The Boy from the Bunker - Season 8

Episode One, Part 4:

Episode One, Part 4:
The Invaders

I can't save us, my Atlantis, we fall. 

Sol could see Dreea on the other side of the glass lying down on the ground with her eyes closed. She waited a moment to see if she would move, but Dreea was completely still and too far away for Sol to be able to see if she as breathing.

She tried peering in further just to make sure that this wasn't a trick of her mind, but Sol couldn't make out any of the other people in the room. If Dreea was there, that meant Chessca was there, right? And Joren, and Aeryn, and all of the other people that mattered to her; all of Basilisk.

"Guys!" Sol called out before she had even managed to turn around, desperate to alarm Wynn and everyone else that the people from the second bunker were already there, but something stole the rest of her words away...

She immediately felt lightheaded, struggling to keep her balance as she tried to make sense of her blurring vision and latch onto Wynn, but she couldn't find him. Her knees buckled under her and she collapsed to the floor, trying to fight away the effects of whatever knockout gas they were using on her as it slowly filled the room until her vision was clouded over in white smoke.

"They're here..." She muttered out, not sure if anyone could hear her, let alone if she was even speaking. "Dreea's... Here..."

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Sol shot awake, not sure how long she had been unconscious for, hoping that she still had time to crawl to the others and tell them what she had seen. But, as her eyes scanned around in search for them, Sol realised she was somewhere completely different than where she was when she had been knocked out.

"Hey, you're awake."

Sol glanced behind her, suddenly aware of the hands that were holding her, relieved to find her sister leaning against the headboard of the bed they were on, making sure they were close together.

"Atlantis!?" Sol exclaimed, immediately sitting upright and racing to wrap her arms around the younger girl. "Are you okay!?"

"I think so. I woke up about an hour ago... I don't know where we are or where everyone else is. Maybe they've all been taken to their own rooms."

"Cells," Sol corrected her, remembering what one of the guards had mentioned to them. These weren't rooms, they were cells. And Sol and her people were the prisoners... "We need to find a way out off here."

"The door's locked," Atlantis informed her, knowing straight away what Sol's intentions were as she stood up - still feeling the lingering effects from the gas. "I-I don't think there is a way out... We're stuck here, wherever here is."

"It's a ship," Sol told her.

"A what?"

"A ship," she repeated. "An old navy ship, from the war 30-or-so years ago, most likely. And... And we have to find our way out of here... Because I saw Dreea."

"Dreea? What do you mean you saw her? I'm confused."

"Before they knocked us all out," she said, "I was looking through the window and there was another group of people inside. They must have knocked them all out and then did the same to us so they could transport us into these rooms. Who knows what else they might have done... Given us an implant? A-"

"A tattoo?" Atlantis guessed, trying to bring the tension down a little as she referenced the debts Basilisk had made on their skin when they first arrived at camp; make Sol realise that whoever these people were, they might only be just like her.