THE CORRIDOR
The corridor was too narrow for retreat.
That was why Jace had chosen it.
White panels ran the length of the passage, scuffed by boots and cargo crates, scarred where something had once gone wrong and been repaired in a hurry. Overhead lights flickered—not enough to fail, just enough to remind him the ship was under strain.
Behind him: the cargo vault.
Ahead of him: the breach.
Jace adjusted his stance, planting his boots wide. The ship shuddered again as something heavy locked onto its hull. Magnetic clamps, maybe. Or cutting tools. Either way, the boarders were already closer than command wanted to admit.
He keyed his comm.
“Contact imminent,” he said. “I’ll hold here.”
A pause.
Then his brother’s voice, tight but steady. “Copy that. I’m still not seeing how they knew.”
Jace smiled despite himself. “You always did ask the wrong questions first.”
THE SHIP’S CORE
Eren didn’t answer.
He was already moving.
The ship’s internal sensors told a story that didn’t make sense unless you knew how to read between the lines. Boarding vectors too precise. Power fluctuations timed with internal door cycling. Someone had fed the attackers more than coordinates.
Someone on board.
Eren slid into the auxiliary control room and pulled up access logs, fingers moving faster as patterns emerged.
Unauthorized pings. Short-range bursts routed through maintenance relays. Clever. Hidden.
Not clever enough.
“Jace,” Eren said into the comm, “they didn’t guess. They were told.”
BUYING TIME
The first blast blew the far door inward.
Metal screamed. Smoke poured into the corridor. Jace raised his weapon and fired immediately—not to stop them, just to force hesitation. He needed seconds. Minutes if the universe was feeling generous.
Shapes moved in the smoke.
Too many.
He stepped forward instead of back.
Each step cost him ground he didn’t have to spare, but it kept the fight where he wanted it. The corridor funneled the attackers, stripped them of numbers, made every advance expensive.
“Find them,” Jace said calmly. “I’ll keep them busy.”
His shoulder burned where a shot grazed him. He ignored it.
Pain was negotiable.
Time wasn’t.
POV TWO — THE TRAITOR
Eren followed the data trail down into the maintenance ring, where the ship’s bones were exposed—wires like veins, conduits humming with restrained power.
He found the traitor crouched at a junction node, transmitter clutched in shaking hands.
Not a hardened saboteur.
A crewman.
“You didn’t mean for this,” Eren said quietly.
The man looked up, eyes wide. “They said they wouldn’t hurt anyone. Just take the cargo.”
Eren felt something cold settle in his chest.
“The cargo,” he repeated. “You knew it mattered.”
The man broke down then, words tumbling out. Debts. Threats. Fear.
Eren shut the transmitter off himself.
Too late to stop the boarding.
Just in time to save the ship.
POV ONE — THE LAST STAND
The corridor was filled with smoke now.
Jace fired until his weapon overheated, then switched to short bursts, then single shots. His armor was cracked. His breath came in sharp pulls.
The boarders kept coming.
He checked his ammo.
Enough for one more push.
“Eren,” he said, voice rough but calm. “How close are you?”
A pause.
Then: “I found them.”
Relief washed through him, so sudden it almost made him laugh.
“Good,” Jace said. “Then listen carefully.”
He stepped forward again, drawing fire, drawing attention.
“Get the ship clear. Burn hard. Don’t wait for me.”
“No,” Eren said instantly.
Jace smiled, unseen. “You always did wait too long.”
ESCAPE
Eren ran.
He sealed bulkheads as he passed, rerouting power, overriding safeties that screamed at him in red warnings. The engines spun up, straining against clamps still biting into the hull.
He reached the bridge and slammed controls forward.
The ship lurched.
Something tore free with a sound like the universe ripping fabric.
The stars shifted.
They were moving.
SILENCE
The corridor fell quiet.
Jace leaned against the wall, sliding down slowly as the ship’s vibrations changed. The engines’ deep hum told him everything he needed to know.
They’d made it.
He laughed once, breathless.
Worth it.
EPILOGUE — THE TRUTH
Hours later, with the ship secure and the cargo untouched, Eren stood alone in the corridor.
The repaired door gleamed where the breach had been.
He rested his forehead against the cool panel and closed his eyes.
The reports would say a defender fell holding the line.
They wouldn’t say his name.
They wouldn’t say he was a brother.
Eren whispered it anyway.
“Thank you.”
The ship sailed on, carrying its secret—and the space one man had bought with his life.
This is an original work of fiction created by Brick Crossing, inspired by the design themes of LEGO® set 75387.
LEGO® is a trademark of the LEGO Group, which does not sponsor, authorize, or endorse Brick Crossing or this content.
