TheMáashìiexited the slipstream on the scorched fringe of the Ophiuchus nebula, its hull groaning as it grappled with the violent gravitational shear of the volcanic moon, Ignis IV.
Below, a planet surfaced, a puckered, bleeding wound in the cosmos.
Rivers of incandescent basalt carved glowing orange veins across a topography of obsidian ridges and calderas.
The atmosphere was a toxic soup of sulfur dioxide and particulate ash, thick with cinder winds and heat that hammered against the ship’s kinetic shields.
Idan stood in the corridor of the rear-deck airlock, sealing the magnetic toggles on a reinforced tactical vest that rested over his Sable armored suit.
He tucked the jeweled mask Zavier fashioned for them into a front pouch, ready to deploy when they landed.
As Sacran immortals, he and Molan’s physiology could decontaminate the caustic air outside without filtration, but Sheba required the full protection of a pressurized environmental suit.
He helped her secure her helmet, the locking mechanism clicking with finality.
Around her neck was the Sacran disguise, which she planned to wear as soon as they touched down.
‘You’ve got the dagger?’ he grunted.
She patted her chest vest pocket. ‘It’s safe and vibrating against my skin, making me itchy if I’m honest. Talk about sacrifice.’
‘You do know a sacrificial lamb is really nothing more than a mutton for punishment,’ Idan chuckled.
She narrowed her eyes at him and slowly held up her middle finger. ‘Said like the mule-high, pig-tight, sheep-loving yokel you are.’
Molan glanced at the couple and shook his head. ‘Young love,’ he growled, lips twitching.
He reached into a shielded compartment next to the airlock. Pulling out three weapons that looked more like relics than modern ordnance.
‘Standard arms won’t make a difference in this accursed place,’ Molan rasped. ‘We need the most lethal firepower in the galaxy to fight whatever waits for us below.’
He handed Idan a heavy, black-steel blade etched with runes that bled with a dark gold radiance.
‘This isThe Sun-Eater.It’s a soul-breaker, Idan. It severs the connection between the spirit and the body. If you draw blood with this, they don’t get back up. Ever.’
He turned to Sheba, pressing a compact, sleek blaster into her hands.
It was unnervingly hefty, its power cell humming against her palm. ‘For you, Sheba,The Void-Pulse. It launches compressed ripples of black hole gravity. It got banned five centuries ago for being too cruel, but today, it’s exactly what you require.’
Last but not least, he shouldered a brutal, oversized kinetic rifle, the mechanical click of the chambering round echoing in the haze.
‘I’ll be carryingThe World-Ender. It’s a high-velocity rail-slugger that ignores the rules of physics.’
Molan gestured to the pair, his timbre muffled by the mounting pressure of the descent. ‘Ready to launch?’
I’m on standby,Mirage said into their shared neural connection.I’ll keep the ship hovering above the stratosphere and initiate exfil if required.
Noted,Idan growled.
Let’s do this,Sheba muttered, bracing herself while thanking the heavens for her high velocity jump training in the army corps.
The airlock unfurled, and Molan took the lead as they leaped into the atmosphere in an arrow formation.
The drop was less like flying and more like plummeting into a furnace.
Clad in high-spec flight suits, Sheba and the brothers plunged into a toxic, churning soup of sulfur dioxide and particulate ash.
The wind hammered them, carrying rocks and a heat that vibrated through the suits’ armored plating.
