**Captain's Log, Supplemental**
**DDSN-X100 USS Discovery**
**Captain James Nolan recording**
**46 hours 5 minutes to Black Fleet Landfall**
Engines roar to life.
Allies converge on the pad.
The journey north begins.
A Delta Force pilot in full tactical gear approached Jasmine with purposeful strides, saluting Captain Nolan crisply before turning his attention to her. "Ma'am," he said, voice steady and professional beneath the helmet's half-raised visor. He extended a small, sleek comm-ear bud in a gloved hand. "This is for you. It works like your communication crystal but interfaces with our tech. Tap once to transmit, tap again to stop. It's looped into the secure channel linking all your escorts—shuttles, gunships, and ground teams. You'll be able to speak directly to us at any time, and we'll keep you updated on the approach. It's encrypted and will cut through most interference."
Jasmine accepted the device, turning the lightweight earpiece over in her fingers. It felt cool and alien against her skin, yet the simplicity of the tap-to-talk mechanism reminded her of the familiar crystals she had known all her life. She slipped it into her ear, the fit surprisingly comfortable, and nodded her thanks. "I appreciate this. I've never flown with your kind of machines before. I'll do my best to stay out of your way." The pilot gave a quick thumbs-up, his tone reassuring. "You'll do fine, ma'am. Just relax and let us handle the formation. Your dragon is impressive—never seen anything like him. We'll keep a respectful distance."
Nearby, Stonefang, the grizzled wolfkin scout, approached the open ramp of the waiting Delta Force VS-44 Wyvern with visible caution. His silvered fur bristled slightly as he eyed the sleek, angular shuttle, its fusion-torch hybrid engines idling with a low, powerful hum that vibrated through his bones. The Delta operators inside waved him forward with friendly but professional gestures. "Come on up, big guy," one of the operators called, his voice warm through the helmet comms. "You get the jumper seat—best view in the house. Just strap in tight. Oh, and here—" he held up a small sealed bag with a grin "—the official barf-bag. Trust me, first ride in one of these birds can get a little… spirited. No shame in using it. We've all been there."
Stonefang's ears flicked back in mild alarm, but he climbed aboard with dignified caution, trying to mask his nervousness with the stoic bearing of a seasoned hunter. He recognized these men as fellow hunters—warriors with sharp eyes and ready weapons, much like his own pack. "I have tracked shadow-beasts through winter gales and faced the great cats that hunt by moonlight," he said, voice gruff but with a hint of pride, even as his claws dug into the seat padding. "This metal bird cannot be worse than a winter gale on the ridge. You warriors of the sky… You move like hunters. Quick, silent when needed. Just don't drop us into a mountain."
The operator chuckled, giving the harness a final check. "Hunters, huh? I like that. Yeah, we stalk from above instead of the underbrush. Name's Reyes. You ever ridden anything that moves this fast before?" Stonefang's ears twitched, a nervous laugh escaping despite himself as he tried to hide the way his stomach already felt unsettled. "Only the great wind hawks during the high hunts. But they do not roar like thunder or shake the bones like this. Still… I will not shame my pack by showing fear. Lead on, sky-hunter."
Another operator, a stocky man with a southern drawl, grinned as he checked the restraints. "That's the spirit. Just remember, if you feel the world spinning, aim for the bag. Last time we had a new guy on his first drop, he painted the whole cabin. We still call him 'Rainbow.'" Stonefang huffed, trying to hide his unease with a low growl that came out a little too shaky. "I am no pup. I have tracked prey through blizzards and faced the great shadow cats. This… this is just another hunt. A hunt from the sky. You move like wolves in a pack—coordinated, silent when needed. Just don't drop us into a mountain." Ramirez laughed, clapping Stonefang's shoulder lightly. "Deal. We'll keep her steady. Welcome aboard, hunter. You're one of us now for this ride."
Jasmine mounted Verdant one final time, settling into the reinforced saddle and securing herself. The dragon shifted his weight, wings half-unfurled, ready for flight. She looked down at Nolan, gratitude and determination clear in her eyes. "Thank you, Captain. For everything." Nolan returned the nod, his voice carrying over the rising engine noise. "Safe flight. We'll be monitoring every mile. See you at the cove."
The VS-44 Wyvern lifted off first, its engines flaring with a deep roar as it climbed into the sky. The two VS-22 Jackals rose to flank it, their fusion-torch hybrid engines screaming as they took up escort positions. The Switchblade fighter streaked overhead, already establishing air superiority above the formation.
Jasmine urged Verdant skyward. The dragon launched with powerful strokes, rising smoothly to join the formation. The group turned north, heading directly toward the isolated cove where her people would soon make landfall. The wind rushed past her face as the valley fell away below. The fleet was already moving. Help was on the way. For the first time in weeks, Jasmine allowed herself a moment of real hope.
The dragon from the east was coming.
But now, at least, they would not face it alone.
The green watched from the ridge.
The strangers prepared.
Two worlds were lifting off together.