Xv-827 -

Then nothing. Just the cold. Just the stars. Just a new designation for a dead world: a grave for two prisoners—one who wanted to consume meaning, and one who proved meaning could be weaponized.

The last thing she heard, before her suit gave out, was a whisper—not from the planet, but from the void where XV-827 had been. A single, fading thought, confused and hollow. xv-827

She chose the dwarf planet.

She dropped the slate. It shattered.

She smiled. “Enjoy the silence.”