The Dominion cruiser floated above Tau Ceti IV like a metallic leviathan, its vast hull casting shadows that swallowed the already turbulent planet below. From the deployment bay, Nolan Ryen watched as the smaller ships aligned for descent, their movements perfectly timed in a mechanical ballet. The drones' lights buzzed around him, scanning every vessel and soldier with clinical precision. Everything seemed to run like a flawless machine—until you looked at the faces beneath those helmets.
Inside the hangar, the air was heavy and metallic, thick with the acrid scent of ozone and the stifled sweat of dozens of soldiers. The space itself felt alive, vibrating with the echoes of boots, engines, and restrained whispers. Nolan adjusted the seal on his armor and glanced at his comrades. No one spoke much. Silence wasn't just a pause—it was a presence, a kind of invisible fog clinging to the skin.
"Omnis, temperature," Nolan whispered.
A small display flickered on the left side of his visor.External Temp (K): 350Adjusted Habitat Temp (K): 295 (22°C)Dome Failure Coefficient: 0.9Hynar Scale: 82.9°H
Roger, his mentor, would've said those were optimal conditions for war. And my father? Nolan wondered briefly before shaking his head. Better not to go there.
A few steps away, a thin young soldier wrestled with his straps. His helmet looked too big for his blond head, and his hands trembled as he fumbled with the collar. Nolan recognized him.
"Do you always take this long, Harlan?" His voice came muffled through the helmet, calm but steady.
Harlan looked up and gave a nervous laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "I think my helmet's got a problem. It feels… off."
Nolan studied him for a moment, then stepped closer. With quick, precise movements, he tightened the straps and patted Harlan's shoulder.
"There. Focus now," he said with a faint nod. "Down there, it's just you."
Harlan nodded, though his eyes drifted toward the dropship. For a moment he seemed about to speak again, but silence reclaimed him.
Then Sergeant Kehr's voice tore through the hangar like thunder.
"Formation! Secure your gear and check your weapons. We launch in five. Remember, this is a field assault. They are the enemy. They want to kill your mothers, your children, everyone you love. If you hesitate for even a second, you'll be the ones who die. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!"
Kehr nodded, his face carved with the scars of a hundred campaigns. "If there's any sign of Planetary Delegate Vek, report immediately. Reinforcements will follow." He puffed out his chest. "Preserve the Union, above all."
"Preserve the Union, above all," the soldiers repeated in unison.
Kehr's presence filled the room. When his gaze landed on Harlan, the deep frown alone was enough to make the young man stiffen.
"Soldier, if those hands are still shaking next time I see you, you'll be the first body coming back. And trust me—I won't be the one carrying you."
The group marched toward the dropship. Inside, the narrow bay was bathed in a white glow that revealed every dent and scratch in the metal. Nolan took a seat beside Harlan, watching the young man's foot tap nervously against the floor.
"You know what's really happening on Tau Ceti IV?" Harlan asked quietly, his voice barely audible beneath the hum of the engines.
"Just another separatist strike. Nothing more, nothing less," Nolan said without looking up from his rifle.
Harlan let out a short, humorless laugh. "They say the skies over some continents are so red they look like they're on fire. Sounds like hell."
Nolan didn't answer.
"So, what were you? Before all this?" Harlan asked.
"A soldier. Corporal. When things fell apart… well, everything moved fast. It had to."
"You don't look that young anyway. Thirty?"
"Bit more," Nolan said.
"I see. I was a logistics supervisor at Klynos' spaceport. Not the best job, but… it paid."
Nolan stayed silent.
"It's my first mission," Harlan admitted.
"I figured."
He laughed softly, then grew serious again. "Is it as bad as they say?"
Nolan shrugged. "Depends how you imagine it. But it's worse, I promise." He paused. "Don't worry. You'll be fine. Just remember one thing: you're not Rodrick Viulk. You have limits. Respect them if you want to live."
Harlan nodded. "And you? How many fights have you been in?"
Nolan thought for a moment, the metallic hum interrupting his focus. "Nine. Ten, counting this one."
"That doesn't sound like much."
"You'd be surprised," Nolan replied, tightening his helmet. "Trust me."
The pilot's voice broke in, calm and sharp. "Attention, soldiers. Deployment in ten minutes. Secure your suits and prepare."
The air thickened. Conversation ceased. Nolan closed his eyes, syncing his breath to the engine's rhythm. But fear wasn't something easily silenced.
Outside, the dropship roared as it cut through the churning atmosphere of Tau Ceti IV, shuddering as if it might come apart at any second. Nolan's harness bit into his chest with every violent shake. Through the narrow window, he saw the blood-red sky, streaked with clouds that looked like open wounds. The lights of other ships flickered in the distance, descending in a synchronized fleet of steel and fire.
The comm channel buzzed with overlapping voices—commands, status reports, the endless static of systems correcting themselves mid-flight. Harlan sat across from him, gripping his rifle like an anchor. His helmet hid his face, but the trembling in his hands was unmistakable.
"Red skies and heavy air," Harlan murmured over the comm, his attempt at levity falling flat. "It really is hell."
Nolan stayed silent, his gaze locked on the descending ships. Their metal hulls sliced through the air, trailed by bright streaks like falling meteors. Something about the descent felt wrong.
From his seat, he could still see the orbital cruisers above. The Dominion's turrets and other escort ships fired continuously toward the planet's surface, scattering bolts of light that flashed like dying stars. But even that barrage looked thin, as if the enemy's numbers were endless.
The pilot's voice broke the static. "Entering hot zone. Expect turbulence and evasive maneuvers."
Nolan straightened. The words weren't unusual, but the tone was. The cabin lights shifted from white to red—a visual warning that they were now in hostile airspace.
Then came Kehr's voice through the comms, steady as stone. "This is not a drill. When we hit the ground, you move like your life depends on it, because it does. Maintain formation. Cover your sectors. Follow your orders."
A violent tremor shook the cabin as they hit a powerful wind current. Nolan looked out again. Dropships nearby wobbled dangerously, caught in the turbulence.
Then he saw it—the first impact.
A dropship on the edge of the formation exploded in a blinding flash of violet. The shockwave rippled through the air, and screams filled the channel. Fragments of hull spun outward, glinting briefly in the sunlight before burning away in the atmosphere.
"Incoming fire!" someone shouted.
From the planet's surface, streaks of darkness shot upward—missiles tracing perfect arcs toward the descending fleet. The Universal Government's automated defense network responded immediately, firing countermeasures in a flurry of blue light, but it wasn't enough. Another explosion tore through the formation. A second dropship spiraled down in flames.
"Evasive maneuvers! Adjust trajectory and maintain descent!" the pilot barked.
Nolan's ship veered hard to the right. Soldiers clung to their seats as the belts dug into their armor. Outside, the once-perfect formation had dissolved into chaos, ships scattering to avoid the missiles streaking upward from the ground.
One projectile passed so close that the air hissed through the hull. The heat bled through Nolan's visor as another dropship ahead erupted into a ball of fire.
"Electromagnetic mine incoming!"
A bright pulse streaked through the clouds and detonated midair. The explosion wasn't physical but electric—its shockwave wiping out lights and systems across several ships. Engines went dark, and the stricken craft began to fall, dragging trails of smoke and flame behind them.
Nolan's dropship shook violently but managed to reboot just in time. Through the window, he watched two disabled ships collide mid-descent, bursting apart in a rain of metal and light.
"Emergency landing protocol engaged!" the pilot shouted, fighting the controls.
The ship plunged toward the surface, engines screaming as they tried to slow the fall. Nolan's chest compressed under the g-forces. Through the flickering haze of atmosphere, the ruins of Tau Ceti IV grew larger.
When he opened his eyes, everything was fire. Sparks jumped from the shattered panels. The air was thick with smoke and ozone. His ribs ached with each breath, and his side throbbed where blood darkened the fabric of his uniform.
Across from him, Harlan was slumped over, one hand pressed against his stomach. "You… you okay?" he croaked, struggling with his harness.
Nolan nodded weakly. "Had better days," he rasped.
He freed himself from the straps and helped Harlan loose his own. The younger man's armor was cracked, blood seeping through the plates. When he moved, a strangled gasp escaped his throat.
"Come on. We have to move." Nolan hauled him up, slinging Harlan's arm over his shoulder.
The hatch was warped, forcing them to crawl through a jagged opening. Heat slammed into Nolan as they stepped outside. Chaos reigned beneath a blood-red sky. Dropships fell like dying stars, their trails of smoke painting the horizon in black and orange. The roar of explosions drowned out everything else.
The ground was a graveyard of craters and wreckage. Severed limbs and shattered armor lay scattered like discarded parts of a broken machine. Nolan scanned the battlefield—burning wrecks, drifting smoke, small clusters of soldiers firing into the haze.
"This is hell," Harlan whispered, his voice shaking.
"Stay focused. We need cover." Nolan gritted his teeth and pulled him toward the remnants of a collapsed wall.
Gunfire cracked around them. They dropped behind the rubble as figures in red armor darted through the smoke—separatists, moving with precision and speed, their rifles flashing with cold efficiency. Their movements were too coordinated, too controlled.
Nolan peeked over the wall. A squad of his comrades tried to advance toward an intact dropship but were cut down instantly. One of them fell to his knees, rifle still firing a few defiant bursts before collapsing.
"We have to help them!" Harlan said, starting to rise.
Nolan grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. "We can't. Not now. We need a way out."
From their position, he could see the ruined sprawl stretching endlessly ahead—smoke, debris, and movement in every shadow. No safe route. No retreat. Staying here meant death.
"We move left," Nolan said, pointing to a narrow gap between the wreckage.
Harlan nodded faintly, pale and bleeding. They crept low, weaving through the ruins as explosions rumbled around them. The heat was suffocating.
A projectile struck nearby, showering them with dirt and metal. Nolan threw himself over Harlan, shielding him from the blast. When he looked up, more separatists were emerging from the smoke, their silhouettes framed by burning wreckage.
"Down!" Nolan shouted, dragging Harlan behind a slab of concrete and raising his rifle.
The enemy opened fire. Energy bolts slammed into the barrier, scattering chunks of rock. Nolan returned fire, each shot deliberate and sharp, but there were too many targets, too many shadows.
"We can't hold them," Harlan whispered.
Nolan didn't answer. His eyes tracked the tightening semicircle of separatists closing in. His weapon burned hot in his hands, its charge nearly depleted.
"Nolan…" Harlan's voice was fading, thick with fear and pain. "I can't… I can't keep going."
Nolan turned toward him. Harlan's armor was drenched in blood, pooling dark beneath him. His breathing was ragged, each inhale a fight.
"Yes, you can. Look at me," Nolan said, his tone sharp as steel. "We're getting out of here. I'm not leaving you."
Harlan tried to smile but couldn't. His hands trembled as he reached for his weapon. Before Nolan could say more, a separatist emerged from the debris, rifle raised. Nolan fired first, cutting him down. The body hit the ground hard, weapon clattering away.
More shadows approached, calm and deliberate. The circle was closing. Nolan knew it was over. Slowly, he lowered his rifle to the ground.
"Harlan," he whispered, "don't speak. Just stay alive."