The Black File descends to the surface of Silph-9 — a vox-dead moon wrapped in silence and ash. The surface is wrong. The sky is wrong. Even the snow isn't snow. The first thing Elias notices is that the wind doesn't make any sound.
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The dropship broke through the atmosphere of Silph-9 like a knife through wet paper.
No turbulence.
No resistance.
Just a long, unnatural quiet.
Malk glanced out the porthole and muttered, "Snowing already?"
It wasn't.
It looked like snow — pale, fluttering particles drifting across the barren landing platform. But when it hit the hull, it didn't melt. It stuck. Hardened.
Ash.
Chemical ash.
Lirae-4 scanned it through the viewport with her retinal lens.
"Atmosphere processors venting something caustic," she murmured. "Shouldn't be. They're supposed to be offline."
Volst stood by the hatch, helmet clipped to her belt.
"If they're still running, someone turned them back on."
Bit dropped from the ceiling just behind Elias, grinning upside-down.
"Or something."
The hatch opened.
The cold didn't bite.
It pressed.
Like a blanket made of dust, settling over skin and gear and thought. Even inside his sealed armor, Elias felt it — a dryness behind the eyes. A weight behind the lungs.
The Black File deployed in silence.
The landing pad stretched out before them like a forgotten altar. Black plasteel, cracked and uneven, lined with rusted signal pylons that didn't blink anymore. The surrounding terrain was jagged rock, veined with industrial piping. Dead mines. Vents that no longer breathed.
Above them: a sky the color of lead.
And no wind.
Even with ash drifting sideways, even with the snow-patterns…
There was no sound.
No whistle.
No howl.
Just… nothing.
Volst spoke first.
"Everyone vox-check. Now."
They did. Five confirmations, perfectly clear.
"No interference," Lirae said. "Channels are clean."
Malk frowned. "Too clean."
Elias agreed. Vox in Imperial outposts always had noise — residual machine-spirit hum, prayer-echoes, servo-screeches. Here?
Dead air.
The outpost loomed ahead — a low, curved structure built into the ridge. Industrial gothic architecture, fortified but stripped. No banners. No markings. No visible sentries.
The front gate was sealed.
Volst knelt beside the control panel.
"Bit."
The boy crawled over the wall like an insect and dropped beside her.
He pried the panel open.
Paused.
Then stepped back.
Elias stepped up beside him and saw why.
The inside of the panel was melted.
But not by plasma. Not by heat.
Acid.
Elias looked at Lirae. "Anything in the schematics about internal acid failsafes?"
She shook her head.
"Power cells should've burned out weeks ago."
"Then why's this still sealed?"
No one answered.
Malk raised his weapon.
"Breach it?"
Volst gave the nod.
"Controlled. Quiet."
Ten minutes later, the gate gave with a metallic sigh, caving inward like a slow exhale.
The air inside was colder.
Darker.
Elias stepped in first.
As soon as his boots crossed the threshold, the System pinged softly in his spine.
> Location Confirmed: Silph-9 – Substation 1A
> Status: Anomalous Environment
> Warning: Chakra field degradation risk – 2% per hour
> Passive Monitoring: Engaged
He looked back over his shoulder.
The ash was still falling.
And not a single flake made a sound.
[END OF PART 1]