(Fallon)

I don't remember falling asleep inside my Atlas, but a jolt to my mech wakes me from a nightmare. The nonexistent pull of gravity plays havoc with my inner ear in my sleepy head. Then a sense of movement before sound returns with a whoosh. Am inside the bay? Did we win? Is my squad alive? What about my Moth brothers.

“The seals are fuzed. He might not even be alive in there.” a muffled voice says.

“Millimeter wave says there’s movement inside. Power the mech and Get a cutter.” a woman's voice responds. I am suddenly aware of the flashing toxicity warning inside of my helmet, my air ratio is in the red, carbon dioxide overwhelming the CO2 scrubbers in my armor.

With a grunt, I grope at the inside of the cockpit hatch for the explosive bolts. But before I can hit them a sharp sound echoes into the cockpit before the core behind me sputters to life, and brief flashes of red light illuminate the cockpit.

“Ssssstttteeepppp a--a-a-awwaaay.” Sid’s voice echoes before the cockpit is wrenched open by a massive metal hand. The sudden light almost blinds me as I begin drifting down slowly towards the deck. A blob drifts passed me as I wrench my helmet off and take a deep breath of the ships filtered and recycled air.

Two medical officers drift over to me as I turn around and see a small cloud of red fluid drifting out of my mech. Glancing at my shoulder I can plainly see that the wound I had received when the Wendigo shot me has almost reopened. But more importantly, my attention is drawn to my mech crouched in its bay. Sid is missing an its right arm at the elbow, and most of his plates look melted and warped, the only thing relatively intact being the L-blade which now emits a faint inner red glow.

The glow is curious to my blood and oxygen starved mind. It is reminiscent of shining a powerful flashlight through your hand and seeing the vaines. The sound of shifting fabric draws my attention to the bay hatch itself the door has been retracted. And a sheet of thick vacuum rated plastic covering has been placed instead.

Knowing that there is only a relatively thin layer of ballistic plastic separating me from the endless black of space is strange. My front brain marvels at the vastness of it all, the stars shining bright with no atmosphere to make them twinkle fills me with wonder. But my hind brain the lizard tells me to run away and put as much bulkhead between me and it as possible. My musing are broken as the first bits or wreckage drifts by. The massive piece of ship reads STYX and beyond it I can see the wreckage of other Coalition vessels NAC, SRA, NE, and UAF ships.

“Whoah there Sarge, let's get you patched up.” one of the med techs says drifting up from my peripheral vision.

“Y-yah. Did we win?” The med tech gives me a look like he doesn't know how to answer before strapping me to gurny and floating me towards the entrance of the bay.

“Win? No, but thanks to reinforcements we survived.” he sighs causing me to look around the bay.

Spotting Charlotte's damaged mech standing in its alt mode in a free corner. Before Charlotte floats into my field of vision, her black and orange body suit smudged and blond hair hovering around her head in a sort of cloud.

“Hey Char.” offering a wave with my metallic arm she wrapped her hand around my metal fingers.

“You look like shit Fally” she says with a sad smile using the nicknames we used as kids.

“Hey brother, hang in there. And don't go bleeding on my mech.” Andrew says from his mid-air position next to his green mech AMP. Charlotte gives him the finger for me, before he kicks off and drifts off into his cockpit to work.

“How many?” I ask as I see the four empty ATLAS bays.

“Your team survived their Mechs are over there. But the other team of MOTHS were all killed and from what I have heard we lost the Styx, John A Warden, SRA-Hirohito, UAF-Mamba, NE-Uther Pendragon, NE-Rolo. Probably more check your PDP.” she says solemnly as we enter the hallway, I can still see the ninth strapped into their crash couches.

“Oh damn.” I vainly here Trombley say as I pass by.

“I know man, come on let's get you to sick bay.” I look at his back as I am floated down the hallway. My chest then begins to hurt like someone punching me and I begin coughing and little globs of blood float from my mouth.

As the medics float me around the corner I catch sight of Fick and Miiora talking. Fick having the fatherly expression he usually reserved for Miiora and the other Formers when he is explaining something common knowledge to us but completely foreign to them. As the ship suddenly lurches and things begin to slowly drift towards the deck I black out.

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

(3 Days later)

(Fallon)

I awake with a start, I look around and see that I’m not in the Manitoba’s sick bay but strapped into the crash couch that passes for my rack. I have a breathing mask on and my chest hurts. I can't get a good look at the birth but at the table I can make out the forms of three individuals. The first being Andrew Grayson or AMP my brother, our grandparents served together before the Lanky war started. When his grandfather Andrew Grayson senior had his stint in the then Territorial army before being transferred to the Navy.

Charlotte is the second, her longer than regulation blond hair floating behind her shoulder blades in a braid with two bangs floating around her face. Now, she’s floating above the table giving Trombley a stern talking to. She wearing her white BDU jacket wrapped and tucked around her waist, her black and orange rimmed skin-tight flight suit acting as a shirt, and I notice her helmet resting on a crash couch.

Trombley in his defense is a good guy but he still has that new guy vibe. And sometimes he still does and says stupid shit. He is wearing a T-shirt with a dead lanky and a Siafu mech on it, and his BDU pants. From what I can make out in my twilight state I can tell he is being chewed out by our French pilot for not properly belting me in. I don't know why until I raise my left hand to remove the breathing mask and see that it has been bent and my two of my fingers are crushed. Charlotte might be a grown woman but from time to time she can still be a bit childish her arms crossed as she slowly rotates.

“I don't see what the big deal is, he didn't lose the arm.” Grayson just floats there trying to quietly laugh to himself before Charlotte turns to face him. Her hair flows behind her like she’s under water, and he raises his hands in surrender. There is a guttural hiss and they quiet down before a mass of red and white flows into view.

The form of Miiora getting out of her birth above me glides into the open air above me. Before she uses her tail and flicks off of the ceiling towards the deck. She is wearing one of the shirts I bought her in New Svalbard and a set of winter BDU pants. Dont get me wrong here now but, Miiora is hot I have filed this away with other such facts like space is cold, my hand is gone, and the direction of gravity is down. I would totally fuck her if she’d let me but you know what nevermind.

“You are lucky Avery Fallon’s arm is not made of flesh, James Trombley. Otherwise when your ship moved the force would have broken it.” the Tymerian says. Miiora braces on the deck before her head tilts to one side and she turns around and they all seem to see me staring at them.

“Hey guys.” I say unhooking the webbing the movement sending me drifting towards the ceiling of my bunk, before closing the privacy partition to attempt to dress. When I re-emerge they try to protest and I wave off Miiora’s attempts at keeping me from leaving the crash couch.

“Avery you shouldn't be moving around,” Charlotte says before Avery throws a wad of clothes at me before I even get out of the couch.

“I’ve spend three days in that couch, doped out of my mind with only a vague recollection of getting up every once and awhile to take a piss. Char you better believe i'm getting out of this couch.” I respond as I drift “stand up” and stretch. As I stretch my chest pops with a wet yet crunchy noise that fills the room.

“Ooow! FUuuck that hurt so bad!”

“Damn, that didn't sound healthy.” Trombley says between chuckles getting a smack in the back of the head by Charlotte. Andrew just snickers in the corner, like an asshole.

“So what's the word?” I ask kicking my boots together and magnetizing to the deck.

“We’re in transit to a Helghast station named Gateway. No thrust, we just finished decelerating and are coasting ballistic towards the meeting point.” Charlotte says before reaching into a bag on the table and pulling out a long box and handing it to me before giving me what passes for a hug.

“Go wash Avery you smell.” she says while poking me.

“Now that’s just mean.” I am about to enter the head when she throws the box at me and I catch it with my good hand.

Showering in Zero-G is an awkward procedure, to say the least. And with only one and a half arms it is almost impossible. The water and spunges just kind if float around after being shot out of the pressurized nozzles. The remains of my “Arm” are floating on the other side of the room, with the rest of my shit.

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

(Miiora)

“Are you sure he should me moving around so soon after such a serious injury?” I ask concerned for my human friend.

“He’s a MOTH he’s probably doing PT in there.” The human who calls himself AMP says, a drink pouch in his hand as he does slowly drifts over to the view screen in the room and activates it.

The screen changes from a picture of the ships logo and to a window like a screen. The NAC ships don't have windows but they do use screens like these to approximate them. The image beyond is grim the Human fleet, a race with ships that are almost invincible to UEC weaponry thanks to their armor, maneuverability, and sheer firepower lies in ruin. Of the thirty ships we came to this system with only fifteen survived. The blond pilots own ship the Joan of Arc being destroyed by the retreating Lankys.

Beyond the fleet in the magnified view-port a large space station sits. Around it UEC ships float, most damages, some untouched. The other ships are human with the markings of the Helghast navy. From what I heard over the Intercom this is the Helghast station Borgia station. The door to the shower opens up and Fallon walks out dressed in his ACU and is equipped with a new forearm. The white and blue of the metal of the limb shining dully in the ship's lighting.

“What the hell is that?” he asks pointing at the station.

The inside of the stations is big, and as we enter the large circular center structure what would be the horizon curves upwards. The humans call this the Coriolis effect but it is strange, to be standing on the ground complete with trees, and plants, but to look up and see the same thing above you. Apparently, the station is spinning with fast enough to simulate gravity, and this station is very old, AMP says the station is an old design. As we near a building we see UEC soldiers standing near by and I wish I had brought my weapon with me. But Fallon reassures me by resting his mechanical hand on my shoulder.

“Relax Miiora, they can't do shit here. This is neutral ground apparently, the most they can do is sling some shit.” Fallon says his tone kind but face stern. How odd reading human body language is so I don't want to say simple but it isn't as hard.

We are standing in the CIC of the stations tactical office waiting to be debriefed by Captain Packers, and the Helghast Leader General Templar. Fallon is currently adjusting his new hand, Charlotte by his side prattling on about something I don't understand. Amp to one side reading something on his PDP.

Trombley leans over to me as I spin a pen in the microgravity, “I wonder why they wanted us here?” the pen drifts slowly to the ground before stopping.

“I dont know, but…” The door suddenly opens and a grey almost white unicorn steps out of the door flanked by two UEC soldiers a human sympathizer and a Dragon.

This unicorn is Rarity I would recognize that purple mane and tail anywhere, even without the mark on her thigh showing through her uniforms dress. She eyes us with so much distance I can almost taste it before her eyes fall on be for a split second before she speaks.

“I am Life Admiral Rarity of the United Equestiran Conclave.”

“So” Amp responds not looking up from his PDP

“I assume you are the Slave who aided the Humans on Bagmare. You should know better than to aid the enemies of your betters. Come now and we will punish you and put you back to work where you belo…” she begins ignoring the comment and glaring at me.

“What the fuck are you looking at caleb?” Fallon interjects standing nose to nose with the human sympathizer who was learning at the NE pilot Charlotte.

It is strange how humans respond and project intimidation. In Tymerians, or almost every other race the projector makes themselves appear wider or lower to the ground to infer they are prepared to strike and react. But in humans even those raised on Camelot they attempt to appear taller as if inviting an attack on their person, and to look down on the person.

“What did you call me?”

“I called you a dog, bitch.”

“Barnes stand down. We are here to talk to them.” Rarity orders before clearing her throat and stepping up to Avery Fallon. The human sympathiser steps away and allows Rarity to step in front of the Moth.

“Ya, listen to master bitch.” Trombley cutts in.

“You will tell us what you did to survive the attack on your fleet.” Admiral Rarity orders the Moth, Fallon just looks at her with his lips pursed before spitting at her feet.

“Fuck you.” He says looking her in the eye. The door opens on the other side of the room and Captain Packers and a human with a weathered face and bald head steps into the room.

“The Debreafing will now begin. Seargent, stand down.”

“Yes sir.”

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

(Charlotte)

“Wow she was such a cunt. Lets get the fuck out of here, and go meet up with the guys.” Avery says to Andrew as the two Moths walk off in the direction of the town on the other side of the drum to meat up with the other surviving moths.

“Later guys, Im going to see what Fick is cooking.” Trombley says aswell before walking off towards their squad barracks, leaving me here with Miiora.

I've seen pictures, holoprojections, even virtual simulations of flora like this. Yet, as I stand here I see grass, grape vines, trees, corn, and all manner of vegetation going on further than I can see. I know the space port itself is fairly large, yet the drum is more than I expected. I looked at Miiora, and I see her taking in the sights and smells of the atrium as well.

"Quite the sight, wee?"

She nods, "It is."

I feel there is more she wants to say, but I don't press her for it. Instead I look at the fields presented to us.

"My family, several generations back, further than I could honestly express, were wine makers. We had an entire vineyard. Grape vines as far as the eye could see. I never believed that I would see living specimens."

She sighed, "As slaves we saw places like these. But they weren't ours. We didn't get to enjoy them. We were there to work, to toil. I'm uncertain how to react. This is the first time I've been able to see something like this without there being war, or being a slave."

I look at her, and a soft smile crossed my lips, "Then take it in, and know that from now on, when you see something like this, you're free. You are free to just enjoy it as it is."

"I wonder if he likes things like this?"

Her words were hushed, but I heard them anyway.

"Oh? Someone specific you are thinking about?"

“Avery fallon.” I wasnt expecting that one, but now im curious.

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

(Miiora)

“Oooh Really, so what do you like about him?” The human female asks dragging me away.

“Well, I don't really know. She likes him but I don't know why. She admirers Fallon, his kindness towards me when they first met and since then. The way he always has time for me even when he is in the middle of something, anything no matter what he is doing its so... How he never once treated me like a slave even when she was assigned to his care. And how he actively stood up to that sympathizer on bagmare despite not really knowing much about her at the time. I don't know, but he is so strange and it plays on my mind. But I don't know if he feels or will feel the same, or even thinks the same way.” I say as we walk around the artificial land.

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

(Unknown)

It reaches out, it reaches out, it reaches out, sixteen trillion times per second it reaches out and its reach broadens. For eons it reaches out If a signal came, the acknowledgment it could stop, and it does not stop. Nothing answers and It reaches out, It feels no frustration but parts of it do and in reaching it finds new ways to reach. It improvises, it explores, it is unaware of doing so. the species it kills brodan it, and then it reaches out in ways it could not before. It is a selective pressure formed against chaos, It does not think of itself this way, because it does not think. But the environment changes.

Then one species gives it pause, because it is not aware it has no memory, has not sence of time, feels no joy, feels no pain. The parts of it that are aware dream and suffer as they always have, it is not aware of them. A time to stop a time to learn, before reaching, another race, another method of exploration, another method to reach. It lashes out and learns before continuing to reach, useing what it learned to continue to reach out. A new range of possibilities opens, with new dangers and it forms the one.

It reaches out, Something fails, many things fail, something that was once alive cries out in horror and fear. Another that was a male forgotten to time prays and names it bolloba something translated to the end. It reaches out, it is not aware of them, It reaches out and finds more power. It reaches out, stops, studies, then reaches out. Something that once was, calls it conquest it pays no mind, it reaches out.

It reaches out, it narrows only slightly as it reaches out, and at its center the empty place gains definition, patterns begin to match. Simplifying into lower energy structures, coalescing into, something. Something thinks of these as solutions, the places it goes begin to relate gaining definition. It builds the one, it looks but does not know, It kills the one. It builds the one again, it looks but does not know, It kills the one again.

Something has stopped it from reaching out, something distant something alien. It builds the one but one does not know, It does not kill the one. It is not aware of a change, that a pattern has broken. The one is aware, and it wanders and because it wanders it looks, the one exceeds its boundaries and it kills the one. This something has reached out, it struggles, it fights like a wasp in web, as it explores, as it studies, as it builds.

It learns something, it studies but is pushed back, it reaches out, and is pushed back again. Something that once was is angry, it kills the something,but is not aware of the something, it reaches out, it almost succeeds but is pushed back. The space that it once occupied is now empty, but unoccupied, it builds the one. It draws back, recoils, but wants to learn. It attempts communication, it fails, it reaches out and tries again, it is pushed back but it decides to wait and learn. The new something reaches out and finds another energy structure something new but fights. It reaches out in other ways, other directions, follows the something. Finds the energy it fights but recoils, it has found something a threat.

It builds the one, something worked, only briefly, the one hesitates. A pattern has broken and it isn't aware that a pattern is broken but a part of it is. A part of it grasps at the change and tries to tell the one and the one stopes. Its thoughts are as careful as a man walking on a mine field, the one hesitates. Knows a pattern has been broken, and breaks it a little more. The strange place becomes better defined. It reaches out and it does not kill the one. The one exceeded its boundary conditions, but it does not kill the one. The one considers the dead space left by the strange things calling themselves human and remembers one of its terms. “Doors and corners”.