Chapter 12: Point of No Return

The first eighteen hours began with a knock on Mika Tanaka's quarters at 0200 hours.

Nathan stood beside Riley in the corridor outside the defense technician's door, feeling exposed despite the late hour. The base was never truly quiet, military installations ran on round-the-clock schedules but the early morning shift was lighter, with fewer people to notice two cadets visiting someone they shouldn't have reason to know.

Riley had convinced Mika to let them in with a simple message: "I need to show you something about what we're really doing here."

Mika Tanaka was small and precise, with the kind of focused intensity that came from working with systems where a single mistake could kill thousands of people. Her quarters were spartanly furnished but meticulously organized, and she looked at Nathan with the suspicious wariness of someone who'd learned not to trust authority figures.

"Riley, what's this about?" she asked, sealing the door behind them. "You know fraternization regulations—"

"This isn't about fraternization," Riley said. "It's about Danny Torres."

Mika's expression shifted. She'd known Danny from technical briefings, had probably run targeting solutions for missions he'd flown. "I heard about what happened. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Nathan said quietly. "Be angry."

For the next hour, they laid out everything they'd discovered. The civilian casualties hidden in sanitized reports. The biological readings from destroyed settlements. The systematic use of cadet squads as expendable intelligence gatherers. Mika listened with growing horror, her technical mind processing the implications with the same precision she brought to her work.

"You're telling me the anti-aircraft systems I maintain have been shooting down civilian transports," she said finally.

"We're telling you that everything we thought we were fighting for is a lie," Nathan replied. "And we want to stop being part of it."

"What do you need from me?"

Riley explained their plan. The manifest swap, the stolen ship, the need for the defense systems to have a convenient malfunction at precisely the right moment.

"I can give you maybe thirty seconds," Mika said. "Long enough for you to clear the engagement envelope. After that, the automated systems will override my lockout and restore function."

"Thirty seconds should be enough," Nathan said, though he wasn't entirely sure.

"If you get caught, I never saw you," Mika added. "But if you make it out... find a way to tell people what's really happening here. Danny deserved better than dying for corporate profit margins."

The next sixteen hours passed in careful preparation. Kessler handled the technical aspects of the manifest swap, using her knowledge of UNSC systems to access the traffic control database and alter the departure schedules. It was delicate work, too obvious, and they'd be caught before they left the ground. Too subtle, and the Takagi might slip through their deception.

Ilson spent his time ensuring their Titan Frames were ready for transport, running diagnostics and performing maintenance that would normally be handled by a full technical crew. Nathan coordinated everything, trying to project calm confidence while his stomach churned with nervous energy.

Riley managed the logistics, using her experience with ship operations to identify what they'd need for an extended journey. The Meridian was designed to operate independently for weeks at a time, but that assumed a full crew who knew what they were doing.

Everything was proceeding according to plan until 0830 hours, when Riley's comm unit chimed with an urgent message from base operations.

"Shit," she said, staring at her screen. "The Takagi's departure time just got moved up. They're leaving in twenty minutes."

Nathan felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. "How much of our prep is done?"

"Manifest swap is ready to go," Kessler reported. "I can activate it remotely."

"Three Titan Frames are loaded," Ilson said. "But we need at least ten more minutes to get the fourth one aboard."

"Then we leave the fourth one behind," Nathan said, though the words felt like lead in his mouth.

"That's my Frame," Riley said quietly. "Nightfall. I've been tuning that machine for three years."

The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of what they were asking her to sacrifice. Riley's Titan Frame wasn't just equipment, it was an extension of herself, calibrated to her neural patterns and fighting style over years of training and adjustment.

"I know," Nathan said. "I'm sorry."

Riley stared at her comm unit for a moment longer, then shut it off. "Doesn't matter. We have to go."

The next fifteen minutes were a blur of frantic activity. They made their way to the Meridian through service corridors and maintenance tunnels, avoiding the main thoroughfares where their presence might be noticed. The ship sat on its landing pad like a sleeping giant, its hull gleaming under the floodlights.

The two guards at the perimeter looked as bored as Nathan had hoped. They waved Riley through without question, she had legitimate business aboard military vessels, and didn't even notice Nathan, Kessler, and Ilson following behind in technician coveralls.

Getting aboard was the easy part. Operating the ship with a four-person crew was significantly harder.

"Alright," Riley said as they reached the bridge, "crash course in capital ship operations. Nathan, you're on main flight controls. Kessler, navigation and communications. Ilson, power management and thrust control."

She moved between them with practiced efficiency, showing them which controls did what, how to read the status displays, what alarms to worry about and which ones to ignore.

"Remember," she said as Nathan settled into the pilot's seat, "this isn't a Titan Frame. The Meridian masses nearly a million tons and has the aerodynamics of a brick. You can't just punch the throttle and expect it to respond like a fighter, we'll burn the atmosphere around us."

Kessler adapted to her station quickly, her technical background letting her understand the navigation systems with minimal explanation. Nathan struggled more with the flight controls, the ship's responses were sluggish compared to a Titan Frame, and the interface was designed for experienced pilots, not cadets learning on the job.

Ilson had the most trouble. Power management required balancing dozens of different systems, monitoring energy flow between engines, life support, and defensive systems. He tried to hide his confusion, but Nathan could see him struggling with the complexity.

"Ilson," Riley said gently, "it's not like flying. Think of it more like conducting an orchestra. Everything has to work together."

She walked him through the power distribution again, more slowly this time, and Nathan saw some of the tension leave his shoulders.

At 0845, Nathan activated the ship's communication system.

"Nyulassy Traffic Control, this is UNSC Meridian requesting departure clearance."

There was a pause. Then: "Meridian, you're not scheduled for departure until next week."

Nathan's heart hammered against his ribs. "Control, we received updated orders this morning. Should have the paperwork in your system by now."

Another pause, longer this time. "Meridian, please stand by while we verify your flight manifest."

Over Kessler's shoulder Riley's fingers flew over the console, activating the manifest swap. On her screen, Nathan could see the departure schedules shifting, the Takagi's information being overwritten with the Meridian's false authorization codes.

"Come on," Nathan muttered under his breath. "Come on."

"Meridian, please present your flight manifest for verification."

Nathan keyed the comm, trying to keep his voice light. "Gosh, you guys are always business first. It's always 'show me the manifest' and not 'how are you guys doing today?'"

Riley shot him a look that suggested humor wasn't the best approach right now, but it bought them a few extra seconds while Kessler finished the upload.

"Flight manifest transmitted," Kessler reported.

The pause that followed felt like an eternity. Through the bridge viewports, Nathan could see other ships on nearby landing pads, ground crews going about their normal routines, completely unaware that a theft was taking place right in front of them.

"Meridian, we show some discrepancies in your—"

"Control, this is an urgent departure," Nathan interrupted. "We have operational deadlines to meet."

"Meridian, please respond. We will be forced to take action if you do not comply with verification procedures."

Through the ship's external cameras, Nathan watched the anti-aircraft installations around the city's perimeter beginning to track their position. Massive weapons systems that could reduce the Meridian to scrap metal swiveled toward them with mechanical precision.

"Nathan," Kessler said, her voice tight with fear, "those guns are targeting us."

"Mika," Nathan whispered. "Come on, Mika."

The weapons systems locked onto the Meridian, their targeting arrays glowing with hostile intent. Nathan could almost feel the crosshairs settling on the ship.

Then, suddenly, the guns went dark. One by one, the targeting systems shut down, their power indicators going offline.

"Meridian, this is Traffic Control," the voice came through their comm system, suddenly much more friendly. "Your manifest checks out. Sorry for the delay, had a brief system glitch on our end. You're cleared for departure. Have a safe flight."

Nathan felt like his knees were going to give out. "Copy, Control. Thank you for your assistance. Meridian departing."

The Meridian rose through Acer's atmosphere with ponderous dignity, climbing toward the freedom of space while Nathan tried not to think about the fact that they had just committed treason against the organization they'd sworn to serve.

"We're clear," Riley reported as they passed through the upper atmosphere. "No pursuit, no targeting locks. We actually did it."

"Don't celebrate yet," Nathan said. "We're still in UNSC space, and it won't take them long to figure out what happened."

They were three hours out from Acer, riding the edge of the system's gravity well, when Nathan's communication console chimed with an incoming tight-beam transmission.

The face that appeared on his screen was Colonel Harrison's, and the man looked furious.

"Do you realize what you've done?" Harrison's voice crackled through the speakers. "You've got ten seconds to explain yourselves before you have the full might of the UNSC on you."

Nathan looked at his teammates, saw the same mix of fear and determination in their faces that he felt in his chest. They'd crossed the line. There was no going back now.

He reached out and cut the transmission.

For a moment, the bridge was silent except for the hum of the ship's systems. Then Kessler spoke up.

"So," she said. "Where exactly are we going?"

Nathan was about to admit he had no idea when the communication console chimed again. This time, the incoming signal wasn't from the UNSC.

The face that appeared on the screen was young and strikingly beautiful, a woman who couldn't have been more than twenty-two, with shoulder-length dark hair and intelligent green eyes. There was something otherworldly about her features, a quality that made Nathan think of classical sculptures or renaissance paintings.

"You don't know who I am yet," she said, her voice carrying an odd mixture of youth and ancient wisdom, "but we need to talk."