Callan’s POV
The world moved in slow motion as Valkyrie’s feet touched down on the landing pad. A fog had settled over my mind, making everything around me seem distant and unreal. The neural disengagement had been too fast, creating a strange disconnect between my brain and body.
I had already unstrapped Leo from the emergency cradle, ignoring SERA’s warnings about protocol. In my altered state, letting him out of my sight seemed unthinkable. I couldn’t explain why, but I needed to keep him close.
“Disengagement complete. Initiating decompression sequence,” SERA announced, though the sound seemed muffled and far away.
The compartment door hissed open, releasing a cloud of pressurized air. Cooling vapor sprayed from tubes positioned at four points around the exit, enveloping me in a cleansing mist designed to neutralize any external contaminants. The standard decontamination procedure felt endless today, each second stretching, as I stood with Leo, cradled in my arms.
When the mist finally cleared, I saw the medical team waiting on the platform. Nurse Ava stood at the front, her face tight with concern. Unlike the others, she knew me well enough to recognize something was wrong.
“What the hell are you doing?” she called out as I emerged with Leo. Her eyes widened as she took in my appearance. “Put him on the stretcher! You know better than this!”
Her words echoed strangely in my ears. I tightened my grip on Leo, unwilling to let go. In my hazed state, I was convinced that if I released him, something terrible would happen.
Ava approached cautiously, pulling a scanner from her belt. She hovered it near my forehead, frowning at the reading.
“You’re burning up,” she said, quickly moving the scanner toward Leo. “What about him?”
“Temperature normal,” I managed to say, my words slurring slightly. “SERA ran scans every minute. No broken bones.”
“He still needs proper assessment,” she insisted. “You know the protocol. Let him go.”
The team moved closer, reaching for Leo. I stepped back, nearly stumbling.
“No. I brought him here. I’ll take him to medical.” The words felt thick in my mouth.
“Look at me, Callan,” Ava demanded, but I couldn’t focus on her face. Everything was blurring together.
She grabbed my jaw, forcing my head up. A small penlight appeared in her hand, the beam uncomfortably bright as she checked my pupils, moving it back and forth between my eyes.
“Fuck,” she muttered, reaching into her kit. She pulled out an auto-injector containing Neural Stabilization Complex, a fast-acting compound designed to counteract synaptic overload in Aegis pilots. “Hold still.”
The needle bit into my neck before I could protest. The effect was almost immediate, like ice water flooding through my veins. My knees buckled, and two techs caught me before I hit the ground. My pilot suit, normally lightweight and responsive, suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
“Snap out of it, Callan,” Ava ordered, her voice becoming clearer as the drug took effect. “Your brain chemistry is all over the place. That was a dangerous disconnection.”
I blinked rapidly, reality rushing back with painful clarity. The fog lifted, sounds sharpened, and my vision focused. Leo’s unconscious form was still in my arms, his breathing steady.
The medical team stood ready with a hover-stretcher, waiting for me to relinquish my hold on him.
“Please,” I said to Ava, my speech steadier now. “Let me take him to medical myself.”
She sighed, then slowly shook her head. “Not a chance. You can barely stand.” She nodded toward the techs supporting me. “And Commander Rivera is already on her way down. You think she’s going to be happy seeing her top pilot stumbling around with an unconscious civilian?”
“Shit,” I mumbled. She was right, but it didn’t matter. Rivera had undoubtedly already seen everything through the base’s surveillance system. Cameras monitored every corner of this fortress, recording our every move and conversation.
Ava stood her ground, arms crossed over her uniform. Unlike the other staff with their standard white coats, she wore all black with silver accents—combat boots, fitted pants, and a jacket customized with pockets for her specialized tools. Her black hair was cut in a blunt style just above her shoulders, and rectangular glasses framed her intense dark eyes. The way she carried herself made her seem taller than her actual height, and when she was angry, she became downright intimidating.
Her fury toward reckless pilots came from a deeply personal place. Her husband had been Valkyrie’s pilot six years ago, before me. He died after battling one of the largest Nephilim that had ever crossed the rifts, his mind and body finally giving in to synaptic degradation syndrome. Command had buried his sacrifice, as they always did with fallen pilots. The public needed living heroes to cheer for, not reminders of what this war truly cost.
Ava had been pregnant when he died. Her son Jimmy, now five years old, lived here on the base and had never met his father. That experience had transformed her protectiveness into something fierce and uncompromising, especially toward pilots who pushed themselves too far.
“You’re experiencing severe neural feedback,” she directed the team to bring the stretcher closer. “And your civilian friend needs proper medical assessment. Let go, Callan.”
Looking down at Leo’s unconscious face, a tightness gripped my chest. He reminded me too much of someone I’d lost. Another person I’d failed to protect. Logic told me to let go, but logic couldn’t silence the echoes of the past that were urging me to hold on tighter.
As the stabilizer worked through my system, clarity returned in waves. My judgment was compromised, and hanging onto him this way wasn’t helping either of us. With reluctance giving way to reason, I carefully placed him on the hover-stretcher, my arms feeling hollow and empty.
“His name is Leo Tanner,” I explained as the team secured him, rubbing my temples to try to make my thoughts clearer. The stabilizer was working, but the disengagement fog still hung at the edges of my consciousness. “ID says he’s from Dome City Eight, twenty-two years old.”
Ava nodded, making a note on her tablet. “And why exactly did you bring him here? Against every protocol we have?”
Before I could answer, the landing bay doors opened. Commander Rivera strode in, flanked by two security officers and Dr. Shawn. Her heels struck the metal floor with rhythmic taps that echoed through the bay, while her silhouette stretched across the ground behind her, growing larger with each step. Her jaw tightened as she surveyed the scene. The atmosphere grew tense as her steely gaze fixed first on Leo, then on me. Her hands clenched at her sides before she clasped them behind her back in perfect military posture. The room went quiet as everyone waited, tension building with each passing second.
Rivera finally broke the silence, her voice edged with controlled anger. “That is exactly what I’d like to know.”
I gathered every ounce of strength remaining in my system and straightened my posture, offering Rivera the formal Resistance Nations salute—right arm across the chest, fingers splayed over the heart, thumb tucked under. Everyone in the room followed suit, backs stiffening in unison.
Rivera returned the salute with mechanical precision before dismissing the room with a flick of her wrist. As the medical team wheeled Leo away and the techs dispersed, I remained at attention, my body fighting to stay upright.
“With all due respect, Commander, I made a judgment call.”
She frowned, her gaze cold. “A judgment call?” She stepped closer, the polished brass buttons of her navy blue commander’s uniform reflecting under the overhead lights. The gleam from her rows of combat medals made me wince as my sensitive eyes struggled to adjust. Her voice dropped to a tone that made the space between us uncomfortable. “Since when does our top Aegis pilot make unauthorized extractions?”
I swallowed hard, feeling a lingering sting where the neural stabilizer had pierced my neck. Ten years in the Resistance Nations, joining at eighteen and following every order without question. Perfect record, a perfect soldier—until today. I could blame it on desperation, frustration, or the guilt of watching people die during my battles. But when I faced Rivera’s questioning gaze, only one truth remained.
“I couldn’t leave him there.”
Rivera studied my face, her lips pressing into a thin line. When I’d spotted Leo on that balcony, I’d seen him all over again. Sixteen, his hand slipping from mine on that cliffside path overlooking the ocean as the Nephilim rose from the surf, and I could do nothing. I was a powerless child raised in a place where nobody thought the Nephilim would reach, where the sun could be seen peeking through when it reached its highest point in the sky. The Eden. My home.
Eden… A sanctuary hidden away in what used to be Northern California. Fields of tall grass swayed past our knees, dotted with wildflowers that turned their faces to follow the warmth above. We deliberately wiped this place from maps, kept it invisible to satellites, unknown even to the Resistance. Remote and protected, a haven that stood apart from the gray reality outside, nothing like the miserable existence of those trapped in the domes with their artificial environment and recycled air.
Rivera maintained her penetrating stare. Movement caught my attention as Dr. Shawn approached from the side. The celebrated genius behind our survival technology slid beside Rivera with unsettling grace. Despite being hailed as humanity’s savior for developing the Synaptic Bridge technology and SERA AI system, something about him had always struck me as wrong.
He resembled a perfect wax figure rather than a living person. In his mid-sixties, his bald head and completely smooth features projected a disturbing youthfulness that left even seasoned soldiers on edge in his presence. The man responsible for our continued existence generated an inexplicable discomfort whenever he entered a room.
Dr. Shawn leaned close to Commander Rivera, whispering something into her ear. Rivera’s expression transformed into a calculating smile, the corners of her eyes wrinkling with an eerie quality. Fine lines fanned out from her gaze, betraying satisfaction with whatever information she’d received. She nodded to him, cleared her throat, and addressed me with an entirely different demeanor.
“Since you’ve taken such personal interest in bringing him here, he’s your responsibility now. We’ll have a proper conversation about his future once he’s conscious. There’s no space allocation for unexpected civilians. He stays in your quarters.”
The shift caught me off guard, but I remained silent. I had no grounds to object after bringing Leo here without considering the consequences.
