I woke up to the sound of Crazy trying to crow.

  He’s a rooster. Always has been. But when the bombs hit our house back when I was a kid, the blast damaged his vocal cords. He can’t do the high pitch anymore—just this low, broken sound that comes out every now and then.

  That’s why he can sleep in the bunker with me.

  He doesn’t really make noise.

  Well… except when he poops. And yeah, it’s a lot. But I clean it right when I catch it. Chickens have fast digestive systems. They eat, they poop. Simple creatures.

  I scratched his feathers as he perched near my seat, looking far too proud of himself for that weak little crow.

  “One day,” I muttered, “I’m done with this war. I’m buying land. Real land. I’m raising chickens and never getting inside one of these coffins again.”

  Crazy shifted his feet like he approved.

  He’s getting old. Almost twenty. I don’t know how much time the little bastard has left. He’s the only thing I still have from my childhood. Everything else burned.

  I opened the cockpit and zipped down.

  The camp was already awake.

  Frank sat on a crate sharpening his knife, the blade sliding back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm. Lexi leaned nearby with her arms crossed, watching him like she was bored but didn’t want to admit it. Carl sat a short distance away, bottle in one hand, a folded map in the other. Drinking already.

  Tamala sat apart from the rest.

  She was drawing shapes in the sand with a piece of scrap metal. Circles. Lines. Symbols I didn’t recognize. She looked out of place. Not like the others. Not like a pirate.

  Innocent wasn’t the right word—but she wasn’t hardened either.

  I figured it might be smart to report in to HQ before the Slayer Dragons showed up.

  I walked toward Carl.

  “Morning,” I said. “Any updates?”

  He didn’t look up. “No.”

  “Might be a good thing,” I said.

  Carl snorted. “Good thing? Hell no. Means we’re on the shit list. We need a win.”

  “Time will tell,” I replied, glancing toward the horizon where the three suns were slowly climbing.

  He waved me off. “Do whatever.”

  I turned back toward my mech.

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  “Hey.”

  I stopped.

  Tamala stood beside me, hands clasped behind her back, smiling with her eyes squeezed shut like she was enjoying herself way too much.

  “Good morning,” she said. “I overheard you. Can I come with you on patrol?”

  Damn it.

  I couldn’t call HQ with her tagging along. But refusing would look worse.

  “Yeah,” I said after a beat. “You can come.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Great!”

  She fell into step beside me. “They don’t all like you,” she said casually, “but I don’t think you’re half bad.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I replied.

  We reached the mechs.

  I clipped Crazy into his harness and grabbed the zip line. She did the same with hers, both of us jetting upward toward our coffins. Metal groaned as I settled into my cockpit, the familiar heat already creeping in.

  “Power up,” I said.

  Light came alive around me.

  Tamala’s mech powered up beside mine, its systems humming in a slightly different rhythm. Alien design. Different philosophy.

  We moved out together.

  The desert stretched endlessly ahead—dunes broken by jagged rock formations and half-buried wreckage. No movement on radar yet. No dropships. No fighters.

  Just quiet.

  “You always patrol alone?” Tamala asked over comms.

  “Used to patrol with my squad,” I said. “Lost most of them.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Me too.”

  We walked in silence for a while.

  I climbed a ridge and scanned the lowlands beyond. Still nothing. Wind kicked sand against my legs. The suns were higher now, the heat starting to bite.

  “Your chicken,” she said. “Is he important?”

  I glanced at Crazy through the internal cam. “He’s family.”

  She didn’t laugh.

  “I understand that,” she said quietly.

  I keyed my comms, lowering my voice. “Light, status on connection.”

  “Signal remains weak,” Light replied. “High ground may improve transmission.”

  I looked toward a taller formation in the distance.

  “Let’s check that ridge,” I said.

  “Lead the way.”

  As we moved forward, a faint ping flickered on my radar. Almost ghost-like. Easy to miss.

  Then it vanished.

  I slowed.

  “You see that?” I asked.

  “No,” she replied. “But that doesn’t mean anything.”

  I turned my mech slightly, narrowing the scan.

  That’s when I saw it.

  A brief reflective glare. Just a flash.

  “What the hell…” I muttered.

  Then it clicked.

  “Oh shit—GET DOWN!”

  I fired my boosters and slammed into Tamala’s mech, tackling her sideways as we hit the ground hard. Sand exploded around us as we skidded across the desert.

  A split second later, a massive round screamed past where we’d been and slammed into the mountain behind us.

  The impact shook the ground. Stone cracked. Dust rained down.

  “What the shit!” Tamala yelled.

  “Sniper!” I shouted. “Twelve o’clock! About five clicks out!”

  She was already moving. “Let’s get him!”

  “No,” I snapped. “Too far. We pull back and report. They know we’re here.”

  “Is it the Dragons?”

  “No,” I replied. “That was a Lutararein mech. Probably overwatch.”

  I unclipped a smoke grenade and tossed it. Thick black smoke erupted as we boosted backward.

  “Carl, you copy?” I said over comms.

  Nothing.

  Of course.

  We made it back to camp and powered down.

  Carl was in the exact same spot we’d left him, bottle still in hand.

  “What the hell, man,” I said. “You didn’t hear that explosion?”

  He shrugged. “Felt a ground shake. Thought it was a tremor. Happens here.”

  I exhaled. “Enemy knows we’re here.”

  “The Dragons?” he asked.

  “No. Lutara.”

  “Well, great.”

  Carl snapped to attention, sober just long enough to matter. He boosted toward his mech. “Coffins! Move!”

  We didn’t argue.

  Everyone loaded up fast. Systems hot. Weapons ready.

  “It was a sniper,” I said. “He’s got a scout.”

  “What did HQ say?” Lexi asked.

  “Evac ship inbound,” Carl replied. “About an hour out.”

  “An hour?” Frank growled.

  “It is what it is,” Carl snapped. “Hold your ground.”

  “Oh no…” Tamala said quietly.

  “What now?” Carl barked.

  “Check your radar.”

  I did.

  Multiple red pings flared to life—descending fast.

  A starfighter screamed overhead.

  “Great,” I muttered. “Now they really know where we are.”

  “Looks like we’re fighting two enemies,” I said. “Hold positions. I’ll notify HQ. The Dragons are coming.”

  We tightened formation, standing back to back, weapons raised, scanning the darkening desert.

  Waiting for whatever came next.

  Crazy tilted his head like he understood what was about to go down.

  We all formed a back-to-back formation and waited for whatever would come at us.

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