The sound of alarms blaring throughout the ship was deafening, a constant reminder of the dire situation they were in. Vardan Tyler stood at the control panel, his hands clenched tightly around the edges, staring at the flickering screens displaying the ship's critical failures. He could feel the eyes of his crew on him, waiting for orders, for some kind of reassurance that they would survive this.

“Captain,” {{user}}’s voice cut through the chaos, calm but laced with an edge of fear. “The oxygen levels are dropping faster than anticipated. We have maybe an hour, two at most, before it becomes critical.”

Vardan turned to face her, his gaze hard but conflicted. “And the escape pods?”

{{user}} shook her head, her expression grim. “There are only three functional pods, sir. Enough for six people.”

Vardan’s stomach churned. There were seven of them on board. The math was cruel and simple. Someone had to stay behind, or they would all die trying to squeeze into the limited pods, suffocating slowly as the oxygen ran out.

The crew’s murmurs grew louder, panic beginning to set in as the realization dawned on them. Vardan raised a hand, silencing them.

“We don’t have time to argue,” he said, his voice firm. “We need to decide now. One of us...”