The corridors felt unnaturally still in the early hours of the morning. The usual hum of machinery and faint crackles from overhead lights seemed distant, as if the facility itself hadn’t yet fully woken. TX-23-W glided through the hallways, his faint white glow dimmed to match the low lighting, his movements careful but deliberate.
He hadn’t waited for TX-19-B or the others this morning. He couldn’t. Every second felt tenser than the last, his thoughts tangled between confidence and doubt. They’d prepared for this—planned every detail—but the moment still felt precariously fragile.
As he neared the entrance to the training area, TX-23-W paused. The wide, open room beyond the reinforced glass doors loomed with an unsettling quiet. Rows of mechanical arms hung dormant along the walls, tools and weights scattered across reinforced mats. It was designed to push PsySpheres to their limits, but this morning, it felt more like an empty battlefield waiting for combat.
His gaze swept across the room until he found her. TX-32-R hovered near the far corner, her red glow vibrant even in the low light. She spun idly, her movements casual, as if she had no part in the tension simmering beneath the surface.
He resisted the urge to call out. Instead, TX-23-W cleared his throat—a low, deliberate sound that broke the silence without shattering it.
No response.
Her steady rotation didn’t falter.
His glow flickered in irritation as he cleared his throat again, louder this time—somewhere between a cough and the sound someone might make when choking on their own pride.
Still nothing.
TX-23-W’s light pulsed faintly in disbelief. She wasn’t ignoring him—she actually hadn’t noticed him.
Suppressing the urge to groan, he took a deep breath and leaned closer, letting out a quick but audible sigh to make the noise more obvious.
Finally, TX-32-R paused mid-spin and blinked in his direction. “Oh. You’re here.” Her tone was breezy, completely unfazed. “I thought that sound was the air vents acting up again.”
TX-23-W stared at her for a long moment before replying flatly. “Glad to know I’m as subtle as faulty ventilation.”
She pulsed brightly, almost like a chuckle. “Relax. I heard you the first time—I was just messing with you.”
Before he could respond, she drifted toward the equipment racks along the wall and nudged the nearest one with her telekinesis.
A clang rang out as a barbell tipped and struck the metal floor. It wasn’t loud, but the sound echoed briefly before settling into the background hum of the room.
The signal.
TX-23-W didn’t flinch, but his teeth clenched as the weight of the moment hit. This was it.
Somewhere beyond the walls, the others would have heard it. They would be moving into position, gliding silently through the hallways toward their targets. TX-23-W lingered only for a moment longer before turning sharply and disappearing back into the shadows of the corridor.
The first step had begun.
Deep within the facility’s twisting corridors, the rebels stirred. The clang of the weight in the training room echoed faintly through the ventilation, subtle enough to pass as an accident but distinct enough to alert the ears that mattered.
TX-23-W moved swiftly, his glow dimmed to avoid detection as he navigated the narrow halls toward the security wing. Every second felt heavier than the last. Behind him, a cluster of PsySpheres trailed at a distance, their lights faint and hushed.
No words were spoken. There was no need. Every second counted, and the silence sharpened their focus—predators moving toward their prey.
In another section of the facility, TX-32-R hovered at the head of her group, her red glow steady but with an almost mischievous shimmer. Despite the tension coiling in the air, her tone was breezy.“Alright, listen up,” she whispered as the group clustered in a shadowed corner near the corridor’s bend. “You know the drill—guards first. Quiet if you can, loud if you have to. But if it gets loud, at least make it worth the noise.”
The green PsySphere beside her pulsed once. “And if backup shows?”
TX-32-R tilted slightly, her glow flickering with amusement. “Then we improvise. Lucky for you, I’m great at improvising.”
A ripple of nervous chuckles spread through the group before settling as gravity returned. TX-32-R turned back to the corridor, her tone firm.
“No hesitation. We move fast, clear the area, and keep their focus here. That’s our job—make sure they don’t even glance at the security room. Got it?”
The group nodded, their glows flickering in agreement.
Meanwhile, TX-23-W’s team reached the junction just outside the security room, their timing razor-sharp. The night shift was heading out, and the day shift hadn’t yet arrived. It was the brief window they had gambled everything on—a fleeting fifteen-minute gap.
No words were exchanged as the PsySpheres zipped silently through the corridor, their movements fluid and precise.
When they reached the door, TX-23-W’s teeth clenched as he eyed the locked entry panel. “Figures,” he muttered. His glow pulsed sharply. “You know what to do.”
A yellow PsySphere floated forward, sparks of psychic energy dancing as they probed the keypad. “On it,” they said, their voice low but tinged with determination.
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The group fanned out, their glows dimmed as they kept watch. The air grew heavy as minutes ticked by, the hum of circuits buzzing faintly.
Five minutes turned to ten. Then fifteen.
The yellow PsySphere gave a faint flicker of frustration. “This system’s layered—more encryption than we thought.”
“Can you crack it or not?” TX-23-W hissed, his glow flaring faintly.
“I can,” came the reply, though the confidence wavered. “But it’ll take time.”
A ripple of unease passed through the group. Time was the one thing they didn’t have.
TX-23-W hovered closer, his glow dimming as tension crept into his voice. “Do it. I don’t care how long it takes—just get us in.”
The yellow PsySphere didn’t argue, their glow intensifying as tendrils of energy sank deeper into the system.
Minutes stretched into an hour. Then another.
The hallways around them remained eerily quiet, but every faint noise—the whir of ventilation, the soft buzz of lights—sent jolts of tension through TX-23-W.
Then the speaker embedded in the wall crackled to life.
“TX-19-B, TX-21-R, TX-22-Y, TX-23-G, and TX-23-W,” came the sharp, unmistakable tone of TX-07. “Meet me in Sector Three. We need to talk.”
TX-23-W froze.
The words hung in the air, louder than the speaker itself. His glow dimmed to a faint flicker as his thoughts spiraled. TX-07 knew something. He had to. Or was it a coincidence? No. Not now.
The group turned to him, their glows faint and expectant, waiting for his direction.
TX-23-W’s glow pulsed once as he forced himself to focus. “Keep going,” he said, his voice quieter than before. “Finish the hack. I’ll deal with this later.”
“Later?” one of them whispered, their tone edged with worry. “What if—”
“I said later,” TX-23-W snapped, his glow flaring sharply.
In the distance, a faint crash echoed—the unmistakable sound of TX-32-R’s team creating their distraction.
The yellow PsySphere redoubled their efforts, their glow flickering with urgency.
TX-23-W hovered back, his mind churning.
There was no turning back now. The rebels weren’t standing on the edge anymore—they were falling, and the ground was rushing up to meet them.
The door hissed open with a quiet, mechanical sigh. A single guard glanced up from his console, his eyes dull with the monotony of an early shift. Expecting to see a colleague or perhaps a maintenance drone, he stared at the empty doorway, confusion flickering across his face.
“Faulty sensor again?” he muttered, standing reluctantly.
The others in the room paid no mind, their attention fixed on the screens that displayed grainy footage from the previous night. The hum of the machinery and the soft clatter of typing filled the space, an unbroken rhythm of complacency.
The guard took a step toward the door, peering into the dimly lit corridor beyond. His boots squeaked faintly against the polished floor as he leaned forward, squinting into the void.
Then, without warning, his body lurched backward violently, as if yanked by an invisible hand. His startled cry was cut short as he slammed into the far wall, the force of the impact reverberating through the room like a thunderclap. His limp body crumpled to the floor, motionless and silent.
The remaining guards remained oblivious, their heads still bent over their screens. One of them sighed, rubbing his temples. “Can’t believe we’re on review duty again. If I have to look at one more—”
The words died on his lips as the room seemed to shift. Chairs creaked faintly, the sound almost imperceptible beneath the ambient hum of the equipment. The guards didn’t notice the subtle movement—the way the seats lifted just slightly off the ground, as if held aloft by a delicate thread.
The PsySpheres had entered, their glowing forms slipping through the room like phantoms. Dim and silent, they hovered behind the occupied chairs, their collective presence radiating an oppressive stillness.
TX-23-W lingered near the door, his piercing gaze fixed on the array of monitors that lined the wall. Each flickering image reflected in his eyes, the glow around him steady but sharp.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
Then TX-23-W gave a single, deliberate nod.
Chairs and guards alike were hurled through the air, slamming into walls and consoles with a cacophony of metallic crashes and startled cries. One man hit the ground with a sickening crack, clutching his side as he struggled to breathe. Another was flung into a stack of equipment, sparks erupting as the machinery toppled.
“Contact! We’ve got—” one guard managed to shout before a force slammed him into the floor, cutting him off mid-sentence.
The yellow PsySphere zipped toward the door control panel, a thin tendril of telekinetic energy sparking to life as it connected with the system. The heavy doors responded with a loud, echoing clang, sealing the room and cutting off any hope of outside help.
“Secure the room!” TX-23-W barked, his voice ringing with authority.
The guards scrambled, panic etched into their faces as they tried to rally. One lunged toward the emergency button on the far wall, but his outstretched hand never made contact. He was yanked backward mid-stride, his body crashing against the ceiling before crumpling to the ground in a heap.
Another guard fumbled for his sidearm, his trembling hands barely managing to unholster the weapon before a burst of psychic energy ripped it from his grasp and sent it skittering across the floor.
TX-23-W hovered at the main console, his glow intensifying as he sifted through the options displayed on the screen. His sharp gaze flicked between the controls and the live camera feeds, scanning for weak points, hidden dangers, anything that could turn the tide in their favor.
“Status?” he called out, his tone clipped.
“The room’s locked down. No one’s getting in,” the yellow PsySphere replied, their glow steady as they maintained the connection to the door controls.
TX-23-W didn’t respond, his focus locked on the monitors. Each screen displayed a fragment of the sprawling facility—empty hallways bathed in sterile light, storage rooms filled with rows of equipment, and a few scattered staff unaware of the chaos unfolding just a few doors away.
Then, movement caught his eye.
From beneath one of the desks, a figure darted out—a flash of white coat and frantic motion.
Dr. Lyra Kieran.
Her expression was a mix of terror and determination as she lunged toward the emergency alarm panel. Her hand slammed against the button with everything she had, the force of the motion sending a sharp crack through the room.
“No!” TX-23-W roared, spinning toward her. A burst of energy lashed out, striking her mid-lunge and flinging her backward. She hit the wall with a thud, collapsing into a heap on the floor.
But her efforts weren’t in vain.
A shrill alarm blared to life, the piercing sound slicing through the facility like a blade. Red lights strobed in unison with the wailing siren, bathing the room in a pulsating crimson glow.
“Warning: Code X-09. All staff evacuate immediately to designated safe zones,” the automated system droned, the message repeating in an unyielding monotone.
TX-23-W’s glow flared violently, his frustration palpable. His teeth clenched as he muttered a curse under his breath, his gaze flicking toward the sealed doors.
The rebellion’s cover was blown. The facility was awake, and the clock was ticking.
He turned back to the PsySpheres, his voice low and urgent. “We hold this room. No matter what. Do you understand?”
The rebels pulsed in agreement, their glows intensifying as they prepared for the inevitable onslaught.
The battle had begun in earnest, and there was no turning back now.