New Plan in Motion

Sylas woke before dawn, his body responding naturally to the rhythm of early waking.

He began his morning routine with a series of quick exercises—press-ups, sit-ups, and flexibility drills. Each movement was fluid and precise, honed by years of repetition.

His cramped quarters offered little space, but he had long since learned how to work within the limits.

Once satisfied with his warm-up, he grabbed a towel and made his way to the shared bathroom down the corridor.

The dimly lit hallway was silent, save for the faint hum of power lines embedded in the metallic walls.

The others in his section were still asleep, granting him the rare luxury of a quiet shower.

After cleaning up, Sylas returned to his room and sat cross-legged on the floor.

Closing his eyes, he focused inward—not on manipulating Aether, but simply sensing it. The faint, pulsing energy permeated the air, running through everything around him.

Breathing deeply, he allowed himself to feel its flow, moving steadily, naturally.

Meditation had become a regular occurrence, a way to train his aetherian abilities without drawing attention to himself. There was no room for mistakes—not here.

When the first chimes signaling the start of the day echoed through the compound, Sylas rose and made his way to the communal dining hub.

He grabbed a tray of food and found a seat among other sixteen-year-olds assigned to maintenance and logistics.

Conversation was lively, filled with stories of work and rumors about the base.

Sylas listened, chiming in now and then but mostly keeping to himself. He had learned early on that listening revealed more than speaking ever could.

He watched their cheerful faces, confused by how they could remain indifferent to their enslavement.

They laughed, joked, and gossiped as if they weren't shackled by the chips embedded in their necks.

It irritated him. Perhaps because he understood their fate better than they did.

'Most of you will be free soon anyway, once I blow this place to kingdom come, he thought.'

The weight of that thought settled in his chest. He didn't want to kill anyone unrelated to his revenge—but he knew it was impossible.

These people were nothing but collateral damage.

Once breakfast was over, Sylas left the dining hall, weaving through the narrow walkways of the colony with ease.

A quick glance around. Then he leapt, grabbing a pipe overhead and swinging onto an adjacent ledge.

He moved swiftly, leaping over rails, balancing on narrow beams, dropping down with effortless precision.

Arriving at the Maintenance Centre, he spotted the usual crowd of workers gathered around their Director, an older man with a weathered face and a voice like grinding metal.

"Listen up!" the Director called out, his voice echoing through the chamber.

"Lower-tier maintenance crews, except for team leaders, are reassigned today. The docking bay needs extra hands to load the colony ship. Report there immediately and do what you're told!"

Without hesitation, Sylas joined the other lower-rank maintenance workers heading for the docking bay.

The sound of boots on metal grates filled the air as they moved.

The docking bay was a hive of activity—massive cranes swung overhead, lifting containers filled with supplies and equipment.

Droids carried smaller crates while loaders directed cargo placement with practiced efficiency.

*******

"Move out! These boxes must reach the loading bay on time, or you'll be punished!"

"Yes, sir."

Sylas moved swiftly, securing the last of the sealed boxes onto the hover truck.

Without hesitation, he climbed into the driver's seat and powered it up, guiding the vehicle toward the docking bay.

The facility he left behind was one of many acting as a storage point for cargo from off-world. It was also the only way to send anything out.

The road ahead stretched across the planet, linking dozens of similar facilities.

One of them was his target.

Sylas drove north, his hover truck slicing through the vast terrain.

His destination was the docking bay were the colony ship was docked.

But the mountains were only a shell. Beneath them lay an intricate network of reinforced chambers, built with advanced technology to store war machines of every size.

Even though he hated the empire he respected there sense of architectural design.

Every inch of this planet was designed to be used to by the empire. Not even a foot was left untouched.

The road was long, but Sylas knew it well. He could drive it blindfolded.

He gripped the controls tighter, eyes narrowing as the facility loomed in the distance.

Half an hour.

But instead of just driving for this period of time he stealthily dropped his bombs.

The boredom and long distance caused him to think back to the first time he came up with this plan.

Almost six years had passed since then, it took him six good years to rig the planet to blow and steal valuable military information.

Over the last six years his plan had slowly evolved over time.

One of his first plans was to have Sera get the base plan and then calculate the right distance so he could evenly spread the bomb but as he grew older and worked with the maintaince team he soon realized that it would be easily traced back to it origin.

So he went a step further and after successfully distributing the bombs evenly he would randomly drop them in random places.

'Oh how days fly, well over to phase three.'