The nausea from the FTL jump still lingered in the back of Riven’s throat, tasting like copper and ozone.

  It was a sensation that never truly went away, no matter how many times they practiced it in the sim. Waking up after the transition from hyperspace to real space felt like the universe grabbing your insides and twisting them ninety degrees.

  Riven stood at the observation port of the Silent Verdict, pressing his forehead against the cool, reinforced glass to ground himself. Outside, the stars had stopped streaking and settled back into their familiar, cold pinpricks. And below them, looming large and ugly in the viewport, was the target.

  P-42. Cinder.

  It looked like a bruise on the face of the galaxy. It was a swirling ball of ochre dust and jagged rock, grey and lifeless. It didn’t look like a place that harbored a threat; it looked like a graveyard that was waiting to be filled.

  It reminded him of home. Not the structures or the color, but the quiet. The kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful, but predatory.

  “It looks smaller from up here,” a deep, resonant voice rumbled from the shadows.

  Riven jumped, his hand instinctively going to the baton on his hip before he realized who it was. He straightened and snapped a salute.

  “Captain.”

  Captain Kaelen stepped out of the archway and into the dim light of the observation deck. Even without his dress uniform, standing in a simple black undersuit that strained against his frame, the True Drakeon was an imposing figure. He stood nearly seven feet tall, a sculpture of emerald green scales and corded muscle. His large, leathery wings were folded tight against his back, the tips brushing the floor plates.

  He moved with a silent, fluid grace that betrayed his nature. He didn’t walk like a fleet officer used to a bridge. He moved like a predator.

  “At ease, Holt,” Kaelen said softly, waving a clawed hand. “We have nine hours until the drop. Most of the crew is still shaking off the jump sickness or getting sleep. You should be doing the same.”

  “Can’t sleep, Sir,” Riven admitted, turning back to the window. “The jump always messes with me. Plus... looking at that rock... it’s hard to switch off the nerves.”

  Kaelen hummed, a low sound deep in his chest that vibrated through the deck. He walked up to the railing and leaned against it, his tail sweeping slowly behind him for balance.

  “It reminds you of Paranthax,” Kaelen stated.

  Riven looked at him, surprised. “You read my file that closely?”

  “I read the files of every soldier under my command, Private.” Kaelen’s golden eyes caught the reflection of the planet below. “It is a rare thing to see a survivor of a something that impactful standing on my ship. Most who survive such things... they seek quiet lives. They do not run toward a burning fire.”

  “I didn’t have anywhere else to run,” Riven said simply. “And I figured if I was going to be running anyway, I might as well have a gun.”

  Kaelen chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. “A pragmatic answer. I like that.”

  The Captain fell silent for a moment, watching the dust storms swirl on the surface of Cinder. The ship hummed around them, the only sound in the dead of the ship’s night cycle.

  “I have been meaning to speak with you, Holt,” Kaelen said, his tone shifting. It became heavier, less conversational. “I have a confession to make.”

  Riven stiffened slightly. “Sir?”

  “Usually,” Kaelen began, crossing his massive arms over his chest, “I do not let rookies deploy on their first rotation. It is a quiet policy of mine, and one that I enforce strictly. I let them train, I let them drill, I let them build up the anxiety and the adrenaline. And then, the day before the drop, I bench them.”

  Riven felt a cold knot form in his stomach. He turned fully toward the Captain. “Sir... are you telling me I’m sitting this one out? After the last three weeks?”

  “Let me finish,” Kaelen held up a hand. “The Fringe is not a classroom, Riven. It is a meat grinder. The simulations, no matter how advanced, cannot replicate the smell of a burning hive or the psychic pressure of a Queen who wants to peel your mind apart. One mistake down there doesn’t just kill you; it kills your squad. It kills your dragon.”

  Kaelen looked down at Riven, his expression stern.

  “I usually require three months of shipboard drills before I trust a new Hammer to step off that ramp. I would rather a rookie be angry at me for holding them back than have to write a letter to their family explaining why they came home in a box.”

  Riven swallowed hard. “I understand the logic, Sir. But... the Hammers are ready. I am ready.”

  “I know,” Kaelen said softly. “That is why you are the exception.”

  The knot in Riven’s stomach loosened, replaced by a sudden rush of air in his lungs.

  “You have surprised me, Holt,” Kaelen continued, his golden eyes unreadable. “I watched the simulations from the last week closely. The ‘Variables’ I introduced. The jammed guns, the blinded sensors, the overwhelming odds. They were designed to break you. I wanted to see you panic. I wanted to see if the ‘Dust Born’ chip on your shoulder would make you reckless.”

  Kaelen smiled, revealing rows of sharp, white teeth. It was a terrifying expression, but it held no malice.

  “It did make you reckless at times, but nothing you were unable to handle. You didn’t break. You didn’t complain. You adapted. You used the environment. You trusted your squad, even when Vex was flying blind. And most importantly, you trusted Astrix.”

  The Captain placed a heavy hand on Riven’s shoulder. The scales were warm and rough, like sun-baked stone.

  “You possess a quality that cannot be taught in the Academy, Holt. You have the instinct of a survivor. You treat combat not as a duel for glory, but as a problem to be solved. Every time you achieve a task you move on without basking in the thrill of victory, which is a rare skill. That is why you are deploying tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” Riven said, his voice steady, though his heart was hammering. “That means a lot coming from you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Kaelen said, removing his hand. “Thank me when you’re back on board and Halloway is pouring you a drink from my private collection.”

  Kaelen turned back to the window, his expression growing somber. He stared at the planet, but his eyes seemed focused on something far in the past. His wings shifted on his back, a restless twitch.

  “Do you know why I run the simulations the way I do? Why I made last week so unfair?”

  “Phillean said it was to prepare us for the worst?” Riven guessed.

  “Because I remember what it costs to be unprepared,” Kaelen said softly. The strength in his voice cracked, just a fraction. “Years ago, before I was a Captain, before I sat in a chair on the bridge... I was a Lieutenant. A Lancer, just like Phillean. Just like you.”

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  Riven stayed silent. He remembered what Phillean had told him. That his dragon had died, and he was a the rider who survived.

  “We were deployed to a moon not unlike this planet,” Kaelen continued, his voice tight. “We were young. We were arrogant. We were the Inquisition, and we thought our dragons made us invincible. We skipped the environmental scans. We ignored the seismic tremors because we were eager to kill the Queen and get our medals.”

  Kaelen closed his eyes, his clawed hand gripping the railing until the metal groaned.

  “We dropped right into a trap. The crust was unstable. Half my platoon fell into a subterranean cavern before we fired a shot into a three pronged nest. Three Queens appeared and we lost three dragons in the unexpected battle. We lost two lancers while trying to extract the survivors.”

  He opened his eyes, and the pain in them was raw and ancient.

  “I lost people I was sworn to protect because I thought enthusiasm and a will to fight could replace discipline. I lost my...” He stopped, swallowing the word. “I lost a part of myself on that moon. I carry those names with me every day, Holt. Every time I send a squad out, I see their faces.”

  Kaelen turned to Riven, his gaze intense.

  “I ride you hard in the simulator so that I never have to experience that silence again. So that no one else has to go through that experience. I am hard on you because I care enough to make sure you survive the mistakes I made.”

  Riven looked at the Captain, and despite his tall imposing frame he seemed to be slumped as though carrying something. It wasn’t the weight of the armor or the rank.

  “We won’t let you down, Sir,” Riven said quietly. “The Hammers are ready. We know the plan. We know the risks.”

  “I know you do,” Kaelen sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders. He looked at Riven, really looked at him, searching for any sign of hesitation. “So tell me, Private. Honest answer. No bravado. How do you feel about tomorrow?”

  Riven looked at the planet. He thought about the Queen waiting in the dark. He thought about Astrix, curled up in the pod, trusting him to guide her.

  “I feel...” Riven paused, searching for the word. “I feel focused. In the sim, when the door opens, the noise disappears. It’s just me and the target. If I can keep that feeling... I think we’ll be okay.”

  Kaelen nodded, a slow, approving motion.

  “That is the mindset of a professional, Holt. Hold onto that. Fear is useful, but your focus is what brings you home.”

  The Captain pushed himself off the railing. His wings rustled as he straightened to his full height, casting a long shadow over the deck.

  “Go get your kit prepped, Private. Get some food. Check your seals. We drop in nine hours.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Riven saluted again.

  Kaelen returned the salute. A sharp, crisp motion.

  “And Holt?”

  “Sir?”

  “Give ‘em hell.”

  Riven watched the Captain walk away, his tail swaying rhythmically, disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.

  Riven turned back to the window one last time. The planet Cinder stared back, a silent, dusty tomb. It was dangerous. It was deadly.

  But for the first time since he had joined the Inquisition, Riven felt fully like an Inquisitor Lancer. He was a Hammer. And he had a job to do.

  He pushed off the railing and headed back to his room.

  (A eight hours later)

  The hangar bay of the Silent Verdict smelled different than the simulation room.

  The sim smelled like recycled air. The real hangar smelled of hydraulic fluid, burning fuel, and the musky, copper scent of twenty-one apex predators pacing in their stalls. It was a smell that stuck to the back of the throat, heavy and real.

  Riven tightened the final strap on Astrix’s saddle. He pulled it hard, checking the tension against the matte black scales of her flank. She didn’t flinch. She just stood there, a statue of obsidian muscle, watching him with an intensity that made the hair on his arms stand up.

  You are distracted again, Astrix projected. Her mental voice was clearer here than in the dorms, sharpened by the proximity and the adrenaline flooding Riven’s system. Your mind is loud.

  “I’m just checking the gear,” Riven muttered, moving to check the magnetic locks on his knees. “Phillean said a loose strap in a combat drop can lead to me getting detached during the flight.”

  The gear is fine. You checked it three times. You are thinking about the Captain.

  Riven paused. He looked up at her. She lowered her massive head until they were eye to eye, her silver irises reflecting his own distorted image in the black visor of his helmet.

  “He came to see me,” Riven admitted quietly, his voice lost under the roar of a fuel pump nearby. “He told me about his first command. About the losses.”

  Kaelen is a good leader, Astrix noted. He carries his ghosts so his soldiers do not have to become them.

  “He said I was ready,” Riven said, looking at his hands. “He said I was the exception.”

  Astrix huffed, a blast of warm air washing over his faceplate.

  I could have told him that, she projected, a ripple of smugness coloring her tone. I chose you, Riven. I do not choose failures. You are invisible to the Resonance and stubborn as a mountain goat. It is a potent combination.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Riven smiled behind his visor.

  “Checking your girth strap again, Holt?”

  Riven turned. Sergeant Phillean was walking down the line of dragons. He looked calm, almost bored, which was the most reassuring thing Riven had seen all day. Noxin loomed behind him, the purple kinetic dragon looking less like a creature and more like a tank with wings.

  “Just making sure I don’t fall off, Sergeant,” Riven said,.

  “You will be okay,” Phillean waved a hand. He stopped next to Astrix and patted her flank with a heavy, gloved hand. She leaned into the touch slightly. “She’s solid. You’re solid. Don’t overthink it.”

  Phillean looked Riven up and down, checking his seals with a practiced eye.

  “Kaelen spoke to you?” Phillean asked.

  “Yes, Sergeant.”

  “Good,” Phillean nodded. “He’s a wise and experience man, that I am proud to serve under. He has placed trust in all of us. Don’t let that trust fall short.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I know,” Phillean smirked, a quick, sharp expression. “Because if you do, I’ll kill you myself before the bugs get a chance. Stick to the plan. Trust the girl,” he jerked a thumb at Astrix. “And bring everyone home.”

  “Yes, Sergeant.”

  Phillean moved on down the line to check on Brick and Tora. Riven let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

  “Hey, Dust Boy.”

  Riven turned to his left. Vex was leaning against Raze’s leg, tossing a heavy fragmentation grenade up and down like a tennis ball. Her helmet was on, but the visor was retracted, revealing a grin that was all teeth and adrenaline.

  “Vex,” Riven nodded. “Try not to drop that. We haven’t left the ship yet.”

  “Relax,” Vex laughed, catching the explosive and clipping it to her belt. “Safety is on. Mostly.”

  She walked over, invading his personal space with her usual lack of subtlety. She punched him in the shoulder, her hard armor clacking against his.

  “You ready for the real thing?” she asked. Her voice was light, but her eyes were serious. “No respawns down there.”

  “I’m ready,” Riven said. He looked at her. Really looked at her. “Just... watch your six, okay? Don’t get so focused on burning things that you forget to dodge.”

  Vex blinked. Her grin softened.

  “Aww,” she cooed, leaning in close enough that their shoulder plates scraped together. “Are you worried about me, Holt?”

  “I’m worried about having to find a new wingman,” Riven deflected, though his heart rate spiked. “Training a new one takes weeks.”

  Liar, Astrix whispered in his head.

  Vex laughed, a bright sound that cut through the hangar noise. “Don’t worry, rookie. I’m too good at what I do to die. See you on the ground.”

  She winked and turned back to Raze, vaulting into the saddle with a fluid, practiced motion.

  “All hands, battle stations,” Kaelen’s voice boomed over the shipwide speakers. “Drop sequence initiated. Depressurizing the bay.”

  The warning klaxons began to wail. Rotating amber lights washed the hangar in a strobe of urgency.

  Riven scrambled up Astrix’s side, finding the footholds by instinct now. He swung his leg over the saddle and locked his boots into the magnetic clamps. A mechanical hiss signaled the suit hooking up with the harness.

  He tapped the hammer icon on his chest. His helmet sealed. The HUD flickered to life, bathing his vision in tactical blue.

  You are good, Astrix projected. All systems are green. I am with you.

  “Platoon,” Kaelen’s voice returned, calm and deadly. “The Fringe is waiting. Seekers, you are up.”

  The massive blast doors at the end of the hangar groaned open. The containment field shimmered, holding back the vacuum of space. Beyond it, Cinder hung in the void, a dusty, angry eye watching them.

  “Seekers launching!” Sergeant Harth shouted.

  The seven dragons of the First Squad surged forward. Their engines roared, and they punched through the containment field, vanishing into the black.

  “Protectors launching!” Sergeant Corra followed.

  The heavyweights moved next. The deck vibrated as seven massive dragons lumbered to the edge and dropped, falling like boulders toward the gravity well.

  And then, silence.

  The Hammers sat alone in the bay.

  This was the wait. The fifteen minutes. Riven watched the timer in the corner of his HUD count down. He watched the telemetry data stream in from the surface. Explosions. Screams. The tactical map showed the swarm moving, drawn away from the center just like in the simulation.

  It was working.

  Riven gripped the reins. His hands were steady. His mind was clear. The noise of the ship faded away. The fear faded away.

  There was only the mission.

  “Orbit is clear,” Kaelen’s voice crackled. “The nest is exposed. Hammers, you are clear to engage.”

  “Hammers!” Phillean’s voice roared over the squad link. “Drop!”

  Astrix surged forward, her muscles bunching and releasing with explosive power.

  They raced toward the open bay door. The containment field loomed large, a wall of shimmering energy.

  Riven leaned forward, his chest pressing against her neck.

  “Let’s fly,” he whispered.

  They hit the field. A moment of resistance, a flash of light, and then they were through.

  The artificial gravity of the ship vanished. The silence of the void rushed in. Riven looked down past Astrix’s head, past the stars, to the dusty world rushing up to meet them.

  And the Hammers fell together into the dark.