Just as the man in the suit said, the transport came for Adam almost forty-eight hours on the dot. The engines roared over the horizon before the silhouette even broke through the haze. He had stood on the landing pad with Dave at his side, flanked by an escort of Hoplites—six in total, each one armed with heavy-pattern rifles currently snapped to their backs via magnetic locks. The shuttle bore the insignia of the Arklight Initiative on its side, a white triangle embedded within a broken ring
Adam watched as the shuttle descended, its engines kicking up a violent surge of dust that swept across the platform and engulfed the gathered units in a thick, rust-colored cloud. None of the Hoplites reacted. Dave didn’t even shift his stance. The wind passed through them like they weren’t there at all. As soon as the landing gear locked into place, the rear doors began to lower with a dull hydraulic groan. The ramp hadn’t even fully touched the ground before the group began moving, entering the shuttle without command or ceremony.
Adam boarded last, casting one final glance at Alpha Complex—his home for the past few months. It felt odd leaving here so soon, as he had grown accustomed to the somewhat peaceful life here, managing the small base. Without a word, Adam turned and stepped into the shuttle.
The interior lights cast a yellow glow over the cargo hold as he approached the command cradle. Once the last Hoplite had locked into place and entered standby mode, he gave a silent signal to the cockpit. A rising hum echoed around them as the engines powered up and the shuttle lifted off, tilting into the ash-dark sky. Within moments, Elum 3’s surface fell away beneath them, the familiar silhouette of Alpha Complex shrinking into the haze before disappearing entirely behind a sheen of clouds.
Inside the hold, everything settled into silence. The Hoplites had entered standby mode, their visors dimmed and limbs locked in place, secured to the hull by magnetic restraints. Dave sat among them, equally motionless, his systems low-powered but still responsive—awaiting the activation signal once they arrived at their new post. Adam remained active, the only presence in the shuttle still fully conscious, staring absentmindedly out one of the narrow, slitted windows that lined the side of the bay.
There wasn’t much to see. Just endless streaks of gray and brown, broken by flashes of static as the shuttle cut through the storm-sick atmosphere. Occasionally, a flicker of light or a jagged silhouette passed beneath them—scarred terrain, blackened hills, the skeletal ruins of what might have once been a supply station or listening post.
With some time until they reached the new outpost, and not wanting to sit in silence the entire trip, Adam decided he’d get some shuteye—or the closest approximation his current state allowed. He sent the command through his internal systems, directing the Hoplite he currently occupied to enter low-power standby mode. The process was smooth—something that he discovered when he accidentally powered off a hoplite he had been controlling some time prior. He still didn’t dream in this state, which felt odd, though he had grown used to the feeling.
The frame’s posture relaxed slightly, and the internal systems dimmed as he disengaged from active control. Its vision narrowed to pinprick points of light, and its audio receivers dulled to a low static buffer. Just before his last interface shut off, Adam caught one last flicker through the slit window—the jagged edge of a mountain range long since turned to slag—and then, nothing. Only darkness.
***
Warning!
Warning!
Warning!
Adam’s systems surged back online as red alerts flooded his internal HUD. It had only been a couple of hours since he’d entered standby mode, and for a brief moment, he was disoriented—his thought processes lagging by milliseconds as the transport shook violently beneath him. The noise was deafening: the rumbling of outside defense turrets firing, the roar of the engines as they were pushed to their absolute limits, and above all, the screeches that were coming from outside.
Around him, the Hoplites were already coming online, their visors flaring as they disengaged from their restraints. In perfect, silent coordination, each one reached for their rifles, weapons unlocking from their magnetic clamps with metallic snaps. Dave moved with the same precision, stepping forward and pulling out his rifle.
“Dave!” Adam yelled as the transport tossed and turned, the interior lights flickering violently overhead. “Situation report!”
“Severe structural damage to rear quarter,” Dave responded without hesitation, his voice steady even as the shuttle pitched again. “Unknown Class—possible flying demon—made direct contact with engine housing. We are losing altitude. Estimated crash vector is forming. Impact in ninety-one seconds unless course is corrected.”
Sparks rained down from the ceiling as one of the rear panels tore loose, exposing wiring that flailed like severed nerves. The CRAB units were still locked in their braces, diagnostics racing through their systems as they tried to prepare for deployment. Hoplites were fully active now, weapons drawn, forming into a triangle formation inside the hold to brace for turbulence.
Just as Adam took his place at the back of the formation, A sudden impact rocked the shuttle hard—then another, and another in quick succession. The hull groaned under the strain as dozens upon dozens of impacts sounded off around them. A shrill screech of metal pierced the air as the rear hatch began to buckle inward, its outer seams distorting under external force.
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Adam watched as, from the small holes forming in the rear hatch, thin claws began to snake through—twitching, barbed things that scraped against the metal interior and swung wildly in search of something to tear apart. They came in pairs, then by the dozens, raking and punching with frantic speed as the demons outside worked furiously to force their way in. The hull groaned again, louder this time, and the locking mechanisms began to splinter under the strain. Another impact struck the rear of the shuttle, and a fist-sized chunk of plating tore free, clattering across the floor. Through the opening, Adam saw them in full for the first time.
The demons outside closely resembled the imps that would occasionally harass the perimeter of Alpha Complex, though different in many ways. Instead of the skinned, wolf-like appearance of the imps, these things looked more like skinned bats. Their wings were tattered membranes stretched between protruding bones, flapping in a way that reminded Adam of insects. Their bodies were lean, sinewy, with exposed muscle fiber wrapped tightly around skeletal frames that looked to be three feet in height. Yet of all of these things, it was their head that gave him pause.
They didn’t have faces—at least not in any biological sense. Where a face should have been was a smooth, stretched membrane of glistening tissue, pulled tight over a bulbous skull with no visible eyes, nose, or ears. Just a mouth. A vertical slit that opened too wide, revealing multiple rows of needle-like teeth that clicked and shuddered as they screeched in an unholy manner.
The rear hatch gave another sickening groan, and then—finally—snapped. Metal twisted as a full panel was torn away, exposing the cargo bay to the open sky and the chaos beyond. The shriek of rushing wind was immediately drowned out by the sound of flapping wings and claws scraping against steel. The swarm poured in like a flood of living blades.
Adam didn’t wait. “Weapons free—drop them now!”
The Hoplites reacted instantly, rifles snapping up in unison. The enclosed space lit up with muzzle flashes and the high-pitched whine of coil-charged projectiles. The first wave of creatures was cut down mid-air, their twitching bodies slamming into the walls and floor with wet, meaty cracks. Gore and shattered bone scattered across the bay before being sucked out into the open sky as more pushed through behind them.
One of the demons landed on a CRAB unit mid-initialization and began tearing into the casing with frantic claws. Another slammed against a Hoplite’s armor, forcing it back a step before the creature was blasted apart at point-blank range.
Adam dropped into a low stance, aimed, and fired—his shot punching clean through the torso of a diving flyer and sending it spiraling into the ceiling before it thudded lifelessly to the deck. He continued to fire, methodically ripping through the swarm, each round slamming into meat and bone with surgical precision. Demons burst mid-air, splattering the hold with pulped flesh and blackened gore. But they just kept coming—screeching, clawing, raking across armor as they forced their way deeper into the bay.
“Shit!” he growled, ejecting the spent mag and slamming a fresh one into place. As the bolt cycled, he turned and fired point-blank, blowing the head clean off a flier that was seconds away from ripping into the nearest Hoplite’s shoulder joint.
“Dave!” he barked over comms. “How’s the flying going!?”
“Not well,” came the immediate response, calm but strained. “Forward thrusters unstable. Port-side stabilizer offline. Pilot AI is rerouting, but—” The shuttle jerked hard to starboard, cutting Dave off as the interior tilted sharply.
One of the CRAB units broke loose from its brace, sliding across the floor before colliding with a demon mid-lunge and pinning it to the bulkhead in a crunch of armor and flesh. The creature shrieked, flailing wildly before a Hoplite finished it with a short burst to the chest. Adam stumbled with the sudden lurch, caught himself against a support strut, and immediately returned fire, cutting down another two fliers as they swooped low through the smoke-filled hold.
“There are fifteen seconds until impact,” Dave’s voice came through, this time filtered directly through the emergency intercom system. “I would recommend bracing protocols be engaged.”
Adam didn’t respond. He turned, fired a last round through the neck of a demon clinging to the wall, then shouted into the command net. “All units brace—mag-lock now!”
Hoplites slammed into anchor points, limbs locking into place as their boots magnetized to the deck. CRAB units that were still mobile folded into their compact configurations and sealed themselves airtight. Adam barely had time to grab hold of a restraint bar before the final alert hit:
IMPACT IMMINENT
TEN SECONDS.
NINE.
The shuttle buckled again as another winged demon slammed into the outer hull. A Hoplite snapped its rifle up and shot the creature through the opening mid-screech. Blood sprayed across the bulkhead.
EIGHT.
Adam clenched the restraint bar, sensors flaring as the floor beneath him tilted harder. Warning lights strobed across the cabin in pulsing red. CRAB-03 finished folding down into brace mode, sealing its joints tight.
SEVEN.
Dave magnetized into position across from Adam, rifle lowered, systems dimmed. “Structural integrity is at sixty-two percent,” he stated flatly. “Recalculated impact survival is—”
“Don’t you dare finish that,” Adam cut in.
SIX.
Another demon breached fully, crawling across the ceiling like a spider. It was gunned down before it made it halfway across.
FIVE.
The shuttle's rear thrusters failed with a violent bang, throwing a burst of flame through the starboard vent. The craft lurched downward like a bird shot through the wing.
FOUR.
Metal groaned. Hull plating began to peel near the aft section. Sparks showered over the Hoplites, but they didn’t dare move as they continued to fire.
THREE.
“Brace. Now.” Adam yelled as his voice echoed through the net.
TWO.
The ground rose to meet them as Adam watched it get closer and closer
ONE.
Adam closed his eyes and prayed for the first time in a long time.
IMPACT
