Static crackled through the command room speakers.
"…—mander! Commander—do you read?!"
The signal wavered, dipped, returned.
"Something hit us—lots of debris—shuttle's down—repeat, shuttle's down. We crashed on one of the rocks. It's—"
static again
"—huge. We need extract."
A low sound bled into the transmission and it wasn't mechanical nor an interference.
But more raw, like an animal snare—long and wet—followed by a deep, dragging growl that vibrated through the speakers.
"What was that?" a voice snapped. "What was that?!"
Static surged.
"Ah—shit! It got Felix!"
Gunfire cracked faintly in the background.
"Fall back to the cruiser!"
"Back to the shuttle—now!"
"We need backup—!"
The signal tore apart into broken fragments.
"—moving—"
"—don't see it—"
"—behind you Jamie—!"
Then silence.
The door to the command office slid open.
Every head turned.
Gerald stepped inside.
The commander stood with his lieutenant and operations crew, eyes still fixed on the silent console. Gerald snapped a salute.
"Sir. You requested me."
The commander turned.
"At ease. At ease, soldier."
He gestured toward the console.
"We just received a disturbing transmission from scouts deployed to a debris site. Shuttle failure. No evacuation possible."
He stepped closer.
"I want you to assemble a retrieval team and head out there to extract our people. Do you understand?"
"Noted, sir."
"Good."
He turned. "Lieutenant—brief him."
The commander walked out, As for now no one has seen his face.
Lieutenant Lin stepped forward.
She was Haitian, her hair pulled into a tight ponytail, small square glasses catching the light. Her voice was sharp, controlled.
"You'll be deploying to a debris-ring planet outside mapped territory. Signal source is stationary. Expect unknown terrain. Unknown hostiles."
She tapped the holo-display.
"Your priority is retrieval. Not engagement. And you lead."
"Yes, ma'am."
But Meanwhile.
Nick stood at the food station, loading a tray when a shadow stretched over him.
"Hello, Nick."
Before he could turn, a hand grabbed his head and slammed it into the metal table. Food scattered.
"Daddy's not here to save you."
Nick lifted his head slowly.
Then grabbed the tray and smashed it into Cole's face.
A knee followed—hard—straight to the groin.
Cole dropped, choking.
Boots stopped.
Silence.
Gerald and the lieutenant stood there.
Every soldier snapped to attention.
The lieutenant looked down at the scene, unimpressed.
"What's going on here?"
Cole groaned.
"He—he kicked me in the balls, Lieutenant."
She stared at him.
"Insulting that this is my troop"
"…Sorry, ma'am."
She turned to the room.
"We have a mission. The officer in charge is Gerald Flynn."
Her gaze hardened.
"You listen to him. You follow his orders and we bring back our scouts."
She stepped aside.
"Move."
Gerald nodded once.
"Suit up."
You could here all the metal, Armor locked, Helmets sealed.
Ten soldiers. One team.
But Gerald stood by his bunk, staring at the photo in his hand.
He slid it under his pillow.
Candy leaned against the doorway.
"Ohhh," she smiled. "Is that your love?"
He didn't answer.
"Don't worry," she said. "I'll take good care of her man today."
"Cut it out."
He walked past.
She laughed behind him.
Cole sat across from Nick in the transport bay, staring.
Nick flicked a finger in his direction without looking.
"Alright, boys," the pilot called. "Strap in."
Gerald's voice cut through the cabin.
"If this is my last light—"
All together the squad replied "—let it remember me."
The launch fired.
The shuttle tore from the cruiser.
Ahead—
a planet wrapped in debris.
Three massive rings—longer than Saturn's, wider, thicker—metal and stone spinning like shrapnel storms.
"Pilot," Gerald said. "Thread the outer ring. Use the debris as cover."
"Acknowledged."
The thrusters were then adjusted and the he shuttle dipped, rolled, slipped between spinning slabs the size of buildings.
"Signal locked," the navigator said. "Following beacon from the downed shuttle."
A shape emerged.
A rock.
No—
a city-sized mass of stone drifting alone.
"There," Gerald said. "Bring us in." And they landed.
Silence.
The crashed shuttle lay ahead, open.
"No bodies," Kim the medic said.
"No response on comms," Candy added.
Nick crouched.
"There look.... A boot."
And tacks led away, toward the caves carved into the rock.
Gerard raised his fist.
They advanced.
Then—
CLACK.
A stone struck Gerard's helmet.
He froze.
Bent down.
Picked it up.
Scratched into its surface, uneven and desperate, were words carved with shaking force:
Don't make a sound.
Don't move.