Four days of final preparation.
The team ran drills in the old vault. Timing perfect. Roles memorized. Contingencies planned.
Kalia practiced her cover story until she could lie to God himself. Marcus cracked practice locks blindfolded. Reza wrote code that would give her remote access to monitor the virus upload in real-time.
Finn coordinated everything, kept them moving, kept them sharp.
And Jax and Elara worked side by side, the tension between them a third presence in every room.
On day two, during a break, they finally talked.
"You're good at this," Jax said. Quiet. Almost reluctant.
"At what?"
"Leading. Planning. Teaching. You're a good teacher."
"I was trained for it."
"No. Training can't teach you how to make people believe. How to inspire them. That's just who you are."
Elara looked at him, surprised. "Is that a compliment?"
"An observation." He paused. "I keep trying to hate you. Keep trying to see you as just SSS, just the enemy. But then you do something like sacrifice your life to save Gammas you don't even know, and I can't—I can't hold onto simple hate."
"You don't have to forgive me."
"I know. But I also can't keep pretending you're just a liar using us. You're more complicated than that. Than I want you to be."
They stood in silence for a moment.
"After this is done," Elara said quietly, "if we survive—I'll leave. Go somewhere you never have to see me. You deserve peace, not constant reminders of betrayal."
"What if I don't want you to leave?"
Her breath caught. "Jax—"
"I'm not saying I forgive you. I'm not saying we go back to what we were. But maybe—maybe we could find a way to be something new. Something honest this time."
"Maybe," she whispered. "If we survive."
"If we survive."
Day four. Final drill. Everything perfect.
The team gathered for the last time before the operation.
"Tomorrow," Jax said, "we change everything. We free everyone or die trying. Either way, we make them know we existed. We mattered. We were human."
The team nodded. Solemn. Ready.
That night, Elara couldn't sleep. Too much riding on this. Too many ways to fail.
Jax found her in the vault, staring at old Earth currency still stacked in the corners.
"Can't sleep either?" he said.
"Terrified," she admitted.
He sat beside her. Not touching. But close. "Me too."
They sat together in comfortable silence, watching the ruins of a better past surround them.
Tomorrow they'd try to build a better future.
If they survived.
If they succeeded.
If all the pain and betrayal and sacrifice meant anything at all.
Tomorrow.
For now, just this. Two broken people, side by side in the dark, preparing for revolution.
It was enough.