Location: Valkyr Perimeter Observation Ridge – 14.7 km northeast of ADA Ground Defense Front, Fort Arclight, Columbia Sector
Language: Unknown
—
The wind dragged grey dust across the ridge, carrying the distant thrum of human engines—weak, uneven, trembling things.
Rizok stood at the edge of the escarpment, obsidian armor reflecting the pale morning light, his four eyes narrowing as he studied the human base far beneath them.
Fort Arclight. A small outpost, but tactically positioned in the worst possible place for Xyne operations.
The two XN-∆ soldiers flanking him remained still, their breathing steady, their forms taut with readiness. They watched him more than they watched the humans.
Rizok lifted his chin.
"These creatures," he said, voice low, layered, resonant in the alien timbre of his kind, "persist as though persistence is victory. They cling to their soil with no understanding of the cosmos above them."
The younger XN-∆ to his right—Vorkin—shifted. His mandibles flexed once before he spoke.
"Commander Rizok," he said, "their numbers are minimal. If you permit it, we will strike and erase this foothold."
Rizok didn't look at him. His attention stayed on the ADA outpost in the distance, where human armored vehicles rolled along their patrol routes.
"So eager," Rizok murmured. "You speak of erasure. I speak of purpose."
The other soldier, older, scarred, tilted his head.
"Purpose, Commander? Why must this base fall? The humans here are hardly a threat."
Rizok finally turned to them. His eyes glowed with a cold, ancient intelligence.
"This world hides what it does not understand," he said. "What lies beneath this region is not human. It is ours. It was left here long before their kind rose to walk upright."
He raised a hand toward the ground beneath the ridge.
"And now it stirs."
The two XN-∆ exchanged an uncertain glance. Whatever Rizok meant, they didn't feel it, didn't sense anything unusual at all.
"The humans have built their walls atop something older than their history," Rizok continued. "We reclaim it now. That is why Fort Arclight must fall."
Vorkin bowed his head.
"Then say the command, and we will slaughter them."
Rizok let the silence stretch—a deliberate, calculated quiet, then he let his hand rest on the grip of his weapon, eyes narrowing.
"Ready the others. When the sun reaches its peak, we descend."
The air trembled around him, as if acknowledging the order.
"And when Fort Arclight burns," Rizok added softly, "the humans' illusions will burn with it."
The two soldiers bowed and moved to carry out his command.
Rizok remained, alone on the ridge, watching the base below with a gaze that held no hatred…
Only inevitability.
★★★
Location: Central Atlantic Defense Corridor, ACI HQ
—
I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. The HUD didn't care that I was trying to rest.
[STRUCTURAL PANEL — TYPE 4C]
[Thickness: 12.4 cm]
[Material Integrity: 99.7%]
[Vibration Reading: Normal]
It even labeled the damn ceiling.
I exhaled and sat up, rubbing my eyes. My thoughts kept circling the same point, looping like a bad replay.
Did I… really pull those maneuvers?
I told myself I must have. Muscle memory. Instinct. Training. Anything human. Anything normal. But I remembered my hand on the stick… and the moment I thought about rolling away... the jet had already moved.
A soft chime rippled across the HUD, dragging me out of my thoughts .
[Movement Detected]
Identity: Alvarez, Sofia
Age: 26
Rank: Commander
Bio-state: Normal
Equipment Status: Unarmed
Distance: 5.9m → 5.4m — Approaching
I blinked.
…Why the hell was Commander Alvarez coming to my room?
She stopped outside the door and knocked twice, two taps, controlled.
"Paige," she called.
I straightened instinctively. "Ma'am."
"You asleep?"
"No, ma'am."
A short pause followed, long enough for the HUD to track her rising heart rate.
[HR: 92 bpm → 96 bpm]
[Stress Indicators: Elevated]
I blinked.
That was new. I didn't even know the HUD tracked vitals.
"Do you have—"
I opened the door before she finished. She froze for half a second, eyes widening just slightly before she looked away.
"—a minute," she finished.
Her posture was rigid, but not cold. More… uncomfortable. That alone was surprising.
"What can I do for you, ma'am?" I asked.
She inhaled slowly, then met my eyes.
"I want to learn that maneuver you pulled today. The one that… shouldn't have been possible."
Her tone stayed flat, but the HUD quietly betrayed her.
[Anxiety Spike Detected]
[Micro-tremor: Neck muscles]
I swallowed. The instinct was to refuse. I didn't understand it myself. Teaching her something I couldn't explain felt impossible. But she was my superior officer. Saying no outright would make things… complicated.
So I nodded. "I can try."
Her shoulders eased—not much, just a fraction, but I caught it.
"Good," she said. "Simulation room's empty. Come on."
I followed her into the hallway. Her steps were sharp, precise, boots clicking in even rhythm.
The HUD pulsed again.
[HR: 101 bpm]
[Emotional Pattern: Elevated Focus / Mild Stress]
I tried not to think about what that meant, or why she'd bother coming this late.
★★★
The hallway was quieter than it should've been at this hour. She walked ahead, not saying much, and I followed until the doors slid open to a room I'd never stepped into before.
The Simulation Room.
Cold lights. High ceiling. A wall of holo-panels humming softly. Three circular pads on the floor—launch points, I guessed. Everything smelled vaguely like ozone and recycled air. Fancy. Definitely above my clearance level.
She stepped onto one pad; I stayed off to the side.
"Load Scenario ACI-71. Tactical flight. Replay parameters from 0700 hours," she ordered.
The room answered with a chime.
She slid into the pilot seat of the sim rig, tightening the straps like she was prepping for a real op. I stood a step behind her, arms crossed, trying to look like someone who knew what he was about to explain.
She glanced back at me.
"Alright, Paige… how did you do it? Just walk me through it once."
I swallowed.
There was nothing to guide. Not really.
But since she thinks it's an impossible scenario… which, apparently, it actually was… all I have to do is pretend to teach her.
She'll try. Fail. And think she's missing something.
Meanwhile I don't even know what happened to me back there.
"I—uh… sure, ma'am. I'll guide you through it."
She powered up the sim.
The rig hummed.
"Ready," she said, voice steady but tight.
"Okay," I lied. "When the lock hits, you want to—uh—shift throttle just a bit and keep your nose angled low. Don't over-correct."
She nodded like that made sense.
The sim lit up—her cockpit phasing in, red markers flaring around her.
My scenario.
The same death box I'd been stuck in earlier—one jet on my six with a full lock, two squeezing from both sides. No space to slip through. No room to breathe.
She started.
Fail.
Before I could say anything, she muttered,
"Reset."
Again. Fail.
"Again."
Fail.
I pretended to analyze. Pointed at nothing. Said things like, "Yeah, maybe tighten your angle on the climb," or "Watch your throttle sync."
All garbage, none of it actually mattered.
By the sixth attempt, I was losing count. By the tenth, I could hear her muttering under her breath, irritated. By the sixteenth, she slammed her hands lightly on the armrests.
"Ugh. So annoying."
A tiny laugh slipped out of me before I could catch it.
She snapped her head in my direction, squinting.
"Are you laughing?"
I straightened instantly.
"No, ma'am. Of course not."
She stared another second… then looked away, exhaling.
The HUD blinked in my vision:
[HR: 114 bpm]
[Stress Indicators: Heightened]
[Frustration Patterns: Rising]
I frowned.
I didn't even know the system could track that.
I shifted my weight.
"Ma'am… if I may… is something wrong?"
She didn't answer at first.
Her shoulders stiffened, then dropped.
"It's… well. I can't."
I hesitated.
"You can tell me. I won't say a word."
She looked up at me then. Really looked.
"My dad's..." she said quietly. "...Richard Alvarez. ACI Command Director."
I blinked.
Okay… yeah. That explained a lot.
She looked down again.
"He… always wanted a son. Got a daughter instead. Me."
I didn't say anything, I couldn't.
She outranked me, and we weren't close enough for me to say anything that wouldn't sound stupid or out of line.
So I just waited.
She gave a tight breath, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear—more out of nerves than anything.
"I mean—he just… he's strict. He pushes. Hard. I've been trying my whole life to prove I can be… you know… his son."
She grimaced. "I mean—his daughter."
My lips twitched. I couldn't help it.
She caught the twitch instantly, and it made her giggle. A real one. Soft, and quick.
I chuckled too, quieter.
She breathed out.
"I just want him to be proud of me."
I nodded.
"You don't need to be anyone's son to do that ma'am. Just be good at what you do. That's enough."
She stared at me like she wasn't expecting that.
"Wow," she said. "Thanks." Then she pointed a finger at me. "If anyone finds out about this conversation—"
"I'll deny everything," I said.
She stood and smirked.
"Good night, Paige."
"Good night, ma'am."
She left the sim room, boots echoing down the hall.
I started to turn back toward the door, and froze.
Someone was standing there. A shape. Still. Watching me.
A faint whisper brushed the inside of my skull.
Not a sound—more like a pressure, forming words I couldn't understand:
"R'ka… shii'ven… torahk."
I blinked, and the hallway was empty.
Just the white walls, the cold floor, and the low hum of the sim rigs through the bulkheads.
Nothing there.
I let out a slow breath, rubbing my face with one hand.
Having a HUD burned across my vision all day was finally screwing with my brain.
I exhaled, pushed off the wall, and stepped out of the sim room. The door slid shut behind me with a soft hydraulic thud.
Silence.
Then—inside the sealed room—
A faint fzzt.
A shape flickered into existence in the center of the floor, a glitching silhouette like a hologram caught between frames.
It stuttered, spasming through half-formed outlines.
A voice came through it like broken radio:
"Lu…cas… c—ca…n you… hear… me… Lu…"
Snap.
The figure vanished, and silence covered the room again.
As if nothing had ever been there.