The shimmering skyline of Ivara Prime stretched endlessly before Kovacs as he stood on the balcony of a towering government annex. The city was alive with energy—hovercraft zipped between glittering skyscrapers, and holographic billboards projected messages of unity, prosperity, and innovation. But beneath the surface, Kovacs sensed a quiet unease. The cracks in the city’s polished exterior were subtle but undeniable.

This wasn’t Prescott. The differences were stark. Yet, in some ways, the two worlds felt hauntingly similar.

Kovacs spent the morning exploring the city’s lower levels. It was a far cry from the pristine towers above. The air was heavier here, tinged with the faint scent of coolant and machine oil. Crowded streets bustled with workers, their faces marked by weariness. The buildings were older, their facades weathered and patched.

A street vendor sold bowls of steaming soup from a cart, its engine sputtering as it struggled to stay powered. Kovacs handed over a few credits and accepted a bowl, his eyes scanning the street as he ate. This was a side of Ivara Prime that the glossy brochures didn’t show—a side shaped by decades of war and recovery.

“Rough, isn’t it?” a voice said beside him.

Kovacs turned to see a man in his late forties leaning against a wall, his uniform bearing the insignia of a retired military officer. His left arm was mechanical, the dull gray plating mismatched with the rest of his worn outfit.

“War leaves its marks,” the man continued, tapping his prosthetic arm. “Doesn’t matter how advanced the tech is. People pay the price.”

Kovacs nodded, unsure of what to say. His thoughts drifted to Prescott, where the scars of conflict were fresher, rawer. He thought of the battered fields, the shattered buildings, and the grieving families.

“Prescott,” Kovacs said softly, surprising himself by sharing. “That’s where I’m from.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “That’s the frontier world that got hit recently, right? Tough break.”

“Yeah,” Kovacs replied, his voice quieter. “We’re rebuilding. Slowly.”

The man gave a grim nod. “We’ve all been there. But don’t let anyone fool you—places like this? They’ve still got their scars. We just hide them better.”

Kovacs finished his soup in silence, the man’s words settling over him like a shadow.

Later that day, Kovacs found himself back in the CID’s operations center, where the tension had reached a new high. Agents crowded around the central hologram, which displayed intercepted communications and trade logs.

“What’s going on?” Kovacs asked as he entered.

Jackie, standing near the edge of the room, motioned him over. “They’ve found something big,” she said, her tone grim. “Lorne’s team traced another link in the chain.”

Agent Lorne, ever the commanding presence, stepped into the center of the room. “Listen up,” she began, her voice cutting through the noise. “We’ve confirmed that the enemy faction behind the Prescott attack sourced their technology from black-market suppliers right here on Ivara Prime.”

A murmur rippled through the room as Lorne continued. “Our latest data pull identifies a series of shell companies tied to the Consortium. These companies have been funneling advanced tech and weaponry to the attackers—tech that matches what we recovered from Prescott.”

Kovacs felt a chill run down his spine. The idea that the tools of destruction that had ravaged his homeworld had been created here, on this glittering planet, filled him with a quiet rage.

“Do we know who’s running the operation?” Jackie asked.

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Lorne shook her head. “Not yet. The shell companies are heavily encrypted, and every lead we’ve followed gets buried under layers of plausible deniability. But we’re getting closer.”

“Closer isn’t good enough,” Jackie muttered under her breath.

The briefing was cut short by the sharp blare of alarms. The room’s lights shifted to red as a synthetic voice echoed through the intercom: “Security breach. Hostile forces detected. All personnel to alert stations.”

Kovacs and Jackie exchanged a quick glance before sprinting into action. The CID agents moved with practiced efficiency, grabbing weapons and armor as they poured out of the operations room.

“What’s happening?” Kovacs asked, his voice tight.

“Someone found us,” Jackie said grimly, checking the charge on her rifle. “Lorne’s digging too deep, and now they’re pushing back.”

The corridors of the Resolute were chaos as the team prepared to repel the intruders. The ship’s internal sensors displayed a dozen hostile blips converging on their location.

“They’re trying to cripple us before we get to the Institute,” Lorne barked as she joined the group. “We hold this position. No one gets through.”

The first wave of attackers breached the ship’s outer airlocks with precision, their black combat suits and sleek weapons marking them as professionals. Jackie’s team opened fire, the corridor erupting into chaos as energy bolts and kinetic rounds ricocheted off walls and armor.

Kovacs ducked behind a bulkhead, his heart pounding. He wasn’t a soldier—he was a designer, a builder. But as the fight raged around him, he couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Spotting a fallen enemy weapon nearby, he scrambled to grab it, the cold metal feeling foreign in his hands.

Jackie shouted over the din of battle. “Kovacs, stay down! This isn’t your fight!”

“I’m not dying here!” he shouted back, peeking around the corner to fire a few wild shots. They missed their mark, but the gesture felt strangely empowering.

The attackers pressed forward, using coordinated movements to pin the CID agents. Jackie, in the thick of the fight, ducked and weaved between cover, her shots precise and deadly. She shouted orders to her team, her voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.

“Push them back! Don’t let them get to the operations room!”

Kovacs spotted one of the attackers planting a device on a bulkhead—a breaching charge. Panic surged through him as he realized what it was. Without thinking, he bolted toward it, firing at the attacker as he ran. The shots missed, but the distraction was enough for Jackie to take the hostile down with a clean shot to the head.

“What the hell are you doing, Kovacs?” she barked as she ran to his side, yanking him away from the device.

“Saving your data!” he shot back, his chest heaving. “They can’t get to it, right?”

Jackie gave him a sharp look, then nodded. “Fair point. But don’t get yourself killed in the process.”

The fight continued, brutal and unrelenting. One by one, the attackers fell, but not without cost. Several CID agents were injured, their armor scorched and bloodied. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last hostile went down, their lifeless body slumping against the wall.

The corridor was eerily quiet in the aftermath, the acrid smell of burnt circuitry and blood heavy in the air. Jackie leaned against a bulkhead, her breathing ragged as she wiped sweat from her brow.

“Everyone still breathing?” she asked, her voice rough.

Kovacs nodded shakily, his hands trembling as he set the weapon down. “Barely.”

Agent Lorne appeared, her face grim as she surveyed the damage. “They knew exactly where to hit us,” she said. “This wasn’t random. They’ve got someone feeding them intel.”

Jackie narrowed her eyes. “You think it’s someone inside?”

Lorne’s expression darkened. “It’s possible. But whoever it is, they underestimated us.”

Kovacs leaned against the wall, his mind racing. The attackers had been professionals, their movements coordinated and deliberate. But what unnerved him most was their equipment. The weapons, the armor—it all looked advanced. Too advanced for a group of hired guns.

“Those weren’t just mercenaries,” he said quietly.

Lorne turned to him. “What do you mean?”

“Their gear,” Kovacs said, his voice steady despite his exhaustion. “It was modular. High-efficiency. It reminded me of the materials I’ve been studying for my mech.”

Jackie frowned. “You’re saying they were using the same tech?”

Kovacs nodded. “Or something close to it. Whoever sent them isn’t just trying to stop us—they’re protecting something. Something big.”

The team regrouped in the operations room, where Lorne began piecing together the data they had salvaged. The attack had been a warning, but it had also confirmed one thing: the enemy was watching, and they wouldn’t hesitate to strike again.

Jackie leaned toward Kovacs, her voice low. “You did good out there. Reckless, but good.”

Kovacs managed a weak smile. “Thanks. I think.”

She smirked, clapping him on the shoulder. “Next time, maybe aim before you shoot.”

As the team worked late into the night, the tension in the air grew heavier. The attack had raised more questions than answers, and the scope of the enemy’s network was becoming terrifyingly clear. But despite the danger, Kovacs felt a spark of determination. He wasn’t just fighting for survival anymore—he was fighting for the truth.