The hiss of decompressing seals filled the simulation chamber.
Gilbert emerged from his pod, pain flaring through his newly reattached arm the moment the neural disconnect completed. The green solution drained from the pod's interior, leaving a thin, drying film on his skin as he sat upright, silently, staring at the floor.
The mission failure replayed in his mind—on a loop.
The breach. The civilians. The beast-class hybrids. The explosion.
His fingers flexed unconsciously, itching for triggers he no longer held.
He didn't even notice Vivian until her voice cut through the quiet.
"Next time, we don't stop for civilians."
The words struck like a slap.
Before Gilbert could respond, Kean's pod hissed open. The younger boy practically launched out, finger pointed at her.
"How could you say that?" he snapped, voice raw. "We just needed to move faster! One more minute and we would've secured command!"
Vivian crossed her arms, tone cold and precise. "Don't be naïve. This is war. There are casualties in war. You try to save everyone—you lose everything."
Kean's face twisted. "They were people! Not data points. We were right there—!"
"And we lost the hub," she cut in. "That hub supported an entire fleet's logistics. Gear. Food. Fuel. You know how expensive it is to build a space hub like Red354?"
"Did you just say expensive?" Kean shouted. "Who the hell gives a damn about cost?"
"I'll tell you who," she said, stepping forward. "The Dragon Legion. The Federation. That's why we exist: strategy, infrastructure, survival."
Kean snarled and stormed up to her. Their helmets off, foreheads pressed together like they were seconds from headbutting.
"Say that again," he growled, voice low and trembling. "Say the lives of those people were worth less than a chunk of metal."
Vivian didn't flinch.
"Say you'd risk the entire orbital line for twelve civilians. Go on."
Silence. Thick and electric.
The rest of the squad had emerged from their pods, watching from the edges of the room—tense, unsure whether to intervene.
Gilbert stood, wiping saline from his face. His voice came low, but final.
"That's enough."
Kean stepped back, jaw tight. Vivian turned away first, arms still folded, expression unreadable.
Gilbert let the silence sit, heavy, before speaking again.
"We're soldiers. We're Knights. That means we make hard calls—but we don't forget why we fight."
He looked at Kean.
"You're right. We were close. But we weren't fast enough."
Then to Vivian.
"You're also right. The mission came first. But if you ever talk like that again—like people are expendable—you better be ready to back it up on the field."
Vivian held his gaze for a heartbeat, then gave a stiff nod. "Understood."
From the back, Anastasia's voice came soft but steady. "We lost the mission. But we saved people. There's value in that—whether it shows up on a report or not."
Adam said nothing, leaning against the wall, his damp blindfold clinging to his face.
Chen Mei stood beside him, arms hugging her chest, her usual silence even quieter than normal.
Gilbert exhaled and headed for the exit.
"Review your footage. We debrief in thirty—then we go again in one hour."
He didn't wait for acknowledgment. The simulation room door hissed shut behind him.
Gilbert didn't review his footage.
Instead, he walked the narrow perimeter corridors of the Bluescale Hub's training wing, letting his thoughts settle. The hum of ship systems filled the silence—a low ambient drone that reminded him just how far from Earth they were.
A thousand moments flickered in his mind—hesitations, missed timings, civilian screams, the roar of the beast-class hybrid.
He forced them aside.
Thirty minutes passed.
When he returned, the air in the simulation room had changed. Cooler. Quieter. No shouting. No posturing.
The team gathered around the central holographic table. Undersuits unzipped at the collar. Eyes dull with exhaustion—but focused.
They had all watched the playback of the battle watching it from several points of view.
"All right," Gilbert said, stepping forward. His voice was clear but measured. "Thoughts?"
Anastasia gave a small nod and brought up the tactical overlay. The room dimmed as a holographic map sprang to life—colored markers, movement trails, and audio logs.
The playback rewound to the breach point.
It started again—this time from overhead.
"We cleared Landing Bay C in five minutes," Kean noted, arms crossed. "That was solid."
"Too much time at the defense corridor," Vivian said, tapping the projection. "We lost eight minutes moving civilians. Another three fighting beasts."
"Which gave Squad 7B1 time to bypass and blow the fusion core," William added.
Gilbert nodded. "Mistakes?"
William leaned forward, brow furrowed. "We split focus. Tried to protect the civilians without planning an extraction first. Could've locked them behind a bulkhead, then returned once the path was clear."
"They'd have died if we'd left them," Kean muttered.
"No guarantee they lived either," Vivian replied. "They slowed us—and still died in the blast."
Gilbert watched the moment when he sliced into the beast's neck, his electroblade casting blue light along the corridor.
"Communication was clean. Positioning solid. But we hesitated. When the civilians showed up—we froze."
He turned to Mei and Ana. "You did your jobs. Don't second-guess that."
Both nodded—small but resolute.
The footage continued to the detonation. Red354 vanished in a blinding flare.
Silence.
Gilbert shut it off.
"We go again in twenty," he said, his voice low but firm. "This time, no hesitation. Civilians or not, we stick to our roles. Mei, Ana—you prioritize evac logistics if we run into non-combatants. Kean, initiate recon sweeps before any doors open. William, you'll lock down fallback routes with your shield."
No one argued. No voices rose in protest. The weight of failure still clung to their shoulders, silent and heavy. But they nodded all the same, expressions tight with renewed focus.
They ran the simulation again.
And again.
Each time, they improved. Faster door breaches. Tighter formation control. Sharper timing with their defensive grid. But each time, the civilians slowed them down—costing them minutes they couldn't afford. And with each failure, the simulated explosion of Red354 reminded them that good intentions weren't always enough.
Still, they tried.
On the fifth run, Gilbert sat upright in his pod, staring at the floor. Everyone else was quiet the weight of their failures making it hard to breathe. Eventually, Gilbert closed his eyes and took a long breath for several seconds.
When he opened them again, his tone had changed. Somber. Calmer. Resolute.
"Okay, everyone."
The squad turned toward him.
"We'll secure the civilians along our route," Gilbert said. "But we won't escort them during the op. We return for them after the hub is locked down."
There was a brief pause—surprise flickering in more than one pair of eyes.
Kean stepped forward, his jaw tight, ready to argue. But Adam reached out and stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder. A quiet shake of the head. Kean sat back down.
Their pods locked shut, neural links humming in sync, and the green immersion fluid began to fill. One by one, their awareness was transported.
The interior of the dropcraft returned—blades sheathed, weapons primed, the rhythmic thrum of thrusters beneath their boots.
Gilbert stood near the front, watching the red lights blink in slow sequence. This time, he didn't waste words.
"Same loadout. Same plan. Kean, lead sweep. Mei and Ana, civilian containment only—no evac until I say. Everyone else, full push to the central command."
The squad gave nods of acknowledgment as the countdown began.
"Ten seconds to breach."
The side doors blew open. Zero-G vacuum sucked them into the spinning chaos of Red354's outer corridor, but this time their movements were smoother. More controlled. Not perfect—but practiced from numerous runs.
Kean shot ahead, his scouting module scanning two drones in the right corridor and a turret powering up near the left bulkhead.
"I've got visuals. Adam, left turret."
The sniper was already in position. One shot—clean. The turret sparked and died before it could fully deploy. Vivian flushed the right corridor with fire, scattering debris and exposing the drones. Gilbert and William advanced under the cover of her flames, weapons primed.
One by one, the threats fell.
They cleared Landing Bay C in half the time.
At the blast doors, Anastasia cracked the override with a single tap, riding muscle memory from the previous failures. "Door open. Go."
No celebration. No pause. They moved as a unit.
In the hallway beyond, flickering lights revealed the same group of civilians—twelve huddled shapes in ragged uniforms, terror in their eyes.
Gilbert approached, raising a hand to stop Mei before she moved to help.
"Backline holding cell," he ordered. "Kean, secure the closest maintenance bay and lock them in. Mei, stabilize who you can—but only give them fifteen seconds."
Fifteen seconds was all they needed. The maintenance chamber sealed behind them, automated lockdown engaged, and the squad moved forward.
The air grew dense with electric tension their faces under their helmets grew somber as they grew further from the civilians behind them.
Thud. Thud.
Another beast-class dropped from the vent. Ten feet of biomechanized predator.
They didn't panic.
William absorbed the first blow, his shield flaring as Gilbert darted low, slicing with his electroblade. Vivian lit the corridor like a furnace while Adam fired a burst shot through the creature's thigh. It dropped—and Gilbert didn't hesitate. His serpent IV rifle screamed in sustained mode, melting through the beast's spine.
It fell and did not rise.
"Push forward!" he barked. "We don't stop now!"
They reached the central corridor, cutting through another wave of drones and two smaller hybrids. Anastasia took a glancing blow—but William covered her flank, slamming his shield into the attacker's throat with a metallic crunch.
Then—they reached it.
Central Command.
Anastasia did not wait for Gilbert's command—she plunged her multi-tool into the control panel, prying off the outer shell and hardwiring into the junction beneath. Sparks flew. She winced as a burst of electric feedback surged up his cybernetic gauntlets, but she gritted through it.
System override complete.
Defensive systems: Disabled.
Hub control: Secured.
"Status confirmed," the AI voice echoed in their ears. "Central command seized. Civilian biometrics detected in the containment sector. Evac shuttle dispatching."
Gilbert stood still for a moment, breathing hard. The silence was almost unreal.
Then Kean let out a sharp laugh—a sound of disbelief and relief.
"We did it," he whispered.
"We did," Gilbert echoed. Then louder, to his team: "Mission success."
One by one, they removed their helmets, the simulated air tasting cold on their tongues. No one spoke for several seconds. It was all in their expressions—relief, exhaustion, and something deeper.
Especially Gilbert he hurriedly checked for the number of civilians seeing none dead he smiled, vindicated.
The simulation ended.
Their pods opened.
The green solution drained away, and each of them sat in the stillness of the real world once more. Gilbert flexed his left arm, the returning ache of the reattached limb nothing compared to the weight lifted from his chest.
Vivian was the first to speak. "See leaving the civilians was the correct move."
Gilbert shot her a look but said nothing, even though he does not like her attitude he must admit her words carry some truth. His mind flashed with the moment Red354 disappeared.
"Is this leadership…. no glory. It's not power. It is a burden. One glided in expectation, wrapped in titles, but underneath? It's blood. It's choices that never have a right answer," He thought. "Those who bear the burden of leadership must also learn to carry the sins that follow. No matter how justified. No matter how necessary. The weight lies in the heart."