The mission was going to hell.

Ember looked out from the balustrade: her fellow cadets were lowering their weapons against the iron of the enemy machines, but they could not make a dent. With their long metal arms, they pierced the cadets' chests as if they were made of paper. White canvases ripped open and filled with red.

Ember clenched her fists and shook her head. They would have hated her, called her a coward. But if she hoped to make a difference, this was the only chance she had.

Stay focused. Always keep your eyes on the goal. There's no time for doubt.

Sergeant Ferun's voice boomed in her head. Ember nodded, as if the woman was really there, watching her. She imagined the stunted half-smile on her face. She will make her proud.

She headed upward, down the ramp that bordered the building. The battle below made everything vibrate, and in running fast she risked stumbling a couple of times. She kept one hand clenched on the railing at all times to give herself a boost and get back up as soon as she felt herself falter.

A thud beside her raised a cloud of dust. A window next to her vibrated, glass bursting. Ember covered her eyes, her sword tightly clutched in her other hand. A creature made of metal thrust its stubby torso toward her. A red light pointed at her. Its long, tube-like legs unfurled with each movement.

"Figures."

Ember raised her sword just in time: the creature snapped its paw toward her. Its fingers closed on the blade, three great phalanxes of creaking iron.

Harness the momentum. Never waste a single move.

"Just watch, Sarge." Ember spun the blade. The creature's paw twisted in on itself. It tried to move, and Ember shifted her body weight backward, pulling it with her.

She pressed the button on the hilt. A surge of energy made her arm shake. A dull sound filled her ears. And then a shield of electrical energy exploded, destroying the creature's fingers. It let out a robotic scream, a half-moan, and staggered backward.

Ember threw herself at it. The shield slammed into the iron of its body. She gritted her teeth, muscles straining from the impact. The creature crashed down the railing with a shrill scream.

"Gotcha!"

The cackling of the battle below continued. Ember closed her eyes. The screams of her comrades became images. Vivid memories of Lark falling to the ground, of Petra being thrown against the wall of a crumbling building. A black and white tiled floor, its joints filled with blood.

No, no, she had to concentrate. Think about the goal.

She started again. A huge shiny metal ball swirled in the air. From its center, it emitted beams of blue energy that swept across the battlefield. It shattered cadets and machines alike.

Berserker strategy, the Sergeant had called it. The enemy didn't mind sacrificing their soulless pawns if it meant destroying the enemy.

A mission lost in the beginning.

On the roof was a domed structure the size of the training ground where Ember trained every morning. A round window marked its center, and the beak of a cannon looked out from inside.

A door blocked the entrance. Ember grabbed the round crown crank. She tried to turn it, but it would not budge.

"Why the hell... somebody up there doesn't... like me?"

Ember gasped. She couldn't do it alone. She had come all this way for nothing. She had left her companions to die.

A gloved hand rested on hers. Then a second was added. Sergeant Ferun appeared at her side, her eyes two windows to the sea in this world of iron and devastation. "Pull on my command."

"Sarge!" Ember smiled. Her cheeks furrowed, she nodded, and together they turned the crank. It screeched with the fury of a dying banshee. It almost hurt her ears.

The door opened, revealing a bare interior of intricate tangles of cables and pipes connecting puffing machines. The Sergeant entered at a brisk pace, her pale red hair in perfect order, gathered in a single wave that fell over her shoulder. She silently inspected the machinery, one hand on her hip.

There was always a strange aura about the Sergeant. Freezing, distant, as if trying to keep the world at arm's length. Yet Ember had never felt cold in her small attempts to get closer.

It's just that you've lost your head over her, like the good idiot you are.

The voice in her head resembled her father's. Gruff, babbling after another glass of wine.

Ember hated it when he was right.

The base of the cannon stood at the far end of the structure, just in front of the window. Ember ran a hand over it: cold, it hadn't been used in years. Who knew if it would work.

"Do you know how to use it?"

The Sergeant huffed, her arms crossed over her chest. "No. Ancient Ysnian technology has never been my forte."

Ember would have laughed if the situation hadn't dropped a boulder on her heart. She focused on the cannon again, watching the valves that marked parameters she didn't understand a damn thing about.

Until the sergeant huffed again. "This mission was a mistake."

Ember lowered her head. "I know. We did everything wrong, we should have chosen a defensive strategy..."

"No, that's not the problem."

She brought her fingers to her chest and met the Sergeant's gaze. "What do you mean?"

"We were told we would only find a handful of enemy machines and ruins. A mission fit for cadets. Not this."

"So it was a trap?"

The Sergeant put both hands on her hips. The machine beside her emitted a flashing light that bathed one side of her face. "There is a spy in the upper ranks. Someone who has alerted the Ysnian Army of our arrival."

A terrifying possibility. Ember pictured the faces of her superiors: Colonel Oblam, with his ridiculous mustache and encouraging words; Lieutenant Alpes and his habit of snooping around and acting like a fairy godmother; General Phoenix, fearless and sometimes too reckless.

One of them had sent all those cadets to their gruesome deaths.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Ember clutched the flame-shaped pendant that hung around her neck. "Why would they do that? We are just cadets. Why waste all these resources on us?"

"Because you are the future of the Army." The Sergeant sighed, gloved fingers caressing the valve of a machine. "The Ysnians know very well that the war will last for years. Eliminating new enemy recruits is not only easy, it also means eliminating future threats before they can become such."

"Morality in war goes to hell," Ember muttered. Words her Sergeant had repeated to her many times, but never rang so true.

The woman's face softened. The cold aura became less icy. She parted her lips as if to speak, only to look away and return her focus to the machine. Plumes of smoke rose. "This one looks lit."

"Can you make any sense of it?"

"No. But I think it's stuck." The Sergeant slammed the sole of her shoe into the machine. It shook from the force of the kick, and smoke came out in small concentric wisps.

"Um, Sarge, with all due respect, I don't think..."

She didn't even listen to her: she delivered another blow, and the machine stopped huffing and puffing.

They both stood motionless. Ember held her breath, her fingers tightening around the pendant.

The machine began to beep. A loud, disturbing alarm. Ember covered her ears, and the sergeant clucked her tongue in annoyance.

"Can't you turn it off?" Ember asked. Her heart pounded in her chest in the same rhythm as the siren. "Before they send those jointed creatures to crush us?"

The Sergeant lifted her head to look at the ceiling. "I doubt that's our biggest problem."

"Huh?"

A roar rattled the floor. Ember lost her balance and almost fell face first to the ground like a perfect idiot. Sergeant Ferun grabbed her shoulders and she felt her heart rise in her throat.

"What is it?" Ember asked.

"Trouble."

A beam of blue light pierced the dome. It passed right over their heads. It burned the air. So much so that Ember could find no oxygen to fill her lungs, and she stood there, her eyes wide, staring into those of her Sergeant.

They were going to die. They were totally screwed.

"Watch out!" Sergeant Ferun grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the ground. Ember fell on top of her. Another beam of light crossed the room, cutting through the exact spot where their heads had been.

Ember stood after her. Her hands were shaking so much that she could barely control them. She put them on her thighs, trying to stop them. "What was that?"

"The Vylian. The Ysnian's weapon of choice." The Sergeant went to the cannon. She inspected the knobs and readouts, then kicked the machine with a piqued snap of her tongue.

Ember blinked, confused. They should have run, right? They were trapped in there, and the stupid cannon wouldn't know how to fire. But she stayed, and stayed, and watched her Sergeant's back as she searched for a solution with her unconventional methods.

"Piece of junk," she heard her mutter.

At the window, beyond the tip of the cannon, something blocked the sun. A huge mass, emitting light in turn. A huge blue glass eye was staring at her from outside.

Ember moved immediately. She found shelter behind one of the steam belching machines. She closed her eyes and felt only the heat of another enemy attack.

Sarge, be alright. Please.

She had no time to look. Metal creatures hurled themselves inside. The nearest threw a paw at her; Ember discarded to the side at the last with a scream. The creature hit a pipe and exploded. A jet of steam scorched her pants and burned her skin.

Ember gritted her teeth and limped away. She drew her sword and turned to face her enemies.

One to her left, watching her with its red cybernetic eye. One to her right, perched on a pipe. Two in front of her, moving slowly forward as if they knew they had already won.

Ember fought to keep her sword steady, her entire body shaking. Sweat trickled down her forehead: fear or pain? She could not tell. But her thigh throbbed and screamed, hot as a boiling teapot.

The first attack came from the right. Ember moved her feet to move, but her leg gave way. The creature threw its entire body at her. Fifty or more pounds of pure iron crashed through her stomach. Her vision blurred. Drops of blood went up her windpipe; she spit them out with a cough.

Two more creatures charged at her. Ember activated her electromagnetic energy shield just in time. She softened both blows, but slipped back.

Her knees barely held her up. The muscles in her legs were like jelly, ready to collapse at any moment.

She was dead. She knew it. Useless to resist.

But she did not give up.

As one of the creatures lunged at her again, Ember deactivated her shield and drew her sword. She sliced its arm cleanly in a spray of sparks.

A gust of air sent a wisp of hair flying in front of her eyes. Sergeant Ferun stood between her and the enemies. The long blade of her sword slashed quickly, cutting the creatures into pieces. She jumped from one to the other, never stopping: she used her momentum. A secret that made her as fast as she was deadly.

But no matter how many she stopped, more would come.

Ember turned, the blue eye staring at her from outside the window. Its light flickered. What had she learned in class about the Vylian? Think, Ember, think.

A weapon of advanced technology, able to destroy with lethal attacks or to remotely command other machines. Therefore, destroying the Vylian would also stop the creatures.

Easier said than done.

Ember hobbled over to the cannon. The valves did not seem to make sense. There were star patterns and magnetic fields. What the hell were they measuring? Behind her echoed the clank of the Sergeant's sword.

Ember tried to touch something. The cannon trembled, only to die soon after. A telltale light flashed off to the side: an arrow hitting a stylized line and returning. Ember blinked, uncomprehending. They could have used more decent instructions. Ysnians could be absolute geniuses and complete idiots at the same time.

And then she had an idea.

Holding her stomach, still upside down after the blow she had received, she threw herself onto the cannon with all her weight. She pressed down on it, but could not move its tip even a millimeter. Damn it. If she survived, she swore she would spend her days doing push-ups.

Then, with a squeak, the cannon shifted. The Sergeant appeared at her side, sword raised, her attention focused on the growing group of creatures pouring in. "What are you doing?"

Ember gritted her teeth. One last effort... and lo and behold, the tip was pointing right at the center of the Vylian's eye. "This is not a cannon."

Sergeant Ferun shot her a puzzled look. "Have you been hit in the head? It's obviously a cannon."

"No, it's not. It has a reflecting magic spell inside." At least she hoped so. "Try pissing off the Vylian."

"Hmm?" She raised an eyebrow, far from convinced. Eventually, though, she listened to her and jumped on the cannon, raising the tip of the sword to the Vylian's eye. A threat. Or rather, a bluster.

But it worked. The eye stopped flashing. It emitted another beam of blue light, but instead of hitting the Sergeant, it was sucked into the cannon. All the valves sputtered. The beam then sputtered out of the muzzle and crashed into the Vylian. It pierced its eye and tore through the entire structure, leaving a large hole.

And as the Vylian collapsed, the creatures behind them lost their life force. Their movements became slow and jerky before they stopped altogether. They had become iron statues in a variety of positions.

Ember allowed herself to sigh. And as soon as the air left her lungs, her whole body sent out jolts of pain that bent her in two.

The Sergeant placed a hand on her shoulder. "You did well." A small glimmer of pride in the midst of that sea of pain and despair.

"Thank you."

"Let's go." The Sergeant put an arm under her shoulders and helped her to her feet. She was strong and firm. Ember swallowed, trying not to think too much about the butterflies in her stomach.

"What's the plan now?"

"Help the survivors, if there are any. Then find the spy." A moment's pause. The Sergeant looked ahead, helping Ember past the iron statues. "Keep it secret for now."

That made sense. Better not to arouse suspicion; that would make the search more difficult. "Can I help with the investigation?"

The other curled her lips into a small, rare smile. "Just try to stay out of trouble."