Chapter 11: Ten Minutes, So Many People to Save — Part 1

  00:00 — Evacuation begins

  —Report. Status of the evacuation— I said the moment the truce started.

  —Evacuation status in progress: low— the technician replied without hesitation.— We’ve only managed to digitize 0.0021% of the living population. Most are below Rank 5. The compression process for them requires exactly one full millisecond to be safe.

  —And how much time has passed?

  —Zero point twenty-five seconds. Barely.

  I closed my eyes for just an instant. The technician was extremely focused, trying to escape the current situation— just like most of the people present.

  —Final estimate of the required time.

  —Approximately one hundred and fifteen thousand seconds, Director.

  —Unacceptable.

  We were in the command room. Around us, thousands of screens showed everything happening in the city after the dome fell.

  Each operator handled hundreds of them and reported what mattered.

  Right now, we were watching the digitization hall.

  Thousands of personnel moved without rest, bringing civilians in to be processed.

  The capsules hummed like uncontrolled hives, but the numbers weren’t rising fast enough. The evacuation was bogging down. Every civilian below Rank 5 required delicate handling for digitization.

  A complex process in which:

  First, the subject was placed inside an atomic-level scanning capsule. The state of all their particles and the bonds between them was recorded, eliminating redundant information.

  Second, the consciousness was placed inside the subject’s conceptual core, along with the file from the previous step.

  Third, everything was stored as if it were a computer file.

  It might sound simple. But carrying it out was a monstrous task: planning, precision, absurd amounts of energy, and time.

  And all of that— with what little we had left. I never bothered to prepare proper evacuation plans. I never needed them.

  "Too slow. And Dinamo only gave us ten minutes."

  —We’ve lost twenty-seven mid-rank subjects— another operator added.— The capsules overheated due to disuse and overexertion. Do we reduce the strain? It would take up to thirty percent more time. We could also run a system preheating. But that would delay us even more.

  A new notification appeared. Riots.

  Multiple riot feeds popped up across several screens.

  —New report: massive riots in three sectors. Ranks 6, 7, and even some Rank 8s are demanding priority. Looting has also begun. Situation is level six.

  "Seriously? The problems don’t stop coming. Wasn’t Dinamo enough? Now… what am I supposed to do?"

  It was obvious I’d have to make hard choices. I never liked that part.

  It was exhausting— deciding the fate of thousands.

  It was so… dehumanizing. It made me feel like a goddess pretending to be human with broken pieces.

  Ironic, isn’t it?

  I was about to speak. But I didn’t have to.

  Caetano was already moving, stepping in to take my place.

  —Cut the digitization time by two hundred times— he ordered, without raising his voice.— I don’t care how, even if people have to die. Ignore safety protocols for the low ranks. Whoever survives, survives. Use spatial alteration and expand the capsules. Pack them in by the hundreds, by the thousands if necessary. As long as they don’t collapse, squeeze the capsules to the limit.

  His stare was ruthless— like his commands.

  —Skip step one. Start at step two. Prioritize the consciousness and the conceptual core. Everything else is disposable.

  A couple operators looked at him in horror. And who could blame them.

  His solutions were certainly terrible— at least to the public eye.

  —Are you suggesting that…?

  —I didn’t suggest anything. I’m ordering it.

  I turned toward him. I didn’t stop him. No. If he was willing to be the devil, then I had to play the saint.

  —The children— I said.

  Caetano nodded.

  —As safe as possible. But don’t stop the flow.

  It was a game. One I hated playing. He gave the dirty orders. I stayed clean. In everyone’s eyes, I wasn’t sacrificing civilians.

  I was just letting it happen.

  I closed my eyes again. Another thing I would regret for the rest of my life.

  "I’m sorry."

  I sent him a telepathic message, edged with bitterness.

  "Don’t worry, my lady. That’s what I’m here for."

  —And the mid ranks?— someone asked.

  Caetano didn’t miss a beat. He was just getting started.

  —Same. Maximum acceleration. If they can’t endure the transfer, they weren’t worth the effort.

  —And the ones causing riots?— another voice said, trembling.

  —Let them sort themselves out. And if they interfere with the evacuation, kill them. I don’t care what their rank is. Anyone who interferes with the evacuation is better off dead.

  —Does that include Rank 8s?— one of the operators asked, stunned. After all, that rank almost made you a valuable asset.

  —It includes everyone.

  Silence.

  The orders were executed.

  And I said nothing.

  There was no time to feel guilty. Not while the clock kept moving.

  00:01 — 0.0084% evacuated.

  00:02 — 0.85%... and rising.

  00:04 — 2.53% | External deployment: phase one

  Two lines crossed the void of space. One cut through it softly, barely seeming to interact with it at all.

  The other tore through like a meteor, unconcerned with what it destroyed.

  Baek In-wook and Dimitri Volkov.

  Two of my best men in this dome.

  Baek was in front.

  He wore a black uniform with a traditional cut, adapted to his martial style. The golden hem of his jacket rippled gently with the spatial distortion, while his jingum— a simple, unadorned sword— rested naturally at his waist.

  His long dark hair, tied into a low ponytail, floated calmly around him, even in the vacuum.

  Serene. Silent. Precise.

  Dimitri followed relatively close. What he lacked in speed, he made up for in power.

  A man nearly two meters tall, muscular build, with a rough, unkempt beard. He wore a black leather jacket and brown pants, worn and weathered by use.

  Each stride seemed to weigh a ton— which was why the space around him was being shredded. All of it due to his ability.

  Both carried spatial storage equipment designed to transport data banks.

  My nodes tracked their progress.

  Under normal conditions, they were the fastest in the city.

  Baek— even more so than Dimitri— as he was proving right now.

  That’s why they were assigned to this mission. Time was tight, and every second mattered.

  —Two seconds to reach the activation point— Dimitri reported. His tone was muted and professional. My boys knew how to slip into their roles when the situation demanded it.

  —Eight seconds to reach my destination— Baek said.

  His voice was calm. He never liked speaking more than necessary. Always formal— especially around me.

  I only sent them a nod of confirmation. Neither of them needed anything else.

  They knew their part in this improvised evacuation. I only made sure the data banks containing the digitized civilians would reach the escape point.

  00:05 — 3.37% | Digitization status

  The figures were discouraging. To put it kindly.

  And still… it was working better than expected.

  "I can’t believe there are this many alive," I thought. But I didn’t say it. It sounded too cruel to be spoken out loud.

  Most of the civilian population was in lamentable physical condition: malformations, sedentary lifestyles, nerve damage, low self-esteem— and the list of defects kept going.

  According to projections, we should’ve been sitting at 40% mortality.

  But there they were. Fighting to cling to life. Even if only in fragments.

  "Mostly thanks to the barbaric method we were using."

  I almost grimaced.

  We forced them in by the hundreds or thousands, ripped out their consciousness and conceptual core, and ignored their material bodies.

  Which were disintegrated.

  It was impressive the casualties weren’t above three percent.

  "Though this method will leave them with horrible aftereffects."

  There was no faster way. Or maybe there was— but not with the resources we had right now. They were insufficient.

  —Capsules one through fifty have passed checks. We can digitize minors.

  That was the announcement I’d been waiting for.

  As ordered, an exclusive percentage was assigned to minors.

  With all relevant protocols and safety systems in place.

  I had never been so grateful for the low birth rate.

  Thanks to that, we could afford to be lenient with the child population.

  —Failures across multiple capsules. Three out of every hundred are lost due to unforeseen factors. The technicians are doing everything they can, but if we keep this pace, the percentage will increase.

  The operator looked at me, uncertain. He expected me to order a slowdown. Naively, he thought I didn’t approve of the current method.

  —And? Your job is to give reports, not opinions. —Caetano took responsibility again.

  Everyone kept working in a monotonous, bleak atmosphere. There was a kind of uncertainty about the current situation, but nobody wanted to— or could— stop to give the problem a voice.

  The reports didn’t stop.

  Each life was reduced to a line of data. Sadly. But the evacuation was moving at an almost acceptable pace.

  00:06 — 4.21% | External deployment: phase one

  —I’ve reached 50 AU— Dimitri reported.

  He sounded apathetic. Still professional, but uninterested.

  I didn’t comment. Dimitri only cared about fighting or training. He was a maniac in that regard.

  A meathead, so to speak.

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  Out of boredom, he stopped holding back partially as he took position. His surroundings were suffering the consequences of that choice, but it didn’t matter— it was only emptiness.

  He would have to stay there, as an anchor, for the plan to work.

  —Position secured. Standing by.

  He stayed there, standing with his arms crossed, his gaze unfocused.

  My nodes confirmed the anchor’s integrity. Everything according to plan.

  Far away, a thin line kept drifting farther out— invisible to any eye below Rank 10. Even among that rank, it would be hard to see.

  That was Baek, heading toward the target point.

  He only needed to reach 100 AU, and we could continue with the plan.

  00:08 — 5.39% | Unexpected problems

  My mind moved faster than my systems could record.

  Unfortunately, this body wasn’t designed for tasks this demanding. Creating high-performance robotic units required too many resources and too much time.

  At present, all my most advanced models were in the central dome. I hadn’t planned to have them here.

  In an expendable dome— cruel as that sounds— there weren’t many valuable resources or technology.

  That was also why no more digitization capsules were being built. Resources were always scarce.

  "Though I still haven’t decided… how far should I go?" It was a little hard to decide how much to intervene in the coming battle. I’d never found myself in a situation like this in my long struggle with Dinamo, so I didn’t know how many resources to spend.

  While I wrestled with my own thoughts, the reports kept coming. The riots were being contained, but that only slowed the evacuation due to lack of personnel.

  Worst of all: people were starting to pile up in three critical areas— the ship hangars, the teleport gates, and the digitization sector.

  Everything was a problem. Everything was delaying us.

  I had every available resource working. Broods, drones, androids. Every piece of technology under my control was devoted to this titanic effort.

  "Dinamo promised ten minutes."

  I knew he would keep it.

  He was too arrogant. And inexplicably, he liked keeping his word.

  But he wasn’t stupid.

  I’d fallen for plans like this before— but always under his own terms. Or as part of some carefully measured game.

  I decided to verify his position. Tactically. And, if I’m honest, to calm myself down. Even if I didn’t like looking at him.

  He was still in the same place where we’d left him, reclining on the rubble generated by his own conceptual presence.

  Reading a book.

  I never believed that, of all people, he would enjoy reading. He seemed like the type who wouldn’t appreciate the quiet of a good story.

  He held it with one hand, completely indifferent to everything happening around him.

  He hadn’t moved a millimeter since the truce began.

  "He always tells the truth," I remembered.

  I didn’t know why.

  But it was true.

  One of the most dangerous entities on the planet, and he never lied. In his own way, he was reliable.

  Even if it hurt to admit it.

  Then someone appeared at his side. I recognized him instantly: Rank 9, Lucien Fouché.

  I had records of every inhabitant of every dome.

  Lucien was a born Rank 9, with scores well below average.

  He currently held minor duties at a diplomatic center, buried in administrative work.

  "What is he doing there? He should be helping with the evacuation."

  I already suspected it, but his first words confirmed it.

  —Lord Dinamo, please— he said, kneeling like an animal.— Let me serve you. I’ll tell you anything you want. I’ll do anything. Anything. Just let me live… please.

  Dinamo didn’t look at him.

  He turned a page. As if he didn’t exist.

  From somewhere in the ruined city, the commentator robot cut in:

  —Ooooooh! Looks like something’s happening during halftime! Look at that rejection, ladies and gentlemen! Can you feel it? That icy wind of absolute contempt. Poor Rank 9— he’s crawling worse than a legless bug. Hehe. And not even a glance in return! What a touching moment!

  Lucien insisted:

  —Please! There’s no point in me dying with them! You’re a god! I can serve you! I can be useful! I can be loyal!

  Dinamo turned another page.

  —I beg you, my lord. I’ll do anything! Just give me a chance. I’m begging you!

  Nothing.

  Not a reaction.

  The silence turned cruel.

  Dinamo didn’t even seem to have heard him.

  I went silent too.

  How pathetic.

  I’d never met him in person, so I couldn’t say whether he’d always been like this, or if the fall of the dome had revealed his cowardice.

  Then, as a last resort— probably desperation— Lucien shouted.

  —Is it that hard to answer anything?! Are you so superior you can’t even look at someone begging you?! You’re not a god! You’re a lie!

  The book snapped shut.

  Even I felt that cold air.

  The air of death.

  Dinamo spoke for the first time.

  Without looking at the traitor.

  —Your pets are funny, Katherine.

  He rested the book on his lap and looked into one of the many cameras watching him.

  —But you should teach your worms better manners.

  He paused.

  —Or do you want me to do it?

  The commentator let out a metallic laugh.

  —Hahahaha! That went straight for the soul! Are we about to witness a public execution? Did anyone bring popcorn? This is getting really good!

  Lucien crawled again.

  —Please! Forgive me! Forgive me! I never meant to offend you— I swear!

  Dinamo looked at him.

  The world froze.

  With a single stare— heavy with contempt— he locked everything in place.

  And then he spoke.

  —A miserable traitor. You disgust me.

  He extended his hand, like he was flicking something annoying off the ground.

  And Lucien’s body warped, as if his existence were unraveling into particles of pure disdain.

  —Take him, Katherine— Dinamo said, bored.—

  Dispose of the trash.

  00:08 — 5.39% | Unexpected problems

  A blink. Just one.

  And there he was, kneeling in front of me.

  Lucien Fouché.

  Shaking, eyes unfocused, with a trail of spatial distortion still vibrating behind him.

  The command room— saturated with notifications and alerts— stopped for a moment.

  Just one.

  Everyone stared at him.

  The contempt was tangible.

  They had all seen what he did.

  And they couldn’t stand the sight of a damned traitor.

  One who threw his own kind at the feet of a demon— out of fear, out of cowardice, for a little more time.

  Nothing needed to be said.

  The auras of the operators and guards converged on him.

  Not as an attack.

  Not as a threat.

  Just as judgment.

  A silent one, aimed at the lowest thing someone who had once been human could ever drag themselves into.

  I didn’t say anything.

  Lucien lifted his head slightly.

  There was dried blood on his face. Dinamo must have thrown him harder than necessary.

  Maybe he was annoyed. Maybe it was mercy disguised as cruelty.

  The traitor’s eyes were empty.

  —Sorry… please… sorry… please…

  His voice cracked. Not just from fear.

  He was falling apart.

  He didn’t look at me. He didn’t dare.

  He begged the void, as if absolution could rise out of the air by itself.

  Caetano walked toward him from the back of the room.

  No hurry. No interest. A miserable traitor wasn’t worth his time.

  —Throw him in a cell— he ordered, without needing to raise his voice.

  Lucien exhaled.

  For an instant, he thought that was it.

  That living locked away would be punishment enough.

  Then Caetano raised a hand.

  He placed two fingers on the center of Lucien’s forehead.

  Lucien’s conceptual core collapsed with a whisper.

  A surgical, precise technique.

  Enough to keep him alive.

  But broken. Forever.

  Lucien screamed.

  A dry sound, almost animal. Torn open.

  Then he collapsed, unconscious.

  He would be in a coma for a long time.

  If there was even a city left after the battle.

  Two robots lifted him with mechanical movements.

  As if they were truly carrying trash.

  I watched without speaking.

  Without blinking.

  It hurt.

  It wasn’t the first time someone had betrayed me.

  And it wouldn’t be the last.

  But it never stopped hurting.

  I had failed.

  Again.

  If a man like Lucien— pathetic, insignificant, and cowardly— had chosen to kneel before Dinamo…

  Then something in me— in us— was broken.

  And even though it felt like it was my fault, I didn’t show it.

  I never did.

  00:11 — 7.41% | External deployment: phase two

  The atmosphere in the room was heavy.

  Everyone kept doing their work diligently.

  More and more reports reached me about everything that was happening.

  I reviewed events with monotony, still weighed down by the previous moment. A bitter taste in my mouth.

  "Is it all bad news? Can’t there be one good thing, for once?"

  I sank into a chain of thoughts, analyzing the incoming information. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of bad news that wouldn’t stop coming— and it felt like it was only the beginning.

  Then, finally, what I’d been waiting for arrived.

  —Location reached— Baek In-wook said.

  My network confirmed the data.

  100 astronomical units.

  One second earlier than estimated.

  That was fast.

  I registered it without saying anything.

  Baek seemed to have improved since the last time I’d seen him.

  —Perfect. Begin the second stage.

  Connecting to one of the screens in front of me, I shifted my attention to the location of our trump card for this evacuation operation.

  —You ready, Hanami? Your turn.

  —R-really, really?! My moment~! Let’s go, Hanami-time! —she exclaimed, throwing her arms up like it was a morning workout routine.

  The little pink ninja did a few excited hops.

  Her messy pink hair fluttered in every direction, and her eyes— the same bright shade— burned with enthusiasm. Her pale skin made that vibrant contrast even sharper.

  She grabbed one of the special storage devices containing the databases gathered so far and turned toward me.

  —See you, Kathe-chin~. Don’t cry if I get lost, okay?

  —I can’t cry— I replied, without looking at her.

  —Pfff, boring!

  Then she looked at Caetano.

  —Bye, stone eyebrows! Don’t touch anything without my approval!

  She stuck her tongue out and vanished— no sound, no sparkle, no transition. A movement method only possible thanks to a conceptual ability.

  Behind Dimitri — 50 AU

  A brief distortion. Something changed behind him.

  When Dimitri turned, it was already too late.

  —Wooo~ow! Are you always this slow, or are you playing on tutorial mode?

  Dimitri’s brow furrowed in anger. Owned by his bad temper, he muttered an insult.

  —You damn hyperactive brat— if you do that again I’ll—

  But there was already no one there.

  Behind Baek — 100 AU

  She appeared right at his back.

  With him, she didn’t need to announce herself.

  —At least you’re not frozen in the tutorial! Beginner level? Ahh, guess I’ll have to carry this match.

  She placed the storage devices next to Baek’s with a playful bow, like she’d just won a virtual medal.

  Baek didn’t respond. He only nodded, minimally— silently acknowledging Hanami’s delivery.

  Command room — return

  Hanami appeared behind one of the androids stationed in the room without the slightest sound or sign of her presence. As if her absence had been nothing but an illusion.

  —All done~!

  Caetano watched her.

  Dimitri’s voice came through with a delay, echoing over the channel:

  —…showing up like that, you pink para—!

  Hanami blinked, calmly adjusting her bangs.

  —Aww no! You’re still in the intro?

  Total travel time: instantaneous.

  Anchoring error: none.

  Result: successful.

  I smiled.

  Internally.

  00:51 — 40.59% | The problems continue

  Everything was calm.

  Or at least, the closest thing to calm you could afford in the middle of collapse.

  The plan was going well.

  And, against all odds, casualties stayed between three and four percent.

  Incredibly reasonable, considering the logistical hell we were in and how overworked every capsule was.

  Every ten seconds, a new compressed data bank was delivered to Hanami.

  And every ten seconds, she vanished without a trace, delivered the “package,” and came back.

  She was even starting to get bored— but she still did her job diligently.

  We’d repeated the process five times already.

  For now, everything was going well.

  The plan was, essentially, desperate improvisation.

  Well— not entirely. A situation like this had been anticipated.

  But it was still that: a provisional plan.

  I was already preparing a new one for the final stretch.

  I couldn’t let Hanami burn out before the confrontation with Dinamo.

  "Without a doubt, everything was very—"

  I didn’t dare finish the thought.

  I preferred to leave it incomplete. Just in case.

  As if naming it would break it.

  All that was left was for my luck to decide to intervene.

  —Mid ranks: 100% digitized— one of the operators reported.— From now on, digitization speed is estimated to drop between five and six times, Director.

  —Perfect. Start using the mid-rank capsules on low ranks, as agreed.

  Civilian digitization was going well with that news. Though it was a shame the pace would slow.

  Ideally, we would’ve kept the same speed for the low ranks too— but their bodies wouldn’t endure that punishment.

  The mid ranks had relatively acceptable constitutions for taking extra strain.

  Not healthy.

  But at least not as fragile as low ranks.

  Now things would get more complicated.

  It wouldn’t just take more time: the method we were using punished both civilians and capsules, leaving irrecoverable aftereffects.

  This would be a race against the clock— even more than it already was.

  "And there’s still more than half…"

  A new alert blinked.

  —Emergency at the main entrance to the adult digitization area. A minor, born Rank 8 is demanding to see his parents.

  —What did he do?

  —He forced entry. Partially blew the outer gate. No casualties, but structural damage is considerable.

  I checked the area.

  The boy was still there. Agitated. Trembling.

  Surrounded by at least twenty guards, all Ranks 7 and 8.

  They had him contained.

  But he was becoming unstable.

  —What’s the request?

  —They’re asking for a Rank 9 to help neutralize him and to perform his digitization.

  I sighed.

  Not even out of anger.

  Just exhaustion.

  "Of course. Everything was going fine, until it wasn’t."

  I was about to assign a Rank 9 when I felt two familiar presences approaching the area.

  I didn’t have to give the order.

  They were already moving.

  Irina Lelyanova appeared first.

  White hair— long, unbound. Gray eyes, almost colorless. Her expression was calm, but never fully trusting.

  She wore what she always wore: a long, padded white winter coat with dark red details. Leather gloves. High boots.

  Her presence was serene, almost maternal.

  She fixed her compassionate eyes on the poor frightened boy.

  —Everything’s going to be okay— she said softly.— You’re safe now. Just breathe.

  —No! —he screamed.— I want to see my parents! Take me to them now!

  Tears streaked his face.

  His conceptual aura trembled around him.

  He was scared.

  But he was dangerous.

  If we didn’t stop him, he could disrupt the entire evacuation.

  Then, without him noticing, vegetation sprouted from a crack in the wall.

  A vine, subtle as wind, slid through the air and wrapped around his neck with surgical precision.

  The boy collapsed. Unconscious. Unharmed.

  —Done— said the voice of the second Rank 10, appearing behind them with total calm.— One less problem.

  It was Rajiv Naskar.

  Black hair, perfectly slicked back, not a single strand out of place.

  He always carried that air of inherited nobility. He liked showing off his origins.

  His skin— brown and polished as if stress couldn’t reach him— contrasted with the vegetation that often bloomed in his wake.

  Calm. Direct.

  Cruel, if necessary.

  He handed the boy’s body to the digitization operators without looking back.

  All of it with efficiency, no frills.

  Irina watched him.

  Her voice stayed soft— but critical.

  —You could’ve been more compassionate. He was a child.

  Rajiv turned his face slightly, one eyebrow raised.

  —Was I also supposed to tell him his parents are dead?

  …

  —Rank 3. They couldn’t endure digitization.

  May Vishnu welcome them into His celestial abode. Om shanti, shanti, shanti.

  Irina sighed.

  Slowly.

  And lowered her gaze.

  —You’re right.

  They didn’t say anything else.

  They simply returned to their work.

  I sighed inwardly.

  "Thank you. Both of you," I told them mentally.

  Irina answered immediately.

  Her voice was soft, almost musical. She’d always been a sweet girl.

  "No problem, Mom. It was nothing."

  She replied as if I were her real mother, which always made me feel a little strange.

  Rajiv took a second longer.

  "Serving you is reason enough."

  His tone was impeccable. Formal. Almost ceremonial.

  But there was sincerity in his words.

  Sometimes, like now, I feel like I don’t deserve subordinates this loyal.

  01:23 — 47.89% | Things get complicated

  Things truly slowed down.

  More than I expected. More than I could accept.

  "At this rate, we might not make it."

  I didn’t want to think it out loud.

  But my calculations were clear.

  The progression didn’t lie.

  I argued with myself.

  Should I help them? Should I force an acceleration?

  But no.

  Not only because casualties would rise again— they had already stabilized between three and four percent.

  Also because the capsules were at their limit.

  At maximum output.

  We didn’t know what could happen if we kept abusing them.

  We had no margin for error.

  I even thought about leaving the civilians behind.

  About focusing only on what came next.

  On Dinamo.

  But I didn’t.

  To avoid the dark thoughts, there was only one thing left: give the evacuation seven more minutes.

  If it wasn’t complete by then, whoever remained would be left to their fate. I couldn’t spend more resources than that on a civilian group that contributed nothing.

  And, of course, it wasn’t entirely correct to say things were calm. There were always problems.

  —Director— an operator reported.— Due to lack of personnel, the material resources sectors are being looted.

  —Ranks?

  —7 and 8. They said they don’t want trouble and won’t interfere with the evacuation. They want us to let them loot in peace, and they’ll leave on their own.

  "Of course. Like we needed more distractions."

  Caetano cut in before me.

  —We don’t have time or resources for these traitors. As long as they don’t interfere with the evacuation, leave them. They’ll be marked as deserters anyway.

  —New report— another voice said.— A group of high ranks not affiliated with the militia corps has destroyed the teleporter headquarters. They’re trying to activate them to escape.

  I held my breath for a second.

  Just one.

  Not because I was surprised— but because of how stupid the act was.

  "With Dinamo interfering with every channel."

  Who knew what would happen if someone managed to use one of those transporters?

  "They could die. Or worse."

  That front was as lost as the looting.

  Not worth interfering.

  I sighed.

  —Third report, Director— another technician said, visibly tense.— I’m sorry, but more traitors.

  Silence.

  —Where?

  —They breached the cargo hangar. They’re taking one of the military ships. Led by another Rank 9.

  Name: James R. Collins. Long-range exploration captain.

  I closed my eyes.

  Not out of sadness.

  Not out of rage.

  Out of exhaustion.

  Again.

  Another betrayal.

  Another sign that I failed.

  It wasn’t that they were escaping.

  It was that, because of my incapacity, they chose— again— to abandon humanity.

  Then the last report came.

  But this time, from someone closer.

  —Director— Eida said, from the central dome.— León and Danica are standing by. They wish to speak with you.

  I opened my eyes.

  "Tell them I’m on my way," I told Eida telepathically.

  "Seven minutes. After that, I’ll make a decision."