"Everyone, are you okay?" Marek asked over the comms.
"We took some damage, but we can still move," Halley replied. Behind her voice, alarms were still chirping on the bridge, and the hum of the engines sounded rougher than before.
Tom cut in. "Oscar was on the deck when the ship got hit. Is he alright?"
"He's alive. But I think his arm is broken. He's in the med bay."
There was a short pause on the channel, a breath of relief from everyone listening.
"Anyway," Halley went on, her voice hardening, "it looks like we can't avoid a direct fight with the God Units after all. Be careful, boys. This is the real test for those machines of yours. Give it everything you've got. We're leaving this place alive, no matter what."
"Couldn't have said it better myself," Tarko's voice crackled through. "I'm coming in to deliver the package."
"Open the hangar doors!" Halley shouted. "He's finally here!"
Themis descended through the smoke toward the Tartarusios, its purple armor scorched black in places, and slipped slowly through the open hangar doors. Clamps and mechanical arms swung out to meet it, locking onto its frame one after another as it eased into its assigned dock. Hydraulics hissed. The thrusters wound down to silence.
The whole hangar crew had gathered around it. Engineers, mechanics, the kitchen staff still in their aprons. Nobody spoke.
The cockpit opened, and pale light spilled across the floor. Tarko climbed out and lowered himself down on the cable, his boots landing heavily on the deck.
Nolan was in front of him before he'd even let go of the line. "Where's Youri?"
Tarko looked back up at Themis. His gaze dropped.
"Give him some time," he said quietly. "It was hard for us. But it was nothing compared to what he's been through."
At that moment the hangar doors slid open behind them.
Oscar stood in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, struggling to catch his breath. His arm was bandaged and hanging in a makeshift sling. Zara and Nova came running up behind him.
"Captain, you shouldn't be on your feet!" they cried almost in unison.
Oscar ignored them. He straightened slowly, took a deep breath, and raised his voice so it filled the entire hangar.
"Youri! I know you're in there! Come on out, you coward!" His voice echoed off the steel walls. "Does it always have to be you, and only you, doing everything alone? Why do you think we're here, if you were ever truly alone?"
He started walking, holding his injured arm against his chest. The crew parted for him without a word, and he passed every one of them until he stood at the foot of Themis.
"Like it or not," he said, "I'm coming up there."
He grabbed the lift rail with his good hand, and the platform carried him slowly up to the height of the cockpit. When it stopped, he stood there for a moment, catching his breath.
Inside, Youri lay sprawled on the cockpit floor.
He could hear Oscar clearly. Every word. But he couldn't bring himself to answer, let alone move. The light from the hangar was faint, and it didn't call to him at all. It was the darkness inside the cockpit that held him, shielding him from everything he didn't want to feel. He hadn't seen any of them in over two years. And now the thought of all of them standing out there, waiting for him, frightened him more than the Emperor's guns ever had. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to act. So he stayed in the dark, the only place he had ever been able to call his own.
But it didn't last.
A dark silhouette appeared at the hatch, framed against the light. It slowly reached a hand toward him, and as it leaned in, the light from the hangar fell across Youri's face.
"Come on, brother," Oscar said, a warm smile on his face. "Everyone can't wait to see you."
It was the same smile. The very same one Oscar had worn on the day he'd first asked Youri to join him.
Faint tears welled up in Youri's eyes. He reached out and took the hand, and Oscar pulled him up and into a fierce, one-armed embrace.
"I missed you, brother," Oscar said softly. "You're always the one getting us out of trouble, and for that I'll be grateful forever. But I have one request." He pulled back and looked Youri straight in the eyes. "From now on, please. Let us do the saving. After everything, we owe you that much."
Before Youri could answer, the whole hangar erupted below them.
"YOURI!"
He turned and looked down.
They were all there. Every face he hadn't seen in so long. Nolan, Tarko, the engineers, the cooks, the medics, all of them crowded around the foot of Themis, smiling from ear to ear. And all of it was for him. For the man who had cast away every last bit of hope he had to live. For a walking corpse who had come back to them alone.
What stood below him was the thing he believed he deserved least of all.
Family.
High above, in orbit, a colossal explosion lit up the sky.
Every head in Fansilia turned upward. Half of the Sphere had been torn apart, burning debris spinning away into the dark. And out of the fire, a lone shape turned back toward the planet.
Montern.
Its pilot was a young man named Daji Rosberg. He had been raised alongside Anemone and Maximilian, and like them, he was as much a weapon as the machine he flew. He had been grown and allowed to live for one reason only: to pilot a God Unit. That was his purpose. It was also his downfall.
Because somewhere along the way, a thought had taken root inside him. A belief so enormous that it posed a danger to the Empire itself, one that would have cost him his life long ago if not for his unique compatibility with Montern. Daji had convinced himself that he was a god, just as much as Montern was.
And he had not reached that conclusion on his own.
Montern itself had told him. Those who fight alongside gods, it had said, are gods themselves. And there was one thing a god could never do, and that was fall.
To Daji, victory was everything. He would die in a heartbeat if it meant winning. And until today, he had never once tasted defeat.
Montern plunged back down through the atmosphere, wreathed in fire, falling toward Fansilia like a meteor.
Inside the cockpit, Daji was grinning.
"Hey, Montie. What do you think?" he said. "Is this gonna be fun?"
The god's voice rumbled through the cockpit, deep and ancient.
"As long as I feed, you will never know defeat. No matter who or what you face."
Daji threw his head back and laughed, wild and hysterical. Then his fingers drifted up to the metal band locked around his throat.
"God damn. If it weren't for this damn explosive collar on my neck, I'd have taken over this empire a long time ago." He licked his lips, his eyes fixed on the burning city rushing up to meet him. "Hey, Montie. After we get rid of those pests, let's turn on the Empire itself. It's about time we found out how that tastes, huh?"