The wind howled through the ravine, carrying with it the faint metallic tang of exposed Celestial alloys and the earthy decay of old battlefields. Ethan crouched behind a boulder, his rifle steady in his hands. The cliff walls loomed high above him, their jagged edges casting long shadows across the narrow path.
He pressed a finger to his comms device, his voice low. “Command, this is Ethan. I’ve reached the observation point. No signs of activity yet, but there’s movement deeper in the gorge.”
Sarah’s voice crackled through his earpiece, calm but tinged with concern. “Acknowledged. Proceed carefully, Ethan. If you see anything, don’t engage. We can’t risk losing you.”
Ethan smirked faintly, adjusting his visor. “You worry too much, Commander. I’ll be in and out before they even know I’m here.”
There was a brief pause before Sarah responded, her tone softening. “Just… stay alive, okay? We’ve lost enough people already.”
Ethan’s smirk faded, replaced by a flicker of something more serious. “Copy that,” he said, before cutting the transmission.
He scanned the terrain ahead through his visor, its augmented reality overlay highlighting heat signatures in the distance. A faint glow marked the entrance to a hidden structure—a base built into the rock, barely visible to the naked eye. It matched the intel Ryl had recovered from the Broker’s facility: a key staging area for the Broker’s operations.
Ethan moved silently along the rocky path, his every step deliberate. The gorge felt unnaturally quiet, the kind of quiet that prickled at the back of his neck. His instincts told him he wasn’t alone, and those instincts had saved his life too many times to ignore.
He stopped just short of the base, crouching behind a jagged outcrop. From his vantage point, he could see the entrance—a heavy, reinforced door flanked by two sentries. They were hybrids, their movements precise, their weapons alien in design.
Ethan activated his visor’s recording function, capturing the scene. “Two guards at the entrance,” he muttered into the comm. “Looks like they’re armed with Celestial tech. This place is definitely hot.”
He shifted slightly, angling for a better view of the surrounding area. That’s when he saw it—transport drones moving in and out of a concealed side entrance, carrying crates marked with the glowing symbols of Celestial weaponry.
“Command, this is Ethan,” he whispered. “Confirming significant activity at the target site. The Broker’s moving weapons—lots of them. I’m sending you the visuals now.”
The data streamed back to Sarah and the Coalition command center, but Ethan didn’t wait for a response. He knew the Broker’s operation was bigger than anyone had anticipated.
Before he could pull back, a faint noise behind him made his blood run cold—a scuff of boots on stone, too close to ignore.
Ethan spun, his rifle coming up in an instant, but it was too late. A hybrid soldier lunged at him, their clawed hand swiping his weapon aside. Ethan countered with a sharp blow to the hybrid’s jaw, but the scuffle had already drawn attention.
Alarms blared, red lights flashing from the base’s hidden sensors. The sentries at the entrance turned, their weapons raised as reinforcements poured out of the base.
“Damn it!” Ethan hissed, firing off a burst of shots as he fell back toward the ravine’s cover. He tapped his comms, his voice urgent. “Command, this is Ethan! I’ve been made—enemy forces are converging on my position!”
Sarah’s voice crackled through the chaos. “Ethan, pull back now! We’ll extract you—just hold your position!”
Ethan dove behind a boulder as plasma bolts scorched the air around him. “Not an option, Commander!” he called out, his voice tight with pain as a shot grazed his shoulder. “They’ve got too many—they’ll follow me straight back to you!”
“Ethan, don’t you dare—”
A plasma grenade exploded nearby, cutting off Sarah’s words. Ethan gritted his teeth, his mind racing. He had seen enough of the Broker’s operation to know what was at stake. If the Coalition didn’t stop this supply chain, the Broker would have the firepower to crush them.
Another hybrid closed in on his position, their weapon aimed squarely at his chest. Ethan fired first, the hybrid crumpling to the ground.
He tapped his comms again, his voice steadier than it had any right to be. “Sarah… I’ll send you the rest of the data. But I’m not making it out of this one.”
“Ethan, no!” Sarah’s voice was sharp, desperate. “You can make it back—we’ll find a way!”
Ethan smiled faintly, even as blood trickled down his temple. “You know that’s not true. If I run, they’ll follow. And you need this intel.”
He pressed a sequence into his wrist-mounted device, initiating a data transfer to the Coalition’s secure network. The files from the Broker’s base, the schematics, the shipment routes—it all began uploading.
“Tell them to use this,” Ethan said, his voice softening. “Use it to end this war.”
“Ethan, don’t do this!” Sarah’s voice broke, but Ethan didn’t let himself falter.
The enemy was closing in, dozens of soldiers surrounding his position. Ethan took a deep breath, steadying his aim as he prepared to make his final stand.
“For the Coalition,” he said quietly, before cutting the comms.
The first wave of enemies surged toward him, and Ethan opened fire, holding them back with precision and fury. Plasma bolts lit up the ravine, the sound of the battle echoing off the cliffs.
He fought until his rifle ran dry, then switched to his sidearm. The hybrids hesitated, perhaps recognizing the inevitability of his sacrifice, but Ethan didn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him falter.
When the last of his ammo was spent, Ethan drew his knife, meeting the enemy head-on. He fought until the end, his determination unyielding even as the world around him blurred.
By the time the Coalition received the completed data transfer, the ravine was silent.
The medbay was quiet, save for the steady hum of machinery and the faint beep of Ethan’s vitals monitor. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Sarah stood at the foot of the bed, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes fixed on the figure lying motionless before her.
Ethan looked almost peaceful, though the deep gashes across his armor and the burns on his exposed skin told the story of his last stand. His breaths were shallow, labored, each one a battle in itself.
“He shouldn’t have made it back,” Ryl said softly from where he leaned against the wall, his golden eyes reflecting a rare hint of sorrow. “When we found him in that ravine… I didn’t think anyone could survive that.”
“He didn’t,” Sarah replied, her voice flat, though it trembled at the edges. She knew it was only a matter of time now.
Ethan stirred slightly, his head shifting on the pillow. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, but as they locked onto Sarah, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
“Commander,” he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “Didn’t think… you’d waste time visiting a lost cause.”
Sarah stepped closer, shaking her head. “You’re not a lost cause, Ethan. You got us the intel—we’ve already started decoding it. You’ve done more for the Coalition than anyone could’ve asked.”
Ethan let out a weak chuckle that dissolved into a ragged cough. “Don’t… sugarcoat it. I know what’s coming. Hell, I probably deserve it. All those years before this war… I wasn’t exactly a saint.”
“Ethan—”
He raised a shaky hand to stop her. “Don’t. I’ve made my peace with it.” He turned his gaze to Ryl, who had stepped closer. “But I need to know… the data… did it get through?”
Ryl nodded. “All of it. Routes, schematics, weapon manifests—we have everything. The Broker’s plans are exposed.”
Ethan exhaled slowly, relief flickering across his face. “Good. Then I didn’t waste my time… or yours.”
Sarah swallowed hard, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “You didn’t waste anything, Ethan. You saved lives—lives that would’ve been lost if the Broker’s plan had gone unchecked. Don’t forget that.”
He smiled faintly, his eyes half-lidded. “If you say so… Guess I finally did something right.”
“You did more than that,” Sarah said, her voice softening. “You’ve given us a fighting chance. And we’re going to finish what you started. I swear it.”
Ethan’s smile faded slightly, his expression growing distant. “Sarah,” he said after a moment, his tone more serious. “The Broker… he’s not just hoarding weapons. He’s… using them. Testing them. He’s trying to prove… that he’s stronger than the Celestials. That he can take their place.”
Sarah’s brow furrowed. “Take their place?”
Ethan nodded weakly. “He doesn’t care about survival or unity. It’s all about control. If we don’t stop him… there won’t be a Coalition. There won’t be anything left.”
His words hung in the air like a weight, the gravity of them sinking into Sarah’s chest.
“What else do you know?” Ryl asked, his voice calm but insistent.
Ethan’s eyelids fluttered, his energy fading fast. “He’s got… more bases. Hidden. The data I sent… it’ll lead you to them. But he’s smart. He’ll move fast. You can’t wait.”
“We won’t,” Sarah said firmly.
Ethan’s gaze shifted back to her, his eyes searching hers. “Promise me, Sarah. Promise you’ll finish this. No hesitation. No second-guessing.”
“I promise,” she said, her voice breaking slightly.
Ethan’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “Good,” he murmured. His eyes began to close, his breathing growing fainter with each passing second.
Sarah leaned closer, her voice steady even as her heart broke. “You did good, Ethan. Better than good. Rest now. We’ll take it from here.”
A single breath escaped his lips, shallow and slow, and then… nothing.
The monitor beside him emitted a flat, unyielding tone, its steady rhythm silenced.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Sarah stared down at Ethan’s still form, her mind racing with everything he had given them—and everything they had lost.
“We need to move,” Ryl said quietly, breaking the silence. “The Broker won’t wait for us to mourn.”
Sarah nodded, her jaw tight. She straightened, her shoulders square, though the weight of grief was etched into every line of her face.
“He wanted us to hesitate,” she said softly. “But we won’t.”
She turned to leave, her gaze lingering on Ethan one last time. “Thank you,” she whispered, before walking out of the room, her resolve burning brighter than ever.
The hybrid settlement at Redwater Hollow was nestled in a valley that had once been lush with life. Now, the land was scorched and barren, its rivers reduced to shallow trickles and its trees skeletal husks. Despite this, the settlement thrived—a patchwork of shelters and barricades surrounded by fields of hard-fought crops.
But today, the settlement’s calm was shattered.
The ground trembled faintly beneath the feet of the Coalition team as they approached, their weapons ready. The source of the disturbance was obvious: an enormous cylindrical structure looming near the heart of the settlement. Its surface pulsed with an unnatural blue light, glowing with the same eerie energy that had been seen in Celestial bio-weapons before.
“It’s a terraforming device,” Ryl said grimly, scanning the device with his handheld scanner. “Not just a bomb. If it detonates, it’ll reshape the entire valley into something uninhabitable for hybrids—and probably for humans too.”
Sarah stood beside him, her gaze locked on the device. Around them, the settlement’s hybrid defenders scrambled to organize an evacuation, their feline and lupine features taut with fear.
“How much time do we have?” she asked.
“Not much,” Ryl replied. “The energy buildup is nearing critical. Once it hits the threshold…” He didn’t finish, but the grim set of his jaw told her enough.
“Is there a way to disable it?” Sarah asked, her voice tight.
Ryl hesitated. “Maybe. But it’s designed to resist tampering. If I start pulling at the wrong wires, it could accelerate the countdown.”
“Options?”
Before anyone could answer, a voice cut through the tense air.
“I’ll do it.”
The group turned to see Jerran, the kangaroo elder, stepping forward. His gray-furred face was lined with age, his movements slower than they had once been, but his eyes burned with the fire of someone who had faced too many battles to count.
“Jerran, no,” Sarah said immediately, her tone firm.
“I wasn’t asking,” Jerran replied, his deep voice carrying a quiet finality. He turned his gaze to Ryl. “You said the device was Celestial. That means it has failsafes, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” Ryl admitted, reluctantly. “But overriding them isn’t just dangerous—it’s suicide. The energy levels would—”
“Would kill anyone close to the core,” Jerran finished for him. He nodded as if the answer was expected. “That’s why it has to be me.”
Sarah stepped forward, her frustration boiling over. “Jerran, you don’t have to do this. We’ll find another way.”
“There isn’t time for another way,” Jerran said calmly, his towering frame turning to face her fully. “And you know it.”
Sarah clenched her fists, searching for something—anything—to say that would stop him. But deep down, she knew he was right. The settlement’s defenders were barely holding the line against the Broker’s forces, who had planted the device as part of their scorched-earth strategy.
Jerran placed a large, clawed hand on her shoulder, his expression softening. “This settlement has a future, Commander. These people—hybrids, humans—they’ve fought for this place. Bled for it. That future matters more than one old soldier.”
Sarah shook her head, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re not just a soldier, Jerran. You’re a leader. Your people need you.”
“And they’ll still need me after this,” Jerran said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “In spirit, if not in body. They’ll remember what I gave to protect them. That’s enough.”
Ryl stepped forward, reluctantly handing Jerran the scanner. “This will guide you to the core,” he said quietly. “Once you’re inside, you’ll need to manually disable the failsafes. It’s… delicate work.”
Jerran took the scanner, nodding his understanding. “Delicate isn’t my specialty, but I’ll manage.”
The elder turned to the group, his gaze sweeping over them. “Hold the line,” he said simply. “Keep them away from this place. If I fail… well, you know what to do.”
Before anyone could argue, Jerran turned and strode toward the device, his broad shoulders set with determination. The hybrids defending the settlement paused as he passed, their eyes widening in recognition. Some saluted. Others whispered prayers.
Sarah watched him go, her throat tight. “He shouldn’t have to do this,” she muttered.
“No,” Ryl said softly. “But that’s what makes it matter.”
Jerran reached the base of the device and entered through a small hatch. Inside, the air was stifling, the walls humming with the energy coursing through the structure. He followed the scanner’s directions, navigating narrow passages and climbing precarious ladders until he reached the core.
It was a glowing sphere of pure energy, suspended by alien machinery that crackled with power. Jerran stared at it for a moment, his heart pounding. It was beautiful, in a terrible way.
“Alright, you bastard,” he muttered to the device. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
He worked quickly, his claws moving with surprising precision as he bypassed the first failsafe. The hum of the core grew louder, almost as if it could sense his intrusion.
Outside, the battle raged. Sarah and Ryl fought alongside the settlement’s defenders, holding the Broker’s forces at bay as they pressed closer.
“How’s he doing in there?” Sarah shouted over the gunfire.
“No way to tell,” Ryl replied, firing a burst from his rifle. “But if he doesn’t finish soon, we’re going to have bigger problems.”
Inside the device, Jerran bypassed the second failsafe, sweat dripping down his fur as the energy levels spiked. The core began to vibrate violently, its glow intensifying.
“Almost there,” he muttered.
The final failsafe required a manual override, and as Jerran reached for the control panel, he felt the heat of the core radiating through his body. His limbs ached, his vision blurred, but he didn’t stop.
With a final, decisive motion, he pulled the failsafe lever. The core’s glow dimmed, and the vibrations ceased.
Outside, the light from the device flickered and died, leaving the battlefield in sudden, deafening silence.
Sarah turned toward the device, hope flickering in her chest. “He did it,” she whispered.
But the hatch remained closed.
Minutes passed, then hours, as the defenders searched the structure for signs of Jerran. When they finally found him, he was slumped beside the core, his body still.
The settlement mourned him that night, their grief heavy but their gratitude immeasurable.
Sarah stood by the device, her hands clenched into fists as she whispered, “Thank you, Jerran. We’ll make sure it wasn’t for nothing.”
The hybrid encampment in Greenwater Basin was eerily quiet. Normally, the area hummed with activity—hunters sharpening their blades, scouts returning from patrols, children chasing each other through the makeshift streets. But now, the air was heavy with tension, every face shadowed by fear and doubt.
Lysandra stood at the center of the camp, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she faced the gathered crowd. The hybrid leader, her feline grace marred by exhaustion, could feel their unease radiating toward her like heat from a fire.
The news of Jerran’s sacrifice had reached them earlier that day, along with the reports of the Broker’s growing strength. Hybrids muttered among themselves in low tones, their conversations laced with bitterness. The scent of mistrust was palpable, sharp and acrid, and it turned Lysandra’s stomach.
“We shouldn’t even be here,” a wolf-like hybrid near the front of the crowd growled, his yellow eyes flashing. “We’re wasting time guarding human outposts while our own homes are left defenseless. How many more of us have to die before they stop treating us like cannon fodder?”
A chorus of agreement rippled through the crowd.
Lysandra raised a hand, her sharp claws glinting in the fading light. “Enough,” she said, her voice low but commanding. The murmurs ceased, though the tension in the air remained.
“They don’t care about us,” another voice said, a feline hybrid from the back. Her tail lashed behind her as she spoke. “They never have. The humans act like they’re in charge of this war, but it’s us doing most of the fighting. When was the last time they took a real risk?”
“They don’t trust us,” the wolf hybrid added, his growl deepening. “And why should they? Half of us fought for the Celestials before the Coalition started. They’ll never see us as equals.”
Lysandra’s jaw tightened, her tail flicking sharply. She had spent years working to bridge the divide between hybrids and humans, fighting to prove that they were stronger together. But now, as she looked at the faces of her people, she could see how fragile that trust was—how easily fear and resentment could unravel everything they had built.
“You’re right,” she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the crowd. The hybrids fell silent, their eyes snapping to her.
“You’re right that the humans don’t trust us,” she continued, stepping closer to the group. “You’re right that we’ve carried more than our share of the burden in this war. And you’re right that they’ve made mistakes—mistakes that have cost us dearly.”
The hybrids watched her warily, some nodding in agreement, others narrowing their eyes.
“But let me tell you what else I know,” Lysandra said, her voice rising with conviction. “I know that every time we’ve stood together—hybrids, humans, kangaroos—we’ve won. We pushed back the Celestials when no one thought it was possible. We destroyed their Harbinger. We tore their mothership from the sky. And we did it together.”
She paused, her amber eyes sweeping over the crowd. “Do you think we could have done that alone? Do you think the humans could have? The truth is, none of us survive this war on our own. That’s what the Broker wants us to believe—that we’re stronger divided. That if we just turn on each other, we can carve out our own little corners of the world and call it a victory.”
Her claws flexed as she pointed to the west, where smoke from a distant battle lingered on the horizon. “But what happens when the Broker comes for those corners? What happens when the Celestials regroup and decide to finish what they started? I’ll tell you what happens: we lose. All of us. And everything we’ve fought for, everything we’ve sacrificed—it all means nothing.”
The hybrids shifted uncomfortably, their expressions conflicted.
“So yes,” Lysandra continued, her voice softer now. “The humans don’t trust us the way they should. But we don’t trust them the way we should, either. And that’s something we have to fix—because if we don’t, we’ll tear ourselves apart long before the enemy gets the chance.”
The wolf hybrid from earlier stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. “And what if we try, Lysandra? What if we give everything we have, and they still treat us like expendable tools? What then?”
Lysandra met his gaze without flinching. “Then we show them they’re wrong. We prove it every time we fight beside them, every time we protect their people and they protect ours. Trust isn’t given—it’s earned. And we can’t expect them to see us as equals if we don’t act like it.”
The wolf hybrid held her gaze for a long moment, then gave a reluctant nod.
Another hybrid spoke up, her voice hesitant. “And what about the Broker? What if… what if he’s right? About the Coalition being doomed?”
Lysandra turned toward the speaker, her expression hardening. “The Broker isn’t interested in saving us. He’s interested in power. And if we let him win, he’ll use that power to crush us. I’ve seen what happens to people who trust him—they end up in graves, or worse. So if anyone here thinks his way is better, you’re free to leave. But don’t expect mercy when he turns on you.”
The crowd fell silent again, the weight of her words settling over them.
Lysandra took a deep breath, letting her claws retract as she looked around at the group. “We’ve come too far to let fear tear us apart. The Coalition isn’t perfect, but it’s all we’ve got. And if we’re going to survive, we need to fight for it—not just against the Broker or the Celestials, but for each other. For the future we all deserve.”
Slowly, the hybrids began to nod. The tension in the air didn’t vanish entirely, but it eased, replaced by a tentative sense of resolve.
Lysandra stepped back, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she watched her people disperse, their conversations quieter but more focused.
Ryl approached from the edge of the camp, his golden eyes studying her carefully. “That was a good speech,” he said.
Lysandra huffed a dry laugh. “I’m not sure they believed all of it.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Ryl replied. “They believed enough.”
Lysandra glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “That’s the problem with leadership, isn’t it? Always feels like you’re one step away from losing everything.”
Ryl’s expression softened. “And one step away from saving it.”
The war room inside the Coalition’s command center was packed, the tension in the air palpable as representatives of every faction gathered around the central holographic table. Humans, hybrids, and kangaroo warriors stood shoulder to shoulder, their faces a mixture of exhaustion and determination.
Sarah stood at the head of the table, her hands braced against its edge as the hologram displayed the Broker’s confirmed bases, each one a glowing red dot on the map. The information Ethan had sent before his death had exposed the full extent of the Broker’s operations: weapons factories, training grounds, and staging areas spread across strategic locations.
“We can’t hit all of them,” Ortega said, his voice grim as he leaned forward. “Not at once. If we spread ourselves too thin, we’ll lose momentum and give him time to regroup.”
“He’ll be expecting us to go after the big ones,” Ryl added, his sharp eyes scanning the map. “If we strike where he’s weakest, we might catch him off guard—but it won’t be enough to stop him entirely.”
“Then we take out the lynchpin,” Lysandra said, her arms crossed. Her tone was sharp, her expression unwavering. “His central base. If we can cripple his command structure, the rest of his forces will fall apart.”
“That’s a big ‘if,’” Ortega muttered.
Sarah straightened, her gaze sweeping over the room. “It’s not an ‘if.’ It’s what we’re doing.”
The room fell silent, all eyes turning to her. She took a deep breath, her voice steady but fierce.
“Ethan gave his life to get us this information,” she said. “Jerran gave his life to protect one settlement. How many more sacrifices do we need to make before we stop letting the Broker dictate the terms of this war?”
Her words hung in the air, heavy with emotion.
“We’ve spent too long reacting, waiting for him to make the next move,” Sarah continued. “That ends now. We have the intel, we have the numbers, and we have the resolve to finish this. It’s time to take the fight to him.”
She gestured to the map, her finger tracing the path to the Broker’s central base, hidden deep within a mountainous region marked with treacherous terrain and fortified defenses.
“This is his stronghold,” she said. “It’s where he’s coordinating his operations, where he’s keeping his most valuable resources. If we can take it, we cut the head off the snake.”
“And how exactly are we supposed to do that?” a kangaroo scout asked, his voice skeptical. “He’s got Celestial weapons, drones, hybrid soldiers. We’ve seen what he can do to an outpost. If we’re wrong about this—”
“We’re not wrong,” Sarah said firmly. “We’ve faced worse than this. The Harbinger. The mothership. The Celestials themselves. And every time, we’ve stood together and come out stronger.”
Her gaze moved across the room, meeting the eyes of every leader present.
“I know you’re scared,” she said, her voice softening but losing none of its intensity. “I know you’ve lost people—friends, family, entire homes. But this is the moment where we decide what kind of future we’re fighting for. Do we let fear hold us back, or do we honor the sacrifices of those we’ve lost by finishing what they started?”
The room was silent for a moment, the weight of her words settling over the group. Then Jerran’s second-in-command, a younger kangaroo warrior named Kallix, stepped forward.
“You have our claws,” Kallix said, his deep voice steady. “All of them.”
Lysandra nodded, her tail flicking with purpose. “And our blades.”
Ortega pounded a fist against the table. “And our guns. Let’s show that bastard what happens when you push us too far.”
One by one, the leaders voiced their agreement, their voices rising into a unified roar.
Sarah nodded, a faint smile breaking through the tension. “Good. Then we move fast. This isn’t going to be easy, but if we hit him hard and hit him fast, we can end this.”
She looked to Ryl, who was already scanning the map with a critical eye. “I’ll lead the infiltration team,” Ryl said. “We’ll disable his defenses and clear a path for the main assault.”
“I’ll coordinate the air support,” Ortega added. “We’ll keep his drones busy while you take the fight to him.”
“And we’ll hold the ground,” Kallix said, his claws flexing. “Whatever he throws at us, we’ll hold.”
Sarah stepped back from the table, her voice ringing out clearly. “Then let’s make this count. For Ethan. For Jerran. For everyone we’ve lost. Let’s end this war and take back our future.”
The room erupted in cheers and determined voices, the energy crackling with newfound resolve. For the first time in weeks, Sarah felt the fragile alliance solidify into something stronger—something unbreakable.
As the leaders began to disperse, preparing their forces for the final campaign, Sarah turned to Ryl.
“This has to work,” she said quietly.
“It will,” Ryl replied, his voice steady. “Because we won’t give him a choice.”
Sarah nodded, her eyes hardening as she looked back at the map. The Broker had taken so much from them—lives, trust, hope. But now, she was taking the fight to him.
And she wasn’t going to stop until it was over.
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