In the year 2270, the Vespera crew stands amidst the ravaged remains of a once-thriving building, the warm glow of natural light pouring in through the cracked skylight above. The air is heavy with the scent of smoke and decay, and the only sound is the faint creaking of twisted metal and shattered glass. The mood is somber, reflective, as the crew surveys the damage and remembers the past.
Hina's hand reaches out, her fingers brushing against the edge of the photograph she holds, a faded image of three people who once called this place home. Komi stands beside her, a utility belt cinched at her waist, a microphone attached to her body, as she takes in the devastation. The silence between them is a palpable thing, a sense of quiet understanding that only comes from sharing a burden. The weight of their search for the Polyák family hangs in the air, a constant reminder of what they've lost and what they hope to find.
“I wonder who they were, the people who lived here.”
“The architecture suggests a family of four, possibly five. The debris pattern indicates a sudden, catastrophic event.”
“It's hard to imagine what it was like, before. When this was a home, not a tomb.”
“We'll find out, Hina. We'll uncover the truth, no matter how long it takes.”
As they stand there, the weight of their discovery settling upon them, Hina and Komi are reminded of the importance of their mission, and the hope that drives them to keep searching. Their bond, forged in the fires of their shared experience, grows stronger, a beacon of light in the darkness of a post-war world.