(Packers)

Ground Control to Major Tom….

The thought of the old Starman song lightly played in my head as I took stock of what it was I was meant to do. To be honest there was something almost comforting in fighting the Lankys. All of us knew that at any moment we could be another blip on body count, but it was a battle we knew. It was a dance that we’d had a few times before. And it was a dance we knew the steps to. The Lankys were direct. They were honest in what they seemed to want. We could trust them to want to kill us.

‘Amp, Hijack, Iceman, Rage. Give me a sitrep.’

‘Going good Cap, we are in position.’

“Ops?” I ask clasping my hands behind my back, studying the tactical plot.

“Confirmed sir the Moths, and Siafu are in position.” one of the Operations officer's reports.

“Status on the main weapon. Is cool standing by.” The weapons officer says prompting a change in mood in the CIC.

We don't know the maximum or minimum range of the claw ships weapons. On top of that if the Lanky's have ships like this why weren't they using them during the war all those years ago? Unless they were using them in another part of space, or were held in reserve. It is obviously important otherwise that seed ship wouldn't have thrown itself in front of the first round we fired on it. With the way those claws can swivel there's no doubt in that if that thing closes the gap it will tear the fleet to shreds. But we can't just sit here and slug it out and expect to win either, wait maybe we don't have to.

“XO, get me the Defiant, and Carson.”

“Aye, sir.”

I pull up the system map and overlaying the battle plot in our relative position. We are in the dark space between planets, the closest planet is the one the Lankys followed the Defiant from. Behind our fleet is the Alcubierre node twelve days at solid burn to reach. Closer is the position of UEC fleets movements from Helghast command and the positions of the small Helghast fleet.

“You have the Defiant, and Carson.”

‘Sir, Indies’ ready to hunt.’

“I am sending you the telemetry data of the nearest hostile and allied fleets. Get one of them, preferably the Helghast to get over here and hit those motherless bastards from behind.”

‘Sir what about the fleet?’

“We’ll buy you the time, and give you your window. Stand by.”

‘Solid copy, Carson actual ready.’

‘Solid copy, Defiant Ready.’ with that the two Indianapolis class ghost ships, blend in and power their drives for a maximum stealth burn. Shrinking the display I zoom back in on the battle plot.

“XO, fleet comm, Fire control standby, danger close Orion launch, target claw. Follow with a three round burst from the main gun. Target Claw lets give them something to shoot at.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Attention COG Stand by for Orion launch. All forces full reverse, weapons free, all ships fire at will.”

=================================================================

(Fallon)

My breathing is the only sound I hear, well that and the sound of Sid’s servo motors as I scan for incoming targets. Beside me Amp, Hijack, and Rage commence their own visual scans. Behind us, the ruined bulk of on of the Manitoba’s Point Defence Cannons rests spewing sparks into the black like blood from a wound. Three kilometers away, and taking up most of the “Sky” I can see the sleek Joan Of Arc launch a wing of fighters before burning relative starboard, its Point dual Gatling PDCs firing at faint points of red light.

“Alright, quit looking around and let's get to work.” I turn to my left bringing my pulse rifle to bare, as the ship shakes under my massive feet. One of the ships remaining Orion missiles emerges from the other side of the ship like a whale breaching the surface before speeding off to safe ignition distance.

‘Moths you have incoming at bow west point 34 degrees.’

I raise my rifle as seven points of red light appear, then the ships working PDC’s open up on the incoming fighters. Streams of white like pearl necklaces' reach out and manage to swat one of the fighters from space. Taking a deep breath I sight in and squeeze the trigger adding my own stream of white hot tracers to the barrage.

All around me the men in fireteam-1 fire their own rifles as well. The combined fire of four Atlas-B’s and a squad of siafu shred the fighters. But the inertia of their movement keeps the debris on their current course. Flipping one of the many switches inside of the cockpit I unfold the ballistic shield from my left arm. Leveling the shield at an angle I grab one of the Siafu and pull the green mech beside me, before the pieces of the destroyed fighters hit our shields like large hail stones.

‘Fireteam two that tango blew past us, it's heading your way. Valkyrie is burning for intercept.’

In the distance, another squadron of alien fighters burns in our direction, but zooming in one of the alien ships looks slightly larger than the others. However this time instead of simply taking our incoming fire, the aliens go evasive. They begin jinking, rolling, and snapping in every direction almost impossible to track even with our enhanced targeting.

“Squad, link fire control through tac-link, set to computer control.”

The control of our guns is immediately taken away as the taclink computers in our battle armor and ATLAS units link up. Our guns track as one as the net fires in bursts at the oncoming fighters along the projected paths of the incoming hostiles. Faster than my eye can track Sid’s arm tracks to the left and one of the fighters explodes in a shower of sparks. Another of the fighters explodes as Amp’s Atlas tracks its target. Then one of them seemingly disappears in a burst of speed and suddenly there is one less Siafu and one less fighter.

+”Pilot, Hostiles deploying.”+

“What?” The largest of the incoming hostiles seemingly split open and six of those weird Lankys leap from the craft, a thick cord trailing behind them like old style paratroopers. They shouldn't be moving down but for some reason, they are being drawn towards the hull like they are in a gravity well.

The Lankys don't wear any kind of vac suit that I can see and appear larger than the one from inside the ship. The closest one is roughly eighteen feet tall still dwarfing the tallest of humans by quite a large margin. And in true Lanky form every one of them looks exactly the same, sure some had scuff marks on their thick hides, and one possessing a rather nasty looking scar on its cranial shield but aside from the cosmetics of them they all look the same.

What I assume is the lead Lanky slams into the hull and looks in our direction. Lanky's don't have any eyes but I have the disturbing feeling it is looking right at me as it screeches silently before raising its wrist. I have the distinct feeling of looking down the barrel of a loaded gun and fire my jets to the right. Which proves to be the correct call as a bone white spike slices through the ink where I was just a moment before.

“Shit, Contact! We’ve been engaged.” I report almost throwing the almost spindly Siafu mech behind an antenna array for cover.

‘Say again?’ Bishops Icon appears on my HUD letting me know he is viewing through my camera feed.

‘Holy Shit. waste ‘em.’

‘Moths. Get. Those. Fucks. Off. My. Ship.’ General Packers voice comes over the comm two seconds later. Taking a deep breath I flip off the safeties on my Icarus pilon and deploy my ballistic shield.

“Gladly.” An enemy round ricochets off of my shield as my team takes whatever cover we can.

=================================================================

(Snow)

*beep,beep,beeeee,beep,beeeee,beep,beep,beep,beeeeep*

“Come on, come on, come on….” This bastard keeps slipping out of my reticle forcing me to re-align to get missile lock. These things keep blasting in one direction or another doing corkscrews that lead into a ninety degree lateral burn while maintaining course.

*beep beep boop,boop*

“Razgriz one fox six, fox six.”

‘Holy shit boss are you seeing that?’

“What?”

‘There on the Manitoba's hull there’s some weird shit going down. Hang on…. Holy shit there's a firefight going on down there.’

I tap Razgriz three’s feed and see the distinctive features of four ATLAS mechs exchanging fire with what looks like a Lanky in miniature. But unlike regular lanky's this one has “teeth”, it has its arm extended and fires what look like the same bone-like spikes the Tridents use at a white mech that my HUD identifies as “Iceman”.

The rounds bounce off of the mech’s ballistic shield and sail off into the black leaving dents in the metal. The mech then begins to back up as more of the miniature Lankys land and add their fire to the barrage. I am about to swivel my fighter in that direction to give them some air support when my proximity alarm goes off.

“Shit!” I yell goosing the engine narrowly avoiding a suicide run my one of the trident fighters.

============================================================

(Fallon)

“Siafu two, three, Hijack, Amp circle around and flank em. Siafu four, six, and rage suppress.” I bark into the shared squad channel as I jet behind cover.

‘Got it.’

There is a resounding thud in my armor as the gat unclasps from my back. A thought flashes through my mind as SD takes control of the Icarus mount and swivels the Gatling up and around my shoulder. My vision goes black as something blocks out the light of the star and night shrouded us. The only light from the sparking ruined mass that had once been a point defense cannon, the Orions distant detonations as it propels itself on nuclear fire, and the ship's own fluttering running lights.

The weightlessness is strange, like being in freefall but being held in place by your feet like walking under water. Inside of a mech it is even weirder I am in constant freefall but my mech, my body is secure. I reach over and flick to my Tactical plot, a rough wireframe outline of the hull fills my field of view. My team and the Siafu blue dots that occasionally billow out to outlines and the Lanky's red that do the same, simple.

There is no sound but that being given off by my own mech and even that only a distant vibration. The Millimeter-wave picks up movement and sends it back to me in a sort of waveform like reverse sonar. I tap into the visual feed on the gat as I SD swivels it around to poke around cover.

There one of the Lankys stands tall, its skin the color of eggshells, one of its clawed hands curled into a fist in our general direction as it lets out a soundless screech, looking every bit like one of those things from the ancient Native American legend. Shit what did they call it? Taho no Skull cracker told me once but I can't remember for the life of me.

“Aim for the joints.” No sooner does this come out of my mouth before several more of these Lanky's land then more. Five in all before the ship that dispatched them closes itself up and flies off into the black, where it is swatted out of the sky by a PDC.

I fire a burst from my gat at the lead lanky catching it square in the chest before it can take cover. The creatures dot flies off of the wireframe of the hull before stopping abruptly and coming back down. The outline of the Creature appears again and shows it anchoring itself to the hull with what looks like a grapple of some kind.

“Ok enough of that.” I say to myself as I step out of cover swiveling my gat to point over my shoulder. I level my rifle and fire a pearl necklace of tracers at the Wendigo that's what it was. The Lanky in question flies backward and off of the ship like it was just drop kicked by an atlas.

The other four Wendigo take cover behind irregularities in the Manitoba's armor before returning fire. But before they can land any hits Rage and the two Siafu add their fire to the barrage forcing them to keep their heads down. The red dot of the one I shot before rejoins its comrades on the hull as the light returns to the battlefield.

In the distance the alien Claw ship is engulfed in a distant perfect sphere of nuclear light. But the light is too distant to bright, and as the light dims slightly one of the ship's four giant claws emits an almost evil red glow. I switch back to the visual feed and with the light of the distant explosion I see the four other mechs come up from behind the pinned down lanky's lay into them with their rifles and autocannons.

“We won.” Hijack says over the comm.

“Shut it caterpillar, this isn't over yet. That was just round one, top off those magazines and let's get to it. Don't let them land again.”

============================================================

(Miiora)

Time. It is a profound thing, sitting here in what the humans call a Crash couch. I have no Idea how much time has passed since Fallon and the NAC special forces the MOTHs got into their machines and went outside. It could have been minutes or hours, watching globes of blood float around the hallway. My mind fluctuating back and forth between the third person past tense that my former owner forced me to use to identify myself in the UEC to keep me lessened. And the First person I use now as a free female, that Fallon and the others encourage me use to distance myself from my slavery.

In this state of boredom as the straps hold me tight into the crash couch. my helmet clamped to a spot on the chair along with her rifle, my mind starts to wander to trivial things. Boredom is the word of the hour as the seventeenth undulating ball of crimson fluid floated passed.

What makes human blood crimson anyway? I mean my own blood is more of a magenta, while ponies are kind of a light red. Dragons orange, Kleese, and changelings varying shades of green, and Myrialos a sort of clearish almost. These new creatures the Lankys the humans call them have thick black blood almost like ink, how strange? What are we going to do with the bodies of the marines who died? I mean we kind of shoved them into an unused room but why?

Whenever the ship maneuvers I can hear the sound of the body's slamming into the door, or hatch as the NAC calls it. I suppose when under thrust or in combat the ships very poor artificial gravity field deactivates to save power. But this is bad because when the ship maneuver violently anything not secured turned into a projectile.

The UEC has artificial gravity fields on all of their ships and i suppose that affects the occupants. I suppose because the gravity being emitted is simulated to match perfect Equis gravity at 1.2G. It makes the occupants complacent, and it could explain for why whenever the UEC’s fighters being equipped with artificial gravity fields of their own fly like they are in a gravity wheel.

A name tape floats by as the humans air recyclers circulate, the tape reads Forbes. It was odd seeing the name and knowing that the man Michael Forbes would no longer be there by her side. I remember the day I met Forbes he was strange covering up any sort of serious situation with perverse humor. Sure she had seen others die before but I knew Forbes. He had been with by my side like a clutch sibling since the day she had first been assigned to Fallon's squad. Sitting here in the crash couch, the scent of recycled air and blood filling her nostrils she couldn't help but wonder about the humans she had come to know in her time with the NAC.

Garza too to a lesser extent, it turned out he hadn't really died on bagmare despite the bullet to the head. Now almost a full solar year later the gunner had not fully recovered. Fick the leader of the Ninth, who is seated to my left talking to Perkins his second. Trombley the lance who had just finished boot camp and Marine indoc on the earth-moon Luna before being ordered to Fallon's squad.

Fallon the first non-UEC person she had ever met. He had never shown me anything but kindness and treated her like a true equal, not a slave. The ship rocks with an explosion and the PDC’s rumbling can be heard through the hull. There is no doubt he was fighting right at this very moment to keep his squad safe.

=========================================================

(Fallon)

‘Moths another trident squadron is heading your way from vector two six X, by six two Y.’

“This isn't a battle, its a cluster fuck.” Rage says over the squad channel as both his and my own Gat’s swivel around on icarus mounts and track the oncoming fighters. The missile alarms go off inside the cockpit and I jet straight back firing the trench coat.

Shrapnel intercepts one of the oncoming missiles detonating it in an explosion of red light. The second missile is treated like the first detonating mere meters from me. Streams of tracers from my gat lance out and strike the offending fighter from the sky, forcing me to deploy my ballistic shield to avoid chunks of the fighter. My proximity alarms go off and I jet to the side avoiding a suicide run.

We have backed our respective mechs into a kind of grid, always having one person watching your back. Another fighter streaks passed and into the black forcing me to take a knee. Turning around from my kneeling position I track the red dot trying to intercept my rifles targeting vector with its own. The thing rolls straight up, then down forcing me to reacquire the target, as I track I get an Idea. Soon the others having destroyed their own targets add their own streams of tracers to attempt to swat the fighter away.

“Fire on me for four seconds.”

“What! Are you out of your mind Iceman?” Rage sends as his Gat swings over his shoulder and adds its own fire.

“Trust me it will work.” I say flexing my free hand while firing with my right arm.

“Ooh I get it. DO it.” Amp sends Grayson always on the bounce with this kind of stuff.

“Sid, track em with the Gat.” I say red lights begin illuminating my left arm as the Siafu and Atlas mechs level their weapons at me.

“Execute.” I thrust my arm out palm open as my comrade's fire at me. Sid tracks the fighter as it turns to face while my back is turned. The flechettes and autocannon rounds stop dead as my magnetic shield activates.

“...3...2...1.” the fire stops and returns to the fighter, while the ammunition counter on my Gat reaches a red 0000 and blares an annoying tinny "bweee" sound. Turning around I begin tracking the fighter with my rifle drawing it in just a little closer. Then I raise the magnetic shield and reverse the polarity, sending autocannon rounds, flechette, and the contents of a canister shell shotgunning towards the fighter blowing it to glowing red scrap.

“Squad, ammo count. I'm no on guns.” Glancing at my remaining ammo counter I see a resounding quad Zero for my Gat, and zero magazines remaining, with only five rounds left in the magazine.

“55, percent, I'm good guns.” Amp sends

“We are good guns” the Siafu sends the leader of this little group lifting his semiautomatic rifle in one spinally arm.

“Good guns 45.”

“50, good guns.”

“Damn, Amp I have to go back and resupply. Amp stay here, I'll be back.”

“Got it boss.” He responds turning his green mech around and gunning down an errant fighter.

“General, Cap, this is Iceman I'm heading back inside, i'm no on guns.”

“Copy that Iceman, Walk softly One of those fucks blew passes us, and is roaming the hull.” Perfect that's exactly what i wanted to hear when I am about to walk alone in the black.

“Manitoba actual copies Iceman, move to the deployment bay, there will be a team of techs there. Valkyrie squadron will be there to aid once they launch.”

“Copy that, I'm on the move.” I send before clumping my way down the hull.

“Come on Charlotte hurry up over there.” I say to myself glancing up towards the Joan Of Arc, Beside it the James Holden rotates on its axis firing its PDC’s at a cloud of Fighters.

In the distance one of the SRA Siege breakers fires its own main cannon, before being hit by a glowing red projectile. The red ball of energy punches right through the ship's ventral section and exits its dorsal section. Following the trajectory I see one of the Clawships four massive pincers glowing an evil red. The Siege breaker to its defence does not explode but backs up on reversing thrusters, before firing releasing a small salvo of nukes towards the Lanky fleet.

+Pilot impact warning, six oclock.+

“Fuck.” I jet to the left grabbing hold of a sensor antenna so I don't fly off of the ship, series of clicks sounds behind me as I remagnatize to the hull. Landing on the hull ahead of me one of the Wendigo crouches crouches its cranial shield down. I let myself get distracted, I level my rifle and let loose my final five rounds into its right arm. The Lanky scratches silently as its weapon is wrenched from its flesh.

The lanky then seems to notice to my horror that I am out of ammo and stands it its full height. It takes a tentative step forward forcing me to raise my rifle by reflex. But when no rounds come out It breaks into a sprint. I am about to swing the gatling but see that on top of it having no ammunition, the weapon is floating detached between us its barrels crushed.

“Fuck.” I remember back to Camelot and take my rifle in both hands and hurl it side long into the charging lanky. The Tether attached to the butt of the gun keeps it from flying off into the black and retracts it to its holding clamp on my back. Then I become the person in human history to actually Punch a living lanky in the face.

The Wendigo takes a step back dazed as a damage report appears on my screen. Some of the metal on my fist is dented from punching the cranial shield of the lanky that is almost half my height. Taking a step forward I grab the side of its cranial shield in my armored hand and punch it in what passes for its collar bone.

It screeches again as something visibly gives under my fist and through the vibration of physical contact I hear something snap. The lanky scratches up with its claws forcing me to lean back to avoid being diced inside of the cockpit. Leaning back again I punch the lanky in the chest before following through and drawing my “Liberated” from its sheath on my shoulder.

With some kind of freedom the Lanky frees itself from my grasp and swipes at my cockpit. I take the hit on the left shoulder, before backhanding the thing opening its defence bringing my right hand up and stabbing the lanky in the “Sternum”. To my shock the knife sinks in about a fourth of the way before snapping. The Lanky to its credit backhands me sending me spiraling off of the ship. Using the jump jets I maneuver my way back to the hull and remagnetize to the hull before taking a step towards the lanky.

The alien fails to notice me taking one stomp forward before I kick the quarter of a blade further into its chest. Because of good old Isaac Newton the Lanky does not simply fall over but goes sailing off into the black as a result of my three-tonne foot slamming into its chest like a high-speed collision.

“Hey cap I found you're lost lanky.”

“And?”

“Ya, He’s dead.” I report as I watch the lanky sailing off into space before a nearby Avenger blows it to mulch.

As I continue my trek I can't help but wonder the knife didn't work very well against the Lanky's hide. No doubt because it was never meant to be used against a Lanky, but the L-Blade would work, just fine. As I reach the bay I see an Atlas from team one on the other side of the ship marked Face Hopper. I remember Face Hopper from Bagmare, well at least I'm not the only one to run out of ammo.

“You too?” we ask at the same time.

===================================================================

(Charlotte)

“Those things are brutal.” One of the techs says as he removes a meter long barbed spike from my fighters leg.

The superficial damage had come when I was entering the hangar an errant round not meant for me. But I have seen what those things can do to other fighters. The NAC’s shrikes being heavily armored can take a few hits before folding up, same with SRA’s Torkov fighters. But they aren't fast enough for prolonged engagements with the Trident Fighters.

The NAC’s Avenger’s are fast enough for the role but because of their lack of a Crash couch or G-couch they can't be maneuverable enough to dogfight with the aliens. The Africans Asagi fighters are both fast enough and Maneuverable enough and so can engage the Aliens on equal terms. But it doesn't have the armor it needs so one or two shots and the fighter comes apart at the seams.

But true to form the Gungnir has continued to prove its air superiority. Despite the marks left by the engagement, the transforming fighters outclass them all. Fast Enough to match speed with the alien ships without afterburner. Armored enough to take hits and keep moving, G-couches to keep the pilots alive and allow them to take punishing G-forces. Added with the fact they can transform means they are unpredictable, something key to dogfights.

As I run a hand through the ice colored machine I can't help but think it was good to be fighting the Lanky's again. Sure every time we fight the lanky's they add new rules to the book, but we keep adapting to them, and they keep adapting to us. Up until now the Lanky's had only used missiles, penetrators, and the mass of their ships to win battles.

It's like a dance we have been having with the Lanky's for almost a century, and when one of us changes steps the other counters. The armor of my Fighter feels cold through the thin form-fitting flight suit. Climbing back into the cockpit I dawn the helmet and flick the comm back on as I run the preflight checks.

‘Fuck that Tango blew passed me. It's heading for the Manitoba’s Atlas hanger.’

“Why would it be heading there?” Angel one of the other Valkyrie Pilots asked as the cockpit hatch is closed.

“I don't know? They have been targeting the PDC’s and hangar bays so far.”

“Show me the Manitoba's starboard side,” I say bringing up a panoramic view from the Joan Of Arc’s external cameras. It showed what she was expecting the NAC’s point defense cannons and close range CQC railguns firing on the Trident fighters. Wait the number six Point defense gun is destroyed but still firing? Around the destroyed gun a concentration of the alien fighters swarms.

“Zoom in on number six.” zooming in the picture resolved to show…

“Sont-ils Fous!” The image resolves to show three NAC Atlas units with EVA kits on the hull firing into the cloud aided by four of the Africans Siafu. They appear to be fighting what look like miniature Lanky's on the Hull and the fighters. My HUD makes the Atlas units as Hijack, Rage, Amp and that means Moth team one, then where is Avery? WaitThere is the tango now heading for the deployment bay.

“Cesi est Valkyrie une Ice Queen demandant le lancement.”

“Copy that, Ice Queen, ETA 30 seconds.” I turn to look at the deployment bay and see what looks like an atlas-sized Lanky floating up to the bay.

“Valkyrie squadron you are clear to launch.”

“Copy.” The catapult yanks my fighter forward and launches me back into the crash couch. As soon as I am clear of the launch bay I angle the fighter and goose the engine straight at the Lanky. Knowing I won't get there in time.

=======================================================

(Fallon)

I am strapping myself back into the mech when a titanic boom echoes through the bay. My rifle is on its rack on my back my magazines are full and stored. Across the bay Face Hopper is just now beginning her cheeks as another bang resonates.

I have a container full of ammunition, and air canisters for the Siafu and other Atlas mechs in my fireteam secure on the deck. The L-blade locked into place on the Icaros mount, and chest wound retreated with Mister clot, and there is that bang again.

“What the hell is that?” I ask no one in particular as the cockpit on Face Hopper’s Jet black mech closes. Then there is another bang this time much worse as the bay door bows in slightly.

“Oh shit. Get out of here, depressurize the bay.”

“Don't have to tell us twice.” the lead tech yells, as he and the others sprint from the bay closing the hatch behind them. I can see their heads on the other side of the door as well as some of the Marines from the ninth who is seated on the other side through the window.

The air vents and all sound leaves as the bay door dents one more time before two four-fingered hands the color of eggshells bash through the seem. That door is six feet of solid steel and that thing just got in here with its bear hands. I Take a deep breath and back up to the other end of the bay. I can't fire my weapon in here, and Face Hopper isn’t booted up yet.

I close my eyes to focus on my breathing, if that thing gets passed me, it IS going to kill Face Hopper, then wrecks the bay. Then it’s no doubt going to rampage through the ship and destroy it from the inside out. Everyone will die, Fick and the Ninth, Garza in the med bay, Packers, the other MOTHs my brothers. Miiora, the alien who has been by my side since Camelot.

If this fuck gets passed me, it will kill her as it tears this wall down. A year of freedom after a lifetime of slavery isn't enough. I won't lose another friend to the Lanky's I already lost Forbes. I Can't, I won't lose another, opening my eyes I clench my fist around the control sticks. The interior of the Cockpit glows red with the AI core behind me. I feel the deck shift as the bay door is wrenched open a fraction.

I deploy the L-blade and charge forward as the bay door is wrenched open. In the bay is a Big Wendigo, Atlas big. It screeches as it sees Face Hopper starting up her mech and steps in front of her and levels its arm at the cockpit. Knowing that Lanky's respond to radio signals I turn on my radios and scream out across an open band.

“HEY BITCH! I’VE GOT SOMETHIN FOR YA!” My voice a little more crazed than I was expecting. I feel a rush of adrenalin as the Lanky immediately responds panning its arm around to face me, to late. My fist slams into its side sending its sprawling into the bay door where it bounces off.

“Thanks Iceman.” Face Hopper sends as the Lanky flails around before managing to land back on the deck.

“Finish booting up.”

“Got it, 20 seconds.”

“Copy.” It then screeches its silent wail before lowering its cranial shield. In response I redeploy the L-blade and redeploy my ballistic shield and rocket forward using both the jump jets and emergency core vents to add thrust.

=============================================

(Charlotte)

‘HEY BITCH! I’VE GOT SOMETHIN FOR YA!’ Someone screams into their radio.

The I am about to follow into the bay is literally launched from the open bay by an atlas mech. Lanky and Mech spiral out into the black, the Atlas to its credit stedys itself with its jets and manages to pull its rifle from its back before firing.

The Lanky in response makes no attempt to dodge and simply fires what looks like a flesh colored grappling hook back towards the hull of the Manitoba and pulls itself back onto the ship's superstructure. Once secure on the hull the Lanky raises its fist and launches two missiles from the gauntlet like devices in its arms. The white mech marked as, Avery's mech Iceman rockets to port in a sort of mid air combat roll while firing his rifle.

“He stole my move.” I say to myself as two cones of shrapnel are launched towards the missiles detonating them early as he lands back on the hull.

The Lanky screeches silently as Avery loads a shell into the underbarrel launcher on his rifle. The round sails straight and slams into the Lanky's cranial shield snapping it back. As the alien raises its weapon a blade bursts from its back. The second Atlas mech marked Face Hopper pushes the impaled alien off of its shoulder mounted blade and towards Avery who uses his own to slice the things head off showering his white mech in black blood. The two mechs then sheathed their blades and re-enter the bay and exit with a container each.

“Valkyrie this is Iceman requesting covering fire.”

“Copy that.”

“Ice queen, can you deliver this to my team?”

“I'll do you one better.” I say transforming my fighter into its Valkyrie alt mode and extending a hand.

“Grab on.”

==============================================

(Fallon)

I release my grip on charlotte's hand and jet back to the hull.

“Special delivery,” I say as Charlotte's squadron, as well as two Avenger fighters, provide covering fire.

“Oh thank god, I just ran out of ammo.” Amp says reaching into the container and reloading his rifle before stuffing his magazine pouches with full magazines. Before loading a two drums into his Gat.

“Are those L-Blades?” Hijack asks as he replaces his damaged Gat with one of the melee weapons.

“Ya it turns out they work really well against lanky's.” I reply stepping back to let the Siafu reload their weapons.

“Who’d a thunk it.” Rage comments reloading his Gat with another two drums.

‘Moths, Siafu Lanky's heading your way on mass. Defend the Heatsink.’

“Got it.” I reply as out in the black something that looks like a massive arc of lightning lances out of the black and strikes one of the Mars Seed ships. The two avengers streak off into space as the three fighters in Charlotte's squadron shift into infantry mode and land.

“Whats going on?” Siafu 1 Charlotte points up as an arc of red electricity streaks over our heads as fifty meters away one of the ship's heat sinks raises.

We finish rearming as the first of the Lanky's “Dropships” arrives and under the cover of three fighters begin dropping troops onto the hull. An arc of heat lightning strikes one of the ships down like an angry god. On the ship's horizon a line of missiles leap from their launch tubes and into space.

The ship rocks under my feet as the ship's main cannon is fired once, then twice, then three times. A three round burst would explain why it took the Manitoba so long to fire her gun. The Lanky's move towards the Heatsink as white nitrogen smoke rockets from its casing. I rise my rifle shooting one in the mouth while it screeches.

“Move.”

As I extend the L-blade and rush of adrenaline hits me. I unlock the magnets on my feet and use the jets to move along the hull towards the mass of Lanky's. Amp, Charlotte, and Siafu-1 follow close behind before the other less experienced, Moths, Siafu, and Gungnir pilots. I ram into one of the lanky's sidelong, take my rifle in my left hand and punch it in the side of the head before bringing the L-blade around and cutting it in half.

Catching movement to my right I jet left and spray my rifle at the offending lanky point blank before slicing it open with my blade. Taking a knee I load a shell into the launcher and fire into the chest of another blowing it up from the inside. My proximity alarm goes off and I turn around to see another Lanky right behind me. I am about to bring my L-blade around when a stream of tracers turns it to mulch. Amp then shoves the dead Lanky aside before clapping me on the back.

“This is real tactical,” Amp says over the squad comm to Iceman. As Siafu-1 clamps its wrist pincers around another Lanky's neck before spearing it through the stomach and firing a three round burst into its abdomen. Charlotte simply guns her target down with her twin wrist gatlings.

Turning back around I jet forward and grab another Lanky before gutting it with my L-blade. Another target moves into my vision and levels its weapon at Charlotte's Gungnir. I jet over deploying my ballistic shield and take the hit before spinning to the right using the momentum and bisecting the Wendigo.

Two more come around and Amp shreds both with his rifle and Gat. Siafu-1 fires a rocket into one's face before using his pincers to tear another one's head off. A Lanky tries to charge me and gets a canister shell to the chest.

After that the rest of the mechs arrived and we just decimate the lanky's. The mechs doing exactly what they were designed for, sort of. Then an arc of heat lightning hits my atlas, electricity being a cruel and uncaring mistress my mech’s systems go black and I am forced to wait out the rest of the battle in a fifteen-ton paperweight. To say I am outrageously pissed off about it would be a gross understatement.

It’s dark in here, the warning lights and alarms fill the cockpit before they too go out. I’m left alone, glad that the Atlas has enough air to keep me alive, but pissed as hell about being here. Being here I’m left with the worst thing any combat soldier could be left alone with. Time and solitude. Part of our MOTH training, our mental training anyway, was studying previous wars. Reading about accounts by the soldiers that fought them. When we were able we were more or less taken for a ride in the war itself.

One of the things I never really got used to is virtual immersion training. One of those training simulations had been on a Submarine in a war that had been fought ages ago. The technology was primitive compared to today’s standards, but that wasn’t what I was training for. I was training for stress management. Thirty-two hours inside of a tin can that was behind enemy lines. Thirty-two hours of silence, and then the battle.

I was never so happy to be in the middle of a battle until the sub took a hit from a depth charge. It took on water, we were supposed to figure out how to respond, our response was to section off the damaged area, relay information to command, and receive orders that if we weren’t crippled beyond use to continue fighting. The problem with Virtual Immersion Training is how real it feels. After the first eight hours no one can really tell that virtual world from the real one. Those NPC sailors were all based on real sailors. Sailors that died in a second war started by the Germans. Sailors that I got to watch die.

The worst part of it wasn’t known what was coming, but it was being alone with my thoughts for the last two hours of the training. Of being inside of a locked room, breathing the remaining air, trying to figure out if I did everything I could. At that time I thought not of those NPCs, or even the training itself. I thought of my mother in the PRC back home. I thought about a girl that I’d dated before joining up. A girl that wanted to be with me, and wanted to hate me for the same reasons. Now, as I sit here, Listening to my own breathing, wondering what's going on outside, I am worried about what could happen to my Atlas, what might happen to me if my Atlas gets hit, but I found myself thinking about Miiora that slave girl we set free.

I hoped that she was alive and another big ass lanky didn't get into the bay, and part of me tried to convince myself that this was the best thing for her. You know in theory I could open the cockpit manually, and manually control my Atlas. BUT I quite like being alive, so, I’m not going to do that