It was almost nightti when Tatehan took the battle commander from New Helios to Waython Hollow.
The Skyblade humd steadily as it cut through the Martian sky, the last traces of sunlight fading into deep purples and blacks on the horizon. Inside the craft, the atmosphere was quiet and tense.
It was this kind of crazy silence that ca from people who knew they were transporting soone whose fate had already been decided.
The battle commander sat by the window, his wrists bound in powerful magnetic cuffs that glowed faintly.
Breaking free was not possible. The cuffs were made from reinforced alloy, designed to withstand forces that would shatter bone, and they were synced to a proximity alarm that would trigger the mont they detected tampering.
Even if the man had his full strength, even if he had not been weakened by weeks of captivity and interrogation, he would not be getting out of those restraints.
Two guards sat behind him, their postures rigid, their weapons resting across their laps. They watched him carefully, their eyes tracking his every movent, ready to respond if he so much as shifted the wrong way.
Tatehan sat opposite the battle commander, his armor unsummoned for now, his expression neutral as he stared out at the darkening landscape rushing past below. He had not said much since they left New Helios. There was not much to say. The plan was in motion. The pieces were moving. All that was left now was to see it through.
The battle commander sighed, a long, weary sound, and he leaned his head against the window, his eyes fixed on the view outside.
"I haven't seen cities in months," he said quietly, his voice rough and tired. "Just walls. Four walls, all around , every day. Sa cell, sa ceiling, sa fuckin' shadows."
Tatehan said nothing. He just watched the man, his gaze drifting over the scars that marked his face and scalp: the remnants of the interrogation, the burns from the iron, the jagged, uneven patches where his hair had been cut away by the shocking scissors. The marks were healing, but slowly, and they would probably leave permanent reminders of what had been done to him.
Tatehan felt sothing twist in his chest. Not quite guilt, not quite regret, but sothing similar in a way. He had done what needed to be done. He had extracted the information they needed, information that could save lives, that could help them stop the Obscuron. But looking at the man now, broken and quiet and staring out at the world he had not seen in so long, it was hard not to feel at least a little sorry.
The battle commander pressed his forehead against the glass, his eyes wide as they took in the sprawling lights of a settlent in the distance, the glow of bioluminescent installations, the faint outlines of buildings and streets.
"It's beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself. "I forgot how beautiful it was."
The guards let him stare, though wearily.
He kept staring, his expression softening, his breath fogging the window slightly. He looked at the landscape like a man seeing the world for the first ti in years, like soone who had been buried alive and was finally being allowed to surface.
Tatehan watched him, surprised despite himself. He had expected anger, maybe. Or bitterness. Or resignation. But this? This quiet, almost childlike wonder? It was not what he had anticipated.
The Skyblade banked slightly, adjusting its course, and the settlent disappeared behind them, replaced by the vast, empty stretches of Martian desert. The battle commander's gaze followed the horizon, tracking every detail, every shift in the terrain, as if he were trying to morize it all before it was taken away again.
And it would be taken away. Soon. Permanently actually.
Tatehan looked away, grinning sadly.
They finally arrived at Waython Hollow as full darkness settled over the city. The Skyblade touched down on one of the outer landing platforms, its engines winding down with a low hum, and the rear hatch hissed open.
Tatehan stood, gesturing to the guards.
"Get him to a cell. Keep him secured. We'll bring him out later for the briefing."
The guards nodded, hauling the battle commander to his feet. The man did not resist. He just walked, his head still turned slightly toward the windows, his eyes trying to catch one last glimpse of the city before he was led away.
But there was no city here, all their was… was walls.
Tatehan watched them go, and then he turned and headed deeper into the base.
One hour later, Tatehan found himself standing in Torvan's workshop, surrounded by the usual clutter of tools, half-assembled devices, and glowing holographic displays.
Riven, Lyra, and Jace were already there, along with Torvan, who was hunched over his main terminal, pulling up maps and schematics. The battle commander had been brought in as well, flanked by two guards, his wrists still cuffed and his expression wary.
Torvan glanced up as Tatehan entered, nodded once, and then turned back to his screen.
"Alright, everyone's here. Let's go over this one more ti."
He tapped the interface, and a large holographic map materialized in the air above the workbench, showing the terrain between Waython Hollow and the West. The red zone marking the Obscuron's territory glowed ominously on the far edge of the display.
Torvan pointed to a spot on the map, a flat stretch of land about thirty kiloters from the edge of the West.
"This is where we'll stop with the Skyblade. It's far enough away that their surveillance won't pick us up, but close enough that the vehicle can make the approach without running out of fuel or drawing suspicion from distance inconsistencies."
He zood in on the location, and the terrain beca more detailed.
"There's a shallow depression here, so natural rock formations that'll give us cover. We drop the vehicle, the battle commander drives it from there, and we stay put until Jace cos back."
Riven crossed her arms, studying the map. "And you're sure they won't see us?"
"As sure as I can be," Torvan said. "The Skyblade's stealth systems are good, and we'll be running minimal power output. Unless they're actively scanning that specific area with high-sensitivity equipnt, we should be invisible."
Lyra nodded. "What about the vehicle? Is it ready?"
Torvan grinned, a hint of pride flickering across his face. "Oh, it's ready. I pulled one of the vehicles we captured from the raid a month ago. At first, I thought it was too damaged, basically scrap, but I managed to repair it. Replaced the engine, patched the hull and repainted it with the Obscuron's insignia. It'll pass inspection from a distance, and that's all we need."
He pulled up an image of the vehicle on the holographic display: a compact, angular transport with dark plating and the unmistakable markings of the Obscuron's forces.
Jace leaned forward, studying it. "And I'll be hiding in the back?"
"Yeah," Torvan confird. "There's a storage compartnt that's just big enough for you to fit. You stay hidden until the battle commander activates the device, and then you grab him and the scanner and run like hell."
The battle commander, who had been silent up until now, spoke quietly. "And after that? After I do my part?"
Tatehan t his gaze, his expression unreadable. "After that, you're free. Just like we promised."
The man nodded slowly, though there was still so doubt flickering in his eyes.
Torvan minimized the map and turned to face the group. "Alright. We leave tomorrow morning, first light. Everyone gets a full night's rest, and we go in sharp. No mistakes."
Everyone nodded.
The Next Morning
The sun had barely crested the horizon when they gathered at the launch pad. The large Skyblade sat waiting, its cargo bay open, the repaired vehicle already loaded inside and secured with heavy straps.
Tatehan stood near the ramp, his armor fully summoned now, his helt on, his visor glowing faintly in the early morning light. Riven and Lyra were running final checks on the Skyblade's systems, their voices calm and professional as they coordinated with the pilot.
Jace was stretching near the vehicle, his movents loose and fluid, preparing his body for the sprint of his life.
And the battle commander stood off to the side, flanked by guards, his cuffs still in place, his expression unreadable.
Torvan walked over to Tatehan, holding the scanning device in both hands. "This is it," he said, handing it over. "Make sure the battle commander activates it within two ters of the force field. Any farther and we won't get clean data."
Tatehan took the device, examined it briefly, and then nodded. "Got it."
Torvan clapped him on the shoulder. "Good luck."
"Thanks," Tatehan said quietly.
He turned and walked toward the Skyblade, the battle commander and Jace following. The guards uncuffed the battle commander just long enough for him to climb into the driver's seat of the vehicle, and then they secured him again with restraints built into the seat itself.
Jace climbed into the back, disappearing into the storage compartnt, and the door closed behind him.
Tatehan, Riven, and Lyra boarded the Skyblade, taking their seats in the cockpit. The engines roared to life, the craft lifting off the ground, and they rose into the Martian sky.
Destination: the edge of the West.
The mission had begun.
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