Streets of Fire

Zack's shoes slammed the dirt, kicking up clouds of dust as he sprinted from the school's crumbling shadow. The Skrixx drone's chittering screeches rang in his ears, too close, its claws tearing gouges in the ground with every bound. His lungs burned, each breath a ragged scrape against the smoke clogging the air. Korran's Reach was falling apart. Green plasma streaked overhead, slamming into buildings with dull, bone-rattling thuds. The settlement's main strip sprawled ahead, a jagged mess of prefabs, shacks, and market stalls—some still standing, others blazing or reduced to rubble. People ran everywhere, their screams a chaotic roar that drowned out everything else. Zack's arm throbbed where glass had sliced it back in the classroom, blood soaking his sleeve and dripping down his fingers, but he didn't dare slow down. Stopping meant dying.

He veered left, ducking under a sagging awning as the Skrixx lunged. Its claws sliced through the air, shredding the thin metal with a high-pitched screech that made his teeth ache. Zack stumbled, catching himself on a splintered crate, and threw a quick glance back. The thing was a nightmare—six legs pumping like pistons, mandibles snapping, black goo oozing from its jaws and sizzling where it hit the ground. Its faceted eyes, a dozen glinting dots, locked on him, unblinking. He cursed under his breath and bolted again, weaving through the wreckage of a market stall. Rotting synth-fruit—grayish lumps that passed for food here—spilled across the dirt, squishing under his shoes as he ran. The evac docks were east, half a mile through this madness. Lila was south, closer, in their prefab cluster near the market. The streets between were a warzone, green fire lighting up the sky. He had to believe she'd found a hiding spot. She was scrappy, smarter than him in a pinch. She had to be okay.

The air reeked of charred plasteel, ozone, and something sour, like spoiled meat. A woman's scream pierced the noise, sharp and desperate, before it cut off with a wet gurgle. Zack's stomach twisted, but he kept moving, eyes darting for cover. Ahead, the strip widened into the settlement's central square, a dusty patch ringed by canteens, tool shops, and a VortexCorp outpost. It was a slaughterhouse now. Skrixx warriors swarmed the place, their bodies gleaming like wet shells under the flickering streetlights. Two of them pinned a miner to the ground, his jumpsuit ripped open, blood pooling in the dirt. He thrashed, then went limp as a claw punched through his chest. Another Skrixx dragged a kid—maybe ten years old—toward a hovering ship, its ramp gaping like a hungry mouth. The kid kicked and screamed, his chip glowing as he flailed, until a claw silenced him. Zack dropped low behind a toppled vending machine, its screen cracked and sparking, and pressed himself into the shadows. His chest heaved, sweat stinging his eyes. He wasn't a fighter. Just a scrawny seventeen-year-old who patched busted hover-carts for spare creds. But sitting still wasn't an option.

His wrist chip buzzed, a faint vibration under his skin. He tapped it, hands shaky, praying for a miracle. The holo-screen flickered up, dim and glitching. Signal disrupted. Retry? He growled, swiping it off with a flick of his finger. The Skrixx were jamming everything—comms, net, all of it. Korran's Reach was cut off, a dead rock in the galaxy's eyes. No way to ping Lila. He closed his eyes for a second, picturing her in their prefab: tools scattered on the floor, that cocky smirk on her face as she patched Mrs. Krenn's roof. She'd been humming some dumb tune from a net-stream that morning, her dark hair falling in her eyes. She was smart, tough for eleven. She'd hide, right? Or run? He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms until they hurt. VortexCorp had screwed them all. No turrets, no militia, no nothing. Just miners and kids left to rot while the corp raked in shard profits. This was their fault.

A deep, guttural roar snapped him out of it, rolling in from the wilds beyond the square. Zack peeked over the vending machine's edge. A shard-beast lumbered into view, drawn by the chaos. It was huge—twice his height at least, with a hide like cracked stone, Volthar Shards glinting blue in its shoulders and back. Its eyes glowed a sickly yellow, and electricity crackled along its spines, snapping in the air. The Skrixx turned, their chittering rising, and two broke off to face it. The beast swung a clawed limb, smashing one into a wall with a wet crunch that echoed across the square. Green ichor splattered, steaming where it hit the ground. The second Skrixx leaped, claws sinking into the beast's flank, ripping at its hide. Sparks flew as they clashed, a tangle of claws, teeth, and electric bursts. Zack didn't stick around to see the winner. He darted from cover, sticking to the square's edge, past a burning canteen where he'd eaten synth-burgers with Lila last week. The memory stung—her laughing at his dumb joke about escaping this rock someday.

The street narrowed ahead, lined with prefabs leaning under fresh plasma scars. A man staggered out of one, his face blackened with soot, coughing up blood that flecked his lips. "They're everywhere," he rasped, grabbing Zack's arm with a trembling hand. "The mines. They want the mines." His grip slipped, and he slumped to his knees, wheezing. Zack's heart raced. Of course they did. Volthar Shards weren't just batteries—they were rare, galactic gold. The Skrixx weren't here to play. They were gutting Korran's Reach for every crystal they could haul. Zack stepped back, muttering, "Hang on," but he didn't stop. He couldn't save this guy. Couldn't save anyone but Lila.

He rounded a corner and froze. A Skrixx ship loomed ahead, grounded in the street, its hull pulsing with that eerie green light. It was smaller than the ones overhead, but still dwarfed the prefabs around it. Drones skittered across the dirt, hauling crates stamped with VortexCorp's logo—shard shipments, stacked high and strapped tight. A woman knelt nearby, hands bound with some kind of glowing cord, sobbing as a Skrixx towered over her. Its claws clicked, mandibles twitching. Zack's breath caught. Her hair was dark, tangled, like Lila's. He squinted through the smoke, pulse hammering. Not her. Too tall, too old, her face lined with years Lila didn't have. Relief washed over him, then guilt. He tapped his chip, whispering, "Lila, where are you?" The screen flickered red. No signal. He swallowed hard and slipped past, hugging the shadows of a collapsed storefront, its sign—Krenn's Tools—dangling by a wire. Mrs. Krenn's shop. Lila had been near here.

The docks were closer now, maybe a quarter mile. He could hear the whine of shuttle engines, faint but growing louder, cutting through the screams and crashes. People were evacuating—if any ships held out. A sharp cry yanked his attention left. A girl darted from an alley, Tani from his class, her chip glowing as she stumbled forward. Her dark braid swung wild, her pant leg torn. A Skrixx drone pounced, pinning her to the ground with a thud. She thrashed, kicking at its legs, but its claws sank into her thigh, drawing a scream. Zack's gut twisted. He knew her—quiet, always sketching ships and beasts on her desk, same as him. They'd swapped doodles once, laughing over a teacher's rant. Now she was bleeding out.

He scanned the rubble, frantic, and grabbed a chunk of broken plasteel, sharp at one end. "Hey!" he shouted, hurling it with all he had. The metal clanged off the Skrixx's back, bouncing into the dirt. It turned, eyes glinting, mandibles snapping. Tani scrambled free, clutching her leg, and limped into the smoke. Zack didn't wait for thanks. He bolted, the drone's screeches chasing him down the street. His legs screamed, his cut arm pulsing with every swing. The thing was fast, its claws clicking closer, tearing up the ground. He zigzagged through a maze of side streets, past a smoldering hover-cart and a pile of shattered crates spilling mining gear. A dead miner lay sprawled nearby, his chip dark, eyes staring at nothing. Zack gagged but kept running.

He ducked into an alley, narrow and choked with trash—old food wrappers, broken tools, a cracked holo-screen flickering ads for VortexCorp jobs. He pressed himself against the wall, breath shallow, as the drone skittered past, missing him by inches. Its claws scraped the far end, then faded. Zack slumped, gasping, and wiped sweat from his eyes with a bloody sleeve. The docks were close. He could make it. But Lila. South was a wall of fire now, prefabs collapsing into heaps of slag. He tapped his chip, pulling up a map. The screen glitched, static buzzing, but it locked onto her last ping—her chip's signal from an hour ago, near their place. Nothing since. His throat tightened. She could be anywhere. Or nowhere.

A low growl rumbled behind him, vibrating the alley's walls. Zack turned slowly, dread pooling in his gut. A shard-beast loomed at the far end, smaller than the one in the square but still bigger than him. Its hide sparked, Volthar Shards glowing blue in its chest and along its spine. It pawed the ground, claws scraping sparks from the dirt, eyes fixed on him. Smaller didn't mean weak—those things could rip through plasteel like paper. Zack backed up, hands shaking, and fumbled in the trash. His fingers closed on a rusted pipe, cold and heavy. Not much, but better than nothing. The beast snorted, electricity arcing from its claws, and charged. Zack swung the pipe, aiming for its head, and braced for the hit.