swallowing space

They returned to the cave in silence.

The white ship, the vanishing mechas, the absence of crew—it all left a bad taste in Kael's mouth. Even now, as Ravager trudged through the dark soil and shallow mist, he couldn't shake the sensation clinging to the back of his skull.

Like they were being watched.

No movement. No sensor ping. But something was out there. Kael knew it.

He didn't tell the others.

Yet the moment they re-entered the cave, he kept his mech online. Optics scanning. Core half-humming.

And then…

He saw it.

---

A faint glint—barely visible beyond the far ridge that shadowed their base—just for a second.

A purplish gleam. Then another flash—blurred silhouettes, four more.

Mechas.

But not Kaiju.

Human.

---

"Tyren. Oris. Get in position. Now."

"What's going on?" Tyren asked, already activating Pulse Fang's weapons.

"We've got five contacts. One heavy, four medium-class frames. 800 meters and closing."

"Hostile?"

"I don't know yet," Kael said. "But they didn't announce themselves."

Oris grunted. "Cloaked arrival on a dead world? Yeah, I'm not trusting that."

---

The cave was defensively positioned — a single entry slope with jagged edges, giving their mechas the high ground. Kael positioned Ravager front and center, plasma arm glowing hot.

"Come any closer," Kael muttered under his breath, "and we cut them down."

But the strangers stopped.

Five mechas appeared in the fog.

Their shapes shimmered faintly — one large, royal-purple unit with reinforced armor and shoulder-mounted tech domes. The others, slim and agile, had a faint blue blur-field coating their frames — partial cloaking. Sophisticated.

Too sophisticated for anything Unit 404 had seen.

And yet… they raised no weapons.

Instead, the lead mecha lifted its hands slowly and powered down its external weapons.

Kael narrowed his eyes. "They're surrendering?"

---

"State your identity!" Kael barked over external broadcast. "Power down fully. Exit your mechas one by one."

No response.

"Now!"

The purple mech opened first. Steam hissed from hydraulic seams as the cockpit hissed outward. From inside stepped an old man — tall, silver-haired, skin weathered by space-time. His eyes scanned the area without panic.

A moment later, two girls stepped out of the two center blue mechas. One wore a field engineer's harness. The other had twin blades slung across her back. The third girl, younger, stepped from the fourth mech cautiously — med-station symbols on her armor.

Last came another older man — shorter, gaunt, and quiet.

All five raised their hands calmly.

No weapons. No hostile movement.

But Kael didn't lower his aim.

---

Tyren snarled. "This feel right to you?"

"No," Kael muttered. "Not even close."

He kept his voice firm. "Identify yourselves. Names. Rank. Division."

The elder man stepped forward slightly. "Commander Trask. Sub-division Gamma-V of Caligari Strategic Reconnaissance. These are Lieutenants Freya, Lisette, and Kira. The man beside me is Systems Officer Draan."

Oris's voice buzzed. "Gamma-V is real. It's a black ops observation cell. They were never supposed to land. Deep-space only."

"Yeah," Kael said coldly. "Then what are they doing here?"

---

Freya, the older of the girls, answered.

"Our ship malfunctioned during a standard surveillance jump. We detected a gravitational distortion near this quadrant—something strong enough to bend orbital paths. When we came to stabilize… everything fell apart."

Lisette added, "The atmospheric pressure downed our auxiliary engines. We didn't crash. We dropped."

"And the ship?" Kael asked. "Where is it?"

Kira—the medic—answered softly, "It… burned. We salvaged nothing. Just our mechas."

Kael stared hard at all of them.

Five mechas.

Same number as the missing units from the white ship.

Was it coincidence?

Or a cover?

---

Tyren stepped up beside him, voice low. "I don't like this."

Oris was already walking around the new arrivals, analyzing their mechs. "Their hardware is better than ours. Second-gen cloaks, kinetic gel plating, modular war-frames. This is high-tier tech."

"Then why are they acting like strays?" Tyren muttered.

Kael stepped forward slowly.

"You're not staying in your mechas. No cloaks. No hidden comms. You'll be scanned, logged, and watched."

"You don't trust us," Commander Trask said simply.

Kael didn't blink. "You're damn right."

---

By sundown, the newcomers were relocated to the far side of the cave. Their mechs powered down. Tyren had run an external security check. Oris had sealed the comm lines.

And Kael never took his eyes off them.

Something wasn't right.

They looked too clean. Too calm. Too prepared.

If they were telling the truth, then why didn't they call for help? Why no beacon? Why no distress signal?

And more importantly…

Where was their ship?

Where were the other logs?

Why had five mechas vanished from one wreck… and five strangers just happened to walk into theirs?

Kael stared into the fog outside the cave, lips tight.

Something didn't add up.

But he would find out.

Even if he had to rip the truth from their throats.

---