Beyond the Dying Light

Chapter 3: Not a Rescue

The hatch opened. A ramp extended.

The figures that came down it wore black tactical armor. They carried rifles with the low electrical charge of charged plasma weapons. They moved in formation — not urgency. Organized. Practiced.

Not rescue workers.

The first shot came before most people had even processed what they were seeing. A blue plasma beam crossed the courtyard, and then people were running, and then more shots followed, and whatever was left of the morning dissolved into noise and motion and the animal need to get away from open ground.

Aria grabbed his hand. Natan was already pulling her toward the cargo storage alcove along the east wall — heavy crates stacked three high, solid enough to at least slow a plasma round.

They dropped behind the largest one, breathing hard.

"They were never going to help anyone," Aria said.

"No." Natan looked around the edge of the crate. Soldiers moving in a sweep pattern. More coming down the ramp. Students being herded, a few resisting and being dropped immediately. "They know something about the sun. And they're not sharing it."

"Over here."

The voice came from his left — low, controlled, not panicked. A boy about their age crouched behind a cargo pod ten meters away. Dark hair, sharp eyes, breathing fast but steady — the expression of someone who had already run through several plans and settled on one. He met Natan's eyes and made a short, deliberate gesture.

They moved to him in a low run during a gap in the shooting.

"Ben," the boy said quickly. He tapped a device strapped to his forearm — crude casing, clearly assembled by hand rather than manufactured — and a faint shimmer spread over the three of them, the air bending slightly wrong in the way that meant cloaking. "Low power, short duration. Move while we talk."

"Why are you helping us?" Natan asked, already moving.

"Because you didn't run toward the ship when everyone else did," Ben said. "That means you're thinking."

Aria glanced at his forearm device. "You built that yourself."

"Yes."

She nodded toward Natan. "So did he."

Ben looked at him — quick, assessing. "What do you have?"

"Mobility booster. Short burst, not a weapon." Natan had built it two nights ago alongside the stabilizer, from the same parts batch. He hadn't expected to use it like this. "Maybe thirty seconds of charge left."

"The maintenance hatch on the ship's underside wasn't fully sealed on descent," Ben said. "If we reach it before they raise the ramp, we can get inside."

Aria looked at him. "And then what?"

Something shifted in Ben's expression — quieter underneath the focus. "I'll explain inside. We need to be on that ship."

They ran.

The cloaking field thinned as they crossed open ground. A guard near the ramp edge caught some trace of movement, called out, raised his rifle. Natan hit the booster — the surge wasn't graceful, more like being shoved hard from behind, but it was enough. He pulled Aria sideways as the plasma shot crossed the space they'd just left, and Ben was already at the hatch, hauling it upward with both hands.

Ben went first. Then Aria — Natan pushing her up by the arm until she caught the edge and pulled herself through. Then Natan jumped as the ship's engines shifted pitch beneath him, got one hand on the frame, then two, and Ben grabbed his wrist from inside and pulled.

The hatch sealed behind them.

— End of Chapter 3 —