Professor Rhiv was still staring at her, waiting for an answer.
Niri finally spoke. Her voice was even.
"It doesn't matter what I am, Professor. Really. I'm just a refugee. That's it."
She held his gaze, trying to sound convincing—even if it didn't feel like the truth anymore.
Lu'Ka stepped in, voice calm. "Professor Rhiv, we have more urgent things to deal with."
Rhiv didn't look away from her. "Are you sure, Lu'Ka? Can we trust this young lady?"
"Yes," Lu'Ka said without hesitation. "We can."
Rhiv's eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't sound convinced. "Fine. But when we come back—you owe me an explanation."
Lu'Ka nodded. "Deal."
Then he turned to Niri. "Go back. Gather your group. Pack up. I'll speak to the Chancellor and General Drudru."
Niri gave a simple nod.
No words. Just movement.
She turned and walked away without looking back.
Professor Rhiv and Lu'Ka stepped into the main tent.
The room was already in chaos.
Holo-displays blinked with overlapping maps and scan data, voices collided from different corners, and the heat of debate was unmistakable. Cadet movement reports, energy readings, excavation routes—they were all spread out across a dozen flickering surfaces.
General Drudru stood near the center, jaw set like stone. "You expect me to pull out two legions," he growled, "because a refugee girl walked in and made a dramatic speech?"
Professor Tirren snapped back. "She didn't ask. She warned. There's a difference."
"She has no rank," Drudru said. "No clearance. She shouldn't even be here."
"She knew something," another professor added, hesitant. "Before the scans even picked it up."
Drudru turned, voice sharp. "Did she? Or are you all just panicking because she sounded confident?"
Lu'Ka and Rhiv didn't speak immediately. The noise pressed around them—arguments, data updates, field requests—but the air shifted when they walked in.
Drudru saw them. His eyes narrowed.
"You two. Explain what just happened."
Lu'Ka kept his tone neutral. "She believes this is not a city, General."
"That much I heard," Drudru snapped. "What is it then?"
Lu'Ka didn't answer.
Rhiv glanced at him—expecting something, anything. But Lu'Ka didn't move. He stayed quiet.
Drudru's eyes flicked to Rhiv.
"Well?"
Rhiv swallowed, unsure how to phrase it. "She said it's… not ruins. That's all. Something else. That's the extent of it."
"That's the extent?" Drudru scoffed. "And for that, you're ready to evacuate cadets and abandon an active dig site?"
"She's not guessing," Rhiv said quietly. "That's what unsettled me."
Drudru's jaw tightened.
"She's a refugee," he repeated. "Not a xenoengineer. Not a linguist. Not even a proper cadet."
Lu'Ka looked up finally. "She's something."
That silenced the room.
It wasn't a threat. Not a declaration. Just a fact, dropped into the space like a weight.
Drudru stared at him. "You think she's right?"
"I think," Lu'Ka said slowly, "we're in the wrong place to argue about it. If there's even a chance she's right… we don't get a second mistake."
No one answered.
Drudru exhaled hard and turned away.
"Double the perimeter. Begin prep for controlled withdrawal. One hour. If I don't get confirmation of threat by then, we stay."
Lu'Ka said nothing.
Rhiv looked like he wanted to speak again—but he didn't.
No one in the tent fully understood what Niri had seen. Not Lu'Ka. Not Rhiv. Not the scanning teams. Her words had been too sharp, too certain—and came too fast, as if she recognized something none of them could even name.
General Drudru stood alone at the secure uplink console. The tent behind him was still active with professors, cadets, and low-level staff moving in controlled chaos. But he had stepped away for this transmission—he didn't want audience or opinion.
He activated the relay.
> "Grounx Fleet Command. Priority channel to General Threx. Surface verification code: Red-Class, planetary command level."
There was a short pause—encryption running.
Then the line opened.
General Threx's image flickered into view, steady and grim aboard the command bridge of the Grounx escort fleet in orbit.
> "Drudru. Report."
Drudru didn't waste time.
> "Situation has changed. A cadet Niri—the unusual one—has identified the ruins as something other than architecture. She claims it's a ship.
Threx didn't react at first. His features were hard to read.
> What?
> "That's the claim. She walked into our tent and issued a warning. Said if we don't leave, we'll be counting bodies."
> "And you believe her?"
Drudru hesitated. Not because of doubt—because of how ridiculous it sounded even in his own mouth.
> "I believe the professors believe her. That's enough for now. We're initiating containment and fallback procedures. No public announcement. No panic."
Threx leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
> "Do you suspect a trap?"
> "No." Drudru's jaw tightened. "But this girl isn't normal. Chancellor Yvith has been shielding her. Now this. If there's something buried here that matters to the Council… I need your fleet on standby for evacuation—or engagement."
Threx nodded slowly.
> "We'll lower orbit. Tighten the outer perimeter. No movement unless cleared."
Drudru gave a small nod.
> "I'll keep the signal live."
> "Do that."
The transmission ended.
Drudru stood still for a moment, staring at the dark screen.
His fingers tightened behind his back.
He didn't trust the girl.
But he trusted his instincts—and they were screaming now.
He turned and walked back toward the main tent, muttering under his breath
Everyone evacuated slowly, the gravity taking a heavy toll despite the belts doing their best to compensate.
Heavy gravity transport trucks crawled forward, their engines straining audibly under the intense load of the excavation equipment. Cadets and crew moved methodically toward the safer position at the mountain base, silent except for their breathing and the low hum of machinery.
General Drudru stood rigidly near a portable comm station, repeatedly sending updated coordinates to General Threx and the escort fleet still orbiting high above. His jaw was tight, and frustration was visible in every sharp movement.
Beneath them, unnoticed, buried far deeper than any scanner had reached, a dim, dust-covered panel flickered quietly to life.
A faint electrical hum vibrated in the darkness, unheard by anyone on the surface.
> bzzz... bzzz...
> Identity match: Human... confirmed...
> Reactivation protocol initiated...
> Reboot sequence: 1%... 2%...
Hours passed slowly. The Grounx legions had settled into a wide perimeter, carefully keeping their distance from the silent ruins. General Drudru paced restlessly, frustration etched into his features. He'd expected something—anything—but nothing happened. The ruins remained dark and quiet, unmoving as stone should be.
Night fell heavily over the jungle, deepening the shadows and intensifying every sound. The cadets had withdrawn, their transports now positioned securely near the mountain base, prepared for immediate evacuation at the first sign of trouble. Tents were set up hastily, cadets sleeping uneasily beneath them, tension threading through every quiet conversation.
Niri sat alone on a small rocky outcrop overlooking the ruins. Her eyes never left the massive structure, barely visible under the starlight, half-hidden by thick mist and dense vegetation. Around her, the forest felt tight—tense—as if it were holding its breath.
She shifted slightly, scanning the distant outlines of the ships resting at the edge of the camp. The silence stretched long and deep, almost deafening.
And then, without warning—
A deep, resonant sound broke the night. A horn-like call reverberated from beneath the ruins, echoing across the entire valley. A shudder passed through the ground beneath her feet, subtle but unmistakable.
Something had awakened.
Minutes passed. Still nothing.
Just lights—dull pulses across the broken terrain. Faint glows bleeding through the moss and cracks.
The ruins stayed quiet.
Then—
A low grind. A ripple through the ground. The soil near the western slope shifted, cracked.
A dozen buried turrets slowly emerged—half-rusted but still intact. Silent. Watching.
General Drudru squinted. "What is this?"
He stepped forward, hand raised to signal caution—but too late.
Niri's voice tore through the cold night air. "Don't shoot! Don't act aggressive!"
Her warning hit the wind.
But it didn't stop them.
One Grounx soldier posted on the far ridge—panicked. His weapon charged with a high whine.
Thud-thud.
He fired.
Small bolts hit one of the exposed plates—no damage.
Then everything went still.
The lights on the turrets blinked once.
Red.
Niri's breath caught. Her chest tightened. "No…"
Too late.
The turrets came alive.
Brrrrrrr—
The turrets opened fire. A wall of projectiles ripped into the Grounx line. Dozens dropped before anyone shouted a command.
Screams. Dust. Metal tearing.
Another barrage. Brrrrrrr—
Thousands of rounds shredded the ridge. Some tried to return fire—didn't matter. The turrets were already pivoting.
Cadets scattered, some diving for cover, others frozen
One of the buried platforms cracked open.
A railgun.
It rose slow. Then locked.
CRACK.
The shot punched the air apart. Everyone dropped instinctively. They weren't the target.
The beam hit the cadet evacuation ship halfway up the mountain.
Boom.
The ship erupted—engulfed in flame. Debris rained across the ridge.
People screamed again. Orders flew everywhere, none of them clear.
Then—
Rrrrrrrrckk...
Another railgun emerged. Bigger. Four kilometers long. It pushed out of the earth like a rising spine.
It locked upward.
CRACK.
The round didn't land. It kept going.
Straight into orbit.
A moment later, the sky caught fire.
-Orbital fleet-
One of the Grounx escort ships—hit dead center
"Incoming!"
The bridge shook. Not from weapons—but from the panic.
Officers scrambled, reading data from the railgun impact. It hadn't just hit—it punched through the forward decks of escort ship Narnex. The hull split open. Fires burst across the port view.
"Direct hit. Energy residue—unknown tech."
General Threx growled into the comms. "What the hell did they activate?"
A second officer shouted, "Ground railgun is still online—locked to us!"
"Countermeasures—everything!"
But it was too late.
Ground Level – Professor Lu'Ka
Lu'Ka grabbed a cadet, pushed them behind cover as another burst of turret fire cracked through the trees.
Rhiv shouted from somewhere behind, "We've lost Ship B!"
"everyone move on the mountain!" Lu'Ka barked.
He sprinted toward the tents, signaling to the comms relay.
"Call the withdrawal!
"No orders from Drudru—"
"Then override it!"
Professor Rhiv stumbled into the side of a truck. His face was covered in dust. "This isn't a defense grid—it's a war response."
Lu'Ka didn't reply.
He already knew that.
Hilltop – Niri
She hadn't moved.
Her hands were at her sides, clenched tight.
The earth shook under her boots. The wreckage burned down the slope. Screams echoed behind her. She could hear the cadets—their confusion, their fear. It all blurred into background noise.
Her eyes stayed locked on the railgun.
It was still rising.
One more chamber slid into place.
Another orbital lock.
She whispered to herself, voice quiet.
"They're not targeting us. Not yet."
Then louder, to no one:
"They' are target only the aggressive ones"
Qiri and Ronan appeared at her side, both breathless.
Qiri's voice was thin, strained. "Niri—what do we do?"
Ronan didn't speak. His face was tight, eyes wide, jaw clenched. He looked like he was trying not to fall apart. His hands were shaking.
Niri didn't answer.
She stared at the warship, unmoving. Her silence weighed heavier than the explosions behind them.
Then—
Heavy boots pounded the earth.
Tall and Horn emerged from the smoke, armor scorched, weapons clenched tight. Their eyes burned with fury.
"We need to strike back," Horn growled.
Niri didn't flinch. Her voice came sharp, cold.
"If you want to live, don't even think about it."
Horn stepped forward, face twisted with frustration. "You expect us to sit and do nothing?"
"No," Niri said, turning to face them. Her voice was steady, but her eyes were cold and distant.
"I expect you to stay with me. Protect the group. That's your mission.
Tall's nostrils flared.
They didn't like it.
But they didn't argue.
Not this time.
They exchanged a look—anger, pride, something wounded beneath it—but nodded.
And obeyed.
Niri turned away, eyes on the sky again.
The railgun charged again..
Orbit — Grounx Flagship "Vorrak" (Severed)
Sparks. Screams. Smoke. Half the bridge was gone.
General Threx stood in what was left of the command platform, gripping a damaged console with one arm. His face was burned, bleeding—barely upright.
"Deploy everything! I want that thing buried in fire!"
An officer crawled across a slanted floor, coughing. "Sir—the Council… orbital bombardment is classified as a war crime—"
Threx's voice was fire. "I don't care. We're already dead if we wait. Burn it now."
Alarms screamed across the broken ship. The forward hangars opened—what was left of them.
Thousands of Grounx atmospheric fighters launched, followed by support cruisers and gunships—all diving into the atmosphere.
---
Planet Surface — Base of the Mountain
The night sky turned white.
Explosions. Trails of descent. Thousands of cadets watched from below, pressed behind rocks, cargo, trees. The sky was on fire.
And so was the ground.
The Sentinel battleship was fully visible now—a behemoth of blackened plating and ancient alloy. Sections glowed. Not from damage—but from power returning.
Thousands of point-defense turrets activated across its hull. The air screamed.
Every fighter that crossed below orbital height was tagged.
They didn't last long.
---
"Get down!"
Another rail burst streaked overhead.
A second evacuation ship—just before takeoff—was torn in half. A shockwave of flame and noise rolled across the mountain base.
Cadets screamed. Some ran. Some didn't get far.
Professor Rhiv was on the ground near the perimeter, bleeding from one arm, dragging a medic kit behind him.
"Do not fire! Do not engage unless you want to be vaporized!" he barked.
---
Air — Grounx Command Channel
"General Threx—point defense is too tight. We can't breach it. We can't even get close."
"Recalibrate to stand-off range—launch all ground-fracture munitions. Disable that thing "
"We'll hit cadets—"
"Only target this thing! Avoid cadet zones at all costs."
"But the targeting systems can't tell—"
Threx snarled, "Then use your eyes. Do it manually. We cannot let that thing fully awaken."
Cadets screamed, some dragging others behind cover. A third evacuation ship exploded., lighting up the night like a second sun before fragments rained down.
Niri shoved two younger cadets behind a fallen crate. "Stay low! Don't move unless I say."
Above, the sky had become a war zone—black clouds broken by streaking railgun fire and star-bright detonations. Grounx officers barked orders over static-choked comms. Half of them weren't even getting responses anymore.
A massive section of the ground tore open behind the ruins. Something was rising—slow, deliberate, impossible. The sheer scale of it dwarfed everything.
A 40-kilometer warship, scarred and ancient, lifting from the buried bedrock like a god tearing free from its tomb.
One cadet, barely out of his teens, dropped to his knees. "What the fuck is that..."
No one answered him.
Lu'Ka was frozen, hands clenched. "We've awoken a nightmare..."
Rhiv whispered something under his breath. a curse.
Ronan and Qiri stood frozen, their faces pale—terror written in every glance, every breath.
Tall and Horn weren't any better. Beneath the fury in their eyes was something heavier.
fear.Shame. Anger. The quiet weight of helplessness pressing into their shoulders.
Around the rising hull, blue energy crackled. The ship's shield snapped into place—an atmospheric barrier that swallowed incoming hits and explosives like they were dust. Nothing penetrated.
From orbit, the Grounx flagship had no time.
A single massive beam erupted from the warship's main spinal gun—wide, white-hot, and precise.
It sliced the command vessel clean in half.
Silence.
Then:
"Shields down! Hull breach in all decks! We've lost the bridge—General Threx is—"
The transmission cut.
On the surface, it got worse.
The underbelly of the human battleship opened.
Thousands of drone launch bays came online. Drones poured out—fast, aggressive, with no visible heat signature. They didn't warn. They didn't scan. They just attacked.
Precision strikes.
No wasted movement.
One Grounx fighter screamed over the ridge—then vanished, split into four burning pieces mid-air.
Professor Rhiv shouted into his comm. "Tell the ships—do not engage! Do not engage! They're not targeting cadets—just armed units!"
But it was too late. The Grounx legions had already retaliated.
The drones returned fire.
What followed wasn't a battle.
It was eradication.
Within minutes, half the outer perimeter was gone. Screaming, static, fire, limbs—Niri's eyes barely kept up.
These weren't machines built to win.
They were built to end things.
And the warship was just getting started.
Orbit — Low Atmosphere
What remained of the Grounx escort fleet was in full retreat.
The once-proud formation of the fleet had been reduced to fractured hulls and drifting wreckage. Only twenty percent of their forces managed to pull back in deep space—scarred, scattered, bleeding into silence.
Everything else?
Just debris.
Below, the human battleship hovered in silence. Forty kilometers of dark metal, triangle , suspended by technologies no one understood. Its weapons powered down. Its drones vanished.
It made no move to pursue.
It didn't need to.
The message was already sent.
---
Planet Surface — Mountain Base
The air stank of fuel and ozone.
Everyone was quiet.
Cadets sat crouched behind crates or resting against trees, eyes fixed on the sky. They'd stopped crying. Most didn't even speak. There was nothing left to say.
Qiri approached Niri, still clutching her belt like it could protect her from whatever came next.
"Niri…" she said quietly. "What now?"
Niri didn't answer at first. Her eyes stayed locked on the glowing outline of the battleship overhead.
Finally, she exhaled. Her voice was quiet. Dry.
"Now we pray."
Ronan coughed beside her, still stunned. "Pray for what?"
Tall and horn was in deep thoughts.
Niri's eyes narrowed.
"That we didn't wake more."
Lu'Ka turned to her, lips tightening. "More?"
"Yes," Niri said.
Flat. Certain.
"You think a ship like that travels alone?"
Professor Rhiv had been silent. Now, he took a step back, his face pale.
His voice barely rose above a whisper.
"…Escorts?"
Niri didn't blink.