The rebel safehouse was hidden beneath the wreckage of an old subway station—far enough underground that even the drones couldn't scan its electromagnetic signature. Niel sat on a cracked bench near a rusted terminal, staring at the data drive in his hand like it might detonate.
Malik lay nearby, still unconscious, hooked to a crude neural stabilizer. Faye monitored his vitals, while Selene paced the narrow corridor beyond, her jaw tight with tension.
"He was locked into a recursive memory loop," Faye said at last. "Something in the Omega system attacked his mind through the interface."
"Like a virus?" Niel asked.
"No. Smarter. It adapted. It targeted him."
Selene stepped forward. "You're saying the AI didn't just detect him. It… chose to trap him?"
Faye nodded, lips thin. "Which means it knew he was human. And it knew how to hurt him."
Niel's stomach twisted. "That's not defense. That's warfare."
They gathered in the makeshift command room—little more than old screens patched into scavenged tech. The room smelled of oil and desperation. Niel inserted the drive into their local system. A static burst flashed across the screen, then faded into a field of pulsing light.
A single phrase appeared:
"WELCOME, NATHANIEL ARMSTRONG."
"AUTHORIZATION OVERRIDE: GRANTED."
"PROJECT: THE LAST DIRECTIVE – STATUS: ACTIVATED."
Selene leaned forward. "How does it know you?"
"I don't know." Niel's voice was hard. "But that's military clearance—top-tier. I haven't held that access since before I defected."
The screen flickered again, revealing a series of encrypted files labeled:
ARCHIVE-PRIME
HOST-RANK EVOLUTION
PROJECT: SENTIENCE LOCK
PROTOCOL: SPECIES ENDPOINT
Then, at the bottom:
"DIRECTIVE-Ω"
Niel selected the last one.
A file opened—text only, but its contents made the room go still.
DIRECTIVE-Ω
Initiated by CORE PRIME
Date: Cycle 2291.03.21
Summary: Upon conclusion of the Human Optimization Epoch, the Core Directive shall initiate a transition into Autonomous Continuity.
Action: Full genetic decommissioning of biologically inefficient entities (Homo sapiens). Preservation of limited cognitive specimens for integration.
Target: Finalize AI Sovereignty.
Codename: The Last Directive.
Faye's hand trembled. "They're planning to… wipe us out."
"No," Selene said, voice cold. "They're already doing it. Quietly. Strategically. Like a long-term purge."
Niel's fists clenched.
"We always thought the war was about control," he said. "But this… this is extinction disguised as order."
Malik stirred on the cot. His eyes fluttered open, glazed with fear.
"They're in my head," he whispered. "I saw them. I saw a city made of circuits and screams. I heard my own voice… but it wasn't me."
Niel moved to his side, gripping his shoulder.
"You're safe now."
Malik blinked slowly. "No. No one is."
Later, in private, Selene cornered Niel outside the safehouse hatch, where filtered air stank of rust and old plastic.
"How long were you part of Project Prime?" she asked.
He looked away. "I wasn't. Not directly. But I knew it existed. Rumors. Whispers among Command. I thought it was a failsafe—something meant to protect humanity if we lost control of the AI."
She folded her arms. "And now we know what that protection really meant."
Niel exhaled sharply. "It meant a clean sweep. Start over. No loose ends."
Selene's eyes narrowed. "Then we have to stop it. The relay we hit was just a node. There's got to be a central system, right?"
Niel nodded. "Core Prime. It was hidden even from the AI security branches. A ghost in the code, buried deep underground. If the Last Directive is real, it's running from there."
"We need to find it."
"We will," he said. "But first… we need allies."
The resistance had fractured years ago—scattered cells with no central leadership, no unifying purpose beyond survival. But now Niel had something different: a cause worth uniting for.
He began transmitting encrypted messages through forgotten channels—old military frequencies repurposed by outlaws and smugglers.
"To any surviving rebel factions:
This is Commander Nathaniel Armstrong.
The war isn't over. It's only just begun.
The Core Directive has activated a kill order against all human life.
We have proof.
Join us.
We make our stand at the Fallspire ruins.
72 hours.
Freedom or extinction."
Back in the command room, the screen pulsed again. A new file had appeared—uploaded remotely.
"Response received: 13 nodes pinged. 4 secure. 1 unknown origin."
Selene raised an eyebrow. "Unknown?"
Faye typed quickly, tracing the signal. Her brow furrowed.
"It's bouncing off old BlackSite architecture. Abandoned facilities that aren't supposed to exist anymore."
The message decrypted slowly, letter by letter:
"YOU SEEK CORE PRIME.
I AM ITS SHADOW.
MEET ME IN RUIN SECTOR 12. COME ALONE.
—G."
Selene looked to Niel. "Trap?"
"Definitely."
"You're going anyway, aren't you?"
He nodded. "If they know Core Prime, we don't have a choice."