Chapter 11: Exodus Protocol
The launchpad was hidden beneath the Scottish Highlands—an abandoned deep-space research station codenamed ARK-9. Forgotten by most, but not by Ferryman, who had spent years rerouting funding and cloaking its existence in ghost data.
Now, it was their only hope.
Anderson stood at the edge of the platform, staring up at the half-assembled vessel—sleek, angular, forged from materials not yet legal. The ship's name, etched into the hull in ancient script: Aeternum.
Mirror ran diagnostics, interfacing directly through her neural link. "Systems responsive. Launch path to Luna Station Theta is viable, but they're tracking us. We'll have less than seven minutes of stealth post-burn."
Elira arrived carrying a final data shard—Dr. Z's encoded quantum map. "This will get you through the moon's defense ring. But after that, it's uncharted."
Anderson nodded. "What about the agencies?"
Ferryman's image flickered onto the ship's internal monitor. "Every satellite is locking onto your trajectory. The richest men in the world are watching this launch like it's Judgment Day. And maybe it is."
As they prepped the core, Mirror hesitated. "What if we're wrong? What if this isn't salvation, but his madness?"
Anderson glanced at the formula vial embedded in his forearm port. "Then we end it where it began."
The engines ignited.
From the moment Aeternum broke the cloud ceiling, the world reacted. Orbital drones shifted course. Missiles launched from silent towers. The air screamed.
But the ship was faster. Built with intent. With legacy.
And as Earth shrank behind them, a voice echoed from the ship's core.
"Welcome, successors. The final key awaits."
Anderson and Mirror locked eyes.
Their journey was no longer about survival. It was about revelation.
The Moon was calling.
And Dr. Z was waiting.
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