“Their records mention containment failures,” Clive explained, glancing at the Egg with a mix of fascination and unease. “The device’s systems were stable when they left the facility, but halfway through their journey, strange anomalies began occurring. Equipment malfunctions, time discrepancies in their logs, and... missing crew members.”

“Missing?” Patton asked, his tone skeptical.

Clive nodded. “The logs are fragmented, but it seems the device started drawing in matter around it. Small objects at first—tools, loose components. But it escalated. By the time they realized what was happening, it was too late. The ship destabilized, and the crew abandoned ship.”

Patton frowned. “And this device survived intact?”

“Yes, which is a testament to its design,” Clive said. “It’s built to withstand extreme conditions. Whatever their intentions were, this wasn’t some crude prototype. It’s advanced—far beyond anything we’ve seen.”

Patton took a step closer to the Black Egg, studying its seamless surface. “You’re telling me this thing is a black hole in waiting?”

“In essence, yes,” Clive said. “If activated, it creates a singularity—a gravitational collapse that pulls in all matter within range until equilibrium is reached. Unlike conventional weapons, it doesn’t rely on explosive force. Its destructive potential is... limitless.”

Patton’s expression didn’t waver. “And yet here it is, sitting on my desk, ready for deployment.”

Clive hesitated. “General, I must stress that we don’t fully understand this device. If it malfunctions, if something goes wrong... the consequences could be catastrophic.”

Patton’s lips tightened into a grim line. “Dr. Clive, we’re fighting a war. The enemy has a factory ship out there producing mechs faster than we can destroy them. If this weapon can take that ship out, I don’t care about the risks.”

“It’s not just a matter of risk,” Clive insisted. “This device doesn’t differentiate between friend and foe. Once the singularity forms, it will consume until there’s nothing left within its range. That factory ship won’t be the only thing destroyed.”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take,” Patton said flatly.

Clive stepped forward, her tone softer but no less urgent. “General, I understand the stakes. But this isn’t just another weapon. This is a relic of a long-dead civilization—a civilization that may have been wiped out because of devices like this. We’ve uncovered enough to know they abandoned this technology for a reason.”

Patton turned to her, his gaze hard. “And yet they built it. And now it’s in our hands. We didn’t ask for this war, Doctor, but we’re damn sure going to finish it. If that means using their mistakes to ensure our survival, so be it.”

Clive sighed, clearly realizing there was no changing his mind. “At least allow me to monitor the device during deployment. If there’s even a fraction of a chance to control or mitigate its effects—”

“You’ll have full access,” Patton said, his tone softening slightly. “But understand this: I’m not looking for control. I’m looking for results. That factory ship falls, no matter the cost.”

Clive nodded reluctantly, glancing once more at the Black Egg. “Let’s hope your gamble pays off, General. For all our sakes.”

The Black Egg, silent and unmoving, seemed to mock her unease with its quiet, ominous presence.

***

The transport shuddered as it sped low over the rough terrain, its engines roaring in a determined nape-of-the-earth flight. The cabin was dimly lit, filled with the tense silence of soldiers steeling themselves for what lay ahead. Sitting near the front, Jackie Stewart kept her gaze forward, trying to keep her mind focused on the mission.

The volunteers from the barracks sat across from her, exhaustion visible on their faces. It had been a grueling few days, and the sudden call-up for an extraction had left them running on fumes. The sergeant, a grizzled man named Barrett, leaned forward and addressed them in a low, almost fatherly tone.

"Get some rest while you can," he advised, his voice rough but sincere. “This might be the only downtime you get.”

One of the younger privates, eyes half-lidded with fatigue, grunted in acknowledgment, shifting to find a more comfortable position on the hard bench. His rifle rested across his lap, hands never far from it, even as his head drooped.

Barrett then turned to Stewart, who was still wide-eyed and alert. “Ma’am, you might want to get some rest, too,” he suggested gently. “If things go south, you’ll need every bit of energy you’ve got.”

Stewart managed a tired smile, her blue eyes showing gratitude and determination. “I know, sergeant,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “But I’ve never been good at sleeping before a fight.”

Barrett gave a slight nod. “I hear that. Just don’t let it get to you. We need you sharp when we hit the ground.”

The cabin rocked slightly as the pilot made a sudden adjustment, skimming over a rise before diving back into a narrow valley. The flight was harrowing, the transport zigzagging to stay under enemy radar, but the engines' steady rhythm and the cabin's darkness made it oddly restful. The hum of the machinery and the slight vibrations became a strange lullaby, allowing some of the men to finally drift off into a restless sleep.

Stewart leaned back against the cold metal wall, momentarily closing her eyes. Her mind raced with what she knew of the mission: a high-risk extraction, a contested landing zone, and the unknown factors of the evac site. But there were no answers in the darkness behind her eyelids, just the endless churn of questions and worry.

The fleeting rest was shattered when the red lights flickered on inside the cabin, accompanied by a harsh buzz. Barrett kicked the nearest soldier awake, his voice suddenly sharp. “Wake up! LZ’s under fire! Move, move, move!”

Stewart’s eyes snapped open, adrenaline flooding her veins as she lurched upright. The once-quiet cabin instantly turned chaotic, with the volunteers shaking off sleep and grabbing their weapons. The transport jolted as incoming fire peppered the air around them, the sound of distant explosions growing louder.

“What’s the situation?” Stewart shouted over the comms, her voice urgent as she tightened the straps on her gear.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

The pilot’s voice crackled back, full of tension. “LZ is hot, Cadet Stewart. We’ve got hostiles all over the site—snipers and at least one heavy gun emplacement on the south ridge. I’m going to try to get you down, but it will be rough!”

The volunteers readied themselves, rifles up, eyes alert as they waited for the ramp to lower. Stewart turned to Barrett. “Sergeant, keep the unit tight. We need to move fast once we hit the ground.”

Barrett nodded, his eyes scanning the ramp as if trying to see through the thick metal. “Copy that, ma’am. We’ll form a perimeter the second we’re out. You lead, we’ll follow.”

The transport rocked violently, taking evasive maneuvers as more gunfire rattled the hull. The air was filled with the sounds of combat—explosions, the whine of bullets, and the sharp staccato of enemy rifles.

"Brace!" the pilot yelled over the comms. “We’re going in hard!”

The transport dropped suddenly, and the ramp lowered even before hitting the ground. A blast of cold air and gunfire filled the cabin, the biting scent of smoke and burning vegetation overwhelming.

“Go, go, go!” Barrett shouted, and the volunteers charged down the ramp, boots hitting the dirt hard as they fanned out.

Stewart was behind them, her heart pounding as she entered the scene. The landing zone was a hellscape—smoke billowed from a burning supply truck nearby, and the ground was pockmarked with craters from recent shelling. Bullets whizzed past, tearing through the air.

“Snipers!” one of the volunteers shouted, pointing toward the ridge to the south. “We’ve got to clear that high ground, or we’re sitting ducks!”

Stewart gritted her teeth, adrenaline sharpening her senses. “Volunteers, on me!” she shouted, raising her rifle. “Sergeant, take half and secure the evac point. We’ll push for the ridge and clear it!”

Barrett nodded, already issuing orders. “You heard the cadet! Hold the perimeter, give ‘em cover fire!”

Stewart sprinted forward, the volunteers at her side as they charged toward the ridge. The ground was rough and uneven, the sounds of gunfire and explosions deafening, but they pressed on. Bullets snapped past her head, but she kept moving, feeling the heat of battle surge through her veins.

“Almost there!” she yelled over her shoulder. “Keep pushing!”

Stewart dropped to a knee as they reached the ridge base, scanning the rocks above. “Private, give me cover fire! I’m going up!”

Without hesitation, one of the volunteers unleashed a burst of suppressive fire, the heavy rounds tearing into the rocks. Stewart surged forward, climbing the rough slope, her rifle ready.

The enemy sniper’s position became clear, and a flash of muzzle fire gave him away. Stewart squeezed off two quick shots and kept advancing, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Clear!” she shouted to the squad, her voice hoarse. “Ridge is secure—move the asset up now!”

The volunteers and Barrett’s group began to converge on the extraction point, securing the area as the transport circled back for pickup. The sounds of gunfire faded into the background as the urgency of the mission took over.

“Good work, ma’am,” Barrett said as they regrouped, his voice heavy with exhaustion but full of respect. “You handled that like a pro.”

Stewart nodded, still catching her breath. “Wasn’t pretty, but we’re getting out of here in one piece.”

The transport touched down, the ramp lowering again. The team piled in, bodies bruised and battered but alive. As they lifted off, Stewart allowed herself a moment of relief. The mission wasn’t over, but they had survived the worst of it—for now.

***

Captain Hale stood in the dimly lit command post, a thin layer of dust coating the rough wooden floor. His comms officer handed him a freshly printed communique, the paper still warm from the machine. Hale read the message quickly, his eyes narrowing at the cryptic phrasing:

"The postman is en route for the package. Ensure it’s ready for collection."

Hale’s jaw tightened. It was the confirmation he’d been waiting for. Kovacs was no ordinary evac, and whoever was behind this extraction wasn’t playing by the usual rules.

He turned to Sergeant Anders, his voice low but commanding. “Round up Kovacs and his escort. We’ve got orders to have him ready for immediate pickup. Make it fast, Sergeant.”

Anders, a seasoned soldier with a grizzled demeanor, nodded sharply. “Yes, sir,” he replied, already moving toward the door. “I’ll bring him in.”

The sergeant moved quickly through the makeshift camp, the urgency clear on his face. He spotted Kovacs working on one of the battered mechs, hands deep in its exposed wiring. “Kovacs!” Anders barked, catching the man’s attention. “You’re needed in the command post. Now.”

Kovacs looked up, his brow furrowed with suspicion. “What’s going on?”

“Orders from Captain Hale,” Anders replied, his tone leaving no room for questions. “You’re being moved out. Grab your gear and come with me.”

Kovacs wiped his hands on a rag, clearly reluctant to leave the half-fixed mech behind, but he complied. His escort, a small group of militia fighters who had taken a liking to the mechanic, closed in protectively as they made their way toward the command post.

As they entered the structure, Hale was waiting, his expression serious. “Kovacs,” he said, motioning for him to step forward. “You’re getting extracted. A special team is coming for you.”

Kovacs’ eyes narrowed. “Why now? What’s changed?”

Hale didn’t answer, but his expression was tense. “We don’t have time for questions. Just be ready to move as soon as they arrive.”

Before Kovacs could respond, the sharp, unmistakable sound of explosions ripped through the air, followed by the eerie whine of incoming artillery shells. Hale’s head snapped up, and within seconds, the first impacts hit the treeline just beyond the camp.

“Get down!” he shouted, grabbing Kovacs and pulling him to the floor as debris and dirt flew through the open windows.

The command post shook violently, rattling under the pressure of the blasts. The ground outside erupted in a hail of shrapnel and splintered wood, the once-sturdy trees collapsing in a cascade of destruction.

“Enemy fire!” Anders shouted over the din, his voice barely audible above the explosions. “Looks like they found us!”

Hale cursed under his breath, pushing himself up from the floor and glancing outside. The treeline was a burning chaos, smoke billowing up as more shells slammed into the ground. “They’re trying to cut off the evac!” he yelled to Anders. “We need to move Kovacs now, or we’ll lose our window!”

Kovacs struggled to his feet, adrenaline surging through his veins. He looked at Hale, determination etched on his face. “I’m game.”

Hale gave him a hard look, his eyes reflecting the moment's urgency. “Don’t get blown to bits. Stay close and follow my lead.”

Anders barked orders to the militia escort. “Keep tight around Kovacs! Get him to the extraction point before the postman arrives!” He said, pointing to the young man.

The air around them seemed to tremble as the whine of approaching engines grew louder. A dark shape appeared above the chaos of gunfire and explosions, cutting through the smoke—A Peregrine, a fast-attack gunship designed for close support, roaring in low over the treeline. Its under-mounted cannons opened up immediately, hammering the advancing enemy mechs with a barrage of heavy shells.

The impact was brutal and immediate. The lead mech staggered under the sudden onslaught sparks flying as its armor buckled and cracked. Two more enemy mechs attempted to advance, but The Peregrine adjusted its angle, bringing its cannons to bear with pinpoint accuracy, sending shells slamming into their torsos.

"That’s our cover!" Hale shouted, his voice barely audible over the deafening roar of the gunship’s cannons. “Push forward now!”

The evac team surged forward as The Peregrine continued to pour fire onto the enemy position. One of the enemy mechs, a bulky, two-legged brawler, took a direct hit to its left leg, causing it to stumble and crash sideways into the dirt. The machine’s massive frame groaned as it struggled to rise, but before it could recover, one of the soldiers broke from the group, sprinting toward it with reckless abandon.

“Cover him!” Anders yelled, raising his rifle to provide suppressing fire.

The soldier, a young private named Cole, dodged through the battlefield with remarkable speed. He reached the downed mech, climbing up its massive shoulder and toward its head. The enemy pilot inside seemed disoriented, and the mech twitched and shifted erratically, trying to regain balance.

Cole didn’t hesitate. He pulled a magnetic charge from his pack and slapped it onto the base of the mech’s head, the device adhering with a loud clang. He leaped off the mech without a second’s pause, hitting the ground hard and rolling to minimize the impact. “Fire in the hole!” he yelled, scrambling for cover.

The charge detonated in a blinding flash, followed by a deafening explosion. The shaped charge sent metal fragments into the pilot compartment, smoke billowing from the gaping hole where the cockpit had been. Sparks erupted from severed wiring, and the mech’s body jerked violently, its systems failing in a cascade of electrical bursts. The machine collapsed onto its side, its massive form crumpling like a broken toy.

The Peregrine continued its strafing run, pounding the remaining enemy forces as the evac team finally pushed to the extraction point.