Kael didn't sleep.
He sat with his back against Ravager's leg, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the fog-hung horizon as hours passed — but the light never changed.
It didn't fade.
It didn't brighten.
It just... stayed.
A dim, muted blue-gray glow bathed the wreckage of Nox-4, the shattered trees, and the blackened crash trail like a forgotten dream. The shadows were soft, not sharp. There was no sun, no stars. Just a sky smeared with haze and distant, unmoving clouds.
"Still no sign of sunrise?" Oris asked as he approached with two ration packs and dropped one at Kael's feet.
Kael shook his head. "We might be in a locked orbit. A planet that doesn't spin. Or a system with a dead sun."
"Neither's good news."
They both chewed in silence for a moment, the gritty protein paste tasteless.
From behind the cave mouth, Tyren's voice echoed. "Guess we're naming this place Fogball Prime. Home of sad skies and weird air."
---
After the crash, they'd located a cave not far from the wreck — a twisted indentation in the base of a shallow ridge, partially concealed by thick, vine-covered stone. It wasn't deep, but it offered shelter from the open, cover from aerial threats, and proximity to what remained of Nox-4. More importantly, it was stable — or seemed to be.
The surrounding area gave them about 400 meters of clear terrain. Beyond that, the fog thickened into something almost physical.
Oris had spent the better part of the night mapping movement radii from the cave and scanning the sky for any thermal distortions. Kael had scavenged from the mech compartments, hauling out salvageable energy packs and a comm rig.
Tyren had wired together a makeshift power grid using spare stabilizers, then built a perimeter using half-destroyed pulse beacons. It wouldn't stop a beast, but it'd give them a 3-second warning.
---
Despite the air's cold bite, a sheen of humidity lingered constantly, keeping their skin damp and equipment slick. Their suits dried only when manually purged.
And worse — the ground trembled.
Subtle at first. Then stronger.
Every few hours, like clockwork, a low rumble rolled beneath the surface — not explosive, not direct — just a long shudder that made pebbles dance and their mech legs shift slightly.
"Earthquakes," Tyren had said on the first night, though not confidently. "Planet's unstable. Nothing new."
But each time the ground groaned, Kael felt it behind his ribs. Like the planet was exhaling slowly, and they were standing too close to its throat.
---
Inside the cave, Oris set up a temporary console against the rock wall. A cracked display hummed with minimal power, synced with sensor relays around the wreck. He highlighted a map projection of the nearby terrain based on short-distance radar.
"Mountain range to the north is the largest structure for kilometers," he explained. "We're here — southeast edge, about two klicks out."
Kael nodded. "So what's the plan?"
"Scavenge what we can from Nox-4, repair the satellite dish, try to boost a message out. If we can't get rescued, we adapt long-term."
"And the attacker?" Tyren added. "Still no trace? Not even a ship signature?"
"Nothing," Oris replied. "It was precision. Like they fired once and left. Which means it wasn't random."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "They knew where we were going. And they wanted us not to arrive."
"Someone wanted us on this planet instead," Tyren said. "But why send us here? There's nothing. Just fog, dead air, and dirt that sweats."
"Maybe it's not what's here," Oris said grimly, "but what they expect us to find."
---
Just then, a new tremor rolled underfoot. Longer than the last. Loose debris in the cave clattered. Kael instinctively reached for his weapon. Tyren's hand hovered over his wristpad.
But then, as always, it stopped.
No collapse. No aftershock. Just that eerie silence again.
"Nothing lives on this planet," Tyren muttered. "Feels like the whole place is holding its breath."
"I'd rather it didn't exhale on us," Kael replied.
---
They returned to the shipwreck hours later, cautiously combing through compartments with their suits sealed. Most of Nox-4's interior was a scorched ruin. The cockpit was melted. The escape pods had never launched. But in a lower deck, Kael found a partial fragment of the flight logs.
He skimmed it — and paused.
"What is it?" Oris asked, peering over his shoulder.
Kael tapped the screen, which displayed a brief error report during mid-jump.
> "Interference detected: Source Unknown. Auto-redirect to Safe Exit Point: Inhibited. Emergency Descent Protocol Initiated."
"They hijacked the jump," Kael said quietly. "Whatever hit us didn't just shoot us down — they hacked the gate. They wanted us alive."
Tyren looked over from a busted terminal. "That's worse."
---
Later, after dragging out a few more salvage crates and rigging a better antenna into the cave entrance, they set down for another rest.
And that's when they heard it.
Not a tremor.
Not a vibration.
But a roar.
It began as a distant rumble — low, hollow. Then it rose. Deeper. Louder. It wasn't the sound of one throat. It was like stone and breath and metal grinding together — a bellow dragged through a canyon.
The sound came from the north. From beyond the mountain range Oris had mapped.
All three stood up instantly. No one spoke.
The roar stretched long… echoing… then slowly faded into silence. Like it had come from something too large to be seen.
Kael finally said, "Guess we know what not to explore."
Tyren exhaled. "New rule: If it can shake a mountain, we don't go anywhere near it."
Oris didn't take his eyes off the horizon. "Whatever made that sound… it wasn't calling."
Kael turned. "Then what?"
"It was warning."
---
The light never changed.
The fog never lifted.
And in that dead stillness, with only the hum of their mechas and the fading roar echoing in their ears…
The three misfits of Unit 404 began to understand:
They hadn't just landed on an alien world.
They'd stepped into the lungs of something ancient.
And it was still breathing.
---