Cornered

The Forward Operating Base descended into chaos. Heavy blast doors slammed shut across the corridors. The sterile white lighting was replaced by the strobing crimson of the security alert. The blare of the sirens was deafening.

Kaelen and Jax sprinted through the lower maintenance shafts, avoiding the main arteries of the base. Kaelen moved with lethal, instinctual speed, checking corners, anticipating the security patrols before they even materialized.

"Main hangar is locked down," Kaelen yelled over the sirens, looking at the schematics on his datapad. "They'll have a marine detachment waiting at the flight deck. We can't get to our fighters."

"There's the sub-level," Jax shouted back, gasping for air. "The Prototype Hangar. They've been testing those new experimental warp-fighters down there. The Blackbirds. If we can get into one of those, we can outrun anything they send after us."

"Lead the way," Kaelen ordered.

They dropped down a rusted ventilation shaft, landing hard on the grated floor of Sector 4. They were a hundred yards from the heavy, reinforced doors of the Prototype Hangar.

Suddenly, the corridor ahead of them flooded with smoke.

Four figures materialized from the gray fog. They weren't standard military police. They wore pitch-black, unmarked tactical armor, their faces obscured by opaque visors. They carried heavy, lethal plasma rifles. The black-ops wetwork squad. They were already on the base.

"Targets acquired," a synthesized voice buzzed from the lead operative. "Execute."

A hail of blinding blue plasma fire erupted down the corridor.

"Cover!" Kaelen roared, tackling Jax behind a massive, titanium support pillar. Plasma bolts scorched the metal, superheating the air and filling the corridor with the smell of melted steel and ozone.

Kaelen returned fire, his stun-pistol woefully inadequate against the heavy military-grade armor of the operatives. He managed to drop one with a precise shot to the unprotected joint of the knee, but the other three advanced relentlessly, their weapons cycling for another barrage.

"We're pinned!" Jax yelled, pressing his back against the pillar. "We can't make it to the doors!"

Kaelen’s mind raced. He had fought a hundred battles like this in the future, but he had never been this outgunned with no tactical support. He looked at Jax. His best friend was terrified, but he was holding his ground.

"I'm going to draw their fire," Kaelen said, his voice deadly calm. "When they track me, you break for the keypad on the hangar doors. Override the lock. Do not wait for me."

"No!" Jax grabbed Kaelen's arm. "I'm not leaving you!"

"I am not letting you die again, Jax!" Kaelen screamed, the trauma of his past life bleeding into his voice. "Do it!"

Without waiting for an answer, Kaelen broke from cover. He dove across the open corridor, firing rapidly to draw the operatives' attention.

The strategy worked. The three black-clad killers pivoted, unleashing a torrent of plasma fire toward Kaelen's position behind a stack of cargo crates.

Jax sprinted. He crossed the gap, sliding into the recessed alcove of the hangar doors. He ripped the panel off the keypad, his engineering brilliance taking over as he crossed the wires, sparking the lock mechanism.

"Door is open!" Jax yelled, as the heavy blast doors began to slowly grind apart.

Kaelen popped up from behind the crate to make a break for the opening.

But one of the operatives had anticipated the move. The killer had flanked the cargo crates, raising his heavy plasma rifle, aiming squarely at Kaelen’s exposed back.

Jax saw the operative. He saw the rifle charging, the blue glow illuminating the dark visor.

Time seemed to slow down. Kaelen, turning toward the hangar, saw the operative too late. The weapon fired.

"Kaelen!"

Jax didn't think. He didn't calculate the physics. He simply moved on the pure, unfiltered instinct of brotherhood. He threw himself out of the alcove, diving directly into the path of the plasma bolt.

The heavy blue sphere of superheated energy struck Jax squarely in the center of his chest.

The impact lifted him off his feet, throwing him violently backward. He hit the grated floor with a sickening thud, sliding to a halt at Kaelen’s feet.

"No!" Kaelen roared. It was the exact same roar from the bridge of the *Vanguard*. The exact same sound of his soul tearing in half.

Kaelen raised his pistol and fired three times, putting three stun-rounds directly through the cracked visor of the operative who shot Jax. The killer collapsed.

Kaelen dropped to his knees, his hands hovering over his best friend. The plasma bolt had burned clean through the gray uniform, cauterizing a massive, horrific wound in Jax's chest. Jax's eyes were wide, staring up at the ceiling, his breathing a shallow, wet rattle.

"Jax, hey, look at me," Kaelen pleaded, his hands shaking violently as he pressed his palms against the wound, completely ignoring the searing heat of the burned flesh. "Stay with me. Stay with me, damn it!"

Jax coughed, a thin line of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He looked up at Kaelen, a weak, ghostly smile touching his lips.

"Guess... you were right," Jax wheezed, his hand weakly reaching up to grip Kaelen's wrist. "Future's... a bitch."

"I'm not letting you die," Kaelen sobbed, the tears he had held back for five years finally breaking free. He had done everything right. He had trained, he had manipulated the system, he had discovered the truth, and he had still led his best friend to the exact same bloody fate. The universe was demanding its toll, and it refused to be cheated.

Heavy boots echoed down the corridor. More operatives were coming.