Sheriff Havelock
Jake Applebaum ran beside the grav-stretcher as it floated through the clinic doors, hands locked on the rails like letting go would kill his kids.
Neither teen had moved since collapsing in the forest.
Doc Myers didn’t like it. Every few seconds her handheld scanner beeped; each time, her frown deepened. She muttered under her breath, ignored the readout, and went back to manual checks—pulse, eyelids, penlight in unresponsive pupils.
Still out.
The lobby went quiet as the stretcher rushed past. Three colonists waiting for treatment stared.
“’Bout damned time y—” one started.
Then he saw the blood.
The complaint died.
“Emergency room,” Myers snapped, shoving through the inner doors.
Jake followed, eyes never leaving his children.
Havelock released the stretcher at the doorway and turned back to the lobby.
Up close, the three men weren’t just impatient—they were hurt. Bloody scrapes on arms, one sleeve soaked red, the youngest favoring a leg with visible bite marks through torn pants.
“Gentlemen,” Havelock said evenly, planting himself center-room. “Take a seat. Start from the beginning.”
They shifted but complied.
“Doc’s gonna be a minute,” he added. “In the meantime, explain why half the room looks like it lost a fight.”
The fat one gestured vaguely toward the outskirts. “Comin’ back from hydro. Animals hit us.”
“Pack of them dog-things,” another said. “Ones we see past the fields sometimes.”
“Never like this,” the youngest muttered.
Havelock frowned.
A few native scavengers roamed the brush outside the fences. They usually avoided people.
He sent a quiet ping through his neural comms, alerting the deputies.
Twenty thousand colonists. Handover to local security was supposed to happen in a week.
At this rate, the Marines might not rotate out anytime soon.
He pushed into the emergency room.
Jake leaned over his daughter’s bed, face inches from hers. “Look! Her eyes are twitching!”
Myers leaned in, checked the overhead display, then the brother’s monitor. “Yeah. Brain activity’s climbing.”
She nodded once. “Think they’re waking up.”
Relief hit Jake so hard he gripped the bed rail.
Havelock gave the room a final scan, then stepped back to the lobby.
The three injured men hovered near the doorway, craning to see.
“Doc’s gonna be busy,” Havelock said, jerking a thumb toward the cabinets. “Bandages and antiseptic are there. Help yourselves.”
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They nodded and shuffled off.
Havelock headed for the exit.
He didn’t make it three steps outside before the ground shuddered.
A low, rhythmic tremor rolled through the colony.
He turned slowly toward the forest edge.
The grim line of his mouth said he already knew.
“Deputy Smith,” he said through comms.
His NCP connected instantly.
“You back at the office?”
A beat.
“Good.”
Havelock kept staring at the tree line.
“Break out the hardware.”
Another tremor.
“I think we’re gonna need it.”
Ginny and Zach
Ginny was scared.
She knew one thing with absolute certainty—she wasn’t awake.
Far off, faint flashes lit the horizon.
Seconds later, muffled thunder.
The black, featureless surface under her feet rippled like water with each boom.
Lightning.
Thunder.
Ripples.
A stiff wind brushed her face.
She turned; the wind followed.
“Hello!” she shouted.
Her voice swallowed by the dark.
Lightning.
Thunder.
Ripples.
Wind.
Then rain—first a drizzle, light taps on skin.
Then heavier.
Soon a downpour, sheets blurring the already dark horizon. Fat drops whipped sideways, stinging her face no matter which way she turned.
“Anyone!?” she yelled, hands shielding her eyes.
Rain hammered harder.
Lightning flashed faster.
Thunder roared louder.
The surface no longer rippled—it bucked like storm-tossed sea.
Ginny stumbled, panic clawing her chest as she spun, searching.
“ZACH!” she screamed.
The world ended.
Lightning vanished.
Thunder died.
Surface stilled.
Wind stopped.
The storm parted.
Ginny lowered her hands.
When she opened her eyes, he was there.
Her brother stood in front of her, arms wrapped protectively around her shoulders. His face mirrored her shock.
“Where are we, Ginny?”
Before she could answer, a gentle female voice echoed through the void.
Not loud.
Impossibly clear.
“Kindred souls recognized.”
Something shifted in the darkness—distant gears turning beyond sight.
“Title granted… Stronger Together.”
The storm trembled.
Lightning flickered once across the horizon.
The voice faded.
For a moment, only wind and rain.
Then another voice.
Softer.
Closer.
A haunting whisper, disturbingly familiar, almost lost in the gale.
“Mistress.”
Sergeant Knox
Sergeant Knox shuddered as the limiter release rippled through his system.
Then he moved.
He launched forward in a burst of inhuman speed.
The Chimera twisted with surprising agility, armored flank intercepting the blow.
Knox’s combat gloves shredded on impact. Composite fragments scattered; beneath torn synth, copper fiber bundles flexed like coiled cables.
The Chimera staggered, whipping its tail like it had when it killed Private Perez.
Knox saw it coming.
Enhanced processing mapped trajectory, velocity, impact radius in an instant.
He slipped sideways as the clubbed end hammered earth behind him.
He drove forward at the same moment.
Both arms shot out, catching the tail base and dragging it across his shoulder.
The creature let out a startled, almost feline mewl.
Knox grunted as the impact drove him down, boots punching soil until he stood buried to the calves.
He tightened his grip, ready to leverage its weight against it.
The Chimera reacted first.
A violent hop wrenched the tail free, ripping Knox out of the ground like a stake and flinging him into a thicket.
Branches snapped.
He rolled, came up on his feet—algorithms feeding reactive corrections faster than conscious thought.
The Chimera lunged.
One massive paw tore through empty air where he’d stood.
Knox pivoted, drove a front kick into its flank.
The impact cracked like a rifle shot.
The beast slid sideways meters, claws gouging furrows as it fought for footing.
It growled low.
Annoyed.
The Chimera reacted violently.
Snarling, it abandoned the tail—came in slashing, dagger-paws a whirlwind of bone and mana-twisted muscle.
Knox braced. Alloy forearms met the onslaught in sparks and shredded synth-skin. Dermal alarms lit his HUD red.
He overrode without a second thought.
The next strike punched through. Claws sheared left-arm plating—armor folded with a tortured screech. Scalding coolant and fluid geysered, sizzling unnaturally where it struck hide that shimmered faintly blue for a heartbeat.
The beast recoiled, roaring, paws clawing eyes in momentary blindness.
Knox stepped inside his reach. His good arm pistoned forward. Composite knuckles cracked jawbone with a wet snap.
“Tag,” he said, voice flat and clipped. “You’re it.”
The Chimera lurched sideways.
Priority override pinged on the platoon net, green icons. 'Squad set. Ambush lane clear.'
No reason to overcommit.
Knox pivoted and launched into a sprint toward colony wire. Max stride ate ground, but the wrecked shoulder actuator grated—metal-on-metal whine climbing red. Servos protested; heat warnings spiked.
First time the upgrades hadn’t been enough to finish the job solo.
Behind him, the Chimera’s bellow rolled like artillery. Then the earth drummed beneath his feet—heavy footfalls, accelerating.
Knox didn’t glance back. Didn’t need to.
He felt the mass closing.
Fast.
Too fast.
But the squad was waiting.
I have an overarching plot in mind for how I expect this story to progress, unlike Warlord, which I just winged it.
I want a story that blends Dragons, Mechs, Spaceships, ancient aliens and more in a way that makes sense and is compelling.
How should I release future chapters?