Entering Division Two was, for Sophia, an act of self-betrayal. But necessity—raw and relentless—had dragged her there. If she didn't move every one of her pieces after the mission that was coming, if they failed... she knew she would regret it for the rest of her life.
As the elevator descended to the first levels of the VS-100 Vulcanus station—where the hangars, labs, development centers, and military engineering were located—the lieutenant looked at the palms of her hands. The pressure of her nails had left deep marks on her skin.
When the elevator passed by the processing and cultivation zone, General Silvania's words came back to her. If she was going to end up there, picking potatoes or cleaning lettuce, at least she would do it without regrets. Maybe a quiet life, with regular hours, far from death, wasn't such an absurd idea.
She slapped herself on the forehead with an open palm.
"What are you thinking, Sophia Mernel?" she muttered. Her voice was a sigh that was lost in the hum of the elevator. "I mustn't think about failure... although a season of peace wouldn't do me any harm."
She held back a shout in her throat, bitter and raspy.
"Why was I born in this era? Why did you give me a normal family?" she looked up at the ceiling, though she was really searching for the sky. "They say the sky was blue... Maybe in that time, you really listened to your children."
The elevator passed the residential level. The electromagnetic hum of its movement seemed almost relaxing after the tension she had just experienced in the general's office.
"Why didn't you give me rich parents? I could be at home, watching TV," she sighed with sarcasm.
She closed her eyes. She was looking for peace. But inside her, there was only a storm.
"Keep your composure, Sophia," she said in a low voice, regaining control. "You have to visit that... idiot. It's the least you can do. She deserves it after everything she did to me."
The elevator stopped with a slight hiss. Sophia adjusted her beret with a mechanical gesture. Her face hardened again.
Outside, the hangar was bustling with activity. Mechanics worked tirelessly on the Aimex units. Welding sparks danced in the air, buzzing like metallic insects. Supervisor drones flew over the area while enormous vehicles moved ammunition the size of coffins.
The Aimex, those technological marvels, dominated the space like sleeping giants. For most, they were the pinnacle of human defense. For Sophia, they were the symbol of decay: perpetual darkness, nuclear winter... and something else.
A personal weight.
She walked through the hangar, ignoring the curious looks and greetings. She had to go all the way to the farthest end, where the barracks of Division Two—the Fiery Serpents—were located. But the path to the second division forced her to pass where her Aimex was resting.
She stopped dead in her tracks, in front of the last port of her division's hangar.
She didn't look up immediately.
Out of the corner of her eye, she barely saw the metallic colossus's feet. A knot formed in her throat. Everything seemed to stop. In that instant, memory dealt her a silent blow. Pain. Loneliness. Fear. It was all still there, intact, like scars beneath the skin.
She took a deep breath, once. Again. And finally, she looked up.
The fuselage was still damaged, its chest open like an unhealed wound. The metal was torn by the fangs of an Alpha Puma beast. The white paint with gold decorations—the emblem of the First Division, First Sun—was now just a dirty yellow, cracked by time and moisture.
That machine had been her pride. Also her emotional tomb.
"Don't look at me like that, junk," she muttered, her voice trembling. "We both failed that day. You have no right to judge me... and I have no right to blame you."
She continued walking toward the barracks of Division Two. Her steps were now heavier. She dragged her feet for a moment, as if her boots had decided to falter.
Entering there was like stepping into a metallic jungle: hammering, shouts, sparks, distorted music. Chaos was the norm in that corner of Vulcanus.
Most of the soldiers barely paid her any attention. A few looked at her with contempt, not bothering to hide it.
"What's this loser doing here?" their eyes seemed to say.
Sophia didn't care. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.
She finally reached the office level of Division Two. She swallowed hard, stopped in front of the door... and knocked hard.
She didn't wait for a response. She went in.
There she was. The person she wanted to see the least. On the floor, doing push-ups.
The other lieutenant looked up, though her sweaty, brown hair covered much of her face.
"Who enters without my permission? I told you little shits...!" She pushed the hair out of her face. "Sophi?"
Sophia closed the door forcefully.
"Don't call me that. You have no right," she said in a firm voice, sitting down in front of the desk.
Flavia grabbed a towel and wiped her forehead.
"It's been over two years, and that's how you say hello?"
"If it were up to me, I'd never see you again," Sophia replied coldly.
"Then... what forces you to show up in this... despicable place?" Flavia retorted, wiping the sweat from her arms. "I remember the last time we spoke, you gave me some lovely insults."
"And if you weren't my superior in rank, I would have hit you too. Being here turns my stomach."
Flavia hung the towel around her neck.
"It's been a while, Sophia. Maybe you should stop blaming me."
The chair creaked as Sophia stood up abruptly. In a second, she was over her, grabbing her by the collar of her shirt, her fist trembling a few centimeters from her face. Her bloodshot eyes, her ragged breathing, and the years of contained fury... it was all there, boiling.
"It was your fault! Because of you, he died!" Her voice broke in the middle of the accusation. "You took him from me. And I'll never forgive you for that!"
Tears welled up, but didn't fall.
Flavia didn't move. She could feel the storm in front of her, but she didn't allow herself to show fear. Still, inside, something shuddered.
Sophia slowly lowered her fist. The trembling did not stop.