Echoes in the dust
The clouds of R22 were thicker than before, suffocating even the reinforced hulls of the drop ships as they pierced through the ash-grey sky. Electric storms brewed beneath the thick cloud beds, and the radiation levels ticked higher with each second.
Inside the lead dropship, Oris stood quietly, the dim lights of the interior casting sharp shadows across his aging face. He hadn't spoken since departure. He didn't need to. Everyone knew that something had changed in him after the last time he stepped foot on this cursed planet.
Beside him, Vireya stared out through the reinforced porthole, watching as the black soil of R22 drew closer. Her lips were tight, her eyes tired. There were too many ghosts on this planet. Too many memories… and one name echoing in her head like a wound that refused to close.
Kael.
The dropships hissed as they landed unevenly on the cratered terrain. The squad inside—newcomers, juniors, field officers, a few curious researchers—looked around, unsure what they had just stepped into. R22 didn't look like a planet; it looked like a war that refused to end.
Oris was the first to move. "Come with me," he said. "I know a place."
They didn't question him. Not yet.
---
They made their way through the jagged terrain—over long-dead Kaiju carcasses half-buried in black soil, through collapsed caves and ruined tech stations, until they reached the edge of a cliff. Below, shielded under outcroppings and cloaked from above, was an old shelter.
The cave where Unit 404 had made its stand.
They descended silently. For a few seconds, Oris didn't say a word. His fingers touched the blackened rocks of the cave entrance.
"This was once a base," he said at last. "A strong one. Before it fell apart."
No one asked what had made it fall apart. But the name was on everyone's lips, even if none dared say it.
Kael.
They began unloading gear, activating portable shield beacons, laying the framework for solar collectors. By nightfall, the camp was lit with cold blue lights. It looked functional. It even looked safe.
But it didn't feel safe.
Something about the air had changed. Heavier. Electric. As if the planet was watching. As if the Kaiju were not just beasts, but witnesses.
---
The next day, it began.
The first signs were subtle—readings from the perimeter sensors that made no sense. Dozens of heat signatures, moving erratically. Shapes that appeared and disappeared on radar like flickers.
Not hostile.
Not yet.
"Why aren't they attacking?" someone asked.
"I think," Oris said slowly, "they're learning."
A long silence followed.
Then the open channel buzzed.
A low, calm voice came through, simple and absolute.
> "This is Unit 404. Reinforcements arriving. No support needed."
The room froze. Even the background hum of the generators felt muted.
"Did he say… Unit 404?" one soldier asked, almost in disbelief.
Vireya's lips went pale. Oris stepped forward and replayed the message. The voice was unmistakable.
Kael.
No timestamp. No location. Just a declaration.
One soldier backed away from the console. "That means he's coming here. With Tyren, probably. And—what? He has a new team now?"
No one answered. But the air was suffocating.
The newcomers—the ones who had never seen Kael, only heard stories—began murmuring.
"Didn't he kill two Kaiju alone once?"
"I thought he was locked up."
"Wait, isn't Tyren that freak who snapped a mech arm with his bare hands?"
"Weren't they labeled traitors?"
The chaos only grew.
But Oris just stood still, arms crossed, a look of something unreadable flashing in his eyes.
Fear? Guilt? Respect? No one could tell.
"They're not traitors," he said finally. "They're monsters. And this planet made them that way."
---
By the time night fell again, tension had spiraled into paranoia.
The units began securing mecha in a tighter formation. Patrols doubled. Nobody wanted to admit it, but most of them were afraid of Kael and Tyren—more than they feared the Kaiju themselves.
They had heard the stories. The rage. The exile. The betrayal. And the way they returned not to plead for justice, but to hunt.
Vireya sat near the campfire, holding a comm tablet in her hand, scrolling through every message. Nothing more from Kael. Nothing more from Unit 404.
Oris sat across from her, silent again.
"Why didn't you tell them he was still alive?" Vireya whispered, not meeting his eyes.
"They didn't ask," Oris replied flatly. "And they wouldn't have believed it."
"Are you afraid of him?"
Oris gave a dry chuckle. "I'm afraid of what we made him into."
---
Later that night, a senior officer approached Oris.
"Should we send a scout unit to make contact?"
"No," Oris said immediately. "Do nothing. Let them come."
"And if they don't?"
"They will."
The officer hesitated. "Why do I feel like we're not here to help them—but to hide behind them?"
Oris didn't answer.
Because it was true.
They weren't here to help Unit 404.
They were hoping Unit 404 would fight R22 in their place.
---
Deep underground, within the shadows of R22, movement stirred. Massive, deliberate, impossible movement. Something had woken up.
Something smarter than before.
Something watching.
And now it knew that Kael had returned.