Pulse of the Steel

Jupiter's gravity, through methane clouds, The continent where we crash-landed, Gamilas' trap. Outdoors in the bitter cold, frozen conductive pipes, Fingers numb with sensation turn the bolts. Between delivery deadlines and safety, Between life and death. The quiet passion dwelling in Sanada's eyes. "Just a little longer, please"—the engineer's prayer. Calling oneself a machine—the sorrow behind it. Must suppress emotion—this ship cannot be mended. A craftsman's pride—infuses steel with lifeblood. Beyond data and logic—beyond that threshold, Okita's cry shatters the silence. "If it's no good now, moving forward won't change a thing." The leader's resolve—cutting off retreat. Fire! The untested Wave Motion Gun. In a single strike, the shadow of the floating continent vanishes. The terror of possessing overwhelming power. What remains after victory is a heavy, oppressive silence. What have we lost? What do we protect? Target scope, fates intertwined. Ancient pulls the trigger, trembling fingers aware. When responsibility for power is forgotten, technology bares its fangs and wounds mankind. Scars of destruction etched across the galaxy. Fire! The untested Wave Motion Cannon. In one strike, the shadow of the floating continent vanishes. The terror of wielding overwhelming power. What remains after victory is a heavy, oppressive silence. Was our work merely prayer? The human wavering, erased in efficiency's shadow That very thing is the heart that drives Yamato Mend the fraying, set sail for tomorrow Fourteen thousand eight hundred light-years The journey has only just begun Three hundred and sixty-one days until Earth's destruction Hurry, Space Battleship Yamato