Inside a cavernous hangar repurposed for Unity propaganda expos, holograms flicker in the rafters, and distant artillery rumbles like surf. Outside, endless rain, cratered runways, and skies thick with atmospheric soot. Inside the hangar, propaganda slogans loop on speakers: “Order. Progress. Unity.”
Anya slipped past a mech, its charred plating weeping rainwater as two maintenance bots dragged it away, and lifted her eyes to the glowing sign over Hangar 9.
UNITY’S GLORY – THE FUTURE OF WARFARE, it declared in shimmering blue letters.
Beneath it, a stage stood awkwardly on repurposed ammo crates, draped in Unity banners. Holo-displays hovered overhead, streaming images of smiling soldiers zooming across battlefields on strange contraptions.
Anya rubbed the scar along her cheek, a habit when she smelled burning circuitry. After two tours patching battlefront tech, she’d seen enough “miracle weapons” for a lifetime.
Anya turned as one of the demolition sergeants, Brill, sidled up beside her.
He smelled faintly of blast powder and wore a permanent scowl, like he was daring someone to show him another gadget.
“Oh, sweet void. It’s another dog-and-pony show,” he muttered.
Major Kinnick spotted them both and waved, nearly knocking over a technician.
A lanky officer with bright eyes and a voice that always seemed pitched for a recruitment ad, Kinnick was Unity’s biggest believer in shiny new tech.
“Corporal Vos! Sergeant Brill! Get over here. You have to see this.”
Anya folded her arms. “Sir, respectfully, the last Unity prototype we tested shorted my neural implant and electrocuted half the squad.”
“That was a minor miscalculation,” Kinnick said. “This is different.”
A synthetic voice chirped over the loudspeakers. “Welcome, defenders of humanity!”
Anya jumped as a humanoid droid rolled forward on glossy black servos. Its face was molded into a perfect corporate smile, eyes glinting teal.
“I am Theo,” it said. “Ambassador of Progress.” Its chest screen flashed: UNITY’S GLORY – AERIAL PERSONAL TRANSPORT SYSTEM.
Brill squinted. “If this is another hoverpack, I’m out.”
Theo raised one slender arm dramatically. “Not a hoverpack, Sergeant. The APTS is the culmination of Unity’s vision. Faster than any ground vehicle. Safe. Efficient. Elegant.”
Anya peered at the object under a tarp on stage. “Then what is it?”
Theo pulled back the tarp.
Underneath was a…tricycle. Sort of. Three massive, humming ducted fans were mounted where wheels should be. Its frame glowed with Unity’s insignia.
Brill stared. “That’s a goddamn hover tricycle.”
Theo continued smoothly. “Imagine your soldiers breezing over terrain. Skimming minefields. Crossing rivers in seconds. Revolutionary!”
Brill muttered, “I’d settle for a helmet that doesn’t shock me when it rains.”
Kinnick cleared his throat. “Attention in the hangar! All personnel, eyes front. Observe the demonstration.”
Slowly, the milling soldiers stopped pretending to check their neural comms and trudged closer, forming an audience with expressions somewhere between boredom and terror.
He clambered aboard, knees squeaking in his exosuit. Theo helped strap him in.
The rotors spun up with a metallic whine. Sparks flickered under the chassis.
“See?” Kinnick shouted over the rising noise. “Stable! Responsive!”
Anya flinched as the trike tilted sideways.
Kinnick’s eyes widened. “Uh—”
A blue arc of electricity shot across the handlebars. Kinnick rocketed straight up, narrowly missing a ceiling strut. His voice dopplered overhead.
“Shiiiiit—”
Soldiers scattered as Kinnick swung upside down, boots flailing. The hover trike careened across the hangar, trailing sparks, shearing off a hologram projector.
Theo attempted to intervene, waving its arms. “Remain calm. Remain calm—”
A support cable snapped. Kinnick slammed into a stack of crates marked PLASMA SHELLS – HANDLE WITH CARE. They tumbled like dominoes.
Brill ducked behind a console, dragging Anya with him. “Called it.”
When the machine finally whined to a stop, Kinnick dangled upside down from a truss, boot tangled in cabling. The hover trike hissed on the floor, leaking smoke.
Theo straightened its tie. “Unity’s Glory prototype demonstration…complete.”
A few of the soldiers stood frozen, rifles slung over rain-soaked shoulders, exchanging wary glances. Finally, one corporal gave a single, hesitant clap that echoed in the silence.
As medics arrived with a retrieval ladder, Anya stared at the smoking hover trike.
“This is what Unity’s spending credits on,” she muttered. “While synth raiding parties eat half our perimeter at night.”
Brill wiped grime off his face. “Unity wants flashy miracles. Holo posters. Gadgets. Half of ‘em don’t work outside a showroom. Meanwhile, we’re patching reactors with scrap wire.”
Anya glanced around the hangar, eyes catching other “Unity Innovations” lined up for demo day: a powered shovel labeled DIGGING FOR PEACE, a suit of golden exo-armor shaped like a centaur, and a personal shield generator that flickered wildly between transparent and solid.
Unity’s slogans blinked overhead: “Order. Progress. Unity.” and “Synthetic or human — only loyalty matters.”
Anya sighed. “Yeah. Boondoggle. Every damn time.”
—J.B.
I’m getting back into the HIVE platform as another venue for audience-building and connecting with a writing community - this is where I started my push to serious writing, nearly eight years ago, with writing prompts.
I’m Jason, a science fiction writer obsessed with the places where technology, military life, and human nature collide - often in spectacularly messy ways. With a background in tech and the military, I love crafting stories full of sharp dialogue, immersive worlds, and unexpected humor. Follow along if you enjoy these kinds of stories or want to learn more about my writing and upcoming novels.
Story back ground image: Photo by Anastasiia Skai on Unsplash
