The Horizon Talon cut through the still waters of the harbor like a shadow. Its sails slack in the early morning, calm. The sea mirrored the overcast sky, a dull gray expanse broken only by the rising smoke curling from the ruins ahead. It had taken two days to return to port, but thankfully, they had been uneventful. Between the terrifying escape from the kraken and the engagement with the drowned, the crew was glad for the respite.

  Lt. Sarah Kade stood on the aftcastle, hands clasped behind her back, her dark hair pulled tight. The harbor loomed closer with every heartbeat, the jagged silhouettes of New London’s skeletal waterfront framing the horizon. Her gaze was sharp and unyielding, but for once, she had no words to soften the moment, no sarcastic remark to lighten the mood.

  What could she say, anyway? That the air smelled like death? That those charred, hollowed-out husks used to be homes, businesses, lives? Anything she could think of felt trite, even to herself.

  She noted the time but didn’t flinch. The announcement from the simulation regarding the level-zero filter was coming. It came every morning, a cruel clockwork, the same monotony of horror wrapped in numbers. She barely acknowledged it as the update forced its way into her vision. It was a hollow, emotionless recitation of the percentage of humanity that remained. Level-zero filter was apparently AI code for culling the weak.

  Greetings, Players! Congratulations on making it through the fourth planetary cycle of the Simulation reboot. You will be happy to know that the level zero protocols are working as intended and the global player population is adjusting toward the accepted upper limits of the Simulation. Previous player population: 1,948,487,136 Humans. Current player population: 1,315,468,789 Humans. No player data for additional player species is available.

  Kade stared ahead, her expression unchanged, though something twisted deep in her gut. The first few updates had shocked her, each number carving into her like a blade. Now, it was a dull thud in her chest. Numbness had become a shield, even if she wasn’t sure it would hold.

  "More of us gone," she muttered, a private acknowledgment to no one in particular. The words tasted like ash.

  "Wreckage ahead, port side," Maleko’s voice called from the forecastle.

  He was standing tall, the barrel of the foredeck cannon gleaming in the dawn light. His crew moved in silence as they continued to drill on the cannons' use. Checking and rechecking the weapons for readiness. Their usual banter was absent today.

  Captain Harold Voss stood beside her, his hands gripping the railing as if anchoring himself to reality. He'd been doing that a lot lately, Kade noted. His weathered face, lined by decades at sea, was unreadable, though his jaw tightened as the scene before them unfolded.

  "Kade." He said, "Tell me what you see."

  Sarah took a moment to use her eyepatch to zoom in on various details of the harbor one last time before answering.

  "Nothing but ruins," she said. "Something or things tore this place apart. Our hope for a safe harbor will, I'm afraid, be disappointed."

  The harbor had once been the lifeblood of New London, its piers bustling with trade ships and fishing trawlers. Now it was a smoking graveyard.

  Buildings along the waterfront stood gutted and blackened, their beams twisted and scorched. Smoke coiled lazily from piles of debris, and here and there, small fires still clung stubbornly to life. The sharp tang of burning wood and the sickly sweet stench of charred flesh drifted on the breeze, clawing at her senses.

  The water was no better. It churned with wreckage. Splintered longboats, overturned skiffs, and the bloated remains of what might once have been crew. Larger vessels, fishing trawlers and a freighter listed at unnatural angles, their hulls cracked open like carcasses. One ship had been driven so far ashore that its bow jutted into a collapsed warehouse, the jagged planks intermingling with brick and mortar like broken bones.

  Voss exhaled sharply. "Some of this damage isn’t random."

  He gestured toward the remains of a dock, where massive gouges ran deep into the wooden planks.

  "Claw marks," Kade said, "Big ones."

  "But look at those walls over there." Bishop pointed to a burned-out warehouse farther along the shore. "I see a couple of arrow shafts. Maybe even some type of explosives use. Monsters didn’t do that."

  Kade shook her head. This is what she'd been afraid of finding. The scars on the city spoke of different kinds of predators. Some with claws, some with teeth, but the worst, as always, were the ones who could think. The ones who had turned on their own.

  As the Talon inched closer, the eerie silence pressed in on the crew like a weight. Only the occasional creak of the ship’s hull or the soft lap of water against floating debris broke the quiet. Every sound seemed amplified, even the faint murmur of the crew preparing for whatever lay ahead.

  Bishop shifted uneasily beside her. "Does it seem… too quiet to you?"

  Kade didn’t answer right away. She fixed her enhanced vision on a distant pier, where something caught her attention. A collapsed barricade, its wooden beams splintered and clawed. At its base, a makeshift pile of belongings lay scattered, looted, or abandoned in a hurry. A child’s doll, its face scorched and one arm missing, sat half-submerged in the muck.

  "It’s not too quiet," she finally said. "It’s exactly as quiet as it should be."

  Voss turned to her, "Meaning?"

  "Meaning," she said, "that whatever did this is still here... or it’s coming back."

  The Talon’s hull groaned as it edged through the debris, the crew’s tension palpable. Maleko’s voice rang out again, sharp. He must have connected with what they were seeing as Kade did. This was a trap or a tomb. Either way, it was likely they'd have a fight on their hands at some point.

  "Cannons ready," he said. "Just say the word, Captain."

  "Cannons stand ready. Do not fire unless ordered," the Captain called back.

  The faint creak of shifting timbers cut through the morning’s oppressive quiet, followed by a sharp voice from the forecastle.

  "Flotsam’s thickening, starboard bow!"

  The sailor’s shout carried a nervous edge that rippled through the crew like a silent wave. Eyes turned toward the water ahead, where the debris thickened into a floating minefield of shattered beams, splintered hulls, and bloated shapes that none of them dared to name.

  From the aftcastle, Captain Harold Voss stiffened. "Kade," he said, "Get forward. Guide us through."

  "Yes, sir."

  Without hesitation, she descended the narrow steps to the main deck, her boots striking the wood with a crisp rhythm. Sailors parted to make way as she strode to the forecastle, her presence a grounding force amid their unease. Reaching the forward rail, she swept her gaze over the waters ahead, assessing the growing chaos of wreckage.

  "Helm!" she called. "Bring her two points to starboard! Easy now. Don’t fight the current."

  "Aye, ma’am," the helmsman answered from the quarterdeck, the wheel creaking as he complied. The Horizon Talon responded with a groan, its bow angling carefully away from a jagged hunk of flotsam that resembled the remnants of a ship’s stern.

  "Maleko!" Kade barked. "Eyes on the waterline. Call out anything below the surface that’ll rip through the hull."

  "Aye, XO. We’ll keep her clean."

  The Talon was cutting through a graveyard. Shattered spars jutted skyward like splintered bones, and here and there, dark shapes bobbed just beneath the surface, hinting at unseen dangers. Each decision felt like a gamble, every change a wager on the ship’s survival.

  The sailors on deck moved in hushed efficiency, their usual camaraderie that had strengthened in the face of the end of the world, replaced by tight-lipped focus. Nervous glances darted toward the waterline as if the debris itself might spring to life. The Horizon Talon groaned again as a sizeable chunk of wreckage scraped along the hull, a sound like a blade dragged across steel.

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  "Steady!" Kade called. "Keep her at three knots. We need enough speed to steer, but no more."

  "Three knots!" came the reply.

  Ahead, a half-submerged mast drifted across their path, its tangled rigging trailing like ghostly tendrils in the water.

  "Helm, five degrees port. Steady as she goes!" Kade snapped.

  The ship adjusted, sliding past the obstacle with only a few feet to spare.

  The destruction seemed endless. A capsized fishing trawler, its once-bright paint scoured black by fire, lay half-submerged to port. A waterlogged crate drifted by, its contents spilling into the brine. Apples, rotten and bloated, bobbing alongside the broken necks of shattered wine bottles. Then there were the bodies. Unlike what they had seen when they first entered the harbor, these were clearly once people. Faces that stared sightlessly at the sky, their bloated forms grotesquely distorted by time and water.

  A nervous mutter broke from one deckhand near her. "Damn place is cursed…"

  "Quiet!" Kade snapped, the word cracking like a whip.

  The sailor flinched and looked embarrassed, his focus returning to the task at hand.

  Kade softened her tone, adding, "We need sharp eyes, not loose tongues."

  She leaned forward, leaning on the rail. Each decision demanded precision. A moment’s hesitation, a fraction of error, and the Talon could end up another casualty in the harbor’s growing graveyard.

  The ship passed beneath a low-hanging haze of smoke. A heavier air, thick with the stench of charred wood and decay, settled in. The Talon’s crew worked in tense silence, the only sounds the occasional bark of orders and the groan of wood as the ship maneuvered through the flotsam.

  Kade’s voice rang out again. "Prepare to shorten sail! Ready to slow if I give the order."

  A quick chorus of "Aye, ma’am!" came from the rigging, sailors moving swiftly to comply. The ship slowed further, the crests of the waves rocking her gently as she edged past a cluster of debris. A broken dock, its planks twisted and gouged as if something massive had ripped through it.

  Maleko shouted. "Debris, dead ahead! Big one, starboard side!"

  Kade’s head snapped up. A jagged mass of wreckage half-submerged in the water.

  "Helm, hard to starboard! Drop half sail!"

  Kade's expectation of professional speed was met as the orders were executed. The Talon groaned as it heeled slightly, turning just in time to avoid the wreckage. Collective relief washed over the crew, yet tension lingered.

  "Hold this course. Maleko, keep calling out hazards. We’re not out of this yet, but the debris field is drastically thinning."

  The Horizon Talon pushed through the thinning debris, the ship’s movement less labored as the flotsam grew sparse. They had left the worst of the wreckage behind, though broken planks and the occasional splintered spar still drifted by in the murky water. In the gray morning light, the faint, crumbling shapes of piers and collapsed warehouses rose like ghosts.

  Movement caught Kade's attention.

  Near a splintered pier to port, three compact figures darted between the shadows of a collapsed structure. Kade stiffened, her heart lurching. Not with alarm, but with cautious hope. She turned sharply, gesturing to the nearest officer.

  "Briggs!" she called.

  "What is it?" Briggs asked.

  "Movement by the pier," Kade said, pointing toward the figures. "Children, maybe? Can’t be over eight or ten years old."

  Briggs squinted. "Too far for me to tell."

  Kade’s hand went to the edge of her eyepatch, brushing against its rough leather as she activated the enchantment within. The world telescoped forward, details sharpening as her vision locked onto the distant pier.

  The figures came into focus, and Kade’s hope evaporated.

  They weren’t children, but bipedal rat people.

  Hunched and twitchy, the creatures moved with an unsettling, nervous energy, their long, wiry tails flicking in the air. Matted and filthy fur covered them, patchy in places, revealing scabbed skin beneath. One carried a crude bow, its string frayed but functional. Another had a short, rusted sword strapped to its side.

  Their sharp claws scrabbled over the debris as they scavenged, sniffing the air and chittering quietly at each other. One rat person prodded a cracked mirror, chittering as its reflection moved.

  [Analyze] Rodentia Brute | Level: 2 | Status: Hostile | Class: Fighter

  [Analyze] Rodentia Grunt | Level: 2 | Status: Hostile | Class: Rogue

  [Analyze] Rodentia Grunt | Level: 3 | Status: Hostile | Class: Ranger

  Kade lowered the eyepatch’s zoom, letting her vision return to normal. She stayed silent for a beat, her expression hardening into something unreadable. Finally, she glanced at Briggs.

  Having grabbed a nearby pair of binoculars, Briggs commented, "Well, they’re tool users, at least. Bows, blades. This means they’re thinking creatures. Not just oversized rats."

  "Smaller than humans," Kade added. "Quick, though. And twitchy."

  "Maybe not on the same threat level as the drowned," Briggs said, his tone appraising. "But they’ll put up a fight in our current state. Probably territorial scavengers"

  The rodentia moved with no sign of awareness that the Talon was moving the harbor. Their beady eyes stayed fixed on the debris they were sifting through. "

  "They haven’t seen us," Kade said. "Their eyesight’s poor. Must be."

  Briggs grunted. "Not blind, though. They’ll catch us if we get too close or make too much noise."

  "Noted," Kade replied. She stepped back from the rail, addressing the sailors nearby. "The shore’s not safe. Assume hostile conditions."

  Briggs replied. "Just another thing to watch for. Nothing we can’t handle."

  The rodentia, oblivious to the Talon’s approach, soon disappeared into the shadows of the ruined pier, their movements vanishing into the haze of smoke and morning light. Kade watched the space they left behind, her mind calculating. Not the most dangerous threat they’d faced, but one more layer of hostility in an already unstable harbor.

  The Talon eased forward, the distant outline of Fort Trumbull coming into view. Its docks, once a familiar anchor in a bustling harbor, now stood scarred and empty. Kade squared her shoulders, calling out to the helm.

  "Bring us in slow," she ordered.

  "Aye, ma’am," the helmsman replied.

  The Horizon Talon glided toward the dock at Fort Trumbull, her hull creaking softly as the sailors moved into action. Although the waters around the ship had settled, smoke and unease still hung heavy in the air. The ruined fort loomed ahead, its familiar walls now scarred and broken, and the crumbling dock stretched out like a skeletal arm, reaching into the silent harbor.

  "Ready the lines!" Captain Voss called.

  Kade watched as sailors moved with efficiency, hefting thick hawsers toward the dock. They worked in coordination, securing the Talon with the precision of a crew that knew the stakes of their mission and the need to leave quickly, if it came to that.

  They looped lines over dock cleats, pulling them taut and securing them with quickly released knots. Others hauled on a capstan, the groan of the mechanism adding to the unsettling quiet. Kade checked their work, ensuring everything was tight enough to hold but loose enough to break free if danger forced them to flee.

  On the forecastle, Maleko’s gun crews remained at their posts, their hands steady on the cannon breeches as they swept the area for threats. The intensity of their watch was a stark reminder that the fort offered no promise of safety.

  Captain Voss descended from the aftcastle. He surveyed the dock, his face unreadable, before speaking.

  "Kade," he said, "Assemble a shore team. Start with the offices. Look for survivors or anything that might explain… this. Then move on to the armory. If it’s intact, there may be something useful there."

  Kade saluted sharply. "Aye, sir. We’ll handle it like we did on the cargo ship."

  "Good," Voss said. "Keep it clean. Get what we need and get back here."

  She turned to 2nd Lt. Mark Lawson, who had approached with quiet readiness. His clean-cut, professional demeanor never wavered, but the stress in his eyes spoke to the weight of his role.

  "Same setup as before?" Kade asked.

  "Same setup," Lawson confirmed. "My Marines take point. Two in the rear to watch our backs. I'd tell you to let us handle the fighting, but I doubt the 'eye of the storm' is going to be content to sit on the sidelines."

  She rolled her eyes at the use of the nickname the crew had given her after the battle with the drowned. Still, if it helped the crew to see her as an example of calm in these chaotic times, she wouldn't argue with them.

  "Good," Kade replied. "Stay tight. If it’s ransacked, there could still be scavengers, or worse."

  Lawson nodded, his jaw tightening as he turned to relay orders to his platoon. The Marines moved with skills of professional soldiers, their weapons readied as they formed up on the deck.

  "While you’re poking around, check the museum, Ma'am," Maleko called down from the forecastle, his tone casual but tinged with enthusiasm. "They had some antique cannons in there. Might find something worth bringing back."

  "You volunteering to haul them back to the ship?"

  "Absolutely," Maleko replied, "Nothing like giving this old girl a second shot at glory by adding some teeth."

  "Congratulations, Gunner," Kade said dryly. "You’re on the away team."

  Maleko chuckled, clapping his hands together in mock anticipation. "Wouldn’t miss it."

  As the shore party descended the gangplank, the eerie stillness of the fort pressed in around them. The dock beneath their boots creaked ominously, its planks worn and splintered from years of use and more recent violence. Kade walked near the back of the group, keeping her pace steady, her hand resting on the hilt of her cutlass. The Marines moved ahead in formation, with several crossbows sweeping the shadows as they advanced with quiet precision.

  The fort and surrounding offices bore the unmistakable signs of a pitched battle. Scorch marks scarred the walls and shattered windows gaped like empty eyes. The wooden doors to the offices hung crooked on their hinges, and claw marks gouged deep into the frames. Bloodstains streaked the ground in irregular patterns, leading into and out of the fort’s entrance.

  No bodies.

  That absence struck Kate more deeply than the blood. The lack of corpses was almost worse, implying grimly that the bodies had been removed, or something worse had happened.

  The faint smell of charred wood and iron mingled with the sharper tang of blood, clawing at her senses. Her mind flicked to the rodentia they had seen earlier, but this damage felt... different. Larger, more deliberate.

  "Eyes sharp," Kade said. "This place has already seen its share of violence. No telling what’s still lurking."

  The Marines nodded silently, their weapons aimed toward every potential threat. Lawson, at the head of the group, raised a fist, signaling a halt as they approached the yawning entrance of the first office building. Its shattered door swayed faintly in the breeze, the sound barely audible over the oppressive quiet.

  Kade took in the shadows ahead, her mind already calculating the risks. Fort Trumbull had once been a symbol of security, a place where ships came to find respite. Now, it was a ruin, stripped of life and safety, and she could feel the weight of the unknown pressing against her chest.

  The shore party reached the end of the dock, their formation tightening as they prepared to move into the fort itself. Behind them, the Talon loomed like a sentinel, its lines secure but ready for a hasty departure. The path forward was clear, but every shadow seemed to whisper of danger waiting just ahead.

  Filed by Gunnery Sergeant Alan Myers, SMC

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