The facility had become a fortress overnight. Security teams patrolled every corridor, armed to the teeth. Access logs were being double-checked, and biometric scanners were updated with tighter restrictions. Diana's heart raced as she studied the surveillance feed she had hacked into earlier that morning.
Hangar 27B was crawling with guards, and her extraction was less than 12 hours away.
She paced the length of her quarters, formulating a plan. The virus she had uploaded had been successful in slowing the stealth mech program, but it wouldn't buy her much more time. The team in charge of diagnostics was already working overtime to identify the cause of the malfunctions.
Her cover was paper-thin now, and she knew it. One slip, one error, and her escape would become impossible.
Diana spent the next hour assembling a makeshift explosive from maintenance supplies—enough to create a distraction but not kill anyone. If she could draw security away from Hangar 27B, she might have a chance to slip past unnoticed.
When the time came, she carried the device hidden inside a toolbox and made her way to a maintenance tunnel near the central reactor. The area was typically off-limits, but her forged credentials still worked.
She planted the device inside an access panel and set a 15-minute timer.
"Here we go," she whispered, her hands trembling as she sealed the panel and walked away.
By the time Diana reached Hangar 27B, the distraction had begun. Alarms blared throughout the facility, and security teams rushed toward the reactor. She blended in with the panicked workers evacuating the area, using the chaos to mask her movements.
The hangar was still heavily guarded, but the number of personnel had dwindled. Two guards stood at the entrance, scanning everyone who approached.
Diana took a deep breath and stepped forward, presenting her ID.
"Maintenance," she said, keeping her voice steady. "I'm here to inspect the transport systems."
The guard glanced at her ID, then at her. For a moment, she thought he might stop her, but then he nodded.
"Make it quick," he said.
She entered the hangar, her heart pounding in her chest.
Inside, the extraction vessel—a sleek, black stealth ship—was already waiting, its engines idling. A team of operatives dressed in tactical gear stood by the ramp, scanning the hangar for any signs of trouble.
One of them, a tall woman with sharp features, approached Diana.
"You Diana?"
"Yes," she replied.
"Let's move. We've got five minutes before they realize what's happening."
Diana followed the operatives onto the ship, her nerves fraying with every step. The hangar doors began to close as the ship powered up, and she could hear the distant sound of boots on metal as security teams began converging on their location.
"Brace yourselves!" the pilot shouted as the ship lifted off, its engines roaring.
The extraction team barely had time to strap in before the first shots rang out. Security personnel had reached the hangar and opened fire, their bullets ricocheting off the ship's armored hull.
"Returning fire!" one of the operatives yelled, leaning out of a side hatch with a rifle.
Diana clung to a handhold as the ship banked sharply, avoiding a rocket-propelled grenade that exploded just meters away. The blast rocked the vessel, and warning lights flashed in the cockpit.
"We've got incoming!" the pilot shouted.
Two automated drones emerged from a hidden alcove in the hangar, their cannons blazing. The ship's defensive turrets returned fire, filling the air with deafening noise and blinding flashes.
"Get us out of here!" the team leader barked.
The pilot slammed the throttle forward, and the ship shot out of the hangar like a bullet. The drones gave chase, their weapons hammering at the vessel's rear shields.
Diana gritted her teeth as the ship rocked violently, its shields straining under the assault.
"Can't you shake them?" she shouted over the commotion.
"Working on it!" the pilot replied, pulling the ship into a steep climb.
The drones pursued relentlessly, but the extraction team wasn't defenseless. One of the operatives fired a guided missile from the ship's rear launcher, destroying the first drone in a fiery explosion.
"Target down!"
The second drone fired another salvo, its shots grazing the ship's hull. The pilot executed a sharp roll, dodging the worst of the attack, while another operative lined up a second missile.
"Locking on… Got it!"
The missile streaked toward the drone, detonating on impact. The explosion lit up the sky, and the ship surged forward, leaving the burning wreckage behind.
"Drones neutralized," the pilot reported.
"Good," the team leader said. "Now let's get out of here before they send reinforcements."
As the ship entered hyperspace, the tension finally began to ease. Diana slumped against the bulkhead, her body trembling from the adrenaline crash.
"You did good," the team leader said, handing her a flask of water.
"Thanks," Diana muttered, her voice hoarse.
The team leader sat across from her, studying her with a curious expression.
"So, what's your story? Why risk everything to sabotage StellarCore?"
Diana hesitated, then sighed.
"It's a long story," she said. "Let's just say… I couldn't stand by and let them win."
The team leader nodded, her expression unreadable.
"Well, you've bought us some time," she said. "But this war's far from over."
Diana stared out the viewport at the swirling lights of hyperspace, her mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead. She had escaped, but the fight was far from finished.
As the extraction ship stabilized in hyperspace, the cramped interior grew eerily silent, save for the faint hum of the engines. Diana sat against the cold bulkhead, trying to steady her breathing. She could still feel the vibration of the firefight in her bones, the sharp rattle of bullets against the hull, the heat of the close-range explosions.
The leader of the extraction team, a stoic woman named Riley, broke the silence. "We're clear for now, but this isn't over." She looked directly at Diana. "You've got something they want. Something worth risking a full lockdown for."
Diana didn't meet her gaze, her hands fidgeting in her lap. The data chip in her pocket felt like it weighed a thousand tons. It wasn't just a weapon against the CMC—it was Pandora's box. The stolen plans, sabotage details, and insider information could cripple StellarCore's mech advancements if delivered to the right people.
But it wasn't just about the data. Diana had uncovered something far worse during her time at the facility—whispers of a new class of mechs, designed to operate independently of human pilots. The prototypes weren't just machines; they were experiments in sentient AI, developed to replace soldiers entirely.
One of the operatives, a grizzled man named Connor, leaned forward in his seat. "So, you gonna tell us what's on that chip, or are we just supposed to keep dodging bullets for the mystery box?"
Diana looked up, her eyes tired but determined. "It's not just about sabotaging StellarCore," she said. "They're building something—something that could change the entire war."
Connor raised an eyebrow. "More mechs? Big deal. Both sides are building new toys every week."
"No," Diana said sharply. "These aren't just mechs. They're autonomous. Fully independent. No pilots, no implants—just machines making decisions."
The room went quiet. Even Riley's expression shifted, her usual calm giving way to concern.
"Sentient mechs?" Riley asked.
Diana nodded. "They're calling it the Sovereign Initiative. If they finish this project, they won't need soldiers anymore. They'll have an army that doesn't sleep, doesn't question orders, and doesn't stop until everything in its path is destroyed."
Connor let out a low whistle. "Well, that's… unsettling."
Riley stood and crossed her arms, her mind clearly working through the implications. "If what you're saying is true, this chip is more than just sabotage material. It's the key to shutting this down before it starts."
"Exactly," Diana said. "But the CMC isn't going to let it go without a fight. They'll hunt us across the galaxy if they have to."
"Then we make sure they don't find us," Riley said firmly. "We deliver this to the UOP, and we let them handle it from there."
Diana hesitated. "The UOP? Are you sure they'll do the right thing? What if they see this as an opportunity to turn the tide in their favor? They could just as easily use this technology for themselves."
Riley frowned. "You think they'd stoop that low?"
"I don't think," Diana said. "I know. Both sides are desperate, and desperation makes people dangerous."
Before the conversation could continue, the pilot's voice crackled over the intercom. "Uh, we've got a problem."
"What kind of problem?" Riley asked, her tone sharp.
"We're picking up a signal—a tracking beacon. It's faint, but it's definitely coming from our ship."
Diana's blood ran cold.
"They tagged us," Connor muttered, already moving toward the equipment bay. "Dammit, how'd they get a tracker on us?"
"It must have been during the firefight," Riley said. "They must've had drones outfitted with magnetic tracers."
"Can we disable it?" Diana asked.
"Not from here," the pilot replied. "We're going to have to land and remove it manually."
Riley cursed under her breath. "Find the nearest safe drop point and set us down. We're not leading them straight to the UOP with that thing on us."
The pilot scanned the nav system and pinpointed a small, uninhabited moon in a nearby star system. "It's not exactly a safe haven, but it's the best I've got. Hang on; this is going to be rough."
The ship dropped out of hyperspace with a jolt, the streaking lights of hyperspace giving way to the cold emptiness of space. In the distance, the barren moon loomed, its surface riddled with craters and jagged cliffs.
The descent was fast and turbulent, the ship shaking violently as it entered the thin atmosphere. Diana gripped her seat, her knuckles white.
"Brace for landing!" the pilot shouted.
The ship touched down with a bone-rattling thud, kicking up clouds of dust and debris.
Connor and Riley wasted no time, grabbing tools and heading to the exterior of the ship. Diana followed, despite their protests.
"You're not a mechanic," Riley said.
"No, but I know how they think," Diana replied. "If they put a tracker on us, they probably rigged it with a failsafe. Let me help."
Connor grunted but didn't argue. Together, they located the tracker—a small, circular device magnetically attached to the ship's hull.
"Looks simple enough," Connor said, reaching for it.
"Wait!" Diana grabbed his arm. "It's not that simple. See those ridges? That's a pressure-sensitive trigger. If you pull it the wrong way, it'll detonate."
Connor pulled his hand back, muttering a curse. "Great. So how do we disarm it?"
Diana examined the device closely, her mind racing. "I'll need a steady hand and a lot of luck."
As Diana worked, the ship's sensors detected incoming vessels.
"They found us," the pilot warned over the comm. "We've got three CMC scout ships heading our way."
"Diana, how much longer?" Riley asked, her voice tight.
"Almost there," Diana said, sweat dripping down her face. She carefully pried open the tracker's casing, exposing the intricate wiring beneath.
The scout ships grew closer, their engines roaring as they prepared to land.
"Hurry!" Connor urged, his weapon at the ready.
Diana took a deep breath and cut the final wire. The tracker emitted a small spark before going dark.
"Got it," she said, exhaling in relief.
"Get back inside!" Riley shouted as the scout ships opened fire.
The team scrambled aboard as bullets pinged against the hull. The pilot powered up the engines, and the ship roared to life, lifting off just as the scouts landed.
"Let's see if they can keep up," the pilot said, a smirk on his face as he engaged the ship's afterburners.
As the moon disappeared behind them, Diana collapsed into her seat, exhaustion washing over her.
"You okay?" Riley asked.
"Not really," Diana admitted.
"Get used to it," Riley said. "This is just the beginning."
Diana nodded, knowing she was right. The war was far from over, and her role in it was only growing larger.