He had done it.

He had actually done it.

Grayson was on the ground in his cockpit, slightly disoriented but breathing. He could confirm it by the faint rise and fall of his chest.

Just as he was thinking about going out of the neural sync tube to check on Grayson, he heard Shelly’s voice.

[Host! Incoming hostiles at seven o’clock! ∑(ﾟДﾟ)]

Neville came back to his senses and banked the mecha sharply, narrowly avoiding a cluster of plasma bolts that scorched past them. He could see three more pirate fighters breaking formation from the main convoy, their engines flaring bright blue.

"More? They really don’t know when to quit."

He had the Tempest’s light pulse gun charged, targeting reticle sliding smoothly over the lead fighter. The pulse fired at the dead center, and the enemy mecha erupted into a brilliant fireball.

It momentarily blinded the cockpit in orange light. The remaining fighters scattered, clearly reconsidering their strategy.

Neville tracked their retreat on the sensor array, ensuring they weren’t circling back for another pass. His shoulders remained tense, ready to react at the first sign of retaliation.

These Star Pirates wouldn’t give up easily.

So, Neville took that brief moment of time to get out of the neural sync tube.

’Shelly, take over for me.’

[Got it, host!]

Neville quickly ran towards Grayson.

"You absolute idiot," Neville was saying, his voice tight with barely controlled emotion. "You are a complete and utter moron. What were you thinking, letting yourself get captured like that? Do you have any idea how worried I—how worried everyone was?"

Neville didn’t wait for Grayson to reply. He manhandled Grayson into the cramped cockpit, his larger frame pressed uncomfortably close to Neville’s in the space designed for a single pilot. The close proximity caused Neville’s pheromones to leak.

After securing Grayson, Neville quickly came back to the neural sync tube. The sensors were already blaring, populated with dozens of new contacts.

"You’ve got to be kidding me."

[They’re heading toward the other vessels, which were already running towards Aurelius! (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻]

Neville’s blood ran cold.

Aren’t they going to bomb the vessel? Wasn’t that the reason why they were running as far as possible from Aurelius’s starship?

But then Neville remembered someone who was left in the Aurelius starship.

Bryan.

Neville clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. He knew that this was a bait that he couldn’t take. But he couldn’t take the risk of having someone he knew killed because of his decisions.

Then the communication system of the Tempest was heard, followed by a distorted voice of someone.

"—all units, prepare the charges. We’re blowing the Aurelius in another 10 minutes. Leave no witnesses."

The transmission cut off, but its message lingered in his ears. It sounded to him like an open challenge.

"Shelly!" Neville’s voice came out sharper than intended, edged with barely controlled panic. "Contact Julius immediately. Tell him the pirates are planning to detonate explosives on the Aurelius in 10 minutes. He needs to arrive as fast as possible!"

[Already on it, host! (ง •_•)ง Message sent via encrypted channel. Julius read it and replied that they were on their way!]

Neville pushed the throttle forward, the mecha’s engines roaring in response as he carved a burning path. He saw that the emergency lights were already pulsing in rhythmic amber warnings. Someone already noticed something was wrong, but it was only in the mecha bay.

But that was already good.

Neville docked the mecha in the nearest available bay in Aurelius. Behind him, Grayson stirred slightly at the impact—still unconscious, but responsive.

"Stay with me, boss," Neville muttered, unstrapping Grayson from the pilot’s seat. "I didn’t risk getting blown up just to have you die from a bumpy landing."

He put Grayson’s arm over his shoulder, taking the taller man’s weight against his own frame. He staggered through the docking bay’s corridors.

The Aurelius was in chaos.

Staff members rushed past in various states of panic, some clutching personal belongings, others shouting into their light brains. The emergency lighting cast everything in harsh shadows. Neville caught snippets of frantic conversations as he pushed through the crowd.

"—control room isn’t responding—"

"—heard explosions from the lower decks—"

Neville gritted his teeth and kept moving. He found Chief Luna near the deck’s command station, filled with worry.

"Chief Luna!"

She spun at his voice, eyes widening when she saw Grayson’s limp form draped over Neville’s shoulders. "Mr. Hope? Is he—"

"Alive." Neville didn’t stop moving, adjusting his grip on Grayson’s waist. "Listen to me carefully. The star pirates are planning to bomb the ship. They’ve already rigged explosives somewhere on board. You need to initiate full evacuation protocols immediately."

Chief Luna’s face cycled through several expressions—disbelief, horror, then grim determination. "The control room—"

"They’re done for."

"This... this has to be some kind of joke." Chief Luna’s voice cracked. "The control room has fifteen crew members on rotation. They can’t all be—"

"Dead," Neville finished flatly. "The star pirates already boarded much earlier. They started from the top level. So, Chief, we don’t have time for this. Every second we waste is a second closer to this ship’s doom."

Chief Luna’s jaw clenched, and then she straightened her spine and nodded curtly. "Follow me."

She ran towards the secret grav lift. After scanning her biometrics, the grav lift ascended and arrived in the control room.

The door hissed open, and the smell hit them first.

Bodies lay scattered across the room, some still seated at their stations, others crumpled on the floor where they’d fallen. Consoles sparked and flickered, damaged by stray weapons fire. Blood painted abstract patterns across the pristine white surfaces.

Chief Luna made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob.

Neville didn’t let himself look too closely. "The main console—can you access it?"

"I..." Chief Luna swallowed hard, visibly composing herself. "Yes. Emergency protocols are hardcoded. They can’t lock those out."

She stepped over the body of a young technician and reached the main control panel.

"ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL," the automated voice boomed through the corridors. "EMERGENCY EVACUATION IN PROGRESS. PROCEED TO NEAREST LIFE POD IMMEDIATELY. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL."