Location: Drossveil Slums, Caelus Prime — Mars, Year 2385
Kain Voss, Age 15
The sky over Drossveil looked wrong.
Normally, the sun turned the sky a pale blood-red by noon. Dust storms ripped through the market tents and turned the world into a dry, howling blur. The heat bent steel beams until they warped like paper. People cursed, covered their faces, and kept moving.
But today, the dust didn't howl. It hung there—thick, sticky, choking the horizon. The air tasted like metal. The ground vibrated under Kain's boots. Somewhere far off, a siren wailed, low and broken, like it didn't have the energy to finish.
Something worse than another storm was coming.
Kain Voss crouched on the skeletal frame of a half-finished solar tower, four stories above the street. His goggles were scratched, and the rubber seals were starting to rot, but they still worked well enough to zoom in.
Below, armored squads moved down the alleys. Black composite armor. No markings. No faces. Rifles drawn.
They didn't bother stopping at the market stalls. They weren't here for supplies.
They were here for people.
Kain watched in silence as a soldier grabbed a man by the arm and slammed him against the rusted siding of a water barge. Two more soldiers descended on a woman trying to flee. One of them kicked her in the side, hard. She crumpled.
The squad dragged them both toward a waiting transport skimmer, its thrusters melting the ground into glass wherever it landed.
"Military sweep," Kain muttered under his breath.
He adjusted the broken comm-link on his belt. Static. No open bands.
The first sign they had cut communications was when the black flags went up last night, fluttering over the rooftops. The flags weren't for the people. They were for the soldiers.
Quarantine Authorized—the message written in small print no one in Drossveil needed to read to understand.
"Kain," a voice hissed behind him. "You're gonna get spotted up there, idiot!"
He turned.
Mira crouched behind a rusted vent pipe, her scarf pulled high over her nose, her wide brown eyes sharp beneath her cracked goggles. Her black hair was tied back in a rough braid. Dirt smudged her forehead. She carried a small rucksack slung tight against her back.
Kain dropped lower on the scaffolding and crawled toward her.
"They're taking people," she said, whispering. "I saw them grab the Arlo twins. Even the little one."
"Yeah. I saw," Kain said grimly.
"What do we do?"
He scanned the street again. Another group of soldiers kicked in a steel door two buildings down. Screams followed.
Kain weighed their odds. The sky lanes were sealed. Patrols were moving in a tightening pattern—corridors were closing fast. No safe exit. No one getting out once they locked the circle.
"We run," Kain said. "Before they tighten the noose."
Mira nodded immediately. She trusted him. Always had.
"Drone shelter," she said. "Back of Bunker D-5. You remember?"
Kain shook his head. "Collapsed."
"Front collapsed. I checked last month with Jena. There's a maintenance tunnel under the old freight line. Leads into the waste grid."
"And the waste grid?"
"Better odds than here."
Kain didn't argue. He trusted her too.
He glanced down at the tightening ring of patrols. "Alright. Let's move."
They climbed down carefully, keeping to the shadows of collapsed stairwells and broken floodlights. The tower groaned under their weight but held.
When they hit ground level, they moved fast.
Drossveil had always been a junk city. Born from failed mining ventures, broken terraforming rigs, and abandoned colony skiffs. Its buildings were a patchwork of salvaged parts. Air scrubbers ran on backup generators that coughed and belched black smoke. Water rationing had turned the lower districts into bone-dry wastelands, where the only law was survival.
Kain had grown up in it, same as Mira. Born two years apart in the same scrap shelter. Raised by no one but each other after the dust fever took their parents. They stole, bartered, and fought for everything they had.
And now it was being erased like it had never mattered.
They darted through broken alleyways and twisted corridors, past huddled families who didn't dare move. Past vendors abandoning their stalls, past old scavenger carts burning in the streets.
They passed the place where Kain had broken his wrist two years ago falling from a third-floor water pipe. Mira had dragged him back herself, swearing the whole way.
They passed the wall where they used to carve their names when they were kids.
Kain felt a sour knot in his stomach.
Halfway to Bunker D-5, they ducked behind an overturned food cart to catch their breath.
Kain peeked over the edge. A squad was patrolling the next intersection.
Mira slumped against the cart, panting.
"You okay?" Kain asked.
She nodded. Then shook her head. "I'm scared."
He looked at her. Really looked.
Mira had always been stubborn. Always quick to laugh even when her ribs showed under her shirt. Always dragging him forward when he got tired.
She wasn't laughing now.
Neither was he.
"We stay smart," Kain said. "Stay quiet. We make it out."
Mira nodded again, tighter this time.
Then a sharp hum broke the silence.
Kain froze.
Above them, a black drone zipped into view. Spherical. Tri-lensed. Armed.
It scanned the intersection with a narrow red beam. The soldiers below moved into formation, sweeping alleys one by one.
The drone would spot them if they stayed still.
Kain made the call.
He pulled Mira closer. "Split up."
"No."
"Mira, listen—"
"No!" she hissed, grabbing his sleeve. "If we split, we're dead. Together."
Kain exhaled slowly. "Alright. Stay behind me."
The drone turned.
Its beam landed near their hiding spot.
No more time.
Kain grabbed Mira's hand and yanked her to her feet.
They ran.
Their boots pounded the cracked concrete, kicking up clouds of red dust as they sprinted across the street.
"Left!" Kain barked, pulling Mira with him into a side alley narrow enough that their shoulders scraped the walls.
The drone reacted instantly. Sirens burst from its speaker system. Red beams swept across the walls, scanning.
"They saw us!" Mira gasped.
"No kidding!" Kain yanked her through a broken maintenance hatch leading into the skeletal remains of an old repair depot.
Inside, the air was thick with rust and the stench of burnt wiring. Half-melted industrial machines loomed in the dark like silent giants.
Kain pressed Mira against the wall. "Breathe. Stay low. Move when I say."
Outside, the drone zipped past the alley, missing them by a second.
Kain risked a glance through a cracked panel. The patrol team split up—three soldiers heading west, two sweeping their way.
"We have a window," he whispered. "But not for long."
Mira tightened her scarf. Her hands shook, but her eyes stayed locked on him.
"I can make it," she said, trying to sound braver than she felt.
Kain wanted to believe her. He had to.
They darted across the ruined depot, weaving through old machinery, crawling under collapsed beams.
Every footstep echoed too loud in the dead air.
At the far end, an old freight elevator shaft gaped open. The lift was long dead, but the maintenance ladder still hung by a few rusted bolts.
Kain grabbed it, tested the weight. Barely held.
He turned to Mira. "You first. Quick."
She hesitated just a second—then climbed.
Kain followed right behind her, climbing hand-over-hand up the shaking ladder.
Halfway up, Mira whispered, "What happens if it breaks?"
Kain grunted. "Then we find out how good you are at landing."
"Great."
The ladder shuddered dangerously but held.
They reached the second floor—a collapsed catwalk that looked ready to crumble.
Kain helped Mira over the edge.
From this vantage point, they could see over several blocks of Drossveil.
It was worse than they thought.
Fires burned unchecked in the south quarter. Patrols in black armor moved like clockwork through the streets, dragging people from their homes. Drones hovered overhead, scanning, tracking, tagging.
Whole families being marched into armored transports.
Children separated out. Loaded into separate vehicles.
Kain's stomach turned to ice.
"This isn't a raid," he said.
Mira looked up at him.
"This is a harvest," he finished.
She didn't argue.
They didn't waste time. They dropped down the far side of the depot into a drainage canal, using the dry channel to stay hidden.
Kain led the way, Mira close behind, their footsteps muffled by the fine layer of dust coating everything.
He checked their position.
"We're three blocks from Bunker D-5," he said.
"Think anyone else made it out?" Mira asked.
Kain didn't answer.
He didn't want to lie to her. Not now.
They crawled under a twisted bridge. A drone zipped overhead but didn't spot them.
They kept moving.
Past the old trade market, now shattered and burning.
Past the crumbled apartments where they used to sell scrap for ration cards.
Past the clinic where Kain once stole antibiotics to save Mira during her fever.
Drossveil wasn't dying anymore.
It was dead.
Halfway to the bunker, Mira suddenly stopped.
She pressed her back against the wall and pulled Kain down beside her.
He followed her gaze.
Two soldiers patrolled the next intersection, walking slow, deliberate, rifles ready.
Kain glanced around.
Nowhere to hide. Open ground.
He gritted his teeth.
"Back route?" he asked.
Mira shook her head. "Dead end."
"Then we wait."
They crouched in the shadows, hearts pounding.
The soldiers paused nearby, talking in low tones. One of them laughed.
The kind of laugh Kain had heard before. The kind soldiers made when they thought no one could fight back.
The kind that made him want to bury a pipe through their helmets.
But he kept still.
After a few agonizing minutes, the soldiers moved on.
Kain let out a slow breath. Mira squeezed his arm once.
"Almost there," she whispered.
He nodded.
They moved again.
They reached the back side of Bunker D-5.
The collapsed drone shelter lay half-buried under years of sand and debris. The metal frame was twisted like a broken ribcage.
Kain and Mira scrambled through the rubble toward the cracked maintenance hatch.
It was smaller than he remembered. Just a jagged gap in the foundation, barely wide enough to squeeze through.
Mira dropped to her knees and shoved her bag through first.
She looked up at Kain.
"You first," she said.
He hesitated. "What if—"
"Move it, idiot," she said, but her smile was weak.
Kain crouched down and crawled into the gap, Mira right behind him.
The tunnel was pitch black and stank of rot and stagnant air.
Their breathing sounded loud in the tight space.
But it was safety.
Or at least, a chance.
For two minutes, they crawled through the darkness, scraping elbows and knees, breathing dust.
Then, as they reached a wider maintenance chamber—
The ground above them shook.
Dust rained down from the ceiling.
Kain froze.
Mira grabbed his shoulder.
Another rumble. Louder.
Then, overhead—
Metal boots slammed onto the rooftop.
Voices barked orders. Drones buzzed.
They were being tracked.
The maintenance hatch had bought them time, but not enough.
The soldiers were closing in.
And this time, there would be no escape.