The Shadowfang emerged from hyperspace into the chaotic orbit of Orath Prime, a planet blanketed in swirling clouds of ash and fire. The surface below was a mosaic of crumbling cities and battle-scarred wastelands. Ships darted between the remnants of orbital defense stations, each one either a smuggler's craft, a rebel vessel, or a Syndicate scout.
"Welcome to Orath Prime," Taron muttered, leaning back in his seat. "Hell's doorstep."
Luna scanned the readings on her console. "The Syndicate's presence here is thin, but the rebellion's forces are spread out too. They're barely holding the line."
Arkan stood behind her, his arms crossed. "This place is a powder keg waiting for a spark."
Kyra smirked, loading her rifle. "Let's make sure we're the match."
The comm crackled as a voice filled the cabin. "Unidentified vessel, this is Orath Prime Defense. State your business or be fired upon."
Kairo leaned into the comms, his voice steady. "This is the Shadowfang. We're here to meet with the rebellion leadership. Authorization code Sigma-12-Rho."
There was a long pause. The tension in the cabin thickened.
Finally, the voice returned. "Authorization confirmed. Proceed to Hangar 17. Don't make us regret it."
Arkan turned to the crew. "Stay sharp. This isn't a welcoming committee."
A City in Ruins
The Shadowfang landed in Hangar 17, a makeshift docking bay carved into the side of a crumbling skyscraper. The city around them was a shell of its former glory, its towering spires reduced to skeletal frames. The streets below bustled with activity: armed rebels patrolled alongside mechs cobbled together from scavenged parts, while civilians huddled in makeshift shelters.
As the ramp lowered, the crew descended cautiously. They were met by a group of rebels, their weapons trained on the newcomers.
A woman stepped forward, her presence commanding. She was tall, with a scar running down the side of her face and armor that had clearly seen countless battles.
"I'm Commander Zeira," she said, her voice cold. "You've got two minutes to tell me why I shouldn't have you thrown back into orbit."
Arkan stepped forward, meeting her gaze without flinching. "We're here to help you win this war. But we need something in return."
Zeira raised an eyebrow. "Help? From a bunch of mercenaries? What could you possibly offer that we don't already have?"
Arkan reached into his coat and revealed the Pale Shard. Its faint glow immediately drew gasps from the surrounding rebels.
"This," Arkan said, "is the key to destroying the Syndicate."
Terms of Alliance
Zeira led them into a war room buried deep beneath the skyscraper. A holographic map of Orath Prime hovered in the air, marked with Syndicate strongholds, rebel territories, and no-man's-lands.
"You've got our attention," Zeira said, her arms crossed. "But carrying a relic like that makes you a target. The Syndicate will stop at nothing to get it."
"They're already hunting us," Arkan said. "But the Shard isn't just bait—it's a weapon. With it, we can disrupt their networks, neutralize their forces, and turn the tide of this war."
Zeira looked skeptical. "And in return?"
"We need your support," Arkan said. "Ships, soldiers, resources. When we take the fight to the Syndicate's heart, we can't do it alone."
The room fell silent as Zeira considered his words.
Finally, she nodded. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But if you want our help, you'll have to prove you're not just talk. There's a Syndicate fortress on the eastern continent—a key supply hub. Take it out, and we'll talk about an alliance."
Arkan smirked. "Consider it done."
Into the Fray
The mission was a brutal reminder of Orath Prime's unforgiving nature. The fortress was surrounded by dense jungle and protected by automated turrets, patrols, and drone swarms. The crew approached under cover of night, their presence masked by Luna's jamming tech.
"This place is a fortress, all right," Taron whispered, peering through binoculars. "We're outgunned and outnumbered."
"Good," Arkan said, a faint grin on his face. "It wouldn't be fun otherwise."
Iris adjusted her cloak, the Pale Shard pulsing faintly beneath it. "I can create a distraction, draw their attention."
"No," Arkan said firmly. "You're too important. Stick to the plan."
The team split into two groups. Arkan, Kyra, and Luna infiltrated the fortress, disabling security systems and planting explosives, while Taron and Iris provided overwatch from a ridge.
The Battle's Climax
The assault was chaos. Explosions lit up the night as the crew fought their way through Syndicate forces. Arkan's blade cut through drones like paper, while Kyra picked off guards with lethal precision. Luna worked furiously to bypass the fortress's central systems, sweat dripping from her brow.
Taron's voice crackled over the comms. "You've got incoming—heavy mech units from the north!"
"Hold them off!" Arkan shouted.
From the ridge, Iris felt the Shard's energy surge. She could sense the mech units closing in, their mechanical minds calculating the crew's demise.
"I have to help them," she whispered.
Taron grabbed her arm. "You'll blow our cover."
"They'll die if I don't," she said, her voice resolute. Before Taron could stop her, she stepped forward and raised the Shard.
A wave of energy burst forth, freezing the mech units in their tracks. Their systems short-circuited, and one by one, they collapsed.
Victory and Consequences
The fortress exploded in a blaze of fire and smoke, its defenses crumbling. The crew regrouped on the ridge, battered but victorious.
Arkan looked at Iris, his expression unreadable. "You disobeyed orders."
"I saved us," she said, meeting his gaze.
"Next time, we do this together," he said, his tone softening.
When they returned to Zeira, the rebel leader greeted them with a rare smile. "I'll admit, I didn't think you'd pull it off. But you've earned our trust—for now."
As the rebellion's forces rallied around them, Arkan felt the weight of the coming storm. This was only the beginning.
The Syndicate wouldn't just retaliate—they'd unleash hell.