Zaria’s mind spun, fragments of jargon flashing through her thoughts like debris in a storm. High-impact attacks? Loot? She had no idea what any of it meant, but one thing was clear—Drill Sergeant Gerard’s warnings were replaying in her head like a cruel reminder.

"Pull your head out of your data, Jenkins. That data won't save you if you're dead."

If she made it out of this alive, she’d send him a thank-you note—and maybe a crate of that ridiculously overpriced wine he always raved about.

The Scrapping hissed again, a grating, mechanical screech that clawed at her nerves. Then it lunged.

The movement was sudden, sharp, and far quicker than something cobbled together from junk should be. Its claw slashed through the air, narrowly missing her as Zaria stumbled back, her heart hammering like a malfunctioning engine. Think, Zaria!

Her gaze darted around the cavern, searching for something—anything—that could serve as a weapon. Her datapad was gone, her utility belt missing, and her lab coat pockets held nothing but lint. Then her eyes landed on a small pile of debris near the wall, chunks of stone scattered like forgotten breadcrumbs.

She lunged toward it, snatching up the largest piece her trembling hands could grasp. Without a second thought, she hurled it at the Scrapping. The stone struck its head with a harsh metallic clang, and the creature stuttered, its jerky movements pausing as sparks flew from its joints. A few mismatched parts clattered to the ground, but the red orbs in its “eyes” burned brighter.

The Scrapping tilted its head, the blinking light in its chest flashing faster. A guttural whirr filled the air as it reoriented itself, the sound grinding through her skull.

"Scrap, scrap," it hissed, its voice laced with malevolence.

It started toward her again, its claw snapping with renewed fury. Zaria’s breath hitched as she backpedaled, her boots skidding against the uneven ground. Her heel caught on something unseen, and before she knew it, she was falling.

Her back hit the hard floor with a thud that rattled her ribs, and the rocks she had gathered scattered from her grasp. Pain flared through her, sharp and immediate, but she had no time to dwell on it—the Scrapping saw its opening.

It charged, moving faster now, its mismatched parts clanking as it closed the distance. Zaria tried to push herself up, her palms scrabbling against the stone floor, but the creature was already there.

Its claw lashed out, slicing at her legs with alarming precision. She cried out as she kicked desperately, her instincts screaming for her to fight, to move, to survive. But the Scrapping’s relentless attack kept her pinned, its claw raking against her shins as it whirred and hissed.

Panic surged in her chest, but she forced herself to focus. This thing was mechanical—it had to have a weak point. Her eyes locked on the blinking light in its chest, its rhythmic flashes like a taunt. If she could just—

Another swipe of its claw grazed her calf, jolting her back to the immediate threat. She gritted her teeth, her fingers scrambling for one of the scattered stones. Her hand closed around a sharp edge, and she swung it with all her strength, aiming for the blinking gear in its core.

Zaria felt something primal surge to the surface, a raw, untamed force that clawed its way out of the fear that had gripped her since waking in that dark, alien room. The adrenaline coursing through her veins burned hotter, mingling with an anger she could no longer suppress. Her breath came fast and shallow, but her heart steadied, beating like a war drum.

Enough was enough.

Every event that had unfolded since she’d been dragged into this madness replayed in her mind—her ship swallowed by a black hole, waking up disoriented in a strange chair, the surreal game show, the mockery of Luxor’s smile, and now these clanking piles of junk trying to rip her apart. She had been a scientist, a cartographer, a calm thinker, and a pacifist for too long. But deep within her—buried under years of academic rigor and self-restraint—was the warrior spirit of her ancestors. Stories of her bloodline flashed in her mind, tales of humans who had fought tooth and nail for survival, for glory, and for sheer defiance against the odds.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Her vision narrowed, zeroing in on the glowing eyes of the Scrapping in front of her, its movements jerky and predatory. A fire ignited in her chest, burning away her hesitation. She planted her hands on the ground and pushed herself upright, her muscles trembling but her resolve ironclad.

“Not today,” she hissed, the words barely audible over the pounding of her heart.

The Scrapping lunged, its claw whirring toward her with deadly intent. Instinct took over. Zaria twisted her body, her leg snapping out in a powerful kick. Her boot connected with the creature’s core, sending it flying through the air. The satisfying crunch of metal meeting stone echoed through the cavern as it smashed into the wall and collapsed into a pile of sparking debris.

Her lips curled into a feral grin. “You picked the wrong human,” she spat, her voice carrying a fiery determination she hadn’t known she possessed.

Another Scrapping lunged from the shadows, but she was ready. Pivoting on her heel, she drove her foot into its center with precision, sending it careening into the cavern floor. It crumpled on impact, its red eyes dimming as parts scattered across the ground.

“Who’s next?” she snarled, adrenaline surging through her veins like liquid fire.

The air around her filled with the rhythmic hiss and clatter of approaching Scrappings. Their glowing red eyes flickered in the dim light, multiplying like an army assembling for war.

"Scrap, scrap, scrap," the chorus of mechanical voices taunted her, the sound growing louder with each passing second.

Zaria dropped into a striker’s stance, her fists clenched and her muscles coiled. Every lesson drilled into her by Drill Sergeant Gerard flooded her mind: how to stand, how to focus, how to fight. Her feet shifted on the cavern floor, finding solid ground, and she braced herself.

More shapes emerged from the shadows, their jagged forms catching the faint glow of the bioluminescent moss. There were too many to count, but Zaria’s fear was gone now, replaced by the resolve to fight, to survive, and to win.

“Come on, then!” she shouted, her voice echoing off the cavern walls. Her eyes blazed with fury, her stance unyielding. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

As the mechanical swarm surged toward her, Zaria stood her ground, ready to unleash every ounce of her newfound strength.

Zaria’s focus narrowed as the Scrappings advanced. At first, their disorganized single-file approach was almost laughable, each mechanical monstrosity stumbling into her range like a poorly trained soccer opponent. Her muscle memory took over, driving her boots into their cores with the precision drilled into her as a center forward during youth soccer practice.

One particularly satisfying kick sent a Scrapping hurtling into the wall, its core blinking furiously before it detonated. The resulting explosion sent sparks cascading across the cavern, illuminating the jagged walls in brilliant flashes of light. Another Scrapping, caught in the blast, screeched as its extended claws were ripped apart. Zaria allowed herself a fleeting grin—this was manageable. If they kept coming one at a time, she could handle this.

But then, the creatures adapted. A partially dismantled Scrapping paused, its remaining limb clawing at the ground. It picked up a fallen arm from one of its shattered comrades and screwed it into place with a disturbing efficiency. The sight sent a chill through Zaria, her grin faltering.

“Okay, that’s not creepy at all,” she muttered, bracing herself as the creatures began to change tactics.

Now they came in twos and threes, their movements more coordinated, more deliberate. She danced backward, dodging swipes and countering with precision kicks, but the pressure mounted. Their glowing red eyes locked onto her, relentless and calculating. The metallic hiss of their scrap-metal limbs scraping against the ground sent shivers down her spine.

Her breath came faster, the edges of panic threatening to creep in. They’re going to swarm. The realization was cold and sharp. She couldn’t let it happen.

“Think, Zaria. Think!” she muttered, her mind racing. She needed a way to turn the tide before they overwhelmed her.

And then it came—a thought, a command, or maybe a whisper from somewhere beyond herself.

Hit them in their core.

The words seemed to echo in her mind, unbidden yet undeniably clear. Without questioning, she shifted her stance, focusing her next kick directly on the blinking gear at the center of an approaching Scrapping’s torso. Her boot connected with a satisfying crunch, and the gear’s light began to blink faster and faster as the Scrapping flew backward, careening into the cluster forming behind it.

The result was instant and explosive. The Scrapping detonated, sending a shockwave that set off a chain reaction. Cores lit up like fireworks, each one triggering the next in a dazzling cascade of sparks and metal fragments. The cavern filled with the deafening sound of destruction, the air thick with the acrid stench of burning circuitry.

Zaria stumbled back, shielding her face as debris rained down around her. Her heart raced as she took in the devastation—the ground littered with shattered remains, the red glow of the Scrappings’ eyes extinguished.

“Whoop!” she shouted, pumping a fist in the air. Her triumph echoed through the cavern as adrenaline coursed through her veins. “Thank you!” she yelled to the mysterious voice in her head, the one that had given her the crucial advice.

Her celebration was cut short as a faint chime sounded, and glowing blue text appeared in her vision once more.