Mist-dappled dawn breaks over the abandoned coastal cable station where Elara and Lucien crouch behind rusted machinery. The salt‑stung breeze tugs at their jackets, and the steady hiss of breakers pounds like a muted war drum. Around them, solar‑paneled crates and tangled cables form a makeshift sanctuary.
Lucien checks his watch. “Helix drone swarms touch down in ten minutes," he says, voice low. “We trigger the fake signal at zero hour."
Elara nods, adjusting the dummy implant antenna affixed to her sleeve. “Once they lock onto the false beacon, we'll have fifteen minutes before they hit the wrong coordinates."
He meets her gaze, eyes serious. “After that…there's no guarantee the signal holds."
Her pulse quickens. “Which is why we need to destroy their command node tonight."
He pre
