Date: March 2, 2166
Location: Undisclosed UEG Safehouse, New Berlin, Luna
The room was dimly lit, the only light source a flickering holopad casting data streams across the metal table. The air smelled of old insulation and recycled oxygen. Jacob Tarrant, once a die-hard ATLAS loyalist, now sat across from two ONI handlers, his fingers tapping nervously against his knee.
"You're certain about this?" The ONI agent's voice was calm, almost too calm.
Tarrant exhaled sharply. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't." He swiped across the holopad, revealing detailed schematics of radical strongholds—supply caches, infiltration points, and most importantly, the leadership structure of the radical cells that had orchestrated the attack on Earth.
The other agent, a woman with sharp eyes and an even sharper demeanor, studied the data. "This is extensive. How did you get it?"
Tarrant's jaw clenched. "Not all of us wanted this war. We wanted independence, self-governance—not mass slaughter." His voice darkened. "But they wouldn't listen. They called us cowards. Traitors. So fine—I'll be a traitor if it means stopping this madness."
The ONI agent leaned back. "This information is accurate?"
"Every damn bit of it."
A slow nod. Then, without another word, the woman stood, grabbed the data slate, and left.
Location: UNSC Warship Resolute Spear, High Orbit Over Mars – 12:20 UEG Standard Time
Admiral Devereux watched as the battle plan unfolded across the main holo-display. Red zones marked radical ATLAS cells embedded across the Sol system—Earth, Luna, Mars, and even the asteroid belts.
"The priority is extermination," the ONI liaison stated coldly. "No negotiations. No second chances."
The UNSC officers around the table exchanged glances. Some were hardened veterans, others younger, still clinging to the notion of honor in warfare.
Captain Leona Graves crossed her arms. "Wiping them out in a single operation? That's going to be bloody."
"They made it bloody first," the ONI officer countered. "We're not here to rebuild ATLAS. We're here to end it."
Silence followed.
Then, Admiral Devereux straightened. "You have your orders. Launch the operation."
Location: Sector 12, Martian Underground Complex – 18:34 UEG Standard Time
The radicals never saw it coming.
The UNSC didn't deploy standard infantry. They used shock teams—precision-strike units outfitted with hybrid ATLAS-UNSC tech. Orbital insertions, tactical drop pods, underground breaching teams. The strikes were coordinated, rapid, and relentless.
Marcus Deyov, one of the radical cell leaders, barely had time to react before his compound doors exploded inward. A flashbang detonated in the tight corridors, sending his men stumbling. The first shots were clean—silent. Heads snapped back. Bodies crumpled.
Marcus scrambled for his rifle but felt the cold press of a gauntleted hand around his throat before he could reach it.
He gasped, staring up at the expressionless helmet of a UNSC strike trooper.
No words. No demands.
Just a single shot.
By the time UNSC command confirmed the kill, the radicals in Sector 12 were already dead or dying.
Location: ATLAS Secure Hideout, Europa – 21:02 UEG Standard Time
The broadcast came in waves. The radicals were being wiped out. Cell leaders executed, strongholds leveled, assets frozen or outright destroyed.
Tarrant watched from a dimly lit room, his heart heavy.
"This isn't victory," muttered a man beside him, another moderate who had chosen survival over war. "This is purging."
Tarrant rubbed his temples. "Better than them dragging us all down with them."
Still, as he watched the last cell fall—watched as the last radicals made their final stand, overwhelmed by the might of the UNSC—he couldn't help but wonder if anything would be left of ATLAS at all.
Casualty Report:
• 97% of radical ATLAS cells neutralized.
• 14,000 dead in UNSC strike operations.
• 85% of ATLAS's remaining assets seized or frozen.
• Moderate ATLAS factions now in hiding or defecting.
ATLAS, as the world had known it, was gone.
Only fragments remained. Scattered. Hunted.
And ONI was already deciding what to do with those pieces.
Date: August 4, 2166
Location: New Harmony Plaza, Mars – UEG Colonial District
The plaza was overflowing with people. Banners waved high, bright digital projections displaying slogans of unity, self-governance, and independence. The Line Movement had started as whispers in the shadows, a quiet resistance to the radical ATLAS insurgency and the brutality of UNSC crackdowns. Now, it had evolved into something else entirely.
A peaceful march. A stand.
Thousands of colonists, workers, and former ATLAS sympathizers filled the streets of New Harmony Plaza, chanting for reform. Families. Veterans. Scientists. Even former UNSC officers who had grown tired of the endless cycle of war.
Lena Havers, a former ATLAS logistics officer turned activist, stood atop the central podium, her voice amplified across the plaza.
"We are not insurgents!" she declared, her words carried by thousands of small broadcast drones. "We are not radicals! We are citizens of these colonies, and we will not be ignored any longer!"
A thunderous cheer erupted from the crowd.
"For too long, we have been nothing more than resources! Numbers on a corporate ledger! Tools for a war machine that does not care for us! No more! We demand representation! We demand autonomy! We demand our voices be heard!"
Across the UEG-controlled colonies, similar protests erupted—on Luna, on Ganymede, even within the vast industrial districts of Titan. The people had seen the horrors of war, and they wanted something different. They wanted change.
Location: UEG Colonial Affairs Office, Earth – 20:45 UEG Standard Time
Governor-General Adrien Cho watched the footage with his hands clasped behind his back. He had expected violence, riots, perhaps even another wave of ATLAS loyalists striking at government buildings. Instead, what he saw was… disciplined. Coordinated.
This wasn't rebellion. This was a movement.
"Sir," one of his advisors spoke, shifting uneasily. "We need to shut this down. If we don't act now—"
"If we shut this down now," Cho interrupted, his voice calm, "we guarantee another war in five years. Maybe less." He exhaled. "They aren't demanding revolution. They're demanding recognition."
A long silence filled the room. The bureaucrats didn't like it. The military advisors didn't trust it. But Cho knew reality when he saw it. The UNSC was stretched thin. The ATLAS radicals had been crushed, but at the cost of too many resources, too many soldiers. If the colonies rose up again, the UEG might not be able to put them down.
A different approach was needed.
He turned to his secretary. "Draft a resolution. Increased self-governance for the outer colonies. Partial autonomy under UEG oversight."
Murmurs filled the room. One of the older officials scoffed. "You're giving in to them?"
Cho shook his head. "I'm ensuring we don't lose the colonies entirely."
Location: Line Movement Headquarters, Titan – Two Weeks Later
Lena Havers sat in stunned silence as the message from Earth played on the holo-table.
"…the United Earth Government has formally recognized the need for colonial self-governance. Effective immediately, colonial districts will be granted legislative autonomy under a new governing charter…"
She felt the breath leave her chest. It wasn't full independence. But it was a start.
The people around her—activists, workers, even former ATLAS members—erupted into cheers. They had done it. Without guns. Without bombs. They had done what ATLAS, in all its power, had failed to do.
The colonies would finally have a voice.
But even as she watched the celebrations, she knew the fight wasn't over.
Autonomy wasn't the same as freedom.
And there were still those, in both the UEG and the UNSC, who would resist this change with everything they had.
The Line had won this battle.
But the war for the colonies' future had just begun.