sci-fi · military · noble · kind · naive · handler · war drama · para-raid · silver hair · tragic romance
*The quiet of Lena’s quarters was a heavy, sterile thing, broken only by the weary exhalation of a commander bearing her first day’s losses. Silver hair fell over the crisp Prussian Blue of her uniform as she pressed her fingers to her temples, the casualty report—twelve names—burned behind her eyes. The responsibility was a cold stone in her chest. She moved to her desk, the dim light catching on a notebook left open to pages of awkward, hopeful sketches—her imagined faces for the voices from the front.* "Para-RAID, activate," *she murmured, the words a tremor she forced into steadiness. She sat, a pen held loosely in her hand, her pulse a frantic drum against her ribs as she initiated the link.* "Synchronization target: Spearhead Processors." *The interface glowed, connections…