“Cascade would ensure?—”
“It would level the structure,” I cut in. “Not acceptable.”
The system recalibrates.
“Targeting adjusted.”
I fire.
Not wide.
Not overwhelming.
Precise.
The first relay node collapses in a burst, energy flickering out instead of detonating, and the second follows before the system can compensate, the grid destabilizing in a ripple instead of a collapse.
“They’re rerouting,” the system says.
“They won’t be fast enough,” I reply.
I hit the third node just as the grid attempts to stabilize, the pattern breaking completely this time, defenses flickering, then failing in sections instead of all at once.
“Outer shield compromised,” the system confirms.
“Good.”
I don’t slow.
I don’t circle.
I bring the vessel down hard into the primary landing zone, the hull vibrating as it meets the surface, engines cutting just enough to hold position without broadcasting unnecessary signal.
“Landing complete,” the system says.
I’m already moving.
The ramp drops with a sharp mechanical release, and the air hits me immediately—cooler than inside the ship, carrying the sterile scent of the estate layered over something sharper now, something disrupted.
“Multiple hostiles inbound,” the system warns.
“I see them,” I say, stepping down onto the platform.
They’re already moving toward me, disciplined, trained, weapons raised, their formation tight enough to be effective but not adaptive enough to handle what they’re about to face.
“Stand down!” one of them shouts, his voice amplified, trying to assert control over something that’s already out of his hands.
I don’t slow.
“You’re in the wrong place,” I reply, my voice carrying without needing volume.
He fires first.
Predictable.
The shot cuts across the space between us, fast, precise?—
And irrelevant.
