The plane dropped. Air screamed past her canopy. The Canids spotted her instantly. Their chain-cannons roared, not with bullets but with razor-edged data shards—physical code that could slice a wing and scramble a flight computer in one hit.
One. Two. Three. Each shot deleted an escort tank from existence—not exploded, but erased , as if the code that held them together was revoked. cyber tanks plane code
“Tank five-zero,” crackled the radio. “Designation: Grey Mourner . Neuro-sync active. Crew: one KIA, one captured. We need its movement code, Kaelen. Not tomorrow. Now.” The plane dropped