The glow of Phoenix Station felt colder than usual as Hayes stepped off the transport shuttle. The air was taut with tension, though no one would admit it aloud. News of the OUC ambush on a URT supply transport had spread quickly through the ranks, casting a shadow over the station.
Hayes kept his expression neutral, his helmet tucked under one arm as he marched toward the debriefing room. Lieutenant Foster trailed behind him, his presence heavier than ever.
“Hell of a thing, wasn’t it?” Foster said, his tone clipped.
“What’s that?” Hayes replied without turning.
“The ambush,” Foster said. “Hydra’s supplies. The rebels knew exactly where to hit us. Almost like someone fed them intel.”
Hayes stopped and turned, meeting Foster’s gaze. “You saying something, Lieutenant?”
Foster smirked, though his eyes held no humor. “Not yet.”
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The debriefing was mercifully brief.
General Voss paced in front of the room, her polished boots clicking against the floor as she detailed the latest developments. The loss of the Hydra transport had thrown several key operations into disarray. Supplies meant for forward bases were gone, and morale was beginning to falter in the colonies.
“Which brings us to our next target,” Voss said, gesturing to a holographic map of Ganymede. A red marker pulsed over a remote section of the moon.
“We’ve identified a rebel base operating near the southern mining colonies,” Voss continued. “It’s small but critical. Intelligence suggests it’s a coordination hub for the OUC’s operations in this sector.”
The map zoomed in, showing the familiar contours of the base. Hayes’ stomach turned as recognition hit.
It was the same base where he’d met Liora.
“Sergeant Hayes,” Voss said, her sharp voice cutting through his thoughts. “You’ll lead the assault. We need this base eliminated swiftly and decisively. No loose ends.”
Hayes nodded stiffly, forcing his expression into something resembling calm. “Understood, General.”
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The shuttle ride to Ganymede was silent.
The squad sat in tense anticipation, their rifles strapped to their chests. Hayes stared out the viewport, his mind racing.
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He couldn’t warn the OUC—not without exposing himself. But if he carried out the mission as ordered, he’d be betraying the people who’d trusted him enough to bring him into their rebellion.
The weight of his divided loyalties pressed down on him like the icy grip of Ganymede’s surface.
“Something wrong, Sergeant?” Akari asked, her voice quiet.
Hayes shook his head. “Just focused.”
She nodded, though her eyes lingered on him a moment longer than necessary.
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The assault began at dawn, the first plasma shots lighting up the base’s perimeter.
Hayes led his squad through the jagged terrain, his movements precise but slower than usual. The rebel guards returned fire, but they were outnumbered and outgunned.
Hayes’ heart sank as they breached the outer defenses. The base was just as he’d left it—makeshift, underfunded, and filled with desperate people.
Inside, chaos reigned. Rebels scrambled to hold their positions while civilians—engineers, medics, even children—fled deeper into the base.
Hayes’ squad pushed forward, their training overwhelming the OUC defenders. But Hayes’ focus wasn’t on the fight. His eyes darted through the chaos, searching for Liora.
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He found her in the command center, barking orders to a group of rebels.
Liora turned as he entered, her eyes widening in recognition.
“Hayes,” she spat. “I should’ve known.”
“Liora,” Hayes said, his rifle lowered. “You need to get out of here. Now.”
“Get out?” she snapped. “You mean run while you burn everything down?”
“It wasn’t my call,” Hayes said, stepping closer. “I didn’t know they were targeting you.”
“You didn’t know?” Liora said, her voice rising. “You led them right to us!”
Before Hayes could respond, the door behind him burst open. Foster stormed in, his weapon raised.
“Well, well,” Foster said, his voice dripping with suspicion. “Looks like you found a friend, Sergeant.”
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Time froze as Foster leveled his rifle at Liora.
Hayes stepped between them, his own rifle aimed low. “Stand down, Lieutenant.”
“She’s a rebel leader,” Foster said. “If we take her out, this whole operation’s a win.”
“She’s unarmed,” Hayes said. “We’re here to secure the base, not execute people.”
Foster’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve had about enough of your second-guessing, Hayes. First Ganymede, now this? You’re acting like someone with something to hide.”
The room tensed, the hum of plasma rifles filling the air.
“Don’t make this a thing,” Hayes said, his voice low and steady.
Foster sneered but finally lowered his rifle. “You’re making a mistake.”
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The rebels escaped in the chaos, slipping away through hidden tunnels while the URT secured the base.
Back on the shuttle, the squad’s mood was icy. Foster sat rigid, his glare never leaving Hayes.
When they arrived at Phoenix Station, Foster followed Hayes into the barracks.
“You want to tell me what the hell that was about?” Foster said, his voice low and dangerous.
Hayes turned to face him. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Foster snapped. “You hesitated. You gave them time to run.”
“I did my job,” Hayes said flatly.
“Sure,” Foster said, stepping closer. “But for how long?”
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That night, Hayes sat alone in his quarters.
The weight of his choices pressed down on him. He’d let the rebels escape, but it wouldn’t be long before Voss or Foster pieced everything together.
His time was running out.
For the first time since his resurrection, Hayes felt truly cornered. He couldn’t keep straddling the line. He would have to make a choice.