An echo in the windows

Almost two weeks had passed. Fourteen cycles in artificial darkness and simulated light, fourteen days adrift in the shadow of a nameless planet. Korrin walked alone through the silent corridors of the command sector, her footsteps the only sound breaking the low hum of the damaged ship.

His gaze lingered on one of the large observation windows. He stood there, his hand resting on the cold glass. He wasn't thinking about anything at that moment; he was simply searching for a calmness he knew he would never find. Ironically, outer space looked brighter than ever, an infinite tapestry of stars sharp against the blackness.

And then, a sharp, stabbing pain erupted behind his eyes.

It was so intense that it made her gasp, forcing her to kneel and clasp her head in her hands. The view of the hallway faded, replaced by fragmented and chaotic images. She saw a planet, green and blue, so similar to Utopia-7 that it made her heart ache. But the sky above that world was being torn apart. Spears of fire, meteorites or ships, fell in a silent and devastating swarm. There was no sound, only the image of silent annihilation.

Confused, she struggled to get up. The pain, as quickly as it had come, began to subside, leaving only a throbbing headache and a chilling question in her mind: "What place was this?"

Meanwhile, in her office, Selene Vaelis frowned at a hologram filled with weekly reports. Something didn't add up. The repairs to the main thruster, the recalibration of the shields... everything was taking too long, even considering the shortage of parts. Her analytical mind, trained to find patterns in the chaos of battle, detected one here, in the cold logic of logistics.

Every time a critical system reached 90% completion, a minor "failure" would occur in an unrelated subsystem, forcing the engineering team to divert resources and delaying overall progress. It wasn't bad luck. It was a pattern. It was sabotage. But who? And why?

The door opened. It was Korrin. Selene quickly and discreetly closed her investigation file. It wasn't because she didn't trust him. She needed irrefutable evidence before making such a serious accusation, one that could destroy what little morale the crew had left.

"Selene," Korrin said, his voice as serious and cold as ever. "I want you to go see Liselotte. Tell her personally that we may be starting a planetary exploration mission in the next few days."

Selene raised an eyebrow, confused. "Personally, Commander? We could use the communication channels."

"It's better this way," was Korrin's only explanation.

Selene said nothing more. She trusted her commander's decisions, sometimes perhaps too blindly. They both left the room, heading in opposite directions down the hallway.

Halfway there, Korrin stopped. A young recruit, running down the hallway without looking, crashed into her with force. Or rather, he crashed, because Korrin didn't move an inch. The boy, red-haired and full of joy, fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

"I'm sorry, Commander, I didn't see her, really, I'm so sorry..." he stammered, terrified.

Korrin simply extended a hand to him. "Get up. Are you okay?"

It was Adlet. A boy just a couple of years younger than her, but who retained a joy and optimism that seemed to Korrin to be from another galaxy.

A few minutes later, they were sitting in one of the cafés in the residential area. There weren't many people there. Adlet devoured a plate of synthetic pasta with contagious enthusiasm, while Korrin stared at her own untouched meal with her usual emotionless expression.

She was the one who broke the silence. "How did you do on the Liselotte entrance exam?"

Adlet's eyes lit up. "It was incredible! Difficult, of course, but a lot of fun. I think I'll pass! Although, between you and me, Commander," he lowered his voice conspiratorially, "Lieutenant Liselotte is a beautiful woman, but she's very, very scary."

A slight sigh escaped Korrin's lips. "On that, recruit, we agree."

When Adlet finished and left with a cheerful goodbye, Korrin was left alone. She stared at her half-eaten plate for a few seconds, the conversation with the boy echoing in her head. "These people... they trust me completely, she thought, her right hand clenching her transformed left arm tightly. I mustn't... I can't let this thing take over me."

A soft alarm on her wristwatch pulled her out of her thoughts. She had several messages at once. She read the first one: a routine reminder about her training session. She swiped her finger, ignoring the other trivial ones. But the last two caught her attention.

The first was from the head of engineering, Jax: "Ship repairs 100% complete. We are ready to depart, Commander."

An unexpected sense of relief washed over her. She got up and rushed out of the cafeteria, hurrying toward the bridge. In her haste, she didn't have time to read the last message, a high-priority security notification that had just arrived.

A message that could have been much more interesting.