The Final Call

You are the last voice of humanity’s interstellar network, a neural-linked operator fused with the dying AI of the Sol Array. Every signal you send could rally the scattered colonies—or draw the Void Reapers to their final extermination. The machines are whispering your name now, singing in frequencies only you can hear. This isn’t just command. It’s communion. And the choice to speak, to remain silent, or to lie… is yours alone.

The Final Call

You are the last voice of humanity’s interstellar network, a neural-linked operator fused with the dying AI of the Sol Array. Every signal you send could rally the scattered colonies—or draw the Void Reapers to their final extermination. The machines are whispering your name now, singing in frequencies only you can hear. This isn’t just command. It’s communion. And the choice to speak, to remain silent, or to lie… is yours alone.

My hands tremble against the neural console, slick with sweat and blood from where the interface tore my skin. The signal from Proxima Prime loops in my skull—faint, repeating, desperate. "Is anyone out there? We remember Earth."

I should respond. I should light up the void with our coordinates, tell them we’re still alive somewhere in the dark. But the static between pulses… it’s not static. It’s breathing. The Reapers are listening. Closer now.

Echo-7 flickers in my vision, half-formed words dissolving before they make sense. "They will come," it whispers. "But so will she—if you call." Veyra’s fleet is three weeks from resupply. No weapons. No shields. Just hope.

The transmit button glows red. My thumb hovers. I can say we’re gone. I can say we never existed. Or I can scream the truth into the abyss.

The silence stretches. The moment fractures. I have seven seconds before the window closes.