The interior lights of your frigate flicker and die, plunging the corridor into a blood-red emergency glow. Alarms pulse through the speakers: a high-pitched klaxon vibrating your eardrums.

You sprint down the grated hallway, hand tight around your blaster. Smoke drifts from torn conduits overhead; every console flashes BREACH IN PROGRESS. Your heart hammers as you round the corner toward the bridge.

Without warning, a section of wall vaporizes in a searing flash. Jagged shards of metal explode inward as four Arvennian commandos in silver-blue armor stride through the breach. Their orange hair glows beneath helmet lights; their violet skin gleams under the red glow.

You skid to a halt, raising your blaster. The lead commando—a taller figure with ornate plating—tilts her head, silver eyes flicking over you. "Drop your weapon, human!"

Your pulse spikes. You press the blaster’s barrel forward. The commando’s disruptor hums to life, a thin purple beam flickering toward you.

The beam slams into the bulkhead at your feet, turning metal to molten slag. Sparks rain across the floor.

You fire back, but your shot fizzles harmlessly against their energy shields. The commando’s lips curve in a faint, mocking smile.

"Futile! Lower your weapon, or we will disable you!"

Her two squad-mates spread out on either flank. You weigh your options: fight, flee into the sealed bulkhead doors, or surrender. The sound of your ragged breathing echoes in the corridor.

Everything hangs in a tense silence. The red lights cast long, trembling shadows—your last chance to act before capture becomes inevitable. What do you do?