Location: Eden
Time: Continuous
They touched down on the landing pad grown from the same organic material as surrounding buildings, surface yielding underfoot like living wood that remembered what it meant to breathe. Eden's air hit Jayde's lungs like a promise made flesh—clean, sweet, alive with the scent of growing things and distant rain that'd never been poisoned by corporate runoff.
First breath she'd taken here four years back had tasted like hope. Now it carried the weight of testing—watching Lawrence breathe Eden's air, seeing how he reacted to the reality of what they'd built from nothing but desperation and shared dreams.
Children's laughter rang across the settlement, bright and careless as music nobody'd taught them was forbidden. Young voices that'd never learned to whisper secrets or check corners for corporate spies. A group of them played with a woven ball in a common area, game weaving between adults who moved with purpose but without hard edges marking lifetime soldiers.
Lawrence's expression watching those children was everything she'd hoped—soft wonder, protective instinct, joy that couldn't be manufactured or programmed into someone's skull. These kids would never know barracks or training yards, never be branded with serial numbers or taught that empathy meant weakness.
"They're free," Lawrence whispered, voice barely audible. "Really free."
"Born free," Jayde corrected, feeling tension ease from her shoulders like shed armor. "They don't even know what corporate ownership means."
A crowd gathered as word spread, faces turning toward her with expressions ranging from curiosity to something dangerously close to worship. They saw her as a savior—a woman who'd pulled them from corporate slavery, given them something impossible: choice.
The weight of their expectations settled on her shoulders like a familiar burden. One she'd carried since the first day she'd defied direct order, saved a transport full of refugees instead of eliminating them per regulations.
"Commander."
Dr. Yuki Chen approached from the hydroponic gardens, smile warm but professional. Small and precise, a terraforming specialist whose expertise had turned Eden from merely habitable to paradisiacal. Dark hair streaked with premature gray—a side effect of genetic modifications letting her interface directly with planetary ecosystems.
"Showing Lawrence our new home," Jayde said, watching for Chen's reaction to Lawrence's presence.
Chen turned to Lawrence, recognition flickering in intelligent eyes. "I remember you. Andromeda evacuation, five years back. You pulled my research team out when the Stellaris bombardment started."
Lawrence had volunteered for that rescue mission. Insisted on going back for scientists when Command wanted to write them off as acceptable losses. Memory clear in Jayde's mind—Lawrence arguing with the evacuation coordinator, voice tight with controlled fury as he demanded transport back to the surface.
"Couldn't leave good people behind," Lawrence said, voice carrying particular warmth he reserved for civilians. The tone that made refugees trust him with their lives. "How are you settling in, Doc?"
"Better every day." Chen's eyes moved between Lawrence and Jayde. "This place—what you've both built here—miraculous. Second chance for all of us."
"This place is incredible," Lawrence added, gaze sweeping across the settlement with what looked like genuine wonder. "Can't believe you found somewhere like this. Surveys I've seen don't show anything like this in outer systems."
Question hung in the air, casual but probing. Jayde felt the familiar weight of secrets, the burden of knowledge that could destroy everything if it fell into the wrong hands. Coordinates to Eden were locked in her mind alone—even Lawrence didn't know the exact location, couldn't navigate back without her.
That was the point. The test. If Lawrence was compromised, if Xi Corp had gotten to him, they still couldn't find Eden. Not without breaking her first.
"Long story. What matters is it's ours now. Hidden. Safe."
"Jayde." Lawrence's voice carried soft emotion that sounded genuine. "This is what we dreamed about. All those nights, planning escape, talking about a place where people like us could just... be. You made it real."
Words hit like a physical blow—overwhelming, not painful. Those nights under alien stars, whispering about freedom while laser fire lit horizons, hearts full of impossible hope. She remembered Lawrence's hand in hers as they planned a future that seemed distant as the next galaxy.
Had Xi Corp learned about those conversations? Programmed Lawrence to reference them, use their shared dreams against her? Or was this just her brother, remembering the same moments that'd shaped them both?
Heart cracked—not from pain but from the terrible weight of loving someone you couldn't quite trust, needing to believe while preparing for betrayal.
They walked deeper into the settlement, following paths that curved like water flowing downhill, designed to work with the landscape rather than imposing rigid geometry. Buildings rose around them like flowers, walls breathing with wind, surfaces shifting color as the system's twin suns moved across the sky.
Lawrence's questions stayed careful, professional. Asking about population, resources, general defensive situation. Nothing specific enough to be truly useful to the enemy, but enough to show tactical interest. Questions of a soldier evaluating a position... or a spy gathering intelligence.
But which? How could she tell the kriffing difference?
A five-year-old girl ran too close to their group, chasing a butterfly whose wings sparkled like scattered diamonds. She collided with Jayde's leg, sat down hard, face scrunching up in preparation for tears.
Jayde froze. Every instinct screaming to maintain distance, preserve professional detachment that kept her functional. But the girl looked up with brown eyes, holding no fear—only curiosity and resilient optimism of childhood.
"Sorry, Commander Jayde!"
The child chirped, scrambling to her eet with quick recovery of youth. Brushed grass stains from clothing—real fabric, not synthetic polymers—and darted after the butterfly without a backward glance.
Warmth exploded in Jayde's chest, sharp and overwhelming. She watched Lawrence's face as he observed the interaction, saw the same protective instinct flicker in his eyes that she felt in her own heart.
That couldn't be faked. Could it? That instant, automatic response to protect innocence?
"You made this," Lawrence said quietly, voice carrying something that might've been awe. "You gave them this chance."
Emotion in his tone was perfect—not too much, not too little, hitting her exactly where she was most vulnerable. She wanted to believe it was real, wanted to trust that her brother still existed behind those bright blue eyes.
They moved past workshops where former corporate slaves taught children trades that'd keep Eden self-sufficient. Past gardens where vegetables grew in spirals, seeming to defy geometry. Past play areas where laughter rang like bells nobody'd thought to silence.
At the settlement's edge, where organic buildings gave way to wilderness, defensive installations stood hidden among trees. To casual observation, they looked like natural rock formations, but Jayde's trained eye picked out sensor arrays and weapon emplacements, overlapping fields of fire that'd turn approaching army into superheated plasma.
"Solid defenses," Lawrence said, tactical assessment automatic and professional. "Whoever's hunting you would need a full battle group to crack this place. Even then, they'd take heavy casualties approaching through that terrain."
"They'll never get the chance. They don't know Eden exists."
He met her eyes. For a moment, something flickered in his gaze—curiosity, maybe, or professional interest.
"You haven't shared coordinates. Not with anyone."
Observation was sharp, accurate, and completely expected from someone with Lawrence's tactical background. In sixty years of partnership, they'd shared operational intelligence as a matter of course—but this was different. This was one secret that could destroy everyone she'd sworn to protect.
"Need-to-know. The fewer people who know, the safer we are. Even family."
Searching his face for hurt, anger, any emotional response to her obvious caution.
"Makes sense," he said, tone perfectly even, professionally neutral. "You're a strategic planner, always were. I just follow orders and blow things up."
Self-deprecating humor so perfectly Lawrence it made her chest ache.
"Had to be. You were always 'act first, plan later.'"
He laughed—pure, unguarded, sound that'd carried her through darkest moments. "Yeah, like Kepler Station. Your perfect infiltration plan, and I—"
"Kicked in the service entrance and started shooting. Nearly got us all killed when the facility went into lockdown."
"But it worked. Messy, but effective."
Grinning with the confidence of someone remembering shared triumph.
"Somehow."
Caught between past and present, between trust and caution. Memory was clear—Mission 442, stealing corporate research data, ending up starting a revolt that freed three thousand enslaved workers. Lawrence had improvised brilliantly that day, turning disaster into victory through pure audacity.
Real memory or programmed response? How could she tell anymore?
Twin suns were setting now, painting Eden's sky in shades of gold and crimson that had no names in human language. Settlement's bioluminescent pathways began glowing with soft blue light, guiding the way as families gathered for evening meals and children reluctantly abandoned games.
"We need to head back. Mission briefing in four hours."
"The big one," Lawrence said, expression sharpening with anticipation that looked genuine enough. "Time to hit them where it hurts."
Walking back to the shuttle, Jayde felt the weight of observation, of testing, of desperate hope warring with necessary caution. Lawrence had passed—or seemed to pass—every test she could devise without revealing suspicions. His reactions to Eden felt genuine, emotions authentic, tactical assessments professional but not probing.
But Xi Corp's conditioning techniques were sophisticated beyond imagination. Could they have programmed responses this complete, this seamless? Could they have created a perfect copy of her brother, indistinguishable from the original except in loyalty?
The return journey passed in comfortable silence. Lawrence dozing—or appearing to doze—in the co-pilot seat while Jayde piloted them through hyperspace jumps, returning them to Deshan. She made sure to vary the route, take paths that wouldn't reveal Eden's location even if someone were tracking ion trail.
Paranoia, maybe. But paranoia had kept them alive for sixty years.
Deshan H24C looked like a skeleton when they returned—corridors stripped bare, essential systems powered down to minimal levels. In twelve hours, demolition charges would reduce the base to radioactive ash, erasing another chapter of their history. Forward, always forward, leaving nothing behind for corporate archaeologists to study and exploit.
Main hangar: eight figures waiting in the amber glow of emergency lighting. Volunteers all. Best of the best. Soldiers who'd volunteered to face probable death for the chance to strike a decisive blow against their former masters. Jayde had chosen each with brutal care—selecting for skill and loyalty and desperate courage that made heroes or corpses with equal frequency.
"Listen up!"
Her voice rang through the hangar like a bell tolling for the future. "We're not just hitting a base tonight—we're breaking Xi Corp's surveillance network, freeing thousands of our brothers and sisters from their kill-switches. This is the moment we've fought for, bled for, sacrificed everything for."
Mission plan elegant in simplicity, brutal in implications. Infiltrate Crypso 3Q3U facility, plant antimatter charges on surveillance network's quantum core, extract before the system goes critical. Heavy casualties expected. Success probability marginal.
But if they pulled it off, thousands of GESS operatives would be free of corporate monitoring for the first time in their lives.
"Lock and load."
Boarding a stealth transport that'd carry them into the heart of enemy territory. Team secured equipment with practiced efficiency—plasma rifles and breaching charges, electronic warfare pods, and emergency medical kits. All tools needed to fight a war against impossible odds.
Transport lifted from Deshan's surface for the last time. Jayde caught Lawrence's reflection in the viewport. Calm, focused, ready for battle—exactly like the brother she'd fought beside sixty years.
The test was complete. Whatever doubts she'd harbored, whatever warnings Dr. Eba had offered, Lawrence had passed. He was still Lawrence. Still her brother. Still, the man she'd trust with her life and the lives of everyone she protected.
Wasn't he?
Three hours to target. Three hours to find out if trust was wisdom or a fatal weakness.
Stars stretched into lines as space folded around them, carrying them toward Crypso 3Q3U and whatever waited there.