Marta’s eyes softened, a faint, weary smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Small world, isn’t it?” she said, her gaze drifting. “I linked Nirvana to your pod with the girl… well, she’s here. Her body on this side is... it’s barely hanging on.”

Jude glanced over his shoulder. “Here, she looks… fine. Better than fine. She’s grown so fast, and she's already hit level 16. I think I can get her to Len soon. So you… You should focus on getting to Antarctica. It’s what we planned. They told me things are going to get really bad, and I want you and the baby to be safe.”

Marta’s expression flickered, a small ache surfacing in her eyes.

“You need to wait for the army there,” he continued. “When they make their move, you and our baby… you’ll have a safe spot. And we—”

But her gaze drifted downward, her hand resting on her belly, and her silence cast a shadow over his words.

“Baby, there’s no operation in Antarctica. They… I think…”

The silence wrapped around her unfinished sentence, louder than any answer she could give.

Jude swallowed, his hands still resting on the console as though bracing himself. "What do you…?"

“Baby,” she began, "even if I made it to Antarctica, there wouldn’t be space. The pods on the ships… they're already full." She paused, her hand settling over the curve of her belly, fingers pressing gently as though to reassure herself. "And I’m... I’m almost at term, Jude. Any day now. There’s no pod meant for me … and the baby.”

"What if it was only y—..." Jude opened his mouth, the start of a desperate plea in his eyes, but Marta's hand shot up, blocking him like a wall.

“Don’t even say it, Jude,” she interrupted. “Please… don’t destroy the image and respect I have for my husband.”

Jude simply murmured, “They’re planning to hijack five other starships. Maybe... maybe there you could...”

Marta’s gaze hardened, her mouth curving in a sad smile. “Baby, come on,” she replied. “Think it through. Do you really believe they’ll prioritize humans? Or Friends like me?”

“Well, Len’s the leader here, and she’s human. If I do this, they will owe me. And Paris, he’s… ”

“A Friend?” she finished for him. “Paris may be different, yes, and maybe he’s one of the few. The others... they don’t feel that connection. They’ll prioritize their own, Jude. The game is rigged before it even started.” Her gaze softened as she continued, almost apologetic.

“Friends are no different from humans; they’ll choose their own kind first,” she added. “With so many of them, the first seats... those are for Friends. Those are for the pure, not the ones born and raised on Earth like you and me.”

"You would have a chance if..." His sentence faded as he clenched his fists, knowing well that no solution he could imagine would bridge the divide.

Marta’s eyes flickered with a resigned understanding. “Babies can’t enter the simulation before eight. It’s a rule, a restriction they won’t change. Well, they can't even if they wanted to.” She looked away for a moment. “And Earth… Earth doesn’t have eight years.”

She let her hand fall, her eyes distant and empty, weighed down by the bleak reality. “Brandon and I are stuck here, Jude,” she murmured. “We are trapped in the apartment. We can’t get out anymore. We had tornadoes a few days ago. I don’t even know how we made it.”

Jude shot up from the chair, his fists pressing down on the console. "Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?"

"What difference would it make, baby?" she murmured. "You’re there. You’re safe. That’s what matters."

The words seemed to hit him harder than any blow. "So you can just die there with our son, and I stay here, doing what? Pretending it’s fine? No, no, no. I’m not going to let that happen! I’m coming back!"

She held his gaze. "Jude," she said, "they need you."

“Yes, they need me... but what’s the point of saving the world if I can’t save you and the baby? And don't want to be left behind. I'd rather stay with you, Marta…”

“What choice do we have? What are you going to do, Jude of James? Just disconnect and…” she asked. “Are you coming home? Or are you going to save those who can be saved? I’m at peace…”

“But I’m not!”

----------------------------------------

Such an awkward silence.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

It almost felt like walking through a dense fog as Jude’s boots scuffed against the dusty floor of the arena. Teresa and Fatima trailed behind him, their eyes fixed on the ground, their postures stiff, as if trying to distance themselves from him without falling too far behind. Lucy clung to her backpack, dead silent. She was mad. She felt betrayed.

When Jude reached the centre of the arena, the faint throbbing of his own heartbeat in his ears was drowned out by the sudden presence of three figures waiting for him.

Paris stood at the forefront, his expression unreadable. Lazaro flanked him to the left while Patrick stood to the right, still needing a crutch. Each of them wore a black suit—the uniform of the Saints.

Jude stopped in his tracks, his boots skidding slightly against the fine layer of dust.

Paris tilted his head to the side, his piercing gaze locking onto Jude. “Jude of James.”

“That’s my name…” Jude straightened his back. “I guess you came because of the starships.”

“Yes,” he said simply. “Have you made a decision?”

Jude didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t—not yet. The moment felt like a taut string, ready to snap with the wrong word.

“Why bother with a human when an Eidolon could do the job just as well?” His eyes locked onto Paris’s, challenging, daring him to deny the truth they both knew.

“Because none is like you,” Paris remained motionless, unflinching. “One thought and all will bend their knee for you. One thought and all could fall to their death. I am trying to save as much as we can,” he said, his words sharp and final, like the closing of a door.

Jude felt his pulse quicken, a heat rising in his chest that threatened to spill over. He let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking his head. His gaze shifted momentarily to Lazaro, who stood stoic before snapping back to Paris.

“And by ‘we,’” Jude spat, “you mean you and yours. Your kin, your chosen few. While the rest of us—humans—what? Fight for scraps? Die waiting for a miracle? Oh, wait, you think you are the miracle, or is that Len's title?”

Paris tilted his head slightly to the other side, his expression betraying nothing. Behind him, Lazaro’s eyes flickered briefly toward Jude, a warning—or perhaps a plea—not to push too far. Patrick stood still, his silence more unsettling than any words he could have spoken.

“The ships are for survival,” Paris said. “It isn’t about who deserves to live—it’s about who can help rebuild.” His gaze was piercing, cutting through Jude like a scalpel. “Humans. Friends. Both. We save what we can, Jude. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Jude’s chest rose as he straightened, his shoulders set with defiance. “Leaving kids and pregnant women behind?” His hand shifted behind his back, his fingers curling into a fist as if anchoring himself to the growing storm within. “What’s next? The elderly? The sick? Anyone who slows you down?”

Paris’s expression didn’t falter. His posture remained calm, almost unnervingly so. His hands hung loosely at his sides, the picture of controlled authority. “This is a matter of survival,” he said again, devoid of any emotional flare. “Choices must be made.”

Jude let out a bitter laugh, his jaw tightening. His eyes narrowed, daring Paris to elaborate, to justify the choices that left families splintered and humanity fractured. But Paris didn’t rise to the bait.

“Bullshit.” The word dripped with venom as Jude spat it out, his stance shifting forward, his anger propelling him. His glare bore into Paris, challenging the Friend's calm exterior.

He gestured broadly. “Let me guess. You guys trashed your own planet first, right? Or just let it rot like a piece of fruit left in the sun? Then you come here—our planet—and what do you do? Help us drive it into the ground until there’s nothing left but dust and regret. Was that the plan? Human slavery? Turn us into batteries? Is it? I don’t know… what the fuck was the plan? Why are you here?”

“Len.” That is all that Paris had to say.

“What?” Jude didn’t stop. “Len? What fucking answer is that? Dude, there was a war that didn’t even exist—that’s your masterpiece, isn’t it? A show, a distraction, to keep us from seeing what the real plan was all along. But what plan? Smoke and mirrors while you carved out your escape route. Earth was what? A gas station waiting for a lift?”

He paused, his chest heaving with the weight of his fury, his eyes scanning the group in front of him. “Am I missing anything? Or is that about the gist of it?”

“Many things,” Paris murmured, repeating himself. “I can’t save them all, but I can save many.”

Jude’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching as he shook his head with a sharp, jerking motion. The rejection was clear. “Not good enough. Many are not good enough!”

Paris’s face remained a blank slate, betraying nothing—no anger, no sympathy, not even a flicker of annoyance. That lack of reaction, that complete detachment, angered Jude even more.

At this moment, Jude expected two outcomes. Either Paris would leave him to stew in his defiance, forgotten and discarded in a fake world he couldn’t get out of—or he would deliver the killing blow, silencing Jude for good.

The latter would be easier. A quick end, a fast route home. No more battles, no more impossible choices. Jude’s shoulders dropped slightly, resignation creeping into his stance. He didn’t flinch as Paris’s gaze bore into him.

So Jude dared the Friend once more. “So what’s it going to be?”

Paris stood tall, his words poised, almost rehearsed, as if he had prepared for this exact confrontation. “If you come with me, Len can explain everything,” he offered. “Answer any question if that helps with your decision. Jude, we—”

“I don’t care.”

“Please, Jude, don’t do this again. Let Len wake up. She is exhausted. What else do you want? What did we miss this time?”

The interruption came like the crack of a whip. “I don’t care about your people, your answers, or your world—whatever world that is. I care about one thing, and one thing only: my wife. If my wife can’t be here with me, then I want out. Let me go home!”

Paris blinked just once, his face as stoic as ever.

“She is with the many that you’re leaving behind,” Jude continued, his voice softer now but no less firm. “And I’m at peace with that choice. I’m at peace because I will be with her—until the last moment. I made that vow to her, and it is not you and your shenanigans that will stop me.”

For a moment, silence reigned. The others—Lazaro, Patrick, Fatima, Lucy and Teresa—stood in the periphery, their faces obscured by shadows as if doom had fallen over them.

Jude took a step back, his arms dropping to his sides. “So you can save as many as you want, Paris,” he said. “But I’ll be with one you can’t. I don’t want her to be alone. I don’t want her to be scared.”

“I thought after everything you’ve lived through, everyone you’ve met, you might see things differently. But for some reason, you never change your mind. How peculiar…”

“I want to go home,” Jude said simply, as a man who’d made his choice long ago.