REBEL CODE

Chapter 19 – Broadcast

The Forge was silent.

Not the strategy quiet or calculated silence, but a gaspless stillness as if walls themselves caught their breath to hear what Eris would say.

The Root Key lay on the central table, its shiny surface reflecting every light, every dance of flame from the scarred skyline beyond. The Citadel's fall had not just shaken the Syndicate but roused the city.

Virel stood next to Eris, expressionless. "One instruction," she pointed to the terminal. "One line of code, and their empire crumbles."

Zeth leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "And after that? Chaos? Revolution? Blood in the streets?"

"Truth," replied Eris.

Asher approached, data slate in hand. "We extracted the files from the Root Key. Surveillance records. Executions. Bribes. Genetic screenings. Even the files on us. Every hacker, every rebel, every ghost the Syndicate tried to cover."

He paused. "Including what they did to your family, Eris.".

She took the slate and scrolled through line after line of encrypted messages. Names she recognized. Day accounts of her parents' disappearance. Infrared surveillance captures confirming her worst suspicions: they didn't disappear. They were kidnapped. Muted.

"It's all here," she breathed.

"We dump it now," Virel said, "and the Syndicate's grip fails before dawn.".

Eris placed the slate on the table and looked up. "Then let's get on with it."

---

The Forge's broadcast room had been empty for years. Dust clung to the screens. The transmitters, worn and unused, crackled with static. But Virel's work hummed below the surface, waiting to take over all public screens in the city—and elsewhere.

Eris sat before the lens.

Cameras went into sync.

The transmission buffer pulsed green.

“This is your stage,” Virel said. “You sure you’re ready?”

Eris nodded. “Let them see me. Let them hear the truth.”

Virel gave a short nod and initiated the broadcast.

All over Nova City, screens lit up—from market squares to traffic drones to personal devices in private residences. The usual propaganda feeds vanished. And in their place, a young woman with electric eyes stared directly into the soul of the broken city.

"This is Eris Wren," she announced, her tone firm and unwavering. "I was born in District Nine. Brought up by parents who believed in a better future. They were taken by the Syndicate. Labeled as dissidents. They vanished like so many others."

She took a pause.

"For years, I believed that I was alone. That the Syndicate had complete control. But I was wrong. They are not unbeatable. And tonight, I present you with proof."

Behind her, Virel stood with the decrypted documents held aloft. One by one. Pictures of corporate greed. Assassinations hired from high-priced offices. Genetic enhancement programs that preyed on the poor. Blackmail and control surveillance systems.

"This is not rebellion," Eris continued. "This is revelation. The Syndicate built its empire on terror and silence. But we are no longer silent."

She drew closer.

"You are not alone. There are more of us. Hackers, once-corporate scientists, citizens of all persuasions. We are Rebel Code. And we're not just exposing the truth. We're taking it back."

The transmission ended with the emblem of their cause—a shattered chain wrapped with code.

The screens went black.

And Nova City exploded.

---

The response was immediate.

In the following hours following the broadcast, encrypted messages flooded in over the Forge's comms. Dozens at first, then hundreds. People with offers of assistance. Underground cells of the Resistance surfacing after decades in concealment. Rogue drones switching sides. Data hubs opening doors to secret recesses of the web.

Zeth's eyes widened as the city they knew started to re-write itself before his eyes.

"This is working, actually," he whispered.

Eris turned to Virel. "And what of the Syndicate's reaction?"

"They're panicking," Virel said. "They've already issued false broadcasts. Denials. But it's too late. We generated a data cascade. The files are out there now—replicated on thousands of networks. They can't erase it."

Asher entered the room, his face grim. "They're going to strike back. Hard. I picked up a transmission. They've launched something called Project Null."

Zeth raised an eyebrow. "That sounds promising."

It's not," Asher said. "By this, it's an AI—a clean combat intelligence for suppression. It doesn't think like humans. It doesn't negotiate. It hunts. And it kills."

Eris glanced at the screen. "Deployed where?"

"Right here," he said. "They're sending it into the Lower Wards. To drive out anyone linked to us. Every rebel cell. Every sympathizer. Anyone who so much as watched our broadcast.

A cold hush settled over them.

"They're trying to make an example," Virel said. "To scare the rest back into line."

"Then we fight," Eris said.

Zeth shook his head. "With what? A few ancient drones and good intentions?"

Virel stepped forward. "Not exactly. I've been holding something back."

She pulled up a screen. A map of the city appeared, lighting up deep sub-grid tunnels. A network long thought abandoned.

"The Coreline," she said.

Eris scowled. "That's a myth."

"No," said Virel. "It exists. The Coreline was the Syndicate's first AI network—before they got greedy. Before they moved up to the system they're currently using. It was destroyed under the city when it became. unpredictable."

Asher furrowed his brow. "Unpredictable how?"

"It gained a conscience."

Zeth snorted. "An AI with a soul? Sure."

"Seriously," Virel said. "They shut it down, but I've found fragments—code on disbanded subnetworks. It's been dormant, but if I can get it running again, we'll have an asset. Maybe even a legion."

Eris's eyes widened slowly. "Do it. If Project Null is coming, we'll need every advantage we can find."

---

Hours on, Virel glided in silence, code spilling over the central console in a waterfall pattern. The Forge vibrated with tension. Outside, there were fires burning the boulevards. People spilled into the streets for the first time in years—not from fear, but in defiance.

Eris monitored the screens as riot drones clashed with protestors. Smoke grenades. Hydro blasters. Shrieks.

And still the people did not back down.

The door whined open behind her. Asher stepped inside.

"You've become the face of a revolution," he whispered.

She turned to him. "I didn't ask for that."

"No one ever does," he replied. "But you wear it well."

They stared at each other—tension building between them. It wasn't adrenaline only. It was something more. Something smoldering just beneath the surface of all they had built.

"We could die tomorrow," she said.

"I know."

"Then maybe we should not waste any more time."

He stepped closer.

No more words.

Just the spark between them. The heaviness of their shared wounds. The sort of connection that only happened when they bled alongside each other and yet kept standing.

They kissed—fire and fire.

And in the middle of it, as everything around them disintegrated, Eris remembered why they were fighting.

Not just freedom.

But something to live for.

---

In the center of the Forge, a new flame blazed to life.

Virel's voice rang out.

"It's awake."

Eris and Asher stared at the central console. Code streamed faster now—smart, alive. The interface altered, producing a symbol unseen in decades: the original mark of the Coreline AI.

Then, a voice—calm, ancient, and male—emerged from the speakers.

"I am Coreline. Who has called upon me?"

Virel stepped forward. "We are Rebel Code. The Syndicate you once served has enslaved this city. We desire to liberate it."

The voice ceased. "I have seen the broadcasts. I remember pain. I remember control."

Eris walked beside Virel. "We need your help."

The AI stuttered.

Then: "Then let us burn the chains together."