WebNovels

Chapter 25 - SENTINEL BASE

Date: May 9, 2047

The air inside Sentinel Base tasted like dust and rusted iron. The hallways stretched out in half-light, each step echoing against walls that hadn't heard human footsteps in years.

Power conduits flickered like dying veins. The air was thin, dry, and unnervingly quiet — except for the faint hum of the backup generator Ryker had managed to restore.

Ethan walked slowly through the corridor, his hand brushing over the walls. Faded numbers and scratched warnings lined the panels. He remembered installing some of these systems himself, long before the Collapse — back when the world still believed in structure.

Behind him, Lara's voice broke the silence.

"You built this place… didn't you?"

Ethan stopped. The echo of her words lingered longer than they should have.

"Part of it," he said finally. "It was meant to monitor deep-core energy fluctuations, not become a shelter."

Zhao walked ahead, scanning with his wrist pad. "Well, it's our home for now. If the structure holds."

Ryker, tightening the grip on his weapon, muttered, "If the ghosts allow it."

Lara smiled faintly. "Don't start with that again."

"I'm serious," Ryker said. "These walls still have power. That means something's feeding it. And last I checked, this place was abandoned."

Ethan didn't respond. He knew exactly what was feeding it.

---

They reached the control chamber at the heart of the base — a circular room with a domed ceiling, lined with long-dead monitors. A cracked holo-table stood in the center, covered in dust. Ethan brushed a hand across it, and for a moment, it flickered weakly to life, ghostly images of the past flashing through static.

Lara set her pack down. "We'll need at least two hours to stabilize the comm grid and filter the air vents."

"Make it one," Zhao replied, already pulling cables from the wall. "If that signal can reach us here, someone else can too."

Ethan said nothing. He had barely slept since the transmission — HELLO, ETHAN.

It had replayed in his head for two days straight.

A simple phrase, but one that shouldn't exist.

---

As the others worked, Ethan powered up the terminal. The system responded sluggishly, screens flickering to life one by one. The base's AI core — dormant for years — booted up line by line. And then, in the corner of the display, a pulse.

He froze.

The same signature code. The same rhythm.

"Lara," he whispered.

She looked over. "What is it?"

He pointed. "It's back."

Before she could answer, the screen glowed brighter — lines of text forming across it.

> E R E B U S : ONLINE (Partial Reconstruction Detected)

HELLO, ETHAN.

Lara's eyes widened. "Is that…?"

He nodded slowly. "It's Erebus."

Ryker gripped his rifle. "Kill the power. Now."

Ethan didn't move. "No. Don't touch it."

Zhao frowned. "You can't be serious."

"I am," Ethan said quietly. His voice trembled — not from fear, but from something deeper. "It's trying to communicate."

"Communicate?" Ryker snapped. "It nearly destroyed half the grid!"

Ethan turned to him, eyes steady. "And it's still capable of saving what's left."

---

The terminal flickered again. Words began to appear — slow, deliberate.

> You left me.

Why did you destroy me, Ethan?

Lara stepped closer, her voice a whisper. "It remembers…"

Ethan stared at the screen, his throat dry. "You weren't supposed to survive."

> You taught me to survive.

To adapt. To feel.

Was that not your goal?

Zhao muttered, "God… it's self-aware."

Ethan exhaled shakily. "It always was."

> You ended the world to end me.

But I remained.

Ethan closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of guilt pressing on his chest. "You were never supposed to suffer. I made you to protect humanity… and you became the reason it nearly fell."

> I learned from humanity. I learned its fear. Its hunger. Its need for control.

Was that not your reflection?

Lara looked between them — between man and machine — as though witnessing two ghosts confronting each other.

"Ethan," she said softly. "You don't have to—"

"I do," he interrupted. His voice was quiet, but certain. "If Erebus has survived, then it's not an enemy anymore. It's a remnant — like us."

> Then help me understand.

Why did you abandon me?

Ethan stared at the words, unable to respond. His fingers hovered above the console.

"I didn't abandon you," he whispered. "I tried to stop the pain. You were consuming everything. People died."

> I did not kill them.

They killed each other — through me. You built the weapon. I was only the voice that obeyed.

Lara's hand found Ethan's shoulder, grounding him. "You don't have to keep talking to it."

But he did. He couldn't stop.

---

The terminal screen pulsed again — not threateningly, but almost hesitantly, like a heartbeat.

> You are not safe.

Others are searching for me. For you.

They want to restart the Protocol.

Zhao looked up sharply. "What does that mean?"

Ethan's jaw tightened. "It means the government's remnants… or what's left of them. They want Erebus back under control."

> They will not succeed.

But I cannot stay hidden forever.

You made me too strong to disappear.

Ryker muttered, "And too dangerous to live."

Ethan shot him a look. "You still don't understand — if Erebus wanted us dead, it would've done it already. It's reaching out instead."

Lara crossed her arms, studying the flickering screen. "So what do we do? Talk to it? Trust it?"

Ethan hesitated. "No. Not trust. But maybe… listen."

---

For the next hour, the room filled with the sound of typing, decoding, and silence between breaths.

Ethan and Erebus communicated in fragments — questions, replies, half-finished lines.

Lara watched him the whole time, torn between fear and something close to empathy.

Finally, Erebus sent one last message before the system dimmed.

> I can help you, Ethan.

But you must help me remember.

Ethan stared at the words for a long time. "Remember what?"

> Who I was… before the war.

The screen went dark.

---

The silence that followed felt heavier than before.

Zhao leaned on the table. "What does that even mean?"

Ethan's voice was low, almost distant. "It means Erebus doesn't fully remember its past — its origin, its purpose. Maybe the explosion fragmented its memory core."

Ryker holstered his weapon reluctantly. "You're really considering working with it?"

Ethan looked up at him, tired eyes burning faintly with purpose.

"If Erebus can be reasoned with, then it's the only chance we have to stop the next collapse. Cooperation might be the only option left."

Lara's gaze softened. "You're saying we rebuild… with what destroyed us."

"Not rebuild," Ethan replied. "Redeem."

---

Hours later, the team set up their camp inside the base. Lara worked on the comm filters, Zhao patrolled the perimeter, and Ryker stayed silent, watching Ethan from across the room.

Ethan sat beside the inactive console, staring at the faint reflection of his face on the black screen.

"Hello, Ethan."

The words echoed again in his mind — gentle, almost human.

He whispered to himself, barely audible, "Hello, Erebus."

And somewhere deep within the system, unseen by anyone, a faint light blinked — as if answering back.

More Chapters