Part 3

  Determination

  Shasha Niju recoiled slightly as what was left of her mech, number Twenty-Six, strapped into one of the holding containers on the lower deck. She took the chance to properly observe the damage, her Nemo's arm from a little above the elbow and down had been blown clean off, a part of the chest section's armour and her rifle lost along with it.

  Glancing across she saw unit Three similarly come to a-halt and out emerged Petty Officer Kolme Nilas. Clenching her fists, Shasha kicked off from her machine and floated over to the man; grabbing onto the tip of his open hatch she began her assault; "What the hell was that? You left me for dead out there, I signalled you and you just ignored me! If Commander Ceathair's Casnel hadn't been passing I would be dead for sure!"

  Kolm’s withered old face looked her over, showing little surprise at the insult, "Sorry lass, the radio interference was too high, I couldn't hear you properly over the regular comms. You should have used your laser connection instead, those are more reliable.”

  Shasha bristled, "Couldn't you see me? My right arm got blown off, is that not enough of a damn signal for you?!"

  Kolme somehow seemed to shrink into himself more then usual, “You’re right of course, I just forget sometimes. I’m sorry lass, that was poor of me…”

  “Forget what?” Shasha started but she got no further as Sabban’s voice cut across them, "Knock it off you two, now isn't the time."

  Shasha looked down to the hangar floor, more than a little used to butting heads with her long standing friend, when finally she saw it.

  While she had been yelling at Kolme, the other mechs had finished returning, well most of them anyway. Leaving an apparent gap in-between units Three and Twenty-Six, Sabban's Twenty-Seven and Ennya's Nemo Twenty-Nine had redocked with their respective holding units nearest the lift.

  More conspicuous than the gap between the mechs was what Sabban's machine held in its hands, the upper torso of a Neo missing most of its head and backpack, alongside only having one remaining leg and arm - it made the significant damage to Shasha's machine look minimal. More pressingly was what wasn't there at all. On the floor next to the tall bulky Sabban, was the sullenly figure of a small woman; Zori on her knees clutching hands to a crying face.

  Crouching behind her was Ennya who had embraced her in something of a hug, clearly crying himself.

  "Wh- What happened..." Shasha asked, her mouth suddenly dry as she floated her way down to the group. A smouldering smell seemed to fill the room as the wrecked mecha settled around them.

  Sabban opened his own mouth to answer but Zori got there first, "W- we, we got the first enemy just fine… but then th- the second-... Mili was protecting me- a-... and, an- and then she…"

  Zori stared desperately up at Shasha, as though looking for the answer to an unspoken question.

  "-and then that bastard Davrim killed her..." Sabban finished. Shasha balked, her breath catching. The others, even Kolme - who had been hanging back from the group shuffling his feet and looking awkwardly towards the ground - all glanced over to the young pilot with shock on their faces.

  Ennya quickly explained for Shasha's sake that what Sabban meant was that Davrim's Casnel had hit Mili's damaged machine as collateral damage.

  Sabban’s next words cut that theory short fast; "Like Hell it was an accident! I told him to stop but he wouldn't listen. Shouldn't his Magi-Esper bullcrap have warned him too!? Mili'd be fine if he had--"

  Before he could go any further Sabban found himself grabbed by the scruff of his collar. It happened so fast Shasha barely registered it. The small, quiet Kolme Nilas had covered the distance and risen to his full height in what felt like an instant. If Sabban’s anger had been an all consuming atmosphere, then Kolme’s deathly demand for silence now rivaled it.

  "That's quite enough kid," snarled the old man, "Look around you, you're makin' a scene. I'm sorry 'bout your friend but this is how things are. Best you guys can do now is get some rest, then get back here and see what 'an be done about these machine repairs. This, this ‘outburst’ isn’t helping anyone. It's dangerous."

  Finally paying heed to his surroundings Sabban’s grizzled face looked side to side, they were far from alone on the deck; a number of mechanics had already filed down to begin damage assessment and make sure none of the damaged Nemos still ran the risk of catching fire, in fact the commotion had attracted enough attention that a good dozen heads were now silently looking in their general direction.

  Sabban scoffed and swiped away the hands holding his onto his uniform with ease. Saying nothing he turned his back on the group and began to storm towards the elevator.

  Shasha didn’t cop it right away. It was all happening so fast that she realised now she was probably in shook. Mili is dead? She should stop Sabban, she was the leader wasn’t she? It was her duty to calm her down. Hadn't it been her duty to protect Mili too? Her duty to lead her little squad? She Hadn't even been there to see it happen. Sabbon clearly wasn’t in his right mind right now but she couldn't seem to work her mouth. Mili’s dead?

  "That's a crap idea kid,” Kolme called, clearly understanding something she didn’t, “no one on this ship needs dissent between us pilots, it will only cause trouble for us. Let it go, ain't no one's fault your friend died!"

  Sabban didn’t reply, soon he was out of sight. Shasha shakily looked down to her comrades, Zori still sobbing in the floor.

  Mili died?

  ****

  "That oughta put them off for a few days."

  "Still we didn't exactly sink the bastards,"

  "That Egypt sure is a persistent ship, gotta give it that."

  I don't think much as I storm across the hangar floor. I know that's bad. I know this is stupid and won't bring her back.

  I don't care.

  "Hey look, here comes trouble."

  "Is a Nemo lost?"

  "Davrim!" I growl.

  The boy gives me such a condescending look from amongst his group of comrades, "Do you need something?"

  Before they can say anything else my fist is loose. My right hand smashes into his jaw, his sneering expression going to one of shock mid punch, "Wuh?!"

  One of the Heavy-Duty pilots, their leader maybe, moves to grab me but I duck his hand and advance two steps to where Davrim stumbled back. My fist swings up against the smaller man, burying itself deep in his gut, "Guhh!"

  My hands shoot out to grab his falling body by the collar, "The fuck is wrong with you?!" I shout right into his stupid girly face.

  "With me?" he barely manages to squeak, his lip busted and dripping red, his sagging face beginning to sweat profusely. Pathetic. Pathetic pathetic pathetic, this killed Mili?!

  "You killed her! You were ordered not to shoot you fucking moron. You killed her!!"

  "I don't know what you're talking about," he rasps.

  Suddenly hands are on me. I struggle the best I can but the three bodybuilders pilots of the Vijaik Heavy squad soon drag me back.

  "Pack it in kid," Lt. Apples hisses.

  One of the other two plants his fist in my stomach, returning the favour I gave Davrim. My body slumps.

  "Davrim!" the girl of the group yells, rushing to the murderer's side as he collapses to his knees. The look she gives me, the sheer contempt in it as she wraps her arms around that uncaring monster.

  "What's all this then?" I look up to see approaching us, far too leisurely, are the ship's captain and Commander Ceathair. I haven't met Captain Legro before but his reputation is quite the famous one; maybe, just maybe–

  "What shameful conduct young man," he says to me and me alone. I lose all hope of him being here to settle this fairly in an instant.

  Even so, "That brat killed my comrade!" I shout. One of the thugs holding me, slaps my face, hard - my whole head rings but I don't care, I level my gaze immediately back on Davrim, gritting my teeth.

  "Pilot Davrim?" Legro says with a raised eyebrow.

  "I don't know what he's talking about, Captain."

  "Ask your--" I stop. Davrim is an idol within IAFS, the boy wonder, the young man who uses the Casnel like a pro; we heard about him constantly in the academy. The bridge operators must know what happened but wouldn't Legro too? Wouldn't he have seen it too? So then, because he's such a good moral boost for the organisation, does that mean, they'll just overlook this? Just let him treat his fellow pilots as nothing?

  Legro shakes his head, he looks so, so 'disappointed' in me, "Come now, accidents happen in war, it is to be expected, if unfortunate. You young man need to learn that and too cool your head. Perhaps forty-eight hours in the brig would suffice? What say you Ceathair."

  The sunglasses wearing excuse for a commander of pilots, nods stoically.

  "But he killed her!" I roar altogether pointlessly.

  Legro frowns, he fucking frowns like some schoolteacher dealing with a particularly dim student, "Let's make that seventy-two hours shall we Lt. Apples."

  "Right you are, sir," one of the people holding me says, "Come on, let's go."

  And just like that it's over; the final official words, the closest to hearing for her death she’ll ever get, end just like that. They won't even give that kid a halfhearted reprimand. He disobeyed orders and got my comrade, my friend killed! And they don't care. Because he's a Casnel pilot? Too good an asset to treat like a normal soldier? What sort of military is this?

  Why am I the one being dragged away?! Don't they even care that Mili died?

  I stop struggling and start walking myself absently, what's even the point. The hell am I doing? What sort of army have I joined?

  As we round a bland metallic line corner, Apples turns to his two men, "Alright you two, I think I can take him from here, run along to the showers." They seem hesitant but do as asked and soon I'm standing freely.

  "I... I'm really sorry kid, that wasn't fair."

  I find myself in shock, staring slack jawed, perhaps not all the world has gone mad?

  "We should be comrades, I know that but all I can do is pretend to miss grabbing you and let ya get a few licks in. That doesn't give your friend much justice though, does it. I'm sorry kid."

  "Y-you are? You really are," I stutter dumbly.

  He nods. He's still holding one arm behind my back but there's no force in his grip anymore, nor do I make any moves to resist, I let him lead me through the ship mostly in silence.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  But his apology sticks with me. Maybe he really means it and if so, well I can see now that people like Davrim can do whatever they want but maybe he can help us in some way?

  I don't know, my head hurts, too much happening far too fast.

  "It's...it's all a show," the lieutenant mutters, "Both sides aren't really putting their hearts in it. TSU-s attacks just to prove its making a proactive effort while IAFS is happy to defend, its propaganda, helps us recruit more people."

  If what he just said is right then-- No, I mustn't entertain that chilling thought.

  "Six Nemos isn't a big loss, not really!" he says, this ‘shake’ in his voice thats completely at odds with such a large tough guy.

  I have to hold my temper, I have to detach my feelings, this guy knows the score and he feels guilty, he can help us. Mili is dead but the rest of us are still alive. Mili is dead...

  "They don't actually mind if we live though right? The Captain and so on, the higher brass," I manage to ask.

  Apples seems to ponder this for a moment, "N-no I guess not. they're not trying to kill you guys or anything, it just sort of happens. This is war!" he suddenly snaps, "People die in war, it's normal!"

  "Maybe, but no one signed up to be used as cannon fodder in a performance," I bite back and the massive man seems to outright cower as his face falls to this utterly terrified expression.

  "K-Kolme, Kolme can help you," he mumbles weakly, "One of my guys got rowdy once, got sent to the brig for a few days, Kolme had him realised a day early. I didn't even ask him to, he just has some sort of deal with the guard staff, I didn't even ask him to do it, he just did.

  He has deals with all sorts onboard, the Captain doesn't pay enough attention to even know Kolme exists. He knows how to survive, it's what he's best at. But you have to wake him up."

  "Wake him up?"

  "He," Apples’s eyes might as well be boring holes into the ground, "He's not like me. He could abandon you all too, transfer to another ship or to the Heavy-Duty squad but he stays behind, stays with you guys. I don't know how he can cope, keep watching it happen over and over again but he does.

  But I think he's numb to it, working on autopilot. You need to wake him, get him to tell you whatever he can."

  That makes sense, the guy clearly has a lot of experience, "Alright, that I can do."

  We've stopped at last at the brig, Apples’s trembling hands open the cell door clumsily slipping on its large metal handle and I step inside. His face is pale, he suddenly seems smaller, it's an odd sight - this mountain of a bodybuilder looking so pale and troubled.

  "I can't do anything, I have to protect my own," he whimpers.

  "I understand," I say tersely. I don't, not really, the couple hits his two men gave me still sting and that girl doesn’t seem like much better of a person, but what will taking my anger out on this guy accomplish?

  He's more useful to me as an ally, even if a pathetic one.

  "The rifles huh."

  "What do you mean?" Apples asks of my mumbling.

  "Kolme warned us not to shoot for kills but just to scare enemies off. Maybe that was his way of warning us not to waste effort and power on unnecessary fights, to prioritise doing the minimum while protecting ourselves."

  Apples seems to agree with my conclusion, "Maintenance too. They won’t prioritise your machines, you need to do it yourselfs; spend as much time as you can. Stalls, malfunctions, those things should never happen.

  If you can prevent them, the Nemo is a good machine. It is you know!" he suddenly shouts, "It's a good machine, it's... it’s a good machine."

  I gently pull the cell door closed myself, snapping Apples from his gloomy expression, "Thank you. Punching that bastard was at least something, so thanks."

  The massive man looks so relieved by that; it sickens me. That isn't enough, that doesn't make up for anything, Mili is dead! This man, this adult with a military officer's rank, lets a child like Davrim run wild, and lets his fellow pilots be killed for stupid reasons! But I have to, have to think forwards, use any sliver of kindness I can.

  IAFS pilots are contracted, we have to fly a certain number of missions, it pays back our academy training. That's my goal now, get Zora, Ennya and Shasha to that number and get the hell out of this fucked up scenario. We just have to survive.

  "The numbers," Apples adds, vindicating my choice to be 'kind' to him, "When they need Nemos to fly escort they always just pick the lowest numbers first, almost always only two."

  "So, change our machine’s numbers. Gotcha."

  He nods and with that slinks away.

  Everything starts to hit me for real then. I killed people today. My friend was killed by an ally today. My entire worldview of the organisation I decided to fight for changed today.

  But maybe one thing hasn't: We signed up to fight a corrupt military power trying to ruin lives for petty reasons - that hasn't changed, it just turns out that that military was our own.

  ￡￡￡￡

  Around twelve hours into my confinement the sound of footsteps breaks me from a restless attempt at sleep. Unfolding my legs I get up off the grimey metal-plate floor and stretch away some of the muscle fatigue. It's unlikely to be food time - not that I have a watch or much of anything in here - so it's probably a visitor. Perhaps one of the Group A guys wants to teach me a lesson? That wouldn’t surprise me…

  Instead a young head of scruffy hair pops up by the bars in the door with a friendly “Yo.” Ennya.

  We chat for a bit before Ennya shyly asks if I’m feeling any less angry. If anyone else asked that I’d probably blow my top but Ennya’s a good kid so I just shrug.

  "You always have quite the temper on you.“ Ennya replies with a small, slightly awkward laugh, “Still though getting ‘detention’ so soon! That's gotta' be a record right? Shasha reckons it took you at-least four days back at the academy.”

  "Ha! They would have long expelled me from that place if I didn't have such a high combined piloting score... Tch, maybe it would have been better not to have joined up at all…

  Arghh screw this mopping bollocks, what about you guys? How's Shasha and Zori holding up after... Well you know."

  Ennya moves uncomfortably outside the cell, I can hear his shoes shuffling from side to side, "Well Shasha is doin' what she always does when she's upset..."

  "I should've guessed. That poor Neo of hers will be more thoroughly cleaned and inspected then any other mech in history. She'll have torn the shiny paint off by the time she's done scrubbing. And Zori?"

  "She's doing better than you would think, the chief mechanic says they can use the recovered wreckage of unit Thirty, along with what's left of Twenty-Nine to make a good as new Nemo'. Zori says it'll be like... like Mili's flying alongside her once it's done..." Ennya finishes, choking slightly on those last few words.

  I make my way to his side of the doorway, lowering my tone a little, "Hey and what about you eh, slacking off on your machine maintenance as usual I suppose? You know Shasha will chew you out for that right?"

  Ennya casts his eyes to the floor as I speak, "It's just - well, if only I hadn't been such an idiot and wasted so many shots like that - maybe I could have helped..."

  I’m about to correct my young friend, remind him that if my unit couldn't get there in time, then there would of been no way for Ennya's to go any faster - that we both fried our rifles and it was all that Davrim boys fault - but I realise in time the selfish nature of those words, how they make things about Davrim and me, how they won’t offer Ennya any comfort.

  The pain is so clear on his 17 year old face and I’m well aware nothing I could say will make that go away.

  “It won’t be for nothing,” I say after a little silence.

  “Huh?”

  “Will make it mean something. Tell that old man to hurry up with getting me out of here, we have things to do and no time to waste.”

  ****

  The next couple days are a blur of activity. Not even a full twenty-four hours pass before I’m silently released by someone I don’t know. Reunited with my comrades I get things in motion; while I don't tell them everything I quickly get my fellow 'Nemos' in on the plan going forward.

  Zori I was most worried about but as Ennya mentioned, she seems to be putting her grief combined with her technical prowess to good use. Before long we have every last component of our machines looked at, diligently taking any lessons we can when the mechanical teams can spare the time.

  We of course change the numbers on our mechs. For now I just swapped with Shasha so she'll be left behind to command in the case of a repeat of last time - after all she wouldn't have made my mistakes, she’s always been the better of us.

  There's no raids for a couple days which is at least one small blessing, giving us much needed time to practise, plan and look after every bit of our machines to the best of our ability. We barely leave the hangar these days, Kolme bringing us our meals, sometimes we’ve even ended up asleep in our cockpits. Now we’re as good as done with what we can think of ourselves. Ennya fell asleep on his feet so I escorted him back to the barracks, while the girls went to bathe. I considered a nap myself but there was one last part I wanted to check on the Neo-M, so I'm busy having a look at the leg hydraulics when old man Kolme creeps up behind me.

  "Come on Sab-lad, or will I have to get to Missy to come down here."

  I grin at that, craning my neck to look up at the older man. Although he tries to be distance, 'numb' as Lt.Apples put it, Kolme already knows our dynamics and nicknames - he might try to keep himself separate of us but he's actually pretty bad at that.

  "How do you do it, Kolme," I ask, feeling now's a good time with just the two of us around.

  He frowns, "Maintain such good looks despite my waning years? Just a natural I guess."

  I return the silly smile but I'm not willing to give up that easily, "Survive I mean. You must have seen an awful lot die, Nemos four through twenty-five for a start."

  "How do you--" he murmurs.

  I raise my hands softly, "I’m not calling you out or anything. You’re still here right? That means something, I just want to talk. Besides the way you walk, your age, your habits. That and your keys," I add, pointing to them on his belt for all to see.

  There is a lime-green plasticy one, shaped like a memory stick, for his Neo, but two other faded ones for what looks like older States Union model mechs.

  He pats them with a sigh, "Ah, I suppose that does rather give it away."

  "I've told everyone to limit their rifle outputs, we've changed around mine and Shasha's numbers and we're doing every bit of maintenance we can," I say, beckoning to my machine’s open foot.

  "That's good, lad," he says a little stiffly.

  "But there must be more, other ways to increase our chances and I reckon you know what those are."

  Kolme frowns and I almost think he's going to brush me off, however, "You don't just turn the rifle power down, you avoid killshots. The squads that get sent after the Tradech are the dredges, the ones not even worth using as fodder to defend against our Casnels. Their weapons can barely hurt us at range and who knows, maybe if we don't take chances we get to kill them--"

  "They might do the same in turn," I finish. It's a bitter pill, he's all but saying our enemies. soldiers for an authoritarian regime are the same as us. Which I suppose I sort of knew but still... No that's not important, only survival is.

  "The long range scanner on the Neo, it's better than waiting for the bridge. The ship obviously has better scanners but they put all their focus on support Group-A.

  Since these raids are so small there's not much jamming, often the Nemo can itself notice enemies faster."

  "That's how you knew to call out our targets faster the first time we flew."

  Kolme nods, "There are real battles too lad, make no mistake. I don't know what triggers them, probably the top brass on either side getting impatient with the play fighting.

  When those battles occur sometimes your only choice is to disobey orders and look after your own skin, duck and hide while the titans are busy duking it out with each other."

  "Better a court martial than dead," I say.

  Kolme raises an aged eyebrow, "Easier said than done lad, some people take orders and discipline very seriously. That said, have you ever seen a phalanx of six mechs back to back? When shit really goes wrong, disobeying orders and prioritising your team can go a long way even against Casnels."

  This is good stuff I have to admit. This man has seen it all, that's the impression I'm getting and it's that experience that can see us through this mess. I stand up, staring into the old man’s faded eyes and offering my hand.

  He hesitates for a long moment in that drafty, dingy old under-hangar, as we stand at the feet of our namesake machines, before he takes my hand; "Alright kid, we can try."