Year: 2245 CE

  System: Nexel Prime

  Star: K-Type

  Planet: Virelia

  Orbit: .68 AU to .71 AU

  Location: Dendric Research Town

  "Bullets hammered against the metal I was sheltered behind, their harsh cadence mingling with the softer rhythm of rain on the roof. Even this downpour seemed gentle in the face of what we'd endured here—sideways-flying shards of volcanic glass that made us eternally grateful for our standard-issue exosuits, no matter how overused. Those suits had become our lifelines, scant protection as we waded through a sea of conflict, leaving thousands of colonists fallen in our wake. The gravity of that toll weighed on me, but there was no time to dwell.

  “John,” my commander's voice cut through the chaos, snapping me back to the present. “Take Brian and cover our move from the windows.”

  The shelter shuddered, a tenuous shield against the relentless drumfire. Designed to withstand the planet's savage tempests, its integrity now wavered under the relentless assault of gunfire. My breaths were shallow and quick as I gripped my rifle, its alloyed heft a steadying presence in the chaos.

  Beside me, Brian was an embodiment of the bonds sculpted in war's merciless fires. Our eyes met in silent solidarity, a tacit pact known only to those who share the front lines. Training, rigorous and unforgiving, had honed our instincts, displacing fear with focus.

  Surveying the terrain, my gaze cut through the camouflage of movement and shadow, detecting foes concealed from lesser eyes. The sophisticated circuitry integrated into our brains provided us with computational prowess beyond measure.

  Our neural meshes cradled the AIs, multitasking from trivial chatter to the finetuning of our aim. These digital wardens, our spectral strategists, bore witness to the military's darker aspirations. They would, without question, animate our lifeless bodies for warfare if such a macabre feat were achievable. Whispers of such chilling trials circulated with each passing year, yet none could be confirmed. Perhaps the replication of our innate unpredictability and ingenuity, which consistently turned the tides of battle, eluded them. For now, our humanity remained intact, commandeered by an insatiable military juggernaut.

  As I scoured the area for threats, the AI interface seamlessly overlaid my vision with crucial data: ammunition levels, weapon status, enemy positions, and meteorological forecasts. It was a stream of information that became second nature to process, even amidst the chaos.

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  Chambering one of the few high-explosive rounds, I braced for the recoil, the rifle's thump against my shoulder a testament to the power unleashed. The round, once ejected, soared autonomously toward the target. Its detonation obliterating the column as it cleared the surrounding five-foot radius. A secondary blast nearby signaled Brian’s concurrent action, affirming our shared focus.

  The building emitted a tormented groan as it began to tilt, its structural integrity compromised. As I switched back to conventional rounds, the railgun whispered death, its projectiles, cutting their way at subsonic speed in utter silence. My team moved with practiced urgency, spilling out the side door into the fray.

  A swift alert from my AI indicated the sniper's movement. Instinctively, my aim pivoted, tracking the threat as I unleashed burst after burst. The sniper's form crumpled as it fell out of sight. With one final, rumbling moan, the building crumpled into the street. Releasing a wave of dust as it did so.

  With the area quieted, I watched the street for any hostiles, waiting for the rain to clear the dust before reporting, “Hostiles have retreated.”

  Brian’s voice crackled through, a mix of relief and mischief, “Agreed. Hey, that was a slick shot. So, are you thinkin’ about dinner with Courtney back on the ship?”

  I couldn't help but smirk at the thought, “A date in the military galley? Peak romance.” With an eye roll hidden behind my visor, I pushed to my feet and hustled to rendezvous with my team at the next point of interest.

  Brian’s scoff was almost visible through the comms, “He's not about to put down roots and pick out curtains, is he?” His tone was teasing, a familiar dance of camaraderie in the face of the unknown. Our comms were shrouded in some top-secret quantum veil – or so the tech briefings suggested.

  “And if I am? A little optimism never killed anyone,” I retorted, the digital chuckles over the channel doing little to dent my spirits. They all ribbed me for being the squad’s incurable dreamer, a badge I bore with silent pride.

  “Dream on, but keep one foot on the ground, yeah? Let’s focus on getting back in one piece before you start thinking about your dream house,” Carson chimed in, his voice light, betraying a smile as he peered through his scope, ever vigilant.

  I let the banter wash over me like a welcome breeze, exchanging my depleted magazine with Billy. His kit holding a basic forge of sorts, taking in scraps and spitting out railgun ammo. It wasn’t exactly a weapon of mass destruction, but it kept our triggers happy and that was worth its weight in gold out here.

  Hunkered down behind the remnants of a wall, I fished out what passed for rations; a block of sustenance that was stubbornly rubbery yet somehow also powdery. It was an unappetizing testament to military efficiency in the field.

  As I took a reluctant bite, the comm crackled to life, urgent and clear. "All squads, be advised: enemy forces are regrouping in the northwest sector. Orders are to intercept and engage."

  I quickly wrapped up the remainder of my so-called meal and stashed it. My fingers flying over my gear, running a tactile check, despite the redundant digital confirmation of readiness. Our commander, focused and swift, manipulated his virtual interface, setting our next move into motion.

  "Drones are sweeping the blocks now. We're rolling out on their signal," he announced, his voice cutting through the tense air.

  Rising, I edged toward what was left of a doorway, stealing a glance down the shattered street. Drones zipped by in a silent, coordinated frenzy, their rotors barely audible. They were a swarm of mechanical sentinels, the start of the chaos to come.