Earth, 2061.
After World War IV, humanity did not collapse. It reorganized.
The All World Government rose from the wreckage of flags and ash. Borders dissolved into administration. Armies turned into unified command structures. Smoke stopped rising from cities. Oceans cleared. The planet healed with unnatural speed.
Radiation rewrote more than soil.
It rewrote people.
Abilities surfaced in countless forms. Some were inherited through altered genes. Some were carved into existence by brutal training. Some were borrowed through contracts invisible to law. Some were engineered in sterile labs beneath government vaults. Some awakened spontaneously under pressure no therapist could untangle.
Power was no longer myth.
It was demographic data.
And somewhere near the Sun, a solitary comet cut its orbit like a blade.
Heli's Comet.
Only one.
If captured at perihelion, it could supply energy beyond calculation. If destroyed, the blast would never reach Earth.
No extinction.
Only a dream shattering in silence.
The main hall of SROH headquarters was wide, circular, and restrained in design. No floating holograms. No glowing spectacle. Reinforced metal. Observation panels. Structural beams that valued function over drama.
Professor Ram stood at the center.
White coat. White gloves. Silver glasses. His posture was exact, as though he measured even his breathing. Average height. Carefully arranged hair. He looked like a man who feared imprecision more than death.
Beside him stood Professor James.
Taller. Thinner. Older. White hair threaded with black strands that refused to surrender. Casual shirt. Plain trousers. His hands rested loosely at his sides, but his eyes missed nothing.
The doors opened.
Chains echoed across the hall.
Six figures entered in black prison uniforms. Suppression cuffs locked around their wrists. Dense energy seals layered across metal bands. Each cuff hummed faintly, suppressing anything that tried to stir beneath skin.
Behind each criminal stood two AI guards.
Steel frames. Blank visors. Weapons angled downward but ready. They said nothing. They would say nothing.
At the front walked Klautz.
Tall. Lean muscle. A face too refined for the crimes attached to his name. His expression was calm, almost bored, but his eyes were evaluating everything. Distance. Angles. Personnel count. Escape probabilities.
So this is where ambition smells like disinfectant, he thought.
To his right stood Rajan. Built like a fortress. Arms thick with restrained force. His silence was heavy, but not empty.
Ashley's gaze moved between Ram and James. Controlled. Alert. There was calculation there, but something else too. Something like fatigue.
Crow's pupils shifted constantly. Jack smirked faintly at nothing. Proust watched the ceiling as if it held a memory.
Ram stepped forward.
"You have been selected as candidates for the Helios Comet capture mission."
Selected.
Not recruited.
Not offered.
Klautz noticed the word.
Ram continued. "The objective is to intercept the comet at its perihelion near the Sun and redirect it safely toward Earth orbit."
Rajan's jaw tightened once. Near the Sun.
Ashley spoke, her voice steady. "So we are being misused just because we are criminals?"
Klautz lifted his cuffed hand slightly.
Stop.
She fell silent.
Ram adjusted his glasses. His gaze did not waver.
"High profiled mass murderers and arsonists is a better term than just criminals."
There was no malice in his tone. Only precision.
Ashley's lips pressed thin. Rajan's eyes darkened.
James watched quietly. He had seen this kind of tension before. It was not new to him.
Klautz tilted his head.
"And the condition," he said.
Ram waited.
Klautz's voice was even. "We operate freely during the mission. No interference beyond navigation and structural safety. And upon successful completion, we receive full pardon under AWG authority."
Behind him, the lone wolves gave small nods.
Freedom was not an abstract word. It had weight. It had gravity.
Ram studied them.
James finally spoke. "You understand the risk. If the comet destabilizes at perihelion—"
"We die," Klautz finished calmly. "And your problem disappears."
Inside, his thoughts were colder.
If I die, it will not be in a cell.
Ram exhaled quietly.
"You were chosen," he said, "because your deaths would not cause civil unrest. That is the political reality."
No one reacted outwardly.
Rajan's thoughts were blunt.
So our lives are accounting entries.
"But," Ram continued, "if you succeed, you will have achieved something no nation could."
Klautz held his gaze.
Silence stretched.
Then Ram nodded once.
"Agreed."
The word settled like a contract carved in stone.
But Ram did not step back.
Instead, he looked at them differently now. Less as variables. More as witnesses.
"Before mission you should know this about SROH history."
The hall quieted further.
James glanced at him but said nothing.
Ram's hands folded behind his back.
"My father, Radhakrishna, founded SROH during the final years before the war. He believed humanity's greatest weakness was not lack of power, but lack of curiosity. He poured his entire fortune into this organization."
His voice did not tremble, but something beneath it shifted.
"He wanted humans to be the ones to answer the mysteries above us. Not wait for disaster. Not react. But reach."
Klautz watched him closely.
This is not political speech, he realized.
Ram continued.
"When the war escalated, funding collapsed. Governments redirected everything toward survival. My father did not stop. He sold property. Liquidated assets. Mortgaged what little remained."
Rajan felt something unfamiliar stir. Not sympathy. Recognition.
Ram's eyes reflected the overhead lights.
"He died before seeing this facility completed."
For a fraction of a second, silence pressed heavier.
"I took his position at sixteen."
Ashley blinked slightly.
Sixteen?
"I am not telling you all this to make you emotional and give your life away for my dream," Ram said, voice steady again. "You can think of it as childish. Or pathetic."
His gaze moved across each of them.
"It is entirely up to you to successfully accomplish the mission and earn your pardon."
There was no manipulation in his tone.
Only truth.
James remained quiet. He did not share how he met Radhakrishna. He did not speak of childhood debts. His past stayed sealed.
Klautz studied Ram for a long moment.
He believes this, Klautz thought. Completely.
Interesting.
Ram turned slightly.
"Follow us."
They were led through reinforced corridors and into a massive underground hangar.
Lights flickered on in sequence.
And there it stood.
The Heliox Space Cruiser.
Enormous. Sleek. Dark alloy curved like a predator poised for vacuum. Engine ports layered along its spine. Hull plating thick enough to endure nuclear detonation. Its surface absorbed light rather than reflected it.
Rajan felt something primal in his chest.
That… can survive the Sun?
Ashley stared upward.
Freedom might look like this, she thought.
Klautz's eyes narrowed slightly.
Fast. Armored. Minimal external protrusions. Good.
The AI guards stepped forward.
With mechanical precision, they unlocked the suppression cuffs.
Metal fell away from wrists one by one.
The sudden absence of pressure felt strange. Like circulation returning to a limb long asleep.
Energy stirred faintly beneath skin across the group.
The AI guards turned and exited without a word.
No farewell.
No warning.
James faced them.
"Your mission will start from tomorrow," he said. His tone was calm, almost gentle. "You can still think about your choice."
He gestured toward a corridor branching away from the hangar.
"You can stay and keep living here in confinement. Or risk life to earn freedom and honour."
Honour.
The word lingered differently than pardon.
Rajan rolled his shoulders once, testing the absence of cuffs.
Ashley looked at Klautz.
Crow's lips curved slightly.
Jack laughed under his breath.
Proust closed his eyes briefly, as though memorizing the shape of the ship.
Klautz stepped forward first.
"Confinement is just a slower death," he said quietly.
Then he walked toward the corridor.
One by one, the others followed.
Behind them, the Heliox Space Cruiser remained silent in its cradle of steel.