The Venusian storm was unlike any Elara had seen. Lightning crackled through the clouds, and the winds howled like something alive. She flew into the heart of it, following a faint signal—a distress call from a downed reconnaissance ship.
"Command, this is Vance. I'm entering the storm's eye."
"Copy, Vance. Proceed with caution. The storm is unstable."
The eye of the storm was deceptively calm. The clouds parted, revealing a clear pocket of sky. Floating in the center was the wreckage of the reconnaissance ship.
"Command, I've found the downed ship. No survivors."
"Copy, Vance.
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The map was wet, the compass unsteady, the terrain unforgiving. Elena Vasquez stood at the edge of a swamp, her boots sinking into the mud, her eyes scanning the darkness. Somewhere out there, six miles away, was the final checkpoint. She had four hours to find it.
“Trust your compass,” Sergeant Webb had said. “The terrain will try to fool you. Don’t let it.”
Elena checked her bearing, adjusted her course, and stepped into the swamp. The water rose to her knees, then her thighs. The mud sucked at her boots, trying to pull her down. She kept moving.
Behind her, she heard James Chen cu
“Trust your compass,” Sergeant Webb had said. “The terrain will try to fool you. Don’t let it.”
Elena checked her bearing, adjusted her course, and stepped into the swamp. The water rose to her knees, then her thighs. The mud sucked at her boots, trying to pull her down. She kept moving.
Behind her, she heard James Chen cu