Chapter 12: Ten Minutes, Many People to Save. Part 2

  01:23 — 47.89% | Meeting

  It was exhausting.

  Having to manage a massive evacuation—millions of astronomical units away—with limited resources and personnel.

  And doing it under such a short time limit.

  Honestly, it was exhausting. But above all, it was a nuisance.

  And now, having to deal with the meeting I knew was coming.

  Especially because…

  “I can’t let León intervene.”

  I opened my eyes in my office, inside the central dome.

  Eida was beside me, ready for the meeting.

  On the desk, a cup awaited me with my favorite drink: bitter hot chocolate.

  The city was at peace.

  Everyone continued with their normal activities.

  Though some would stop now and then—whether in the middle of their debauchery or their work—to watch the live broadcast.

  Of the hell Dinamo had caused.

  “And of what was about to come.”

  Everything was so calm on this side that I couldn’t help but pause to admire the view.

  At least for a moment. I was almost tempted to leave the battle behind.

  It was a lost cause anyway—what was the point of keeping myself worried?

  The sound of two call requests pulled me out of my stupor, drawing me away from those ominous thoughts.

  I had no time to waste.

  I signaled the desk to connect both callers. I had an irritating meeting to resolve as quickly as possible.

  —Katherine! Give me the order and I’ll leave immediately to take care of Dinamo. If I hurry, I’ll arrive in thirty minutes.

  —I’m enough. I will win. Just give me the order.

  “That’s why I don’t want you to meet him yet. You’re not ready.”

  I couldn’t help but sigh.

  That was León.

  The most powerful human alive today—and difficult to handle, to make matters worse.

  Barely a hundred years old, and already without comparison.

  No one, at present, could match him.

  Not even me.

  The only thing bigger than his power was his ego.

  —You? A brat. You’re barely a hundred years old, child. You haven’t even seen him in person. You don’t know how terrifying he is. Do you really think you stand a chance?

  Don’t make me laugh.

  —Can you believe this brat, Lady Katherine? He’s like a dog with its leash off.

  Danica let her contempt drip from every word, like loose poison.

  She had never liked León.

  And she never pretended otherwise.

  She hated him. I wasn’t sure why.

  But ever since they met, she hadn’t stopped hating him.

  I sighed again at the start of another one of their endless disputes as I watched their holographic projections.

  They were extremely faithful to their real appearance—one of the most advanced cutting-edge technologies.

  There was no perceptible difference between this and having them truly in front of me.

  León.

  His presence always generated a certain discomfort, even when he wasn’t physically present.

  There was something about him that made him stand out, no matter where he went.

  In his own words: “Perfection made man.”

  His silver hair shone as if each strand were carved from diamond.

  It flowed slightly—an effect he liked to produce to create a dramatic atmosphere.

  His eyes, a deep ocean green, could inspire calm or panic, depending on which side of his will you were on.

  His physique was impeccable: slender, tall, shaped by combat and, above all, genetics. A figure forged for victory.

  He wore a white cape, a black shirt fitted to his body, and loose white pants.

  At his waist rested a curved saber. Traditional.

  Ceremonial, perhaps.

  But lethal in his hands.

  Everything about him was perfect.

  As I’d already said: one of the youngest Rank 10s.

  And yet, at only a hundred years old, the strongest human alive.

  “If only you could stop those urges to prove yourself to Dinamo, you’d be perfect.”

  I couldn’t help that regretful thought as my gaze moved to the other image.

  The second projection stabilized a few milliseconds later.

  Danica.

  Her mere presence dropped the ambient temperature by a few degrees, though I knew it was an illusion.

  Not because of her power—though she had it—but because of what she represented. Her concept.

  She was taller than León. She easily surpassed two meters, nearing two-ten.

  Her silhouette was slender, almost stylized to excess.

  She wore a black ruffled dress that clung with unnatural grace to her figure.

  On top of that, a dark top hat—elegant, slightly tilted to one side, as if hiding a part of the world she didn’t want to see.

  Her skin was pale as marble.

  Ash-blonde hair, long and perfectly aligned.

  And those violet eyes, with sclera completely black.

  They stared without blinking.

  There was no happiness in them.

  Only sadness and loneliness.

  My chest tightened a little seeing her like that.

  I knew her circumstances, but there was nothing I could do.

  And even less now.

  She held a black umbrella made of heavy fabric, with a handle of polished gold.

  Even that harmless-looking object emanated an aura of gloom.

  Around her, small erratic currents of floating soot or black sparks danced—

  a byproduct of poor control over a concept that was too powerful.

  Like a reminder that death could take a feminine form.

  She wasn’t as imposing as León, nor as loud.

  Or unbearably annoying.

  She preferred peace and silence.

  Both of them were the leaders of the last two domes that remained.

  —Heh. Looks like someone woke up in a bad mood today. Why don’t you go back to your coffin, old woman? We don’t want to tire those old bones, right?

  —Sigh.

  “Here we go.”

  I saw anger stain Danica’s eyes for an instant.

  León knew where to hit.

  And he enjoyed it.

  Danica adjusted her umbrella slowly, as if each movement were part of a silent choreography.

  —Oh, León... —she murmured, her voice as soft as velvet, but as sharp as a razor—. How charming it is to see a child play with knives, believing he can hurt me. A pity you lack an edge.

  —Child? I have more victories than the years you’ve spent in solitude, old woman. But don’t worry—if you’re lucky, you might still find another husband in some open crypt.

  “Why do they insist on provoking each other? We don’t have time for this.”

  Worst of all, León didn’t seem to understand when his insults were too cruel.

  Or if he did, he didn’t seem to care.

  Danica didn’t blink.

  She didn’t flinch either.

  She only tilted her head slightly, letting her gaze fall over him like a sentence.

  —What a curious choice of words, speaking of graves.

  Tell me, León, doesn’t it tire you—so much effort to be the center of everything?

  Sometimes you remind me of show dogs: shiny, muscular, and trained to entertain.

  The young man smiled, delighted.

  —Was that a compliment, Danica? Are you saying I’m handsome?

  —No. I’m saying you’re a noisy ornament. A dog that only knows how to stain the carpet.

  “Did they call me for this? I don’t have time for these foolish acts—I have a city to save,” I thought, massaging my forehead.

  I inhaled slowly. I needed to calm myself to end this conversation as quickly and successfully as possible.

  It was always difficult to interact with exceptional people. Their egos wouldn’t allow them to cooperate.

  But it wasn’t me who stopped their quarrel.

  —Silence! How dare you act like children in front of Lady Katherine? Aren’t you ashamed? If you have nothing to do here, get out! We don’t have time for this nonsense.

  It was Eida who restored order.

  —What do you need me for? Though I’m glad to see you again, I truly don’t have time. I’d prefer this conversation to be brief.

  I decided to take the reins after Eida silenced them.

  —As I told you, Katherine, if you order it, I’ll finish Dinamo. I don’t need help. I’m more than enough.

  León looked confident after his declaration, certain of his victory.

  At his side, Danica simply made a mocking sound as she hid behind her umbrella.

  —And as I told you last time, my answer is still no. I won’t allow you to go after Dinamo. You’re not ready yet.

  —Why not? I’m ready. It makes no sense to keep waiting. Do you really think training matters? I’m just wasting time.

  “Another one of my failures.” I couldn’t avoid the thought.

  I had cultivated León since he was a child to stand at the top.

  Born Rank 10, with unmatched talent.

  I raised him to be the best among his peers—which he was.

  That there was no one among his peers capable of rivaling him—also true.

  But I overdid it.

  The result was an immature young man who took nothing seriously. At least I managed to keep his loyalty.

  —You should be a good dog and sit when your master tells you to.

  Danica seized the chance to strike.

  I decided to cut them off before they started again.

  —I already told you, León. You’re not ready. Maybe in ten thousand years, but right now you’re not. You have to understand, —I repeated, calm but without hope.

  An idea flashed through my mind.

  —While we’re at it, you could come to the central dome. There are still protocols and checkups I need you to comply with. And I can only verify them in the central dome.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  I tried—again—to change the subject and invite him to join the central dome, knowing rejection was likely.

  León frowned. He was going to answer. I already knew that expression on his face.

  But before he could open his mouth, Danica stepped in with that voice of hers, as delicate as a scalpel’s edge:

  —Don’t bother, Lady Katherine. Talking to him is like arguing with a mirror: it only returns its reflection.

  León smiled, slow.

  —Oh, jealous, Danica? Would you like to have my reflection in your room? Though of course, you’d need a body with a temperature for that. But it’s disgusting to even think about.

  —You’re wrong. I’d keep it to teach it manners, —she said, with a half-smile laced with venom—. Though I’d probably break it before I managed.

  And there they were again.

  Like children.

  As if nothing else existed.

  I didn’t bother intervening anymore.

  Let them keep up their clownery.

  I only looked away, tired, and directed my attention where it was actually needed.

  The command room kept working at a frantic pace.

  They were still debating what to do about Collins and his unexpected betrayal.

  The evacuation numbers had barely moved.

  —Director, what are your orders regarding the traitor? —said one of the technicians, without lifting his eyes from his console.

  —Captain James R. Collins was detected stealing one of the ships from the hangar—more specifically, a TRN-98 Harbinger. He also took with him a handful of sympathizers and their families.

  I hesitated for a second. All available personnel were working the evacuation. I couldn’t pull them away for this minor task.

  Someone else answered instead. A low voice—calm and steady.

  As always, Caetano proved how reliable he could be.

  —No problem. I already took care of the traitors. Keep working.

  Caetano stayed close to me, checking every screen to make sure the evacuation was progressing well.

  On one of them, the TRN-98’s escape was displayed—a fast combat craft.

  Faster than almost any Rank 10.

  The ship, which looked like it was about to get out of range, blew apart into pieces.

  He didn’t spare it a single glance.

  Everyone went silent for a moment before returning to their work.

  For the next moments, only reports about the most urgent situations could be heard—everyone trying to ignore what they had just witnessed.

  I took the chance to check how the “conversation” between León and Danica was going.

  But I gave up. It looked like a fight could break out at any moment.

  Even Eida was starting to lose patience.

  “Better to let them cool off for a while.”

  I held on to that hopeful thought while I continued making sure the evacuation was running correctly.

  I knew there was no way they would reconcile.

  03:43 — 59.08% | The Calm Is Over

  In a world where everything happened in instants, letting two minutes pass was almost a luxury.

  But I needed it.

  We all needed it.

  No one was shouting. No one was disobeying.

  For the first time since this began, the structure seemed to hold itself together.

  I remained present—through a remote body, through fragmented consciousness—watching each unit do its part.

  The reports arrived without irregularities.

  The capsules were operating at the maximum of their safe capacity.

  The digitization process stabilized at a mortality index of just three to four percent—something that on any other day would be a tragedy, but today was a quiet victory.

  “Thank you.”

  I didn’t say it out loud, but I thought it sincerely.

  To each of them.

  To all of them.

  Hanami, Dimitri, and Baek were still at their posts, like invisible pillars in a wall no one else could see.

  Dimitri didn’t say a word—not even mentally. He simply held steady at his anchor point, bored of standing there.

  Baek hadn’t raised an eyebrow since taking position at one hundred AU.

  And Hanami—even she had stopped joking to focus. That said a lot.

  Everything was moving.

  Efficient.

  Precise.

  As if the world—just for a moment—remembered how to work together.

  And still, I knew it wouldn’t last.

  The alarm that followed made it clear. Peace had always been fleeting.

  —Director! A-a traitor… a traitor destroyed the capsules, —said one of the operators.

  I could see her crying as she watched her family die.

  —Get her out of here. Report properly on what’s happening.

  Caetano knocked her unconscious with a clean strike, and two robots removed her without letting her cause further problems.

  —Apparently one of the technicians, Alistair Kellen, lost his partner during the digitization process. He couldn’t accept the loss, so he planted explosives in every capsule in his sector, —reported another supervisor, his voice steady but tense—.

  —When he was discovered in an area he wasn’t assigned to, the explosives were identified. He chose to detonate them—and to immolate himself.

  —We’ve lost twenty percent of the capsules. Many technicians are injured; some dead.

  —All civilians in that zone are considered lost.

  —Panic is expected to spread, and the evacuation to be delayed.

  A heavy silence seized the room.

  No one said anything.

  They weren’t even breathing normally.

  The name Alistair Kellen kept hanging in the air like a shadow.

  His actions.

  The consequences.

  What it meant to lose twenty percent of the capsules in a single instant.

  No one could believe it.

  Caetano was the first to move.

  —Have Seo Min stop whatever she’s doing, —he ordered in the same firm voice as always—. Send her to the digitization hall immediately. I need her to inspect the entire area. Make sure there are no more bombs.

  We need to increase speed as soon as possible to maintain our current pace.

  A technician spoke up, trembling:

  —But if we speed up the capsules any further, we could compromise stability—

  He didn’t finish the sentence.

  Caetano looked at him.

  A single look.

  The technician froze.

  —I don’t care. —Caetano didn’t raise his tone, but each word landed like bricks—. Speed stays at minimum.

  —We could also increase the speed in Area 1 to…

  He was about to suggest speeding up digitization in the children’s capsules too.

  An idea that would shatter morale completely.

  Fulfilling his role as the villain.

  And I stopped him.

  —In that section, we keep the safe pace, —I said.

  There was a second of pause.

  He nodded, without arguing.

  Just that.

  “—Sorry…”

  I didn’t say it out loud.

  It went through telepathy.

  He received it without concern.

  And discarded it with a professional calm that hurt more than any reproach.

  “—Work is work,” he replied mentally. Not a trace of animosity.

  And he went back to it.

  I didn’t.

  I stayed still on the inside.

  Feeling the weight of everything.

  Death.

  Guilt.

  Efficiency as the only consolation.

  Knowing I had to keep up this act of the “Merciful Goddess.”

  A lie meant to encourage obedience in subordinates.

  I shifted my attention back toward the most irritating corner of this operation: León and Danica.

  They were still there.

  Insulting each other.

  Finding new ways to hurt each other with dazzling creativity.

  I didn’t even understand how they still had so much emotional fuel left.

  How they didn’t get tired of that pointless performance.

  “Maybe hatred is a renewable energy source,” I thought, trying for irony—only for it to taste bitter.

  That was when a notification brushed my consciousness.

  One of my internal AIs—one of the countless I had—sent me the status report of the backup plan.

  “Stage five completed. Final adjustments in progress. Estimated time until execution: twenty-three seconds.”

  I almost smiled.

  Almost.

  It wasn’t a victory.

  But it was something.

  A small spark of structure inside the disorder.

  One more option in case everything else failed.

  It was never bad to get a good piece of news.

  03:44 — 59.10% | The Calm Is Over

  A full second had passed with no sign of Seo Min.

  And everyone was starting to panic.

  Me too.

  I manually activated a fraction of my tracking drones and redirected them for a more thorough search.

  I couldn’t afford to wait.

  “Where are you, Seo? We don’t have time.”

  Time was precisely what we lacked most.

  Digitization had almost completely stalled.

  Both technicians and civilians were reluctant to approach the capsules, as if simple proximity could make them explode.

  Even some militiamen were beginning to hesitate.

  Many of their families were still among the civilians.

  Fear was contagious. And lethal to the operation.

  “Come on. Where are you, Seo…? What is that?”

  One of the drones detected a distortion.

  A small tear in space. Barely a fold.

  Inside: three presences.

  Faint, but identifiable.

  Irina.

  Rajiv.

  And Seo.

  The three of them were inside that fold, as if they had created a private refuge, isolated from the rest of the world.

  A temporary hideout.

  Moving the drone closer in silence, I prepared to listen to their conversation.

  The inside of the tear vibrated softly, like a bubble of artificial peace.

  A capsule of suspended reality.

  “What are they talking about? They can’t be thinking about…”

  No.

  I refused to finish that thought.

  It was impossible.

  A Rank 10.

  A Born Rank 10 would never consider that option.

  Never.

  Right?

  —Sniff… sniff…

  —There, there, Seo. Calm down. Everything’s going to be okay—please, breathe, —Irina said with a sweetness that seemed to wrap around her. Her voice was soft, warm, almost maternal.

  She knelt beside Seo and put an arm around her without saying more—just staying with her in silence.

  —Really, Irina? —Rajiv said with a controlled sigh, without aggression—. You’ve been repeating the same thing to her an innumerable number of times. Doesn’t the futility tire you?

  His tone was elegant, patient, and condescending.

  Even his disdain sounded polished.

  —Besides, —he continued— this young woman has been crying since the incident happened. Quietly or screaming. She hasn’t contributed anything since.

  “Well… this isn’t what I expected.”

  Apparently, they hadn’t hidden themselves away to plan anything.

  Just to argue.

  And to cry.

  A crack of breathing room in the middle of chaos.

  It wasn’t a strategy.

  Nor a confession.

  It was a small emotional escape.

  A moment stolen from inevitable collapse.

  Through the drone’s feed, the three Rank 10s remained inside the spatial distortion as if the world couldn’t touch them—and yet, all three were broken.

  They just hid it in different ways.

  I couldn’t blame them.

  Irina kept holding Seo Min, that tenderness of hers seemingly inexhaustible.

  Rajiv remained standing, arms crossed, expression unshakable.

  But I could see the exhaustion under his eyes—

  the kind that sleep doesn’t fix, only answers do.

  —We should end this, —Rajiv said without raising his voice, as if reciting a prayer.

  His tone was serene, refined, as if every word had been chosen with precision. —We aren’t helping anyone by staying here.

  —She’s scared, —Irina replied softly—. We all are. Give her one more moment.

  —Time is exactly what we don’t have, Irina.

  —Then be patient.

  A pause followed.

  Rajiv looked at her with that blend of courtesy and disagreement only he could manage without losing elegance.

  —She’s hidden long enough. If she fears her death that much, she should tell Master Katherine. Beg for permission to leave. Perhaps she’ll be granted mercy.

  Seo Min lifted her head.

  Her eyes were swollen.

  Her voice shook, but she spoke.

  —I can’t.

  I’m not going to disappoint her.

  —Tsk. Coward, —Rajiv murmured, not harshly, but not gently either—. Then stop crying.

  Seo flinched.

  She straightened slowly.

  And for an instant, her sadness turned into fury.

  —It’s easy for you to say!

  You won’t be on the front line!

  You’re support! You’re the rear!

  I’m the one who’s going to die first!

  I’m the one who’ll take the hit when he arrives!

  Dinamo is going to kill me first!

  Irina hugged her tighter.

  She stroked her head with one hand, like a mother soothing her daughter after a nightmare.

  Rajiv fell silent for a moment.

  He looked at her.

  Then he leaned slightly toward her.

  —You’re right, —he admitted—. Dinamo will come for you first. That’s why… if you die, I’ll make sure to die with you as well.

  He gently caressed her hair on both sides of her head, as if sealing an unspoken vow.

  —But for now, let’s go.

  Katherine is looking for you.

  And you wouldn’t want her to see you like this… would you?

  Seo Min sniffed, wiped her tears with her sleeve, and nodded in silence.

  Irina smiled at her and offered her hand.

  She took it.

  The three of them stepped out of the tear.

  I quickly sent a message to Seo Min to report to the digitization zone. Her ability was urgently needed.

  Rajiv and Irina stopped.

  Both lifted their gaze toward the drone I was piloting.

  They knew I was watching.

  They greeted me with a slight nod of the head.

  And left.

  I stayed silent, still synchronized with the drone.

  I watched them walk away—to keep doing their duty.

  Lost in thought.

  “Sometimes, even among the strongest, fear finds cracks to slip through.”

  And sometimes loyalty remains intact.

  Even when the heart trembles.

  04:06 — 60.91% | Good News

  Seo Min finally arrived.

  And, to my relief, she carried out her task quickly.

  She confirmed there were no explosives left in the area.

  The inspection was precise, meticulous—exactly what I expected from her.

  Digitization had been delayed considerably, yes.

  But we were still doing relatively well.

  The death rate held at a miraculous three to four percent.

  It hadn’t risen.

  I allowed myself a few moments to reflect on the conversation I’d overheard between Irina, Rajiv, and Seo.

  That small broken space in the middle of collapse.

  A corner of honesty, fear, and tenderness.

  It wasn’t what I expected from them.

  But maybe that was why it was so effective.

  I thought about what Rajiv had said:

  “If you die, I’ll make sure to die too.”

  How far were they willing to go out of loyalty?

  And what, exactly, was I really demanding of them?

  I didn’t have time to answer myself.

  A mental alert interrupted my reflection.

  Plan B was ready.

  Emergency Teleportation Project: Phase completed.

  A sigh escaped me before I could stop it.

  Too soon.

  Too raw.

  But it was our only additional option.

  An improvised escape channel.

  A teleporter built under non-ideal conditions,

  using routes Dinamo— for some reason—hadn’t touched yet.

  An unstable, hidden frequency—almost marginal.

  It was a small miracle… or a perfectly ignored trap.

  He had promised he wouldn’t interfere.

  And, so far, he had kept his word.

  But that didn’t mean he would stop a trap he had already laid.

  In the end, this was a gamble.

  “We’ll test it.”

  I ordered the field trials to begin.

  One by one, the first civilians began to be teleported.

  I knew it wasn’t right.

  That it was unethical.

  That the first ones sent might not arrive anywhere.

  Or worse: arrive split into fragments of existence.

  But I no longer had the room to worry about formalities.

  I had to act.

  And act fast.

  “How do I justify this?”

  I couldn’t.

  But I did it anyway.

  There was no room for justifications in this job.

  Only decisions.

  —Time to end this, —I murmured, looking toward the corner where León and Danica were still throwing sharp phrases like floating blades.

  I had to put an end to that absurd fight once and for all.

  I’d allowed too much.

  I rose from the chair.

  “All of this is exhausting.”

  I thought of the dead.

  Of the drones.

  Of the constant effort to maintain the image of a merciful goddess.

  And then, of what was coming.

  The inevitable fight.

  Dinamo.

  “And there’s still that.”