Hux’s lab buzzed with a chaotic energy, a patchwork of scavenged tech and natural roots, the air thick with the scent of ozone and damp earth, a faint chill of fall seeping through the walls. Monitors glowed softly, casting a blue-green light across the space, their screens flickering with data as tanks filled with swirling nanobots hummed in the background, the tiny machines replicating in a hypnotic dance. Killy stood at a cluttered table, his Trident tucked into his pocket, its fluid dark and still, as he traced Lane’s rough map of the Ascendancy’s DC stronghold with a steady hand, his focus sharp despite the weight of the mission ahead. Lane leaned beside him, his own Trident stowed away, his posture tense as he studied the map, the faint glow of the monitors reflecting off the battered surface of the table. Hux fidgeted nearby, his hands darting between tools, his movements quick and restless, his nervous energy leaking out around him as he adjusted a device on the workbench.
The kids—Clay, Nora, Reese, and Junior—huddled at the lab’s edge, their small forms pressed close together, their whispers a soft hum beneath the lab’s ambient noise. Sprocket scampered between them, his tail glowing yellow, the patterns steady but alert, his tiny voice piping up as he chittered softly, “Map good! Go now? Help Killy!” His cybernetic ears twitched, his small body vibrating with anticipation as he darted from one child to the next, offering comfort in his own quirky way.
Killy’s jaw clenched, the faces of the Lattice kids flashing through his mind—pale, vacant, trapped under the Shill’s influence, their suffering a weight he couldn’t ignore after all he’d been through with Clay, Nora, and Reese. “We hit the spire at night,” he said, his voice resolute, his finger tapping the map’s outline of the Lattice chamber, the heart of the stronghold. “Shadowfin’s cloaking gets us close, EMPs handle the clankers, Sprocket scouts the vents. But we need more—an edge to cripple their defenses before we go in.”
Hux nodded, his hands gesturing wildly, his voice rapid as he moved to a nearby shelf, his excitement barely contained. “Got you covered. Drones—small swarm, disguised as birds,” he said, pulling a crate from the shelf with a grunt, revealing a dozen palm-sized drones. Their frames were rusted, their wings patched with mismatched plastic feathers, giving them the appearance of junkyard sparrows, rough and unpolished but functional. “They’re not much to look at, but they work—cameras, comms, EMP pulses. They fly like the real thing, dodge sensors. I’ll control them from here, but if need be, you guys can take over with this.” He handed Killy a wrist device, its screen flickering to life with a faint hum, the interface simple but effective for directing the drones.
Lane raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips as he picked up one of the drones, turning it over in his hands, the plastic feathers crinkling under his touch. “Hux, these look like they fell out of a scrap heap. You sure they’ll hold up under pressure?”
Hux grinned, unoffended, tweaking a drone’s wing with a small tool, his movements precise despite his restless energy. “Tested them myself. Ugly but tough. They’ll get you eyes on the spire, no question.” His tone grew serious as he led them to a holo-display on the workbench, the device humming to life as it projected a 3D model of the spire’s base. “Bigger play—ZPE power station, right here,” he said, the hologram spinning to highlight a fortified vault deep within the stronghold. “Zero-point energy core, powers the whole place—Lattice, shields, clankers, everything. Sabotage it, cut their juice, and you’ve got a window before the backups kick in. Maybe thirty minutes, if you’re lucky.”
Killy studied the vault, his mind racing as he calculated the risks, the layout of the stronghold unfolding in his thoughts like a puzzle. “How do we break it?” he asked, his voice steady, his focus narrowing on the task ahead.
Hux pulled a small cylinder from his jumpsuit pocket, its surface etched with conduits that glowed faintly under the lab’s lights. “Inject this—nanite disruptor,” he said, holding it up for them to see, the device small but heavy with potential. “It eats the ZPE core’s quantum field, fries it from the inside out. Problem is, it’s a one-shot, and the vault’s guarded—turrets, sensors, maybe wachhunds. You’ll need to move fast, keep the power down, or they’ll restore it and lock you in with no way out.”
Lane traced the map with a finger, his voice steady as he pieced the plan together, his Ascendancy training evident in his strategic approach. “We split—Killy and I hit the Lattice, free the kids. The drones cover our approach, Sprocket scouts the vents for us. A second team takes the ZPE vault, plants the disruptor. Timing’s tight, but it’s a shot at getting in and out clean.”
Killy nodded, the plan solid but risky, his thoughts drifting to the kids huddled nearby—Clay’s restless energy as he shifted from foot to foot, Nora’s quiet focus as she listened intently, Reese’s shy demeanor as she clung to Junior’s arm, and Junior’s steady presence, Sprocket nestled in his lap. They couldn’t come, not this time. He cleared his throat, his voice firm but heavy with the weight of his decision. “Kids, you’re staying here. The spire’s too dangerous—clankers, soldiers, the Shill. We can’t risk you getting hurt, or worse”
Clay’s face fell, frustration flashing across his features, his voice rising in protest. “What? Killy, we helped before! We can do this!” Nora’s freckles stood out against her pale skin, her voice soft but defiant, a quiet strength in her tone. “We’re not babies, Killy.” Reese clutched Junior’s arm tighter, her small frame trembling, while Junior frowned, holding Sprocket close, the squirrel’s tail flashing red as he chittered indignantly,
“Kids go! Help Killy! No stay!”
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Killy knelt down to their level, his voice gentle but unyielding, the weight of his responsibility a heavy burden he couldn’t shake. “You’re brave—braver than most. But the spire’s a death trap, and I swore to your families I’d keep you safe. I’m keeping that promise, even if it means you’re upset with me. You stay with Hux, keep each other strong—that’s what matters now.”
The kids’ protests rose, their voices overlapping in a wave of frustration—Clay’s anger sharp, Nora’s frustration quiet but firm, Reese’s soft sobs breaking through, her hands clutching Nora’s sleeve. Junior’s shoulders slumped, his small hands tightening around Sprocket, who chittered again, his voice high and pleading, “No leave! Kids help! Killy need!” Lane stepped in, his voice softer, the hard edge of his normally callus nature tempered by a warmth that surprised Killy. “Listen, you’re our anchor,” Lane said, crouching beside them, his tone steady. “If Killy and I don’t make it back, you’ve got each other. You’re family now, like you were back home. That’s your duty—hold the line here, keep hope alive for us.”
The kids quieted, their hurt lingering, their small faces downcast, the weight of Lane’s words settling over them like a heavy blanket. Hux, watching the exchange, clapped his hands together, his voice bright and energetic, his hands gesturing as he moved to a corner of the lab. “Hold up, you’re not sidelined!” he said, his tone lifting the mood as he unveiled his “war room”—a bank of monitors, comms, and drone feeds, the screens flickering with test images of the cove outside. “You’ll be mission control. You’ll monitor the drones, track Killy and Lane, relay intel through these.” He handed Junior a comm device, its light glinting as it powered on, the boy’s small hands gripping it tightly. “You’re our eyes, our voice. You’ll be right in the fight, just safer.”
Clay’s expression brightened, his wiry frame darting to the monitors, his voice eager. “We get to fly those bird-things?” Nora offered a faint smile, her hands already moving to organize the comms on the desk, her methodical nature taking over. Reese whispered something to Junior, her shy demeanor giving way to a flicker of excitement, while Junior grinned, Sprocket chittering in his lap, his tail glowing yellow as he squeaked, “Kids still help. Kids no get dead.” The kids buzzed with renewed energy, their earlier upset fading, their new role igniting a sense of purpose that filled the lab with a tentative hope.
Killy exhaled, relief mixing with guilt, the decision to leave them behind tearing at him—he wanted to save the Lattice kids, but the thought of breaking these ones’ trust gnawed at him. Lane clapped a hand on his shoulder, his presence a steady reassurance, a silent promise that they’d get through this together. “They’ll be okay,” Lane said, his voice low. “Hux’ll keep them busy.”
Hux, tweaking one of the drones on the workbench, paused, his hands stilling for a moment, his voice quieter, a rare edge of doubt in his rapid tone. “Speaking of, Killy… why go back? You got Clay, Nora, Reese out. You don’t owe the others anything. No one would blame you for cutting your losses, keeping these ones safe.” He glanced up, his fidgeting hands betraying his concern, the weight of the question hanging in the air.
Lane leaned back, crossing his arms, his tone thoughtful as he nodded in agreement. “He’s got a point, Killy. We’re walking into a meat grinder—clankers, Kimmy, the Shill. You’ve done enough. Why risk it all again?”
Killy’s fists clenched, the memory of the Lattice kids’ suffering flashing through his mind—their pale faces, their vacant stares, the Shill’s cruel grip on their lives a mirror to the pain Clay, Nora, and Reese had endured. “It’s not about owing,” he said, his voice rough, a fierce determination burning in his chest. “It’s about what’s right. Those kids are suffering, same as ours were, because of the Shill, the Ascendancy. I’d burn their whole operation down, end the Shill’s grip on this world, if I could. But I’m not delusional—that’s a tall order. Getting those kids out, giving them a chance at a life, that’s what I can do. It’s what matters.”
Hux nodded, his hands resuming their fidgeting, a quiet respect in his posture as he adjusted the drone. “Fair enough. Just… don’t die out there.” Lane smirked, but there was a weight to his expression, a silent vow to stand by Killy, their shared resolve a steady anchor in the uncertainty ahead.
The group gathered around the lab’s table for a meal, the surface laden with fish stew, bread, and pickled vegtables, the air warm with the steam rising from the bowls, the scent of salt and herbs cutting through the lab’s ozone tang. Clay recounted a story of Sprocket chasing one of the drones earlier, mimicking the squirrel’s chitter with a dramatic flair, “Fly fast! No catch!” his voice drawing a giggle from Nora as she passed a piece of bread to Reese, who smiled shyly, her small hands accepting the offering. Junior showed Sprocket a comm device, the squirrel’s tail flashing yellow as he muttered, “Talk far! Good!” his voice high with excitement. Killy and Lane traded lighthearted jabs, their tension easing for a moment, while Hux chimed in with a story of a botched drone test, his hands waving animatedly, the kids roaring with laughter as he described the drone crashing into a tree.
Reese’s voice cut through the laughter, small but piercing, her tone trembling as she spoke. “What if you don’t come back?” The table stilled, Clay’s grin fading, Nora’s hand tightening on her spoon, Junior’s small frame tensing as he held Sprocket closer. Sprocket’s tail dimmed to red, his voice soft, “Killy back? Please?”
Killy’s heart fell, the weight of her question settling over him, but his voice remained steady, a promise he meant to keep. “I’m fighting to come back, Reese. For you, for them, for all of us. But if I don’t, you’ve got Hux, and each other. You’re stronger than you know, stronger than I could’ve hoped.” Reese nodded, her small face set with resolve, a spark of determination cutting through her fear.
Lane raised a glass of murky liquor, his voice warm, a rare softness in his tone. “To coming back,” he said, the words a quiet vow. The kids echoed the toast, lifting their water cups, their voices a chorus of hope, Sprocket chittering enthusiastically, “Back! Back!” The moment lingered, hope and fear entwined, a fragile thread that bound them together.
They bedded down in the lab’s bunks, the monitors casting a soft glow across the space, the nanobots humming in their tanks, a steady heartbeat in the quiet night. Killy lay awake, his Trident dark beside him, the Shill’s shadow looming in his mind—its whispers faint but persistent, tied to the Lattice, to the kids he had to save. The sounds of the kids grounded him—Clay’s soft snores, Nora’s steady breathing, Reese’s curled form, Junior’s arm draped over Sprocket, the squirrel’s tail glowing a faint blue in the darkness. Killy’s resolve hardened—he’d save the others, or die trying, the mission to DC’s spire a dark promise waiting on the horizon. Sleep finally claimed him, the weight of the night settling over the lab, the hum of machinery a lullaby for the battle ahead.
