SABERS: Shadows of Ravena

Eilífr looked over his shoulder, his glowing visor flickering faintly in the dim light of the forest. "Keep moving," he barked, his voice a metallic growl through his helmet's speakers. "The rumbling you're hearing—those explosions—it's all part of the plan. Don't stop for anything. I've got you."

The group shuffled forward, their fear barely held at bay by the unwavering determination in his voice. Mothers clutched their children close, elderly men and women leaned on improvised walking sticks, and the younger adults carried what little they could salvage from the community. Their footsteps were heavy, not just from exhaustion but from the weight of hope and dread.

To Eilífr, the two miles might as well have been two hundred. Every step felt like a test, every second stretched unbearably long as if the universe itself conspired to make this journey harder. He scanned the surroundings constantly, his helmet's sensors humming softly as they searched for any signs of Extractant movement. The rumbling in the distance grew louder, punctuated by the occasional tremor that rattled the underbrush.

"Stay close!" he called out, his rifle sweeping across the treeline. "Eyes forward. We're almost there."

The survivors whispered among themselves, fear laced with awe. They had never encountered anything like this man who had dropped into their lives like a living myth. Yet even as they trudged forward, trusting him to see them through, doubt flickered in their eyes. The noise in the distance was too loud, too chaotic, to be anything reassuring.

Finally, the treeline broke, and they stepped into the clearing. Gasps rippled through the group as they laid eyes on the massive forms descending from the sky. The Elephants were colossal—each one a marvel of engineering, their sleek, matte black hulls shimmering faintly in the sunlight. Massive rotors churned the air, whipping the grass below into a frenzy. Their legs, reinforced with hydraulics, extended as they touched down with a ground-shaking thud, each step deliberate and powerful, like giants awakening from slumber.

The survivors stopped in their tracks, momentarily forgetting their exhaustion as they stared in wide-eyed wonder. To them, the Elephants were more than just machines—they were salvation.

"They're…beautiful," a young boy whispered, clutching his mother's hand.

Eilífr gave them a moment, his stance still vigilant, rifle at the ready. The loading ramps of the Elephants extended with a smooth, mechanical whir, and a team of soldiers disembarked, their uniforms crisp and their movements efficient. They gestured for the survivors to board quickly.

"You did it!" a middle-aged man exclaimed, turning to Eilífr with tears in his eyes. "You really did it! Thank you, thank you!"

Others joined in, their gratitude pouring out in broken sobs and heartfelt words. Mothers hugged him; children clung to his armored legs. The elderly, who had once doubted they'd ever see safety again, bowed their heads in silent thanks.

Eilífr raised a hand, his voice cutting through the cacophony. "Go. Board the Elephants. They'll take you to a safe place."

The group hesitated, sensing something in his tone. One of the younger men, his face smudged with dirt, stepped forward. "You're not coming with us, are you?"

Eilífr hesitated for a fraction of a second before shaking his head. "I can't. I've got a job to finish out here. But you'll be safe now."

The mood shifted. Gratitude turned to disbelief, then to disappointment. "But we need you," a woman said, her voice trembling. "You're the reason we made it this far. You can't just leave us now."

Eilífr crouched down, his helmet tilting slightly as he addressed a little girl who clung to her mother's leg. "Listen to me," he said gently. "You're going to a place where people can help you, keep you safe. That's all that matters."

She nodded slowly, though her eyes filled with tears.

The group began to board reluctantly, many casting backward glances at the armored figure who had saved them. Eilífr stood firm, his rifle held at his side, his visor reflecting the shimmering Elephants.

As the ramps began to close and the rotors roared to life, the last person—a frail old man—looked back at him and saluted. Eilífr returned the gesture, the motion precise and deliberate.

The Elephants lifted off, the wind from their rotors flattening the grass and sending leaves spiraling into the air. Eilífr stood unmoving, watching them ascend until they were mere specks against the sky.

Alone once more, he turned back toward the forest, gripping his rifle tightly. There was no time for relief, no moment to rest. His mission wasn't over yet.

The air was heavy with the stench of sulfur and ozone as the decoy force, a mix of infantry and armored vehicles, held their ground amidst the charred remains of a forest clearing. Lieutenant Sarah Kane crouched behind a smoldering tree stump, her helmet HUD flickering with data as the Extractants surged toward their position. Their grotesque, insectoid forms were illuminated by the fiery glow of distant explosions, their shrieks slicing through the cacophony of gunfire and artillery.

"Keep up the pressure!" Kane barked into her comms, her voice sharp and commanding. "We need to hold them here for another five minutes. Do not let them slip past!"

Nearby, a pair of heavy walkers—mechanized combat platforms bristling with weaponry—unleashed a barrage of plasma rounds, each blast lighting up the battlefield in bursts of neon blue. The ground trembled under the Extractants' relentless advance, their razor-sharp appendages tearing through whatever stood in their way.

"Walker Two, adjust fire to the left flank!" Kane ordered, pointing toward a cluster of Extractants attempting to circle around their position.

"Roger that!" came the response, and the walker pivoted, its twin plasma cannons spitting fire at the incoming horde.

Above, fighter drones zipped through the smoke-filled sky, strafing the enemy lines with precision strikes. Yet for every Extractant they took down, three more seemed to emerge from the shadows, their numbers seemingly endless.

"Lieutenant, we're getting overrun on the right!" a panicked voice crackled through the comms.

Kane turned to see a squad of soldiers falling back under the weight of the Extractant assault. She gritted her teeth and opened a channel to the artillery team stationed just beyond the treeline. "Artillery, this is Kane. We need suppressing fire on grid three-seven-two by one-eight-six. Danger close!"

"Copy that, Lieutenant. Rounds inbound!"

Seconds later, the ground erupted as a series of high-explosive shells slammed into the advancing Extractants, sending limbs and fragments flying in every direction. The surviving soldiers regrouped, their resolve bolstered by the temporary reprieve.

"Lieutenant!" another voice called out. "We're getting word from command. SABER-1 and the civilians are almost at the extraction point. We need to disengage now!"

Kane hesitated, her eyes scanning the battlefield. The Extractants were still coming, their movements frenzied and chaotic. If her team pulled back too soon, the enemy might redirect their focus toward Eilífr's position. But if they stayed any longer, they risked total annihilation.

"Understood," she finally said. "All units, begin a phased retreat. Cover each other and fall back to the rendezvous point. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary."

The retreat was chaotic but disciplined. Infantry squads laid down suppressing fire as the walkers and vehicles began to pull back. Drones continued their strafing runs, buying precious seconds for the ground forces to escape. Kane stayed behind, her rifle blazing as she provided cover for the last of her troops to fall back.

An Extractant lunged toward her, its serrated limbs slicing through the air. She sidestepped, firing point-blank into its grotesque maw, the kinetic rounds tearing through its chitinous armor. Another one charged from her left, but a precise drone strike obliterated it before it could reach her.

"Lieutenant, you're the last one out!" her comms officer shouted.

"On my way," she replied, turning and sprinting toward the extraction point.

As the decoy force regrouped on the outskirts of the battlefield, the Extractants slowed, their confusion evident. The bait had worked; their attention remained fixed on the now-empty position, the distraction keeping them far from SABER-1's path.

Kane climbed into the back of an armored transport, her chest heaving as she removed her helmet. She wiped sweat and grime from her brow, her hands trembling slightly from the adrenaline.

"Did we buy them enough time?" one of her sergeants asked, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

Kane nodded, though the weight of the operation pressed heavily on her. "We did what we came to do. Now it's up to SABER-1."

The transport's engines roared to life, and the decoy force sped away from the battlefield, leaving behind a scorched wasteland and a swarming horde of Extractants. Kane leaned back in her seat, the faintest trace of a smile on her lips. They had done the impossible—against all odds, they had held the line.

The faint hum of static filled the Lieutenant's helmet as she leaned against the cold steel wall of the transport. Her squad was silent, their weary faces illuminated by the dim red glow of the interior lights. The extraction had been brutal, and the losses weighed heavily on them all.

KSHHT The comm crackled to life, breaking the heavy silence.

"Lieutenant Kane," came a deep, modulated voice. It was unmistakable—SABER-1. The tone carried a quiet authority, yet there was an edge of exhaustion beneath it.

Kane straightened, pressing two fingers to the side of her helmet. "SABER-1, this is Kane. We're clear of the engagement zone. All units accounted for."

There was a pause on the other end, the kind that stretched just long enough to feel uncomfortable. "Understood," Eilífr finally said. His words were measured, almost hesitant. "You accomplished your objective. Your actions ensured the civilians reached the extraction point safely."

Kane's jaw tightened. "We did what was necessary. That's the job."

Another pause. This time, it lingered. The hum of the transport's engine filled the silence as her squad exchanged glances, sensing the gravity of the moment.

"I reviewed the feed from your operation," Eilífr said, his voice quieter now, almost solemn. "I saw what you were up against. I know what it cost you."

Kane's chest tightened, memories of the chaos flashing through her mind—the screams, the explosions, the lives lost under her command. She didn't respond, unsure of what to say.

"I'm sorry," he said, the words heavier than she expected. "For your losses."

The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard. SABER-1 wasn't known for emotional gestures. He was a symbol of unyielding strength, a man forged by war. Hearing an apology from him felt...human.

Kane exhaled deeply, her grip on her rifle loosening. "We knew the risks going in. My people understood what was at stake. They gave their lives for something greater."

"They did," Eilífr replied. "And their sacrifice won't be forgotten."

The line went quiet again, but this time, it wasn't oppressive. It was a moment of mutual respect, a silent acknowledgment of the weight they both carried.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Eilífr said finally, his tone firm but laced with gratitude. "You and your team saved lives today."

"Just doing our part," Kane replied, her voice steady. "Good luck out there, SABER-1."

"Stay vigilant," he said before the comm clicked off.

Kane removed her helmet, staring down at the scorched and battered armor cradled in her lap. The hum of the transport felt louder now, the red lights casting long shadows across the faces of her surviving squad.

"Rest easy," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the engine. "We did good today."

Lieutenant Kane sat back against the cold metal wall of the transport, cradling her helmet in her lap. The rhythmic hum of the engine filled the silence, but her thoughts were elsewhere, replaying the conversation she'd just had.

Her gaze drifted to her squad—what was left of it. Some were slumped against the walls, their eyes hollow with exhaustion; others sat quietly, tending to minor wounds or staring at nothing in particular. Their silence was a language of its own—a shared mourning for those who hadn't made it back.

She tightened her grip on the helmet, her fingers brushing over the jagged scorch marks etched into its surface. The weight of their losses pressed against her chest, but amidst the heaviness, something else lingered: Eilífr's voice.

She had always thought of him as untouchable—a machine in human form, forged to endure, to execute, to survive. But those words... I'm sorry for your losses. They had been unexpected, raw, and sincere.

Kane closed her eyes, exhaling shakily. "He's not a machine after all, is he?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the hum of the transport.

For a moment, the image of him standing alone against impossible odds flickered in her mind. She thought of the burden he carried, the weight of responsibility that made her own seem lighter in comparison. And yet, despite it all, he had taken a moment to acknowledge their pain, to share in it.

She opened her eyes, glancing at her squad once more. None of them had heard her whisper, but she could see it in their faces—an unspoken understanding. They all felt it too.

With a small, bittersweet smile, Kane looked back down at her helmet. "Maybe there's more humanity left in you than even you realize," she murmured before leaning her head back against the wall, letting the hum of the transport carry her thoughts away.