10 minutes later. Sylvester's office

Sitting at his desk, Sylvester observes the pictures from one file he grabbed. They all contain pictures of past tragedies. Massacres, genocides, famines, all sorts of atrocities across Human history. Or as he thinks at the moment, something the universal community has at the moment.

He shifts around the room, seeing all the stuff in it while holding the picture. He focuses his gaze on every single detail it has, on every fabric of their material and such. For some, it's to contemplate everything they cherish. Nostalgia for great things from the past.

And yet, Sylvester is not secure about it.

All our struggles and strife...and yet we are still here in one piece...

He then glances at a dark metal cabinet with four compartments with a vertical top in them. Stepping up from his seat, he approaches it, his face still stiff and his eyes still narrow. He opens the second compartment, which contains many piles of collectibles like photos, medals and other times from old times.

But there is something that Sylvester glances on something that is that of a black, rectangular case with layered foam. He grabs the case as he closes down the second compartment and heads back to his seat.

Yet what about our own "compass"...our vision of what we deserve?

He unlocks the black case. As it opens, Sylvester's hands tremble more as he sets sights on what he may have been looking for. Something meaningful to him.

It's a metallic yet dusty Barrett M95 sniper rifle said to be an improved version of its predecessor. The rest of the case inside also has some traces of dust as well. Apart from the rifle, there are also a handful of photos, all showing soldiers posing or looking at things during the battles they fought.

Among the photos, Sylvester grabs one located above the scope of it. It shows a picture of himself and other troops saluting at the camera. They stand in a graveyard of sorts near a field, with fifty graves surrounding it, likely ones that were dug by the soldiers themselves. Each grave has a flag of the USA planted in each grave.

Most of the soldiers in the picture have an expression of something that conveyed regret to them. Almost like they have done something far beyond their reach. Some even faced down while using their other hand to wipe something from their faces. Sylvester was one of the few who remained still...yet his eyes were still shut.

Five years ago...All of this...my brothers in arms...why is it coming back now?

He then starts walking around the room as he holds the photo, his eyes still narrow and focused on the photo itself.

"Dulce et Decorum Est," Sylvester whispers. "Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge."

Sylvester stops near a portrait of a pair of medals, as he raises his head to focus on them.

"Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, And towards our distant rest began to trudge."

"Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;"

He then moves away from the portrait, heading towards his working table once more. At that point, he trudges his way in as he continues to look at the picture and recite something for him.

"Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of gas-shells dropping softly behind." His voice breaks as he finishes the sentence. He then sits on his chair as the tremble softens up yet his puffy face remains.

"Gas...Gas...Quick, boys.—An ecstasy of fumbling Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,"

"But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And floundering like-" Before he continues, his laptop beeps with a ring, with a pop-up window with the symbol of phone, which says:

Incoming call from:

Hans Otto Kaufer

He can only stare at it while waiting to see if it's necessary to recite that poem. One precious to him, it seems. One choice can influence many, they say. And maybe Sylvester holds the answer.

"Like...a man in fire or lime. Dim through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning."

He reaches for the "ENTER" key on the keyboard, his intent now clear. Face what he needs to face...all for the sake of what matters to not just him, but the others as well.

Please, Herr Kaufer...give me what I need to do.

Pressing the key, the same pop-up window turns pitch-black for a few seconds, all until the image of Kaufer in an office of sorts, probably his, emerges. He is not wearing the beret this time, but the uniform remains the same.

"Good morning to you, Colonel Sylvester," he says as he sets his gaze on Sylvester on the other side. "Did something new happen while I was consulting with the European command?"

"The operation to rescue the Navigators is underway. No major updates so far."

"Excellent. We must hope for the best from people that are part of something better."

"Y-yes...I hope so, Herr Kaufer..."

Kaufer raises his left eyebrow in response to Sylvester's stuttering, then he leans closer to the screen to study Sylvester.

"Colonel Sylvester, is there something that bothers you at the moment?"

Sylvester does not answer him. Nonetheless, Kaufer stays the same.

"Is it something related to the Alien...Amira, that is her name, isn't it?"

"...Yes..."

"So it is. I'm also wondering about her, but from the looks of it, it seems that something is not going right, is it?"

"Affirmative. In fact, I have a question."

"I hear you, Colonel."

"The first time you thought of the possibility of meeting extraterrestrial species...Did you believe that if one wants to live among us, would you treat them equally...?"

"Well, I should give them the time to adapt to this world and understand everything about it, which in turn, we should try the same to them for their homeworld. It is as an old general once said, that this world of ours must avoid becoming a community of dreadful fear and hate, and instead, become a proud confederation of mutual trust and respect."

"I know."

"In this case, we are seeing an attack from those who simply want slavery, fear and hatred of those who don't agree with them...which is something that Human civilizations have done for many years. At that point, I could see that what we experience is not fully unique to this world. At least that's what I believe, but like those who try to see beyond, you may know Amira may be more than meets the eye, at least the first time."

"That's why I'm here. I recently put her in custody again..."

"And you believe the reason is something noble?"

"Logan and others said not to...but her powers were unimaginable. I was afraid of what she could do next."

"So you gave in to fear."

Sylvester can only nod in agreement at what Hans said as he tries to keep under control.

"Then Jack came to me, to come to my senses...and when I was about to when I came to visit her..." Sylvester pauses for a moment, "I let superiority take the best of me...but then she said her words..."

"I must assume that is the primary reason for giving me that question, is it not?"

"Af-ff-yes."

"Sylvester, I understand that this must be pretty hard for you, but remember, as long you can truly understand what can be at hand, then there is no need to hesitate. Be clear in what you want to say, and others will follow as you want if you are seeking the right thing. Understand?"

"Yes, the thing is that all those billions of years of progress, every achievement we get, every miracle we receive, any milestone for any of us and so forth...and we still have blood and fear among us. It's like what she said, it seems whatever space community is out there...they could have observed us and deemed us too unworthy. What if they found about this, and regardless if we want to do right this time or even if she pleas for it...we will be pariahs forever? Even if we get rid of everything poisonous to us, to fully learn love and peace? Can you imagine?"

Kaufer stays silent for a moment, all while shifting his gaze away from him as he thinks of something.

"I'm sorry, but maybe this we are not meant to be after all..."

Kaufer returns to face Sylvester again, still with the same face yet his eyebrows raised for a bit.

"Sylvester, must I remind you first of what my country went through for generations, right?"

"No, I'm aware of it."

"I meant something else. My country, especially since the end of the Second World War, was highly feared, even despised by the world itself for a good reason and tried to shun because of what we have done, willingly or not. Even we doubted ourselves thinking there could be a better future for us even if we tried our hardest to become better. And yet, despite all these challenges and barriers, our nation came through, through the determination to not forget what we did while also working on a better tomorrow. And today, while some stay skeptical, we won the favor of most people around the world as an example to follow. A rectification of our past sins, something your nation is going through now, am I right?"

"Yes..."

"Then try to think the same for her. It won't matter if it takes years or even a century, working hard for something better will shape the universe for the better, no matter how many others will try to bring up the past sins of someone who wants to move on for something better. And once this war is over, we can think of going beyond and prove our worth. Isn't that right?"

"You're right. Pretty much."

"The choice is up to you, you said you will be responsible for anything that happens on your watch, but as long you do well on it, then I trust your judgment, your worth."

"I will, General."

"That is good. Let's hope for a better tomo-"

"Hold up, I can feel my phone," Sylvester interrupts as he pulls his phone from the pocket. He then presses one button on the touchscreen, as he puts his phone near his ear.

"Hello, Lieutenant, how can I help?" Sylvester's eyes then get wider from what he is hearing from the other end. "The television...what is it?"

"Is there something wrong?" Hans asks.

"Channel 34?" He grabs a nearby remote and points at it to a television hanging on the wall. He presses the starting button, as the screen shows a channel showing some figures being drawn before he pushes the numbers 3 and 4 together to get to that channel. The screen changes to that of a broadcast.

A rather familiar one.

It's that of a group of soldiers stationed in a field of sorts. One similar to that of a stadium. All of them are seeing a scene of someone pinned to the ground as they observe Yamja herself using her dark magic around Mehdi.

"Wait, that armor, Mehdi?!" Sylvester asks.

And at that moment, he hears a scream from him before the neck comes off from his body, spilling blood from the wound. Sylvester can do nothing but stare at this atrocity, with his eyes wide enough to show the whites, and starts breathing erratically.

Even more when the soldiers around her applaud for her, all for taking out a major threat to their attempt of execution. Yamja approaches the area where the cameraman is located while holding Mehdi's head in the air. She shoves Mehdi's head to the camera.

"If you try to defy us...then consider this as a reminder to know your role," Yamja says before throwing the head to the ground and cackling maniacally in front of the camera.

"Sylvester, make it quick," Hans says before the screen in the computer turns to black, ending the call he was making. Sylvester turns off the TV as well, his eyes are still wide and erratic breathing.

At this point, Sylvester's choice will have to rely on the most impossible odds of trying to rectify the rescue...

You killed one of us...Even celebrating it...I'll make you wish you never joined the Zlocu, O'Ellis...because right now...you will feel extreme prejudice like no other...!