Chapter Text
Mission Briefing
M.O.M. Headquarters, Arxis Room
The holographic map flickered to life in the center of the room, throwing pale blue light across everyone’s faces. Shiloh stood at the console, fingers flying over the controls as a snow-covered Raelo rotated slowly in the projection.
“This,” she said, tapping the hologram so it zoomed in on jagged mountain ranges, “is Peak-47. Recently rediscovered after centuries of being locked in permafrost.”
“Looks cold,” Josiah said, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. “Do we get coats or is this one of those ‘tough it out’ missions?”
“You’ll have insulated gear,” Shiloh said, ignoring the muttering. “M.O.M. intel suggests that Peak-47 was used as a research outpost before the collapse — something about experimental generators. Lately, though, there’ve been faint energy spikes from the old facilities. Our job is to find out what’s reactivating them and shut it down before it spreads to other Raelos.”
Patience tilted her head. “And we’re expecting…?”
Shiloh sighed. “Wildlife. Environmental hazards. Possibly automated security systems that might still be running.”
“Cool,” Elijah said flatly. “So basically everything wants to kill us.”
“That’s the spirit,” Judah smirked.
Shiloh gave him a look, then motioned toward the portal arch as the Arxis powered up behind her with its signature low hum. “Let’s not waste daylight. Micah, Michelle—you’re up first.”
Michelle arched an eyebrow, immediately suspicious. “Why us?”
Shiloh shrugged a little too casually. “You’re both good in the field. Go.”
Micah hesitated just long enough to mutter, “Feels like a setup,” before stepping through. Michelle followed with a mock salute, vanishing into the swirling blue light.
A moment later, the Arxis sputtered.
The hum cut out. The portal snapped shut.
Peak-47 – Shoreline
Micah stumbled as the portal spat him out onto soft sand, his boots sinking in half an inch before he caught himself. A stiff ocean breeze hit him immediately, carrying the smell of salt and something faintly metallic.
“Whoa,” he muttered, scanning the shoreline. Jagged chunks of twisted metal littered the beach, half-buried in the sand. A torn fuselage section lay at an angle in the shallows, waves lapping against it.
Michelle appeared behind him in a shimmer of blue light, landing with much more balance—and a lot more attitude. “Really, Micah? First thing you do is gawk?” She looked past him toward the wreckage. “Guess we found the welcome mat.”
Micah stepped closer to the largest piece of wreckage, brushing a hand over the scorched edge of the metal. “Looks like a transport plane went down here… a long time ago.”
A faint static crackled in his ear. “Alright,” Michelle’s voice came over the comm, “let’s regroup with—” She paused, glancing back at the space where the portal had been.
It was empty.
The wind filled the silence between them.
“Uh…” she said slowly. “Where’s the portal?”
Micah turned around fully, scanning the air like it might just… reappear. “It was right there.”
Michelle’s comm hissed again, and this time Shiloh’s voice came through, way too casual. “Sooo… slight hiccup. The Arxis won’t be back online for, oh… a week. Maybe two.”
Michelle froze. “What do you mean a week?”
“Oh, you’ll be fine,” Judah’s voice cut in, suspiciously cheerful. “Plenty of time to explore the Raelo, figure out the mission… bond a little.”
“Bond—” Michelle’s eyes narrowed. “Did you guys plan this?”
“Gotta go!” Shiloh said quickly, and the comm cut out with a click.
Micah exhaled slowly. “…So, uh. Guess it’s just you and me.”
Michelle pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something about “murder in the first forty-eight hours.” Then she squared her shoulders, already marching toward the wreckage. “Fine. If we’re stuck here, we’re doing this my way. And my way starts with finding shelter before you trip over something and die.”
Micah jogged after her. “Why does your way always start with insulting me?”
“Because it works.”
The sand crunched under their boots as they picked their way toward the wreck. The fuselage’s side was torn open like a peeled can, revealing rows of half-collapsed seats and scattered luggage that had washed partway down the beach.
Michelle hopped up onto a bent support beam and crouched, peering into an overturned suitcase. “Well, jackpot.” She held up a half-crushed pack of airline trail mix. “You’re allergic to peanuts, right?”
Micah frowned. “No.”
“Darn. Guess you get to live.” She tossed it into her open pack.
Micah stepped past her into the main wreckage, prying open a bright orange carry-on. Inside, wrapped in faded napkins, were a few intact airline meal trays—the kind that looked suspicious even when fresh. He raised one eyebrow. “These are older than we are.”
“Protein’s protein,” Michelle said, snatching one from him before he could decide against it.
They moved down the line of seats, digging through bags. A thick coil of climbing rope went into Micah’s pack. Michelle found a canteen with only a little rust on the outside, giving it a testing shake. “Half full. That’s a win.”
Outside, a rogue wave hit the sand, nudging a floating duffel closer to shore. Micah waded out to snag it, unzipping it to reveal—of all things—a neon ski jacket, a pair of thermal gloves, and a flare gun.
Michelle looked up from where she was shoving energy bars into her bag. “Peak fashion, huh?”
“Don’t knock it,” Micah said, shoving the jacket into his pack. “You’ll thank me when it gets cold.”
“Please. I’m already tougher than you in the cold.”
“Yeah, but if you freeze, I’m the one stuck carrying you.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, tucking the flare gun into her own belt.
By the time their packs were near full, they’d gathered:
• Rope, gloves, jacket, canteen, flare gun
• A few sealed packs of trail mix and energy bars
• Three intact airline meals (“emergency use only,” according to Michelle)
• A battered first-aid kit
Michelle zipped her pack closed and slung it over her shoulder. “Alright. Shelter’s next. Before the tide decides to eat what’s left of this place.”
Micah looked up at the steep path of rocks and greenery leading inland. “That way?”
“That way.” She started walking, then glanced back at him. “And try not to trip. Supplies are heavy and I’m not wasting the first-aid kit on you.”
The beach narrowed as they hiked away from the wreckage, sand giving way to jagged rock and wind-bent shrubs. The crash site faded behind them, leaving only the steady crash of waves and the weight of their packs.
Micah adjusted the rope slung over his shoulder. “You know, for a supposedly ‘tropical’ shoreline, this place has an unsettling lack of palm trees.”
Michelle stepped over a half-buried log without looking back. “It’s not tropical, genius. Give it a few hours inland and you’ll see why.”
“Wow, foreshadowing. You should write novels.”
She snorted, not slowing her pace.
They followed a rough game trail that cut through the undergrowth, the incline getting steeper until the air smelled less of salt and more of wet stone. Eventually, the path opened up to a cliffside ledge, where the skeletal remains of an old outpost leaned against the rock.
It wasn’t much—half a wall, a roof patched with metal scraps, and a single cracked window overlooking the ocean far below. But it was elevated, sheltered from the worst of the wind, and, judging by the lack of footprints in the mud, untouched for a long time.
Michelle gave a sharp nod. “Base camp.”
Micah ducked inside, brushing dust off a warped workbench. “Feels like something’s living here already.”
“Then it’s about to get evicted.” She set her pack down and started unloading supplies: the rope coiled neatly in the corner, the canteen placed where they could reach it, food stacked on the bench.
Micah propped the jacket and gloves by the window, letting the sunlight do what it could to dry them. “We’ll need a fire,” he said, glancing at the uneven stone floor.
“Then go find wood,” Michelle replied, already digging through the first-aid kit to check expiration dates. “And try not to get lost. I’m not wasting a flare on you this early.”
Micah smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “You’d miss me.”
Michelle didn’t even look up. “Not if I used the extra space for more food.”
He grinned but headed out, the sound of his boots fading down the trail.
For the first time since stepping through the portal, Michelle let out a quiet breath, glancing at the horizon. A week. Maybe more. Just me and him.
She wasn’t sure if that was a nightmare or an opportunity.
Back in the Arxis Room, Judah was grinning. “Perfect timing.”
Patience smirked. “Told you it’d work.”
Shiloh crossed her arms, hiding her smile. “Alright, you know the drill. Give them a week before we ‘fix’ it.”
Judah leaned back in his chair, clearly pleased with himself. “Plenty of time for them to either kill each other… or finally figure it out.”
Josiah just shook his head. “You’re all terrible.”
But he was smiling, too.