Jason looked around but couldn’t move much in the cocooned suit. Though he was still drifting, he wasn’t heading into empty space—he floated parallel with the spaceport, both of them pulled toward the nearby planet.

  He could already feel the slow tug of gravity. The port, farther ahead, glowed faint red-orange as heat began to lick its metal skin.

  It was destructive, yet strangely beautiful. The flickering sparks reminded him of the Guardian of his homeworld, the same fiery shimmer that once filled the skies above the scrap town.

  He, on the other hand, hung motionless in the void. Whether he died from suffocation or burned on entry hardly mattered. Whatever happened, the prisoners and Tahuuk had escaped. The thought brought peace. I remembered Ashar, Friederick, the others as a warrior would. I took revenge in their name. Now I have nothing left.

  He closed his eyes and breathed evenly, waiting for the inevitable, curled into himself inside the shell. The orange sunlight faded behind the planet. Darkness and stillness wrapped around him—until a sharp white glare burst across his vision.

  A ship’s searchlights.

  An emergency craft hovered closer, its front window revealing the pilot—Tahuuk.

  Jason stared, stunned. They had become brothers in the arena, yet he’d assumed once freedom came, survival would separate them. The arena had taught him that much: you lived for yourself.

  Tahuuk turned the ship, opened the rear hatch, and backed up carefully until Jason drifted inside the cargo bay. The doors sealed; gravity returned. Jason dropped flat to the deck.

  A loud thud followed by a muffled “Agh…” escaped his helmet. He fumbled for the control on his chest and pressed it. The suit folded back into its compact form.

  The air felt heavy and real. The hum of the ship’s engines was the first sound that didn’t echo in his head. He drew a deep breath, flexed his sore arm, and pushed himself upright.

  The side door slid open. Tahuuk stepped in—cut across the chest, a bullet wound in his arm, face streaked with exhaustion—but still smiling.

  Jason’s expression stayed somber. “Why did you come back for me? That wasn’t part of the plan. You could’ve been caught… or killed.”

  Tahuuk’s smile faded into calm defiance. “Seems you don’t know what the word brother means. Whatever battle we face now, we face together. It’s a warrior’s bond.”

  Jason sighed, then returned a faint smile.

  A deep orange light flashed through the cockpit windows, pulling their attention forward. They hurried through a cramped seating area crowded with prisoners—some weeping, some comforting each other, others staring blankly at nothing.

  Outside, the port ruptured in cascading explosions, its shield long gone. On both sides of their ship, other emergency craft drifted, silent witnesses to the end of the spaceport—a monument to their suffering, now burning away.

  In the distance, a few ships fled too late; some exploded, others spun lifeless after debris struck them.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The port burned in silence. Jason knew there must be screams inside—thousands of voices begging, cursing—but out here there was nothing. No sound, no crowd, no mercy. Just the quiet collapse of a world that had fed on noise. That silence felt heavier than any sound could.

  He felt neither guilt nor satisfaction. The acceptance of death still lingered; he simply watched the inevitable unfold.

  The port fractured apart, fire devouring every section until the pieces began to fall. One by one they flamed in the planet’s atmosphere, then struck.

  A vast bloom of light rolled over the surface, a shockwave spreading for kilometers. Secondary impacts followed. Among the debris, Jason noticed a small speck—Veyrn’s body—already burning up, vanishing before it even touched the clouds.

  He felt hollow. Years of pain ended in a quiet fade. It almost seems easy, he thought. Why didn’t we try sooner? The thought slipped away as the radio crackled.

  Vincent’s voice came through, chaos and relief in the background. “Hello—can you hear me?”

  “Yeah, we’re here… most of us,” another replied. One by one the surviving ships checked in.

  “We’re here too,” Jason said at last. “We survived.”

  Vincent’s tone steadied. “Alright. We’re out—but now comes the hard part. We’ll have to split up. The Empire will hear about the port soon enough.”

  Uneasy murmurs rippled through the hold. A man stood, voice shaking. “My family’s on another ship. I can’t just leave them—not after all this!”

  Silence followed. No one had an answer. None of them knew the world beyond the port’s walls.

  Vincent broke the pause. “Each ship has preset destinations. We’ll divide between them. Check the cockpit screen—see what options you’ve got.”

  Jason and Tahuuk leaned over their console. Three routes appeared: Immediate escape from battle, Escape to resourced destination, Escape to closest planet.

  Tahuuk chose Escape to resourced destination. “Resources mean civilization,” he said. “Easier to hide.”

  A system name flashed on the display. His eyes widened. “I know this place. I was sold there once—Rotgon. A trading system. We can start anew there.”

  Jason nodded, then turned to the man who’d spoken earlier.

  He stepped forward. “Allysa… are you there?”

  A pause—and then a trembling reply. “Honey? Yes, we’re here!”

  He exhaled sharply. “We’re heading for Rotgon. Tell them to take you there. I… I love you, Honey.”

  Sobbing filled the channel. “I love you too, Lionel…”

  He sank back into his seat, crying quietly. Around him, relief and grief mingled—the sounds of people who finally had the right to feel anything at all.

  Vincent’s voice returned, softer now. “Looks like everyone’s picked their course. Let’s make sure we spread out enough. Jason…”

  A brief pause. “If it wasn’t for you, none of us would’ve made it. We didn’t always agree, but I call you a friend. If our paths cross again, you’ll have my help. To everyone else—stay hidden, stay safe, and live free. Farewell… and maybe, see you in better times.”

  Jason didn’t answer. He only met Tahuuk’s eyes and nodded. Tahuuk pressed the departure key.

  A female voice filled the cabin: “Emergency FTL jump initiating in three… two…”

  Jason and Tahuuk shared a small smile.

  “Onto new beginnings and better times,” Jason said.

  “Onto new beginnings and better times,” Tahuuk echoed.

  “One,” the voice counted. “Engines engaged.”

  The deck rumbled. The hum built to a thunderous thump that burst into a blinding surge.

  Space folded around them, and in an instant the ship was gone—taking Jason and Tahuuk toward the Rotgon system, and whatever waited beyond the shell of their old lives.