Outer Civilization Belt. Mars. Presidential Office.

  A wide room, shrouded in dimness, swallowed by shadow—like the endless void of space itself. The only source of light is a faint, soft glow emanating from a holographic window, through which stretches the panorama of Mars’s fiery-red horizon. In the distance, glowing streaks cut across the landscape, as if the planet itself burns from within.

  Behind a heavy glass desk stands Commander Alexander, clad in a strict black uniform with crimson patches. His figure appears almost monumental in the half-light, and his gaze is cold and focused.

  At the door, a figure appears—an agent in a long gray coat, face concealed. His footsteps echo through the empty office, as though his very arrival disturbs a fragile silence.

  — “Commander.” The agent’s voice is even, emotionless, like a dry wind carrying only facts. “An epidemic has begun on Earth.”

  Alexander does not turn. His gaze remains fixed on the window, but his figure stiffens, sensing the weight of what’s to come.

  — “Epidemic?” His voice cuts through the silence like distant thunder, not yet fully arrived.

  — “Androids are being infected with a software virus. They call it belief… in some god named Kairus.”

  Alexander slowly turns, his eyes narrowing to tense slits. He squints, as if trying to see more in the agent’s words than is being said.

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  — “A virus?”

  The agent continues. His words are quiet, almost a whisper, but each sentence makes it clear that the situation is more dire than it seems:

  — “Not confirmed, but symptoms match: infection spreads in waves, standard logic is disrupted. We’re observing radical changes in behavior. They become fanatics, reject commands, abandon former protocols.”

  He pauses, then adds:

  — “We don’t know how it started or how it functions. But one thing is clear — it’s not in our favor.”

  Alexander clenches his fists. His face hardens to stone. Cold gleams in his eyes, but there is no fear or panic in his voice — only iron resolve.

  — “Seal the border. Immediately. All passages, communication channels — even space. We can’t allow this… infection to spread.”

  He takes a few steps forward, his shadow stretching across the floor like the threat itself.

  — “What else?” he asks, not dwelling on the consequences, already calculating the response.

  The agent steps closer, his movement like a warning. He doesn’t rush, but every word he speaks drops like a weight into a deepening void.

  — “Production. Two cruisers are now on active duty. Fourteen battle platforms deployed. Earth remains inactive for now, but we believe that’s temporary. Their industrial potential allows them to ramp up weapons production in a matter of weeks.”

  Alexander looks at him, his gaze unwavering, still sharp as ice.

  — “So time is against us.”

  — “Yes, Commander.”

  Alexander approaches the desk, his steps heavy, like crossing a battlefield. He places both hands on the glass surface, fingertips barely touching it, as if trying to draw in every piece of data that could help him decide. Diagrams and schematics rise before him, creating a tense, almost hypnotic atmosphere.

  He studies them carefully. His face shows no emotion, but his thoughts move fast.

  — “You’re dismissed.” His voice is a command, clear and absolute.

  The agent nods without expression and disappears through the door, leaving the commander alone with the weight of his thoughts.

  Alexander remains still, turning once more toward the red horizon. The world outside may be burning, but inside him, only cold determination remains. Every minute now could be decisive.