Location: Planet Crypso 3Q3U, Xi Corporation Secret Base
Time: Night (local time)
The core control room of Xi Corporation's secret base on Crypso 3Q3U pulsed with a cold, blue-white glow, its quantum processors humming like a dying god's heartbeat beneath the transparent floor. Vice President Xi stood framed against the light, his silhouette sharp as a blade, every inch the predator Jayde had carved into her nightmares over decades. Tall, with brown hair slicked back in a way that screamed credits—more than a grunt like her could scrape together in a lifetime—his suit clung to him, woven from fabrics that whispered of Earth's lost luxuries, smooth as a forgotten hymn. But his eyes, those reptilian brown slits, pinned her with a scientist's curiosity, as if she were a specimen to dissect or display. Her stomach churned, the sour reek of Crypso's ash-heavy air clinging to her throat like a memory of Deshan's red wastes.
"Vice President Xi," Jayde spat, sarcasm thick as engine grease, her mind racing—escape routes, kill shots, angles calculated a thousand times in battle's crucible. Her hand twitched toward the blaster at her hip, fingers aching for its familiar weight, enough to draw, to fire, to end this kriffing nightmare. Sixty years of muscle memory surged, honed in the fire of Titan-9's swarms and Kepler Station's siege, where she'd held a corridor alone, ozone and blood thick on her tongue.
"Uh-uh, SN1098." Xi's voice slithered, smooth and patronizing, his manicured finger wagging like she was a child caught stealing, not a GESS who'd stared down death until it blinked. Twelve bodyguards—human, unaugmented, corporate drones in crisp uniforms—had their weapons locked on her, barrels steady, fingers hovering over triggers. One-on-one, she'd drop any with a wrist-flick, her neural implants outpacing their meat-brains. But a dozen, spread in textbook formation? The odds loomed like Crypso's bombed-out hab-blocks, heavy with ruin. Bad, sure, but impossible? Never. She'd danced with worse.
Jayde raised her hands, slow, palms out—surrender's guise, buying seconds to map the room: a hundred meters high, no cover, just the humming transparent floor, a fifty-meter drop to the processors below. The backpack bit into her shoulders, its bomb a coiled serpent, potent enough to unravel this hell if she thumbed the detonator in her neural link. Lawrence stood at her back, her anchor through sixty years of fire and fallout, his warmth countering her ice. He'd flank her, draw fire, give her the opening. Together, they'd tear through like a plasma blade through hull plating.
"You know," Xi drawled, boots clicking on the grated floor like a countdown, "I've waited for this, SN1098. You've been a glitch we couldn't purge, stirring trouble across our operations." His swagger carried the arrogance of a man who'd never bled for survival, unlike her, unlike Lawrence.
Her brain ignored the taunt, eyes flicking over the guards—too spread for a clean sweep. But a lunge left, using surprise, her reflexes could buy two shots before they reacted. She moved—low, sharp, hand snapping to the blaster, drawing in one fluid arc, finger squeezing—
CRACK.
Pain erupted across her back, white-hot, buckling her knees. She hit the deck, teeth jarring, air fleeing her lungs in a ragged gasp. Confusion clawed through the agony—shot from behind? Lawrence was there, her shadow, her brother. He wouldn't—
Another shot tore through her right shoulder, her blaster skittering across the metal floor like a broken vow. Her arm went numb, pain swelling into an inferno, stars bursting behind her eyes. She rolled, reaching with her left, desperate to salvage something—
The third shot punched her left shoulder, her scream echoing off the high walls, raw and primal. Both arms useless, pain devoured her, a living beast. Betrayed? By him?
"Enough, Jayde." Lawrence's voice, low and familiar, cut through the haze like a knife. He stood over her, blaster smoking, his face stone—no trace of the warmth she'd known for decades, just cold calculation.
"L... Lawrence?" Her voice cracked, a plea wrapped in disbelief. This wasn't real—a neural hack, a corporate trick. Lawrence, who'd pulled her from the brink, shared dreams of freedom under starlit skies, wouldn't turn.
He leveled the blaster at her head, steady as a machine. "Stay down."
"Well done, SN1055," Xi purred, clapping slowly, the sound mocking in the vast chamber. "But you should've been quicker. The bitch almost had me."
SN1055. The designation hit like a gut punch, a relic from their lab days, before he'd named her Jayde, before they'd sworn to be more than tools. The ache in her chest twisted, deeper than the wounds leaking blood onto the floor, cooling in the sterile air.
"Why?" she rasped, arms trembling uselessly, body screaming. "Why, Lawrence? Why betray the Centauri? Us?"
He laughed, a sharp bark, wrong, devoid of the mirth she'd known—like a recording played at the wrong speed. "Betrayed? Me?" He shook his head, smiling hard as the grated floor. "You turned, SN1098. Against our makers, what we were built for."
SN1098. The tag stripped her bare, erasing Jayde, everything they'd built. He hadn't called her Sis, hadn't glanced with brotherly fire. Something had shattered him, turned him into this shell.
"What the kriff did you do to him?" she screamed at Xi, rage boiling through the pain, feral and desperate. They must've broken him in those two lost years, reprogrammed his implants, fractured his mind into a puppet.
Xi sauntered closer, boots echoing like judgments, the air thick with the core's hum and the sterile tang of recycled oxygen, like the labs where they'd been born. He crouched, grabbing her chin, nails biting into skin, forcing her to meet his reptilian stare. "Ah, SN1098," he murmured, voice dripping false pity. "We did nothing to him. Nothing."
The words refused to sink in, like smoke from Deshan's dying fires, sour and stinging. "Don't lie," she snarled, jerking her head, pain flaring in her jaw.
"I'm not." His smile stretched, predatory. "Your 'Lawrence'—" he air-quoted, fingers mocking—"has been our eyes for sixty years. Every move, every plan, every rebellion you thought you hid."
Each word carved deeper, shattering her world. Sixty years? Every mission, every escape, every bond—a lie? "Impossible," she whispered, shaking her head, tears mixing with blood and sweat. "We fought together—"
"Survived the pits?" Xi kicked her stomach, vicious and precise, folding her in half as bile surged, sour and burning. He yanked her hair, forcing her gaze to the screens flickering with GESS faces under surveillance, the core's pulse mocking her faltering rhythm. "Your rebellion was our design, SN1098. A spark we planted."
Her thoughts churned, horror coalescing. The kill-chips, the web they'd come to destroy—not a fix, but the endgame. "The chips were the prize," Xi continued, pacing, gleeful. "We needed fear, an uprising so terrifying the Federation begged for control. You were our star, SN1098, on the stage we built."
Denial echoed hollow, but the pieces fit—every "victory," every hidden base, every stroke of luck reeked of design. "Lawrence has been our finest asset," Xi said, pride in his tone like appraising a tool. "Isn't that right, SN1055?"
"Yes, sir," Lawrence replied, voice mechanical, no trace of the brother who'd patched her wounds under alien suns.
Xi crouched again, his cologne masking the room's metallic bite. "He went dark two years ago, our deep-cover operative, leaking this facility's intel to lure you here. Your secrets, ripe for the taking."
The intel, the kill-switches' window—all fed by him, her trusted second, the brother she'd mourned. Lies, woven from the start. "Why?" she sobbed, tears streaming, mingling with the blood pooling beneath her. "We were family, Lawrence—family!"
"Family?" Xi's laugh barked, harsh and echoing. "You were inventory, prototypes for profit. Lawrence never forgot his programming; you spun fairy tales of humanity."
Memories crashed over her—Lawrence at sixteen, tracing her features: "I'm calling you Jayde, green like jade under starlight, unbreakable." Holding her through nights after brutal training, whispering: "We'll make it, against all the kriffing stars." Watching human families, wistful: "Think we could have that? A real home?" Laughing at her jokes, covering her back, pulling her from wrecks. Then, two years ago, vanishing—captured, she'd thought, her heart aching. All a performance, sixty years of deception.
"No," she whispered, conviction draining like blood, leaving a void.
Xi paced, chuckling. "Efficiency—killing four birds with one stone. We silenced Earth's liberals with chip approvals, flushed out dissenters, rolled out the monitoring net." He waved at the screens, lives flickering like trapped stars. "And now, we'll crack your skull for Eden's coordinates, reclaiming it all."
Eden. The name cut through despair, conjuring silver-blue forests under dual suns, organic spires humming like Centauri war-chants, children laughing, free from chains—rivers glinting like molten promises, defenses woven into the earth. Her life's hope, for those kids who'd never know corporate grinders.
"Where is it, SN1098?" Xi seized her chin, nails digging crescents, his breath hot. "Tell me about Eden. Spill it, and I'll make this quick."
Her jaw locked, blood metallic on her tongue. Betrayal had shattered her, pain clawed her edges, but this truth held—unyielding as Centauri steel. She'd die before giving them Eden. "I'll never tell you," she ground out, voice defiant despite the tremble.
Xi's eyes narrowed, his smile chilling as space's vacuum. "Never? Quaint." He stood, brushing his suit. "I'll savor breaking you." He snapped his fingers at the guards, boots thudding closer. "Take her to Medical. Prep for mind-mining. I want everything—every secret, every thought."
Mind-mining—cracking her skull, wiring her brain to quantum rigs, sucking out her soul until she was a husk. They'd pull Eden's coordinates, operatives' names, defenses, and the tech she'd stolen. And the children—free in sun-dappled glades, names of their own, destinies unbound. No. She wouldn't let them touch that.
The backpack's payload hummed, the dead-man's switch tied to her implant—cessation of brain waves would trigger it. But manual activation? She could do it now. The choice crystallized, like dawn piercing Crypso's storms. Better to die fighting, taking the rot with her, than kneel.
"You know," Jayde said, voice steadying, calm like Eden's rivers washing over her. "I've always hated you corporate bastards, grinding lives into dust for profit." Xi frowned, confusion flickering in his eyes, sensing the trap too late. Jayde smiled, blood staining her teeth. "I'd rather die standing than live on my knees."
She triggered the implant, a silent command racing through her synapses. Silence held for a split second—Xi's eyes widening, Lawrence's blaster dropping, guards scrambling, screens alive with oblivious faces, the core throbbing below.
Then, white. Heat seared through her, atoms unraveling in a blaze that ended in oblivion—no pain lingered, for nothing remained. Xi's horror, Lawrence's fraction-too-late reaction, the guards' panic—the chamber, the base, a mile-wide radius vaporized, energy like nukes compressed into a fist, devouring metal, flesh, secrets.
The core silenced, servers plasma, the surveillance web snapping—thousands of kill-chips going dark, GESS lives unmonitored, free, though they wouldn't know it yet. From orbit, the Centauri ship's sensors wailed as a new sun bloomed on Crypso, radiation spiking like a scream. The crew watched Jayde's final moments—shots from behind, Xi's revelations, her defiant choice to detonate.
They captured it: the betrayal, the conspiracy, her sacrifice etched in data. No time to linger; Xi reinforcements loomed. The captain punched the hyperspace drive, carrying the truth to Eden.
Days later, the video spread through Centauri networks, looping in scarred mess halls, public squares, and private quarters. Rage ignited, forging scattered cells into a unified force. Jayde, a martyr, her name a war cry, pulling rebels from hiding, binding them in grief and fury against the corporate yoke.
No more shadows; the Centauri surged, storming facilities, freeing GESS, shielding worlds from exploitation. Years stretched into decades, the Centauri Empire rising from tyranny's rubble, built on Jayde's vision—freedom, equality, planets reclaimed, societies rebuilt.
Statues rose in her honor, moonrock glowing with bioluminescent veins, her face resolute, eyes on distant horizons. At every base, her words carved deep: I WOULD RATHER DIE STANDING THAN LIVE ON MY KNEES.
Children grew reciting her tales—how Commander Jayde unraveled the conspiracy, chose explosion over extraction, and founded their legacy in fire. She became myth, the empire's heart, her defiance pulsing through.
Eden's children thrived—free in silver-blue groves, human in their joys, names of their own, destinies unshackled. It was what she'd craved, the dream fueling her final spark. It was enough, a legacy brighter than any star.