The station felt smaller than ever.
The halls of Phoenix Station, once a monument to order and control, now felt suffocating. Every step Hayes took, every glance from a passing officer, every silent camera mounted in the walls—they all felt like nooses tightening around his neck.
He had spent too long hesitating, questioning. But after what he had seen in Section 13—after what they had done to Keene—there was no more doubt.
This was no longer about loyalty or duty. It was about survival.
A new message blinked on his terminal, short and final.
"Phoenix is watching. If you’re ready, this is your last chance. I can get you out."
Reese.
Hayes stared at the words, his heart hammering.
This was it. The moment of no return.
His reply came in just two words.
"I’m ready."
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The plan was simple—but it had to be flawless.
Reese’s message contained everything he needed. Phoenix Station was too well-guarded for a straight-up escape, but the station’s maintenance sector had one weakness: automated cargo drones.
URT protocol dictated that these drones be pre-programmed for off-site scrap disposal, meaning they were largely ignored by security. If Hayes could override the logs and board one, he could slip out undetected—at least, until they realized he was gone.
But that was only if everything went perfectly.
One mistake, and he was dead.
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Step one: Steal an access key.
The armory was quiet at this hour. Most of the station’s personnel were off-duty, leaving only a skeleton crew of guards on rotation.
Hayes moved quickly, keeping his posture rigid, his expression unreadable. He passed the first checkpoint without issue—his clearance still held. But he knew it wouldn’t hold forever.
The biometric scanner leading into the restricted lockers loomed before him. He pressed his hand to the panel, willing his pulse to slow.
The screen flickered.
Then, mercifully—ACCESS GRANTED.
The small data key slid into his palm. He pocketed it and turned, exhaling slowly. One step down.
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Step two: Reach the airlock.
Navigating the maintenance corridors felt like walking through a graveyard. These lower decks were largely uninhabited, filled only with the dull hum of pipes and flickering overhead lights.
No patrols. No cameras. Just emptiness.
Hayes pulled the stolen access key from his pocket and plugged it into the airlock’s control panel. Reese’s code sequence was already loaded. He keyed in the command, watching as the system flickered in response.
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"Security override engaged. Standby."
Hayes allowed himself a slow breath. Almost there.
Then a voice rang out behind him.
"Sergeant."
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Hayes turned slowly.
Lieutenant Foster stood at the corridor’s entrance, arms crossed. His stance was casual, but his hand hovered dangerously close to his sidearm.
"You’ve been acting strange," Foster said, his voice measured. "First Ganymede. Then the transport ambush. And now I find you in a restricted corridor in the middle of the night?"
Hayes forced himself to stay calm. "Just running an equipment check."
Foster tilted his head. "That so?"
The silence stretched.
Hayes could see the calculation in Foster’s eyes, the slow realization settling in.
"You wouldn’t be thinking of leaving, would you, Sergeant?"
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Tension crackled between them.
Foster’s fingers twitched toward his weapon.
Hayes moved first.
He surged forward, knocking Foster’s arm aside before he could draw. The two men slammed into the metal walls of the corridor, locked in a brutal struggle.
Foster was fast. He twisted, breaking free of Hayes’ grip, and drove his elbow into Hayes’ ribs. The impact sent Hayes stumbling back, but he recovered quickly—just in time to block Foster’s next punch.
"Don’t do this, Hayes," Foster gasped, struggling against him.
Hayes gritted his teeth. "I don’t have a choice."
"Yeah, you do," Foster growled. "You always have a choice."
For a split second, doubt flickered in Hayes’ mind.
Then the alarms started blaring.
----------------------------------------
Reese’s voice crackled through his comm.
"You tripped something. Security’s on the way. You need to move now."
Hayes clenched his jaw. Damn it. He had wasted too much time.
Foster coughed, struggling to push himself up. Hayes stared down at him.
"They’re going to hunt you down," Foster said, his voice hoarse.
"I know," Hayes said.
He turned and ran.
----------------------------------------
The station erupted into chaos.
Red lights pulsed across the corridors as Hayes sprinted through the halls. Security officers flooded the area behind him, their shouts echoing through his comms.
"Unauthorized movement in maintenance decks!""Sergeant Hayes—halt immediately!""Lock down all exits!"
Hayes ignored them. He had no time for hesitation.
Ahead, the cargo bay airlock came into view. The doors were still open, waiting for him.
Hayes pushed himself harder, feeling the heat of plasma fire at his back. He threw himself into the airlock, slamming his fist against the emergency release.
The doors sealed just as security forces reached the corridor.
They were too late.
The outer hatch opened.
Nathaniel Hayes launched himself into the void.
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The cold silence of space surrounded him.
The cargo drone hovered just ahead, its dull lights flickering in the darkness. Hayes activated the thrusters on his suit, guiding himself toward it.
He had seconds.
Behind him, Phoenix Station’s exterior guns powered up.
They’re locking onto me.
Hayes gritted his teeth and grabbed onto the drone’s hull. The moment he made contact, Reese’s ship appeared from the debris field, streaking toward him.
A voice crackled in his helmet. "Hold on, I’m bringing you in!"
The ship maneuvered dangerously close. Hayes released his grip on the drone just as a plasma burst ripped through the void behind him, obliterating the spot where he had been.
He tumbled through open space—
Then he felt the ship’s airlock clamp onto his suit.
The hatch sealed, and gravity returned with a jolt.
He collapsed onto the floor, gasping.
Above him, Reese grinned down. "Took you long enough."
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For the first time in weeks, Hayes could breathe.
He was free.
But he knew what was coming.
The URT wouldn’t let this go unanswered.
They would hunt him down.
And he would have to be ready.