200 YAFA

  Skies above Enteura- current theatre of war against the GCA

  Idris 7, Colony Resource Cluster 09, Moon of R’len Seldit, Brisar ET1 system

  The sky above Idris 7 was a maelstrom of fire and metal, a lethal dance orchestrated by the D’varoan Feather-dart’s sleek, missile-like frame. Its pilot, a D’varoan llcyran named Koryn, gripped the non-invasive haptic control matrix, her caramel fingers gliding over tactile pads that translated subtle vibrations into precise commands through skin-contact neural feedback. The interface, a pinnacle of D’varoh’s advanced technology, required no invasive implants, relying on external sensors to sync her jungle-honed instincts with the craft’s DAI (Digitally Assisted Intelligence) core. Her dense muscles, forged in Sekaia’s punishing 8G gravity, steadied her against the cockpit’s vibrations, her reflexes sharpened by years navigating the Root province’s forest and jungle canopies, dodging predatory fauna and tangled vines.

  The holo-display flared with targeting data, reticles snapping onto a GCA triangular interceptor weaving through the dust-choked atmosphere. The GCA pilot, tethered to their craft and a swarm of combat droids via invasive neural integration, coordinated with a relentless network of drones, interceptors, missile emplacements,and ground troop placements,acting as a single massive organism. Despite this edge, Koryn was able to maneuver through and around her opponents, her agility outpacing their algorithmic formulations.

  Koryn’s fingers pressed the haptic pads, vibrations guiding her intent as the Feather-dart’s gas-assisted electromagnetic railgun hummed to life. Its micro-fusion core charged the capacitors, a low whine resonating through the cockpit. The piezoelectric trigger sensors detected her tactile command, aligning with the magnetic pulse ignition system. The railgun’s QR grooves, etched along the barrel, glowed faintly, primed to dissipate the intense heat of firing.

  “Target acquired,” the DAI’s ancestor core confirmed, its algorithms adjusting for the interceptor’s erratic maneuvers and Idris 7’s turbulent winds. Koryn’s haptic input triggered the railgun, and a ferromagnetic slug, wreathed in a corona of ionized plasma, erupted from the barrel. The slug, stabilized by aerodynamic spin, tore through the air at hypersonic speed, punching through the interceptor’s hardened composite armor. The enemy craft shattered in a brilliant explosion, its debris scattering like embers across the moon’s brown plains, disrupting a nearby droid swarm.

  The Feather-dart banked sharply, its forward-swept wings slicing through the thin atmosphere. Koryn’s holo-display flashed: the railgun’s ammo case, holding 40 slugs and a reservoir of cryogenic gas, was down to 15 rounds. The gas-assisted cooling system hissed, venting heat through the QR grooves to prevent barrel degradation. Reloading mid-dogfight was risky, but Koryn’s Root province instinct kept her focused. “Ordyn, prep the reserve ammo case,” Koryn ordered, her voice steady despite the GCA’s droid-augmented interceptors closing in, their cybernetic systems pulsing with synchronized neural commands.

  A burst of high-output laser fire from a GCA droid grazed the Feather-dart’s hull, its multiferroic shielding absorbing the electromagnetic interference. Ordyn recalculated firing solutions, and Koryn fired two controlled bursts, each slug aimed to exploit gaps in the GCA’s droid-llcyran formation. The railgun’s pulse synchronization ensured consistent velocity, maintaining accuracy despite the recoil’s kick. A drone exploded in a shower of circuits, and another interceptor erupted in a fireball, but the GCA’s heavy cruisers loomed in low orbit, their ion cannons—locked on a tracking the battles below — charging with volatile energy.

  “Captain Lilath’k, cruiser signatures detected,” Koryn patched through, her voice cutting through the Vorpal Glare’s command deck. “We’re holding the screen, but I’m low on slugs. Requesting backup for reload.”

  “Hold position,” Lilath’k replied, her orange eyes scanning the tactical display aboard the Vorpal Glare. “Aerocruisers are deploying additional Feather-darts. Keep their eyes off the surface.” She knew Ronjah’s infiltration relied on this distraction, a storm of precision to mask his singular strike against the GCA’s droid-heavy might.

  Koryn’s Feather-dart dove through a cloud of flak, the DAI weaving it through the chaos. The railgun’s cryogenic gas system stabilized the barrel, allowing another burst of slugs to shred a GCA droid swarm, their frames crumpling under the onslaught. The ammo case depleted, and Koryn initiated the reload sequence, the cockpit’s levers, pulleys, and gears swapping in a fresh case in seconds. The railgun hummed back to life, ready to carve through the enemy’s defenses once more.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Back on the surface, in the heart of GravWhelm Industrial’s underground complex, Ronjah moved like a specter through the corporate suite of Sub-Level 5. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and scorched metal, remnants of his clash with Kaelen. The Shadin’s corpse lay broken, a grim testament to the cost of this mission. Ronjah’s chest heaved, his breath shallow beneath his mag-weave armor. The pale, eldritch mask obscured his face, but his purple irises burned through the visor, scanning for threats.

  The corporate suite’s lush greenery and UV-lit ambiance felt like a return to the Root Province’s lush waterholes, formed from wells erupting out of Sekaia’s underground rivers, their verdant pools teeming with bioluminescent flora. Ronjah’s data-slate glowed softly, its interface linked to a forehead-mounted ear bud that vibrated against his skull, transmitting Lilath’k’s voice through bone conduction with crystal clarity. “Jathka,” her voice resonated, steady but urgent, “GCA reinforcements are mobilizing—three heavy cruisers entering low orbit. Our Feather-darts are holding, but their jammers are adapting. You’ve got a narrow window.”

  “Understood,” Ronjah whispered, his voice a low growl through the mask’s filter. “I’m nearing Zalmar’s command hub. Keep their eyes skyward.” He crouched, retrieving a small vial from his bracer—a concentrated Rhas-nullifying compound, designed to disrupt any lingering Shadin defenses. Kaelen’s defeat had been a victory, but Zalmar’s elite guard still prowled these halls.

  A faint hum vibrated through the stone walls—Wheelie-bots, just as he’d feared. Their single-wheel frames, equipped with sensors, blinding lights, and entangling nets, rolled into view from a side tunnel. Ronjah’s senses sharpened, his Rhasweaving stretching out to detect their energy signatures. Three bots, their cameras swiveling, locked onto him. Their lights flared, a disorienting pulse meant to blind and confuse. But Ronjah was ready.

  He snapped his fingers, expending two strands of Rhas to weave a localized pulse of force. The impact shifted sensitive electronics - causing irreparable internal damage. The bots stuttered, their sensors frying, and he lunged forward, his sidearms—compact gas-assisted electromagnetic pistols—spitting ferromagnetic slugs. The first bot exploded in a shower of sparks, the second toppled as its wheel shattered, and the third’s net deployed too late, snagging only air as Ronjah rolled past. The pistols’ QR grooves vented heat, their cryogenic gas keeping the barrels stable during the rapid fire. He didn’t stop to admire his work; the command hub was close, and Zalmar was waiting.

  In the command hub, Zalmar Zalmoon stood before a bank of holographic displays, his augmented eyes glinting as he tracked the battle’s chaos. The Hyiopsa liquor sat untouched on his desk, its sweet tang no longer soothing. Kaelen’s death had been a blow, but not unexpected. The Shadin had served his purpose, delaying the Shadow long enough for Zalmar to prepare. His fingers danced over a control panel, activating the hub’s final defenses: a neural-net incapacitation field, designed to overload a Rhasweaver’s senses, and a squad of Inner Security operatives armed with skikar-dart throwers.

  “Commander,” a synthetic voice chimed from his console, “intruder detected in Sub-Level 5, Sector C. Inner Security engaging.” Zalmar’s lips curled into a sneer. The Shadow was persistent, but persistence wouldn’t save him. Idris 7’s mineral wealth—useful, but not vital to the GCA’s economy—was at stake. What was at stake was project Moniker and his progression through the ranks of the Galactic Coalition of Ascendant governments. The dreams he was having, the visions– they were all pointing toward this singularity for the llcyrans.

  Above, the dogfight intensified. Koryn executed a spiraling dive, her non-invasive haptic controls vibrating as Ordyn lured two GCA interceptors and their droid escorts into a kill zone. The railgun fired again, a ferromagnetic slug punching through one interceptor’s cockpit, while her wingman’s laser array shredded a cluster of droids. The sky glowed with the aftermath, a testament to D’varoh’s precision. But the GCA’s heavy cruisers were closing, their ion cannons—searching for the Vorpal Glare, calculating for other command centers- rally points—charging for bombardments that could overwhelm the Vorpal Glare’s operations.

  Lilath’k’s voice cut through the Vorpal Glare’s command deck. “All units, prioritize cruiser targeting. We can’t let them pin us down.” Her orange eyes flicked to the tactical display, where Ronjah’s signal pulsed faintly from the surface. “May this help us get closer to my brother Tekphram,” she whispered to herself, a prayer to Ora-Laho. The jathka’s plan hinged on misdirection, and every second she bought him was a step closer to unraveling Zalmar’s network—and the unseen forces pulling its strings.

  Ronjah reached the command hub’s outer door, a massive adamantine slab etched with GravWhelm Incorporated sigils. Executive Suite 172. An auditorium, if those gamma scans sent from the Vorpal Glare were accurate. His data-slate, linked to the bone conduction ear bud, hacked into the mag-lock, but a low hum warned of the neural-net field activating. He downed the Rhas-nullifying vial, its bitter taste grounding him as it dulled his essence’s sensitivity. The field flickered, its effects blunted, and he slipped through the door as it hissed open.

  Inside, Zalmar stood alone, his back turned to his challenger. “Shadow,” he said, his voice an anxious rasp. “You’ve come far, which is commendable.” He smiled– a weak glimmer of ivory. “Unfortunately, you and your kind rhasweaver, are relics of an age long past, you and your inefficient rivals, the Shadin!”

  Ronjah stared back before uttering his first sentence to his enemies since landfall. “Before I kill you, I have questions. I expect answers.”