The scent of burnt ozone still lingered in the air as I sat in recovery—bandaged, sore, yet restless. My body floated in a low-gravity chamber, soaked in nutrient-rich regenerative gel. The doctors told me to rest.
But how could I rest?
Images looped in my mind: the civilians running, the collapsing buildings, the Rikapud blade slicing through the president's throat. The cost of every moment I hesitated was branded into my nerves.
The suit was being dismantled for inspection, its systems cross-referenced with the Rikapud model I'd fought. Our engineers said we'd found similarities—possibly stolen tech. That meant there was more at play here than war.
There was infiltration.
Sabotage.
Deception.
Still, there was no time to spiral. The attacks had stopped, but only temporarily. We'd bought Earth breathing room, but not peace.
I requested an audience with the council. They refused at first—"rest is priority," they said. But I insisted. I needed to see the data with my own eyes.
The Rikapud weren't retreating.
They were regrouping.
Our infiltration team had hit their infrastructure hard, but not enough to cripple them. Surveillance drones revealed mass production in their outer colonies. Massive transport ships being loaded with troops and weapons. And worse—our package team barely made it out alive. Two captured. One presumed dead.
Their king hadn't spoken yet.
But the silence was deafening.
Later that night, I returned to the AI lab. I couldn't sleep, so I ran simulations. Over and over. What would happen if they attacked again? What if our shields failed? What if I wasn't fast enough next time?
The AI showed thousands of outcomes. Only a fraction ended in survival.
"Probability of Earth's survival if warship returns: 21.7%."
I exhaled, trying to steady the growing weight in my chest.
Then something changed.
A ping from orbit. A recon satellite flagged movement near Saturn's rings.
A cloaked vessel.
Large.
It was happening again.
I left the lab and made my way to the secured wing. The one holding my father.
The hallway was cold and quiet. A thousand thoughts passed through my mind. All my life I had tried to understand him. Now, I finally was.
He wasn't just a killer.
He was a protector once, too.
When I entered his cell, he looked up—aged, tired, but present.
"They're coming back," I said quietly.
He nodded. "Of course they are. They never stop. Not unless you make them."
I took a breath. "I'm going to do what you couldn't."
"And what's that?"
"Save everyone."
A pause.
"Even them?"
I didn't answer.
Instead, I unlocked the magnetic cuffs and held out a tracking band. "You're free. But you don't leave her side. You protect mom, no matter what."
He looked down at the band. Then back up at me. "You sure?"
"No," I said. "But I'm tired of not understanding."
By the next hour, I was in full gear, standing before my team.
The hangar buzzed with energy, final checks, and war prep. Each of them—soldiers, scientists, dreamers—stood like steel.
I raised my voice.
"Line up."
They formed ranks.
"We trained for this. We bled for this. And now, we protect our people. All of them. We move now."
The ships ignited.
Our war wasn't over.
But we were ready.