The Orphan
In the teeth of an Ionfront storm on Ionis III, an ARES forward element led by Captain Charles “Karl” Silvanus drops into a ruined town to answer an distress call from Lt. Col. Galen Duane. With the window for extraction closing and unknowns starting to surround them, Karl, Staff Sgt. Mark Evander, Private Camilla “Mille” Vesta, and Trooper Cyrus “Cy” Felice have to find their objective and get out.
Yet they find one survivor—a girl, hidden in a cupboard, clutching her teddy bear. She seems ordinary, but Mille and Karl notice things — small, unsettling things that defy easy explanation. When secret orders collide with ARES’s founding charter, “Our mission is people—no matter the banner”, Karl and Mille are forced to choose command and conscience, setting Sable Team and the girl on a collison against the Terran Concord’s own shadow division, Section VIII.
Rescue-forward
Stand-alone entry
Zero technobabble
Sample
Excerpt
ARES Forward Recovery, Ionis III
“See first, decide slow, move once.” — ARES Pathfinder & Fieldcraft Program
Ionfront thunder walked the roof as Sable Team cleared the ruin room by room. In the kitchen a roof beam had punched through — glass across the tiles, a cold draft sliding along the skirting. Karl counted beats, let the noise settle, then moved the muzzle in a slow, methodical sweep.
“Front room open,” he said, calm in the comms. “Weapons tight. Positive ID only.”
Mille’s attention locked on a slim door by the stove — a service cupboard, just wide enough for a child. She tilted her head, listening. “Sir… there’s someone in there.”
She thumbed her safety, eased the cupboard door an inch, and kept her hands where they could be seen. A pale face in the dark, green eyes blown wide. When Mille reached, the girl tried to fold herself into the corner, small as she could be.
“It’s okay, little one. You can come out. It’s safe. I promise.”
Hunger won the standoff. When Mille tore a ration bar, a small hand shot out — and Cy grabbed the forearm, trying to help. The girl exploded—teeth in his hand, boot to his shin. Cy taped the bite without a word and slid to rear security. Mille cut the child off gently and turned her, hands light on shoulders.
“There you go. We’re human,” Mille said, tipping her chin toward the others. The girl didn’t run; she collided — arms wrapping Mille’s waist, face buried in her vest. Warmth and shaking and wet breath through fabric.
“Er… Captain? You’ve got kids, right? Little help?”
“She’s not letting go, Mille. Run the checklist,” Karl said, almost smiling.
Mille kept the girl clamped to her side and took the threshold: windows, yard, corners. Mission first — but care, first. Lower profile. Hands visible. Slow voice. Offer a comfort object. Give choices.
She lifted the child to the coffee table and ran a quick, quiet check: dried tear tracks through dust; no facial injuries; a few abrasions and splinters in arms and legs. “Good news — you’re okay. Bad news: I have to clean those scrapes so they don’t get infected.” The girl clocked what was coming and tried to crawl away. Mille steadied her and found a ruffled, dust-covered teddy on the floor.
“Hey, look — a teddy. A bit dusty, but that’s okay.” The girl froze, laser-focused on the bear. Mille placed it in her hands and worked fast: clean, cover; clean, cover — just a few more hisses.
“You going to tell me your name?” Silence.
Karl’s voice crackled: “Hold position. Maintain visual. Children disappear fast.”
Mille turned to answer — and the table was empty. Heat climbed her face. “Sir… the girl’s gone.”
“It’s okay, Mille. I’ve got her — she was creeping back into the kitchen.” He steered the girl toward her with a firm hand on the shoulder. The child studied her boots, bear tucked close.
Mille guided her past the blanket-covered body and out to the garden bench — quieter light, fewer angles. They let the silence sit. The girl got absorbed in the bear. Nothing disturbed the small pocket of peace.
“So — what’s the bear’s name?” No answer. Mille unwrapped a square of chocolate and raised it toward her mouth, then offered it. “Want some?”
The hand moved like a snake strike. First bite down, the second square earned a price.
“You can have another piece if you tell me your teddy’s name.”
A long battle played out behind green eyes. Finally: “Buttons.”
“Nice to meet you, Buttons,” Mille said to the bear, and handed over the square.
Boots crunched behind them. “Still no luck with her name, Mille?” the sergeant asked.
“Not yet, Sergeant. Got the bear’s name.”
The storm tightened. Thunder rolled. The team held the house and the line, waiting for the exfil window, while a girl and a soldier shared chocolate and breath in fours — in, hold, out — until the shaking eased and the world steadied again.