Lyra Andromeda
The twin suns of Skalthor burned low in the grey-brown sky, casting sharp shadows across the barren ridges. For Captain Ilara Voss, the heat was the least of her problems. She crouched behind a jagged boulder, her pulse rifle clutched tightly in her gloved hands, as a thin line of sweat traced down her temple. The soft whir of a reconnaissance drone passed overhead, its reflective surface shimmering in the afternoon light.
“Ilara,” a voice crackled in her ear. It was Joss, her second-in-command, who was somewhere deeper within the rocky terrain. “Three more drones on the ridge to the south. It looks like they’re tightening the noose.”
Ilara smirked grimly, brushing a strand of sweat-matted hair away from her face. “Good. Let them try. They still don’t know who they’re dealing with.”
The enemy in question was a band of Tzarkon mercenaries hired to stake a claim on this dust-ridden rock. Unfortunately for them, Ilara and her small crew of freelancers had already signed a contract to clear the region for a new Conglomerate mining operation. And if there was one thing the galaxy agreed on, it was that humans didn’t quit contracts.
Her HUD flashed red as the closest drone swept toward her position. With a sharp inhale, Ilara raised her rifle and sighted the glimmering machine. One squeeze of the trigger, and it shattered into a dozen glittering fragments. The sound echoed off the stone, and Ilara ducked back just as return fire scorched the rock above her head.
“Show-off,” Joss’s voice teased. “We’re going to need more than bravado to get out of this one, Cap.”
Ilara adjusted her earpiece, her sharp blue eyes scanning the horizon. “Bravado’s just the beginning. How’s Efa coming along with that decoy?”
“She’s working on it,” Joss replied. “Though she says her ‘ingenuity fee’ just went up.”
Ilara chuckled. “Tell her she can haggle after we’re alive. We need that distraction in ten minutes, or this dustball becomes our grave.”
Down in the craggy valley below, Efa cursed under her breath as she pried open the panel of a downed drone with a multitool. Her nimble fingers worked swiftly, rearranging wires and bypassing circuits. The young mechanic had grown up on Earth’s Deathworld-class environments, and her knack for turning junk into miracles had saved the team more times than she cared to count.
“Come on, you temperamental piece of tech,” she muttered. The drone emitted a low hum, its systems sparking to life. Efa grinned and slapped its side. “There’s my beauty.”
The decoy was crude but effective—a jumble of parts rigged to emit an intense electromagnetic pulse. Once activated, it would fry every piece of tech within a two-kilometre radius, including the Tzarkon drones. The challenge? She had to be well outside the blast radius when it went off.
“Efa to Ilara. Decoy’s live, but I’ll need cover to get out of here.”
“Understood,” Ilara replied. “Joss, keep those mercenaries off her back. I’ll draw their attention from the east ridge.”
“You’ve got it,” Joss said. “And Cap? Try not to get yourself killed.”
Ilara’s grin widened. “Not in the plan.”
The next ten minutes were a blur of precision and chaos. Ilara moved like a shadow through the uneven terrain, picking off drones and drawing fire away from Efa’s position. Her every step was calculated, every shot deliberate, her instincts honed from years of navigating the Scatterverse’s deadliest worlds.
From the corner of her vision, she spotted movement—a Tzarkon foot soldier clad in gleaming exoskeletal armour, their plasma rifle at the ready. They were faster, stronger, and better equipped than Ilara’s crew, but they weren’t human. That meant they weren’t desperate.
Ilara rolled to cover as the plasma blast struck where she’d been standing. In one fluid motion, she aimed her rifle and fired. The shot hit the soldier’s weapon, sending a shower of sparks into their faceplate. As they staggered back, Ilara launched herself forward, delivering a swift kick to the centre of their chest. The soldier toppled over the edge of the ridge, landing in a heap below.
“Still alive, Joss?” Ilara panted into her comm.
“Barely. These Tzarkons are stubborn bastards,” he replied, his voice strained. “Efa, how much longer?”
“Five seconds!” came Efa’s breathless reply.
Ilara scrambled for cover as the EMP detonated. The pulse rolled across the landscape like an invisible wave, and every piece of tech—drones, rifles, comms—flickered and died. For a brief, eerie moment, the battlefield fell silent.
“Now’s our chance!” Ilara barked. “Fall back to the shuttle!”
The mercenaries, disoriented by the loss of their tech, were easy targets for Ilara’s crew as they retreated. The team regrouped at their small, battered shuttle, which Efa had miraculously kept functional despite its age. Ilara stood at the open hatch, covering her team with a borrowed Tzarkon plasma rifle.
As the last of her crew climbed aboard, a low, guttural growl echoed through the canyon. Ilara turned to see the Tzarkon commander—a towering figure with crimson tattoos etched into their armour—emerging from the haze. They carried a massive energy blade, its edges crackling with raw power.
“Get inside!” Ilara ordered her crew.
“What about you?” Joss demanded.
“Go! I’ll handle this.”
Before he could argue, the shuttle door sealed shut, and the engines roared to life. Ilara faced the commander, her grip tightening on the plasma rifle. The two stared each other down, the alien’s blade humming ominously in the dusty air.
“You think you can stop me?” the Tzarkon sneered, their voice deep and guttural.
Ilara smirked. “I don’t think. I know.”
The fight was brutal and unrelenting. Ilara dodged and weaved as the energy blade carved through the air, each swing narrowly missing its mark. Her plasma shots chipped away at the commander’s armour, but the alien’s strength and endurance were staggering.
Finally, Ilara spotted her opening. As the commander raised their blade for a killing strike, she lunged forward, jamming the rifle’s muzzle beneath their armoured collar. She fired, and the plasma bolt found its mark. The Tzarkon let out a guttural roar before collapsing to the ground.
Ilara staggered back, breathing heavily, her body aching from the exertion. The shuttle descended, its ramp extending to scoop her up. She climbed aboard as Joss helped her to her feet.
“You’re insane,” he said, shaking his head.
“That’s why you love me,” she replied with a tired grin.
As the shuttle broke through Skalthor’s atmosphere, the crew finally relaxed. Efa was already calculating their payout, while Joss piloted the craft with steady hands. Ilara sat in the co-pilot’s seat, her gaze fixed on the stars ahead.
“Another day, another contract,” Joss remarked.
Ilara nodded. “And another reminder why humanity doesn’t go down easy.”
Out there in the Scatterverse, on a thousand dusty worlds, Ilara knew they weren’t just surviving. They were proving—time and again—that humanity was something extraordinary.
Endless Horizons 