SABERS: Shadows of Ravena

The skies above the battlefield split open with an unnatural roar, a sound that defied description. It was not the crack of thunder, nor the rumble of artillery—it was something deeper, more primal. From the heavens, the Trident of Poseidon descended, a three-pronged projectile of unimaginable size and precision, each prong glowing with the fiery intensity of atmospheric reentry.

To those few who had witnessed it before, the sight alone was enough to break the strongest minds. The Trident was no mere weapon; it was a force of annihilation. While the legendary Rod from God was infamous for erasing cities with a single strike, the Trident carried its own terrifying legacy—a surgical tool of devastation. Its three prongs were designed to pierce deep into the earth, splitting apart and carving destruction in three perfect arcs. The resulting devastation was less total than the Rod's, but it was no less horrifying, leaving behind landscapes unrecognizable and irradiated with residual plasma heat.

The Falcon's external camera caught the moment of descent, the glowing projectile streaking through the darkened skies like a falling god's wrath. The live feed streamed directly to Nautica's war room, and to those watching, it was an awe-inspiring yet sickening sight. The three-pronged projectile glinted menacingly in the fire-lit haze, the shockwaves of its approach already tearing through the atmosphere.

Inside the Falcon, Icarus's hands moved like lightning over the controls as the shockwave hit them. The ship bucked violently, the engines howling in protest. Warning lights flashed across her HUD, and the comms erupted in a cacophony of alarms and system failures.

"Proximity shockwave detected. Hull integrity compromised," the automated system intoned coldly.

"Eilífr, we're too close!" she screamed, gripping the controls with everything she had.

"Then get us out!" Eilífr's voice was steady, but even he could hear the tremor of the Falcon's frame as it strained against the shockwave.

The Trident hit.

The impact was beyond anything she had ever experienced. The ground below erupted in a cataclysmic display of fire and earth, the three prongs punching into the crust with surgical precision. The initial blast wasn't a single explosion but three simultaneous eruptions that spiraled outward like the arms of a godly maelstrom. Chunks of molten earth were hurled into the sky, massive enough to eclipse the Falcon as Icarus fought desperately to climb higher.

The live feed caught every horrifying second. To those watching, it was like seeing hell itself unleashed. The landscape rippled and fractured, entire city blocks disintegrating into magma-filled fissures that glowed like fiery veins. Extractants caught in the blast were torn apart, their monstrous forms vaporized before they could even scream.

But the Falcon wasn't clear.

The first ripple of the blast wave struck the ship, sending it into a violent roll. Icarus screamed as she fought the controls, her heart racing so fast she thought it might burst. A second shockwave followed, slamming into the Falcon and sending sparks showering across the cockpit.

"HULL INTEGRITY AT 14%," the automated voice warned, its calm tone an eerie contrast to the chaos.

Icarus gritted her teeth, tears blurring her vision as her hands flew over the controls. "Come on! Come on, you piece of junk!" she shouted.

Inside the cargo hold, Eilífr braced himself against the bulkhead, his massive frame straining against the g-forces. The ship's walls groaned, threatening to buckle. Through the small viewport, he caught a glimpse of the destruction below, the Trident's spiraling arcs of devastation carving a path of obliteration toward the horizon.

"Icarus," he called through gritted teeth. "Focus everything on the engines. Cut whatever you have to, just keep us flying!"

Her voice crackled back, raw with desperation. "I know! I know! Just hold on!"

With a deep breath, Icarus made the call. Her fingers danced over the console, rerouting power from everything nonessential—life support, weapons, even the ship's stabilizers. The cockpit lights dimmed as every ounce of power was funneled into the engines.

The Falcon's engines screamed with renewed intensity, pushing the ship higher and faster. But the debris field was unrelenting. A chunk of molten rock clipped the left wing, sending a spray of sparks and a horrific grinding sound through the ship. The external camera caught it all—the fiery debris bouncing off the Falcon's hull, the desperate climb against the blast waves, and the crumbling, fiery wasteland below.

Those watching from Nautica held their breath. The war room was silent, save for the occasional whispered prayers and the hum of machinery. Even Colonel Cirus Trask's cold, calculating demeanor cracked as he muttered under his breath, "Come on, you damn fools… don't let this be the end."

The Falcon lurched violently as another shockwave slammed into it, and Icarus screamed as her controls sparked. The ship dipped, momentarily losing altitude, before she forced it back up.

"Eilífr!" she cried. "I can't—"

"You can," he barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Just keep going. We're almost clear."

The live feed captured the moment the Falcon finally broke free of the worst of the blast, its engines sputtering but holding. Behind it, the Trident's destruction continued to ripple outward, a storm of fire and ruin that seemed to consume everything in its path.

Inside the cockpit, Icarus let out a choked sob, her hands trembling as she stabilized the Falcon. Her voice cracked as she whispered, "We made it… Elfy, we made it."

In the hold, Eilífr leaned against the bulkhead, his armor sparking and scorched. He let out a long breath, his visor glowing faintly as he replied, "You did. Now get us home."

The Falcon limped away from the destruction, its cameras still streaming the apocalyptic scene below.

The cockpit of the Falcon was a cacophony of alarms, flashing warning lights, and the low groan of overstressed engines, but Icarus barely noticed. Her adrenaline surged as she pulled the ship into stable flight, narrowly escaping the fiery aftermath of the Trident strike. A shaky laugh bubbled from her throat, half relief, half disbelief.

"Did you see that, Elfy?" she called into the comms, her voice cracking but filled with exhilaration. "I just pulled off the craziest stunt in Falcon history. You'd better be recording, because no one's going to believe this back in Carnitas!"

There was no response.

She frowned, but the surge of victory quickly pushed the concern aside. "Hey, come on, big guy. This is the part where you grunt or say something cool and make me feel like a hero."

Still nothing.

Her brow furrowed as she glanced at her comms display. Everything seemed functional. Shrugging, she leaned forward, gripping the controls tighter as she coaxed the Falcon into a smoother trajectory. "Alright, fine, be stoic," she muttered with a smirk. "But you owe me drinks when we get back."

It wasn't until she flicked her gaze to the rear bay camera that the panic hit her like a physical blow.

Eilífr lay sprawled on the floor, motionless. His massive frame, normally so commanding and unyielding, now looked disturbingly fragile. Blood mixed with the faintly glowing blue of the hemacrine gel leaked from the breaches in his armor, pooling beneath him on the bay floor.

"Eilífr?" she whispered, her voice breaking. Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt her heart slam against her ribs.

The camera feed flickered slightly, but the sight didn't change. His armor, its once-glowing lines of energy and power, was dark and lifeless. The last dregs of its life support systems were visibly sputtering, faint hisses of vapor escaping from its joints. The HUD in the corner of the screen displayed critical warnings—Augmentation Failure. Neural Link Overload. Hemacrine Depletion.

"No, no, no, no!" she shouted, her hands flying over the controls.

Her mind raced as she fought between two impulses—abandon the cockpit and run to him, or stay at the controls and keep the ship in the air. She was split down the middle, her instincts at war with each other. The Falcon groaned as the engines struggled to maintain altitude, the earlier damage threatening to pull them down at any moment.

But Eilífr.

"Eilífr, come on! Say something!" she cried, her voice cracking.

The ship jolted slightly, and her hands instinctively gripped the controls tighter. Tears blurred her vision as she tried to focus, the external alarms drowning out her thoughts.

"You can't… you can't just leave me like this!" she yelled, slamming her fist against the console. Her chest tightened, the panic overwhelming her.

Her gaze darted between the cockpit controls and the rear camera feed, her heart wrenching as she saw the lifeless form of Eilífr. "Hold on," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I'll get us back. I swear, I'll get us back."

She threw everything she had into flying the Falcon, rerouting more power to the engines, ignoring the persistent warnings about system strain. The cockpit's hum grew louder, the controls vibrating in her hands as the ship clawed its way through the skies.

"Just hold on, Elfy," she whispered again, her voice barely audible over the chaos. Tears streamed down her face as she fought to keep them both alive. "You've never let me down before. Don't make this the first time."

The Falcon surged forward, battered and barely holding together. And so was she.

The war room in Nautica erupted into chaos as the drone's feed displayed the massive, grotesque squid-like Extractant writhing amidst the destruction. Its tentacles tore through the crumbling remnants of the city, glowing faintly with sickly hues of green and purple. The feed was shaky, distorted by the shockwaves from the ongoing battle, but it was clear what they were witnessing: an apex predator of the Extractants, a creature beyond any classification they had encountered before.

For a moment, everyone stood frozen, their eyes glued to the screen as the creature convulsed violently. Then came the flash—a blinding light as the Trident's three-pronged strike made contact. The feed briefly went dark, and when it returned, the aerial view was dominated by chaos. Fire and debris rained down as the monstrous entity collapsed, its once-menacing form obliterated by the spiraling shockwaves of the strike.

Cheers erupted throughout the room. Officers clapped each other on the back, analysts slumped in their seats with relieved laughter, and technicians wiped sweat from their brows. Even Colonel Cirus Trask allowed himself the faintest hint of a smile.

"It worked," someone whispered in disbelief.

"SABER-1 did it," another muttered, awe creeping into their voice.

The Colonel raised a hand, silencing the celebrations. His face, while stoic, betrayed a flicker of relief. "The operation isn't over until SABER-1 and the Icarus are back at Carnitas," he said firmly. "Get me Icarus's channel. Let's confirm their status."

Before anyone could comply, a sudden burst of static erupted from the war room speakers. The room fell silent, heads turning toward the sound. A voice broke through the static—hoarse, panicked, and filled with tears.

"This is... Icarus… Mayday! Mayday!"

Gasps rippled through the room, and the Colonel's expression darkened. He leaned toward the console. "Icarus, report! What's happening?"

Her voice cracked, barely coherent through her sobs. "Eilífr—he's—he's down! His armor's shutting down! There's blood—there's so much blood! I can't—"

The room froze, the earlier jubilation evaporating in an instant. Officers exchanged horrified glances, the color draining from their faces.

"Icarus," Trask said sharply, his voice cutting through the tension. "Calm down and focus. Is he alive?"

A long pause followed, punctuated only by the faint hum of the Falcon's engines and Icarus's ragged breathing.

"I—I don't know," she finally admitted, her voice trembling. "He's not moving, and the systems—everything's failing—"

"Listen to me," Trask barked, his tone commanding. "You're a pilot. Focus on flying that ship and keeping him stable. Get back to Carnitas as fast as possible. We'll have medics standing by. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," she whispered, though the fear in her voice was still palpable.

The line cut off abruptly, leaving the war room in stunned silence. No one moved, no one spoke. The earlier cheers and laughter now felt like distant memories, replaced by the weight of the reality before them.

Trask turned to his staff, his voice cold and steady. "Get me every available medic and SABER technician on standby at Carnitas. And someone keep that comm line open. I want updates every thirty seconds."

As his orders were carried out, the Colonel allowed himself a moment to exhale, his gaze fixed on the darkened screen.

The Falcon groaned under the strain, the engines screaming as Icarus pushed them beyond their limits. Her fingers flew over the controls, rerouting power from anything that wasn't essential into the primary thrusters. She was flying on instinct now, every ounce of her being focused on keeping the battered craft in the air.

But the damage was catching up.

A deep, metallic CRACK reverberated through the ship, and the Falcon lurched violently to the left. Icarus's heart stopped as the left wing's engine emitted a deafening roar before it exploded in a plume of fire and smoke. The craft jolted to the side, alarms blaring, and she fought the controls with every ounce of strength she had.

"Come on!" she screamed, her voice raw as the ship began to spiral. "Stay with me, damn it!"

Her HUD lit up in a barrage of warnings: Primary Thruster Failure. Stabilizers Offline. Critical Damage to Fuselage.

Icarus's mind raced, the weight of the situation crushing her as she saw the landscape below spiraling closer and closer. She hit the override for the auxiliary thrusters, systems that were never meant to handle sustained flight. Normally used for controlled landings, they sputtered to life, giving the Falcon a faint semblance of stability.

"Come on, you bucket of bolts," she muttered through gritted teeth, pouring every ounce of available power into the auxiliary systems. The engines flared weakly, just enough to stop the deadly spiral, but the ship continued to shake violently.

Then came the sound she dreaded most.

The sickening shriek of tearing metal echoed through the ship as part of the fuselage ripped open, exposing the interior to the high-altitude winds. Icarus's eyes darted to the rear camera feed, and her heart clenched.

Eilífr's massive form, lifeless and battered, was tossed violently across the bay with each shudder of the ship. The pool of blood and glowing hemacrine gel beneath him smeared across the floor as his body slid dangerously close to the jagged opening in the fuselage.

"No! No, no, no!" Icarus cried, her voice breaking as she fought the controls. Every lurch of the ship felt like a knife to her chest. "Stay with me, Elfy! You're not going anywhere!"

Tears streamed down her face as she threw everything into keeping the Falcon steady. Her hands trembled, but her resolve didn't falter. She rerouted more power, stripping every non-essential system down to the bare minimum. Lights dimmed, the HUD flickered, and even the cockpit temperature dropped as life support systems drained, all to fuel the failing engines.

The ship jolted again, and Eilífr's form slid farther across the bay, colliding with the wall. His armor, scorched and broken, sparked faintly, the dim blue glow of hemacrine gel seeping from the breaches. Every impact tore at Icarus's heart.

"Hold on!" she shouted, though her voice cracked under the weight of her fear. "Just hold on, you stubborn bastard!"

The Falcon's frame groaned, the auxiliary thrusters straining against the damage, but she managed to level the ship just enough to keep it from spinning out entirely. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the controls, her arms trembling with exertion.

The external camera feed flickered, showing the crumbling landscape of Carnitas growing larger as she descended, the city's lights faint in the distance. She wasn't sure if the Falcon would hold together long enough to reach it, but she wasn't about to give up.

"I'm getting you home," she whispered, her voice raw but determined. "I don't care what it takes, Elfy. You're not dying on me."

The ship jolted again, and she bit back a scream as another warning flashed across the HUD: Auxiliary Thrusters Critical. Final Systems Shutdown Imminent.

Her tears blurred her vision as she tightened her grip, pouring everything she had into keeping the Falcon in the air for just a few seconds longer. Every shudder, every groan of the failing ship, felt like it was tearing her apart. But she wouldn't stop. Not until they were home. Not until he was safe.

"Stay with me," she whispered again, her voice breaking as she fought back another sob. "Please."