"THIS IS a bad idea," Luca whispered, just as Amelia peeked her head around a corner. An empty glass hall beckoned to her, and she turned back to her friends, whom she had only moments before encouraged them from their hiding places.

They had a mission; albeit a suicidal one.

And that was to help the marines.

After all, they couldn't just sit in the mess hall with the other non-marines, inhaling staling food smells and sweating in the heat, all the while cowering and thinking about what could happen as explosions echoed up and down the corridors. The time for uncertainty, Amelia had already decided, was over.

Time to know whether or not they were going to live or die, or whether they had the guts to face a few guns rather than dinosaurs (though Amelia was certain she would've chosen the latter. Dinosaurs had weaknesses. Fully-charged weapons did not.)

Amelia pressed a finger to her lips, the movement relatively calm, though her dark and flashing eyes communicated how much she wanted Luca to shut up; maybe permanently. He got the message, though he still looked unhappy at trekking towards the danger instead of away from it.

Thankfully, Tina had had her back — and the technician had grudgingly agreed that yes, their consciences would not survive if the marines didn't either.

Beckoning them forward, Amelia took off down the corridor, rushing past the dorms and and Dr Royson's clinic. It felt good to do something of her own accord, not timetabled into a calendar of 'do's' and 'dont's', and she relished it. It wouldn't last very long.

They covered a hundred meters of white tile within a few seconds, though they were all trying to calm their panting by the time they reached the elevator. The facility was eerily quiet, a contrast from the explosions and distant gunfire from minutes before. Amelia doubted that that was a good thing.

Maybe that was what made the elevator's slight 'ding' as it reached ground floor so obvious.

Within mere heartbeats, Tina, Luca, and Amelia were dashing within glass cubicles (thankfully automatically unlocked once the alarms began), ducking beneath the lectors' desks and the seats of the Learners. Amelia wasted a few precious seconds thinking about where the lecturers would be hiding, before the elevator's doors slid open.

Amelia moved to scramble behind a solid white table, and her view of whoever stepped out the elevator was blocked by the projector screen that crossed the glass. She didn't dare peek her head out to see, or even breathe. She ignored her heart's fluttering in her rib cage, and focused on hearing whatever she could.

Footsteps over the ground. A slight hissing of pressurized air, and then the clacking of a safety guard turned off. A bead of sweat slid across Amelia's face, and she didn't feel so heroic anymore.

What the dank was I thinking? That I could win Zoey over by dying? Her thoughts turned bitter, and the darker ones started creeping back.

Panic rising — Stay quiet, stay quiet — Amelia shut down that train of thought, just as black boots appeared in the corner of her vision. Her blood turned to ice, and the need to breathe vanished. Her lungs were too locked in fear to inhale, and her thoughts too scrambled to do anything other than watch.

The desk she sat beneath, her back pressing against its wide, singular leg, was posed horizontally in front of the glass classroom. Behind her was her saving grace — the projector screen that covered the entire glass wall, which otherwise would've allowed her a clear view to the elevator, but also a view of her for the occupants.

The said invaders were walking down the corridor, revealed by glass. If they glanced back through their tinted visors, they would see her through the wall. Amelia prayed they wouldn't.

Oh God ... they have guns. She eyed the rifles; their black exteriors shone malevolently beneath the fluorescent lights. And suddenly Amelia agreed with Luca. This is a very bad idea.

The men didn't turn around, but they were headed right for the mess hall, which didn't give Amelia any relief when she thought of all the other unarmed, unprotected people hiding there. They're sitting ducks!

The realization that Amelia had to do something — anything — to stop the carnage that was most likely to ensue seemed to focus her nerves onto one thing; stopping the three armed enemies. She was stunned at how quickly she felt herself calm, now that she actually knew what she had to do.

Amelia peeked out from under the desk, scanning for her friends. There was slight motion out of the corner of her eye, and she spied Tina's foot, covered with the grey material of their suits (technicians wore shorter versions, and their choice of footwear was hardier in case of any accidents), underneath a Learner's desk in the cubicle across from hers.

Amelia watched as the men walked off, feeling anger stir in her chest at how laid-back they were. They're not expecting anyone to attack them. She would've smirked, had she been more confident that the wild plan in her head would work.

Quickly gulping down air, she gathered what remained of her nerve-shot courage, before leaping from her place under the desk and sliding through the glass door, slipping across the hallway between the glass walls and into Tina's own hiding place with an agility she had never known she'd had. (And would probably never have again, Amelia reflected, somewhat mournfully, as she slipped in beside her friend.)

"You're a bloody dagger, Amelia," Tina whispered, her eyes wide and staring at the curly-haired girl like she'd grown two heads. Amelia shrugged Tina's words off, deciding to take it as a compliment in the circumstances, and explained her idea in harried murmurs.

"No way," Tina hissed in response, which was what she had expected. Amelia gripped ahold of the paler girl's thin hands, squeezing with an intensity that forced Albertina to focus on her. Desperation was on the verge of bubbling over, but Amelia forced herself to speak calmly.

"Tina, those people are going to die if we. Do. Nothing." Amelia shook Tina slightly, trying to communicate her urgency through her eyes. She couldn't afford to raise her voice any louder. Please. Understand how important this is to us — to the world, Amelia's dark eyes begged.

Because losing the first wave of ERAA would almost certainly doom the mission.

And that meant dooming Daryl.

There was a moment of silence that was filled with Amelia's raging thoughts, and their shared fear. Tina exhaled heavily. "Fine. Where's Luca?"

"Not sure," Amelia responded, wanting nothing more than to hug the chestnut-haired girl beside her. For the first time since that alarm had begun blaring, she felt genuine hope that they were gonna make it out of there alive.

Amelia crept to the glass, spying the men as they walked closer and closer to the staircase that would take them down to the mess hall. She squashed those feelings of hope and focused on the task at hand, which would be no piece of cake.

"Hopefully he gets the memo once he spots us," Amelia whispered, curling her hands into fists as she felt them shake. "Ready?"

"No," Tina responded. Amelia gave her a brief smile, cooler on the exterior than she was inside.

"Me neither. Let's do it."

Bolstering her nerves and using that frantic energy, Amelia burst from the glass room, only hoping that Tina was on her heels. Her legs were stiffer than expected, and she nearly stumbled, careening into the glass wall and almost knocking over her friend. Pins and needles stabbed the back of her knees, and white dots splashed across her vision.

Don't faint, don't faint ...

The men twisted at the sound of their footsteps, and she could practically see their surprise through the visors. Invigorated by the sight of their goal, Amelia churned her arms faster, and, with one impossibly large leap (Why wasn't I ever this athletic at school, when I needed it? A stupid back-of-the-mind-thought mourned), she plunged the ball of her foot right into the gut of the one guy.

He doubled over as she landed on her side, both of their breaths knocked out of them, before Amelia swiped his legs out from under him with a mere swing of her own. Her previous rigidness forgotten, she quickly climbed to her knees and grabbed the man's rifle, slamming the back of it into his exposed jaw.

Weird. I don't even know the proper name for it, and I just knocked him out with it.

Energy still thrumming through her veins, but diminishing with every heartbeat, Amelia turned and climbed to her feet, just as Tina brought the guy she'd singled out to his knees, with the last remaining invader under the mercy of the deadly-looking rifle in her hands.

"We're not here to hurt you!" The guy's voice (well, she thought it was guy; underneath the visor, and his/her high-strung, frightened tone, Amelia couldn't really tell) was muffled, though laced with urgency. "We came in peace!"

"Oh, really?" Amelia aimed the gun more squarely at his head, suddenly feeling incredibly confident in the position of the one who held another's life in their hands. She blamed it on the adrenaline. "Could've fooled me."

"Please!" The guy's pleading was distorted, reminding of her of the alley cats that yowled each night back in Michigan. It was like Amelia couldn't escape thinking about her hometown — or about Daryl. "Don't kill me!"

Amelia felt a burst of irritation, which cut her bravado. She lowered the gun, feeling a scowl tighten her features. "That wasn't on the agenda." (As if reassuring herself as well as the dude before her.)

Tina, who had twisted her victim's arms behind his back, and was now straddling his back, piped up alongside; "But then why bring the guns? Why target us?"

The man took a step back, and Amelia followed him, making sure he wouldn't run away. She was curious as well; mystified that people would want to ruin the very program that would save the world. Amelia suspected that, if they knew the location of ERAA, then they would know about its purpose, too.

"That's classified."

But he wasn't the one to be negotiating, and Amelia leveled the gun at him again, now certain her adrenaline was being drowned out by annoyance, making sure to keep her finger away from the trigger. "I'm pretty sure it's in your best interests to answer, buddy."

He audibly swallowed, freezing. "We're here to extract any persons who were brought here against their will."

Amelia started, and shared a glance with Tina. Their eyes asked the same question. The curly-haired young woman turned back to the man. "What? Under whose orders?"

"We weren't told anything!" The man responded. His knees shook. They weren't prepared for us to fight back. Maybe they don't know everything about us. "I'm just a private; a pawn of higher powers! By doing this, we did what we had to do."

His voice softened, and Amelia had to strain to hear, even though she suddenly realized that she really, really didn't want to hear his misguided words, mangled by fear — fear of her — "And sometimes, that's all one can do."

Then, moving faster than she'd have thought his armored appearance would've allowed, the man took off in a sprint back to the elevator, and was gone.

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