The bridge of the Solomon was quiet, filled only with the low hum of active systems and the soft glow of holoscreens.

  Captain Maeric and Commander Soren stood over the central console, the ship’s schematics spread across both their datapads and the shimmering projection hovering before them.

  Survivor and ZI stood at the center of the display, with Dax and Ilya on one side, Lyssandra and Kael on the other.

  Maeric’s voice was calm but edged with disbelief.

  “You’re saying the Solomon’s systems were tampered with?”

  Dax shook his head.

  “No—more like she was built that way.”

  Survivor stepped forward, gesturing to the projection.

  “Yeah. Look here and here.”

  Blue lines traced across the hologram, showing the ship’s power network.

  “Most of these conduits were designed to be reversed or interchanged. If it had been tampering, it would look a lot messier.”

  Soren frowned, arms crossed.

  “Then why design it that way?”

  Dax exchanged a look with Survivor, then said,

  “Our theory—mine, Survivor’s, and ZI’s—is that it was deliberate. Someone wanted the ship to look weaker than she really was. A disguise, to hide the Solomon’s true capability.”

  ZI’s drone tilted slightly, its lens pulsing blue.

  “Confirmed. During your last battle engagement, Captain, the connection labeled ‘auxiliary power’ was, in fact, the main reactor link. Restoring it reactivated the ship’s full energy capacity.”

  The bridge fell silent for a beat, the weight of that realization settling in.

  Survivor rested a hand on his chin, studying the glowing schematic.

  “Yeah, I was surprised by that. I mean… you’ve been running her in passive mode this whole time until recently.”

  Soren blinked.

  “Passive mode? You’re saying the Solomon was nerfed the entire time?”

  Survivor nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the projection.

  “More than that, really. It’s like you wanted someone to attack her.”

  Dax stepped in, translating the thought.

  “What he means is, since we were drawing from the auxiliary grid, the Solomon was only running essential systems. Even combat performance was throttled.”

  Ilya lifted her datapad, streams of numbers reflecting in her glasses.

  “What they’re saying checks out. Comparing the power logs— she’s been operating at only forty percent capacity this whole time.”

  Survivor leaned closer to the holo, scanning through system overlays, muttering almost to himself.

  “Yeah… it’s like you never even activated combat mode. ZI, when was the last time that system ran?”

  ZI’s drone hovered forward, lens glowing faintly.

  “Approximately one hundred years ago.”

  The bridge fell silent.

  Everyone stared — Maeric, Soren, Dax, even Lyssandra — all struck by the quiet weight of that number.

  Only Survivor remained focused, eyes still on the holo, and ZI’s lens stayed fixed beside him, calm amid the shock.

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  Lyssandra was the first to speak.

  “That’s after my great-grandfather’s campaign. Are you saying she’s been nerfed for that long?”

  Soren frowned, disbelief tightening his voice.

  “How’d we not notice something like this for decades?”

  Survivor’s gaze stayed locked on the holo, the blue light reflecting in his eyes.

  “Whoever did it had to know the Solomon’s systems inside and out. You don’t rearrange power grids like this without deep access.”

  ZI’s drone shifted slightly, lens pulsing once.

  “Data logs indicate only one user performed these modifications. The most recent entry dates to eight years ago.”

  Kael’s brow furrowed.

  “Eight years ago… that’s when the Emperor was put in stasis.”

  He hesitated. “You don’t mean—”

  Maeric’s arms folded, his tone grim.

  “He’s also the one who ordered that no one tamper with her systems—unless for maintenance.”

  Ilya lifted her datapad, scrolling through archival orders.

  “And he forbade any study of the Solomon’s internals. The directive’s still active.”

  A heavy silence followed as the pieces fell into place.

  Lyssandra looked between them all, voice low but steady.

  “You’re saying my grandfather did this on purpose.”

  She turned back to the holo, eyes narrowing.

  “But why?”

  Silence lingered on the bridge until a quiet voice broke through.

  Survivor: “Isn’t it obvious? She was hidden—or made to hide. If you want your enemies to overlook something, you make it seem unimportant.”

  Everyone turned toward him. He was still studying the Solomon’s schematics, the holo-light painting faint blue lines across his face.

  Survivor (continuing): “Think about it. You had infected infiltrate your ranks, and according to the battle data ZI gave me, parts of your own fleet turned their guns on you.”

  ZI’s drone gave a small confirming nod, as if to punctuate the point.

  Maeric: “That would explain the blocked access paths. The Emperor must have sealed them intentionally.”

  Soren (grim): “If he knew about it… then he knew this would happen.”

  Kael: “And if we try to return, we’ll be walking straight into a trap.”

  Ilya: “Or worse—surrounded before we even know it.”

  Maeric: “We should’ve seen this sooner.”

  Soren: “We did. We just didn’t want to believe it.”

  Lyssandra exhaled slowly, the weight of command settling across her shoulders. The silence stretched, heavy as the gravity wells outside the ship. Her hands tightened behind her back — a single gesture holding back the tremor of fear and resolve both.

  Her voice softened, but her words carried steel.

  Lyssandra: “Survivor… we need your help.”

  He turned, surprised by her tone.

  Survivor: “Uh—yeah, sure. I can set you up with anything you need. My detection system can help identify infection clusters—”

  She cut him off gently, but firmly.

  Lyssandra: “No. We need you to come back with us.”

  The hum of the bridge seemed to fade for a heartbeat.

  Even ZI’s lens dimmed slightly, as if the AI itself understood the weight behind her request.

  Survivor blinked at the sudden weight of their stares.

  “I mean, sure—why not? No incursions will happen anytime soon. Why does it sound so urgent?”

  Lyssandra took a careful breath.

  “My great-grandfather—Emperor Darius Voss of the Protectorate of Voss—has been in cryosleep for eight years. We need your help to heal him.”

  Survivor raised an eyebrow.

  “Heal him? My medical systems should be more than enough. Why do I need to come back personally?”

  ZI’s voice came softly through the drone’s speaker — the synthetic calm carrying something almost reverent, like a machine whispering a prayer it didn’t fully understand.

  “Because Darius Voss is a Forgemaster. He is… like you.”

  The holo-light flickered across Survivor’s face as his expression changed. His lips moved before sound found him.

  “Wait—one’s alive?”

  Then louder, with a spark of long-buried hope:

  “Are there others? Are more of my people still out there?”

  Silence.

  Maeric and Soren stood still, unsure how to meet his gaze.

  Kael and Dax looked away.

  Ilya clutched her datapad tight, knuckles pale.

  Lyssandra opened her mouth, then couldn’t find the words.

  It was ZI who finally answered.

  “No, Survivor. Darius Voss is the last known Forgemaster. His spawn point was damaged during an attack. They need your help to stabilize it.”

  For a moment, the bridge was utterly still. No grief showed on Survivor’s face—only purpose.

  He turned toward the schematics, voice steady.

  “Then we don’t waste time.”

  “ZI, prepare the fleets.”

  The blue forge-light from the holo glowed brighter as he spoke.

  For the first time in centuries, his purpose wasn’t survival — it was salvation.

  “We have a friend to save.”

  Thanks for reading

  Please give a comment, review if you want.I would love to see how you guys view the story. Even like to hear your critique, if willing.

  If worried about the AI assist, I use it for polish and grammar checks, but am learning to write without the polish.