Valkyrie

In the skies seven months after the Syndicated Colonies' forces landed on Lutin during the 1st Syndicate-Outcast War.

I was flying a few centimeters above the brown-red water. Only the sunset that silhouetted the city's skyline shed light onto my sleek form; all mirrored across the calm surface.

Above Lutin there was no moon. The sun was permanently locked into the sky above the North-Eastern sectors. Together, it meant the water didn't move and reflected the surface above in alien clarity.

Millimeter wave scans, electromagnetic pulses, and optical motion detection mini-cameras swept the airspace around Nouveau Niort. Equipment setup by the forces from the Syndicated Colonies that arrived only seven months ago.

The equipment was searching for me and any others the best they could. But, our enemy was still human. They would have set the threshold for detection higher to avoid the sea of false positives as signals bounced off the water's surface.

If you could see on the radio spectrum, as I could now, the space above that hyper-reflective water would be illuminated in waves of neon color that washed out from the city and across the channel. Little lightning bolt lasers of sound would flash out across the divide. Each a targeting beam pulsed from automated anti-air system scouring the air for prey.

I didn't bother trying to dodge or weave. If they detected me, they would shoot me down before the feed even made it to my goggles.

Ahead, the docks and their boats were now close enough that I could read the names. Local craft like the "Dernier Opéra" and the "Generosidad" were dwarfed by the corporate fishing cruisers flying the Syndicated Colonies' flag. They were models of efficiency. I could respect only that.

The Syndis were here for the Poissonlutin. A large, chitin-covered aquatic animal with the meat of an old world horse that tasted like blood. The species unique, and native to our iron-tinted waters.

The planet used to have its own economy. We towed up and sold the creatures as rations to passing orbital caravans. We had exports, multi-region commerce, and a GalaxyNet node that let us spread our wares across the inhabited galaxy all on our own.

Now, the Syndicate controls the industry. They called the process, "an establishment of new management."

We called it theft.

If you don't work for them, they'll buy you out or run you down because they feed their armies with our rations. It all goes off world. Every last scale.

But, we were here first. We built the city.

My grandfather's generation laid the first concrete on this planet back when it was still untamed. We established ourselves as a true member of the Outcast Clans. We had the atomics and we had our Vote for Grand Jarl.

In the moment, I nosed up as I hit the concrete shoreline. There were no sensors to ping me now. Just static beginning to play across my eyes in irregular waves. The jammers did their best, but little could be done to disrupt the fiber optic hardline that trailed behind my form.

Despite the risk of back tracking, it was our only option. If they found us, then they'd find us. A rocket would scream across the channel and send us back to the Void in a flash of alchemy. And that would be that.

As I rose, my eyes scanned for targets. Red and yellow squares overlaid the things of value before me as I drifted past a lamp post.

There. A yellow box that hemmed in a group of Syndicate marines at a barrel fire. And beyond, a large green rectangle. It enhanced the outlines that played across the edges of their mobile command bunker's armor exterior.

They had dropped it from orbit a week ago. Then they destroyed the park I grew up playing in to secure the perimeter.

And now, here I was hurtling down at the vent they had left open. To me, it was silent and played out in a static-laced video feed. To those men on the ground, I imagined they began to hear the high pitched whistling of my dive.

A few from around the fire began to shoot at me as I hurtled down. The rest ran and scattered like Poissonlutin fingerlings in a hatch swarm.

In less than two seconds from the start of my dive, I shattered against the target. The explosion must have been majestic.

The screen cut to black like a blindfold. Only my self and my thoughts remained.

I flexed my fingers. Then slid a hand up to the cable plugged into the socket just below my right ear. It pulled free and my eyes snapped back to the see the world in front of my body.

I lifted my hands and stared into them. They, and the rest of me, were still in one piece. I still wore the Outcast Sun-Moon camouflage jumpsuit and computer laden chest rig. Lui was still sitting there at the communications terminal.

He glanced back at me and lifted the headset from his ear. On his face, flashed a grin.