The Point of No Return

The eleventh month is well underway. A persistent, low-frequency fear vibrated through the environment, making everything seem fragile and stretched thin. Alex performed final diagnostics on the delivery procedures for his psychological payload on his remote terrace in Crete, with a view of an unnaturally placid sea. To make it look like a chaotic, uncontrollable leak, the proof of the Lambda lead's treachery in Khartoum—such as the cash trails and the intercepted communications that suggested a purposeful rerouting of Victor's family—was gathered and bundled into fragmented data bursts. Based on the Aerie's minor energy changes, he had pinpointed several windows of opportunity in an attempt to enhance the shock and reach the hypothesized junction of physiological stress and psychological trauma.

It was like blindly arming a bomb. Every instinct warned against the enormous danger of purposefully upsetting the man whose heartbeat was holding the entire universe in sway. However, the alternative was unimaginable: idly waiting for the deadline to pass or for the world's society to fall apart.

Thorne's urgent, static-filled voice cracked over the encrypted communications. "Alex, there's a problem. Secure military lines are buzzing with talk about the Russian Northern Fleet and the US Navy Pacific Fleet. unusual setups and highly secured traffic. There is movement in the direction of the trench.

A knot of coldness formed in Alex's stomach. "The faction of the Resistance? Are they really trying to launch a military attack?

Grimly, Thorne confirmed, "Looks like it," "A coalition of desperate people, most likely operating without complete political approval." A blow to the head? Taking over the Aerie? God is aware. They've run out of time and alternatives, which is crazy.

Thorne patched through the secure satellite feeds, and Alex rushed to get in. With his heart racing, he watched as real-time intelligence depicted a well-planned, advanced attack advancing on the Mariana Trench. A wolf pack of cutting-edge stealth submarines, including Russian Yasen-class, American Seawolves, and possibly even experimental autonomous underwater vehicles, sank beneath the waves and approached the abyssal depths from several angles. The purpose was obvious, but their mission profiles were kept secret.

It was an excruciatingly stressful approach. Alex watched as orbiting sensors and far-off sonar buoys sent telemetry data. In order to navigate the crushing blackness to the coordinates where the Aerie were said to reside, the subs lowered themselves to the limit of their crush depth. They were using advanced countermeasures to hide their magnetic and auditory signals while operating in complete silence. The hunt's tight silence was all that was heard for a long.

The tactical display then burst into hell.

The Aerie retaliated long before the submarines were within visual range and long before they could fire any hypothetical weapon. On the monitors, the calm deep-sea scene turned into a whirlpool of electronic warnings and disastrous malfunctions. Silent and invisible until activated, automated defense systems worked with ruthless efficiency.

Icons of the attacking submarines flickered and died, as Alex stared in horror. Focused sonic pulses of unfathomable power were directed at some, perhaps rupturing hulls and quickly killing crews through cavitation. Others appeared to be overwhelmed by clouds of smaller icons, such as cutting hydraulic lines, attaching limpet charges, installing countermeasures, or operating sophisticated UUV drones. Distorted sonar imagery from one stream revealed a gigantic energy field that momentarily bloomed, incapacitating a lead submarine before it collapsed under the tremendous pressure. Pest control was the only conflict. With icy, AI-powered accuracy, Victor's stronghold easily defeated the threat, batting away the planet's most sophisticated naval equipment like obnoxious flies.

Less than ten minutes passed during the entire interaction. The outcome was definitive. They destroyed the invading force. The abyssal depths were once again silent, interrupted only by the Aerie's subtle yet enduring energy signature, which seemed to be unaffected.

It was impossible to keep the disaster's news confined. The undersea explosions were detected by seismic sensors. Intercepts of communications were leaked. The abortive clandestine strike turned into a terrifying public reality in a matter of hours. The world's panic, which had become a persistent pain, erupted into intense fear. The 'Capitulation' faction cried out in disgust, accusing the attacking nations of suicidal irresponsibility that almost brought Armageddon. After being exposed and humiliated, the 'Resistance' faction collapsed into chaos, with their leaders either subject to internal purges or worldwide censure. The already shattered international order was pushed toward total collapse as accusations and threats flew between capitals.

Victor Aurelius didn't say anything. No criticism, no public comment. During the attack, the Damocles Protocol status, which is constantly tracked globally, was momentarily raised to Level 4 ('Active Defense Engaged') before calmingly dropping back to Level 2 ('Stable Vigilance'). More damaging than any speech was the quiet, which demonstrated his seamless supremacy and confirmed his total control and impregnable fortress. In addition to being dangerous, the military option was ludicrously, suicidally pointless.

With a terrible clarity, Alex observed the consequences, the political collapse, and the new wave of public despair. Any residual optimism he may have had for a traditional solution, any uncertainty regarding the necessity of his own heinous scheme, vanished. The point of no return was the unsuccessful strike. It demonstrated the futility of force. Victor's paranoia and resolve were probably strengthened by it. It drew the way closer to the lone, perilous tightrope Alex was now walking.

The salty Cretan air did nothing to ease the tension within him as he inhaled deeply. He examined the prepared data bits that described the treachery in Khartoum and the plan to upload them in a disorganized manner, targeting Victor's most vulnerable time. It was insane. It wasn't moral. It might have ended a species.

And it was their only remaining option.

Alex said into the communications, "Marcus," in a low but authoritative voice that showed no signs of reluctance. "The time has come. On my mark, start the delivery protocol sequence. Now, there's no going back."