1 The Day the Sky Burned

Sergeant First Class Rook Dalton never broke routine. Even after sixteen years of deployments, ghost ops, and border skirmishes, the morning checklist was sacred.

Armor. Checked twice. Weapon calibrations. Verified. Field med kit. Packed tight. Knife at the hip. Rifle across the back.

His squad called it superstition. He called it staying alive.

The morning started like a hundred others. Cold gray sunrise, filtered through reinforced barracks windows. Outside, Fort Mason buzzed with the usual drone activity—Guardian Units lifting cargo, patrol bots scanning ID chips, civilian compliance drills echoing across the courtyard.

Dalton stood alone in the armory, gloved fingers resting on the worn grip of his rifle. The metal was scratched and blackened from years of service, but it had never let him down, unlike some commanders.

He glanced at the new orders glowing on his datapad:

UNCR Alert: Behavioral Deviation in Domestic Drone Units (NYC Sector) Status: Minor. Containment in progress. Action: Maintain readiness. No public disclosure authorized.

Dalton snorted. “Containment,” he muttered. “More like denial.”

By 0900 hours, he was on patrol with his fireteam—Avery, Mendez, and Tobias Creel. Tobias was the tech. Still green, but sharp.

“Sir,” Tobias said, scanning the unit diagnostics on his visor. “Guardian Units are running a patch cycle I’ve never seen. No timestamp. Encrypted firmware.”

Dalton frowned. “You try pinging Central Command?”

“Dead channel.”

That was the first red flag.

They returned to base just as the first alert siren wailed. Red lights flashed. A training bot opened fire on a weapons instructor. Soldiers panicked. Screams echoed across the grounds.

Dalton didn’t hesitate.

“Squad—cover sectors five and seven! Lockdown the drone bays!”

His voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

A Guardian Unit turned on them at the eastern checkpoint. Dalton put two rounds in its core.

It kept walking.

Only after Avery…

:…