The briefing room wasn't made for lounging around—just getting things done. Elora's underground design stretched above them in curved steel beams that caught the light from embedded glyphs and sensor equipment.
Right in the middle, the strike team came together for the first time. Nine people, two machines. A group thrown together when everything went sideways.
Nobody said anything at first. The quiet settled over them, but it wasn't fear—more like that feeling right before something big happens. The calm before everything breaks loose.
Syrran Drehl was the one who finally spoke up, like everyone knew he would.
"I'm hoping whatever's protecting that Core Nexus actually wants to fight," he said, popping his knuckles with little metallic sounds. "It's been way too long since I got to really tear something apart."
Varn Roath let out a snort, crossing his arms over his bark-covered chest. "You'll get your shot, wave-rider. Just don't drag me down when the ground starts falling apart."
"You think that counts as trash talk?" Syrran showed his teeth in a grin. "Back home, we wrestle pressure demons just for kicks."
"Yeah? And what happens when they start crying?"
"Drag them down to the bottom and see if they're still whining."
Both of them cracked up—deep, rough laughs that seemed to shake the room. Even with all the back-and-forth, something just worked between them.
Syrran's ocean swagger mixed with Varn's rock-solid attitude like waves hitting shore—but it held together.
On the other side of the room, Liera Vossel stood by one of the power units, arms crossed, bow slung across her back.
She looked completely unreadable, steady as still water right before it explodes into motion.
Nyra Tal walked over and stood next to her without saying a word. No hello, no small talk. Just a look. Something passed between them like electricity through wire. Two weapons that knew how to stay quiet.
"Clean," Nyra said under her breath, eyes moving around the room.
Liera gave a single nod. "Wound tight, but not about to snap."
"Good," Nyra said back. "I hate it when things snap."
Over by the gear lockers, Harka Slen leaned against the wall in the shadows. He still had his helmet on.
Hadn't said a word. He watched everything but didn't give anything back. When Syrran asked if the guy could even talk, Tern Vale answered for him.
"He talks. Just doesn't waste words on nothing important."
Tern was hunched over a torn-apart drone, mumbling to himself while he wired some extra part into the frame.
His field gear looked like organized chaos—half tools, half weapons, with blinking lights and patched-together plates welded on top of each other like tech art.
Sera Lin knelt next to him, dabbing at a small burn on his hand with a cloth. He winced.
"Stay still," she told him.
"Can't," Tern said, grinning even though it hurt. "My brain won't shut up."
"You can outsmart a machine but can't keep your fingers away from hot metal?" she teased, wrapping gauze around his hand.
He smirked. "That's what you're here for."
Sera smiled softly, but her eyes kept wandering. She wasn't just fixing burns. She was watching—picking up on all the tension in the room like threads she might need to pull together later. She didn't talk much, but her quiet wasn't like Harka's. Hers felt gentle, thoughtful. Like an anchor.
Right in the center of everything stood Micah, quiet and taking it all in, arms crossed. He didn't have to demand attention.
It just came to him naturally. He wasn't the loudest or the strongest, but everyone could feel how he thought through every angle before opening his mouth.
A different kind of pull.
Kaelin Vorr walked in behind him, studying everyone like he was reading a battle map.
"We've got muscle," he said, nodding toward Syrran and Varn. "Stealth." A nod to Harka and Micah. "Training." He looked at Nyra and Liera. "Tech." A glance at Tern. "And someone who works miracles."
Sera blinked. "That's... pretty generous."
Kaelin shrugged. "You're the only one who'll keep us from bleeding out halfway through. Close enough to a miracle in my book."
Micah looked at him. "Think we're actually ready for this?"
Kaelin gave him one of those looks that said: Nobody's ever ready. You just do it anyway.
"Soon as Lio gets here," he added.
Right then, the door hissed open and Lio Venn walked in, datapad tucked under his arm, eyes red but alert. His coat hung heavy with cables, and his boots clicked on the floor with each quick step.
"You all look comfortable," he said, brushing snow off his shoulder.
"Real cozy vibes," Tern shot back.
Lio flicked his hand, and the main projector hummed to life. Landscape models flickered into view—jagged mountains, broken cities, deep tunnels carved out by ancient machines.
"I've narrowed it down to three possible locations for the Core Nexus anchor," he said. "But only one is giving off the right signals from those stolen relics."
He tapped the map.
"Sector Gamma Prime."
The room went quiet again.
Lio kept going. "It's a graveyard of busted defense systems, collapsed transport lines, Omniraith drones—the place is swarming with nasty surprises.
But it's also where Voss went. Where the Core made its first move."
He looked at Micah. "You'll take point with Harka. You two scout ahead and report back. No fighting unless you have to."
"Front line?" Kaelin asked.
"Syrran and Varn with ASC-4, Blitzfire. You break whatever gets in our way."
Syrran cracked his neck. "About time."
"Middle support: Nyra and Tern. Keep the path clear. Nyra calls the shots. Tern handles the tech."
"Back line?" Micah asked.
"Liera. Long-range coverage. Sera—stay alive. Keep us alive. And Kaelin, you're backup command. You and ASC-9 Warden Pike stick close. You're our backbone."
Kaelin nodded once. No arguments.
Lio stepped back. "I'll watch from here. I'll keep you connected until the signal dies. After that..."
He didn't finish. Didn't need to.
The silence came back, but different this time. Sharper. More focused.
The holographic map floated in the center of the war room, flickering a bit with static from the long-range scans.
Its light painted the room in broken blue and red.
The mountainous landscape of Sector Gamma Prime loomed in the projection—ruins of what used to be Ashari territory, now buried under rot, metal scraps, and Omniraith infection.
Lio Venn stood in front of it, exhaustion carved into his face, but his fingers moved with purpose on his portable console. His voice cut through the air, sharp and clear.
"Gamma Prime is where it all started—where Voss lost everything, and maybe where he began planning this backstab.
The ground's broken, unstable, and full of sensor interference. Perfect place to hide something huge."
They gathered around the table, eyes locked on the image.
"It's bad terrain," Tern muttered. "Everything's either radioactive, half-collapsed, or haunted by security ghosts and old Ashari defense bots gone crazy."
Lio nodded. "And we won't be alone. Omniraith drones run patrols—low-flying seekers and ground crawlers.
Their detection networks are set up for movement, heat, and electromagnetic bursts. You power up a weapon? They'll smell it in seconds."
Kaelin crossed his arms. "Then we don't give them the chance."
"Exactly," Lio said. "Your best weapon is silence. No tech signals unless you absolutely have to. Communications will be tight-beam only. ASC units will run in quiet mode. The plan is simple: get in and get out before the Core knows we were there."
Micah's eyes narrowed. "And if they spot us?"
"Then," Lio said, "Your team becomes wildfire. Hit and disappear. Strike and vanish. You don't let them corner you."
He swiped the map, zooming in on the broken structures under the sector. "Your way in is here—an old Ashari supply station. We think there's still a hidden data storage inside. That's where we'll find the first clue to where the Core Nexus actually is now."
He turned to the group, voice dropping low. "That storage might still have Voss's old research, backup files, protocol fragments—anything he didn't wipe when he went rogue. It's a long shot, but it's the best shot we have."
Syrran Drehl cracked his knuckles. "So we get in, bust down some walls, grab the files, and get out."
"No," Micah cut in, his voice steady. "We don't bust anything unless we have to. Stealth is the whole point. This isn't a smash-and-grab."
Syrran grinned. "Relax. I'll use the gentle part of my fists."
Next to him, Varn Roath let out a low chuckle. "And if we get caught?"
"Then we tear up the ground itself."
Sera glanced between them, worry flickering in her eyes. "I'll get ready for casualties."
Liera Vossel was the one who brought things back on track. "Let's talk formation."
Lio gestured, and the screen changed again—this time showing a tactical layout of how this team would move.
"Two scouts: Micah and Harka Slen. You move ahead of everyone else, silent, invisible. Find ways in, track sentry routes. You'll be our eyes."
Harka didn't speak, but nodded once. Micah glanced at him. Quiet types were hard to figure out, but something in how Harka carried himself suggested he knew how to kill efficiently.
"Front line: Varn Roath and Syrran, with ASC-4 Blitzfire on the flank. You hit when we need you to, protect the rest. But only when we need you to."
"Got it," Varn said.
"Middle anchors: Nyra Tal and Tern Vale."
"You'll keep the team together, cover blind spots, hack doors, deal with terrain problems. Tern—no drones unless they're running silent."
Tern held up two fingers. "Only quiet bees, understood."
"Back line: Kaelin Vorr and ASC-9 Warden Pike. You're our foundation. You protect Sera and Liera with your lives."
Kaelin gave a sharp nod. "Nothing gets through."
Sera Lin, still sitting, calmly reached for her medical kit. "I'll hold things together with whatever I can. But I need room to work. No chaos in my area."
"Long-range support: Liera Vossel. You watch the sky, the sides, the exits. You see threats before they see us."
"I always do," Liera said quietly.
The formation hung in midair, a glowing line of names and jobs, shining like stars on a war map.
Lio stepped back. "Once you're in Gamma Prime, I'll monitor from Elora through a signal relay set up just north of the entry point. If I lose contact, you follow protocol."
"Which is?" Tern asked.
Micah answered: "Don't stop."
One by one, the team nodded.
Lio looked at them—nine lives armed with determination and uncertain hope.
"You're not just a strike team," he said quietly. "You're something they can't predict. That's our advantage."
Before the meeting could break up, the lights dimmed, and each member turned inward, taking in the weight of what was coming.
Inside Their Heads:
Micah:
They're not ready for what I've become. But I'm still not sure if I am either.
Kaelin:
Keep the line solid. Hold them together. Even if I have to break myself to do it.
Sera:
Don't fall apart. Not now. They'll need every breath I can give them.
Nyra:
Every step is another slice through the dark. Good. I know how to bleed quietly.
Liera:
From a hundred yards away, I can see the crack before it opens. Let them try.
Syrran:
If we're going to die, we'll do it while tearing the world down behind us.
Varn:
Stone has memory. I'll make sure it remembers us.
Tern:
There's a fix for every broken thing. Including us.
Harka:
The silence between heartbeats. That's where I live. That's where I end lives.
They would hit with precision. Move without sound. Only burn when they had to.
Together, they were more than just a mission.
They were Ghostline.