We needed a new plan.
While Ray was trying to free our new friend, I was trying to find the weapons and tools we'd need to escape this godforsaken place.
After fiddling with the panel I'd found in the same room where Graham was being held, I learned a lot of new and interesting things about the ship — both from the data panel and from Graham himself.
Graham — a relatively young soldier for his rank — had been stationed on one of our reconnaissance vessels, drifting through the universe invisible to radars and satellites, gathering intelligence on the enemy and their bases across planets and systems.
They knew everything, and all that knowledge was transmitted directly to our Emperor's main military headquarters. Until the connection went dead…
"After each data transmission, we received codes. Each code corresponded to the level of intelligence gathered. But one day, after sending images of new defensive installations, the code…"
"Never came," I interrupted, finishing his sentence.
"Yes… but how did you…" he began uncertainly.
"The Emperor announced the dissolution of the Legion, cutting off all intelligence networks," I explained.
"But why?"
"It's a long story," I answered. "Yes! There it is!" I exclaimed.
"What is it?" Ray asked, turning around.
"The armory is right below us. We passed it one floor up," I dragged out.
This was bad for two reasons. First — the elevator didn't go there; there was simply no access. Second — the elevator was guarded by a horde of drones. How did I know this while being kilometers away? Cameras were installed throughout the ship, and even from this barely functioning panel, I could monitor them all.
After explaining the situation to Graham, we decided to move together. He didn't really have a choice — his entire squad had been wiped out, and they'd planned to hang him on Geron. Not exactly a bright future.
Leaving the prison room, we found ourselves back in the corridor. Looking around, I saw that the drone Ray had shot was no longer glowing — it was dead. Everything was quiet.
After countless turns and descents, we finally reached the deck we needed. I'll be honest — during our short hour-long journey, Graham never stopped talking. I hadn't seen a soldier like him in the Legion in a long time, especially at his rank.
"And then one of my guys, Will, grabbed him by the throat and shot him right in the…" Graham kept rambling, as if we'd known each other for years. Maybe that's exactly why they'd put him in a cell alone.
"Quiet!" I hissed at him, and he immediately stopped.
We were there. If it weren't for his chatter, I wouldn't have heard the hum of the drone engines circling just a few meters away.
Right behind them — what we needed: the armory. We just had to cross one more small stretch, and we'd be free. Well, not really, but our minds always like to embellish things before we actually get them. Even if the result doesn't live up to expectations, the mind paints it as perfect.
Everything white will one day become black. Just as everything black will one day become white.
I turned to Ray to ask if he had any ideas.
He looked tired and pale. His gray hair was starting to fall out in patches, and his entire face was covered in scars and wrinkles. This was the face of a slave. What people had tried to eradicate for centuries, what they'd fought for — just a scrap of freedom — all of it was reflected in this one man. Through him, you could see the history not just of himself, but of all people like him.
Hundreds and thousands of billions like him.
"Do you have any rounds left?" I asked.
He checked his pistol quickly. The answer didn't comfort me.
"Just one. That's not enough."
"I noticed." I started pacing back and forth, trying to come up with a plan.
All this time, Graham kept trying to interrupt, constantly derailing my thoughts.
"I could say…" he'd start, but either Ray or I would cut him off. "I have a gre…"
"Shut up already, you whelp," Ray threatened him, though he probably knew this so-called whelp could take him down in seconds and strip him of everything that made life worth living.
"Wait. What do you have?" I finally asked Graham.
Surprised and happy that he'd finally been given the floor, he straightened up and almost puffed out his chest — until a single word burst out, shattering his entire image.
"A grenade."
Silence hung in the air. All three of us were quiet, and the young lieutenant held a fragmentation grenade in his hand. It was round, almost like an apple — perfectly black and smooth, with a bump on top where the stem would be. The activation button.
"And you kept quiet this whole time?" Ray roared, snatching the grenade from the young man's bandaged hands.
On his young, yet worn-out face, confusion and anger were immediately visible, along with a feeling we all despised — something I've hated my entire life: bewilderment.
"Give me that!"
After Ray took the grenade from Graham, he handed it to me. I immediately recognized the model. We'd trained with these at the Academy — fragmentation grenades with a small blast radius. Its official name was Explor-07, but we called it "Ex." And in that moment, the nickname fit perfectly — because it was about to become Graham's ex.
Looking at the painfully familiar grenade, turning it over in my hands a couple of times, an idea came to me — not perfect, but workable. And in our situation, that was all that mattered.
"Alright, I have a plan," I announced to my companions.
"We'll lure the drones into our corridor, stick the grenade to one of the walls, and set a timer. When the drones fly past, it'll detonate," I began explaining my not-so-simple plan. "But we'll need to know the average flight speed of the drones and…" I was about to finish, but Graham cut me off.
"Couldn't we just activate it and throw it right at them?" he said, looking at Ray for support. Ray didn't react.
I paused for a moment. With everything that had happened, all the pain, my brain had pretty much squeezed out every last bit of sanity, and I was starting to look like a drunk laborer who'd just unloaded another shipment and decided to hit the bar with his colleagues from different systems.
Yeah, I really was losing it. I needed to sleep.
What bothered me most was that this simple, absurdly workable idea hadn't even crossed my mind. It was so easy.
So that's what we did. Ray and I pressed ourselves against the wall, pistols ready, while Graham took the risk — he had to throw the grenade and then duck for cover. You might be surprised at how brave he was, willing to sacrifice himself for strangers and a common cause. But the truth wasn't quite what you might imagine.
In reality, we forced Graham to do it, because he had nothing to lose except his life. We came to this conclusion through a vote — like any democratic society, we elected Graham through purely democratic means. Two votes against one.
"Just throw it already," Ray hissed at him, standing closest.
"Hold on, hold on… Just warming up," Graham answered.
You could see the fear paralyzing him.
Time was ticking, and we didn't have much of it. Ray and Graham kept hissing at each other until I jumped up and ran over to Graham.
I snatched the grenade from his hand, pressed the activation button with my thumb, and threw it from around the corner. At the same moment, shrapnel flew past the corner. None of it hit me.
Stupidity is lethal — but oh so magnificent. Remember that, reader.
The explosion.
My eardrums rang and felt like they were bleeding. Something warm trickled from my ears. I covered them with my hands and jumped back. In that moment, my eyes were shut, and I had no idea what was happening around me. Had we made it? Or had the drones activated some kind of defense that saved them from the shrapnel?
But my eyes were still closed. No matter how much I hated the darkness, no matter how many monologues I'd given about it, in that moment, it became my home — somewhere I could feel safe. For an instant, I stopped being afraid of it. I calmed down. It calmed me.
It's a strange feeling — when you realize that what you've been most afraid of is actually happening. You could fight it, you even know how, but you don't. Not because you can't, but because you don't see the point. Honestly, that's a dangerous feeling.
Probably why so many Empires fell. Probably why so many great armies shattered into pieces, like that thrown grenade. Maybe that's why I lost her.
I didn't want that.
Opening my eyes, I saw only fragments of the wall shimmering and flickering from one side to the other. A deafening ringing in my ears that I couldn't suppress. Looking at the floor, I saw a pile of debris — pieces of painted wall, bits of drones.
I started looking around. A faint smoke still lingered in the air from the grenade blast and, probably, from the detonation of one or two drones.
I noticed someone's hand checking me over, helping me up. The ringing was still maddening in my ears. Most of the shrapnel must have ricocheted off the walls, creating vibrations that merged into one massive sound wave — right as I turned the corner.
Looking up at where the hand had come from, I saw Ray, with Graham beside him. They were trying to help me to my feet.
"You okay?" I barely managed to make out Ray's voice through the ringing, as he kept slapping my face to bring me back.
I tried to wave him off, mumbling something like "yes."
"Ye… y…" I coughed out.
"Everything still intact?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I answered and started coming to my senses.
My head began to clear, and my ears slowly recovered. The metallic ringing faded away.
Graham and Ray pulled me to my feet and leaned me against the wall. My head was still spinning a little. While I recovered, they went to check the situation.
The drones were destroyed. Shrapnel had torn through them — their entire frames riddled with tiny holes, some going straight through. Wings and cameras had been completely ripped off and scattered across the corridor.
A few seconds later, once I was standing more steadily, we decided to move toward our target — the armory. Fortunately, it was just around the corner.
Reaching it, we stopped in front of the entrance. Once again, massive steel doors stood in our way. Above them was an inscription in Galtian:
Lethal Weapons Depot.
Just what we need, I thought.
"Alright, I'll try to crack the door. You two watch the perimeter. God knows what else is waiting for us here," I told Ray and Graham. They didn't object.
After their approving nods, I started working on the lock. Lucky for us, the panel was on the outside — a small screen with a few buttons built directly into the door.
As I tried to bypass the ship's security to access the doors, Ray and Graham kept talking, never shutting up. With every failed attempt, I was about to give up — until I heard a hum.
"What's that?" I called out to Ray, waiting for an answer.
It could have been anything — the ventilation system kicking in, or a swarm of drones tearing through the air with their engines. It grew closer and closer, heavier and heavier.
No one answered. I called out again — silence. Turning around, I saw no one behind me, and Ray and Graham's voices had vanished. Strange that I hadn't noticed earlier.
Leaving the panel, I grabbed the pistol we'd found earlier. Pulling out the magazine, I checked the counter. The green screen read four. Not much. Pointing the barrel toward where Ray and Graham had gone, I crept forward as quietly and carefully as I could, trying not to make a sound.
The hum grew louder with every step. I still couldn't see them. Then I began to recognize the sound — it wasn't the ventilation or, thank God, drones. It was… footsteps?
Stopping in place, I listened. I stood for a few seconds, trying to figure out exactly what it was — until I heard a gunshot, then another, then another…
Automatic fire. People. Lots of people.
I ran down the corridor. A few meters later, I found Ray and Graham. They were pressed against the walls on either side of the main passage, where five Galt soldiers were advancing, firing relentlessly, creating a storm of plasma. Spotting me, they shifted their fire in my direction, and I instinctively dove toward the nearest wall — toward Graham.
Taking cover beside him, they poured fire on us like a bucket of plasma.
"You okay?" I shouted over the noise.
It was so loud that my words dissolved in the air. Turning to me, he nodded.
I looked at Ray. The old man was pressed against the wall for dear life, too afraid to move. We were in a death trap. They'd either shoot one of us and take the other prisoner, torturing them for information for the rest of their lives.
After everything we'd done, everything we'd been through — we couldn't let that happen. Not under any circumstances. Time was running out, though it didn't matter anymore. We'd been found, and they were ready to kill us.
We needed something.
With each second, they came closer, the fire growing heavier. The wall was starting to melt from the plasma impact, forcing Ray and Graham to step back.
Think, Kyle, think, I told myself.
My head was splitting. The noise and pain had erased every option, every chance. But I had to. I had to.
Step by step, they drew nearer, the air growing hotter around us.
Graham and Ray looked at me with fear in their eyes. They were waiting for me to act. But what could I do? If they died, it would be on me. Their lives — on my conscience.
Suddenly, a plasma round hit Graham's hand, and his pistol clattered to the floor. He grabbed his arm, about to scream, but suppressed the animal instinct. Legion discipline.
The moment the pistol hit the ground, the sound sparking an idea in my head.
I looked at Ray. He still had his weapon. I waved frantically to get his attention. Once he saw me, he kept his eyes locked on mine. I had to try to explain.
I pointed at my pistol, then at the one on the floor. Then I kicked Graham's pistol out into the middle of the corridor, right in front of the Galts. The fire ceased.
At the same moment, I tossed mine out as well. Ray stared at me with a serious, confused expression. He understood. And he feared what would come next. He didn't want this. He knew what could follow.
Death.
He threw his pistol next to ours. Silence fell.
"There are three of us!" I shouted to the soldiers, glancing at Ray. He nodded. I nodded back.
Raising my hands, I stepped slowly toward the pistols, facing the soldiers. Ray followed, and then Graham. Blood was running from his palm.
"We surrender."
The Protocol had been broken.