The weight of the plan

A short sequence of actions for a man thrust into a situation he does not understand

Jenkia looked up at the sky, enjoying the cerulean hue and crystal clarity. The warmth of the noonday sun made him smile in gentle comfort. The paradise planet of Xeria was famed for its ability to impart positive therapy on anyone lucky enough to stay, even for a single planetary rotation.
His thoughts, lazily swimming through notions of what he might do tomorrow to further unwind, were interrupted by a wailing throb of noise. Engine noise. Atmospheric engines. One of the other tourists on the beach pointed up with a yell. Following the gesture, Jenkia saw a massive object descending from the sky. It was closing fast, and with his enhanced sight, he could see exactly what it was. A Rudyan drop ship. Which meant a Rudyan assault squad.
In typical Rudyan fashion, the embarked assault squad simply debarked the craft right out the yawning ramp to the rear of the drop ship. The thing was still over a hundred meters in the sky. That did not bother the assault squad. The entire complement of seven hurtled down to the beach. Their clamshelled armor, purple and black—menacing and impossibly massive—tore through the air. The elements smashed down a mere second after their leap, trembling the ground and creating little craters around themselves. Rising from their crouched landing, three of the seven began a lumbering sprint toward Jenkia, assault rifles raised and pointed—at him.
The three assault marines maintained their sprint, while the other four simply stood still, forming a simple line—weapons raised but otherwise unmoving. This was no invasion. This was a commando operation and a very definite show of intimidation.
Was it fortune though that Jenkia, in that initial moment of panic, had depressed his panic help button? Because now, another shape materialized in the sky, rapidly coalescing into something humanoid in configuration—only much larger. It was dropping from the sky as well, directly towards the Rudyan assault ship that was now floating over the four stationary marines. As Jenkia raised his hand, a cool, almost cold voice entered his head. "Stand by for extraction." His panic help request had resulted in the dispatch of a Victory unit.
The Victory unit slammed down right on top of the assault boat, standing on it like it was some sort of raft. The massive weight forced the durable craft to drop alarmingly towards the ground. The Victory unit’s cannon suddenly pointed down, emitting a peal of thunder, and the assault boat's drop became an uncontrolled fall.
The fighting was not done. Not at all. Rudyan marines did not acknowledge defeat easily, and this squad was typical. The leader, a scarred beast of a man, Logret Alpha, called in support. "Mission broken, request immediate orbital interdiction." His voice, though inaudible through his heavy helmet, sounded like the fall of rocks into each other. The orbiting battleship received the missive easily. "Strike inbound, mark your target."
A colossal energy beam lanced in from the battleship in high orbit. The beam was entirely visible as it sliced through the atmosphere and smacked into the Victory unit. A precise hit. Logret's targeting was exacting as always, and he smiled under his helm as the energy beam brutally impacted the giant Victory unit battling his team. The coruscating beam had immediate effect, blasting off pieces of the Victory unit’s armor and melting through, showing underlying cabling and bits of organics.
As the Victory unit tumbled to ruin, Jenkia began to run toward the jungle edging the beach. The Rudyan assault squad had been cut down to just three members, and they were momentarily fixated on the Victory unit. Time to escape. As he ran, he thumbed the signal node in his palm. The same one that had called in the Victory unit. Covering the few meters to the jungle edge, Jenkia dove headfirst through the brush, tucking into a roll and rising into a continued sprint. As he did so, a calm voice again came through his head. "Dispatching secondary."
Secondary had Jenkia and lift-off executed. But that was not to Logret's plan. He registered his objection immediately, messaged via the rocket launcher he hefted to his shoulder, salvaged from one of his fallen men. The projectile blasted out and locked on to the black extraction craft. It slammed home into one of the exhaust ports with a cataclysmic clap of thunder.
With a sudden cough, the craft’s engines cleared, and the thing boosted suddenly on a steep arc. Whatever these secondaries were, they were uninterested in continuing conflict. Extraction called, and they were executing it. Within seconds, the craft transitioned from atmosphere and into space. With a judder, it accelerated again, boosting for high orbit.
Staring up at the rapidly receding craft, Logret hissed sharply. Anger spiked his vitals as he calculated mission failure. He snapped up one arm and rotated it in a short circle. Retreat.
The extraction craft, Languis—its name evident as Jenkia saw it stenciled above the viewport—powered toward rendezvous with whatever heavy units were in high orbit.
As Languis closed with the looming ship, Jenkia could see its name written in meter-tall white letters. Formidable. Languis slipped easily into the launch bay and came down softly on undercarriage that arched out like the legs of an arachnid. Settling in place with oiled smoothness, the craft spun down its engines, and the interior lights brightened. Time to disembark. Jenkia stood and started walking toward the hatch. Same one he'd been bustled in through. None of the extraction personnel moved. In their black armor, they almost appeared to have been shut off. The hatch swung open independently of any command as he approached, and Jenkia leaned out of it. And right in front of him, he finally saw who and what had been responsible for the day.
Despite the imposing presence of the commander, it was the light trill of a voice just behind her that actually captured Jenkia’s attention.
"Hello, hubby!"
It was his wife. He might have known. She had orchestrated all of this.
Jenkia’s world seemed to shudder in that moment, his breath catching in his throat as the soft trill of a voice, unmistakable and playful, cut through the tension. His head snapped toward the sound, his heart stumbling in his chest.
"Hello, hubby!"
The voice was light, almost too light, and with it came a weight he hadn’t anticipated—the weight of recognition. His heart nearly stopped.
There, standing behind Commander Eryx, was the last person Jenkia ever expected to see in this place.
It was his wife, Lira.
Her presence was a complete contradiction to the dark, militaristic environment around them. She stood with a faint smile, her dark eyes glinting mischievously, her features soft and familiar. But there was something off—something subtle, something he couldn’t quite place. Her body language was too fluid, too perfect, as though she had stepped out of some rehearsal, some well-rehearsed performance. Her clothes, though practical, were far too immaculate for someone who had supposedly been through the same chaos as he had. It felt wrong—too controlled.
Jenkia’s mind reeled. This couldn’t be happening. His wife, Lira, the woman he had trusted above all else—was she the mastermind behind this? Had she orchestrated everything? The panic that had once settled into him began to return in full force.
"Lira?" His voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper, as though speaking the name would shatter the reality before him.
She smiled even wider, stepping forward in a fluid motion that felt strangely rehearsed, every step perfect. Her eyes flickered briefly to Commander Eryx, then back to him, the smile never leaving her face. She was completely unfazed by his confusion, as if she had expected this reaction.
"Surprised?" Lira said, tilting her head slightly, her tone playful, as though they were having a casual conversation over breakfast, not standing in the middle of a military command ship.
Jenkia’s mind scrambled for answers, but none came. The silence that followed was unbearable, pressing against him from all sides. It felt as if the walls were closing in. His heart thundered in his chest.
"Lira... why?" he finally managed to rasp. His throat was dry, and the words felt like they were being torn from him.
She laughed lightly, a soft, melodic sound that should have been comforting—but here, now, it only served to deepen the confusion and dread swirling in his gut. Her gaze softened, but there was something predatory beneath it, something sharp, something he had never noticed before.
"Why not?" she replied, her voice low, almost intimate, as she closed the distance between them. "You’re my husband. You’ve always been a part of this. It just took some... convincing." She glanced at Eryx, as if the commander was merely a background character in the drama. "And now, here we are. Together. Again."
Jenkia took a step back, his mind scrambling for answers. The last few days, the chaos, the battle on Xeria, his panic button—it was all part of her plan. She had been behind it all. He had thought she was just a civilian, just a wife he trusted, but now everything was suddenly suspect. How long had she known about this? Had she been working with them—with Eryx—from the very beginning?
Lira’s smile remained unwavering as she took another step forward, almost as if savoring his bewilderment.
"I’m sorry you had to be... swept into it like this," she said, her voice still light, still soft, as though this was just a casual conversation about a vacation gone awry. "But you were always part of the plan. You just didn’t know it yet."
She paused for a moment, letting the weight of her words sink in. The silence between them stretched, unbearable.
"Does it bother you?" she asked, her voice almost too calm, her gaze never wavering. "The fact that I’ve been working with them? With Commander Eryx and the others? Or do you finally see the bigger picture? This isn’t just about us, Jenkia. It’s about everything. The future. And whether you like it or not, you’re already part of it."
Jenkia couldn’t find words to respond. His thoughts were tangled, his heart thrumming painfully in his chest. Everything he thought he knew—his life, his marriage, his purpose—was nothing more than a carefully orchestrated lie.
As the enormity of the situation settled over him, Jenkia looked from Lira to Commander Eryx. His mind was spinning, his chest tight with disbelief. He had no idea what game they were playing or what their end goal was, but one thing was certain:
He wasn’t just caught in the crossfire anymore. He was in the game.
And now, he had no idea how to play.