The wreckage stretched before , a graveyard of ambition and silence.
Sowhere in this field of corpses, buried beneath layers of rust and ti, was the one thing I needed.
A transponder.
The only way to send a ssage without alerting the people who had sent here to die.
I moved fast, my boots kicking up thin plus of dust. The air inside my helt was sharp with the filtered tang of Mars—thin, tallic, stale.
I had been through most of the wreckage before, but I hadn't been looking for this. Now I was.
I activated Database Scan.
Lines of data stread across my visor, highlighting wrecks that had potential. Most were useless. Fried circuits, shattered antennas. Nothing strong enough to punch through the void of space.
Until—
There.
A partially buried fuselage, the insignia almost completely eroded. The ship was old—two, maybe three decades at least. But that was a good thing. The older transponders worked on simpler frequencies, harder to detect, easier to modify.
If it was still intact, I could use it.
I climbed over the wreckage, hands gripping the jagged edges as I pulled myself toward the half-buried ship. The tal was warped, the structure barely holding together. I pried open a corroded panel, digging through the remains of the control system.
And then—
There it was.
A battered transponder, still bolted into place.
I reached for it, fingers wrapping around the casing—
It wouldn't budge.
It was stuck, lodged deep into the fra.
I gritted my teeth.
I didn't have ti for this.
I flexed my fingers. Heavy Lifting (Lv. 8) Activated.
My muscles tensed, power flooding through my limbs. I gripped the transponder again, my hands digging into the tal. Endurance Boost (Lv. 10) surged through , dulling the pain, sharpening my focus.
With a snarl, I ripped it free.
The tal scread in protest, but I didn't stop until I was holding the transponder in my hands.
It was heavy, but intact.
I had what I needed.
Now, I had to make it work.
I returned to my ship, the transponder secured to my back. Thankfully, Endurance Boost prevented my body from aching.
The real problem was next.
Navigation.
Without a working trajectory, I wasn't going anywhere.
I dropped into the cockpit, strapped in, and powered up the corrupted system.
The screen flickered. Distorted data. Static-filled readouts.
I exhaled. Database Scan Astronaut (S-Rank) Activated.
Lines of information surged through my mind, blueprints, flight paths, calculations. The corrupted data wasn't completely lost. I could rebuild it.
Slowly, thodically, I reconstructed my flight path manually.
Every angle. Every correction. Every gravitational assist.
The process was painstaking, my hands flying across the console as I input each equation one by one.
Minutes passed. Then hours.
And then—
✔ Navigation System Restored
I sagged back in my seat, my heart pounding.
It worked.
I had my course.
All I needed now... was a way to send my signal.
I placed the transponder on the floor of the cockpit, my hands moving with careful precision as I rewired it into my ship's power system.
It had to be perfect.
One wrong move, and I'd alert the wrong people.
Camille was the only one who could know.
She was the only one who could force their hand.
The plan was relatively simple. Let Camille be aware of my existence, then one day before landing on Earth, make the signal fully public. This would give no ti for intelligence agencies to cover up. The mont my signal beca public, with Camille's influence she would spread it like wildfire and the world would be watching. And the governnts of Earth—no matter how corrupt—wouldn't be able to ignore my rescue.
That was the plan.
The plan my Strategist skill had given .
It had one chance to work.
I powered up the transponder.
A soft hum filled the cockpit.
I activated the transmission—an encrypted, short-range burst designed to bypass conventional monitoring systems. Just enough to reach Camille. Just enough to tell her that I was alive.
I held my breath.
Would it work?
Would they detect ?
Would she get it?
The transponder beeped once. Then twice.
Signal sent.
I sat frozen, my hands still hovering over the controls.
Fifteen minutes.
That was how long it would take to reach Earth.
Fifteen minutes.
I closed my eyes.
And I waited.
The screen flickered in a darkened office.
Camille sat alone, her fingers tapping absently against the desk. The world outside her window was blindingly bright, but inside, everything felt dim.
She hadn't been sleeping.
Sienna had tried to convince her to rest, but how could she?
Reynard was gone.
That was what she and the world saw.
That was what she was supposed to accept.
But she couldn't.
She wouldn't.
And then—
Her screen flashed.
A ssage.
Encrypted. Untraceable.
Her breath caught as she leaned forward, hands trembling as she opened the file.
A single sentence appeared.
"I'm alive. Be ready."
The world didn't know he was alive yet.
But she did.
And that was enough.
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks as she exhaled, hands clutching the edge of her desk.
He was alive.
And whatever he had planned—
She would be ready.
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