"All Hands to Battle Stations"

Inside a temporary detention chamber aboard the Emperor-class Battleship;

The lighting here was not harsh, instead spreading evenly across the surrounding metal walls, casting a texture that was almost austere yet still orderly.

The chamber was spacious, with several faintly flickering energy conduits embedded in the walls. The air was clean and dry.

Compared to the oppressive atmosphere of an interrogation room, this place was undoubtedly more like a temporary holding area, even carrying a hint of "humane detention."

Isaac Clarke sat on a sofa. His heavy engineering suit had long since been removed, leaving him in nothing but a gray-blue engineering uniform.

His hands unconsciously rubbed against his pant legs, and his gaze drifted from time to time toward the chamber door. It was the only exit, and the most intimidating barrier in everyone's mind.

The other Kellion crew members sat or stood, each wearing a different expression.

Some looked nervous, constantly rubbing their hands as though venting their anxiety;

Others simply leaned back against their fixed chairs, trying to feign calm, but their constantly shaking legs betrayed the unease within.

The refrigerator and water dispenser installed in the chamber seemed especially out of place at this moment. They had been considerate designs meant to soothe people, yet they invisibly reminded everyone—

They were being watched, guarded, and their fates could be decided at any time.

At that moment, a young technician could no longer hold back. His voice carried trembling doubt:

"What are those Giants? They say they're Imperial Martial Soldiers, but we've never heard of a force like that in Federation records.

And

What exactly is this 'Imperium of Man' they keep talking about? Other than the Federation, hasn't this galaxy always been silent? There shouldn't be any other intelligent civilizations at all."

As soon as his