swallowing space

The rescue team returned just before the next tremor shook the valley floor.

Kael was slumped between Oris and Tyren — his limbs limp, his breathing shallow. Sweat clung to his forehead, but his face was pale. Not exhaustion. Not injury.

Something worse.

They laid him on a thermal blanket inside the cave. Ravager remained outside, partially concealed beneath the rock shelf. Its armor bore faint green streaks — glowing ever so slightly.

Radiation.

---

Oris ran a quick scan with his biosensor.

"His vitals are unstable," he muttered. "Not dying, but not good. He's been exposed to radiation… high enough to mess with his nervous system."

Freya leaned over. "How high?"

"Not lethal. Not yet. But his mind's locked down. He's not dreaming. Not moving. Just… paused."

Tyren slammed a fist into the cave wall. "Dammit. He walked out for a breather and came back irradiated."

Oris glanced toward the cave mouth. "Something happened out there. Something we can't see."

Lisette folded her arms. "Like what? A pocket of energy in the atmosphere?"

Oris didn't respond.

Because he wasn't sure either.

---

Outside, as the team worked inside the cave, the two old men stood in front of Kael's mech — Ravager.

Trask and Draan circled it slowly, eyes narrowed. The fog clung to its frame like oil, and the faint glow of radiation made its shadow pulse oddly across the rock floor.

"Impressive," Draan murmured. "But strange."

"More than strange," Trask said. "It's a brawler-class, Mk IV Ravager. Modified armor. External overheat vents. Manual sync drive instead of neuro-sync."

Draan touched a panel on the leg plating. "There's no auto-balance either. No stabilization core."

Freya had followed them out and overheard. "Wait—what does that mean?"

Trask looked back at her. "It means this mech won't stand upright unless its pilot has perfect physical control. No AI assist. No stabilizer net."

Lisette joined them. "So how is Kael even piloting it?"

"That's what we're wondering," Draan said. "Frames like these… were never issued to entry-level divisions. Not even to mobile combat squads like 404."

Freya tilted her head. "Then who used them?"

"Only senior officers," Trask replied. "Commanders. Deep battle veterans. The kind of soldiers who spent decades syncing with their frames."

Kira blinked. "And Kael is… what? Nineteen?"

"Maybe twenty," Draan said. "Yet he handles this monster like it's part of him."

Lisette eyed the armor. "You said it was a Ravager. I thought that line was discontinued."

"Not officially," Trask muttered. "But most of them were scrapped or hidden. Too difficult to master. Too dangerous if mishandled. They were called Suicide Frames by some in the tech labs."

Freya stepped closer to the glowing edge of the shoulder plating. "And you're sure this is one of those?"

Draan didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he ran his fingers over a tiny groove beneath the cockpit.

It was barely visible — a mark, etched in old code. Like a call sign or crest.

And his eyes widened.

Trask noticed it too.

"Wait," Draan whispered. "I've seen this symbol before…"

"Where?" Trask pressed.

"I don't know." Draan shook his head. "But it's there. On something classified. Something old."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

---

Inside, Kael hadn't moved.

Oris injected a temporary anti-radiation agent into his system. "I don't know what zone he crossed, but the radiation wasn't natural. It was concentrated, targeted even."

Tyren frowned. "Like a trap?"

"Maybe."

Kira approached, handing Oris a mineral extract. "Here. Might stabilize his cells."

"Thanks," Oris replied, taking it.

They sat around Kael for hours.

No movement.

No words.

Just the sound of the pulse monitor.

Beeping… slow… steady.

---

Outside, Trask finally turned to the others.

"We need to figure out where we've seen that crest."

Draan nodded. "If we can find out, we'll know where that mech came from. And maybe who Kael really is."

"Or who he used to be," Trask muttered.

---

And somewhere, deep in the fog beyond the mountain…

A similar symbol glowed faintly beneath layers of alien moss — engraved onto a broken satellite that hummed quietly in the dirt, its beacon just beginning to reawaken.