Jinyue drove in silence. Wind swept through the open plains, scattering flecks of rusted debris that glimmered faintly in the low sun. Cody sat beside him, silent as well, both absorbed in their thoughts from the argument that had faded into quiet refusal. The hum of the engine filled the silence, steady, rhythmic, almost enough to dull the ache behind Jinyue's eyes.
Jinyue's gaze stayed fixed ahead, the wind catching strands of his long white hair. His tail swayed with faint irritation behind him, betraying the tension he pretended not to feel.
Then the black sphere began to beep.
It started with a single pulse, faint and uncertain. The second came faster. By the fifth, the sound had turned shrill—an urgent, frantic warning. The radar's core lit up with a bright red spiral, the kind that only appeared when incoming speed or trajectory changed too suddenly to predict.
Jinyue's hands froze on the steering controls. The sphere sat on the console, pulsing erratically, its readings flashing red. The device had only one purpose: to detect the approach of trash rain—metal debris and wreckage that fell through the planet's thin atmosphere in violent, predictable bursts. It never malfunctioned. The intervals were fixed, the readings constant. This seemed serious.
"Cody," he said sharply.
The beeping escalated, faster and sharper, until it sounded like a warning scream.
"I hear it," Cody's voice came fast, mechanical but laced with tension.
"How is this even possible?"
"It might be a malfunction," Cody said in a reassuring tone, though he too seemed unsure.
The radar blared again, the rhythm rising to a constant alarm. The ground shuddered faintly beneath them, a sign of pressure waves moving through the thin atmosphere. Cody leaned forward, activating his ocular zoom. His lenses adjusted, light flickering as the internal focus struggled to sharpen the image.
"Incoming objects—unidentified. Trajectory unstable. Speed exceeds standard debris pattern. Probability of collision: seventy-three per cent and rising."
Jinyue's pulse jumped. "That's impossible. The next trash cycle shouldn't be for another nine days; the frequency was reduced two years ago!"
"Correction," Cody replied, tone clipped. "It's happening now."
The instincts hit before thought could follow. His hair prickled at the roots, tail snapping taut with alarm. The same part of him that had learned to sense weather shifts and predators now screamed danger in every direction.
"Where's the nearest cover?" he asked.
Cody scanned the terrain, his eyes flickering with data streams. "None are suitable. Plateau's exposed on all sides. I've got one! The southern slope—two kilometres ahead."
"Got it."
The UV roared to life as Jinyue pushed the throttle forward then did a swift 180-degree turn. The vehicle then roared forward, wheels slicing over gravel and rust fragments. Dust, loose metal shards and debris blurred past.
The radar's shrill beeps grew closer together, overlapping, until they merged into a single continuous tone. The sphere glowed bright red now, the warning light flashing like a pulse against the dull interior.
Wind tore through Jinyue's hair, the cold biting his cheeks raw. His body moved on instinct, hands tight on the controls. The plateau was unforgiving; scattered heaps of broken machinery, jagged steel skeletons, and the remains of old escape pods half-buried in sand that sent them lurching and jumping with each bump.
Beside him, Cody's mechanical frame rattled against the seat. "Objects closing. Visual contact in fifteen seconds."
"Show me."
Cody's optics extended forward, mechanical iris narrowing to focus. The feed projected across the dashboard, grainy and unstable. The cold air distorted it into static.
Cody adjusted the feed, his optics sharpening to a grainy projection. The sky above shimmered faintly, streaks of descending light trailing smoke and metal. He caught outlines—small, round crafts descending fast, chased by thinner, needle-shaped ships that moved like predators through water.
Around them swarmed shapes that didn't belong to any machine. The creatures glinted in fragments of sunlight, their limbs stretching unnaturally long, bodies glimmering with dull blue chitin. They were a chaotic cluster of jellyfish-like shapes; ships that moved with organic precision, the kind only the Insect Clans used.
Jinyue's tail lashed once, undoubtedly instinctive. His heart clenched with tension and fear. The air itself seemed to thicken around him. His fingers trembled before he forced them still.
"Cody!"
"I see them," Cody said grimly. "Insect Clan interceptors. Designation matches Dominion archive pattern Delta-6."
Jinyue's voice dropped low. "How close?"
"Five kilometres. Descending fast."
Cody turned to him suddenly, urgency cracking his usual calm. "We need to move. Now. They hunt Zerg for sport. If they catch you—"
"Shut up! ...and hold on."
No need to repeat what I know!
The UV surged forward, treads grinding hard against the metal-strewn ground. The vehicle leapt over small ridges, the cold air roaring past. Jinyue's body vibrated with tension, instincts flooding in from both himself and Jin'ar's buried memories.
The fear was not new; if anything, it was ancestral. The Insect Clan had slaughtered Zergs for centuries. He'd been a victim too in the past. He remembered flashes: blood on alloy, the smell of burning plasma, the sound of screaming through comm lines. His—Jin'ar's—parents. The fire. The broken hull of the escape craft that led him here.
The past tightened his throat.
"Estimated Impact zone?"
Cody hesitated. "Directly behind us."
Jinyue swore under his breath and jerked the controls, steering the UV toward the southern slope. "Find a place to hide. Now."
Cody scanned again. "Closest concealment—there, under the ridge cluster."
Jinyue swerved the vehicle hard toward the right. The engine growled, rattling from strain as it cut across loose terrain, leaving a dusty trail. The plateau's edge loomed ahead, steep drops and old slag heaps scattered like bones. The beeping had reached a piercing tone now, the radar flashing too fast to read.
"Speed seventy—impact proximity two minutes!" Cody's voice rose, mechanical but tight with something close to panic.
They reached the ridge just as the first insect ship crashed into the soil sending a sonic wave. A deep, thunderous crack rolled across the plateau, shattering the air. Dust burst upward in thick clouds offering some much needed cover. Jinyue slammed the brakes, letting the vehicle skid sideways right between the largest slabs of stone. Cody jumped into motion instantly.
"Camouflage mode."
Jinyue reached for the compartment beneath the seats. They pulled out thick sheets—woven with coloured fibres, identical to the surrounding sand and rock. Cody moved with practised efficiency, helping spread the material across the hull in a shape that just might pass as a rock.
The UV's surface dimmed, colour shifting until it blended perfectly with the plateau. Cody adjusted the heat output, dropping both their thermal signatures. The air inside turned biting cold as the vehicle's vents slowed to a near stop.
"Heat neutral," Cody whispered. "External visibility—minimal."
Jinyue leaned forward, senses straining. Through the filtered canopy, he could just make out even more faint lights streaking lower in the atmosphere. The craft veered sharply. Its stabilisers flickered, losing balance. The pursuing insect vessels followed, some closing the distance with cruel precision, others not so fortunate leading to deafenein crashes.
Cody zoomed in again while giving Jinyue live coverage, for all the tension in the air, it sure did feel like a live action movie. Something about the drama...ehem...dangerous chase brought some twisted sense of ejoyment within him. Could he be able to escape if he was in the same situation? His ego certainly told him so.
"The pilot's losing control," Cody murmured. "Autopilot systems failing. They're going to crash."
The words hadn't finished leaving his mouth when the craft swerved violently. Its path cut straight toward the plateau—their plateau. The radar blared once, deafening. Jinyue frantically turned it off, his heart nearly jumped to his throat.
"I see it. It's heading directly for us!"
Jinyue's mind raced. He forced his breathing steady, focused on instinct. He extended his awareness outward—a pulse of psychic pressure radiating through the air. It moved like a wave, soft and deliberate, touching the minds of everything in range.
He felt the echo of the plateau, the hum of the rocks, even the faint static of the atmosphere. Far above, he sensed the storm of movement—metal, energy, and something alive.
The signal came back fast. They were close. Too close.
He could almost see them now: the insectoid ships slicing through the clouds, trailing smoke and flame. Each movement stirred that ancient, ingrained hatred. His tail thrashed once against the seat before he forced it still.
The effort burned faintly behind his eyes, a warmth spreading through his skull. Outside, the ship tumbled closer, pieces breaking off as it rapidly descended. The plateau vibrated under the tremor of its engines. The insects rammed against it like maddened bulls with their ever-increasing vigour and victory.
"Thermal suppression complete," Cody said, voice lower now. "We are invisible to infrared."
They stayed frozen, concealed beneath the camouflage sheets while hoping for the best. The hum of engines filled the air—a deep, shaking roar as the ship streaked low above the ridge. For a moment, Jinyue thought it might pass entirely. But then the craft jolted again, spinning end over end, veering toward the slope just beyond their hiding place.
Cody's fingers gripped the dashboard. His voice cracked into static. "Impact imminent!"
The radar went white. The sound of the crash tore through the plateau, metal screeching, ground splitting. A plume of dust rose high into the cold air. The sound rolled over them in waves, echoing into silence.
Neither spoke. Only the faint hum of the radar remained, steady again but dimmer—tracking debris as it fell.
They waited. The world went still, the sound came seconds later—a deep, concussive roar that shook the plateau. Dust rose in thick waves. The black sphere finally dimmed to a soft pulse. Jinyue's psychic field retracted, leaving him cold and tense. His tail twitched once, then settled.
Cody broke the silence first. "Impact confirmed… approximately four hundred meters north-east."
Jinyue didn't answer. His gaze remained fixed on the smoke rising beyond the ridge. Jinyue's psychic senses buzzed, faint and electric which felt odd and foreign.
******
The air still trembled after the impact. A low hum rippled through the ground, echoing through the metal bones of the plateau. Inside the UV, Jinyue kept utterly still, every muscle wound tight. Dust whispered across the exterior plating. The sound insulation muffled the chaos outside, but not enough for comfort.
They could still hear the faint, distant grind of engines—the clicking, the shrill metallic wails that Insect Clan machinery made.
Cody's voice came through in a whisper. "Audio feed stable. Switching to external visual."
The dashcam's small display flickered to life, a narrow view through a lens mounted near the UV's front. The picture trembled, static cutting across it in bursts. Through it, the crash site glowed faintly in the cold twilight. The wrecked ship lay half-buried in sand and broken alloy, hull plates twisted inward.
Jinyue leaned closer, eyes narrowing.
Shapes moved around the ship. The Insect Clan had arrived in full. Their ships hovered low, their forms unnerving, half-organic, half-machine. Long, tentacle-like appendages extended from their undersides, clutching at the wreckage. Some writhed and pierced the hull like spears, tearing out panels with grotesque efficiency.
Cody enhanced the feed, magnifying the image. "Estimated number: twenty-one interceptors. Biological-mechanical ratio forty-eight per cent. Power output… stable. They're not leaving."
The Insect vessels moved with a strange rhythm, as though alive and in sync. They pulsed with dull blue light, tentacles dragging debris into the air. The noise—metal on metal—scraped against the inside of Jinyue's skull. His tail lashed once before he caught himself.
He tried to slow his breathing. His body betrayed him—ears twitching at every sound, tail restless. Instinct screamed at him to flee, but the rational part of him forced stillness. One wrong vibration, one thermal spike, and they'd be found.
A sound broke through the feed—a sharp burst of pressure. Something exploded near the ship. Dust and smoke clouded the view.
"Cody?" He asked in the lowest whisper he could manage.
"Explosion localized to rear thrusters," Cody replied quietly. "Probably fuel line rupture. No major change in insect activity."
The smoke cleared, and Jinyue's keen eyes caught movement. A hatch on the wrecked ship creaked open. Originally, nothing came out—only shifting shadow. Then, a figure pulled itself through.
He froze.
A flash of recognition struck him low and fast
It was a man...zerg—or close enough to one that the difference barely mattered.
He stumbled forward, catching himself on the edge of the broken hull. His hair was black and matted, streaked with soot and blood. His eyes caught the light as he lifted his head—bright, vivid red with a slit through the center, sharp as a predator's.
Jinyue felt shocked. His eyes widdened even more. His breath cut short for a moment. And his fingers tightened on the console until the plastic creaked.
The stranger's movements were unsteady, but powerful. His build was lean, muscles defined beneath the torn fabric of his uniform. A swimmer's body—balanced, deliberate, controlled even in pain. His skin carried the pallor of shock and the dust of battle. And his face— so feral—cut through four years of never seeing a face other than his own.
Jinyue's chest tightened more.
Cody's voice dropped to a near whisper. "Species match… ninety-nine point six per cent probability. Zerg signature confirmed."
The world around him seemed to fade. The beeping radar, the distant roar, even the faint vibration of the UV's engine.
He could feel the man's presence. The same psychic frequency that had brushed his senses earlier now pressed at the edge of his mind, foreign yet familiar. It resonated faintly with his own, a pulse against his thoughts like static.
That's what I sensed…how odd.
Jinyue thought, then promptly discarded such foolishness.
The stranger staggered further out, one hand pressed against his side. Blood smeared the metallic ground. Beside him, the Insect ships circled, their attention temporarily focused on the crash not having registered the new enemy. Their tentacles lashed against the wreckage, tearing apart what was left. Their senses seemed to be dulled, how could they not smell the blood?
The man suddenly paused, he turned his head, scanning the surroundings with the wary sharpness of a cornered beast. His gaze swept over the plateau, over the dust, over the rock formations. For fleeting seconds, his red eyes passed over the UV's hiding place.
Jinyue watched him. He felt nothing he could name. No welcome. No hope. Only awareness.
He felt like that look had pierced right straight through the camouflage. His instincts flared, and his psychic field pulsed, ready to attack and kill, before he suppressed it with effort. He could see the man's confusion written all over his face.
The faint connection in his mind broke as soon as the man turned away.
Cody spoke, voice low and tense. "He's alive… but injured. The Insects—they're not letting him go."
The creatures closed in, dragging the wreckage apart with renewed violence. Sparks burst from the torn hull. The man moved backward, his form small against the writhing machines.
Jinyue had gone four years without seeing a face. He had grown used to silence and empty sky. Seeing someone now felt like a break in pattern, nothing more. A complication. A variable he had not planned for.
Another Zerg, a distinctively female one at that.
Another living being.
What a joke.
He felt cold all over, the weight of realization pressing into his bones. His tail stiffened, trembling slightly before curling close to his leg.
Outside, the insects noticed the man.
And through the haze of dust and ruin, the red-eyed stranger lifted his head again. His gaze was sharp, burning, and alive.
Cody's eyes flickered toward him. "Jinyue," he said softly, "we are not alone."
*******
END OF ARC 1!