Xv-827

Her blood turned to ice. XV-827 . It wasn’t the planet’s name. It was the prisoner’s.

The amber symbols on the wall behind her flared brighter. The sphere’s violet surface rippled, and a wave of nausea crashed through her. Not physical. Cognitive. Her name flickered. For a split second, she couldn't remember if she was Elara Venn or something else. She saw the Sisyphus not as her ship, but as a prison. The reactor wasn’t failing—it was a timer for her liberation. xv-827

They never knew how close they came to losing everything. Her blood turned to ice

She dropped the slate. It shattered.