"Medic's here," Joey announced, moving to Emily's side with a respirator, stabilizing her vitals as the scientists assisted. He cast a relieved look at Luca and gave a nod. "She'll be alright."

Thank fuck.

Luca reached up and unsealed his helmet with a hiss of equalizing pressure. The air was stale and metallic, but it was air he could breathe without a filter. Around him, the rest of the team was doing the same, helmets coming off with sighs of relief. The Varnathi removed their breathing masks, transparent visors folding back to reveal faces marked by exhaustion.

Joey worked quickly, applying medical foam to Emily's puncture wound, then moved to check the others. The bunker's filtered air was stale and metallic, but it was breathable. That was enough.

The air shimmered near the entrance, and the exit portal materialized with its familiar glow.

[Mission Completed!] Defend researchers from hostile creatures and escort them to the research outpost.

[Mission Reward Triggered] Modifications Available: Select one: Weapon Mod / Armor Mod / Tool Mod

[+2,100,000 unallocated XP] [+935,000 credits] [Level up! Level 69, +5 attribute points] [+2 Perception] [+1 Memory]

"We're not done yet," Luca said, studying the facility around them. "This place is a gold mine. Let's move fast and grab what we can."

Yellow warning lights flickered to life along the corridor walls, bathing everything in an amber glow. The Varnathi scientists froze, ears perking up in unison. Dr. Pol's tail went rigid. She tapped something on her wrist device, reading the display.

"Evacuation protocols initiated. We have perhaps an hour." She looked at the team, then turned away without another word, hurrying toward the labs with her colleagues close behind.

An hour. We can work with that.

"Chris," Luca called out. "Engineering section, find us a fuel rod for the Centurion. Joey, hit the medical labs. Ryan, Danny, Zoe, search for gear and supplies. Emily, you're on comms, monitor the Varnathi channels, let us know if anything changes."

The team split up, rushing through the bunker.

Chris found the engineering bay at the end of a long corridor. The room was all business: reinforced walls, heavy machinery, and a central power core that hummed with barely-contained energy. The fuel rod sat in a locked containment cylinder, magnetic clamps holding it in place with redundant safety mechanisms.

"Found it," Chris said into his comm. "But it's locked down tight. Give me a minute."

He pulled out his multitool, scanning the locking mechanism. Three separate failsafes, each requiring a different bypass sequence. Of course it can't be simple.

His fingers worked quickly, routing power through secondary circuits, overriding safety protocols one by one. The first lock disengaged with a satisfying click. Then the second.

A distant thump echoed through the facility. The floor vibrated slightly.

"Chris, status?" Luca's voice crackled over the comm.

"Working on it. Almost there."

The third lock was more stubborn, requiring him to manually reroute the magnetic clamps. Sweat dripped down his forehead despite the bunker's cool air. Another thump, louder this time.

Finally, the cylinder hissed open. The fuel rod sat there, gleaming and heavy, worth more than everything in his pack combined.

"Got it," Chris said, hefting the rod. "But I need help. This thing's heavy."

Zoe pushed through a door marked with Varnathi script her helmet translated as "Personnel Storage." Inside, rows of lockers lined the walls, and at the far end, sealed containers stacked on industrial shelving.

She cracked open the first container. Folded clothing, perfectly preserved, the fabric feeling impossibly soft even through her gloves. TL9 textiles, advanced enough that they probably regulated temperature and wicked moisture. She pulled out a shirt, holding it up to the emergency lighting.

In a collapsing bunker, about to be vaporized, and I'm standing here admiring fabric quality.

The surreal absurdity of it hit her. This facility was minutes away from being rubble, and here was an entire stockpile of pristine clothing, waiting for people who would never wear it.

"Luca, I found clothing!" she said into her comm.

"Clothing?" Luca replied, confusion evident. "What good is that?"

"Luca, you know better," Emily interrupted, her tone sharp.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Luca shot back.

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"Emily, I'm grabbing what I can," Zoe said, already stuffing the stuff. "Trust me on this."

She worked fast, filling some duffle bags she'd found. Shirts, pants, undergarments, socks. All TL9, all perfectly sized because the System apparently cared about that sort of thing. Her hands moved on autopilot while her mind wandered.

Three days in this bodysuit. Three days of sweat and grime and toxic atmosphere seeping through every seal. A change of clothes would feel like heaven right now. If we weren't about to be vaporized.

Another thump reverberated through the walls, closer than before.

Ryan and Danny turned a corner and stumbled into a small lab tucked away at the back of the facility. Two Varnathi scientists were inside, working frantically to secure equipment. The lab was sparsely lit, casting long shadows over a couple of appliance-sized machines resting on the counter, sleek and advanced in design.

The machines were labeled [SpectraForge Analyzer] and [SpectraForge SynthCrafter].

The Varnathi with soft orange fur looked up, her ears perking with recognition. "Ryan," she said, relief evident in her voice. "You made it."

"Syri," Ryan said, remembering her name from their brief conversation during the trek. "What is all this?"

She moved to stand beside him, gesturing to the analyzer. "This is one of our greatest tools. It allows us to break down and recreate almost any compound we discover here. The analyzer gives you every molecule, every effect in a liquid, anything we need to know." Her tail swayed gently as she spoke, the scientific passion evident in her voice.

"And this other one?" Ryan asked, glancing from the machine to her wide, curious eyes.

"That lets us recreate those compounds precisely. Pills, sprays, even creams. The possibilities are limitless." She looked up at him, her expression earnest.

"How we try to stay alive," the silvery-coated scientist added quietly, securing data cores.

Danny moved closer, his scientific curiosity engaged despite the urgency. "These could be incredibly useful. Would you—"

"Take them," Syri interrupted, her tail swishing with agitation. "Evacuation transports are inbound. We'll be gone within the hour."

Ryan exchanged a glance with Danny. "Why? These are your life's work. You should be taking them with you."

Vessa shook her head, a deep sadness in her eyes. "This facility is already lost. Our dropship has limited cargo space. The priority is the Grimveil samples and the data cores. There is... no room for the hardware."

Ryan exchanged a glance with Danny. "What do you mean, lost?"

Vessa's ears flattened. "The swarm species have been tracked to this sector. The compound sent a withdrawal order three hours ago. We extract what we can and abandon the station."

A distant thump reverberated through the facility. Then another.

Syri's head snapped up, eyes wide. "That's sooner than expected."

Another thump, louder. The walls shook slightly.

Ryan grabbed the SpectraForge Analyzer, hefting its weight. "We're taking these. Danny, get the synthesizer."

Syri placed her padded hand on Ryan's arm. "Thank you," she said quietly. "For saving so many of us. For remembering our names."

"Syri—" Ryan started, but she was already moving toward the door.

"We must go to the landing pad. Our transport is coming." She paused at the threshold. "I hope your equipment serves you well, Ryan. Use it to protect your people, as we tried to protect ours."

Then they were gone.

Emily stood in what passed for the outposts' control room, a cramped space with armored viewports overlooking the facility's exterior and a bank of communications equipment. Varnathi text scrolled across multiple displays, her helmet translating in real-time.

She'd been monitoring the evacuation chatter when the first impact hit.

Through the viewport, the toxic sky lit up with streaks of plasma fire. Massive bolts of energy, coordinated volleys were slamming into sites beyond the horizon. Each impact sent shockwaves through the bunker, dust raining from the ceiling.

"Luca," she said into the comm, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm picking up something on the Varnathi channels. Multiple contacts approaching the station. They're calling for immediate evacuation."

She pressed closer to the viewport, trying to see through the toxic haze. The plasma fire was coming from above, from something in orbit or high atmosphere. She couldn't make out the source through the dense clouds of chemical fog, just the brilliant streaks of energy lancing down.

Another volley struck. The viewport's reinforced glass shuddered, and a hairline crack appeared in the lower corner.

"That's bombardment," she reported. "Orbital strike, maybe. I can't see what's firing, but it's systematic. They're taking apart the outposts all over the planet."

Above, climbing through the toxic atmosphere, a Varnathi dropship fought for altitude, its engines burning bright.

Luca's voice responded instantly over the comms, cutting through the rising chaos. "They're evacuating. Right fucking now. Everyone, grab what you can and get to the portal!"

Joey's voice came through, strained. "I've got cases of PMCs and medical supplies. Heading your way."

"Got thefuel rod!" Chris reported.

"Load it up!" Luca ordered. "Zoe, help him. We've got maybe five minutes before this place comes apart."

Another impact, closer this time. The viewport cracked, spider-web fractures spreading across the reinforced glass. Emergency klaxons began wailing, red lights strobing through the corridors.

The team converged on the exit portal in controlled chaos. Ryan and Danny arrived hauling the SpectraForge equipment between them. Joey had strapped cases of PMCs to his armor, his pack bulging with medical supplies. Chris and Zoe carried armfuls of folded TL9 clothing, stuffing what they could into compression bags.

Emily was monitoring her wrist display, tracking the Varnathi communications. "They're clear. Dropship just broke atmosphere. We're alone in here."

"Then let's not stay," Luca said. "Portal, now!"

They moved through one by one, the sound of destruction following them. Another bombardment struck just as Luca stepped through, and he looked back to see sections of the bunker collapsing, ceiling panels crashing down as the facility came apart.

The harsh atmosphere of Midnight Veil pressed down on them as they emerged on the other side, toxic wind howling. Behind them, through the portal's shimmer, flames and smoke billowed from the research station.

The portal appeared behind them. A 72 hour cooldown. If they wanted... they could relive the same experience all over again.

"What the hell was that?" Chris asked, breathing hard.

Luca stared back at the portal. "The Vexillari. They were hitting the research station." He adjusted his grip on his rifle. "Dr. Pol, Syri, Vessa... they made it out. We saw the dropship."

"Come on," Luca said finally, turning toward where the Centurion waited. "Let's go home."

They began the trek across Midnight Veil's toxic landscape, carrying their salvaged equipment and the memory of people who'd already been gone for a hundred thousand years. People who'd fought a war they'd already lost, in a facility that was now rubble on a dead world's surface.

We're going to miss them, Luca realized, the thought hitting harder than he expected. Even knowing what they were. Even knowing how this ended. We're going to miss them.

The wind howled across the barren plains, carrying toxic spores and the distant sound of something massive moving through the storm. But they kept walking, heads down, toward the promise of the Centurion.

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