“Affirmative,” he says.
That’s not right. Intel said they were months out from ignition.
Graal is already storming toward the nav-con, where Captain Vurn stands stiff and proud in his officer’s uniform, flanked by two signal techs with sunken eyes and twitchy fingers. “We don’t have solid entry routes,” Graal growls. “No updated schematics. If the drive’s powered?—”
“I said go,” Vurn cuts in, sharp as broken glass. “This mission doesn’t wait for your comfort. The Coalition has made it clear—the Seeker dies today.”
Graal’s jaw clenches. “This isn’t a gunship. It’s a lab with civilians onboard.”
“It’s a threat,” Vurn snaps. “We neutralize threats. Are you questioning your orders, Commander?”
My squad stiffens. Graal stares at him for two solid seconds, long enough to feel like an eternity. Then he salutes. “No, sir.”
Vurn nods like a man who’s already forgotten the exchange. Bastard.
Back in the prep bay, we run through the final checks. Ammo counters. Environmental seals. I clip the breach charges to my thigh and run a hand over the combat knife at my hip. It’s ceremonial, mostly. I haven’t used it in a while.
But I might today.
I drift toward the mirror wall—plasma reflective, smooth like oil under light. My reflection stares back. Hulking. Scaled. The faint sheen of bioluminescence glimmers along my arms under the armor plates. My red eyes simmer, glowing low.
“You’re brooding again,” Graax mutters, stepping beside me. His armor groans under his mass. “Never a good sign.”
“Feels wrong,” I say.
“You always say that.”
“No,” I snap. “Not like this.”
Graax doesn’t argue. That’s why we’re friends. I clench my fists, feeling the power coiled in my limbs. Not nervous. Not afraid. Just…tense.My blood’s hot, pumping hard, but there’s no fire behind it. Just cold focus.
Vurn’s orders were clear. No witnesses. No debris. Retrieve or destroy the singularity core. Eliminate resistance.
We board in ten minutes.
I remember the last mission where we didn’t have solid schematics. How the walls moved. How the ship’s AI turned half our squad into twitching piles of meat. This one feels worse.
But orders are orders.
“Have you ever heard of a tech ship pulling a core online early?” I ask, mostly to myself.
Graax snorts. “Only when someone’s panicking.”
Which means they know we’re coming. Or something worse.
When we load into the breach pods, I grip the ceiling handle. The hum of the magnetic rail cradle vibrates through my feet. The launch is going to be rough.
Five seconds before ignition, the squad channel goes dead silent.
Suddenly,thoom.
The world slams into my chest. The pod launches like a bullet, tearing through vacuum on a direct intercept course withthe Seeker’s lower docking ring. We come in hot. No finesse. No grace.
Just impact.
The pod thunders against the outer hull, and the seals hiss as they melt-cut their way in. My HUD lights up with breach protocol. Doors auto-deploy. The atmosphere floods into the pod.
Time to go.
