The command center of the Free Zone buzzed with tension. Screens flickered to life as engineers rerouted global comms lines, tunneling through firewalls and dead satellites. A single terminal blinked in red: UPLOAD PENDING.Clara stood at the console, sweat dampening her neck."We only get one shot at this.”Brown handed her the drive, expression set.“Then let’s make it count.”As the data began to stream—hundreds of files, documents, footage, audio logs—the room fell into stunned silence. On-screen: children strapped into neural harnesses. Screams echoing in sterile labs. Executives signing off on lethal trials. Ward’s voice—cold, calculating—ordering the termination of failures."This was never about defense,” Clara whispered. “It was about control.”The final file auto-played.A live recording. Brown. Age 17. Covered in blood. Eyes distant.“Subject 09-B shows promising aggression response. Recommend enhanced dosing and isolation to reduce empathy retention."He flinched, watching

The Anderson Trials were held in the central tribunal of Hielux, a massive domed structure once used for ceremonial military honors. Now, it was flooded with media, Free Zone representatives, victims of the Project Echo program, and families who had lost everything to the system the Andersons helped build.The former governor, Renald Anderson, sat chained in a transparent detainment chamber, flanked by his two sons and wife. His once-proud suit was wrinkled, his hair greyed beyond his years. Across from him stood Brown and Clara—no longer victims, but living proof of the Program’s failure."We open the tribunal for charges of high treason, human experimentation, unauthorized trade of classified military intelligence, and conspiracy to obstruct memory restoration protocols.”The voice of the Free Zone-appointed judge rang loud and clear.Dozens of recordings played over the tribunal’s massive holoscreen. One by one, they showed:Clara’s se

In the underground control room of the Free Zone, red sirens flashed. Operators scrambled to navigate the surge of incoming data, each trying to trace the unknown energy source that had simultaneously appeared at three different points across Hielux.“This isn’t just one activation,” Leven said, his face pale. “He’s awakening the remnants of the old protocol. This isn’t just about Epsilon anymore.”Brown stood behind him, eyes locked on the frequency graph. “He’s rebuilding the network. Echo 0—the primitive structure before we perfected the program. This isn’t a resurrection... it’s a reconstruction.”Clara, who had just entered with the Reverberants behind her, stared at the screen. “If he activates that underground network, we could lose control over thousands of dormant chips planted during the war.”“Even those who don’t know they were ever part of the program,” added Arin, one of the Reverberants.They all exchanged glances. No words were needed. Their time was running out.Epsil

The next morning, in the Hielux suburbs.The scent of sizzling garlic filled the house as sunlight filtered through the kitchen window. Brown stood barefoot on the cool tiles, wearing a cartoon apron that said “Dad of the Galaxy”, and flipping pancakes with expert precision.He hummed an old Earth melody, one Xena had once brought home from her music class.On the kitchen island, lunchboxes were open and half-packed—Xena’s had tiny compartments filled with neatly cut fruits, veggie sticks, and her favorite egg rolls (not burnt this time, much to his pride). Clara’s had a salad, rice balls, and a sneaky piece of chocolate hidden in the bottom corner. Brown always added one. She never mentioned it, but she never left it behind either.“Papa, you’re making the eggs too flat!” Xena said dramatically from the table, legs swinging, her hair still tangled from sleep.“They’re not flat,” Brown replied, poking one of the omelets. “They’re aerodyna

They didn’t waste time.Brown tore open the floor panel beneath the living room rug, revealing a concealed hatch. Cassian watched with an approving nod. “Nice setup.”“We don’t flaunt what we’ve been through,” Brown muttered. “But we’re not stupid enough to think we’ve ever been safe.”Clara helped Xena down the narrow metal ladder into the hidden transit chamber. The girl was still shaken, clinging to her mother’s arm, her eyes flicking toward Cassian every now and then. Clara couldn’t blame her. The man reeked of war, secrets, and unfinished business.Inside the chamber, rows of emergency packs, weapons, portable scanners, and three compact gravbikes lined the walls.Cassian knelt by the central terminal, inserting the chip he had handed to Clara. A projection burst forth—coordinates, pulse readings, and several blurry images of something massive, half-buried beneath collapsed architecture.“Gate 9,” he said. “Buried after the Siege. Unofficially, it never existed.”Brown scoffed. “