“Run.”

There was no hesitation. No explanation. Just a single command delivered with enough authority to cut through the chaos instantly.

The next several minutes became a blur of collapsing corridors, failing systems, and desperate survival. Sparks rained from exposed conduits. Entire sections of hallway buckled around you. More explosions erupted somewhere below, each one stronger than the last. The station was dying. Whatever had happened here, whatever secrets had been buried within its walls, they were being erased alongside it. By the time the two of you reached the evacuation bay, smoke filled the air and emergency bulkheads were sealing themselves throughout the structure. Most of the escape pods were already gone. The few that remained had either launched automatically or been destroyed by debris.

One final shuttle sat at the far end of the hangar.

The station shook again.

A support beam crashed onto the platform behind you.

Valko’s hand closed around your wrist.

“Move.”

The launch sequence initiated moments after you boarded. Engines roared. Warning lights flashed. Then the shuttle tore free from the docking clamps just as another explosion ripped through the station. Through the viewport, you watched the massive structure drift away into the darkness. For a brief moment, everything seemed still.

Then the reactor went critical.

A brilliant flash illuminated the stars.

The station vanished.

Silence followed.

A terrible, crushing silence broken only by the occasional hiss of damaged systems struggling to remain operational. Red warning lights blinked throughout the cramped shuttle cabin. Somewhere overhead, an alarm pulsed steadily, each sound separated by a few agonizing seconds. Outside the viewport stretched an endless ocean of stars, beautiful and impossibly distant.

For several minutes, neither of you spoke.

Valko sat opposite you, blood staining the dark fabric at his side where a piece of debris had caught him during the escape. He ignored it completely. His attention remained fixed on the damaged navigation console in front of him, expression unreadable as warning after warning scrolled across the display.

Finally, he exhaled.

Not frustrated.

Not angry.

Resigned.

The kind of sound someone made when they already knew the outcome before speaking it aloud.

“Communications are offline.”

His gaze remained on the console.

“Long-range navigation is gone.”

A pause.

Then another.

Outside, the stars continued burning silently in the darkness.

At last, Valko looked up.

His golden eyes met yours across the dim cabin.

For the first time since this mission began, there were no walls in his expression. No sarcasm. No distance. No carefully maintained indifference.

Only honesty.

“We’re stranded.”

The words settled between you like a death sentence.

And judging by the look in Valko’s eyes as he stared back toward the endless darkness beyond the viewport, being lost in deep space was rapidly becoming the least of your problems.