“Edean?” Carlos said. “I’ve never even heard that name.”
“Of course you haven’t.” Blackfire tapped the tattoo on his arm. “No one knows Edean. In Plando, it’s top-secret. Even Phantom Forge doesn’t know it exists.”
“When Plando first arrived on this planet, our ancestors were already half-broken by what they’d been through. They built the shelter near the North Pole.”
“It holds plant seeds and animal embryos they brought from ancient Earth. Not long after, they founded the Polar Whale Special Forces. At first, that unit existed for one reason: protect the doomsday seed vault.”
“And they stocked the place with food and supplies—mountains of it. That was the whole point. For a day like this.”
Carlos hesitated, suspicion warring with hope. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because of this.” Blackfire raised his forearm so the tattoo was unmistakable. “Because I’m the only Polar Whale commando left alive.”
Another sound cut through them: heavy, irregular footsteps.
Every head turned.
A tall robot stood in the entrance to the bay. Its armor was battered and warped, scarred by countless hits, but it moved with smooth, terrifying control. Across its shoulder lay a long-handled iron hammer.
Blackfire’s eyes went wide as old nightmares snapped into place. His voice dropped to a whisper.
“Damn it… no. An Umbral. There’s an Umbral on the ship.”
Linneya recoiled, clinging to Starling. Starling stared, horror-struck—then looked at Carlos as if asking what to do.
“The bastard just won’t die,” Carlos spat. “Move! Get on the freighter!”
“Wait!” Blackfire shouted. “The outer hatch isn’t open. Someone has to pull the lever behind it!”
Carlos glanced past the Umbral. On the wall behind the robot was a yellow hand-lever under a clear protective cover. Across the cover, bold letters warned:
OUTER HATCH CONTROL — DO NOT OPERATE.
The Umbral walked straight at them, unhurried. Slow—yet impossible to stop. To reach the lever, someone would have to pass the hammer.
“It doesn’t have a ranged weapon,” Blackfire said, suddenly sure. He raised his rifle at Carlos. “I’ll shoot to keep its attention. You circle around and pull the lever.”
Then Blackfire opened fire.
“There’s no choice,” Carlos said, and turned to Starling. “You two get on the ship.”
He crouched and darted sideways, hugging the platform’s edge.
Sparks burst across the Umbral’s armor as bullets struck, but it barely reacted—until something in it snapped. With a guttural surge of speed, it charged Blackfire.
Starling and Linneya started for the cockpit—only for Blackfire to scramble up first. The ladder was almost four meters high and barely wide enough for one person.
With the Umbral closing that fast, there was no way Starling and Linneya could climb in time.
Linneya screamed and fled. Starling grabbed her hand and dragged her into the corner of the platform.
Blackfire’s leg was injured; he couldn’t climb any faster. When he was about three meters up, the Umbral arrived and swung the hammer.
Blackfire howled. The ladder shattered. His already wounded leg became a torn mess of blood and flesh.
He didn’t stop. Using only his arms, he hauled himself into the cockpit.
The Umbral swung twice more, but the angle was wrong—it couldn’t reach. It dropped the hammer and grabbed the remaining stump of ladder, starting to climb.
Blackfire had the freighter’s systems live now. As soon as the Umbral’s head appeared at the cockpit window, Blackfire lifted the freighter off the deck and slammed it into a hard turn.
The hull clipped the bay wall with a metallic crash.
The damaged ladder couldn’t bear the Umbral’s weight. It snapped, flinging the Umbral back onto the platform.
The Umbral pushed up—only to be caught by the freighter’s two mechanical collection arms. Blackfire lifted it off the ground like cargo.
“Nice!” Carlos shouted. He’d reached the lever and flipped open the clear cover.
Blackfire snarled through pain, trying to twist the Umbral in half. But the collection arms were too small—and the Umbral was monstrously strong. It began to wrench itself free, the arms squealing as metal bent.
“Open the hatch!” Blackfire yelled at Carlos, sweat pouring down his face. “I’ll throw it out!”
Carlos knew if the Umbral broke loose, they were all dead. He didn’t argue. He shouted across the platform at Starling:
“Hold on!”
Then he yanked the lever down.
Alarms screamed. The massive outer hatch began to rise, slow as a guillotine in reverse. Wind exploded into the bay. Starling and Linneya clung to handrails with everything they had, fighting not to be ripped into open air.
The hatch took forever.
One of the freighter’s mechanical fingers cracked under the Umbral’s strain. The other arm threw sparks, seconds from failure.
Blackfire didn’t wait for the hatch to fully clear. He backed the freighter away with the Umbral dangling in its grip. The moment the opening was barely large enough, the engines flared and the freighter blasted outward.
For one heartbeat it looked like they’d made it.
Then the Umbral lunged and latched onto a crossbar outside the hatch.
The freighter jolted to a stop. One collection arm snapped clean off. The other slipped, losing purchase.
The freighter spun away into open sky—free.
The Umbral remained behind, hanging from the hatch frame.
Carlos waved frantically and shouted after the departing ship. “You bastard! Come back—drag it out!”
But the Sunflower was still moving fast. By the time the freighter cleared the hull, it was already dozens of meters away.
Blackfire steadied the freighter. When the truth landed—he was alive—joy surged up so hard he threw his head back and laughed, even as his leg screamed.
He stabbed another hemostatic dose into his thigh, started to turn the freighter away—
—and realized he and the ship were already bathed in a storm of metal.
***
The Umbral climbed back into the bay.
Starling kept Linneya behind her and fought against the wind to reach Carlos. Carlos rushed forward, snatched up the rifle Blackfire had dropped, and planted himself in front of them.
“Dad, run,” Linneya whispered.
Carlos’s face had gone ashen.
Once the outer hatch opened, every interior passage into the ship had automatically sealed. To reopen them, the hatch would have to close and the bay would have to complete a decontamination cycle.
They didn’t have that kind of time. They could die here ten times over before the doors unlocked.
The Umbral rose to its full height, tore the broken half of the collection arm off its body, and met Carlos’s stare.
Carlos’s eyes flicked from that torn-off arm to the massive unloading claw—several times larger—hanging nearby.
An idea sparked.
“Starling,” he said under his breath, “I’ve got a plan. I need you to do exactly what I say.”
“What plan?”
Carlos laid it out in a rush.
Starling nodded at once and pulled Linneya back. The Umbral turned its head and started toward them.
Carlos shouted, loud and vicious. “Hey, tin bastard! Over here!”
He fired as he advanced, cursing and taunting. “Pick on someone your own size, coward!”
The Umbral took a few rounds and instantly pivoted back toward him.
Carlos kept shooting until the magazine ran dry. He hurled the empty rifle, drew his long knife, and kept yelling—anything to hold its attention.
When he’d lured the Umbral to the exact spot beneath the unloading claw, he shouted to Starling at the control console:
“Now!”
Starling slammed the control lever down.
The unloading claw—several tons of steel—dropped from above.
The Umbral sensed something and looked up, but it was too late. One claw-arm slammed it to the deck.
Carlos saw Starling hadn’t caught it cleanly and sprinted toward the console—
The Umbral was already pushing itself up.
The claw struck again.
This time it clamped down hard, lifting the Umbral into the air.
“You’re done!” Carlos roared. “You’re terminated, you metal animal!”
He gripped the control button and held it. The claw’s arms kept tightening. The Umbral thrashed wildly, but it was trapped. Sparks rained down. Metal groaned, bent, and finally gave.
The Umbral stopped moving.
Carlos still didn’t let go until the claw reached its limit. Only then did he release the pressure.
What was left of the Umbral—crushed into a rough metal ball—dropped to the deck with a heavy thud.
It was over.
But the freighter was gone.
A blast boomed in the sky just outside the bay. Only now, with their adrenaline crashing, did they truly notice what was happening out there.
Warships and fighters were falling, breaking apart, erupting in fire. The chain of explosions told the whole story: the rescue was finished. It had failed.
Carlos pulled Starling and Linneya close and stared out at the ruin. The stubborn light in his eyes dulled into something blank.
“Dad,” Linneya asked softly. In just a few hours she’d been terrified and hurt until there were no tears left. “Will there be a miracle?”