sabotage

The briefing room was functional, slightly too bright. Ethan followed Arthur through the door and found Ani already there, standing beside Elizabeth. They were speaking quietly—a low, efficient exchange that stopped when the men entered. Arthur did not sit. He moved to the center of the room and turned. "It's an alien planet within Earth District jurisdiction. Iona is with Cirrus. You and Ani will go." Elizabeth stepped to the display panel. Her fingers moved across it. A planet rotating slowly in false-color rendering, its surface almost entirely covered in dense green. "Green planet. Mostly jungle. We harvest resources there. Sensors detected two mutant signatures near the portal. Level two. Shouldn't be a problem—but be careful." Arthur's eyes moved briefly to the display before returning to Ethan. "No intelligent civilization. Expect animals. You'll deploy through the second gate." Elizabeth looked at them both. "Good luck." Ethan loaded the cartridges into his revolver at the gate's edge—not the standard rounds, but the electro-shock configuration. He checked the cylinder, closed it, holstered it. He glanced at Ani as they approached the gate. "We're handling this one humanely." Ani said nothing. The portal delivered them into a structure built against the base of a tree whose scale was immediately arresting—the trunk wide enough that three people with outstretched arms could not reach around it, the orange leaves above forming a canopy. The air here was layered and dense—decomposing matter and flowering things and the specific, mineral quality of soil that had never been disturbed. The jet stood in the clearing beside the structure, and the jet was badly damaged. The impact damage ran along its port side—the metal crushed and torn. "Do you see that?" Ani's voice came from the vicinity of Ethan's left, her body invisible. "We see it." Arthur's voice arrived through the earpiece, followed immediately by Elizabeth's. "We see it." "How did this happen?" Elizabeth asked. Ethan's eyes moved across the damage. "Maybe an animal collision." He turned to Ani for a second opinion and found empty space. "Ani!" "I'm here." Her voice arrived from two meters to his right, carrying irritation beneath its surface. "Remember—once and for all—that I can turn invisible." The forest went silent. It was the specific silence of a living system that has stopped—not neutral quiet, but the sudden, collective cessation of every ambient sound simultaneously. Something dropped from the canopy. It came fast—a shape that resolved from shadow into mass in less than a second, enormous, its wingspan blocking the light. It hit the surveillance drone midair, its talons closing around the drone's casing. It swept to the roof of the structure and landed there. The beak worked. The casing gave way. The creature tilted its head back and swallowed. It was gone before the sound of its landing had fully resolved. A second later, the portal structure detonated. The energy burst was green—erupting outward in a single pulse that threw heat and light and debris simultaneously. The structure collapsed inward and then outward. The silence after was different. This one had finality in it. Ani's voice came low and close. "What the hell was that?" Ethan's eyes were still on the collapsed structure. "Arthur? Eli?" Silence from the earpiece. Total absence. "The drones transmit audio too." Ani's voice had changed. "They can't hear us. Portal's dead. We're cut off." Ethan stood very still, his eyes on the ruins. Then the voice came from behind him. "Hello, brother." Ethan spun—the thrusters firing, lifting him, his body rotating in the air. The revolver was in his hand before he had consciously drawn it. Below him stood a creature. Bipedal but wrong—the proportions suggesting human while refusing to honor it. Its skin was mottled, layered. Its face carried distorted features. It looked up at Ethan with an unmistakable grin. "Should I kill it?" Ani's voice arrived from somewhere at ground level, cold. "No." Ethan's eyes had not moved from the creature. "No." The creature's grin widened. Its eyes moved from Ethan to the empty space beside him. "I know you're not alone. The girl is here too." Its voice was cracked and layered. "He told us you would come." Its face moved—something beneath the skin shifting. "He said you understand all languages." Ethan's grip on the revolver adjusted. "Who told you that?" The creature's smile remained. It gave nothing. Ethan recalculated. "What do you want?" The creature's arm rose. Its finger extended, pointing directly at Ethan. "Vengeance." "For what?" "For killing us. For hating us." The creature's eyes found his and held them. "How many of your brothers have you killed?" "None. I haven't killed anyone." A sound came from the creature—deep, rhythmic. It was laughing. Then the laugh stopped, and what replaced it was hatred. "You haven't killed anyone yet." Its gaze shifted to the invisible presence beside Ethan. "And you, invisible one? How many of your kin have you killed?" "That's a lie." Ethan's voice arrived sharp. "We don't want bloodshed. Just stay away from this place." The creature's chest moved—the laugh returning harder. "Our creator lives above." Its voice rose. "He made you beautiful. Gave you everything. While we rot." The sound it made next was not a word. It tore upward—a roar that moved through the canopy and sent the orange leaves shaking. From the treeline, shapes emerged. Ethan counted ten before he stopped counting. Ani's voice arrived very quiet. "Ethan. We're alone. There's no humane way out." "Wait." "I can't stay invisible forever—it's like holding a breath, and I'm nearly out of it." A pause. "I'll take the leader." "No. We need answers." The thrusters at his back sputtered. He felt the altitude drop a fraction. "Yeah. I can't hover forever either." Above the ruins, the flying creature returned. It descended and settled onto the highest remaining surface. Its eyes found Ethan and did not leave him. The mutants in the clearing moved. Not charging—advancing. Closing the geometry in the slow, coordinated way of things that have done this before. The danger reached Ethan through the suit's sensors and through something older. His chest tightened. "Take the bird." The sound of Ani's bow was very brief. The arrow crossed the clearing and arrived at the flying creature's skull. The creature dropped from its perch. The clearing erupted. The mutants charged—the controlled advance abandoning itself. They came from every direction simultaneously. Ethan's thrusters chose this moment. Complete loss of thrust. He hit the ground hard. A branch came at him from the left—massive, thrown with enough force to kill. He moved, barely. Ani's arrows moved through the clearing in rapid, precise sequence—the numbers dropping by half before the first of them reached Ethan. Two found his arms simultaneously—their hands closing around each with crushing grip. A third came from above and behind, its teeth finding the back of his head where the helmet met the collar. The pain arrived white and total. He heard himself scream. The grip on his right arm released—a shot. His right hand was free. He swung. The fist connected—not with the force to break, but with controlled, stopping force. The creature folded and went down, breathing, unconscious. His head came forward and found the third mutant's body with the top of his skull—a headbutt. The creature tumbled toward Ani's position. Her arrow was already moving. The clearing had grown quieter. The leader remained. It came at him with direct, roaring momentum. Ethan planted his feet. His armored fist came up—not swinging, but fixed, a solid point. The impact drove it backward into the collapsed wall. Before it could recover, Ani's arrow found its neck. The creature's legs ceased their function, sending it to the ground. It sat against the ruins and bled from the neck wound. Ethan reached up and found the release on his mask. His hands were shaking. The mask came away. "I offered peace." His voice came out with pity. Ani materialized beside him. She was breathing hard. Her bow was still in her hand. The creature made a sound that was recognizable as laughter despite the damage. Weak, broken. Ethan crouched. He brought himself to the creature's level. "Who told you about the Mind?" The creature's eyes changed. The laughter left them—replaced by sudden, sharp focus. "The one your creator fears most." "And who is that?" The creature's voice dropped. "The one who heals." A pause, and then the creature's eyes found something in Ethan's face. "The one the creator fears the most." Then: "The Emperor." The last breath left the creature with specific, graceless difficulty. The sounds it made as it went were ugly—torn and wet. They moved through the clearing and were absorbed by the jungle, and then the clearing was quiet. Ethan did not move. He remained crouched where he had been, his eyes on the creature. His mask was in his hand. His face had gone very still. "Ethan." Ani's voice reached him from behind. Clear. Present. He did not move. "Ethan." A second time. Her hands found his shoulders. The grip was firm. She shook him—once, hard. Ethan came back into the jungle. The orange light. The settling canopy. He turned to look at her. His face was open, unguarded. He looked at her with searching, exposed attention—looking for something specific. Ani's eyes looked back at him. Blue, clear, carrying their familiar composure. Cold. Unreadable. What he had been looking for was not there. Ethan stood up slowly, his mask still in his hand, and looked at what was left of the clearing.