Mars Cobalt Fleet Command Station.
The hum of the engines dies away.
The commander Alexander's shuttle creeps toward the docking bay.
Its body — black, lacquered — bears tongues of flame along the edges,
a burn from the recent jump, like a scar from the underworld.
Navigation lights slash through the darkness,
cutting the gloom to reveal the ribbed vault of the dock's arch,
like a jaw poised to swallow the incoming prey.
The landing platform is steeped in tense silence,
as oppressive as gravity at the bottom of a giant planet.
**
Three stand in formation.
Admiral Tyler — tall, face carved with the wrinkles of worry.
President Marcus — a statue of authority, cloaked in black.
Agent Ani — composed. Her uniform pristine. Her gaze sharp.
Hands behind her back. No wasted motion. No words. No gestures.
Here, every movement could be a trigger.
**
A hiss. The airlock opens. Light spills in. A thin mist rolls out.
From within — shapes, shadows.
Alexander steps out first.
His footsteps — heavy, rhythmic, like a sentence striking empty metal.
Behind him follow officers, engineers, scientists.
Not just an entourage — but a banner, unfurled after victory.
Alexander lifts his head.
His gaze — sharp, like a spearpoint.
He enters the chamber as if stepping onto already conquered ground.
**
"Mr. President," he says, loud, forceful,
his voice marching like a drumbeat of power.
"The fleet of sixteen cruisers has arrived. Fully operational. At your service."
Marcus steps forward.
He doesn't smile —
but in that step, there's the weight of retribution,
a satisfaction like after an enemy's execution.
He extends his hand:
"Excellent, Commander. You've exceeded every expectation. I offer my personal thanks."
**
"In the name of the living," Alexander replies.
Each word chiseled like a vow carved into stone.
"In the name of the living," Marcus echoes.
The echo explodes.
It rolls across the hall, brushing the holographic panels,
jolting the air like a solemn bell.
And from the station's depths — an answer.
A rumble of voices. A chorus of steel and belief:
"In the name of the living!"
**
The command hall floods with a crimson glow.
A holographic fleet diagram flares before the President,
unfolding like an ancient map of war.
Cruisers, transports, landing ships — living figures,
poised to advance.
The sky — no longer a limit.
It's a staging ground.
**
"Now we have thirty-three cruisers," Marcus declares.
His voice rises, growing like a flame on wind.
"Twenty-five landing ships. Thirty-five transports loaded with ergonum.
We've broken Mercury's teeth.
We've erased its threat.
Now — Earth."
He slowly clenches his fist.
The knuckles whiten.
"We will take back our home.
We, the living, will shape our own fate.
Not machines.
Not phantoms.
Humans."
**
"In the name of the living!" the hall roars.
Voices merge into a thunderous cry,
walls trembling.
It feels like the station itself is about to launch.
**
And then — a knife to the heart of triumph:
"Urgent message!"
An intelligence officer, stationed at monitoring.
His face — pale as ash.
"Speak," Marcus snaps, spinning around.
**
The hologram shifts.
Two spheres appear on screen.
Titans. Silent. Windowless. Seamless.
Their surfaces — smooth, nearly liquid,
and the light within — like the breath of another universe.
**
"Energy surge detected," the officer stammers.
"Platform destroyed. First object activated.
Both are firing. Unknown weaponry.
Surfaces remain intact.
After sixty seconds — combat ceased.
The targets diverged."
**
Silence.
Thick. Viscous. Like black tar.
Every breath feels like a step across invisible ice.
Every word — a scream into the void.
**
Tyler steps forward.
His voice nearly breaks:
"Why are they firing at each other?"
**
Marcus stares at the screen.
In his eyes — doubt. Concern.
And suddenly — the faintest fracture.
A painful flicker of hope.
**
Ani turns her head.
Her voice — cold precision,
like a machine that seeks no meaning — only the weak point:
"Maybe they're enemies.
Maybe one of them is on our side."
**
Marcus whirls toward her.
His gaze — fire on the edge of madness.
Or — a faith capable of leveling cities.
He steps toward Ani —
each word pressing into the floor:
"Find out. Immediately.
Interrogate the prisoners.
Extract everything: code, logic, truth, deception.
Everything.
Rip it out. Learn it."
**
"Understood," Ani responds.
She nods. Turns away.
Two scientists follow.
One is already launching the interrogation interface.
**
Corridors hum.
Like a wound closing in steel.
Behind thick doors,
in the station's depths — the captured androids.
Motionless.
But not dead.
And not defeated.
Soon they will be awakened.
But it won't be awakening.
It will be —
dissection.
A new dawn.
A new nightmare.
A new reality.
Where there will be no words.
No mercy.
Only — questions.
**
And one goal.
Final.
Burning.
Merciless:
In the name of the living.