Chapter 22 – Stratos Pelagia Island Operations
The operations room hummed with controlled chaos, the air thick with the scent of ionized metal and the faint tang of recycled oxygen. Two walls from floor to ceiling were lined with monitors, their pale blue glow reflecting off the polished gray metal of the long command table. Hundreds of smaller screens flickered between schematics, live camera feeds, and data streams that moved faster than the human eye could track. Ceiling-mounted speakers whispered, bellowed, and buzzed as alerts from the island's systems pinged and echoed through the room.
General Gregor Thorne stood at the head of the table, his boots clanging against the steel floor with each deliberate step. His uniform was sharp, almost austere, medals catching the light from the monitors—but his eyes, calculating and unyielding, were locked onto the real-time feeds of the two hover plates hovering above the sea. He didn't need the glowing screens to tell him the stakes; he felt them in the tremor of the island itself—the subtle sway of metal and reinforced concrete that could only mean one thing: the stabilization units were under strain.
"Captains," Gregor began, his voice cutting through the ambient hum—measured but firm. "We are managing a critical evacuation scenario. Our priority is the civilian sectors within Stratos Pelagia. I need precise execution—no improvisation without command approval."
He tapped the surface of the table, and instantly a vertical panel rose, projecting a holographic map of the island and surrounding hover plates. Streams of data highlighted zones of instability, and blinking icons denoted areas of interference.
"We're assigning extraction teams here, here, and here first," he continued, pointing to the sections nearest the central hub. "Each team will be equipped with standard seacraft, anti-wave stabilization boosters, and emergency evac packs. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," the captains chorused, voices echoing in the metallic chamber.
Gregor turned to the lieutenant colonels positioned along the inner perimeter. "Deploy the heavy stabilization units in coordination with engineering teams. Each unit requires at least two operators and one monitoring AI. We can't afford errors; the secondary stabilization system will come online shortly. Once it does, we have seventy-two hours before total island calibration must be completed. After forty-eight hours, extraction operations are mandatory. By twenty-four hours, all civilians must be cleared. Any deviation—and this island becomes a tactical death trap."
Several officers nodded, pulling smaller displays from the ceiling monitors and linking them to their neural ports. Their skin pulsed faintly where metal met flesh, their thoughts merging with the network. Gregor didn't need such augmentation; decades of experience had already wired him to calculate risk faster than most embedded AIs could.
"We need reconnaissance teams reporting every five minutes on anomalies within our perimeter," he added. "The hover plate's surface integrity must be monitored continuously. Any interference or unpredicted stresses—flag it immediately."
A young captain hesitated. "Sir, we have anomalies outside the primary hover plate footprint. Could be environmental, or—"
"Environmental?" Gregor's voice was sharp. "Or what, Captain? You think the system's failing because a rogue wave sneezed? Focus. External anomalies are secondary. Priority remains evacuation and stabilization."
The captain swallowed and nodded. The room returned to motion, a symphony of organized urgency. Gregor exhaled slowly, his mind already calculating contingencies. Too many variables. Too many chances for collapse.
---
Outside the operations room, a sleek hovercraft cut through the ocean mist just beyond the island's safety perimeter. Its hull shimmered with reactive plating, built for rapid insertion and data relay. Inside, Dr. Patrick McGregor and his assistant worked in tight formation over a web of holographic displays.
"Initializing visual feed," Patrick said, fingers gliding over a floating console. "Multiple subjects in motion—Jackie Cannon, Sura Tanith… and Lyra Keon, though her signal's fragmented. Neural interference is distorting visual sync."
His assistant, a dark-haired woman with sharp optics, adjusted another monitor. "I believe she's handling herself remarkably well, Doctor."
"You believe?" Patrick's tone was mild but edged. "Or are you certain?"
"There are active repairs," she replied, "but something's disturbing the field around her. Like it's bending—reacting—to her proximity."
Patrick frowned. "Every time she enters a critical zone, the system spikes. Electromagnetic, mechanical, structural—it all fluctuates. It's chaotic, yet somehow she stabilizes it. Look here."
He paused, eyes narrowing as the readouts trembled. "And every time she repositions, she scrambles our feed."
"Dangerous?" the assistant asked.
"Potentially catastrophic if misread," he replied. "Keep predictive models running. I want every anomaly mapped to its probable source."
The hovercraft tilted as they neared the edge of the energy field surrounding Stratos Pelagia. On-screen, interference waves shimmered across the ocean, distortion crawling like liquid static.
---
Beneath the surface, Orion propelled himself through the dark water, cutting cleanly between the pillars anchoring the lower hover plates. His cybernetic frame adjusted dynamically—panels sealing, joints locking tight for streamlined motion. Blue pulses of light flickered from the thruster ports in his feet, sending him surging upward in bursts that left swirling trails of bubbles.
Pressure waves rolled down from above as the island's stabilizers shifted. The entire sea seemed to pulse with energy, rippling through his sensors in erratic rhythms. Then, through the haze, he spotted it—a massive structural pillar, glowing faintly along its seams. The stabilizer coils embedded within were misaligned, flickering between steady luminescence and violent bursts.
He angled toward it, fighting the turbulence. A circular access port appeared in the center of the unit. He reached out, magnetic locks forming along his fingers as he braced against the current.
A sudden tremor struck. The entire plate above him shuddered, casting a shadow so large it blotted out what little sunlight penetrated the depths. Orion's thrusters flared, blue-white fire cutting through the dark as he steadied himself and latched onto the pillar. The vibrations intensified—secondary systems activating.
"Not good," he muttered, patching his neural link to the hatch. Lines of red text scrolled across his HUD—Destabilization Detected. Power Surge: 12%. Secondary Systems Engaged.
"Access point?" Orion murmured, rerouting his sensors. But the hatch had gone dark—shielded.
He kicked upward, propelling himself toward the next node. He needed to reach an interface—fast.
The depths fell away behind him in a torrent of blue and silver light. Orion surged upward, propulsion vents along his calves and spine flaring to life, slicing through the black water like a missile breaking gravity's hold.
The ocean thinned, pressure easing as he breached the surface — and the world above met him in ruin.
The island plate loomed, its stabilizer rings shuddering, light grids stuttering between gold and blood red. Chunks of fractured alloy drifted like dying satellites. The air was heavy with ion burn and the ozone tang of failing circuitry.
Nexus Directive whispered in his core:
> Priority: City below. Island collapse secondary. Preserve structural pillars.
His gaze flicked toward the hovering mass of Stratos Pelagia, then downward — into the abyss he'd just escaped. The tremor in the water told him what the sensors already confirmed: one of the lower pillars was shifting out of alignment.
He hesitated for 0.3 seconds — long enough for the human part of him to feel it. Then he angled his body downward again, folding his arms, ports sealing as energy flared along his back.
He dove — a streak of light falling back into the dark — toward the wounded city below.
---
In the command center, Gregor's eyes narrowed as the readouts flickered. Every colonel stiffened. The island trembled—a subtle but distinct rhythm, like a colossal heartbeat echoing through steel.
"The secondary system just went live," a technician called out.
Gregor straightened. "This is it. Everyone in position." He touched the comm node at his temple.
There was a brief burst of static and the an authoritative voice boomed over the comm.
"Report!"
Gregor stood straighter as if his commanding officer had entered the room. "Secondary systems are now fully active. Structure stability will be checked, by the system every twelve hours."
"Then report back in twelve hours. Hold that line soldier. We need Stratos Pelagia."
"Yes Sir!"
But the line cut before General Gregor could actually give his reply. The hum of machinery filled the silence that followed.
Now it was a waiting game. Would Patrick and his team stabilize the system—or would Gregor need to step in and change the course entirely?