The radar pings were getting closer.

  At first they were just faint blips, flickering in and out like ghosts. Then they started moving faster. Closing distance.

  “Contacts incoming,” Tamala said. “Multiple.”

  Before anyone could respond, three drop pods tore through the sky.

  They hit the desert hard—violent impacts that sent sand and rock erupting outward like shockwaves. Two cargo-style dropships followed, lowering fast, probably carrying supplies or support units.

  “They spotted us,” Carl snapped.

  The dropships hesitated, engines flaring as if deciding whether to commit or pull back.

  Frank didn’t give them the chance.

  His mech’s chain gun spun up with a deafening roar, and he unloaded into the sky. Tracer rounds stitched across the hulls of both ships, tearing them apart mid-air. They spiraled down and slammed into the sand in a fireball of twisted metal.

  “Targets down,” Frank said calmly.

  “You see,” I said over comms, “Carl’s radar blocker tower is still active. Small range only. As long as we don’t move too far, we stay off most scans. But if we break formation, we light up like a flare.”

  “And if they’ve got good radar?” Lexi asked.

  “Then we’re visible no matter what,” I replied.

  The drop pods opened.

  Metal petals peeled back, and the Slayer Dragons revealed themselves.

  TS-1 units.

  Spider mechs.

  Low to the ground, multi-legged, fast. Not humanoid like ours. Their frames were lean, almost skeletal, built for speed over protection. Twin cannons mounted on their backs rotated into position.

  “Dragons,” Tamala muttered. “Confirmed.”

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  “Stay tight,” Carl ordered. “Don’t let them flank.”

  I didn’t wait.

  I reached over my shoulder and pulled my sword free, the blade sliding out with a hiss as it began heating.

  “Stay back,” I said. “You’ll only get in my way.”

  “The hell you will,” Carl snapped. “You don’t give orders here—”

  My mech started to steam.

  Boosters whined as power surged through the frame.

  “A-1 program,” I said. “Set to level one. Low lethality. I don’t want an overheat.”

  “Copy,” Light replied. “Level one engaged.”

  I launched forward.

  The spider mechs reacted instantly, scattering and opening fire. Explosions tore up the sand around me as I dodged right, then left, moving almost without thinking.

  I felt… aligned.

  Unit 1 wasn’t fighting me. It was moving with me.

  My blade glowed red-hot as I vaulted into the air and came down hard on the nearest TS-1. The sword punched straight through its back plating, severing internal systems in one clean strike.

  The spider collapsed beneath me.

  I turned slowly toward the other two.

  They hesitated.

  Just a fraction of a second—but it was enough.

  They opened fire again.

  I leapt off the wreckage as their rounds tore into the downed mech instead, shrapnel bursting skyward. I hit the ground running, my arm-mounted machine gun spinning up.

  I fired as I closed the distance.

  Rounds shredded the left unit’s leg assembly, sending it crashing into the sand, systems failing.

  The last TS-1 retreated at full speed, firing blindly as it skittered backward.

  “Light,” I said, calm. “Route more power to thrusters.”

  “Confirmed.”

  I drew my blade back as my boosters charged.

  Three…

  Two…

  One…

  “Go.”

  The boosters detonated beneath me.

  I crossed the distance in seconds, catching the spider mech like it was standing still. My blade tore clean through its chassis in a wide arc.

  The wreck slid across the sand before exploding behind me.

  I skidded to a stop, sand spraying out in long trails as I finally slowed.

  “Enemy ground units neutralized,” Light reported.

  Before I could respond, alarms screamed.

  “Starfighters incoming!” I yelled. “Jets—Lutararein!”

  The roar hit seconds later.

  Multiple fighters screamed overhead, weapons already firing.

  “Down!” Carl shouted.

  We dropped low, using terrain and smoke as cover. Carl and Lexi deployed smoke canisters, thick black clouds flooding the area.

  The jets strafed blindly, bombs detonating wide of our position. The explosions still shook the ground hard enough to rattle my teeth.

  We fired back through the smoke, hoping for lucky hits.

  I didn’t fire.

  I couldn’t.

  Those were my people up there.

  Even if they’d shoot me without hesitation.

  The smoke hid everything. Chaos covered my hesitation.

  The fighters made one more pass, then peeled away.

  “They’re gone,” Tamala said.

  “Backup incoming,” Carl yelled. “ETA thirty minutes!”

  “Then they better hurry,” Frank growled.

  Tamala looked at my mech. “That thing of yours… that’s one hell of a weapon.”

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  Inside the cockpit, I cracked open a bottle of water and pulled my shirt off, sweat pouring off me in sheets.

  Then I felt it.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Blood splashed onto Crazy’s feathers.

  “Oh—shit. Sorry, buddy,” I muttered, pressing my shirt to my nose.

  Just another day.

  Still alive.

  For now.

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