But someone had seen him.
A technician, working late, catching a glimpse of a wheelchair where no wheelchair should be. Curious. Suspicious. He checked the logs, found the stolen badge, traced the path. And then, because he was young and wanted to impress his superiors, he reported it.
Kaelen was leaving the base when the alarms went off.
He didn't run—running would draw attention. He kept moving, slow and steady, his heart pounding in his chest. Almost there. Just a few more meters to the airlock, to the forest, to—
"Corporal Kaelen."
The voice stopped him cold.
He turned.
Commander Thorne stood twenty meters away, flanked by soldiers. His smile was wide now, genuine, the smile of a hunter who has finally cornered his prey.
"I knew you'd come back," Thorne said. "I knew you couldn't stay away. Once a soldier, always a soldier." He walked closer, his boots echoing on the metal floor. "Five years. Five years I've waited for this moment. Five years I've dreamed about what I'd do when I found you."
Kaelen's hands gripped the wheels of his chair. "Commander."
"Don't 'Commander' me, traitor." The word was a slap. "You betrayed your species. Your mission. Your oath. You went native and helped those savages kill good men and women. And now you're here, in my base, spying for them." He shook his head. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"
Kaelen said nothing. There was nothing to say.
"Take him," Thorne ordered. "I want him alive. I want him conscious. I want him to feel every second of what's coming."
The soldiers moved forward.
Kaelen had one chance. One desperate, impossible chance.
He reached for the link.