"No, no, no… you can't say that!" Grace shouted; her voice sharp with disbelief. "What sort of report is this?!"

She took a step back, shaking her head, as if rejecting the very words that had been spoken.

she couldn't believe it herself. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, her mind struggling to process the weight of the news. The room felt smaller; the air thick with tension. That is six years gone to your stupid course; we all sacrificed but for what shouted

"Sir William… we've lost it," Richard whispered, his voice thick with pain.

His throat tightened as the words left his lips, heavy with the weight of failure. He could barely bring himself to say it, but there was no escaping the truth. The outacting from the control room of VOYAGER 1 fill the atmosphere.

The rumor spread across the camp like wildfire—Voyager 1 was a total failure. The cost was unmeasurable, the consequences far-reaching.

A heavy silence settled over the camp. Heads bowed in disappointment; shoulders slumped under the weight of defeat. No one spoke, but the unspoken truth hung thick in the air.

Everything they had worked for was gone. It would take us a long time to be back on our feet

I wasn't prepared for this …sir William had to summon courage to approach the microphone on deck to give a speech

With this head bow in shame as he was to be blamed for this degree of failure at a very high cost

With his heart beating more than expected… he felt the weight of unseen eyes watching his every move, he struggled to steady his hands, but the tremor betrayed his fear every sound around him amplified as he spoke into the microphone, the silence in the room felt suffocating

""Hello, citizens of Vetra..."

"As the sound waves of these words traveled through the camp, they silenced everything they touched. Conversations died mid-sentence. Footsteps halted. Even the wind seemed to obey. In the absence of noise, the only thing left was the unsettling awareness of one's own body—the faint gurgle of shifting organs, the rhythmic pulse of blood, the whisper of breath as it left trembling lips."

"I... I don't know what to say at this moment. We were so close, but—we've lost contact with the ship. All video and radio signals are flat. Nothing. Just dead silence."

"Shame on you!" Grace's voice cracked as she screamed, her fury raw and unfiltered.

She lunged toward him, her hands shaking with rage, but before she could reach him, Richard stepped in. His grip tightened around her wrist, firm but careful, as if trying to hold back a storm without getting caught in its destruction.

"Let me go!" she struggled against him, her breath ragged, but Richard held fast.

Her chest heaved, her entire body trembling with the weight of everything she had lost. Tears streaked down her flushed cheeks, hot and relentless. "I lost so much," she choked out, her voice breaking. "Everything. And for what?"

She shook her head violently, her nails digging into her palms as the truth crashed over her like a tidal wave. "All for nothing… all for nothing!"

Her knees buckled, but Richard was there, holding her up even as she crumbled. The fight drained from her body, replaced by a deep, aching grief. Around them, the world felt unbearably silent, as if even the air itself mourned with her.

Sir William was escorted out of the control room, his guards flanking him on either side. His face was unreadable, but his rigid posture betrayed the tension coiling in his chest.

One by one, the technicians abandoned their stations, their screens flickering with unanswered signals as they filed out in silence. The weight of the breaking news hung heavy in the air, unspoken but deafening.

Across the compound, the once-bustling corridors emptied as people hurried back to their enclosures. Conversations were hushed, eyes filled with unease. Everyone knew what was coming.

The Council of Chiefs had called for an emergency meeting.

And the fate of them all hung in the balance.

"Finally… something to pin on him." Grace's voice was barely above a whisper, but the bitterness in it was unmistakable.

She stared ahead, her hands trembling at her sides. "All our labor… for nothing." The words slipped from her lips, more to herself than anyone else.

"At last, all this madness will come to an end," she muttered, her voice laced with exhaustion. "But first, we need to sustain ourselves before advancing."

she clenched her fists, her breath unsteady. "But he wouldn't listen… and now—now he's cost us everything."

Her voice cracked as the weight of loss pressed down on him. "Ooh, I lost her… all because of his reckless, uncalculated doggedness."

Pain flared in her chest, raw and unforgiving. There was no undoing the past. No bringing her back. Only the bitter taste of regret and the knowledge that it never had to be this way.

"Buzz… Buzz… Buzz." The doorbell's sharp chime cut through the silence.

Grace exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. "This better be good," she muttered, pushing herself up.

She swung the door open to find a young officer standing stiffly, his uniform crisp, and expression unreadable. "Good day, ma'am. I'm here to convey a message—"

"Spare me the formalities," she interrupted. "It's about the emergency meeting, isn't it? When and where?"

The officer hesitated, but before he could answer, Eleanor's voice cut in from behind. "You're always so hotheaded." She stepped forward, arms crossed. "We knew from the start it was a 50-50 chance."

Grace shot her a glare but said nothing.

Eleanor sighed and gestured toward the couch. "Have a seat." She pulled a small drive from her pocket and placed it on the table. "All the details about the meeting are in here. Read it, memorize it… and destroy it."

Grace picked up the drive, turning it between her fingers. The weight of it felt heavier than it should. She knew—wherever it was, it could change everything.

"How has he been?" Grace asked, her voice quieter than usual.

"Sir William?" Eleanor exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise. "You wanted to destroy him just moments ago!"

"He's locked himself away since the incident. No one has seen him," the messenger said.

Grace scoffed. "That suits him well." Her voice was sharp, almost dismissive. "His lack of sympathy has blinded him..."

But beneath her harsh words, her tone wavered—just slightly. A subtle shift, almost imperceptible, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as the others.

Eleanor caught it. She narrowed her eyes. "You almost sound like you pity him."

Grace turned away, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. "Don't mistake observation for sympathy." But even as she said it, something in her chest tightened.

Grace exhaled slowly, her gaze distant. "I miss the old him."

The words felt heavy, almost foreign on her tongue. She had spent so long resenting what he had become that she barely allowed herself to remember who he used to be.

There was a time when his eyes weren't so cold, when his voice carried warmth instead of command. A time when she could trust him—when they all could.

But that version of him was gone. And she wasn't sure if he was ever coming back.

"I don't want to involve myself in this issue," Eleanor said as she stood up from the chair, smoothing out her coat. "I have other chiefs to deliver this message to."

She turned toward the door, then paused, glancing over her shoulder. Her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

"Don't forget to destroy the drive."

And with that, she was gone.

Grace finished reading the contents, She walked to the corner of the room, gripping the small drive tightly. Any leak of information could jeopardize the chiefs' safety—she had to ensure that didn't happen.

With a swift motion, she threw the drive to the ground and crushed it under her heel. The plastic cracked, splintering into useless fragments.

She bent down, gathered the broken pieces, and tossed them into the fireplace. Flames flickered, consuming the last traces of the message.