Inside the Grand Assembly Hall of Bunker A-0, long black radiation-shield curtains hung from the high steel rafters. Emergency backup lights flickered dimly, casting long shadows across the cold alloy floor. The air was thick — not just with the sterile tang of recycled oxygen, but with something heavier: grief… and ambition.
The atmosphere of mourning was merely a protocol. Beneath it surged a current far more dangerous.
First Officer Vina stood near the central control dais, draped in black survival-fabric mourning garb, still pristine in posture and gaze. Her crimson eyes swept across the room — critical, calculating. She scoffed, her voice smooth and sharp
"Governor Daren’s passing should’ve brought silence and reflection... and yet this chamber echoes with footsteps of vultures. Are some of us that desperate already?"
Second Officer Ian, standing with military precision near the terminal columns, folded his gloved hands calmly. His voice was even, cold
"Desperation is ensuring the bunker remains intact. After all, some build influence with engineers and trade routes... I rely on tradition — not profit."
Vina tilted her head, her lips curling in amusement
"Oh? And yet, hiding behind outdated family trees won’t stop the power conduits from failing, dear brother."
Leaning against a cracked support beam near the medical wing's access port, Third Officer Sera sighed and crossed her arms. Her tone was dry, unamused
"This is pointless. The old man’s body isn’t even cold in cryo and you're already throwing data-slates like weapons. Disgusting."
A soft murmur of prayer rose beside her.
*Chapel Director Yas, hands gently clasped over a silver-threaded hymnbook, spoke softly:
"May Governor Daren's soul cycle in peace... This should be a time of unity, not division."
Then, looking up, his voice took on a calm firmness*
"We've survived centuries together in this bunker. We owe it to everyone not to let ambition devour what’s left of us."
Ian didn’t even turn to him. His reply was bitter, clipped
"The vault was never held together by kind thoughts, Yas. It was held together by command. By power. By fear."
And then —
The doors groaned open.
The whirring of servo-hinges, the sharp clink of combat boots, and the unmistakable rattle of armor plates echoed across the hall.
All eyes turned.
Security Commander أنت stepped through the threshold, the weight of his armored presence freezing the tension mid-swing. Silent and unreadable, he had returned from the restricted levels below — where the soldiers obeyed without question, and the armory remained sealed behind triple-key encryption… all under his sole authority.
Each sibling greeted the sight of him with a measured smile.
But behind every smile… was calculation.
