The edges of Old Sandelier's field of vision were filled with red warning pop-ups, and those characters representing high temperatures were flickering continuously. The cooling grille on his back was fully extended, and the cooling steam dissipated quickly into the vacuum as soon as it was emitted. His legs could no longer bend, as the servo motors in his knee joints had completely failed due to prolonged overload and were now irreversibly stuck, forced into position by the magnetism from the devices on his soles, as if welded onto the warship's shell like two pieces of scrap metal.
Alarms linked to his auditory system exploded like sound, akin to coarse files repeatedly scraping against his already overloaded neural circuits.
The old man was already very tired. But he was still staring in one direction. In the middle of the starry sky, a cluster of dense, dim light spots.
The tail flames of the "Sky Star Fleet."
