A month had passed since Youri and Six were sent to the Order. Life settled into a dull rhythm. Business continued as usual—packages arrived, and the two of them moved them. Day after day, the routine repeated itself, monotonous and unchanging.
Until one afternoon.
Youri was selling near one of the bays when he noticed a ship unlike the others. It was a cargo vessel, but something felt off. Cargo ships didn't dock in open bays; they used warehouse ports. This one sat quietly by the water, its engines cooling, as if it wanted to avoid attention.
To Youri's surprise, one of the crew approached him and asked for product.
Youri took the opportunity.
"Where's the ship headed?" he asked casually.
"To Montra," the man replied, already turning away.
The ship wasn't very large, and its choice of docking location sparked an idea. It was probably not affiliated with Barnaby, avoiding official ports to prevent misunderstandings—or inspections.
That night, as usual, Youri and Six met at their familiar bench. The city lights flickered across the water as they sat side by side. After a moment, Youri turned to Six.
"I think I found a way out," he said quietly. "There's a cargo ship docked at the bay. It already dumped its cargo, so it's mostly empty. I think I can buy off one of the crew. We hide in the crates and finally leave this place."
Six looked at him, then nodded slowly.
"It's heading to Montra," Youri added. "I'm going to look it up tomorrow. Let's just hope it's hot—hotter than here."
A faint smirk crossed his face.
The next day, Youri headed to one of Volar's many info booths. These booths housed fully emergent AI systems, each connected to the central database of the Terran Systems.
The booth he chose was called SpaceNet, located in Talion—on the thirtieth floor of Mincin Fortress, one of the city's towering skyscrapers.
When the elevator doors opened, Youri stepped into a space lined with smooth gray panels. A glass door stood a few meters ahead, revealing rows of small, square booths inside. As he entered one, black panels rose from the floor, enclosing him completely.
From above, a pair of white goggles descended slowly.
Youri put them on.
The booth lit up in a soft blue glow.
"Welcome to SpaceNet," a calm voice said. "I'm Bern. How can I help you?"
Youri blinked. The voice sounded distinctly human—male, adult.
He closed his eyes briefly, then spoke.
"Give me detailed information on planet Montra."
Holographic images filled the booth as Bern began to speak.
Montra appears as a deep sapphire sphere. More than ninety percent of its surface is ocean, broken only by chains of emerald archipelagos and towering atoll-cities. Beneath the waves lay vast continental shelves glowing with bioluminescent reefs, their light is visible even from space during the planet's long nights.
Despite its aquatic nature, over six million people called Montra home. Life there is shaped by the sea. Cities rise on floating platforms, coral-reinforced pylons, and ancient stone spires that pierce the waves. Travel relied on submersible current ships and sky-skimmers gliding just above the water's surface. Children learned to swim before they learn to read.
At the heart of the planet stands Dahrin, the capital—a tiered metropolis built around a natural super-atoll. Its towers curve like seashells, designed to withstand hurricanes and shifting tides. Canals replaced streets, and at night the city glowed in blues and greens as living coral illuminated the waters below.
Dahrin is governed by the Tide Assembly, a council devoted to balance, sustainability, and reverence for the oceans.
Montra's people were resilient and deeply spiritual. They believed the planet itself was alive—listening through the waves, watching from the depths.
Youri stared at the holograms in awe. As he scrolled through locations and history, a quiet certainty grew within him.
He asked one final question.
"How far is Montra from Volar?"
"Three hundred eighty-six light-years," Bern replied. "On a standard commercial ship, travel time is approximately two days."
That was enough.
Youri removed the goggles. The black panels slid back into the floor.
Montra would be their next world.
That night, Youri and Six positioned themselves near the bay, moving product closer to the ship as part of the plan. Hours passed. Eventually, the same crew member from before appeared.
This time, Youri made an offer.
He opened a bag, revealing a fortune in Galley.
"All of this can be yours," Youri said. "One condition. Leave the ship's hangar open. Once I'm inside, the bag is yours."
The man's eyes lit up. He agreed without hesitation.
As the ship prepared for departure, the hangar doors opened—just as promised.
Youri and Six ran.
They slipped inside and hid within an empty crate. The ship began to lift—
Then it stopped.
An Order patrol signaled the vessel. Inspection required.
The hangar doors opened again.
Light crept in as Order troops stormed the bay. Crates were torn open—some smashed, others knocked aside. Boots drew closer.
Suddenly, Six patted Youri's head.
Youri turned.
Six was smiling.
He pulled Youri into a tight embrace.
"What's going on?" Youri whispered.
But his vision blurred. Darkness rushed in.
Six had made him pass out.
In the next instant, Six burst from the crate, roaring silently as he charged the soldiers. Gunfire erupted. One shot missed. Another grazed the air where Six had been a moment before.
Six ran.
He leapt from the hangar onto the bay, drawing the soldiers after him. Behind them, the ship rose slowly, the hangar doors sealing shut.
On the bay, Six kept running.
Gunfire thundered.
His smile never faded.
When a bullet finally struck his torso, he collapsed into the snow. White flakes drifted down from the sky—just like that day in the forest, when he had saved Youri.
As the soldiers closed in, only one image filled Six's mind.
He and Youri beneath the sun at Knox Manor. Six asleep in the grass. Youri reading beside him.
For the first time since losing his voice, Six thought clearly to himself:
Thank you, Youri.
I will always be your brother.