The transport slammed into rock. Ash billowed up the ramp. Wind clawed at the hull, metal shrieking under pressure. The Vanguard moved out in silence, their dark forms blending into the shadows of the canyon. Gravel shifted underfoot with every step.

Kael gestured sharply with one gloved hand, his voice low over the comm. “You know the drill. Veyra, Ravik—scout the perimeter. Sarin, you’re with me on overwatch. Rynn, Elara, FOB setup. Let’s get this done clean.”

The team broke off into their respective groups. Ravik and Veyra veered left, disappearing into the jagged maze of rock, while Kael and Sarin climbed higher, their rifles slung over their backs. Engineer Rynn dropped beside a crate, then pried it open. Medic Elara dragged the medkit behind her, shoulders hunched against the gale. The overhang gave just enough cover to work fast.

Rynn snapped the generator open. Sparks flared. “Toxic wind, half-dead grid, unstable ground,” she muttered. “Perfect place for a picnic.”

Elara unpacked the comms array. “Less sarcasm, more signal. We’ll need a clean line if this turns sideways.”

“Working on it,” Rynn replied, attaching cables to the generator. Sparks flared again. Then the hum—low, steady—cut through the wind. She adjusted the output, ensuring it wouldn’t overload under the planet’s erratic conditions. A flick of a switch activated the array, its faint blue light casting eerie shadows across the jagged rocks.

Wind screamed between the canyon’s teeth. Dust curled up in spirals of ash and static. Rynn wiped her hands on her uniform, scanning the fallback point: med station glowing soft beside the comms unit, crates stacked tight against the rock wall.

“We’re live. Fallback point operational. Let’s hope we don’t use it.”

“Hope’s not part of the job,” Elara replied, securing a medkit to her belt. “Preparation is.”

Movement twitched along the ridge—fast, then gone. Rynn’s hand dropped to her blaster. Elara followed her line of sight. For a moment, they watched, but the movement resolved into nothing—just the shifting shadows cast by the swirling winds.

Elara exhaled slowly. “Keep sharp. If the patrols get this far, we’re in trouble.”

“If they get this far,” Rynn muttered, “the others are dead. And we’re next.”

“Reassuring,” Elara muttered.

Farther along the canyon floor, Ravik’s boots slid on loose shale. His steps matched Veyra’s rhythm. Veyra was a shadow, her rifle strapped across her back as she paused at intervals to scan the horizon. Her hand rose in a quick signal, and Ravik stopped, crouching beside a jagged boulder.

Ahead of them, the faint glow of the insurgents’ base shimmered through the toxic haze. Ravik activated his visor, enhancing the image. Towering walls reinforced with salvaged metal loomed in the distance, while automated turrets scanned the perimeter with cold precision. Figures paced the walls—calm, rehearsed, efficient.

“This isn’t just a base,” Ravik murmured, his voice low as he adjusted the magnification on his visor. “It’s a fortress.”

“Fortress or not, it’s coming down,” Veyra replied, her tone even. “Eyes sharp. We’re looking for weaknesses.”

Ravik’s gaze swept the perimeter. Icons blinked to life in his visor overlay—weak patrol gap, exposed crates, misaligned barrier.

“The patrols move in staggered patterns,” Ravik began. “Their routes overlap just enough to make timing critical.”

“You see the patterns. I see the gaps,” Veyra replied. “That’s why Kael paired us.”

A sudden movement to their right made Ravik stiffen, his rifle raising instinctively. Veyra’s hand shot out, pressing against his arm as she pointed toward the disturbance. A patrol of four insurgents emerged from the shadows, their boots crunching softly against the gravel as they passed dangerously close.

Ravik’s breath stilled, his body taut as he tracked their movements. The wind shifted, carrying the faint sound of their muffled conversation. He glanced at Veyra, whose expression remained impassive, her hand signaling: Hold position. Wait.

The lead guard stopped. Tilted his head. Beam swept the rocks. Ravik’s grip on his weapon tightened, his mind racing as he calculated the risks of engaging versus staying hidden. 

Without a word, he reached for a loose stone by his foot and hurled it toward a nearby outcropping. The clatter echoed as the flashlight beam snapped toward the sound.

“Did you hear that?” the guard muttered, his voice muffled by the wind.

“Check it out,” another ordered. “We’ll cover you.”

The lead guard moved toward the sound, his boots crunching louder as he approached the outcropping. Ravik’s pulse spiked as he and Veyra remained motionless, their shadows blending into the rock. Every second dragged until the guard finally turned back, his light shifting away.

“Clear,” he called to his team, and the patrol continued on its way, their forms fading into the haze.

Ravik exhaled slowly, his muscles loosening as he lowered his rifle. Veyra glanced at him. Approval flickered, just for a second, before she moved on. “Solid throw,” she muttered. “But don’t get cocky.”

“Of course,” Ravik replied, his voice steady but laced with wry humor. He followed her lead, his focus sharpening as they slipped deeper into the shadows, the glow of the insurgent base growing closer with every step.