Incursion Protocol

“What are they doing?” I asked, nodding toward a group of Slipscale sprawled out on the beach.

Faleun peered over the sand dune we were using for cover and whispered, “Recovering. Harvesting the Bloodreef can only be done in short bursts. If you stay in the water too long, it gets its hooks in you, and then…” she fluttered her claws, the iridescent tips catching the fading light.

I shuddered, recalling the arrow that had dissolved when the coral leeched it away. I couldn’t imagine watching your own body waste away like that, breaking down at the molecular level until you simply dissolved into nothing. At least, that’s what I assumed was happening. Whatever the exact process, it didn’t sound like a pleasant way to go.

“Eventually,” Faleun continued, “resting won’t be enough to recover their energy stores. They’ll slip beneath the waves for the last time.”

She had led me to a small archipelago a few miles from the tower of light. A column of yellow energy pierced the heavens, pulsing and glowing, bright enough to illuminate the night sky. I watched as cubes of coral drifted lazily upward through the beam of light, their destination seemingly the stars.

Faleun beckoned me forward, sliding gracefully down the dune’s slope, barely disturbing the sand. I, on the other hand, stumbled and tripped my way down, kicking up sand in every possible direction. Great, just what my spacesuit’s airtight joints needed: grit grinding between the seals.

We were heading toward what remained of a Slipscale village. Smaller than Faleun’s, and even in the dim light, it looked dark and sparsely populated. If I hadn’t seen the others resting on the shore, I would’ve thought it was abandoned. I quickened my pace to catch up with her.

“What are we doing here?” I asked, trying to sound casual despite being out of breath.

“Supplies,” she replied, casting a glance at my spacesuit. “You move like a Chondak snail caught at low tide.”

“We couldn’t have gotten supplies back at your village?” I asked, puzzled by the detour.

“The sacred reef is too valuable to waste on invaders. The scraps here are more suited to your… station.”

I bit back a retort. Hard to be offended, really, her planet had been invaded and exploited, likely since oh, about the time I had incurred on her dimension. Whatever The System had done for the Dulox, they’d taken full advantage, crushing their neighbors and enslaving the entire planet.

I followed Faleun as she padded into the village, her large, soft amphibian-like feet gliding effortlessly through the sand.

“Aren’t you worried about anyone seeing us?” I asked, glancing between the shadowy huts.

“These people were unlucky enough to live near the tower,” she said. “I’m not worried about them, only those who patrol the skies.”

She motioned for me to wait while she slipped into a nearby hut, rummaging through the darkened remains of the previous occupants’ belongings. She moved from hut to hut, I’d refer to her as a cat burglar, but I feel like that’d be insensitive. Finally she returned with a small haul.

“Okay,” I said, running a finger over what looked like a coral breastplate. “This is much better than I expected. Definitely fit for a warrior like me.”

“It’s a child’s training plate,” she replied, not bothering to look at me, her eyes cast upward on the pulsating light in the distance. “They wear it for the first six months of their apprenticeship.”

“Yeah, but like… a vicious, bloodthirsty child.” I wriggled out of my spacesuit and donned the gear she’d laid out. The breastplate hung loosely on my torso, but the arm and leg guards fit snugly, thanks to the Slipscale’s narrow limbs. I picked up a jagged, chipped knife that felt surprisingly right in my hand. It was worn and clearly in disrepair, but I liked its raw, primal feel. The handle was smoothed from use, its once-deep etchings now thin and shallow.

I stashed my suit, unsure if it would ever be airtight again, just outside of the village, and followed Faleun as she headed in the direction of the tower of light.

“Come,” she said, “The Knot is near.”

The Knot turned out to be a massive, tangled network of conveyors, woven together from what seemed like hundreds of individual belts stretching across the entire hemisphere. It wasn’t far from where we had landed, and as we trekked through the sandy terrain, it became clear that Faleun’s choice of landing site wasn’t as spur-of-the-moment as I had originally thought.

“You know this area,” I said, matching her pace.

“Of course,” she replied, her voice steady but thoughtful. “This is my home. My people make pilgrimages across the seas as part of our coming-of-age. We swim, we row, leaving with nothing but our own scales on our backs, and returning with the weight of experiences gathered during our journey. We face the wild seas, the challenges of the unknown, the creatures lurking below, and even those who seek to stop us.” She paused for a moment, as if the memories of those voyages lingered on her tongue, then continued, though more cautiously. “We return changed, both in spirit and body, each mark earned through hardship.”

Her pace slowed, and I could feel her hesitating, as if she’d said more than she intended. “This place holds those memories. It is a part of me, like the sea itself.”

“Understandable,” I said, keeping my tone respectful. “I had something similar back where I’m from. There’s a place we call Call Edge. Young people are sent there to learn, to be tested. We leave home with little more than knowledge and the weight of expectations, and we return, hopefully, having earned a title or position. But the journey? It changes us, makes us carry more than just what we’ve learned: usually it’s debt, sometimes it’s doubt.”

Faleun glanced at me, her gaze steady but curious.

“Different kind of pilgrimage," I shrugged, “but I get it. At least your people come back with wisdom. We usually just come back broke.”

I looked skyward, keeping an eye out for patrols. “Right now, I’m just hoping I make it back with a little less trouble.”

For a brief moment, she was quiet, then her tone shifted, more urgent. “We’re getting close now. The enemy patrols this area. Keep your eyes skyward.”

We approached a section of the conveyor system, continuing the Dulox pattern of blending high-tech concepts with chaotic, almost accidental design. Pipes and platforms intertwined in a mess that seemed more improvised than planned. The entire structure emitted a low hum, and I noticed something strange: there were no visible moving parts. Occasionally, blocks of coral slid along the platform, hovering rigidly as they glided toward their destination. It reminded me of an experiment my high school science teacher once showed us, involving magnets and a supercooled alloy. The alloy, when cooled, would ‘stick’ in a hovering position over an array of magnets, letting it float along as if gliding on air.

But here? I didn’t see any cooling systems or anything else that would explain how the coral blocks were floating. It was frictionless, sure, but I had no idea how it worked. Everything I knew about the Dulox suggested they weren’t exactly ‘masters of high-tech design’, so seeing something like this just felt… off.

A sharp snapping noise from Faleun’s claws snapped me out of my thoughts. “Don’t let the odd lights touch you,” she warned. Without further explanation, she leapt onto the side of the conveyor. The frictionless surface seemed to have no effect on her as she sprinted along, then gracefully hopped onto one of the coral blocks and was whisked away.

“Wait!” I yelled, caught off guard by her sudden movement. “Couldn’t you give a guy some warning?”

I scrambled up onto the conveyor, surprised at how easily I managed the pull-up, but my focus was on avoiding the next block hurtling toward me. I stumbled a little, grateful that I wasn’t wearing my bulky suit anymore, and with a burst of adrenaline, sprinted and clawed my way onto one of the blocks. My fingers found rough handholds on the coral’s surface, and I held on for dear life as it shot down the track.

Faleun was still within eyesight, crouched low on her block as it whisked along. I clung to mine, fingers turning white as the speed steadily increased. I felt ridiculous, I've done crazier things and been in far more dangerous environments, but at least then I had control over the situation. Being rocketed along without any way to change the outcome made my stomach churn. For some reason, a memory of my younger self flashed to mind: snot running, eyes streaming after riding a rollercoaster, while my older brother teased me for being a big ol’ baby. No idea why that came up now, just one of those memories that inexplicably, without reason, pop up.

Wind stung my face, eyes watering as I wondered what exactly I was doing here, on some alien planet, following a clearly crazy lizard lady toward what was almost certainly an alien stronghold. I could’ve just stayed in the ship, watched her hop off and toward the dune, slammed the airlock shut, and lifted off. Maybe it was guilt? Sure, it was an accident, but I was technically the cause of all this.

Loot and experience didn’t hurt either, and if I could pull off destroying or sabotaging their space elevator, it would push me closer to my own goals. Altruism? Yeah, right. I laughed, not even fooling myself with that one. I’m as kind-hearted as the next guy, but that doesn’t put you on a path of suicidal, one-way missions.

Honestly, it was probably a mix of everything: helping people, leveling up, getting resources, and delivering a nice kick between the legs to those crescent-headed jerks. The more I learned about them, the more I hated them. And yeah, I’m still salty about that airlock door. Just. Plain. Rude.

I thought of Abby and what would happen if she were thrown into the topsy-turvy world The System had forced on the people here. She was a fierce woman. In my experience, there were only two types of women who married test pilots: those who sat clutching their pearls, waiting for the phone call that would deliver their husband’s fate, and those who punched you in the arm, and then in the jaw, if you didn’t call… or showed up late… or when they begged you not to go, to let someone else take the risk this time.

I sniffed and wiped away the tears caused by the rushing wind.

If she weren’t the one leading the charge, I at least hoped some ridiculously handsome, incorrectly labeled invader would help her set things right on planet Earth.

I squinted ahead, something strange catching my eye as the blocks moved up the conveyor. Red lights. At first, they seemed like random glints in the distance, but as another block rushed past, a sharp crackling sound split the air. The laser carved through the coral like it was butter, sending a spray of molten debris in every direction. My stomach dropped as I watched the smoldering edges of the block speed away, split neatly in half.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groaned, suddenly realizing what Faleun had meant. “The odd lights are killer laser beams? C’mon!”

I looked ahead, spotting more red lights, strung like deadly Christmas decorations, flickering in and out of view. There was no telling how frequent or random they might be. Faleun was already far ahead, crouched low and riding her block like she knew exactly what she was doing. I, on the other hand, was just a few feet away from the next laser, its crimson glow growing brighter by the second.

"Well, this is going to suck."

The hum of the conveyor filled my ears, and the light flickered again.