Ironclad

The sky had never been that colour before.

Not even in the farmlands.

Zarra stood at the edge of the vegetable patch, her Hunter boots half-buried in the dry earth. The wind carried the familiar sting of dust across her cheeks, fine grains slicing at her skin until it burned pink. Months ago she would have cried about it. Now she barely noticed.

Life in the farmlands had a way of teaching you what pain was worth feeling.

The fields stretched endlessly before her, broken only by dead irrigation channels and stubborn patches of brittle grass that refused to surrender. Dust bowls rolled across the plain like wandering ghosts beneath an endless orange sky.

But today...

Today the orange was wrong.

Darker.

Thicker.

As though someone had poured rust into the heavens.

She frowned.

Far beyond the fields, black plumes curled upward, swallowing the horizon one slow breath at a time. They didn’t rise naturally. They spread.

The wind shifted.

It carried something new.

Smoke.

Not the comforting smell of a cooking fire.

Not burning crops.

This smelled bitter.

Metallic.

Her stomach tightened.

For a long moment she simply stared.

Then—

A distant sound.

Not thunder.

Not machinery.

A scream.

So faint it could almost have been mistaken for the wind.

Then another.

Closer.

Zarra’s pulse lurched.

“No...”

She turned and ran.

Dust burst beneath every step as she sprinted toward the weathered cottage, its faded timber walls trembling beneath the growing wind. She shoved the heavy wooden door open with both hands.

It slammed against the wall.

“Mom?”

“Dad?”

The cottage was darker than it should have been.

No candles burned.

No evening meal simmered over the stove.

No familiar smell of herbs filled the room.

Instead, shadows moved frantically through the house.

Her father crossed the room carrying stacks of papers beneath one arm while sweeping instruments into a satchel with the other. His acrylic glasses kept sliding down the bridge of his nose as he worked, pushing them back into place every few seconds without breaking stride.

Across the room, her mother folded clothes with astonishing speed, stopping only to tuck small glass vials into a leather case before fastening it shut.

Neither of them looked up.

“Dad...”

Cassian finally glanced at her.

His smile was there.

But it didn’t reach his eyes.

“We’re going on a trip.”

Zarra’s heart dropped.

“No.”

Neither parent answered.

“No.”

Her voice cracked this time.

“That’s what you said last time.”

Silence.

The last trip had stolen everything.

Their apartment overlooking the Science Quarter.

Her classroom.

The glass conservatory where she’d spent afternoons reading while her parents debated over equations she never understood.

The courtyard garden where she’d chased dragonflies between the flowers.

Her friends. Children of other scientists.

The laboratories.

The conferences where everyone seemed to know her parents’ names.

All of it.

Gone.

Exiled to the farmlands with nothing but a worn cottage, endless dust and a world that suddenly treated her family like criminals.

She wasn’t leaving again.

“We’re going on another trip,” her mother said quietly as she gathered her long crimson hair into a loose knot behind her head. Her movements were calm, almost too calm.

“Pack only what you need.”

She finally met Zarra’s eyes.

“Now.”

Zarra ran up the narrow wooden staircase, taking the steps two at a time.

Her room was little more than a bed, a dresser and a single window overlooking the endless farmlands. She looked around frantically, trying to decide what mattered enough to take.

What did people pack when they ran?

Food?

Clothes?

Blankets?

She stared at her small satchel, suddenly realising she had no idea where they were going. She didn’t know how long they’d be travelling. She didn’t even know what a person needed to survive beyond the fences of the settlements.

A knot tightened in her stomach.

She knew nothing.

The helplessness washed over her so quickly that her breathing became uneven.

Her eyes wandered to the shelf beside her bed.

Sitting there was a small unicorn.

Its white fur had dulled with age and one of its ears had long since folded over. It had been with her since she was a baby—a gift from a colleague of her mother’s after one of the Science Community exhibitions. A little bit of magic it still possessed.

She picked it up.

Holding the unicorn against her chest, she tucked it carefully into her satchel before slinging the bag over her shoulder.

It wasn’t practical.

It wouldn’t help her survive.

But somehow...

It made her feel a little less afraid.

She hurried back downstairs.

Her parents were already waiting.

Their bags were packed.

Everything they intended to take with them was strapped neatly across their backs, secured with the speed and precision of people who had rehearsed this moment a hundred times inside their own minds.

Not panicked.

Prepared.

As though they had always known this day would come.

As though somewhere, buried beneath years of research and careful optimism, they had accepted that one day they would become the most wanted people in the Republic.

Cassian adjusted the heavy pack resting against his shoulders. Metal clinked softly inside.

Scientific equipment.

Of course.

Even now...

He wasn’t leaving without it.

He looked between his wife and daughter.

Miriyen reached for Zarra’s hand.

Her grip was warm.

Steady.

She drew in one slow breath, as though preparing herself to walk into whatever waited beyond the front door.

Cassian stepped forward.

Opened the door.

Then stopped.

Completely.

His body stiffened.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t need to.

Miriyen froze immediately.

She had seen over her husband’s shoulder.

Zarra’s pulse quickened.

“Dad?”

No answer.

The silence became unbearable.

Without thinking, she slipped past her parents and pushed through the doorway.

The wind struck her first.

Warm.

Heavy.

Carrying the bitter scent of smoke.

The dust had settled.

And waiting beyond it...

was an entire fleet of Peacekeepers.

Hovercraft rested silently above the sand, their engines producing a faint, low mechanical hum. They floated just inches above the ground, disturbing the dust into delicate spirals that drifted lazily around them before disappearing into the evening wind.

Dozens of soldiers stood in disciplined formation.

Others had already taken position on the surrounding dunes.

Sniper rifles.

Every one of them aimed directly at the cottage.

There was nowhere to run.

At the centre of the formation stood a single man.

He wore no helmet.

His salt-and-pepper beard was trimmed with military precision, interrupted only by a thick scar that ran diagonally across his left eye and disappeared beneath his collar. His uniform bore the marks of decades of service—not excessive decorations, but the quiet confidence of a man who no longer needed medals to command respect.

He stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

Calm.

Patient.

Certain.

He wasn’t shouting.

He wasn’t issuing threats.

He simply waited.

As though the outcome had already been decided long before he’d arrived.

His eyes lifted.

Not to Cassian.

Not to Miriyen.

To Zarra.

For the briefest moment, their eyes met.

Then, just as quickly, he looked away.

She wasn’t his objective.

She was merely part of it.

Behind him, the smoke rising over the horizon painted the sky an angry orange, swallowing what little daylight remained.

Zarra could hear the pain and cries it carried.

Whatever had begun in the Capital...

had reached them.

He studies Cassian for a moment.

“So...”

A faint smile.

“You were going to leave without saying goodbye.”

Cassian doesn’t return it.

“I didn’t think you’d appreciate visitors.”

The captain exhales through his nose, almost amused.

“You always did have a sense of humour.”

His eyes move to Miriyen.

“Doctor Sol.”

She inclines her head.

“Captain.”

Neither smiles.

The captain glances toward Zarra.

“My goodness...”

He shakes his head.

“She was barely this high when I last saw her.”

His hand hovers around his waist to indicate the height of a much younger child.

“Time has been kinder to her than it has to the rest of us.”

Zarra doesn’t recognize him.

But she notices...

Her parents do.

When she stepped forward to get a better look at him, her mom took her by the arm and pulled her closer.

He looks back at Cassian.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t make me come all the way out here.”

“You had a choice.”

“So did you.”

Silence.

Cassian studies the polished uniform.

“The promotion suits you.”

The captain looks down at the polished iron breastplate.

“It does.”

Another pause.

“I was earned.”

Cassian’s expression barely changes.

“I never doubted your ability Rey.”

The captain hears what he didn’t say.

Only that he doubts the man he’s become.

Miriyen finally speaks.

“Why are you here?”

The captain answers immediately.

“You know why.”

“No.”

Her voice remains calm.

“I know what you’ve been ordered to do.”

A beat.

“I asked why you are here.”

That lands.

For the first time...

The captain looks uncomfortable.

Only briefly.

“The Republic requires your return.”

“My husband?”

“The Republic requires both of you.”

Miriyen’s eyes don’t leave his.

“And our daughter?”

A long silence.

Finally...

“She will be processed.”

Miriyen’s knees almost gave out from under her.

Cassian steps slightly in front of Zarra.

Almost instinctively.

“I won’t let you take her.”

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

The captain sighs.

“I was hoping we wouldn’t say that.”

Cassian asks quietly,

“Did they promise you another star?”

The captain’s jaw tightens.

“Tell me! What will they give you in return?”

Cassian felt himself lose his composure as he took a step forward.

“They promised order.”

“They promised power.”

“They promised survival.”

“They promised many things.”

Miriyen interrupts.

“They promised fear.”

The captain says nothing.

Because...

She’s right.

Then he quietly replies,

“They promised an end.”

“An end to all of this.” Rey said as he lifted his hands towards the barren farm fields.

He referred to the recent famine that has struck the small towns outside of Ironclad.

Cassian answers,

“No.”

“They promised obedience.”

The captain looks around the tiny cottage.

“I remember when your home had windows overlooking the academy gardens.”

Miriyen smiles sadly.

“So do I.”

“I never imagined...”

He stops.

“...that we’d be here. Like this. Standing on opposite sides.”

Cassian replies,

“I did.”

Silence.

The captain looks at him.

Cassian continues,

“The day they stopped asking questions and started demanding answers...”

“...I knew eventually you’d be summoned.”

“It’s time, Cassian.”

Rey’s voice remained level.

“Don’t make me drag you away in front of your daughter.”

Cassian didn’t move.

“I guess you’ll have to Rey.”

“You will not touch my daughter.”

Miriyen stepped forward, placing herself between Zarra and the line of Peacekeepers.

Rey’s expression cracked. His façade slowly coming at the seams.

“Miriyen...”

His voice was almost pleading.

“Please.”

There it was.

Not an order.

Not from the captain.

From the man he’d once been.

The young officer who had walked the gardens of House Sol.

Her protector.

The man who had once imagined a different future.

One where she stood beside him.

One where she’d accepted his proposal.

One where none of this had ever happened.

“You don’t have to do this.”

Miriyen looked at him quietly.

Silence settled over the courtyard.

Even the wind seemed to wait.

Then Miriyen turned away from him completely.

She knelt before Zarra.

Her hands found her daughter’s shoulders.

Firm.

Steady.

She looked directly into her eyes.

No tears.

Only urgency.

“Remember our plan.”

Zarra felt her throat tighten.

“The one we practised.”

Miriyen brushed a loose strand of black hair behind her daughter’s ear.

“Go back inside.”

Another pause.

“And do not come back out unless your father or I come for you.”

The words suddenly became real.

Not practice.

Not another lesson.

This was it.

“No...”

Zarra’s voice broke.

“I’ll stay with you.”

“You can’t.”

“I can help.”

“You already have.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks.

“No... please...”

Miriyen cupped her face.

“Listen to me.”

“No mom!”

“I know.”

“I’m staying.”

“Zarra.”

Her voice hardened.

“Go.”

Behind them Rey’s voice echoed across the yard.

“Miriyen.”

She ignored him.

“Miriyen!”

Still...

She never looked away from her daughter.

A Peacekeeper stepped from the formation.

Weapon lowered.

Restraints already in hand.

“Stand down.”

Rey’s order cut across the silence.

The soldier didn’t stop.

“I said stand down.”

Still...

He kept walking.

Cassian stepped between them.

“No further.”

The soldier reached for him.

“No!”

Rey moved forward.

“Stand down!”

The Peacekeeper seized Cassian’s arm.

There was a sickening crack.

Cassian cried out as the powered servos inside the soldier’s iron armour amplified the movement, snapping bone as though it were dry timber.

“Zarra screamed.

Cassian collapsed to one knee, clutching his shattered arm.

“Dad!”

Rey reached the soldier, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

Then everything happened at once.

Miriyen threw herself over Cassian.

Not instinctively.

Deliberately.

She had seen the rifle rising.

She knew.

The shot thundered across the barren plain.

For one impossible heartbeat...

No one moved.

Then Miriyen’s body sagged.

She remained draped over her husband, shielding him even in death.

A single crimson stain spread slowly across the back of her coat.

Cassian stared.

His mouth opened.

No sound came.

Then...

A noise escaped him that Zarra had never heard before.

Not a cry.

Not a scream.

Something deeper.

The sound of a man watching his entire world disappear.

Rey turned slowly.

His face had drained of colour.

“Who fired?”

No one answered.

“I SAID WHO FIRED?”

His voice thundered across the field.

“Protocol, sir.” A peacekeeper reminded him.

The formation remained frozen.

No one spoke.

No one dared.

Zarra couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t hear.

The world around her folded inward.

The orange sky.

The smoke.

The wind.

The soldiers.

Everything became distant.

Muted.

As though she had fallen beneath deep water.

The last thing she saw...

was her father’s hands cupping her mother’s face.

Then darkness claimed her.