The corvettes of Lia Vrissa's armada fanned out, guns blazing as they pierced the shimmering minefield. Emerald pulses rippled from Julius's skimmer, neutralizing one stripe of bioluminescent pods after another. Each pod collapsed in soft, green flame—harmless now, its detonation sequence hacked by Seraphel and Echelon.
Brinley's voice came over comms, tense and exhilarated: "Field's down! We've got an open corridor!"
Julius banked his skimmer for a closer pass. Below, the black water churned with broken tendrils and dissipating static. Bulwark frigates poured suppressive fire into emerging Hive clusters—small, wiry morphs flitting between wreckage, dissolving under laser volleys.
"Strike Force Alpha, in position," Vara called. Her Echelon–tuned dropsuit glowed as she hovered above the waterline, beckoning her assault team forward.
Julius touched a comm key. "Seraphel, Forge pulse sent. Brinley, Vara—move in!" He guided his skimmer low, deploying a tactical beacon near the trench's rim.
Moments later, the assault boats touched down on rusted landing pads. Marines in reinforced hydrosuits disembarked, rifles humming. Ryka led the Hollow Kin, carving paths through residual Hive spores with plasma blades.
Julius vaulted off his skimmer and drew a deep breath of corrosive–filtered air. He knelt by the beacon, securing it to the skeletal railing.
"On three," Brinley said, loading a Forge Seed–driven warhead. "One… two… three!"
He slammed the detonator. A wave of violet light burst from the beacon, washing over the trench's mouth. Hive remains dissolved, the corrosive tide receded, and the sea turned still and black once more.
A cheer rose from the extraction point. But there was no time to savor victory.
Selene's scanner beeped urgently. On her holo–pad, a new signature blazed—fast–moving, immense.
"What is that?" she gasped.
Julius swiveled, eyes on the horizon. There, a colossal shape glided beneath the waves: a Hive capital barge, over a kilometer long, its hull encrusted with symbiotic growth and stealth dampeners.
"That's their flagship!" Vara snarled. "They brought the big guns."
Brinley's jaw clenched. "And it's heading this way."
The barge's prow pierced the surface, releasing a wave of scalding mist and tendrils. Automated launch tubes on its flanks cranked open—massive drones swarmed out, each the size of a dropship.
Julius turned to the fleet. Over the comms, Lia Vrissa's voice crackled: "This is Hope's Vanguard! All hands, defensive formation! Protect the Vault!"
Corvettes pivoted, unleashing barrages of ion bolts. Marines ducked behind cover as colossal drones thundered ashore, their claws carving through concrete. Brinley and Ryka held the line, cutting down the first wave with suppressive fire and glowing blade swipes.
Julius sprinted toward a fallen turret, yanked free a Forge Warhead, and jammed it into the drone's flank. He detonated it at point-blank range. The explosion sent him flying back, symbiotic plating sparking.
He staggered to his feet. "They're not stopping!" he yelled to Seraphel.
"No—they're adapting," she replied. "The barge is extending its neural network to the ground forces."
Vara's eyes went cold. "So we sink the barge."
Brinley looked at the cavernous trench. "How do we get to it? Underwater?"
Seraphel's tendrils coiled. "I can open a temporal fissure—send us inside the barge before they can respond."
Julius considered. "Risky."
She nodded. "But necessary."
He met Vara's gaze. "You in?"
She lifted her glaive. "Let's punch a hole in Hive flagship."
Brinley and Ryka exchanged a grin. "Right behind you."
Julius activated the fissure protocol. The air rippled in a spiral of emerald and violet. Around them, marines and Vesper fighters hesitated—then leapt into the shimmering gateway.
Julius followed Seraphel's glow into the breach.
Outside, the barge's cannons flared. The Torch Fleet rained fire in vain as the Vanguard vanished—diving into the Hive's lair for a reckoning.