—. You have to take charge. — Max heard the captain's voice in his nightmares, in a terrifying state of wakefulness. Merging with the visions of the Firefly Forest and the runes glowing on the trunks, the ghost of Matkovich leaped from the shadows to repeat one st order —. You have to take charge. — —. But how? — Max found himself murmuring, being pulled from sleep and feeling Naomi's caresses in his hair. He repeated it for what felt like an eternity, when it barely reached an hour. Reluctantly, he accepted to throw himself on a mattress to sleep, because Angelina told Max he looked horrible. Since then, he had been tossing and turning trying to find rest. He couldn't help but marvel at how Naomi could fall asleep despite the adversity. Bck Shadow training, he told himself. When there were ten minutes to eight in the evening, according to his RED, Max gave up on his futile task of falling asleep. He sat for what felt like another eternity, staring into nothingness, while his conscious mind screamed for answers, and his body for a drop of nicotine. Believing that Ayna would be in the arms of Morpheus, he turned to look at his mattress, and what he saw left him as if he had found a penguin in a cooler. She wasn't asleep, but she wasn't lucid either. The half dose of Gumotanol had reached its peak. With her droopy, sleepy hazel eyes, she stared into nothingness, with a closed smile from ear to ear. This is what synthetic happiness looked like. She couldn't feel bad or cry, even if she wanted to, and instead remained in an unpleasant but inevitable limbo between nostalgia and inexplicable joy. Perfectly, Max could tell everything to hell and indulge in artificial emotions. But he didn't want to end up like her. —. You have to take charge. — the voice of Captain Matkovich repeated from the corners of his subconscious. But Matkovich was dead, and now Max was the captain. —. To hell with it. — he muttered as he stood up. He wrapped himself in his jacket and searched for the remaining Joey Jim's. He was surprised to discover that there were only four left. It was incredible how quickly they had run out. He began to recall when he smoked them, as it seemed that since he woke up he hadn't taken any and had even forgotten his nicotine addiction. Which turned out to be false. After the meal, he smoked two in a row, and upon discovering the Fairy, still growing outside the inner garden, a third. After the incident with Ayna and before comforting Naomi, the fourth, and after the death of Lexner, Wu, and Limona, another one. That made five. Just before heading to the bridge, a half cigarette, and upon arrival one and a half. Seven. Minutes before the spacewalk, a hurried cigarette, and in the st drunkenness, he completed nine. Not counting the four he smoked on the day of the boarding, and that one during Echmann and Angelina's expnation. For the first time, he was aware of the smell of smoke that followed him like a specter clinging to his clothes, skin, and sweat. —. I have to quit smoking. — he said aloud before pulling out that white cylinder of vice, loaded with nicotine. Without a doubt, he would do it, maybe in another life even, but not now, as he needed inspiration. And he found it, smoking in the interrogation room. In the same one where Angelina hinted at the failure of EREBUS, and that someone altered it. The light bulb went off the moment he extinguished the butt and threw it into the recycler, which, of course, no longer worked and had only been accumuting trash for days. —. Emergency meeting, now. — he ordered to his dwindling crew. He summoned everyone to the Meeting Room, where the dim and cold emergency light bathed their faces, accentuating their shadows. —. When I joined the crew of the Chronos, Harding taught me one thing; take care of what you can control. The rest, send it to hell. — the old man couldn't help but let out a silent ugh, between pride and nervousness. Echmann merely raised an eyebrow, while the rest of the crew seemed to not grasp it at all —. We can only take care of what is within our control. That's what Harding meant. — —. An acceptable philosophy, but as you can see, right now we have control over nothing. — Fundiswa interjected —. Not even the ship. — —. That can change. — Max argued —. Padman. You said that Jay Krishna had a backup Malware for EREBUS. It was in a supply depot. — — In front of Weronica Brzenska's office, under password. Yes. — the navigator completed —. If activated, the AI would lose control of the critical systems and would return to the loop Liu made it enter. This time forever. — —. You forget that the annulment can only occur from the old command center. — Angelina reminded him —. That's in the axis and we have no access. — —. Unless the captain cancels the lock from the bridge. — Max replied —. And, since there is still something resembling a chain of command, I am the captain. — A slight glimmer of hope appeared in the crew's eyes. For a few seconds, Max felt they could defeat EREBUS and the creatures —. With EREBUS out of the game, we will have regained control of the ship. Its objective was to take these things back to the sor system. We will prevent that. — —. Well, what happens next? — Angelina asked, crossing her arms —. What is the next step? — To this, Max pced his fists on the table, pondering the weight of his own words. —. First, activate the old AI of the Command Center; Temis. Do a damage control and inform it of what is happening. Assess the threat, and then completely purge the life support system of the Chronos. Let everything burn. There would be no ashes left of the Phasmonates. If that is not possible, then what seemed obvious from the beginning. Blow up this ship. — The revetion left them stunned, as if the pnets had stopped spinning. A silence formed that was solid and thick enough to carve through. Max dropped his shoulders and tried to defend his position —. In any case, we will have prevented the Phasmonates from reaching the sor system. We cannot take charge of the ruins; it seems that the crew of the Ebisu will take care of that. Nor can we let humanity discover other ruins with Trees of Life. Our best option is to cut the diseased branch and leave a warning for the next ships to turn back and avoid contagion. It is very likely that we will end up dead, but our sacrifice will have saved humanity, at least in the sor system. — It sounded harsh, but for Max, it was the only possible option. He had come to terms with the idea that at least Lay would have a future. Not so the life that he and Naomi had set out to have. Likewise, the rest of the crew. That’s why he expected some resistance and pressure. He wanted them to force him to discuss, to find a more optimistic option, but that was not the case. —. You are right, Max. It is our only option. — Naomi said, speaking for the group —. It is your orders as captain, and we will follow you. —***In the coming hours, Max couldn't stop thinking about the idea. Since the failure of Pn C, he had already reconciled himself with the idea of his own death. At least, it wouldn't be while feeling sorry for himself. The people of the sor system might have a chance. But something caused a void in his chest, along with a knot in his throat, and it was the idea of a broken promise. He never considered himself a devout believer, but his parents believed in Trionism, and by osmosis, so did he. During the funeral of Olga and Maalik, along with that of all the workers who died in the mining accident, the priest spoke of reincarnation, and how everything is part of an endless cycle. If you left unfulfilled promises, you would have to fulfill them in your next incarnation. If it were real, what kind of life awaited him after his death? The promise of a peaceful life on Mars was on hold, and during his st whisky, he made another to Naomi; he would find her wherever and however he could. He just hoped not to forget it when he was born again. That way, he could dedicate his life to it. But there was another one, what about Lay? When Harding rescued them from the Atomic Crab, and the year the old man took care of them to recim his parental rights, they promised to be together, and that nothing would ever separate them again. But it happened anyway. Lay made her own life and had to leave the Chronos. Was that why Max wanted to do it too? Did he really want to leave the ship and find his way, or was he terribly afraid of being alone? Searching for an answer hurt. Since they woke up in Lacaille 8760, during that fateful journey, he felt a needle piercing his left eye. Even before the fireflies and the quarantine, Max had nightmares. Disjointed images, but that held some kind of retion. What was on the other side of that hatch? Why was Lay begging him not to open it? And that hallway? It was some kind of clinic. The walls of an antiseptic green and bone white, soaked in serum and medication, invaded his visions. And why was Matías Nakamura there? —. Are you sure you want to do this? — he asked, with an expression as cold as it was sinister —. It's not advisable, much less before a prolonged hypersleep. — And the more he tried to make sense of it, the more it hurt, and then he gave up. The images of the Firefly Forest ended up filling the void. Lay escaping from his hands. The whispers, and the runes. Now they dictated instructions clearly. A machinery that had to be built, or rather modified. —. You must bring us back. — said the voice of the Farmers. —. To the Farmers? Why? — Max still wondered. He had the feeling they were about to give him the answer when the hissing of a door opening brought him back to the present. —. I brought you coffee. — Naomi told him. She seemed to handle it better than anyone. She was trained for that, right? To keep her composure in the face of adversity. In silence, Max thanked the coffee. Before drinking, he found his own distorted face in the surface of that bck, bitter-smelling drink. He couldn't help but think of all the processes that had occurred to bring it before him. Coffee beans, cultivation in the hydroponic farms of the Chronos. Farms that surely no longer existed and had been assimited by the Phasmonates. Water had once been urine, sweat, tears, and recycled shit, and now so clean it could be used in a boratory. The pce he came from had been subsumed by the pgue, and it was the st time he saw Murat alive. By the emergency lights, that dark, viscous liquid didn't look like coffee, but blood, like Yakiv's blood being spilled when the captain sliced him in half. With his stomach churning, Max was no longer sure if he wanted to drink. It would be better to have another cigarette, but his body was fighting between despair and exhaustion. Isoted in the interrogation room, Max had already startled himself with three headbutts, discovering that he had fallen asleep. Naomi brought a chair and curled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. It seemed they had things to talk about, but instead, they enjoyed the silence. He stroked her hair, and when he lowered his gaze, he tried to remember every detail so that not even death could rob him of his memory. He tried to burn it into his mind, her tangled bck curls, her pale, round face, her small nose, her pink lips, her mismatched eyes. The bckout tattoos that covered her small but sturdy body and the tone of her voice, soft and sleepy. Anyone would see her as a monster pretending to be human, but to Max she was the only woman he had ever truly loved. Then their eyes locked for long seconds without a word.bil, as if the First Officer were a kitten. Max closed his eyes and sighed heavily, filled with guilt. —. I feel like shit for failing you. — he confessed, and a slight tremor slipped into his voice —. Ever since we woke up upon arriving at Lacaille 8760, I promised us "we'll stay on Mars. We're going to make our own life, only for fate to screw us over like this. — Naomi said nothing, just looked at him, almost with curiosity —. I try to wonder, if I fail, if we all die, how will I find you to fulfill it. — —. That’s out of your control, isn’t it? — Max snorted a ugh, resigned to notice the contradiction. A Trionist believer, but stoic like Harding. A living paradox —. Don’t waste your time on that. Right now, our little suicide squad needs a captain. — —. I’m trying. — Max said after taking a sip of his coffee. It was strong and bitter, just how he liked it. Naomi had even noticed that —. Even if everything goes well, I can’t help but think that I’m leading you all to your deaths. — —. And yet, we will follow you. — Max didn’t know if he was hearing Naomi or Nine. He stared into nothingness. He didn’t dare to ask her. —. Under other circumstances, you would have argued with me. — Max tried to protest reluctantly. —. Maybe. — she conceded —. But we’re not in normal circumstances. The ship is falling apart. EREBUS is crazy, and we need a captain. We can’t let these things reach Earth, Max, even if we have to die. — —. Enough. — Max held his face in his hands —. Stop pretending, Naomi, please. — she just looked at him with the same expression she had when he met her, a mix of distrust and curiosity, as if everything was new to her —. Tell me I failed you. Get angry with me if you want. Yell at me, tell me to go to hell, throw it in my face, but don’t pretend to be happy about this, please. — he pleaded, looking at her with gssy eyes, tears hanging in his throat —. Hate me for leading us to our death and not thinking of a better pn. — Naomi’s only reaction was to tilt her head. Instead, she just stroked his hair, and for Max, it felt like a dagger was being plunged into him. —. When I was a Bck Shadow, we were trained to know we were marching towards our death. — Naomi told him in a low voice, as if she were telling a story for children —. We were the little tin soldiers of the Jovian Federation. If we were sent somewhere, we went with our ships and infantry, without compint. If we had to die, we let ourselves die for the cause of the moment. We might look like people, but we were taught that we are not. Bck Shadows. Monsters. Things. Disposable, almost on the same level as unfeeling androids, and good for the environment, because we are biodegradable. — Max stifled his own sobs between his hands. Naomi pulled him against her chest, stroking him as if he were a child. Naomi drew a weak smile on her face, while the shine in her eyes betrayed tears she was trying to hold back. —. I’ve already come to terms with dying for a cause, it’s just that this time it’s different. — Max couldn’t help but look at her, bewildered, as she stroked his face —. You were one of the few people who treated me like a human being. — tears without sobs began to fall from her green and brown eyes, as a tremor slipped into her voice —. You were one of the few who managed to see in me much more than a potential killing machine learning and pretending to be human, if not someone to love, and for that, I am grateful. I am happy to be by your side and I don’t care if it’s following your orders, living together in a cabin on Mars or aboard this ship for the rest of our lives, traveling through the stars. I liked the life I had aboard the Chronos, and I couldn’t ask for more. But forget any promise we made before, and make me the following one, while our st mission sts. — —. For what? To fail you again? — Max asked her, stifling his own sobs. —. I’m sure you won’t fail. — and she pressed her face against his, to look at him intently —. Right now we need a captain, Max. Promise me you will be one until the end. No matter what’s in our way, and if I’m not by your side to fulfill the mission. Promise me you will, please, I’m asking you. — Max wanted to think of something to counter, an illusion of a promise where both of them managed to come out alive. But the options at his disposal were limited. A good major at the cost of a lesser evil, where refusing was the result of a selfish desire. He didn’t want to fail again. That’s why, resigned, he nodded slowly. —. I will, Naomi. I promise you. — only then did she allow herself to cry. —. That’s all I wanted to hear. —***Huge brutalist shuttles nded on the surface of Lohengrin, like the ships of the pioneers who arrived at Lacaille 8760 G. They did so slowly, as if suspended by an unseen force that seemed more like arcane knowledge than actual technology. With fshes and a cloud of dust, they positioned themselves in the spaceport of the colony. From their bellies, enormous ramps descended, and from within, armored and pressurized APCs with huge wheels emerged. They were white, with small windows, and on their sides, a cryptic minimalist symbol shaped like a bck lotus. The Edamura Foundation. Inside, a battalion of mercenaries the same color as their armored vehicles came armed to the teeth. But they were not there for a search and rescue operation. The Tsukuyomi Division had a specific purpose. To contain alien anomalies. And Ebisu had not wasted 15 years for nothing. They knew exactly what they had to do. Upon reaching the cargo lock and disembarking from the vehicles, aberrations of the Phasmonatess came to greet them. They ran limping and stumbling, driven by an insatiable hunger for tissues to assimite. But the mercenaries eliminated them with surgical precision, dedicating three shots to a specific region, even before the Phasmonates could be seen shining amidst the corrupt flesh. —. Target removed. — —. Clear. — indicated the distorted voices. The soldiers' faces were covered by bck visors, but they revealed a human silhouette. Faces too young, wrapped in communication caps that gave the impression they should be somewhere else. But they had nowhere to go, other than to serve the Edamura Foundation. The Bck Shadows had been confiscated, and Dharma Panoply, dissolved over 100 years ago, but the Edamura Foundation had purchased the genetic resources of the soldiers and now had them at their disposal. Two objectives had to be fulfilled. Obtain a sample of the Phasmonatess, and secure a safe environment for its analysis. Space is vast and the speed of light very slow; however, they were against time. In five years, three more ships would arrive to check on the progress of Ebisu. The Thanatos Project had to be executed as soon as possible. Only then would the tragedy of Mjolnir not be repeated. If successful, humanity would be free from the threat of the Fireflies in a few thousand years. It sounded like an enormous amount of time, but in cosmic terms, it is a sigh, and barely a weekend for the Edamura Foundation, which had not been established with very short-term pns. No one could interrupt them. The mission was indispensable. Everything in between was dead weight.