The shuttle hummed softly as it cruised through the black void, bound for Ganymede. Hayes sat in the cargo bay, surrounded by his squad. Their youthful energy was palpable—bright-eyed and eager to prove themselves.
Private Akari leaned forward, her rifle balanced across her knees. “We’ve got this, Sergeant,” she said, flashing a confident grin. “Just point us at the bad guys.”
Hayes managed a nod, though the words hit hollow.
He wasn’t sure who the bad guys were anymore.
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Earlier, General Voss had laid out the mission.
“Hydra Station,” she’d said, gesturing to a glowing map of Ganymede. The mining hub was vital to the URT’s infrastructure, its resources critical to powering colonies across the solar system.
Three days ago, the station had gone dark.
“The Outer Unity Coalition has seized it,” Voss explained. “They’re using it to stockpile stolen materials and disrupt our supply chains.”
The orders were simple: retake the station, neutralize rebel leadership, and secure the facility.
“This is a critical operation,” Voss added, her tone sharp. “Show the colonies what happens when they defy the Republic.”
Her eyes had lingered on Hayes then, expectant. He’d nodded, keeping his doubts buried deep.
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The shuttle shuddered as it touched down on Ganymede’s frozen surface. Hydra Station loomed ahead—a fortress of steel, built into the jagged terrain. The frost-coated towers stood like sentinels, their shapes stark against the moon’s pale horizon.
“Stay sharp,” Hayes said as the squad disembarked, their boots crunching on the ice. The cold bit through his armor, but he barely felt it. His mind was focused on the silence of the station, the sense of something waiting.
Inside, the air was stale, the corridors dimly lit by flickering emergency lights. The squad moved in formation, their rifles sweeping for targets. Hayes’ helmet picked up faint heat signatures deeper within, but something felt off.
“This place gives me the creeps,” muttered Private Chen, his voice low over the comms.
Stolen novel; please report.
“Eyes up,” Hayes replied. “Keep moving.”
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The rebels were waiting in the control room.
Hayes led the squad through the final door, rifles raised, expecting a firefight. Instead, they found a group of engineers and miners huddled together. Improvised weapons—wrenches, pipes—were scattered on the floor, abandoned at the first sign of an armed squad.
“These aren’t combatants,” Akari said softly, lowering her weapon.
“They’re collaborators,” snapped Lieutenant Foster, stepping into the room. “Secure them.”
The squad moved to detain the group, but Hayes hesitated. A middle-aged man with a weathered face stepped forward, his hands trembling but his voice firm.
“Please,” the man said, his tone edged with desperation. “We’re not rebels. Hydra’s systems failed, and we lost contact with Earth. The OUC showed up and gave us a choice: work with them or die.”
“Lies,” Foster growled. “The OUC uses propaganda to turn people like you against the URT.”
“It’s not propaganda!” the man shouted, his fear giving way to anger. “Do you know what it’s like out here? The URT takes everything we mine, leaves us with nothing, and calls it loyalty. We didn’t choose this war—you brought it to us!”
Foster’s sidearm was in his hand before Hayes could stop him. “Enough.”
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Time slowed as Foster aimed his weapon.
The engineer’s face was etched with terror, his hands raised in surrender. Hayes stepped between them, his rifle angled low but ready.
“Stand down, Lieutenant,” Hayes said, his voice calm but firm.
Foster glared at him. “What the hell are you doing, Sergeant?”
“These people aren’t a threat,” Hayes said. “We secure the station and leave them for interrogation. That’s it.”
“They’re enemy assets,” Foster snapped. “You know what that means.”
“I’m following orders,” Hayes replied, his voice cold. “Secure the station. No unnecessary casualties.”
For a long moment, Foster stared him down. Then, with a snarl, he holstered his weapon. “Fine. But this is going in my report.”
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Deeper inside the station, the real fight awaited.
Hayes led the squad through the dim corridors, their rifles sweeping for movement. In the storage bay, they found the true resistance—a small group of armed OUC operatives guarding stolen supplies.
The firefight was short and brutal. Plasma bolts ricocheted off steel walls as the squad moved with precision, their superior firepower overwhelming the rebels.
When the last shot faded, Hayes stood in the silence, his breath heavy in his helmet. The mission was a success, but the engineer’s words lingered: We didn’t choose this war—you brought it to us.
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The shuttle ride back to Phoenix Station was tense.
Foster sat stiffly, his jaw tight, his glare cutting through the cabin. The rest of the squad shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to process what had happened.
“Sergeant?” Akari said hesitantly, her voice low.
“Yeah?”
“You did the right thing,” she said, her tone unsure but sincere.
Hayes didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure if she was right.
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Later that night, Hayes sat alone in his quarters.
The room was silent, but his thoughts were loud. The engineer’s face. The fear in the civilians’ eyes. The cold resolve in Foster’s voice.
Hayes leaned forward, his gaze settling on the encrypted data chip Reese had given him. With a deep breath, he slid it into the terminal.
The screen flickered to life, and what it revealed chilled him to the core.