General Threx sat stiffly in the captain's chair at the center of the flagship's bridge, surrounded by the low hum of disciplined order. Officers moved with purpose, monitoring the escort fleet's formation. Three Academy cylinders hovered below, preparing for descent. Every motion was practiced. Every report crisp.
Until the doors hissed open.
General Drudru entered without ceremony.
The atmosphere shifted. No one turned, but shoulders tensed. Everyone noticed.
Threx didn't rise. He turned his head slowly, voice cold and edged with command.
"General. I wasn't informed you'd be stepping onto my bridge."
Drudru stopped at the base of the command platform, arms crossed, jaw set.
"I thought it best to deliver news in person."
Threx's expression stayed unreadable.
"Then allow me to begin. You confronted Chancellor Yvith. Without clearance. Without informing me. Explain."
Drudru's jaw twitched.
"She expelled Porl. A royal-blood Grounx. Over a scuffle."
"You expect me to let that insult pass unchallenged?"
Threx rose. Slowly. Precisely.
He descended the platform, each step deliberate.
"This isn't about Porl. It's about you overstepping. Again."
Drudru's eyes narrowed.
"She humiliated our bloodline."
"No," Threx snapped. "Porl humiliated himself. He attacked a protected candidate—one under Council sponsorship. The Chancellor could've called for a tribunal. She didn't. You should be grateful."
Drudru's silence was taut.
Threx stepped closer, voice lowered.
"You don't speak for the Council. And you never confront a Chancellor in front of her staff. Not without leverage. Not without strategy. You think you're defending our name. You're weakening it."
Drudru bristled but didn't speak.
Threx turned away, halfway up the command deck before pausing.
"Let me handle the politics. I have reach where it matters. You jeopardize that again, and we lose everything—including this operation."
Drudru's exhale was slow. Controlled.
"You saw the girl too. At the assembly."
Threx nodded once.
"I did. She's not just another refugee. The Chancellor is guarding her too tightly for it to be about heritage."
A pause.
"There's something deeper here. And the Chancellor's fear? It isn't political. It's personal."
He faced Drudru fully now, voice returning to command.
"Your task is clear. Land the legions. Secure the ruins. Establish full perimeter. No surprises. No mistakes."
Drudru nodded.
"Understood, General."
"I want the first boots down within the hour. Dismissed."
Drudru turned and left, boots echoing down polished steel.
Threx remained. He stared at the holo-map—watching the dense forest, the gravity markers, the thick fog curling over the terrain.
Then he narrowed his eyes.
As the holograms shifted, his mind kept circling back to one thing—the Chancellor's secrecy, and the refugee girl she shielded like a weapon still in its sheath.
"What are you hiding, Chancellor…"
The viewing deck of the second cylinder ship buzzed with low conversation. Hundreds of cadets had gathered at the panoramic viewport, watching the landing operation unfold in real time across the projection and external windows.
Below them, the dark curve of the planet loomed—covered in mist, broken by harsh terrain. Gravity readings scrolled across the display: 3.4g, confirmed.
Qiri stood near the glass, arms folded, eyes sunken. She hadn't slept more than a few hours in days. Ever since Niri's confession, her mind hadn't slowed—racing through stories, contradictions, fragments of history that were never meant to be real.
Ronan leaned casually beside her, sipping nutrient gel from a small pouch like this was just another cruise. His voice carried a familiar dry edge.
"You look like a walking nervescrap, Qiri. What, afraid the forest down there might eat you alive?"
Qiri didn't answer. She was still watching Niri—standing a few paces ahead, motionless, staring at the surface as if calculating something the others couldn't see.
Behind them, the two Grounx cadets, Tall and Horn, were in animated discussion about drop-point strategy. Their posture was proud, sharp—already speaking as if the ruins were theirs.
Horn grinned wide, thick arms crossed.
"two legions. Shouldn't take more than a day to lock down the region."
Tall nodded. "Any resistance will break before it sees us. Same as always."
Niri spoke without turning around. Calm. Detached. Almost too quiet.
"You're all clustered too close in orbit."
The words stopped the conversation mid-breath.
Tall's brow furrowed.
"What did you say?"
Niri finally turned her head. Her expression was blank. Tired. But her voice didn't waver.
"If there are orbital defense systems still active down there—cannons, drones, grid launches—you're setting yourselves up for a perfect kill zone. All ships are too tight. No spread. No evasive gap. One barrage, and half the fleet is gone before command can react."
The silence after that statement was heavy.
Qiri straightened slowly. Ronan blinked. Even Horn's posture shifted.
Tall took a step forward.
"There's no indication of active defenses."
"There's also no confirmation of no defenses," Niri replied, still quiet. "And in military doctrine, assuming safety is how you lose a sky."
Her tone wasn't aggressive. It was worse than that. It was clinical. Like she was reading a tactical outcome already lived.
Horn tried to brush it off with a grunt.
"We've scanned the surface—"
"from orbit," Niri cut in. "You think 3.4g planets have clean sensor reads? Fog. EM scatter. High-density terrain. All it takes is one buried tower or automated bunker to turn this into a slaughter."
No one spoke.
She looked back out the viewport, as if done with the conversation.
"If someone built a trap here, this fleet's posture would hand it to them."
Ronan lowered his drink pouch slowly.
"Okay," he muttered. "Now that's unsettling."
Qiri stared at Niri with a mix of awe and quiet dread. That wasn't guessing. That wasn't fear-mongering.
That was a memory.
A tactical recall.
And Niri didn't even realize it.
Professor Rhiv's voice cut in from behind them—calm, low, but precise.
"An excellent observation, Cadet Niri."
The group turned.
Rhiv had approached silently, hands behind his back, posture relaxed but alert. His presence carried weight—an authority sharpened by decades of war analysis. He didn't smile, but there was approval in his tone.
"That's why the fleet is adjusting now," he continued, nodding toward the changing orbital display. The cylinders and escorts were beginning to shift, pulling wider across the planet's upper hemisphere, creating space between the ships.
"General Threx is no fool. He's a veteran of three planetary sieges. If there's a trap, he'll see it."
The others watched the viewport again, silent.
Rhiv stepped beside Niri, his voice a bit quieter now, almost inquisitive.
"What do you think, Miss Niri? Now that the formation's changed. Preparing for all outcomes. You approve?"
Niri didn't respond right away. Her eyes followed the slow movement of the escort fleet.
Then, without looking at him, she said quietly:
"If the enemy's smart, they already lost the advantage."
Rhiv tilted his head slightly.
"Meaning?"
She exhaled slowly.
"It means it won't matter. Everything down there is already ruins. If they were going to use the upper hand, they would've used it before we adjusted. Timing is everything in a sky war. Once you miss the first strike... it's over."
The silence that followed was heavy
Rhiv nodded once. Not approval, not dismissal. Just acknowledgment.
Then he turned and walked away, muttering to himself.
"Interesting."
The group didn't speak.
Qiri looked at Niri again, this time with something closer to wariness than concern.
Even Ronan stayed quiet.
And the two Grounx, for once, said nothing.
General Drudru stood at the front of the Grounx landing craft, armor secured tight across his chest, one hand gripping the support bar above as the shuttle began to descend through the atmosphere. The rest of the Grounx Legion sat in disciplined silence behind him, rows of hardened warriors braced against the growing turbulence.
Outside, the view turned from clouds to haze, then to jagged terrain—thick forest and stone ridges stretched across the high-gravity world like broken fingers. The land was dark, overgrown, and strangely untouched.
A voice crackled over the comms.
"Landing successful. No resistance. Surface clear."
Drudru nodded once, eyes fixed on the terrain ahead. The shuttle touched down with a heavy thud—he didn't flinch.
A second voice came through—calmer, confused. This one from the on-site excavation team already deployed in orbit earlier.
"This is Survey Command. We were expecting cadet teams. Not full legions. What's going on?"
Drudru keyed the comm.
"Orders from the Council," he said flatly. "We don't take risks. If there's danger buried in those ruins, we're not losing students to it."
No further response came.
He stepped down the ramp the moment the bay doors opened. The air hit him hard—thick, heavier than expected. Gravity pressed down like a loaded harness. His boots sank slightly into the moss-covered stone with every step.
Around him, his soldiers adjusted their gravity belts, joints hissing with compensation. A few grunted quietly under the strain, but none faltered. Grounx didn't complain.
"Perimeter sweep," Drudru barked. "Clear the outer ruins. Secure the landing zone. No unknown structures left unchecked."
His captains moved fast, barking relay orders. Troops spread out—silent, professional, weapons at ready.
Drudru paused for a moment, scanning the horizon. Fog clung low to the jungle edges. Towering black trees loomed in the distance, roots like claws reaching out of the ground.
"Strange," he muttered.
Behind him, one of his officers stepped closer. "Sir. This gravity… it's nearly crushing. And yet signs show that something once thrived here."
Drudru's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Amusing, isn't it?" he said. "Something evolved to survive in this."
He stepped forward again, toward the central ruin marked in the scans. The jungle was dense here. And quiet.
Too quiet.
"Whatever lived here… either it adapted better than us," he said under his breath, "or it didn't survive at all."
Two full Grounx legions—nearly ten thousand warriors—fanned out across the surface with brutal efficiency.
Within hours, the landing zone was secured.
Thick jungle pressed in on every side, but it was no match for Grounx order. Outposts were built. Defense perimeter locked. Sensor towers climbed into the trees. Heavy equipment was hauled down and assembled with speed and silence. This wasn't exploration—it was occupation.
The ruins lay deeper within, ancient and overgrown, their dark spires just visible through the low fog. No one touched them yet. That would come later.
General Drudru walked the central path between forward command tents. Warriors saluted as he passed. His armor still bore the faint scorch of descent friction, but he wore it without care.
He paused only once—to face the comm panel.
"General Drudru to Academy Command," he said, voice steady.
A brief static delay.
"This is Academy fleet orbit. Go ahead, General."
"The ground is stable. Zone cleared. Both legions are in position. Defensive perimeter established around the ruin site. Awaiting cadet arrival."
A second voice cut in—medical officer.
"General, a reminder. Certain species have not undergone training in high-gravity adaptation. Casualty risk exists, especially among lighter variants."
Drudru grunted.
"Noted. Prepare gravity belt recalibration protocols. I want all belts tuned before they leave the dropships. No cadet sets foot down here until adjustment is confirmed. Understood?"
"Yes, General. Uploading data now."
He stepped away from the terminal and turned toward the distant ruins. Trees creaked in the fog, thick vines choking everything in reach.
Even the jungle felt wary of the place.
All across the three massive cylinder ships, the mood had shifted.
The usual murmur of boredom and cadet chatter was gone—replaced with focused tension.
Lines had formed in every loading corridor. Hundreds of cadets, grouped by class and species, stood in silent rows. Gravity belts were being adjusted one by one under instructor supervision. The atmosphere was heavy, clinical, mechanical. No room for mistakes.
Qiri tightened her grip on her belt strap, watching the officer work. Her feathers had dulled to a grayish-blue—a quiet reflection of how little she'd slept.
Beside her, Ronan smirked.
"You look like you're marching to your funeral."
She didn't answer.
Behind them, Tall and Horn were already ready. The two Grounx cadets adjusted their armor, sharing proud glances as they inspected the transport roster. Their confidence was unshaken. This was routine to them.
But not for everyone.
Niri stood a few steps back, her expression unreadable. She said nothing, eyes focused on the loading bay ahead—where dozens of transport ships idled, engines humming softly.
Ronan leaned closer. "First time going down onto an unknown high-gravity death planet?"
"Not my first time," Niri said, almost absently.
He blinked. "Was that a joke?"
She didn't clarify.
The loading officer barked an order.
> "Next row. Move forward!"
Groups of cadets advanced toward the open transport ramps, boots clanking against metal decking.
Niri adjusted her gravity belt with practiced ease. Qiri watched her, trying to suppress the tightness in her chest. After what she'd learned about Niri—what Niri had confessed—every movement felt heavier. More precise. Calculated.
Ronan tilted his head. "Still think she's just quiet?"
Qiri whispered back, "I think we're all underestimating her."
Their row was called next.
As they marched forward, a tall xenobiologist instructor walked past with a warning:
"Stay near the center of mass during descent. Gravity differential is 3.4 standard. If your belt fails, you'll feel it in your bones. You'll hear it in your bones. Understood?"
A few cadets shivered.
Niri didn't even blink.
Inside the transport, the seats were tight—four rows, bolted into reinforced floor plating. The cabin hissed closed, lights dimmed, and a hard mechanical clunk signaled lock-in.
Qiri stared straight ahead. Her claws dug slightly into the seat harness.
Ronan muttered, "This is fine. Perfectly safe. Probably. I mean, nobody actually gets crushed during a landing, right?"
Tall, seated in front of them, grunted. "Weak bones snap. Grounx bones don't."
"Comforting," Ronan muttered.
The hum deepened. The cabin tilted.
Descent had begun.
The transport jolted once as it made contact with the surface, landing gear sinking into the dense soil. A low hiss followed as the side hatches unlocked and opened with hydraulic release.
The landing zone was thick with humidity and layered fog. Dense jungle surrounded the perimeter, and the distant outlines of Grounx soldiers moved in disciplined formations, weapons ready. Overhead, massive canopy structures had been partially cleared to allow for safe descent. Temporary floodlights lit up the fog in columns of white and gray.
Inside the craft, the cadets unbuckled in practiced rhythm and began disembarking in rows, stepping onto the strange earth with stiff postures and careful footing.
Niri stepped out last, her boots sinking just slightly into the soft terrain. A heavy breath left her lungs as she paused—then frowned.
It didn't feel heavy. Not at all.
She looked down at her gravity belt, confused. Then she reached to the side panel and tapped it off.
Nothing changed.
She blinked. Then whispered, half amused, half confused:
"Huh. This feels normal."
Qiri and Ronan were a few steps ahead when they turned at the sound of her voice.
Ronan's eyes widened. "Wait—wait. What the fuck?"
He jogged back and stared at her belt. "You just disengaged your gravity regulator. Are you serious right now?"
"I think…" Niri paused, testing her steps. She even bounced slightly on her toes, no struggle in her posture. "This is just... normal gravity for me."
Qiri's jaw tightened, and her feathers rippled with visible stress.
"That's not possible," she whispered, glancing around to make sure others weren't listening. "Even the Grounx need adjustments. This planet is lethal without them."
Ronan just shook his head. "Are you a biomech or a small grav-tank in disguise?"
Niri gave a faint, crooked smile. "No idea."
Behind them, Tall and Horn looked back as well, having overheard. The taller Grounx narrowed his eyes, but said nothing—just made note of her stance and the lack of strain in her movement.
Niri adjusted the strap across her chest and looked toward the edge of the jungle where the perimeter lights faded into darkness. For everyone else, this planet was a weight to bear.
But for her…
It felt like home.
Qiri let out a breath and laughed—more from nerves than humor.
"Of course it's normal," she said quickly, forcing a grin. "She's just built different."
But when she looked at Niri, her expression shifted. Niri didn't return the smile. She didn't speak. She just met Qiri's eyes—silent, steady.
Her gaze said everything:
Please. Don't tell anyone.
Qiri's feathers dimmed to a quiet hue. She gave a small nod. No one else noticed.
Niri turned her attention outward, toward the jungle. The dense air, the smell of moss and moisture, the thrum of distant insect calls—it didn't feel foreign.
It felt right.
She took a slow breath. The heaviness, the green, the sound. Her muscles didn't ache. Her bones didn't resist.
For the first time since remember, she didn't feel like an outsider.
She felt home.
Across the landing zone, Professor Rhiv's tall, imposing frame appeared through the mist. He clapped his hands once—sharp, commanding—and called out.
"All cadets in War Analysis division—form up. Line formation. Now."
Students scattered to obey, forming rough lines across the moss-covered field. Rhiv's gaze swept over them like a targeting sensor.
"You'll establish base camp here," he barked. "Teams of three. Makeshift tents only. This is an exercise in resource handling and survival. Tomorrow, we begin full-scale mapping and excavation alongside the assigned squads."
He looked toward the perimeter where the ruins loomed in shadow, his expression unreadable.
"Tonight, we rest.