The wall pressed against Jaxon's back, concrete dust raining down every time another explosion hit somewhere in the distance. Seven of them out there. He could hear their synchronized footsteps through the smoke, that mechanical precision that made his skin crawl.
Four coming straight down the middle. Two more sweeping left. The other two moving right to cut off any escape route.
Jaxon wiped sweat from his forehead and shook his hair out of his eyes. The brown strands kept falling forward, blocking his vision when he needed it most. He pulled out the piece of broken mirror he'd been carrying, angled it around the corner of his crumbling shelter.
There they were. Sleek metal bodies moving through the smoke like they owned the place. Which they did now.
The shard caught sunlight and flashed.
Every single redactor head snapped toward his position.
"Shit."
The one on the right launched itself into the air, some kind of thruster system firing from its back. The weapon in its hand charged up with that blue glow Jaxon had seen too many times. Never killed anyone with it, just dropped them like sacks of meat. Then they dragged the bodies away and nobody ever saw those people again.
Jaxon's pistol was already in his hand before his brain caught up. The redactor hung in the air for half a second, all that momentum carrying it forward.
Perfect target.
He squeezed the trigger. The bullet took the machine right in its optical sensor, sparks flying as circuits fried and metal cracked. It hit the ground hard, limbs twitching as its systems went haywire.
Six left. And now they all knew exactly where he was.
Jaxon didn't think, just moved. His legs carried him toward the sparking redactor before it hit the ground. He caught the metal body under one arm, fingers wrapping around the strange weapon it had been carrying.
The thing was heavier than it looked but the weight felt good in his hands. Solid. Real.
Two more machines rounded the corner from his left, their weapons already charging. Jaxon raised the captured gun and pulled what he hoped was a trigger.
The weapon bucked in his grip. Blue energy tore through the air with a sound like ripping fabric. The first redactor's head exploded in a shower of sparks. The second one jerked backward as the blast caught it center mass, metal chest cavity caved in completely.
Four left.
Jaxon dropped the damaged redactor and ran. The building behind him groaned, chunks of concrete crashing down where he'd been standing seconds before. What used to be three stories was now barely one and a half, the upper floors sheared away like someone had taken a giant knife to them.
He burst through what remained of the rear wall and found himself on a narrow ledge. No way forward. No way back.
The sun hit his face as he turned around, weapon raised toward the sky. His heart hammered against his ribs but his hands stayed steady.
"This might be it."
Four redactors rose into view, their thruster systems humming. They moved in perfect formation, weapons trained on him from multiple angles.
Jaxon fired first. One machine spun away trailing smoke.
Then pain exploded across his chest. The energy blast felt like being hit by lightning and a freight train at the same time. His legs gave out and he was falling, the weapon spinning away from his fingers.
The concrete rushed up to meet him. Stars burst behind his eyes.
He rolled onto his back, gasping. The sun seemed too bright now, everything washed out and blurry. His arm felt like it weighed a thousand pounds but he managed to lift it enough to check his watch.
9:25 AM.
His arm dropped back to his side. The redactors were probably lining up for the kill shot right now. He tried to move, tried to roll away, but his body wouldn't respond.
Another energy blast lit up the sky above him.
Then everything went black.
***
Something hummed overhead. The sound cut through the ringing in Jaxon's ears, different from the redactor thrusters. Deeper. More powerful.
His eyes cracked open to see metal restraints around his wrists and ankles. The world tilted and swayed beneath him but he wasn't on the ground anymore. Some kind of stretcher, floating in midair like gravity had forgotten how to work.
Pain shot through his chest every time he breathed. The energy blast had cooked him good.
He turned his head and saw them. More stretchers drifting through the air in a neat line, each one carrying a body. All heading toward something massive blocking out the sun.
The aircraft didn't look like anything human engineers had ever built. Too smooth. Too organic. Like someone had grown it instead of welding it together piece by piece.
His stretcher glided up a ramp and suddenly he was inside, surrounded by curved walls that pulsed with their own light. The captors sat in seats that seemed molded directly into the hull, weapons resting casually across their laps.
Five stretchers arranged in the cargo bay. Two pairs side by side, then his floating alone at the back. The others looked unconscious or worse. One woman's arm hung limp, blood crusted along her temple.
Jaxon tried to turn toward the stretcher next to his. A man about his age, black hair matted with sweat. Gray eyes that held too much knowledge for someone who should be as helpless as Jaxon felt. The guy's mouth was sealed with some kind of clear material, but his eyes burned with anger and something that might have been hope.
Jaxon opened his mouth to speak and felt the same smooth barrier covering his lips. Panic flared in his chest. He pulled against the restraints but they didn't budge.
Three weeks. That's all it had been since his discharge papers came through. Three weeks since he'd bought the ring and planned out how he was going to propose to Selene. Three weeks since normal life had existed.
The redactors had come on a Tuesday morning. No warning. No demands. Just death falling from the sky in neat formation.
Where was she now? Had they taken her too, stuffed her onto another transport heading toward some alien processing center? Or had she been one of the lucky ones who died quick when the first wave hit?
His chest tightened and it wasn't from the injury. Selene with her laugh that could make him forget about the worst days downrange. Selene who left little notes in his gear bag and never asked why he woke up screaming sometimes.
The transport banked left and picked up speed. Through the translucent walls he could see the burning remains of his city falling away below.
The missiles had hit while Jaxon was still thirty thousand feet up, watching some mindless action movie on the seatback screen. By the time his plane touched down, half the skyline was gone.
He'd spent seven days walking through the rubble, calling Selene's name until his throat bled. Found her apartment building reduced to twisted metal and concrete dust. But no body. No blood. Just empty spaces where people used to be.
That's what didn't make sense. A city of two million people and barely any corpses. Like everyone had just vanished between one heartbeat and the next.
The transport shuddered as it began its descent. Through the curved walls, Jaxon could see the ground rushing up to meet them. The hatch cracked open with a hiss of equalizing pressure.
His captors stood in unison, their movements perfectly coordinated. Not quite human, not quite machine. Something in between that made his skin crawl. They grabbed the stretchers and began moving them toward the exit.
Sunlight hit his face as they emerged. The facility spread out below them like nothing he'd ever seen. At first glance it looked almost normal. Massive. Built for crowds. Like a football stadium designed by someone with unlimited resources and no concern for aesthetics.
But as his stretcher tilted and gave him a better angle, the truth became clear.
It was alive.
The entire structure pulsed with organic rhythm, pink and gray matter folded into impossible geometric patterns. Veins of blue light ran through the tissue like some kind of neural network, flashing in sequences that hurt to follow. The whole thing breathed, expanding and contracting with the slow patience of something vast and alien.
A brain. A massive organic brain the size of a city block, carved into chambers and passages and holding cells.
The stretchers descended into one of the folds, carried along corridors that felt wet and warm despite being open to the air. The walls twitched occasionally, muscle fibers contracting in response to some invisible stimulus.
Jaxon's military training kicked in automatically, cataloging details even as his mind recoiled from what he was seeing. Structural weak points. Guard positions. Possible escape routes. But how do you fight your way out of something that's literally alive?
The blue lights pulsed faster as they moved deeper into the structure. Like neurons firing in response to new information.
Like the brain knew they were inside.