Riven blinked, and the world shifted.

  One moment, he was sitting in the sim pod. The next he was sitting in the saddle of a dragon inside a hangar bay that was too clean to be real.

  Sometimes, Riven felt like he lived in the sim. The transition was getting smoother, or perhaps his brain was just getting used to the lie. He looked down at his hands. They were gloved in the black composite armor of the DAIR suit. He tapped the baton on his hip. It felt solid. Real.

  You are getting anxious again, Astrix projected.

  She was standing beneath him, her matte black scales drinking in the artificial light of the virtual hangar. In this rendered reality, her presence was just overwhelming as real life. A mountain of muscle and psychic potential that hummed against the back of his mind.

  “Just checking out my body, making sure it feels right,” Riven thought back. “Sometimes the sim makes my grip feel ghostly or laggy.”

  There is no lag, Astrix countered. You are simply nervous.

  “I’m not nervous. I’m anticipatory.”

  You are sweating.

  “The sim is making me do that.”

  Oh of course.

  Riven ignored her and looked around. The hangar was crowded.

  Usually, it was just the Hammers in the sim, running their squad drills until they were exhausted. Today, the entire First Platoon had assembled. Twenty-one dragons stood in formation, filling the cavernous space with the sound of heavy breathing and the scrape of claws on metal.

  In the front of the hangers stood the Seekers. And between the seekers and the us were the Protectors. From what I had heard their squad composition was similar to our own, but their DAIR suits were specialized for them. Seekers had better detection equipment, while the protectors often had shields that could extend across their entire body. Apparently, most of that energy that was used for their purpose was being used in our lances for attacks.

  A shimmer of blue light materialized in the air above the formation. It coalesced into the twenty-foot-tall hologram of Captain Kaelen. His real body was safely ensconced on the bridge of the Silent Verdict, directing the digital war from his command chair.

  “Platoon, attention,” Kaelen’s voice boomed, perfectly synchronized in every helmet.

  The ambient chatter died instantly. Twenty-one lancers straightened in their saddles.

  “Today is the culmination of three weeks of drilling,” Kaelen began, his golden eyes scanning the formation. “All of you have worked hard on your individual tasks, but today we are combining those tasks into a cohesive whole. The mission that we have been issued in seven days from now is a full-scale assault on a planetary surface to retrieve critical data from a subterranean research facility. The planet and facility has been replicated in the sim to the best of our intel.”

  A 3D tactical map appeared in the air, glowing soft amber. It showed a desert planet scarred by a massive canyon system. Across the planet lay several red zones. But the map began to zoom in on the center of the largest canyon lay where a large pulsating red signal sat.

  “The objective is simple,” Kaelen continued. “But the execution requires absolute discipline. We are splitting the labor.”

  He pointed to the Seekers.

  “First Squad. Seekers. Sergeant Harth. Your objective is air superiority. You will drop first and engage the Flyer swarm. I want the skies swept clean. You will also provide reconnaissance for the ground teams, marking high-density clusters and vent shafts.”

  “Understood, Sir,” Harth’s voice crackled over the platoon channel.

  Kaelen pointed to the heavyweights.

  “Second Squad. Protectors. Sergeant Corra. You will drop on the canyon rim and establish a hard perimeter. Your job is not to kill every bug on the planet. Just make enough noise that every Ravager in that hole comes out to fight you. Your squad’s role is essential as the distraction to keep the swarm off the central nest.”

  “We’ll make them hate us, Sir,” Corra promised.

  Finally, Kaelen turned his gaze to the center.

  “Third Squad. Hammers. Sergeant Phillean.”

  The map zoomed in on the central spire of the Hive.

  “While the Seekers and Protectors occupy the swarm, the central chamber will be left relatively lightly defended. The Hammers will drop directly into the Queen’s nest. Your primary objective is the elimination of the Hive Mother. Once she is dead, the psychic coordination of the swarm will fracture, making the job of the Protectors significantly easier.”

  Kaelen swiped his hand, and the map changed to a blueprint of a facility buried beneath the nest.

  “Once the Queen is down, both Seekers and Protectors will pull back to surround and isolate the central nest. Meanwhile the Hammers will locate the maintenance hatch located in the nest. It leads to a Class-A Research Facility. There are three wings: Alpha, Beta, and Gamma. The Hammers will split into their wing pairs. Strikers take Alpha. Siege Breakers take Beta. Control takes Gamma.”

  “This is a secure facility,” Kaelen noted, his voice turning stern. “Access is controlled by heavy blast doors requiring keycards. This means the interior should be sterile. There should not be any Ravagers, but I cannot promise that. Be on your guard as you go in, grab the drive, and get out. Do not linger.”

  “Orbital support is available on my command,” Kaelen finished. “If the Protectors get overrun, call it in. If the Seekers get swarmed, call it in. Do not be heroes. We can attack again. We cannot revive the dead. Safety is the priority. Questions?”

  “None, Sir,” the platoon chorused.

  “Drop in T-minus five minutes. Get to your stations.”

  The hologram flickered and vanished. The bay doors groaned open, revealing the starry void of the simulation.

  “Alright, everyone look alive!” Sergeant Harth shouted. “Seekers, on me! Let’s clear the sky!”

  The seven dragons of the First Squad launched themselves into the void. Seconds later, the heavy Protectors followed, both groups looking like meteors as they plummeted down.

  The Hammers stayed put.

  Riven adjusted his grip on the reins.

  “They get to have all the fun,” Vex’s voice crackled over the squad channel. She was on Raze to his left, said dragon letting out puffs of bored smoke. “I bet Harth is already shooting things.”

  “Harth is bait,” Phillean’s voice cut in, calm and steady. “And Corra is a wall. Be glad you aren't them. They have to fight thousands. We only have to fight one.”

  “One big one,” Riven muttered.

  “Don't tell me you're getting cold feet, Dust Boy,” Vex teased. Riven could practically hear the grin in her voice. “You were pretty confident during the shooting game last night.”

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  “That was an arcade game,” Riven said. “The stakes were lower. Worst case scenario, I had to clean Raze’s teeth.”

  My teeth are immaculate, Raze grumbled on the channel. And I would have eaten you.

  “Focus up,” Phillean ordered. “Holt, you’ve done good work in the squad sims. Your accuracy is solid. Just remember, this drop is different. The noise outside is going to be deafening. Ignore it. Your world is the chamber. Your world is the Queen. Everything else is background noise.”

  “Understood, Sergeant,” Riven said.

  “Fifteen minutes mark,” Kaelen’s voice returned from the bridge. “Orbit is clear. Swarm density in the central chamber has dropped by eighty percent. Hammers, you are clear to engage.”

  “Finally,” Vex cheered.

  “Hammers, drop!” Phillean roared.

  The seven dragons tipped forward and let gravity take the wheel.

  It was a rush that Riven was slowly starting to crave. The transition from the vacuum of space to the scream of the atmosphere was violent. Heat washed over his HUD as the friction built. Riven pressed himself flat against Astrix’s neck, letting her bulk shield him from the worst of the turbulence.

  They punched through the cloud layer.

  The view was apocalyptic.

  To the north, the sky was a lattice of dragon fire, bullets, and explosions as the Seekers dogfought a cloud of Flyers that numbered in the hundreds. To the east, the canyon rim was on fire. The Protectors had set up a kill box, they had flamethrowers that were turning the desert sand to glass as they held back a tidal wave of chitinous bodies.

  It was loud. Even with the audio dampeners, the roar of the battle was a physical pressure.

  But directly below them, in the center of the madness, lay the eye of the storm.

  “Target sighted!” Phillean yelled. “Central spire! Breach point at twelve o'clock!”

  The Hammers didn't slow down. They streamlined their wings, turning into living missiles. They shot through the chaos, ignoring the stray Flyers, ignoring the orbital fire shooting from the Silent Verdict.

  They dove straight into the open hole of the Hive, curtesy of a single orbital shot.

  “Brakes!”

  Seven pairs of wings snapped open. The sudden deceleration slammed Riven into his saddle, driving the breath from his lungs. They swung through the cavern, passing over pools of bubbling acid, and landed with a synchronized, earth-shaking thud on the floor of the Queen’s chamber.

  The Hive Mother was waiting.

  She was a massive creature, her obsidian armor glowing in the bioluminescence of the nest. She was perched on her egg sac, connected to the ceiling by the thick, fleshy tether Riven had learned to hate.

  A psychic blast erupt from the queen that would have scrambled an unshielded brain. Riven had learned that was the reason behind the headache when he had faced it alone.

  “Shields!” Phillean barked.

  “Halo!” Sylas commanded.

  The Radiant dragon floated forward, his white scales glowing like a supernova. A semi translucent sphere of golden light expanded from him, washing over the squad. The Queen’s scream hit the barrier and shattered into harmless static.

  “Boom Wing, Battle Drill 1!” Phillean ordered.

  “I got the right!” Tora yelled. Havoc leaped, his tail club swinging with enough force to crack a tank. He smashed into the Queen’s right physical claw, pinning it to the wall.

  “I got the left!” Brick grunted. Bastion slammed into the other side, his massive bulk acting as a living anchor.

  The Queen thrashed, her two psychic claws lashing out, but the interference from Halo made them sluggish and weak. She was pinned.

  “Tether!” Phillean shouted. “Light it up!”

  This was the part they had practiced until their fingers bled.

  Seven lances raised in unison.

  “Fire!”

  It was a wall of tungsten. Riven pulled his trigger, pouring rounds into the thick, fleshy cord suspending the Queen. Vex fired next to him. Phillean added his own fire. The air filled with the roar of magnetic accelerators.

  The tether didn't stand a chance. It shredded under the concentrated fire, snapping with a sound like a wet whip crack.

  The Queen fell. Without the support of the ceiling, her bulk crashed to the floor. She was vulnerable. Exposed.

  “Strikers! Kill!”

  “Race you!” Vex laughed.

  Raze launched himself into the air, roaring flame. Astrix was right beside him, a shadow moving faster than thought.

  They landed on the Queen. Riven didn't hesitate. He knew exactly where to aim. He drove his lance down, the tip glowing blue with energy. Vex did the same on the other side.

  They pierced the chitin around the eyes.

  Pulse, Astrix commanded.

  Riven twisted the grip. And a fun trick occurred, as the energy that helped fire bullets in the lance erupted from the tip. It was how Phillean had killed the first Queen so easily with a psychical blow. With a dull shake the Queen spasmed once and went still.

  “Target down,” Riven panted. “Time?”

  “Thirty-eight seconds,” Phillean said. “We're getting efficient. Dismount. Let’s find the door.”

  The squad dropped to the resin floor. The dragons formed a perimeter around the massive corpse of the Queen.

  “The entrance should be under the egg sac,” Kaelo said, checking his scanner. “We need to move the body.”

  “Brick,” Phillean nodded.

  “On it.”

  Brick and Bastion moved to the side of the dead Queen. With a groan of chitinous flesh and the whine of dragon muscle, they shoved the multi-ton carcass aside.

  Beneath it lay a heavy, circular maintenance hatch made of pristine white metal. It looked wildly out of place amidst the slime and resin of the hive.

  “Jackpot,” Vex said.

  Phillean wiped slime from the control panel. He held up his hand to the a digital keycard, a spark of static shot between his suit and the hatch and the light turned green.

  Hiss.

  The hatch spiraled open, revealing a clean, well-lit lift shaft.

  “Alright, standard formation,” Phillean ordered. “Dragons stay here and guard the exit. Lancers, we go down. Strikers, you have Wing Alpha. Siege, Wing Beta. Control, Wing Gamma. I’ll stay at the entrance and command here. Go.”

  They descended into the facility.

  It was eerie. Above them, a war was raging. Thousands of bugs were dying. Dragons were breathing fire. But down here? It was silent. The air was cool and smelled of antiseptic. The white walls were spotless.

  “It feels wrong,” Riven whispered as he and Vex jogged down the Alpha corridor. “It’s too quiet.”

  “Don't jinx it,” Vex muttered. “I like quiet. Quiet means I don't have to clean bug guts off my armor.”

  They reached the blast door for Wing Alpha. It was sealed tight.

  “Keycard,” Riven said.

  Vex swiped the card they had been issued in the briefing. The light blinked green. The heavy door slid open with a smooth mechanical whir.

  The room beyond was a server farm. Rows of data banks hummed with blue light.

  “Clear,” Riven said, sweeping the room with his rifle. “No bugs.”

  “Grab the data,” Vex ordered, taking up a guard position at the door.

  Riven jacked in. The download took a little under a minute.

  “Package secure,” Riven said.

  “Let's move.”

  They sprinted back to the central hub. Tora and Brick were already there, Tora spinning a data drive on her finger. Sylas and Kaelo arrived a second later.

  They burst into the Queen’s chamber, vaulting onto their dragons. Phillean took them all in as they held up the data they had.

  “Hammers to Overlord 6,” Phillean broadcasted. “Objective complete. Queen neutralized. Data secure. Requesting extraction.”

  “Copy, Hammers,” Kaelen’s voice was warm. “All units, pull back.”

  The Hammers launched themselves out of the crater, and punched through the atmosphere, leaving the infested planet behind.

  “Mission Complete,” the computer chimed.

  The stars faded. The pod hissed open.

  Riven sat up. He felt energized. It had gone perfectly. Like a dance.

  He climbed out of the pod. The bay was buzzing with energy. The Seekers were high fiving the Protectors. Everyone was smiling.

  Captain Kaelen walked into the bay. He wasn't a hologram this time. He was there in the flesh, or scale, looking sharp in his military uniform.

  He stopped in the center of the room. He looked at Phillean. He looked at Harth. He looked at Corra.

  “That,” Kaelen said, his voice carrying easily over the room, “was professional.”

  He walked down the line.

  “Seekers. You kept the sky clear. Not a single Flyer touched the ground. Excellent coordination.”

  “Protectors. You held the line against five thousand hostiles. Your wall didn't crack once. Outstanding discipline.”

  He stopped in front of the Hammers.

  “And you. You executed a surgical strike with zero wasted movement. The Queen was dead in thirty-eight seconds. The facility was cleared in under ten minutes. You all made it look easy.”

  Kaelen smiled. It was a genuine, proud expression.

  “I haven't seen a platoon gel this quickly in years. None of you have been slacking. You’ve taken the drills seriously, and it shows.”

  He checked his chrono.

  “It is currently 1400 hours. We are ahead of schedule.”

  Kaelen looked at the assembled troops.

  “Take the rest of the day. And tomorrow morning. You’ve earned it.”

  A cheer went up from the platoon.

  “But,” Kaelen raised a hand, silencing them instantly. “Do not get comfortable. You mastered the as scenario that is ideal Starting in forty-eight hours, I am going to be ramping the simulation up.”

  He paced slowly.

  “For the next six days, I am introducing variables. I will be cutting communications. I will be removing orbital support. I will be placing Ravagers inside the 'secure' facility. I will be simulating equipment failures.”

  He stopped in front of Riven.

  “Because the enemy doesn't care about your plans. And when we hit the Fringe, nothing will go this smoothly. Enjoy your win today. Because next week, I am going to make every one of you have to think outside of the box. Dismissed.”

  The Captain turned and walked out.

  The moment the doors closed, the room erupted.

  “Did you hear that?” Tora yelled, jumping onto Brick’s back. “A day and a half off!”

  “Drinks on Harth!” someone shouted from the Seeker squad.

  Vex walked over to Riven. She was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Not bad, Dust Boy,” she said, punching his shoulder lightly. “We make a pretty good team.”

  “We didn't die,” Riven smiled. “I count that as a win.”

  “Come on,” Vex jerked her head toward the door. “Halloway promised to open up some stored deserts if we managed to make the Captain happy. And I intend to eat my weight in real chocolate.”

  You are hungry, Astrix projected, sounding pleased. I am also hungry.

  “Let's go,” Riven said.

  He fell into step beside Vex, surrounded by the laughter of his squad. If the mission could go as well as this, everything would be perfect.