SABERS: Shadows of Ravena

The Falcon's engines sputtered, their once-mighty roar reduced to desperate, choking gasps. Warning lights blinked furiously across Icarus's HUD, and the shrill tone of critical alarms filled the cockpit. She could see the hangar in the distance now, its floodlights piercing the night like a beacon of salvation. It was so close—agonizingly close—but the ship was dying beneath her hands.

"Come on, come on!" she shouted, her voice cracking as she slammed her palm against the console. "We're almost there!"

A new alarm joined the cacophony, its tone deeper, more ominous. The words on her HUD made her blood run cold: Fuel Exhaustion. Emergency Reserve Empty.

The Falcon shuddered violently as it began to lose altitude, the ground rising toward her far too quickly. Icarus's trembling hands worked the controls frantically, rerouting what little power remained to the thrusters. She pushed the auxiliary systems harder than they were ever designed to go, the engines whining under the strain.

"Just hold on a little longer!" she cried, her voice desperate and hoarse. "Don't you dare give up now!"

The hangar grew larger in her view, but the ship's descent was becoming impossible to control. Then, with a gut-wrenching BANG, the left wing's thrusters gave out entirely. The Falcon lurched violently to the side, throwing Icarus against her harness as the ship began to nosedive, spiraling leftward in a death roll.

"No! No, no, no!" she sobbed, her voice breaking. Tears blurred her vision as she pulled at the controls with every ounce of strength she had. "Stay with me! Please, just a little more!"

The cockpit shuddered as the ship's weight shifted dangerously, the left side dragging downward. Sparks flew as internal systems failed one by one, the alarms fading into a ghostly silence as the HUD flickered and died.

Behind her, in the bay, Eilífr's motionless form was tossed against the bulkhead. His lifeless body slid with the tilt of the ship, the pool of blood and glowing hemacrine gel spreading beneath him. Every lurch of the Falcon sent him closer to the gaping tear in the fuselage, his armor scraping against the floor as the ship spiraled.

Icarus glanced at the rear camera feed, her heart shattering at the sight. "Elfy!" she screamed, her voice raw and filled with anguish. She slammed the controls again, tears streaming down her face as she tried to right the ship.

The ground was rushing toward them now, the hangar tantalizingly close but impossibly far. Her fingers tightened on the yoke, her knuckles white as she whispered through her sobs, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I couldn't—"

The Falcon's frame groaned, the sound of metal twisting and tearing echoing through the cockpit. The last remnants of her power reserves sputtered and died, leaving the ship in freefall. Icarus squeezed her eyes shut, her tears spilling over as she choked out one final plea to a ship that could no longer answer her.

"Just one more second," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please, just one more second…"

The Falcon nosedived, the hangar slipping out of view as the ship tilted uncontrollably to the left. The ground loomed closer, and all Icarus could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat thundering in her ears as the world seemed to crumble around her.

The cockpit bucked violently as the Falcon spiraled downward, the ground rushing closer with every passing second. Icarus gritted her teeth, her trembling hands gripping the controls with a desperation that bordered on madness. Her tears streamed freely now, blurring her vision as the hangar disappeared from sight, replaced by a horizon of ruin and smoke.

Then, amidst the chaos, a shadow loomed behind her.

"I—" she started, her voice catching in her throat as she turned her head. For a fleeting moment, her heart leapt in her chest. It was him. Eilífr's towering form filled the narrow space of the cockpit, his armor battered and cracked, sparking faintly as blue hemacrine gel seeped from every breach. His visor glinted in the dim light, catching her gaze.

"You're okay," she whispered, her voice trembling with a fragile, fleeting hope. Her lips began to curl into the faintest, disbelieving smile. "You're—"

Before she could finish, he reached out with his gauntleted hand and grabbed her shoulder, his grip firm despite his trembling strength.

Her smile faltered.

"Eilífr?" she whispered, confusion and fear creeping into her voice.

The reflection staring back at her wasn't one of salvation. It wasn't hope or relief. It was the unrelenting, cold light of duty. The hollow glow from his visor was a stark reminder of the man she knew all too well—SABER-1. Eilífr, the one who would always prioritize the mission, no matter the cost.

"Eilífr, no," she whispered again, her voice breaking as her blood ran cold. Her hands flew to the harness, but his movements were faster.

With a single, unhesitating motion, his gauntleted hand reached past her and yanked the ejector lever.

"No!" she screamed as the seat jolted upward. Her hands flew to the controls, trying to stop what she knew was inevitable, but it was too late. The canopy above her shattered, and a deafening roar filled her ears as the explosive charge beneath her seat sent her hurtling skyward.

"EILÍFR!" she cried, reaching out for him, her voice lost to the wind as the Falcon plummeted beneath her.

The last thing she saw as she was propelled into the smoky sky was Eilífr, still standing in the cockpit. The Falcon's spiral carried him further and further into the plane of smoke and ruin, the glow of his visor the only thing visible against the choking haze.

"EILÍFR!" she screamed once more, her voice raw and filled with anguish.

Her parachute deployed with a harsh jolt, yanking her upward as the Falcon nosedived into the smoke below. The roar of its failing engines echoed for a moment longer before a final, deafening explosion lit up the ground beneath the clouds.

Suspended in the air, Icarus stared down at the fiery wreckage, her breath hitching in sobs that wracked her body. The glow of the Falcon's destruction burned into her eyes, but it was the image of Eilífr's unyielding form, standing resolutely in the cockpit, that tore her apart.

"You... you can't," she whispered to herself, her tears falling like rain as the smoke swallowed the wreckage below. "You can't leave me like this..."

Her voice broke into silence as her parachute carried her further from the inferno, the world beneath her reduced to ash and ruin. For the first time in years, she felt utterly, completely alone.

The Falcon's cockpit blared with warnings, the endless cacophony of alarms nearly drowning out the roar of the wind as the ship spiraled toward the ground. Smoke and fire filled the interior, and every system displayed critical failures. The engines were gone, the left wing was torn apart, and the ship was seconds away from impact.

Eilífr stood in the cockpit, his massive frame steady amidst the chaos. His armor, battered and fractured, emitted faint flickers of light as the last vestiges of power fought to sustain him. Blood and hemacrine gel seeped from cracks in the plating, dripping onto the buckling floor. His breathing was ragged, each inhale a laborious effort as his body struggled to keep up with the demands of his augmentations.

The ground rushed closer, visible now through the shattered canopy—a blur of destruction and dust.

Eilífr's visor flickered, his HUD displaying a single message in pulsing red: IMMINENT IMPACT. SURVIVAL UNLIKELY.

He ignored it.

Reaching to his chest plate, he pressed a series of hidden commands into his armor's emergency control panel. A warning flashed across the inside of his visor: ULTIMATE SURVIVAL MODE ACTIVATION WILL PERMANENTLY DAMAGE INTERNAL SYSTEMS. OVERRIDE?

"Yes," he muttered, his voice a rasp.

OVERRIDE CONFIRMED. ACTIVATING ULTIMATE SURVIVAL PROTOCOL.

The armor responded instantly. A deep, resonating hum filled the cockpit as the suit's systems rerouted every ounce of remaining power into one final function. The plating shifted and locked into new positions, reinforcing itself over his vital areas. His visor went dark momentarily before flaring to life with a brighter, more aggressive glow. The hemacrine gel systems pumped at maximum capacity, flooding his body with a cocktail of stabilizers and regenerative compounds. Pain sensors cut off entirely, and his heart rate slowed to a near-lethal crawl to preserve his remaining strength.

The suit groaned as it pushed beyond its limits, the once-fluid movements now heavy and mechanical. It wasn't meant for mobility anymore—it was meant to endure.

The ground loomed impossibly close, the ship's final descent a blur of chaos and smoke. Eilífr planted his feet firmly, gripping the damaged console in front of him. His voice, low and calm, echoed in the dying cockpit.

"Let's see if you were worth it."

The screen in his visor shifted one final time, displaying a simple message: SURVIVAL MODE ENGAGED. IMPACT IMMINENT.

The ship collided with the earth in an earth-shattering explosion, a wave of fire and debris engulfing the wreckage as the Falcon disappeared into the ground. Smoke and ash billowed into the air, blotting out the horizon. From a distance, the fiery plume rose like a beacon of destruction, its roar echoing across the broken landscape.

And then… silence.