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The deep-space station drifted in silence, orbiting a dying star. The crew had long abandoned it-except for one.

Inside, SSCAPE sat before an ancient console, hands hovering over flickering controls. The last transmission had warned of an anomaly-something beyond human understanding. Now, it was here.

The station trembled. A low, mechanical hum reverberated through the halls, growing into a rhythmic pulse, an inescapable wave of energy. Lights flickered, systems rebooted in an unknown language. Totality had arrived-a force neither alive nor artificial, consuming everything in perfect synchronization.

SSCAPE exhaled, fingers tightening. No escape. No resistance. Just the beat of the inevitable.

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SSCAPE - Totality

Lets Get Out

brr brr

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As we wander through the vastness, I can't help but stop and think about how we ended up on this ship: three different lifeforms with intertwined futures and cursed pasts...
Do we ever truly live in the present?
It's as if there's no present in zero gravity—only a transition toward the next mission.
All we get from the victories of the present is more entanglement—and more lives we eventually save.

I look at Broel and Kira, finding minuscule moments where they ignore the railgun wounds from yesterday’s battle like it’s nothing.
Our enemy is far better equipped; we’re always outnumbered. Yet somehow, our fate follows our ammo.
It’s the fate of people like us, who’ve lost everything, to prevent others from losing their hearts...as for our hearts...
some hearts are doomed from the start...

With Kira and Broel, Zan was becoming something much greater than he had ever envisioned. But he never lost sight of what made him this way: the memories he carried from Earth’s doomed cities.
Perhaps a doomed heart is all it takes to become a warrior.

M I R R O R

Doomed Heart

Presave

BILLAIN - DOOMED HEART

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Spirals Unfold EP (Minimix)

Behind us lie the ruins of a half-day's fight; in front of us, finally, the "Dasaera fortress" shines, occupied by hundreds of cannons and fighters, all aiming and locked on our next and final move.
Our allies, powerless too, but at a safe distance.
Our ship, a pond of holes, empty smoking weapon shells and magazines, all out, nothing left but us bleeding out blood and oil and boiling tired anger, ready to end one or the other.
Everything has come to this point, a turning point for the liberation of Saika, another planet from the Autonomous, a split second before us.
We are so close, so, so close to having a first base, right now and forever.

I turn to Broel, who has been silent since the last wave of wiped-out catchers; a critical 5-minute game of waiting is about to come to an end. They will start shooting any second now. We are outnumbered, outgunned, and out of options...
Oh well... This life was never mine to begin with...
—"Broel, we're out of weapons and maneuverability, and this fortress packs a punch that can end us; please tell me there's a reason you're so silent."

Broel turns to Zan: "I understand that this is a modified mining slab."
Zan: "Certainly, the K-drons’ gift with Aamsit attached."
Broel: "Fuel?"
Zan: "76%, 'fullback system.'"
Broel: "A gift from the heavens..."

In what I can describe as something of a telltale that I don't feel like forgetting, the sun is dropping through the top window on Broel, facing me with a grin: "Kira, whose ambush is this?"

That very grin made me smile as I realized what this psycho meant: that this Slabship is not just a slab ship; it has an Aamsit—a damn Imperial fighter engine—and a mining front end thicker than a High Order mothership.

—"See? We got one bullet left."

You have got to be effin’ kidding me.
We are about to become a bullet shooting through the Dasaera fortress.

—"Zan, Kura, fasten your seatbelts. We aren't dying here, and if we are, we might as well liberate Saika in the process.
Zan, initiate Operation 'Saikapath.'"

I return the grin to Broel on a stupid joke because this crew changes everything, including ways of dying.
Zan: "Afterburner in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1,"
—For you, Saum, Tarzel...
0.

Afterburner

AFTERBURNER

By Carl Butterfingers, ESEF News

BREAKING NEWS: In a scandal that has rocked the music industry, or at least the three people who still care about credits, a man was apprehended last night clutching a Best Producer award that, shockingly, did not belong to him. The suspect, known only as "Dava," was allegedly the ghost producer for Doctor Printer, the drum and bass superstar renowned for his iconic releases of stylized Instagram photographs with his hands in the air and pre-recorded sets that move crowds to tears.

Our investigative team revealed how Dava the Ghost Producer slipped through the industry’s so-called "security measures", all thanks to Bobbi "The Gatekeeper" McAllister, the self-proclaimed "arbiter of real music" (who, it turns out, couldn’t spot a ghost producer if they haunted his own playlist).

When pressed, he added, "Also, I was at a rooftop party when I listened to it. The bass sounded great over the speakers, so I figured, ‘Why overthink it?’"

Sources reveal that the award was mistakenly given to Dava after the jury, comprising of two Spotify algorithm engineers and a man who once DJ'd at a wedding, believed that the people who actually create the music should receive the credit.

"This is an outrage!" declared an anonymous industry insider (who may or may not be Doctor Printer's publicist). "In today's music landscape, producing a track is the least important part of being a producer. What matters is owning a UK passport, a small family loan of £1 million, and a farm of Eastern European ghost producers working in shifts to launch your album on mainstages while you post gym selfies."

Doctor Printer released a statement: "I am shocked—SHOCKED—that anyone would think I don’t make my music. Next, you’ll tell me my Instagram poses aren’t spontaneous. I stand by my artistic vision, which is mostly pointing at the crowd and occasionally tweaking a filter knob."

Award Jury Spokesperson: "Look, we just assumed the guy with the laptop was the intern. Our bad. We just work here." Or we were just doing our jobs?

Dava: "I just wanted my mum to be proud of me for once." (He was last seen applying for a UK visa.)

When the jury mistakenly gave Dava the award, Bobbi the self-appointed guardian of "real music" was shocked, not because the wrong person won, but because he didn’t even know Dava existed.

Wait, there’s a real producer behind Doctor Printer?" Bobbi reportedly asked. "I thought he just, like, vibed in the studio while his team did the work?"

When reached for comment, Bobbi simply said: "Look, if Dava had have just tagged me in an Instagram story with 🚀🔥💯, maybe I would’ve noticed. But no, he had to take the hard road. Amateur mistake. The award needs to be revoked."

After the scandal broke out, Bobbi tried to spin the narrative: "Look, ghost production is just collaboration with extra steps… and money… and no credit's Dava should be grateful for the exposure!" He then allegedly offered Dava a consolation prize: a repost on his "Underrated Gems" playlist (which has 47 followers, 12 of whom are bots).

The Bigger Problem: Why Was Bobbi in Charge?
Sources reveal Bobbi’s qualifications for being a gatekeeper included:

- Owning a pair of "studio-grade" headphones (that he mostly uses for podcasts)
- Once getting a co-sign from a DJ who later turned out to be a literal ghost (long story)
- Using co-working spaces, paid for by his trust-fund
- An unwavering belief that "if it charts, it’s art"
- An unwavering belief that all his friends will chart

Meanwhile, the scandal has ignited a firestorm in YouTube comment sections, where armchair critics are doing what they do best: comparing everything to something else.

This is Carl from ESEF News reporting, reminding you: if you’re not cheating, you’re not trying.

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