get stronger, faster, tougher.

- Okay, you're right, - I said, getting up and putting on my training uniform. - Let's go see what they can do.

***

The noise of the training room was like a blast of fresh energy. The sound of blows hitting the training dummies, the scraping of metal, the loud laughter and heavy breathing of the fighters filled the space. It was chaos, orderly and pulsing like the heart in the chest of a giant beast.

I walked past a group of fighters who were concentrating on holographic targets. Their movements were quick and precise, each blow accompanied by a quiet whoosh of air. At the other end of the hall, weightlifters fought with giant barbells under increased gravity, their faces twisted with exertion.

- Look who's here! - came the voice of Rickard, who stood in the center of the hall with a practice sword in his hands. His broad smile was combined with a slight tinge of surprise. - Ellarion, come out of your cave?

- Thought I'd see how you were doing, - I said, stepping closer.

- Doing okay? - He grinned, pointing his sword at the training dummies. - Why don't you try it?

I looked around at the stand of training weapons. My gaze lingered on the swords, but it was soon drawn to the Lightning Claws, a training glove with blunt blades instead of fingers. It couldn't do serious damage, but it was perfect for practicing technique. I put it on my left hand and took the light training sword with my right.

- Are you serious? - A thunderous voice rang out, cutting through the noise of the hall.

I turned around. Garth was already standing across the room, his massive figure casting a long shadow. He was unarmed, only his powerful fists clenched and unclenched. Garth, a C-class super pugilist, looked like he could punch through a wall with a single blow.

- You think that'll work against me? - He said, nodding at my claws and sword.

- I think it's worth a try, - I said calmly, taking a fighting stance.

A crowd of fighters began to gather around us. Some whistled, others shouted words of encouragement.

- Well, boy, let's see what you can do, - Garth grinned as he stood up.

- Don't let us down, Ellarion! - shouted someone from the crowd.

The fight started suddenly. Garth lunged forward, his fist whistling through the air. I managed to dodge, taking a step back and parrying the blow with my sword. His strength was overwhelming-even the sword's impact made my hand shake.

- Fast, but not fast enough, - he commented, following up with a series of quick but heavy blows.

I was moving at the edge of my power. His blows were powerful, but straightforward. My reaction speed gave me a slight advantage.

I lunged forward, aiming a claw at Garth's side. He blocked the blow with his elbow, pushing me back, and at the same moment he lunged forward, trying to grab me.

- Not so easy, - I said, ducking and slamming my claws into his arm. There was a clinking sound as the blades slid through his tracksuit, leaving barely visible marks.

- That's better, - Garth admitted, a slight grin on his face.

He started moving faster, making me dodge constantly. One of his blows was so close that I felt a gust of air, but I managed to counterattack with a deceptive lunge of my sword and a claw on his shoulder at the same time.

Garth stopped, assessing the situation.

- Good reaction, - he said, adjusting his stance. - But it won't work against the pure power.

He lunged forward with incredible speed, his blow hitting my sword, knocking it out of my hand. I retreated, left with only my claws.

- That's the end of it, - Garth said, preparing for the final blow.

But I used the momentum to dash to the side and strike his leg with my claws. He stumbled, but regained his balance, turning back to me.

- Okay, I give up, - I said, raising my hands.

Garth laughed, his loud laughter echoing off the walls of the hall.

- You're good, Ellarion. But as a superhuman, even if not a super, there's no way you can beat me without equipment.

- I know, - I said, withdrawing my claws. - But maybe someday I will.

Garth stepped closer, putting his huge hand on my shoulder.

- For a boy, you're surprisingly stubborn. That's good. Maybe you'll make something worthwhile out of yourself.

The noise of the training room grew quieter as Rickard stepped forward. His figure seemed both light and dangerous at the same time, like a bow drawn before it was fired. In his hand he held a training sword, sleek and elongated, clearly designed for speed and precision. His movements were fluid, almost graceful, but there was a sense of menace behind the calm.

- So, Ellarion, you want to show me a few more tricks? - He grinned, playing with the sword in his hand.

- Do you think it'll be like fighting Garth? - I parried, putting my training claws back on and raising my sword. - You know I'm not a fan of rematches.

- This isn't a rematch, it's training. - He raised the sword sharply, the tip of it coming within a centimeter of my face. - Only this time, I'll be the teacher.

The crowd gathered around again, as if the arena had come alive with anticipation. Even Garth lingered against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and watching with a slight chuckle.

Rikard stepped forward, his eyes glittering with excitement. He stood, seemingly completely relaxed, but I could feel the concentrated energy radiating from him.

- Ready? - He asked, briefly pointing his sword in my direction.

I nodded, raising my weapon. At that moment, everything around me became unimportant: the crowd, gravity, even time. All that remained was him, his sword, and the distance between us.

Rickard attacked first. His strike was so fast that I barely had time to block it with my claws. The ringing of metal echoed in my ears, but before I could react, he'd already changed position, his sword slicing through the air at a different angle. I stepped back, trying to keep my balance.

- Slow, Ellarion, - he grinned, making a precise lunge toward me.

I ducked, but Rickard's sword still grazed the side of my uniform. Luckily, the training weapon didn't leave any serious damage, but the blow was sensitive enough.

- Even slower, - he added, clearly enjoying the moment.

I lunged forward, hoping to disrupt his rhythm, but he dodged easily, his movements like a dance: fluid, graceful, perfectly timed. He didn't even bother to parry my blow, just moved away and immediately attacked from a new position.

Each of his blows was like a lesson. He found the weaknesses in my defenses time after time, making me feel like a novice every time. In his hands, the sword became an extension of his body, perfectly obedient and deadly.

My tactics were reduced to dodging and trying not to miss too many blows. I tried to counterattack, but his speed and accuracy were on another level. Even my reaction, which I was so proud of, seemed insufficient.

- You rely too much on your instincts, - he said, deflecting my lunge and then attacking from the other side. - Technique trumps instinct. It could save your life.

Rickard sped up suddenly, his sword flashing through the air like a blur. One of his blows hit my training weapon, knocking the sword out of my hand. Now I was left with only my claws.

- This will be a short fight, - he said, standing in a fighting stance and preparing for the final blow.

I tried to use my claws to trick him into making false lunges, but he read my movements like an open book.

The noise of the hall seemed to disappear, and the air around me became dense and still. Rickard, on the other hand, moved swiftly, his sword glinting in the light of the artificial lamps. His final blow was already coming toward me, graceful, deliberate, flying straight toward me. I could see him interlocking his fingers on the hilt, twisting his body with force, transferring energy to the point of attack.

And then everything changed.

The world froze. Time seemed to stretch into a viscous ribbon. Rickard, who a moment ago had been elusive, suddenly became moving in slow motion. I could see his sword sliding forward, sweat dripping down his temples, tense muscles moving in anticipation of victory.

Every detail around him became distinct. I could hear the rhythm of my own heart, every beat of it. I saw a barely perceptible particle of dust flying in the light of the lamps. My own movements suddenly became light, as if the heaviness of ordinary speed had left me.

I took a lightning-fast step to the side, dodging a sword strike. My left hand with its training claws surged upward, ahead of my thoughts. The claws whistled through the air, leaving no chance for Rickard to adjust his attack. I felt my claws touch his weapon, breaking his swing and throwing him aside.

My left hand, completed the movement. The blow was precise and decisive. The end of the training claws stopped right at Rickard's neck, barely touching his skin.

And in that moment, everything sped up again.

Rickard, just now confident of his victory, froze. His eyes, wide open, stared at me with shock. The crowd around us ahhed, the sound of their voices returning like a roll of thunder. Even Garth, who was standing against the wall, couldn't resist a short whistle.

- What the... - Rickard started, but stopped, glancing at the claws at his neck.

I lowered my weapon, taking a step back. My breathing became rapid, and I felt sweat trickle down my back in cold streams.

- Technique, you say? - I exhaled, struggling to find the words. - Speed sometimes solves everything.

Rickard, shocked, put his sword away and looked at me with renewed respect.

- That's... - he started, but stopped talking again, a smile on the edge of his lips. - I don't know what it was, but damn it, you surprised me.

- I'm not sure, - I admitted honestly, feeling my fingers still trembling slightly.

Garth laughed out loud.

- Wow, our engineer had decided to prove himself! Who would have thought it!

The crowd around us erupted in applause. But inside I knew it wasn't just luck. It was more than that. And I didn't know what it meant.

After that brief but strange triumph, I felt... I don't know what to call it. Pride? Not exactly. More like mild amazement mixed with the realization that it wasn't all just a fluke. I felt that this moment was something important.

Rickard, still holding his training sword, stepped closer to me, his face suddenly serious.

- Look, Ellarion, - he began, his voice softer than usual, - I don't know what it was. But if you want this not to remain a random outburst, you need more than just instincts. You need knowledge.

Garth grinned, stepping closer.

- Yeah, or you'll just keep hitting everyone for luck until someone puts you down with the first punch.

- Very encouraging, - I said, putting away my training claws and sword.

Rickard nodded to a vacant space in the far corner of the hall.

- Then listen. Fighting isn't just about strength and speed. It's also strategy, technique, and understanding what your opponent wants to do. Garth, you with me?

- Oh, I'd love to. I need to teach you something useful so you can be proud of it, - he grinned.

We moved to an empty training area. Garth stood to one side, Rickard to the other. Both of them looked at me like predators ready to teach their prey how to hunt.

- The first thing to remember, - Rickard began, lowering his sword but not relaxing his stance. - A weapon isn't just a piece of steel or a plasma blade. It's an extension of your body. If you move like it's in your way, you'll become predictable.

He stepped towards me, took two short swings with his practice sword, showing me how he deftly leaves the center.

- Always remember: attack where your opponent doesn't expect you to. Better yet, make him think you're weak.

- And now for the fists, - Garth said, putting his feet heavily into a fighting stance. His arms hung relaxed at his sides, but I knew there was punching power behind it.

- You can be a super or not, but if your fist knows where and how to strike, no shield will save your opponent. Different opponents require different approaches. One you knock out with the first punch, the other you have to wear down. Also, think with your feet. If they move, you're alive. If they're frozen, you're dead.

Garth began to demonstrate. Slow kicks, turning into lightning-fast lunges, were followed by sudden forward and backward movements.

- You're fast, - he continued, - but you don't know how to use it properly yet. Get your opponent open, get him to open up. And then throw a punch he's not expecting.

Rickard picked up on that:

- And remember, Ellarion. Winning isn't just about survival. It's about control. When you're in control, you've won before you've even struck.

We spent a few more hours in the gym. They showed me how to connect moves, change stances, work with and without weapons.

At the end, Garth clapped me on the shoulder, grinning:

- Not bad for an engineer. Might even put down a super if you're lucky.

Rickard added, smiling slightly:

- It's not about luck. If you study, you'll be ready for any fight. Even against the likes of me.

I looked at both of them, feeling something strange. This wasn't just a lesson. This was a new opportunity. A new path that I was only beginning to understand.

The training was still in full swing, but with each passing minute it was becoming more than just exhausting - it was starting to remind me of a debriefing.

Rickard stood in front of me, his sword moving slowly from side to side like a predator preparing to leap.

- Stop! - His voice broke the silence as I lunged again. - Are you going to chop wood?

- What? - I exhaled, backing away a little.

- You're swinging your arm too far, - he raised his sword, showing me how the motion should be as smooth as water. - Anyone even slightly faster than you will be at your throat by the time you swing that blade.

- Okay, got it, - I lowered my sword, but Garth stepped in.

- Now show me what you were going to do with your claws, - he nodded at my left hand with the training glove.

I froze.

- Well?

I slowly raised my hand, making a semi-defensive gesture as if preparing to parry a blow.

- Are you serious? - Garth rolled his eyes, stepping closer. - Ellarion, claws aren't a toy. If you don't know what to do with them, throw them the hell away.

- Then teach me, - I said, feeling irritated.

Garth grinned.

- I'd love to.

He took my clawed hand and squeezed it lightly, showing me how to hold my palm properly.

- Listen to this. The claws are your main weapon. Not your sword. Not a fist. Claws make your opponent think, make him nervous. You must use them to break down his defenses.

He swept his hand sharply along an imaginary trajectory, as if cutting through the air.

- Imagine an enemy backing away from your sword, but your claws are already tearing his stomach. Or he tries to strike, and you just grab his arm, squeeze it, and his weapon and his arm with it are already trash.

- But that means I have no defense, - I countered, trying to figure out how to connect the claws to the sword.

- That's where you're wrong, - Rickard interjected, stepping closer. - A sword isn't just offense. It's also defense, if you know how to use it.

He raised his training sword, showing a classic defense stance.

- With your claws you can block strong blows or even grab your enemy's weapon, but with your sword you must smother everything else. They're not two separate tools, they're one.

- Try it again, - Garth added, stepping back a few steps.

I sighed and raised my sword and claws, trying to put the movements together. I took a step forward, swung my sword in a sharp strike, then swung my claws quickly into the air.

- Missed again, - Rickard said. - You're switching too late.

- And your movements are jagged, - Garth added. - You have to move faster. Let's go over it again.

Every move I made, every punch or defense, was accompanied by their comments.

- Don't swing so hard.

- Keep your sword close to your body!

- The claws! Did you forget them?

- Opening left again!

For a moment I started to get angry, but I forced myself to calm down. They knew what they were talking about.

- Ellarion, - Rickard said, after I'd made a mistake for the tenth time. - This style is rare, but that's why it's dangerous.

Garth nodded, adding:

- Your strength is not in raw power, but in making your enemy think constantly. The claws are a threat, the sword is a threat. Now imagine they also work together.

I froze, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

- Okay, one more time, - I said, raising my weapon.

And we started again.

***

The stillness of space was almost palpable. The vast darkness, studded with myriads of cold, distant stars, stretched out in all directions like an endless black ocean. In this boundless void, where time and distance lost all meaning, giant spirals of galaxies slowly rotated, nebulae flickered like ghostly lights, and new stars were born, bursting with bright, dazzling sparks. This picture of eternal peace and majesty seemed to exist beyond time, beyond history, beyond human comprehension.

It was in this silent, majestic void that the Anter, a massive Nova-class battle station, carried on. Its silvery, armored metal hull, sixty kilometers long, reflected the cold light of distant suns, making the station look like a giant comet hurtling through space. It did not fly, but rather glided across this black surface, tearing through the vacuum with the power of its gravity engines, glowing with blue halos. Anter's trajectory was straight, inexorable, like an arrow shot from the bow of fate itself. It raced toward Ilaadros like a harbinger of disaster, like a comet bearing imminent destruction on its fiery mane. This trajectory was not just a line on a map, it was a finger pointing to inevitable disaster.

The Anter's command center was the epitome of order and technological perfection. High ceilings supported by sleek gravity panels, whose glowing modules softly illuminated the room, made it feel spacious and airy. The floor, covered in matte gray metal, reflected the light, reinforcing the impression of sterility and cleanliness. In the center of the room stood a massive table made of armor-hardened glass, above which hovered a huge hologram of the station, showing in detail all its compartments and systems. Red markers indicating maintenance areas and green markers indicating active systems flickered on the hologram, giving the impression of a living, pulsing organism. Along the walls were numerous control consoles, complete with sophisticated instruments and displays showing data on station status, environment, and flight path. Everything here was subordinated to strict logic and functionality, every element of the interior working to ensure control and management. This atmosphere of order and confidence seemed destined to last forever, but coming events were to violently shatter this illusion.

Gathered around the table were the station's top officers. 

Commander Walter Zornex, tall, with sharp features and a piercing, cold gaze, radiated confidence and strength. He had years of service in the Federation Navy, many successful operations, and a reputation for unwavering leadership. 

Colonel Conrad Ragner, commander of the twenty-sixth elite Reinforced Heavy Breakthrough Regiment, was the exact opposite of Zornex. Large, broad-shouldered, with a rough, weathered face, he seemed the epitome of brute strength and straightforwardness. However, behind this appearance hid a sharp mind and strategic thinking. 

Walter Jest, honored ace and commander of the Seventh Veteran Fighter Aviation Regiment, kept a reserved and calm. His scarred face bore testimony to his extensive combat experience. Jest was known for his coolness and ability to make quick and correct decisions in the most difficult situations. 

Maya Reinart, commander of the Fourth Mechanoid Brotherhood, was the youngest of the gathering. Short, but trim and energetic, she exuded confidence and determination. Her brotherhood was renowned for its combat training and technological equipment. 

Viktor Sokolov, commander of the Seventh Rocket Brigade, was a veteran of many conflicts. His face, riddled with wrinkles, expressed wisdom and experience. Sokolov was known for his accuracy and effectiveness in missile strikes. There was a long-standing but friendly rivalry between Reinart and Sokolov that often erupted into joking altercations.

Suddenly Zornex raised his hand, calling for silence. His voice, usually calm and confident, sounded strained:

- Gentlemen, we have an emergency. A little over an hour ago, the station's artificial intelligence, without my or anyone else's authorization, made a hyper-jump.

There was a heavy silence in the room. The faces of the officers became serious and tense.

- At the moment, - Zornex continued, - we are traveling at maximum speed toward Ilaadros. Preliminary analysis indicates that the cause of this unauthorized jump was the presence of saboteur robots on board. They appear to have begun actively sabotaging key systems. And before that, they cut off our communications with the outside world.

A muffled murmur swept through the hall. The officers looked at each other, exchanging anxious glances. The tension in the air was almost palpable.

- How did they get on board in the first place? - Jest asked sharply, breaking the silence in the command center. His eyes were fixed on Zornex, as if demanding an immediate answer. - We have multiple layers of security!

- That's a matter under investigation, - Zornex replied dryly. - But from the looks of it, they were operating from the inside.

- Inside? - Ragner interjected, frowning. - Does that mean someone helped them?

There was a heavy silence in the air. Everyone realized that suspicion was falling on someone in the crew.

- Or... - Ragner said slowly, shifting his gaze to Zornex, - they arrived with Admiral Gron.

There was a ringing silence. The mention of the Admiral hung in the air like a heavy weight. A week ago, Gron had visited the Enterprise for a confidential conversation with Zornex. The content of their conversation remained a secret to all other officers.

- Commander, - Ragner repeated insistently, - what exactly did the Admiral discuss with you? It could be extremely important.

Zornex hesitated. It was obvious that he did not want to share the details of the conversation. But the heavy atmosphere in the command center and the gravity of the situation made him change his mind.

- Admiral Gron has arrived to discuss... - Zornex began, but he was unable to finish his sentence.

At that moment, the Enterprise shuddered with a tremendous explosion. The floor beneath the officers' feet shook like a ship's deck in a storm. Dust fell from the ceiling, and the lights went out for a moment, plunging the command center into semi-darkness. The officers were barely able to stay on their feet, grabbing onto desks and consoles.

- What was that?! - roared Ragner, trying to regain his balance.

- Engineering reporting! - came an excited voice over the communicator. - There has been an explosion in the reactor area! Repeat, explosion in the reactor area!

Chaos reigned in the command center. Officers rushed to consoles, trying to get damage reports. Red marks appeared on the station's hologram, spreading rapidly across the hull.

- Stabilization systems disabled! - yelled one of the navigators. - We're losing control!

- Communications systems damaged! - reported the communications officer. - Station communications have been damaged!

At that moment, the main screen showed the surveillance footage from the reactor compartment. The picture was horrifying and surreal. Hundreds of bug-like robots, the size of large dogs, were climbing out of ventilation shafts, tearing through metal grates, out of wall panels as if they were leaking out of crevices, and even from under the floor, pushing heavy slabs apart.

 Their metallic shells glistened in the dim light of the emergency lamps, and their razor-sharp limbs, covered with fine serrations, moved with frightening, almost unnatural speed. They had no eyes in the usual sense, only small slits from which a dim red light emanated. The robots, without making a sound, methodically shot the engineers in the compartment. 

The laser beams from their manipulators pierced the air, leaving thin trails of smoke and burning holes in the metal structures. People fell, hit by the precise shots before they even realized what had happened. Some tried to fight back, using improvised tools as weapons, but it was useless. 

The robots were too fast and too numerous. The brutality and cold-bloodedness with which they massacred the engineers was astounding. It wasn't just an attack, it was a methodical extermination.

After all the engineers were killed, the bugs began to climb the reactor wall. They clung to each other, using their sharp limbs and tenacious stingers to form a living, moving chain that coiled around the massive reactor cylinder like a giant snake. Then, as if on cue, the robots exploded synchronously. Not separate explosions, but a single, powerful explosion, like the detonation of a huge explosive charge, shook the station. The blast wave swept through the compartment, sweeping away everything in its path. Metal structures deformed and shattered, sparks and debris flew in all directions. A small but deadly hole was created in the reactor vessel. A stream of red-hot stellar matter mixed with deadly radiation burst out of the hole with a deafening hiss.

A new, bright red spot appeared on the station's hologram, pulsing and rapidly increasing in size. The radiation began to spread through the ventilation shafts like a poisonous gas, penetrating into neighboring compartments, poisoning the air and killing all life in its path. Sensors detected a sharp jump in the radiation background, exceeding all permissible norms by dozens of times.

- The radiation level is critical! - shouted one of the operators, his voice trembling with terror. - It is urgent to evacuate personnel from the contaminated areas!

But it was too late. The radiation was spreading too fast, blocking escape routes, turning corridors and compartments into death traps. Thousands of people died instantly, their bodies charred and mutilated by the deadly radiation. Others farther away from the epicenter experienced the excruciating symptoms of radiation sickness: nausea, vomiting, dizziness, internal bleeding. They died slowly and painfully, poisoned from the inside out by the radiation.

- Engineering reports! - The engineer's voice came over the communicator again, now full of despair and pain. - We are losing final control of the reactor! The emergency shutdown systems are completely locked down! The saboteurs seem to have overridden control at the highest level!

- What do you mean, "locked down"?! - Zornex asked angrily, his voice sounding harsh and curt.

- They are completely ignoring our commands! - replied the engineer. - The reactor control system is only responding to their requests! There's nothing we can do! They've... they've reprogrammed it!

At that moment, new accident reports appeared on the screens, one scarier than the other. Main and backup engines failed, the station began to rotate erratically, losing speed and orientation in space. The defense shields shut down, leaving the station defenseless against any external threats, be it asteroids or enemy ships. The life support system began to work with critical failures, the oxygen level in some compartments began to drop rapidly, dooming people to an agonizing death from suffocation. The ventilation, instead of purifying the air, was spreading radioactive dust throughout the ship, accelerating the spread of contamination.

- They've taken over everything! - Ragner whispered, staring at the hologram of the station, dotted with red marks, as if it were stricken with a deadly disease. His face expressed a mixture of horror and helplessness. - Reactor, engines, shields, life support... They control absolutely everything! 

There was an oppressive silence in the command center. The officers looked at each other with horror and despair in their eyes. They realized that they were in a death trap. "The Enter was slowly and painfully dying, and the two hundred thousand people on board were dying with it. The station, once a symbol of Federation power and greatness, was turning into a giant radioactive coffin.

Zornex, despite the despair that gripped him, tried to maintain the remnants of his composure. He realized that now, more than ever, he needed to be strong and make decisions.

- Sokolov, - he turned to the commander of the missile brigade, - do we have a way to contact Il? We need to warn them.

- Communication is completely cut off, commander, - Sokolov replied, shaking his head. - We are completely cut off from the outside world. Even the emergency channels don't work.

- Then there's only one thing left, - Zornex said, his voice sounding firm despite his inner turmoil. - We must try to regain control of at least part of the station.

- But how, Commander? - Reinart asked, her voice trembling. - They control all the systems. We don't stand a chance.

- There is always a chance, Zornex replied. - Even the smallest one. 

He looked around at his officers. In their eyes he saw fear, despair, but also a faint spark of hope. And that spark, though barely perceptible, gave him the strength to keep fighting.

At that moment the thundering voice of the commander cut through the murmur of the officers' conversation. Walter Zornex's voice sounded like a steel blade, breaking the tense silence:

- We are in dire straits. - His gaze slid over the faces of the assembled men, lingering on each one a little longer than necessary. His eyes showed not only determination, but also some hidden, deep thought. - But we will not sit idly by. I have a plan, and you will all be part of its execution.

With these words, he stepped toward the central hologram of the station, where the red kill zones were glowing. His hand pointed to the most vulnerable points, but not for the purpose of detail, but rather to indicate the scope of the problem.

- First, we must stabilize the situation inside the station bays. Our priority is containment. We'll close all surviving sections to minimize casualties.

His words caused an indistinct whispering among the officers, but no one dared to interrupt the commander. Zornex continued, his voice still cool and confident, but there was a sense of understatement.

- The surviving compartments will become strongholds. Temporary protective barriers and bulkheads will be installed immediately. We will concentrate the crew in these areas to ensure minimum security. Distribution will be done according to pre-prepared lists.

Maya Reinart, commander of the Fourth Mechanoid Brotherhood, frowned, her sharp facial features as if carved from stone. - How are we supposed to do this, we don't have the resources to do it.

- And we've gotten out of worse, - Sokolov, commander of the seventh missile brigade, said with his characteristic mocking tone. - The main thing is to survive until we get out of the jump. He cast a quick glance at Zornex, as if trying to figure out what the latter was really up to, - But you, girl, you can get into your robot right now, courtesy of your parent, and leave us, if you're so afraid.

- Enough. - Zornex's voice came again like a blow, cutting off the argument that was brewing. - We all realize this is a temporary measure. It's just part of the bigger picture.

Zornex looked around at everyone present and added, pausing as if weighing each word: "The evacuation transports will be loaded to capacity. We'll put everyone we can save on them, and the rest will be distributed among mechs, armored vehicles, and other modules that can hold anything. This will allow us to disperse the survivors as much as possible.

The statement caused obvious confusion. Several officers glanced around, whispers filling the room again. Their eyes were filled with incomprehension and anxiety. The plan seemed incomplete to them, like a piece of a puzzle that had been torn away from the big picture.

- Are you really suggesting that we turn the combat vehicles into escape pods? - Ragner, the commander of the heavy tank regiment, furrowed his eyebrows. - Do you think that's even possible? And what happens after the evacuation? - He paused for a second, and then with an even frownier face said, - If you mean that maneuver in the assault 'Taraska', it's a very bad idea. A very damned bad idea!

- We will not choose between the possible and the impossible, - Zornex replied coldly. His gaze became even more impenetrable. - We will do whatever is necessary. The main thing now is to buy time.

The reaction of the officers was mixed. Some nodded silently, trying to comprehend what they had heard, others wrinkled their brows in frustration, feeling that they were being told something, but no one dared to express doubts about the orders. Zornex seemed to be holding something back, that there was something more behind the generalities.

- This is our only chance, - Zornex said firmly. - When we get out in the Il system, everyone must be ready to leave immediately.

Silence hung over the table. Every officer realized the magnitude of the difficulties ahead, but now there was a sense of mystery hanging in the air.

- You heard me, - Zornex said, his voice low but firm. - Proceed to execution.

The officers began to disperse, whispers and quiet conversations filling the room again. Zornex was left alone. His gaze fell once more upon the hologram of the station. The red areas spreading like blood on metal seemed like a taunt. But his eyes now read not only alarm, but determination, and some hidden hope he was not yet ready to reveal.

It was nine days, six hours, and ten minutes until the Anter arrival in the Ilaadros system.