Chile-Sigma Solar System

Huachipato XIV

Refugee Camp

After the chaos of the previous day, Lautaro and his group huddled inside one of the few intact buildings, trying to make sense of what had just transpired and to plan their next move. The atmosphere inside the refugee camp was heavy, the tension palpable. Lautaro’s revelation—the connection between himself and the mysterious invaders—had sent shockwaves through the camp. Although they had made a unanimous decision to keep it secret, rumors spread like wildfire, igniting fear and distrust among the survivors.

Lautaro sat on a makeshift cot, rubbing his temples, trying to block out the noise outside. His head throbbed with an intensity that blurred his thoughts. He could hear fragments of the angry shouts, the murmurs of suspicion, the heavy footsteps of people pacing in agitation.

Mateo stood nearby, his face unusually stern. He glanced at Lautaro, then cleared his throat, preparing to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Lautaro, we need to talk,” he said, his voice low but firm.

Lautaro looked up, one eyebrow raised. “What’s going on?”

Mateo hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting toward the door where the shouts from the camp seemed to be getting louder.

“It seems the information about your connection with the invaders has leaked,” Mateo continued, his tone growing more serious. “People are talking. They’re scared.”

Lautaro sighed, leaning back. “A lot of people were there when I woke up. I guess it was only a matter of time.”

Mateo nodded grimly. “Elena’s trying to calm them down, but it’s not going well. The anxiety is already setting in. People are on edge. I mean, it makes sense. Even though we stopped the invasion, so many people died…”

As Mateo spoke, he furrowed his brow, removing his glasses and massaging the bridge of his nose—his habitual gesture when stress was overwhelming him. Lautaro could see the weight of the past few days etched into Mateo’s face. He’d always been the rational one, the voice of reason, but even he seemed shaken by the events.

“From what I understand,” Mateo continued, his voice more reflective now, “those invaders… they have a way of breaking down organic matter. They disintegrate it and convert it into energy. I saw it happen. I saw people turn to dust.” He paused, his voice quieter, the image clearly still haunting him. “I can’t blame the others for being afraid. It’s only natural to feel this way, after what we’ve seen.”

Before Lautaro could respond, the shouts outside grew louder, clearer, as though the crowd was inching closer.

“Hand over Lautaro! He must be interrogated and arrested!”

“He’s the reason those creatures came here! Execute him!”

The sound of the crowd was like a wave crashing against the walls of the building, their anger surging. Lautaro winced at the noise, pressing his hands against his temples, trying to push back the splitting headache that had been gnawing at him since the previous day’s encounter with the invader king.

With frustration boiling over, Lautaro stood up, stumbling slightly, and shouted back at the voices outside.

“SHUT UP! MY HEAD HURTS! SHOW SOME RESPECT FOR THE SICK!”

Mateo blinked, surprised by Lautaro’s outburst. He wasn’t used to seeing his friend so openly agitated. “Well, you’re taking all this rejection pretty calmly,” he remarked dryly, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice.

Lautaro let out a weak laugh, though his expression remained tight. “Calm? Not at all. That was just the first thing that came to mind. Honestly, I’m scared out of my mind.”

Before either of them could say more, a loud voice from outside interrupted the chaos.

“Leave Lautaro alone! He didn’t bring those things here! We were working together!”

It was a familiar voice, filled with the fiery determination of someone who would never back down—Elena.

Lautaro and Mateo exchanged glances.

“Elena…” Lautaro muttered, a mix of worry and gratitude in his voice.

“Elena…” Mateo echoed, shaking his head slightly.

Elena had a reputation in the camp. Everyone respected her strength, her ability to take charge in the middle of chaos. But that respect came with an awareness of her temper. She wasn’t the type to take insults or accusations lightly. And if anyone thought they could simply talk her down, they were sorely mistaken. Diplomacy wasn’t exactly her strong suit.

Through the door, Lautaro could hear the muffled sounds of her confrontation with the crowd outside. Her voice was steady but edged with anger, trying to reason with them, but the strain in her tone suggested that reason wasn’t getting through. The crowd’s fear and panic were too strong.

Mateo paced, running a hand through his hair, clearly on edge. “If she keeps pushing them, this could turn ugly fast.”

Lautaro swallowed hard, knowing that Elena’s temper could make things worse, even though she was only trying to protect him. “We need to find a way to calm them down. They’re scared, and I’m the easiest target to blame.”

Outside, the shouts continued, and Lautaro felt the weight of it all bearing down on him. His chest tightened, and for a brief moment, he wondered if Mateo and Elena were right—if this connection to the invaders was going to get him killed, not by the creatures themselves, but by the very people he had fought to protect.

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Refugee Camp – Earlier

Elena stood in front of the crowd, her arms crossed over her chest, trying to appear calm and in control, even though the situation was rapidly spiraling out of hand. The tension in the camp had been building all day, ever since Lautaro’s strange episode and the whispered rumors that followed. People were afraid, and fear, Elena knew, had a way of making people do irrational things.

The crowd had gathered near the main tent, their faces a mix of anger and confusion. Some were still in shock from the invasion, their eyes red from crying or lack of sleep, while others were visibly restless, their anxiety morphing into aggression.

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Elena had hoped to diffuse the situation quickly. After all, the people respected her—most of the time. But today, things were different. Their fear of Lautaro, the mysterious connection he had with the invaders, had set them on edge in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

“Listen, I understand that you’re all scared,” Elena started, her voice steady but softer than usual, trying to appeal to their emotions. “What happened yesterday… it’s shaken all of us. But blaming Lautaro isn’t going to fix anything. He’s one of us.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment, but the murmur in the crowd didn’t die down. Instead, it grew louder, the whispers of distrust swelling into more distinct accusations.

“He’s not one of us anymore!” someone shouted from the back of the crowd. “He’s connected to those things! How do we know he won’t turn on us?”

Elena’s jaw tightened, but she kept her voice measured. “That’s not going to happen. Lautaro’s risked his life for this colony, just like the rest of us. He’s still the same person—”

“Is he?” a middle-aged man interrupted, stepping forward. His voice was laced with fear, and his hands trembled slightly as he pointed an accusing finger at Elena. “You saw what happened! He’s tied to them somehow. We can’t trust him. He should be locked up until we figure out what’s going on.”

Elena felt her patience slipping. She uncrossed her arms and took a step closer to the crowd, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re jumping to conclusions based on fear, and that’s dangerous. Lautaro isn’t a threat to us.”

But the crowd wasn’t calming down. If anything, her words seemed to fuel their frustration. A woman near the front, clutching the hand of a child, raised her voice.

“My husband died yesterday—turned to dust in front of my eyes! How do we know Lautaro isn’t bringing more of those creatures here? How do we know he won’t bring them straight into this camp?”

The murmurs became louder, more aggressive. Elena felt her pulse quicken, her temper flaring as she struggled to keep her composure. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to be able to control this, to calm them down.

“He won’t,” she insisted, her voice a little sharper now, though she tried to keep it steady. “We have no proof that Lautaro brought them here. Blaming him isn’t going to bring anyone back.”

But the crowd wasn’t listening. The voices rose in a cacophony of accusations and demands.

“Turn him over to the authorities!”

“He’s dangerous!”

“We should have never trusted him!”

“He brought this on us!”

Elena felt her control slipping further. Her fists clenched at her sides, and her jaw tightened painfully as she tried, once again, to reason with them.

“You’re all scared. I get it. But letting fear control you is exactly what those invaders want. They want us divided, fighting each other while they pick us off one by one. And if you think—”

“You think you can tell us what to do?” the middle-aged man interrupted again, his voice louder this time, more confrontational. “What gives you the right to defend him? Maybe you’re in on it, too!”

That was it. Elena’s patience snapped like a dry twig.

Her eyes blazed with fury as she stepped forward, closing the distance between herself and the man, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. “In on it? You think I’m in on this?”

She could feel the blood rushing to her face, her muscles tensing as she fought the urge to lash out. “I’ve bled for this colony. I’ve watched my friends die—good people, people I’ve fought alongside. And you have the nerve to accuse me?”

The crowd fell into an uneasy silence, but the tension only grew thicker. Elena’s fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white, her entire body rigid with anger.

“You’re all scared, but if you think you can stand here and throw accusations around without any proof, then you’ve already given up. You’ve let fear win.” Her voice rose, no longer calm or controlled. “Lautaro isn’t the one you should be afraid of—it’s the invaders, the real threat! If we don’t stand together, we’re already dead.”

But as she spoke, her voice rising with frustration, she could see that her words weren’t landing the way she wanted. The crowd didn’t seem to be calming down. They were looking at her, yes, but their expressions were still hardened, suspicious. Some people took steps back, uneasy at her aggression. Others clenched their fists, defiant.

Elena’s heart pounded in her chest as she realized what was happening. She had lost them. Her anger, her temper—it had pushed them away instead of drawing them back in. She was losing control, and in that moment, she knew that trying to reason with them was pointless.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but before she could, a voice from the back of the crowd shouted, “Give us Lautaro! He needs to be arrested!”

And then another: “He’s the reason this happened! Execute him!”

Elena felt the rage boil over, and before she could stop herself, she shouted at the top of her lungs.

“ENOUGH!” Her voice echoed across the camp, silencing the crowd. “I’ve had it with this bullshit! You’re not thinking straight! If you want Lautaro, you’ll have to get through me first!”

The crowd hesitated, taken aback by the raw fury in her voice, but Elena could see the tension in their eyes, the way they still stood firm in their fear.

Her hands trembled with the effort to keep herself from charging into the crowd. She had never been one to back down from a fight, but she knew that if she started one now, things could spiral into violence fast. She needed to regain control.

Taking a deep breath, Elena tried once more, her voice strained but quieter, barely holding back her anger. “I’m telling you, this isn’t the way. We need to trust each other. Lautaro hasn’t done anything wrong, and I’m not going to let you tear this camp apart over rumors and fear.”

The crowd stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do next, as the tension hung in the air like a storm waiting to break.

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Refugee Camp – Current Time

"Well, Elena gave it her best shot. Let's support her," Lautaro said with a faint smile, though his eyes were filled with determination.

"Alright," Mateo replied, his brow furrowing with concern. "But I want you to know this isn’t a good idea. It’s not safe for you out there."

Lautaro chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Calm down, Mateo. I’ve lived with these people almost my entire life. They love me, and I love them."

As they stepped outside, their confidence wavered. What greeted them wasn’t the community Lautaro had grown up with, but a scene straight out of a nightmare. In the center of the gathering, the townspeople had built an effigy of Lautaro—a crude, twisted mockery of his form. The figure was burning, flames licking up the sides, with knives stabbed into it at odd angles.

Lautaro’s smile faded, replaced by a look of disbelief as a bead of sweat ran down his forehead. "Well, this escalated way too quickly..." His voice was barely above a whisper. He turned to Mateo, swallowing hard. "Mateo, I need to escape. This... this isn’t going to end well."

Mateo shook his head, his voice steady but urgent. "Lautaro, if you run now, it’ll only make things worse. They’ll think you’re guilty. Stick with the plan. Let’s talk to them."

Lautaro took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the situation press down on him. The tension in the air was thick, suffocating. But he couldn’t back down now. He squared his shoulders, forcing a brave face, and stepped forward toward the crowd.

"My dear fellow citizens," he began, trying to sound calm, though his heart pounded in his chest. "Don’t you think this is a little much? There’s no proof I had anything to do with the invaders. In fact, we saved the colony by shutting down the power grids. Please, trust me. I’m not your enemy."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, low murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"Well, it is Lautaro, after all."

"He’s got a point..."

"Maybe the effigy was over the top. Whose idea was that anyway?"

The crowd seemed to calm, the angry energy dissipating. Lautaro’s words had reached some of them, and he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things were turning around.

But then, from the back of the crowd, a voice boomed:

"INTERROGATE HIM!"

Lautaro’s heart sank. While the mob no longer seemed intent on killing him, the fear and suspicion hadn’t fully disappeared. They weren’t calling for his execution anymore, but they still wanted answers—answers he didn’t have.

The murmurs of agreement spread through the crowd, and Lautaro could feel the weight of their eyes on him, the uncertainty hanging in the air. He had bought himself some time, but the danger wasn’t gone.

Mateo stepped beside him, whispering under his breath, "Well, it’s better than them trying to burn you alive."

Lautaro let out a shaky breath, his voice barely audible. "Yeah, I guess that’s a win... but now what?"