Red Ranger stood at the heart of the central hub, surrounded by tactical displays casting soft blue light across the room. Each flicker of data told the story of battle—shifting positions, mounting casualties, and the tightening grip of enemy forces. The noise, the hum of tech, and the rhythm of updates should have been reassuring, but Red's mind was churning.
Black's situation was wearing thin. His commandos were near their physical and mental limits. Reports were coming in of fatigue, armor cracks, and shield malfunctions. The strain was evident. Despite their initial strength, the sheer weight of the enemy push was grinding them down. What worried Red most wasn't the condition of his team, though—it was Black.
He was starting to cover for them.
She could see the pattern in his movements: taking the heavier blows, stepping in when the commandos faltered, running interference for them when their equipment failed. It wasn't out of character—Black always stepped up, always took the brunt of the fight. He could handle more, endure more. As a Ranger, he was built for it. But that didn't mean he was invincible.
"Aegis," Red called, her voice tight. "Black's team—what's the latest?"
Aegis materialized, his tone as controlled as ever. "Black is compensating for his commandos. They're showing signs of physical exhaustion and equipment degradation. He remains operationally sound, but he's shouldering more of the fight."
Red's brow furrowed. Operationally sound. That was a sterile way of saying Black was carrying the weight of his entire squad on his back. She trusted him—Black could handle it for now—but the battle was intensifying, and she knew the longer this went on, the more dangerous it became. His commandos wouldn't be able to pull their weight much longer.
"How long can he keep this up?"
Aegis hesitated. "As long as needed. However, any additional stress could become critical. I'll monitor his vitals for changes."
Red gave a firm nod, turning her focus back to the tactical display. The familiar gnawing concern for Black lingered at the edges of her thoughts. She knew him. He wouldn't back down. And she couldn't afford to lose him.
Her gaze drifted to another corner of the map—Pink's position. The sniper reports were troubling, but Red wasn't alarmed in the way her team was. Pink had always been intense. Her behavior on the battlefield was often extreme—erratic, even. But this was who she was: she thrived on the thrill of combat. She pushed herself harder the deeper into the chaos she went, her shots more precise, her taunts more biting. It made her team nervous, but Red wasn't shaken.
"Aegis, status on Pink."
"Her team remains operational, but they've expressed concern about her behavior. They find her… unpredictable," Aegis reported.
Red almost smiled. "Of course they do. But that's Pink. She's unpredictable because she's effective."
Aegis didn't respond, but Red knew the truth. Pink's intensity made her one of the best, even if it unsettled those around her. Red had learned to let Pink work within her own chaotic method. It wasn't for everyone, but it was for Pink. It was something she'd grown to accept, and something her team would have to understand as well. They would learn.
Still, even with Pink doing what she did best, there were risks growing elsewhere.
Red's attention shifted again. She had sent 20 of her marines to Yellow to help with the overwhelming numbers of prisoners of war they were evacuating. Yellow's situation had been critical—far more POWs than expected. But now, with those 20 marines gone, Red had less protection for the transit point, and that left the central hub vulnerable.
The Elvanurus were pressing in. Their forces weren't fully engaged yet, but they were closing the distance, moving deliberately, preparing for the push. It was only a matter of time before they hit harder, and Red knew she had to be ready.
Fortunately, the Edonite drones had arrived. They hovered around the perimeter, watching, waiting, their sleek forms cutting through the smoke-filled air with eerie precision. The drones were set to guard mode, but their secondary function—recovering the injured and dead—had already come into play. Red watched one of the drones scoop up a fallen marine, its exterior shifting and forming a protective exoskeleton around him. Within seconds, the drone sped off toward the Tempest, the marine safely shielded inside.
It was efficient, a cold comfort in the heat of battle. The drones did their jobs with mechanical perfection, but even they couldn't replace the manpower she'd lost. The transit point was under-defended, and every moment without those marines increased the risk.
Then there was Blue. He should have been in range by now.
Red's eyes narrowed as she scanned the map again. Nothing. No update. No signal.
"Blue should've checked in by now," she muttered, her fingers tapping anxiously against the edge of the console. "Why can't we reach him?"
Aegis appeared, his usual calm tempered with hesitation. "There's an anomaly in the interference. I'm scanning, but it's adapting to our attempts to reconnect."
"Adapting?" Red repeated, the word laced with unease. "You think it's deliberate?"
"Highly likely," Aegis replied. "The interference isn't random. It's shifting frequencies to match ours. It may be intelligent."
Red felt her stomach tighten. Blue's team wasn't just out of range—they were being blocked. Intentionally.
She clenched her fists. Blue wouldn't leave us in the dark unless something was wrong. This wasn't just interference. It felt like a trap. Something was cutting them off, and it wasn't by accident.
"Keep scanning," she ordered, her voice edged with tension. "I want answers. The moment you break through, I need to know."
Aegis vanished again, leaving Red alone with her thoughts, the tactical map still pulsing in front of her. The rhythmic ping of updates from the other Rangers filled the room, but the silence from Blue's position weighed heavily.
She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to focus. The central hub was holding, the drones were doing their part, and her team was maintaining their positions. But Blue's absence lingered in her mind like a splinter, a gnawing uncertainty that grew with each passing moment.
Blue can handle this, she reminded herself, trying to steady her nerves. He always does. But the longer the silence stretched, the harder it became to convince herself that everything was fine.
The battle was far from over, and her grip on the situation felt more fragile by the second.