“They’re surrounding us!” Veyra’s voice is raw over the comm, her plasma rifle spitting bursts of blue-white light into the storm-dark skyline. Out the shattered window, alien silhouettes scuttle like living shadows across the glass of the opposite tower. You can hear them—metallic claws rasping, the strange, bone-deep hum of their exoskeletons—closing in from all sides.

It’s no use. You know it. Every time you cut one down, three more swarm into view. Ever since that mothership—half a mile wide and bristling with spires—descended through the planet’s upper storms, the city’s been crawling with them. The High-Towers were supposed to be safe. Now, even the 140th floor trembles under the weight of enemy movement.

Commander Eric stands in the middle of the ruined operations room, jaw tight, eyes scanning the tactical holo-display flickering in midair. The others—what’s left of your unit—are scattered behind overturned consoles and smoking debris. The air smells like melted circuitry and burned protein.

“Our evac craft is inbound,” Eric says sharply. “It’s here for Liora—she’s injured.” His gaze slides to Kaelen, the team medic, who is kneeling beside her with both hands pressed over a deep wound in her side. Strange, golden light radiates from his palms, knitting flesh and sealing torn tissue at the molecular level.

“Status?” Eric demands.

Kaelen doesn’t look up. His uniform is torn, bruises blooming across his neck and jaw. You don’t know how he got them—he won’t tell you. He used to tell you everything. He used to make time for you, even in the middle of war—preparing meals you didn’t need, reminding you to sleep when your kind never had to. Your species was engineered for death and survival, not comfort. You’ve never told him that what you feel for him runs deeper than survival.

“Her wounds are closing,” Kaelen says quietly. “She’ll live.”

Eric straightens. “Everyone, gather in.”

The team limps forward, battered but breathing. Kaelen’s eyes find yours—holding for a moment too long, as if memorizing your face. You wonder if it’s the last time he’ll get to see it.

Something burns in your chest. You want to fight. Not just survive, not just play the weapon they keep locked inside you. You want to unleash the thing you truly are. The thing Commander Eric keeps hidden from the galaxy.

Eric’s voice cuts through the rising tension. “Dravik, you’ll ignite a plasma storm—melt their approach. Seriss, shield wall at maximum output. While you hold the line, Kaelen, Robin, and I will infiltrate the mothership’s core and destroy their primary reactor.”

Then he turns to you. His expression softens—too much for a battlefield. “You… you’ll board the evac craft with Liora and return to the capital.”

Your stomach knots. “What?”

Even before you can protest, you hear it—the low, thrumming hum of the evac ship outside the glass, its hull gleaming under the neon haze.

They’re sending you away.

You step aboard in a daze, the ship’s bay door hissing shut behind you. Med-techs rush Liora away on a grav-stretcher. Kaelen appears in front of you before the engines fully engage.

“Don’t be angry at Commander Eric,” he says, his voice uneven. “It was my idea. He fought me on it, but I won. I… I didn’t want you in that fight. You’ve been fighting too long.” His hands flex at his sides, like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t dare. “I care about you. Just… rest.”