In the command deck of the Donnager, faint tremors reverberated through the metal walls—lingering echoes of the ship’s engines, yet they failed to muffle the oppressive edge in Colonel Thorne’s voice. He slid a drafted "apology statement" across to Holden; on the holographic screen, looped footage of protests on Earth and in the Belt played endlessly, while Mars’ official public relations alert had spiked to maximum. "Record this video," Thorne’s finger slammed down on the screen, "admit it was OPA agent Naomi Nagata who destroyed the Canterbury. It’ll not only save your team’s lives, but stop an interplanetary war."
Holden’s gaze scanned every word of the statement, as if seeing the charred remains of the Canterbury’s crew and hearing their final cries for help. He replied resolutely: "I watched the ice hauler get blown up with my own eyes. I have the energy signatures of Martian weapons in my hands—I won’t endorse a lie." Thorne’s face darkened. The guards behind him stepped forward instantly, hands resting on their sidearms. "You’re gambling with everyone’s lives." "I’m just defending the truth." As the two stood in a stalemate, a shrill battle alarm suddenly shattered the command deck’s silence, and red warning lights bathed the cabin in crimson.
"Unknown vessels breaching the defense perimeter! Unable to lock on—they’re stealth ships!" The radar operator’s scream was cut off by a deafening explosion from the ship’s flank. Holden stumbled, grabbing the nearest console for support. Outside the viewport, streaks of torpedo fire tore through the void, slamming precisely into the Donnager’s shields. Martian crew members sprung into action immediately; the roar of laser cannons mingled with the ship’s tremors, and the lighting flickered on and off like a dying man’s gasps. Holden stared intently at the battlefield data panel, suddenly noticing an anomaly—the stealth ships’ attacks deliberately avoided the core power sector, instead targeting hull sections covered by civilian communication channels. Each explosion’s flash was perfectly timed to be captured by the Solar System’s public surveillance networks—and Holden recognized them instantly as the same stealth warships that had attacked the Canterbury.
During the chaos, the outer wall of the holding cell was punctured by two holes from energy weapons. Though Naomi and the others had repaired the breaches quickly, one crew member was killed, and the oxygen and life support systems malfunctioned. With oxygen supplies lasting at most 24 minutes, Naomi made the desperate call to have Alex injected with a sedative to reduce oxygen consumption, buying them more time to survive.
Just as everyone wondered why the enemy had ceased fire, several transport pods raced toward the warship—enemy troops were invading the Donnager directly. The tactical team escorting Holden engaged them in close combat, while Holden ducked down a side corridor. There, he discovered dozens of enemy corpses. As he moved to inspect them, one wounded soldier—still alive—grabbed his arm, fired at an approaching attacker, and saved Holden’s life. Holden noticed the enemy wore highly advanced self-repairing spacesuits.
Lopez urged Holden to evacuate immediately, but Holden insisted on rescuing his crewmates and proposed a deal. Lopez fell silent for two seconds, then spun around and ordered his guards: "Change course—head to Holding Cell Three first!" The corridor to the cell was thick with smoke; enemy boarding parties from the stealth ships had spread throughout the ship, and gunfire echoed from every direction. When they reached Holding Cell Three, Holden’s heart tightened at the sight—the hatch was twisted and warped by explosions, the cabin’s oxygen alarm wailed shrillly, and Naomi, Amos, and Alex lay unconscious, their faces as pale as death.
After rescuing them, Holden asked Lopez about Station Graphite-9—a name that had kept surfacing during his interrogations, sparking his curiosity. "If those people’s deaths are related to this, I have a right to know," he insisted. Lopez didn’t hesitate. He told Holden that their team had boarded the station earlier, only to find everyone dead—incinerated to ashes, then frozen into the walls. They’d initially thought it an accident, but the lab’s computer systems had been deliberately destroyed, leaving no data behind. That’s when they’d suspected foul play. Before Lopez could finish, alarms blared—Captain Trevor had activated the ship’s self-destruct sequence.
With Lopez covering him, Holden and his crew managed to board an escape pod. But Lopez was critically wounded and unable to join them. He transferred full control of the escape pod to Holden and the others, ordered them to flee at maximum speed, and then fell silent—his last breath stolen by the chaos. The pod raced toward deep space.
The Donnager’s explosion lit up the void, a brilliant fireball illuminating the escape pod’s viewports. Holden watched as the flames expanded and faded, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. Captain Trevor had sacrificed himself, using the self-destruct to destroy the invading enemy and erase the last piece of evidence the stealth ships had planned to use to frame Mars. Holden clenched his fists. The image of the dying soldier, Captain Trevor’s final orders—all had become a heavy burden of responsibility. He knew that from this moment on, he was not just a survivor, but a guardian of the truth. No matter how deadly the dangers ahead, he would have to see this through.