The heavy, humid air of the glowing jungle smelled of ozone, scorched armor, and the metallic tang of blood.
Dax didn’t lower his SMG. He took a slow, deliberate step toward the lowered ramp of the Dreadnought-Crawler, his boots sinking an inch into the bioluminescent mud. Beside him, I kept my hand hovering near my data-deck, the sapphire Origin-Code still humming in my veins from the feedback loop I’d just broadcasted.
"Captain Reyes," Dax said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that cut through the hiss of the cooling engines. "You're a long way from home. And if you know who we are, you know we don't like surprises. Start talking."
Reyes coughed, spitting a streak of red onto the mud. She leaned heavily against the hydraulic piston of the ramp. She looked exhausted, battered, and pus
