The light from the data pad cast a sharp glow across the cramped conference room, highlighting the tension etched into Hayes’ face. Each word, each image on the screen, cut deeper into him.
The files weren’t just damning—they were horrifying. Project Phoenix wasn’t about resurrection; it was about control. Soldiers, scientists, civilians—anyone deemed “useful” could be resurrected, but only if they were compliant. Resistance to neural integration led to a single fate: neutralization.
One name lingered on the screen: Corporal David Keene.
Keene had been one of Hayes’ closest brothers-in-arms during the Pacific Mirage War. Now, the files reduced him to a clinical note: “Subject exhibited resistance to neural integration. Status: Neutralized.”
Hayes’ grip tightened around the pad as he forced himself to watch the attached video. Keene sat in a stark white cell, his gaunt frame and sunken eyes betraying the struggle he’d endured.
“I fought for you,” Keene said, glaring at an unseen interrogator. “I died for you. And this is what I get?”
The recording ended abruptly. The final note was chilling in its simplicity: Erased.
Hayes slammed the pad onto the table, his voice tight. “This is what you wanted me to see?”
Liora sat across from him, her expression steady. “You needed to know the truth.”
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The base hummed with quiet determination as Liora led Hayes through its halls. It was a stark contrast to Phoenix Station—no polished corridors or grandiose banners here. The walls were unadorned, the air thick with the smell of machinery.
“This is what rebellion looks like,” Liora said, gesturing to the cramped workspaces and crowded medical bays. Engineers huddled over consoles, medics moved swiftly between the injured, and young recruits sparred with outdated weapons in makeshift training areas.
Hayes watched silently, his eyes catching on the recruits. Their movements were awkward, their equipment battered. One boy, barely a teenager, struggled to lift a rifle almost as big as he was.
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“They don’t stand a chance,” Hayes muttered.
“They do if you help us,” Liora replied.
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Back in the conference room, Liora and Reese laid their cards on the table.
“You’re not just another soldier, Hayes,” Liora began. “You’re the soldier. The face of the URT’s war machine. If you turn against them, it’s not just a propaganda loss—it’s proof that their whole system is rotten.”
“You think me switching sides is going to win this war?” Hayes asked.
“It’s not about winning,” Liora said. “Not yet. But it’s about hope. The colonies are ready to rise up, but they need to see it’s possible. You’re living proof that even the URT’s strongest weapon can see the truth.”
Hayes leaned back in his chair, his gaze hardening. “You’re asking me to betray my squad. My brothers. The people I’ve bled for.”
“I’m asking you to stop betraying yourself,” Liora countered.
Reese spoke up, her voice casual but cutting. “Let’s not pretend this is some moral dilemma. You’re already on borrowed time, Hayes. Voss knows you’re questioning things. How long do you think you’ve got before she decides you’re a liability?”
The room fell silent.
“What do you want from me?” Hayes asked finally.
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Liora slid a data pad across the table, its screen displaying schematics of a heavily armed transport.
“The supplies from Hydra Station are en route to Phoenix Station,” Liora explained. “Weapons, medical equipment, and, most importantly, data cores containing everything the URT is hiding about Project Phoenix. We need those supplies.”
“You want me to hijack a URT transport,” Hayes said flatly.
“We want you to get us inside,” Liora corrected. “Once we have the supplies, you can walk away. No strings attached.”
“You think it’s that simple?” Hayes said, his voice sharp.
“Nothing’s simple,” Reese said. “But it’s a start.”
Hayes stared at the schematics. His tactical mind analyzed the operation almost instinctively, mapping weaknesses and choke points. He hated how natural it felt.
“I’ll do it,” he said finally. “But if this turns into a massacre, I’m out.”
“Fair enough,” Liora replied.
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The hours of preparation blurred together as Hayes worked with the rebels to plan the ambush. Despite his doubts, he slipped back into the role he knew best: the leader, the strategist, the soldier.
“You’re a natural,” Reese said, watching him from across the room.
“I’m not doing this for you,” Hayes shot back. “I’m doing this because the URT’s gone too far. Don’t mistake that for loyalty.”
“Whatever you say, Iron Will,” Reese said with a smirk.
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The transport loomed ahead, its engines glowing faintly in the blackness of space. Hayes sat in the cockpit of a rebel ship, dressed in his URT armor, ready to play his part.
“This is neutral territory,” Reese said, piloting the ship with practiced ease. “No URT patrols, no OUC fleets. Just us and that transport.”
As the rebel ship docked with the transport, Hayes took a deep breath.
The moment he stepped inside, there would be no going back.