The Kurogane Span
October 17, 2102__
11:45 [Imperial Standard Time]
The bridge stretched across the water like a held breath.
The Kurogane Span—a single, uninterrupted sweep of reinforced alloy and imperial stone—carried the road out of Inoue territory and into the mainland. Below it, the sea moved quietly, dark and restless, swallowing reflections of distant lights.
The convoy slowed as it reached the approach.
Ichiro leaned forward slightly, watching the pylons rise on either side of the road. Imperial sigils were etched into their surfaces—old, weathered, still authoritative.
Yamada frowned.
"…Weird," he said. "I expected a checkpoint here."
Ichiro glanced at him. "Imperial?"
"Always," Yamada replied. "They never leave the Kurogane unmarked. Not this crossing."
The vehicles continued on.
No signal lights engaged. No inspection drones rose from the roadway. No officers stepped into view.
The bridge accepted them without ceremony.
Too smoothly.
Wind pressed against the convoy as they crossed, salt and cold seeping through seams in the armor. Below, the water churned faintly against the pylons, indifferent to borders and empires alike.
Yamada's fingers tapped once against his knee.
"The Empire gets nervous when people move between worlds," he said quietly. "Especially tonight."
Ichiro didn't answer. His gaze remained forward, one hand resting closer to his sidearm than before.
The mainland emerged ahead.
The road widened, then dipped toward a recessed landing zone carved into the cliffs. Marker lights traced the pad in a dull, uneven line—some dead, others flickering as if unsure whether they were still meant to function.
Structures surrounded the site: hangars long since sealed, skeletal towers stripped of purpose, fuel pylons corroded by years of salt and neglect.
Empty.
The convoy rolled to a stop.
No engines greeted them. No personnel stepped forward.
Only wind. Only the sea.
Yamada exhaled slowly.
"…Too quiet," he said.
He keyed his comm. "All units. Stay sharp."
Inside the vehicles, men shifted. Locks disengaged. Weapons were brought a fraction closer to readiness.
Yamada turned to Ichiro. "Stay inside."
Ichiro frowned. "If something's wrong—"
"That's exactly why," Yamada said, already opening the door. "I'll check."
He stepped onto the concrete.
The sound of his boots carried farther than it should have. The air felt thin here, hollow—as though the space were waiting for something to arrive.
Then—
—krrt—
Static snapped across his radio.
"All units," a voice said. "Shuttle inbound. Two minutes out."
Yamada froze.
"…Copy," he replied after a beat.
Relief crossed his face before he could stop it.
Not just the Inoue, he thought.
The Empire too.
He looked up instinctively, scanning the sky.
Nothing.
Just clouds and darkness.
Only then did the landing pad change.
A distortion shimmered above it—subtle, wrong. Light bent. Space folded in on itself.
The shuttle emerged.
Low-profile. Matte black. Its presence felt delayed, as if reality had noticed it a second too late.
Stealth disengaging.
Yamada turned sharply toward the convoy and knocked once against Ichiro's window.
"Shuttle's here," he said. "We move when it sets down."
Ichiro nodded.
Inside the vehicle, he turned to the girl beside him and placed a hand gently on her shoulder.
"Hey," he said quietly. "We're moving."
Her eyes opened instantly.
Too fast.
Focused. Alert.
"No," she said.
Before Ichiro could react, she reached across him and slammed the door shut.
"What—"
The landing pad detonated.
Fire tore upward, consuming the shuttle in a violent bloom of light and force. The shockwave slammed into the convoy, rattling armor, throwing men off their feet. Heat rolled across the ground like a living thing.
Ichiro was driven back into his seat.
The girl didn't move.
Outside, Yamada staggered, caught himself—and looked up.
The sky was no longer empty.
An Imperial airship hung above them, vast and silent. Its hull eclipsed the stars, weapon ports unfolding with deliberate calm.
"AMBUSH!" Yamada roared.
He turned toward the convoy. "TURN BACK! MOVE—NOW!"
Engines screamed to life.
Vehicles spun, tires shrieking as they accelerated back toward the bridge, headlights cutting through smoke and flame as they fled toward Inoue territory.
Yamada didn't retreat.
Neither did several of his men.
They spread out across the pad, weapons raised, placing themselves between the descending airship and the escaping convoy.
Inside the vehicle, Ichiro stared at the girl.
"You knew," he said.
She met his gaze, unreadable.
"I saw it," she replied.
Above them, the Empire began its descent.