Part 4

  Flying Fortress

  It's been a few days since Mili died, that hasn't become any easier to think about but we're doing our best to make her proud.

  The mechs are in the best condition we could achieve, especially considering Shasha and Zori's had both taken battle damage. In the end it was parts of Mili's mech that were used to repair the other two. We practised and discussed as many battle plans as time allowed, so that when the familiar alarm to battle blares, we’re ready for it. And of course before a week is past, it's time.

  In the locker room I quickly suit-up into my piloting gear. A Vijiak pilot's outfit is neither spacesuit nor uniform. A slim skin tight white suit, it has some internal oxygen but not alot. In exchange it is lightweight and easy to move around in, with adaptors that will let it clip into the Vijiak's systems if needed.

  A pilot could theoretically filter air and toiletries through the suit, extending the time they can be in a mech to a period of days. It's rare and most likely very unpleasant but it is a possibility these suits allow for.

  The gear still has a plasticy’ smell of sorts and it's a tad itchy, not dissimilar to one of those latex gloves you might use in chemistry class. It should get more comfortable over time, and honestly it feels like we've been here for months but in truth this is only our third time wearing these.

  Just our third, that's hard to square in my head but it's true all the same.

  These are good piloting suits, a little uncomfortable maybe but they are good quality. It reminds me of Lt.Apples’s desperate insistence that the Nemo is a 'good machine'. When did one thing being better than a worse thing like the Ogre, or piloting without a suit, become the same as being good I wonder?

  Before long, that annoying ringing still in the air, I meet up with the others at the elevator

  "So, what's happening?" I inquire once the lift has started its journey.

  "It's the Egypt again, apparently they have two Transformable-Fortresses with them as well this time," Shasha responds a bit gravely.

  "Two Fortresses? I thought a single one of those was enough to destroy a whole fleet!?" Ennya exclaims, from his tone of voice it's clear that wasn’t some joke, he sounds genuinely terrified.

  Zori outstretches a hand and affectionately pats Ennya lightly on the head, "Don't worry, Fortresses aren't as dangerous as they were back in the The First War, our Casnel type units can more than handle them!”

  I glance at Shasha, raising an eyebrow at Zori's surprising confidence. I kind of expected her to still be a bit broken-up over the loss of her long time friend.

  Shasha for her part takes the lead, "That's the attitude Zori, those fortresses won't stand a chance against Group A... But umm, ahem. Are you sure you're ok?"

  Zori abandoned her Ennya-head-patting - my young friend blushing bright red from it - to look up at Shasha with what I can only call determined eyes. Pumping her fist in the air defiantly she speaks with an enthusiasm I’m unused to from the quiet girl, "Ya I'm good now. I'll make Mili glad she rescued me... wherever she is!"

  Heh, I could hardly ask for more. Zori’s grief was one issue I didn’t have an answer for, nor did Kolme. Her turning that into resolution is the best outcome I could have asked for.

  I return her smile then turn and punch Ennya softly in the shoulder, "Hear that pal? Don't wanna let her get too much stronger than you eh? You better not hold back ya hear!"

  A combination of Zori’s head patting and my teasing have Ennya’s face bright red; he glares up at me ruefully, "And what are you meant to be, our boss? Don't forget you got demoted, Crewmen Vint!"

  "Why you cheeky, never hear about respecting your elders?" I shot back, channeling my best impression of Kolme. What he said is true mind you, apparently a demotion was enacted when I was briefly in the brig, not that it makes much difference.

  Zori laughs happily at the two of us and even Shasha grins a bit before clapping her hands together, "Ahem. The lift has stopped if you hadn't noticed children."

  "Are you sure about taking point?" Shasha asks Zori as we're disembarking the lift.

  She nods firmly, her neat black hair swaying along. Shahsa, perhaps reluctantly, nods. There's no time for more chatter.

  As I float into my cabin, I press the switch and listen to the soft hiss as the door swings close and pressurises the inside. For a few moments all is dark and quiet in the round confined space.

  I take a couple deep breaths, then, all springs to life: Monitors flash on, switches glow and with a twist of my key, the generator begins to hum with a domestic vibration.

  Easing into the padded chair I take up the control handles to either side and start her off steadily over to the much larger mecha lift.

  ****

  The main hangar of the Tradech puts our tiny place to shame. It's bigger than any stadium you might be imagining; so large smaller supply shuttles can come right into the dock. Me and the others troop across towards the launch area. The radio chatter lets us know Group A is already gone, "Ensign Davrim, taking off!" a voice says and I catch sight of the Casnel’s rear as it launches at speed out of the hangar.

  Unlike those guys, we are not expected to give a callsign before launching, rather we're encouraged to do so quietly. Zori reaches the door first, then me, Ennya, Shasha and finally Kolme. Kolme being Number Three means he is most likely to get requested for odd jobs and escort duty, we decided to have him launch last simply to delay how fast he can do such things. It's a rather small and petty rebellion but every little thing counts, we will grab even the tiniest of advantages that we can.

  Just as me and Zori are upon the launch tracks, the bridge radio line suddenly flares up, "Come in Nemo-squadron, this is the bridge. Do not launch. Two fortresses sighted and closing fast on port-bow. Repeat do not long-range launch, prepare for close ship defence.”

  With a curt 'Roger' me and the others all change direction. We will effectively just ‘step off’ the open hangar-bay-door instead and float up to the top surface of the ship where we can get a proper view of what’s coming. I can only hope Group-A will be quick turning back around.

  Zori is still the closest to the door and has the best view, “Our Casnels are fighting an enemy squad,” she says over the closer range comms.

  "Looks like reinforcements aren't coming any time soon. Let’s hurry up to the ship’s top, the 5 of us will use a staggered line formation and concentrate our energy fire on those fortresses. As long as that's ok with you Leader Niju?" I add, quickly trying to recompose myself as much as anything. Fighting Fortresses is not something I was hoping for.

  As we each make it to the door and leap into open space, we all get a view of the 'Locust' type; currently moving towards the ship at a frightening clip.

  It's a mud-brown machine with dark green highlights, two claws protruding from its underside and a large prominent cannon from its front section - accompanied by two further shoulder mounted weapons - all amounting to something of a crawling metallic insect in appearance, befitting of its name.

  As not to waste fuel we each carefully float up the large side surface of the Tradech, all eyes fixed on the approaching machines. Zori’s Neo is first onto the ship’s roof, metallic feet clamping down she begins readying her rifle

  The Locust are closing fast, I’m not sure the rest of us will be up in time, not to prepare any good shots anyway. In fact if I didn’t know better I’d say where we’re trying to set up is right in the path of thos– “Zori move away now!!” I shout.

  A cold hand runs down my back, my hair stands on end and any further words refuse to come.

  Nemo Twenty-Eight disappears.

  I can’t even be sure if Zori had known she was in any imminent danger, as the Locust let loose a flurry of powerful fire from its trio of cannons.

  The assault had been aimed at the Tradech I’m pretty sure. Indeed most of the energy glided past, ignoring the modest Neo entirely, bar a single shot from the main canon. This shot, haphazardly, lazily aimed, maybe because of a poor sensor or faulty equipment, had hit Zori as thought by accident.

  Soaring through the air it had stuck straight into her Nemo, it recoiled in on itself, the sheer force of impact causing the torso armour to buckle like a sheet of crumpling paper.

  It only took a few moments more for the machine to fill the sky with an awe inspiring flash of fiery light as its generators failed and the whole machine went up like a supernova.

  One more moment the supposed technological pinnacle of Main-Battle-Type Vijaiks - the next a cloud of nothing more than smoke & debris before my eyes.

  ****

  I can hear voices over my comms. Shasha is yelling something about him not being a fool, Ennya seems to be on the verge of tears and the deck crew report some form of damage having been taken from the encroaching Locust, mentioning something about 'a unit Twenty-Eight' being destroyed.

  I can hear the voices but in a way it feels like I can’t too, like the thoughts racing through my head overpowered the actual people talking, reducing their words to little more than white noise, a whirring high-pitched ringing

  Why didn't I go in front?

  Zori was always weaker than me in combat, why'd I let her go first - the fuck is this. That Fortress didn't even stop to check he'd killed her, I’m not sure he even meant to hit her, was it just a passing explosion to him, just some accident? A coincidence we were in their flight path?

  Does he even care, is it no more than another flaming Nemo to him?

  Are we all just nameless corpses waiting to die!? ‘Cannon Fodder’, that's what Zori had said.

  As thoughts race through my mind, looping like a cracked record, my mech drifts up towards the wreckage, surrounded all the while by useless streams of AA-fire from the Tradech.

  —-

  A dull thud awakens me to my senses again.

  The noise comes from my machine colliding with one of the many shards of debris, from what had once been unit Twenty-Eight.

  As though to confirm this thought a piece of shattered shoulder armour floats past my main monitor - its number has been scorched away leaving it to my imagination whether this piece was from Twenty-Eight or a part of Twenty-Nine used in repairs - remains of either Zori or Mili. My friends, nothing left but scrap metal...

  My throat wretchs, as the sickening sensation of nausea that often permeates vomiting takes hold me. I taste the bitter sting of bile, doubling over and clutching my stomach.

  I don’t vomit. Smashing a fist down against his chair's side rest, I hold it all in but let my words flow freely, "The hell is this? You can't be dead, you're going to avenge Mili aren't you? You can't die before you've even started that, before you've even taken a single shot! How.... th- t...The hell am I meant to explain this to your little sister?" I cry out, still oblivious to the cacophony of sound coming from my radio.

  Suddenly I feel myself jolted forward and a faint voice abounding through my cockpit as it vibrates violently: "-ut of my way, Small-fry-"

  Having been partially standing at the time, I’m sent tumbling forward, slamming my helmet off the machine's consoles, and in turn my face off the thick glass of the helmet. Blood trickles down my face as I grit my teeth.

  The impact finally causes the slew of complicated emotions coursing through my mind to subside for a moment. Glancing around I quickly understood what that was. My monitors all flash red and a small holographic diagram reveals that my Nemo has lost its left arm, rifle and a number of cameras after one of the enemy machines ploughed right past me.

  The voice I’d heard was probably the Fortress pilot, a temporary contact-link formed by the two machines momentarily locking paths.

  He should have shot, clearly I wouldn’t of dodged. He’ll regret that, I’ll make him regret that

  Properly ‘awake’ I quickly take to assessing my surroundings. I’ve drifted a decent way from the ship - looking back in its direction I spot my remaining allies all still standing on the topside of the Tradech, desperately trying to shoot out at the two Fortresses now circling overhead like hawks above the vessel.

  My radio continues to buzz too; "Sabban! Sabban, are you ok Sabban? Crewmen Sabban Vint come in! Please Sabban!" Shasha’s voice.

  I lift up my visor, doing my best to clean up my face before pressing the unmute button on the mic, "...ya I'm here, I'm here. I think my Nemo can still move, I'm coming to help."

  Somewhat tenderly I grab my controls and get Neo Twenty-Seven moving again.

  Ennya drifts out a small way to meet me halfway, firing his weapon the whole time at the Fortresses above.

  As the distance between them close the Locust, clearly feeling pestered by the rain of fire from our mechs below, suddenly change course to swoop down. Their target is clearly Ennya's Vijaik.

  For his part Ennya looks as though he's about to draw his arc-staff to retaliate. That won’t do at all.

  "Hey Ennya, stay as you are, I'll stop that asshole in his tracks, then you shoot, got it?" Perhaps hearing a bite in my voice that surprises me as well, Ennya agrees without arguing.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  I lower my Neo into position in front of Ennya’s. There’s no surface to stand on so I take a stance using many small thrusters to get the right angle - head on with the Locust’s approach vector. With my Neo’s remaining arm I clutch the arc-staff at its waist, swish it outwards watching each telescopic segment fold out before the thin blade ignites in a pillar akin to flame.

  The fortress itself, now level with us, begins transforming in-front of our eyes. The shifting metal, panels rotating and sliding elegantly into place, its something I’ve never witnessed in a mech and it fills me with deep apprehension.

  Before long it has become a hulking beast; two hands, two legs and a sloping triangular head. Still carried by its momentum it takes out its own arc-staff, one nearly twice the height of the Nemo, and charges straight at me.

  The impact is the most intense I've ever felt. Even with my thruster set to max I find my mech being pushed back. A storm of sparks files between our two blades as the Locust towers over my Nemo. Even so I hold it firmly in place.

  Warning displays appear all around the machine's monitors, informing me that the clash is causing such a great strain on the Neo's hydraulic joints that before long the whole mech will no doubt fail as it desperately groans to repel the force of an enemy nearly twice its mass.

  Re-adjusting my machine’s thrusters and posture to better take the brutal force of the Locust, I flip on the contact-link, "You can hear me right? You're the bastard who shot down Zori aren't you?!"

  "Huh? Who's this 'Zori'? Listen punk, I'm impressed you managed to even stop my machine in your pathetic excuse for a Vijaik but you should know this much; the names Varb Messa, States-Union-Special Ace and I've got one goal only: To destroy the IAFS Casnel, my accursed rival Davrim!" replies a man’s voice with a sort of determined naivety to it.

  I see red. Whether at the tone or the arrogance or the mention of that brat, I see red, "The Casnel? The hell's that got to do with this. Don't we even matter to you? What are you even fighting for?!"

  "Fighting for? What sort of stupid question is that? You dense or something soldier!

  I’m fighting to wipe out all Abhailen loyalist filth." Varb says proudly.

  "But IAFS aren't an Abhailen force, we're just fighting you because of your tyrannical policies against the Nation-Satellites! So what, you'll just crush anyone who disagrees with you? Go to war over any difference in opinion?"

  "Exactly, TSU-s will crush all those who oppose us!" Varb’s voice hints at him caring little for this debate of politics, or maybe even being perplexed. Surely he’s thought about this, thought about why he fights and kills his enemies.

  “Don't you see how ridiculous that sounds? We're only fighting because we disagree with your methods and you're only fighting because you think we pose a threat. How pointless all this is! Who cares about the damn Casnels, what sort of a reason is that to kill people?!

  How can you treat enemy pilots with so little respect that they just become stepping stones on your stupid murderous-path to Davrim?! What sort of motive to kill is that, aren't you even human?"

  I must sound like a petulant child instead of a soldier, am I even making sense anymore? Tears well in my eyes as the words I uttered slowly hammer home what shallow reasons this man cut down my friend, and in turn for what half-baked reasons my friends died in the name of.

  All the while the enemy's machine continues to press forward, the two arc-staffs are now so close my Nemo’s chest that its metal armour plating has begun to liquify, the head mounted cameras go first, each cracking and blistering.

  Visible score lines run through the Neo's visor, until finally, shattering completely from the sheer heat of the energy, half my monitors go blank.

  Suddenly a strange sensation runs down my spine, something akin to 'Deja Vu' or even that sensation of a eureka light-bulb moment - when one remembers where they left something once though lost.

  Without much thought I act on the feeling, cutting off the conversation with the enemy I swap back to my squad channel, "Ennya dodge right, quickly! Any direction will do."

  I follow my own advice, deactivating the arc-staff, while ramming the control levels all to push my mech rapidly downwards.

  On my last functional camera I watch as the Fortress is flung forward by the sudden lack of connection, its imposing double height arc-staff cuts across my retreating machine, the outer layer of torso armour is shredded instantly, mere inches from cutting my whole cockpit open, but I’ve just about escaped a lethal blow.

  Meanwhile the Neo's arm, now freed from its heavy burden, bursts into smoke and falls limply to unit Twenty-Seven’s side, its heroic efforts at last ended.

  The Locust quickly rights itself, firing its two shoulder cannons before transforming back to its flight mode. Over an open comms channel I hear Varb one last time, "I'm finished with this crap, where is Davrim hiding!!"

  The cannon fire set outwards, with one blast gliding past where Ennya's machine had been just moments ago, the second shot skims past his Neo's waistline but it's a mere glancing blow.

  "That was one hell of a good call Sabban, how the heck did you know to dodge?" Ennya says excitedly as we watch the Locust fly off. The adrenalin is evident in his voice as he begins moving his machine over to me, grabbing onto mine with a gentle thud just as my last camera gives up the ghost, leaving me blind to the outside world.

  "I, I don't know, just instincts I guess..." I murmur half-heartedly, wondering about it myself.

  "Ha-ha, be careful saying stuff like that, people'll start callin' ya a Magi," Ennya laughs lightly, although grief he feels for Zori is still apparent in his voice, "Hello bridge? This is Crewmen Ennya in unit Twenty-Nine, looks like Nemo Twenty-Sev– Ahem, I mean Twenty-Six’s cameras are kaput, not to mention its arms. Permission to land back on deck?"

  "Permission granted Twenty-Nine, get Twenty-Six back home."

  With this short exchange complete Ennya begins pushing both of us in the general direction of the ship.

  I settle into my chair, the absolute rush of it all settling over me. Zori is dead but at least I saved Ennya, that’s something right? And now the other mechs must surely be back, the Casnels can deal with any more passes from those Fortresses. I wonder how I’ll tell Zori’s sister when this is all over…

  "Looks like they hit the far launch deck pretty hard, I'm going to go stand guard there until the other mech teams can get back from assaulting the Egypt. Mr. Nilas follow after me once Sabban's secure.

  Ennya you take his place guarding the portside bow, understood?"

  Shasha's instructions are clear and delivered with a steadfast tone of voice, truly befitting of an up & coming field officer, showing no signs of letting her feelings for Zori cloud her judgement.

  "No worries, boss" Kolme hardy old voice replies.

  "Roger that Shaser" Ennya adds, a tinge of relief in his voice.

  "Hey Sabban buddy, you sure that guy didn't score a hit on you? It sure feels warm in here since I started carrying you. I'd rather not risk something happening to you as well…" Ennya asks casually.

  With a frown I check my monitors for anything that would cause such a fault, "Warm? I mean I've got warning signs going off in all directions and alarms and weird smells but temperature control feels fine, how 'bout you?"

  "That asshole scraped the outer waist of my armour but nothing major. Maybe he hit my aircon unit? Never realised how warm it would get so quickly without that thing."

  "What did you just say, Kid?!" Kolme suddenly shouts. My blood runs cold. What’s wrong? What could it possibly be now!?

  "Err- hit to the waist, Sir, looks like my AC is fried that's all Mr.Nilas. I can still fight so nothing to wor-"

  "Get Out Of There Now Boy!" Kolme roars.

  "Huh, what's wrong, I do-"

  "I said get out! Push Sabban's machine away, then pull the eject. Sun above I thought they fixed that fault back in the days of the old Casnel-MP's.

  Hey Ennya-lad? Did you hear me, kid? Eject now damn it, I'm not playin' around!" Kolme barks, his voice, that of years of mech experience, growing ever more worried with each word.

  “Do what he says Ennya,” Shasha adds. It's not like her to just take someone's word for something but I don’t blame her.

  "I- I can't Mr. Nilas, i-it-it's getting too hot to touch the instruments, it just keeps getting warmer! Shit, the eject handle isn't working, it won't budge!"

  Ennya responds, his voice rising to a disconcerting squeal.

  "Ennya? Just keep calm, pal. Grab the lever under the chair with both hands and use your whole upper body strength, we’ve done it hundreds of times in training right. Don't worry about moving me, just get out of there.” I can’t see anything, I never imagined the monitors breaking would be so terrifying. Something is happening out there, right next to me, just a couple metres away and I can’t see it.

  Indeed I had no idea what had actually worried old man Nilas so much about a broken AC unit, I couldn’t see what I would in recordings in day’s to come.

  For his part Kolme's unit Three has pushed away from the warship and started trying to catch up with us.What I couldn’t see then were flames; spewed out of the Neo’s mid-riff segment, as sparks began to emit from all across it's other joints, flaring like firework caught in a metallic fa?ade before quenching just as fast from the lack of oxygen in space - Nemo Twenty-Nine spasmed and squirmed, and sparked.

  "Ah crap, it's, it's- the whole damn cockpits on fire! Oh God, my clothes, they're, they're melting!

  It's friggin searing onto my skin!" Ennya cries out desperately.

  That does it. I reach for the cockpit door of my own machine, when suddenly I’m thrown back into my chair. Ennya’s just pushed my mech I realise.

  "Ennya? Enya! Come on pal, you gotta’ keep trying, the eject, keep trying the eject for God's sake!"

  My pleas mean nothing, Ennya is silent.

  Then two sounds occur. One is a dull clink as my mech lands in the hands of unit Three. The second sound is the desperate coughing, choking even, over the comms.

  That voice belonged to Ennya.

  I stand out of my chair, pawing at my monitors, scrambling to get one of the cameras working, literally smacking at the screens in the hopes of one giving me an image.

  Finally one sparks to life, a grainy view full of score lines from the cracked glass of the lens. The image only holds for a few fleeting seconds before the camera finally gives its final breath, but it's long enough.

  I Stare at the low quality picture. The usually green Nemo, shrouded in an all consuming void of viscous flames. Pouring out from each and every joint and especially from around the cockpit door. Creeping and swirling with vigour as though trying to escape from every opening of the Nemo.

  The radio link sounds one last cry of anguish, a sound of agony I will never forget - before the entire machine explodes into a magnificent ball of smoke, soot and fire - my camera cutting out part way through this gruelling process.

  "Those damn bastards at Bayley, they've had years to fix that fault. Lad I'm so sorry..." Kolme mutters.

  I collapse, staring up at the blank and static filled monitors surrounding me, staring down at me, mocking me. I don’t need them to function anymore, the image of the flaming red Nemo, with its twisted, melting face against the pitch black sky filled with the shards of the fallen Nemo Twenty-Eight behind seems to be imprinted on my eyes.

  Aside from Kolme a second voice now springs unwelcome around me, "This is the bridge. Casnel is inbound but the damage to the ship is possibly severe. Nemo squadron, please move to cover the damage until Davrim and Callin have returned."

  Even Shasha's confidence is sounding shaken as she issues new orders to the remains of her team; "Sa-s.. Ahem– Crewman Vint, if Mr.Nilas pushes you in the right direction, do you think you can make it back on your own? Then M--",

  "Oh hell no, you think I'm gonna run away now? I'll kill those bastards, that dickhead didn't even try to kill Ennya, a friggin technical fault? What even is this God forsaken machine?!" I rally, grabbing at the control sticks and trying to activate whatever remains of my thrusters, my machine's arms limp at its side.

  Unit Three holds me steady, "Calm your shite kid, what can you do without arms and camera's for crying out loud--" Kolme shouts.

  "That's fine Petty Officer Nilas, I understand his feelings" Shasha interrupts and my heart falls.

  “Shasha?”

  "Your job now is to get him and yourself back to the ship in one piece. Do I make myself clear Officer Nilas?" Her voice has regained some composure, no, rather its found a new grim determination.

  Kolme, a little taken aback, replies with a polite, "Y-Yes Ma'am... And Lass...Good luck."

  “What? No, no! Shasha don’t you dare! Fuck orders, we can’t fight those things, come with us, we have to retreat, a courtmaterial is better then being dead!”

  Shasha’s voice softens, I can almost hear her smile that smile I’ve known for so many years at me, “You know I can’t do that, orders are orders.”

  “Fuck that!”

  “Sabban, we didn’t just play together because we were born on the same street. We did it because we were both from military families, you know what duty means don’t you? I’m not going to disobey orders but I won’t throw my life away, it’ll be ok.”

  “S-Shasha please. Don’t go.” No reply.

  Unit Three continues to push my injured Nemo Twenty-Seven home, paying little heed to my protests, the bridge pipes up once more; "Group-A are just thirty seconds out, but it appears one of those Locust is going to try to make one last pass. Seems to be aiming straight for the pre-existing deck damage. You must buy us the time needed, another direct hit could blow the whole ship open!"

  From his place aboard Nemo Twenty-Seven, Sabban could of sworn he heard Shasha gulp, followed by a series of deep breaths over the still open comm link;

  "Understood bridge, I'll get you the time you need." She confirmed diffidently.

  Sabban, temporarily distracted from his ranting pressed at his physical comm link to unit Three, "Kolme? Damn it old man, at least tell me what's going on out there. Please..."

  "I don't think you really want that Kid." Kolme answers curtly.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "I guess you've got the right to know. Right now she's put her unit a few meters out in-front of that ruddy great hole the enemy made in the ship before, with her sword drawn in one hand and rifle in t'other".

  "Wait, you're not saying... She's trying to use her whole Nemo as one big shield for the ship? That's suicide!"

  "Real optimist ain't ya. Tch the enemy stopped to fight you with 'is sword didn't he?

  Real cocky fecker I'm guessing, likes the sound of his own voice I'll bet. So if he stops to battle Shasha too, then that should buy time enough for the Casnels to come rescue us all.

  It's a damn brave plan, I'll give her th- Oh Hell!"

  I get some idea of what had makes him stop, with his radio receiver now turned up to the max, I hear what happens.

  The most horrific screeching sound of metal crunching into metal echoes across my cabin, a sound so grating and painful I don’t know how to describe it. It is followed successively by the hollow, low-pitched whining sound of an energy canon discharging.

  "Sh-Shasha? Shasha you ok? Shasha....." I whisper.

  I feel my mind go blank, delusional and crazed in response to a guttural, hollow, sickening coughing noise protruding from my receiver. The wet, squelching sound of heavy pools of blood splattering across a dashboard in great quantities.

  "...Kolme what's happening out there..."

  "She, sh- that damn scumbag just rammed straight into her, didn't even change into his mech form, the cannon barrel just went straight through the damn cockpit like it was nothing. Bastard fired point-blank, got torn clean in half!"

  "Bu... but she's ok right? I can hear her..." I whimper, listening to Shasha's hacking sounding out across my cabin, abounding against the small enclosed walls, pouring over me in claustrophobic space.

  Shasha.