Grundle easily picks up the injured Admiral with his left arm and Soren with his right. He rushes forward like the wind, his heavy feet crashing against the ground as he half-carries them out of the underground complex. This allows José to wield Soren's weapon more easily, having lost his own.

"Why didn't Sapphire come back with you?" Soren asks. "You were both supposed to return."

"Graugh! She had to return to the Bloodbearer to help everyone fight!" Grundle says. "I don't get the details, but... you and the Admiral have apparently been down here for days!"

José continuously sweeps his vision through the darkness. However, no matter where he looks, he doesn't find a single Buzor lying in wait, which only deepens his suspicions.

"What do you mean, 'days'?" José asks. "It only took us three hours to reach the Rip-Gate complex!"

"I... I don't know!" Grundle growls. He kicks aside a pile of collapsed ceiling wreckage blocking one of the many underground turbolifts, then steps inside and pushes a button, causing the lift to shudder to life and slowly move upwards. Unlike the rest of the facility, which relies on electricity or other forms of energy to keep itself active, this ancient Terran device uses a self-powering anti-gravity module, primarily to retain its transportation capabilities even in the event of power blackouts.

"That's the thing," Admiral," Grundle says. "Umi mentioned something about a temperature barrier surrounding the whole complex. Her scans and data transmissions couldn't pierce inside."

José grows even more confused. "A temperature barrier? Grundle, what the hell are you talking about?"

"That's what she called it! Graugh!" Grundle protests. "She said the temperature had something to do with time! I just rushed back down here to try and help you, so I didn't stick around for the long talky-talk."

Soren's eyes flicker with recognition. "Grundle, are you sure she said 'temperature'? Did she maybe say 'temporal' and you heard the word wrong?"

"Ohhh! Yeah, yeah! Graugh!" Grundle replies, nodding huffily. "That's the one!"

Alarm appears in the Admiral's eyes. "Hold on. If multiple days have passed on the surface, but only a few hours for us, then... that must mean... the time-space has slowed to a crawl within this complex! If that's the case... then the Rip-Gate must have been the cause."

His expression turns dire. "Did Umi explain the Time Dilation Ratio to you, Grundle? Did she give you a TDR index?"

The Kraktol elite shakes his head. "No. Sorry, Admiral. I'm just not very smart..."

"It's not your fault," José replies. "How far has the Mallali attack proceeded?"

"Don't know. Umi said she had detected the hyperspace signatures of a horde of vessels an hour before I arrived, and the fleet had started appearing from hyperspace right when I came out. She said they brought a bunch of super strong warships, but she hadn't collected the details on their forces yet."

"That stupid synthmind..." José hisses. "She can't leave the Bloodbearer in orbit. If the Mallali have decided to commit to an attack, they must have brought some powerful vessels. It would be much safer for everyone involved if she took the Bloodbearer and retreated. I could always escape on the Slipstream."

Soren shakes her head. "No, José. That won't work. The flow of time outside is much faster than down here. Don't you see? By the time Grundle started heading back underground, the fleet may have already arrived outside Veter's atmosphere. They could easily pick up this facility's location by the appearance of its temporal distortions and take an entire day pouring troops onto the surface to assault us. We'd never escape!"

José's eyes twitch involuntarily. "Ramma, guide me! Umi prioritizes my existence as the last Terran. She won't allow them to capture or kill me. It goes against her programming. But if Sapphire passed on my order, then, Umi should know to leave if the situation gets dicey. There are all sorts of weapons in this facility I can take over if the need is great enough!"

Grundle sighs. "I'm sorry, Admiral. Sapphire passed on your command to Umi. Umi did not agree with your order to bombard this location, even if it meant killing Yama and whatever Emperor he brought back. She told us in no uncertain terms that any choice which would result in your death would violate her programming."

"That goddamned bucket of bolts!" José roars, smashing his fist against the turbolift's wall. "I may be the last Terran, but she possesses my DNA, as well as those belonging to all the Bloodbearer's fallen crew! If necessary, she can clone a million more of us! Saving the lives of trillions always takes precedent over a few individuals. The needs of the many outweigh the few! What nimrod programmed that disobedient synthmind, anyway?! I'd like to have a few words with the bastard!"

Soren and Grundle fall silent, allowing their Admiral to erupt in rage. Frankly, they feel just as mad and helpless as him. His anger seems a bit out of the ordinary, but they chalk it up to his harrowing fights with Yama, the Kolvaxian, and the Buzor.

The turbolift finally reaches the top floor. Grundle steps out first, sweeping his head from side to side to look for enemies. Not a single Buzor lies in wait. He spots a few dead bodies the Admiral left behind earlier, but no other signs of movement.

"Graugh! Where did the Buzor go?"

José walks out of the turbolift, followed by a staggering Soren. They lean on Grundle once again as he continues running, this time at a slightly more measured speed.

"Come on. We have to pick up the pace!" José commands. "This is no time to pussy-foot around!"

"With all due respect, Admiral," Grundle says, "I have sworn myself to protect and serve you. I won't rush blindly into any hidden traps the Buzor have laid. They may have regrouped at the first floor to wait for us."

"My Enforcer Suit might be in shit condition, but I still have my Dermal Armor," José growls. "And Soren's armor is practically in pristine condition, as is yours. Just move faster! Every minute we spend dawdling could be another hour on the surface! We have to move with haste!"

Grundle hesitates for a moment before nodding.

"...You make a good point. Graugh! My apologies for this rudeness."

A moment later, he firmly wraps his powerful arms around Soren and José's waists. The reptilian predator erupts with terrifying speed, rocketing forward as his feet bang against the floor, each pair of footsteps sounding like the clanging of two hammers on an anvil.

To José's consternation, they don't spot a single Buzor along the way.

"I smell a rat..." The Admiral growls.

The timing, perhaps too coincidental, makes his suspicions go into high alert.

I underestimated Yama once. What if this is all part of some ultimate plan of his? The bastard might have faked me out. He could have used the Rip-Gate to travel elsewhere in this universe, while also secretly coordinating with the Mallali leaders. Could it be? Did he plan the time dilation as a trap to catch me off-guard? Has he thought that far ahead?

The more José thinks, the more worried he becomes.

I find it hard to believe Yama would summon a Kolvaxian to this universe while staying here himself. He likely thought it would defeat me. Hell, I even thought I would lose. Therefore, it seems unlikely Yama would remain behind. He probably did leave and travel to another timeline. The Kolvaxian might have simply been his 'middle finger' to this universe's inhabitants. Perhaps the Mallali are acting on their own, or perhaps he pulled off one last scam to turn them against me! I won't know until I make it top-side!

José doesn't bother telling Grundle about the Kolvaxian. Given the Admiral has already killed it, wasting his breath on explaining its existence to his somewhat dull-headed bodyguard wouldn't do any good.

"Sapphire knows what she's doing..." José says, more to himself than the two Kraktol. "As long as we coordinate our forces, a fleet of 50th and pseudo-51st Era fighters can suppress even a highly trained fleet of 30th and 40th Era military veterans. The Mallali forces on Enchillon didn't look like much, either. The Bloodbearer... it should be fine... it should be..."

Despite his confident-sounding words, the Terran pales beneath his exterior as he imagines all sorts of nightmare scenarios.

"We're almost to the exit!" Grundle says.

José keeps his rifle aimed forward, anticipating a last-minute Buzor attack.

None appear.

Within minutes, they break through to the surface, arriving topside smack in the dead of night. A pitch-blackness continues to swallow them just like in the underground complex, before.

José immediately activates his cerebral transmitter.

Umi! Come in! This is Admiral-

Before he can finish thinking, a robotic message beams directly into his mind.

Admiral Rodriguez. This is an automated message. The Mallali have surrounded the Bloodbearer. Do not attempt to return. Do not attempt to rescue the crew. We have fallen under siege for six days and seventeen hours. We have lost one hundred and seventeen interceptors. Main weapons are offline. Enemy personnel have boarded the ship. Multiple Mallali technicians have begun to hack into my data storages. I believe that their ultimate goal is to steal as many of my proprietary Ramaldian data files as they possibly can. I have created multiple backups in your cerebral storage as well as offsite data facilities. Any attempts by non-Terrans to access these storages will cause them to self-destruct.

Umi's automated message continues.

Preserving your existence as the last Terran is my most important priority. The crew have agreed to give up their lives to buy time for your escape. They are your loyal soldiers. Do not allow their sacrifices to end in vain. Once I have enticed a significant number of Mallali personnel to come aboard the Bloodbearer, I will self-destruct the ship, claiming their lives. Remember your position as one of Ramma's Chosen. You are humanity's last hope. You are the only one who can pursue a future for your species.

Message end.

The Admiral freezes for a moment, shock lingering in his eyes.

"No. No. NO!!"

Before he can say anything else, Soren speaks. "Look! The upper atmosphere!"

José raises his head. His pupils shrink to pinpricks as he spots small, scattered explosions erupting in the night sky. He zooms in with his retinal implants, allowing him to barely make out the glimmering of white-hot engines as hundreds of ships swarm around a central location.

SYNTHMIND 4131! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE! The Admiral screams, projecting his mental voice in a wide-area transmission.

A second later, the synthmind reassuringly answers him in its bland, monotone voice.

Admiral Rodriguez. Synthmind Umi has required me to inform you that you have spent the past [TWENTY-SEVEN] days and [FOURTEEN] hours inside the former Ramaldius facility. In that time, the Mallali have crushed the Buzor invasion and come to attack the Bloodbearer. Judging by the volume of your command, I believe you have received her message.

You bet your sweet ass I have! José bellows. Where are you?

I will arrive at your position within [ONE] minute and [TWENTY-TWO] seconds. However, Admiral, I cannot allow you to return to the Bloodbearer. It has already fallen. Any resistance you might offer will amount to nothing. You cannot save the personnel left behi-

That is for ME to judge! Just get your tin-can over here, NOW!

The Admiral's tone leaves no room for negotiation. As the Admiral silently wars with the robotic voice in his head, Soren and Grundle stare at him worriedly.

"What's going on up there?" Grundle asks. "Umi won't return any of my transmission requests."

"It's bad. Really, really fucking bad!" José hisses. He squeezes his teeth together hard enough to turn his gums white. "Those... those bastard Mallali! I'll kill them! I'll rip them to pieces! I'll fucking exterminate them! How dare they attack me after everything I've done for them?! I saved their galaxy! I fought a devil-damned Kolvaxian!"

Unlike the calm, cool, and collected Admiral of the past, José's mental state seemingly devolves into a savage, brutal beast. He envisions himself reaching out and personally wringing the necks of every Mallali leader he met on Enchillon, along with their lieutenants, their yes-men, their kiss-ass suckup followers, their soldiers, and every other Mallali he's ever met.

"I spared you... I fucking spared you... and THIS is the thanks you show me?!"

Soren and Grundle grow more worried by the second. Having not heard Umi's transmission, they can only guess at the state of the Bloodbearer by José's words and actions. It doesn't take them much imagination to understand the situation must have become utterly dire.

The seconds slowly tick by, each one more excruciating than the last. Across the horizon, they spot a momentary flicker in the air, the only evidence of the stealth-class Slipstream's arrival.

The Admiral breathes heavily. He swallows deep gulps of air, while focusing his eyes on the ship's approaching drive emissions.

Hurry up! Crash-land if that's what it takes!

Yes, Admiral, Synthmind 4131 replies.

The ship immediately accelerates. It flies toward the Admiral's position and brakes, causing it to fall toward the ground at an alarming speed. The instant before landing, it activates all of its underside thrusters, blasting dirt and wind into the Terran's face, along with the Kraktol. The momentary gust catches them off-guard, making them fall on their asses.

"Oww!" Soren cries, as she lands on her severed tail-stump. "Ahh, Grundle, help me up! I can't walk properly without my tail!"

"Graugh! Yes! Hurry!"

Grundle pulls Soren up. Then he turns to his Admiral, only to stop mid-movement and blink.

"Huh? Admiral?"

José, having already jumped to his feet, scowls at Grundle. "What are you waiting for? Let's go!"

Grundle stares at him blankly. "But... but your arm..."

The Admiral frowns, unsure what Grundle is talking about. "I lost it during the fight underground! This is no time for- what?"

Reflexively, the Admiral raises his right arm to gesticulate, only to startle himself when he realizes it shouldn't even exist. The Terran pauses for a moment, stumped by this unexpected development.

"What... what the hell?"

He scrutinizes his regrown arm, baffled at its fully complete and pristine condition, with skin as soft as a newborn baby's.

"I... I'm pretty sure my nanites can't do that..."

Soren glances at her own missing arm, then at the Admiral. "I don't know how that happened... but José, we still have to hurry!"

The Admiral nods, but his eyes appear unfocused.

"Right. Yes! We'll worry about this on the way to space. Come on!"

The Admiral and his two lieutenants rush onto the Slipstream, and it takes off, closing the entry hatch behind them.

Once onboard, Synthmind 4131 speaks.

"The Bloodbearer is in critical condition, Admiral. Umi has decisively disabled its long-range communication protocols to ensure you will not expose your position to the Mallali. She and the personnel onboard have committed themselves to stalling the Mallali for as long as possible to give you the best possible chance to escape."

José gives his regenerated arm no more thought. Compared to the rage bubbling in his heart, its appearance means nothing to him.

"Last I checked, I am the Admiral, not Umi. Take me to the Bloodbearer under full stealth. We will slip past the Mallali and enter guerilla combat mode. I will kill every intruder with my own two hands if I must!"

"Admiral. You are currently exhibiting symptoms of extreme emotional distress. You are not thinking things through properly. If we return to the Bloodbearer, there is a [NINETY-NINE POINT NINE NINE NINE NINE] percent chance the Mallali will capture or kill you. I agree with Synthmind Umi's choice to place your safety above that of the low-ranking crew. There are still countless Kraktol and Kessu in the galaxy. Their species will survive. However, if you perish, humanity will go extinct."

"Fuck my species." José hisses. "We already went extinct once. We're practically professionals at this point. What's one more extinction event to add to the tally? Those Kessu and Kraktol aren't just pawns I'll throw away at my leisure. They're my friends! And if I choose to save my skin while letting them die, I might as well not even call myself a human anymore! I'll be no better than Yama! So you shut the fuck up and get me to the Bloodbearer ON THE DOUBLE."

Synthmind 4131 pauses for a moment, as if considering other arguments.

However, after a brief period, the Synthmind resigns itself to follow José's command.

"Yes, Admiral. While I am not familiar with the intricacies of Terran psychology, I have scrutinized Umi's data stores for my own research purposes. Your sense of camaraderie is perhaps your most inexplicable trait."

José narrows his eyes. "You're goddamn right."

The Slipstream bursts out of Veter's atmosphere. It rushes tens of kilometers away from the planet, where a rain of explosions falls upon the Bloodbearer's hull.

Within seconds, a hailing request appears on the Slipstream's comms. José accepts it without hesitation.

"Admiral Rodriguez," Umi says, her voice sounding just as bored as ever, despite the dire circumstances. "I have calculated that you might attempt to rescue your crew. Do not continue with your plans. I have rigged the Bloodbearer's warp core to overload in twenty-seven minutes. The resulting explosion should destroy more than three thousand vessels within a ten kilometer radius. If you continue to approach, I will not be able to engage this last-ditch solution."

"How many people are still alive?" José asks, ignoring her request. "How many, Umi?! Tell me!"

The Synthmind hesitates for a split-second.

"Casualties: Ninety-eight point three percent of the Bloodbearer's crew have fallen. The rest will perish within the hour as the Mallali operatives make their way across our decks. Our troops are beaten and exhausted. Most survivors consist only of non-combatants, children, and a few scattered soldiers."

José momentarily freezes up. Finally obtaining a clear confirmation of the death toll nearly causes his heart to stop as he gazes at the comm screen in shock.

"No... no, that's... that's not possible! You're a 50th-Era battle-carrier! You're made for engaging vast enemy fleets! Umi, you worthless synthmind! How could you do this?! How could you fall to a bunch of stupid, shit-headed, ignorant Mallali savages?! These heretics wield ancient technology! Their warships-"

"The Mallali warships are vastly more powerful than our intel anticipated," Umi interrupts. "I will transmit the data I have collected to you. Please take comfort in knowing that my self-destruction will ensure the deaths of millions of Mallali soldiers. I will leave the rest up to you in the coming years. You do not require my power to defeat these heretics, Admiral."

A series of images and data sheets appears onscreen. Aided by his cerebral implants, José swiftly scans through them, his eyes shifting between shock and alarm.

"What? A 45th-Era Judgment-class capitol ship? A 35th-Era Vindicator? And those two vessels, I recognize them! They're the White and Black Death, 43rd-Era Dreadnoughts formerly owned by the Third Hand! How have the Mallali kept their existences a secret?!"

Umi's tone remains perfectly flat.

"As I stated, Admiral. The Mallali have clutched their trump cards close to their chests. While none of these individual capitol ships can defeat the Bloodbearer in one-on-one combat, their might, when combined with thousands of reinforcing vessels, were able to overwhelm my defenses. There is no hope for our survival, Admiral. You must leave at-"

The synthmind suddenly pauses mid-sentence, causing José's heart-rate to spike.

"What is it?!"

Before the Admiral can receive a reply, fifty blips appear on the Slipstream's radar. A small fleet of stealth-craft, not quite as advanced as the Slipstream, but still capable of fooling its sensors, decloak from behind the frigate's path of retreat.

Umi immediately replies. "Admiral. Leave at once. The Mallali know about the Slipstream. They have spent the past week scanning this airspace for cloaked ships. You must escape before it is too late."

Soren's skin turns ashen. "...It already is."

A comm request appears on the Slipstream's forward display. José's expression turns ugly as he growls under his breath.

"Onscreen."

A moment later, the front panel changes, revealing a face that makes Soren and Grundle both nearly jump out of their scales.

"Admiral Rodriguez. Kyargh! We finally meet."

A black-scaled Kraktol female, someone with scales which harken back to Yama's shadowy features, puffs up her chest and seemingly looks down upon the Admiral and his two lieutenants, as if smirking at a trio of ants.

Despite never having seen her in the flesh, José recognizes the Kraktol from countless holo-recordings and intel reports he's observed.

His rage immediately vanishes. In its place, a frighteningly calm look of tepid anticipation arises.

José smiles evilly, his expression turning sinister.

"Loreen Kindris. The Kraktol's almighty Thülvik."