Breach
Out comes a vehicle known as the Talyn. It wasn’t just a tank.
Back on Tetracore, the war planners were already drawing lines across Kepler1—how to break its energy barrier, where to hit first, which command sectors to collapse so the planet would choke on its own defense grid. That plan needed one thing: exact coordinates.
Votain met the figure in an open stretch of terrain where even the wind sounded suspicious. He didn’t speak first—he drew his weapon.
The barrel caught the faint reflection of the figure’s mask. “Where did you come from?” Votain demanded. The figure’s voice was low, filtered, controlled. “I have valuable information.” Votain didn’t holster his weapon, but he stepped closer.
“Then talk.” “Abrafo,” the figure said, like a name you weren’t supposed to say out loud. “He’s traveling off-world. Minimal protection. No heavy escort. No barrier coverage for his personal flight corridor.” Votain’s eyes narrowed. “You’re sure?” The figure didn’t answer like a person begging to be believed. It answered like a system report. “His schedule is fixed. His route is repeatable. His wife will be along. This is your chance—capture or kill. Your choice.” Votain tried to keep his voice calm.
“Why give this to me?” “Because you’re the one who can use it,” the figure said. “And because I want him DEAD.” Votain hesitated, then offered what he always offered when he wanted to buy certainty: “I’ll pay you.” “Not interested,” the figure replied. “I have other engagements to attend.” Votain’s grip tightened.
“Then what do you want?” The shadow said, “I’m quite sure you have more than enough man power to pull that off.” The shadow tilted its head like it was listening to something only it could hear. “Votain,” the figure asked, “what’s up with that unusual sized weapon you’re carrying—seems like over-kill.” The figure responded, “This just takes 1 shot, I have no time to second guess. I am in the business of certainty.”
“Good hunting.” And then it walked away—no hurry, no fear—until the darkness swallowed it like it belonged there.
Than Votain calls his Lead officer Lieutenant Sable in. Votain said, “I have a mission for you. Give coordinates to Captain Lee so he can lead into Kelper airspace with a squad—this should even our odds now to break Kelper1’s barrier.”
“On what intel may I ask?” said Sable. “We have been trying for weeks with unsuccessful attempts. What makes this any different?”
“Votain, I have some key information from a trusted source—that all you need to know.” “Well I hope that you are correct.” “Just DO IT!!” “Yes sir,” replied the Lieutenant Sable. “But there is 1 last thing that I need you to do.”
On Kepler1, the energy barrier was supposed to be unbreachable. It wasn’t just a wall—Kepler1’s defense grid was layered: orbital monitoring, ground-based emitters, atmospheric dampeners, and an adaptive frequency shift that changed faster than most targeting systems could learn. A thousand engineers had written the protocols. A thousand soldiers had died to test them.
And still… the Dark Galeons found a seam.
General Baras stood in the battle room with his officers and the planet’s tactical projection hovering above the command table. The grid lines glowed stable. The barrier pulse looked clean.
Until the alarms changed tone. Officer Ayana’s station lit up with interference warnings. “General—signal distortion across the outer nodes. Not a system glitch. It’s targeted.” Baras leaned in. “Give me coordinates.” Ayana tagged a sector, then another. “They’re concentrating on a specific corridor. It’s like they already know where the barrier is weakest.” Baras’ jaw locked.
“That corridor doesn’t exist.” It existed now. The barrier shimmered—then buckled in a tight, controlled segment just wide enough for fighters to slip through. Ten ships at first. Then more.
Fast movers. Red hulls. High-energy weapons spooling like they’d been waiting to fire.
“They got in,” Baras said under his breath. “How—” Kepler1 didn’t have time for theory.
The first strike hit the Grand Hall—the building that housed the counselors’ assembly. The blast wasn’t loud at first. It was pressure. Then it turned into sound that tore windows apart and shook bodies off their feet. Buildings around it lit up like the sky was falling. Civilians ran, then stopped, then ran again—trapped between collapsing debris and strafing fire.
Lightyears away the Talyn shot across the plain at great speed.
Abrafo found a clearing near a lake, and sat the Talyn there. Abrafo and his wife got out of the Talyn. They both held each other in their arms as they admired their surroundings. Abrafo went back in the ship and bought out a midsized box.
He set it onto a grass clearing. Reached into his pocket and stood back. The box unfolded, and raised up and folded out, when it was done it was a makeshift habitat. It had all the amenities of home.
Then he looked back at his wife, as she had her back turned. He ran up and grabbed her from behind and swung her around then laughed out loud. As they walked down this path, a dark figure watched and waited for the attack.
On another world, it was like this—a strategic, well thought out plan. This shadowy figure was following the both of them. It stayed hidden until… the target was the Queen.
This vicious creature ran down the Queen and attacked her from the rear. Attaching itself to her leg. And it didn’t want to let go.
Abrafo fired his weapon at the creature. By it being too close he could risk hurting his wife. It was a calculated burst—the second shot he was able to free his wife from it’s locked jaws.
Than Abrafo picked his wife up, starts going back toward the Talyn. But he tripped and fell on top of his wife.
He picks her up again although he hurt his leg. The love for his wife was stronger than the pain.
He finally got her to the ship and was able to call for help.
On Votain’s monitors back on Tetracore, the attacks streamed in clean resolution. He watched like a man watching weather—cold, unbothered—while the planet burned.
Then a transmission pierced through the chaos. A personal encrypted channel. Not military. Not public. Royal. “I HAVE A MEDICAL EMERGENCY,” a voice shouted. “I NEED IMMEDIATE EVAC!” Ayana’s eyes widened.
“General—that’s King Abrafo.” Baras snapped: “It could be a trick. Verify it. Boost the signal. Cut interference. Trace it.” The channel stabilized, Ayana verified it was the king on an encrypted channel. “Send me your exact location,” Baras ordered.
“Are you hurt? Is the Queen hurt?” It took a beat.
Then Abrafo’s voice hit like steel scraping. “It’s the Queen. She’s been attacked. I stopped the bleeding, but the wounds are opening back up.” Baras’ throat tightened. “Hold position. We’re coming.”
Abrafo didn’t answer right away. The line filled with breathing—heavy, controlled—like he was fighting panic with discipline. Somewhere outside his ship, enemy fighters were getting closer.
