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Her voice trembled as she responded to the on-board engineer's command. Her fingers felt stiff and numb as she flipped through a series of switches. The pilot suit she wearing shrunk and wrinkled all over her body - it was clearly sized for someone whose build is much larger. She pushed down the big, red square button.
"Reactor - online. Sensors - online. Weapons - online. All systems nominal." As Bitchin' Betty's lifeless tone came to her ear, her seat shook, and a deep growl thundered from the chest of the steel steed beneath her legs. Screens and buttons inside the cockpit lit up one after another, then the HUD inside her neurohelmet's visor. The growling of the reactor slowly quieted down into a deep rumble, and her 30-ton Spider 5V light 'Mech came to life.
"Alright. Reactor output is stable, electricity looks good on my end - if not then you should've seen a bunch of things not lit up already. MCU is up and running...."
The on-board technician mumbled through com as he performed ground check. His voice sound dry and tired. She was not surprised - she doubted anyone on this dropship would sound any better. Her company had been stationed in the orbit for longer than a lifetime, at least in her eyes. Their supposed shift ended quite a while ago. It was meant to be an easy job - they stay on the ground, travel around the border everyday and after 90 sunrises and sunsets, a supply dropship would come, bringing in a bunch of fully rested pilots eager for some action to take their place.
Then something changed. Something radical and explosive. She didn't follow the news about what exactly happened and didn't really care - all she heard was something about a marriage, some kind of political coup, and a section in their contract specifying when under emergency situations they are to remain stationed where they are until further orders are received. She didn't really care, until one day, the only person who cared about her in the entire company left with her lance, and never came back.
"Myomers are stable - both arms are coming back as error but you don't need those anyway. Actuator abrasion are within permitted thresholds...."
Their company was not equipped for sustained frontline combat. Not at all. Their commander called for reinforcements, but no one came to assist them in this borderland world. Supplies began to run out, alerts began to burst frequently inside the dropships, and everyday people look more tense and exhausted than the previous one. Eventually 'mechbays inside the dropships began to empty one by one, and one day, she watched his modestly painted Jenner exit the dropship with his lancemates in the morning.
His mechbay was never filled since then.
"Alright, do me a favor, check the safety, bring the weapons online."
She unconsciously tapped the trigger on the joystick.
"Good, both capacitors charging up. Now tap the pedals for me."
Her both feet tipped down. The space around her began to tremble, but only briefly.
"All jumpjets ignition pass. You're good to go, kiddo."
"Commander online."
"Alright everyone, this is the end for us." A different, hoarse voice came through the com. He sound as lifeless as the engineer. "We hold the f**kers of for another 36 hours, then we pack our as*es and get the f**k outta here. Weather on the ground is bad as usual so visual confirmations only. We know they want to take the plant, we don't let them cross the border or we don't get paid, are we clear? Now, to the kid," he attempted to soften his voice for a bit, and she could barely tell the difference. "I know it's your first time on the ground but don't get nervous. You follow the plan, you get on that high round and you keep your eyes peeled. Anything goes wrong, you call us and you get outta there, let daddy take over, okay? Just keep running, and you're gonna be fine. Don't worry, alright?"
It didn't sound promising not comforting at all. She didn't know how to answer, and the commander didn't bother to wait for it.
"I hope he taught you well. Now, pack your shit folks, we're entering the atmosphere."
The com crackled and then went dead. Only sound left was the smooth, electric mumbling from the reactor below. As things quieted down, little things around her gradually became noticed. She began to feel every wrinkle inside the pilot suit - the unfitting cuts of synthetic materials vacuumed around her body, squeezing the soft tissues on her chest into a very uncomfortable shape. The dry air coming from the life-support system stench like burnt rubber. She coughed, tried to sip through the water pipe next to her lips, but the only taste that came out was rubbery vacuum, just like everything else inside this suit. The stomach of the suit crushed against her empty belly, reminding her of the last meal she had three days ago. She felt her head was as empty and cold as her stomach.
to be continued
Edited by Helmstif, 11 February 2014 - 10:59 PM.
