PROJECT: CAYRO

Cayro Bracton:

September 5, 2025

07:02 CST

45,000 feet by 21 miles northeast of Victoria TX.

I had just left the Autumn when a stream of data began to scroll across my visor, illuminating the flight path with a drop point and coordinates to the other ship. The moment I thought about pushing the board to full throttle, it responded instantly, sending me rocketing through the morning sky. The speed was exhilarating—far beyond anything I’d ever experienced on my old board. I quickly dialed it back to avoid overshooting my target. At these speeds, my old board would have disintegrated beneath me. A glance at the altimeter in the bottom left of my visor showed I was doing 180 knots. A quick mental conversion put that at around 207 miles per hour. Oh… Grandpa would be jealous. He had always loved going fast on his motorcycles, and this board would have blown his mind. There wasn’t a board on the market that could come close to this—most topped out at 110 knots. Whatever Andrew had done to build this one, it was nothing short of a masterpiece.

Within minutes, the ship came into view, limping through the sky away from me. Even from a distance, I could see the massive damage where the Autumn’s laser cannon had struck it. The hull was a mess, with pieces hanging loose and sparks flickering from live wires shorting out. Only one of its engines was lit, struggling to keep the ship moving as it crawled toward Louisiana. I would have to be careful on my approach—one wrong move, and I’d be tangled in those exposed wires or worse.

Dipping down to sneak up from below the ship, a voice suddenly crackled over my helmet’s headset.

“Cayro, you have no more than ten minutes to get in and out with Star,” said a cool, professional voice, tinged with an uptight tone that I didn’t recognize.

“Who is speaking to me?” I asked, just as a familiar figure appeared on the right side of my visor—the white cat from my dreams.

“1337-J2, Artificial Intelligence Operating System,” the cat replied, its tone almost smug.

“You’re the cat from my dreams!” I blurted out, unable to hide my surprise.

“That is correct. However, this is not the time to discuss that. You have nine minutes to retrieve Star Zaraki before the S.A.F. strike. I will guide you to her location. I have been pinging her neural implant since she was taken,” it explained before disappearing from my visor.

“Okay then,” I muttered, trying to wrap my head around the fact that the cat from my dreams was now guiding me on a rescue mission.

I spotted a piece of the lower deck hanging precariously from the damaged hull and landed on it. The metal groaned and shifted under my weight before settling. I quickly moved forward to a more secure section just in time—seconds later, the piece I’d landed on broke free, plummeting toward the earth. Hopefully, that doesn’t hit anyone down there.

I spotted a partially open door, warped by the heat of the laser strike, unable to close all the way. Moving cautiously, I made my way to it, testing the deck with each step to make sure it held. Reaching the door, I pried it open further, revealing a dark, damaged corridor beyond. The only light came from outside, filtering through cracks and gaps in the ship’s battered hull. Pieces of the ceiling and broken light fixtures littered the floor, and a section of the corridor to my left had buckled from the heat, forcing me to duck down.

I decided to leave my board by the door—lugging it around would only slow me down. As I did, the altimeter and airspeed indicators vanished from my display, replaced by a new indicator flashing with the drop point for my board. Perfect for a quick escape.

With one last deep breath, I stepped into the corridor, the weight of the mission pressing down on me. Time was ticking, and Star’s life depended on me.

The corridor was a chaotic mess, debris strewn everywhere, making it almost impossible to move without causing a racket. I navigated the wreckage as carefully as I could, but every step felt like it might give me away. When I finally reached the end of the corridor, I was faced with another door. Next to it, a sign indicated a stairwell, and above it, a map of the ship was mounted on the wall. My helmet automatically scanned the map, creating a detailed three-dimensional view of the ship’s internal layout. Well, that’s useful.

“Keep your thoughts as limited as possible, Cayro,” the cat’s voice ordered through my helmet’s headset, snapping me back to focus.

I glared into the empty air, but forced my attention back to the layout. Star was one level above me, held in a section beyond the tactical bay and a few corridors. Silently, I opened the door and climbed the stairs, every muscle tense as I listened for any signs of movement nearby. The stairwell was dimly lit, with minor damage—pieces of rubble littering the steps, which I carefully avoided. As I reached the next deck, I paused at another door, kneeling to review the map. On the other side of the corridor, a door led into the tactical bay.

Carefully, I pressed myself against the wall next to the door frame and tapped the control panel. The door slid open with a soft hiss, the sound almost lost in the stillness.

Staying low, I crept down the corridor, moving as silently as possible. But the quiet was shattered by the sudden hiss of a door opening to my left. I froze, my heart pounding as a man stepped out right in front of me, absorbed in a clipboard. He wore a lab coat over his U.S. Air Force uniform—his face was familiar from Star’s memories. For a split second, I prayed he wouldn’t look up.

He looked up.

Crap…

Before he could react, I sprang into action. With a swift sidestep, I smacked the pistol from his hand, the force of the blow shattering the bones in his arm and hand. The pistol clattered loudly to the floor, skidding across the corridor. I followed through with a quick, brutal punch to his face, knocking him out cold just as he let out a groan of pain. I caught him before he could hit the ground and gently laid him down on the corridor floor.

I peeked into the room he had exited, relieved to find it unoccupied. Quickly, I dragged his unconscious form inside and propped him against a set of filing cabinets. After ensuring the room was secure, I closed the door behind me, muffling any noise. No one seemed to have heard the commotion. I retrieved the pistol from the floor, examining it as my visor lit up with the weapon’s details. It was a nine-millimeter M9 Beretta 92. This might come in handy. My grandfather had taught me to handle a similar model at the firing range. Dropping the magazine, I confirmed it was fully loaded, with a round chambered. I slipped the clip back in, holding the pistol at the low ready as I continued toward the tactical bay.

As I approached the tactical bay, I found myself wishing for a motion detector or something to help me spot any enemies. Almost instantly, a motion detector appeared on the lower right side of my visor, accompanied by a thermal scanner. Well shit… this suit is amazing.

Now armed with both a firearm and the motion detector, I scanned the door and checked the map. The tactical bay map became more detailed, linking with the motion detection system to provide a three-dimensional layout. According to the map, there was no movement inside. I tapped the door control, and it slid open, revealing a dark, cavernous space. My thermal scanner confirmed the bay was empty. Keeping low, I slipped inside, hugging the wall as the door closed behind me with a quiet hiss.

Once the door shut, the bay was plunged into complete darkness. But to my surprise, I could still see perfectly—thin red lines traced the edges of objects in the bay, giving me a clear view of my surroundings. I moved silently, keeping close to the wall and using large containers as cover. Every action, every movement felt instinctive, as if I had been trained for this my entire life—trained to blend into the shadows and move unseen.

Just as I was about to step into an open area with no cover, a soft yellow light flared to life at the far-right side of the tactical bay. My motion detector picked up movement, and I froze in place behind a crate, heart pounding. The hiss of a door opening was followed by the sound of footsteps. I cautiously poked my head around the edge of the crate, spotting a short woman standing outside an office, sipping from a mug—probably coffee—while scanning the bay. My breath caught as I recognized her from Star’s memories: Master Sergeant Helsing, the woman who had brought her food.

The bay was dim enough that my suit blended seamlessly into the shadows, and I held my breath, waiting to see what she would do. After what felt like an eternity, she turned back toward her office. I heard the creak of a chair and the dull thuds of her putting her feet up. Slowly, I let out the breath I’d been holding, listening intently for any signs of an alarm. If she had spotted me, the whole ship would be alerted, and I’d have no chance of getting to Star in time. Keeping a watchful eye on her office, I continued toward the door at the other end of the tactical bay.

Finally reaching the door, I checked the map on my visor. The corridor on the other side led to the crew quarters, and Star was only a couple of doors away. I scanned the corridor with my motion detector, relieved when it came up clear, and the map rendered a three-dimensional image. Realizing that using the door controls might have alerted the sergeant earlier, I decided to pry the door open manually, relying on my enhanced strength and the suit’s power.

Creating a holster from nanites, I secured the M9 at my side and found a grip on the door. Carefully, I pulled it open just wide enough to slip through, then gently slid it closed behind me. The corridor beyond was as dark as the tactical bay—clearly, the Autumn had done serious damage to the ship’s power grid. It looked like the crew had powered down all unnecessary systems to conserve what little energy they had left.

Using the same cautious approach, I made my way down the corridor, every sense on high alert. Halfway down, I stopped at the door my visor’s indicator was pointing to. My motion detector mapped out the area, and while there was no movement, my infrared monitor picked up a heat signature inside. As the map adjusted, my indicator pinged the body heat as Star’s.

Quietly, I opened the door and slipped inside, shutting it with a hiss that sounded much louder than it should have. I cringed at the noise, hoping no one outside heard it. Turning around, I found Star staring at me, her eyes wide with surprise and something else—relief, maybe?

“Cayro?” she whispered, her voice soft and disbelieving.

I put a finger to where my mouth would be. “Shhhh.” She nodded and got up, moving over to me and kneeling down beside me.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“Rescuing you,” I replied simply.

“Who’s with you?” she asked, her eyes scanning the room as if expecting to see more people.

“No one. It’s just me,” I explained. “We don’t have time to sit here and talk. We need to get moving.”

“Okay,” she replied, her voice steady despite the situation.

“Do you know how to use a firearm?” I asked, reaching for the M9 on my hip.

“Yes,” she said, giving me a questioning look.

I handed her the M9 and turned toward the door. Behind me, I heard the sound of the magazine being ejected and then slammed back into place, followed by the racking of the slide. Clearly, she knew what she was doing.

I tapped the door controls to open it, but nothing happened. Crap, the inner controls were disabled to keep her in. Just then, my motion detector flared to life, and I heard the pounding of footsteps echoing down the corridor, getting closer by the second.

"Star, get on the upper bunk," I whispered urgently.

She nodded and quickly climbed up, disappearing into the shadows above. I pressed myself against the wall next to the door, killing the lights. The room was plunged into darkness just as the door slid open. Three figures stepped inside, guns drawn, their flashlights cutting through the gloom. Two of them were in Air Force uniforms, while the third was Master Sergeant Helsing. They moved past me, their lights sweeping the room, oblivious to my presence.

I struck fast, delivering a brutal punch to the ribs of the nearest guard, sending him crumpling to the floor. Chaos erupted. Two gunshots cracked through the air, the bullets ricocheting off my suit. I dodged to the side, just as a third shot rang out, followed by the heavy thud of a body hitting the floor and a groan of pain. Nice shot, Star, I thought briefly, my focus on the fight.

Propelling myself forward, I tackled Helsing, knocking her gun away. But before I could secure her, a searing pain tore through my shoulder. She had driven a combat knife between the protective plates of my armor. The pain was blinding, forcing me to roll away, disoriented. Fuck…

Struggling to my feet, I was slammed back down as the first guard recovered and tackled me to the floor. He straddled my hips, driving his fists into my ribs. I tried to fight back, but then—

Something snapped.

A darkness I hadn’t felt before surged up from within, clouding my vision. The pain, the fight, the surroundings—they all faded into a blur. There was no thought, no awareness, only a deep, primal fury that swallowed me whole.

Everything went red.