The Loading Docks

Acid rain battered the rusted titanium walkways of Sector 4’s primary loading docks. Kaelen crouched behind a towering stack of shipping crates, his breath pluming in the frigid air. The heavy canvas satchel slung across his chest hummed with the unstable energy of a Class-A plasma drive. It was a flawless heist—until the floodlights ignited, turning the shadows into blinding, unforgiving white.

"Drop the drive, scavenger. Hands where we can see them."

The synthesized voice boomed from the PA system. Kaelen cursed under his breath, drawing a pair of scavenged kinetic blasters from his holsters. He spun from his cover, firing off a rapid volley of suppressive fire. Three regime Enforcers in heavy tactical armor took the brunt of the kinetic blasts, their shields flaring blue before they stumbled backward. Kaelen broke into a dead sprint toward the perimeter fence.

He almost made it.

A sharp, agonizing shock ripped through his nervous system as a stun-baton struck the back of his knees. Kaelen collapsed onto the wet grating, his weapons clattering away into the dark. A heavy boot planted itself firmly between his shoulder blades, pinning him to the deck.

"Still as pathetic in close-quarters combat as you were at the academy, Kaelen."

That voice. The cold, aristocratic sneer that haunted his nightmares.

Kaelen gritted his teeth, craning his neck to look up. Commander Lyra stood over him, clad in the sleek, imposing black armor of an Elite Enforcer. The rain beaded off her polished helmet, which retracted with a sharp hiss to reveal the sharp, striking features of the woman he had once loved. Her expression was entirely devoid of warmth.

"Lyra," Kaelen spat, tasting blood and rainwater. "Come to finish the job? Wasn't ruining my life the first time enough for you?"

Lyra’s lip curled in disgust. "You ruined your own life by being weak. Cuff him," she ordered the recovering Enforcers.

Rough hands yanked Kaelen from the deck. His arms were wrenched behind his back, heavy magnetic cuffs snapping shut around his wrists with a final, echoing click. As Lyra stepped forward to inspect his bindings, she leaned in close, her breath ghosting over his ear.

"You're a disgrace," she sneered loud enough for her squad to hear.

But as she shoved him backward, Kaelen felt the briefest, sharpest pressure against his bound hands. Something small and cold was forcefully wedged into his palm.

"Load him into my personal shuttle," Lyra commanded, turning her back on him. "I'll conduct the interrogation myself."

Kaelen kept his face entirely neutral, his fingers curling tightly around the metallic object Lyra had slipped him. He ran his thumb over a raised button. It was a localized EMP detonator.