Chapter Text
Clay knew the SkyWings were coming long before he saw them, mostly because the mud beneath his talons started to vibrate with the low-frequency hum of a scouting drone. It wasn't the sound of wings anymore; the war had changed since the scavengers' technology had been scavenged, scaled up, and bolted onto dragon scales. He shifted his weight, feeling the heavy, cold bite of the tripod-mounted Vulcan cannon strapped to his back. It was a clumsy piece of machinery for a dragon who preferred the warmth of a marsh, but in the year of our scorched earth, fire breath was just a flare for an incoming missile.
The marsh was quiet, the usual croaks of bullfrogs replaced by the electronic chirp of his own proximity sensors. Tsunami was perched on a cypress tree half a mile to his east, her blue scales painted over with matte-black anti-reflective coating. She didn't carry a heavy gun like Clay; she carried a long-range railgun that used magnetic acceleration to fire slugs at three times the speed of sound. She called it "The Fin of Justice," which Glory usually pointed out was a terrible name.
Clay clicked his comms unit twice. A soft burst of static hissed in his ear.
"Target in sight," Tsunami’s voice crackled, sounding more like grinding gravel than a princess. "Three SkyWing interceptors. They’re flying high, probably checking the thermal signatures. They’ve got underwing hardpoints. Looks like Hellfire-class incendiaries. If they drop those, the whole swamp goes up."
"Copy that," Clay whispered, his breath fogging the glass of his tactical HUD. "I’m in the reeds. I’ll wait for them to bank. Glory, are you in position?"
There was no answer for a long moment, then a shimmer in the air just five feet from Clay’s snout resolved into the lethal, multicolored shape of a RainWing holding a suppressed submachine gun designed for talons. Glory hadn't bothered with the heavy stuff. She preferred chemical warfare—darts tipped with a refined version of her own venom, delivered via pressurized air canisters.
"I’ve been here for ten minutes, Clay," Glory said, her scales shifting from swamp-brown back to a sarcastic lime green before fading away again. "You really need to calibrate your motion sensors. A scavenger could have walked up and poked you by now."
"Focus," Starflight’s voice broke in from their underground bunker. He wasn't on the field; his eyesight was too poor for the high-speed ballistics of modern aerial combat, but he was the genius behind the encryption. "The SkyWings are using a dual-band encrypted frequency. I’m trying to jam their guidance systems, but if they switch to manual, you’re going to have to lead your shots. Remember the physics, Clay. Drag coefficient is higher in this humidity.
"Clay sighed. He missed the days when the biggest worry was a bite to the neck. Now he had to worry about $F = ma$ and whether his firing pin was going to jam because of the silt.The hum grew to a roar. Three red shapes streaked across the gray sky, leaving trails of white chemical smoke. These weren't the graceful flyers of the old scrolls; these dragons wore titanium exoskeletons that assisted their wingbeats, allowing them to carry payloads that would have grounded an unaugmented dragon. The lead SkyWing had a swivel-mounted gatling gun mounted to its chest, slaved to its eye movements.
"Engaging," Tsunami barked.A sharp crack-boom echoed across the marsh. It wasn't the sound of an explosion, but the sound of the air breaking. Tsunami’s railgun had spoken. Half a mile away, the trailing SkyWing didn't even have time to scream. The projectile, a solid tungsten slug, punched through its left wing-joint and exited through its chest. The dragon spun wildly, its flight stabilization computer trying and failing to compensate before it slammed into the treeline in a fireball of jet fuel and scales."One down!" Tsunami cheered.
"You signaled our position, you idiot!" Glory shouted, though she was already moving.
The two remaining SkyWings reacted with terrifying precision. They didn't dive; they ascended, pulling a high-G maneuver that would have snapped a normal dragon’s spine. Their belly-mounted dispensers opened, and a cloud of micro-mines drifted down toward the swamp.
"Clay, move!" Starflight yelled over the comms.Clay didn't need to be told. He dove into the thickest part of the muck, submerging himself just as the mines hit the water. A series of sharp, underwater concussions rocked his ribs, the shockwaves threatening to burst his lungs. He stayed down, his golden eyes tracking the silhouettes above through the murky water.
One SkyWing was diving now, its chest gun spitting tracers into the water. Thump-thump-thump-thump. The rounds hissed as they cut through the liquid, trailing bubbles of steam.
Clay roared, a sound muffled by the water, and surged upward. He didn't use his fire. He reached for the trigger housing mounted to his forearm. The Vulcan cannon on his back whirred to life, the barrels spinning into a blur. As he broke the surface, he let out a stream of lead.
The recoil was immense, pushing his heavy body back into the mud, but the spread worked. The diving SkyWing took a dozen 20mm rounds to the underbelly. Its armored plating held for a second, then shredded. The dragon coughed blood and fire, its internal fuel tanks igniting. It veered off, trailing black smoke, screaming for a medic that wasn't coming."The leader is breaking for the clouds!" Tsunami shouted. "I can't get a lock, he's popping chaff!"
"He's heading for the Queen," Glory said, her voice tight. "If he reports our location, Scarlet will have a carpet-bomber squadron here in twenty minutes."
"Not on my watch," Clay grunted. He scrambled out of the muck, his heavy talons churning the earth. He knew he couldn't outfly a SkyWing interceptor, not with this gear. But he didn't have to."Starflight, give me the override code for the perimeter AA," Clay commanded.
"Clay, those turrets are still calibrated for scavengers! They’ll target anything with a heat signature, including you!
""Just do it!"
Clay took flight, his wings straining against the weight of the cannon. He felt like a boulder trying to be a butterfly. Above him, the final SkyWing was a red speck, its afterburners glowing like a pair of angry eyes.
Suddenly, a hidden hatch in the middle of the swamp opened. A sleek, silver turret rose from the reeds. It whirred, its sensors searching the sky."Override complete," Starflight whispered. "Targeting... now."
The automated turret didn't fire bullets. It fired a high-intensity laser. A beam of pure white light lanced out, connecting the ground to the sky. It caught the SkyWing square in its titanium tail-rudder. The metal didn't just melt; it sublimated, turning into gas instantly. The SkyWing plummeted, spinning like a fallen leaf, its screams cut short as it hit the canopy.
Silence returned to the marsh, save for the crackle of burning wreckage and the distant, rhythmic thud of Clay’s heart. He landed heavily, his armor covered in silt and dragon blood.
Tsunami landed nearby, her railgun smoking. She looked at the devastation, then at her own talons, which were stained with oil. "We used to fight with claws," she said softly.
Glory appeared beside them, her scales a somber, muted gray. "Claws don't have a two-mile range. This is the world now, Tsunami. Adapt or get shot."Clay unbuckled the heavy harness, letting the Vulcan cannon thud into the dirt. He looked toward the horizon, where the smoke from a dozen distant battles stained the sunset. They were the Dragonets of Destiny, or so the prophecy said. But the prophecy hadn't mentioned anything about armor-piercing rounds or heat-seeking missiles.
"We need to move," Clay said, his voice heavy. "The crash triggered a distress beacon. More of them will be here soon, and they won't just send interceptors next time. They'll send the heavy bombers."
"Where to?" Tsunami asked, checking the charge on her railgun's battery.
Clay looked at the map glowing on his HUD. "The SandWing territory. Sunny says the rebels there have intercepted a shipment of prototype pulse-rifles. If we’re going to end this war, we’re going to need more than just lead.
"As they took to the sky, flying low to avoid radar, Clay couldn't help but wonder if the world was worth saving if this was what it had become. He looked at his friends—his brothers and sisters in arms—and saw not just dragons, but living weapons. They were no longer the hope of the future; they were the apex predators of a mechanical nightmare.The swamp faded behind them, a graveyard of scorched trees and twisted metal. The sun dipped below the horizon, and for a moment, the world looked like it was on fire—just like the old days. But as the first stars appeared, they weren't stars at all. They were the steady, blinking lights of high-altitude surveillance satellites, watching, waiting, and locking on.
"Keep your jamming pods active," Starflight reminded them in their ears. "The sky has eyes now."
Clay flapped his powerful wings, the rhythm steady and mechanical. He didn't look back. He just kept his eyes on the target reticle projected onto his vision, leading the way into the dark.