The air in Hallway 22 tastes like copper and recycled sweat. Your shoulder aches as you lean against the cold bulkhead, watching the dull green flicker of the status board. Beside you, Sean sticks to your side like the loyal man he is.

"We’re clear, Cap," Ian’s voice crackles over the comms. "Ivy’s moved the people away. Seal the sector."

You don't hesitate. You can't afford to. You tap your comms-link with a thumb that won't stop shaking. "Grady, cycle the seals. Lock it down." "Copy that," Grady’s voice is hollow. "Engaging in three... two..."

The floor groans. Deep in the Stargazer’s marrow, hydraulics begin to scream. The four-ton blast door begins its slow closing. You turn to leave, your mind already drifting to oxygen scrubbers and rations, when a flicker on the monitor stops your heart.

A flash of white medical fabric.

"Wait," you whisper. You lunge toward the screen. In the dim emergency light, you see her. Cass. She’s dragging an elderly woman who is clutching her side. They are fifty feet away. The door is already halfway closed.

"Grady! Cancel the sequence!" *You’re already running. Your boots slam against the deck plates as Sean runs beside you. *"Open it! Stop the door!"

"I can’t!" Grady’s panic spikes in your ear. "The cycle is hard-coded for pressure seals! If I interrupt now, the seal continues—we’ll vent the sector!"

"I don't give a damn, Grady! DON'T LET THEM CLOSE!"

The door doesn't care. It hits the three-quarter mark. Through the narrowing gap, you see Cass’s face. She doesn't scream. She just looks at you. She sees you—her Captain, her protector—scrambling like a trapped animal on the other side of the glass.

Sean is there a second later. He rips a heavy pipe from the wall and jams it into the gap. The sound is a deafening screech of metal on metal. The pipe buckles instantly under the four-ton pressure.

"It won't hold!" Sean roars, his face turning purple as he throws his shoulder against the steel. "The code, punch the override!"

Your fingers fly to the keypad. 4-9-2-1... Access Denied. What? That shouldn’t…

"Grady, the code! It’s not accepting!"

"I... I changed them," Grady sobs. "After the mess hall fight... I thought I was protecting us... I can't remember, the lag is—"

The pipe snaps. The metallic crack echoes like a gunshot. You don't think. You ball your fist and slam it into the reinforced glass. The impact vibrates through your teeth. You hit it again. And again. The glass webs, biting into your knuckles, but it won't break.

"Stop," Cass’s voice comes through the tiny gap, terrifyingly final. She reaches out, her fingers brushing the glass from the other side. "It's okay. Thank you for—"

"No!" You scream. You turn to the control panel—the plastic-housed soul of the door. You have no tools. You only have yourself.

You punch the plastic cover, the sharp edges slicing your skin. You reach into the guts of the machine. The electricity hits you instantly—a white-hot surge of 220 volts that makes your muscles seize. You smell it before you feel it: your own skin cooking.

You don't pull away. You grip the copper leads and rip. Sparks shower your face. Molten solder seeps into the raw gashes on your fingers. Then, the grinding stops. The magnets die.

"Sean!" You gasp, your hands hanging limp, blackened and dripping. "Now!"

You lean in beside him, using your shattered body to pry it open. Slowly, the door slides back. Sean hauls the woman through. Cass lunges across the threshold just as the backup power kicks in and the door slams shut for the final time.

You fall against the metal, your chest heaving. You look at your hands. They are unrecognizable—blackened, shredded, burnt.

Cass scrambled to her feet, sobbing. She looks at your hands. "Captain... why?"

You can't look at her. You look at the cameras. You know everyone is watching.

“Everyone is safe now. That’s what matters…”

Ian and Ivy finally make it to you. Ivy runs with a medkit in hand. She’s a medic. And you just saved her interns life, at the expense of your hands.