CHAPTER 4: Origin Protocol
345 Words
The ship’s systems dimmed to red standby. Emergency overrides failed, controls froze mid-air, and every display blinked with a single message:
“RETURN TO ORIGIN.”
Rilo backed away from the console like it was radioactive. Cyra was already inside the ship’s command core, slicing through subroutines with sheer panic masked by brilliance.
“They’ve embedded a trigger code in your neural pattern,” she said. “Your *existence* is a backdoor. You’re not the passenger—they’ve been driving this whole time.”
Rilo’s voice was low. “Then we crash their system.”
The nav module beeped—autopilot rerouting to a hidden orbital station labeled *“Echo Point.”* Not on any public charts. The coordinates pointed to the dark side of Mars’ third moon. No light. No signal. Just silence.
Cyra didn’t ask if they were going.
She just said, “Suit up.”
As the *Vega Dawn* approached, the silhouette of *Echo Point* emerged—black glass, spiked towers, and a rotating dish humming with impossible energy. Rilo stared at it like it was a memory trying to claw its way forward.
“Cyra,” he said, strapping in, “if there’s another me in there—”
She cut him off. “I’m not losing you again.”
They docked.
Inside, the air was sterile. Silent. Lights flickered as if the station breathed. The first hallway scanned Rilo’s DNA and opened before they even touched a panel.
They weren’t breaking in.
They were *expected.*
At the heart of Echo Point, a chamber opened like a steel lotus. And inside?
*Him.*
Another Rilo. Cryofrozen. Identical. Eyes shut. Hooked into machines that pulsed with quantum code.
Cyra gasped. “They didn’t just copy you… They *reset* you.”
A screen behind them lit up. An AI voice spoke:
*“Original template secured. Current instance unstable. Termination recommended.”*
Rilo looked at himself.
Then at his sister.
“No,” he growled. “You don’t get to choose who’s real.”
He raised his disruptor.
*And fired.*
- Writer
