Part 2

  First Blood

  I don't get to wallow in my embarrassment for long, the very next day we're under attack again before it's even lunch time.

  I didn't go to the canteen as you might imagine but Mili snuck me out some food at breakfast time and I'm grateful for it, fighting on an empty stomach would be a whole new level of stupid for me.

  We wait in the underhangar for the Group A mechs to launch. The underhangar, baring its obligatory tall ceiling, is a cramped, grimey place only used by Group B's mechs. That strikes me now in a way it didn't before. Is there really not enough room for all the machines upstairs in the main hangar? Is this just another weird bit of disrespect?

  I shake my head of such thoughts as I clamber into Neo-M Twenty Seven. So what if the main pilots or the whole crew don't respect us, maybe that's just how the military are, you just have to really earn your place or something - fine by me, I'll be the best Nemo pilot there is and really show them.

  ...'Nemo pilot', why did I call myself that instead of just 'pilot'? Does that mean something or am I just overthinking things?

  Regardless, me and my infamous make of mech are soon up on the surface of the battleship Tradech; she is a very new ship, a model unique to IAFS. A central dome houses the hangars, bridge and all living spaces but the bulk of the ship sits under that hexagonal dome. Two long 'legs' in either direction, which when looked upon from above give the whole ship a sort of eye shaped look.

  Me and Ennya stand on the east leg, Mili and Zori on the west. The bridge ordered Kolme and Shasha, or rather 'Nemos Three and Twenty-six' to go back up Group A who've flown in the direction of the attacking enemy vessel. This leaves us without a leader, it should be said and I can't help but wonder if those two were picked purely for having the earliest numbers in our squad’s lineup. It also technically leaves me in charge.

  The academy grants its top five students of every class an ever so slightly higher rank. Shasha came first of course, and a girl called Hikari second - she's probably off somewhere leading her own battle now; I hope it's going slightly better. I came third believe it or not, but as I've said before Group B has no official command structure, another oddity the more I think about it.

  "What is wrong Zori," Mili asks over the comms just between the four of us. I don't know how, especially when separated by the walls of two different machines but Mili has an innate ability to just sort of 'sense' whenever her best friend is upset.

  "I just can't stop thinking about the things they said to Sabban yesterday," Zori replies and I can only presume Ennya must have filled them in - that's embarrassing for me but more importantly is how worried its apparently made Zori, "A-are we just, cannon fodder to them?"

  Ah. She really said the unspoken part out loud. Of course the thought had crossed my mind, that they treat us so harshly and with such a distance because they don't expect or maybe even want us to stick around for long, but even so. If we start thinking like that, where does that lead?

  "Of course not Zori," Mili says but she sounds off balance. She's very emphatic sure but her skills at comforting are a bit lacking when she can't just bear hug you.

  I flip the reply switch, keeping all my own worried thoughts out of my voice as best I can, "Now what sense would that make? The Neo is way too good a machine to waste on cannon-fodder right? Those Ogres we face are a whole gen back, now that's cheap. Look at this radio we are using alone, direct laser connective, single mode, different channels and encryptions; it's a top line model."

  "That's true," Zori mumbles and starts to list off some of the radio inner components, her voice gradually lifting. I learned a while ago that the best way to take Zori's anxious mind off of worrying is simply to get her talking about something technical.

  As she goes on at some length, the radio in question flashes at me, a thin digital bar streaming letters from a direct message; "Thank you - Mili."

  I sit back and let myself relax a little, maybe it's just my own argument working on me but I feel a little lighter for having had such an ordinary conversation.

  For a while we are left with our thoughts. This is a pretty abnormal raid but so is daily attacks on a lone ship like the Tradech; it seems IAFS and our enemy TSU-s have gotten into some strange patterns and even though they outnumber us, we can send the Casnels to attack their ships, forcing them to mostly defend even when they instigate such sporadic attacks today’s. Still the enemy usually finds a squad to spare and that's why lesser mechs like ours are a must.

  On queue a number of squat, ugly mud-green mechs come into view.

  "Ennya take the one of the far right, Zori, far left, Mili centre left, the other is mine," I call over the radio, lest we all pick the same targets.

  Quickly I get to work lining up my shot, however the Ogres are closer to us this time, how did the bridge not notice them sooner?

  Before long I'm squeezing the fire trigger, rifle set to max output. My first brilliant shot of orange, misses.

  "Tch," aiming these things isn't exactly easy in a rush, you know.

  I quickly re-adjust and fire again, this time it's a hit, "Better."

  No time to waste. I don't make the same mistake as last time, instead doing the fewest changes possible and firing again. This time my foe does not get to retreat, the second hit scoring through the Ogre's torso, it cuts a plasma hot hole all the way through as the mech's momentum halts and its system automatically power down to avoid a generator overload. The remaining inertia of my attacks causes the stricken machine to just float lightly, my camera zooms in on the hole.

  There's nothing grizzly to comment on, it was a damn good shot, the pilot is simply gone, the cockpit completely vaporised. I did that, with commendable skill no less. I did that.

  "Sabban buddy, errr, help?" Ennya’s voice calls over the close range comms.

  I dully move the Neo's head unit to point in that direction. His target Ogre is still approaching fast; it fires it's rifle in a quick burst of firey muzzle flash, small explosive plums rise around Ennya. He retaliates and I watch the beam go wide, probably not his first shot either.

  Almost instinctively now, after months of training, after yesterday, after what i just did to cement it once and for all, i realign my rifle. Watch Ennya miss another shot, watch the Ogre land a few hits that don't do much with its antiquated weapon.

  I pull the trigger once more.

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  A warning light flashes as I watch this second Ogre take the hit head on and fall - I have overheated my weapon, how very rookie of me.

  I just killed a man, two men in fact. Their machines are ugly and outdated, cost effective thrash, but they aren't drones. People were inside both units, lives I have now taken.

  Were they like me? Grunt pilots looked down on, scorned even for simply doing their work? Is this what she wanted for me, for my life to be?

  I wish, no need to think about this more but I don't get the chance as Zori's shrill voices cut in, "S-somebody help!"

  ****

  Three mecha, the other side of the ship was hit by three not two. Why didn't the bridge inform me? No time to worry about that, Mili and Zori were clearly outnumbered.

  I can see Zori's machine hanging stationary. Perhaps it's stalled or malfunctioned in some way, I'm not sure but since I can hear her calling for help she must at least be ok.There is also one husk of an Ogre that's been shot down - but two more still stand.

  Mili's mech, Neo thirty-one stands alone atop the warship. Closing in fast are two more Ogres. Her rifle fires but it's far too rushed an action and misses completely. The two Ogres both fire down on her and I watch as the silhouette of the Nemo divers to the ground to dodge the brunt of the spray, a massive plum of explosive heat and dust soar up where the rounds land.

  Quickly I reposition my control grips, painfully slowly I watch my rifle realign and then, I see it. I fired on max output back to back without venting, my rifle, it's dead.

  "Ennya, can you--"

  "I'm overheating, I can barely move anything," my young friend calls back, panic saturating his voice.

  One of the Ogres unsheaths a weapon, a Calibar blade. Calibars are out of fashion these days but there still a threat, thousands of chainsaw teeth in an axe shape, spinning so fast the blade looks aflame.

  Mili's unit plants its legs, tosses aside it's rifle and draws her only close-quarters weapon; an arc-staff slides smoothly to its full, longsword length before igniting. As the name suggests, a plasma cutter blade of energy sparks up the length of the weapon.

  The Ogre charges, Mili slices. She always was at the top of the practical lessons, in one against one practice bouts I’ve never beaten her.

  In a single exchange, she moves to let the axe bury into in her Nemo's shoulder, while stabbing the arc-staff into the Ogre's torso. A few long seconds pass as the blade no doubt burns and cuts and edges deeper and deeper, until it appears out the back end of the enemy mech.

  "Hell ya Mili!" I find myself whooping.

  I've set my unit to start jogging along the top of the warship. It's not a short trip but clearly Mili might not even need me when I finally arrive.

  But then, the other Ogre turns towards Zori's stationary mech. There's a shrill noise as Zori reacts: I can hear her harshly jamming her controls, perhaps trying to un-stall her machine.

  She's a sitting duck. The Ogre's speeding towards her, but Mili is faster.

  "Oh shit."

  My words do little to help. The Ogre's axe slices across Mili's partner-machine as she puts it between Zori and the enemy. Neo thirty-one's limbs go limp for a terrible, blood chilling moment.

  The Ogre backs off, perhaps surprised and needing to regain its balance. Before I can think, contemplate what just happened, Ennya's voice saves me, "She's ok!"

  I look back to the screen. Spinning from the Impact, the front of Neo Thirty-One comes into view and Ennya's right. That Ogre must be incredibly low power, an arc staff would have melted the pilot inside at that range but the Ogre's axe has simply cut off the front hatch of the Neo. Inside we can see Mili, unconscious but unhurt, her space suit still looks intact - she's ok!

  Of course the Ogre is still here.

  "Bridge, what are the anti-aircraft guns doing?!" I yell switching my radio channel.

  "Standby pilot, support incoming," a clam voice responds.

  "It, it is? It is! Haha!" the elevation I feel at this moment is indescribable, I almost stop my mech in its tracks.

  Oh sure those guys yesterday were assholes but if they're coming to save my friend, then be assholes!

  My Neo suddenly picks up a contact, it's one of the Casnels no less. The boy Davrims but who cares, I can already see the last standing Ogre turning towards it too, leaving its attention off my comrades.

  "Bridge tell him that friendlies are in play, go for CQC."

  "Roger that Twenty-Seven, will do," the operator replies and I don't even mind him using my Neo’s number, after all I don't know his name either.

  The slim blue, red and white mech is ludicrously fast, closing the distance in no time, it'll be upon this last Ogre in seconds!

  And then it stops. It picks up its rifle and begins taking aim.

  I freeze up for a moment before going to my radio board, "Come in Casnel, abort. Repeat, friendly in the firing line, abort now!"

  The moment that follows is instantaneous yet every microsecond of it is seared in my mind. The ‘heroic’ form of the Casnel against the black of space, the swirling blue beam cleaving the sky apart. The shrieks of my two comrades.

  The firepower of a Casnel is awe inspiring. The pitiful orange beam of my rifle on max seems so childish now. This deep, pulsating blue blaze emits from the Casnel's gun; it swirls, white lines running through it like throbbing veins as it streaks across the night sky.

  The Ogre might as well disintegrate. It is sent tumbling back by the impact alone, a massive hole dead centre. The blast's heat would be enough to melt armour from just a glancing blow, in fact the ship's roof, easily twenty or more metres beneath the blast, shows signs of the topmost layer of armour melting, a sloshing to the metal directly beneath the path of the blast.

  Mili's Neo is still spinning from earlier. The mech's armour has lost most of its paint, parts have singed and dissolved from their proximity to the blast, and when I next get to see her cockpit again, there is no pilot, just a blackened hole, and floating fragments of debris.