The moment I saw the Azure Thunder, something close to homesickness hit—like an exile staring at a familiar skyline. I wanted to step closer, to see the hull plating clearly.
Then an alarm pricked the back of my mind.
I lowered myself, focused my compound optics, and finally found what my instincts had been screaming about.
Ahead of me—closer than I liked—stood a “wall” woven from sensor fiber. Hair-thin strands crisscrossed into a net, six or seven meters high and several meters thick. They shimmered faintly, the weak light almost invisible unless you knew to look for it.
If I’d blundered into a single strand, an alarm would have screamed across the basin.
I shifted sideways, trying to find a gap—only to realize the net wrapped all the way around the ship. Patrol teams moved only outside the boundary. None of them crossed into the fiber field.
The openings in the mesh were fist-sized at best—too small even for a probe sphere, let alone a body. Going over the top was worse. Any lift would be detected.
Fine, I told myself. Pull back. At least I’ve confirmed it’s the real ship.
I took a few steps—then a thought arrived, reckless and bright.
The Azure Thunder is right there. Why not “install” a locator round on the hull?
If I succeeded, it would multiply our odds when we restarted the war for Julian. If I failed, I would expose myself instantly. The advantage we’d fought for would evaporate—and I’d likely die here.
It was against my nature.
I did it anyway.
I found a ground fissure that exhaled fog in steady bursts. I fitted a suppressor to my sniper rifle and pulled out a locator round. I opened the casing and adjusted the propellant charge with obsessive care, guided by calculations that would have made a human’s eyes bleed.
This wasn’t normal sniping.
Visibility here was almost zero. I needed the round to arc over the fiber net, cross roughly a kilometer, and land on an unremarkable spot on the ship’s hull.
Worse: the Azure Thunder was a sensitive platform. A hard impact could trigger shields or point-defense interception. To avoid detection, the moment of contact had to be gentler than a human infant tossing a tennis ball.
Impossible, any ordinary shooter would say.
I removed most of the propellant, slid the round into the chamber, and brought up the ship’s full schematic in my internal display. I matched the projection to the faint real-world outline until they aligned perfectly. Then I ran my computations again—humidity, wind drift, distance, gravity, and dozens of smaller factors.
I set my barrel to the final angle and waited.
A fissure beside me exhaled—
Pffft.
That was my moment.
I squeezed the trigger.
…
***
Five-Color Fortress drew closer.
The familiar gate slowly emerged through the haze. A line of robot soldiers waited by the roadside, and among them stood a single human—smiling, calm. When Teresa’s vehicle neared, he stepped forward and waved.
Teresa got out at once, offering the courtesy of a subordinate to a superior.
The man was Dr. Tyler Lynn. He wasn’t formally part of the military, but in the current hierarchy his standing was second only to Soren and Graham.
“Dr. Tyler Lynn,” Teresa said, posture lowered, “I’m here under Lord Soren’s orders to assist your inspection of Five-Color Fortress.”
“Thank you.” Tyler Lynn’s smile was pleasant, almost warm. “Lord Soren already briefed me. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Dr. Barnett has been missing for days,” Teresa said. “I turned Glimmer Caverns inside out and found nothing. Lord Soren is getting impatient. Before I left, he reminded me—Julian likes to leave hidden tunnels and secret rooms inside bases. He wants us to focus on whether there’s a concealed route connecting to Glimmer Caverns.”
“As we should,” Tyler Lynn said. “When we first took Five-Color Fortress, I had robots search it several times. But it’s enormous. There are still regions I haven’t stepped into myself. A full sweep with the Glimmer Guard is something I’ve wanted for a long time.”
He chuckled. “I’m hoping I sleep well tonight.”
They talked as they walked into the base. Behind them, the convoy rolled through the gate one vehicle after another. Glimmer Guards disembarked quickly and snapped into a tight formation.
To avoid attention, Little White kept to the edge—one of the least noticeable positions she could find. She looked around as if she didn’t care, and felt her stomach tighten.
The fortress had changed.
There were far more structures than she remembered, and anything tall enough to matter had been crowned with a grab-bag of defense turrets. Open ground had almost vanished—except for a small patch near the gate—replaced by arrays of surface-to-air missile silos and shield generators.
No exaggeration: the defensive grid looked ten times thicker than before.
That only made the intelligence about the Azure Thunder feel more plausible.
Then her eyes flicked to Tyler Lynn and Teresa—and her heart jumped.
For an instant, she could have sworn Tyler Lynn was looking straight at her. A faint smile tugged at his mouth, as if he’d recognized something.
A second later, he turned back to Teresa and kept talking.
I’m being paranoid, Little White told herself, letting out a breath. I’m too far away. I’m wearing a helmet. No human vision can pick me out like that.
After a while, their conversation ended. Teresa stepped forward and split the force into teams, each assigned a sector. Captains divided those teams again into smaller squads: three human soldiers plus six robots per unit.
Liam was appointed as one of the captains. Teresa deliberately placed him in the dockyard sector.
Which meant Little White went with him.
The assignments finalized. The search began.
Glimmer Guards scattered to their zones. Little White’s squad moved into the dockyards. Under Liam’s lead, they swept Docks One through Three first. The hangars were large, but simple—each contained a few warships undergoing repair. They cleared them quickly.
Little White didn’t linger. She headed straight for Dock Four, expecting to finally see the truth.
Instead, Dock Four’s main doors were sealed. Only a small human-access side door showed a green light, and several armed personnel in Research Division uniforms stood guard.
Little White tried to pass. As expected, they stopped her.
“You can’t go in,” the leader said flatly.
“We’re conducting a base-wide search under orders,” Liam said, stepping in front.
“Dock Four is classified,” the man replied without changing expression. “No one enters.”