Baptism by Fire

Kael’s first taste of battle came sooner than expected. Training was abruptly interrupted when a Nexus scout drone infiltrated the camp. Alarms blared as recruits scrambled for cover, their drills forgotten in the face of real danger. “Move, move, move!” Sergeant Orlan bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. The recruits had trained for this moment, but theory was nothing compared to the reality of facing a Nexus machine. Kael’s heart pounded as he grabbed his rifle, his hands trembling. The drone was fast—sleek and insect-like, its metallic body reflecting the dim light as it weaved through the camp, scanning for threats. The instructors barked orders, directing the recruits to defensive positions. Then the first shot rang out. A pulse of red energy lashed through the air, striking a nearby bunker. The explosion sent debris flying, and Kael hit the ground, instinct taking over. His mind raced—this wasn’t a simulation. This was real. A voice crackled in his earpiece. “Recruits, hold your positions! Do not engage unless ordered.” Kael risked a glance from behind cover, watching as the instructors coordinated their counterattack. Veteran soldiers, far more experienced than the recruits, moved with precision.A missile launcher fired from the rooftops, striking the drone in its side. Sparks flew, and the machine let out an eerie, electronic screech as it staggered mid-flight.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stretch. The air itself felt frozen, thick with the weight of anticipation. Every recruit held their breath, their fingers hovering over their triggers, muscles coiled like springs. Kael could hear nothing but his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, feel nothing but the pressure of his rifle pressed against his shoulder. The drone wavered, its stabilizers faltering, sending it into an erratic spiral. Smoke billowed from the wound carved into its metallic body, the glow of its optics flickering like dying embers.

The stillness before the order was suffocating. Every recruit knew the next few seconds would decide everything. Would the drone recover? Would it lash out with one last, desperate counterattack? The uncertainty pressed down on them, a weight of fear and readiness colliding in their minds.

Then—“Now!” Sergeant Orlan roared.

The tension snapped. The recruits opened fire as one, their rifles erupting in a chorus of gunfire. Muzzle flashes illuminated the darkness, streaks of energy and bullets tearing into the drone’s failing frame. Kael squeezed the trigger, each shot an extension of the adrenaline surging through his veins. His aim was steady now, his fear drowned beneath the singular focus of survival.

The drone flailed, its frame jerking violently as its systems failed. Its once-lethal precision was now reduced to panicked, uncoordinated movements. With one final sputter of sparks and a dying whine of twisting servos, it crashed into the camp’s perimeter fence in a shower of metal and smoke.

For a moment, there was nothing.

Then silence.

It pressed against them like a living thing, broken only by the ragged breathing of recruits who had just survived their first battle. No cheers, no celebration—just the quiet realization that they were still standing, still breathing.

Sergeant Orlan’s voice shattered the moment. “This was just a scout,” he warned, his tone cold and unyielding. “And scouts don’t travel alone.”

Kael exchanged looks with his fellow recruits, their expressions mirroring his own. Their training was over. The war had truly begun.