In the guts of Red Plateau's stronghold, my pad was the ultimate privacy bunker. Company? Overrated. Smack dab in the center of Agronomy, the stronghold's energy pulsed like a neon heartbeat through the walls and corridors, lighting the shadows, juicing the hydroponic gardens, and cranking out a haven for the freedom fighters.

Artificial grav-gens hummed a lullaby in tucked-away nooks, cranking out the comforts of home. In times of peace, it was a sweet luxury; in war, it was the line between life and getting vaporized.

My crash zone was a dim, chilly cave. The walls? A treasure trove of hidden screens, pumping out the inf0 on the rebellion. The silence was a throwback to my covert op days, swiping intel from New Earth's iron-fisted rulers. But Treestump, third-in-command and eternal chatterbox, couldn't handle the quiet. He'd say we were built for action, and I'd just laugh, saying we picked the wrong spot to kick back.

So, after we'd hashed out our battle plans, Treestump made his usual exit. He strode across the room, flicked off the holo-displays, and cracked open the reinforced door, letting the stronghold's noise flood in.

As he stood in the doorway, kitted out in his sleek black gear, the hum of machines and hushed voices washed over him. I snuggled up in my blanket, watching the guy. He looked green, like the newbie I'd brought into the fold a decade ago. Planning sessions still got my heart pumping—felt good. The spark of rebellion was alive and kicking.

"I'll face 'em down," Treestump said, turning to me, eyes ablaze and voice thick with determination.

I propped myself up. "Watch your back, man. These guys play dirty."

"The front lines are where I belong. I'm not gonna hide in this fortress."

I sighed, feeling his itch for action. "But remember, these baddies aren't your run-of-the-mill scum. Go in guns blazing, and they'll tear us apart. You get how risky that is, right?"

Treestump's confidence didn't waver. "They underestimated us before—they'll do it again. We've been through hell and back together. They won't break us. Stand our ground, and they'll crack. Our cause will win out in the end."

"You knew our cause," I corrected. "The enemy's changed. Adapted. We can't take 'em lightly." The faces of fallen friends flashed in my mind, sacrifices for freedom. I had to make him see. "Our rebellion's cost us, Treestump. We've come too far to blow it now."

"Victories?" His laugh was soaked in bitterness.

"In our hearts, yeah," I said.

"And in yours?"

"In mine too," I insisted, steely resolve taking over. Why couldn't he get it? "We're fighting for a brighter future, a world where our kids don't have to live in fear. That's victory. Our cause is just, and we'll see it through, no matter what."

There was a pause, and 'Stump shuffled his feet. H would never make a good intel guy. Didn't like silences.

"Rebel, I got something to tell ya. I think Atlas was offed by the Ghim," he blurted out. "Captain Kim Ghim-Tab's been talking, offering up his side of the story. Dude's lived his whole life in the Moieties mess, so he's got a different angle on things. Could help us get a better read on the enemy."

He paused, then continued. "And he's been sticking to his end of the deal, training us in exchange for letting him and his crew – Silver, Pepper, and Ken – walk free. But the kicker? Henry said there're rumors Ghim's head honcho's got scientists cooking up cloning and consciousness transfer tech. If it's legit, Trama Vasily Ghim's gonna use it to take out the other Moieties."

I raised an eyebrow. Treestump wasn't exactly known for his strategic insights, but I figured it was worth checking out. Just then, The Greek, our intel mastermind, knock on my door. Seemed like I'd never get any rest.

"Come," I said.

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The door slid open, and The Greek stepped into the room. "Hey, Reb," she said. "Couldn't help but overhear - my sources match with what Captain Kim Ghim-Tab is saying, was just coming to tell you." She paused for a moment, and then continued, "I'm offering to help Treestump dig deeper into this. Also, I've got some more dirt on this new tech and some nasty collusion between the Ghim, Blue, and Visalyasisnaya Moieties." She hesitated for a beat, a shadow of unease flickering across her face.

I sighed. "Out with it. What's up?"

"Well, uh," she began, obviously unsure how to bring up whatever it was that she wanted to say. It was very unlike The Greek to hold back, so it had to be big. Another beat. "Well, there's evidence that your mom and Trama Vasily were...involved before she died."

"Wait," I said, my voice wavering as a mixture of shock and disbelief washed over me. "What?"

The Greek cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable. "I know it's hard to hear, but I think it's true. We found some correspondence between them, and it seems like they were romantically involved for a time. Could be faked, but doesn't seem as if. I didn't want to bring it up, but it could be important for us to understand the whole picture."

I felt a storm of emotions brewing inside me – betrayal, anger, sadness, and confusion all battling for dominance. How could my mother have been involved with someone like Trama Vasily? Was there some hidden truth behind her death? So many questions, and I wasn't sure I was ready for the answers.

Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and said, "Alright. Let's dig deeper into this. We need to know everything we can if we're going to stand a chance against our enemies." The Greek nodded solemnly.

Treestump's expression changed, and he shifted gears, talking about his recent visit to his adopted AI sibling, T'mk. T'mk was one of the few AIs to fall in love with and marry a human, a minor heir in Agronomy by the name of Wayne Boatwright. Together, they lived a comfortable life in the lush and vibrant Bani Forest City, a haven for those seeking peace and tranquility.

"Ya know, Reb, T'mk's been on edge lately," Treestump began, concern evident in his voice. "He's convinced that our rebellion is bringing war to Agronomy's doorstep. He's scared, and that's not like him. T'mk's usually so optimistic and level-headed."

I listened intently as Treestump recounted his visit to the Bani Forest City. The city itself was a marvel of engineering and nature, built among the trees and powered by renewable energy sources. It was an idyllic refuge from the chaos and conflict that seemed to be brewing everywhere else.

Treestump continued, "I tried to reason with T'mk, to reassure him that we're fighting for a better future. But he just couldn't see it that way. He's terrified for his family, especially Wayne. I can't help but feel guilty, Reb. I feel like I've dragged my own family into this mess."

His voice cracked, revealing his inner turmoil. "We argued for hours, but nothing I said seemed to get through to him. In the end, I had no choice but to throw in the towel and head back here, to the stronghold. I just... I don't know what to do anymore."

I could see the pain and confusion etched on Treestump's face, and I knew he was struggling with the weight of his decisions. But we all had a part to play in this rebellion, and sometimes the hardest choices were the ones that we had to make for the greater good.

With all this buzzing in my head, I decided it was time to suit up and join the action on the training grounds. I headed to my wardrobe, selecting a form-fitting black jumpsuit made of a flexible and breathable material that allowed for optimal movement. The fabric was woven with microfibers that provided extra strength and durability. I zipped it up and strapped on my utility belt, equipped with a variety of gadgets and compartments for any unexpected situations. I stepped into a pair of lightweight combat boots, designed for speed and agility, lacing them up tight.

As I finished gearing up, I grabbed my custom-made armored jacket – a gift from The Greek. The jacket was lined with a lightweight, flexible material that could harden upon impact, offering protection without sacrificing mobility. I threw it on and locked the metallic clasps, ready to face whatever awaited me at the training grounds.

I stepped out onto the grounds, and the scene was a cacophony of activity. Pepper and Silver were running a group of trainees through their paces with the standard weapons – laser whips crackled as they sliced through the air with deadly precision, plasma grenades popped in controlled detonations, and gravity hammers sent shockwaves through the air, toppling training dummies in their path.

Off to the side, Ken was showing a couple of kids the usefulness of knives, demonstrating various grips and slashing techniques. His steady hands and keen eye for detail revealed the deadly elegance of close-quarters combat.

In the center of the grounds, Henry stood atop a raised platform, running a tutorial on tactics. He commanded the attention of the assembled rebels, walking them through the intricacies of battlefield strategies and how to coordinate their efforts for maximum impact. He showed them how to anticipate enemy movements and exploit weaknesses, all while keeping their own forces protected.

The training grounds were alive with the sounds of determination and grit, each rebel striving to become a more formidable force for our cause. As I walked through the chaos, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, knowing that we were all working together to forge a better future. Little did I know that an unexpected challenge awaited me amidst the frenzy of training.

As I walked through the chaos, a trainee lunged at me, murder in their eyes.