The vehicle screeched to a halt behind thick overgrowth. Dust kicked up, and the engine went silent. Uncle Tyson pointed ahead, past a break in the dense trees.
"There... that's their base." His voice was raspy but firm.
Taren parked quickly, hands steady on the wheel. He pulled up just far enough to keep them hidden, but close enough to see the facility.
They all got out, boots crunching over damp ground.
Riven stopped in his tracks, looking up at the sky.
"Guys..." he said seriously. "We're too late."
Everyone looked up.
Above, a rift of purple light split the clouds—larger than anything they'd seen before. The massive shadow of a Zytherion fleet loomed, like warships from another world tearing across the sky. A strange hum, almost dimensional, echoed faintly around them.
Nyssa gripped her weapon tightly.
Uncle Tyson closed his eyes, just for a second—maybe remembering lost faces.
Exter muttered,
"This is it... the endgame."
Taren clenched his jaw, silent.
Then, Lirael stepped forward, her eyes lit with fierce determination.
She stared at the base and spoke with fire in her voice:
"Not yet. We're not done. We're going to avenge everyone they took from us... by wiping them out."
The wind tugged at their clothes and hair. Her words echoed in the charged silence.
Riven smirked slightly, sliding his weapon back into its holster.
"Nice speech, little general."
Taren took a deep breath.
"Okay. Here's the plan—simple, but risky."
He looked at them all. "Get in. Find Peterson. Take out their control systems. Get out."
Nyssa added "If we fail, make sure none of their data survives."
Uncle Tyson nodded.
"We end this. Tonight."
That night at the enemy base, the staff were busy—technicians tapping away on laptops, scientists moving between lab stations under the low buzz of machines. The tension was thick, the air filled with static energy and quiet urgency.
Down the main hallway, four figures moved quickly and silently. Lirael, Riven, Exter, and Nyssa wore black military vests, face masks, and hoods. They looked like shadows gliding through the corridors, every step precise.
Nyssa whispered,
"Cafeteria's empty. No sign of Peterson."
Riven checked a side room and replied,
"Nothing in the lab either. We need to try the lower levels—maybe he's being held underground."
Exter gave a hand signal, and the team moved out.
Outside the base, Taren and Uncle Tyson were on watch near the camouflaged vehicle, parked behind a cluster of trees. The night air was cold and thick with mist.
Suddenly, the roar of a motorbike broke the quiet. A beam of light cut through the trees, then stopped just ahead of them.
A woman in a leather jacket and black helmet climbed off the bike.
Taren let out a low whistle, leaning on the vehicle.
"Well, the night just got a whole lot warmer."
Uncle Tyson chuckled but didn't look away.
The woman turned toward them, slowly removing her helmet. Long dark hair fell down, and her face appeared in the moonlight.
Taren froze.
Uncle Tyson stood up, wide-eyed.
"Serin...?!"
Serin stared at them, her face filled with a mix of shock, worry—and relief.
Taren stepped closer, voice full of disbelief.
"You're alive?!"
Serin nodded slowly.
"I escaped. They thought I was dead. But… I knew you'd come here eventually."
Uncle Tyson's expression grew serious.
"Then you're going to help us. This could be the last night—for them, or for us."
Serin looked at the towering facility beyond the trees, exhaled deeply, and gave a nod.
"Then let's finish this."
In the underground level of the facility, the atmosphere was heavy and tense. Dim yellow-green lights buzzed from the concrete walls. Only the soft sound of footsteps and the distant hiss of ventilation filled the silence.
Lirael and Riven walked down the left corridor. The walls were lined with steel doors, each with a retinal scanner—clear signs this place was used to secure something... or someone.
Riven glanced at the life-sign detector in his hand and whispered:
"The signal's getting stronger... but unstable. Whoever's here…"
Lirael looked at him, heart pounding:
"Peterson?"
Riven gave a slight nod.
"Or something connected to him."
Meanwhile, down the right corridor, Exter and Nyssa crept through a narrow path lined with hanging cables and dripping pipes. The chemical smell burned their noses.
Exter peered into a glass chamber at the end.
"Looks like a testing room. But it's empty now."
Nyssa narrowed her eyes, spotting details:
"Wait… there are shackles on that table. And bloodstains."
Exter grabbed her shoulder tightly:
"We need to warn the others. Now."
Back with Lirael and Riven, they reached a door marked with four layers of security. Above it, faded ink spelled out:
"SUBJECT V: MAXIMUM OBSERVATION."
Lirael stepped closer, eyes locked on the sign.
"Riven… you really think this is it?"
Riven tapped on a hacked access card created by Veyra.
"The signal stops right here. If this isn't him, I don't know who else it could be."
The door hissed open slowly, releasing a thin mist.
Inside, dim lighting revealed a large cryo-pod.
Someone was sleeping inside—hooked to tubes and monitors.
Through the fogged-up glass, Lirael saw the face.
Her heart froze.
It was him—Peterson.
Lirael whispered, trembling:
"It's really him… he's alive."
Riven took a step forward, but suddenly—
A loud alarm blared.
Red lights flooded the room.
> "SECURITY BREACH. LOCKDOWN INITIATED.
The door slammed shut behind them.
Above, a small surveillance camera rotated.
In the control room, someone was watching.
And smiling coldly.
"So… they've finally arrived. Now the real show begins."
Lirael tapped lightly on the capsule's side, then pressed the release button.
A soft hiss escaped as the cooling gas dispersed. The capsule lid opened slowly.
Peterson stirred, his eyes snapping open with a sharp breath. He looked confused, disoriented, and ready to fight.
Lirael:
"Peterson… it's me. Lirael."
Suddenly, Peterson lunged, grabbing her arm and pushing her against the wall.
Riven
"Hey! Get your hands off her!"
Peterson's fist was raised, trembling—but he didn't strike. He stared at Lirael for a long second, his eyes clearing just a little.
Then, in the softest whisper, he said:
"You have to leave. Now. It's a trap—they know you're here."
Lirael swallowed, confused:
"But we came to rescue you—"
Riven stepped closer, suspicious:
"What's wrong with you? You're acting weird."
Peterson shifted instantly, pretending to stagger.
He nodded weakly toward the corridor they came through.
"Get out that way. The lockdown hasn't triggered fully yet. If you wait, you'll be sealed in."
Riven hesitated, but Lirael gently touched his arm.
"Trust me. He's awake. He's still him."
Peterson turned and pressed a hidden panel on the wall. A narrow maintenance passage opened behind him.
He motioned quickly with his hands:
"Go. I'll distract them. Tell Taren… never come back here."
Lirael looked into his eyes.
"I'm coming back for you."
Peterson said nothing. But before they left, he slipped a small pendant into Lirael's hand—the one he had taken from her during the explosion at the old base.
"Remember this… in case your mind forgets everything again."
Riven and Lirael stepped into the hidden passage, and the door shut silently behind them.
Outside, in the getaway vehicle, Taren, Serin, and Uncle Tyson watched a tracker blinking rapidly—Veyra's custom signal.
Serin:
"They've been spotted…"
Taren clenched his jaw:
"We can't just sit here. Prep the escape route. If they make it out, we drive like hell."
Back inside the base, Peterson stood alone.
Footsteps echoed outside the main door.
He took a breath, steadied himself, and looked directly at a surveillance camera.
"I'm ready. Take me to the Commander."