Peter, Chris, Ruby, Candy, Paul, Charlie, and Henry gathered around a rge oak table in the command center, the room humming with activity from analysts and technicians in the background. Their heads were bent over a sprawling diagram of the Pentagon’s secure systems, projected on a screen just behind them. The space was illuminated with the faint blue glow of the projection, the air thick with strategy and purpose. Peter picked up a marker and stood near the screen.

  "Alright, everyone, listen up. Breaking Colonel Zeke Haywood out of the Pentagon is going to require precision, coordination...and mathematics. We’ve got three yers to this: my thesis, Ruby’s antithesis, and Chris’s synthesis to tie it all together."

  He paused, letting the gravity of the moment settle in, then pointed to a complex formu scrawled on the left side of the screen.

  "We’re going to use Euler’s Formu to map out the Pentagon’s security protocols. Now, I know that sounds abstract but trust me: Euler’s Formu essentially lets us create a bridge between two worlds; geometry and complex numbers. The Pentagon’s defenses rely heavily on multidimensional network encryption. Their system architecture is built on an internal model that behaves as a series of geometrical surfaces overpping in hypercomplex space."

  He turned to Paul and Henry, the two most skeptical in the room, smiling slightly.

  “In the simplest terms, think of their defense system as a locked safe with infinitely many possible pathways to the combination. Euler’s Formu gives us the equation that outlines where those pathways overp, showing us the most likely route to bypass the lock."

  Paul frowned and crossed his arms.

  "So, you’re saying this formu will let us...just walk right in?"

  Peter nodded confidently.

  "Once we map every security protocol into a single geometrical model, yes. The Pentagon operates in yers. Now, watch."

  He tapped on a keyboard, and the projected formu changed, morphing into a vibrant 3D model of interconnected geometric shapes swirling in space.

  "Each of these shapes represents a different security protocol. We’ll identify which protocols are predictable—which are cyclical and repeat patterns—and root out the weakest points."

  Henry then asks, "And this actually works? Aren’t some of these systems designed to prevent exactly this?"

  "Normally yes,” Peter answered.

  "That leads us to our next step. Ruby, take over."

  Ruby leaned forward, brushing her short hair off of her face. She cracked her knuckles dramatically, which made Candy giggle softly, though her wide eyes showed she understood the seriousness of the moment.

  "Right. Uncle P’s part gives us the structure to work with. My part is tearing holes in that structure."

  She grinned mischievously as she pulled up a new diagram, all arrows and logic trees.

  "Enter G?del’s Incompleteness Theorem. It’s complex, but here’s the idea. Every logical system, every algorithm, no matter how airtight, has gaps; holes it can’t account for. The Pentagon’s AI-driven security thinks it’s infallible because its designers built it to follow pure logic. But G?del teaches us that no system can prove itself. There’s always a crack somewhere. We use G?del to expose that crack."

  Candy asked, tilting her head.

  "But how? I mean, it sounds super cool. But I still don’t get it."

  Ruby smiled and continued to expin.

  "We take the Pentagon’s AI and feed it logical problems it can’t solve. The system will spiral into indecision, creating hesitation or deys in its response times. And those deys? That’s where Chris comes in."

  "Exactly," Chris said, taking the reins.

  He stood up next to Ruby, pointing to yet another diagram—theorist scrawled notes blending into signal waveforms.

  "My piece is the synthesis. Once Uncle Peter maps the secure pathways, and Ruby creates hesitation in their system, I’ll use Fourier Transforms—both forward and inverse—to manipute their signal patterns."

  Henry raised his hand.

  "Okay, I’m going to need you to back up a second. What’s a Fourier Transform?"

  Chris started expining it.

  "It’s a mathematical way to analyze complex signals by breaking them down into simpler components. For example, think of their communications as a song. We pull out specific notes we don’t like—those are the signals guarding their systems—and repce them with notes we control. We can insert undetectable backdoors without them realizing it, until it’s too te."

  Candy cpped her hands excitedly. Chris continued, his voice brimming with confidence.

  "After using the Fourier Transforms to manipute their signals, we bring in Leibniz’s Monadology principles for the final phase of tactical coordination. Why? Because Leibniz’s system allows us to simute the perspectives of individual actors in real-time. Every guard, every surveilnce operator—or even their automated systems, if you want to think of them as 'mindless monads.' Within this framework, we’ll predict their behaviors based on their positions, movements, and goals, giving us the ultimate edge."

  Candy, still trying to keep up, asks another question.

  "Wait, you mean you’re guessing what they’re going to do?" Chris smirked.

  "Guessing? Not exactly. Leibniz’s Monadology helps model their world. Imagine watching the Pentagon operations unfold like a chessboard, except you know every single move the opponent is about to make."

  Chris tapped on the hologram, which now dispyed a perfectly symmetrical graph overid on a Pentagon schematic.

  "Then, we’ll use the Cartesian grid to guide our precise movements in and out, like clockwork."

  Henry rubbed his face tiredly.

  "This sounds more like magic than math."

  "It’s not," Peter responded.

  "Every piece depends on practical execution. We’re not hacking their systems in the Hollywood sense. We’re dismantling their defenses by exploiting predictable patterns and human error. But I’ll be honest, none of this works if there’s even a shred of overconfidence or sloppiness."

  Paul leaned forward, his voice carrying measured doubt.

  "Alright, I think I follow the pn. But I’ve got to ask; what’s our contingency? I mean, what if something goes wrong?"

  Peter replied with conviction.

  "We’ll have redundancies built in. Every single calcution we make, we’ll have a backup. But Paul...we aren’t going to wing it. This group is the best chance Zeke Haywood has to get out alive, and I’ll be damned if I let this fail."

  Before anyone could respond, the sound of tires screeching filled the air, followed by sharp-footed boots hitting the concrete as three bck vans pulled into the command center. Everyone turned their heads toward the bay doors to see the sleek, reinforced vehicles roll into pce. The first van’s door swung open, and a figure hopped out; a man in a gas mask. He pulled it off, revealing a serious, sharp-eyed young man with short, fluffy bck hair, dark-frame gsses, and a goatee.

  "Kevin Draiman reporting, sir! Seven troops in my van."

  From the second van emerged a young bck woman, removing her gas mask and shaking out her long, straight bck hair. Her piercing gaze immediately surveyed the room as if she was already considering tactical scenarios.

  "Keisha Jones reporting, sir! Eight troops in mine!"

  The final van held a man of Dominican descent with tan skin and short-cropped bck hair. He pulled off his gas mask, exhaling sharply before stepping forward.

  "Pedro Sanchez reporting, sir! Six in mine!"

  Peter asked in a sharp tone.

  "Which one of your vans has the squad leader?"

  Pedro jerked a thumb toward his van.

  "My van, sir!" Charlie tightened his gloves.

  "Pedro, pull him out," he ordered.

  "Keisha, Kevin, get the rest of the troops into the detainment area."

  All three drivers responded in unison with a “Yes sir!”

  Keisha smmed her hand against her van with a loud BANG, startling the analysts, engineers, and technicians stationed in the command center. She leaned close to the window and shouted at the soldiers inside, her voice booming with authority.

  "Rise and shine, dies! Time to take you to your new accommodations. Form three lines and follow Draiman. Eyes forward, mouths shut! Let’s go!"

  The doors to all three vans swung open as the detained troops filed out, groggy and confused but obedient under the stern voices of their handlers. Pedro reached into his van and pulled a man aside—a tall, blonde-haired soldier with a chiseled, stoic face.

  "Not you. Stay where you are. We’ve got pns for you."

  The squad leader, clearly a seasoned soldier, gnced back at the other soldiers but complied without argument, stepping forward and standing rigidly at Pedro’s command. Peter watched him coldly, yanked a chair into pce with an echoing screech across the concrete floor, and shoved it toward the squad leader. Peter firmly commanded, his voice even.

  “Have a seat.”

  The squad leader lowered himself slowly, his towering presence diminished the moment he hit the chair. Charlie approached, pulling a small bck pouch from his belt. He revealed four yellow-filled syringes, shaking one lightly and removing the cap. Testing a small bead of liquid from the tip, he nodded in satisfaction. Paul whispered to Chris, watching uneasily.

  "What’s he about to do?"

  Chris whispered grimly in response.

  "Exactly what it looks like."

  Charlie crouched down next to the squad leader, his voice cold and clinical.

  "This is a truth serum. You’ve got about five to ten minutes before it wears off, during which time it’s going to be impossible for you to lie. Sit still, and you’ll get through this unscathed."

  With precision, he injected the serum into the man’s arm. The soldier winced at the sting but kept his composure. A slight gze fell over his eyes as the serum began its work.

  "Let’s start with something easy," Charlie said.

  "What’s your name?"

  The squad leader answered in an almost monotone voice.

  "Sergeant Bke Strauss." Peter stepped closer.

  "Why did you attempt to infiltrate the Zimmerman house?"

  Strauss replied, maintaining his monotone.

  "The mission was to extract Paul, Linda, and Candace Zimmerman for interrogation and secure their transport back to the Pentagon."

  Paul's jaw tightened, and Candy, standing beside him, clung to his arm for support. Peter asked with his eyes narrowed.

  "How did you know the Zimmermans were involved?"

  Strauss replied obediently.

  "We were monitoring the phone call Chris and Ruby Parsons made to you. The FBI, CIA, NSA, and DHS beled you all as persons of interest."

  The room grew cold with shock. Ruby’s hands clenched into fists; her face flushed with anger. Before Chris could stop her, she stormed forward to the sergeant. Ruby shouted furiously.

  "We’re kids! Why is the government so threatened by us?!"

  Strauss flinched at the outburst but answered automatically.

  "Your superior intelligence along with your radical ideology armed them. They want to eliminate potential threats before they grow rger."

  Now Chris stepped forward. His tone cold and fierce.

  "Eliminate? You mean kill us? Is that what they want?"

  Strauss paused slightly, then responded.

  "Not necessarily. Killing you is an option. But the priority is recruiting you three to work for the government."

  Ruby scoffed loudly, turning and throwing up her hands.

  "I’d rather swim ten ps in the Arctic Ocean naked!"

  Peter barked.

  "That’s enough! Charlie, take him to detainment with the rest. We’ve heard what we needed."

  "Sure thing, Dad."

  Charlie grabbed the dazed sergeant, yanked him up and said in a low, but firm tone.

  “Time to go.”

  As Strauss was dragged away, Candy broke the silence, her voice cracking with disbelief.

  "The government...they’re evil! Trying to kill kids?! Or forcing them to work for them?! That’s... it’s just wrong!"

  Chris interjects.

  "Wrong? It’s worse than that. It’s terrifying! They’re trying to rob us of our freedom."

  Ruby crossed her arms, anger still in her voice.

  "Yeah, well, fat chance of that! My soul’s not for sale!"

  Henry turned to Peter.

  "Francine needs to know. She’s going to lose it, but we have to tell her."

  Peter replied grimly.

  "You’re right. Just... calm her down when you tell her. We all know how she’ll react."

  Paul put a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

  "She should hear it from both of us. Linda will freak out, too. I’ll go with him."

  Peter nodded as Henry and Paul left together, bracing themselves to deliver the unsettling news. The remaining group stood quietly, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on their shoulders as they prepared for what came next.