The Shadow of the base

The extraction base’s corridors buzzed with activity as usual, but something had shifted in the past few days. An intangible tension lingered in the air, subtle yet persistent. Ken had fallen asleep again in the break room, sprawled in a maintenance chair with an empty packet of dried noodles resting on his stomach. Sébastien, ever meticulous, scribbled notes on a digital pad, sitting upright at the table, while Isabella gazed out through the upper-level viewport.
From here, the planet Elora, with its twin suns and floating mountains, seemed almost peaceful. But none of them forgot what lay beyond the metallic security of the base.
— "Do you think they’re still alive?" Isabella asked without turning.
Sébastien lifted his eyes.
— "Matt and Rudy? None of the recon teams have found them. And it’s been over three months now…"
— "Some say they saw a distress fire to the north," Ken muttered, still half-asleep. "But some also say the Drakomites sing during lunar eclipses…"
Isabella inhaled deeply, her jaw clenched.
— "Matt wouldn’t have let himself die. Not like that."
Silence returned, heavy, broken only by the hum of generators.
Elsewhere in the base, Clara—Rudy’s wife—was striding toward the commander’s quarters. She had waited, hoped, prayed. But she couldn’t remain in uncertainty any longer.
General Ledger stood behind his desk when she entered, posture straight as a blade, eyes fixed on a floating holo-screen. He didn’t look up when she spoke.
— "Do you have any news? A trace, a signal? My husband is out there somewhere… I’d know if he were dead."
Ledger finished reading a report, then slowly met her gaze.
— "Clara…"
His voice was low, sharp as metal.
— "You have to accept the truth. Even if he survived the crash, Elora is unforgiving. The wildlife, the toxins, the native clans… No man could last that long out there."
— "But he wasn’t alone. He had Matt. The rest of the crew. And they’ve survived worse during training."
The general looked away, unwilling to engage further. He simply shook his head.
— "I’m sorry. But it’s time to move on."
Clara left without a word, her heart in ashes.
That night, Ledger moved silently through the base’s scientific wing. The green glow of sensors cast an eerie hue over the walls. Inside a glass-enclosed lab, several researchers worked around a massive cylinder containing a crystalline structure pulsing with blue light—raw Xenium.
— "Report," he ordered upon entering.
A scientist stood, nervous but proud.
— "Extraction has stabilized, General. In the past few days, output rates have doubled. No more sabotage, no more electromagnetic disturbances. The atmosphere is… pacified."
— "The plan, then?"
— "It worked."
Ledger said nothing at first. He watched the crystal pulse, as if listening to a heartbeat.
— "Good. Continue."
Then he turned and left, leaving behind a heavy silence.
The next morning, an unprecedented commotion rippled through the base. The alarms weren’t blaring, but people were running, shouting, recording. Ken woke to a technician yelling, "He’s here! It’s him!" without offering further explanation. Sébastien abandoned his terminal, and Isabella rushed down the stairwell to the central courtyard.
There, amidst armed soldiers, they saw him.
Matt.
Bruised. Filthy. His clothes in tatters. But alive. Chains bound his wrists, and two soldiers held him firmly by the arms, as though he were a dangerous prisoner. He struggled weakly—not against the pain, but to reach out.
Toward her.
Tall, slender, moss-toned skin. She was also shackled. A native. A Shivenar. Her gaze was fierce despite exhaustion, her dignity unwavering—like a queen in exile. She fought to reach Matt.
— "What…?" Isabella whispered, unable to tear her eyes from the scene.
Matt tried to speak but was shoved forward before he could finish. He stumbled. And he shouted—Sehr’mana. He tried to stop, to reach for her, but a soldier roughly shoved him.
Ken furrowed his brows, scanning the soldiers. Then he looked to Isabella, then Sébastien. They all wore the same expression—disbelief.
— "He’s alive… but… why are they treating them like criminals?"
Sébastien, ever observant, noticed something chilling—the look on General Ledger’s face, watching from above. Cold. Satisfied. Almost… triumphant.
— "Something isn’t right," he murmured.
Matt finally lifted his eyes to them.
He said nothing. But his gaze screamed everything they needed to know.
Soon, they would have to choose.