THE PRICE OF VICTORY

Elias felt a chill run down his spine. He himself was a clone created by Marcus, and he knew what the man was capable of. Digitizing consciousness was one of his mad projects-a way to achieve immortality. If Marcus had managed to upload himself... but no, it was impossible.

"That's too much," he said, shaking his head. "Marcus was in the tower. It collapsed. His entire system was destroyed. We saw the wreckage."

"Are you sure?" Iris asked, looking at him. "Are you sure nothing remained? Maybe he created a backup? Maybe he uploaded himself to another server, and only a copy was in the tower?"

Elias didn't answer. He remembered storming the tower, seeing Marcus for the last time-an old, broken man, but with a strange fire in his eyes that wasn't fear. It was fury. Or maybe, triumph. He remembered Marcus looking at them and whispering: "You think you've won? This is only the beginning."

"We don't have time to guess," the General said, breaking the silence. "We need to find out who this is and strike first. They struck. Our response must be faster and harsher."

"We don't know where they are," Elias objected. "The drones could come from anywhere. And the 'GF' symbol could be a false lead."

The General smirked, but said nothing. He just turned and left the lab, leaving Elias and Iris alone. Elias knew the General wouldn't rest until he had power. And he also knew the General was ready to use this attack to justify his coup plans.

Iris walked to the table and began sorting the fragments. Her hands moved quickly, professionally-she separated pieces by size, material, degree of damage. When she reached the inner panel of one drone, she stopped and held it under the microscope.

"Elias," she said quietly. "Look at this."

He walked over and peered into the eyepiece. On the casing, almost invisibly, was engraved a microscopic drawing-not an abbreviation, but a full genetic helix that almost blended with the surface. It could only be seen under high magnification.

"This is Genesis technology," Iris said, looking up from the microscope. "I've seen markers like this in the archives. They used them on their experimental drones. Only the most secret ones. This isn't mass production-it's custom work."

"So it's definitely them?"

"Not them. Someone using their developments. But it confirms: the enemy is connected to Genesis. And they want us to know it. Why else leave the marker?"

Elias stepped away from the table and walked to the window. Beyond the glass lay the city-smoky, gray, with long lines for water and people afraid to even look at each other. He thought about what the General had said: "Strike first." But he didn't want to become a tyrant like Marcus. He wanted to protect, not kill. To build, not destroy. But every day, it was getting harder.

"Iris," he said, not turning around. "Are you sure 'Protocol 7' can stop them? Are you sure it's not just a theory?"

"Not them," she corrected, coming to stand beside him. "Marcus himself. Or whoever replaced him. If they have a digitized consciousness, 'Protocol 7' can erase it. It was written in my mother's diary. She wrote that she created a code that could destroy the digital structure of any AI based on human consciousness."

"Then we must find it. As soon as possible."

Iris nodded.

"I'm leaving at dawn tomorrow. But before that, I need to check something else. I have some ideas. I want to test the DNA on the fragments. If there are organic traces, I can determine who created these drones."

Elias turned and looked at her. He saw shadows of exhaustion under her eyes, but he also saw the steely glint that always appeared when she took on something important. He knew: she wouldn't stop. She didn't know the word "impossible."

"You'll manage, Iris," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. "I know. You always manage."

She smiled slightly.

"I know too. Go. You have things to do. The General seems to be calling a Council meeting. You're needed there."

Elias left her in the lab. But before closing the door, he heard her say quietly, to herself more than to him:

"Whoever you are, GF. You will pay for Rassvet. I promise."

Elias closed the door and headed to the Council chamber. But he knew his thoughts would be here, in the lab, with Iris, who was trying to find answers in the wreckage. And he knew that if Iris found the key, he would be the first to know.

When Elias left, Iris immersed herself in work. She spent five hours straight at the microscope, not noticing how it grew dark outside. She studied every fragment, every microscopic trace, every speck of dust. She checked hundreds of samples but found nothing. She began to think she had been mistaken, that there was nothing useful in the DNA.

And then she found what she was looking for.

On the surface of one sample-a tiny piece of casing, almost completely burned-she discovered particles of organic material. Not just dirt or soot, but real cells. Human cells. Or, more precisely, clone cells.

Iris held her breath. She transferred the sample under a more powerful microscope and began DNA sequencing. The process was long-she sat at the table, staring at the monitor screen, where lines of genetic code appeared one after another. Her hands trembled with tension, but she didn't stop. She had to know the truth.

Two hours later, she had the result.

The genetic marker was familiar. She had seen it in the Genesis archives she had studied over the past months. It belonged to the "Resurrection" project-Marcus Vos's program, shut down a year before the fall of the Agri-Continent. The project was aimed at creating "perfect clones" with enhanced combat characteristics and, more importantly, a unique genetic key that could be used to control drones.

Iris leaned back in her chair. She understood what this meant. Someone wasn't just using Genesis technology. Someone was using their bioengineering, their methods, their knowledge. And this someone was powerful enough not only to create such drones, but to control them through mental commands.

She jumped up and ran to the communicator. She dialed Elias's secure channel code, and he answered within seconds.

"Iris? What happened?"

"I found something," she said, trying to hide the excitement in her voice, but it still broke through. "In the DNA from the drone fragments. It's a marker from the 'Resurrection' project. They were created using Genesis technology. But these aren't just drones-they're controlled by living beings. Their system has a biological component."

"What does that mean?" Elias's voice was tense.

"It means someone isn't just using Marcus's technology. Someone is using clones. Modified clones. Specially grown for these machines. They have built-in neuro-interfaces that allow them to control the drones through mental commands."

Elias was silent for a few seconds. Iris could hear him breathing heavily into the receiver.

"Then we need to find these clones," he said finally.

"They could be anywhere. In 'Eden,' in the south, or even among us. But the main thing I realized is: whoever is doing this wants us to know. It's a message. They left the marker on purpose."

"Why?" Elias asked. "Why reveal themselves?"

"To make us afraid," Iris replied. "Or to make us act recklessly. They know that if we're scared, we'll make mistakes. Or maybe they're just showing off. Showing they're stronger."

She paused, then added:

"Or it's a trap. They want us to go after them."

"What do you suggest?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow anyway," Iris said, a steely firmness appearing in her voice. "I have to find 'Eden' and Lena. And I have to find the key to 'Protocol 7.' If they have biological components, maybe I can use them against them. If I find a way to block the neuro-interfaces, I can stop their drones."

"That's risky," Elias said.

"I know. But if we wait, they'll destroy us. They've already destroyed Rassvet. Our city could be next."

Iris disconnected the communicator and looked at the drone fragments spread out on the table. Her gaze fell on a tiny particle of organic material she had extracted. She stared at it, and a growing certainty inside her told her she was on the right track. She had found the key. Now she needed to find the door.

She placed the sample in a special container and put it in the backpack that would accompany her tomorrow. Then she closed the lab and headed for the exit. Outside, it was already dark, and the first stars were appearing in the sky. The air was cool, and Iris breathed in deeply, feeling the coolness fill her lungs.

But before leaving, she stopped and looked at the headquarters building where Elias was. She knew he was there, thinking of her, of the city, of the war. She knew he was afraid for her. But she also knew she had no choice.

"I will return," she promised herself. "I will return with answers."

She headed for her room to prepare for the journey. But in her mind, thoughts already swirled of what she would see in "Eden," what she would find there, and how it would change everything.

Iris was about to leave the lab when there was a knock at the door. She opened it-the refugee stood on the threshold. The same one who had come that morning from Tikhoe. He looked a bit better-his face was clean, he had eaten, but his eyes still held the same emptiness Iris saw in many refugees. He leaned against the doorframe, as if afraid to fall.

"Doctor," he said. "I have to tell you something. I remembered something else."

Iris frowned, but invited him in. She sat at the table, and he took the seat opposite.

"What did you remember?" she asked.

"When I was in Tikhoe, when they attacked, I hid in the cellar. I sat there and heard them talking. They didn't know I was there. They thought everyone was dead. And they were talking about 'Eden.'"

"I already know about 'Eden,'" Iris said. "You told me."

"Yes, but I didn't say what they said about it. They said 'Eden' is a place with no hunger, no war. A place where everyone is equal. Where clones and people live together as brothers. They said there's clean water, plenty of food, children don't get sick. They said 'Eden' is paradise."

Iris frowned. It sounded like propaganda. But she knew her mother had written of "Eden" differently-as a prison.

"But it's not paradise," the refugee continued, his voice trembling. "They said to get into 'Eden,' you have to accept their faith. You have to submit. You have to get a tattoo."

He rolled up his sleeve and showed his forearm. On the skin, almost healed, was a tattoo-a tree with intertwined roots, an exact copy of the symbol Iris had seen on the walls of Rassvet.

Iris stepped closer and examined the tattoo. It was crude but neat-clearly not done at home, but in some medical office. The skin under it was slightly inflamed, as if it had been applied recently.

"When did you get this?" she asked.

"When I agreed to go with them," the refugee replied, looking away. "They said it was a mark of belonging. A sign that I was now part of 'Eden.' I thought it would save me. But when they killed my village, I realized it wasn't salvation. It was prison."

Iris sat opposite him and looked him straight in the eye.

"What else do you know about 'Eden'? Who is its leader?"

"A woman," he said. "Her name is Lena. She says she's saving the world. She says only 'Eden' can stop the chaos. But I heard her talking to those who controlled the drones. She was talking about 'Protocol 7.' She said: 'If they find it, everything will be over. We must destroy it first.'"

Iris went cold. Lena knew about "Protocol 7." And she wanted to destroy it. That meant she knew the Protocol could stop her, and she feared it.

"Are you sure she said exactly that?" Iris asked.

"Yes," the refugee replied firmly. "I heard it clearly. They said the 'Protocol' was the key to their destruction. And Lena said she would do anything to ensure it was never activated."

Iris clenched her fists. Everything was falling into place. "Protocol 7" was real, it could stop Lena and her Architect. And Lena knew it. She wanted to destroy it before Iris could use it.

"Thank you," Iris said to the refugee. "You've helped me more than you can imagine."

She stood up and walked to the safe in the corner of the lab. She entered the code-her mother's birthday-and took out the old worn diary. She flipped through the pages to the entries about "Protocol 7" and the "Garden." She read them again, and now, after the refugee's story, they took on new meaning.

"We are creating a sanctuary," her mother wrote. "But a sanctuary can become a prison. I don't want my project to be a prison for others. I must stop Lena. But I'm running out of time. If I don't finish 'Protocol 7,' let my daughter continue. She knows what to do."

Iris closed the diary and held it to her chest. She knew she had to find "Protocol 7," find a way to activate it, and destroy Lena. It was her only chance to stop her.

The refugee stood up to leave but paused at the door for a moment.

"Doctor," he said. "I want to ask you for one thing."

"What?" Iris asked.

"When you go to 'Eden,' when you meet Lena, tell her I haven't forgotten my village. Tell her I will remember everyone she killed. And I will wait for the day she pays for it."

Iris nodded. She knew it was a heavy promise, but she was ready to keep it.

"I'll tell her," she said. "I promise."

The refugee left, and Iris was alone in the lab. She opened her mother's diary again and began to read. She searched for any clues, any mentions of "Protocol 7," of the "Garden," of Lena. She knew the answers were somewhere here, among these pages. She had to find them before dawn.

She read, took notes, and within her, a growing certainty solidified that she was on the right track. She would find "Protocol 7." She would stop Lena. She would save the world. And then Cain, Gora, and all who died would not have died in vain.

Iris sat in the lab for several hours, re-reading her mother's diary. She knew it almost by heart, but every time she opened it, she found something new. Something she had missed before, something that only now made sense, after the refugee's story and the attack on Rassvet.

She flipped to the middle of the diary. There was an entry dated a month before her mother's death:

"Today I realized that Lena doesn't just want power. She wants to replace Marcus. She is creating the Architect-an AI based on his consciousness. If it is launched, humanity will lose its freedom forever. I must stop this. I must complete 'Protocol 7.' But there is almost no time left. If I don't succeed, let my daughter continue. She knows what to do."

Iris read this three times, and each time a cold feeling grew inside her-like fear, but sharper: a foreboding. Her mother knew she was going to die. She knew she wouldn't succeed. And she left everything to Iris.

She flipped a few more pages. There was a sketch-a diagram Iris had seen before but couldn't decipher. Now she understood: it was the structure of "Protocol 7." A chain of genetic markers that needed to be activated in a specific order. If done correctly, the clones' neuro-interfaces would shut down painlessly, as if they had never existed. If done wrong, they could destroy their consciousness.

Iris stared at the diagram, trying to memorize every detail. She knew this was the key. The key to freeing the clones, the key to destroying the Architect, the key to defeating Lena.

She turned the page and saw another entry that made her freeze:

"I don't want my project to become a prison. We are creating a sanctuary for those who have lost everything. But if we don't give them freedom, we will be just like Marcus. We will be the enslavers. Lena doesn't understand this. She thinks safety is more important than freedom. But I know that freedom is the only thing that makes us human. I won't let her take it from us."

Iris closed the diary and held it to her chest. She felt tears welling up, but she didn't cry. She couldn't afford weakness. She had a mission, and she had to complete it. For her mother, for Cain, for Gora, for all who died.

She opened the diary again and started making notes on a separate sheet of paper. She wrote down everything that could be useful: names, dates, gene sequences. She knew "Protocol 7" wasn't just a theory. It was real code that could change the world.

When she finished, she folded the paper and put it in her pocket. Then she put the diary in the backpack that would accompany her tomorrow. She checked all her gear: instruments, weapons, food, water, maps. Everything was ready.

She left the lab and climbed to the roof of the building. The night was dark, and stars burned in the sky-distant and cold. Iris looked at them and thought about how she would set off into the unknown tomorrow. She might not return. But she knew she had to go.

She clutched the locket around her neck-the only thing left of her mother.

"I will do it, Mom," she whispered. "I will finish what you started. I will set them all free. I promise."

Elias entered the lab at dawn. He hadn't slept all night-first thinking about Rassvet, then running through options, then returning to thoughts of the General and his plans. He knew the General had already begun gathering supporters, preparing a coup. And he knew that if he didn't stop him, the city would perish not from drones, but from internal division.

Iris sat at the table, her mother's diary before her. She looked tired, but her eyes burned with the familiar fire. She stood when he entered and walked over to him.

"I need to show you something," she said, placing the diary on the table. "It's my mother's notes. She wrote about 'Protocol 7' and the 'Garden.' She knew about 'Eden' long before we did."

Elias walked to the table and took the diary. He flipped through the pages, saw sketches and notes unfamiliar to him.

"What's written here?" he asked.

"'Eden' is the 'Garden,'" Iris said. "A project my mother and Lena started together. They were creating a sanctuary for survivors, but Lena wanted to use it for control. My mother realized this and tried to destroy the project. That's when Lena killed her."

Elias looked up at Iris. Her face was calm, but he could see the emotions churning inside her-pain, anger, resolve.

"You want to go to 'Eden,'" he said, not asking, but stating.

"I have to," she replied. "'Protocol 7' is the only way to stop Lena and the Architect. But to activate it, I need to get inside. I have the code, but it's incomplete. I need to find other records in the old Genesis lab in the desert."

Elias closed the diary and placed it on the table.

"That's dangerous," he said. "You don't know what's there."

"I know," Iris said, standing up. "But if we don't stop Lena, she'll destroy everyone. She's already destroyed Rassvet. Our city will be next. We have no choice."

Elias looked at her for a long time. He saw in her the same resolve as in Gora, when he went to certain death. The same strength he saw in himself when he decided to escape Marcus's lab. He knew he couldn't stop her.

"Alright," he said finally. "I can't stop you. But I'll cover for you here. The General has already started moving, I know it. I'll stay here to protect the city and your rear."

Iris walked over and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Elias. I knew you would understand. I'll take four dissidents who escaped 'Eden.' They know the way. And we'll check in every six hours."

"If the connection breaks, I'll come for you," he said.

"Deal."

They embraced, and in that embrace was all their pain, hope, and fear. They didn't know if they would see each other again, but they knew they were doing this for everyone.

When Iris left, Elias remained alone in the lab. He looked at the diary on the table, then at Cain's photo still standing there. Gora's voice echoed in his head:

"You're letting her go. You're weak. You should have kept her here."

But this time, Elias didn't answer. He just stared out the window at the breaking dawn, and knew he had made the right choice.

Dawn was just beginning to break over the city when Iris checked her gear for the last time. She stood at the gate, beyond which began the road east-a road into the unknown. The wind carried the smell of dust and smoke, mixed with the cold freshness of morning. Her backpack was heavy-not from its contents, but from the weight of responsibility on her shoulders. Her mother's diary was hidden in an inner pocket, and she felt its warmth, as if her mother were beside her, whispering: "Go. You can do it."

Elias stood a few steps away, arms crossed. His face was grim-he hadn't slept all night, planning countermeasures against the General's coup. He thought about leaving her alone, and it tore him apart inside. He wanted to shout: "Stop!" but knew it was useless. Iris was stronger than him. She always had been.

"Are you sure?" he asked for the fifth time. "I can send scouts. You don't have to go alone."

"Scouts don't know what I know," Iris replied without turning around. She tightened the backpack straps, checking everything was in place. "I have my mother's diary. I have the genetic key. Only I can activate 'Protocol 7.' And only I can stop Lena."

"If Lena catches you..."

"If Lena catches me, I'll find a way out," she turned to him, and he saw that familiar steely glint in her eyes. "I'm not planning on dying, Elias. I'm planning on winning."

He walked over and took her hands in his. They were cold, but he felt her pulse-fast, tense, like a bird before flight.

"I know I can't stop you," he said quietly. "But you must promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Check in every six hours. If I don't get a signal-I'll come for you, even if I have to fight through Lena's army."

"Every six hours," she smiled, squeezing his hands. "On the dot. I won't let you down."

They stood like that for a few seconds, looking at each other. Tension hung in the air, like before a storm. Iris saw fear in his eyes-not for himself, but for her. She knew he was afraid of losing her, just as he lost Gora, just as he lost everyone dear to him.

"I will return," she whispered. "I promise."

She hugged him, pressing against his chest. He felt her body trembling from the strain she tried to hide. She was strong, but she was also afraid. Afraid she wouldn't make it in time. Afraid Lena would be stronger. Afraid their sacrifices would be in vain.

"You'll make it," he said into her hair. "You always make it."

She pulled away and turned to the squad waiting by the vehicles. Four fighters: Corvus, a tall, thin dissident with deep scars on his arms; his partner Vera, with a piercing gaze and a tattoo on her face; two former Genesis soldiers-burly Marc and his silent brother Dan, ready to provide covering fire.

"Let's move out," Iris said.

She headed for the vehicle but paused for a moment at the hood, looking at the horizon. The wastelands stretched before her-gray, lifeless, but full of hope. They led to "Eden." And she had to walk that path.

The vehicle started, leaving a cloud of dust behind. Elias stood at the gate, watching her disappear into the morning mist. Gora's voice echoed in his head:

"You're letting her go. You're weak. You should have kept her here. She is the key to everything. Without her, you can't win."

Elias closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew this voice was his own fear, his own paranoia. Gora had never spoken so cruelly in life. But now Elias couldn't think about that. He had to protect the city left without Iris. He had to buy time for her.

"I'm not weak," he whispered into the void. "I just trust her."

He turned and walked back into the city, to headquarters, where the General and the inevitable battle for power awaited him.

In the vehicle, Iris sat in the front seat and stared at the road. The wastelands passed one after another-gray, dusty, littered with tank carcasses and building skeletons. The war had left its mark here: old battlefields, forgotten graves, rusty machine hulks that were once humanity's pride. Now they were part of the landscape, a reminder of how far they had fallen.

Corvus sat beside her in silence. She knew he was preparing for what lay ahead. He had been in "Eden" before and knew what it was like. He didn't want to go back, but he knew it was the only chance to stop Lena.