The narrow corridor stretched ahead, its walls adorned with insulating material that created a tunnel-like passage. The Sergeant Major marched with purpose, his pace demanding me to half-run just to keep up. Though I had expected secrets to be concealed underground, I never fathomed that Safe Haven delved so deep beneath the surface. A plaque mounted on one of the walls proudly proclaimed 'Level -230,' indicating that we were descending several hundred meters underground. As we neared the end of the corridor, two formidable guards stood their ground. Clad in uniforms and armed to the teeth, their vigilant expressions sent a clear message—these were not men to be trifled with.

"Identity code," the left guard grumbled as we closed the distance.

"MC784326SM," the Sergeant Major retorted, his voice steady and unyielding. I could sense his annoyance at having to repeat the code, likely due to frequent visits. An identity code was bestowed upon every resident of Safe Haven, granting access to specific sectors. While most areas were secured by scanning tags, more fortified sections relied on both an identity code and an iris scan. Here, they took security to the next level, adding a physical inspection to the protocol.

"Identity code," the guard repeated, now directing his attention towards me.

"JB64356S," I replied. With a subtle gesture, the guard motioned us toward the iris scanner. After both of us received the coveted green light, the doors opened, revealing a compact chamber with yet another colossal door at its end. 

We stepped into the chamber, and the first door sealed behind us. Suddenly, the left wall slid open, exposing a recessed tray. I turned to Connors, silently seeking guidance. He promptly emptied his pockets of all mobile devices, placing them in the tray. I followed suit, placing my belongings alongside his. The tray retracted into the wall, disappearing from sight. A scanner positioned by the second door thoroughly examined us, ensuring no concealed devices remained. The operation beyond this impenetrable door held an air of utmost secrecy.

With a low rumble, the door yielded, revealing an expanse of vast proportions. The chamber was adorned with a multitude of monitors, while a colossal screen dominated the rear wall. Figures clad in pristine white lab coats moved about, their purpose evident. In the corner, my gaze locked onto two familiar silhouettes—the recognizable face of Colonel Helen Hill and a balding man who could only be the Vice President. Both of them abruptly halted their conversation and turned towards the opening door, creating a sudden hush in the vast room. After a brief moment of silence, everyone swiftly resumed their tasks as if nothing had interrupted them. Colonel Hill made her way towards us, accompanied by the Vice President. "Matthew, how delightful to see you," Hill greeted Connors with genuine warmth. "Always a pleasure," Connors responded with a hint of a smile. 

The Colonel then shifted her attention to me, and reflexively, I snapped into a rigid posture ingrained in me during rigorous training. The corners of her lips curved into a gentle smile, and she dismissively waved off my stiff stance. "At ease, Baker," she said in a soothing tone. Surprised that she addressed me by name, I mustered a stammered response, "Yes, ma'am." 

Stepping out from behind Helen Hill, the Vice President's slender figure emerged, almost as if he sought refuge behind his mother's presence. His receding black hair, lean physique, and oversized round glasses lent him an air of a scholarly professor rather than a high-ranking Vice President. As the President's brother, he stood in stark contrast to his charismatic sibling. While the President was a charismatic orator, the Vice President possessed a more reserved demeanour. However, beneath his unassuming façade, he held an extraordinary level of influence over the President's decisions, far beyond what most could fathom. Rumours circulated that the Vice President was the true mastermind behind his brother's entire political campaign, and even during his tenure as President, he often orchestrated pivotal choices behind the scenes. Yet, it was the President's magnetic presence and resilient image that placed him in the spotlight, overshadowing his younger brother. 

The Vice President extended his lanky arm towards me, and I shook his hand, noting its clammy and feeble grip. "Mr. Baker, it is a pleasure to have you here. Connors has spoken highly of you," he said, his eyes betraying a mischievous glint.

 Surprised by the remark, I replied with a tinge of curiosity, "Oh, is that so? I hope it's only for the right reasons." 

A playful smile curled on the Vice President's lips as his eyes sparkled with hidden amusement. "Quite the contrary, and that's precisely why you're here," he responded cryptically. 

The Colonel placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, her voice conveying a sense of comfort. "Come, Baker, let us enlighten you as to the purpose of your presence here."

 I followed the trio down a narrow staircase, leading us into a room enclosed by glass panels. We took our seats around an expansive, gleaming oak table that commanded attention. The room, devoid of any additional furniture, offered an unobstructed view of the colossal screen mounted on the opposite wall. Adjacent to it, a digital clock ominously counted down the remaining time. A sense of unease settled within me, the significance of which I couldn't fully grasp. 

The Vice President cleared his throat, preparing to address me with caution. "Baker, before we proceed," he paused, his gaze penetrating, searching for the right words.

 "..Everything you have heard and will hear from this point on is classified information, strictly confidential. It must never, under any circumstances, be disclosed beyond these walls," Colonel Hill interjected, her tone firm and resolute. Matthew Connors nodded in agreement, emphasizing the gravity of the situation. "Understood," I responded with a solemn nod, acknowledging the weight of their words. 

"Now, what do you truly know about Judgment?" the Vice President began, his voice laced with a blend of intrigue and apprehension. 

"Judgment, the most catastrophic event since the extinction of dinosaurs," I replied, my voice carrying a sombre tone. 

"But what is your understanding of it?" he probed further. 

"As I comprehend it, the sun emitted an unprecedented surge of energy that surpassed the capabilities of our protective ozone layer," I responded, attempting to provide a concise summary. 

"The sun has been gradually dying for millions of years," he stated, his gaze never wavering.

 "Isn't the sun only halfway through its expected lifespan?" I questioned, a hint of confusion seeping into my voice. 

"The sun's true age far surpasses our limited understanding. The demise of the dinosaurs, as you mentioned, was also a consequence of a solar flare. Even then, the sun was already in the throes of its inevitable demise," he explained, his words punctuated by an air of grim certainty.

"Could you elaborate further?" I inquired, my curiosity piqued by this revelation. 

"The global warming phenomenon cannot be solely attributed to our centuries-long emissions. The rising temperatures stem from the sun's gradual demise. As it ages, its power intensifies," he revealed, his words resonating with a blend of scientific insight and profound gravity.

A heavy silence settled in the room, the weight of the revelation sinking deeper into my core. I struggled to comprehend the magnitude of what they were telling me. After a moment, I mustered the strength to voice my devastation, "How did you come to know all of this?"

"The cataclysmic event was the final piece we needed in our search for answers on how to combat the ravages of global warming," the Vice President replied, his voice tinged with a mix of gravity and determination.

Colonel Hill stepped forward, her gaze unwavering. "Once the initial shock of Judgment subsided, NASA scientists delved deeper into the phenomenon. They discovered that our approach had been misguided. We were fixated on our own actions, oblivious to the gradual decline of our very life source—the sun."

I exhaled deeply, feeling a wave of despair crashing over me. I slumped against the table, defeated. "If the sun is dying, what purpose do I serve? I can't fight against the inevitable."

"That's not all Baker" the Vice President began, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone, "you need to understand that Judgment was not an anomaly. It was merely a precursor to a much larger and imminent catastrophe." His words hung in the air, laden with a sense of urgency. Colonel Hill leaned forward, her piercing gaze fixed upon me, while Matthew Connors leaned back, his face etched with concern.

"The sun, Mr. Baker, is approaching its end state," the Vice President continued, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and apprehension. "It's not just aging; it's in the final stages of its life. And when it reaches that critical point, it will transform into a red giant—a monstrous force that will consume everything in its path."

My eyes widened, struggling to grasp the magnitude of what he was revealing. "But... but that's catastrophic," I stammered, my mind racing to comprehend the impending doom. Had it all been a façade? The hope for a new beginning in a fractured world, just empty promises? I vividly recalled the President's words from his speech years ago—they echoed in my mind.

-"We will fight for our existence as humans, against forces far beyond our control. We will not succumb! We will rebuild from the ground up with the resources we have, with one mission: to keep you safe, to protect you from what is yet to come. We will be there for you."

But now, standing in this room, doubts gnawed at my core. Was it all a mere illusion, a façade to placate the masses? The weight of disillusionment settled heavily upon my shoulders.

"However, there is also good news," Matthew Connors interjected, breaking the painful silence. He rose from his seat and walked toward the glass window. "Do you see that countdown, Baker?" I looked up, my spirit deflated. 

"Yes, sir." The countdown displayed three compartments, each with a different set of numbers. The current reading showed 190:08:57.

"When that countdown reaches zero, Baker, we won't be inhabitants of this planet anymore," Connors said, his voice laced with intrigue.

I raised an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

Connors turned to face me, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of trepidation and determination. "There is a plan in motion—a daring endeavour to ensure the survival of humanity. We have been working tirelessly in the deepest secret to construct an interstellar vessel capable of transporting the remainder of humanity to a habitable planet in a distant star system. A new home, free from the ravages of Judgment and the dying sun."

My heart skipped a beat, a glimmer of hope piercing through the veil of despair. "You mean... we have a chance to escape? To start anew?"

Colonel Hill joined us by the window, her gaze fixed on the countdown. "Yes, Baker. We have devoted our resources, our intellect, to this mission—a mission to secure a future beyond the confines of Earth. We have identified a potential sanctuary, a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness."

"But why is this mission so secretive?" I couldn't make sense of it anymore. This should be celebrated, news that people had been longing to hear. This was the hope we were told to hold onto in the aftermath of Judgment.

"What we're revealing here is not the secret part," the Vice President said.

"What is the secret part, then?"

The Vice President fell silent, his gaze shifting to the two high-ranking military officials. Both of them nodded slightly. Then, the President fixed his intense gaze upon me. "The secret part of this mission is that we need to kill my brother."

The words hung in the air, their weight pressing down on my shoulders. Killing the President? I couldn't fathom it. The room fell into a stunned silence, broken only by the soft hum of the equipment and the distant ticking of the countdown clock.