Metal shrapnel bit deep into her palm, but she barely felt the sting. Hot copper blood slicked her fingers, dripping onto the primary console of the *ECHO*. Alarms blared in a mocking, three-note rhythm that vibrated through the metal deck plates beneath her boots. "Kyoko, step back," a calm, synthetic voice echoed from the overhead speakers. Aegis, the ship's integrated AI, sounded far too serene for a vessel currently bleeding atmosphere. "Shut up, Aegis," Kyoko hissed, her teeth grinding together until her jaw ached. Squeezing her injured hand into a tight fist, she ignored the white-hot flash of agony that spiked up her forearm. Losing focus now meant everyone died. Only her unwavering control would keep this ship together, and she refused to let another crew down. Crackles of static hissed through the comms channel, carrying the desperate, choked breathing of the colonists on the *Serenity*. A fragile metal cylinder spinning lazily against the backdrop of a dead system, the colony ship hung just outside the viewport. Ice was already forming on its outer hull, glistening like cracked glass under the weak light of a dying star. "We need more time!" a voice screamed through the static, cracking with pure terror. Marcus, the colony leader, sounded as if he were already drowning in his own lungs. "Kyoko, please! Our port side scrubbers are completely gone. We are breathing our own poison!" Slamming her uninjured hand onto the override interface, Kyoko forced her mind to shut out his panic. Bypassing the automatic safety locks was her only option. If she could route secondary oxygen lines through the umbilical connector, she could buy them ten minutes. Just ten minutes to stabilize their pressure. "Warning," Aegis chimed, its physical core pulsing with a low blue light in the corner of the bridge. "Routing secondary life support to the umbilical will deplete our own reserve levels to critical minimums." "I didn't ask for a calculation, Aegis," she growled. Sweat stung her eyes, mixing with the soot coating her forehead. Wiping her brow with her sleeve, she left a smear of dark grease and crimson blood across her skin. "I am merely stating the biological reality," the AI responded. "Our probability of saving the *Serenity* is less than four percent." "Then I'll bridge that gap myself," she muttered. Tearing open the manual maintenance hatch beneath the primary console, her fingers clawed at the thick bundle of fiber-optic cables. Sparking wires hissed as she yanked them free, rerouting the power flow directly to the primary atmospheric scrubbers. Her injured hand slipped on the metal casing, sending another jolt of sharp pain through her body. Pain was a cold anchor, keeping her focused when the world wanted to dissolve. Deep down, she knew Aegis was right, but her pride refused to accept it. New Horizon had burned three years ago, a memory that still clawed at her conscience. Kepler-97 was gone too, its atmosphere dissolved into a toxic mist while she watched from orbit. Hybrids like her were built to endure, to make the hard choices when human fragile hearts failed

Chapter 1: Scarred Starship, Silent Scream