We were on our way to the airfield. At the front of the truck sat Marcus, Tamara, and me. Marcus was going over the plan—where to strike and who to take out first.
But my attention drifted to the back. A soldier lay half-stretched on the floor, scribbling into a small notebook.
I caught myself staring, thinking maybe I should be doing the same—keeping notes. They might be useful someday… or, if I didn't make it out, for someone else to read.
—You all got that? —Marcus barked.
I hadn't heard a word.
I asked him to repeat it, but before he could finish, a missile slammed into the ground nearby.
—We're close! Kid, just focus on staying alive —he shouted over the roar.
The battle had begun.
The trucks rolled into the rendezvous point, and everyone jumped out. Night had fallen. Flares streaked across the sky, explosions shook the ground, and shouts cut through the chaos. The battlefield was hell—friend and foe falling alike.
I stood frozen until Marcus yanked me by the arm.
—Move! Stay on me!
We slipped away from the main fight. Looking back, I saw the others holding the line. Our mission was different—more important.
—We need to get in deeper —Marcus said—. Shut down the power, and those turrets will go silent.
—Why not just destroy them? —Tamara asked.
—We'll need them once the area's ours —I answered.
We crept through the wreckage, ducking behind twisted metal. Two soldiers were loading ammunition ahead.
—Tamara —Marcus said.
She nodded, moved in silence, and dropped both without a sound. She signaled us forward.
Inside the control tower, the place wasn't as heavily guarded as expected—Marcus's frontal assault had pulled most of them away.
—Kid —Marcus pointed—, the electrical room is just past those guards. Get in, stay low, and kill the lights.
It was my turn.
Crouched, I slipped behind a desk, then dashed into the room unseen. A fuse box waited for me—rows of switches and brackets I didn't recognize. I shut them all.
The lights died instantly.
Outside, I heard the guards muttering.
—That wasn't scheduled, was it?
—Not here in Aroa. Stay sharp.
Footsteps came toward me. I pressed against the wall by the door. One of them kicked it open, flashlight sweeping the room. He was just about to spot me when—
A gunshot rang out. He dropped. I looked up to see Tamara lowering her weapon.
—That's twice I've saved you now —she smirked—. You'd better pay me back for this someday.
Marcus waved us on. We pushed up to the top floor. The moment the door swung open, gunfire exploded toward us.
—Watch the control panels! —Marcus yelled.
We returned fire, careful with our shots. Minutes later, the last soldier fell.
—Check the systems —Marcus ordered. He ran a quick test.
—Perfect. Everything's still intact.
He grabbed the headset.
—This is Aroa Tower, do you copy? We're under attack. Repeat: Aroa Tower, do you copy?
The door burst open. Two men rushed in with rifles raised. I froze—until I recognized them. Frederick and Conor.
—Traytros? What the hell are you doing here? —Frederick asked.
We lowered our weapons.
—I was rescued by Tamara. Marcus offered to help —I said.
—Where are the rest of your forces? —Frederick asked.
—Dead or scattered —Marcus answered—. And where's our backup?
—Waiting for us to secure the airfield —Frederick replied.
—Then let's not waste time —Marcus growled—. Every second costs lives.
We headed down the tower together. Along the way, the talk turned darker—how the enemy had taken Sector 2 so fast, how their precision suggested a leak, maybe even betrayal.
Once outside, a missile slammed into enemy lines. Marcus's men surged forward.
—Move! End this! —he roared.
The final push began. Bullets tore the night apart, casings raining to the ground. I advanced, firing between bursts of dirt and smoke. An explosion threw me down. My ears rang; the world slowed to a crawl. Frederick's voice barely reached me.
—Get to the turrets!
I stumbled up, followed him through a storm of lead. We fought our way to the first emplacement, clearing it.
—Can you work it? —he asked.
—No.
—Then do as I say. Aim left.
I swung the turret; he fired, tearing through entrenched positions.
—Center!
We cut them down.
When we moved for the second turret, it opened up on us.
—Shit! They've seen us!
Walls splintered under the barrage—then suddenly, silence. Peeking out, I saw Marcus's men advancing… and Tamara stepping out of the tower, weapon raised.
The turrets were ours.
Prisoners were taken. A checkpoint was set inside the tower. Frederick began planning the sector's recovery.
—We'll bring the civilians here —he said.
—We'll get our people too, set up camp —Marcus added.
But when Marcus suggested air support, Frederick hesitated.
—The government isn't sending help. Fenix came here on our own. We're on our own.
Marcus's temper flared.
—They're leaving us to die? Damn them! They've never lifted a finger, and they still manage to disappoint me!
Frederick stayed quiet. The rest of us exchanged looks.
I stepped outside for air, climbing back up the tower. Flames lit the horizon. Smoke blotted out the stars.
Technology had never truly been about making life better. It was always about ending it. Humanity… is war.
A voice pulled me from my thoughts. Tamara sat beside me.
—Enjoying the view?
—Not exactly.
She thanked me for not leaving them, told me about her life before the war, about Marcus being her uncle, and the family she'd lost. I shared my own past, my role as a Ranger, and Frederick's promise that Fenix would help.
We talked until the night turned cold. And as I listened to her, I realized something—war changes people, hardens them.
A man isn't born good or evil. He becomes what the world forces him to be.
And I couldn't help but wonder… what kind of man would I become?